Before an old journal bearing a mark so similar to her own, Princess Celestia sat, quill poised loaded with gilderglitter ink. She had been sitting there for several minutes, staring at the last unfinished page, eyes rereading the darkened yellow, lightly reflective letters she had last written, and the crimson text with a golden glitter that caught the light. The ink was pretentious but they had picked them out of Celestia's stationary back in the early days. It was the memory of those early days that had the Princess of the Dawn staring at the inviting paper, and it was the memory of the last that stayed the words she wished to write.