Cadance stood before the Crystal Heart, frowning. It twinkled faintly in the low light of the empire, rotating with a gentle thrum. Cadance recalled the time when she would have found the noise soothing. That had been so long ago. Now she found it more eerie than anything, knowing what the Heart concealed.

Looking left, her mouth briefly flickered into a smile as her gaze found Flurry Heart. The child was sound asleep in her amethyst cradle, pristine as the day she’d been born. Cadance pondered how long it would stay that way.

[i]It’ll all change tonight, if things go poorly,[/i] Cadance mused. Quashing the thought, Cadance swallowed her trepidation. She lifted Flurry Heart from the cradle, narrowed her focus on the Crystal Heart, and crossed the veil. A familiar chill crept down her spine as she entered the hidden realm, but nothing more—it frightened her how easy it had become to cross that barrier.

Bluish white mist swirled at her ankles, extending into oblivion in every direction. The soft thrum had grown into an ever-present chorus which swelled around her. The air itself was soft and inviting, if a little chilly. To anyone else it would seem the most serene place in the universe. Indeed, Cadance had felt that way herself upon her first visit.

She knew better now. She stole a quick glance at the turquoise barrier far above, shivered at the memory, and walked forward. 

Too soon for her liking, Cadance reached her destination—a small, unassuming crystalline hill. It was a diminutive thing, failing to betray the importance it held. Ascending to the crest, Cadance felt a stone in her throat as her eyes fell upon the slumped, exhausted pony resting ahead. Her form was crumpled and weak-looking, but she would have been taller than Cadance could she have stood. Long tangles of raspberry hair gradated into a cobalt blue as they fell around her porcelain-white body.

“I’m back,” Cadance said. The pony didn’t stir. Cadance drew a bit closer. “Princess Amore?” she said, prodding her shoulder.

Amore flinched. She slowly turned to face Cadance. Heavy bags undercut the beauty in her eyes, emphasized by the constant golden sheen around her horn. She smiled. “She’s beautiful, Cadenza.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Cadance looked to Flurry Heart—a tiny snot bubble had sprouted from her nose, and Cadance couldn’t help smiling. “Her name is Flurry Heart.”

Despite herself, Amore chuckled. “Fitting.” She turned away, gazing across the landscape. “She will make a fine heiress, I’m sure.”

Butterflies swirled in Cadance’s stomach. She stepped up beside Amore and said, “I came to make sure you were okay. After what happened to the Heart, I didn’t know what to expect.”

“It takes more than that to break these ties,” Amore said, failing to suppress a wince. “That said, it sap my energy quite profoundly.”

A pregnant silence followed—nothing more had to be said. They both knew the implications.

“How much longer can you last?” Cadance asked, sitting. When no answer came, she looked over at Amore—her gut fell out at the way Amore bit her lip. “A year?” Cadance posed. Amore’s face tightened. “A month?” Cadance whispered, her mouth going dry.

Amore shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “I grow tired, Cadenza. I have held this off for so long. I just… want to sleep.”

Cadance looked down, hearing the words but refusing to process them. She floated Flurry Heart closer and scooped her into her hooves. She held her daughter close to her bosom as her tears flowed freely. “This isn’t fair, Amore,” Cadance said, her eyes never leaving Flurry Heart. “I won’t even be there for her first birthday.”

“Nor will she have one, if Sombra’s curse sets in.” Amore rested a hoof on Cadance’s arm, but Cadance pulled away. “For the greater good, Cadenza.”

Closing her eyes, Cadance pictured the most precious ponies—Shining Armor, Twilight, Celestia and Luna, and Flurry Heart too. She saw their faces blotted out by an ancient, titanic shadow. She opened her eyes, looking upon her child’s face one more time.

“At least give me some time to say goodbye,” Cadance muttered. “To everyone.”

Amore leaned her head on Cadance’s shoulder. It took a moment, but Cadance returned the gesture in kind. “I’m sorry, Cadenza,” Amore said. “I wish this mantle was not yours to bear.”

Cadance nodded and said nothing. The two of them sat atop that hill for a very, very long time.