A Gift of Magic
Sunset kept one hand in her pocket, fingertips tapping the phial that she had concealed there, as she knocked on the door to Team RSPT’s dorm room.
There was a pause, before the door was opened by Rainbow Dash.
Sunset’s mouth opened to speak – to ask if Twilight was there, or if not, then where she was – but the words did not emerge. She was, she confessed, taken aback by the look of fury on Rainbow’s face, the way that her mouth was twisted with anger, the way her teeth were bared, the way her magenta eyes burned like boiling blood. It was not an expression that Sunset saw often and not one she really wished to see directed at her.
Certainly not when she couldn’t think why Rainbow would look this way.
She found herself fighting the urge to take a step backwards. “Uh, hey there, Rainbow Dash,” she said, trying to inject some lightness into her voice. “Is Twilight around?”
Rainbow Dash didn’t reply, although the snarl on her face became even more pronounced.
Sunset produced her hand from her pocket and held up both her hands a little. “Okay, why do you look as though you want to kill me?”
Rainbow stepped back, gesturing with one hand, much as she would have gestured with a gun to move a prisoner along.
Sunset was not altogether sure that going in there was wise, in much the same way that a sensible fly might question the wisdom of getting too close to a spider’s web, but… well, it was Rainbow Dash; she wasn’t actually going to murder her, even if she looked as though she might want to.
Plus, Sunset could fight her off if it came to it.
And in any case, if she was going through something serious, it was better for Sunset to find out about it now rather than when the mission was underway tomorrow.
And so, she stepped inside, tail curling up around her legs, and tried not to flinch at how heavily Rainbow slammed the door behind her.
The room was empty. “I see Twilight isn’t here, then,” Sunset murmured, as much to herself as to Rainbow. She kept her hands up as she turned around to face Rainbow Dash once again. “You want to tell me what this is about?”
Rainbow glared at her for a moment, her chest rising and falling, before she managed to growl out the words, “Cinder’s got Fluttershy, and Applejack.”
Sunset stared right back at Rainbow for a moment. “Are you… what do you mean she’s got Fluttershy and Applejack?”
“What the hell do you think I mean?!” Rainbow yelled. “She’s got ‘em! She found them, and she took them, and she’s got them trapped in Mountain Glenn with her!”
Sunset’s mouth hung open, forming an O. Her ears drooped down onto the top of her head. Cinder… it must have been an accident. No, not an accident, that wasn’t the right word, a fluke. It must have been a fluke for her to have stumbled across them, out in the wild lands between Vale and Mountain Glenn. A wicked coincidence. A terrible misfortune. Plain rotten luck. “How… how do you know?”
“She called,” Rainbow snarled. “Cinder called to let us know. She wanted to make sure that we were coming to Mountain Glenn.”
Sunset winced. “I…” She trailed off. She would have liked to say that she hadn’t thought Cinder capable of such a thing, but… that wasn’t really true, not after last night. It would have surprised Sunset to learn it, not too long ago: to learn that Cinder was capable of kidnapping the friends of her enemies and holding them hostage. Not too long ago she would have recoiled from admitting that Cinder could do such a thing. If Jaune had suggested it…
But now that Sunset had seen inside of Cinder’s soul, now that she knew that Cinder had set fire to her stepmother’s house with her stepmother and stepsister inside, now that she knew who Cinder served… it was no longer as surprising as she would have liked it to be.
Equestrian literature had very little concept of the noble adversary; in the Equestrian storytelling tradition, if an enemy had redeeming features, then they were not likely to remain an enemy very long. Those who were flawed or misguided but basically good were redeemed by the friendship of some pure-hearted hero, while those who remained enemies were black-hearted rogues without a single virtue amongst them. Sunset had found it both comforting – no matter how bad you became, so long as you weren’t a literal monster, then you could become a hero – and alienating – if you weren’t a hero, then by the same token you had, almost by default, to be a monster – by turns.
The idea of an enemy who remained your enemy and yet possessed much in them that was admirable and good, that was something that Sunset had only really discovered when she came to Remnant. In particular, it existed in the Mistralian epic tradition, the generous princely foeman exemplified by Sakura of Kuchinashi, who had released all of her captives without a ransom.
She had hoped – a fool’s hope, perhaps, but nevertheless – that Cinder, born of Mistral, aware of its traditions if not steeped in them, might live up to that particular ideal. Sunset had hoped that the chip on Cinder’s shoulder with regard to the Mistralian high society and the arrogance of their elite might drive her to show that she could demonstrate their virtues as well as any of them.
She had hoped that, despite the fact that she was serving a monster out to kill everyone, Cinder might rise above the unfortunate circumstances of their opposition and be someone whom Sunset could, if not call friend, then at least be glad to face across these shadowy battle lines.
Someone whom Sunset could then work to redeem, as heroes so often did in the Equestrian tradition when their enemies were capable of being redeemed.
But now… Sunset mentally confessed herself to be disappointed. It was one thing to know that Cinder had done terrible things, but when Cinder’s own emotions filled her, those things had seemed quite justified, and in any case, they had been done some time ago to people Sunset didn’t know except through Cinder’s highly charged memories. It was another thing to do terrible things now, and to people Sunset knew, if only slightly.
To people that her friends knew a great deal more than slightly.
Sunset’s tail drooped to the floor as she was filled with a great hollow sadness. Why, Cinder? Why are you doing this? I already told you I’d come to Mountain Glenn; was that not enough?
“Rainbow,” Sunset said. “I… I’m sorry.”
Rainbow Dash stared at her. “You… you’re sorry!?” she yelled, drawing back her fist.
Sunset didn’t have time to react before the blow caught her on the jaw, sending her spinning round and crashing into the far wall. As her cheek throbbed in pain, despite the dulling effect of her somewhat dented aura, Sunset told herself that she wouldn’t have done anything even if she had been able to react.
She stood where she was, hands pressed against the wall, leaning against it by one shoulder, taking a breath or two. Slowly, she straightened up and faced Rainbow Dash once again. “Did that make you feel better?”
“No,” Rainbow grunted.
Sunset nodded. “We can keep going, if it will help.” Her aura could take a few more hits, even from Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow glared at her, and for a moment, Sunset expected to be rebuked for daring to pity Dash, but then Rainbow took a step forward, fist cocked back to swing at her again.
Except this second punch didn’t land. As she advanced, Rainbow’s legs gave way beneath her, arms flailing a little so that she didn’t hit Sunset, but rather collapsed into Sunset’s arms as Sunset stepped forward to catch her. Her hands closed around Rainbow’s arms just below the shoulders, and she pulled the Ace of Canterlot forward so that her head was pressed against Sunset’s chest, her cheek against Sunset’s purple top, her hair tickling Sunset’s chin as Sunset adjusted her grip to embrace her.
“I really am sorry,” she murmured, her arms enveloping her fellow leader.
Rainbow’s body shuddered in Sunset’s embrace, wracked by what might have been a sob. “I should have-”
“What?” Sunset demanded. “Teleported? I can’t get that far in a single move; you sure as anything can’t.”
“I should have stopped her!” Rainbow insisted, looking up into Sunset’s eyes. Her own magenta eyes were filled with tears. “Up in the tower, if I’d been able to beat her, if I’d been stronger-”
“Then all our problems would be over, sure,” Sunset conceded, albeit in a tone that was hardly conciliatory. “You could say the same about me, if I’d been able to beat her down on the ground, if I hadn’t been distracted by my semblance, then this wouldn’t be happening right now. But you saved Twilight. You probably saved the CCT. You didn’t fail last night; none of us did.”
“That doesn’t exactly help Applejack or Fluttershy, does it?” Rainbow muttered.
“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Sunset replied as she sat Rainbow down on the nearest bed. “But we’re going to get them back. You and me.”
Rainbow frowned. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because it’s you and me!” Sunset exclaimed. “The Ace of Canterlot and a girl so amazing that no mere nickname can encompass the magnitude of my awesomeness.” She grinned. “We have done incredible things, you and I. We have put Adam Taurus, the Sword of the Faunus, to flight in terror of our strength; we have captured Roman Torchwick; you did what no other pilot would dare to do and flew through a whole flock of nevermores to rescue the rest of us.”
“Our teams were with us all those times,” Rainbow pointed out.
“And they’ll be with us again tomorrow!” Sunset declared. “Pyrrha Nikos, Blake Belladonna, how can we despair when such great names as these stand alongside us? Yes, Cinder is strong and cunning, and ruthless besides. Yes, she has escaped us both, bested us even, but we did not fight alongside all our teams then. We did not fight her with our full power. With the likes of our teammates fighting by our sides, have we not cause for hope? Have we not reason to be confident of success when we look at the things we have already done, the things that our teammates have done, the enemies that we have already encountered? We have a sound plan, although I suppose it will need a little alteration, now that we are on a rescue mission.
“When I said that I wasn’t going to let anyone die on this mission, I meant it,” Sunset added. “And that goes for your friends too.” She paused. “Listen, I… I know that my relationship with Cinder makes me suspicious in your eyes, but I promise you that I will not, will never, put her ahead of their lives.”
Rainbow was silent for a moment. “No?”
Sunset shook her head. “No.”
“You never liked Applejack or Fluttershy,” Rainbow pointed out.
“I didn’t dislike them, except as much as I disliked everyone,” Sunset replied. “But that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter what I think about either of them.”
“If that’s not the point, then what is?”
“I know what it’s like to be completely defined by the handful of people who have your heart,” Sunset said softly. “I know what it’s like for them to be your world, emotionally speaking anyway. I get it, and I don’t need to feel the same way about the same people to… to understand. I’m going to help you. Everyone is going to help you. But we need you to be at your best for this. Fluttershy and Applejack need you at your best.” Sunset paused for a moment. “So are we going to get it?”
Rainbow did not respond straight away. She looked down at her knees before she looked back up at Sunset. But the anger, at least, was gone from her eyes as she looked at Sunset, and it stayed gone as she stood up, for all that her fists were clenched. She was not snarling now; rather, her jaw was set firmly, and her eyes were as hard as rubies.
“Yeah,” she said, in a hoarse voice, “yeah, you’ve got it.” She fell silent. “If I get the chance, I’m going to kill her. You know that, right?”
Sunset said nothing. She couldn’t say what she was thinking, which was that she didn’t want Cinder to die. She really did not wish it. She could come up with reasons for why it should not be so – this wasn’t how they dealt with their enemies in Equestria; Princess Celestia and Equestrian Twilight had encouraged her to try and help – but the fact of the matter was that she just didn’t want Cinder to die.
For all her faults, a world without Cinder in it would be a poorer place.
And yet Sunset could not save her, not now, not after what she had done.
At present, with things being how they stood, she could not even suggest it.
All she could say was, “I understand.” Hopefully, Rainbow wouldn’t demand anything stronger from her.
Rainbow nodded. “I get it too,” she muttered. “But she’s dangerous. You see that, right?”
I do. Maybe I always did, even if I pretended not to. Sunset nodded once again, without speaking.
“Twilight?” she asked softly.
“Right, Twilight, yeah,” Rainbow muttered. “She’s down in one of the workshops, doing… something.”
“Does she know about…?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow said at once. “That’s why she’s down in the workshops.”
Beacon had several workshops, mainly for weapons’ maintenance and upgrades, but large enough and well-equipped enough to accommodate larger tasks.
As Sunset found, when she walked into Workshop B to find Twilight with an AK-200 battle droid laid out on the long workbench.
Twilight had removed one of its arms and was attaching in its place a black arm that Sunset vaguely recognised as belonging to the older generation of androids.
“Twilight,” Sunset murmured as she stood in the doorway, wondering if Twilight Sparkle was going to take a swing at her as well.
Twilight said nothing for a moment. She kept on with her work as though Sunset hadn’t spoken. When, at last, she spoke, the words that fell from her lips were nothing like Sunset had expected. “You know, I sometimes think that the AK-200 was a step back from the 130. Yes, the absence of an integrated weapons system gives greater versatility, but there’s something about onboard weapons, don’t you think? They can’t get lost or stolen or knocked out of the hand in the same way. Not least because they are the hand.”
“Twilight,” Sunset said.
“Plus there’s the fact that they were better armoured, too,” Twilight added.
“If they were all that, why were they replaced?” Sunset asked.
“The new models look sleeker,” Twilight replied, a dismissive note in her voice “They seem less threatening to civilians.”
“That’s not hard,” Sunset opined.
“And, of course, they’re more intelligent,” Twilight said. “Of course, that hardly matters.”
Sunset’s eyebrows rose, for all that Twilight couldn’t see it. “Intelligence doesn’t matter?”
“Intelligence doesn’t matter for this unit, because I’m going to remove his CPU and insert a drive containing Midnight,” Twilight explained.
Sunset took a step into the workshop. “Who’s Midnight?”
The flashing lights made Sunset aware of a little purple triangular tube sitting on the bench near the sleeping knight’s head. It said, in a voice that sounded like a mechanically-distorted version of Twilight’s voice. “Hello, Stirrer.”
Sunset blinked. “Stirrer?”
“Stirrer,” Midnight repeated. “One who stirs the pot, which is itself a colloquialism to refer to-”
“Midnight, that’s enough for now,” Twilight said quickly. She glanced over her shoulder at Sunset. “Midnight is my VI; she resides in my armour and provides me with tactical support. She’s based on my brain patterns, combined with tactical analysis data from Atlesian historical records… but she seems to have developed a bit of her own personality.”
“Or she’s your personality from when you didn’t like me,” Sunset observed. “I take it that ‘Stirrer’ is a reference to-”
“To the time you tried to convince Rainbow Dash that Twilight was a racist and break up her friends,” Midnight declared. “Very astute of you to make that obscure connection.”
“She’s more sarcastic than you are, as well,” Sunset muttered. “So, you’re going to put her into this knight?”
“Once I’ve made some additional physical upgrades to the body,” Twilight confirmed.
“Rainbow Dash needs a wingman,” Midnight said. “And I’ll have a gun-arm.”
Sunset pursed her lips together. “And this is because…”
Twilight hesitated. “You know?”
Sunset nodded. “Rainbow told me. She wasn’t taking it too well.” She stopped short of telling Twilight that she ought to be up there with Rainbow Dash instead of messing around down here. “What about you? How are you doing?”
“I’m keeping busy, as you can see,” Twilight said swiftly. “Trying to, at least.” She paused. “I can’t go to Mountain Glenn in person and rescue Fluttershy and Applejack, but I can build a way for Midnight to go in my stead. And I know what you’re going to say: Rainbow doesn’t need a robot to help her because she’s got Blake…” Twilight sighed. “Wonderful Blake.”
Sunset’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Is that… jealousy?”
“No!” Twilight said at once. “But maybe a little. I like Blake, don’t get me wrong, and I understand what Rainbow sees in her, but… come on, who wouldn’t be just a little jealous of Blake? She’s… she’s everything. Smart, strong, well-read-”
“Dense as a brick?” Sunset suggested. “I like Blake too, but let’s not put her on a pedestal. Yes, she’s a great huntress, and I’m glad she’s going to be with us in Mountain Glenn, but I’d say the same about Pyrrha, and I wouldn’t call her perfect either.” She paused. “We’re going to get them back.”
Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose. “I know.”
“You don’t sound it,” Sunset pointed out. “You and Rainbow… do I need to give an inspiring speech to you as well?”
“No,” Twilight informed her. “After all, I won’t be going into battle with you.”
“Maybe I can give the speech to Midnight.”
“Please don’t,” Midnight said.
Sunset sniffed. “Okay then,” she muttered. She paused. “I… I’m sorry, about your friends. It’s rotten luck.”
“Tell me about it,” Twilight said. “Fluttershy, it’s… she was exploring the wildlife of Vale! Can you believe that?” She turned around, leaning on the workbench. “She just wanted to see all the living creatures-”
“'Wants.'”
“Pardon?”
“'Wants,' not 'wanted,'” Sunset said. “She’s still around, and she’s going to stay around for some time to come.”
“Right, right, 'wants,'” Twilight said. “Although I’m not sure that she’ll want anything but to get back to Atlas when you rescue her.”
“Right,” Sunset acknowledged. “Even so…”
“Even so, why did she have to get mixed up in this?”
“Why did either of them?”
“Applejack’s a huntress,” Twilight replied. “General Ironwood should have told her all about Salem instead of me.”
“Applejack hasn’t built a sassy computer version of her own mind,” Sunset pointed out.
“Your appreciation of my genius will not make me like you any more,” Midnight said.
“Yes, it would, except that I was appreciating Twilight’s genius, not yours,” Sunset told her. “As I suspect you knew already.”
Twilight didn’t respond to the banter. She reached up, as though she was about to run one hand through her purple hair, but pulled said hand back at the last moment. “What are you doing here, Sunset?” It was a question that was not asked as accusatively as it sounded; Twilight’s voice was soft and small, and Sunset had to strain all four ears to make it out. She sounded more tired than upset.
“Well,” Sunset answered, “I’m not sure how much it matters now, but…” She pulled the phial out of her pocket. It glowed with ethereal green light, pulsing with energy which swirled inside its sealed container. “Since… well, with everything going on, I wanted you to have this. I want to at least have the possibility of leaving a legacy if… well, not that anything will go wrong, but-”
“But Sunset Shimmer isn’t as confident as she makes out to be,” Twilight murmured.
“I will never admit to that,” Sunset said. “The point is that this is magic. A little of my magic, for you to study.”
Twilight’s eyes widened behind her spectacles as she stared at the phial and its contents. The magic within was neither liquid nor gas but behaved a little like both of them, moving with the patterns of liquid and the ease of gas. Slowly, gently, Twilight reached out and plucked the phial from Sunset’s unprotesting fingers.
“You… you were able to separate some of it out?”
“No, that’s all my magic; that’s how I do everything.”
“Really?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, how am I supposed to know? I’ve never seen anything like this before!” Twilight pointed.
“Fair point,” Sunset conceded, scratching the back of her head with one hand.
“I thought you weren’t sure that you could separate any of your magic out?”
“I wasn’t,” Sunset said. “But I tried anyway, and I succeeded.”
Twilight stared down at it, the phial in her hand with its contents of secrets. “You know,” she murmured. “It’s funny, if you’d given this to me just a little earlier, then I would have been jumping up and down in excitement at the very idea of it, but now… now there seem so many bigger things going on.”
“The fact that you have bigger things to worry about means that you need the small things all the more,” Sunset advised. “Trust me, if all you do is worry about the big things, they’ll drive you mad. Everyone needs a small thing.”
“Then what’s yours?” Twilight demanded.
“Ruby,” Sunset said smoothly. “She’s very small, as you may have noticed.”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have anything, do you?”
“I have paranoia about Professor Ozpin, does that count?”
“I don’t think it does.”
“Okay then, you’re right; I probably need a hobby,” Sunset admitted. “Or a relationship. But the point is that you have one already: magic, studying it, searching for it, all that kind of stuff. Don’t let it fall away. Not because it might turn out to be useful down the line, but because it’s yours, and so long as you hold onto it, then Salem and all the rest haven’t taken over your life. So hold onto that and study it when you get the chance.”
Twilight held the phial up to her eye. “Is it finite, or will it regenerate?”
“I’m not honestly sure,” Sunset admitted. “The closest parallel I can think of to this is magical artefacts, which do regenerate from the initial charge – for the most part. So… hopefully that will, but it isn’t actually an artefact, so I can’t be sure.”
Twilight chuckled. “So it might break Conservation of Energy into pieces, or it might not. You can’t be sure.”
“Doesn’t aura already break Conservation of Energy?” Sunset asked. “It comes back from who knows where?”
“That’s certainly an attitude that has existed to aura,” Twilight agreed. “That is unscientific and thus unknowable. But in recent years, especially in Atlas, there has started to be a backlash to that idea, and a number of scientists have attempted to ascertain where, in fact, the energy in aura comes from.”
“Have they got anywhere?”
“One interesting theory I read by Potion Nova states that the energy of aura in fact comes from the body,” Twilight explained. “That is, it's replenished by consuming calories the same way that we do when we run or jump. This is why, when our aura breaks, we suddenly become much slower and stiffer-”
“That’s because aura makes us stronger and faster.”
“Or do we only perceive that as being the case because the aura is consuming the energy that ought to go to the body itself?” Twilight asked. “It would explain why extreme cold drains aura in the same way that moving in the cold is harder than moving in moderate temperatures.”
“I guess,” Sunset murmured. “I have noticed that I feel tired when I use magic, so maybe that holds for that as well.”
“Then how does it regenerate when it's separated from your body?”
“You’re the one who wants to study it; you figure it out,” Sunset said. “And then let me know the answer; I’m curious.”
“We could study it together?” Twilight suggested. “It could be your little thing?”
“I’m not sure how it can be my little thing when you’ve got it in Atlas,” Sunset replied. “But… while you’re still at Beacon… sure, that might be fun.”
Twilight looked down at the magical phial. A smile pricked at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Sunset,” she said. “I… I needed this. Just not right now.”
Sunset chuckled, “No,” she agreed. “Not right now.”
Twilight spent the rest of the afternoon working on Midnight’s body, modifying the AK-200 base from something that was, to be blunt, disposable by design to something that could better withstand the rigours of combat. In addition to replacing one arm with the modular weapons system of an AK-130, she increased the armour on both arms and the chest with pieces of essentially scrap metal and added a couple of missile pods – liberated from a couple of dismantled drones – to the shoulders. She would have added a rotary cannon of some description, but she was almost getting perilously close to the point at which it wouldn’t be able to stand up, let alone move.
And all the while she worked, the phial of magic sat upon the workbench next to her.
When she inserted Midnight into the knight’s cranium, the magic phial was still upon the workbench next to her.
The faceplate of the knight – or MidKnight – glowed lavender. “Hello, Twilight.”
Twilight smiled down upon her. “Hey, Midnight; how do you feel?”
“I feel as though this architecture will take some getting used to,” Midnight replied. “So, this is my body?”
“Yep,” Twilight said. “That’s you.”
Midnight sat up, flexing both hands, wiggling her fingers experimentally. “Thank you, Twilight.” She paused. “But of course, you didn’t do it for me, did you?”
Twilight looked away, unable to dispute the charge.
“Don’t worry, Twilight,” Midnight reassured her. “We will get them back.”
Twilight sighed. “I hope so,” she murmured. “I really hope so. Is it okay if I turn you off now, until tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Midnight agreed readily. “Wake me when you need me.” She lay back down upon the workbench, and Twilight switched her off.
And then walked away, leaving the phial of magic on the workbench.
And if someone had lingered in the workshop, after Twilight Sparkle had departed, and if that someone had watched the phial without interference, they would have seen a tendril of glowing green magic escape its seal and containment and flit through the air like a wisp until it touched the fingertips of MidKnight.
The android’s faceplate flashed green for a moment, and then went dark again.
MidKnight slumbered still.
But now, she dreamed.