Wallflower Blush held onto her backpack straps as she made her way down the hallways of Canterlot High School. These hallways, packed with people, however, remained deathly quiet. Everyone else walked along with distant and vacant expressions on their faces.
This had been the reality this week. It showed no signs of improvement.
And this wasn’t something that could simply be erased.
She trudged along with the same energy as everyone else. With her free period starting in a few minutes, however, there was no rush.
She arrived in the foyer and noticed that, while everyone here still walked along in silence, they all regarded two bodies standing in front of the boarded-up cafeteria doors. As Wallflower looked over, she spotted Lyra and Bon Bon standing there with the former trying to talk to and console the latter as she cried. Eventually, Bon Bon tensed up and then fell into Lyra, and Lyra responded by wrapping her arms around her friend and even letting some silent tears of her own fall.
And Wallflower couldn’t watch, so she turned and headed for the school’s front doors directly opposite. After briefly stopping to glance back, Wallflower walked outside.
The sky had no business being as clear and beautiful as it was. The birds flying through the sky had no business singing songs so happy.
There had been a time when she had resented Sunset Shimmer. There had been a time where everyone had, actually. But looking at the statue now, through which Sunset had disappeared for the final time just a few days prior, Wallflower couldn’t help but feel a twistedness inside.
Things had definitely changed in the past few months. And now things had changed again.
I wish I could forget this. I wish I could…
She reached into her backpack and took out a small, ovular stone. Wallflower felt the energy within as she held it. She considered it and what it would do only if she willed it to.
I could… I could fix this for everyone. No one would even know. She then frowned and fumbled with the stone. No one would even know.
She looked up. Even if I did, no one would know what I had done. …Well, I’d still be the invisible girl, I guess. It’s not like anyone has a reason to remember me anyway.
At that moment, however, Wallflower heard some voices from the other side of the statue, and she perked up. The voices persisted. While she couldn’t hear them clearly from where she stood, they spoke in confident, even spiteful tones. In fact, one of the voices gave a sinister giggle.
Wallflower tensed up. She knew those voices. Nearly everyone did.
With Memory Stone still in hand, Wallflower crept down the steps and down the pathway crossing the lawn. As she drew closer, the voices became much clearer and defined.
“So, Adagio,” a lower-pitched voice asked, “what do you think?”
Wallflower narrowed her eyes. It’s the sirens alright.
“I know we agreed to try and be on the straight and narrow… but this is a rich opportunity,” a sultry voice said.
“Yes! This’ll be so fun!” a higher-pitched voice said.
“Yes, and they probably could do some shit to us… again,” the lower-pitched voice said.
“Maybe not,” the sultry voice said. “Especially not with that bitch gone.”
And, with that, the other two laughed.
Wallflower gasped. They know!
The laughter stopped as the sultry voice cut in again. “Quiet. I think someone… may know we’re here.”
Wallflower frowned, gripped the Stone tighter, and backed away from the statue just in time for three girls to appear from the other side.
Adagio Dazzle, their leader, whose unmistakably large, orange poof of hair (accented by yellowish highlights) naturally drew the eyes, smirked and said, in her sultry voice, “Well well, what do we have here?”
Aria Blaze, the one with the long, purple pigtails (with aquamarine highlights) frowned and crossed her arms. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” she said with her lower-pitched voice.
Wallflower firmed up. “Doesn’t matter. You aren’t going to remember me anyway,” she replied. “You know about Sunset?”
At that, Sonata Dusk, the one with the long, light and dark blue-striped ponytail, let out a high-pitched giggle. “Oh! You’re good. Yeah, we know.”
“My only complaint is that I couldn’t have been here to see it for myself,” Adagio mused.
Aria chuckled and nodded in agreement. Sonata snickered as well.
Wallflower’s fist tightened even more. “So that’s why you came here.”
Adagio smirked. “Of course. We want to drink it in. Is that so wrong?”
“You don’t deserve to know about her,” Wallflower countered.
“Oh, don’t we now?” Adagio exchanged sneers with her companions. “Well, here we are, definitely knowing about her.”
Wallflower shook her head. “W-well… I’m going to fix that.”
At that, the three exchanged stunned glances and then fell into uproarious, stomach-clasping laughter. They even nearly keeled over, saved only when they hung onto each other for support.
Wallflower’s expression remained unchanged. “Just like I fixed you every other time you showed your faces around here,” she continued. “Which… I was actually starting to think you had actually moved on and were going to stop coming here.”
The more Wallflower spoke, the more their laughter died down.
“What are you talking about?” Sonata finally asked. “Like, this is the first time we’ve come here since the Battle of the Bands.”
“That’s right,” Adagio said as she crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure I would remember coming here since then.”
At that, Wallflower smirked. “No, actually, you wouldn’t.”
The Dazzlings collectively flinched and now stared holes into her.
Wallflower chose that moment to hold up the Memory Stone, sending energy coursing through it. “And you won’t remember this or Sunset either.”
“Wait a second!” Adagio cried as she lunged forward. “What—” She was cut off as a green light erupted from the Memory Stone and engulfed them.
Sunset Shimmer, after a long moment of silence, was the first to approach the crystal ball. She looked at the figures within, allowed more sweat to form on her brow, and then she looked up to where she presumed they were, in turn, watching from. “Y-you… you know who we are?”
Inside the crystal ball, the Nameless chuckled. “In a sense. I have been expecting your call.”
“You’ve been expecting our call?” Sunset asked. “How?”
The Nameless’ gargantuan, blobular form caressed the crystal ball sitting within the pedestal. “Since you have found me here, I will assume you know how everything works. The layer above told me…. they told me a few things.”
Adamantine swallowed and stumbled forward to get another look at the ball. She too then looked up. “It is really you. The Great Benefactor, as I live and breathe…”
The Great Benefactor tilted its head. “Perhaps that is me.”
Twilight let out a sharp wheeze as she too stumbled forward. “I don’t believe it… You are the monster that has… plagued us… plagued me from the beginning. You’re the source of all our problems.”
“Perhaps that is me,” the Great Benefactor echoed.
“I don’t understand,” Adamantine said. “How can this be? Why is it that Genesis there is allied with you?”
At that, Genesis’ frown deepened. “I will presume you refer to me. The answer to that query is simple. This is my master. It is in my programming to serve.”
Adamantine’s own frown deepened. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“That is very interesting,” the Great Benefactor said. “On what grounds do you call this one by that name? I have not given him that name.”
“He is Genesis, the first king of the unponies. He is my ancestor,” Adamantine said, stomping the ground. “That is the name all unponies have known him by.”
“Hmmm. Fascinating. I suppose I must keep that in mind.”
Twilight swallowed. “But why are you his master? Why would he ever side with you?”
“That’s right!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “You’re evil!”
“Vile!” Rarity seconded.
“Scary…” the other Fluttershy wheezed.
“We have always known you to be a threat to our entire world,” Adamantine said. “It has been my duty and the duty of the unponies to make sure you were contained and that you could deal no harm. You appearing as you have now… is impossible.”
The Great Benefactor threw its head back and laughed. “Oh, that’s precious! Absolutely. Allow me to clarify this and set you straight then. He is my assistant. He was made to serve his creator.”
A length of silence passed as everyone forgot to breathe. Eventually, some of them exchanged glances.
The other Twilight pointed a shaky hoof at the crystal ball. “His… creator… you?”
The Great Benefactor nodded. “Me.”
Another moment of silence passed.
Sunset felt all life leave her and she began shaking. “Wait… wait…”
“No no no no no,” Twilight murmured as she began shaking her head. “No no no.”
“You seem perplexed,” the Great Benefactor said.
Sunset sucked in a breath. There’s… no way… There’s no way. The Nameless… created the first unpony king? The world seemed to stand still. But… if that’s true… then everything else…
Twilight, from the way she stumbled forward, seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “You… you’re the one behind all of this?”
“To what do you refer?” the Great Benefactor asked.
“The unponies, the crystal ball, the… infinitely many realities… this was all you?” Twilight wheezed. “You’re the architect behind everything?”
The Great Benefactor looked down and considered Genesis. Genesis looked up, his expression unchanged. The Great Benefactor then considered the crystal ball.
Finally, the Great Benefactor threw its head back and laughed. Its laugh shook space and time itself. “That’s right,” it said simply.
The room remained silent for many long moments as everyone soaked in what had just been said. They all shared uncomfortable glances and collectively shuddered.
Sunset swallowed. “So… the layers… the eight timelines… all you?”
“Yes. All me,” it said.
Twilight stumbled backward. “I don’t…”
Starlight gasped and then stepped forward. “W-wait. If you did all that stuff… Does that… does that mean that you built the chamber for the Nameless?”
The Great Benefactor’s smile faded. “Elaborate,” it eventually said.
Princess Celestia straightened up and walked forward. Her gaze remained on the ceiling. “The chamber of the Nameless is the seal for a monster—you. You posed a very significant threat to the world before we destroyed you.”
“Ah,” the Nameless replied. “That is what you refer to. I suppose you are correct, then.”
Twilight backpedaled. “No no no. No no no no no. There’s no way! You can’t—”
Applejack threw her stetson to the ground. “Ah don’t believe it! Ah jus’ don’t!”
“Oh stars…” Rarity wheezed.
The Nameless snorted. “I fail to see why this should be of any surprise. I am a master of reality. Designing such things is elementary. Nothing more.”
Sunset shook her head. “N-no. It’s not that. It’s just… we always thought of you as the worst enemy. We always thought that you had been beaten by beings we could only have ever guessed at. We imagined they struggled with you. You’re… you’re basically saying…”
The Nameless chuckled. “Oh, yes, that we are one and the same. I still do not understand why I will seal myself away, but yes. I will build that prison for myself.”
“This… this is a lot to take in,” Sunset replied.
“I would imagine so, for beings of your form. I shall give you time to process what I have said by asking simple questions of my own.” It paused as it peered into its own crystal ball. “Now… you there, supposed descendent. Identify yourself.”
Adamantine sucked in a breath. “I am Adamantine. I was… the last queen of the unponies. Genesis, I am your reincarnation.”
Genesis nodded. “Acknowledged, Adamantine. What purpose do you serve?”
After a moment, Adamantine said, “I had two directives. The existence and well-being of my unponies was one of them. I have… failed that one. However… the other directive, my prime directive… was the safeguarding and maintenance of the existence of the Great Benefactor—that would be you.”
The Great Benefactor tilted its head and snorted. “That is another question. You refer to me as the Great Benefactor… and yet they refer to me as the Nameless. So, which is it?”
Adamantine exchanged glances with Twilight. “Truthfully… they have been somewhat interchangeable. Me and my unponies have always known you as the former… while they have known you as the latter.”
“Pick one,” the Great Benefactor demanded.
Twilight glanced back at Adamantine and then back at the crystal ball. “Well? What do you call yourself?”
The Great Benefactor tilted its head but did not immediately speak. The ooze within continued coalescing all the while. “Well, since you ask… In truth… I have forgotten. It has been a long time since I have conversed with beings of intellect… however primitive your minds still are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rainbow Dash hissed.
The other Twilight adjusted her glasses and stepped forward. “S-so… you really are nameless…” she croaked.
“Hmmm… Perhaps I am. But I do not wish to be. Therefore, I shall decide what you will call me. You may refer to me as Grimb’vltr.”
Pinkie Pie frowned. “Grimba… Grimbol? Vilter? Grimbavilter?”
“Perhaps… we could just shorten it to Grim?” Twilight offered.
Grimb’vltr scowled. “No. You shall address me as I have so dictated. Grimb’vltr.”
Twilight grimaced. “Uh… sorry, we’re going to have some trouble with that name…”
Grimb’vltr stood at its full height. “Then learn!” it boomed, the report of its demonic voice not only shaking the chamber it stood in, but also the library they stood in. Everyone reeled back and cried out in surprise. “I will not suffer those who cannot grasp my choice in nomenclature! Furthermore—”
Grimb’vltr suddenly cried out in pain and keeled over. Its screams echoed throughout the chamber, shaking it still. In short order, it began convulsing, expanding, contracting, and otherwise writhing about. Bits and pieces flew off and disintegrated into nothing.
Genesis gasped. “Master!” he exclaimed. He then shot a red beam of energy at the red light at the center of Grimb’vltr’s body.
Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna formed a barricade in front of their charges, intent on protecting them. Starlight and Spike clung to each other. Twilight’s friends looked as if the life had been sucked out of them. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna now stood at their full heights and even spread their wings to their fullest. Adamantine crumbled to the floor and covered her head. Tempest Shadow let some electrical energy crackle off her broken horn like she was readying an attack.
Sunset regained her footing and stared holes into the ball now.
Grimb’vltr’s screams eventually turned into whimpers and the convulsing subsided, but Genesis kept his beam locked. And then Grimb’vltr made what sounded like strained wheezes and curled into a fetal position.
Genesis’ focused expression remained unchanged. He kept at his task.
Sunset swallowed. “Grimb’vltr…”
Eventually, Grimb’vltr stirred. It looked up.
After taking another moment to glance back at everyone else, Sunset continued, “You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”
Grimb’vltr didn’t respond.
“This isn’t the first time it’s happened, right? And… I’m guessing it isn’t going to be the last time either.”
Grimb’vltr remained silent for a few moments more. And then, finally, it nodded solemnly and then laid its head back on the rocky floor.
Genesis quit his beam, took one last look over Grimb’vltr to make sure it had stabilized, and then looked up. “It is getting worse with every moment.”
Twilight finally climbed to her hooves again. “This? What…?”
“Something is wrong with it.” Sunset frowned and turned to face Twilight—and everyone else for that matter. “I have some of its memories. I’ve seen this happen in my dreams. I’ve seen that attack before. And…” She paused and turned to face the crystal ball again. She looked at the image within. And then she thought back to other things she had seen.
“Grimb’vltr, I had a vision of you…” she said with a solemn voice. “I think it was from when all of this started.”
Grimb’vltr stirred.
“I saw something… you were doing some things with those machines in the room with you,” Sunset explained. “You were running some experiment, I guess. Something went wrong… I guess the crystal you were shooting overloaded or something.” She shook her head. “You jumped in the way of the beams… Something tore.”
Grimb’vltr’s muzzle curled into a frown but it said nothing. It continued looking up.
Sunset leaned forward. “What happened? Tell us everything.”
Genesis turned his eyes to his master and waited to see how it responded.
Grimb’vltr’s features twitched as it contemplated what to do. Eventually, it nodded and climbed to its hooves.
“Regretfully…” Grimb’vltr murmured, “what you saw was accurate to what happened.”
Sunset held her breath.
Grimb’vltr motioned to the monolithic towers of smooth rock that took up the corners of the room. “I was, indeed, performing an experiment. I have always been an experimenter. Among my kind, I was even one of the best. Long before you came around, this planet—neigh, this solar system was the site of some of the most interesting projects. Once those were completed, I was the only one to stay behind.
“I have always been interested in pushing the boundaries of existence. To me, creating, for example, a sun and moon as thaumic constructs is too elementary; I’d rather give that to a student. No,” Grimb’vltr said, now pointing up at them, “I want to deal with realities that are not this one. In fact… I wanted to create my own.”
Sunset swallowed and tentatively nodded. “And… that’s what you were doing?”
“Yes,” it said with a nod. Its features then fell. “To be specific, I was attempting to make split realities. You no doubt know them as alternate timelines. However… I made an error. I was too quick to reach so far, and so there was, indeed, an overload.”
It looked up. “I would imagine that what you saw was the moment I split this reality into the many you see now. But I could see the process growing unstable; if I allowed the splitting to continue, reality itself would have been ripped completely apart.
“So… I absorbed the energy. And in doing so… my own body was subjected to the fluctuations. I was stretched across the realities through that unstable process. I survived, and prevented the worst, but now…”
Grimb’vltr held up a foreleg and scanned it. “Now I remain spread across those realities. I am one body spanning eight timelines. And as time goes on, my body continues to disassociate with any one of those realities.” It paused. And then it spoke, with a solemn, somewhat-quiet tone, “I should imagine, given the state of affairs in your time and from what I have learned, this degradation will eventually reduce me to a monster. In other words… I will inevitably lose my battle against this.”
Twilight shuddered and held a hoof against her chest. “Is there… anything you can do to stop that?”
Grimb’vltr shook its head. “Not with the time I have. The real solution would be to merge the eight timelines back together. But… as you might imagine, it’s easy to take something apart, it’s much harder to put something back together. And… judging from the state of affairs in your time, I did not accomplish this, and I will not accomplish this.”
“So, the eight timelines are the problem?” Sunset asked.
“Yes.”
“Why eight?”
“I did not choose eight. Truth be told, in those moments, I could feel the number of realities fluctuating. It eventually settled on eight. Interestingly enough, on later analysis,” Grimb’vltr said as it stroked its chin, “the reason for settling on eight seemed to stem from some event around your time.”
Twilight went wide-eyed and she slowly turned to face Starlight. “Did… you hear that?”
Starlight vacantly nodded. “Huh…”
“And then,” Sunset continued, “is there anything you have done that might help out with it?”
“Yes,” Grimb’vltr replied. “I have done a few things. I needed to refine the technique and my understanding of the process. I redid my calculations, adjusted some things, and then, I… admittedly redid the experiment. I had much better results the second time around, as you might imagine.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes. “The infinitely many layers.”
Grimb’vltr paused. “Yes, that is correct. Well done. But I suppose, since you have my memories, that should have come easy to you.” It idly flipped a foreleg at one of the machines. “It would appear, however, that it will all be for nothing. Whatever I might have wanted to do is simply impossible.”
Adamantine tilted her head. “Why is that?”
“As you might imagine, the energy required to reconcile the layers or timelines is very large. I’ve done some cursory calculations and made order of magnitude estimates. If I had to translate the requirements into a language that you would understand—”
“We know,” Starlight interrupted. “A few hundred gigathaums for a layer, more than that for the timelines.”
The shapes that made up Grimb’vltr’s eyes narrowed and it nodded. “That is correct. Do not interrupt me when I speak.”
Starlight took a couple of startled steps back.
“Of course,” Grimb’vltr continued, “this energy requirement can be lessened somewhat if the difference between timelines or layers is minimized. That is, if you supposed that the timelines were in somewhat the same state, or the layers followed each other, then it would be achievable.”
It paused. Its features ebbed and flowed about, but Grimb’vltr made no moves. It then looked up again. “But, again, seeing the current state of affairs… the timelines have already diverged greatly, and the layers, even if one resolved the time difference… have some differences. There has been… divergence.”
Genesis looked up at his master but said nothing.
“And… there is no changing that. For perhaps you have heard this before… ‘Is, was, will be.’”
Many sets of eyes turned to Sunset now. Sunset, in turn, looked up at them. And she nodded solemnly.
Grimb’vltr took a seat now. “Thus… whatever I shall do from now on is folly. The only loose end that I could possibly tie up… is what to do about myself.”
Tempest chose that moment to step forward. Her features were tensed and her expression was a cautious and firm frown. She approached the ball and looked into it. “You… you’re going to seal yourself away for the next few thousand years, right?”
Grimb’vltr looked up to seemingly stare at her. That prompted Tempest to stand even taller over the crystal ball.
“I would suppose. My original intention was to simply throw myself into the sun, or perhaps a black hole. An isolated system like that would keep the problem isolated. But… My counterpart from the layer above me has other plans. Plans I do not yet understand. As a matter of fact, my counterpart has just left this place to do things I know naught of. I do not know where they are now.”
Sunset blinked. She glanced over at the table she had been sitting with Twilight at and looked at the papers scattered about it. Those papers contained data and information and, most importantly, transcriptions that all spoke of one thing.
The one thing was the thing no one but the entity now looking up at them from within the crystal ball could answer.
“Grimb’vltr,” Sunset said with a sharp voice. “I have a really important question for you. None of us know the answer to it. You’re the only one who can help us here.”
Twilight gasped and then looked at the ceiling and nodded.
Grimb’vltr straightened up. “Certainly, Sunset Shimmer. Ask away.”
Sunset swallowed. “What exactly is Consensus?”
Grimb’vltr remained silent.
Sunset began pacing around the table. “What exactly is it supposed to do? How is it supposed to work? What is the reason for setting all of this up?” She motioned to the papers. “We’ve spent the past… week and a half going through all this information that…” she gave a bitter chuckle, “you left for us, we’ve put together clues and made discoveries… but we don’t know what this is all for.”
Genesis considered his master again.
Adamantine ruffled her wings with anticipation.
“I want to know… why everything that’s happened happened. I want to know why you sealed yourself away, I want to know why you became such a problem for my friend Twilight, I want to know why there need to be unponies, and I want to know why we had to watch them die. I want to know what these weights are that the seal talked about, and I want to know why this time dilation business with the balls is so important. I want to know… why the seal would want to soak up all of Equestria’s magic.” Her tone grew sharper. “Do you know what that would do to us!?
Sunset’s breaths grew hot and her face grew red. She then slammed the table, prompted most everyone to jump in surprise. She then pointed at her chest. “I want to know why I’m on the edge of fucking oblivion here!”
Grimb’vltr winced. Genesis squared up, looking ready to attack.
The others watched Sunset’s every move now. No one dared make a sound.
“I want to know. I want to know why I’m taking the fucking fall for what you have put onto us and put us through. I want to know why I am in this situation. What is this all for!?”
A long silence hung throughout the room. Everyone looked at each other, trying to see if anyone else would move or speak first. Eyes centered on Sunset, Twilight, or Adamantine before eventually all centering on the crystal ball.
Genesis trotted forward. His path took him around the pedestal in the center of the room. He eventually came to a stop in front of Grimb’vltr and looked up. He stared right into where Grimb’vltr’s eye formations were.
And Grimb’vltr met Genesis’ eyes. The ebbs and flows seemed to grind to a half for a moment.
It then sighed. “I… don’t have an answer for that. I do not know.”
Sunset gasped.
“I do not… know what Consensus is,” Grimb’vltr replied with a hang of its head. “I truly do not have the slightest clue.”
Sunset’s features fell. Her knees wobbled.
“I understand you, Sunset Shimmer. I do.” It placed a hoof on the pedestal containing its crystal ball and seemed to steady itself on it. “I understand that I will cause you great pain. I understand that I will be your greatest antithesis. I understand that you and your entire world hates me. You rightly should. I know that I could simply destroy myself and spare you all of that… and yet, apparently, I will not.”
Grimb’vltr sighed. After a moment’s reflection, it said, “I wish I knew what all of this pain and suffering was for. I truly do. It is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. I would suspect you would have to come up with an answer on your own.”
Genesis solemnly hung his head.
“If that is what you wanted from this…” Grimb’vltr said as it looked up, “for me to give you all the answers to everything… I am afraid that you have been horribly mistaken.” It spoke with a soft tone now. “And for that… I am sorry.”
Everyone else looked on in solemn silence. Some dejectedly hung their heads. Some looked thoughtful and reflective. Twilight ran a hoof through her mane and shook her head with disbelief.
Sunset took a few more steps back and then fell onto her haunches. Her throat was now dry. There was no way she could speak.
There was nothing. And, certainly, there would be nothing.
And, just like that, Sunset felt a flame inside her burn out. And so she collapsed with no immediate intent on rising again.