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// A Rest at the Castle 
// Story: Her Eyes Reflect The Stars 
// by Lynwood 
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When Twilight Sparkle's eyes opened, the first thing she felt was a soft, warm acceptance.

It was the first time in the last month that she'd done so. It felt strange to wake up without the fading tatters of a nightmare or the dawning pressure of the upcoming deadline. The world had been accepted. The work was done. There was nothing left for her to do― nothing that would change things, anyway.

And now, the twenty-fifth day. Her time was at an end.

She stretched in the massive yet aging king-sized bed, careful not to disturb Pen (a not inconsiderable task), and sidled out from under the covers, stretching to her full royal height. As she trotted down the stairs, she marveled at how well the apartment had been restored; really, its only difference from a pre-Event one was the darkened electric ceiling lights. 

Breakfast was a quick affair. She'd just scooped the last bite of cereal into her mouth when Feather Pen clomped down the stairs.

"Mmh―" he groaned, "you got up early."

Twilight smiled. "I felt ready for the day."

Feather frowned. "I don't."

It would be a gross understatement to call what Feather Pen had done for Twilight 'assistance'. He'd been there for her when she finally understood what was happening. He'd given her a place to stay. He'd been the one to get her a Journal and he'd helped her pore through the reams of notes it had accumulated. He'd even had the idea to use the Mare's own horrid crystals against her. Twilight was forever in his debt.

It killed her to think that next time she woke up, she'd have no idea who he was.

Feather was silent as he helped her gather her things. It wasn't much― just personal mementos and the Journal. She took a moment to admire the book's spell. Its complications and extensive jumble of modifications made her want to spend months just studying it, and she wished she'd been the one to think it up in the first place. Well, it had been her, technically, and improved on by herselves and other Rarities, but she didn't remember it, so it just wasn't the same.

"Here," Feather Pen said, yanking her from her reverie. He'd packed her saddlebags for her. Twilight smiled a gentle thanks as she took them from his aura and levitated them up to her back.

When she tried to speak, Feather hushed her. "No," he said, "I can't do the good-bye." Twilight lowered her head down for one last kiss, and then... there was nothing left to do. 

She left the apartment with tears in her eyes.

As she flew over what had once been Equestria, Twilight took note of the grasses slowly claiming the endless fields of ash. Her heart warmed at the idea of a healed land, sometime maybe not so far away. Perhaps next time she woke up, the grass would be green and sweet and the Children would be nothing more than part of a dark chapter in a history book.

The evening sun began to dip past the horizon as Twilight landed on the upper balcony of the Castle of Friendship. She strode into a dusty room, set her bags in a pile among dozens of others, and wrote her last entry in the Journal― the one about Feather Pen.

"There," she said, "now I'll always remember you."

Overwhelming tiredness filled her as the sun slipped away and she sank to the floor, ready to rest.