Moon Dancer was staring at me with both sets of eyes.
My voice was muffled by the bread knife in my mouth. “What?”
Moon Dancer shot a look at the dead changeling body on the lab floor. It was quite the sight, the tiny, bone-white figure lying there in a growing pool of its own green blood. It had already been difficult not to notice how small she’d been, but she looked even smaller and more delicate now that she was broken.
“What?” I repeated, levitating the knife out of my mouth with my weak, green magic and cleaning it off with an only vaguely slimy rag. I really needed a sink down here; slimy, sticky and gooey substances were all too common of an occupational hazard in my line of work and now there was blood, too.
Moon Dancer was still focused on the body. “She’s… okay, right?”
I rolled my eyes and said, “She’s fine. I don’t make mistakes.”
For some reason, she didn’t seem to be reassured. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would say that my statement had somehow had the opposite effect—incredulous disbelief. “Can you check, somehow?”
I shook my head. “No, that would not be a good idea; we want to minimize contact between our hive mind and her rudimentary one. The danger will shrink as each treatment of magic by her neurospast flushes out the changeling magic, but for now she’s still a hive mind of one. Regardless, we’ll know how things are going fairly quickly as the introduction of her soul to the egg should have pushed it two stages closer to hatching. If it does not change from its mottled grey color to something matching the soul inside, then we shall know that something has gone wrong.”
Moon Dancer gave the body one last look and shuddered. “Can I go? I think I’m going to be sick.”
I frowned. Both she and the nerospast she was riding were looking a little green. “The hive mind can take care of that. It should have done so already.”
“I—” She turned away, heading for the stairs. “I know. I asked it not to. I’m okay with a lot of things, but I’m not okay with it making me okay with dead bodies.”
I followed after her, shrugging the matter off as we headed back upstairs. “Do as you like. Someling will need to produce some more resin to shield the egg again, but the hive mind will take care of the rest with Sunset Shimmer’s neurospast, including the disposal. It’s amazing, the options a fourteen-year-old prodigy has for that sort of thing.”
Moon Dancer let that comment go without a response and headed off in the direction of the living room as I made my way into the kitchen. “Wait,” she said, holding me up. “You’re not putting that back in the kitchen, are you?”
I blinked at her, looking up at the bread knife floating above me in the glow of my magic. “Yes?”
Ponies have some of the strangest hang-ups.
Princess Cadance showed up unscheduled the very next day. Moon Dancer and I had prepared sippy cups ahead of time as per Sunset Shimmer’s inspiration, but ended up not needing them after all. For some reason, the princess of love seemed to take Sunset Shimmer’s absence rather poorly.
Hopefully she would get over it.
The house was noticeably quieter with Sunset Shimmer incubating in her egg. If asked—I wasn’t asked—I preferred it this way, though I also found it somewhat unnerving. Moon Dancer was a sound replacement; she was intelligent and quick to take instruction, but not quite as creative or driven as Sunset Shimmer. If I were to rank the two of them, I would definitely place Sunset Shimmer as my number-one assistant… or, I would if Sunset Shimmer had actually done much assistant-ing to date. She was rather behind on that front and would have a lot to make up by the time she had actually hatched.
That was going to be a while.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure if anyling ever told her just how long she’d be left incubating in her egg. In fact, it had been implied that we would simply be dumping all of Sunset Shimmer’s stored magic into the egg, flushing it out with magic from her neurospast and hatching her forthwith.
The problem with that was that it wouldn’t explain where the family had acquired a dragon; they weren’t exactly the sort of thing one picks up at the pet store… or so the hive mind said. I wasn’t entirely convinced we needed a convoluted explanation or to play out the overwrought dramatization that the hive mind had collectively come up with like a committee script-writing team, but I couldn’t argue that it wouldn't, at the very least, be egregiously effective in gaining the god queen’s attention.
I had to remind myself that gaining the god queen’s attention was a good thing. It was, in fact, the plan.
Oh well. It wasn’t as if Sunset Shimmer would be noticing the passage of time while she incubated… probably. Eggs obviously don’t have brains to think with, much less count the seconds, but we’d put her in there as a rudimentary hive mind so it would be interesting to see how she described the experience afterwards.
I was sure it would be fine.
As it was, Moon Dancer needn’t have worried over Sunset Shimmer’s health; the egg had taken on a gaudy red and gold pattern and was, by all indications, perfectly healthy. Moon Dancer seemed relieved at this, which was strange since I still considered her my number-two assistant and her competition was literally an egg… though said fact might be more relevant if I had actually mentioned the assistant rankings anywhere outside of my own head.
A quick note to the hive mind and a “What?!” screamed from somewhere upstairs fixed that.
As of the monday after Sunset Shimmer got laid—the hive mind noted that Sunset Shimmer’s egg was laid many years ago, but I ignored it—the ongoing experiments with Shining Armor were going promisingly well. As per my number-one assistant’s prediction, fine control remained an issue for him, but his improvements in power had already begun to be noticed by the adults at his school, which would likely prove useful—and the children, which would likely not.
He came home with a broken nose and sent five of the resident bullies to the hospital.
In spite of my previous assertion, data suggested that this result should produce excellent progress on all social tracks. Empirical evidence suggested that Princess Cadance would rather deal with her own problems, but thought the undertaken actions were sweet. This confuses me, as the colts in question had not been harassing Princess Cadance, but it is not unknown for ponies of her stature to assume that everything revolves around them.
Arguably, this is actually the case for God-Queen Celestia.
Changelings, of course, are much more humble.
In any case, back to the subject at hoof, I was able to record an improved mood in Princess Cadance and increased incidences of unambiguously positive interaction with Shining Armor on the following days, surmising that the data was correct in spite of the seeming contradiction in Princess Cadance’s initial reaction. Thankfully, science does not require understanding—only writing things down—and once again, I thanked the hive that my mission did not hinge on any kind of social interaction.
Having run through most of my checklist, I frowned at the last item on it. “Has anyone noticed the change in the color of your magic?” I asked Shining Armor, who was busy abusing his changeling form’s sleek carapace to clean himself of the sweat he’d accumulated during my tests. It was rare to see him out of disguise, but that was true for all of us.
“Why would you ever think that anyone would notice a stallion with pink magic in highschool?” he asked, his voice slightly nasally from the brace over his nose.
“…That’s a yes?” I asked for clarification, getting a roll of his eyes in return.
“Yes, that’s a yes,” he said, tossing his sodden towel aside and resuming his disguise in a burst of pink fire. “A few of the teachers have been giving me looks that suggest they think it has to do with my involvement with Cadance, Cadance has joked that it might have something to do with my time as a mare and the colts just think it’s hilarious—if they’re thinking at all.”
“No one is suspicious?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s apparently something that happens in rare occasions.”
I note that all down on my clipboard; ingenious things, these ponies come up with. “So, would it be your estimation that, even should the matter be solvable, the return of your natural magical color would be detrimental to either your disguise or your social status?”
“Probably not, to the first,” he guessed and I nodded along with him since the first change didn’t seem to have raised any suspicions in that regard. “Socially, it might make me seem flighty.”
“Not ideal,” I summarize. “And Cadance?”
“Would probably be sad,” he admitted. “Or at least a little pouty.”
“Something to avoid,” I agree and conclude that no attempt should be made to return the color of his magic, or indeed, risk it happening at all. As it was, Princess Cadance was still putting off more melancholy than I liked since the little sometimes-pegasus ‘Whitewash’ had ‘gone back to live with her mother’ in… wherever. Manehattan or something. The whole thing had become far more of a headache than expected and I wondered how much of the hive mind’s offer just before we put her in the egg had actually been about maintaining that particular status quo; there were so many different perspectives mixed into such decisions that it could sometimes be difficult to tell. The queen would be able to tell me, but I was smart enough not to ask.
“So?” Shining Armor said, getting my attention.
I scanned my notes again, just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. “You’re stable and we want to keep you that way. We’ll put you in a chrysalis over the weekend to heal your broken nose, so make sure to get your homework done early, but other than that, we’ll switch to Moon Dancer for all testing tracks from here on out.”
That seemed to be what he wanted to hear. “Thanks, little sis,” he said, ruffling my mane as he took my words as leave to leave, leaving me alone with Moon Dancer, the tiny changeling nymph perking up from doing her own homework on the floor at the mention of her name.
“Am I…?” she asked in her tiny nymph voice, looking up at the chrysalis towering over her.
Since she wasn’t connected to the hive mind without physical contact with her neurospast, which was hibernating in the corner beside Sunset Shimmer’s, I had to guess at interpreting what she was alluding to. “Yes. Whatever happens to you, your neurospast will be fine, so I see no reason not to combine your experimental rebirth into a proper changeling with the experimental magical upgrades we’re testing. I will also be adjusting your growth curve to catch you up to my height sooner rather than later, as there is no purpose in having an extra body lying around if you cannot pass for yourself without it.”
Moon Dancer seemed to have acquired a look of concern over something that I had said. “…Is it a good idea to combine two experimental procedures like that?”
Ah. I mentally raise my estimation of Moon Dancer by a notch for her excellent attention to laboratory procedure. “Normally, yes, there would be a danger of cross-contaminating the results, but I’m not concerned,” I told her.
Odd, she seemed to be waiting for a continuation to my complete and self-contained statement.
With circumstances being what they were, Moon Dancer, too, had to wait until the weekend to be rebirthed as she would not be able to control her neurospast from inside the chrysalis until after said rebirth. This meant fitting in another awkward foalsitting with Princess Cadance on friday night in hopes that it would prevent her from showing up over the weekend when nopony else would be around. Explaining the absence of Shining Armor and Moon Dancer in such a situation would be easy, of course, but it meant that I would have to deal with her alone and noling wanted that.
Moon Dancer filled in admirably for Sunset Shimmer and recommended we simply tell the princess that we wouldn’t be around for the weekend. No one listened to her, so we went forward with the awkward evening.
Why was it awkward? It wasn’t, as one might otherwise expect, due to Shining Armor having joined in in order to do his part in soaking up Cadance’s ample radiant love. That, at least, was on-script, as Opal Drop from school could—and often did—attest to. No, it was the previously mentioned fact that Moon Dancer still couldn’t control her neurospast without physical contact that had caused so many headaches with the princess since Moon Dancer’s rebirth.
Solutions for the situation came in wide and varied from across the hive mind. Someling had suggested that Moon Dancer could have a young, foal-aged sister that she would never be seen without, to which the rest of the hive mind had responded with unanimous castigation and firmly instructed him to watch the reruns before making any more inane comments.
Personally, I detest the very idea of reruns. Having other changelings methodically recalling previous events and broadcasting them to the hive as best as they can remember causes its own morass of misunderstanding—especially by changelings who do not realize they are reruns and begin to inundate the hive mind with suggestions for year-old problems.
It is what it is, however, and I try to ignore it so long they don’t go about running reruns of reruns of reruns. Anything beyond a second-generation recollection at most begins to get downright dangerous, creating strange and bizarre in-jokes that I’m not convinced make any logical sense. Unfortunately, I have observed that not only changelings, but also ponies and especially gryphons not only engage in this sort of egregious mutation of facts through repetition, but actually enjoy it.
It’s the only possible explanation for Moon Dancer being referred to as a ‘suitcase filly’—a truly ridiculous appellation.
Anyling who had actually been paying attention would know that Moon Dancer had been spending her time at school and being foalsat by Cadance secreted away in her neurospast’s left saddlebag, not a suitcase.
“You have a most peculiar ability,” Queen Chrysalis mused, just standing there observing the form of Moon Dancer floating in her Chrysalis. Nothing had gone wrong this time; she had just come to check in on things in person.
As much as it is core to my being to dismiss the opinion of the hive mind, I cannot help but bask in the praise just a little. “Thank you, my queen.”
She turned her head to look at me, raising one eye ridge. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about your adequate splicing work,” she said and turned back to the form in the chrysalis. “You can hardly take credit for the quality of your samples. I’m talking about your seeming ability to attract such interesting specimens.”
I cock my head and ask, “Interesting? So far as I’ve observed, Moon Dancer’s sole unique quality is her apparent similarity to me, which likely comes down to little more than than a stray thought through the hive mind caused by someling seeing her on the street when I was choosing my appearance.”
Queen Chrysalis clicked her tongue in disapproval. “And that is why you cannot take credit.”
I said nothing, as I knew the opening to a monologue when I hear one.
“Do you know, Twilight Sparkle, why it is that we live as we do, impersonating ponies and stealing the love meant for others?” the queen asked rhetorically. “It does not take a brilliant mind to conceive the idea that the ruse is unnecessary—or even doing more damage than good. Every time one of our collectors spends a day in a pony’s shoes, the feelings of confusion and of betrayal they leave in their wake results in there being less love in the world. We are parasites in spite of our biology allowing for a more symbiotic relationship. Why?
“The answer is ponies.
“Ponies, as a rule, do not like us. I don’t blame them; changelings aren’t very likable to begin with. We are a contradiction, and were it not for the hive mind, I doubt that our race would have survived as long as it has. There are always exceptions, of course; you are not the first changeling to bring ponies into our confidence, nor even the first to bring them into the hive as changelings. You might be the first to give one a proper, permanent connection to the hive mind, but it hardly counts when she’ll be like you—able to completely cut herself off at will.
“Regardless, the point is that such situations are not unknown to us. They are rare, however, and yet you come across them so easily that you consider it normal.”
I frown. “Is that why you offered Sunset Shimmer her own queenhood? I don’t really think she’s as accepting of us as Moon Dancer is.”
Queen Chrysalis walked over to the resin-coated dragon’s egg and lifted it up to eye level with her magic. “No. Quite the opposite, actually; that was just good sense,” she said, running one hoof down the side of the egg. “I would rather have a changeling connected to the hive—even tentatively—than a dragon whose work would not benefit us—a dragon who could one day betray us. Remember, Twilight, that there are always exceptions to the rule, just as there are exceptions to the exceptions. You may have attracted interesting specimens, but take care that you do not take their loyalty for granted.
“If there had been any sign that Sunset Shimmer meant us harm, I would smash this egg without a second thought.” Slowly, gently, she set the egg down and walked back to the three chrysalises, two of which were occupied. “She has grown attached, but not loyal as Moon Dancer has, even though they were both nymphs, and she, for longer. She is a risk, but not too great a one that I am terribly concerned.
“This cannot be said for the… ‘princess of food,’ as she has been referred to humorously. The situation is far from humorous. Do not mistake your playtime with her for any real affection. Do not think that just because you have been lucky so far, that she, too, will accept us as we truly are. You are making progress, but she is more important than any of your work here, and you need to remember she—is—not—your—job.”
I was confused. This had all the hallmarks of a reprimand, but I didn’t recall doing anything worth reprimanding, even in hindsight.
Queen Chrysalis pressed her chitinous non-lips together in a scowl. “I’ll make it very clear, then. You are not in charge here, Twilight Sparkle; Shining Armor is. The hive will consider your input, but you do not decide anything about his life. If he asks for your improvements—if he asks for anything at all—you will not only give it to him, but you will do so on his schedule.
“You will always—always keep a functional chrysalis available for him unless the hive says otherwise, which will only happen in an emergency. You have three of the cursed things now, so that shouldn’t be a problem unless you attract even more hangers-on, and on that note—don’t.
“Sunset Shimmer was a special case. Moon Dancer was a special case. You do not need any more ‘assistants.’ I’m of half a mind to pull the cord on this whole foolish notion of you becoming Princess Celestia’s student, but enough of the hive mind likes it and even your colossal buzz-ups have been productive so far, so for now we’ll see how well your charms work on her, but don’t push your luck—do you understand me?—do not push your luck.”
I… blink. I think that is the longest reprimand I’ve ever gotten from the queen that did not involve physical violence, but then, that crack in my face had rather complicated things to no end until I’d finally gotten a turn in one of the chrysalises, so maybe she’s keeping her temper in check.
“I said—do you understand me?” the queen repeated, demanding a response.
“Yyyyyyyyyyes?” I manage to answer, unthinkingly letting my reluctance draw it out into a question.
She snarled, but left it at that. “That will have to do, I suppose,” she said and made to leave, only stopping at the door, to say one final thing. “Oh, and you will be looking into Sunset Shimmer’s suggestions about chitin and horns. It is fine to have one changeling with great power and no control, but any brood with so obvious a tell will be considered a failure. If you wish to have any hope of fulfilling your aspirations, you will solve the issue immediately.”
I winced at the door slamming behind her, though at least she remembered to close them at all this time. “You are not in charge here, Twilight Sparkle,” I mimicked in a squeaky mockery of the queen's voice. “Yeah, well, neither are you, you cantankerous old sow. Just because you speak for the hive mind doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.”
It actually did, but I didn’t concern myself with that. Instead, I held my breath, anticipating the queen coming charging back in to injure me for my impertinence, but it seemed that I had successfully avoided broadcasting that thought over the hive mind.
Unfortunately, my relief turned out to be premature as I heard hooves stomping back down the stairs. I attempted to scramble behind something, but before I knew it, the door to the lab had burst back open and two twisted black hooves had bucked me painfully in the side, sending me crashing into the wall between the two occupied chrysalises, narrowly avoiding an incredible disaster that would no doubt have been blamed on me.
“For hive’s sake! How stupid do you have to be to gloat over the hive mind about not broadcasting your contempt over the hive mind!”
I groaned, wedged behind Shining Armor’s chrysalis.
For the record, I had been going to do the experiments on horns and chitin anyway.
No one came for me.
To my eventual relief, I had managed to avoid breaking anything thanks to the pony fluff and squishiness of my disguise. Even so, I was still walking gingerly by the time Shining Armor and Moon Dancer came out of their chrysalises.
Shining Armor was the first out since the only reason he’d been rebirthed was his broken nose from the week previous. As it was, the procedure was overkill for the scale of such an injury, but changelings weren’t built for long-term healing, so we had to make do. Technically, as changeling chitin was used for channeling magic, we were actually damn lucky that it remained mostly functional when damaged and could be repaired so easily; it was my understanding that unicorns were not so lucky.
Shining Armor hadn’t bothered using Sunset Shimmer’s neurospast during his time in the chrysalis this time since he’d have had to stay in the lab or risk Princess Cadance seeing him when she inevitably showed up at exactly the wrong moment. I didn’t see why we couldn’t just tell her that he’d relapsed, similar to how ‘whitewash’ had been changing back and forth before she’d left since that would have certainly made the princess happy, but apparently my opinion wasn’t wanted.
I mean, my opinion had pretty much never been wanted in the first place, but it had previously been slightly more common for them to listen to me regardless. Shining Armor did, at least, wait for me to give him the all-clear before rushing upstairs to get back to his own projects, patting me on the head as he left, so it wasn’t as if I had become changeling non grata in the house. Even so, I missed the days when I’d at least had basic collectors for parents that I could just order around.
Actually, I’d settle for having parents at all right now. The kitchen remodel had been done for a while now and we were still working with a Night Light that was banned from actually approaching the house. Frankly, I thought it wouldn’t hurt anything to have him around while Sunset Shimmer was in her egg, but a decision is a decision and I admit that doing so wouldn’t have sent the right message.
The problem was, we were sending an entirely different wrong message to everypony else. The neighbors were beginning to talk about the virtual disappearance of our ‘father’ and the only thing keeping the worst rumors at bay was the fact that ‘mother’ was spending a great deal of time out with him at night. It was a great excuse to have Princess Cadance over often, but that didn’t actually explain anything to nosey neighbors. I once again prodded the hive mind about the subject as I had been doing fairly regularly, but the response was still ‘reply hazy; ask again later.’
Sometimes I wonder if the hive mind remembers that it’s supposed to actually disseminate information.
Moon Dancer finally came out of her chrysalis coughing and sputtering around dinnertime. Physically, she looked fine, having even grown a few inches during her rebirth, but the rest of her improvements remained to be seen. Sure enough, though, as she recovered and her body found its rhythm again, a new presence began to open itself up to the hive mind.
It was tentative at first, slowly sinking in before jerking back—closing itself off out of shock and reflex. I found the behavior odd, as Moon Dancer had previously acclimated to the complete and unrestricted connection of a nymph while riding her neurospast, but it matched the behavior of newborn changelings so it wasn’t that it was unexpected, just unexpected from her.
What was unexpected was getting jostled aside while noting down the previous reaction by what turned out to be the neurospast in question. The soulless shell made its way over to Moon Dancer and picked her up, clearly under her command. I had thought she might be recovering slowly due to her fresh connection to the hive mind, but apparently she just hadn’t seen the need to struggle with her weak nymph body when she had a perfectly good pony one just standing around.
Actually, I supposed she technically wasn’t a nymph anymore. ‘Nymph’ referred to the special type of changeling that resulted from the creation of a neurospast, but as evidenced by her variable connection to the hive mind even while in direct contact with said neurospast, that word no longer described her. Of course, even with such proof already in evidence, I still had to approach her and touch her with my own hoof to test her ability to control her connection to the hive mind. That it felt no different than touching any other changeling in the hive admittedly made me smile.
I even allowed her to rest and eat something before moving on to test her new magical strength.
I defy anyone to find a nicer changeling than me.
Moon Dancer’s changeling magic was a pale pink.
This was, by and large, the worst possible result that I could conceive of because Moon Dancer’s pony magic had been a slightly different pink. It was close, but not the same. We knew this for certain thanks to her neurospast, which still retained the original color. It was also close to Shining Armor’s new color—but again, not the same. We knew this for certain because Shining Armor had graciously cooperated by providing his own for comparison through a process which involved me throwing pastries at him.
I got results; he got eclairs. The hive mind judged this to be a fair trade and bakeries across equestria profited from a rash of strange ponies with pastry cravings.
This… I wasn’t certain what I could do with this. If Moon Dancer’s magic had deviated significantly enough from Shining Armor’s pink… well, it wouldn’t have been pretty, either. I’d have had to throw out virtually all of my previous theories about why Shining Armor’s had turned pink, because they were almost all based on the color’s similarity to that of love. Everything from there being some contamination or actual utilization of undigested love in the magic to other more esoteric theories involving the increased concentration resulting in the spent magic actually condensing back into love relied on that pink color.
Then I would have had to go digging three quarters of them back out of the trash because they might still apply to changeling-born changelings. Moon Dancer might be an entirely proper changeling now, but her soul was still the soul that was born as a pony. Noling actually knew if it made any practical difference, but I couldn’t rule it out.
Okay, so that would have been just as bad, I suppose. This was apparently just how science worked, and the moral of the story was that Moon Dancer’s results would be stricken from the records and color theory was a waste of my time. Thankfully, I had been banned from acquiring new assistants and I had not been ordered to make the color issue a priority, so I could afford to let it slide.
The hive mind was nice enough to point out that Queen Chrysalis’ line about obvious tells would apply to magic color, too, which is clearly a lie based on the existing body of evidence that was every single changeling in the world other than Shining Armor and Moon Dancer.
The hive mind refused to acknowledge this.
I missed Sunset Shimmer.
No one must ever know this.
The ever helpful segment of the hive mind informed me that I shouldn’t broadcast things to it if I wished them kept secret.
The less helpful segment of the hive mind recommended that I broadcast all my secrets to it, as that was what it was there for.
I told the hive mind to shut up while I was narrating.
I missed Sunset Shimmer. No one must ever know this—especially not Moon Dancer.
Moon Dancer gave me a flat, unamused look from across the living room where she was double checking her math homework before we left for school.
Moon Dancer was just… too good of an assistant. She did everything I told her to do quickly and efficiently with little to no complaint. Frankly, she was boring. That’s why she was still my number-two assistant.
Moon Dancer’s math book struck me directly between the eyes and I swore.
“Language, honey,” shouted a cultured, masculine voice from behind a newspaper in the kitchen. That was our new father—our third Night Light—and the primary reason I missed Sunset Shimmer.
He was… kind of an asshole, and I really wanted to see her reaction to him.
“Love you too, pumpkin!” the cheery, stereotypical ‘father’ voice responded.
Okay, so he wasn’t exactly an asshole asshole, he was just fastidious, gregarious, dicacious, a whole lot of other ‘ious’ things and kind of anal about all of it. He absolutely never broke character, especially when acting in character was beyond annoying, but what could you expect from someling whose job is to make ponies hate him?
Oh, yes, he was another one of those. That was what had taken so long. Some part of the hive had been stuck on the household having at least one changeling who had seen combat and was experienced with poisons, and he was apparently the nicest of the bunch.
For a certain definition of ‘nice,’ in any case. While I was certain that Sunset Shimmer would not wish for the old one back, I very much wanted to see the look on her face when he made her clean her room—which was my room. My room and Moon Dancer’s room, actually. It wasn’t ‘proper’ to have any of us fillies rooming with Shining Armor, so it was going to be crowded.
Sleeping down in the lab? What lab? Ponies don’t have labs, silly filly!
It was going to be glorious.
“Come on, girls!” he announced, peeking in from the front hall. “Time to head off to school!”
I squinted at the grandfather clock that told me it was six fifteen in the morning on the dot.
Imagining Sunset Shimmer seething in hate was the only thing that kept me going.