The Team

TheIdiot

DoctorFluffy
Some people. Some people like cupcakes exclusively while myself I say there is not, nor ought there be, no food so exalted on the face of God’s great earth as that prince of foods… THE MUFFIN

VoxAdam

Sledge115
Some people move on. But not us.

RoyalPsycho

TB3

Kizuna Tallis

Chapter Seventeen
Thus, Lift Me Up

As much as one Viktor Kraber had declared they’d be dragon-hunting, reality set in, and there were no dragons to be had. At least, none in the vicinity. Following Harwood’s and Lieutenant Ze’ev’s instructions, she and Frieda had split from the rest, trusted to fulfill their role as snipers who’d clear the area around Langone Park of any and all Imperial stragglers. For here they knew the target they sought was last spotted. And now, even if it was that sort of company, she found herself missing them all. Especially Harwood.

Not for the first time, Ana was jealous of her partner’s flight, for her own feet were aching from all the walking and crouching and whatnot. Crossing Boston largely on foot from Prudential Tower and the hotel district, complete with that Imperial altercation at Assembly Point Sierra, to then get where they were now at the Museum of African-American History – none of it had been a walk in the park. Even if they had traversed the Boston Public Gardens.

“Just another ten minutes, Ana,” said Frieda. “Langone Park should be at the end of the street.”

“I got you,” Ana said. But doubt lingered on. “We’re… we’re sure this is where she was, right?”

The Archmage’s dragon had done a terrifyingly efficient job of cleaning house, Ana reflected. While Harwood, mindful of duty to the end, had directed the rest of the group in a search for potential survivors, the plumes of green flame dotting the horizons above the city’s skyline told a much different story. In the Boston Downtown and Back Bay alone, the PHL and National Guard’s safehouses had each gone silent one by one – Prudential, the Orpheum Theater, the Double Tree by Hilton Hotel. The Massachusetts State House, just a block away. Fenway Park.

Ana had to swallow as her throat ran dry. Fenway Park was where Major Stephan Bauer and his Teutonic Knights were stationed. Harwood had been meant to integrate them next week… Had this been only a few days later...

She held her radio to her mouth. “This is Nordlys, en route to Langone Park. Is anyone out there, over?”

“Lieutenant Ze’ev reporting. Hearing you loud and clear, Nordlys, Do you see the priority target, over?”

“Negative, no sight of her yet,” Ana reported. “We’re approaching Langone Park, over.”

With Ze’ev’s voice gone, Ana found herself with that lingering doubt, once again. Killing had never been in her blood, or her life before the war. To do so without a second thought… well, at the very least, she’d always had the hesitation.

She called herself a shield, often. Perhaps it sounded better in her head. What sort of shield doubled as a spear?

This was Archmage Twilight, she reminded herself. The Solar Tyrant’s second-in-command. One of the architects of the entire god-forsaken war. She needed to do it.

‘Needed to do it…’ the voice inside her head echoed, and Ana wondered if it was to convince herself, too.

The answer had been clear, after all. Ambassador Heartstrings would have done it. And so the night went on in the light of battle, as Ana with Frieda by her side pushed her way through to Langone Park.

The Princess of the Night stood alone at dusk. Here, true to the sleeping one’s name, the realm was in eternal twilight. Stars flickered in the dark above, but from one look at them, Luna knew many weren’t where they should be. Her Moon was missing, too, its cold, encompassing presence absent from the skies.

Much like the dreams of many, this was an imitation of home. But something wasn’t right.
A dream should be bustling with activity, and this shadow of Ponyville was anything but bustling. Storefronts were empty of goods, the doors and windows of all houses were shut and barred, not a soul stirred within or without. Even the village’s colours were dull and faded. From the corner of her eye, Luna could have sworn whole buildings vanished into a featureless fog. It put her in mind of a canvas with a limited draw distance...

She tore her gaze away from the decrepit town hall, and beheld the only true splash of colour. A bulky oak tree that was also a house, the library Twilight called home. Its lush green foliage provided the only source of life, abund and vibrant, in the entire area. A sight like that was practically inviting her to approach...

A cold breeze rose. From the library-tree, a leaf detached and danced past Luna’s mane. Despite her coat, Luna felt a shiver. Here, the air was illusionary, but the unwelcome feeling that brushed her senses was very real, akin to a Winter from her childhood of long ago, which she had sought to cast out of her own dreams.

As far as her eyes could see, she was alone in this facsimile of Ponyville. For the moment.

Breathing in a lungful of this strange air, a reassuringly physical gesture, Luna journeyed towards the look-alike of Golden Oaks Library. She would have answers.

Yet she may have heard something else, some whisper in the wind that reminded her of that Winter in her childhood.

Luna shook her head, in the ancestral way that a horse shakes off a fly, and opened the door. She knew not of the speaker, nor the word spoken with melancholy and regret both, which passed in the cold night.

Nothing was ever truly right in this realm. Why should one expect the library be any different? Yet, back in the waking world, the smaller world Twilight had made for herself inside the golden oak tree was one defined, above all, by hominess.

Luna stood in a circular room, as she would in the Library of Ponyville. Books lay neatly placed upon shelves carved into the wood of the tree, with a pair of double doors at the far end.

This soon proved to be the end of familiarity, as with great curiosity, Luna strode through the rotunda to push open those doors. And felt them close behind her, as she found herself in a rotuna identical but for the replacement of the shelves with yet more doors.

Already it was hard to say which door she’d come in from. Each doorway led down the same path of rows upon rows of bookshelves. She would have wagered that all rows came to criss-cross, deeper into the library.

It was, all of it, too clean. No speck of dust anywhere. The wood practically glowed with varnish. Barely a sign of wear on any of the books.

She could have dwelt here endlessly, in the safety of the central rotunda. But Luna was no tourist, for she knew what she sought.

Her horn shone, unveiling the tuft of purple mane she’d held in her null-space, a useful pocket in here in the dream realm as in the waking world. She drew it to her, and assigned it purpose.

The tuft of mane guided Luna onwards, helping her make way through rows of shelves filled by many tomes. In her eyes, the shelves old and new alike, various stages of ageing superimposed upon one another like a transparent photograph, the varnish of the wood bespeaking the bright polish of novelty and the dark preservation of age at once.

She recalled what she’d told the human warrior at the hospital. The mind was a valley, invisible to all including its owner – how many people can truly look inward? Memory was true, but in the mind’s valley, how quick could self-interest and improvisation be to churn it up. From this soil it was that dreams emerged.

At least, this was her favoured way of looking at it, a garden. But a dreamer’s mind was the reservoir of their memories, and so adapted to reflect the dreamer. Some might keep scrolls. Others stored mirrors that showed glimpses into their past. Twilight’s, of course, was of books.

As in any library, the shelves were divided into sections, with such attributes as genres or themes linking them together. Differing as the titles did, many began with the same, common preliminary Twilight’s Book of–, and the difference lay in subtitles that followed.

Guided by Cadance’s magic, Luna had entered this wing of the library on faith. She now noticed the tomes she passed by were mainly focused on Twilight’s studies in Canterlot. Many bore the terms Studying at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, but at a variety of levels. Luna had to chuckle at this. In the hospital, after all, she’d told Lyra the mind was not something to be leisurely read. Evidently, she had underestimated Twilight's need to organise. This would make one facet of her search easier.

‘I do not know what I was expecting...’ Luna contemplated as she continued following the tuft. ‘Tia did warn me… well, now I know, I suppose.’

All of a sudden, her guide in this endless aisle came to a stop. Bemused, Luna watched it float to rest gently upon the spine of a nearby book. A small volume, but of an unusual colour compared to those surrounding it. A rich blue Luna found oddly familiar.

On instinct, she summoned the book thus marked, trusting her descendant’s magic in this place. Then she saw the book’s title.

Our First Nightmare Night in Ponyville, were the words that proudly adorned the cover and imagery of said night. Luna saw herself depicted in the artwork, an unsure look on her face, walking up the path to a cottage by moonlight. Here too was she guided – by Twilight, a younger mare than the greying Archmage, yet dressed up to look far older in an unerringly accurate costume of Starswirl the Bearded.

She saw text, mainly, with a small amount of accompanying illustrations. The layout was like that of a fable committed to the page – whilst those had been new at the time of her exile to the Moon, it had discountenanced Luna to discover such books were now seen as old-fashioned. Nonetheless, she took time to appreciate the finely-sketched retelling of their experiences together that night.

Especially the part, advertised on the cover, when Twilight had spoken advice to her regarding her vocals, leading to her meeting Fluttershy properly for the first time–

“No...” Luna said. She set the book back, delicately. “Think, Luna. This is not what I seek…”

‘Yet it is what I treasure.’ A light smile crept upon her, remembering the laughter shared at the end of the night, a promise to visit, and the gift she had prepared in her garden since. ‘I… should see her again sometime, her and Fluttershy both.’

Of its own accord, the tuft returned to her. The sight of it, however, made Luna think of another thing in conjunction with that night and this one.

‘Discord…’ she reflected uneasily. ‘Could there still be a way to rescue him? The Archmage taunted me for my failure, but was she seeking to make me give up? How can I ever explain it to Fluttershy, if this is how I repay her kindness…’

She moved on. The unending rows changed and shifted, the books displayed different titles of various arrangements.

Luna waited, thinking it would lead her to a new book, but it stayed, hovering in a weightless air where by all rights, motes of dust should have clustered around it like a constellation. Frowning, Luna turned to inspect the book closest to her. Immediately, it caught her eye.

This one was emblazoned with the title Of the Crystal Realm, & The War of the Dark King. The cover pictured Twilight dressed in armour upon a hilltop, from which she looked towards a city in the distance. By the spire of the Citadel, Luna could make out the outline of the Realm. Yet it was a Citadel swathed in menacing shadow.

In the week leading to the Concordia, Alexander Reiner had evoked, here and there, the tragedy which transpired between the Crystal Realm and Equestria. But his knowledge was ‘third-hand’ at best, he himself had acknowledged, passed on to him from Ambassador Heartstrings and a few souls who’d chosen to throw in with the losing side of a new war.

Her cry rebounds inside the envelope of her friend’s intricate, diamond-shaped shield. It will be lost in the noise of the battle. The same battle in which this shield, elegant as it is, can offer but meager protection. Their enemy is upon them. The enemy bears two faces. One is the monster – the face of fear, yet fear to be stamped out, without sorrow. The other is not so lightly faced.

Before her eyes, beyond this rampart that is more curtain than wall, a golem of crystal pounds. A being without mind or heart. The grit of battle clings to its surface. Yet it will not die, having never lived. Never, in life or death, will to the stars return the dust from which it was made. From which all are made.

Upon the icy horizon, the Dark King’s shock-troopers approach. Twilight feels thankful that she cannot see their eyes. The sickly green lenses of their helms gleam in the dusk.

Here is the line. They cannot fall back, not after coming this far. The Realm lies yonder the hill.

Behind them, behind the troops which have fought by them, lies a little mining town. They saw fit to liberate it from the Dark King’s forces. New Citizens of the Crystal Realm, the Dark King so euphemistically calls the people of many such little towns. People who were quite happy to rejoin Equestria.

People, and prisoners. They seek to liberate all they can. Yet whatever hold the Dark King exerts over his slaves is not easily banished. Those who were made to bear his helms become prisoners twice over. Kindness is what shall truly free them. Kindness, and laughter, too. Though true laughter is rare in these icy wastes.

As they guarded the mining town, for a moment, Twilight felt bold, heroic, such as may have eclipsed banishing Discord or seeking out the Elements of Harmony.

She did not want to believe it when the Dark King let the power of the Crystal Heart suffuse him, turning him into a creature of roiling shadow. A creature that looks as if it wears the skin of a beast of only superficial resemblance to an equine. And wearing it poorly.

Yet the truth sunk in. As Twilight and her friends rode from that desolate little train station, the truth sunk in.

Cadance, the Crystal Princess. Where others move the spheres, a princess who moves hearts. Never more than half who she was meant to be. Her wings sit folded, impotent, upon her back. Yet to such heights she could soar.

Princess Celestia had foresight. They would not be caught unawares by a new fiend. She sent the Bearers armed with their Elements. Hidden in the shadows, Twilight was to later learn, followed Princess Luna. This provided salvation, for them. The Realm was not spared.

The Crystal Princess’s shield did not hold. Again, her beloved fiancé could not help her.

With unbridled horror did Twilight witness her brother and his princess thrown down, once more, by a creature who stole what should be their happiness. The black mist invaded the hallowed Citadel. In desperation, the Elements attempted to strike. But their light was feeble, and broke upon the darkness like water.

“It’s all a matter of perspective.” The Dark King’s voice still speaks in her mind, with eyes that will haunt her dreams. “It seems destiny has decided against you this day.”

A mist of midnight clashed with that pitch-black mist. And against the darkness, the midnight blue was akin to a ray of hope.

For the Night’s Princess made her appearance. Though she would have fought the foe, she knew when a battle cannot be won. Thus all were whisked away whom she could take with her. Gladly would she have stayed for more.

“I don’t think I can take this much longer.” Rarity’s voice wheezes, pained. Cracks begin to form in the shield. “I’m hitting my limit. This… this is all I can give...”

Her horn aglow, Twilight brings out the levite-crystal from her saddlebag. Just then, the crystalline golem shatters Rarity’s shield. Her fellow Bearer is forced back, yet still Twilight holds her ground. She will solve this by lateral thinking.

The levite-crystal. A most intriguing rock. In remote places beyond the Crystal Realm, legends talk of floating mountains. As often, the truth is more humble. Yet not without its aura of intrigue. She knows of no mountains that float. She knows of floating rocks.

So often are battles fought to take from the enemy. Crystalline golems show great resilience to the penetration of lead, steel and diamond. But Twilight will not take. She will give.

Twilight pays them no heed. She will devote herself to them in due time. She focuses her mind on the crystalline golem, and the crystal in her grip. She can do this. Before she learned of the Elements of Harmony, she learned the properties of the basic elements.

Her foe bears down upon her. And halts in its tracks, as if blinded by this sudden white light. But Twilight knows it isn’t blindness which halts it. This artificial being is built to reject foreign bodies. It resists shards. It has no defense against fusion.

By happenstance or by design, Twilight has fused the crystal where its heart may have been. And what follows is as she hoped. Small and insignificant does the levite-crystal seem. It carries power enough to raise the golem into the air. Slowly yet inexorably.

The monster flails wretchedly as it leaves the ground. Snow turned to mud billows at its feet.

Even in her exhaustion, Rarity can display awe at a work of beauty. Twilight turns to face her friend and their fighters. She sighs in relief. She smiles, yet her smile is grim.

They have come this far. Here in this little town after year of waking nightmares. Shard-bombings. Berserker-gassings. Incinerations. There are whole stretches of Equestria she has determined will never grow again.

Princess Celestia claimed it was no fault of theirs. Sombra was a threat to both alicorn sisters, even in their prime. Her words did precious little for any of the Elements.

“Come along,” she says, returning to contemplate the dark horde. “We can still save them.”

… Eventually Twilight and Rarity return to camp. They feel the weight of their armour.

Only the Moon above casts light upon this desolate scene. Flanked by the troop, the two Bearers have returned with greater numbers than they set out with. Yet so many were still lost. Of those returning from them, many are prisoners, wounded, broken. And all are captive here. Eyes follow Twilight.

She is exhausted yet does not wish for sleep. In her sleep, too, eyes follow her.

Rarity takes on the duty of leading the prisoners to the town hall. Hopefully kindness and laughter will begin their healing. Twilight is in need of her own healing. But no bandage or tonic can give her what she seeks. Nevertheless, her chosen path is to accompany the wounded to a house of medicine.

A striped face greets her, one floor up. And for an instant, her heart lifts. Once, the only zebra she knew of lived hidden away in the Everfree Forest. But in this past year of looming fear and hollow victory, the sight of stripes has grown manyfold in her world.

Twilight accepts a pouch of wakewort from the zebra. She retreats to a corner. As she begins to chew on a wakewort leaf, she looks around the ward. Zebras are aplenty, but they were not the first to come to offer aid, nor by far the most numerous.

That honour belongs to the desert horses. They brave this frozen region so anathema to them, out of friendship and principle.

Her own troops count many from both these peoples amongst their ranks. She sees two horses enter the ward, bearing an injured comrade between them. Another zebra stands by the door. Suspicious glances are exchanged surreptitiously. Yet it is only in the blink of an eye. The zebra moves forward to help the horses bear their friend to a bed.

Well-built though she is, Applejack has mastered the art of silent approach. From her corner, Twilight looks up. The two scar-lines running across the right of her friend’s snout and down her left check are as evident as since Manehattan.

“We won,” Twilight says emptily. “There was a golem. I found a way to dispose of it quickly. More lives would’ve been lost otherwise, I’m sure…”

Applejack sits down by her. “Is it true what they’re sayin’?” she whispers. “This is it? One last push and we breach the Crystal Realm?”

“The Princess is onto it,” Twilight whispers in turn. “We’ve held onto this town. Sombra’s now backed up against a wall.”

Her friend raps her helmet wearily. Never one to go bare-headed, Applejack rarely takes it off. “But how are we supposed to get past what’s left? Ah doubt even Big Mac could push into that without breakin’.”

“Celestia said she’s got a plan,” says Twilight. “We must keep Sombra distracted long enough for her to pull it off.”

“What plan?” Applejack frowns. “And how much will we lose this time? Twilight, we can’t afford to lose anyone else, not now.”

“Funny how we say that. ‘Anyone else’. A year ago, losing just one friend would’ve been too much, but…”

“Yeah, sugarcube,” Applejack replies, in a voice of bone-deep tiredness. “It’s amazin’ what this has gotten us used to.”

Twilight stands up. “Once Celestia sends word, we shall end this,” she claims, determination creeping into her voice. “We’re this close, so let’s bridge the gap. Are you with me?”

“Till the end,” Applejack says as they stand by each other, “till the end.”

A dull boom is heard. The building quakes. White dust crumbles from the ceiling. Screams of panic rise from outside. Her senses aflame, Twilight rushes to the window. Her best friend follows closely.

What they see is that a Shadow-Crawler has burst from the ground, scattering apart ice and paving-stones. One of the greatest weapons in the Dark King’s arsenal. Luck alone has kept it from bursting through a building.

Given the structure of this one? It has to be a troop transport. And Twilight is proven right as a full squad of shocktroopers eject out of the Shadow-Crawler’s segmented armoured grooves.

She swallows the wakewort. Her joints creak in protest. Why must it be soon after the last fight–

“Wait, something’s wrong,” Applejack says, the hairs on her neck standing straight.

The Shadow-Crawler has frozen. The shock-troopers have frozen. The troopers are frozen mid-step while the crawler has turned silent.

And then comes a noise. A terrible, mind-bending noise. So dreadful, so loud, the sense of hearing would harm itself to be granted peace.

But as soon as it has begun, it stops. Twilight recovers to see that the ghastly Shadow-Crawler… has vanished. The armoured grooves are all that remained to indicate that it ever existed.

The shock-troopers are down too. They have collapsed, like puppets whose strings were cut. Cautiously, Equestrians and their allies start to amass around them. Eerie silence carries across the town and battlefield.

As she descends the stairs, Applejack trailing after her, various thoughts and hypotheses race through Twilight’s mind.

Could Sombra have given up? Or did the Crystal Heart reject him? Maybe the Elements actually performed some delayed feat? Is it some combination of these, or a possibility she has not thought of yet?

The two soldiers of Equestria join the throng. Some kind souls have, at their own risk, begun removing the helmets from the shock-troopers. They meet no resistance. The crystalline ponies who were under those helmets just look around, as awakened sleepwalkers would.

A white light pierces the night-time, wintry sky. Twilight’s gaze flits towards it.

An alicorn hovers above. Her own backlight has turned her ivory figure a dark silhouette, yet the prismatic, flowing hue of her mane is unmistakable. And at her horn’s tip, resplendent, she carries a rock shaped like a heart...

‘The Crystal Heart.’ Twilight thinks in awe. ‘Celestia retrieved it! But, then…’

“You needn’t worry about the Dark King any longer, my little ponies, and our dear allies,” Celestia proclaims. Her voice carries, yet her air is solemn. “While his forces protected the Citadel, Sombra tried to flee with the Crystal Heart. I was lucky that I managed to catch him before he could seal himself away, back into the depths of the ice. I sought to make to stand down peacefully, but…”

“He tried to attack me wielding his darkest magic. I had no choice but to retaliate in self-defense. He’s gone now, and won’t be coming back.”

Could it be this war which means Twilight feels only scant elation, for now? Is it because she’s become afraid to hope; that she fears Celestia is keeping something from them?

Luna pulled away, gasping. She saw the tome lying open on the floor. As out-of-place in this too-clean a place as a scream in a library. Apprehensively, she peered at it, close as she could without falling back into its pull. Despite the well-kept cover, the intricate gold leaf designs, and the condition of the binding, the pages were… Yellowed. Frayed. Crinkled. As if she could reduce them to dust with a single breath.

Those were the first words out of her mouth. Echoing, and dissipating in the endless shelves. Whatever this was, it had forced itself to play out.

She looked down the aisle, and sighed. Time was of the essence, and she needed to press on.

Her piece of Twilight was her sole compass in here, her sole lantern. The bookshelves stretched far into a murky blue fog. Wooden pillars on either side did occasionally punctuate her path, yet while she saw a dimly chandelier-lit ceiling above, Luna wasn't sure she could ever reach it. In this place, distance felt like a polite suggestion.

Though no two books were the same, all were of a pleasantly uniform binding. The difference lay in the signs of use and disuse. Some tomes were bleached, whereas some were rather well-worn and dog-eared, as if they were commonly read.

More than once, Luna had to will herself from opening up a new book, left and right. She was Princess of Dreams and inclined to pry, yet there were matters to settle outside of the Archmage’s day-to-day.

Her mind lingered upon the Crystal Realm. Upon Twilight, and her friends. Upon Sombra, that Dark King of smoke and shadow, murderer of her family. And her sister, who had done the unthinkable. Had that been the start of it all, the point where everything changed? What had Twilight not seen? What had Celestia refused to say?

Sombra, for all his deceitful character, could never keep silent in the end. If this were truly his twilight hour, so to speak, he would have spoken. So what might have happened when Celestia tracked him down? Perhaps he had deliberately attacked, knowing to so would be death. And if that was so, why?

As in the village, there it was. A chill that followed, and swept past her. Her teeth set on edge, Luna almost let go of the tuft. Her vision, ordinarily so sharp where others were blind, was no better at staring back into the fog than staring ahead. Yet she sensed a presence.

Perhaps not a living entity. Perhaps a ward left here to guard, to watch over the Archmage. Perhaps a lot of things.

Uneasily, Luna took a step back. Something creaked. In the gloom, it was hard to tell if her night eyes deceived her. However, her gaze darted toward the shelves hemming her in on either side. She wondered if the space between them had not grown an inch shorter.

Turning tail, Luna quickened her pace and search, but the chill remained. Distinctly, Luna’s ears picked up a sound like a sigh in the fog, blowing softly from behind the bookshelves.

In the middle of her path, a book. Not neatly shelved away, not lost in rows of uniformity. Nothing but a simple book, unobtrusive in its purple binding, that blended so readily with the blue fog of the aisle.

Luna stopped. She glanced at the tuft, finding it had also halted its pace. She peered down at the book inquisitively. Surely, no trap could be this grossly blatant. Conversely, mere curiosity was one of the greatest traps.

Her attention returned to the tuft as she saw it lower upon the book. It had been her guide. She would trust the spell’s judgement. Luna knelt, and pondered the cover.

Twilight, now divested of armour, and all five of her friends. Where they stood was hard for Luna to place, but it appeared to overlook another city. What grabbed her attention was the look of newfound hope in their eyes – if some ethereal artist did draw these illustrations, they captured emotions well.

It has been two years. But now Pinkie is almost back to normal. And that is good.

How hard for Twilight to believe that after the Great War – the first war in all longer than living memory – any may find happiness, but Equestria will manage. The rediscovered magic of the Crystal Realm has led their land to advance into the new era.

“I’ve never been on a tower this high!” Pinkie gasps, looking over the side of Victory Tower. All around, the six of them behold the new Manehattan laid out ninety-four storeys below.

An elevated train-line, much damaged during the War and which the company has not seen fit to rebuild, has been remade into an above-ground park. This alone resides two storeys above the street level. Airships and aerostats dot the skies. Pegasi and hippogriffs flit in between them. Buildings deemed beyond repair are taken apart, to be replaced by spires of metal and crystal.

Much of this is the work of a Kirin architect, Gabled Roof by name. The traditional custom of kintsukuroi patches the scars of war without resembling a patch. A hole created by the blast from crystal-prism ‘sunspears’, that lanced through buildings, becomes a new circular window. He is not the only Kirin who came to Manehattan for its rebirth. From her vantage point, Twilight can spot a great poster for a musical on Bridleway. It credits a Kirin who is playwright-director, comedian, journalist and aspiring politician in one. Her name is Autumn Blaze.

Apparently the performance will be a hip-hop opera about constructing a nation.

It is all so beautiful to Twilight. After the devastation of the war, so many beautiful things she had not foreseen have arisen from the ashes.

‘We endured,’ she reflects, ‘and we are stronger for it. We’ve gained new friends from it. Any personal challenge I’ll have to deal with can’t be as hard as… that…’

It was a hard-fought peace, and they deserve it. All of them. All is well in Equestria.

“Twilight, darling, when did you say the delegates were to arrive?” Rarity asks, concerned. “Splendid as the view from up here is, I’d rather not have to wait all day.”

“Ah know the feeling,” Applejack added. “Ah… haven’t been that good with heights since that time aboard the Dandelion Sky.”

Twilight bobs her chin at them both. Heights are no fear of hers. Yet she understands what Applejack speaks of. Although a farmer once more, where Applejack’s heart always was, some part of her never came back. And there is Rarity. True to her pristine image, unlike their friend, Rarity bears no scars. Not outwardly.

She envies Rainbow Dash. Even at this moment, the pegasus lies soundly asleep on a red sofa. Fluttershy and Pinkie sit by her.

“Not too long now, girls.” Twilight seeks to reassure her friends. The clock says a quarter to five. A quarter hour’s delay. But this is a high tower. “They’re probably on their way as we speak.”

“I hope so.” Fluttershy says quietly. “I’d hate for them to miss out on sight-seeing the city.”

A lodestone placed by the double doors turns from red to yellow. A series of numerals run by.

“Ah, here they are!” Twilight exclaims. “Places, quickly, everyone! We’ve got to make a good first impression!”

“Think we may have messed up already,” Applejack says. She indicates Dash. “Why didn’t ya wake her up?”

Twilight’s eyes dart to the offending sleeper. “I could not bring myself to…” she admits. “If she can sleep, good for her…”

“Dash, wake up!” Applejack prods her friend in the elbow, yet Dash does not stir.

Pinkie’s face lights up. “Couldn’t we just, like, claim she’s part of the scenery?” she says brightly. “Dashie fits the room’s design, right, Rarity?”

As Rarity considers, Twilight joins her in sweeping her gaze over the room. Certainly, no pegasus would look out-of-place in a room with this view. Floor-to-ceiling windows of Mareabian polished glass behold a panorama that is nigh open sky. By the standards of Equestria, the colours are muted. Couch and cider bar and pool table – all crystalline and velvet furnishings. Perhaps a rainbow would serve to add a dash of colour.

“We’ll go with that,” Twilight is quick to say. “Rarity. Would you lay her out… artistically, please?”

Rarity obtemperates. She is as ginger with a living being as she is with fabric. Meanwhile, all others get into position as well.

“Zebras…” Applejack whispers. “Who’d we say these were, again? Prince Abraxas’s people?”

“No, Abraxas is Prince of the Ezebrantsi,” Twilight whispers back. “The leading tribe of the plains of Farasi. These are Punda Miliashariki, from Zamarebia.”

“Tarnation, which one’s Zecora, again?” Applejack mutters. “Zebras sure have a lot of tribes…”

“We don’t mention Zecora, remember?” Twilight whispers urgently. “She’s still considered a sore topic to all of them…”

“Twilight?” says Fluttershy. “Um, you’re not having one of your moments, are you?”

They know. But they do not speak it. This is different from her old anxieties.

In truth, she has not had a good night’s sleep in the years that followed the Great War. Even with Luna’s guidance and visits to Cadance, the empty feeling lingers on in her sleep and waking hours. Luna and Cadance know, of course, no matter how well she spins it. But help can only go so far when dread always lurks where she cannot see.

Two years of restless sleep and tiresome walks. Talks with them both and her friends do help. Yet she cannot give them the burden in full. They need no more worry to plague their minds. Her mentor has all of Equestria and more to shoulder. And so Twilight leaves Celestia be.

Twilight breathes out. Cadance has taught her useful techniques. “Alright. I’m fine now.”

At the doors, the lodestone turns from yellow to green. The numerals stop at that which is ninety-four. The doors open. An escort enters first. Nine zebras all counted. Behind them come the three delegates of the Punda Miliashariki.

She steps forward. “Welcome to Victory Tower, Your Graces,” Twilight says warmly.

“We must apologise for our lateness, Dame Magic.” It is the middle delegate who speaks. A young mare whose stripes are peppered by diamond marks. She still carries some of the grey of zebra youth. “We met with… complications, traveling through this renovated environment.”

“Better late than never, ever showing up!” Pinkie smiles. “We’re glad to have you around.”

Whatever they are about to say is interrupted by a notable mumbling from Dash. The delegate eyes them inquiringly.

Twilight fights to keep her voice even. “We’re not quite sure. She’s been like this ever since we returned from lunch. A bed-bug.”

The delegate’s ear flicks at that last word. “I see... And she hasn’t awoken yet?”

“There is a good reason for why,” the middle delegate says. “Please. No matter what, I must now ask you to hear me out.”

A ‘click’ sounds from behind her. The door has just been locked from the outside.

Before Twilight or her friends can respond, a ripple of magic races through the room. It emanates from their nine guests.
“Dame Loyalty is impulsive,” says their leader. Green tongues of flame consume her face. “All the more since your tragic war, I understand. She would not give me a chance to speak.”

The intruders stand clad in dark, oaken armour. Even through a rising wave of fear, Twilight’s mind works scientifically. These Changelings are not those from Cadance’s ill-fated wedding. Their chitin is an acid green. The crevices on their bodies are the shape of diamond.

Twilight can tell the speaker for a Hive Queen. Although young, she stands taller than the others from her brood. A long, flowing mane covers half her face. Her eyes are yellow as theirs, yet feature pupils. Eyes that now fix upon Twilight.

“Greetings,” the Queen reintroduces herself. “My name is Papillate. Queen of the Harlequin Hive. And I have need of your and your friends’ help.”

But Twilight pays this no heed. “How did you even get in here? We had Victory Tower outfitted with safeguards against Changelings!”

Papillate merely scoffs. “Equestrians,” she says bitterly. “You believe your shiny new toys will make you powerful.”

The eyes roam over the whole six of them. Rarity and Pinkie have grouped protectively around Fluttershy, holding her shoulders. Applejack looks ready to kill.

“To answer the questions you didn’t ask,” says Papillate. “It was no hard task, drugging Dame Loyalty’s soup with lotus blossom. And more importantly– worry not for the true delegation. They will be returned unharmed. Much as they do not deserve it…”

This is a solid floor. Not a field of battle. Yet honed instinct drives Twilight to dig in her hooves. “What do you want? If it’s us, you won’t get us so easily.”

The Harlequin Queen snorts at her. “If I wanted you captured, Dame Magic, I could have done it three times over. As you’ll soon see.”

Clicking rises from her throat. Of her two fellows who waited upon her as delegates, the one to her left unslings a shoulder-bag. Twilight wonders if these are matriarchs. They too stand taller than the rest. Papillate grabs the bag and weighs it. She seems to think better of opening it.

“Before that, however,” she states, “a matter of no small import.” Her eyes are cold and hard. “Your Sun Princess.”

“What about her?” Twilight speaks in a hiss. She is loath to hear any bad-mouthing of Celestia.

Papillate is unperturbed. “We know what she plans. Retaliation. The raid upon the Ebony Hive was not enough to sate her. Your conflict with the Dark King has given Equestrians a new taste for war, and three years haven’t wiped away the memory of Canterlot.”

She has asked such a question three times in a row. Such a trying day this has turned out.

“Princess Celestia would never do that! The… the raid on Chrysalis… we did it to rescue the friends and family she took from us. But the Princess doesn’t think that’s a reason to go attack every Hive!”

“At one time, perhaps,” Papillate says, lip curling. “Your Princess surrounds herself, day by day, with allies who would urge her vengeful impulses.” She mimicked spitting on the floor, to Rarity’s horrified gasp. “These Saddle Mareabians, these Maretonians and Oleandrites… these zebras. They have always hated Changelings.”

It would appear Applejack wishes to deliver a hurtful truth. “Are ya surprised?” she growls. “From what we’ve heard, ya go preyin’ upon them at every turn…”

“They have fought each other in the past,” Papillate interrupts. “Many times. But if they need a common enemy, we Changelings must always pay.”

“No…” Twilight frantically shakes her head. “No. It isn’t like that! We brought them together in harmony and friend–”

“You brought them together,” Papillate hisses, “by getting them to fight the Dark King. That foe is gone now. Without Sombra’s threat to unite them, do you expect your precious alliances will stay put? Celestia will go searching for another enemy to fight, and we shall be it. There’s no other way, not with her new friends encouraging her.”

“And it’s foolishness,” says the Harlequin Queen. “When you shall soon have a new enemy, one who has nothing to do with us, anyway.”

Now Papillate’s horn shines, reaching into the shoulder-bag. Out of it she pulls what Twilight thinks of as a stone. A dark stone, in the shape of a globe. Its opaque surface is utterly smooth. Within shines poisonous green light. Yet this light writhes and throbs in bizarre ways. As if, Twilight thinks, it were pounding to escape.

Not to tremble is a challenge. But Twilight won’t ask fruitless questions again. She will enquire.

“This…” Twilight begins, daring to peer closer at the stone. “Looks like a ball of lightning…”

“Because it is,” says Papillate. Her fellows chitter around her. “Captive lightning, harvested in the ways of the Kirin. However, the one who made this is no Kirin.” She proffers the stone. “Take it, Dame Magic. No harm will come to you… unless you drop it.”

Papillate chitters impatiently. “Not to you, pony. To Equestria. A gesture of my goodwill.”

Never could Twilight do such a thing without her friends’ acquiescence. She stares at them.

Rarity and Pinkie are still huddled around Fluttershy. All three of them show looks of doubt. But their mouths part in acceptance. Applejack is standing, steaming. It is clear she wishes to rush the Changelings. Yet she steps back, taciturn. Her glare turns to Twilight, then turns away.

Reluctantly, Twilight takes the stone. Under Papillate and her retinue’s scrutinising gaze, she turns it over in her grip. Its surface is quite cool.

“What you hold here,” Papillate tells Twilight, tapping the stone, “is an Obsidian Orb. It was made by the Storm King. A warlord from beyond the Sea of Clouds, longtime rival and sometime ally of the Kirin. He seeks new lands to conquer, but for years, he has held back from Equestria, fearful of the power of your alicorns. This is the weapon he plans to defy them with.”

Despite the soft sunshine pouring in from outside, Twilight suddenly feels as though she stands in the darkest dungeon of Tartarus.

“I’m not sure,” Papillate admits. “Yet, with your smarts, Dame Magic, you should figure it out.”

Feeling the weight of her friends behind her, Twilight lowers the Orb. “Alright…” she says. “Alright. Thanks… thank you for the warning, Queen Papillate. And for the… valuable item. But this isn’t free, is it?”

“No,” agrees Papillate. “Nothing in this world is for free. On that, I had a good teacher.”

Twilight stares down the young Harlequin Queen. “Teacher? Who was your teacher?”

“Who do you think?” Papillate says, with the ghost of a smile. “It would seem we were both personal students, in our own ways, Twilight Sparkle. I learned from my highest monarch as you learned from yours.”

Awaiting no reply, she turns, her figure melting back into the zebra guise she adopted to enter. All of her escort become zebras once more, and the doors open before their Queen.

“One day, you will hear from me again,” Papillate says, not looking back. “All debts must…”

A familiar voice had finished that phrase, reading it out like a bedtime story.

The voice echoed throughout the aisle, and Luna’s eyes darted to find it. Then a glow rose from below her line-of-sight. The tuft, which she had left lying by the open book, rose. Like a feather in the wind, it drifted along an unseen wave. Luna went after it. She sensed she was close now. Perhaps it was thanks to opening the right books, following them like a trail of breadcrumbs.

The aisle opened up, the bookshelves parting like forest trees upon a clearing, and Luna saw.

Sitting behind a desk before a row of empty chairs, in the light of a table lamp, with a stack of books to her left, was Twilight. Unblemished, youthful, and though her face was lit a pale green by the lampshade, one could tell there was not a strand of grey to her mane. But Luna’s eyes were drawn to the diadem which rested atop her head. The colour of platinum, it was adorned with a dull, grey gemstone in the form of a starburst.

There, Luna noticed the book she read, with a cover identical to that of the memory she’d just visited. Except this one’s frame was minimalist, lacking the curlicues common to Equestrian cover decoration, and scant design features beyond the title and one apparent sub-title in gold letters: Pan-Equine Approved Edition. In fact, all of the books to Twilight’s left seemed to have that in common.

Luna's horn glowed, and the tuft vanished beneath her peytral. That drew Twilight's eye.

“Luna! Oh, wow, small world, huh? I didn’t think I'd see you here,” Twilight said, flustered. “I, um, well, welcome! Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting any other visitors. I thought you’d still be back in Canterlot and all.”

There wasn’t anyone else present beyond the two of them – all of the chairs before Twilight’s desk were vacant. All but for a single raggedy doll sitting up front. She peeked at it. What an odd, tatty thing. Two mismatched buttons for eyes, and it wore blue breeches with white spots. Not much of an audience.

She was glad the eyes were buttons. Otherwise Luna might have felt like they were actually looking at her.

“Twilight,” said Luna, approaching the desk. “I’m afraid we must have words, for time is short.”

“Time? Luna, there’s plenty of time here.” Twilight said brightly. “All the time in the world.” She beamed, looking more relaxed than Luna had ever seen her. “It is a day-long event, after all. And I’ve still got a lot of books to read through,” she said, gesturing to the shelves surrounding them both, “come along, there should still be a seat available for you, don’t you worry!”

Luna regarded her with a cool, suspicious look. There had to be something off, something that wasn’t right with the Twilight that stood before her. A fidget, a flick of the ear, something that could tell of the deception.

“Oh, Luna,” Twilight said, waving. “Always on point, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I got my schedule ready, but thank you for the reminder. I think it’s… hmm...”

She tapped her chin contemplatively, and Luna furrowed her brows. She cleared her throat.

Twilight glanced at her in surprise. Luna readied her stance – if she had to break whatever trance or stranglehold the Empire held over Twilight, best be ready for a struggle.

But then Twilight shook her head. Notably, the diadem remained firmly atop her head without the slightest budge.

‘The Element of Magic? But why is it platinum?’ Luna wondered. ‘I think of it as gold. Tia thinks of it as gold. Anyone would. So why…?’

“No, I don’t think so,” Twilight replied. “I don’t think that’s on today’s schedule. Why Earth?”

Beneath her peytral, Luna felt the tuft shiver. And she understood what must be done.

“I thought… it might be interesting,” Luna said, relaxing her stance. The charm hummed softly inside her head. She needed to be direct. “For, shall we say, a trip down memory lane?”

The cold passed her once again. The shadows stirred in the fog. But Luna held firm.

“Revisit events?” Twilight parroted, tilting her head. “Oh, you mean– I getcha.” She gestured to the stack of books to her left, “You’re here in time then, Luna, I’ve got just the books–”

“Actually, Twilight, I’d rather prefer if we walked together.” Luna interrupted, gently laying a hoof on the desk. “Remaining stationary isn’t all that healthy. And I think some exercise would allow for better conversation– we’ve got a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

“Oh, uh, you sure?” Twilight asked, concerned, “I mean, it’d be easier for us here and–”

“I insist, Twilight, dear.” Luna countered sweetly. “I’m afraid I’ve got a lot to catch up on. Won’t you take a walk with me?”

Though she followed what the charm told her, there was a natural feeling to it all that emboldened her so. And Luna found it reassuring and warm and just right.

Twilight blinked, regarding Luna curiously. Finally, with a sigh, she pushed back her chair.

“Oh, alright, Luna. But only because you asked,” she said warily, if politely, as she got out of her chair and moved to Luna’s side. “You owe Miss Smartypants an apology.”

“Very well,” she said, turning to the doll. It sat there, a small, grey lump of stitches, whose eyes were mismatched and haphazardly sewn in. For a fleeting moment, she thought back to the waves upon waves of Newfoals, crashing against her armour, pressing her, suffocating her…

The moment passed, though, and Smartypants was nothing more than a filly’s beloved doll.

“My apologies, Miss Smartypants,” said Luna, gazing straight into the doll’s button-eyes. “But Twilight and I shall go for a walk.”

The next aisle of bookshelves was as long as the last had been, yet in spite of the fog, Twilight’s presence brought an odd warmth to Luna as she led the way. Her horn glowed like a lantern in the dark, and she strode with a confidence quite unlike the student Luna was acquainted with.

The dreamscape here was not her Twilight’s. Her Twilight thought of home as that same tree-library she resided in, warm and comforting. But this person seemed to feel no unease in wandering, inhabiting a realm of gloom, shadows and fog.

And yet the Archmage had a mind whose horizons stretched far. What sort of person could keep such a meticulous record of her life, embracing her experiences and committing them to memory as she did, whilst keeping such a narrow view on her Empire’s deeds?

Luna stole a glance at the Archmage – or should that be Twilight? She couldn’t decide which name fit better. Yet the Princess of the Night knew subterfuge, and here she saw none.

‘Unless that’s part of the subterfuge. This… this inner Twilight not knowing...’

She saw no signs. But innerly, Luna waited to see if she was walking into an ambush worthy of any griffon or dragon. A person’s mind usually held constructs within, replicating the faces of those they held dear.

Luna asked herself if Twilight had mistook her for her replica. Perhaps she could use such a misconception to her advantage.

Barely in time, Luna ducked as a book flew past her, aloft in Twilight’s purple aura.

“You said you wanted to know about Earth?” Twilight asked, tittering. “Really, Luna... Where have you been. But if I’m gonna tell you, we have to start at the beginning. And it’s gonna take a lot of books.”

At Twilight’s summoning, more books flew in, from the distant shelf-tops and further up the aisle. Training her keen eyes upon them, Luna noticed she couldn’t pinpoint their titles, for they changed at a rate far greater than any other book in the library. Something Twilight hadn’t mentioned, even as she placed them in a circle, looking at them with fondness.

“Oh, these?” Twilight said. “It’s not much. Just y’know, the ones, eh-heh, the ones I like going through the most. Always nice to keep a book for some light reading, know what I’m saying?”

‘Light..’ Luna mused. “Yes, I do,” she said aloud, while eyeing the books once more.

Their pale colour clashed with the beautifully bound tomes around them. But they looked well-worn, and loved, not discarded and dusty and forgotten.

“Why these, Twilight? You’ve got an eternity’s worth of books, here and elsewhere.”

‘Bound to her. Or perhaps, the Element,’ Luna deduced, staring at the diadem warily. Its colour pulsed in rhythm, yet Twilight paid it no heed.

“Well…” Twilight began, to a dull glimmer from the Element. “It’s just… I’m a busy mare, Luna…”

“I-I just feel it’s… convenient, I guess?” Twilight finished, and the glimmer dissipated.

“Convenient…” Luna pondered. She turned her gaze to the circle of books. “Hm. I wonder…”

This far in, past all the outside wards, surely, there was no reason for Twilight to believe that Luna was any more than a projection. It was a gamble through and through. But it was one Luna was willing to take.

“Yes, ah, well,” Luna said quickly. “I… do believe I’ve got a lot to catch up on now, don’t I, Twilight?”

“Oooh, right, it’s been what, three years, right? Wait, um, that doesn’t sound right. No, yes– Yeah, three years. Where do you want to start?”

“Perhaps…” Luna said carefully. “We ought to remember how this endeavour began. The cause. The alliances forged. When did… Hm.” She quickly rethought her phrasing. “When was Equestria appointed protector of the world?”

“Oh, that’s a fun one,” she said cheerfully, the bottom entry of the stack moving besides her. Written across its jacket was The Founding of the Pan-Equine Co-Harmony Sphere. “Ahem… so, are, are you ready?”

Twilight nodded. Her horn glowed, the book opened and the words flowed out of it like running water, from her lips too.

“... And so it was,” Twilight read, “in the Year 7 of the Era Harmoniae, on the dawn of the Co-Harmony Sphere, where paths crossed and bonds were forged, that an encounter came to be between the Bearer of Magic and the future Ambassador…”

Cheers rise from all around. The stomps of all manner of hooves thunders above the stadium. The light shines from many a horn’s tip. Soon, it is planned, there shall be a flight in a formation composed of pegasi, griffons and hippogriffs. The flags and banners of nations from the Great Continent and across both Oceans unfurl from above.

And yet Twilight remains anxious. Her friends’ works, toils and labour, their efforts, all the amends from the Crystal War and the Storm War, and here they stand. She sees Lyra on the podium, the golden ambassador pin fixed to her lapel, flicking her tail nervously. Why wouldn’t she?

‘Come on, Lyra, you can do it.’ Twilight thinks, having cast an amplification spell in preparation for this moment. ‘One final step.’

“Our resolve today has never been stronger,” Lyra enounces, her use of Common Tongue elevated by the refined accent of Upper Canterlot, her eyes darting back and forth between the crowd and the speech on her podium. “Our triumph was for us, as much as it was for you all. Our gift to Equus, a prosperous future for all the people who tread upon its soil.”

Twilight wonders if she should have checked what kind of speech was written for her. Perhaps Pinkie or Fluttershy had some input. More likely, those pencil-pushers at Canterlot are behind it.

What she would do to have all five of her best friends by her side, here in the wings. But with Equestria’s reach expanded, of course, there are many offices to be tended.

Lyra’s voice fades away. Twilight blinks, and recasts the spell. But the green unicorn inexplicably remains quiet. The murmurs grow and grow, and Twilight clenches her teeth.

‘Lyra…’ she thinks, biting her lip. ‘Don’t… don’t mess this up.’

“A-actually, I’d like to go off-script for this,” Lyra says softly, though her voice booms throughout the stadium, almost but not quite drowning out the murmurs. She speaks in Common still, yet her Canterlot accent is less pronounced, her manner of speech closer to how she would talk in Ponyville. “I-I’m sorry, I have… I need to be honest with you all.”

From the tone, Twilight knows these words are meant for the crowd as much as it was meant for her, and Celestia too.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Lyra says pressing her forehooves together. Her head is bowed, almost as if in supplication. “I didn’t ask to lead, or to speak with you all over the years. I… I’m not even certain I’m worthy of this stage,” she continues, and the murmurs die down. “I have been told, over and over again, that I played my part in this. That when Equestria sent envoys to hidden Seaquestria, my voice was one to carry sway with Queen Novo. Like a siren… Because some musician thought she could make a difference.”

“But you know what? This isn’t just about me. This Co-Harmony Sphere, as we have named it, that’s on us. That’s on each and every one of us. We came together as one, united and proud. We’re here because… we believed in a future for all of us. Equestria stood alone against Chrysalis, and we suffered for it. But we did not stand alone against Sombra. When the Storm King sought to invade our lands, we did not stand alone. And now we shall make sure we, and I mean everyone here, will never again stand alone.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth it, to be honest. But here I am. And I believe.”

The stadium falls silent. Twilight wonders, as Lyra affixes her pin on her lapel once more, if she has made a mistake.

Yet then, on the dais raised above the podium, she sees Princess Celestia, seated besides the other leaders – Queen Novo of Mount Aris, Malikah Ylam bint-Karistal of Saddle Mareabia, Princess Cadance of the Crystal Realm, Duke Nibiru and Duchess Silili of Maretonia, Prefect Dondola of Oleander, various monarchs and chieftains of Zebrica, including Prince Abraxas of Farasi, and even Gaspard, the prospective prince claimant of Griffonstone – begins to clap her forehooves.

Then someone in the crowd does. And another, and another still, until the entire stadium drowns in the noise of tens of thousands.

“And so do I,” Celestia’s voice booms. The crowd roars approval. “By your word, Ambassador Heartstrings, the Pan-Equine Co-Harmony Sphere shall prosper, now and always.”

Twilight doesn’t say much just then. She claps and claps, until Lyra Heartstrings, shaken but content, comes down to join her, before Twilight will start on her own speech.

“Trust me, you did,” Twilight replies, smiling. “Look, don’t worry, Lyra, you got this ambassador thing right in the bag. Your parents… they’d be proud. I know it.”

At first, Lyra says nothing, eyes wide and lips quivering. Then she falls into Twilight’s embrace. “Thank you,” she says simply. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go off–”

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Twilight says brightly. “It’s okay, Lyra. It’s okay.”

“Well, I wonder what Bonbon will have to say,” says Lyra. “Who’d have thought…”

“The Co-Harmony Sphere’s genesis would be sealed with a speech by the Bearer of Magic. But in the years that followed, after she became Archmage, Lady Twilight would have many an occasion to reflect upon that moment.”

The illusion was shattered, and no longer was Luna captivated by the memory. Though Twilight’s tone remained unchanged, a sense of unease hung in the air. The fog, rather...

“W-what?” Twilight stammered. She turned her gaze toward Luna. Her pupils had shrunk. “No? No. Nothing’s wrong. Also, please, Luna, don’t interrupt… readings…”

Her voice died down with each step Luna took towards her. Though she was only a head taller, Luna thought Twilight looked so much smaller now.

“Apologies,” said Luna, keeping her tone even. “It’s… awfully jarring, when you think about it. Isn’t it, my friend?”

Twilight took a step back, her hindleg knocking against one of the books in the circle. The volume she held fell to the floor with a thud. It was then that Luna noticed her diadem no longer resembled a diadem. It was a guard’s helmet, worn tightly and securely by its owner, with the Element of Magic as its crown jewel.

“S-stay back.” said Twilight. Luna saw the faint outline of a sword forming. “I’m warning you. I… I don’t take kindly to intruders. Who are you? Did… did the traitor send you here?”

“I am here of my own volition. Indeed, perhaps even yours,” said Luna. She stepped forth, and the blade’s outline hardened in an instant. “I am not here on anyone’s orders.”

Twilight’s sword glistened in the dim light, Luna observed, but it was held aloft as if to shield her. And there Luna saw Twilight’s eyes through the helmet, wide and afraid.

“I’m… here to help,” Luna said softly. “Is that… is that not why you’ve summoned me?”

“Summon... You… no, that’s… that’s not right,” whispered Twilight. The helmet glowed dimly. “You’re not supposed to be… out.”

A lie, yet a useful lie. And, easy to adhere to… This was a gamble she would take.

“And,” said Luna, “I’m afraid that I do not recall anything past Nightmare Night. Please, if you would let me help you, as you did...”

Luna’s words died in her throat, as the sword brushed dangerously close to her neck.

“Why would I?” whispered Twilight. “I trusted you. I trusted you to stay and help us make something out of her work. And you come, crawling here, asking me for a favour after everything we’ve been through, after you left–”

The Lady Archmage strained to keep her words steady, even as they poured out with no restraint, yet Luna understood enough.

“And I am sorry for that,” she said. “For whatever it is I’ve wronged you… let me make it right.”

Twilight tilted her head searchingly, the blade remaining trained on Luna’s neck.

“Show me as it truly is,” said Luna. It wasn’t an order or a command, and she kept her tone even and firm. “I know your pain as you know mine. Please, let me help you. What is it that troubles you so?”

“You think the right question will get you the truth?” she asked sardonically. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice dropping to a whisper. “There is no truth.”

“Not unless we seek it out,” Luna insisted. She moved forward, nudging the blade away. “And you know it.”

“Do you trust me, Twilight Sparkle?” Luna asked, her voice gentle and soothing. She was so close now.

Slowly, gently, Luna’s aura converged around the helmet, now fully formed. Twilight’s aura merged with hers, and as Luna’s gaze locked with Twilight’s, it relented.

The helmet fell on the ground in a cluttered heap, Twilight released the breath she’d been holding onto. She faltered, and Luna quickly moved to catch her in her a wing.

“Okay…” Twilight exhaled. “That… that didn’t feel right. But… oh.”

“H-how–”

“I am a part of you, Twilight,” Luna repeated, and this time she allowed herself a little smile. “This was your doing and your doing alone.”

Which was either a lie, or an accidental truth Luna had stumbled onto. But whatever else, the helmet was unclasped, and Twilight was where she wanted her to be.

“Right… right...” Twilight whispered. “Earth… you wanted to know about Earth…”

The fog stirred from the corner of Luna’s eyes. Her work wasn’t done, yet.

The clear space Luna and Twilight had left still had Smartypants up in the front row, but it was no simple clearing now. No, Luna observed, it was a lecture hall. The rows upon rows of seats had expanded into an amphitheater, a half-circle with a podium and a blackboard at the center. One of those ethereal chandeliers descended from the ceiling, illuminating the hall in a pleasant, lavender light.

It was an impossibly short distance away from where Luna had released Twilight, and the door behind them swung shut before she could see the bookshelves, the noise echoing through the empty lecture hall. Empty, except for the two of them, and the doll on the front row seat.

No sooner than Luna had seated herself, in the middle row, that Twilight had cast the stack of books she carried around her into a circle anew. There she stood upon the podium, affixing a pair of glasses, and her horn shone bright.

“Okay… okay,” Twilight began. A book and piece of chalk raised in her aura. “I… well, I guess I’ll have to make do with the audience we have here.”

Her voice echoed longer than it should, even in the vastness of the lecture hall. But Luna kept retained her attention on Twilight – and Smartypants, she mused, would too.

“Indeed,” Luna said. She remained impassive, but allowed for a small, encouraging smile toward her lecturer.

“Right,” said Twilight. “I… I guess we could start from… um… how, how we got here. I don’t know if I have much time but… argh, how do I…”

“Twilight, dear,” Luna said sweetly. Twilight paused in her muttering. “Do what you think fits and is right. I’m here.”

That, thankfully, brought some colour back to Twilight’s face. She wore a nervous grin now, and Luna presumed it was as much aimed at her as it was for herself.

“Okay… okay,” said Twilight. She summoned a book to her, and adjusted her stance on the podium as the book lay open. The chalk in her aura moved towards the blackboard. And the words flowed once more.

“Ahem… and so it was, on the Twenty-Fifth Day of Augeas, Year 10 of the Era Harmoniae, that the Bearer of Magic met the Chief Mage of the Crystal Realm, who offered his...”

”...Congratulations on your appointment, Lady Archmage. Princess Celestia informed us you were the right one for the job.”

A greeting she has heard often, but it means something else to her ears, here in this salon of the Palace, when it is Sunburst who says it. He was one of the frontrunners, recommended by old Headmaster Nexus, Twilight knows, but Celestia had other plans. Sunburst had been at the lead of magical research in the Crystal Realm for a few years, and from what Rarity told her, he’d been keen on a promotion. Now here she finds herself, his superior, wearing a plain starry robe and a simple, starburst pin – at her own insistence, of course. The alternative would be far too grandiose, she feels.

A year on from her appointment, she is to work with someone who coveted, and continues to covet the title.

“The honour is all mine, Sunburst, thank you,” says Twilight, offering what she hopes is a confident smile.

In the armchair across the table from hers, however, Sunburst remains impassive, eyes unwavering behind his spectacles. And really, for her to gain the title so easily…

She clears her throat. “Well, I hope I’ll get used to Equestria again. Earth is… well, I don’t want to say strange, but it is what it is.”

“I can imagine,” says Sunburst, still in that neutral tone. He pointedly pushes up his glasses, but Twilight leans back in her armchair, unperturbed. “But personally, perhaps it was right for you to take charge of the project.”

“Project?” Twilight replies. She glances around the marble room. The whole castle is unusually empty for this time of day, and Twilight wonders if Shining Armor is busy with his own briefing. “What project? Lyra and I weren’t informed about this yet.”

“Which is why I’m briefing you now,” Sunburst says. He gestures to the silver tray on the table between them. “May I offer you some tea? This could be a lengthy counsel.”

Sharing tea with Celestia was always one of Twilight’s fondest activities, even after all this time. This is not Celestia, but perhaps she and her new colleague will bond over it.

“Please,” she says, smiling graciously. “How about milk and one sugar?”

Once tea is served, her fellow Mage returns to business. From the folds of his own teal robes, he presents her with a stack of parchments.

“The Ambassador will learn in due time,” says Sunburst, “and Princess Celestia trusts you more than anyone. You know what this is.”

A glimpse of the parchment, and Twilight knows she’s seen the formula for the liquid sketched there before.

“Ah. The conversion serum,” she replies. “Her Highness didn’t tell me it wasn’t ready yet.”

“The Princess does inform at her own discretion, and then there was your work on Earth,” Sunburst replies, not untruthfully. “That being said, she believed it was the right time for you to be informed on the progress we’ve made. You’ve spoken with the human researchers.”

“Oh, it was nothing, really,” says Twilight. “I had to build a good rapport, and Lyra never was one for the finer side of magic. Same old, same old. But yes, I spoke with CERN. And I don’t think cooperation is out the window at all.”

“That’ll do,” agrees Sunburst. “But we’re not looking for work with the humans.”

“It’s your decision to make, Lady Twilight,” Sunburst explains, peering at her above his glasses. “But humanity is unfamiliar with magic, and you’re still our foremost expert.”

“And I’m glad I won’t be alone with it,” Twilight replies, nodding appreciatively. “We’ll need all the help we can get. I’ll have to let Moondancer know–”

“A-actually, Dame Moondancer left Equestria,” Sunburst says quickly, “a few hours after you returned to Canterlot. The Princess has tasked her on a mission to– to Griffonstone. I don’t think I’m cleared for that, but... you could ask around.”

“Oh... “ Twilight knows the disappointment is evident in her voice. Her shoulders sink. “I… didn’t even get to talk to her.”

It had already been a nasty surprise, of course, when stacks of unanswered letters came cascading down her letterbox just before she had left for Earth. Spike’s absence by her side has been all too evident, and she misses him day by day. He now has Rarity for company, at least, embarked on their missions of cultural exchange. But Moondancer and Lyra have sent her so many invites by mail, hoping she would come to their gatherings.

“Well… alright,” says Twilight simply. “No use standing around here. Let’s go… go… go...”

The memory disintegrated into smoke, and the lecture hall faded into view. Luna blinked, coughing at the abrupt transition – and saw Twilight standing, stock-still, by the blackboard and the podium.

“We’re… at the end of this one,” she said, but even in the fog, the lie was clear as daylight. “Okay. I need… I need to find another one.”

Glancing, Luna spotted a book, titled Goodbye, Lyra. The word ‘goodbye’ looked blurry and time-worn. Twilight noticed where she was staring.

“Oh, no,” Twilight said frantically, “No-no-no! Why’d I even bring tha– You don’t want to see that. It’s not very interesting!”

It is the stadium. The very same where Ambassador Heartstrings had helped unveil the Co-Harmony Sphere. Lyra was standing in front of the crowd, who looked eager and joyful. She wore ambassadorial finery that bore the signs Rarity’s work – immaculately stitched with machine-like precision, the finest fabrics from all over Equus.

It is on Earth, and Lyra wasn’t wearing Rarity’s work. She was wearing a cheap suit-coat that could’ve been for a human child, and in all likelihood probably was. And the stadium was full of far more humans than creatures of Equus. They weren’t eager. They weren’t joyful. Some looked absolutely livid as they stared at her.

Somehow, Luna is aware that Twilight sits in the priority seating at this new stadium. That she has been expecting a big declaration from her friend. One about ponification.

‘I hope she’ll be alright,’ are the words to cross Twilight’s mind. ‘She looks exhausted.’

And that is certainly true. Lyra’s mane bears the shaggy texture of a month or two or three without a good trim from the barber. There are lines under her eyes.

"Friends, fellow PHL, and others…” she asks, before taking two short breaths. “I'm here to ask. Why are you here?"

Bristling murmurs rumble through the crowd. One human holds up a sign plastered with the photographs of a human male, and next to them, a glassy-eyed stallion. Someone screams that their daughter is dead. The culprit is named as ‘that filth you made her drink’. Tears. Accusations. Screams.

"You, the parent that doesn't know if they still have their child after ponification,” Lyra says, pointing towards the one who has lost their daughter.

‘Lyra…’ she thinks. ‘Don’t make them… Don’t do anything they’ll make you regret…’

“You,” Lyra pursues, relentless. “the Equus native who feels less like they’re coming home, every time they see Equestria. The pony who’s grown to love Earth. I know you both because I am you. The people who see what happened to Viktor Kraber, and fear they’ll be next. I know the human who wishes Equestria and Earth could give more to each other. I know you all have your reasons to be here. And, despite what I might have said almost a year ago? They are good reasons.”

Kraber had been an accident. Pinkie couldn’t have possibly lost control of known the PER would do that. And what is Lyra talking about?! Equestria is home!

"For a while,” Lyra says, “I’d convinced myself I wouldn’t have a reason to be here. That I was better off standing among you quietly. That I could simply keep hold of the power and prestige of my ambassadorship, making my stand by straddling two worlds with four legs. I cannot.”

Twilight and her Royal Guard escorts stare at her in horror. One Royal Guard, a red, apoplectic look on his face, starts screaming.

“Treason!” he screams at such a volume that Luna Twilight has the absurd notion he will break something with it. “Sedition! Traitor! Aposta–”

“Hey, at least she’s talking sense!” yells one human, her accent like that of Trottingham. “Let the lady continue speaking, right now!”

Something impacts just below the railing of the loge where Twilight and her guards are situated.

"The reason I’m here is because I must choose whether to stand quietly, or stand with pride. I hoped against hope someone else would take over this cause, lead us, and take the weight off my chest. But in these last few months, after seeing why everyone knew I should be here, I’ve found my reason. I’ve come to terms with one thing: I will be that child of Equestria who stands for us all. Because someone has to be.”

Lyra’s horn shines a light. The badges she wore as an ambassador slide from the lapel of her absurd child’s coat, glowing golden...

“From now on,” Lyra says, “I will no longer be ambassador for a nation that refuses to listen! I hereby denounce ponification, and I will fight every step of the way!”

“Steady, steady,” Luna whispered, bringing them both gently to kneel. Her wing held onto Twilight, whose breathing had grown shallow. “I am here. You’re alright.”

Twilight’s eyes met hers. They were manic. Her mane was frazzled. And she pushed her away.

“What… what was that?” Twilight hissed, her voice thin and dangerous. “What was that–”

Luna gave the book another look. There, beneath the title, in letters so faded their original gold colour is barely distinguishable, she sees the words. Pan-Equine Approved Edition.

“As far from the truth as you can get, I suspect,” Luna whispers. “That didn’t happen. Did it?”

“Yes, it did,” she said quietly. “It all did. The angry crowds, the protests… Heartstrings’ words. But… the facts have been… reordered. Rearranged.”

Her gaze drifted to something past Luna’s shoulder. Luna glanced back, then down. A book on the floor, titled The First. And there on the cover, a bottle of serum was emblazoned.

Twilight feels light-headed, and fatigued. But the tests are delayed enough already as it is. The Crystal Realm’s facility is pure, pristine white, much different from her cluttered like laboratory in Canterlot. The polished crystalline surfaces remind her eerily of CERN.

“Yes,” Sunburst says crisply. “Don’t worry, we, ah, we have a consistent stream of subjects. All voluntary, I can promise you.”

She glances down to the clipboard she is presented with. She dare not look at the names for now, and opts for the country of origin instead.

“Hm. Brazil… China… India… Indonesia… Japan… Nigeria…” Twilight counts down the list. “The United States,” she finishes, shaking her head. “And what are their criteria?”

“All the most populous countries,” Sunburst says, in clinical tones. “And the most populous States. The more people, the less likely anyone would notice, therefore the more will slip by their safety nets, or lack thereof. The homeless, the poor, those in debt. All sorts of people they won’t really notice, Lady Twilight. Though we did… have to take a few risks…”

Twilight returns the clipboard to Sunburst, and glances through the observation window. The old man that lies in the sterile, closed-off room wears a distant look, as if he isn’t quite all there.

“Just how airtight is this facility?” she asks anxiously. “I still worry sometimes that we might’ve missed something in our vaccinations… And given what our studies have shown about how long humans can survive on Equus before losing their vitality, their lifeforce, well…”

It is a strange thing. Twilight’s own name is on several of those studies. She knows for a fact that humans who braved this side, even the ones wearing hazmat suits, took at most three days before growing sickly, pale and drained.

Yet, whenever she thinks back to exactly how she conducted the studies, her recollections turn hazy, indistinct.

She pushes the thought away for now. As always, she reminds herself there has been an extraordinary amount to take in, ever since Princess Celestia broke the news to her and her friends of the discovery of the Thirteenth Family and their far-off world.

“We’ve been provided the best resources,” Sunburst says, speaking more reassuringly now. “And the subjects won’t be kept here unduly.”

“Alright…” Twilight says slowly. “But here’s something that bothers me. The Princess pushed our representatives to advertise the serum’s mass production and distribution in eight months. We were so careful with our original subjects, yet to craft a one-size-fits-all version of the serum… I’ve no idea how close we are to that. What did you tell them?”

“The truth,” says Sunburst. “They would rather take the serum and risk it than be saddled with crippling injuries or insurmountable debt. This fellow here, they told him he’d only have a couple months left to live with a cancerous growth. We’ve also got one woman some helpful PHH saved from a suicide attempt over a missed payment. The bills would cripple their families, and between the two options...”

“Yes… I guess that’s what happens when you offer the serum as a cure-all,” Twilight agrees. “Well, I suppose I’ll ask him a few questions–”

“Don’t– Luna– please just stop, stop!” Twilight yelled. The memory vanished into dust, bare bones and echoes. Around them, the fog whirled, and the lecture hall grew darker still. “Just tell me the tr–”

“This is the truth, Twilight,” Luna cut her off. “I'm sorry, but it is what you see.”

“Twilight...” she said, measuring her words. “As I have wandered your mind, shadowing your memories, I have seen much of the how. I have come to understand, if not in whole, how the Solar Empire came to be–”

“No, no, this isn’t right, this isn’t right!” Twilight said, recoiling away from Luna’s offered hoof. You’re not supposed to– how are you doing this!”

And Luna, seeing the look of fright in Twilight’s face, refrained from her question.

“I am not your Luna, Twilight Sparkle. But I am Luna. And I am here to help.” With care, she held out her hoof, and took Twilight’s into hers, feeling her cheek flush. “Take the plunge. And I will be by your side. Read, as you must…”

She raised a book, opened it, and showed it to Twilight – and her aura met with Twilight’s, as the book came to life, the pages flipping by.

But as the memories flowed out, from the corner of her eye, Luna undeniably saw something stir in the fog, watching, observing. Her eyes darted left and right. The fog closed, and her eyes were drawn to the amphiteater’s seats.

There in the back seat, sat an elderly man, pale as a corpse, his eyes alive and cold and unfeeling, the icy gaze falling upon them from his elevated spot–

Disgust and horror and shock mingle all at once and she bangs her head against her desk. A crack in the precious mahogany, but she doesn’t care. Another failure. She doesn’t want to hear the screams even as they echo on and on inside her head.

But she can’t remember their names. Why can’t she remember their names?
They were there. But no longer. She just cannot.

A knock at the door, and Twilight doesn’t have time to adjust her dishevelled mane before Sunburst barges into the room.

“Is diverting funding to the Crystal Heart Project,” Twilight finishes for him, with a withering glare. “I know, Sunburst. Darn it, we need more time.”

“And they’ll move on with it if we don’t make a breakthrough, Lady Archmage, we have to–”

“I know!” she yells. “That they’ll use the Barrier entirely? I know, Sunburst. I know!”

She levitates a letter. It is signed by Celestia herself, and she sees Sunburst’s face whiten when he spots the writing.

"She’s already asked me to help with the device. Actually make it work properly. I can’t say no, but at the same time... I just… I just need more time.”

“With all due respect,” Sunburst says, pacing in front of her desk. “I think you need to–”

“Absolutely not,” Twilight snaps. “I’m not testing this on children. Not yet. It’s not safe.”

“But what if the problem isn’t the serum’s model, but the subject’s instead? Children are…” Sunburst hesitates. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. They’re more malleable. Please, we have to consider every, every single available avenue for this. Even if we get a working model, we need to make sure it’s safe for them. If you ever–”

“And I’m not using it on test subjects from Equus. That’s unconscionable. No, Sunburst. I can’t.”

“Would you rather the Barrier gets unleashed?” Sunburst retorts. “Just… just think about it.”

“Lady T–” Sunburst’s words catch in his throat. His long, bushy goatee trembles under his chin. “... Twilight. I...”

Yet when the door swings shut, and the truth of the matter dawns in her mind Twilight weeps. It has to be done.

There were whispers behind her now, the memories swirling in a thick fog. And through the layers of mist and fog that swirled around them, Luna saw them, taking their seats around her and Twilight.

The old man was joined by Newfoals, humans, even Guards of all equine shapes. And they all were faded, yet their eyes pierced the dim light and fog.

’The dead.’ a child replied. Her mother sat beside her. A gaping hole was in both of their heads. The mother held a gun like Reiner's in her hand. ‘‘No choice.’

’The forgotten.’’ whispered an Imperial Guard who could have been her sister’s own, bitterly. ‘’Sent into battle and left to rot.’

‘The forsaken.’ a young man said, and Luna saw his torn wings and half-converted legs. ‘One of many.’

Voices everywhere. And there were many, blurred into a droning choir of those who had passed.

Images flashed by her eyes, each more horrific than the last. But there another memory presented itself to Luna, and–

At Twilight’s voice, the younger of the Princesses looks to her, hoof touching hers. She is a presence most welcome.

She lets go, glancing away from Luna. Even here, at her own personal observatory, Twilight still feels vulnerable.

“You can tell me, Twilight,” says Luna. Why does this have to be so hard? “I’m here to listen.”

“I’m sorry!” Twilight shouts. Her eyes brim with tears, and she turns to look outside. It is a beautiful night. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come. The other girls are busy. I shouldn’t throw this onto you.”

“Even if you hadn’t asked,” Luna tells her, “I would have come here nonetheless. My duty still calls to me, and I know what nightmares you’ve endured.”

Twilight looks back at Luna. “Then you know what kind of person I am.” She says it so bitterly. “What I’ve done, what I’ve said to them…”

“I don’t even know who I am anymore. No one knows. Not Spike. Not Celestia, not my friends, not my family, my bodyguard, my colleague. And you know what’s the worst part? I can’t… I can’t even do a favour as simple as remembering their names.”

“I promised… I promised them they’d be happy. That their children would be happy here. And you know what I do remember? Their faces. Every single one of them. You know I do.”

And when all was said and done, Twilight looks up to Luna again, tears still streaming down. She expects to see disgust, horror, hatred even. But she sees only pity and compassion.

“W-well?” she asks heatedly. “Out with it. You’re disgusted with me. All this time knowing me and I-I-I’m just a monster. A sick, twisted little m–”

Her rant is interrupted when Luna pulls her into an embrace. Her Element falls onto the floor.

“I understand,” Luna says warmly, maybe even lovingly. “But I told you. I’m here to listen, as I’ve always had for you. And I will continue to do so, Twilight. Here, and in your dreams. And I promised that no nightmare would ever come for you again…”

And when the tears flow, they continue, amidst her own sobs and Luna’s gentle encouragements.

It isn't her memory to keep, though it is warm and calming and everything she ever asked for. It changes, violently, as now she – Twilight? – stands in Canterlot, staring in disbelief at a Guard.

“Y-yes, Lady Archmage,” the Imperial Guard stammers. “S-she’s g-gone, as-as is C-Cadance–”

–She’s in Canterlot now, though her view is blurry, as she stares misty-eyed at the newest equine statue to decorate the Canterlot Palace Gardens.

‘I'll bring you back,' she reflects in silence. The walls have ears, she knows, but whose ears, Twilight cannot say. ‘I promise, I'll bring you back…’

“You left us,” Twilight whispered, her voice clear even in the growing storm. “You left me…”

Luna fixed her gaze upon her, and only her, even as the room filled with so many others. “I am not your Luna,” she answered. “But I won’t leave you now.”

The words blurred together, as papers flew and tore themselves to shreds, the chorus of voices mixing together.

“Twilight,” she whispered. “I understand how. I do not understand why.”

”... Spike, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Twilight cries out. He fell so, so very far, and now here they are in the Crystal Realm once more. His wings are torn, his jaws and arms broken, and whatever they did to his chest…

“We tried our best, ma’am,” speaks the lead Trailblazer, Captain Green Fields, and Twilight only hears regret in his voice. “But… he left us no choice.”

Twilight tears her gaze away from her beloved former assistant, to face the veteran eye to eye.

“Don’t… worry,” she said. “We’ll fix him, you’ll see. We’ll make him better. We’ll have to–”

“Focus, Twilight, focus!” Luna shouted above the wind. “Why? Why is she doing this?”

Whatever Spike had gone through, she would have her time to seek it out. Little by little she could feel herself fading...

But her words were to convince Twilight just as much as to convince herself. Flashes of memories that didn’t belong to her passed her mind, of her observatory in Canterlot, of the Crystal War, of Twilight and herself sharing a laugh over some unheard joke…

“I don’t know!” Twilight shouted back, tears flowing from her eyes. “I don’t know why, just listen to me!”

Twilight’s trusted bodyguard looks to her, then Lyra, then back at her and nods quietly.

“Understood, Lady Archmage,” says Shearwater. And she walks out the door to join Doctor Steady Aim, leaving the three of them in his office. Any other time, Twilight would have let her faithful hippogriff bodyguard and friend remain to listen.

Lyra’s hooves drum the desk. She gets up and walks to the window, as if she could look out past the lowered blinds. The London Bureau still bustles with activity at midday, yet here in the head doctor’s office, it might as well be the middle of the night.

“She said… there is no Planet B,” Lyra says soberly. “It’s a no-go. She won’t be endorsing us. Neither will the WWF, Greenpeace… I could go on."

Lyra shakes her head, frowning. “Twi’, you can’t ask them to abandon Earth. We gave them a choice. And honestly, I don’t get why you’re so… insistent about it.”

“We gave their devices a boost in cleaning the oceans, means to clear up their forest fires, we’ve worked to reverse the damage they’ve wrought, and she still won’t endorse us?” Twilight retorts hotly. “Lyra, can’t you, I don’t know–”

“Like I said,” Lyra cuts her off. “We would be asking them to abandon their fight instead of winning it.”

“But remarkably principled,” notes Sunburst. “I find that interesting.”

“Don’t mistake stubbornness for principle,” Twilight tells him. “And even if there is a principle behind it, a few enlightened souls can’t make up for sin on this scale.”

“Twilight,” Lyra says firmly, and there’s a strange look on the mint-green unicorn’s face.

Or perhaps that’s how Lyra’s face now looks all the time? Her mane is a little greasier, and she looks for all the world like she hasn’t slept in days.

“Humans will always fight for what’s theirs,” Lyra says. “We can’t be seen as taking from them.”

“We’re not taking, we’re [/i]giving to them!” Twilight replies. “We’re giving them everything that they could ask for. Things they can’t ever have imagined were possible."

Lyra holds up a forehoof. “Listen to what you're saying! It... doesn’t matter, if they don’t see it that way. It’s a no-go, and that’s the end of it…”

It would have been, of course, had Lyra’s rejected request not been featured the very next morning, in a high-profile interview published by a prominent international magazine, or had they been more patient in arranging a counter-interview next week in May.

Another change of scenery, and Twilight sits where Ambassador Lyra should have been, cameras and stage-lights fixed upon her. Perhaps they should have waited, but Lyra, bold one that she is, refused to participate.

”Lady Archmage,” the interviewer speaks, sharply. “Do you wish to tell us that humanity, as a whole, needs to be converted?”

“Well, it helps, doesn’t it?” Twilight says. Her exact words, broadcast to a million homes in Britain, will be set in stone, she knows. “Yes… doesn’t it help cure your ailments?”

The co-host leans forward, his elderly brows furrowed. They judge her, Twilight is aware. She feels the glare of the lights. But she needs to stand her ground in Lyra’s absence. Who knows what other mess she will have to clean up.

“But you said, yourself, and I quote, that we ‘needed’ it, Lady Archmage. Do you mean to imply that we ‘have’ to take it? That we are, somehow, by our nature, impure and lacking?"

He isn’t crass, but the venom he injects into his words, it brings a shudder. Yet she is steadfast. She isn’t going to turn back, not here, with tensions high in every corner of the world, at the height of what people call the Purple Winter. Equestria and Celestia herself are counting on her.

“We are… we’re doing this because we care. We’re pained to see your… how you’ve struggled to live up to your own ideals, have fallen so far from them, that you’d deny your own natures. Well, I like to think that we can–”

She almost doesn’t see the book thrown at her head until it is too late. Even though the perpetrator is dragged away, kicking and yelling profanities at her, and she telekinetically intercepted the book before it collided with her, she wished it had.

Yet as the murmurs grow to be deafening within and outside the studio, across all of Britain, and then the world, she wonders;

“Twilight,” says Celestia. She is so gentle and calm. She sits upon her throne, but she might as well be by her side, comforting as she has always been. “Please, you must understand. It is a hard lesson we learnt. When war marches upon us… we must expect all our people to stand their ground. And that includes the Newfoals.”

Twilight has been summoned to Canterlot that very afternoon, away from the Crystal Realm. The latest batch of the serum has been shipped off to Toronto earlier. And she had expected a congratulations, or perhaps a briefing.

But not like this. Before her lies a map of Earth, projected from her mentor’s horn. And on every Bureau, there are–

“You mean to use the Bureaus as a weapon,” Twilight says, breathless. It isn’t a question, of course. But she needs to repeat it, more for herself than it was for Celestia. “And the Newfoals… will be conscripted soldiers.”

“Conscripted? No, Twilight. They’ll volunteer for it,” Celestia continues, her expression mournful. “I’m sorry, but we must be prepared. And if a war comes, they will stand by our side, and they will fight for their new home.”

All the foals she has spoken to. The elderly. The ones cast aside. The destitute. The homeless. Men, women, children. Those who would rather be dead than live. Veterans she gave a second chance to. People she assured, in their last moments, that this was a rebirth.

“No... no, Princess... Celestia, you can’t. They deserve a new life,” Twilight stammers out. Her mane is in disarray. "They... they deserve it. I can’t. I can't do this." Her eyes brim with tears. “Why can’t you ask the other members of the Sphere? They’ll answer the call. The hippogriffs, you’ve seen them on the field with our pegasi! The zebras, the griffons, all of them, please. Give the h– give the Newfoals a chance. I promised them. I promised they’ll be at peace."

“Oh, Twilight,” Celestia says softly. “The Sphere shall stand with us. But every soul counts for the struggle.”

She turns to meet Celestia. Her Princess is right behind her. Twilight holds her breath, for the room feels like all air has been sucked away into oblivion. Celestia’s eyes are warm, as always. But now, it seems… empty.

“Twilight,” she says gently. “You haven’t had your therapy for this week, haven’t you?”

She says nothing in reply. It is true. But at the same time, she doesn’t want to say.

“I’m sorry,” Celestia says. “I’ve been busy, and I should’ve been there for you.”

‘No,’ Twilight thinks. She wants to say it. But her lips feel heavy. ‘I can ask Luna.’

She pauses for a moment. The lavender at her study has faded away. She hasn’t talked to Luna in weeks. Not since her therapy sessions have increased with Cel–

“Come, Twilight,” Celestia interrupts. “I’ll let them know I’ll be busy.”

Twilight wants to say something. She doesn’t know what that something is. But she'll try, so she opens her mouth to speak. Then she feels Celestia’s all-encompassing embrace wrap around her so tightly that she can’t breathe right–

“Luna, please–” moaned Twilight. The memory disintegrated. “I can’t find it. I can’t find it.”

The crowd grew, and grew around them. The seats, once empty, were now packed to the fullest, baleful gazes bearing down on them both.

The dead had come in force. The ones that should be, but aren’t. Men, women, children. Mothers and fathers, sons and daughters.

”... The reports came in. She’s done it,” says Shining Armor. He is out of breath. “Sweet Harmony, she’s done it.”

The palace is abuzz with frenzied activity, the guards galloping from post to post, the totem-proles glowing brightly as messages are relayed. The conference was a success. Humanity watched as Celestia cast her judgement upon them. Those in Berne are to be the first

But in the War Room, there is only dead silence. A map covers the roundtable, projected by Twilight. The words are on her lips now. The order to seal the fate of thousands. Hundreds of thousands of souls to join the cause all at once.

Their targets are all set. A marker for every Bureau of every country to host a Bureau, in the hearts of where millions live. London will answer soon, she decides.

New York. Moscow. Beijing. Jakarta. New Delhi. Tokyo. Karachi. Istanbul. Rio de Janeiro. Cairo. Mexico City. Lagos.

City by city, Bureau by Bureau. The converts will be many, before humanity’s countermeasures can kick in. When they do, their numbers will have already swelled beyond all expectations. She can only hope that Rarity’s Green Desert Project will prove fruitful enough to welcome so many.

“Lady Archmage,” says Shining Armor. For a moment, Twilight feels the absurd sensation that ‘Lady Archmage’ is someone else, that her brother can’t possibly be talking to her. “It’s time.”

They will stand by their side, Celestia promised. Thousands reborn from their hopeless existence.

One by one, from each marker, a purple mist spreads, consuming all in its way. For the good of Equestria. A part of her hopes that Lyra will have reached her embassy’s portal-station in time, far and away and safe amongst their own.

And as she impassively watches the mist spread, her mind wanders away, so long ago, to where it all began…

… Amidst a Changeling attack in Canterlot. But this is no mere attack, for on her brother’s wedding day, the Changeling Queen of Queens has chosen to commit a full-scale invasion. How perfect a strike. All Chrysalis needed to do was to remove one meddlesome unicorn from the equation.

And despite Chrysalis’ deception being uncovered, her true, hideous form unmasked for Canterlot to see, something went terribly wrong. Or rather, everything did.

The shield around the city shattering under tens of thousands of chitinous hooves.

Her friends’ last attempt to find the Elements… and now she has found herself alone, trapped in a city with no-one to trust.

She runs from cover to cover, avoiding the Changelings rooting out any lone guards. She lost the others somewhere near the city centre, consumed within a rabble of identical faces. Before she had escaped, Rainbow Dash insisted that they’d hold them off.

‘Focus,’ she urges herself. She peers over her erstwhile cover, an overturned carriage. The Changelings that stand before the gates are numerous, hundreds at least, if not thousands. ‘Gotta… gotta figure out a distraction.’

“Okay, Pinkie–” she whispers, before stopping herself. Pinkie is missing, too. She groans. “Alright then. Let’s see if I can teleport…”

Her horn charges with magical energy. With the others, the mass to transfer would have been too great in her exhaustion, but with her alone…

Something hisses in her ear. She finds herself face-to-face with a red-finned, mauve-eyed Changeling officer. She is so, so close to the tower’s gates.

And then it happens. At first, the Changeling rears to strike her, hissing even as she lights her horn in defiance. Then something crashes through the tower gates behind him, blowing away the black drones that stand in front of it.

The officer turns in time to be hit with a blue bolt right in the face, sending it flying over Twilight’s head and into its brethren.

She looks at the feebly stirring officer, then follows its comrades’ eyes to the assailant.

There, emerging from destroyed gates, is Princess Luna. Around her, the Elements of Harmony float in her aura, as her gaze falls upon the Changelings gathered behind Twilight.

But though Twilight has never witnessed such grim determination from her before, she does not see the terrifying visage of Nightmare Moon. She saw only Luna, and she was here for them.

A Changeling foolishly flies towards her, trying to shield the downed officer, to be thrown aside just like its comrade. Luna stomps a hoof, cracking the ground beneath her.

It doesn’t take long for the swarm to turn tail and flee, leaving behind Twilight. The Night Princess’s horn lights up further, and she points it straight at her.

“It’s me!” Twilight yells. “It’s me, Luna. Y-you went with me in Nightmare Night, remember?”

That answer is all that Luna needs, and she relaxes a little, offering a relieved smile. “Thank goodness, you’re safe, Twilight Sparkle. But… where are your friends?”

It is then that Twilight thanks her lucky stars, for Rainbow Dash emerges from an alleyway nearby, followed closely by Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, even Pinkie – who’s dragged in her party cannon, and blasted a pursuing Changeling away.

“Yeah! Princess Luna’s with me!” Twilight shouts back, but Luna lays a hoof on her shoulder.

“I’m afraid not, Twilight,” Luna says grimly. “You won’t make it back to the Castle like this.”

“What about you? The Changeling Queen… she took down Celestia.”

“Alone? I think not. I didn’t come here alone. I’ve informed the other Guard units outside the city, and I shall delay the invaders long enough for you to use the Elements and for reinforcements to arrive.”

Twilight opens her mouth to object, just as her friends, now by her side, start to as well.

Then Luna raises her forehoof, and smiles. It isn’t the best, nor the most natural of smiles. Yet here, it is as good as a smile as any.

"Let them come. There is one Princess of Equestria in Canterlot who still stands."

“Twilight Sparkle.” Luna’s gaze falls upon Twilight. Warm, kind, and determined. “Chrysalis is mine. Take the Elements of Harmony. Everything will be alright." A new buzzing of wings grows louder and closer. Luna does not falter. “Now go. Cast them out. And the day shall be ours. Go!”

It isn’t just encouragement. It is a promise. And it proves to be a promise half-fulfilled.

For by the end of the day, though their efforts have succeeded in casting out the wicked Queen, Twilight’s brother lies hurt and so does his love, and even Luna and Celestia are both exhausted. The battle has been won, but so many of their own were dragged away by the fleeing horde. Captives, for purposes Twilight cannot discern yet.

And so it was, the day is ended, with Celestia standing in the throne room, her stony expression belying her fury.

“Send the message out. Summon all our friends and allies from far and wide. We will march into the Badlands where Queen Chrysalis resides, and we will find them.”

The shadowy figures, now in the thousands, looked down at them, seated in the hall. They whispered, they droned, and she listened–

A thousand ghosts streamed in, and a thousand more waited. Their ethereal chorus continued.

One stood out among all of them in Luna's eyes. Her flowing mane was torn and stringy, her chitin cracked, half her face burned off, yet Queen Papillate held her head up high, her ghostly, yellow sight piercing into Luna.

“Twilight! Listen to me!” Luna yelled. The fog swirled around them, and she met Twilight’s eyes. They were wide, tearful, and she screamed with no voice. “You need to wake up! Wake up!”

“I can walk! I can walk again!” she cheers and laughs. But Twilight has no reply.

The filly stops, and looks at Twilight, still leaning against the nearby wall, her chest heaving. “Is something wrong?” the filly asks, sweetly, her ears drooping. “Did… I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” she says. The filly smiles widely, happily. Her mother would too. “Nothing… nothing is wrong. It works… it works.”

She pulls the once-human into her embrace, reborn as a foal was unto this world. The first, she prays, of many.

Eventually, the world came around again in Luna’s eyes. Gone was the lecture hall, its form fading away with the spectres that came with it. The dead, the dying, the converted and the forgotten.

Last to depart, her form lingering on, was Papillate. She too faded, the yellow in her eyes remaining where they were, fixed on Luna, before it flickered and disappeared. One last whisper passed by her ears.

And she found herself standing in the very same Golden Oaks rotunda she had been in at the beginning, with the shivering, prone form of Twilight Sparkle, clutching her doll.

But it was when she finally moved closer to Twilight that the other mare recoiled from her touch.

“It wasn’t you,” Luna answered. “No matter what she told you. It wasn’t you.”

Twilight said nothing, at first. And not for the first time, Luna wondered if she herself believed what she had just said.

“She… she promised I’d help them,” Twilight said softly. Her voice was muffled through her quivering lips and her tears, and Luna’s heart ached at the pitiful sight. “And I… I did.”

“But it wasn’t enough. But it has to have been, because otherwise this will all have been for nothing, she’ll have been for nothing. But… it isn’t. All this time and effort, making sure we’ll be united, that we would all be together, that we’ll never be hurt by Wendigos or Chrysalis or Sombra ever again… and what we did just to feel safe...”

“Whatever it is, whatever’s passed,” she said. “What if it isn’t for nothing?”

With a forehoof, Luna gently lifted Twilight’s chin. Only now did she again see all the faint wrinkles and wear, and every streak of grey she had in her mane.

“Twilight, you are my sister’s student, and frankly she knows you better than anyone,” she said. “But I see ponies for what they are, what they fear and what they dream of, for their truest selves are shown when they are at their lowest… or when others are.”

On instinct, she plucked out one of the books from the rotunda’s shelves. A book under ‘E’. And when Luna opened it up, the faintest of voices was to be heard from within, the first of which was her own.

‘But it did! A different kind of spark. I felt it the very moment I realised how happy I was to hear you, to see you, how much I cared about you. The spark ignited inside me when I realised that you all... are my friends! You see, Nightmare Moon, when those Elements are ignited by the spark that resides in the heart of us all, it creates the sixth element: the Element of... Magic!’

“Even if you did it for the good of Equestria,” Luna said wistfully, “and not for this silly old, jealous mare, petty villain that she was, you did it nonetheless because it was the right thing. You and your friends.”

“You don’t know what we’ve been through since then,” Twilight replied, pushing her hoof away from her chin, and her tone made it clear to Luna she wasn’t only speaking about Equestria. “You’re… you’re you. Before all of this.”

“That is true. But I believe I speak for all of Equestria, when I say we shalll make it right.”

Luna moved her forehoof to Twilight’s. Her own thoughts went back to what the Allfather had told her, mere hours before her departure…

‘Perhaps, Luna, they were the first of the war’s victims, from before it has even begun, and I trust you will see the truth yourself as well…’

“I know what you’ve been through. What you’ve done,” she said. “But the Twilight whom I know is here, deep down, and she stands before me. And I promise that, whatever it is, we will help you.”

“Let us?” Luna replied. “Twilight… you removed the helmet yourself. All you needed was a gentle tug.”

In the depths of Twilight’s eyes, Luna saw the twinkle in her eyes once more, and the Lady Archmage slowly allowed herself a bittersweet smile.

But the moment was not to last, unfortunately, for Twilight’ smile faded at the same time she saw something past her shoulder.

In a moment, Luna swirled around, with Twilight behind her, and readied her magic.

There, at the end of the hall, in front of the double doors to the library’s recesses, there stood a pale mare. Her gaze was unknowable, for her face lay concealed in the shadow of a grey hood. Yet Luna felt her stare. More than her face was hidden, in fact, her figure dissimulated by a cloak of grey.

However, Luna saw a little of her pale coat, as from within her cloak, the apparition drew out a blade of many shards, like the Archmage’s, but bronze in colour and thirteen in number. With an elegant flourish, she raised her sword aloft, with a fine symmetry that divided her unseen face.

Whoever this was, the Princess of the Night knew, her threat was clear as her sister’s day.

“Stay behind me,” Luna said firmly. But then she felt a tug on her wing, and Twilight’s expression was pained.

“You have to go,” she said mournfully. “I’m sorry, you have to go–”

“Not without you!” shouted Luna. Her wings flared open, and she was ready to meet the pale mare’s blade. “I will not leave you here, do you hear me? I will not leave you again.”

“But you… you’ll fade,” Twilight said in horror. “You can’t– you can’t stay here. You’ll be trapped in here with me if she gets to you.”

“You don’t understand,” whispered Twilight. “She doesn’t need to defeat you. All she needs is to keep you trapped. And then others will come.” She looked up at Luna. “I can’t let you lose yourself in here. Not to her.”

Baring her teeth, Luna let her horn shine bright. In that brief glint, she caught a glimpse under the pale mare’s hood. What looked back at her were eyes under a mask, skull-like in the haunting visage it cast.

Something drew Luna’s notice to the doors behind the apparition. They were old, wooden, and they buckled ever so slightly.

First, the red wave, manifesting itself from a trickle of blood dripping down from the edges. It dripped, then trickled, then, with the door moving under a magical aura, the torrential wave gushed out of it, flooding the hall.

She stood against it. And so did the apparition before the doors, and Twilight. But she felt herself slipping, more, and more, with the blood flowing freely around her legs.

The pale mare watched. There was nothing to hold onto for Luna, except Twilight before her. Twilight, her horn shining brightly, who looked at her sorrowfully. The wave should be overwhelming, but Luna heard her voice in a vacuum.

Twilight, this time, caressed Luna’s cheek sweetly, and her smile was longing.

“Listen to me,” she spoke. “You saw the how, and you wanted to know the why. I don’t know if I’ll remember this, back out there, but… Princess. You must find the Architect.”

Luna gazed at Twilight. Here again was a name that rang a bell… “The Architect?”

“The last of the ancient alicorns,” she said. “Luna, the Architect still lives. Celestia has been hunting for her, planning on binding her to her will as well. She mustn’t!”

“Twilight, I’ve already met a new alicorn,” Luna said hesitantly, groaning as she ignored the red tide’s pull with increasing strain. “If you mean a grey–”

“You’ve met Galena?” Twilight said animatedly. “Oh, thank goodness. The Queen… she killed the one of our world, not two days ago! I saw her body with my own eyes. But it’s not her! No, this is–”

Before Luna’s very eyes, the crimson red turned purple, and a rise in the current nearly swept her and Twilight off the floor.

“Agh!” Twilight clutched at Luna. “She’ll… she’ll have the answers I… I can’t give. And please... take care of Spike, tell him I'm sorry. I’ll be… I’ll be alright.”

Luna’s stance eased up then, despite a shiver trailing down her spine, not of her own accord. But it felt just right...

“I’ll come back for you,” Luna whispered, hearing it even above the torrential purple wave, and Twilight did too. “I promise, I’ll come back for you.”

Slowly, her forehoof slipped, and she was parted from Twilight. And as she was carried away by the wave, Luna heard her whisper one last time.

The ground turned to dirt and grass, and the very air became filled with soot and ash. The Princess of the Night reconstituted herself on the ground, coughing out blood, her ears ringing. And yet her mind had never been clearer. Strengthening her resolve, she staggered, holding back another cough, and stood tall.

Before her lay a familiar sight, Twilight prone and unmoving. The pain she kept hidden away was unmistakable, and Luna kicked herself for being so blind to it, from the very beginning. But she had a promise to keep, Luna thought. And everything would be alright.

She approached the prone mare cautiously. The Archmage – Twilight, she reminded herself – remained curled up, with only her shallow breathing to indicate that she, thankfully, had not perished at all.

Slowly, Twilight’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked up to Luna. They were red, and confused. Her breathing grew rapid.

There were many things Luna wanted to ask her. Things she wanted to help her with. But it all had to start somewhere, and here it started by offering a hoof to help up Twilight, with what she hoped was a kind, gentle smile.

She hardly had a moment’s warning, however, when Twilight fired off a concussion blast against her chest. The blow Luna a good twelve paces back. She heard Twilight release an inarticulate, beast-like scream of rage.

Parry after parry, they were swift even with Luna’s mind still in a daze, but the Archmage was relentless, her face twisted into a grimace, and every punctuated by a furious snarl.

And then she called out a single name, her voice echoing throughout the city’s ruins.

Maxine Radwick kept her trace of the alicorn, who may or may not be Luna. It had been an eventful night so far, judging by the intensive battle between her, the Archmage, and the Archmage’s pet dragon. Thankfully for Maxine, she hadn’t yet got an up-close encounter during this whole battle like that.

And based on what she could tell, all the evidence of their fight pointed towards it winding up in Langone Park for whatever reason. Perhaps the Archmage was giving Luna’s dopplegänger a further debriefing away from prying eyes. Or maybe this was the actual Luna and the two were still slugging it out. Either was possible at this point, and it wouldn’t make a difference, either way.

‘Alright, I better report this in.’ Maxine thought, taking cover behind an abandoned car with the entrance to the park within eyesight.

“Well, this is interesting,” a new voice spoke up, followed up by a series of gun clicks.

Slowly turning around, her left hand still reaching for her radio, Maxine saw she was not alone. A group of five people stood before her, all armed with various kinds of older rifles. A sixth, a woman in an antiquated flak-jacket, stood there looking bemused.

“Hello, Radwick,” said the woman, a hand on her hip. “Fancy meeting you here. Shouldn’t you be helping out the PHL with cleaning up the remains of this incursion?”

“Jones...” Maxine regarded the woman curtly. “For your information, I’m here because someone needed to keep track of the doppelgänger. We’re all lacking answers at this time, and she seems the best source for them.”

“Hmm, fair enough,” said the woman. “It’s unfortunate that out of all UNAC have at their disposal, you’re the one who winds up in our territory,” she commented, shaking her head in disapproval. “Lower your rifles, guys. We’ll be taking her with us to see the alicorn. She’s the closest thing we’ve got to a UNAC representative right now.”

Unprotesting, she let the HLF box her in as they followed their leader into the park. Cooperation would be the best course of action right now. At least Tess Jones was more transparent than the equines would be. And that was a benefit.

Spectrum

by Sledge115

Act II ~ Chapter Seventeen ~ Thus, Lift Me Up