Twilight Sparkle sure could be one stubborn little pony, especially considering she had been the one who’d taught Applejack the value of accepting a helping hoof. She wouldn’t lie; seeing Twilight teleport off like that, where none of her friends could follow, had left her a mite annoyed. More than that, though, it had her worried for the mare. It only got worse when she came back all clammed up and barely picking at the hearty broth the deer had offered them, without a word to anypony about what she’d learned.
They did at least get the gal to tell them about the dark magic consuming Equestria, and what exactly they were supposed to be doing on this huge quest the Princess had given them, but given the way Twilight’s eyes darted, the flare to her nostrils, the shiver just barely suppressed at the crest of her mane… she wasn’t lying, and she had no reason to, but there was something else she wasn’t sharing with the group. Something that was eating at her like flies to a cow’s pelt.
Not even Fluttershy could get Twilight talking again once she started meditating for the night, but Applejack was hoping that at the very least Twi would get some quality rest once they’d all settled down for the night. Stars knew the girl needed it. But not only a few minutes into Rainbow Dash’s snoring (after Pinkie Pie had wished goodnight to everypony and everydragon, of course), and Applejack found herself roused by the squeak of floorboards and the gentle clop of hooves. The noise from the other girls she could tolerate - the Cutie Mark Crusaders often had sleepovers down on the farm, after all, so she was accustomed to noise and general tomfoolery - but the continuous pacing Twilight was doing reminded her just a little bit too much of a filly Apple Bloom, nervously prancing outside her door after a nightmare while she milled over whether to wake her or not.
So, with a sigh, Applejack rolled off the plush bed (it was a bit too soft for her tastes, anyhow), and plopped her hat onto her mane. She quietly trotted into the other room, the one with the fireplace still crackling dutifully away to fight the chill.
Twilight was standing near one of the closest windows, her front hooves resting up on its sill as she watched the deer outside mill about. The light from the sun and moon washed over her face, and the wind billowed in the faint bleats of the folk going about their day. Er, night?
Twilight didn’t seem to notice her presence, even when Applejack cleared her throat, and just kept on staring out that square cut into the brick with a wide-eyed frown wormed up on her worry-gaunt face. So Applejack, with a hum, turned and clutched the fire poker in her teeth; she stirred at the wood in a flush of sweet ash and hot air, and smiled behind the grip of the metal as smoke billowed softly up the chimney in fluffy puffs. Then she spat out the poker, flopped to her side on a cushion in range of the fire’s sweet warmth, and cleared her throat again.
“Strange, ain’t it?”
Twilight startled, and jumped up so darn high that Applejack reckoned she might have beaten some sort of flight record. She whipped around as if she’d been burnt, then plastered a quick, wobbling grin on her muzzle as she saw AJ lounging there.
“Oh!” she started. “Applejack. Sorry, I didn’t wake you getting up, did I?”
Applejack stared into the swimming flames, shifted around on the woven cushion as she hummed, “Nah, it’s just a bit strange, is all,” - a bit of a lie, but a little white one born from concern - “sleeping when it’s daylight and the moon’s still shining along with it.”
Twilight’s smile shifted then, curved up into something wry. “Well, that is still the case some early mornings. The Princess’ schedules don’t always match up.”
Applejack gave her a little chuckle at that. “I reckon that’s true. Still, you know what I mean.”
With a sigh, Twilight turned back to the window. As she did, she pursed her lips and flicked at her tail like an ornery mule, and those little chicken wings now grazing her back fluttered out and frizzed as if irritated. “Yeah. I do. And the strangest thing is, the deer here go about their lives as if this sort of phenomenon is normal to their daily life. You know, I mentioned something about it to the elders, and one of them looked at me like I was a crazy pony.”
Applejack let out a snort. Huh. Now that was odd. Even if they were far from Equestria, Celestia and Luna led the heavenly bodies on a set cycle each and every day, and there shouldn’t be a place where both of them should be visible at the same time. And even if that was the case in some remote part of the globe, the moon was cracked and the sun was flickering like a candle; something like that happening in Ponyville would send the flower mares into a frenzy, thinking some sort of apocalypse was befalling them and their gardens. Yet these deerfolk, for all their snorting and lack of general hospitality, weren’t worried in the slightest. If something like this was normal for these folks, what exactly could that mean? Applejack could picture a hoof-full of possibilities as to what was going on with the whole sky situation, all of which were confusing and more than a little world-altering. Some of them – her mind flashed with the thought of broken alicorn horns – were downright upsetting.
Still, Applejack offered her friend a warm smile. “Aw shoot, Twi, we’ll figure this out,” she murmured to her, as the unicorn’s - no, alicorn’s - frown wrinkled even further and her eyes squinted, beaded with sparkles, “Why don’t y’all come on over here and talk it through with me?”
Twilight turned to her then, fully, with her eyes downcast and her bottom lip being chewed all to oblivion. She hesitated for a moment, gaped her mouth open as her mane and frizzy tail stirred in the cool wind billowing from the window. She clopped at her back hooves in a nervous little shimmy - then the dam burst.
“That’s just it, Applejack; there’s nothing to talk over!” she wailed; before she’d been whispering, mindful of her friends sleeping in the other room, but now she ranted, clapped a hoof loudly to the windowsill. “Celestia barely warned me at all as to what was going to happen, and even the Library she gave me keeps giving me more questions than answers. Every time I think I’ve figured something out, there’s always something even worse waiting for me on the other side. While we’re here sleeping, there’s some awful darkness spreading all over Equestria! The spell went wrong as well, and I’m not even sure exactly how, or what that entails. Celestia entrusted me–”
She choked in a feeble gasp, then turned her eyes to her slightly longer horn, to the little wings flapping wildly on her back. She lifted a hoof to brush daintily at the tiny feathers, sparkling in the dusky sun and moonlight filtering in from above. Then, her jaw hanging open, she looked at Applejack, deep and cold and hungry into her eyes; Applejack could tell, from experience, that something difficult and painful was clenched between her teeth, just begging to be spat out, but fear danced in Twilight’s eyes too, raw and powerful.
With a sad smile, Applejack nodded at her. Twilight heaved out a sigh, and after a moment of breathing went on:
“The Princess entrusted me to save Equestria in her place. I… for all I know, Celestia is dead.”
She let the statement hang. It struck Applejack like buckshot, but she didn’t dare flinch, not when this mare was looking to her for strength. She only adjusted the hat on her head and nodded once more for her friend to continue.
“Now everything is on me, but I have no idea what I’m doing!” she whinnied. “I-It’s just so much pressure, and—”
The grip on her wings grew tight, until her hoof strangled the tiny appendages in a snake’s grip. Twilight’s voice was breathy now, panicked; Applejack hadn’t heard her this torn up since the disaster with Mac’s Smartpants doll, and, well… Applejack wasn’t prepared to see this situation go down the way that one did, not with all of Equestria at stake. Not to mention how painful it was to see her friend, her family, so distraught.
With a breath to ground herself, Applejack stood. After she brushed herself off nice and proper, she trotted over, oh so gently moved Twi’s hooves away from her twitching wings, and then scooped the poor gal up into one of the tightest hugs she’d ever given.
“Come on now, Twi, there ain’t no reason to fret,” she said, smiling warmly into the plush of her crest, “Just a little more time in that Astral place you were talkin’ about and you’ll have all this figured out lickety split.”
Applejack felt the hot huff of breath, the snort of air at her neck as Twilight sniffled. “But what if I can’t?”
Applejack shook her head and dragged Twilight even closer in. “Then we’ll all be right here with you the whole way until you can, Sugarcube. Everything will turn out just fine. You’ll see.”
Then she just let Twilight breathe. She didn’t cry, though it was a close thing if the huffing breath and wet eyes grazing the hairs on her shoulders was any indication; she only stood there, cradled softly in Applejack’s hold, doing some breathing exercises she claimed were once taught to her by Princess Cadenza. After a few moments she finally stopped shivering like a newborn foal, and Applejack felt she was secure enough that she could step away. She patted Twi’s withers as she went.
Twilight smiled at her, something small and self-conscious. “Thanks, Applejack.”
AJ only shook her head. “No problem, Sugar. I know you’d do the same for me, if’n the tables were turned.”
It was about this time that Pinkie Pie, having been hiding around the corner for the past few minutes, finally poked her head around the corner with a tiny smile. Sensing how fragile Twilight was, she didn’t bounce her way in or barrel her friend bodily onto the floor. Instead, she gave Twilight a little grin, then stood on her back hooves to wave her forelegs around in front of her.
“Um, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really, but–” she gave them another wiggle, “Is somepony giving hugs in here?”
Twilight giggled, brushing at her damp eyes with a swipe of her wing. She opened her forelegs up as well and—
And then it was a really sweet, really tight group hug. Applejack couldn’t say she minded all too much, since it got Twilight to smile like that.
Twilight groaned as Celstia’s sun pierced her eyes. She swiped a clumsy hoof over her muzzle, and she sighed as it blocked the light and cast her world once again into darkness. She shimmied down into the soft bed below her, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to sleep for five more minutes. She still felt awful; her mind was swimming with sleep, but it was safe to assume she’d stayed up late into the night studying that spell Celestia had sent her, desperately tried a million more things to finish it properly. Which was her own fault, but surely her friends wouldn’t mind–
Wait. She sniffed, and the delectable warm smell of some sort of pastry hit her nose. It was different than anything Spike normally cooked her in the mornings – was he trying a new recipe? Would he mind if she was a little late to taste-test it? And wait– speaking of late, she couldn’t remember; did she have anything on her schedule this morning? Wasn’t she supposed to go to Sweet Apple Acres and help with the harvest? With a whinny and a sleepy snort, Twilight shot from her covers like a mare possessed: she was going to be tardy to an appointment she made with a friend!
The blanket, too small, caught up in her hooves and strangled her limbs. She squeal-mumbled through her closed mouth as she desperately tried to blink – why in Equestria was it so small? Had she grabbed Spike’s blanket by accident? And her bed seemed so much softer than normal; she hadn’t done anything so why…
… why was somepony giggling at her?
“Wow, Twilight,” somepony laughed, “and I thought my sleep flying was bad. That was just ridiculous.”
“Hawuuh?” Twilight asked, gracefully.
After a moment of blinking and rubbing sleepily at her eyes, the scene around her began to come into focus. Rainbow Dash, a hoof over her giggling mouth, flapped idly in front of her. Beyond her, farther into the room – because they were in a room, a wide one with large windows pouring in chilly air that had her clutching at the woven throw blanket in her lap – her friends milled about the wooden floorboards, their bodies casting wavering, flickering shadows to the white walls decorated with twinkling crystals. Twilight was swallowed up in a heavenly, toasty warmth; when she rolled back over what she realized was a small cushion stuffed below her front hooves, the amber light of a fire crackled a sweet heat over her face.
Oh. Right. She wasn’t home at all. They were all…
Twilight couldn’t help but deflate. It had only been a moment, but for a minute of sleepy confusion she had really, truly believed everything that had happened was actually just some horrible nightmare. That she hadn’t mixed up her friends' destinies and then sent them all into an unknown land. But now she was awake in Hartton, and – Twilight sighed – her wings cramped from where she’d smashed them in her sleep.
“Morning, Twi,” she heard, and she rolled back up in a snap to see Spike standing in front of her now too. He had a crystal in one hand, with deep gouges in it from his sharp dragon teeth. “The deerfolk brought us some food a little while ago, but we didn’t think we should wake you up yet. I hope that’s okay.”
“Yes, darling,” Rarity added, stepping forward with a wooden platter floating in her sapphire magic. “You seemed so exhausted that I simply had to insist that we allow you to rest.”
Twilight brought a hoof to her temple with a yawn. As Rarity floated the plate down to Twilight’s muzzle, she saw it was decorated with a crusty, powdered scone oozing sweet berry juices from a split in its side. Twilight’s stomach rumbled, so with a sigh she tugged it from Rarity’s magic with a bolt of her own, then managed a smile at the other unicorn.
“No, it’s okay. Thank you, Rarity.”
She took an idle bite to appease her and– Oh sweet Celestia that was good! She’d barely eaten any of the stew the deer had given them yesterday, and even what she did had only tasted like dust and ash in her mouth, soured from distraction and stress. She wasn’t exactly feeling peachy this morning (afternoon? evening?), but her talk with Applejack had made her feel a bit better, and frankly, nopony could be grumpy with one of these scones in their mouth. There was a reason that Pinkie Pie, Element of Laughter and party planner extraordinaire, worked at a bakery and always tried to keep some cake on hoof.
Twilight was pulled from her confection-related thoughts with a knock to the cabin’s front door.
Before anypony (or anydragon for that matter) could trot over to open it, it spilled open with a squeal of its old hinges. Hazel stood there, flanked by other deer and those great towering bucks she had as guards. A huge grin was worming up on her face even though it was obvious she was trying to tamp it down, and she shimmied on her petite hooves. A collection of cloth bags slung over her withers slapped at her sides as she bounced, and their buckles clanked together as she wiggled her forelegs with jittery excitement.
Gladiolus was notably absent, which was odd. Even though she’d been awfully distracted lately, even Twilight had noticed that those two were practically glued together at the hip.
Still, she didn’t have much time to ponder that, because Hazel practically jumped into the room with a bleat.
“I come bearing gifts!” she sing-songed, wiggling the packs in their direction. As the other does filed in behind her, Twilight noticed that they, too, carried either small bags or woven packs, stuffed to the brim and nearly popping at the seams with miscellaneous supplies.
Immediately Rarity jumped to her hooves with a breathy, squealing whinny. She shot over to Hazel’ side and pressed her hoof to the pack over her shoulder, gently brushed it against the woven patterns and soft fabric. “Why, Hazel, they’re absolutely lovely. Applejack!”
She snapped, and whirled around to her earth pony friend. Applejack, who had been leaning calmly on the wall at the side of the room, nearly collapsed to the ground as her forelegs buckled in surprise. She dropped the twig of straw she’d been chewing on, and with a blush and a grumble, turned to Rarity in shock. She opened her mouth, most likely to ask what in tarnation was wrong, but before she could–
With the twinkle of levitation and the pop of Rarity’s signature teleportation of fabric, Applejack was pushing back against the weight of a beautiful green travel bag on her withers.
“This one goes just lovely with your eyes, darling,” Rarity cooed. “Oh, and Pinkie Pie, this yellow and blue patterned bag simply has to go to you.”
Pinkie Pie jumped up into the fabric teleportation with a giggle of joy– then fell like a stone as the weight of it hit her back. She adjusted soon enough, being used to carrying around piles of party supplies wherever she went, but as Rarity levitated another saddlepack towards Twilight, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow towards Hazel.
“Hold on,” she insisted, pushing back against Rarity’s levitation with a flick of her horn, “Of course we’re thankful for all of this, Princess, but are you sure this isn’t too much?”
Rarity curled back at the touch of Twilight’ magic– then, with a small whinny, seemed to realize just how much she was lugging around in her own magic. She gave a small gasp, and spun on her hooves to face Hazel, meanwhile hefting another huge pack up and down as if feeling it for the first time.
“Yes, Princess, this is awfully generous of you and your people. You’re positive this is no imposition?”
At that– Hazel changed. For just one second, a blink, her huge grin soured into something small and sad – almost angry. Her neck snapped back along with her ears, and her teeth bared as if she were ready to shout… but then it melted away. The fawn sucked in a deep breath, and replaced the wobbling grimace on her face with a prim smile. She ducked to Rarity in a quick curtsy, her ears flapping, something more formal than Twilight had seen from her since they’d met with the elders
Twilight blinked at the rollercoaster of emotions. Did the Princess feel like Rarity had challenged her? Should she apologize on Rarity’s behalf?
But Princess Hazel just carried on, “Of course not, Miss Rarity. I would never give away something if my herd desperately needed it,” and there just might have been a bit of a tang at the end of that.
Rarity, blinking at her social faux pas, ducked even deeper still into a formal bow in return, then gave Hazel a flutter of her lashes, a dashing smile. “Yes, Princess, you would know best. And they are lovely.”
Hazel smiled at that, her pale peach face dying pink and her tail swishing in delight. “Aren’t they? Our craftsdeer are unmatched in their skill. And as for the amount I’m giving you…”
Hazel dipped down, opening the flap of one of the saddlepacks still sung around her neck with a crisp pop of the clasp. Inside a mountain of supplies threatened to spill out onto the floor; what looked to be jars full of the stew they’d eaten last night; similar jars stuffed to the brim with dried fruits and mushrooms; small canteens no doubt filled with water; and, most interestingly, a rolled piece of parchment, crinkled at the edges and browned with age.
“If you really have no idea where you’re going, I would hate for you to go hungry before your quest was over. How would you save Equestria then?” Then, seeing Twilight practically drooling over that tantalizing sheet of parchment and ink, “Unfortunately the map is only of the area around our village,” she bleated with an apologetic smile, unrolling the crispy paper with a flourish; indeed, it was one of the smallest maps Twilight had ever seen – and Twilight had seen maps in books made by the Breezies for Celestia’s sake! It was practically pitiful, and she had to bite her tongue to not say that outright. “But I thought it might at least help with navigating out of the swamps.”
“Swamps!” Rarity and Fluttershy cried at the same time. One of them was noticeably happier about it than the other.
“Yep,” Hazel chirped, “If you’re going to keep traveling in the same direction you came from, then I’m afraid there’s an area of bog surrounding our village on that side.”
As Rarity shot her a pleading look, Twilight pulled the tiny map from the bag levitating in her magic; as she skimmed the inked drawings of trees and worn paths, it was clear that to head South they would, in fact, have to wander through the peat bog. They could go around, but that would cost them precious time – Twilight had no idea how close or far they might be from the Frozen South, so they had to save every precious minute they could. She only hoped that this swamp, unlike Froggy Bottom Bogg, didn’t have hydras lurking around.
“Sorry, Rarity,” she grimaced, and Rarity gave a resolute sigh with a grieving glance towards her already-frizzy bangs, “but it seems like this will be the fastest route. Thank you so much for all of this, Princess.”
Hazel dipped low into another bow in return, and when her head swung back up it was decorated with a wan, kind smile. “Oh, it’s really no problem. I know if my herd was in danger, I could use all the help I could get to ensure their safety again. Not to mention the bat and our crops. Just think of it as repaying a favor.”
Twilight grinned in return, and allowed Rarity to pop her travel bag into place with a quick zap of teleportation. She braced herself for the weight with a snarl of her teeth but– really, it wasn’t so bad. It might hurt her endurance a bit later on, but for now it really was no different from carrying Spike along with her usual saddlebags stuffed to the brim with hardcover books and study supplies. Hay, it might even be lighter than what she used to lug around back in Canterlot during her school days.
“So,” she said, with a shimmy to ensure everything was balanced properly on her withers, “girls, Spike, do you think we’re ready to go?”
Fluttershy and Rarity shot her a look, but before either could say anything, Rainbow was flapping forwards with a wicked grin and a pump of her hoof. “Hay yeah, Twi! No offense, but we’ve kind of been waiting on you all afternoon.”
Hazel trotted forward; with a wave of a foreleg she motioned the bucks behind her to the forefront. They filed into the room, their heads held high, antlers shimmering in the warm light of the hearth.
“You’re free to stay as long as you need,” she said with a smile, “but I understand you’re in a hurry. Whenever you’re ready, the boys and I will escort you to the edge of the bog.”
The walk out of Hartton was much the same as the walk in, if not as terse and full of fear on the deer’s end. It was a bit more melancholic and disappointing to be going so soon; not only had Rarity had access to a lovely outdoor shower, but she’d barely gotten to see any of the village. It was difficult speaking to any of the deer when they were so frightened (not to mention when that great brute Gladiolus was huffing down their necks as if they were nothing more than petty criminals), meaning that it was only the foals and fawn to give them any company, and while they were dears they couldn’t exactly tell them anything of any real importance. Rarity would have just loved to talk to the craftsdeer and ask them about the inspiration behind their designs, but alas.
It didn’t help that they were currently walking out of range of soft grasses and well-trodden paths, and were now headed for muddy, uneven, unknown swampland. Already the recent rain had softened the ground, causing mud to squelch between hoof and horseshoe, so Rarity could just imagine what her fetlocks and tailtip would look – and, urgh, smell – like after trudging through a peat bog.
Still, Rarity kept her head held high. If it was for her friends and Equestria, she would go with only minimal complaint.
So she continued on despite the ache in her hooves as the path below dissolved to hard clay and earth, the grass slick with slimy moisture. The group, still notably lacking Gladiolus, climbed a sheer hill out of the valley containing Hartton, dodging towering, white-barked trees whipping in the wind on either side. Rarity had to push hard against the incline, huffing in breath as she tried to keep her belly fur from scraping against the muck below; her legs shook with the effort, burned with exertion as they reached the apex in a tight huddle, and the ground leveled to a flat plane of mud and scrubgrass. The trees thinned, those that remained being skinny poles which stuck from the peat with tendril-like vines sucking onto their bark and their roots partially unearthed and open to the air. Ahead, far into the horizon, overtop a verdant copse of trees and thick swampland which blotted the earth like a gray-brown stain, a mountain range stuck purple and gray with glory into the air.
Rarity snapped out from her thoughts as she noticed motion from her left. Princess Hazel, while always a bit twitchy much like Pinkie Pie, had started to really fidget sometime over the last few minutes, during the climb. At first Rarity had dismissed it as exertion, or a response to the humidity, but it continued now that the group stopped to rest atop the hill’s apex. Her tiny tail flicked along with her ears as if the dear were being attacked by flies, and she kept shooting her eyes between the nonexistent path ahead, to Twilight, to Rarity herself.
This time Rarity met her eyes as she twitched them over, and stared resolutely as to not let her glance away again. Hazel jumped nearly a hoof-length into the air, her eyes widening, and the skin at her withers leaped. For a moment Rarity hoped that she wasn’t offended by her earlier mistake of questioning her decisions in front of her herd – but no, the deer seemed nervous more than anything.
“Is everything alright, Princess?”
Princess Hazel nodded at first, silently with a tight smile that pinched and wavered at the corners… but after a few more flicks of her eyes, she seemed to deflate. Sticking her ears straight up, baring her teeth with a raspy sucking of breath, she shot to Rarity’s side as soon as none of the herd were looking in their direction.
“Please,” Hazel hissed, her round blue eyes thinning to slits, her chest heaving, and Rarity had to step back with a whinny at the intense fire suddenly emanating from her, “tell me. All that you said about Equestria… was it all true?”
Rarity blinked at her, bewildered. “Why, of course, Hazel. Every word.”
Hazel nodded. Then nodded again. A third time, smashing her eyes shut so very tightly with a whistle of breath.
“Okay,” she said.
Then she turned to the rest of the group. Rainbow Dash was flying a quick, agitated circle in her haste to be moving, while Pinkie Pie bounced up and down to talk to her; Fluttershy was curled into a soft ball on the ground (oh dear, her beautiful tail and her underbelly would be caked with that dreadful mud! Though Rarity reasoned she was used to such things, working with her animals); next to her was Spike, taking the moment to crunch on another gem he’d brought with him; Applejack stood square and strong, another piece of straw in her jaws, bearing the weight of two saddlebags – she’d taken Fluttershy’s while she rested, presumably. And Twilight stood at the front, staring out at that great expanse of earth before them. Her face was screwed up in concentration and worry, and no doubt she was thinking of just how far a journey they had ahead of them.
“We’re here,” Hazel said with a sad smile, motioning between them all – focusing most of all, Rarity noticed, on her Spikey-Wikey. “This is as far as my herd can take you. I wish you luck on your adventure.”
Twilight Sparkle bowed to her one last time, as did Rarity, and they all mumbled thanks as the deer and earth ponies began to trot their way back down the hill.
“Here we go,” Twilight breathed, taking a step into the sucking mud.
With a grimace, Rarity followed her dutifully.
Twilight sighed as she clambered up onto a dry piece of hard land, the first they’d found in quite a while. Even this area squelched beneath her horseshoes, soft and threatening to buckle, but the peat held just so with a damp squish beneath her horseshoes. She flicked her hind hooves to dislodge a heavy, thick clump of mud from her rear right leg, and it sloughed off of her fetlocks with a putrid pop in front of Rarity.
Poor Rarity, who was shivering like a mare possessed, stared down at the new pile of muck like it might rear up and bite her like a snake. While her mane and upper half had fared rather well, just a bit frizzed from the humidity, the rest of her… well, it was just a mess, to be honest. They all were. Her white coat certainly wasn’t helping, though.
“Oh- Oh my goodness, and look at this one!” came a soft cry from a bit farther back, and as Rainbow Dash groaned and clapped a hoof to her forehead, Twilight couldn’t help the smile that fought its way up. At least some of them were having a good time.
A ways back, Fluttershy sat curled into the mud, her hind hooves and haunches stained dull brown by the sludge sloshing around her body as she shook with excitement. Her eyes twinkled bright against the gloom, her tailtip twitched along to some happy beat within the pegasus’ heart, and her wings flared out, shivering down to the very ends of her primary feathers. In front of her was yet another toad, this one clear as glass and barely visible in the mud; its body was translucent and ghostly, giving a window deep into its internal organs. Its heart, shining a brilliant ruby red, thumped and squelched blood through tree-like veins threading all across its body, and Fluttershy grinned wider at every pump of viscera. She rambled on in a rant Twilight could barely keep up with, detailing why and how the creature came to look like this, and what environmental advantages it gained. Next to her Pinkie Pie sat enraptured, her eyes as wide as fishbowls, drinking in every detail as if Fluttershy was revealing to her the very secrets of the universe.
Honestly, as much as it could be thought of as gross (Twilight was pretty neutral to it, after having to perform dissections back in magic school), it was fascinating to see so much foreign fauna. At any other time, Twilight might actually love to sit and listen to her friend talk about animals like this. But now?
At her side Rainbow Dash, flapping over the swamp, dragged a hoof through her bedraggled mane and rolled her eyes. Again.
“Fluttershy,” she drawled, shouting across the distance. “Come on, we’ve gotta get moving! Twilight said we have to go all the way to the Frozen South, remember? At this pace, it’ll take us forever to get there!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Fluttershy cried at once. “There’s just so many interesting animals here. But, oh, I know that’s no excuse.” Her ears snapping back to the sides of her skull, she stirred her wings and started a swift fly across the swamp buffeting below. Pinkie Pie bounced her way behind her, glancing back at the toad and giggling all the while.
With a grimace, Twilight watched as new sprigs of cattails bloomed at every touch of Pinkie’s hooves, as the air glimmered around Fluttershy’s every feather.
“Erm, actually, Twilight,” Rarity murmured beside her. Her voice was fragile and breathy, and Spike stood at her side with a stroke to her mane. “I was meaning to ask you about all of this new magic. I do believe it’s giving me a migraine.”
Twilight nearly slapped herself. Of course she’d told Rarity earlier that she’d teach her meditation techniques to prevent this very problem, but with everything else going on she’d completely forgotten. Honestly, with her friends being so unused to this level of magical power (with the exception of Rainbow Dash, who frequently used her own to perform Sonic Rainbooms), she was lucky that the worst that had happened so far was the overgrowth of plantlife and a bit of a headache.
Twilight chewed her lip and glanced up to the sky– then nearly cursed as, instead of the sun or stars hanging in a specific place in the sky, she was met by those two mutilated heavenly bodies. She wouldn’t be able to use those in order to tell how much time had passed or how much time of day was remaining – instead the world was trapped in a purgatory of twilight that, while useful for travel in some aspects, made wayfinding and timekeeping difficult. She had no idea how long they’d already been trekking, other than her own inner clock telling her it’d been quite a while. Surely they could afford to take a break? Rarity, wincing against her headache, looked as if she needed one, and the others were getting awfully distracted after such a long walk through swampy nothingness.
With a sigh, Twilight nudged at Rainbow’s hovering flank. “No, it’s okay, Rainbow. I know we’re in a hurry, but it’s about time I showed you all a thing or two about reigning in that magic.”
“Oh, would you, Twilight?” Fluttershy muttered. She shot a furtive glance to the mud below her, curdling with fresh algae, sprigs of weeds unfurling at each beat of her wings. “I wouldn’t want to upset these critters’ homes too much.”
Rainbow Dash just scoffed, “Reigning it in? Why would I want to reign it in when I could do this instead?”
As the others crawled up onto the bank, Rainbow Dash coiled back, the muscles in her back coiling with energy. She pulled her hooves tight inwards, towards her center, straightened out her wings in a mighty snap that echoed out in a tiny shockwave of noise and energy that blasted back the grass and rippled the mud all around. She jolted, her wings twitched inwards, her mouth stretched to a grin as a cone of energy built around her front–
Twilight grabbed her in a blast of telekinesis, yanked back as hard as she could without caving in bone. Rainbow Dash coughed against the pressure, then deflated as Twilight pulled her in at her side. She grumbled as Twilight released her over the ground, her hooves impacting the peat with a hollow thud and a squish.
“No, Rainbow!” Twilight spat, bucking back at the energy boiling up in her horn. “That’s exactly what we don’t want. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but those Sonic Rainbooms of yours are loud.”
Pinkie Pie nodded. “Yep, and flashy. And bright. Ooooh, and–”
Twilight gently flicked her tail to Pinkie’s lips. “Exactly. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves more than necessary, especially when we’re in the middle of a strange swamp! At the same time,” she glanced at Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, “we also don’t want all this extra magic to assault our bodies, or overflow, which will happen without a proper release.”
Rainbow Dash blew a quiet raspberry at her. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. So what was your plan?”
With a giddy smile, Twilight thought back to her lessons with Zecora. All the hours spent with the zebra teaching her to touch into the finer forms of internal magic, how the energy flowed throughout each organ, every ventricle within the body down to the extremities. How the mind bent this energy into different forms, moved it and shaped it both within and without at the will of the user, through their cunning and emotional state. In fact, oh, that toad from before would be an excellent model for this, now that she thought about it. Oh, this was so exciting, getting to finally teach her friends about magic theory!
“Guided meditation!” she chirped, clapping her hooves together.
She’d never heard Rainbow Dash groan that loudly before.
Well, that was a disaster.
Twilight heaved out a heavy sigh as she popped into the Cosmic Library. As she materialized within it, as that heavenly light poured over her body, as that ethereal wind chilled her hooves and set her frazzled mane whipping, Twilight could feel her muscles loosening, her mind calming. Clumps of muck sloughed off her billowing hairs, then floated off into that endless abyss to become yet more starstuff.
The girls didn’t really get meditation. Or, well, more accurately Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie really didn’t, and Applejack tried her very best but couldn’t really understand the process. Fluttershy and Rarity, at least, had taken to it like ducks to water, and Spike, always willing to do an activity if it meant being able to sit next to Rarity, had at the very least kept calm and quiet. Rainbow and Pinkie, though…
Urgh. Twilight shivered at the suppressed frustration still streaming through her. Twilight was pretty sure she had cake icing sticking some hairs in her mane together, even though Pinkie Pie didn’t even have any cake!
She could only hope that they had any luck at all on their own. Meanwhile, she’d left them to breathe quietly alone while she did just a little more studying before they really got on the road. It was just that questions were still burning in her mind, rolling over and over – she would hardly be able to rest with his gnawing at her!
The most pressing things: who was Queen Mobius Strip, and what did she have to do with the spell that sent Twilight and her friends here? And, most importantly, why had Celestia and Luna never returned home?
Twilight radiated these thoughts out through the mental link, through the leylines tying the magic pouring from her horn to the endless twinkling stars surrounding her on every side. As she expected, here came the screens; they shifted and shuffled out in the ether, flipping past one another before boiling away into dust and pure magic once again. Multitudes of them were born and then faded, danced on the invisible strumming threads tying this realm together, before settling on… one. A single screen, large and already flashing with neon colors, floated soundlessly across that echoing chasm of space towards her, settled a few hoof-falls away.
Twilight didn’t bother summoning her ticking ball of light; given how bored Rainbow Dash was bound to get, Twilight assumed she only had enough time to safely finish one of these panels before all Tartarus broke out amongst her friends. Instead she trotted over to the flickering screen, rested her haunches down on that invisible floor that stretched on an infinite, yawning distance below her; the chill of it hit her instantly, traveling down her spine all the way up to the tip of her horn with a sharp ping of magic, and then the screen began to play on its own.
A group of six more ponies, some Twilight had never seen before in one of these memories, stood milling about in a cramped cottage. They were smashed together in the musty space, their eyes wide, tails flicking in fear, and even from her place miles and years away from the event Twilight could feel the dust clogging her throat, the sweat dripping from her brow, the panic clinging to her coat. The whole scene reeked of sour panic, especially as the group shifted once more and–
Twilight blinked. Rubbed her eyes. Her stomach flipped over.
A-Another alicorn! Another, different, unheard of alicorn, never discussed before in any of Equestria’s history books. She sat on a tiny chair much too small for her, built for an earth pony. Her huge white wings bent in at awkward angles to fit between the stacks of books and papers littering the room, and her gangly snow-white limbs did the same. Her horseshoes were beaten and dusty, glaring out dully atop a wrinkled piece of parchment stained with blots of darkness. Her glittering eyes, like chips of ice in a frozen ocean, were old and tired and cold, and she shrunk in on herself as if she were a feeble old earth matriarch instead of a mighty goddess; still, as she stared out amongst the six ponies, some pegasi, some earth ponies, some unicorns, they looked to her with their noses flared, their eyes stony and unblinking. They craned their bodies to her, just barely suppressing full bows of respect, and their pelts crawled as if they were envisioning a shadow crawling over their shoulders.
On the large alicorn’s flank was a tiny rainbow-glittered mark: a single, unbroken line intersecting itself in the center. The infinity symbol, also known as the mobius strip.
“It’s not finished,” she said. “Or at the very least it’s not ideal. You won’t like it.”
The mare in front, a pale purple unicorn with a white mane streaked with violet, just shook her head with fervor. “We know we have no choice,” she whinnied, the sound so quiet and broken. “Please, your Highness, the Seal will break any day!”
Queen Mobius snorted, tossed her mane; the flicking ghostly hair, billowing in the wind, knocked over a small stack of books, and for a moment only the clattering of their spines against the floor was all that could be heard.
“Here,” she grunted, and with a flick of her ivory horn, shining with the brilliant glimmer of pale moonlight, the parchment at her hooves flew to the unicorn’s chest. The light of that magic was so strong Twilight had to flinch against it as her whole body was set ablaze, washed white in its glory. “This is your part.”
“M-My part?” the unicorn stammered. “Will you be casting something as well?”
Mobius Strip hummed,and for a moment stopped to stare at the dust motes dancing in the light of her levitation. “Yes. I’ll be giving you all my magic.”
A ripple of gasps ripped through the room, trembled through the ponies one after the other. A pegasus, pink and blue with a helmet of some kind fastened over her mane, whinnied out something profane.
“All of us? All of it? Do you think we’ll be able to–”
“Repair the Seal? With that? No, not even that will be enough. It’s too far gone,” Mobius Strip sighed. Her voice cracked, her great wings shivered. Twitching feathers broke loose, falling crinkled and broken to the ground below. “Nothing will be enough now.”
The ground rumbled, somewhere. The ponies twitched, but said nothing about it.
“So what do we do?” a white and yellow pegasus murmured, her hair flat to the sides of her head. “We can’t give up.”
Mobius held out a long foreleg, then pressed her gilded horseshoe lightly to the parchment held tight against the unicorn’s breast. “With this spell, I will send you back in time.”
Twilight's heart spiked and she jumped up nearly off of her haunches. Still, the Queen continued speaking, so she forced herself to sit back to the cold nothingness and listen as closely as she could.
“Back to a time before the Seal was damaged. Back to the moment it was created. Gifted with my Magic, you’ll now have the ability to move the sun and moon. You can go beyond that, however. If you turn the heavenly bodies back to their base form – pure magic – you’ll have enough magic to reinforce the Seal, make it stronger than it ever was. You can create new, stronger, more efficient bodies in their place. That will buy future generations more time before the damage becomes too great once again; perhaps, if they’re lucky, they can find a permanent solution.”
The longer Queen Mobius Strip continued to speak, the more incensed Twilight became. With every word she lifted up on her haunches; her pulse spiked into her throat, and heat rose to her face because – because that was preposterous! All of it! As the screen flooded her with pale light, Twilight paced an imagined groove into the cosmos themselves.
It was true that the sun, moon, and earth itself all held great importance in the cycle of magic. As magic bled from the earth - was taken and shaped and tainted by ponies and other creatures, by the flora which bloomed on its surface - it was then recycled by the sun and moon, rained back down in energy waves from the cosmos back to the surface, and so on and so forth. Some even believed the sun and moon to be the original sources of magic. To break down such potent magical sources into their base forms and absorb them into a single pony's body, only to then reuse and reshape those sources to be more powerful– that was crazy enough! Even if that were possible, however, that still left the matter of time travel. Twilight had confused herself enough with that whole “Future Twilight” fiasco to know how such travel worked, and this wasn’t it! If the spell were successful, in order to prevent a paradox, which could very well lead to the eventual destruction of the universe itself, the events Mobius Strip described would have had to have already previously happened. She would remember it, even! Unless of course their were alternate universes involved, but of course then that would lead to the question of how to save both universes and not just one–
“Oh, Twilight. As astute as ever.”
Twilight stopped. A chill flew up her spine, her train of thought ground to a halt. She snapped to the screen next to her, and–
And oh. Mobius Strip had been speaking to the unicorn. The unicorn who just happened to also be named ‘Twilight’. Twilight Sparkle had to huff out a laugh, breathe out some of the tension bubbling in her chest: she knew she had a fairly common name, but still. That one was just a little creepy.
“It’s true that the spell doesn’t result in true time or universe travel. You won’t see a previous incarnation of me there… nor will there be any chance of running into your future selves.”
Twilight (the pale past-unicorn version) shook her head once more in Mobius’ direction, squeezed the parchment tight to her chest. “But how is that possible? For that to work, that would mean…”
Mobius Strip nodded toward her. Her white complexion filled the frame, cast the Cosmos in a cold, ghostly shine.
“In a sense, we are changing destiny. Rewriting it. I was not there, you were. And that would mean that…” Mobius stopped, suddenly sucked in a ragged breath. Her whole body shook as a croak coughed from deep in her chest. “That from that point onward, history would be irreparably changed.”
Silence.
Twilight Sparkle’s heart stopped.
On the screen, the unicorn Twilight said something else. Twilight Sparkle didn’t hear it through the pounding of her own heart. The pulse of blood rushing through her veins.
“The instant the spell is cast,” Mobius Strip choked out, “everything you have ever known will cease to have ever existed.”