Celestia’s eyes widened at the sight of the blood-soaked bandage wrapped tightly around Star Swirl’s foreleg. The scant moonlight streaking in through the sisters’ bedroom window made the stains seem as black as tar.

“Wha—” she managed, before Star Swirl’s magic clamped her mouth shut with a subdued click of her teeth.

“You’ll wake Luna,” he said, giving the sleeping filly a pointed glance. Gently releasing Celestia’s muzzle, he walked out the room and simply said, “Follow me.”

Celestia scampered out of bed, barely managing not to trip over her awkward new wings.

[i]Big, darned, useless things,[/i] she cursed them. She found herself envious of Luna's pegasus birth.

As soon as the pair were far enough down the hall, Celestia could hold back no longer.

“Your leg,” she said, watching as her mentor limped. “What happened?”

“Don’t worry, I did it deliberately,” he said, as if that settled the matter.

“Why would you?” was Celestia's inevitable response.

“To teach you a lesson.”

Celestia nearly tripped over her own hooves.

[i]“What?”[/i]

Star Swirl quickly shook his head.

“Not like that,” he said. “Sorry, moderate blood loss. A little hard to speak. But I’ll show you, now.”

The two entered Star Swirl’s spellchamber, in the basement of Castle Platinum. When the old wizard lit the illumination runes that were set into the laboratory’s walls, Celestia nearly did a double-take.

The entire room was arranged differently than it had been that evening. Equipment and benches that had not been moved in decades were now pushed up against the walls, making room for a dais standing alone in the center of the room. At the top of the altar was a large bowl filled with a pungent dark liquid.

[i]Blood.[/i]

Celestia instantly froze.

“What is [i]that?[/i]” she demanded.

“Mine,” Star Swirl simply said, tugging at his bandage. “Now, pick it up with your magic.”

“No!” Every fiber of Celestia’s will revolved at the thought. “This is wrong. Stop it!”

Star Swirl gave her a wry look. “It’s not as though I can put it back.”

“Blood magic is forbidden,” Celestia whispered, suddenly paranoid that others might be listening. “And for a good reason—it is but a step away from dark magic!”

“Yes, you’ll be doing some of that tonight, as well.”

Celestia sputtered. “Have you gone absolutely mad?!”

“No,” he said, eyes hardening. “Have you given any true thought to those wings of yours that you’ve just grown?”

The sudden shift of topic left Celestia blinking.

“Because if you had,” Star Swirl continued, “you’d realize what living forever really means.” He cleared his throat. “With enough time, anything can happen. Perhaps this very castle will crumble and be forgotten. Perhaps another will attain godhood as you have. Perhaps, someday the clouds will rain milk and sugar instead of water. And you will live to see it all.”

Celestia tried to swallow away the uncomfortable lump that had built up in her throat.

“Sometime in your long life, there will be a day when you need to know black magics, and know them intimately, or else all will be lost.” Star Swirl’s voice softened, but still carried all of its conviction. “In six months, you will be crowned the new ruler of this nation. And you will be the last. From that moment until the end of time, you will bear the responsibility of guiding our people towards Harmony.”

The weight of Star Swirl’s words crushed Celestia like an apple beneath an anvil. She had often wondered why she had ascended, but never before had she wanted to tear away her wings and with them her responsibilities.

“It’s not as though being a good Princess comes with putting on the crown.” said Star Swirl. “You must choose to be prepared. And when all is said and done, a pint of an old stallion’s blood is a tiny price to pay for that preparedness.”

Several moments of silence passed before Celestia approached the bowl and peered directly over its lip. Her heart raced so fast in her chest that she could feel it in her ears.

With a sobbing breath, she lit her horn and wrapped her magic around the sanguine contents of the bowl. The blood was viscous and slippery and horrible—nothing at all like the orbs of water she would lift from the castle fountain to splash on her sister.

"Oh, stars..." she swore desperately.

Finally, she held it all in her grasp, several inches above the bowl.

“Good,” said her mentor. “Let’s begin.”