//------------------------------// // Fueled By the Sun's Ambition Infernal / A Thousand-Year Prophecy's Destined Repeat // Story: The Twilight Effect // by evelili //------------------------------// Twilight fidgeted with her fork, twirling it around aimlessly in her reheated pasta. She could see Sunset at the front of the line paying for her lunch, which meant that in a few minutes she’d be heading over to Twilight, which in turn meant they were going to talk about that. They’d spoken briefly during functions, where Twilight had managed to ask Sunset if she wanted to eat lunch with her. Sunset had agreed without hesitation—a good sign for friendship, but a horrible reminder of the conversation Twilight had promised the day before. Me and my big mouth, she grumbled. She stabbed a meatball to see if it helped her feel any less nervous. It didn’t. “Man, you must really hate spaghetti,” Sunset said when she arrived. She plunked her tray down on the opposite side of the table and sat down across from Twilight. “What did that poor meatball do to you?” Embarrassed, Twilight pulled her fork out and set it to the side. “I don’t—” She took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m just kinda stressed.” “You need to talk about it?” The teasing lilt vanished from Sunset’s voice, replaced with concern. “Maybe.” A pause. “Do you want to tell me about Pinkie’s welcome party first?” “Oh. That.” Sunset wrinkled her nose and let out a nervous sort of laugh. “I mean, it was okay. But it was also kind of a lot, y’know?” She waved her hand around in a circle as if searching for the right way to explain things. “It’s like, she invited a bunch of her friends, but since they already knew each other it got kinda awkward with me there.” Twilight winced. “I’m sorry it didn’t go that well.” “Eh, the food was really good though. That Pinkie girl can bake.” Sunset shrugged. “So I dipped out after an hour and went home. Maybe it’ll be easier to hang out with ‘em one-on-one.” Then she brightened and added, “Like with you.” “Me?” Twilight asked, surprised. Why? “Do you see anyone else here?” “No, it’s just...” She trailed off and stared down at her spaghetti. “Are you sure you’re not just here because you feel like you have to help me?” Sunset made an indignant noise and gave Twilight’s shoes a light kick under the table. “Are you kidding? Twilight, I’m sitting here because I want to be here. Nobody’s making me.” She kicked again. “And why wouldn’t I want to spend my lunch with the smartest, snarkiest, and magical-est person I’ve met here?” “Most magical,” Twilight corrected. The smile that had started to form on her lips instantly faded. “And please don’t say that. That’s actually part of what’s been bothering me.” “Oh. Sorry.” The bench of the table squeaked as Sunset pulled her boots back and leaned forward on folded arms. “Again, if you need to talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener.” “There’s a lot to explain.” And where do I even start? None of the things on Twilight’s mind were that easy to bring up in the first place. After weighing her options, she took a deep breath and decided to start with the most normal one: “Celestia wanted to stop me from hanging out with you because you think your book is magic.” Sunset blinked. “Ah.” “So I promised her I wouldn’t write in it again, and she promised to stay out of this, but” —she took a deep breath—“I also promised that we’d talk about what happened, and I know that you want me to try writing again, right?” “I...” Sunset averted her eyes. “Yeah. I was hoping you would.” “And part of me really does want to understand how the trick works,” Twilight said, trying to let her down gently. The disappointed expression on Sunset’s face was almost like a knife to the gut. “But I don’t want that at the cost of being your friend.” There it was—the f-word. She’d actually gone and said it. “But if you don’t believe in magic, who cares if I do?” Twilight bit her lip. “Celestia. Me, to an extent.” Sunset frowned. “It doesn’t affect you,” she muttered. “It shouldn’t be a big deal.” Still, she straightened up and forced a weak smile. “But, I get it. I’m not gonna ask you to go behind your aunt’s back for me. I’ll... I can figure out what happened on my own.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. I get it.” They sat in silence for a while, Twilight picking at her spaghetti. She wasn’t very hungry anymore. Across the table Sunset seemed to be doing something similar to her pizza, peeling the pepperoni slices off and stacking them on the corner of her plate. “Can I tell you something else?” Twilight eventually asked. Sunset looked up from the remains of her lunch. “Sure.” “When I met with Celestia yesterday, I overheard something weird.” She stabbed a meatball. “And I saw something that you might consider magical.” Another stab. “I don’t, of course, but—” “What was it?” Now Sunset was interested, an excited gleam twinkling in her eyes. “She was talking to someone, and she was really upset about something. But...” It hurt to admit it, but Twilight knew she’d have to face the truth eventually: “There was no one else in the room, and she wasn’t using her phone.” “Really?!” “Unfortunately.” All of Twilight’s meatballs were now squashed together on the prongs of her fork. She tossed it back into her container with an irritated huff. “I’m obviously not going to look into it any further, but if you want to, I’m not going to stop you.” Sunset smiled—a genuine one, not the fake one from before—and leaned across the table to grab Twilight’s hands. “This is great! You don’t have to break your promise to Principal Celestia, and I get the chance to investigate another potential source of magic!” She let out a giddy laugh and gave Twilight’s fingers a squeeze. “You’re the best, Twilight. Just watch; I’ll definitely find proof to show you that magic is real. Promise!” Twilight tried not to think about how sweaty her hands were and instead forced a nervous smile. “Great.” Their next class—physical education—was uneventful for Twilight. But by contrast, Sunset had a mischievous streak and a magical mystery she wouldn’t wait to investigate, classes be damned. (She’d catch Twilight up later, of course, though perhaps with an abridged version that left out some less than flattering moments. A reliable narrator Sunset Shimmer was not.) And so her brief misadventure went something like this: It was pouring rain, so Iron Will had to relocate his class to the gymnasium—an old, dingy one that smelled strongly of sweat. It was supposed to be expanded and renovated, but Sunset knew those plans wouldn’t be put in motion until long after she’d graduated. Man. Bureaucracy sucks. Once everyone had shuffled out of the changerooms, Iron Will blew his whistle and hollered, “Listen up, slackers!” For some reason he seemed louder and angrier than usual, something Sunset thought impossible until then. He jabbed his finger in the direction of two students and ordered, “You, you: captains. Dodgeball. Two teams. Get picking!” When nobody moved, he blew his whistle again. “NOW!” “Yikes,” Sunset whispered to Rarity as the two unlucky captains scrambled to the either side of the circle in the centre of the gym. “I wonder what’s gotten into him?” “I can’t say I have any idea,” Rarity whispered back. She idly examined her nails as they waited to be chosen and added, “Though, I do feel sorry for whoever gets on his bad side today. That’s a disaster just waiting to happen.” “Oh, geez. Yeah, I don’t see that going well.” “Indeed. You know what I think?” Turning to Sunset, Rarity cupped her hand around her mouth and hissed, “In his current state, he’d probably send you straight to Principal Celestia just for looking at him funny.” Really? Something that could almost be considered an idea popped into Sunset’s head. “Just, straight out of class? No warnings, no nothing?” “Mm, probably not.” “And for anything?” Rarity squinted at her. “Darling, what are you suggesting?” “Oh, y’know, I’m just thinking out loud.” Sunset tried to play off what she’d said with a wave of her hand and a nervous laugh. “It’s nothing, really.” Yet. The two captains started picking, obviously going after the most athletic students first. Rainbow and Applejack were the first to be chosen and ended up on opposing teams, something they seemed quite happy about. “Curly Winds.” Right team. “Valhallen.” Left team. “Uh, Cloudy Kicks?” Right team. “Dude with the mohawk; I dunno your name.” Left team. Sunset crossed her arms and waited. Eventually she was chosen by the right team, and she headed over to stand next to Fluttershy—she’d been picked much earlier on due to Rainbow successfully intimidating her team’s leader. The crowd thinned out until only Twilight and Rarity were left. Sunset winced internally at the sight. Being chosen last didn’t exactly boost morale. Twilight had her gaze fixed firmly on her sneakers while Rarity continued to examine her nails. “Um...” Sunset’s leader looked torn, his gaze darting between the two. He looked to Rainbow, who up until that point had been vocal suggesting who to pick next, only to be met with silence. “Rarity,” he eventually said. It sounded almost like an apology. Rarity opened her mouth to say something, but then decided against it. She headed over, leaving Twilight alone and last. There’s a tension here, Sunset realized as she watched Twilight automatically shuffle over to the back of the left team. It felt like static electricity building in the air, an almost tangible emotion that no one seemed to want to acknowledge. Pity? She snuck a glance at Rainbow, who was pointedly looking anywhere besides Twilight. And... guilt? Before Sunset could read into it any further, Iron Will dumped a pile of dodgeballs in the centre circle and blew his whistle. “If a ball collides, you sit on the side!” He pointed to the space outside of the main floor markings along the wall. “Now, start at the back, and on my mark, attack!” The two teams quickly dispersed to the back wall of their respective sides and got into position, everyone making sure their foot touched the back line. Iron Will raised his whistle again, and Sunset leaned forward in anticipation. Legs, don’t fail me now. The whistle blew and Sunset shot off like a bullet toward the centre pile. Rainbow got there first and started tossing balls behind to her teammates. Sunset managed to catch one, then immediately ducked as another one whipped through the air where her head had been and smacked against the back wall. “Whoops!” Applejack lowered her arm. “Sorry, Sunset.” Sunset chucked her own ball in retaliation, then had to duck again as Applejack caught the rebound and lobbed it back at her head. “Hey!” “Below the shoulders!” Iron Will barked over the sound of projectiles flying back and forth. He stood with his back pressed to the side wall and his hands on his hips, watching the match like a hawk. A ball bounced off the wall beside him and he yelled, “Watch your aim!” Sunset’s idea from earlier suddenly resurfaced. She quickly raised her arms and called out, “Dash! Throw me a ball!” “Kinda busy!” Rainbow yelled. She hurled a ball from each hand at Applejack. Both missed. “Just catch one yourself!” I could, but... Sunset flinched as another ball narrowly missed her face. “Applejack!” she protested. “Sorry again!” Well, I can still work with this. Sunset backpedaled to grab the ball off the ground and gripped it tightly in her right hand. Okay. Here goes nothing! And then she turned to Iron Will and chucked it as hard as she could at his head. About five minutes later Sunset found herself waiting outside of the principal’s office. The only sounds she could hear were the muffled clacks of Mrs Mayor’s keyboard from the other room and the rhythmic ticking of the clock. Sunset sighed and leaned back to tilt her chair on two legs. Well, it worked. And that expression on his face was pretty good too. She tipped back further until the back of her chair hit the wall. So all that’s left is the hard part. After a few more minutes the door to the principal’s office clicked open and Celestia stepped out. While still standing tall and imposing as usual, she’d oddly tucked her left arm behind her back under her suit jacket instead of through the sleeve. Huh.  “Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said, her voice a bit strained. “Four on the floor.” “Sorry.” She let her chair fall back down with a thud and got to her feet. “Step inside, please. Let’s make this brief.” Nervous, Sunset followed her into the office, a small shiver rolling down her spine when the door shut. She’d met with Celestia before she’d transferred, of course, but that had been at her old school. This was the first time she’d actually been in Celestia’s office. The room had an intimidating atmosphere, especially with the suit of armour flanking the left side of the window. Sunset wasn’t sure if the perfectly organized bookshelves made the mood better or worse. Worse, she decided. That’s way too tidy. Still glancing around, she stepped onto the carpet and stood awkwardly in front of the desk, not sure whether she should sit on the smaller chair beside it or not. Celestia crossed the room and sat down. She did not offer Sunset a seat. “So.” There was no obvious emotion in Celestia’s voice yet, only controlled neutrality. She shifted the arm behind her back so it rested on her lap, still obscured from Sunset but now by her desk instead of her jacket. “Explain what happened.” “I hit Coach Iron Will in the face with a dodgeball.” Sunset paused. “Intentionally.” “Why?” “So I’d get sent to speak with you.” The barest hint of surprise cracked through Celestia’s expression, so Sunset pressed on. “You can give me detention, suspend me, whatever. I won’t fight it. Just give me the chance to talk.” Celestia raised her eyebrows and said slowly, “And you didn’t just use my office hours because...?” “To catch you off guard.” At that, Sunset smirked openly and crossed her arms. Some of the intimidating look was lost without her jacket, but even in her gym uniform it sent a clear message of defiance. “...I don’t quite know how to respond to that.” “I talked to Twilight, okay?” Sunset stepped forward until the toes of her gym shoes were touching the desk. “I know you have some sort of problem with magic, and with me.” “Again, I don’t quite know how to respond to that.” Celestia’s mask remained on, but Sunset could feel a few more cracks splinter through it: the edge to her voice, the slight tightening of her jaw. “And this isn’t the best time for idle chit-chat about imaginary concepts. I have things to attend to right now—a consequence of your chosen communication method.” She shifted the arm hidden on her lap and Sunset swore she heard the clank of something metal. “But I’ll grant your request,” Celestia continued. She wrote something on a piece of paper with her exposed arm and slid it across her desk to Sunset. “Detention. Is that satisfactory?” Sunset stared at the sheet and grit her teeth. She hadn’t expected to get much out of Celestia, sure, but at this point she was just going to end up leaving empty-handed. “Just perfect.” “Good. Then I suggest you see yourself out, before you make any more decisions you might regret.” “You seem pretty anxious to get rid of me,” Sunset said, making no move to pick up the detention slip or exit the office. “Do you treat all your students like this?” She watched Celestia’s arm out of the corner of her eye and said, “Do you treat Twilight like this?” There it was again—the soft scrape of metal-of-metal at the exact same time Celestia moved. Gotcha. “I have been very patient with you, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia snapped. She leaned across her desk and jabbed her index finger on the top of the slip. “But it would do you well to remember that my school is the only one in the district willing to give you a chance. And while I understand that your antagonism may come from a place you feel is justified”—she pushed the slip forward again—“I am not obligated to tolerate your harassment any more than I am obligated to keep you enrolled in my school. Is that clear?” Silence. Sunset took the paper from the desk and gave Celestia a sullen nod. “…Yes.” “Then I’m glad we could come to an understanding.” “Sure.” Not wanting to push things any further, Sunset turned on her heel to leave. As she reached the door, though, Celestia cleared her throat. “And, Sunset?” She stopped, and turned back around. “What?” “Thank you for helping Twilight yesterday.” These words were sincere—the first genuine emotion Sunset had felt from Celestia their entire conversation. The contrast was so jarring that Sunset almost couldn’t believe she was still talking to the same person. “I... yeah. No problem.” “You’re dismissed then.” Celestia leaned back in her chair, then added, “And do try to keep the detours to a minimum on your way back to class.” Define minimum, Sunset thought to herself as she left the office, though she knew better than to say it out loud. She closed the door behind her and took a moment to gather her bearings. Hm. There’s around an hour left of class, and then we’ve got that assembly during fourth period to end the day. The gears of another idea started to turn. So I can either head back to class like a good student with barely any info, or... Sunset tiptoed across the waiting room and pressed her ear to the door. She could still hear Mrs Mayor typing away. Our meeting was pretty quick. She probably won’t even notice if I stay longer, right? Her mind made up, Sunset shoved the detention slip into the pocket of her gym shorts and scooted back over to stand beside Celestia’s door. It was a long shot she’d be able to hear anything, but being as close as possible was the best chance she was going to get. And then she waited. It was agonizing. Patience was not Sunset’s strongest suit, and boredom was her nemesis. Seconds, then minutes ticked by, each rhythmic click feeling longer than the last. After ten whole minutes with no sound from Celestia, Sunset was nearly ready to throw in the towel and leave. Then she finally heard something—the faint murmur of Celestia’s voice from the other side of the door. Sunset quickly pressed her ear up to the wall and held her breath. “...stage... during the assembly... speech...” Frowning, Sunset tried to make sense of the few words she’d caught. It didn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary. A conference call about the assembly, maybe? “...so stay out... interfere with... if you...” A hollow clang rang out, much louder and clearer than Celestia’s voice. There was a second of silence, and then Celestia suddenly increased her volume until she was speaking loud enough for Sunset to hear her through the door. “Fine! We’ll do this the hard way.” Something slid across a surface—a desk drawer?—followed by the clatter of multiple metal objects. “If disassembly won’t dissuade you”—something heavy landed on what Sunset assumed was Celestia’s desk—“then I’ll just have to make sure that you never leave my sight!” Never mind. Definitely not a conference call. Sunset took another big breath and strained to hear more, begging her heartbeat to stop thumping in her ears. This is big! The sounds stopped briefly, and Sunset heard Celestia get up from her chair and move to the right of the room, then return back to her desk. When she spoke again her volume was back to normal, only bits and pieces of what she said making it through the door. “...better if you’re... one place...” Then Sunset felt a familiar sensation radiate out from the office—an odd, magnetic pull that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It was a feeling she thought she'd never get to experience again prior to her lunch with Twilight the day before. Magic. It took a second to sink in. Oh my god, Celestia can use magic! Sunset moved without thinking; consequences be damned. She threw open the office door, fully prepared to catch her in the act— —only to see Celestia sitting at her desk, the pieces of a second suit of armour spread across the top and not a single trace of magic visible anywhere in the room. She froze at the sight of Sunset, as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “What are you doing?” Sunset blurted out. “I—” There was no time for Celestia to pull up her walls, and she practically exuded nervous energy without them. “Repair work,” she managed. “What on earth are you doing?” Uh-oh. Sunset hadn’t planned that far ahead. “Um.” Come on, brain, think! “I was just, uh, thinking about our conversation and, er, wanted to come back and apologize for my behaviour?” Celestia squinted. “By... barging into my office?” “I, uh, was really excited to apologize.” Sunset ducked her head before she talked herself into a worse excuse and lied, “Sorry about earlier. And I guess for barging in, too.” “Erm. Thank you, I suppose.” They awkwardly stared at each other for a few seconds, neither knowing what else to say. “Well.” As much as Sunset wanted to ask Celestia about her arm, she didn’t want to push her luck. Catching someone off guard was one thing, but keeping them there was a whole other problem that Sunset wasn’t willing to attempt. The arm would have to wait. For now. “Indeed,” Celestia said lamely. She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “Was that all?” Sunset scanned the room again just in case there was something magical she’d missed—there wasn’t—and made a mental snapshot to process later. “That’s it!” she said, a little too loudly. And then she closed the door and speed-walked out through the main office as fast as she possibly could. God, I hope she doesn’t expel me for that. At least she’d confirmed Twilight’s story; there hadn’t been anyone else there and Celestia hadn’t been on the phone. And of course there was the distinct burst of magical energy that she’d felt outside the door. The entire situation reeked of magic, which was both exhilarating and confusing at the same time. What was she doing, then? Sunset went over the image of the office in her mind as she headed for the gym. A few things seemed different compared to how they’d been during their first conversation, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The pieces only clicked after class in the changeroom when she unzipped her bag: there had been a gap in a row on one of Celestia’s bookshelves. And among the scattered armour Sunset swore she remembered seeing the gold-embossed leather spine of a very familiar book. “What on earth did you do?!” Twilight didn’t even bother trying to keep the panic out of her voice as she whisper-yelled at Sunset. The hall was packed with students and she knew she was on the verge of making a scene again, but in her internal battle between frustration and anxiety, frustration had come out on top. She continued pacing back and forth in front of their lockers and hissed, “Why did you hit Iron Will? What did you say to Celestia? What am I going to do when I see her after school?!” “Twilight.” Sunset slammed her locker shut and adjusted the strap of her bag. “First of all, breathe.” “I—!” She did. Since Twilight couldn’t talk and breathe at the same time, Sunset finally had her chance to speak. “Look. I saw an opportunity and took it. Was that so wrong of me?” She quickly raised her hand to stop Twilight from interjecting and said, “Maybe so! But it’s already happened. Worrying about it isn’t going to change that.” Twilight scowled and slammed her own locker door. Everything Sunset said and did just seemed to add to her pile of ‘things-to-freak-out-about’. Sure, she’d removed one item from the pile by surviving another gym class, but at what cost? My sanity, it seems. “And you didn’t just use her office hours?” “Well how else could I catch her off guard?”  Silence.  Then, unamused, Twilight turned around and started walking away.  “Hey, hey hey hey!” Sunset scrambled to catch up and whined, “C’mon, Twilight. If she had time to prepare then I wouldn’t have been able to catch her in the act. Isn’t that the whole point of an investigation?” They reached the end of the hallway and joined the mob of students funneling into the auditorium, making their way toward a row at the very back. “Catch who in the act of what?” Twilight asked once they got to their seats, even though she was sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.  “Principal Celestia in the act of using magic,” Sunset finally answered, as if that was a perfectly acceptable and normal sentence a person could say. She looked so pleased with herself that Twilight very nearly wanted to question not just her own sanity, but also Sunset’s. “Explain,” Twilight said instead. She sat down and thanked her lucky stars that no one else was close enough to overhear whatever Sunset said next. With an eager nod Sunset plopped down next to Twilight and pulled her bag into her lap. “You remember what happened when you used my book, right?” “Yes.” Unfortunately. “And do you remember the feeling you got when the words appeared?” Twilight frowned and cast her thoughts back to the day before. She remembered a lot of doubt and skepticism and... pity. That too. But when she tried to think past the point she wrote in the book, her memories dissolved into a tangled mess of anxiety. “I... I don’t know. Sorry.” “No, I...” Sunset trailed off and nudged Twilight’s shoulder with her own. “It’s okay if you don’t. I know a lot happened all at once.” Then she unzipped her bag and pulled out that. “Magic just feels magical, and I don’t know how else to explain it. But whenever this wrote back to me I felt something I’ve never felt anywhere else.” “...Uh-huh.” “I know you don’t believe me yet.” Sunset smiled again, that pained, defeated grin that Twilight hated. “You need your proof. Which is why now that I’ve found something for you to compare it with—” “You’re accusing Celestia of using magic,” Twilight interrupted. She felt frustration, irritation, anger bubble up in her voice with each word. “Something that one, isn’t even real, and two, she hates more than anything else!” Sunset furrowed her brow, confusion painted across her face. “Yeah, you told me. But haven’t you ever wondered why? Isn’t that just as weird as believing in it?” “No! It’s—” Twilight stopped herself and took a deep breath to try and dispel the edge in her voice. It didn’t work very well. “She hates deception and tricks. Dishonourable things. That’s a completely normal stance for someone to have.” “But she freaks out specifically with magic? And not, I don’t know, crimes or something?” Sunset was pressing hard now, asking questions that Twilight didn’t want to admit she couldn’t answer. The frustration that had been building since gym class, since her nightmare, since that goddamn book suddenly turned into a pressure she couldn’t bear. Something had to give. “Why does it matter?” The words spilled out before Twilight could stop herself. “I know she has her reasons, and even if I don’t know exactly why yet, I trust her! So why should I listen to you and your fictional obsession over someone who’s practically family to me?” And as soon as those words left her mouth, Twilight regretted ever saying them. Sunset just stared at her for a moment, frozen in place. If time ever stood still it was that moment—Twilight’s words still hanging in the air as that horrible fake smile of Sunset’s withered and died. Then, her expression hardened. She shoved her book back into her bag and stood up in a single, stilted motion. “Okay,” Sunset said simply. “I get it.” “Wait, I didn’t—” “I get it,” she repeated, and Twilight felt a guilt as sharp as knives stab deep into her gut. “It’s like you said before: I’m just wasting my time.” “You’re not,” Twilight managed to say, before the guilt spread up to her throat like a stranglehold and choked out any other words she might have said. You’re not. Instead of responding Sunset just turned and walked away—out the end of the row, down the aisle, and across the space in front of the stage to the middle of the furthest, frontmost row. When she sat down all Twilight could see was the back of her head, and then when a group of boys took their seats one row back Twilight couldn’t see Sunset at all. For a second all she could do was stare. Then it sank in: I think I fucked up. Twilight pushed her glasses up to press her palms to her eyes and took a slow, shuddering breath. But I can still fix this. I just... I just have to apologize, right? But it would have to be more than that, she realized. More than giving Sunset false hope that she’d ever manage to convince her about magic, more than a half-hearted offer to inspect some magical proof, more than dismissing genuine belief because she didn’t believe in it herself. Sunset deserved a friend who actually believed in her. And for Twilight, that would mean not just an apology, but to go against everything Celestia had ever taught. Her mentor’s voice echoed in her head, a memory from years and years ago: To give belief a chance is the very same as believing, Twilight. You must never allow yourself to take that risk. Twilight swallowed hard and stared further into the blackness through her palms. But if I can’t take a risk, then... Her guilt coiled around her throat again. Then I can’t fix this. And this was it. The lights dimmed and the doors to the auditorium closed. And as the spotlights turned on and Celestia stepped onto the stage, Twilight Sparkle wished for the first time in her life that she could believe in magic.