//------------------------------//
// 3. The Student's Journal 
// Story: Faultlines 
// by FawkesThePhoney 
//------------------------------//

	“Honey, come in here!” Leo Boral shouted, his nose buried in the newspaper. “Looks like the Camies are stirring up trouble again. There's talk of a strike in the steel plant.”
“I’m sure it’s not so bad,” Verga said, coming into the room, a hot casserole in her hoof. 
“Not so bad, eh? They're going to want more money again,” Leo said. “Just so long as they don't get the other ones riled up. If there another bus strike and I'm late for work...” he trailed off, grumbling into his newspaper.
“Let me see…” Verga said, placing the casserole down and bending over her husband’s shoulder to read the paper. “There, you see? It's not even that big. And maybe this will get the factory owners to hire some Sagittarians instead, give them jobs. I've heard the market's hard out there for the working class. Eden, would you like some casserole?”
Eden stirred from her funk. “Yeah, mom, that’d be great. Thanks.”
“Oh it’s no problem, dear.” Verga said. “We get to see you so little these days; and goodness knows you could stand to put some meat on your bones!”
“I cook,” Eden said, taking the proffered plate of casserole. “Sometimes.”
“Honey I’ve seen what you and Sage call a kitchen, and it’s not cut out for cooking.” Verga sniffed. “Maybe some noodles.”
Eden elected not to discuss her and Sage’s recent attempts to make noodles. 
Verga cast a sharp look at her husband. “Leo, the food is at the table. The least you can do is put that thing down and eat it while it’s hot!”
Leo grumbled and folded the paper. “Casserole,” he said, taking a plate and piling it up. “Broccoli casserole. My favorite.”
“Hush. Are you a stallion or a colt? Eat your vegetables.”
“Even stallions like cake now and then.”
“You know your doctor wouldn’t allow it.”
“Well, what does he know?”
“A lot more than you, I’d say.”
“Bah!” Leo said, picking at the broccoli. “He’s been treating too many sissies, if you ask me. ‘Sagittarian sensitivity to gluten,’ indeed. Maybe the upper crust thinks themselves too delicate for their own good, but us businessponies have got stomachs like the Camargue.”
“Hush, dear,” Verga said. “You’ll insult some of Eden’s friends.”
“Nonsense, Verga,” Leo said. “She know's I'm just joking. Besides, her friend would probably agree with me. She's a smart one.”
“Her name is Sage, Dad.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Leo said. “Can’t say a Camargue’s company is any worse than some ritzy college folk, and at least she’d be authentic. Say what you will about the Camies, at least they’re honest.”
“Dad....” Eden said sharply, looking up from her food to glare at her father.
“Alright, alright,” Leo said, holding up his hooves. “I know how you get about these things. Don’t want a fight.”
Eden rolled her eyes and returned to her food. The family ate in silence for a while. Eden recalled with dark amusement her early attempts to get Sage to meet her parents. Thank the heavens those plans had never come to fruition."
“So,” Verga said, searching around for a topic to choose, “how are your classes these days?”
“Interesting,” Eden said. “My class on celestial objects has started to cover Cestel, which is something I’ve been waiting for now for a while.”
“Ah, foo on Cestel,” Leo said. “Elu is Hub City’s lady, and always will be. She gives us our calendar, our songs, and is far more interesting to watch than Cestel ever will be.”
“Don’t trample on Eden’s interests, dear.”
“No, mom. It’s okay.”	
“And your thesis?” Leo grunted around a mouth of food. “You still trying to make pegasi fly?”
Eden rolled her eyes. “It’s not an impossible theory, Dad. There is simply no way that Cestel has always been as bright as she is now. The evidence is all wonky; there’s too much archaeological material in the scadlands for it to always have been as inhospitable as it is now, and with the discovery of the pre-Marks, it's all but certain. Now, there are a great deal of details to work out, but a dimmer Cestel is the only way to explain an advanced pony civilization up there.”
“I still don’t—“
“Now I know what you’re thinking: where’s the catch? Unfortunately, there are a few. The biggest detriment to the theory is that Cestel has showed no evidence of dimming since we’ve been able to keep records, in marked contrast to Elu, which is slowing down.”
“Elu—“
“Slowing down so much, in fact, that it’s beginning to play with our historical records. The Ponecians ruled less time than we used to think, because their lunar calendar is based on a cycle only about seventy five percent as long as ours. Of course, the only reason we know this is because we have detected it slowing down as well; in fact the slowing down process is such that we’ve been able to date certain events by comparing their calendar to ours.”
“That’s my girl,” Leo said. “I don’t understand half of what you just said, but I’m proud just the same. And besides, what do I know? I'm just a manager.”
“And you do a good job of it, dear,” Verga said.
“Damn right I do,” Leo said. “But I don’t know anything about this academic stuff, Eden. Just so long as you’re happy.”
“Of course, Dad,” Eden said. 
“Hmm. Pass the butter, will you?”

Sometime later, Eden found herself standing in her old room. Whether from nostalgia or laziness, her parents had neglected to change it much from when she was a child, and she smiled at the little desk and star patterned blankets. 
"Oh, Eden?" her mother called from downstairs, "since you're in there, how about taking that box down from the closet and looking through it? It's got some of your old toys in it, and I'd like to get rid of what you don't want anymore."
"Sure thing, Mom," she called back, walking over to the closet and pulling down a large cardboard box. She dropped it on her bed, where at once it exhaled a large cloud of dust, burning her eyes and bringing a sneeze just to the tip of her nose. She opened the box, revealing a faded collection of toys and games.
The first was a set of old coloring books. When she had been a child, Eden had decided that the specified colors did not properly capture the essence of the animals, and had embarked on a project calculated to bring about a revolution in art culture. Flipping through the books, she was pleased to see that the resultant creations still hurt her eyes. She put them to the side.
Under them was a tattered old stuffed pony. Eden smiled at it. "Smarty Pants," she said, setting the frayed toy on her bed. Until she was eight, Smarty Pants had been her closest companion. He was her most faithful student, trusted friend, and greatest defender. "I'm taking you home with me," she said, before turning back to the box. 
Underneath Smarty Pants was another book, bound in cloth, its cover faded and torn. Eden paused, frowning. She did not remember this particular item. She removed it, waving away a fresh puff of dust. Bearing all the marks of rough use, the book had seen better days. On the front, drawn in what looked to be crayon, was a six-pointed star, five smaller stars surrounding it
Eden blinked at the symbol. She had seen it before, somewhere, but now for the life of her could not remember where. There was a pull to it, an innate feeling of, of something. As if she were passing a home she had forgotten she lived in.
"What is this...?" she murmured, opening to the first page. Scrawled in messy crayon were the words:
This book is the property of Twilight Sparkle
It was her hoofwriting. Eden felt the feeling again, stronger. She began hoofing through the pages. Most of them were pictures with captions, a few journal entries scattered about. "What in the name of Cestel..."
"How's it coming in here, champ?" her mother said, entering the room.
"What's that? Oh, it's coming along, Mom," Eden said, not looking up from the book. "Say, do you know where this came from?"
Verga looked at the book and laughed. I'm surprised you don't remember. It was all you talked about for months."
"What?"
"Twilight Sparkle." Verga shook her head and laughed. "You must have been about five. One morning you came down for breakfast with construction paper star and declared yourself the personal student of a princess."
Now that she was talking about it, Even did remember something of that sort. A hazy memory of her cavorting around the house with Smarty Pants in two returned to her. 
"You came up with all these adventures for you and you imaginary court to go on. You would fight dragons and heal manticores and go to parties. You even went as far as to write letters to your imaginary mentor. I still have them, I think." She shrugged.  "Then the summer ended and you went back to school and that was the last we heard of it. I remember asking you what happened to Twilight, and you said she had gone away again, and that was that."
Eden looked back to the book, turning the pages. Most of them were filled with pictures, some captioned with details of the adventures. Her eyes fell on one depicting a white unicorn surrounded by dogs. Rarity defeats the diamond dogs, read the caption. She squinted at it…
"You mind if I take it home with me, Mom?"
"Sure honey. Oh, and look, it's Smarty Pants!" Verga said, seizing the stuffed animal and squeezing him. "Hmm, looks like he could use a bath, and a few stitches."
"I'm taking him home too."
"Of course, honey. I'll be downstairs if you need anything else, okay?"
"Yeah, Mom."

Later, Eden sat alone in her and Sage's apartment, staring at the journal she held in her lap. She ran a hoof over the cover, trying to remember writing it. Dim memories of her paper crown and scepter floated through her head, and if she concentrated she could almost remember scribbling in this journal with a crayon… but she didn't know if that was an actual memory or just a memory of a memory. She reached back into her coat and pulled out the napkin Lyra had given her the day before.  Holding it up to the journal, she compared the symbol on the napkin with the symbol on the book. There was no doubt; although both of them were imperfect, they were drawings of the same symbol.
She opened the book and read the first page again. "Twilight Sparkle…" she murmured. 
Eden jumped as she heard a scrabbling at the door and a muffled curse. The door opened, and a rather bedraggled Sage walked in, shaking the rain off of her coat. 
"You're back early," Eden said.
Sage’s look was all she needed.
Eden winced. “That bad, huh?”
Sage waved an airy hoof. “No biggie. Just another chump who thought Camargue fur was ‘extra soft,’ if you catch my drift.”
“Asshole.” 
“Yup. How were the folks?”
Eden shrugged. "Same as ever. Getting older, worried about nothing, trying to hook me up with every stallion they meet." She paused. “Racist.”
“Yeah, well. What do you expect?”
Eden shrugged.
"Guess both of our dinners weren't so good. But hey!" Sage took her jacket off and fished around in the pocket, pulling out the tickets. “Pre-Mark exhibit in a quarter!”
“Yup,” Eden said. “It’ll be really good to see if I can cross reference anything there for my thesis.”
Sage frowned, no doubt curious at Eden’s lack of reaction. Her eyes found the journal. “What’s that?”
“Hmm?” Eden said, now flipping through the pages again. “Oh, just something I found at my parents’ house. Apparently I had quite the overactive imagination when I was younger.” She reached the page she’d seen earlier, staring at the white unicorn. On the page after, there were five other ponies that had arrived on the scene, and the first one, Rarity, was lecturing the others. I don’t need to be saved, thank you very much! These darlings are quite nice, once you get to know them! A rather orange pony hissed to the others, I don’t know about y’all, but I reckon Rarity ain't the one we need to be saving! Eden smiled.
“Let me see,” Sage said, reaching out and taking the book from Eden. She flipped through some of the pages. “Wha—‘Fluttershy conquers her fear of flying?’ Sounds like the plot to a fillies’ show, and not a good one at that.” She turned the page to reveal a sketch of a large white alicorn. Deep within Sage's eyes something stirred, and she shut the book with a snap, tossing it back to Eden. “That’s real cute, Eden.”
Eden stuck out her tongue. “You bet,” she said. “I wouldn't have looked at it twice, but…. You remember that weird unicorn yesterday?"
"I'm trying to forget her."
"Yeah, me too. But look at that symbol she drew, and then look at the cover of my book."
Sage squinted at them both. "They're both stars, if that's what you mean."
"No!" Eden said, nearly shouting. "They're almost exactly the same! I've never seen this symbol in my life before, and suddenly it's everywhere. What can it mean?"
"I think it means you need some sleep," Sage said. "You're seeing connections where there are none."
"But—"
"But nothing. What are you talking about, Eden? That some rando you met yesterday and a journal you haven't touched since you were five are related? You realize what that sounds like?"
Eden blinked. "I guess you're right," she said. "But still, it seems like kind of a weird coincidence, doesn't it?"
"Not really. You ever hear of the Baader-Meinhoof Phenomenon? Whenever a pony first learns about something new, they start to see it everywhere. Happens all the time."
"Hmm. I suppose you're right," Eden said, turning back to the book. "It's just a weird feeling I got, like it was calling to me or something. Doesn't that sound strange?"
Sage stared at her. “Well,” she said, standing abruptly. “You know what’s calling to me? My bed. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get some shut eye.” There was a tenseness in her voice that Eden recognized; the nightmares had not gone away.
“Alright, Sage,” Eden said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Right, mom.” But Sage did leave the doorway slightly open. Eden looked at it for a moment, then sighed and went to her own room. There, she opened the book again and turned to the page Sage had stopped at. It was a picture of a large white alicorn, her mane flowing in some invisible breeze. Underneath, in Eden’s child scrawl, read the words “Princess Celestia.” Eden ran a hoof over the picture.
Alicorns, of course, were common in pony myths. In fact, they were one of what Sage would call “universal constants,” pieces of myth and fable that existed in nearly every culture that Hub City historians and archaeologists could determine. There were several white ones as well, but Eden couldn’t remember any of them with the name “Celestia.” It almost sounded like…
“The sun,” she murmured, tracing the mark on the alicorn’s flank. “Ruler of the sun…”
She yawned. Probably time to head to bed herself. Sage was going to bed earlier since the nightmares had started, but the fatigue of the day was getting to Eden, and she had a whole stack of papers to grade tomorrow. Leaving the journal where it was, she trotted over to the blackout curtains and rolled them closed. Before they shut completely, Eden took a moment to look out over Hub City. The ever-red light of Cestel shone across the buildings, and she squinted at the horizon where the tiniest bit of red could be seen. Hub City was well below the horizon, ponies could see well enough and lights kept the streets bright, but the sky itself was dark, only a faint tinge of purple to lighten it. She thought of her dream last night and wondered what it would feel like to have Cestel high in the sky.
Closing the curtains completely, she blew out the candle next to her bed and closed her eyes.


Eden sat bolt upright, something, a deep feeling of wrongness, clutching at her chest. Sage. She threw the covers off and ran out of the room, throwing caution to the winds as she grabbed the bucket by Sage’s door. Again, it was filled with water and again, she threw it on the thrashing form of her friend. But the thrashing was so bad that for a moment Eden didn’t think it would work.
Then Sage shot straight up, arched her back, and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Eden wanted to move, wanted to rush up to comfort her friend, but she was frozen, watching the pony writhe in pure pain. Then, just when Eden thought she could stand it no longer, Sage fell back into bed, coughing.
"I…" she mumbled, stumbling over the words. "I…"
"Sage, what? I'm here, what is it?"
"I think I'm going to be sick."
Eden's eyes widened and she had just enough time to dodge out of the way before Sage bolted out of bed and to the nearby trashcan, where she soon had vomited up the remains of the meal she'd had some hours before. At a loss, Eden could only rub her back and try to be as soothing as possible. She felt quite out of her element.
After what seemed like hours but what perhaps only a few minutes, Sage's retching stopped. She smacked her lips a few times, then spit into the trashcan. She turned, looking at Eden. "Ugh," she said. "Not my idea of a good time. I think I'm going to stay away from oats for a while."
"You think?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the help, I guess. I've got it from here."
"But--"
"I said I've got it, Eden."
Eden shrank back. "Fine," she said, "but we're talking about this tomorrow morning."
"Whatever."
Eden went back to bed, listening to Sage brush her teeth in the other room.

The next morning she cornered her at the coffee table, bearing a mug of ginger tea as a peace offering. "Sage, listen, you need to see a doctor."
“Sage, you’re not fine. You need help, and none of the books I’ve read on emotional support have prepared me for such a role.”
Sage rolled her eyes. “That’s your solution to everything. Books.”
“Well, not this time. You need to see a doctor.”
“I do not!”
“What do you call this, then?” Eden said, gesturing to the empty bedroom. “When’s the last time you got a full session of sleep?” Sage didn’t say anything, so Eden continued. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Or maybe you just don’t want to be woken up anymore?”
“I don’t—what?” Eden said. “Are you kidding me? I don’t care at all about—how can you say that?”
Sage held her gaze for a moment, then blinked and looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was out of line.”
“Forget it,” Eden said. “But you’re not helping your case, Sage. It’s okay to get help, you know?”
“And then what?” Sage hissed. “I’m a red pony. A Camargue. Half the Celestial doesn’t even think my angry, emotion-ruled brain can keep up with the classes I’m taking. I can’t go to a shrink; I might lose my scholarship!”
“It won’t be like that.”
“Will it?” Sage hissed. “What would you know, blue? You’ve been raised here since birth. You blues can do anything you set your mind to. Me? I’ve had to fight for myself all the way from the midlands. I don’t have time for head problems.”
Eden frowned. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a Camargue, Sage, but you’ve got friends here. I won’t let them just take you away, or something. You aren’t making sense.”
“Yeah, well wouldn’t that just be perfect,” Sage said. “The Camargue needs help from her little Sagittarian friends. I don’t need your help, Eden. It’s appreciated, but no.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you, Sage?” Eden said. “I’m worried about you. Nothing else. Sorry your little pride is so stuck that you can’t accept help.”
“Forget it,” Sage muttered. “I didn’t think you’d understand.” She got up from the table and walked into the bathroom. A moment later Eden could hear the sound of the shower starting. She sighed. 
It wasn’t accurate to say that this attitude was not like Sage. It was accurate to say that Eden hadn’t seen this side of her in a long time. When she had first met Sage in her second year of the Celestial, the Camargue had been angry at everyone and everything. Polite, to be sure, but with a simmering sort of anger, and the fact that she was one of the few red ponies in the university (and the only Carmargue) kept most ponies away.
Not Eden, though. She could see that, behind the anger, Sage was a remarkably intelligent pony. Over time, Sage had realized that Eden wasn’t there to make fun of her or to gawk at a red pony playing science, and the two had become friends, so much so that Eden sometimes forgot just how lonely Sage was here. And now she was having nightmares....
She shrugged. There was no talking to Sage when the other mare got like this. She poured cereal into a thermos and left the building. She could study in the library.	

A few hours later, and very little studying had been done. Eden sat in the library café, her books forgotten beside her. In front of her was the journal. Eden knew she should put the thing to the side and work, but something about it was bothering her, a buzzing in her brain that wouldn’t let her leave it alone.
She hoofed through the pages. So far, there was very little in the way of actual writing about what happened. The majority of the pages were drawings, and the little written blurbs were scrawled impatiently, as if the writer couldn’t wait to get the story out and over with. She stopped at one in particular.

Dear Princess Celestia,
Fluttershy made a great breakthrough today. The Cloudsale weather ponies had chosen Ponyville to collect their water, and Rainbow Dash needed everypony she could if they were to beat the record. Fluttershy, however, has a crippling fear of public performance, and for a while it seemed like she wouldn’t be able to overcome her fears and fly in front of ponies. However, when—

“Hey.”
Eden slammed the book shut and whipped her eyes up to find Sage by her table. She looked better, but Eden could still see the stress and fatigue around her eyes. Sage had neglected to apply dye to her face this morning, something Eden could not remember having seen before. “Hey,” she said.
“You mind if I sit down?”
“Please do.” Eden picked up some of the books so that Sage could sit down. “Sorry about the mess.”
“It’s fine, Eden,” Sage said with a small smile. “What are you looking at?”
“Just the journal,” Eden said. She put a hoof on it, flipping the pages again. “You ever think much about the Mark?”
“That’s generally your area.”
“I know not everyone thinks it’s as neat as I do, but… ten thousand years ago ponykind has this great civilization, whose complexity is something we're barely scratching the surface of. Then the pre-Marks are gone and there's nothing but hunter-gatherers for millenia, until the Ponecians show up. And there’s evidence of some great catastrophe, floods, droughts, the earth shaking…”
“Those are just myths.”
“But the histories they’re based on are not. Something happened back then, something big, and sometimes I wonder if we’re still living with the results of that.”
Sage blinked at her. “Eden, you know all this,” she said. “It’s what your paper is supposed to be on. You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?”
“No no, it’s just…” she rubbed her face, sinking down further in her chair.  “Do you ever get the feeling you’re missing something? Like… like something really big is moving over your head at a really fast speed, and you can feel a little bit of the wind but that’s all?”
“Eden, what are you talking about?”
“I don’t knoooow!” she moaned, drawing the last word out. “I can’t explain it. Just a hunch.”
“Hmm,” Sage said. “Well, I don’t really know what that means.”
“Yeah, I know. Whatever. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Sage said, and it sounded like she meant it. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for this morning. I was a little… out of sorts, I guess.”
“Forget it,” Eden said. “You were under a lot of stress. I don’t know what you’re dreaming about, but it isn’t good, whatever it is.”
Sage was silent for a long time after that. “Well,” she said, “I’m taking your advice. I contacted a shrink. Our first meeting is in an eighth.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Eden said. 
“Just… don’t let it get around too much, okay?”
“Of course not. It’s okay to feel pain, you know.”
“I know, I know,” she said, “but there’s always something like this that happens. I’ve got a lot of ponies watching me. If it looks like I’m stumbling too much, they’ll be all over me.”
"I'll keep your secret, Sage. Don't worry."
"Thanks, Eden." Sage offered her a small smile. "I've got to get back to work. I'll see you back at the apartment, okay?"
"Sure thing," Eden said. Sage nodded and left the room. Eden waited until she was sure Sage had gone, then turned back to the journal. She finished the reading about this 'Fluttershy,' and examined the drawings beneath. 
"What are you doing, Eden…" she murmured, turning the pages. "What are you doing…."
She paused, hoof halfway in the process of turning the page. There, at the bottom, in the background of the sketch, was a pony. Mint green, sitting in an odd way on a park bench. Eden felt her stomach turn over. "Just a coincidence," she muttered. She scanned the text on the page for clues, if any, to the mystery unicorn's identity, but none were to be found.  Eden tapped her hoof on the table, glancing at the clock. She pulled out the napkin, by now quite worse for wear, and looked at the time. Then she looked at the clock again.
"Ah, dammit."


At exactly six hours after the secondary period began, Eden pushed the door to the coffee ship open, checking on the card that it was indeed the same location. It was, and she felt, for the umpteenth time since beginning her walk, that this was a terrible idea. The interior of the shop was dark, dirty, and nearly empty. She walked up to the bar, casting an eye around for any sign of Lyra. 
"Hello," she told the barista. "I would like a small cup of coffee, please."
"Right away," the pony said. "Five caps."
She paid the required amount and sat down at a nearby table. Still no sign of Lyra or anyone else she had been with. She pulled out the napkin once again and checked the location. The time was right. The date was right. She humphed. "Late."
Luckily, she had come prepared. Pulling out an old copy of  Archaeology Monthly, she returned to an earlier article she had been reading about a new dig site deep in the scablands. Unfortunately, activities in the area had been disrupted because of some migration crisis. There were even murmurs of warlords destroying the ancient ruins. Eden snorted. If there was one thing she deplored more than talk of magic and illogical thinking, it was violence. Petty warlords and those who put their quest for power above the noble pursuit of knowledge were, in her opinion among the worst that ponykind had to offer. Why, if it were her up there in the scablands, she'd—
The door opened and Lyra walked in, followed by a rather seedy looking blue pony with a pair of too-small glasses perched upon his face. . He was frowning at her and speaking in a thin whine. "Highly unlikely, Lyra. To say that you found the Twilight Sparkle while drinking at a bar, nonetheless? I cannot believe you talked me into this."
"Relax, Tweed," Lyra said. "I know Twilight. I'm sure it was her. In fact, there she is now!" she pointed at Eden, who was doing her best to remain inconspicuous.
The unicorn's eyes widened at the sight, and he rushed past Lyra and over to Eden. "Incredible! Near hundred percent fidelity, certainly got a few extra passes, boy they didn't skimp on her either. Would conjecture it would be the same with the other elements as well. I wonder-"
"Excuse me," Eden said, pushing the stallion away from her, "but who are you?"
"Of course, still asleep. Apologies, apologies, Miss Twilight, er, what is your name?"
"Evenstar Bor-"
"Incredible! Evenstar, even star, evening star, and what is a sparkle at twilight, I wonder? Incredible fidelity, just incredible."
"Alright, Tweed, let her breathe, yeesh," Lyra said, pulling the overeager Tweed away from Even. "I'm sorry, Evenstar, he can get a little excited at times."
"You don't say?"
"Eh. I see you've already eaten. Can I get you anything else?"
"No I'm fine, thanks."
"Sure thing. Tweed, when you go get your coffee, get me a latte and a roll, will you?"
"Right, Lyra. Excuse me, girls, I'll be right back." He walked over to the counter, muttering about redefining algorithms and proximity functions.
"I'm sorry about him," Lyra said, settling into the chair opposite Eden. "He can get a bit excited at times. He's a real good guy, though, once you get to know him."
"I'm sure," Eden said, shifting in her seat. Now that the meeting was in session, she found that she wasn't at all sure why she had decided to do this. Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Lyra offered her a warm smile. 
"I'm really glad you came. Some of the others didn't believe me, well, you saw Tweed."
"What's his deal, anyway?" 
"Academic at Sanguine University, on the east side. When we found him, he was trying to study the nature of electricity. Apparently he'd given himself quite a few shocks before we were able to get to him."
"'Get to him?'"
"Well, he's with us, now."
"You aren't at all doing a good job of explaining yourself, Lyra," Even said. "Who are you? Who are the 'others?' Why am I here?"
"I'm glad you asked," Tweed said, returning to the table with a pair of cups. He handed one to Lyra and sat down. "I'd try to explain it, but I've been told that I'm not very good with explanations. Too technical."
"Yeah," Lyra said. "She was asking me, anyway. Listen, Evenstar—"
"Eden."
"What?"
"Call me Eden. It's… sort of a nickname."
"Oh, okay." Lyra blinked once before continuing.  "So, well, I don't really know how to explain this; it never gets easier, and with you, well... Alright look," She fixed Evenstar with a stare. "Does the name 'Twilight Sparkle' mean anything to you?"
Eden felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. "How do you know that name?" she whispered.
"Wait," Lyra said, "hold up. You know that name? From where?"
"Have never seen one hundred percent fidelity before," Tweed was muttering, examining Eden like a scientist with a particularly interesting specimen. "Possible residual memory leak? Perhaps a single name will wake her up! Possibilities endless!"
"Tweed," Lyra said, "stop talking. Eden, where do you know that name?"
"Are you stalking me?" Eden said.
Lyra blanched. "What are you talking about?"
"I said, are you stalking me? The star, the name… you're trying to play some sort of weird demented joke on me, aren’t you?" Eden glared at the two, who stared at her, thunderstruck. “Well, I’ve got your number now, and I’ll be reporting this to the police as soon as I get home!”
"Oh dear," Tweed murmured. "Possible name has significance only to her. Disturbed personal memories. Quite unfortunate."
"No— Eden, we haven't been spying on you, I swear!" Lyra said, an edge of panic in her voice. "There is a reason we know that name, but before we go one step further I need to know where you got it from."
Eden looked at her for a long second, weighing her options.
"Please," Lyra said.
A pause. Then Eden reached into her bag and removed the journal, setting it on the table with a slap. "This is mine, but I suspect you know that already."
Lyra had eyes only for the cover. "By Celestia, Tweed. Look! It's her star!"
“That’s right,” Eden said. “It’s my star, and I haven’t used it since I was a filly. So, my question to you, whoever you are, is this: why are you stalking me?”
“Ho boy,” Lyra said, sitting back in her chair and scratching her head. “This is… quite a bit to take in. I’m sorry, Eden. We didn’t expect you to have such a strong association with your cutie mark right off the bat. It’s usually a good way to ease ponies into this.”
“Ease ponies into what?” 
“Your past life.”
Eden blinked, then burst out laughing. “Okay, now I know that you’re pulling my leg.”
Lyra didn’t seem perturbed with this assessment. “I’m sure you think we’re crazy,” she said, “but hear us out. This symbol, the six-pointed star? It’s yours. It was, and is, a marker of who you are.”
“What, like a birth sign or something?”
“Sort of.” Lyra sighed. “This is so frustrating, Tweed! I never know how to get the words right.”
“Quite true, unfortunately,” Tweed said. “Usually ponies are more receptive. Suspect some aspect of Evenstar’s nature, aka Twilight’s nature… hmm. Will need to run tests later.”
“No one’s running tests on me,” Eden growled. “I want you people to start making sense, or I’m going to walk out that door and straight to the police station and give them your names and descriptions as stalkers and scam artists.”
“Okay, look,” Lyra said. “Let’s try this.” She fished around for a pendant around her neck and held it up to Eden. It was an artistic depiction of a lyre. Eden looked at it without comprehension. 
“What am I supposed to be seeing here?”
“This is my cutie mark. It’s a lyre—“
“Like your name?”
“…yes, sort of. But it represents my affinity for music, stringed instruments in particular.”
"So like a personal symbol? Is this a Dartmoor thing?"
"What? No no, um...." She sighed, turning her eyes away from the incredulous look on Eden’s face. “Look, there isn’t really any way to do this other than to just say it. Your name is Evenstar, but once, long ago, before any of us were born, you were Twilight Sparkle, one of the greatest magic users in history and personal student to the ruler of the world, Princess Celestia.”
Eden raised an eyebrow.
“Furthermore, something happened. We’re not sure what, exactly; that’s what Tweed and his team are still trying to figure out. But something happened, and many, many ponies were killed, and finally Celestia and her sister Luna disappeared.”
Eden’s eyebrow rose higher.
“Since that time, no one has been able to move the sun. The land of Equestria, where the sun is frozen over, burned to nothing, while the other side of the world froze into great glaciers. The seas dried up, and ponykind was able to make civilizations in the old seabeds, in the twilight area between the darkness and the light. We’ve been here ever since.
“I come from that time as well. In the past, my name was Lyra Heartstrings, but I was born in this world as a mare named Abbey, here in Hub City nearly twenty years ago. My memories began to return to me in time, and I was found by others. We have a small community now, but we are growing, waiting for the time when the reason for our return is revealed to us.”
At this point, Eden’s eyebrow threatened to rise right off of her head.
“And I think that time is now, and that mare is you. You were the best of us, Twilight. And you can be again. And together, when your memories are restored, we can set the world right and save Equestria!” Lyra finished, her face flushed, looking at Eden in excitement.
“You’re crazy,” Eden said. “Absolutely, completely, unsalavgeably out of your minds. I’ve never seen anything like it. Hay, my mother is a psychologist and I doubt she’s seen this level of delusion. You should be committed.”
“Eden—“
“And I’m out,” Eden said. “If you ever try to contact me again, I’m calling the police. I feel sorry for you now and I’m pretty sure that your delusions are harmless, or I’d call the police now. Goodbye.”
She stood up and began walking to the door. Lyra stood as well. “Wait,” she said, “Twilight—“
“And if you ever call me Twilight Sparkle again, I’ll—“ Eden sputtered around for something to say, “well, it won’t end well for you!”
“Oh dear,” Tweed muttered, “oh dear oh dear oh dear.”
“Tw—er, Eden, please,” Lyra said, putting a hoof on her shoulder.
“Get off me, Lyra, or should I say Abbey,” Eden said, her voice ice cold. Lyra removed the hoof as if stung. Eden turned and walked out the door. She had scarcely gotten more than a few steps before Lyra burst out the door. 
“Just remember this, Eden!” she called. “Don’t trust that pony you were with at the bar! She’s dangerous!”
“Shut up!” Eden shouted back. “Just shut up! You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t get to pick my friends! Stop talking!” she stormed away, leaving a wordless Lyra standing at the door.
Eden fumed all the way home, muttering to herself about crazy ponies and stalking and enormous wastes of time. By the time she got back to the apartment complex, she was so worked up that she had to stop by the front door and compose herself before entering. She’d already decided not to tell Sage, who would just laugh at her naiveté and question why on earth Eden had decided to meet with them.
“Why did I meet with them,” she muttered, fumbling with the key at the door. “Bunch of crazy ponies, magic and princesses and sorcery and junk.”
She swung the door open, still muttering to herself. “I’d like to give them a piece of my mind, sign them up for lessons with mom, that would show them—“
A cold breeze blew through the house, blowing papers off of the table and causing the door to swing around like a ransacked tomb. Eden froze. Sage never opened a window. Never. A low, foreboding feeling began in her gut. “Sage?” she called, moving through the house. “Sage? Where are you?”
She came to the door of Sage’s room, slightly ajar. “Sage?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sage? You’re freaking me out!” She pushed the door open and the feeling of dread exploded into panic. 
The window had been shattered, pieces of glass stuck in the carpet. She could see hoofprints moving around the room. Sage’s desk and her cabinet had been opened, the contents strewn about the room with abandon. And there, lying prone on the floor and not moving, was Eden’s roommate. 
“Sage!” Eden shouted, rushing into the room without care for the glass on the floor. “Sage! Can you hear me? Wake up!”
Sage did not stir, and a trickle of blood dripped down from a gash above her face.