“Twilight!”
Starlight sped through the hallways, her hooves slamming heavily against the polished crystal of the castle’s floors.
She panted as she ran, her cheeks flushed red despite the rest of her face being completely drained of colour. She then skidded to a stop outside of Twilight’s room; her body crashed into the wall with a small bang, the impact knocking a few candles from their holders. Starlight hissed as they fell to the floor, catching on the edge of the red carpet and causing it to burst into flames immediately. The small flames licked at her hooves and made the fur smolder; she cried out in pain, scarpering backwards and waving her hoof in the air to extinguish them. She then scowled and grabbed a vase of flowers from nearby, duplicating them before all but hurling them at the rapidly growing blaze. It fizzled out with a sizzle and a hiss, leaving only the blackened remains of the rug behind.
She’d fix that later. She had bigger problems right now.
She ran back to Twilight’s door and reared up, slamming her hooves heavily against the wood. She then stepped backwards, muttering to herself and rehearsing her perfectly worded speech (devised over the past minutes). But there was no answer.
“Argh!” she yelled, before ensnaring her body in magic and picturing the other side of the door.
Starlight vanished from her place with a pop, then reappearing inside the bedroom. She slammed her hoof heavily against the switch on the wall, the room then drenched in white light.
“Twilight! Twilight!”
The alicorn only snored lightly, rolling over in her sleep. She had been working on her new spell for forty-eight hours straight, after all.
Starlight frowned. “Twilight! Tirek’s back!” she cried.
Nothing.
“Twilight, Princess Celestia’s been kidnapped and tortured!”
Still nothing.
Starlight looked around the brightly lit room desperately, searching for something—anything—that might wake Twilight. And then her eyes landed upon the perfectly organised writing desk. An evil smirk grew on her face.
She tapped the cup of quills with her magic. The knock was gentle, but enough to topple the lightweight stationary. They fell on the floor with a quiet tap-tap.
Twilight awoke with a cry and shot upright, wings flared out and horn sparking. Her eyes then landed upon the intruder.
“Starlight!” she screeched. She hoisted the covers up to cover her body instinctively, before suddenly realising the futility of such an act. She let the duvet then drop back to the bed and she groaned, falling to her stomach and quite literally rolling out of bed. Twilight fell with a thud on the floor, her exhaustion hitting her again now that the adrenaline had dissipated. “What do you want? It’s,”—she glanced at the clock—”My stars, Starlight! It’s only 12am!”
Starlight nodded frantically. “It’s Trixie!” she cried, dancing on the spot.
Twilight’s scowl only deepened. “You woke me up,” she said, “because of Trixie?”
Starlight nodded again. “I am so, so sorry!” she squeaked, still prancing. “Trixie said that she wanted to defeat the ursa and—”
Twilight shook her head and raised her hooves. “Woah, woah. Trixie wanted to go after an ursa major? Seriously?”
Starlight hung her head. “Yeah,” she said, her voice higher than usual. “And she asked if I’d agree to her going, what with her being stronger at magic now, and I… I said yes!”
Twilight froze. Her wings ruffled slowly. Her ears fell back. Her pupils dilated to the size of pinpricks. “You,” she began, raising a hoof to point at Starlight slowly. She then took a deep breath and reared up, screaming, “You said WHAT?”
Starlight brindled under Twilight’s gaze. Behind her, a lone candle burst into life and crackled violently.
“Well, she said that she’d vanquished an ursa in the past…” Starlight began, her voice growing increasingly quiet. Twilight pursed her lips.
“And you believed her?” she snapped, stomping a hoof. “I vanquished the ursa, not Trixie! And that was a minor, a baby, not a major! Don’t you think there’s a reason the authorities—or the girls and I—didn’t just rush in to defeat the thing? Ursas aren’t your average pests!”
Starlight hung her head. “I know. Spike said the same.”
Twilight froze. “Oh, horsefeathers! You got Spike involved? He’ll be chomping at the bit to lend a claw!”
Starlight frowned. “He’s only going to stop Trixie going into the Everfree. He’s not gonna get involved in any fighting.”
Twilight groaned. “Spike’s got a hero complex, you know that! He’s too small to fight, but he can’t stand just being a sidekick! Of course he’s going to try to take the thing down!”
“Oh,” was all Starlight said.
Her voice was suddenly pitiful. She had backed up against the wall by now, looking absolutely terrified. She fiddled absently with her hair, looking anywhere than but at Twilight.
“Thing is,” she continued, her voice shaking, “I need your help.”
Twilight huffed. “You’ve got Spike involved. I haven’t got a choice.” The disdain in her voice at that moment was evident. “When was Trixie going? I’ll have to shoot on down and have a word and—”
Starlight laughed. It was a feeble noise—and Twilight caught on instantly.
“Starlight…” she warned, wings flared out. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Well, it’s just…” Starlight paused and rubbed the back of her neck, shrinking backwards even further. “You see…”
Twilight’s eyes flashed dangerously. The candle behind her spat out a small burst of flame just at that moment. “This is serious, Starlight! Spit it out!”
“That’s the thing,” she said, cringing even before she finished her sentence. Then, with every ounce of her strength, she whispered, “She was going into the forest at midnight.”
Twilight glanced to the alarm clock and then back to Starlight. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. The candle behind her suddenly snuffed itself out, a small puff of smoke drifting to the ceiling.
“You’d better pray that Spike stopped her, then. Because if he went in with her, both our friends are dead!”