The Moon Also Rises

by Nicroburst

Thirteen

Part Two

I find myself . . . unsure, how to begin. How exactly does one go about leaving a message for oneself, should the worst occur? It is what we most fear . . . and yet seems to me near inevitable. I cannot fight time, however I may perceive its flow.

You may be wondering who I am, and who this message is for. As difficult as it may be for you to believe, I only ever acted for our benefit. I hope you remember that, in the days to come.

Thirteen

FLUTTERSHY GAZED OUT AT THE SKY, the dawning sun painting it with a vibrant splash of red and yellow. She smiled, enjoying the slight breeze through her mane and quiet chatter of the critters around her. She was at peace.

These, these were the moments she lived for. Simple mornings full of simple pleasures, in the company of her animals and the comfort of home. She would have loved to share it with her friends, but she had been seeing little of them these last few months. It wasn’t a huge journey, to her small cottage hidden away amongst the hills and valleys surrounding the White Tail Woods, but everypony was busy.

She herself had plenty to do. As Warden of the forest and surrounding land, she was responsible for what happened here. That meant a lot of time spent watching, roaming the woods and hills. Thankfully, there was very little trouble to be found, but her duties included the care of wounded animals, and with the amount of ground she had to cover, Fluttershy often found herself far too busy to worry about the outside world. She contracted to this, her small domain, and ruled with a warm smile.

Gazing at the sky here, the crispness of the night still lingering in the air, she was happy.

Overhead, a flock of swifts passed, the birds disappearing and reappearing through the patchwork cover of clouds. Fluttershy sighed, fixing her eyes on their movements. Swifts were some of the fastest, most capable fliers alive, and they flew with a grace and power she could only envy.

They were magnificent, but as she watched them sink into the horizon, she spotted another, trailing in their wake. Clearly struggling, it favoured its left wing with each stroke, sending it veering as it flew after its brethren.

Fluttershy went after it, rising rapidly through the air to meet the swift. She took it in her hooves, whispering sweet nothings as she folded her wings tightly to her body, dropping to a cloud a few feet under her. She wanted a closer look at the injury.

Except instead of landing on a soft cloud, its fluffy mass supporting her body, she landed on nothing. She could see the cloud, pooling around her hooves, small chunks of its vapour dissipating to the sides. But she couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel any texture, or moisture, or solidity. For just a second, she stood on nothing.

Then the cloud moved, shooting away from her as she toppled off, its sudden acceleration catching her completely by surprise. Fluttershy froze, stiffening her limbs in shock. Her mane and tail streamed up, covering her face as the swift chirped frantically, held in her forelegs.

She recovered well before they hit the ground. After Rainbow had had to catch her—and the rest of them—from an accident with the balloon during her Wonderbolts Academy course, she’d taken steps to ensure Fluttershy wouldn’t forget she could fly again. Those lessons had been hard, but she had learnt, eventually, how to calm herself down, how to relax, to tilt her head and body, close her eyes, and pretend she was flying, normally.

Fluttershy carefully turned the fall into a glide, swooping down out of the clouds and coming to a stop near her cottage. She trotted the rest of the way, not trusting her wings after the incident, though she was proud of how she’d handled it.

Thankfully, the swift had just sprained a muscle in his wing. With a few days’ rest, he would be perfectly healthy, and able to go after the others. Fluttershy gave him some pain relief and food, tying a bandage around the wing to prevent it from moving. The swift settled down onto its perch near the fire, chirping to communicate its displeasure at the delay.

With that taken care of, Fluttershy turned her attention to the cloud. The little wind she’d felt up there hadn’t been nearly enough to make it move like that, but even had there been wind, she should have been taken with the cloud. It was almost as if it had been skittish, bolting away from her contact.

No, that was ridiculous. Clouds weren’t alive, they didn’t feel things. They certainly couldn’t move themselves. But still, Fluttershy couldn’t think of any other explanation. It had acted like a living creature, with intent and emotion.

Perhaps she should see Twilight. If anyone would know about this, she would. Perhaps Rainbow would be there—even if Twilight hadn’t heard of them before, Rainbow might have heard about something like this. She was the expert of flight and the sky, after all.

Besides, she needed to see Twilight anyway. Her Dreams had been troubled of late.

Oh, but what if Twilight wasn’t at home? She was often out, working across Equestria. And Rainbow would probably be in Canterlot, with the Wonderbolts. Maybe she should just try to forget about it.

The swift chirped twice from its perch, the sharp notes cutting through the stillness of the cottage. Fluttershy sighed.

She would go anyway. She might get lucky; even Twilight needed to take breaks now and then. But even if she wasn’t there, it would do her good to find some company. She could pick up some supplies; cheeses, breads, and linen. The basics of life in civilisation, so commonplace in her old life had become luxuries to her. She had plenty of money, but rarely found the time to purchase them.

Fluttershy walked out the front door, stepping down from her porch and onto the lawn. She raised her wings, preparing to take off. The flight into town would take her half the day—she would have to push herself to make it back by dark.

But as she thrust herself into the air, she heard the clip-clopping of hooves against the stone path leading to her cottage. Fluttershy lowered herself from her stance, dropping back to wait for her visitor.

An orange cowpony appeared, rounding a bend from the nearby trees. Fluttershy smiled at the sight, stepping forward to greet her.

“Applejack!” she called warmly. “What brings you all the way out here?”

As Applejack approached, Fluttershy noticed her coat, lathered in sweat. She must have run nearly the whole way to be that exhausted.

Applejack came to a halt, panting. “Fluttershy,” she said, gasping for breath. “You need to come with me.”

***

Pinkie carefully balanced the cups on the cupcakes, stacking them on a tray she balanced on her tail. Bouncing around the café, she dropped each plate on various tables, in front of various ponies. Each greeted her arrival with a smile, taking their order into their hooves with warm appreciation.

“Why, thank you, dear,” one said. She was sitting in between two young foals. As Pinkie watched, they dug into the treats, quickly covering their faces in cream.

“Not at all,” Pinkie said, turning away. Once, she would have stayed with the table, playing games with the foals and laughing with the parent. Once, she could have taken breaks when she wanted, to spend her time basking in their warmth.

But with the Cakes retirement, she had grown far busier than she’d ever been before. Pinkie finished delivering the current batch of orders and returned to the kitchen. There were plenty more plates awaiting her; the Cake twins had followed their parents in their calling and had inherited their talent for baking an abundance of goods.

Sugarcube Corner had done well, over the years, and she was happy. Her work might have been endless, but it brought her into contact with so many ponies, spread joy in everypony that came in. It was hers in trust, hers while the Cakes taught, until their children were ready. But it was awfully busy.

Pinkie kept her smile as she returned to the crowd, balancing a fresh tray. Foals liked to stare at her, as, impossibly; the tray and the pastries on it remained still despite her movement. It wasn’t that hard, really, not when you could Sense the movements of the tray before it even started to fall.

Pinkie turned her head to the door, waiting. Sure enough, the bell tinkled as it swung open, allowing a white unicorn to step inside.

Pinkie dropped the tray on a nearby table, making her way to the door in haste. Throwing her forelegs around the unicorn, she held her in a long hug before finally pulling back.

“Rarity! I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been? What’s been happening? Have you been busy? Oh, I bet you’ve been busy making something. Is it good? Can I see it? Do you . . .” Pinkie cut off as a hoof was stuffed into her mouth. Rarity shook her head, giving Pinkie a fond smile.

“I was here yesterday, dear,” she said.

“Oh, I know. There’s just so much work, and it feels like forever since just this morning, let alone last night, or yesterday evening, or yesterday afternoon, and especially yesterday at lunch.”

“Hush, Pinkie, I remember.” Rarity dropped her hooves to the floor, making her way into the café. Pinkie followed, quickly finding a table for her. Seconds later Rarity was comfortably seated, a checkered table cloth laid before her, and on that a plate, cutlery, napkins and a vase with flowers.

“We got some fresh daisies in yesterday,” Pinkie said, stealing one from Rarity’s vase and biting it enthusiastically. “They’re really good!”

“Yes, erm, thank you,” Rarity said. “Could you just fetch me a nice hot cup of tea, dear? Not too sweet! And get something for yourself, as well.”

“Sure thing, Rarity.” Pinkie dashed off into the kitchen, taking a fresh round of orders from the twins as well as a new, experimental cupcake and Rarity’s tea. She arrived back at the table to find Rarity hunched forward. Pinkie frowned, it wasn’t normal behaviour for the unicorn. Pinkie had expected to see her lounging, perhaps idly chatting with a neighbouring table.

Pinkie giggled as she approached. Rarity wouldn’t talk with a table, that was just silly. Besides, what would the table talk about, if it even could talk? How heavy its burden, how tedious its life?

She placed the food in front of Rarity, quickly passing out the other orders before taking the seat opposite. Rarity had drawn herself up, resuming her confident pose, but Pinkie could see the lines of tension in her forelegs, and the worry in her eyes. Something had, or was going to happen, something terrible.

“Rarity,” Pinkie began slowly, drawing each word out. “What happened?”

The unicorn stiffened, then slumped down in her seat, levitating her tea and downing it in a single gulp. Pinkie winced with her as the liquid seared her throat.

“Have you heard from Twilight?” Rarity asked once she’d gotten over her spluttering.

“Not recently.”

“She came to me three days ago. She asked me to find Trixie.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve Seen her, Pinkie. I’ve Seen what she’s been doing.”

“You don’t think she deserves a chance to change?”

“Of course not. I’m just . . . I’m not sure we should go after her.”

“That’s up to Twilight, isn’t it?”

“We’re meddling, Pinkie. Interfering in things we shouldn’t be.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just a feeling, a spot in the corner of my vision. Black on grey, like a smudge on the world.” Rarity was trembling now, clutching her head in her hooves. Her voice was muffled, smothered.

“Have you asked Fluttershy?” Pinkie asked. Where she would Sense, and Rarity See, Fluttershy could Dream; it was an ability more in line with prophecies and mystery than theirs.

“No,” Rarity managed.

“Well, maybe you should ask her.” Pinkie’s eyes widened, and she clapped her hooves together. “We’ll get everyone together! We can have a party here. You can ask her then.” Really, it had been too long since they’d all gotten together.

Everypony was just so busy. When Twilight wasn’t off saving somepony’s life or livelihood, Rainbow was performing on the other side of Equestria, or Applejack had a bumper crop that need harvesting, or Rarity had taken in a huge order from Canterlot, or Fluttershy had found another animal with another small injury.

Yes, a party would be perfect, and the perfect opportunity to talk out this problem. She had her own theories, of course, but Fluttershy and Twilight together would have a better idea of what was plaguing their friend.

“You’re not listening to me, Pinkie,” Rarity said softly, forcefully, uncovering her face. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Yesterday, I saw Luna.”

***

Applejack thundered along the path, shadowed from the hot sun only by Fluttershy’s small shadow. The two of them were making good time, though had Fluttershy been more of a natural flyer, like Rainbow, they could have been back in Ponyville by now.

She shook her head. That was unkind to both of them, while Rainbow would have had no trouble carrying Applejack all the way, she would never have been able to accomplish the wonders Fluttershy had managed.

Applejack had only visited Fluttershy a few times since she moved out here. Usually it was more convenient for the pegasus to fly to them than to have everypony make the journey. But every time, she had looked around wishing Fluttershy had chosen to remain in Ponyville.

She knew all the reasons Fluttershy had for leaving. All the good she could do here, the tranquillity and rustic charm. There had been reasons to stay, too, not least of which included leaving her friends. But she couldn’t have stayed. It had never really been a choice.

Fluttershy had forced Applejack to rest for half an hour at her cottage, and despite her urgency, even she could admit that she needed the rest. She felt much better now, refreshed and relaxed.

Applejack glanced up at the pegasus overhead. Fluttershy was keeping up, but she was visibly flagging, allowing the slightest unevenness in her wing-strokes, uncontrolled breaths. She wasn’t cut out for this sort of long distance sprint.

It was a pity Applejack couldn’t help her. She was running on a mixture of determination and will, fueling her muscles with something she’d never thought she’d find; magic, in the body of an earth pony. She had grown used to the idea, comfortable with its use, but she still caught herself thinking it unnatural.

Of course, Luna had said magic was inherent in all earth ponies. But where unicorns, and to an extent pegasi, operated magic consciously, earth ponies enjoyed its benefit without thought. It gave them strength, stamina and fortitude.

Coromancy hadn’t changed those abilities. If anything, it had made them stronger. Applejack had always felt strongly, now she had an outlet for those emotions. She could use them, pressing them into the earth to encourage growth. She could hold them, feed them into her body to send her limits skyrocketing beyond anything she’d ever seen.

When she was learning, practicing what she could do, she’d challenged her brother to a contest. He had always been the strongest stallion she’d ever met. While under the influence of Applebloom’s love poison, he’d been able to pull an entire house all over town.

The contest had been simple. She’d set up a tug of war, complete with mud pit. There hadn’t been anypony around to witness it; that hadn’t been the point. It was an exercise to help her learn, not to show off.

The first few games she’d lost almost instantly, not feeding enough emotion into her forelegs, or her jaw, or simply being too slow. But as they’d played, spending entire afternoons at the activity, she’d started to win.

The first time had been gradual. Big Macintosh had given the rope a quick tug and almost dropped it when Applejack hadn’t moved. She’d taken a step forward, straining, and slowly put more and more force into her step. Big Macintosh concentrated, focusing on his efforts, but Applejack continued forward until he’d fallen into the pit.

After that, the game had changed. She knew it hadn’t taken half of what she had to equal Big Mac, and now she wanted to know her limits. He’d started carrying weights, even hitching himself to his cart before they’d started. But Applejack refused to lose again, not until she’d given everything she had.

Everything she had had amounted to nearly a thousand tons of weight, made up of broken concrete, cobblestones, and wood, all from around the farm. She’d been bedridden for days, after that one. Not so much a physical injury, her magic had protected her from any torn muscles or sprains. She’d been in a state of apathy, lacking any conviction in life, lacking any desire to get up. She might’ve had the energy to, but she couldn’t feel it inside, urging her to move. But in time she’d recovered, and if anything, felt stronger. More complete, at one with the world around her.

That wasn’t an experience she’d repeat any time soon, but it had been a valuable one. Twilight especially was interested, demanding a full report and spreading it around. Luna had warned them, but those words hadn’t really hit home, not until one of their own had experienced the apathy she’d described.

“You okay up there?”

“Ye-yeah.”

Applejack looked at Fluttershy with a critical eye. The pegasus was not, in fact, okay. If they didn’t stop soon, she’d injure herself.

“Hold up, Fluttershy.” She stopped, raising a cloud of dust around her hooves. Fluttershy circled twice to lose speed before landing next to her.

“Oh, I can keep going,” Fluttershy said, though her legs trembled.

“Now now, sugarcube, don’t be afraid to tell me when you need a break. I understand.”

“I should be able to keep up!”

“Spending all your time walking or gliding around the forest doesn’t give you the kind of stamina you need for this run. Rarity can wait another fifteen minutes.”

“Rarity . . . sent you?” Fluttershy asked, dropping to the ground.

“Yeah.”

Fluttershy smiled. “Why the rush?”

“It took me a few hours to reach you, and we’re meeting at Sugarcube Corner tonight. Rarity was going to clear the whole place out, she caught me as she was going to the post office—sending a message to Twilight and Rainbow in Canterlot.”

“I guess we can wait a bit then,” Fluttershy said. “It’s only just past lunch.”

“We’ll give you enough to rest up, but we can’t dawdle. You’ll wanna be there for this, Flutters. Rarity says she’s found Luna.”

***

Rarity reached forward to grasp another cup of tea. Pinkie had had to return to her work; while those dining here for lunch had since departed, affording them some privacy, and Pinkie some respite, more had filled in, seeking an afternoon snack or treating foals after collecting them from school.

She’d already downed several cups, but for once she didn’t begrudge herself the excess. She needed something to calm her nerves, after what she’d Seen.

It had taken her a few days to recover from Twilight’s request, days she could have spent working. But she’d found her designs lacking, in the absence of fear and hope. It limited her drive, and snuffed out her creativity.

Instead, Rarity had focused on the more mundane parts of her work. Maintaining a business like hers required a great deal of effort, coordination and time. She’d met with dozens of ponies from all over Equestria, discussing fashion shows, catalogues and storefronts. It was tedious, but it didn’t demand too much from her.

When she wasn’t working, Rarity had been spending time with Sweetie Belle. Her sister wasn’t often in Ponyville, and when she visited, Rarity tried to take as much time off as she could. Sweetie spend most of her time touring, as part of a live show. When Rarity wasn’t marvelling at her own good fortune, she was basking in her sister’s fame. Equestria had taken to calling her the next Sapphire Shores.

Just this morning, she’d found hope in herself. It nestled alongside her fear—both emotions constantly at war, seeking to colour her, trying endlessly to draw her to their side. It had only been three days—usually it took a week to recover from Sight—but she knew what had hastened their return.

Rarity had been walking, with Sweetie Belle, through Ponyville yesterday. They weren’t walking anywhere in particular, or for any particular reason. Just strolling, to see where the day took them.

They’d passed the old school-house, where Cheerilee had taught Sweetie for years. The teacher had been standing outside the gate, looking in at what used to be her domain.

“I just heard last week,” Sweetie had whispered to her. “They’re closing it down.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“Scootaloo did. I trust her, sis. She said that with three schools across the town already, it was pointless continuing to fund this old place.”

“What will happen to her?”

“I don’t know.” Sweetie had hung her head. “It’s those damn New Ponyvillians, sis. They’re changing everything.”

“No,” Rarity had replied, watching Cheerilee. The schoolteacher, once so vibrant, so full of life and colour, had walked away from the building—a school no longer—with her shoulders slumped, her head drifted listlessly from side to side with each small step. “Everything is changing, Sweetie. They control it no more than we do.”

Rarity shook her head, focusing her mind on the present. On what she’d Seen, and why she’d gathered them all. Applejack and Fluttershy would arrive soon. She prayed that Rainbow or Twilight had gotten her message, and would bring the other down from Canterlot with them. She needed to tell them, to shift the burden. They could deal with it, as a group. They’d know what to do.

Pinkie darted around the shop, closing it for business. Was it already so late? Rarity watched the last of the customers leave, some sending her quizzical glances. Odd, how such a small thing could bother her so. The Old Ponyvillians would never have questioned her right to be here.

Not that they’d been doing that. Rarity was famous enough to attract more than a few stares, and while Pinkie was less well-known across Equestria, she had kept up her tradition of personally greeting every new pony in town. But whatever their reason, it drew attention to this meeting. Reminded her, when she was doing everything she could to forget.

Sometime later, there was a knock at the door, which Pinkie promptly answered. The merry jingle of the bells, greeting the newcomers seemed incongruous. In the wrong place, and at the wrong time.

There was a brief flurry of activity before Pinkie stepped back to admit Applejack, and behind her, Fluttershy. Rarity rose from her chair, meeting the party near the door. Pinkie disappeared, fetching food from the kitchen.

“Applejack, Fluttershy, how wonderful to see you!”

“Feelin’ better, Rares?”

“A little. I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong, Rarity?” Fluttershy chimed in. “Applejack said you’d found Luna. That’s wonderful.”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d prefer to only go through it once. Why don’t we wait for Twilight and Rainbow?”

“Yep!” Pinkie said, appearing behind them. “Take a seat. I made snacks.”

Fluttershy still looked worried, as if she wanted to order Rarity bed rest and hot soup. But they filed around the table, taking seats. Rarity leaned forward, propping her forelegs on its surface.

“Please. Can we talk about something else? Just till the others get here, I promise.”

“That bad, sugarcube?” Applejack asked.

Rarity nodded mutely.

“Well, alright. I was gonna wait a stretch before Ah told you all this, but . . .“ Applejack shook her head, glancing around the table. Pinkie was giving her full attention, and Fluttershy was already nibbling at the edges of a cupcake. “Okay. Y’all are aware that the farm’s doing mighty well, right?” she began, to nods from around the table.

“Well, that ain’t the case down south. Appleloosa’s run into a stretch of trouble of late. There’s some problem with the water supply to the town. I was gonna ask Rainbow if she could take a look with me.”

Rarity cocked her head. “The Appleloosans have pegasi. Why wouldn’t they have fixed it?”

“Frankly, I don’t know, but Braeburn wouldn’t have asked without a darn fine reason, and I ain’t about to let him down.”

“I could go,” Fluttershy said. “I mean, if she’s busy, or something.”

“Well, thank ya kindly. I keep that in mind, Flutters.”

Rarity tuned out the rest of the conversation, Pinkie throwing in her opinion on the problems down south. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t her concern. She hoped Rainbow and Twilight would arrive soon, though she couldn’t wait much longer.

Rarity pricked her ears, rising from her seat as a distant rumble washed through the room. Conversation ceased, everypony turning to face north. Rarity rushed to the door, throwing it open and casting her gaze up at the Canterlot Mountain. It was difficult to make out, this late at night, but she saw enough. The mountain, the entire mountain, was shaking.

***

Rainbow flew leisurely through the skies above Canterlot, stretching her wings before she returned home for the night. She’d had a long day, full of paperwork and meetings. Boring, trivial stuff, compared to the meat of her work; setting out training routines to test her squad, building their speed, agility and stamina, or working on herself, pushing the boundaries of aerodynamics. She had never been short of ideas for her stunts, and Coromancy afforded her a level of precision and aerial prowess that was unprecedented. In her skies, she was as a god.

Unfortunately, showing that off to the public required a great deal of coordination—not just with her team, but with the spectators, the hosts and the public. There was advertising, ticket sales, merchandise, licensing deals, fundraisers and charity appearances . . . the list went on and on.

Rainbow spun about in the air, twisting herself in a complete circle. The rush of air past her face helped to clear her mind, helped her focus. In the end, the roar of the crowd, the adulation of her peers and the respect that came with her title was worth it. She had found little in life to be as satisfying as waking in the morning to a glowing review of their performance. It was a validation of her entire life.

In fact, she could only think of one thing better. The one pony whose approval she craved more than any others, the one whose opinion Rainbow most valued. Twilight knew her to her core, and the look on Twilight’s face after a late-night flight . . . she lived for it.

But Twilight wasn’t at the Canterlot Agency, The only thing awaiting Rainbow’s return was a letter—unusual, because the posting address was in Ponyville. Rainbow opened it, rapidly reading its contents. Rarity wanted her—and Twilight—back in Ponyville, tonight. She’d . . . she’d found Luna.

Rainbow didn’t waste any more time, jumping back into the sky. She might have a difficult time finding Twilight, but she was sure as hell going to try.

Thinking about where to start, Rainbow turned towards the castle, only to be met by a rush of wind and a pink blur. It shot past her, the force of its passage actually dragging her through the air with its wake. That was . . . that was Princess Cadence. What was she doing down here?

Rainbow waited a split second before following. Whatever Cadence was doing, shed bet Twilight was involved. She found the trail, still shining clearly, and tore through the air after her.

They moved almost too fast for Rainbow to see where they were going. But when Cadence slowed, dropping to the ground and disappearing into the ground, Rainbow found herself in the slums of Canterlot. Shaking her head, she found the entrance, and followed.

The Canterlot Underground. She’d heard rumours, in the Wonderbolts, but none of them had really believed them. It looked like they’d been right after all, a vast network of interconnected basements creating a living and hiding space under the slums. It wasn’t a place you’d find respected ponies, reserved more for those down on their luck, or the wrong side of the law. So what business did Cadence have down here? And why was the entire place shuddering? Dust floated down from the ceiling, getting in her eyes, and causing her to sneeze.

Definitely related to Twilight, Rainbow decided.

Ahead of her, Cadence stopped in a doorway. She’d had to slow down considerably to navigate the dense warrens, allowing Rainbow the chance to gain some ground. As a result, she‘d nearly walked right into Cadence. Then the alicorn screamed.

It was a scream of denial, of buried hatred and shock. It was a scream of tension, pent up and worried at, thought over and built until finally released in a final, terrifying realisation. A scream that demanded change, demanded that the body Twilight was desperately clutching in her hooves would be alright, a scream that blew past them, smashing its own hole through the cracked wall behind them, showering them with debris and rubble. That scream had nearly hit Twilight, though she’d had time, and the presence of mind to deflect it.

But as Cadence rushed into the room, into what remained of the room, Rainbow saw her face, tinted purple behind the rapidly fading shield she’d erected around herself. Stone and dirt fell to the sides, into a sticky pool of—was that blood?!

Her face alone told her all she needed to know. The fur was wet, matted from uncontrolled tears. As she had watched, Twilight had raised a hoof, already wet, and rubbed her eyes to clear her vision, leaving a smear behind it.

Her lower torso was also wet, stained a darker hue from the liquid. It wasn’t water, wasn’t tears that had soaked her, soaked into the ground around them. Rainbow could see the gleam of light, reflected in the pool as it continued to spread, slowly, over the ground.

She’d seen something like this only once before, when she’d killed the wolf in the Everfree. But where the horror of that picture had come from gore, from the shock of taking a life and the realisation that she could, this scene was infinitely worse. Here, they confronted death, and as Twilight saw Cadence, saw Rainbow, her face crumpled.

“Oh, Twilight,” Rainbow whispered, the scene before her breaking inside—a slow wave, inexorable and inevitable, crashing through her with a sullen, steady pressure.

Cadence tore Shining Armour’s body from Twilight, burying her face in his torso. All around her, the air seemed to gain weight, seemed to somehow become visible to Rainbow. It sparkled, with a terrible light.

Rainbow took a step forwards. She didn’t see the signs, couldn’t acknowledge the danger building in the room before her. She had eyes only for Twilight, only for the broken mare before her.

“Dashie,” Twilight said, gripping her with the name, holding her tight. “Dashie, you’re here. You came.”

Twilight had nothing left to give. Rainbow could see the damage she had wrought—holes in the room, remnants of the building scattered around them. From above, the last light from Celestia’s sun reached to them, through what had been four stories, full of life. Below, a hole had ripped through the ground, taking Twilight’s grief to the center of the mountain.

“Dashie,” Twilight whispered as Rainbow reached her, clutching her.

“Shh, Twi’,” Rainbow whispered. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Author's Note:

Notes: Chapter Thirteen