//------------------------------// // Shatter // Story: Ruin // by RB_ //------------------------------// The buzzing of her phone woke Sunset up before the sunlight streaming through her window did. Groaning, she rolled over in her bed. Her arm shot out from beneath the tangle of sheets and slapped against the bedstand, groping around until her fingertips brushed plastic. She peered at the screen. Fifteen new messages? That couldn’t be good. Group Chat Rainbow Dash Hey, has anyone tried to pony up recently? Rarity Not me. I’m afraid I haven’t much been in the mood for practice, lately. Why do you ask? Rainbow Dash I woke up early today Figured I’d jam out for a bit, y’know But no matter how hard I play, no wings Pinkie Pie Weird! I’ll try …huh Rainbow Dash Anything? Pinkie Pie Nope! No ears! Also Mama’s giving me that look again What does she mean, too early for drums? It’s never too early for drums! Fluttershy I’m not getting wings, either Rarity I’ll get my keytar. Sunset frowned. Now totally awake, she slipped out from under the covers and dropped onto the floor. Her feet made little thudding noises as she descended from her loft, phone in one hand, earbuds in the other. Her guitar lay where it normally did, leaning in its stand next to the amp. A thin layer of dust marred its polished surface. She grabbed the cord from the amp and plugged it into the back of the guitar, then plugged her headphones into the amp. Something simple, she thought. Her fingers played over the strings. E minor seventh. Sixth. C major, E minor. Again. She paused, pick resting on the strings. Nothing. Her brow creased. Alright. Something more complicated, then. She launched into the opening chords of The Music in Me.  She made it all the way to her part of the song before she stopped. No magical surges. No sudden levitation. No magical hair extensions. No ears. She grabbed her phone. Group Chat Applejack Sorry, was out in the orchard Went through the twelve bar blues Nothing I’m not getting anything, either. Rarity Nor here. Rainbow Dash So none of us can pony up It looks that way. Rarity What do you suppose this means? Sunset set her guitar down. She ran her fingers through her hair, still knotted from her slumber. I’m going to go with “nothing good”. Let’s meet up at the school. Sunset pushed open the door to the band room. “Sunset! Twilight!” Immediately, they were surrounded. “It’s so good to see you both,” Rarity said. “You’re spending way too much time in that tent of yours for your own good!” “Yeah!” Rainbow Dash said. “How are we supposed to practice if you’re busy saving another world?” Rarity elbowed her in the arm. “I mean, yeah! It’s great to have you back!” Sunset chuckled. “We both know you girls get on perfectly fine without me.” Pinkie swept her up in a hug. “That doesn’t mean we want to!” And so the group hug commenced. Sunset’s heart warmed a little. Nothing beat a good group hug. “So how have things been going?” Fluttershy asked, once they’d all pulled away. “I heard some of the Ponyvillians talking about going home today. Is it true? Are you nearly ready to send them back?” They walked over to the middle of the room and sat down, Pinkie taking her seat at the drums in the corner. “Not quite,” Sunset said. “But we’re going to be bringing a few of them with us to Equestria, to help out with the expeditions.” She filled them in on what had been going on, gesturing with her hands as she did so.  Applejack clapped her on the back. “Well, that’s great news!” she said. “Yes,” Fluttershy said. “It sounds like you three are making real progress!”  “Well, we hope so,” Twilight said. Her hand went for her glasses. “We’re still not much closer to finding the source of all of this, though.” “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Rainbow Dash said, wrapping her arm around Twilight’s shoulders. “With how smart you guys are, you’ll have it all figured out in no time!” Twilight blushed a little. “Hopefully.” “I’m sure this will all be nothing more than a bad memory soon enough,” Rarity said. “Now, Sunset, you said you had a favor to ask?” “Yeah,” Sunset said. “I need you to make more of those protective suits.” “How many?” “Six.” “By when?” “Monday. I can pay you for the materials—” Rarity held up a hand. “No payment necessary. Consider it done.” “Are you sure?” Sunset said. “I know they’re a pain…” “That may be true, but the fabric is cheap. And besides, I wouldn’t dream of asking for money when so much is at stake.” Sunset smiled. “Thanks, Rarity. You’re the best.” “I know.” “I have a favor to ask, too, actually,” Twilight said. “It’s about your magic…” “You mean how none of us can pony up anymore?” Pinkie said. “Yes.” She walked over to the table on the left side of the room and set her backpack down on it. “That exactly.” She unzipped the bag and withdrew from it a little grey box, out of the top side of which poked an antennae that had been bent into a loop. Rarity cocked her head to the side. “Is that a theremin?” “What? No,” Twilight said. “This is a thaumaumeter. It reads magical signatures.” She crouched down and plugged the box into the wall. It emitted a low hum as it came to life. “Sunset told me you weren’t able to ‘pony-up’ anymore,” she said. “I want to take some readings from each of you and compare them to the readings I got during the Friendship Games.” She looked up at them. “I-is that alright? I know things didn’t go so well last time, but I can assure you, this one is one hundred percent safe—” Applejack smiled at her. “Sure thing, sugarcube. We trust you.” Twilight smiled back. “Thanks.” She stood up, the power cable dangling from the back of the thing. She placed it on the table. “Just hold your hand over the top of the device,” she said. “It’ll do the rest.” One by one, they did so, first Applejack, then Sunset, then the others. Pinkie giggled as it scanned her. “Hey! It tickles!” “It shouldn’t,” Twilight said. “Well it does!” “So now what?” Rainbow Dash asked. Twilight pulled her laptop out of her bag. It took a moment to boot up. “Alright,” she said. “Here are your magical signatures from the Friendship Games.” She clicked a button, and six graphs popped up on the screen, each with a unique pattern of peaks and troughs. “Think of it like… like a visual representational representation of your magic, laid out on a graph. This is what your individual magics look like.” “They’re all different,” Pinkie commented. Twilight nodded. “Yep! Each of you has a unique magical signature. To go along with your Elements of Harmony, going by what Sunset has told me. That’s yours, Pinkie.” She pointed at one of the graphs. “And Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and that one’s yours, Sunset.” “I… think I get it,” Sunset said. “What about now?” “Let’s see,” she said. She made a few more clicks, then typed something into the command line. “Here we go… these are your signatures now.” She hit enter. Just like before, six graphs appeared on the screen. Sunset felt her heart drop into her stomach.  Every one of the graphs was a flat line. “What?” Twilight exclaimed. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “That’s… that’s not possible. That can’t be right.” “Twilight,” Sunset said, speaking slowly. “What does a flat line mean?” “I-it would mean that the thaumometer isn’t detecting a magical signature,” Twilight said. “But that’s obviously wrong—” Sunset held her hand out. “Scan me again.” “But—” “Scan me again, Twilight.” Twilight grabbed the thaumometer and held it out to her. It hummed as Sunset’s hand sat over it. A bar appeared on Twilight’s computer screen. Sunset waited with bated breath as it slowly filled from left to right. They all did. After a minute, a new graph popped up on the screen. It bore the same dead line as all the others. “Sunset—” “Do it again,” she commanded. “Sunset, I don’t think it’ll be any different—” “Do it again.” They repeated the procedure one last time, and once again it had the same outcome. Sunset got off the table and went to stand by the window, her mind whirring with the implications. “Are you sure your machine is working properly?” Rainbow Dash said. She grabbed it and began shaking it. “Maybe it’s busted!” “It can’t be,” Twilight said. “I calibrated it against a controlled sample just this morning...” “Well then maybe it broke this afternoon!” Rainbow said.  Applejack snatched it from her hands. “I don’t think you shaking it is going to make it any better, Rainbow,” she said. “You don’t know that! This always works when my laptop breaks!” “That’s probably why your laptop keeps breaking,” Rarity snapped. She laid a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Assuming everything is working properly…” she asked. “What does this mean?” “It means…” Twilight began. “It means that we don’t have magic anymore,” Sunset finished. When Sunset opened the flap to the tent, the first thing she noticed was the large metal box that sat on the ground in front of the portal, beside a pile of metal rods. “What’s in the box?” she asked Twilight, who had followed her into the tent. She gestured towards the offender. “I was wondering, too,” Starlight said. She had already been in the tent when they’d arrived, sitting at her table like she always did. “It’s a radio transmitter-slash-receiver, and a high-grade antenna array.” Twilight said with some satisfaction. “If this works, then we won’t need the cable anymore. Well, actually,” she backpedaled, “we do still need the cable, but it won’t need to be attached to you.” “So we can explore the rest of the castle, now?” “Not just the rest of the castle,” Twilight said. This baby has a range of a few miles. The dust might cause some interference, but that should be enough to get you to Ponyville, right?” “Oh, Twilight, that’s brilliant!” Sunset said. Twilight blushed a little at the compliment. “How do we set it up?” “Well, it’ll need to be somewhere fairly high, and near the portal,” Twilight said. “You said there was a balcony?” “Yeah.” “That’s perfect. We just need to assemble it on the other side. I’ll help you set it up.” Sunset blinked. “Wait, like, on the other side of the portal? We only have the one suit…” “I don’t mind getting a little dusty,” Twilight said. “Anyway, I don’t really need it. I took a look at some of the dust that came back with you last time. It’s just normal dust, organic particulates and soil. I’ll be fine with just a respirator mask.” “Alright, suit yourself,” Sunset said. “Do you mind staying behind and manning the controls, Starlight? Or—” “No,” Starlight replied quickly. “That’s fine. I wouldn’t know what I was doing anyway.” “Alright,” Sunset said. “Let’s go, then.” “…And now we just plug the cable in to the back, here, and… done!” The radio wasn’t a very large thing, about the size of a large briefcase. What was quite large was the antenna; fully assembled, it was about as tall as Sunset. Metal rods stuck out of it on either side like a pair of wings. Twilight stepped back. “Phew,” she said. “That took a little longer than expected. Ask Starlight if she can hear us.” Sunset did so (as she was the one with a Black Box, and therefore the only one with an earpiece. “Loud and clear,” she says,” Sunset replied, after a moment. Twilight smiled. “Great!” she exclaimed. “Then we’re all set. We just need to remember to unplug it before we close the portal again—we wouldn’t want to sever the cable.” With a satisfied sigh, she looked up from the piece of equipment—and her eyes fell on the endless grey of the sky. She looked over the balcony, at the grey world that extended beyond it. It sent a shiver down her spine. “Wow,” she said. “It’s…” She couldn’t think of a word to finish that statement. Nothing in her vocabulary could describe the feeling of dread that such a sight instilled upon her. Sunset nodded. “I know.” Twilight stared for a moment more. Then, she remembered something. “Oh, right!” she exclaimed. “I almost forgot something.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a slim, black case; more EM shielding. It was attached to a long strap, the kind you’d year over your shoulder. And inside… “Here,” she said, passing it to Sunset. “It’s a digital camera. Just in case you find something interesting.” Sunset popped open the lid of the case, looked at its contents, and nodded. “Great,” she said. “Will do.” “So how many floors does the castle have, Starlight?” Sunset asked. Her voice echoed off the smooth, crystalline walls of the stairwell.  “Four main floors,” Starlight said, her voice coming in through the earpiece. Sunset peered up over the banister of the stairs. “Well, I see three flights above me,” she said, and then she looked down. “And It’s one long flight down to ground level, so I guess this is the main staircase. How much time do I have left?” “Fifty-three minutes,” Twilight said.  Sunset gauged the distance to the top of the stairwell. The top landing was a sizable distance away… but, at worst, only a four minute climb. Nothing to worry about. “I’m going to head to the top and work my way down,” she said. “That sound good to you?” “How high up are you?” Twilight asked. “It might be more logical to start from the bottom, if you’re only on the second floor.” “The first floor has a really high ceiling,” Sunset said. “I’d say I’m about halfway up. There’s not a lot of rooms down there, either. It’s basically just the throne room and the entranceway, from what I saw.” “Go ahead, then.” Sunset started up the stairs. Like the walls, they were made of crystal and very smooth, and once again she was thankful for the rubber tread on the bottom of her boots. She pressed on. A few minutes of climbing later, she had reached the top of the staircase, which emerged into the base of a large, open room that Sunset assumed was the tower Starlight had mentioned. It looked to have been being used as a study of some sort, with a desk in the middle of the room covered in wilting paper. A few bookshelves lined the walls, as well as storage shelves filled with all sorts of things, but it was the window which immediately drew Sunset’s eye. Namely, because the window had been removed. Bits of broken glass crunched under Sunset’s boots as she approached the gaping hole in the castle’s exterior. A few jagged pieces of glass remained around the edges of the frame; shards of red and blue and green. It had been a stained glass window, then. And perfectly framed within it was the shadow of the Canterhorn, just barely an ink smudge against the thick clouds of dust. Pointed directly at it was a brass telescope of substantial size, mounted on a metal tripod. Sunset placed her hands on the windowsill and stuck her head out, being careful not to cut herself on the glass. Looking down, she could see what had broken the window: the desk’s chair, now lying among a collection of glittering shards on the roof below. She pulled her head back in and turned around. Kneeling down, she brushed a layer of dust off the telescope’s lens and took a peek. She couldn’t see much. Bringing her head away, she instead looked down the telescope’s body, tracing its trajectory. It was pointed right at the shadow of Canterlot City, jutting off the side of the mountain. Sunset frowned. What could that mean? “Hey, guys,” she said. “I’ve got something weird, here.” She pulled the camera from its case and took a quick picture, just in case. “Yes? What is it, Sunset?” “It looks like someone smashed a window in the tower,” she said. “There’s a telescope here, too.” “What’s it looking at?” “Canterlot.” “Canterlot?” It was Starlight speaking, now. “Why Canterlot?” “Beats me.” Sunset bit the inside of her lip. “You didn’t see who was using this telescope, did you Starlight?” “Probably Twilight,” Starlight replied. “She was teleporting all over the place. I think I might have seen her carrying a telescope? I wasn’t paying very close attention to it, what with the evacuation and everything.” “So if you’re right, she would have been using the telescope during the evacuation?” “If I’m right, then yeah.” Sunset looked down at the telescope. “What were you looking at, Twilight?” she murmured to herself. No answer came. Dear Princess Twilight, I explored more of your castle today. I saw the telescope in the high tower. What was that for? Were you watching something? I guess I’ll have to figure that one out myself, huh?   We’re all worried about you and Spike. Please, answer this when you can. Your friend, Sunset Shimmer Sunset set her pen down on the desk and waited. Nothing. She sighed, snapped the journal closed, and set it aside.  Twilight pushed her bedroom door closed. She moved to turn away from the door, hesitated, then brought her fingers down to the handle and locked it. Just in case. She set her bag down in its spot beside the aquarium and pulled out a stack of papers, her laptop… and the thaumometer. She carried them over to her desk and set them down. She glanced over at Spike’s bed. Empty. She wandered over to the window, peered out at the backyard. There he was, running around without a care in the world. Twilight smiled, then drew the blinds. She went back to the desk and sat down, plugging the thaumometer into the outlet behind it. It hummed to life as she booted up the laptop. Despite knowing full well she was the only one in the room, she glanced both ways before turning to the set of drawers attached to the desk. She laid her hand on the third drawer down, took a deep breath, then pulled it open. It contained…mostly junk, a bunch of stray circuit boards and components taken from a dozen odd devices she’d disassembled, all piled on top of a stack of old homework. Twilight wasn’t there for any of it. She was there for what was under it. Carefully, she lifted the stack of papers. Underneath, pressed flat against the wood of the drawer, was a black disk, no bigger than a dollar coin. It flashed when she picked it up, a pulsing star-shaped pattern emerging on its surface. Her fingers tingled where they made contact. It had been a simple piece of circuitry, once. Now, it was something different entirely. She set it down on top of the thaumometer, right in the middle of the antenna. The pattern on its front continued to pulse and twist. Wrenching her eyes away from it, she turned to her computer. The keys clacked as she worked, inputting commands one after the other. Initialize thaumometer. Run diagnostics. After a moment, they came up clean. Run scan. The thaumometer hummed. She glanced over. The star seemed to be pulsating faster, as if it knew it was being observed.  She swallowed. The probability of that was higher than she’d have liked to admit. After a few moments, the scan finished. She pulled up the graph, compared it to the ones produced by earlier scans, scrutinized it as much as she could for any variation. She leaned back in her chair and tilted her head up to the ceiling, closing her eyes. There was no difference. The thaumometer was working just as well as it ever had. She exhaled. So much for that.  Her hand went for her phone, intent on texting Sunset the results—but paused. Her eyes ran over to the disk. Quickly as she could, she picked it up and dropped it back under the papers, slamming the drawer shut. She could never tell anyone she had this. Especially not Sunset. After all, how could they ever trust her again if they found out she’d kept a piece of Midnight Sparkle?