The door to Hondo's house swung open. “Hello? Wow, who's this good-lookin' filly. Oh, it's my daughter, Rarity!” He turned into the house and shouted back for his wife. “Dearest, Rarity's here, come say hi!” When he turned back to face his daughter he was taken aback as he noticed a nurse trailing behind her. His enthusiastic energy softened into something more sensitive. “Oh – oh, do you need a moment with your mother, or?...”
Rarity shook her head. “No, both of you need to be here.” Her voice was as hollow and unfocused as her gaze.
“Maybe you should come inside?” he asked, his tone strong with concern.
She looked down at the threshold, then up at him, still seemingly unable to focus her eyes. “Should I?” she asked, confused.
“Yes, yes, come inside, come inside, both of you.”
The nurse objected, “I'm only really here to make sure she gets home alright. If I may, I should head back to the hospital and leave you two to it.”
“Oh-okay. Thank you for watching out for our Rarity.” He nodded at her.
The nurse nodded back, gave a soft “take care,” and left.
Rarity walked inside without a word, deepening her father's concern. “Are you alrighty, dear?”
She didn't even seem to notice, instead walking right into the living room. It was decorated with a grandfather clock, odd trophies and banners from a long history of sports games and athletic achievements.
Cookie Crumble finally entered the room, “Oh, honey – ” she stopped when she noticed Rarity sitting on the couch, staring at the floor, unusually pale even for her white complexion. “Oh dear what's going on?”
“Mom, Dad. Sweetie Belle is...” she turned up to face them as she spoke. They were holding their breath. “Dead.”
The word left the room silent except for the painfully loud ticking of the grandfather clock.
“P-pardon?” her mother stammered in disbelief. “D-did you say...?”
“Sweetie Belle died,” Rarity repeated, her own normal accent of sophistication halfway gone.
Rarity's mom turned to her husband. “Y-you mean she's in the hospital and might be about to-”
“No,” Rarity answered.
Cookie's lip began to quiver. “H-hon, I don't believe it!” she turned to her husband.
“A-are you sure? What happened?” he asked, his voice intent.
“I - … I saw her body.” Rarity's eyes finally began to well with tears. Her breathing became intense, her next words burst out of her, “She was in the morgue! A dead body! She's dead!” her head fell into her hooves and she cried uncontrollably. Her mother ran over and joined her in an embrace, along with her father.
She had come home to create. It was therapeutic for her, and now as the rain in her life poured, she direly needed her outlet. On first hearing the news, her mind had seized up, unable to think or move. Crying had finally allowed her to feel again, but she could feel her mind rusting once more as she walked home in the snow. In the morning it was a beautiful icing, but now it was a colorless paste that muted the vibrancy of Ponyville under a lifeless sheet of ice. Every filly she saw looked like Sweetie Belle from the corner of her eye, but every time she glanced with held breath, she was nowhere to be found.
She finally arrived home and made her way upstairs. The boutique was empty, and she knew it would now stay this way. She jumped when she felt Sweetie nuzzle her leg – only to realize it was Opal brushing by. Standing at the top of the stairs, she looked up to Sweetie Belle's room. It pained her too much to consider going inside, so instead she turned and entered her own room to collapse on her own bed.
She couldn't tell how much time had passed. Only that she felt confused – unsure if it was morning, afternoon, or afternoon of the next day. She simply sat on her bed, staring at the wall. There was a gentle orange glow. Orange. Sweetie Belle likes that color.
She hoped to herself it was just some bad dream – but she knew it wasn't. The tracks outside her house, the lump in the bed – they still taunted her.
Her ears perked as she heard knocking on the boutique's door. Some voices said something. But she couldn't tell what it was. She remained on her bed, unmoving. Eventually the voices went away.
Soon, the orange was gone as well, replaced only by the darkness of night, and the familiar gentle trickle of moonlight she had seen last night. She looked back up at the calendar. Sunday, December 23rd. Then down at the card, still on the floor. Saturday, December 22nd. She looked back up at the calendar on the wall, grabbing the latest day's card in her magic, pulling, but couldn’t bring herself to deliver enough force to pull it off. She started shaking.
“N-no...” she muttered.
“No!” she said, more firmly.
She grabbed yesterday's card in her magic, lifting it off the floor, and slammed it against the calendar as if she could put it back on, “NO!” she yelled, breathing hard, breaking into sobs.
“Why?” she asked, softly in-between her cries. “Why did it happen? Of all the ways... Why couldn't she?... Why didn't I!?...” her magic faded off yesterday's card, and it fluttered to the ground.
She remembered the days of sewing, designing. How the last few weeks she'd been growing ever more obsessed with her work. It seemed obvious, undeniable. There was one prime evil responsible for pulling her away from Sweetie Belle, leading ultimately to her death.
She whipped around to face the sewing machine she'd named Besty – as if to mock her mistake in putting it first, above Sweetie Belle – the monstrosity that had distracted her, the damned siren that had held her captive, chained her back with the joy of creation from saving her sister. Sewing her with some perverse joy to the thread that led to a murder by neglect of the one she cared about most, her own precious little innocent sister who depended on her for life and love and validation. She gripped the murderous machine in her magic.
“NO!” she screamed, throwing the thing onto the ground with all her strength, watching it break open, screaming again and again as she lifted it up and slammed the lying beast into the ground repeatedly, before throwing herself onto the ground next to it. Her screams were replaced with uncontrollable sobbing, convulsing her entire body with every heave as she curled into a ball. She realized she sat next to the ruined corpse of her second murder victim and the only thread of joy left for her.
She didn't lie next to the ruins of a sewing machine, but the murdered corpse of her filly self, her older self in red glasses who had found such joy, bliss and purpose in creation. On the floor lay the one who had murdered Sweetie Belle by neglect, but she was unsure which one it was; the corpse of Besty, or the corpse now responsible for two others.
“No, no, no, no...” she cried.
The world spun around her.
She was in darkness, alone. Nothing could ever change that. The boutique was empty. Sweetie Belle was gone forever.
And it was all her fault.
“It's just... it ain't her usual way of doin' things. We've seen'er when she thought her whole life was over an' she didn't act nothin' like this,” Applejack pointed out, worry brimming in her voice.
“Then something about it must be different than those other times,” Twilight stated, sorrow accenting the logical statement.
“But, we've already been over this a lotta times…” a helpless, burned-out frustration of desperation set her tone as she tried to find a way to help her friend. She relaxed slightly as a hint of curiosity came over her, “If this is all ya wanted to talk about, I reckon' you would've gathered everypony else, too. But, you just wanted to speak to me - do ya got somethin’ particular in mind to help her out?” AJ asked.
She and Twilight were alone in her map-room. There was no need for the map to call them, this time. Rarity's friends had met here many times in the past week, the same problem taking much of their time: Rarity's refusal to see them.
Twilight nodded, continuing in her analytical problem-solving tone underscored by worry and fatigue, “I mean, I could go on again about how much it concerns me that an extrovert is isolating herself – she even missed the Hearth's Warming party! I thought for sure maybe she'd sing Over The Rainbow at the party to remember Sweetie Belle -”
“Over the rainbow?” Applejack asked, fear in her voice.
“Yeah – ‘singing over the rainbow’ doesn’t mean anything crazy, ‘Over the Rainbow’ is just the name of the song they were going to sing. Maybe I shouldn't have said that... It's what they were practicing, they wanted to keep it a surprise so they told me not to tell anypony, but I guess that's moot point, now... But this is Rarity who's suddenly gone quiet! Rarity, of all ponies, won't even do anything but tell us to leave if we come begging for a repair to any of our clothes or asking to talk, I mean –”
Applejack interrupted, her burnout showing in her sharpness, “It's the ways you'd think she'd cope, I got it, and however we try to get through to her she just keeps us locked out. And it's more than a mite frustratin' to go over this same thing every day for so long and review everythin' again and again. I don't know how to help her at this point, Twi, not even her parents do. I just - we all just wish we could at least talk to her or get her to even answer the door but she won’t! We're all mighty worried about what she might do locked up in there, she really ain't actin' like herself,” the frustration in her voice was replaced by curiosity, “but what do you got that you wanted to talk to me about? Somethin’ that may get through to her, I take it?”
“Well… I wanted to talk to you because I realized there’s something she may come out for – and that’s the problem. The Book of Knowledge. I – I know dark magic can do things like bring back the dead but it always makes things worse than it helps – if we turned to it to bring back Sweetie Belle, there'd be some even higher price to pay. But this book is... I'm tempted to read it, for her sake. For Rarity's. For my sake. For Celestia's. And for my curiosity, even. Luna said that armies would fight to read it if they knew the power that was inside. Do you think it holds those kinds of secrets? How to...”
Applejack simply looked horrified. “I – I don't like to even think'a it, Twi. Ask Celestia, I'm sure – I'm absolutely sure she'll tell ya not to go dwellin' on that kinda thing. You said yourself dark magic only makes things worse, never better. Always a lie, never an answer.”
Twilight just looked down at the map, concerned, then back up at her friend. “But that's the thing. A good pony like Celestia would tell me not to, but what about Rarity, who won't talk to anyone, and who's behaving so... unusually? Nopony's going to tell her not to think about it. If losing Sweetie Belle is making her lose her mind... What did I tell them, AJ? I can't remember! I can't remember how much I told everypony – our friends – about the book! Should we move it? Should we hide it somewhere else? But Celestia said to keep it in my library!”
The farmpony opened her mouth to speak – then paused. She closed it again, slowly considering, then finally spoke, “Twi... Are you ever gonna read it?”
Twilight's expression turned pitiful. “I – I mean to. Eventually. When the time is- …right.” She began to make the connection.
“Don'tya reckon'... if there was ever a 'right time'... That Sweetie Belle’s… passing...”
“Didn't you just say I shouldn't think about it?” she asked pointedly.
“Well, I said not to be gettin' all weird and tempted by dark stuff an' readin' it for the sake of raisin' the dead. But Celestia said you gotta read that book eventually, right, for other reasons? And what happens if Rarity reads it – then we gotta go in after her, right?”
Twilight's expression had turned afraid as AJ spoke. It... it could be tomorrow. She remembered Celestia's comforting hug. The terrible implication that she needed it. She shook her head, “No, if she goes in, then I have to go in after her –”
“Hold on just a minute!” she stood up in her chair, leaning over the table. “Don'tya dare go in on somethin' like that without us, ya'hear? We haven't gone to the ends'a Equestria fightin' disharmony together for nothin'!” she pounded a hoof on the table.
Twilight straightened her posture, but stayed in her seat, stating with the objectivity of a commander, “If she goes in, we won't have time to gather everypony. Celestia made that much clear. 'Immediately' is not a vague word, and I'm pretty sure that's the word she used. 'won't last long' and 'cruel world' are pretty darn ominous things for Celestia to say, and I'm not going to leave Rarity to that. If I don't know where you are, I can't go looking for you with a dozen teleports when I'll need that energy and that time to rescue her from some 'cruel' world she'll wind up in.”
Applejack slid back into her seat, softening to a more normal tone, “Well don'tya got some sorta spell to find us in a hurry? And you know where we live. Me'n the rest'a the Elements, that is.”
“I may know where you live, but I can't go looking through the orchards for you,” and it'd be a huge relief to not find you if it means not dragging you into all this... Well, there is a scrying spell. I shouldn't mention it!... But isn't that kind of lying?
She sighed internally. For you, AJ, I'll be honest as an Apple, not even lying by omission of something relevant... “Maybe if I had a hair of yours or something I could teleport straight to -”
She wasn't even done talking before AJ had stroked her hoof through her mane and put a loose hair on the table. “We lost enough already! If she goes off with that book, don’t ya dare go in after her without me!”
Twilight sighed externally and took the hair in her magic, pulling it to her side of the table. “Okay, I'll keep you in mind. But don’t you think we should move the book? Am I being too literal about Celestia saying 'in your library'? But she could've said 'in your collection' if she didn't mean the actual library... But we're already kind of bending the rules by putting it in that secret chamber under the library but still kinda in it...?” she pursed her lips as she thought.
Applejack relaxed and continued in a more reflective tone, “Well, the way I see it, if you said that much about the book – 'cause truth be told, I can't really remember how much you said, either – so if the thought even crosses her mind, then she should have the right to read it for her sister. I might can imagine what that’s like... This has gotta happen sooner or later, so... I may not remember if you slipped somethin' about powerful magic'n all, but I do definitely remember you gave an awful lot of warnings that non'a us are likely to forget, so she knows she's offerin' her life if she reads it. So if she hurts herself with it, that's on her, it's not on you. And who knows, maybe she’ll find some way to get Sweetie Belle back, even, by readin’ that darn thing. I can’t fault her for doin’ something crazy for somepony she loves…” she trailed her train of thought off, the finalized with certainty, “We have to let her read it if she decides to.”
The princess closed her eyes, thinking, then nodded, listening to her friend, confidant and adviser. “Alright. You make a good point. We can't do this lightly, though. There's a few places I can think of that I can hide it, and I have an urge to go do that right now so Rarity can't find it. It's not a possibility to take lightly, but…” she bowed her head, her ears flopping down as she admitted, “You're right… right? It's not my fault if she does something after all the warnings I've given her, is it? But whether it is or not... I must respect her choice, just like I would hope she'd respect my choice to follow her, and like Celestia respected my choice by giving me the book…” she finished, raising her head again, finally determined on at least something, thanks to her role model.“At this rate, maybe you should've been the princess,” she finished with a little tease.
“Just speakin' my mind...” AJ adjusted her hat. “So, I don't mean to keep beatin' a dead tree – I was the first to say that spinnin' our wheels again'n again is frustratin' – but... I do worry 'bout her. Me, Big Mac and Granny have been helpin' Applebloom and Scootaloo, even keepin' an eye on AB along with talking to her a lot. But AB's pretty emotionally stable and Rarity doesn't got either that stability nor family'n friends talking to her. But we can't exactly go sittin' around in her Boutique without her permission. An' if she found any'a us breakin' down her locked door, I don't think that'd really help our case for gettin' through to her. But honestly I'm so worreid about her at this point I'm really thinking of doin' that... I can make her a new door pretty quick'n easy, anyways...” Concern was plastered clearly on AJ's expression, and Twilight's quickly matched it.
“You – you think she might... do something she can't come back from?” Twilight delicately asked.
AJ looked away, “Well... She's just...” then made eye contact again, her voice picking up certainty, “You said it yourself. She's not actin' normal at all. Nothin' like her usual self, an you'n I both know she's a very emotional pony, so... yeah. I do think she might need somepony to watch over her.”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I'm concerned about that, too...” her ears flopped down and she looked at the floor as she thought. She looked back up at AJ with a surprising, small smile. “I think I have it covered, though – at least to keep her safe from anything permanent. Given who we have on hoof, I'd never forgive myself if I didn't ask him to keep an eye on her.”
“What? But Spike's a baby dragon, ain't he?!”