A few days later
Back in the Granule Café, Crystal Hoof sat on his usual spot at the counter, sipping a cup of black coffee as the baristas conversed with the other counter customers. He could still smell the ever-pervading fragrance of the drink, wafting about everywhere inside.
Outside, it was raining hard. The windows were covered in streams of water, muddying the otherwise beautiful street scene in the morning.
On Thorax's right, a middle-aged blue unicorn—for his eyes had bags underneath—was talking with the stallion barista who was whipping up a cold and creamy blend.
"You've seen it in the news," the unicorn began, gesturing about with his hoof over an empty cup. "Confirmation of rumors that some unscrupulous names are intentionally causing conflict—mostly businessponies selling self-defense weapons to us and the agitators: Starlight's on top, obviously, but you have Trotskier, too, on the act. All they need is for one of us to talk bad, make a fight, and then..." picked up his cup of coffee as if to make a point out of it.
"Sneaky," the barista said, completing the drink by putting the straw inside and hoofing it to the pony on the unicorn's right. "Sneaky and dubious, to say the least. Have they found any specific ponies yet?"
"Nothing's public," the unicorn said. "But, they say that they know who it is—they're just witholding the information from us."
"Signs of censorship?" the barista asked. "I get the Princess isn't as bald-faced as the sun she raises, but this is unusual even for her."
"We're talking about the RSRR," he said.
"Makes a lot of sense, then." The barista grabbed an empty cup and placed a filter on top of it. "Any insiders in the know? Somepony with juicy intelligence willing to rat them out with the firms?"
"Not as far as I know." He brushed his hair with a hoof. "All we know and all the firms know is what I just told you and nothing more. We could join up as a detective-assistant pair and figure it out ourselves, but then we'll be sticking our muzzles into forbidden sectors."
The barista let out a laugh. "I'm a prudent pony, Night Light. I know when to fold my cards—when I don't have any cards to begin with."
Night Light raised an eyebrow.
"Hey." He pointed at the customer. "Any news about your daughter?"
Night Light held a hoof up to his face.
Cold sweat.
"Nothing, yet?" the barista spoke.
"Oh, you know how it goes," Night Light said, close to stuttering as he stood up. "It's personal stuff."
"Come on, Night Light," he said, raising a frustrated foreleg. "I'm not dumb. Anypony could tell it's more than just 'personal stuff'."
"I've got my rights to privacy," Night Light said, glancing at the door.
Rushed his way out of the door and into the pouring rain.
In an upper-class district of Canterlot, several unique residences lived with large tracts of grassland which served as their frontyard, backyard, sideyard, and diagonalyard. In fact, at the far end of the district—which was walled up with high white walls—there was a bungalow which would have looked out of place if it were not for its aboveyard. This aboveyard was a long patch of grass held up by several metal rods on the roof. Exotic and rare flowers flourished there, including a caged plant that looked innocent enough...of course, in front of the cage was a sign that said, "Extremely poisonous!"
Some paces before that bungalow was an ornate ivory tower. Its base was purple, its body was white, and its head was yellow. A spiral staircase went round it, leading up to a pair of blue doors at the top.
Past the top entrance was a lavish living room. Polished white floor, clean airy balconies, comfy cozy chairs and sofas, small potted plants, and another staircase.
Up that staircase, to the next floor, there was a library.
A huge library.
Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books—both here and on yet another floor with its own balconies. Long books, short books. Novellas, epics. Treatises, counterarguments. Fantasy, sci-fi. Histories, commentaries. Studies, refutations. Scrolls, too, were here though in small numbers.
A study table was on the side. On it were flasks and test tubes of dormant potions.
The centerpiece of the library was a massive window spanning a large part of the wall, giving one a breathtaking vista of Canterlot. In front of it, alone, was a grand hourglass.
All of its sand was at the bottom as Princess Celestia observed it.
She turned around to see Night Light, bowing before her.
"Bowing once is already excessive to me," Celestia said, walking to him. "You don't have to do it twice."
"Y-Yes, your Highness," he stammered, raising himself up on his four hooves. "But...what did she say?"
Celestia's horn glowed and a letter floated into view.
The paper's glow changed from yellow to pale blue.
Night Light's horn was glowing as he magically held it closer to his eyes.
He gulped.
"'Dear Princess Celestia. I've done further research into chrono magic. I don't understand why you let me out of the restricted sections in the Canterlot Archives, for it's only in those wings that we can get a timely and usable spell. I understand, though, that the spells are archaic and may not work properly under modern spellcasting systems, so I respect your wishes.
"'Here's what I found out so far: Under normal circumstances, the timeline is flexible yet non-branchable. This means that paradoxes are not only possible, they are invevitable. There's no way to trick out time, as it were. We cannot change causality, which is the very point of what I'm trying to achieve. However, while there are no explicit mentions of this, I've pieced together, from implied truths and extrapolations, that, with either enough raw power or enough magical dexterity—I have no conclusive evidence leaning toward one or the other as of yet—one could modify the very attributes of the timeline itself.
"'This is very dangerous. I knew that when I got into this, the end result wasn't going to be simple. Tampering with reality itself—well, specifically, time, but I'm sure you get the point—is a precarious act. But, if things go too far, I'll gladly be the first and only one to do what must be done to preserve Equestria and what we believe in.
"'Send my regards to my parents. And Shining Armor. If I end up solving the problem, this might be my last word to them.
"'F-From..."
Celestia levitated it away from him.
On her, a solemn expression.
"It is good to know that a part of her academical pursuits is of great use to us," she started, pacing the vast library. "Yes, it is of a last resort's nature. Yes, if she ends up using whatever she creates, there will be untold consequences. Yes, one mistake in the execution could lead to utter disaster beyond total victory by Sombra. Despite that, I believe that, knowing that she is still in good condition...your daughter is fine."
Night Light's eyes darted about. "But, she can't possibly be one hundred-percent fine! No sane mare would even consider casting a spell that would change the past and probably destroy the fundamentals of...everything! Nor would a sane mare go to the future, risk getting killed by whatever lurks out there, and steal whatever endgame weapons—no, not the perfect weapon, she mustn't get that..."
"Night Light, sit down."
Celestia levitated a chair to him and he promptly slumped down on it, irises shrunk and whizzing everywhere.
"I must confess," Celestia continued. "She is not exactly sane."
"I know!" Night Light yelled, stretching his forelegs into the air. "She's insane! Informally, medically, and officially insane!"
"Not medically and officially," Celestia said. "You do know, too, that several of our greatest heroes would not meet our standard definitions of sanity."
"Is destroying the world a sane thing to do, Princess?!" Night Light shouted, getting off of his chair. "That's our Twilight who's going crazy as we speak! Will she even be the same pony if we reunite right now?"
"No," Celestia replied bluntly. "Sit down."
Night Light heaved a groan and sat down.
Under the afternoon light penetrating through the window, Celestia's glistening mane waved about.
"It is hard to understand Twilight now, although this is not the first time I've encountered the likes of her. Her personality in recent times is, indeed, unsettling, although not enough to warrant a trip to the hospital." A pause, sighing. "Isolating herself the way she does...we both know that it can do things to her."
"Then, why don't you bring her out already?!"
Celestia closed her eyes, maintaining her rigid expression. "You know the answer to that: She is talented. Talented enough to block even a Princess's power. Her meticulous poring over the pages of Star Swirl, Clover, Haycartes...while I do not want to endorse anti-intellectualism to any of my students, I do regret opening the restricted sections to her."
A pause. A sorrowful downward curl of her eyes.
"We should be grateful that she is on our side. If nominally. That I still receive letters from her, that she still thinks about you, her family—though rarely...it's better than what I've expected at first."
Looked up.
"After this time of war...after all this suffering...perhaps, that would be enough to make Twilight leave. She did say that she does not want to get hurt, but then..."
Sighed.
"Please, Princess Celestia," Night Light said, thick with a stifled throat—eyes wet. "Don't get our hopes up."
Silence.
Celestia took a step forward.
"As long as she is alive, as long as she is whole...then, there will always be hope. There will always be a chance you'll get your child back. Changed, but not broken. If only she had a friend..."
"I'll give her any friend, Princess!" Night Light told, leaping out of his chair. "If you think that friendship is the way, then, please, give her a friend!"
"I've already tried," Celestia said. "Each time was worse than the last. At this point, that friend must be the perfect one...perhaps, a destined one."
A glimmer in her eyes.
"Though, that is only one of the ways to bring her back," Celestia said. "Pulling her home by force with the help of my sister is an option, albeit a sickening one..."
A flick of her head, facing him.
"Anyway, there is not much I could tell you, Night Light. I am sorry that our talk may not have been as fruitful as you have wanted, but Twilight—faithful student and loving daughter...she's dead set in her ways."
He croaked.
Breathed in.
Closed his eyes.
Bowed down.
"Thank you, your Highness."
Walked down the stairs and out of the tower.
Heard the doors slam shut.
Celestia strolled her way back to the grand hourglass.
She turned it upside down with her magic.
The grains of sand then fell down in a trickle.
Second by second.
"Twilight Sparkle...if you knew how much pain you've caused your loved ones..."
The grains continued to fall, to trickle down.
By nighttime, Night Light was back in the Granule Café.
The yellow lights were on inside, but that coffee smell was still there and still the same.
While the patrons have changed, Crystal Hoof was still there, too.
He sat down beside him, looked at the barista and nodded at him.
The barista nodded back and grabbed a cup and some coffee grounds.
Night Light eyed the Crystal pony to his left. "You've been here for the better part of the day. I haven't gotten your name, really."
Crystal Hoof beamed. "Ooh! I'm Crystal Hoof, a Crystal pony...as you can tell because of the, you know, eyes." He opened his eyes wide, showing off his many-sided reflections there.
"Yeah. I see." Night Light backed away, though still seated. "You're one of the escaped. Good for you."
"Not getting brainwashed, not being forced to commit crimes for the sake of an evil king—yeah, I got it pretty good." Crystal Hoof rubbed his head. "I do get the daily dose of vitriol from those who're scared of an ambush from the inside, but the complex is getting rid of those ideas fast."
"Right," he remarked. "Wish I could go there, though."
"It's a public place," Crystal Hoof said. "Sort of. You can't go to the bedrooms and other secured areas, but the dining rooms are accessible to everypony."
They both heard a clink and Night Light grabbed the cup with the filter, coffee dripping forth.
"So, you're Night Light," Crystal Hoof told. "I mean, I overheard you earlier this morning."
"That's true," he replied with a nod.
"And, you also got a family."
Night Light coughed. "Yes, I have a family. Married to the best mare in the world—took me out on bungee jumping many times during our honeymoon. And rollercoaster rides. And skiing. And jumping off airships and parachuting."
"Wow. You've got a thrill-seeker for a wife?"
"Hard to tell," he added, smirking, glancing at the dripping coffee on the counter. Not even half full. "To strangers, she's a generic bookworm. But, if you've been with her as long as I have, you'd be surprised at her hidden depths."
Crystal Hoof nodded. "What about your daughter? I also overheard that."
"My daughter?" Night Light repeated, pointing to himself. "Funny th-that you ask..."
The entrance opened.
"What?!" Cash Heeled yelled, removing his bowler hat. "It's you, Crystal Hoof!"
Night Light looked at Crystal Hoof odd. "You know this guy?"
"Uh, yeah!" Crystal Hoof replied. Nodded before he bit his tongue.
"Say, your coffee's done?" the arrival inquired, staying at the doors while some other customers gave him strange stares. "Because, I'd like to help you out personally!"
Crystal Hoof gulped. Gulped again. "You're serious?"
"Serious as a millionaire can be!" Cash Heeled said, smiling while he beckoned a hoof toward the dark outside. "But, we must make the rest of our talk secret! Don't wanna get the other Crystals getting wind of this! They'll start thinking that I've got a secret agenda!"
"It's not a secret if you're announcing it in a coffeehouse," Crystal Hoof replied.
Cash Heeled twitched. "Was that a joke?"
Night Light nudged him. "Go on. He seems sincere. Just remember to run away if he tries to steal your wallet."
"Eh-heh!" Crystal Hoof kept up his grin. "Why would he want to steal my wallet? He just said he's a millionaire—ha-ha-ha-ha! Right?"
And locked behind a narrow gate in the alley.
Situated between one brick building and another, this cold and dark alley housed litter, trash bins, cardboard boxes, and crumbling posters of once-famous ponies—celebrities, nobleponies, and the like. It stank and rats crawled over.
Cash Heeled levitated a pile of boxes and blocked the view of the outside.
At the other end of the alley, a dead end.
Crystal Hoof shuddered, feeling his knees buckling again. "Shouldn't we b-be going to your fancy villa or something? You said you were a millionaire!"
"Paparazzi," Cash Heeled said, levitating the key under his hat. "The paparazzi are fickle. Once they see an interesting sight, they'll stop at nothing to get a shot, to scoop up the latest...scoop. Which is why I do what they don't expect me to do: conduct negotiations inside an alley. Sure, that means that I look kind of not rich but I don't like the paparazzi."
"But, where are the papers?" Crystal Hoof went on. "And the quills? What about other witnesses? This was supposed to be a legal process!"
Cash Heeled grunted, his eyebrows sharp at him. "OK, you know what? I'll tell you a story."
Sweat was raining down on Crystal Hoof's forehead.
"Once upon a time, there were two brothers. One day, the younger brother was playing with his dollies when a couple of meanies showed up and teased him about it. Then, the elder brother showed up, got mad, and scared those meanies away. That elder brother loved his brother and wanted to protect him. On the other hoof, he believed in tough love, so...do you know what he said to him?"
Grabbed Hoof's foreleg.
Hoof said nothing. Only whimpers.
Cash Heeled slapped him with his own hoof.
"'Why are you hitting yourself?'"
"Agh!"
The blue glow surrounded Crystal Hoof and revealed Thorax.
Cash Heeled cackled and threw away his hat. "Looks like my gut feeling was right all along. Eh, this is what I get for anaylzing too much."
A green glow surrounded the millionaire and, in his place: Pharynx.
The two changelings eye to eye, Thorax shivering and stepping back, Pharynx menacing and stepping forward.
Hissing.
"Alright, Thorax!" Pharynx snarled. "You're in big trouble! Abandoning the hive is a no-no and you know it!"
"I c-couldn't stand all the hatred that was going on!" Thorax yelled, stepping ever farther back. "The lying, the deceiving—I can't stand it! To live like that...no!" Shook his head, tears streaming. "I'm not coming back with you to your evil Queen, to the evil hive! I choose to stay!"
Pharynx bared a looming grin. "Actually...I was half-right about doing what they don't expect."
"What?"
"Help!"
Pharynx grabbed him, lunged at the dead end's wall, and pushed Thorax away.
Green glow enveloped him and Cash Heeled was there, rubbing his throbbing head as a few bruises was on his coat as well.
Thorax struggled to stand up.
"Who goes there?!" a deep voice hollered from behind the gate.
Gray glows around the levitating boxes.
Magical beam knocked the lock open.
Thorax looked back at the gate.
Guards rushing in. "We've got a changeling on the loose!" the guard in front reported.
Thorax looked here, there, and glowed, turning to Crystal Hoof. "N-No! This is all a misunderstanding! It was him!" and pointed at a hurt millionaire lying, head resting on the wall.
With closed eyes.
The guards gasped together. "Crystal Hoof?! Y-You're...you're a changeling?!"
"No! It's not what it looks like!"
"There's ten of us here who just saw you change form," the front guard said.
Brought out some hoofcuffs.
Bashed him on the head with them.
Hoof shook his head at the pain, closed eyes.
Cuffed, locked hooves.
Opened eyes, saw his chained legs.
Thorax looked at the limp millionaire at the wall.
At the guards who gave him only mean looks.
Back at his chained legs.
Sighed.
Reverted to his changeling self.
"Changeling, you're in big trouble," the guard said as he and others escorted him out of the alley.
Thorax glanced at the millionaire.
Who opened his eyes and grinned at him before going back to his limp position.
"Somepony check up on the victim!" the guard ordered.
Some went to carry the unicorn out of the alley along with the changeling.
And Thorax was on the streetlight-laden sidewalk.
In custody.