Dear Princess Twilight,
I know this letter will never reach you. Wherever you are now, I doubt even the flames of your ever-faithful dragon can reach you. But the letters you wrote and received form the backbone of my dad’s research. It is because of them that we still remember names like Applejack, Trixie Lulamoon, Luster Dawn, and so many other ponies who did so much for the world. Given all you did, not just in the Twilit Era but in preserving that work so it could inspire us in the modern day, I just wanted to say this:
Thank you.
Thank you for the lessons you recorded. The wisdom of honesty, loyalty, generosity, and all the other virtues that guided you in your own time. I won’t lie, ponykind has had a rough time of it lately, but the future is finally starting to look bright now that we’ve reunited. Thank you especially for the importance of offering one’s enemies a chance to learn from their mistakes. A childhood friend of mine, Sprout Cloverleaf…
Well, that’s a long story in its own right, and one that’s not all mine to tell. But like Starlight Glimmer, he found himself in a bad situation and, thinking he was doing the right thing, nearly doomed us all. Part of me wanted to strike back, especially after I had just restored magic. But I remembered your writings in the Journal of Friendship. I knew what I had to do. And I’m glad I did it. If it weren’t for Sprout…
No, no, that’s definitely another story. One that should published, copied, and saved to the cloud just to be safe. Not written on a sheet of paper I’m just going to burn up. I know my friends all think its silly. (Well, except Izzy. I’ve already had to convince her not to send all her mail that way.) And I know it is, expecting a mundane candle to somehow send something to a mare from the history books.
But I’m doing it anyway. You deserve your share of the credit, after all. Without you, Dad would’ve been just as afraid of the other tribes as the rest of Maretime Bay. So would I. None of this would have happened without you, Princess. So thanks for everything. Wherever you are, I hope you’re with your friends. And I hope Dad’s with you. He probably hasn't stopped talking your ear off since he arrived.
Let him know I love him, and that I'm just as grateful to him as well.
Your student disciple fellow alicorn???
Your friend,
Sunny Starscout
Predictions and Prophecies listed in Twilight’s magical grip as her mind whirled with the implications of what she’d just realized. The stellar alignment, the lunar banishment, the Elements of Harmony…
There was only one logical recourse.
“Take a note please,” she said to Spike. “To the Princess.”
“Okey-do— hckk!”
Twilight blinked, her train of thought briefly skipping on the tracks. “I… guess she already knows?” It wasn't surprising—Princess Celestia knew almost everything—but the timing was still quite the coincidence.
She expected the fiery belch. The smoke resolving itself into a folded sheet of paper rather than a scroll with the royal seal came as a surprise. “Weird,” Spike said as he unfolded it. “Think Mom wants us to do some shopping for the Celebration?”
“It’s… theoretically possible." Twilight swayed on her hooves and shook her head. Trying to shift gears from the fate of the world to minor errands was a bit much. Once she steadied herself, she realized the room was silent. "Spike? What's it say?”
He didn't answer at first, still staring at the letter in his claws.
"Spike?"
He turned, still wide-eyed and looking at her like he'd never seen her before. “I, uh, princess, you—”
“Right, we still need to get that letter to the princess, posthaste!" Twilight shut her eyes, composing the letter in her mind. “‘My dearest teacher—‘”
“Hold on, Twilight. I think we have a… Contingency Thirty-Two?”
She blinked, old memories coming to the fore. She'd spent many an evening running through the many improbable but not technically impossible disasters that might befall Equestria. The return of Nightmare Moon, for example, was a Contingency Nineteen. “We’re being invaded by hyperevolved apes from another dimension?”
“Oh," said Spike. He double-checked the letter. "Thirty-Three, then.”
Twilight sat down. This was getting to be a bit much. “How many years in the future?”
“She didn’t say. But, uh, she called you—”
Twilight held up a forehoof, rubbing her temples with the other. “Spike, please, one world-ending disaster at a time. We can worry about the potentially catastrophic foreknowledge after we warn Celestia about Nightmare Moon’s return. Deal?”
He nodded as he fetched a quill and parchment. “Yes, Your Highness.”
That got a snicker. Exactly what Twilight needed to lighten her mood. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. Now: ‘My dearest teacher…’”