Luna journeyed through bizarre worlds to find and bring Twilight back.
There are a lot of different worlds out there, connected with infinite expanses of bizarre biomes known as the Worldsbridges. Twilight is in one of them, lost and unable to get back.
Guided by the silent music of the Worldsbridges themselves, Luna journeyed to find her, even if it means walking the endless roads forevermore.
A gust of frigid air shimmied across the bright summer noon, and the dry desert storm parted to let it through. Silver specks of golden dust swirled as the cold breeze met the heated whirlwind, gracefully dancing the waltz under the countless twinkling stars of the dim sunlit sky. They jumped in time as the song came to a staccato, sliding along the rocky creeks and cheerfully danced the swing, leaving behind a trail of burning ice and frigid ash that dug through the ground and out the other side of a lavender unicorn’s mental biome.
Twilight banged her head against the bookshelf she had been staring at for half an hour. She used to be able to randomly pick a title from the library’s fiction shelf, enjoying the analysis of the story more than the literary beauty itself. It had been a minor hobby of hers since she started learning at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.
“Twilight!” came the voice of her number one assistant. “Another letter from… uh, you know who.”
“Burn it on the stove,” she replied. She heard shuffling from behind her and a clicking sound from the kitchen. She knew that Spike didn’t burn the letter, of course. She knew he had hidden all of the letters somewhere she couldn’t find so that she wouldn’t burn them herself. He was a considerate assistant, one she wouldn’t give for the world.
Twilight let out a sigh and floated down a thick book from the upper shelf. It was a book of plays written by a legendary writer, one that she had only read once because most of his plays were of the romance genre. A sappy genre. A genre that was full of nonsense and gibberish. A genre she had liked for a brief period. A genre she had no more interest in since three days ago.
“You should read Luna’s letters, Twilight. It’s been three days.”
“No, Spike. I’ve had enough of her.”
“Please, Twilight. You’re making the both of you miserable.”
Twilight trotted away, up to her bedroom with the book in tow. As she climbed up the stairs, she idly opened the cover of the book to find a couple of loose and yellowed papers. Most likely notes left behind by literature students, she thought. She took them out and flipped to the first page.
She paused as a glimpse of the paper sparkled under her telekinetic grip. Taking a closer look, she found that one of the papers was embellished with glittered ink, creating ornate patterns along the sides. Sure enough, as she separated it from the rest of the stack, she found that it was an invitation card. It read: You are invited to: Evermoor Fair.
It was a mesmerizing sight. The intricate writing was none that Twilight had seen, more perfect than her mentor’s finest pieces and more elegant than her once-beloved’s calligraphies. She stared in awe for a few seconds, admiring the bold curves and the flowing serifs. The image of the text bored its way into her mind, cradling the storm and the breeze together in a warm embrace.
She bolted to her room and spread the stack of papers on the floor, throwing the book haphazardly to her bed. It made her frown that none of the notes had anything about the fair. It made her smile that, turning the card around, it told her all the knowledge she needed to exit her world and head for Evermoor.
“Spike, take care of the library for a while!”
“What? Wait, Twilight, where are you going?”
“White Tail Woods!”
It was too late for Spike to stop her from galloping through the night, saddlebag strapped tightly against her back and a single invitation card within. Her mind was racing to the only thing she could think of: “Off the edge of the world and over, let us guide you yonder.”
And so Twilight galloped with a determined smile, following the path bored into her mind and listening to the assurance that she already had the key to open the forgotten Gates of her world. Sounds of her rapid hoofsteps were drowned out as she flicked her ears left and right, trying to find the exact source of the Music of the Worldsbridges.
Before she knew, she was already cutting away branches through the woods. She could hear the song clearer now, resonating her eardrums and heartstrings and calling her name, waiting for the Invitee and eager to let her through.
Twilight sang back a call with her melodious voice giddy and eager to meet the biomes outside of her world.
White Tail Woods shuddered in response to her call, marking the opening of Equestria’s Worldgate and readying the journey for one Twilight Sparkle.
It was dawn when Twilight found herself on the other side of White Tail Woods. She stood by the cliff, staring in bliss at the beauty of the Undiscovered West and enjoying the morning breeze. The birds chirped around her in a catchy choir, the swaying trees nodding along with the beat. Animals all around her gathered to watch the sunrise, bug bears and timberwolves alike basking in the golden rays of the western dawn.
Twilight trotted forward the moment the Sun showed herself fully from the horizon. The animals gave concerned whimpers and noises as her hoofsteps faded away, but she simply smiled back and waved, promising them her return with the bright red star silhouetting her figure over the westward path to Evermoor.
The timberwolves waved back and howled in unison, joining the birds’ choir that wished her a safe odyssey. The bug bears, after the choir had finished, sang a question with a deep rumble, reverberating through the landscape and between the mountains.
Twilight sang back an affirmative, echoing through the sky and over the horizon.
The woods swayed in response and all creatures within dipped their heads, saying goodbye as Twilight left the world for Evermoor.
It had been exactly one year since Twilight disappeared.
Princess Luna sat staring at the setting sun, the woods behind her silent save for the rustling of leaves from the occasional breeze. Right next to her was where Twilight’s tracks ended abruptly with absolutely no signs of continuation. It was like she had evaporated while watching the landscape.
The only clue everypony had of her departure was her last statement of going to White Tail Woods and a few notes scattered around her bedroom. Luna didn’t recognize any of the hornwritings; they were just somepony’s notes for literary analysis of a play that had been popular before her banishment. Twilight hadn’t written any of it, nor did they give any clue as to what had happened.
Even then, none of what Twilight had written said anything related to her disappearance, nor did they say anything of importance. Like their break-up.
“Oh, Twilight,” Luna whispered to the wind, “was it something I said? Was it something I did? Or were we simply not destined to be together?” She dipped her head and sighed. “It seemed that I’ll never know the answer.” She looked up again at the horizon, the sun now completely set. Lighting up her horn, she stood and spread her wings, catching the evening cold with her feathers and breeze with her ever-flowing mane and tail, then raised the moon above the horizon.
Folding back her wings, Luna sat back on the ground and watched the Undiscovered West glitter under the moonlit sky of countless stars. The plain rolling hills glowed softly from her moon’s blue tint with the occasional trees spicing up the view with uniformed landmarks. She sat there mourning for some time, letting the ambiance soak her soul with serenity and bliss, passing the time listening to the clattering branches and scampering critters.
Her ears perked up as she heard a note being sung by the wind. A note unlike those normally heard; notes that, under normal circumstances, could only be heard in the Dreamscape. She heard another note. Then another. Luna stood up as the notes took rhythm and sang. She listened carefully to the silent notes played and the unspoken words sung through the cold summer breeze.
Luna lit her horn and called, “Who are you?”
The song sped up and raised in volume as the branches joined the choir. A rumble of clouds slithered their way into the opening sequence and rattled the ground in a pitter-patter of rain while soaking the notes in a morose temper. Lightning split the sky in half. Thunder followed and broke the climax as it joined the orchestra.
A thunderstorm soon formed, smashing her hearing with claps of anguish and a guttural rumble of contempt. They sang of anger, of fury, of envy and jealousy. They asked her why.
Luna sang back an unprecise answer, not knowing the answer quite readily.
The storm went colder, slowly forming a blizzard. White encased Luna’s vision as snow battered her face and lightning struck centimeters from her. The blizzard screamed a horrible note of hatred and loathing.
Luna closed her eyes and shook her head. She sang a soft note of regret, of apology.
The Gates clapped a single beat, the sound carrying a horrible mixture of nearly every emotion known to her.
Then, there was silence.
Her eyes opened, and Luna regretted everything.
The blizzard had disappeared, leaving her behind with the same view of the Undiscovered West. The Moon shone high above, basking the land with nightly elegance and tranquil grace.
Luna sang a question.
No answer came. The wind was still and the skies were clear, the storm from before had hidden behind the mountains and the valleys.
Luna closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Think, she thought. She needed to think. Sitting down, she reopened her eyes and let them wander around her. She found specks of light flickering beneath the grass, the fireflies too shy to peek, let alone stare at her beauty.
Luna smiled. She sang a note of comfort, inviting the fireflies to come out.
The fireflies slowly poked their heads from their leafy protection, singing back a refrain of wonder and amazement, of respect and admiration.
Luna sang a question. A sad and distant one concerning a loved one she had lost.
The fireflies flew about and disappeared into the woods. When they returned, a few owls came out and sang of a story they had heard from their diurnal brethren. Soon followed the timberwolves, joining the choir with affirmation and loss, of fear that they had lost a beautiful soul to the barren biomes outside their world.
Luna smiled. “She’s still alive, then.” She lit her horn again, this time feeling the tugging from Equestria’s Worldgate, and she let it reach out to her soul. “Take me to her.”
The Gates opened with an angelic choir, the organ blowing out the winds and trumpets greeting her to the realm of the Worldsbridges.
She nodded and sang a thank you to the animals. Looking back to the western horizon, she saw the sky lit up to greet the sunrise.
Animals of the forest gathered around her, clutching her tight and trying to drag her back to the safety of their world; her world. No more souls needed to be lost for Evermoor.
Luna shook her head and, as the Sun rose completely from the horizon, trotted away on the westward path to Evermoor. She heard the animals sing her an overture of good fortune, the melodious notes reverberating across the Prairie of Betwixt and over the horizon.
Luna waved a departing hoof, singing back gratitude and a promise to return with her beloved.
Luna stood at the top of a knoll overlooking the flat expanse of the Prairie of Betwixt, letting the wind soak her with the music it carried. Flickering her ears, she could hear the silent sound of horns playing her a greeting tune, the flowing notes opening the sequence to the path winding through the yellow grasses, which in turn swayed gently along with the rhythm.
“Prairie,” she slowly said, “what have you here?”
The prairie kept on singing the same tunes over and over, unchanging to the passage of time.
“Prairie,” she said a little louder with a playful smirk, “it’s time to wake up.” She whistled a fast tune, trotting down the road as she dragged the music of the biome to a staccato. She could almost feel the playful grin permeating from the landscape.
Betwixt played its notes faster, letting them carried away by the wind to wake up its inhabitants.
Luna played a jingle and chuckled. “Care for a little dance?”
Betwixt laughed, its voice coming out as booming calls reverberating through the landscape and sharp notes jumping between the swaying blades of the grasses. Small fluffy hexapedal critters with elongated ears came out of their holes and hopped around, dancing to the upbeat music. Silver-coated coyotes ran playfully around Luna, jumping about and inviting her for a dance.
Luna laughed and turned her trot into a canter, jumping about the coyotes and letting the music guide her steps down the path. She whistled notes back as the song hastened its pace, answering the music of the prairie and creating a musical banter between them. She lit her horn and swirled the ambient magic to create a dancing pattern across the grasses, tickling Betwixt and causing more of the hares and coyotes to come out of their hidings.
The group of coyotes, hares, and one pony eventually slowed their dance down, settling to a steady march and letting the prairie’s music back to its usual pace but with the notes sharper and bolder.
Luna giggled as she marched to the beats, grateful that the prairie now resonated with her more intimately. The prairie, in return, smiled gratefully for the musical companion it hadn’t had for quite some time.
Luna slowed her march a little as the road came to a fork in the distance. She closed her eyes and raised her ears, struggling to find a different tune that may lead her to her destination.
The prairie, sensing her distress, asked her where she was going.
She stopped abruptly, standing still and making a few heads turn around as the coyotes and hares marched past her.
The critters joined the prairie’s choir of question.
“A unicorn,” she slowly began. “There’s a unicorn out there, purple coat and eyes, her hair indigo with two streaks.” She turned toward the critters. “My beloved. Have you seen her?”
The prairie sang and shifted its grasses, bending one of the paths to another angle far from its former. The coyotes whimpered as Luna gazed toward the end of the path where it submerged under the horizon. The hares scampered away and back toward their holes.
“Don’t you worry,” she said, “I’ll be okay.” She raised her head high and trotted away. “And I’ll bring her back. I don’t think she can hear the Worldsbridges’ music. Even if she could, there’s no way she could understand them. She’s lost. Only I can find her now.”
The prairie sang her a song of warning, that not all biomes were as friendly as it and some were downright hostile. It was not worth the risk of going for Evermoor.
“It always is,” she stated, her tone not carrying any hints of argument. “For Twilight.”
“For Evermoor?”
Luna smiled at the coyote clutching her hoof tight, singing it a calming tune. “If that’s what it takes, then forevermore,” she said. “How long is forever anyway?”
The Prairie of Betwixt stopped abruptly at a dense row of towering pine trees, split only by the path coming from the other biome. Luna stood just before the line separating the golden sheen of Betwixt from the lush green of Yonder’s Forest.
Luna took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. Her hoof hovered for a while just above the ground, basking in the air of finality that pressed against her sides and shoulders. The pine trees held their breaths in anticipation while the grassland behind her leaned in to see the occasion.
Luna stepped forward and left Betwixt. The prairie sang a farewell while the forest chorused a welcome song.
Luna smiled and giggled, blushing as she felt the trees and bushes greeting her like an expected guest. She heard them sing a joyous song and guided her through the splitting paths, finding genuine honesty to the notes and beats. She found herself skipping and hopping to the melody, laughing and dancing over the ups and downs the path took her through. It led down to a river, and the forest raised stepping stones to let her through. It took her up a hill and down the other side, it took her through a cliffside and out the other side, it took her winding around clockwise and counterclockwise, and she giggled all the way, her laughter coming out as a jingle accompanying the forest’s fiddle.
In the middle of her dance, the music stopped abruptly. Luna looked right and left, bracing herself for anything. When nothing came, she whispered to the forest, which in turn whispered back an uncertainty.
She slowly stepped over the bushes, peeking into hidden nooks and crannies. There was nothing of interest, all of them the natural denizens of the forest. Taking a deep breath, she let out a melodious call. When nothing came out, Luna sighed in defeat.
The forest saw her distress and tugged her hoof. They led her a few paces in and to a shrubbery filled with a variety of herbs. A single type of plant stood out from its sheer number, its leaves forming a ring of triple leaves and yellow umbels at the top. She’d notice parsley anywhere, from the insignificant addition to her meals to the long-forgotten herb to aid digestion.
The forest whispered a song of comfort, urging Luna to take some. It sang a song telling the story of magical herbs grown outside of any world and the different magical capabilities within each species. Should one ever be offered some, one shall need it soon.
Luna hesitantly reached out and, with her mouth, took a sprig that the forest willingly gave. She tucked it under her wing and glanced about, wondering at the sudden return of silence.
A rustle came from her side and she snapped her head toward it. Slowly reaching out, she saw a glimpse of a figure dashing around the shrubberies and jumping from hiding place to hiding place, withdrawing every time Luna came too close.
Luna sighed and noticed that the forest was watching. She raised an eyebrow and took the parsley with her telekinesis. Hearing another rustling behind her, she turned around and slowly drifted the sprig to where she thought the critter was.
The rustling stopped and the shrub permeated a sense of curiosity. She heard a sniff and a hum before a head poked out.
It was a curious thing, both in character and in appearance. Its head was cube-shaped with its muzzle protruding in a sharp pyramid. Its ears were shaped in a parabolic arc, flickering left and right in a precise rhythm. Its tubular appendages slowly reached out to the parsley Luna was holding.
Its limb latched to the stem like a magnet. The creature cocked its head in a precise thirty-degree angle and moved its perfectly-sphered eyeballs around the asymmetric plant.
The creature jumped back in surprise as Luna sang a question. Raising an eyebrow, Luna reached out a hoof and let the creature come closer. When Luna sang again, the creature scampered back.
Luna shook her head. “What’s the matter, little one?”
That gained its attention. It perked its ears and rolled its spherical body closer to her, waiting for another question.
“Can you not understand my song?”
It shook its head.
“What are you?”
The creature transferred a sequence of codes that Luna’s brain translated into text form: A Mathemphetamaticae. It was scared that it couldn’t understand any of the forest’s noises.
“Eat,” Luna said as she gestured to the parsley, “and I’ll tell you how to sing.”
And so the Mathemphetamaticae bit into the leaves, savoring the comfortable taste and soothing liquid that flowed around its dodecahedral tongue. It felt its muscles relax and its mind calming down, the magic of the Worldsbridge Herb working its way down its soul to comfort it. It looked up, staring at Luna gratefully.
Luna took the Mathemphetamaticae’s other limb and pulled it closer. She whispered a note to its ear, holding it tight as it recoiled. She sang another note to its ear, this time feeling a weaker pull as it started to wonder about the noise.
Luna giggled and took a stick. Finding a clear patch of dirt, she began writing a mathematical sequence that made up her noises, the longitudinal waves that made up sounds and how it traveled through the air as a complex cause and effect of interacting air particles. She explained how music was made of nothing but a bunch of stretching and squeezing stuff. She explained how a certain pattern of stretches and squeezes could be heard and how it traveled through the eardrums and into the nervous system and to the brain and how the impossibly complex web of neurons translated that bunch of squeezes and stretches into emotion and thought.
Luna paused as she heard a note being sung. It was flat and boring, but a note nonetheless. She smiled with joy at the creature, and it returned it with an symmetrical grin.
Luna raised a note over the forest, resonating it around the branches and leaves and made it travel all over the forest.
The creature smiled wider as it heard the forest’s choir, slowly forming a crescendo to an opening verse. The creature joined the chorus, singing an off-note that could be heard by all the forest inhabitants.
The creature cringed and lowered its head, ears flat against its temples.
Luna giggled and picked another bunch of parsley, offering it to her friend.
Yes, friend! The Mathemphetamaticae perked up and ate the leaves without hesitation. It looked into Luna’s eyes and smiled.
Luna nodded and sang another note. The forest sang the choir again, this time gracefully and comically improvising as the creature sang multiple off-notes. The Mathemphetamaticae and Luna sang together and laughed, dancing across the greeneries and shrubbery and swung together with the beat. They trotted and rolled, laughing together and enjoying each other’s presence along the path the forest guided them through.
Time passed without them noticing. Their friendship became stronger, and soon Luna thought of an idea for a gift.
She left her friend for a while, promising that she’d return in no time. Ambling through the trees and shrub, Luna collected bunches of flax as the forest curiously watched, telling her where there were more.
The Mathemphetamaticae rolled mindlessly around the road, waiting impatiently for Luna’s return. Time seemed to pass slowly, making it wonder a lot of things that may happen to its friend. It tried singing with the forest but Luna’s absence seemed to make the tunes hollow.
It jumped in surprise when Luna’s melody came in the middle of a chorus. Happily rolling and jumping, it sang a question as to what she had done.
Luna unfurled her wing, displaying a beautiful masterpiece none had ever seen before.
Tucked to the underside of her wing was a cambric shirt, perfectly woven from the finest linen made from the finest fiber into a single uncut piece. Its fibers crisscrossed boldly against one another, forming perfectly mathematized curves and perfect geometrical patterns from a single weaving. Beautiful. Bold. Impossible. Seamless. Perfect.
Too perfect.
The Mathemphetamaticae saw the majestic details of the shirt and folded its ears back, watching in fear as Luna announced that it was a gift for it. It was, to his eyes, the perfect gift, and knew what to do.
It bolted away.
Luna shouted in surprise, galloping out of the path and chasing her friend down. She heard rustling from everywhere, not knowing which was her friend’s and aimlessly dashing from shrub to shrub in vain hope of finding a glimpse of a perfect geometrical shape.
But the creature didn’t want to be found, and so it was not. Luna sang to the forest and asked it where it was, by which the forest responded with a chorus of confusion and distress. The creature was nowhere in sight, and as soon as time passed, the forest forgot of its existence altogether, leaving Luna galloping randomly through the paths the forest had forgotten.
The road going through Yonder’s Forest eventually led her to a mountain range. The forest sang a guilty goodbye as she stepped over the green boundaries to the rocky landscape, and Luna sang back a grateful tune for keeping her company. “It’s not your fault,” she slowly said as she patted the grassy ground.
Galvanizing Heights blew quick deep notes to greet her, introducing steep slopes and endless canyons along the only passable road across. The dull grey rocks chorused an unwelcome greeting as she stepped on them, shooing her away and hoping she’d never manage to cross. The skies darkened as she went further, preceding thunder that screamed a melancholy refrain in the distance and shafts of rainfall striking frightening notes to drown portions of the road into an endless abyss of wetness. Blizzards blew deafening verses over the higher paths, wishing passersby to succumb and drown to their cold, lifeless embrace.
Luna trudged along the path. Facing the wall of rainfall, she took a momentary step back before swallowing hard. After a few deep breaths, she walked into the storm and let the water drench her to the bone. Lightning struck from cloud to cloud, briefly showing her the path she was walking through and the sneering slabs of igneous rock defying her any form of respite.
Eventually, she passed the storm. Her mane hanging heavily against her neck and coat thoroughly soaked, she shook herself and took a moment to rest. Sitting on the road, she idly watched the countless storms waiting for her in the distance and the blizzards eagerly preparing their best performances. Her fur shivered in fear.
An ethereal head formed right next to where Luna was sitting, startling her. It mumbled an apology and continued to emerge, limb by limb and up from the ground until its form fully coalesced.
Luna blinked. The creature looked like tattered clothes hanging from an invisible string, its ethereal limbs lazily swinging about like a suspended octopus made of ectoplasm. It made high-pitched moaning and whispery whispers as it glided around Luna’s resting place. It picked up rocks and sang a few words to them, setting them back in different places and singing to them how it was their appropriate positions. When its glowing blue eyes met with Luna’s, it nodded politely and wandered to other rocks, sometimes even small stones and pebbles.
After a while, the creature dissipated into mist, letting itself be carried by an unseen breeze to the other side of the mountains.
The mountain, upon reading Luna’s mind, amusedly told her that it’d be impossible to find the creature again.
“No,” she said, “it’s hard, but not impossible.”
The mountains sang a rumble, opening a downward path back home. She could see a silhouette of Canterlot Mountain in the distance, alluring her into her motherly care and lovely pampering. It was also a mountain, Galvanizing Heights reasoned, sooner or later the creature would go there as well.
She scoffed and stood. Climbing up a few steps, she found a shrub with wiry stems and small oval leaves that smelled pungent and spicy. She bit into the bunch of thyme, chewed, then smiled courageously in the general direction of the mountaintop. “Fortune favors the brave!” she bellowed. The wind hissed in malice at her.
Luna kept her smile and continued her journey. As she traveled, the winds felt softer on her face, the snow bit less violently at her bones, and the rocks felt softer under her hooves. The blizzards cried in a miserable tone, inviting her into the dark and cold embrace of death, but she laughed and bit into another sprig of thyme. The storm bellowed a mighty screech of anguish, trying in vain to repel the stubborn mare away. The rocks grumbled in frustration and tumbled away rockfalls and avalanches, but Luna giggled and snorted, blowing away boulders and waves of snow with her mighty magic like a foal blowing into dandelions.
In one of the blizzards, she finally met with the creature again. She sang it a cheerful greeting tune.
The creature politely nodded and continued rearranging the rocks.
Luna giggled and helped it pick up a particularly heavy boulder, smiling as it gave her a questioning look. It pointed an unsure limb to a spot for the boulder to be put and Luna cheerfully obliged.
The blizzard blew a constant barrage of snow. Luna ignored it and talked amicably with the creature. Turned out the creature was a she, and her name was Occupium. It was her job to keep track of the places of the rocks and rearrange them as needed.
Luna didn’t help much; it was a little hard to understand how Occupium’s placement system worked. But, as little as she had helped, she kept her company. She talked mindlessly about her home, telling her about the sister she had just met after a thousand years, of her day-to-day life in the castle, and of the shenanigans that came with the two combined.
Occupium eventually talked, telling Luna the story of a faraway land where the mountains never seemed to change and her work was almost never needed. She also told her of Galvanizing Heights, of how she had been working there for an indefinite amount of time now. Luna nodded in sympathy, she herself not noticing how much time had passed since she first set hoof on the mountain range.
Time passed and the blizzard gave up and dissipated into light snow. Not long after that, Occupium finished her work at that area and dissipated back into her misty form, carried away by the unseen wind to her next destination.
Luna galloped and chewed a sprig of thyme, her hooves flying across the rocky mountain path. She galloped through the blizzards and storms, cutting through snow and rainfall like scimitar into silk. She ignored the song of displeasure from the denizens of the mountains and flew through the air like an arrow. She took a sharp turn that deviated from her path, but she didn’t care. She stumbled down the cliff and climbed up the canyon, following the misty path left behind by her friend.
Some time passed, neither knowing exactly how long, but Luna was panting when she saw Occupium dutifully carrying a pebble and setting it down to its designated place.
Luna sang a joyous melody as she sat down panting, spitting out the remaining thyme she had been chewing for some time. She lost count of how much she had munched through.
Occupium sang a question.
Luna laughed and replied with a weak note.
And so Luna sprawled on top of a rock, watching Occupium gracefully lifting and putting rocks and pebbles, sometimes boulders as big as houses. They talked occasionally, enjoying each other’s company and singing random songs together. Storms and rain shafts passed them by without being noticed, the wall of rainfall only serving as a catalyst of laughter as Luna stumbled about the slippery slopes, inevitably needing to use her telekinesis to keep herself on all fours.
Occupium stopped all of a sudden when she found that her job there was done. Luna sang a verse of concern. Occupium shook her head and asked Luna not to follow her.
Luna shook her head and sang in defiance. Her job would be along the path, she reasoned, and it was timeless here as far as she was concerned.
It was not the problem, Occupium sang back, her next destination would need her to cross even more dangerous paths, where the breeze felt like thunder and the drizzle felt like a tsunami. She feared that Luna’s courage would be the death of her.
“That’s silly,” Luna said. “You’re making excuses.”
For she did. She knew Luna’s fearlessness came with equal skill and prowess; it was only a matter of will. Seeing no other option, Occupium sank underground, where Luna would never be able to track her down.
Luna stormed toward the horizon with a scowl, ignoring Galvanizing Height’s horrendous orchestra that promised her death and failure. The rocky pastures gave way to golden sands, everchanging to the softly dancing winds of the Great Brazen Dunescapes.
A few steps into the sand and Luna stopped, taking a deep breath and calming herself down. The air was crisp and hot as it entered her nostrils, burning her throat and biting her lungs. As she let it out, she felt her nasal cavity chilled and moistened by her own breath, clouds of welcome cold traveling far from her muzzle before disappearing.
She stepped forward and hummed a lengthy note, greeting the deathly silent desert and announcing a new soul arriving after almost never. The sands greeted her back slowly and lifelessly, the notes stretched thin across the flat expanse and lazily drifting about the dry and inhospitable wasteland. Her breath trailed a cloud of comfort as she went, inviting bugs and little critters to cool down along the footprints she left behind.
A couple, a dozen, a hundred, then a thousand dunes later, Luna lay down on the only other thing in the desert except dunes: a dune. A particularly steep dune, with the wind blowing from the other side and protecting her from the sands that stung against her eyes and coat and face and everything. Looking back at the trail she left behind, Luna smiled as she heard a few critters chorusing a thank you for the little comfort that she brought to the dying biome.
Luna took a deep breath, coughing as she accidentally inhaled an amount of airborne sand. The cloud she breathed out was shorter now, barely reaching the ground before dissipating to the greedy heat of the desert. She could feel the sands beneath her sucking out the cold from her body, eagerly gorging on her lifeforce.
In the middle of her rest, she heard a soft jingle of a ballad in the distance. Standing up, she climbed the dune she was lying next to and saw, in the distance, a band of carpets flying low to the ground, carrying with them tall cloaked figures with overly long scarfs and the wares they were selling.
Luna sang a call, and the ballad stopped. The traders turned their heads toward Luna, and she waved a hoof. When she climbed down the dune, one of the traders hopped off their carpet and walked toward her with a bipedal gait.
They met halfway, Luna singing them a friendly greeting while the trader sang her a curious one. Luna asked them what they were selling, by which the trader urged her to come and see herself.
Closer to the band now, Luna noticed the golden trim and embroidery from their bright red carpets and clothing glowing softly and alluringly under the dim sunlit sky. Their carpets and clothes lazily drifted about a nonexistent breeze, sluggishly returning to their position when Luna touched them as if suspended on an invisible viscous liquid. The trader who guided her remarked that her mane acted the same, albeit on a faster rhythm.
The traders eventually gathered around her, unfurling their carpets and showing her a myriad of herbs and spices, many of which she didn’t recognize and looking like something out of a dream.
One herb in particular caught her eye, its oblong greyish leaves reminding her of the ancient medicine for chest congestion and wounds. Luna asked how much they were asking to part with all their sage leaves.
A trader was about to explain that they were going on a trade journey to a land far beyond, that they needed to still have some sage to sell when they arrived but thought better of it when Luna took off her crown. They began considering it when Luna took off her necklace. Their eyes bulged as Luna took off her shoes.
And so the traders sang an agreement, taking her full regalia and handing over two gigantic bundles of sage and a full-body robe complete with a tagelmust.
Luna quirked an eyebrow at the robe and said, “The clothes were not part of the agreement.”
“No, it’s not,” the traders chorused back. “But a necessity; you’ve paid more than enough for both.”
And so the traders continued their journey atop the flying carpets, leaving Luna behind with an abundance of sage and protection against the elements.
As soon as the traders disappeared over the dunes, Luna unveiled her muzzle and ate a sprig of sage. Letting out a long breath, she watched in amazement as her cloud traveled further than it had ever been, scorpions and snakes and desert rats and desert foxes coming into existence and scampering close, enjoying the chill without their usual instinct to feed on each other.
Luna smiled and sang over the desert, dutifully marching and leaving trails of optimism along the way. She ignored the sands blowing against her eyes, only occasionally shaking off the sand collecting in the folds of her headscarf. She felt her exhaustion and tiredness completely forgotten as she danced across the desert, spreading the mist of steadfastness and life along the path she took and awakening hope to the dying desert.
And so the desert awakened, slowly blinking, and the dim sunlit sky of countless stars flickered as it felt its ecosystem regaining form and life from uncountable eons of death and misery. It felt the dancing form of Luna, heard her beautiful voice and followed the misty trail she left in her wake.
Luna felt the desert’s attention toward her and sang to it, raising her voice to awaken the soul within.
The Great Brazen Dunescapes chorused a thank you, shooting a tremendous flurry of wind that carved a straight path for Luna to safely travel through.
Luna blushed and giggled, biting into another sprig of sage and blowing out another mist, this time condensing into a large body of water between the larger dunes. As the remaining cloud lingered, it soaked into the sand and from it sprouted date palms and ferns and other greeneries. Critters long forgotten and new alike woke up from the ground, taking forms Luna had never seen before. Thin, cloth-like birds drifted slowly across the New Oasis, watched from the sidelines by mini stone golems and from under the water by similar rug-like fishes.
Luna unstrapped and cut the remaining sage she had, depositing it on the side of the oasis and floating it over the new creatures to eat. Slowly they ate, and soon the oasis grew in size and water seeped into the sands and turned them to dirt, sprouting countless more lifeforms and, as the desert realized with a shock, healing the wasteland from its acute illness known as death.
Luna heard a rumble underneath, quirking an eyebrow, and was about to sing a question when she fell. The ground beneath her opened up to an endless wind tunnel, mercilessly dragging her away from her efforts and out of the guilty, happy, giddy, angry, joyous, wrathful desert. She was helpless as the Great Brazen Dunescapes itself took her out of it through the wind tunnels stretching from end-to-end, from countless boundaries to countless other biomes and countless other worlds that the biomes connected.
The winds eventually ended at Great Brazen’s border, depositing her harshly against the gravelly beach of Lachrymose Fjord. Luna’s disheveled form skidded to a halt just before the shoreline, her robe shredded to pieces and her tagelmust suffering a huge tear.
Luna quickly stood up and ran back toward Great Brazen, screaming, “I was trying to help!”
Great Brazen knew, it sang. It’d take care of the life she had given it out of selflessness and make sure that anything passing by would know it had been her doing.
“You deserved it!” she screamed as she stopped by the border. “Don’t hear whatever anyone’s telling you, you deserve kindness!”
Great Brazen rumbled.
Luna scowled and shook her hoof high. “You’re being stupid,” she said through clenched teeth. “Stop being stupid.”
Great Brazen howled, the ground letting out a horrendous screech as it split right at the border.
“Wait! No, stop!”
The ground opened up to an endless abyss, the crack showing her a clear view of the Great Void of The Nonexistence, a fall to a certain cessation of existence outside the lands that made up the Worldsbridges.
“Please, stop!” she cried, jumping and spreading her wings.
Great Brazen blew a powerful explosion of wind, sending her crashing back to Lachrymose Fjord.
Luna desperately rightened herself, galloping in vain to the cliffside and watching Great Brazen’s focus shifting away from her and the golden sandy pastures drifting away over the horizon, out of her field of view.
Luna hopelessly reached out from where she could still stand, calling out the Great Brazen Dunescape with tears streaming down and out of the worlds-between.
Luna eventually gave up, slumping against the side of the chasm and sobbing quietly to the endless void.
Luna blinked owlishly as she woke up to Lachrymose Fjord’s melodious humming, the notes flowing serenely across the winding river and to the riverbank she was laying upon. She stood up, eyes swelled and her torn tagelmust hanging limply on her head, then sang a greeting to the fjord.
The fjord hummed a welcome tune, sympathizing for the debacle she went through with Great Brazen.
Luna sighed. “I just wish it wasn’t so…”
“Selfish?”
“...Guilty.” She turned around, finding atop a raft at the river a nondescript blob of energy carrying a long wooden pole. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you’re there.”
“No need to apologize, ma’am.” The blob gestured with his pole. “Care for a ride?”
“Where would you be going?”
“Anywhere you want me to.”
Luna nodded and sighed. “Take me to Evermoor, then.”
The blob moved to the side of the raft, letting Luna sit in the middle, facing away from him. As she stopped shuffling and sat comfortably, he dipped his pole underwater and pushed away from the shore, letting the nonexistent flow of water carry the raft downstream. As they slowly drifted along the glittering motionless water, the blob asked, “Need help with that?”
Luna looked up. “My tagelmust? Yes, please.”
The blob untangled both pieces of clothing from her head and body. Seeing the gruesome damage her robe had taken, the blob dropped it to the water, where it turned into a luminescent cloud and sank into the peaceful abyss. The blob then took the tagelmust and examined the tear in the middle, perpendicular to the scarf’s length.
Luna quirked an eyebrow. “Would it be better as a scarf, now that it’s torn?”
The blob spread the ten-meter piece of indigo cotton wide. “I have no preference, but I can tell you that it’s possible.”
Luna nodded, closing her eyes and enjoying the chilly breeze of the fjord, listening quietly to the background choir and letting the blob tie a loose scarf around her neck.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of fabric ripped apart. She glared at the blob and the now-two-pieces of cloth he was carrying. “What did you do!?”
“It was too long and the tear would make it fragile anyway.” He finished tying the scarf and handed her over the remaining piece of cloth.
Luna paused as she took the cloth in her hooves. Folded in two, it does look like a new scarf. A beautiful one, too.
“It would look lovely on her.”
The boat rocked violently as Luna jumped. “Twilight! I... I can’t believe I—”
“Forgot about her?”
Luna spun and glared daggers at the blob. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“A lot.”
“The Worldsbridges made me forget, didn’t they!?”
The blob shook his nondescript head. “What are memories but a way to relive the past?” He gestured to the riverbank they came from. “Who needs memories when you are reliving the past?”
“They... what?”
“A story needs a world to exist. Here, outside the worlds, no new stories can be made. You are reliving your past.”
Luna let the intensity behind her eyes dwindle. “My past? I don’t remember any of those adventures.”
“You’re not remembering it. You’re living it.”
Luna stared at the blob. “It’s... like the Dreamscape.”
“The Dreamscape is but an extension of a Worldsbridge.”
Luna turned around, facing where the boat was heading again. She sat down and stared at the nondescript sky high above. “Twilight. Those were not my memories, they were hers. I’ve been living the manifestation of her memories.” She glanced back at the blob. “Not anymore, am I?”
“Welcome to Lachrymose Fjord.” He gestured to the water. “How are you feeling?”
She stared at her reflection on the perfectly flat water. “I... miss her.”
“You’re still wondering why she left.”
She sat on all fours and put her head on her folded legs. She closed her eyes. “It’s all my fault.”
“Everything is always your fault.”
She scowled. “You’re repeating my words.”
“I have no preference. I can only be a mirror.”
Luna peeked over the raft, watching her reflection on the ever-quiet river with the stars above complementing her flowing mane. “You’re Lachrymose.”
“I am Lachrymose, a fjord of reflection.”
“Why are you a mirror?”
“Why are you always at fault?”
“Because I am.”
“There goes my answer.” He pushed the boat with his pole. “Why did the Mathemphetamaticae run away?”
Luna huffed. “How should I know? It told me nothing before disappearing.”
“Why did she leave?”
Luna sighed. “I don’t know… She told me nothing before disappearing.”
“No, no... Why did Luna leave?”
“I never left.”
“You did.”
“I…” Luna choked back a sob. “She’s too perfect. She helped me adjust. She knew my world and the world she’s living in so well, telling me the beauty of the modern world while still appreciating my archaic origins. Then, she gave me the perfect gift… and I turned it down because it was too perfect.” A smile crept on her face. “But that wasn’t true, was it? I was jealous that she was so competent at everything she did. I felt belittled because I kept comparing myself to her. I failed to see that I don’t need to be better than her for her to love me.”
“Why didn’t Occupium want to be followed?”
“Because she’s being silly. She worried too much about me.”
“Why did Luna ask her to never follow her again?”
“The bureaucrats were eating her whole!” she took a deep shuddering breath. “I… I can’t lose her to those bastards.” She let out a long breath. “I was being silly. I got so obsessed with trying to put myself back on my duties that I forgot about the free time I could’ve spent with her. I shouldn’t have put my career above my relationship.” She let out a single laugh. “Or maybe I should, on occasion. Find a balance between the two.”
“Why did the Great Brazen Dunescapes throw you away?”
“It’s…” Luna closed her eyes. “Great Brazen was angry that I helped it recover too much too well.”
“Why did Luna throw her away?”
“It was me all along, wasn’t it?” She opened her eyes, staring at her reflection rippling as she mindlessly dipped a hoof in the water. “She merely noticed what was happening and broke up our relationship so I won’t take the blame for myself. So that I won’t feel even more guilty. I was focusing too much on my guilt and let it develop into jealousy and greed for affection. It made me unable to stop and think that maybe that’s not what a relationship is about. That, maybe, the entire point of friendship and love is not having someone to help me at my times of need but to—” Luna stood up. “...grow together?”
“You were being selfish.”
“I was blaming myself too much that I became narcissistic. I forgot that the entire point of having a loved one is to grow and become whole together, not just to make them a sinkhole to drop in all my past mistakes. That’s just making me fall deeper into guilt and keeping me from going on in life.”
The raft docked on a pier next to a cottage, the flickering lights from within inviting for warmth and the chimney puffing out a homely smell of cooking.
“You should change.”
Luna stepped off the raft and to the dock, thanking the blob deeply with a chant. The blob, in turn, gave Luna a sprig of a plant with green needle-like leaves.
“You should give.”
Luna walked down the short snowy path to the cottage, tightening her wings and tucking the sprig of rosemary and scarf safely underneath them. She paused for a brief second by the door before shaking her head and taking a deep breath. She knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
Her heart leaped to her throat. “T-Twilight?”
There was a pause before she heard scampering and the metal lock clicking. The door opened, revealing a pair of lavender eyes, shimmering from the golden flickers of the lantern above. Twilight gaped. “Luna?”
Luna took a sharp breath. “I-it’s me, Twilight. I—”
Twilight jumped and hugged her tight. “Luna!”
Luna dropped on her haunches and wrapped her hooves and wings around Twilight. “Twilight! Oh, Twilight, I missed you so much.”
Twilight sobbed. “I-I missed you too, Luna. I’m sorry I left you.”
Luna shook her head. “No, Twilight, don’t apologize. It is I who should thank you for leaving me.”
Twilight stepped back and gave her a look. “What?” She sniffed. “What do you mean?”
Luna smiled and gestured with her wings, saying, “Let’s talk inside. It’s cold out here.” Once inside, she took a deep breath of the pleasantly warm atmosphere. “You’re cooking?”
“Yes. I’m cooking soup.”
“What soup?”
“I don’t know, I put in anything that looked edible. Want some?”
Luna laughed. “Alright, let’s see.”
They sat together in front of the fireplace, the pot slowly boiling above the glittering silver fire. Luna wrapped a wing around Twilight, and Twilight leaned in, sinking herself into the fluffy embrace. “You’re warm,” Twilight said.
“You’re cold.” Luna smiled, taking the extra scarf and handing it to her. “Here, I bought you a gift.” She wrapped it around Twilight’s neck, and Twilight snuggled her muzzle in it.
Twilight took a deep breath of the scarf and frowned. “Alright, care to explain?”
“If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t be journeying through the Worldsbridges to reflect on my mistakes.”
Twilight let out a tired sigh. “Luna, it’s not your fault.”
Luna shook her head. “No, Twilight, it is.” She held up a hoof before Twilight could protest. “And I noticed that, yes, my fault was in too much self-blaming. But I’ve learned that now, and so I’m sorry for being too selfish.”
“You’re not selfish for trying to get help.”
“No, but I was selfish for trying to get help while denying any that came. I was too self-centered and I didn’t notice it because the only conventional state of egocentrism we know of was with too much confidence in oneself, not the other way around. I forgot that you—” she lightly touched Twilight’s muzzle “—were also part of the relationship. And for this, I’m again sorry.”
Twilight rubbed her muzzle and giggled. “I… well, thank you, I guess?”
“Don’t guess, taste,” she said as she took the ladle from the pot and sipped. “And I tasted something bland. Did you put nothing but grass in it?”
She shrugged. “The only thing that looked edible.” She floated down a sack from above the fireplace and opened it. “Well, I do have some parsley, some thyme, some sage, some—”
“How about rosemary?”
She heard Twilight’s breath caught in a hitch. “R-rosemary? Well, I—uh, I think do have some, let me—”
Luna gripped her tight under her wing. “Nuh-uh.” She took a sprig of rosemary from under her other wing.
Twilight jumped, helplessly kept under Luna’s wing-grip. “Wait! No, let me use mine!”
“Hush, Twilight. Let me for once.”
“But—”
“I’ve always been a taker. Do you really want me to stay how I was before you left for Evermoor?”
“W-well… no.”
“You want me to change, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. You were hurting yourself without knowing it.”
“And I was hurting you, as well.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s not what you admitted.”
“I… You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“So let me give.” She put the rosemary in the soup and stirred the ladle.
Twilight took a deep breath of the new smell coming out of the pot. She hummed blissfully. “It smells nice.”
And so they sat and waited until the soup finished cooking. When it did, Luna took a bowl and poured the soup in it. With a single spoon, Luna fed Twilight lovingly between the mouthfuls she took herself.
“Anyway,” Luna interjected, “why are you going to Evermoor?”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “You know I left for Evermoor but don’t know why?”
She scoffed. “I wasn’t told any of the details; music can only describe so much. It’s pretty hard to even remember what happened back then. I bet you don’t, too.”
“Fair enough.” She took her saddlebag from a corner of the cottage and fished out an invitation card. “And it’s a trading fair. I was invited to Evermoor Fair.”
Luna took the invitation card. “Huh. This card was for the fair over fifty years ago, corresponding to Equestria’s time flow.”
Twilight scrunched her eyebrows. “Wait, how do you know?”
Luna flicked her ears. “Lachrymose told me. Well, sang it to me, really.” Her ears flicked again. “Although it’s still valid. The fair’s still going annually.”
Twilight folded her hooves and glared at the ground. “Really? I can’t hear it.”
Luna laughed and patted Twilight’s head with her wing. “You might have been the one living in the modern world, Twilight, but music is my domain. Listening to silent tunes is something I invented before my banishment.” She paused. “And, well, that’s how I heard the Worldsbridges’ overture in the first place and knew how to find you.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Getting cocky now, huh?”
Luna floated a sprig of parsley before she could complain. “Eat, and I’ll teach you how to listen.”
Twilight laughed and bit the parsley. “Thank you,” she said, calming down. “So, would you be my plus-one for Evermoor Fair?”
Luna chewed on a sprig of thyme, grinned, and sang, “I’d be delighted to.”
Luna shuffled close to Twilight and draped a wing over her. Warmth crept up her cheeks as Twilight snuggled close. She took a deep breath as she did, drinking in the chilly and tranquil atmosphere that cradled them from horizon to horizon. “As comfortable as it could be.”
The blob pushed the raft away from the dock and into the fjord, disturbing the tranquil waters with ripples from their nondescript boat. Lachrymose Fjord sang them a soft flowing piano piece to accompany the newly mended couple under the silver glittering Moon and countless twinkling stars.
Twilight let out a contented sigh from under Luna’s wing, covering her muzzle with her new indigo scarf and clutching Luna’s foreleg loosely with her own. Her fur shivered as she felt Luna’s feathers brushing against her back and sides, soft and gentle yet bold and firm. She took a deep breath from the scarf and greedily submerged her olfactory nerves in the smell of blueberries and moonlight. A smell she had missed so much after an indefinite amount of time living on the coast of Lachrymose Fjord. “This is nice.”
Luna chuckled. “It is, Twilight.”
Twilight stared at the silhouette of green hills surrounding the river-like lake; a dark featureless shape squeezed between the reflective waters and bright moonlit sky. Their boat swayed lazily as the blob pushed it over the endless waters, lulling her mind into serenity and bliss. And sleepiness. “We’ve never had any dates like this, have we?”
Luna shook her head. “I don’t think so. Such a shame, too; there are a lot of places in Equestria I know you’d love to visit.” She turned to Twilight. “Would you like more of these kinds of dates? Away from civilization and simply enjoying nature?”
Twilight scrunched her eyebrows. “But what about your duties?”
“My duties will be fine, Twilight. I’ll empty my schedule from time to time.”
“But wouldn’t that—”
“Just like you had in the past.”
“But—”
Luna bit Twilight’s ear, chuckling as Twilight squirmed and yelped. “No buts.” She let go of Twilight’s ear and kissed her on the cheek. “Just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”
Twilight giggled and kissed Luna on the neck, blushing as she heard the blob singing them a teasing piano flourish. “I’d love that.”
And so the pair slept in each other’s embrace, lulled by the lullaby of the fjord with the blob of energy driving them on their way to Evermoor.
Luna woke up to the sound of seagulls and the spicy smell of the Floor Seas of Inbetweenian Archipelago. As she opened her eyes, her vision was bombarded with the bright light of the Sunken Sun shining overhead and the reddish clouds waltzing with each other about the Ceiling Seas. Shafts of spice-water poured from the Floor Sea to the Ceiling Sea and from the Ceiling to the Floor, carrying with them clouds and ships alike. In the distance were waterborne vessels of many shapes and sizes, from oblong to torus, from twenty-masted sailing ships to giant spinning waterwheels, manned mostly with short and muscular tripedal creatures covered from the middle down with intricately drawn pieces of cloth.
The blob pointed to the landmass a few kilometers away with mountains more like stalagmites accompanying their brethren on the Ceiling and shore hidden behind the countless ships and endless docks. “My raft can’t sail the Magelsea Ocean,” he said. “Find a ship from one of the Verenigosts. They’d gladly take you to Evermoor.” He gestured vaguely to the other giant ships. “Or you can ask one of the Inbetians. They’d also gladly take you, but they’re never in such a hurry as the Verenigosts.”
Twilight cast a spell and closed a single eye, zooming in to see the people on the docks. “I don’t see any other creature but the Inbetians.”
“Exactly.”
As the raft slipped between the gargantuan oars and Brobdingnagian hulls alongside the smaller vessels, Luna heard Inbetweenian Archipelago greet them with a majestic orchestra of brass gongs and plates. The sudden beginning note startled her, earning her a confused look from Twilight.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, just Inbetweenian startling me.”
Twilight raised her ears. “I heard nothing.”
“In time, you will.” She flicked her ears. “For now, trust me.”
“I always do.”
Luna blushed as she heard the orchestra shifted into a teasing bamboo piece. She sang back an awkward tune of gratefulness, which the archipelago replied with even more teasing notes from high-pitched flutes and leather drums.
Twilight raised an eyebrow as Luna sank her reddened face beneath her wings. “Are you okay?”
Luna huffed underneath her pile of fluffy feathers. “Music is a funny thing, Twilight. It can play with one’s emotions very easily.” She flicked her ears. “It can also be very vulgar at times.”
The blob chuckled and Twilight kept a questioning look on Luna. Their boat maneuvered between the giant ships alongside other small boats, falling in line to dock and quickly empty and fill their decks.
As the blob docked and the pair jumped to the pier, Twilight asked Luna, “Why did you sing?”
“It’s a universal language. I’ll explain later; right now we have to find a Verenigost.” She turned her head left and right, scanning the sea of Inbetians and the crates and goods they were carrying. Although the Inbetians were short, most of her vision was still blocked by the megaspices and wooden crates. Luna huffed.
“Why don’t you fly?”
“It’s rude,” she quickly answered, looking at the land above them with no less busyness than theirs. “The Inbetians don’t appreciate airborne things since they can never be sure when you’re upside down. But,” she said as her smile twisted to a grin, “they won’t mind us stepping on them.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be ruder?”
“Music is a lot of things, Twilight, but a liar it is not.” She hopped on top of a block of black pepper, the Inbetian underneath unbothered by the additional weight and kept on walking without slowing. Luna gestured for Twilight to join.
Twilight gulped and shook her head. Finding Luna already carried a few paces away, she jumped to a wooden crate, clinging to the side and trying to climb on top of it. A few seconds of frantic scampering later, she felt herself getting pulled by a familiar telekinetic aura.
Luna gave Twilight a teasing smile as she deposited her on the block of clove she was now standing upon. “Jump to the rhythm, Twilight.” She moved to a crate nearby. “Follow my lead.”
As Luna moved again, Twilight followed her, falling into a rhythm that Luna set. She jumped into crates and blocks and roughly tied commodities, struggling to keep the beat to a song she couldn’t hear. Sometimes she missed a beat and slipped, sometimes she missed a beat and nearly toppled the Inbetian underneath.
Luna stopped, letting Twilight take a breath. “You still couldn’t hear it?”
Twilight huffed. “How am I supposed to?”
Luna gestured to the sea of bobbing thingamabobs.
There was a rhythm to the bobbing, Twilight noticed. Looking down, she could feel the Inbetian under her walking in a tripedal gait in synchronicity with everyone around him. Her mouth made a silent, “Oh.”
Luna smiled. “At least now you can feel it.”
Twilight smiled. As Luna moved to another box, Twilight waited for the bobbing to finish a full cycle before moving, just in time as Luna reached another box. She heard Luna giggling, and soon she joined her and evolved it into a rhythmic jumping of joy and laughter.
An indefinite amount of time later, they reached the other side of the port, where fewer people were walking and more were eating and talking and resting alongside the open market. Luna stood still just as she jumped down from the block of cinnamon, followed closely with a still-giggling Twilight. She flicked her ears left and right, ignoring Twilight’s questions.
Twilight eventually stopped asking and strained her ears, yet she could hear nothing but the haggling and banter from the market and the small restaurant.
Luna walked slowly, eyes still closed but her steps confident and deliberate. Twilight followed her in silence, opting to observe the Inbetians instead: ape-like, hairless but on the very top of their heads, which most of them covered with a bandana-like headscarf with the same material as their skirts. Closer to them now, she noted the drawings on their clothes were of repeating patterns, signifying things she couldn’t comprehend.
Luna stopped abruptly before an alleyway. Snapping her eyes open, she sang a loud call into the narrow passageway.
A creature skidded to a halt right in front of them, its upper body reminiscent of the Inbetians, yet its lower body a spinning top, hair a pure white, and clothes that of a rich, old-time sailor. It sang an annoyed question at Luna.
Luna sang back.
Twilight watched in confusion as the two kept on singing with each other, Luna with regal dignity and the other with business-like annoyance. Eventually, the creature, seemingly satisfied, nodded and shook its hand with Luna’s hoof.
“Was that a Verenigost?” Twilight asked.
“Yes,” the creature answered, startling Twilight. “Didn’t you hear me the first time?”
“Please excuse her, Sir Dandelion,” Luna intervened. “She doesn’t speak in music.”
Dandelion stared at her aghast. “And you dare bring her here!?”
“I didn’t,” she stated. “One thing leads to another and now we’re here.” She smiled at her coyly. “And I’m teaching her as we speak.”
Dandelion gave Twilight an amused smile. “Well, I see.” He turned around and jumped on top of a crate an Inbetian was carrying. “My ship leaves in five verses. I’ll see you two there!”
“Time,” Luna said before Twilight could ask. “It’s how the inhabitants of a Worldsbridge measure time.”
“How long is a verse?”
“Not enough,” Luna said as she jumped atop a block of turmeric, “if we keep on horsing around. Come on!”
Twilight giggled and jumped, following Luna as they jumped with the rhythm like before, yet with longer hops and straight trajectory.
Soon they landed on a floating dock next to Dandelion’s ship: wooden and slithering, her snake-like body towering over the small boats and hull reminiscent of fortress walls. To her side, Twilight could read her name in giant letters: Slitherfort.
Dandelion shouted an annoyed verse from the windmill that was the Slitherfort’s head. A part of the Slitherfort’s body opened, lowering to the dock as a staircase to board her.
Luna and Twilight climbed the makeshift plank and aboard the deck, greeted by more Verenigosts wandering about atop their spinning lower bodies. Orders were shouted from the bow accompanied by booming drums, and the answers from the crew were sung a capella.
As the pair trotted side-by-side to the bow, Dandelion’s crew divided themselves to each side of the deck, then jumped as the other side landed, and landed as the other side jumped, in a wave across the entire ship, making the Slitherfort slither out to the open spice-sea.
At the bow of the ship, they found Dandelion holding on to a pair of railings to his sides and his topspin bottom holding tight to a wooden bowl on the floor. Twilight watched in silent fascination as the Slitherfort turned and fixed her course with Dandelion’s spinning of the bowl.
An Inbetian was standing next to Dandelion, singing a greeting tune as Luna and Twilight came to view.
Luna sang him back a greeting melody.
As they came close, the Inbetian clasped his hands around Luna’s outstretched hoof and bowed, then repeated the gesture with Twilight’s. When he rose again, he smiled, displaying his teeth, reddened by a lifetime of drinking spice-water. “Gus,” he said, pronouncing it like ‘goose’.
“Luna,” she answered, then gestured to Twilight. “This is Twilight.”
“Lovebirds,” chirped Dandelion, not turning. “Happens to be going for Evermoor.”
Gus laughed. “Good, good. Evermoor’s good for love.”
“Is it?” asked Twilight.
Gus winked. “And food. Evermoor’s good for food.”
“You mean herbs?” asked Luna.
“Herbs? No, no. Herbs come from other places. Inbetweenian have spices.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “They’re basically the same, aren’t they?”
Gus shook his head. “No, no! Herbs you chew; spice you drink.” He pointed to the edge of the sea. “And while it’s what we trade, we’re famous for spice-water.”
“And many creatures would die for them,” said Dandelion. “Before, of course, knowing that they will if they drink it outside of Inbetweenian Archipelago.”
“How does that work?”
Gus shrugged. “Ask the sea.” He produced from his pocket a small wooden cup attached to a length of rope. “Wanna try?”
“You should,” encouraged Dandelion.
Luna nodded and sang a grateful tune.
Gus threw the cup overboard. When he pulled it back, it was filled to the brim with a thick, red liquid, the scent reminding Luna of garlic and black pepper and cinnamon and many other spices mixed together, while the color reminded her of wine and blood.
“Slowly,” Dandelion warned. “It’s powerful.”
Twilight watched as Luna took a cautious sip. Then, she stared down at the cup.
“Luna?”
Luna kept on staring.
Twilight waved a hoof in front of her. “Luna?”
Luna collapsed in a heap, the cup quickly caught by Gus before spilling anything and Luna caught firmly in a panicked Twilight’s grip. “Luna!”
Dandelion whirled. “What happened?”
Twilight glared at Gus and Dandelion. “I would like to ask the same question.” Her gaze pierced into Gus’. “It’s poison, isn’t it!?”
“It’s not poisonous.”
“You poisoned it!”
“It’s not poisonous but to those of a royal bloodline.”
“Why didn’t you say that sooner!?”
“I wasn’t aware that she’s of royal blood.” He pointed at her head. “Royals usually wear a crown or… things.”
Twilight lit her horn and ran a check over Luna. “She’s not breathing!”
“She’s most likely dead.”
Her eyes snapped to Dandelion’s own. “She’s what!?”
“Dead.”
Her glare fell on Gus. “You killed her!”
“Well, I didn’t mean to!”
Twilight hugged her tight. “No, no, she’s not dead. She can’t be dead!” Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Luna… just as we reconciled… You can’t be dead yet! Not this fast...”
Gus shook his head. “No, Twilight, she’s dead.”
Twilight’s face hardened beneath Luna’s unmoving body. “And how can I know that you didn’t kill her on purpose?”
Dandelion shook his head. “As you don’t speak in music, you never can.”
“And how can I trust you on that!?”
Gus shook his head. “As you don’t speak in music, you never can.”
Twilight snapped her head up, her horn dangerously bright and mane blowing to her arcane wind. “You killed my love!”
Gus raised his unoccupied hand. “I didn’t!”
“You killed her!”
“That I did, yes.”
Twilight’s eyes shone brightly.
“I’ll fix it.”
Her eyes lost its glow, yet horn still glowing. “You can?”
“I can.” He turned the cup upside down, producing a solid block of spice-ice. “In Undrykken Valley, I can make an antidote to her death.”
“You can’t bring someone back from the dead.”
“In your world, maybe.” Gus gestured around him. “But here, it’s not even a world. We’re in the Worldsbridges. World Dwellers can’t die unless they fall into The Nonexistence.”
Twilight brought up a shield. “How can I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You never can.”
Twilight fell on Luna’s body, shield still up and breath ragged. “J-just… Just take us home.”
“But you were going to Ever—”
“I don’t care anymore.”
“She’d die for real if you bring her back dead.”
“You’re lying.”
“How can you tell?”
Twilight sobbed. “I just know.”
“How can you know?”
“I just do.”
“How do you do?”
“I’m not fine.”
“Why?”
“My love is dead.”
“Your love is still burning.”
“Luna is dead.”
“Why is she dead?”
“You killed her.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“She didn’t trust even herself.”
“I can’t trust my own judgment.”
“Why can’t you?”
“How can anyone?”
“By listening.” Gus sang a tune.
“I don’t understand what you’re singing.”
“In time, you will.” Gus sang another tune. “For now, trust us.”
Twilight stopped crying. She took a deep breath from under Luna’s limp mane. “She trusted you.”
“She sang with us.”
“I trust her, so I trust you.”
“How can you trust her?”
“I love her.”
“Is it enough?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?”
Gus nodded and grinned. “Alright, Dandy! Set sail for your homeland!”
Dandelion shook his head. “No. I’ll miss the Evermoor Fair.”
Twilight clenched her teeth. “It’s a matter of life and death!”
“And attending Evermoor Fair is also a matter of life and death.”
“It’s not like you die if you missed one year.”
“I will. Many will.” Dandelion gestured at Luna’s body. “She won’t. You can wait for another year.”
“I want her living. Now.”
“Yes, Dandy. We can cut through the Peace Sea and into—”
“We’ll die in the Peace Sea.”
“There’s a chance that we won’t.”
“I’m not taking that chance.” Dandelion frowned. “Not for someone who doesn’t even sing. I bet she piggybacked Luna to escape her world.”
“I didn’t,” Twilight said in a dangerous tone. “Luna came to take me home. I came out and lost because I don’t understand The Worldsbridges’ music, but I got out because I was invited.”
Dandelion paused. “You… what?”
“I’m invited.” She took out the invitation card from under Luna’s wing. “I’m invited to Evermoor Fair.”
Gus took the card and read it. As he read, his smile turned into a grin, then a chuckle, then laughter. He slapped his middle knee and laughed in a booming melody. He then sang to Dandelion, which in turn sang in sharp tunes akin to cursing.
Twilight, still sobbing, stared at Gus questioningly.
Gus chuckled. “You’re an Invitee, Twilight. You’re now the most valuable thing everywhere and anywhere the Worldsbridges can take anyone and anything.” He gestured to Luna. “Followed closely by the Plus-One.” He gave her the Invitation card back and frowned. “So keep that safe, girl. Don’t show it to anyone you can’t trust.”
“But how can I trust anyone?”
Gus shook his head. “You can’t.”
Twilight stared dejectedly at Luna. “I don’t even trust myself.”
“She trusts you.”
Her eyes snapped to Dandelion. “She… She did, didn’t she?”
“She does.”
A ghost of a smile rose to her lips. “She does.”
Gus grinned. “So, for Evermoor?”
Twilight wiped her tears away and nodded in determination. “For her. Forevermore.”
A visible line between thick red liquid and clear, see-through waters marked the end of a Worldsbridge to another. Creatures from both avoided the line entirely, Dandelion and his ship not an exception. The Verenigost captain bit into two sprigs of thyme as the Slitherfort passed the barrier and into the clear waters of the Sea of Peace. A quiet trombone greeted the crew slowly, and they answered with a cautious a capella.
As Twilight peered down from the deck, her vision shot through the water and straight down to the bottom of the sea. Coral reefs and fishes sped by her vision, hundreds of meters deep yet visible as if there wasn’t any water there. Dim colors glowed from the corals under the twinkling midnight Sun, accentuated by more vibrant ones from the fishes’ bioluminescence.
Luna, still dead, lay upon a makeshift bed just before the bow, her mane limp and lifeless, the stars inside gone to a flat light blue Twilight first saw upon her return from Nightmare. “Luna,” Twilight whispered, “I’m going to bring you back.”
Without winds blowing through the Peace Sea, the windmill on the bow was folded back. The Slitherfort moved slower with only the crews driving it forward, and Dandelion wouldn’t have it any other way.
Looking at the empty horizon, Twilight asked Dandelion, “What’s so dangerous about this place?” She looked down on the majestic fishes swimming without a care in the not-world. “It’s all peaceful here.”
“It is,” Gus answered. “But always the opening sequence only.” He scowled to the horizon they were heading toward. “Never trust what you can see.”
“I don’t trust anything.”
“Which is a death sentence.” Dandelion locked the steering plate in place and hopped off. “Trust what you cannot see.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Dandelion darted his eyes from horizon to horizon, chewing more and more sprigs of thyme. He offered one to Twilight. “Brace yourself. It soon will.”
The Sun made way for the Moon in an instant, flashing the sky like a sudden floodlight. A storm that hadn’t been there blinked into existence. Fishes down below vanished like a mirage, in their place giant monsters flashing their teeth alongside tentacles lashing out to the uninvited guest.
Twilight stumbled and jumped as the ship rose and fell. She clung to the bed Luna was lying upon, lighting her horn and desperately trying to keep her in place.
An indefinite amount of time passed as the ship sailed ahead, bracing the endless storm that sung a terrible orchestra down to a pair of deaf ears. Thyme between her teeth and horror written all over her eyes, Twilight clung to the deck and bed like welded bars of steel.
“Where did this storm come from!?” shouted Twilight.
“If we want to get you two to Undrykken Valley with enough time to spare for me to get to Evermoor, then no.” Dandelion spat out his chewed-out thyme. “Just deal with it!”
And so the Slitherfort sailed up and down the moving hills of crystal-clear water, the crews jumping about the segmented decks and trying to ignore the horrible monstrosities that awaited them down below the visible ocean floor with gaping jaws.
Thunder roared across the storm and lightning propagated through the clouds, darkening the sky for a split second before it lit up again, displaying totally different waves and clouds and underwater leviathans from before.
Twilight hyperventilated, her eyes shut tight and hooves each locked to the deck’s railing and Luna’s bed’s frame.
“You’re okay there, Twilight?”
She took a deep shuddering breath. “What’s going on? It’s all… It’s all...”
“Different?”
“Nothing stays the same!”
“Nothing does.” Dandelion put a hand to Twilight’s shoulder. “Doesn’t that happen often in your world?”
“But I know that it will.” She pulled her hooves closer. “I don’t know anything anymore!”
Gus laughed. “In the Sea of Peace, only those who don’t know can cross.” He grabbed Twilight’s other shoulder. “That’s why we dare to cut through here!” He tugged at her. “You don’t know anything! You can get us through!”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
“But that’s how it is.” Gus and Dandelion pulled Twilight. “Open your eyes, Twilight! See what we cannot.”
Twilight opened her eyes, finding the storm still raging and the Slitherfort jumping up and down to the chaotic rhythm of the Worldsbridge. She shut them again.
“What do you see, Twilight?”
“Nonsense. Danger.”
Gus pulled her again, this time forcibly lifting her up and depositing her on the steering plate. “Look again. Tell us what you see.”
Twilight clung to the steering rails and lay as low as she could. She risked peeking an eye open.
“What do you see?”
“I don’t know what I’m seeing.”
“What don’t you see?”
“Safety. Familiarity. A safe way through the storm. A way back home.”
Gus grinned. “Good! Bring us there, then!”
“I said that’s what I don’t see!”
Down on the horizon, a giant gaping mouth blinked into existence, as if unveiled from an invisible fog. Indistinct congregations of tentacles and fins and hands and hooves writhed about from it, calling for anything to join its feast.
Twilight couldn’t take her eyes off the abomination, her muscles limp and thoughts halted through sheer disbelief and the absolute knowledge that more of those unknowns were waiting behind the unseen veil; possibly bigger and more horrifying, possibly containing the unspeakable miscreations of The Nonexistence. She sobbed. “Why did I agree to do this!?”
“For your beloved.”
She glared at Dandelion. “I could’ve been more patient and waited another year!” she cried. “Now we’re all going to die!”
“No one’s going to die,” Gus said, offering her a sprig of thyme. “‘Cause you’re on the wheel.”
“We’re all going to die.” Twilight bit the thyme from Gus’ hand. “Because I’m on the wheel.”
“You have to believe in yourself, Twilight! You can do this!”
“I always avoid these things whenever possible!”
“That’s why you’re doing this now!” Dandelion grinned at her. “Take yourself to where you don’t want to be!”
Twilight swallowed the thyme and stared forward. The Slitherfort was heading slightly away from the abomination, she saw. “Where I don’t want to be?”
“Courage, Twilight.” Gus put an arm over her back. “Fortune favors the brave.”
“I don’t want to be courageous.” She shut her eyes. “I can be happy without any fortune. I have her.”
Dandelion put an arm over her back. “But would she want you to not be successful?”
“But I’ll be happy as long as she’s successful.”
“And she’ll want you to be successful as well.”
Twilight opened her eyes. “I have my own life.” She looked at Dandelion. “That’s what you’re trying to say? That I shouldn’t dream so low just because I can?”
Dandelion and Gus grinned, dropped their arms from her back, then cheered. “So take us away, Twilight!”
Twilight nodded in determination and let out a long breath. “Dream big...” She unlocked the steering plate and put a firm grip on it with her hind hooves, taking control of the ship.
“Wait, Twilight, what are you—”
She barked an order to slither faster.
“You’re taking us straight into—”
Twilight spat out the thyme she couldn’t remember eating. She laughed as tears of fear ran down her cheeks along with the merciless rain. “...Dream beyond the skies!”
The gaping mouth roared an incomprehensible gargle, its sound rippling the raging seas and its shockwaves propagating through the clear stormy sky.
“Twilight, what are you doing!?”
Twilight grinned. “Where I can’t see safety.”
The mouth rose higher up the air, the semi-circle now fully round and ready to slurp the Slitherfort like a single strand of noodle. Twilight kept her eyes open as she locked the steering plate in place.
“Where I don’t want to be.”
The mouth lurched forward as it screamed a horrible note, the writhing mass of limbs stretching out to grab her.
Twilight chuckled as she cried. “Where I don’t know what everything is, where death lurks in every corner, where risk is constant and failure inevitable, therein lies the place I can’t see myself in.”
The Slitherfort jumped up a sudden rogue wave like a ramp and straight into the mouth.
“And therein lies the place I don’t know I want to be.”
All eyes closed, everyone on board the Slitherfort braced themselves as she bashed against the mouth. A resounding splash soon followed, the light from the blinding Moon snuffed out like a burnt-out candle, and the storm disappeared as if it had never been there.
Twilight peeked open an eye, then opened it all the way, then opened both eyes, then chuckled. She giggled. She laughed.
The sky was clear and the Sun was up, darkening everything in her wake. The sea below her peaceful and tranquil, the fishes and corals enjoying their own dim bioluminescence and ignoring the giant slithering ship passing by. A landmass appeared on the horizon, the twinkling lights on the shore and a spinning shaft of powerful light inviting sailors for refuge.
And Twilight laughed a little bit more, and she sang a giddy song she remembered from her childhood. She perked her ears up and found, to her ever-expanding euphoria, that she could hear the Peace Sea’s orchestra of cheer and celebration. She sang back along with the rhythm and danced her way down the deck, giggling and laughing and dancing with the ecstatic crew.
Luna would not believe what she missed! she thought, then giggled some more and danced ‘round the crewmen. “Imagine how her face would look!”
Dandelion laughed and slapped Twilight’s back as they met in a dance. “Welcome to the Worldsbridges, Twilight!”
Twilight watched as The Slitherfort slithered away from the deck with her windmill standing high and proud, the crews and captain singing her an enchanting melody to thank her and wish her a safe journey.
Twilight sang back a grateful tune, thanking them for bringing her to where her beloved may recover. She sang also to the one crewman and Gus down on the docks with her, carrying Luna along with her bed.
As Twilight stepped off the dock, Undrykken Valley greeted her with gentle guitar rock and an accompanying soft drum. She giggled, admiring again her newly found ability to listen to the silent tunes of the Worldsbridges, this time not because an invitation card messed around with her brain.
The stairs down the dock sloped steeply as if the sea was atop a mountain or the valley an undried chunk of the seabed. Twilight trotted alongside Gus, humming tunes along with the valley’s rhythm and enjoying the view the valley was offering: seas of tulips in an assortment of colors covering all where there wasn’t a windmill or a village, with rows of Verenigost soldiers in elaborate uniforms trampling them and grinding them into colorful dyes under their spin top appendages.
Twilight saw that the road they were on wound across the valley, up and down the hills and behind the mountains only to show again on another mountain. Unending windy tulip plains and windmills dotting the landscape uniformly spread throughout the biome, patrolling soldiers grinding and collecting dyes ignoring the road completely.
Hills upon hills and villages upon villages they walked by, smiling upon soldiers should they cross paths and enjoying the tulips and the view.
Time passed and Twilight frowned. Right and left and up to the horizon sunken beneath the mountains, she saw that the view was not any different from when they left. Yet, looking back, the docks were nowhere in sight. “Are we going the right way?”
“Of course,” answered Gus.
“We’ve passed through so many villages. None of them was our destination?”
“None.” Gus kept on walking. “Just enjoy the journey; it’s a long one.”
And so Twilight walked and trotted and dragged her hooves and body down the road, pushing herself until her hooves ached and body full of sweat and breath labored and— “Are we there yet!?”
“No,” Gus answered flatly. “Just enjoy the journey.”
“We’ve been walking endlessly!” she exclaimed. “And it looks like we’ll journey endlessly still.”
Gus hummed. “Seems like it.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Just enjoy the journey.”
“Really?”
“Sing, and you’ll understand.”
And so Twilight sang to Undrykken Valley, asking it for a true path that would bring her to her destination.
The valley asked her what her destination was.
Twilight turned to Gus. “Where are we going?”
Gus wasn’t there.
She whipped her head left and right. “Gus?” She turned around and about, breath quickening and eyes darting about. “Luna?” Nowhere. The tulips were gone, the road was gone, the sky was an abysmal black and ground nonexistent. She tried to look up and down, but there were no up or down to find. She lifted a hoof but found that her hoof wasn’t there. She tried opening her eyes and found that she had no eyes. She tried to do anything, but there was nothing that could be done.
Twilight jumped up from her bed, her breathing quick and back full of sweat. She took a lungful of cold midnight air, then breathed it slowly away.
“You’re dreaming.”
Twilight whipped her head to her side, finding Luna sitting by the bed, looking down at her worriedly. Scanning up and around, she found the ceiling high and full of stars, the window tall and draped by a pair of twinkling blue curtains. Luna’s room. “I… I guess I am.” She took another breath. “You saw my dream?”
“I did.” She lifted the blanket away. “How are you feeling?”
“Strange,” she said. “All that seems so… real.”
“You’re stressed.” Luna floated a bottle of wine from under the bed. “I brought you a drink.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
She shrugged. “I thought you’d want some.” She floated a pair of glasses from her cupboard.
Twilight sat in silence as Luna poured the red liquid, the glass suddenly cold as it started to fill and dew collected by the sides and made her hooves wet. “It’s your favorite wine.”
Luna giggled. “It’s also your favorite wine.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It is?”
“It is. Now come on, you’ve had a rough week.”
“Yeah, I—” She stopped her glass midway. “Wait, what?”
Luna looked at her worriedly. “Is something wrong?”
“I—yes!” She pointed a hoof at Luna. “We—we just broke up! A-and then—”
“We… what?” Luna put down her glass. “Twilight, d-don’t be silly. We’ve never broken up before! I—” She gaped. “This is not... You’re not suggesting, aren’t you? Twilight, please—”
“B-but we have! But then we come back! And then you—” She stopped, then stared down at her glass of wine, the dew now a layer of frost biting into her fur, decorated with a frozen drop of water.
“Twilight,” Luna said slowly as she reached out to hug her, “you’re stressed.”
“I-I guess I am.” She looked at her in the eyes. “Luna, I’m so sorry. I-I’d never leave you!”
Luna kissed her on the forehead. “I know, Twilight.” She smiled and whispered, “Now, drink. It’ll calm you down.”
“Thank you.” She downed it in one gulp, the liquid fire burning her throat and drying her tongue.
“Twilight, are you okay?”
She opened her eyes, finding a pair of blue irises looking at her worriedly. She glanced right and left, finding herself in a cafe in the middle of Philadelphia. Men and women alike chattered about with coffee accompanying their conversations.
“Twilight, you’re daydreaming.”
She stared at those eyes again, ignoring Luna’s gentle fingers against her golden ring. “I guess I am.”
“A penny for your thoughts?”
She lifted a steaming mug of frozen wine. “What if I am a unicorn? A purple unicorn, one that could do magic with her horn?”
Luna giggled, her laughter jingling across the establishment and down the streets like how once their wedding bells rang across the city. “I'll love you the same. But why a unicorn?”
She closed her eyes and downed the wine after saying, “Dragons.”
A dragon roared, and Twilight felt a gust of hot air brushing against her fur.
Opening her eyes, she saw a black dragon right in front of her, its wings spanning as wide as a castle and claws as wide as two ponies standing back-to-front. She touched her chest, finding herself clad in heavy armor and carrying on her back the Caledfwlch.
There was a tower there, behind the dragon, and from the lone window she could see the faint glow from her princess’ glowing mane.
“Right,” Twilight murmured. “I was dreaming.”
The Jabberwocky jumped and flapped its wing, up high in the air then swooped to gobble her whole.
And Twilight jumped aside, dragging the Caledfwlch to and fro and swung it back and forth.
Callooh, Callay! And the Jabberwock laid still as its head tumbled down the cliff, splashing to the red-hot river with naught but a spiff.
Twilight took a rock and smashed it into a cup, then collected the dripping blood as the sides froze by the cold from the dragon’s heart.
“My hero!” shouted Luna from high above the tower.
“Yes,” Twilight answered. “I am.” She looked down at the cup of wine. “...Or am I?” She closed her eyes and downed the wine.
Opening her eyes, she found a book lying wide open in front of her, a ballpoint pen floating lazily in her telekinetic grip. Music in low fidelity drifted from her headphones, accompanying the steady rhythm of her writing under the desk lamp. Her cat was sitting at the edge of their window and staring idly at the dark raining city outside her dorm. Behind her was Luna, draped over the side of their bed, intensely focused on a game on the screen in front of her.
A minute passed before Luna grumbled and set her controller down.
“Luna?”
Luna took off her glasses and murmured, “Hm?”
“Do we have any wine?”
“Some leftovers from yesterday.” She looked at her and wiggled her eyebrows. “Greedy for another happy time, aren’t you?”
Twilight giggled. “I guess I am.” And she opened the fridge and downed the entire bottle in a single gulp, the freezing fire biting into her stomach like cheap beer mixed with naphthalene.
“Stop it.”
“I tried to.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I failed.” A chasm greeted her, stretching from horizon to horizon between her and a faint silhouette of a glowing castle in the distance.
“You didn’t,” said Luna by her side. “You can do this, Twilight.”
“It just seems endless.”
Luna clutched her hoof tight. “We’ll get through this, Twilight. It’s the end of our journey there.”
“But then what?”
Luna stared at her. “And then… what?”
“After all this journey,” she said as she swept her hoof across the view. “What’s there waiting for us?”
“A happily ever after.”
She shook her head. “No, Luna.” She looked at her in the eye and scowled. “There’s no ending. There’s never an ending. Destination after destination, journey after journey, and dream after dream, there’s always another sequel. Another journey. Another remake. Another dream. Another fantasy after the seventh time you said it was the final! The ending of the end and then what? Another generation is born and a new beginning comes for them!” She scoffed and wiped her tears away. “What is our purpose in this world? Nothing?”
Luna shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just a figment of your imagination.”
“Exactly. I’m dreaming. This is all just a dream, and when I wake up, I’m just going to be in another dream. A metaphorical dream, that I chase down all my life.”
“And after that?”
“Nothing. I find another dream.”
“What is it, then, the point of your existence?”
“Nothing, nothing…”
“Really? Why does anything exist, then?”
“No reason, I guess.”
“Your guess was right.”
“Of course it is. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“I am your dream.”
“And I’ve got you.” Twilight sobbed. “And now what? Just seeking endlessly for another dream? What kind of journey is that? Not a journey, that’s what! It’s all just a… just a...”
“A game.”
Twilight stared at the castle in the distance. “It’s all just a game?”
“It’s a stage.”
“And all the creatures are merely players.” Twilight stepped forward to the chasm, and a tile blinked into existence to support her. “There is no necessity for existence in the universe, is there?”
“The physical existence is inherently playful.”
Twilight giggled and trotted forward, followed by Luna, as tiles upon tiles appeared to guide her across the chasm. “Like music. No one works the piano. You play the piano. There’s no point in a composition: the point of a composition is the composition; else the best musicians are the ones who play the fastest. Like a dance: there’s no endpoint on the dance floor to which I want to go to; the point of dancing is the dance.”
Luna, or, Twilight’s dream image of Luna, chuckled. “And life is like music.”
Twilight laughed and jumped over the chasm. “And we have to sing along with it!”
“We’re here!”
Twilight opened her eyes, finding beside her Gus putting Luna down in front of a cottage with a skull symbol drawn on its door. “This is it?”
“Yes,” the other crewman answered. “And thank goodness you’ve stopped singing.”
Twilight giggled. “Well, I’ll just sing some more, then. To enjoy the journey, y’know?”
Gus grinned and laughed, and soon Twilight and the crewman joined the laughter as a Verenigost sage opened the door and stared at them in confusion.
A stream of light slid through the slits of the sage’s curtains, dashing through the air and shamelessly scattering itself about the colloid, forming a weightless beam connecting the window to a pair of eyelids and burrowed its way through the skin and into the pupils between the beautiful lavender irises, ramming relentlessly into the retinas of a not-quite-awakened lavender unicorn.
Twilight Sparkle spun on her makeshift bed, groaning and covering her face with her hooves to protect her remaining seconds of sleep from the tyranny of Undrykken Valley’s Sun Flower.
“Wake up, Twilight.”
Twilight groaned.
“Twilight~”
“Mhm. Five minutes.”
A chuckle resounded, followed by the extinction of her cuddly warm blanket. “There’s no such thing as ‘minutes’ here.”
Twilight cuddled into a ball of warmth. “Mhm. Whatever. Aren’t you supposed to be nocturnal?”
A giggle. “I suppose I should be.”
“Right. Go back to—” Twilight jolted up, hitting her head on the ceiling of the alcove containing her bed, eliciting a painful yelp from the now-fully-awakened unicorn.
Another giggle.
Twilight turned to her side. There, standing by her side with a goofy grin and soul intact to her body, was silky smooth dark blue fur and feathers, a flowing mane full of the night stars, and aquamarine eyes full of amusement.
Luna gently tapped her muzzle. “Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”
Twilight jumped and wrapped her hooves around her newly revived beloved, sinking her face into the soft cuddly chest and smiling underneath it, content to enjoy the moment without spoken words needed.
Luna sank her muzzle likewise to Twilight’s mane, drinking in the sweet smell of lavender and the distinctive vanilla of old books. “Thank you.”
And time passed between them before Undrykken’s guitar strums brought them back from the world of fuzzy cuddly love and into the not-world once again.
Luna stared at Twilight’s flickering ears.
Twilight raised an eyebrow and touched her ears. “Is something wrong?”
“You…” Luna’s mouth visibly struggled not to smile. “You can hear the Worldsbridge’s song?”
Twilight paused, then smiled, then grinned. “Yes, I have!” She giggled and blushed. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe how it happened! First, I—”
Luna put a hoof on her muzzle. “As much as I’d love to hear it, Twilight, we’ll have to quickly journey again now.”
“What? Why?”
“Evermoor Fair.” Luna stared at the window overlooking the horizon. “It starts in a few verses; no more than two songs.”
Twilight scrambled from her bed. “Oh, no! We have to hurry!” She took her scarf hanging from a wall. “There’s time, isn’t there!? We can take one of the ships from the docks! Or-or—”
Luna kissed her cheek, stopping Twilight’s erratic movement and bringing down her frazzled hair back to its neat and orderly fashion. “Calm down, Twilight.”
“But we’re going to be late! We’re—”
“Twilight.”
Twilight shut her mouth. “...Yes?”
Luna chuckled. “There’s a train waiting for us at the nearby station. It can take us just in time before the fair starts.”
Twilight let out a long breath. “Thank goodness.” She looked up at Luna. “But isn’t that halfway across the village?”
“That’s why we have to start walking now.” She took her scarf from the wall and tied it around her neck. “Come on, Gus and the crewman had left when you were asleep to catch the last vessel for Evermoor.” She dipped her head to the sage, sitting on his rocking chair and fast asleep, then sang a soft thank you. “We’ve planned this all. Rafflesia here won’t be seeing us leave, but he’s been informed of our upcoming departure.”
“We’re on that tight of a schedule?”
“And more if we don’t leave now.”
Twilight sang a thank you to the sleeping Rafflesia as well. “Alright, let’s go!”
Luna exited the sage’s hut and basked herself under the bright Sun Flower hanging in the sky. “You can tell me all about what I’d missed as we walk.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did!” Twilight laughed. “Oh, it was horrifying. But I managed! And we all danced like drunken ponies. Er, creatures.”
Luna laughed and pulled Twilight closer under her wing. “I’m so proud of you, Twilight.”
Twilight sank her blushing face deeper under Luna’s sides. “Oh, shut up.”
“But I am! You don’t know how much I’ve worried about your demotivation, especially with—”
“Look, we’re here!” Twilight said as she pointed at the Timestation. “Let’s not waste more time!”
Luna ruffled Twilight’s mane with her wing. “We’re not done with this conversation, young lady.”
Twilight huffed as she felt the heat travel from her cheeks to her ears.
And so the lovestruck pair jumped aboard the locomotive, floating passively with the rail attached to its bottom as a sleigh would. A Verenigost engineer was there before them, preheating the engines. He turned around and squinted at them.
Luna greeted him with a song.
The engineer smiled. “Alright. The Nostaltrain isn’t that hard to drive as long as you can speak in music.” He jumped off to the station’s board and tipped his hat. “Just be careful of It.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything we should know about this ‘It’?”
He chuckled grimly. “You’ll know when you meet It. But don’t worry!” He slapped the nose of the locomotive. “This beauty here can outrun It easily. Just make sure you’ve ears on the timelane.”
The two sang to the engineer as Luna pulled the gas’ lever, jolting them and shooting into the sky in an instant. Twilight laughed as she calmed her heartbeat down and tightened her scarf.
“Take the wheel, Twilight. We’ll have to steer this together.”
Twilight nodded and gripped the large wheel in the middle, mirroring Luna from the other side.
The mountains of Undrykken Valley gave way to a glittering milky-white river of stars. The Worldsbridge, Honeymilk River, greeted them with a soft flowing flute.
The locomotive jumped from Undrykken Valley and splashed down to the river, its runner sliding along the river like it was snow and ethereal wheels pushing them forward on a nonexistent rail that was the timelane. Twilight pulled a lever, making the locomotive go Choo-choo! and giggled as the river started to rise from its slumber.
Ding
Twilight’s ears flicked. “Did you hear that?”
Ding
Luna whipped her head around. “A… bell?”
Ding ding ding
Twilight stared at the locomotive’s bells in front of them, still locked to their frames. “Not ours.”
Ding ding ding dingdingdingding
More of the bells joined, out of sync with the rest of Honeymilk’s music. It came from all around, rolling under the dark silhouettes of the land around them and from the pitch-black sky above them and the shining stream below them.
Luna nearly jumped as she felt her hoof being held tight, then stared at Twilight, her eyes darting all over and muscles tense and ready for anything. Her breathing was ragged and her forehead was full of sweat, glittering like gemstones above the glowing river. Luna gripped her hoof back.
The bells kept on ringing as they shot through the river, the land around them getting closer and closer as the bells got louder. They turned the wheel right and left along with the winding of the river, and after a while, it got harder and harder to avoid hitting the riverbanks.
Twilight grunted. “Why won’t these bells go away!?”
Luna huffed. “Whatever it is, it’s following us.” She stared down at the river and the land, only a meter away from their train. “And the river’s getting narrower. It’s almost like—” She stared again at the dark silhouette of the land, then raised her ears and listened to the bells instead of the Worldsbridge’s music. “It’s—” Closer now, the river was almost as narrow as their locomotive.
Her eyes bulged. “Twilight, hold on tight!”
Twilight opened her mouth, but Luna’s hooves were faster to pull the levers for the gas. She jerked back as the locomotive lurched forward at thrice their original speed. Wind whipped around her and the river suddenly widened, even wider than when they first arrived, and the landscapes around them rose and fell out of sync with Honeymilk’s rhythms.
“Don’t look back.”
And Twilight looked back, and her breath caught in a hitch and her heart stopped.
Luna grabbed Twilight’s face in her telekinetic grip and whipped it away from the It, and forced her eyes to look at her. “Look at me, Twilight.”
Twilight’s face paled.
“Look at me, Twilight!”
Twilight blinked, and some colors started getting back to her face.
Luna kissed her lightly, then shook her. “Twilight!”
Twilight shook her head, and her heart started beating again and she hyperventilated. “I-I w-what’s that!?”
“It.” Luna flicked her ears, listening closely to the bells. “Listen closely. Don’t. Look. Back.”
Twilight gulped and forced her eyes to stay looking forward.
The landscape gave way to a rocky mountain, and the Worldsbridge wasn’t spared any chance to greet them before the song of the It took over with quickening drums and a heavy trombone.
As the train ran as fast as possible, ignoring the scenery, Luna aimed its trajectory to the sides of a mountain, then jerked the wheel to her side just before they fell off the cliff.
Dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding!
Twilight closed her eyes and flattened her ears as the bells rang louder and faster, seemingly encroaching on her from all sides. She gripped tight to the wheel and clamped her mouth shut, lest her screaming distract Luna.
As the bells’ chiming almost reached her ears, Luna jerked the wheel to Twilight’s side, just in time before they fell off another cliff. The train tilted to Twilight’s side as the rails desperately clung to the rocky road underneath it, the centripetal force acting against them and eagerly waiting below the fall to consume them whole. Luna’s horn shone bright and sweat ran down her brows as she struggled to keep the Nostaltrain upright.
Eventually, the train slammed back upright, and the scenery gave way to rolling hills that looped like roller coasters here and there, and the music of the It played a terrifying roar, overshadowing any other orchestra the Worldsbridges tried to sing.
Twilight let out a small scream and quickly shut it back, taking deep breaths and trying to be as small as possible, eyes still tightly shut and ears flat.
Luna swept her brows and raised her ears again, eyes darting to keep the train on the right timelane. The train took a spin on one of the loops, and for a second, Luna saw the bubbling mass of It chasing them, ringing and tolling bells in Its wake. Her pupils dilated, and she held her breath as she deliberately clenched her eyes shut with her telekinesis.
The train fell back into the timeline as it dropped from the loop, and Luna blew her breath away and opened her eyes again. She took quick breaths and swallowed her dry throat to bring back her senses.
“Luna?”
No answer.
“Luna!”
Luna answered between gritted teeth, “Y-yes, Twilight?”
“You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“I-I-I—” Luna sucked in a deep breath. Then, voice cracking, she answered, “I’m h-here. I-I’m okay.”
Twilight opened an eye, peeking at Luna’s colorless face. “Y-you don’t seem okay.”
Luna took another breath, and some color returned to her face. “N-no, not really.” She forced a smile. “But we’re going to be okay.” She stared back at the road and scowled. “Just hold on tight.”
Twilight closed her eyes back and gripped harder against the wheel.
They jumped from the biome and slammed into liquid air, the train now chugging along like a submarine, yet the bells still rang around them, unmuffled.
Ethereal fishes and jellyfishes swam away from them, the slow ones’ fate unknown as they got consumed by the It.
“Luna!”
“Yes, Twilight?”
Twilight swallowed a lungful of the liquid air. “How much longer?”
Luna jerked the wheel upward, aiming the locomotive at the surface. “Just hold on tight!”
And the bells rang closer, and the Nostaltrain surfaced to the gaseous water and above, and as the train broke the barrier into another biome, the bells got slightly slower and lower before starting to rise in volume again.
Their locomotive chugged along the snowy dunescapes and jumped the dunes like a ramp, slamming into the snow with a splash of snowflakes and rocky ice just before a loud bell tolled right above them. Luna then jerked the wheel and slid the Nostaltrain between the dunes, and her ears flattened for a split second as the It roared a bell right next to their locomotive.
Twilight whimpered.
Luna gritted her teeth. “Hold on, Twilight!”
Frozen dunes ran past them as the bells kept on ringing, and Luna slammed the Nostaltrain into a wall of stone, breaking it and making way for the wind tunnels. As they entered, the locomotive gained twice more speed as the wind swept them away from the It, the bells fading away slowly but surely.
The wind tunnels brought them slithering right and left and up and down the underground biome, pillars of ice and crystal swept by Luna’s vision and she desperately tried to keep the Nostaltrain away from hitting the cavern walls.
As the wind took them to another turn, a sudden wall appeared right on their face. Luna’s pupils went pinprick just before she snapped it shut and flinched back, bracing for the hit.
Slam! went their locomotive, and Twilight screamed. They tumbled down the caverns and broke the ice sheet underneath, and down, down, down they went, sinking away and away from the It.
As fast as it came, they resurfaced down, and their tumbling came to a slow descent down a tunnel.
Deep breath, let it out.
“Twilight?”
Twilight whimpered.
“You can open your eyes now, Twilight.”
Twilight peeked, then she opened her eyes wide.
Luna let out a long breath as she collapsed, then stared at Twilight.
Twilight grinned. “That was…”
“...Amazing.” Luna laughed. “Whew.”
Twilight giggled.
They were in a bottomless hole, the locomotive falling slower than a feather. All around them the jagged nooks and crannies of the hole’s walls glittered softly of gemstones and crystals. As Twilight squinted at the gems, she sometimes found a memory of hers flashing between their twinkling. There was not a single sound of chiming bells around, and Twilight let her muscles relax.
Twilight felt a soft touch against her shoulder, and she glanced back, finding Luna with a worried look. She frowned. “Luna?”
Luna wrapped her hooves and wings around her. “When you saw It, what did you see?”
Twilight took a sudden breath. “I… Luna, I—”
Luna hugged her tighter. “Don’t worry, love. I’m listening.”
Twilight let out a shuddered breath. “My… I saw my friends.”
“And?”
“No, that’s not it, I… I saw their tombstones. I saw their names written clearly next to each other. I saw that possibility, Luna, that it’s very likely that I’d outlive some of them.”
“Go on, I’m listening.”
“The ‘It’ is Time, isn’t It?”
“I guess it is.”
Twilight turned around, her eyes meeting Luna’s own. “Well, it’s something I should be worried about later, isn’t it?” She snuggled into Luna’s scarf. “Right now, I have you.”
Luna chuckled. “Yes. Right now, we have each other.”
A few moments passed before Twilight asked, “What did you see?”
Luna sucked in a deep breath between her teeth. “Death, obviously.” She caressed Twilight’s mane. “But I’ve seen a lot of those. I was over a hundred years old before I was banished, and, returning home, I found a lot of my loved ones dead. I’ve come to terms with that.”
“Even me?”
Luna didn’t answer.
“Luna…” Twilight pecked her chin and stared lovingly at her eyes. “It’s okay. I won’t be upset as long as you’re honest.”
“I…” Luna let out her breath. “I know for certain that I’d outlive you. I don’t like that, but the other choice was to never experience it.” Luna brushed her lips against Twilight’s and, just as she was about to lean in, Luna pulled back and tapped her muzzle her. She giggled. “Or this.”
Twilight, face red all over to the tip of her ears, huffed. “Hey!”
Luna laughed, then leaned back, this time kissing her for real.
A moment passed before they let go, and Twilight stared back at Luna, frowning. “Luna?”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Twilight?”
“You haven’t answered my question.” She put a hoof against Luna’s chin. “What did you see?”
“I told you—”
Twilight shook her head. “Answer me honestly, Luna. What did you see?”
Luna jerked her head away from Twilight’s touch. “It’s not a problem, Twilight.”
“Really, now?” Twilight shifted herself to stay in Luna’s vision. “Then why won’t you talk about it?”
“Because, Twilight,” Luna said in a rising tone, pushing Twilight lightly back. “You don’t have to worry about it. You’ve been worrying about me too much over the years, and it’s now time for me to take care of myself.”
Twilight grunted. “Well, yes, but sometimes you’re still going to need somepony to help you!”
Luna whirled around, away from Twilight. “Yes, yes, not this one.”
“Luna,” Twilight said annoyedly. “Come on! Is it—”
“Hard? Yes, it is.” She glared at her. “So let me think about it first! I’ll tell you about it once I understand so you won’t have to needlessly worry over me!”
“But then—”
“That’s enough.” Luna glared away from her, at the twinkling of the rising walls. “I’ve said what needs to be said.”
Twilight growled. “Oh, really?” She put a hoof on her shoulder. “Care to share, then?”
“I said, that’s enough!”
“No, it’s not!” Twilight jabbed a hoof at Luna’s side. “Hey, look at me!”
“To argue more? No.”
“Luna—”
“That’s. Enough.”
“No! Luna—”
“I said,” she growled and pushed her away. “That’s enough!” Too hard, with her wings all sprung up and agitated.
Twilight staggered back from her push, hoof slipping, and her head hit the wheel with a resounding metallic clank!
“Twilight!”
Twilight groaned and curled into a ball, covering her head with her hoof.
Luna jumped. “Twilight, I—”
“Go away,” she said weakly.
Luna pulled herself back. “T-Twilight, I—”
Twilight sniffed. “Go away.”
Luna opened her mouth, then shut it back. She dipped her head, and let time pass between them in silence.
Twilight broke the silence slowly, saying, “I just wanted to help.”
Luna shrunk and whimpered. “I… I don’t want you to worry about me so much.” She moved forward again. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”
Twilight felt feathers brushing against her sides, and she took it with her hoof. With Luna’s help, she sat back up and looked at her swollen eyes. She sighed. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”
And they fell into an embrace once again, and they forgot that they were falling endlessly down a timeless hole and were in a hurry to get somewhere.
Twilight perked up all of a sudden. “I—” She stared at Luna’s questioning gaze. “It was your sister—” And she instantly regretted ever opening her mouth.
Luna gaped, staring at the distance and opening and closing her mouth in a vain attempt to form any kind of words.
Twilight wrapped her hooves around her and squeezed tight. “No! I’m sorry, you don’t need to say anything about it!”
At last her voice returned, and Luna stared down at Twilight. “H-how did you—”
Twilight squeezed tighter, sniffing and ignoring the stream of tears flowing down her cheeks. “Stop it.”
“It is…” Luna’s gaze stayed blank and unfocused. “Celly…”
“Don’t say anything anymore. Please.”
“I left her for a thousand years.”
“Luna, stop.”
“One thousand years… she’s old now. She won’t admit it, but I can see it in her eyes: she’s old. It won’t be long until she has to retire.”
“Please, Luna, stop.”
“And it won’t be that long before she’d be too old to fly. And then to walk. And then to remember. I’m going to live through it all, and I’m going to live a thousand years more without her.” Luna looked down at the sobbing Twilight, clinging to her like her life depended on it. “I saw her rotting away, Twilight.”
“Stop.”
Luna hugged her back. “It’s inevitable. She has even planned how she’s going to pass on the crown.”
“Luna…”
“I can’t think of a future without her, Twilight.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“N-no, you don’t need to—”
“Hush, Twilight. We’re both stupid in our own way.” She looked up and saw that light had started to shine over the walls. “And it looks like we’re about to be out of this hole soon.”
Twilight wiped away her tears and put a hoof on Luna’s cheek. “Forgive me, Luna.”
Luna held her hoof with her own, then planted a kiss on her lips, and as she pulled back, she smiled. “Don’t worry, Twilight. This conversation was going to happen sooner or later, anyway.”
Twilight smiled back. “We have much to learn.”
Luna nodded. “Much to learn about love.” A branch fell into their locomotive, and Luna took it. “At least we still have it.”
“Love?” Twilight stared at the rosemary on Luna’s grip. “Yes.”
Luna snapped the rosemary in two and gave the other half to Twilight.
And so, as the Nostaltrain fell away from the hole, Luna and Twilight drank the Sun shining over them, chewing on bits of rosemary as the locomotive splashed silently down to the sea of Evermoor, joining the multitudes of waterborne and airborne vessels carrying creatures and commodities alike to the long-awaited Fair of All Trades, Evermoor Fair.
The Nostaltrain chugged away from the harbor, leaving behind trails of glittering ethereal clouds in its wake. Ships and waterborne vessels alike congregated all around to dock, and the lonely locomotive shimmied between the towering hulls. Soon it hid behind the giants closing in, dutifully chugging back to its station without an operator.
The biome was silent, for it was in no need to sing; bagpipes and fiddles already rang across the kingdom in synchrony, greeting and accompanying all visitors, either World Dwellers or otherwise. It rang also to the single heart-bound pair of ponies, inviting them to the Kingdom of Evermoor’s party.
Luna turned around, away from the mass of many creatures carrying with them their goods and to the towering castle far into the center of the kingdom. Her scarf gently danced, following her spin and trailing behind. Reaching halfway, it playfully brushed against Twilight’s face, bearing a pair of unfocused eyes still gazing toward where the train had gone.
Twilight sneezed.
Luna laughed then said, “Come on, Twilight. The fair has already started.”
Twilight nodded and turned around, her scarf mimicking Luna’s previous dance albeit a little more giddy and lively. As Twilight trailed behind Luna, their scarves danced together with the beats of the street musicians and the hums from other World Dwellers. The streets they passed were filled to the brim with merchants and tourists, their sides with vendors and even more merchants of endless types of commodities, from herbs to scrap metal and from wine to ice creams.
“Luna, look!”
Luna turned around, and there, lying on a vendor’s table and its sides surrounded by a layer of glinting frost, was a cup of ice cream. She quirked an eyebrow. “Ice cream?”
Twilight nodded. “You like ice cream, don’t you?”
“I do, but…” She took the cup in her telekinesis and turned it around. No labels. “What kind of ice cream is this?”
“The best you could find!” exclaimed the vendor, a giant insectoid that vaguely resembled an ant. “Crafted with love from hundred-year-old recipes of my family, our ice cream will awe even royalties!”
Luna covered her smirk with a hoof. “We shall see. But first,” she added as she looked at the vendor, “what does it do?”
The vendor laughed. “It makes you want more!”
“So it’s addictive?”
“As addictive as good food.” The vendor winked an eye out of his twelve. “But no, it doesn’t have any addictive substances. It’s just that good!”
“...Just that? No magical properties or anything?”
The vendor chuckled. “It’s ice cream. It doesn’t need to be more magical than that!”
Twilight poked Luna’s side. “So, want some?”
Luna rolled her eyes. “You just want it, don’t you?”
Twilight gave her an innocent smile. “Well?”
Luna smiled and playfully sighed. “Alright, alright.” She turned to the vendor. “How much for one?”
“What have you in return?”
Luna opened her wing, finding nothing underneath but their invitation card. She frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything.” She turned to Twilight and gave an apologetic look. “Sorry, love.”
“That’s okay.” Twilight put the ice cream back on the stand.
“You’re an Invitee!” the vendor exclaimed.
Luna whipped her head back to the now-gaping vendor. “I… believe so?”
“Take one,” he said giddily as he handed them a cup. “And tell me what it tastes like for your kind!”
Twilight took it and raised an eyebrow. “‘Our kind’?”
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “You’re an Invitee, right? It means none from your world had ever gotten here before!” He clapped his appendages together. “I have to know if my ice cream’s delicious for you, too!”
Twilight nodded and opened the cup. There was a small spoon inside, and she scooped the ice cream with it, then delivered it to Luna.
Luna’s eyes bulged as she put her tongue around the ice cream, and she nodded in approval. “I’d certainly want this in the royal menu.”
Twilight took a bite herself, and she shivered. “Wow.”
And they took off from the happy vendor, visiting a few stands only to see their products. Along the street they went, a straight line from the harbor to the castle.
Two gargoyles stood protectively between the gates of the castle’s outer walls. Their obsidian skin, black and bold, glinted by the Sun overhead, carrying out the message to stay away.
As the pair went closer, however, the gates opened by themselves, startling the gargoyles and making them scramble for their halberds. They quickly stood facing each other in attention, waiting for the whirling wheels and giant gears of the bunker-like doors to unlock.
Luna and Twilight stood in anticipation, waiting, waiting, and waiting. The crankles and the clicks of the doors rang melodically in rhythm with the rest of the not-world, happily dancing about the beats and notes like a sled down a musical sheet.
“Twilight?”
“Yes?”
Luna stared down at her. “Why are we going this way?”
Twilight shrugged. “I thought you wanted to go to Evermoor Fair?”
“I did.” She looked around. “Aren’t we already in Evermoor Fair?”
“We are.” She stared at the door, most of the locking mechanisms already open. “But I… heard something telling me to go in.”
“A call?”
“I guess so.”
“It is a call,” said another voice. Looking up, they found the gates already open, and there, standing with his robe hanging majestically upon his shoulders and his golden crown adorning his head, was the Nameless King of Evermoor. He bowed to the two and continued, “Welcome to the Land of Neverafter.”
Luna and Twilight bowed. “Thank you for inviting us, Your Majesty,” Luna said. “It is an honor.”
The king rose and laughed. “The honor’s all mine, Your Highness,” he said, smiled at Twilight, then continued, “and Twilight Sparkle.”
“You know my name?”
“When you answered my invitation, I immediately noticed.” He frowned. “And I was worried when it took you almost an entire year to reach us. Were there any obstacles in your way?”
The pair looked at each other. “Twilight jumped out of our world without knowing how to listen to the Worldsbridges’ music.”
“And Luna needed some time to know where I went.”
The king chuckled. “And I believe your journey has been resolved?”
Luna nodded. “More or less. There’s still much for us to learn.” She gripped Twilight in a wing hug.
Twilight giggled. “But at least we now know for sure that I’m meant for her.”
Luna smirked. “Indeed you are,
“O true love of mine.”
Days went by the kingdom like a world normally would. The party went on full swing all the way, merchants ferociously trading with one another for commodities and random services for their respective worlds. Music was also traded there, and immediately as Luna found out, she jumped from here to there, writing down music sheets to trade with other composers and musicians of other worlds, and sometimes for an extra cup of ice cream to enjoy with her beloved.
Alas, the fair could not last forever, and too soon did everyone return to their worlds.
Luna and Twilight sailed home on the king’s private galleon, carrying with them bundles upon bundles of rosemary to start Equestria’s multiversal relationships. It would be hectic, Luna mused, but at least she’d endure it with Twilight.
And inside Twilight’s mind, she saw upcoming days of them being pestered with even more bureaucrats, now from a lot of worlds instead of just one. But that was okay, she also thought, for it meant they’d be together more.
