The thought to teleport to her suite crossed Sunset’s mind more than once, but she just kept walking. Her nerves had refused to settle since leaving Cadance’s tower, and some part of her hoped that a long, quiet walk across the castle grounds would put her mind at ease.
That part of her was an idiot.
By the time she arrived home, her brain had become a living storm. Turbulent thoughts and feelings buffeted her no matter how hard she tried to ignore them. She felt adrift in a sea of emotion, desperate to escape its harsh current but helpless against its force.
One thought anchored her, though. In all of the evening’s chaos, she had learned one concrete detail, and that would make this all worthwhile. It had to, because it was the only solid thing she could grasp right now.
She didn’t bother closing the front door behind her, making a beeline for her bedroom. She lit her bedside candle, grabbed The Cadance Collection from the floor, and slammed it on her desk. Without hesitation, she flipped to the back inside cover.
Cadance hadn’t been lying. It took Sunset all of five seconds to locate the hidden slit at the top of the page and the little paper square within. For a letter that was supposedly seventeen years old, the paper was in immaculate condition.
And that was the only observation she made before her determination drained through a pit in her stomach. Suddenly feeling cold, she took a seat, cupped her hooves, and stared. The tick of her wall clock chided her for her indecisiveness.
Focus on what you know. On what’s important.
On the one hoof, this letter had been written by the only living pony who might know anything useful about the Everheart. The odds that the letter itself held any of that information were slim, but not zero. After all, Cadance had kept the letter secret until Princess Celestia had gotten involved, so maybe it held more value than Sunset assumed. Plus, she had literally nothing to lose by reading it.
On the other hoof…
What, exactly? On the other hoof, what?
Nothing. Nopony will even know. Just get on with it.
She reached for the letter.
But what’s the point? I already know everything I need to about the Everheart. The general details, anyway. I can sort out the rest once I have access to it.
She pulled her hoof back.
You don’t really believe that. There are still plenty of questions left to answer, and who knows what you might uncover? You have to follow every lead if you want the best chance for this to work.
She bit her lip.
If the letter had any crucial information about the Everheart, Cadance would have told me already. This letter is between her and her mom. Even if I hate her, everypony deserves privacy when it comes to family stuff.
She grabbed her head in her hooves.
Well, you deserve to be an alicorn princess. That didn’t stop her from swooping in and stealing your thunder. She brought this on herself. Show no mercy.
Her hooves slid behind her neck, and she pressed her forehead to the desk,
I don’t have to be cruel about it. Besides, I have her right where I want her, don’t I? She trusts me. She… cares about me. Why should I risk losing that?
She swore she could hear her own pounding heartbeat. She pinned her ears.
Listen to yourself! Trust? Care? When have those ever brought you anything good? They’re tools, nothing more. Means to an end. Use them and get rid of them. Unless you actually want to be her friend.
Of course not.
Prove it.
Sunset sat up straight, pushing against the chair’s backrest. Before she could get cold hooves again, she gripped the letter in her magic and lifted it to eye level. She undid the first fold, then—
Something moved in her periphery. Shooting a glance to the side, she spotted the unmistakable glint of a dracoform’s fang in the window’s reflection.
She forgot how to breathe. Bolting to her hooves, she swirled around—toppling the chair as she did—and fired a blind arcane blast to try and stun the beast.
Her spell missed the candle by inches, punching a hole in the wall behind it.
Realization sank in, and Sunset’s heart turned to lead. She scanned the room regardless, searching for any movement. Anything out of place. Anything to prove she wasn’t crazy.
There was nothing. She had seen the candle flame reflected in the glass. That was all.
She could have cried. Should have cried, maybe. Everything in her wanted to break down then and there.
Instead she forced the agony up into her horn, where it ignited green. Her aura clamped around The Cadance Collection hard enough to crack the spine. She unleashed a throaty scream and hurled the book across the room. Its open face splayed across the wall with a crunch, then the book flopped to the ground.
Her breaths came out fast and hot, each one carrying away a shard of vigor. She glared over her shoulder at the innocuous scrap of paper lying on her desk. If she stared long enough, maybe it would catch fire.
Her glare gradually cooled, leaving only dull embers behind. She slumped to the floor in defeat. She rolled onto her back, if only to prove she still had control of herself, and stared at her bed.
This wasn’t something she had to deal with right away. The letter would still be there in the morning, and her head would be that much clearer. Although she would deny it to the grave, Sunset knew that even she had limits, and somehow Cadance had driven her to one.
What are you saying? Since when do you give up so easily? You can achieve anything you set your mind to, remember?
Giving her bed a longing look, Sunset pushed herself to a sitting position and glanced to where her saddlebags lay near her desk. The sunburst clasp fastening them shut sparkled in the dim candlelight. Those bags had been a gift, once upon a time.
Sparing a look outside—the sky was somewhere between evening and dusk—Sunset got to her hooves, snuffed the candle, and trotted out of the bedroom. She made for the front door of her suite, grabbing a cloak on the way out.
She should have known better than to hope the park would be empty. Dreamers’ Vista played host to the most beautiful landscape in all of Canterlot, which naturally made it a hotspot for dates, family reunions, cuteceañeras, and whatever other inane things ponies gathered for. Beyond that, the far-reaching view of the Unicorn Range had likely inspired hundreds of paintings, especially at this time of day, when the sun’s final rays cast the distant city of Cloudsdale in molten shadow.
Of course, Sunset didn’t care about the scenery. She cherished this place for far more important reasons. Sentimentality rarely suited her, but she knew she needed this. Maybe Cadance was rubbing off on her in some small way.
With that grotesque thought out of mind, she set off across the park, ignoring the hoofpath and avoiding other ponies until she reached the far edge, where the mountain dropped off. From there she followed the railing up to the rockier section of the park, climbing to the highest plateau. Mercifully, she found herself alone up there. She turned west, gazing to where the sun had just vanished beyond the horizon.
She rarely came this far into the city proper, and almost never by choice. Between her chambers, campus, and the castle, she had everything she would ever need: labs, libraries, privacy, and the princess. All she had ever wanted in life.
Almost, anyway.
But after the week she’d had, what she needed more than anything was distance. And for her, it didn’t get much more distant than this exact spot.
She trotted closer to the railing and ran her hoof along the metal. Even all these years later, the scorch marks remained. Many were small and unassuming, freckling the bar with dark spots that could have passed for dirt or rust if nopony looked too closely; and if they ignored the three-hoof-long black scar marring the middle of the railing. Her hoof caught a few small bumps in places where the metal had melted.
They’d had over ten years now to replace the railing, yet here it remained. Rationally Sunset knew that was because it still served its purpose well enough and would cost more to replace than it was worth. Even so, part of her liked to believe that Princess Celestia had preserved it for her sake.
She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath, the late summer air wet with the smell of lichen. Far to her right, the Alicorn Falls roared down the mountain as they had for centuries. Dandelions and tufts of grass peppered the rocky outcrop beneath her hooves.
Nothing had changed since that day. The only thing missing was the warm sunlight beaming down on her face.
Opening her eyes, she stared out to the horizon. A fading, fiery glow hung over the western mountains like smoke in the sun’s wake. Pooling magic into her horn, she reached out and searched the sky.
She had only grasped the sun once before, and even then only with Philomena’s guidance. She didn’t actually want to make the connection this time, though. Princess Celestia would notice, and tonight had been complicated enough without drawing her attention.
No, she just wanted to get close. Close enough to remember.
Her magic grazed the solar corona, and Sunset smiled. Despite only being an echo of the sun’s full power, it was more than enough to set her blood aflame. Light and energy buzzed through her as naturally as magic, pumping her full of fresh, brilliant life. She felt like a filly again.
Princess Celestia chuckled. “With such ambition? I believe you can achieve anything you set your mind to, Sunset Shimmer.”
Her smile broadened. Nearly everything else from that memory had long since been lost to a fog of shock and excitement and delirium, but those words remained. That one assurance had meant the world. It had driven her for years. Given her confidence. Affirmation. Purpose. Strength nopony could deny her.
It stood in bold contrast to the only other thing she recalled from the meeting: her first coherent words to Princess Celestia, which she only remembered for how stupid they were.
“Can I keep the phoenix?”
She shook her head. How naïve she had been.
And how far she had come. How many ponies could say they had single-hoofedly moved the sun, let alone as a blank flank? And that had been her starting point—already leaps and bounds ahead of her colleagues without any formal education. While everypony else was aiming for the top, Sunset was building the tower. Even with a lifetime of opportunities, most ponies could never hope to match her prowess.
Cadance certainly never would.
Yet she’s the one who became an alicorn.
Sunset’s eyes turned to steel.
Everything she’d done as the princess’ protégé had been in service of one goal. A decade of hard work trying to reach a destination without knowing the path. And a talentless, airheaded, emotional trainwreck of a pegasus had beaten her there by pure happenstance. No amount of sob stories, pillow fights, or well-placed kind words would make her forget that.
Long ago, not far from this very spot, a young Sunset Shimmer had promised herself that nopony would get in her way ever again. She had promised to never let anypony tell her what she could and couldn’t do. She had promised to be the best at any cost.
Time to make good on that.
The fact that you are reading this means that the worst has come to pass. I wish I could say I was surprised. All I can do now is pray that you are kind of heart. Please, hear me out. The foal you hopefully found this letter with is my daughter. Her name is Cadance, and she is the only good thing I have achieved with my life. I have made a lot of mistakes, but she is not one of them. Unfortunately, all those mistakes mean that I can no longer protect her. That’s where you come in. I realize that this is a lot to ask of a stranger, but I beg of you with all that I am, see that my daughter has a chance at a normal life. Whether that life is with you or somepony you know or whatever other million possibilities I can’t fathom, I don’t care. I’m in no place to bargain. All I ever wanted was for her to have a happy, healthy upbringing, and it breaks my heart that I can’t provide it. She deserves so much better, and this is my final, desperate attempt to make that a reality. I’m sorry I can’t give you any more details. Anything that can be used to identify me puts both you and Cadance in danger. Do not try to find me. You won’t. And if by some miracle you did, I would only be in a worse place than I already am. Forget about me. Cadance is all that matters now. Should she grow into the smart, loving filly I know she can be, please give her this letter. It holds a second message that will only reveal itself to her. ˙̶̤̏ɥ̴̨̛ǝ̶͒ͅɹ̸̖̍ ̷̺̎ɔ̵̳̍ʇ̴̣͆ḋ̵̤ʇ̸̘̕ɹ̵̥̎ǝ̵̱͗o̵̻͛ ̴̭̀ɐ̷̣̕u̶͚͑p̶͉̍ ̸̺͐p̷̹̍ō̴̫ ̵̠̿'̷͍͗s̵̬̒ᴉ̸̺͂ ̸̠͛ʎ̷͉͛ő̷͙n̵͎̈ ̵̱̓Ḯ̷̧ ̷̍ͅs̷̜̉ǝ̵͈͝ǝ̷̥́ɐ̸͍̈́ĺ̷̻ḏ̸̕ ̷̬̚ʍ̷͕̓ɥ̵̭̇ɐ̴̗̽ʇ̵̭́ ̵͉̏˙̶̱̔ɔ̷̹́ù̷̦ǝ̷̠̉ʞ̴̳̌ ̵̬͝ɥ̵̥͊ǝ̶̬̈ɹ̶̱̄ ̵̬̆ʇ̷͕̐ᴉ̵̩̆ ̸̱̕q̶̨̈́n̵̖̅ʇ̵̜̍ ̵̨͐ʌ̸̼̿ɯ̵͕̏ǝ̴͚́ɹ̸̰͛o̵̩̅ǝ̶̙̐ ̴̹͝l̶̡͒ǝ̴̝̽l̴̪̂ʇ̴̙̇ ̵̳̋l̴̜̀ĺ̸̼ʍ̴̥̄ᴉ̷̰͆ ̸̜͂ʇ̶̫̈́ɥ̶̝̎ǝ̷̢͗ ̵̘͊o̶̧͒ʇ̵̹͆u̵͔͒ ̵̳̏ʇ̶̛͕ᴉ̷̮̈́ ̷̜̀ʇ̴̰͂,̵͈́ü̴͉ɐ̷̠́ɔ̵̼͐ ̷̛̜d̸̮͂ʇ̴͍͂ɐ̴̯͑u̷̲̅ǝ̵̖̔p̵̼͌u̴͇͠ ̷̩͛o̷̢͐ɯ̴̹͝ɹ̵͉̓ɟ If the duchess yet smiles then I will be able to tell her everything in person, but otherwise this message will be my only chance to explain myself. Please grant me that chance. I’m out of time. Thank you, truly and fully. May the stars grant you fortune.
Midnight had come and gone, Sunset had read and reread the letter more than a dozen times through different mediums—mirrors, ultraviolet lamps, and every caliber of suppressor lens she owned—and all she had managed to learn was that the paper beneath the illusion was blank. The message itself remained stubbornly unfazed.
Illusory scripts, by and large, were notoriously flimsy enchantments designed to misdirect ponies who couldn’t see past them. Their uses in modern times were so limited and subtle that they rarely needed to stand up to intense scrutiny. As a result, the majority were cheap, low-energy spells that anypony with a shard of onyx could subvert.
So the fact that Sunset, with more than a decade of magical knowledge and the most cutting-edge tools at her disposal, couldn’t so much as differentiate between this letter and a non-magical one meant that somepony had gone to incredible lengths to obscure the true meaning. That raised an obvious question: what information could be so sensitive that it required a multi-layered, patchwork legion of abjuration spells to make sure that only one pony could read it?
I’m sure it has nothing at all to do with the alicorn magic-infused artifact that isn’t referenced anywhere in the false message.
And all that was without mentioning the message itself, which stirred up its own set of questions. The fate of Cadance’s mother aside, why hadn’t the Everheart been mentioned? It had supposedly been around Cadance’s neck at the time, and it seemed like a fairly important detail to gloss over. Maybe it was written behind the corrupt glyphs near the end, but then why had that part been obscured? And what the hay did “If the duchess yet smiles” mean?
Despite everything, though, Sunset left her lab with a grin. All those answers would come in time, and it wasn’t like she had a deadline. No matter how well-crafted the spell was, a prolonged, thorough analysis would give Sunset all the information she needed to crack it. Ultimately she only needed to learn how the letter detected who was reading it. From there she could reverse-engineer a way to fool it.
And if worse came to worst, Cadance could read it. One way or another, Sunset would be able to coax that information out of her if she had to. Definitely a last resort, but a promising one.
Her smile slipped at the thought of Cadance. Being friends with her, even fake friends, still freaked Sunset out more than she cared to admit, but she at least felt confident that she wouldn’t succumb to another panic attack. At the end of the day, it was just an obstacle; one of many she would need to conquer on her way to the top, and Sunset had never met an obstacle she couldn’t overcome.
Back in her bedroom, Sunset locked both The Cadance Collection and the letter in one of her desk drawers. She turned and collapsed into bed without a second thought.
Against all odds, she fell asleep in minutes.