It all happened so quickly.
The flame barriers around the room immediately snapped back toward Nightmare with an electric crack. Paralyzed with fear, Twilight could only watch in horror as Nightmare dissolved into shadows and funneled into the wound in Sunset’s chest.
Then a hand grabbed Twilight’s shoulder and spun her toward the exit.
“Go!” Celestia ordered, her face twisted with anxiety.
“But Sunset—”
“Listen to me!” The urgency in Celestia’s voice killed Twilight’s protests in the back of her throat. “There’s a book on the desk in my office. I need you to go find it and bring it back here while I deal with her.”
A terrible laugh echoed through the air, a twisted combination of Sunset’s voice with Nightmare’s that sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine. “Please don’t hurt her,” Twilight begged, unable to stomach looking at the shadowy figure in the corner of her eye she knew was no longer Sunset.
“Just be quick,” Celestia said instead.
“And please don’t die.”
And then Twilight ran. Away from the monster and the magic and the two people she desperately wanted to save, and through the side door as fast as her legs would take her. Another cackle rang out behind her, and no sooner had she crashed through and out of the auditorium did the door slam itself back shut.
She skidded to a halt and turned to run toward Celestia’s office, only to find that she faced a solid wall instead.
What?
“Twilight!” Fluttershy’s voice called from behind her, and she turned to see the others standing around looking just as confused. “Are you alright?”
“And where the hell are we?!” Rainbow added. She waved both her hands around her as Twilight finally took a good look at her surroundings.
They stood at the edge of a room that resembled the school foyer—a large, open area with multiple halls attached—except that the area where the front doors should have been was instead framed by two sets of stairs leading to the second floor. Fiery barriers blocked the other halls, and even if they had been able to travel down the staff wing Twilight was pretty sure the offices would also be part of Nightmare’s facsimile.
She reached back out to the auditorium door and pulled. It didn’t budge, and she couldn’t hear anything from beyond it. Then, as if on cue, the chandelier above their heads lit up with purple flames. It cast the room in an ominous hue, beckoning them toward the only way forward: the stairs to the next floor. Great. Perfect. Wonderful!
“I think we have to go that way,” Twilight said, breaking the tense silence. She raised her arm to point toward the stairs across the room, trying to keep it steady. “It’s obviously a trap of some sort, but—”
“Wait a second,” Pinkie interrupted. “A trap? Like, something dangerous? Why would there be something like that in the foyer?”
“Because of that... thing.” She couldn’t make herself say Nightmare’s name out loud. “I don’t know how, but something’s clearly happened to the school—”
“And the monster’s the reason why it’s suddenly all spooky in here?”
Rarity snorted at Pinkie’s question and threw her hands up in frustration. “Well there isn’t a better explanation for our predicament, is there?!” she huffed, and stomped her foot on the tile floor with a sharp clack.
Pinkie deflated a bit. “Oh. Yeah, I guess not...”
“But we’re together,” Fluttershy said, in a voice so quiet that Twilight nearly didn’t hear her. She gave Pinkie’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before shrinking back into herself. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“I mean, if I had to choose between not being here and not-not being here...” Pinkie paused to think, then shrugged. “Yeah, I’d choose not being here, ‘cause it’s kinda freaking me out.” She forced a smile that didn’t do anything to hide the panic in her eyes.
No one had a response to that. The silence returned, and once again Twilight made the decision to shove aside her disbelief for the sake of her sanity.
“You can stay here if you want,” she said, turning to walk across the room, “but I have to help Celestia, and that means I need to find that—hey!”
Applejack yanked her back, one hand wrapped tight around Twilight’s wrist and her face white with fear. “What the hell, Twilight?!” she asked, her voice raised and strained.
“Ow,” Twilight whined. She tried to pull her arm away, but to no avail. “I could say the same to you—what the hell?”
“You’re actin’ crazy! You’ve got a death wish or something?” When Twilight tensed up, she backpedalled and corrected, “I mean, you can’t just go on about there bein’ traps, and then go throwing yourself right into one!”
Twilight furrowed her brow in confusion. She glanced over to the floor between them and the stairs but saw nothing but tile. “What?”
“Yeah, I second that,” Rainbow piped up. “What’re you on about, AJ? It’s just, like, floor.” She took a step forward as if to demonstrate, only for Applejack to throw her arm out in front of her to block her path.
“Are you blind?” Applejack barked. “There’s funny symbols all over the floor, like those traps you see in movies. You can’t miss ‘em!” She pointed to a blank tile a step in front of Twilight and said, “See? That’s a triangle, and to the left is a star, and—”
“Darling,” Rarity said, her tone slightly higher than normal and filled with concern, “I don’t know what on earth you’re seeing, but there certainly isn’t anything there.”
“And I’m tellin’ you there is!” She turned to Fluttershy and then Pinkie, only to be met with nervous shakes of the head from both. “But it’s there! I don’t understand—y’all really can’t see anything?”
Twilight finally managed to extract her arm from Applejack’s grip and took a deep breath. Something’s not right, she realized. She doesn’t sound like she’s lying. “Hold on,” she said slowly, and pointed to the tile in front of her. “You see a symbol here, Applejack?”
“It’s got a triangle right there in the centre. Clear as clear can be.”
“And you think it’s a trap.”
“Well, I don’t know what else it could be. It’s got trouble written all over it!”
“Okay. Let’s prove it, then.” And before Applejack could stop her again, Twilight moved her leg forward and pressed her foot against the tile before quickly pulling it away.
Instantly a spiked shadow tore out of the floor and skewered the air Twilight’s foot had occupied a half-second before. Her heart leapt into her throat as it whizzed by her face, and she involuntarily stumbled back a few steps.
“Oh shit,” Rainbow breathed at the same time Rarity let out an unholy shriek.
Twilight swallowed down her heartbeat, her mouth suddenly much drier than it had been before. “So there’s definitely a trap,” she managed to croak out. “Or, traps plural.” Reluctantly, she turned back to Applejack. “...How many types of symbols are there?”
“Er...” After a second of scanning, Applejack held up a hand with all her fingers splayed. “Looks like there’s five different types of shapes.” Her hand wavered. “And I guess that means triangles are, uh. Spikes.”
“Wonderful.”
“Ooh, ooh! I’ve got an idea!” Pinkie waved her arm high above her head and blurted out, “We should test them all like Twilight did! And then if there’s a safe one we can use those to get to the other side!”
Slightly surprised that they were on the same page, Twilight gave Pinkie a nod of agreement. “That’s actually what I was going to suggest. Applejack, do you mind pointing out the other tiles?” She paused. “And I refuse to be the only one who plays target practice.” Or else my heart might give out before we try them all.
“I can do that, sure.”
It took a bit of maneuvering, but eventually Applejack guided Twilight, Rainbow, and Pinkie to three different tiles—Rarity and Fluttershy couldn’t be convinced to try one, so Twilight begrudgingly agreed to do another—then positioned herself in front of a fourth one.
“We go on three,” Applejack directed. “Ready?” Three nods. “Then one, two, three!”
They all stomped forward and stepped back. The tiles activated just as quickly as before, this time with different effects: Pinkie’s burst into a tower of flames like the barriers; Twilight’s vanished and left a gaping hole that she couldn’t see the bottom of; and Applejack’s released a wave of shadows that folded along its centre and snapped shut like a trap.
Rainbow’s, however, did nothing.
“Lame,” she grumbled, stepping on it a few more times to make sure. “Well, whatever. At least now we know which one’s not gonna kill us.”
“Right.” Applejack began rolling up her sleeves, taking a deep breath and standing up as tall as she could. “So here’s the deal—I'll go across first usin’ those safe tiles, and y’all make note of where I’m stepping. Then I guess you just follow my lead.” She looked over her shoulder at the others and raised her eyebrows. “That sound like a plan?”
Twilight nodded, her heart still pounding from adrenaline, and said slowly, “I can remember, but someone else should write it down just in case.”
“Or record it,” Pinkie added, and pulled out her phone.
“I doubt that thing would let us use technology—”
“And I still have battery left! Score!” The camera flashed, and Twilight discarded her argument with a sigh.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “You record it, I’ll memorize it, and that should cover all our bases.” She turned to Applejack, then hesitated. “Um—”
“I got this,” Applejack said quietly. She took another deep breath and carefully stepped out onto the same tile Rainbow had tested.
Just as before, nothing happened.
“Okay, I’m gonna cross now. Ready, Pinkie?”
Pinkie raised her phone and shot her a thumbs-up with her free hand. “Ready!”
At that, Applejack slowly set off across the room, weaving a twisted trail across the tiles as she followed a path only she could see. And while the stairs weren’t that far away, the amount of detours meant it took all of Twilight’s concentration to remember the route.
Finally, Applejack stepped onto a row of tiles in front of the stairs and turned back to face the others. “The traps end here,” she said. “So now that we know the path—”
Before she could finish speaking the floor started to rumble. Twilight quickly glanced around for any signs of danger, but saw nothing. The shaking stopped moments later, and the room remained exactly the same.
Then Twilight saw Applejack’s expression, and her stomach dropped.
“What happened?” she asked, even though she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“The traps,” Applejack said weakly. She pointed to the tiles that looked exactly the same as before and swallowed hard. “The symbols are all mixed up.”
Somehow Twilight’s stomach sank even further. “But what about the path?”
“Completely different.”
“What!” Rarity whipped around to Pinkie and wrenched the phone out of her hands, sputtering, “But then that means the video is useless! So how on earth are we meant to get across without getting lit on fire or spiked or both?!”
Pinkie extracted her phone from Rarity’s grip and gave her a reassuring pat on the head. “Well, we’ll just have to ask AJ. Duh.”
“Ask her? To what, carry us across?”
“No, silly. I mean if we just go one at a time, she can tell us where to step!”
“I...” Rarity faltered. “I suppose, but... still!” She shot Applejack a withering glare and grumbled, “You will take this seriously, won’t you? Considering that, I don’t know, our lives are at stake?”
Applejack nodded, unfazed. “‘Course, Rare. As funny as it’d be to see you try and dodge all these traps on your own—”
“Not helping!”
“—I wouldn’t do anythin’ to put you or the others in danger.” Her expression softened, and she added, “You do believe me on that, right?”
Twilight watched the protest drain from Rarity’s posture and felt herself tense up at the same time in response. No. No no no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be the only way.
“Fine.” Rarity crossed her arms and took a step back. “As long as I don’t have to go first.”
“Nooooo problem.” That was Rainbow, confident and loud as she stepped up to the first row of tiles. And of course she’d trust Applejack, Twilight noted almost bitterly. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from saying something she’d regret.
It was easy for Applejack to guide Rainbow across. When she said which way to turn, Rainbow followed instantly. There was no hesitation; no doubt; no fear. An outsider wouldn’t have known there were traps at all.
As soon as Rainbow reached the other side the floor shook again, and Twilight reluctantly discarded Rainbow’s path from her memory. She’d hoped that Applejack was the catalyst, and that perhaps the path would remain the same after she’d crossed—but of course it wouldn’t work like that.
Of course not.
Pinkie started crossing as Twilight drowned in her thoughts, desperately trying to find another solution. But nothing surfaced, and the floor shook once more when Pinkie leapt over to Rainbow’s side.
Next was Fluttershy, who stepped up with a determination Twilight didn’t expect her to carry. She took much longer, testing each tile with her foot before stepping onto it, but managed to cross safely without activating any traps.
The floor shook. Rarity hesitated.
“Twilight,” she said, wringing her hands, “I don’t suppose—”
“You go first, Rarity,” Twilight interrupted. Her mind raced as fast as her heartbeat, the engines of her body working overtime to stay afloat. “Please.”
Reluctantly, Rarity took her turn. And after a scare where she went left instead of right, activating a flame trap and needing a hundred reassurances to take another step, she finally made it—indignant and terrified yet still in one piece.
Then the floor shook for the final time.
“Alright,” Applejack called across. “Whenever you’re ready, Twilight.”
Twilight didn’t move. She locked her gaze on the first row of tiles, trying to remember if there was a pattern to the first one. A pattern to the tiles, to the safe spots, to anything. If there was some way she could figure it out on her own.
“Twilight?” Concern leaked into Applejack’s tone. “You good?”
No, she wanted to respond, tears pricking at her eyes. No, I’m not good, and you know I’m not, but we just keep tiptoeing around like everything’s fine—
“I can’t do this,” she said instead.
Applejack furrowed her brow, confused. “Why not?”
Silence. Twilight blinked hard to clear her vision. “Why would you help me?” she asked, trading the question for one of her own.
“Why?” Her surprise seemed genuine. “Because you’re here with us, and I can’t just leave you stranded—”
“And I should trust you now?” Twilight said, struggling to keep her tone neutral. “That just because you helped your friends you’ll do the same for me?”
Finally, Twilight saw understanding dawn on Applejack’s face, only to be quickly replaced by that horrible emotion she despised so much. A terrible silence blanketed the room as they both fell quiet, no one daring to break it.
I hate being pitied, she thought miserably, especially when it’s coming from you.
“Look.” The silence finally broke, though not by Applejack or Twilight but by Rainbow. Her tone carried the very same pity as Applejack, laced with another emotion that Twilight couldn’t quite place. “I know we’ve got, like, shit to talk about, but can’t you wait until we’re not in the middle of some fucked-up adventure movie deathtrap?”
Surprisingly, instead of agreeing, Applejack shook her head. “It’s fine, Rainbow,” she said, quieter than before. “I get it.”
“What’s there to get, though?” Rainbow shot a pointed glance at Twilight and muttered, “We all crossed fine. She’s got no reason to freeze up.”
“But she’s got no reason to trust me, either.”
And that was the problem. As much as they were civil, as much as Twilight could tolerate Applejack as an acquaintance, she was nowhere near ready to literally put her life in Applejack’s hands. Because trusting a friend was one thing, but trusting a witness; a bystander; a bully?
Of course she couldn’t. No one would.
“You never helped before,” Twilight said finally, her voice cracking from nerves. “Even if you never did anything to me, I still knew you were on their side. Her side.” She turned her gaze to Rainbow for a second before directing it back to Applejack. “But I’m supposed to believe you want to help me now? When all you have to do is point me one step out of line, and then oops! No more Twilight! Really?!”
Her voice rose along with her anger, not giving anyone else the chance to respond. “But of course you think it’s easy for me to trust you—you never had to acknowledge what happened! I come back and suddenly everything’s roses and sunshine and fine.”
“Twilight—” Applejack tried to say something but Twilight’s thoughts kept spilling out, bitter and no longer buried by silent resentment.
“I never even got an apology.”
And with those words still hanging heavy in the air, the room began to shake.
Unlike with the tile swaps, the rumbling didn’t stop. The chandelier above swayed back and forth in a creaky arc that sent shadows dancing in every direction. Twilight stumbled as the floor lurched beneath her feet, but managed to catch herself just before she stepped onto the trapped tiles.
What’s happening?!
“Twilight!” Applejack’s voice rose above the rumbling, urgent and desperate. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but we might be running outa time!”
“But I—”
A terrible cracking noise split the air. Twilight spun around to see the furthest row of tiles crumble away to nothing, leaving only a dark and bottomless drop. Then the next row trembled more violently than before, cracks spreading along the surface of its tiles.
“Twilight, listen to me.” Once again Applejack took over, her words punctuated with the sound of splintering stone. “I didn’t do right by you in the past; it’s true. And there’s nothin’ I can do to go back and change that.”
The second row disintegrated and the third row started shaking, leaving only two rows between Twilight’s and the void.
“But I’m beggin’ you to give me another chance. Even if you never trust me on anything else, believe me when I say that I want to help you now!”
“And why is that?” Twilight countered, her voice shaking almost as much as her legs. “Because now you just see me as someone to be pitied?” She clenched her fists as the third row crumbled away. “I don’t want sympathy—I’m sick of it!”
“That’s not why! If you’d just—” Applejack cut herself off as the row behind Twilight’s heels cracked. “The tile to the left of the one in front of you is safe! Try it real quick first if you don’t believe me—just hurry up!”
Reluctantly, Twilight shifted over to stand in front of the tile Applejack pointed out. She gave it a quick tap with her shoe and, when nothing happened, stepped onto it completely.
“See? I told you the truth.” Relief washed through Applejack’s voice, though Twilight didn’t feel the same.
Yeah, for a single tile. But even Twilight knew better than to keep arguing at that point. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll give you that.”
“And it’s not sympathy, or pity,” Applejack continued, her tone shifting to something softer. “I promise that I don’t look down on you like that. Never even once.”
Now that was a surprise. Twilight stared at her, not even bothering to try and mask her disbelief. “You don’t?”
Applejack nodded and pointed to the tile in front of Twilight. “Of course not.”
“But I don’t understand.” Twilight tested the tile, then took another step forward. “If not pity, then what?”
The last row of tiles before the traps crumbled away, and Applejack pointed to Twilight’s right. She had the time to test and step onto the tile indicated before Applejack finally gave her answer:
“Guilt.”
…Oh.
How was Twilight supposed to respond to that?
The first row of trap tiles cracked, snapping them both out of their stupor. Applejack quickly indicated the next tile and continued, “At first I thought it was just kid stuff, y’know? Boys being boys; teasin’ girls they have a thing for ‘cause they don’t know how else to get their attention.”
Twilight stepped forward, then right. She didn’t bother testing the tiles with her foot anymore. “Yeah.”
“And even when I got the feelin’ things were goin’ too far, I didn’t want to be the one to step up and say something. I didn’t know you well enough, I told myself. It wasn’t my responsibility.” She lifted her head to look Twilight straight in the eyes. “I regret that choice more than anything.”
Another row vanished into the abyss that now took up more than half the room. Twilight shook her head to clear it and stepped to the next tile. “You did in the end,” she said quietly.
“Not soon enough.”
“But you did. And I guess—” Twilight choked on her own words as she tried to sort her feelings out. The topic had finally come up at the most inconvenient time possible, and she had far too much adrenaline in her bloodstream to try and shut the conversation down. “I guess I understood why you didn’t want to speak up,” she said after a few seconds. “They make it look so easy in those stupid bullying assemblies—it’s not. But I was just so angry at you. I still am, I think.” She stepped to the left twice. “Because it’s easier to blame someone else than yourself.”
Applejack shook her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I could have said something. Told my brother, or my parents, or Celestia.” Another step, another row fell away. Only a couple rows of tile remained between Twilight and the other side, a good few metres apart.
“You were trying to deal with it on your own. No one can blame you for that.”
“I was stubborn, Applejack.”
“And so was I.” She pointed to the next tile and cracked a small smile. “Too stubborn to bring up what we shoulda talked about ages ago, until some horrible monster-thing gives us no choice. Fancy that.”
It was poetic in a twisted way. If Twilight weren’t so terrified by the situation she might have even laughed.
Then the row behind her started to wobble and she instantly became aware of just how precarious her position was. She looked to Applejack for the next instruction only to see her staring intently at the floor instead.
“Hold on,” Applejack said slowly. “We, uh. Hm. We might have a bit of a problem.”
Twilight’s stomach flipped, anxiety threatening to take over. “What’s wrong?”
“Well I don’t want you to freak out—”
“What’s wrong?!”
“Sorry, sorry! It’s, uh, the path.” She swallowed hard. “It’s not gonna reach.”
Cold terror slammed into Twilight, all of her hope evaporating in that instant. “What?” she croaked.
“It doubled back on itself. I shoulda realized sooner; pushed you to get moving before too much disappeared.” Applejack’s voice rose with her panic, though she somehow managed to keep her tone steady. “Shoot!”
“Then what do I do?!” Twilight felt her voice go shrill; felt her hands start to tremble. The final row behind her tumbled into the abyss, and the floor beneath her feet began to quake. “Help me!”
Swearing under her breath, Applejack wiped the sweat from her palms on her jeans and yelled, “You gotta jump, Twilight!”
“W-what?!”
“There’s no other way!”
“That’s impossible!” Cracks splintered through her tile. “It won’t—”
“Listen to me!” Applejack shouted over Twilight’s protests, all politeness overridden by concern in an instant. “On the count of three you jump!”
“But—”
“I promise you’ll be fine!”
“How do you—”
“Please, Twilight.”
Twilight crossed her arms over herself in an attempt to stop from trembling. She wasn’t athletic or tall or strong; the metres that separated her from Applejack might as well have been miles—equally impossible to cross and a death sentence as soon as she fell into a trap of spikes or flames or—
“One!” Applejack’s voice cut through her thoughts, and the world lurched.
“W-wait—”
“Two!”
“Please, I can’t—”
“Three!”
And, with panic cold as ice rushing through her blood and voice and brain, Twilight screwed her eyes shut and jumped.
It took her an eternity to fall, but also half a second. She hurtled through the air at a trajectory she instantly realized was far too shallow—and no amount of promise could alter the laws of physics. I’m dead, she thought. It echoed over and over: I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m—
And then Twilight slammed not into the floor but a pair of arms that wrapped around her torso and yanked. She let out an involuntary shriek as she toppled forward over the rest of the traps—just narrowly missing the wave of flames that erupted directly behind her back—and collapsed in a heap at the foot of the staircases.
Immediately a chorus of voices assaulted Twilight’s eardrums, concerned and overlapping each other all at once.
“Holy shit, AJ—”
“Are they both—”
“Can someone please put her sleeve out—”
“That was way way way too close—”
“You alright, Twilight?”
Twilight opened her eyes to a concerned Applejack leaning over her, the rest of the girls hovering in view just behind her head. They were all slightly blurry—Twilight reached up to feel for her glasses and found they’d been knocked askew from the fall.
“I think so,” she wheezed. “How—”
“AJ caught ya,” Rainbow interrupted, and it was only then that Twilight noticed the state of her saviour.
Applejack sat sprawled beside her covered head to toe in soot. The sleeves of her flannel were singed black, and past the edges ringed by dying embers Twilight could see the reddened skin covering the backs of her hands and forearms. When she noticed Twilight staring she quickly forced a smile over her grimace. “Hurts no worse than a sunburn, don’t you worry.”
Stunned, Twilight pushed herself up into a sitting position and examined herself. While she was covered in the same amount of soot and had a few scorch marks on her tights and her skirt, the worst of her injuries were a bruised hip and a sore shoulder from the landing. No burns.
“Why?” she finally asked, a tremor in her voice.
“I got too close to the trap is all.” Applejack misinterpreted the question as an inquiry to her injuries, not her motivation. “Not your fault though; we both stepped on it. I just wasn’t quick enough pullin’ you back.”
“I mean, why did you catch me?”
Applejack chuckled at that, low and relieved. “Because,” she said, “I promised you’d be fine. Wouldn’t look too good if I didn’t keep my word.”
Twilight exhaled a shaky breath. “I guess so.”
“And... because I owe you a proper apology.” She got to her feet with a pained grunt, then extended her hand to Twilight. “I should’ve spoken up sooner when you were gettin’ bullied. And when you came back to school I shouldn’t have just skipped to the niceties and pretended nothin’ happened. Even if it was easier to not think about it, it was for my sake, not yours. And that was wrong of me.”
Applejack’s hand was caked with ash. But beneath the grime and calluses Twilight felt a sturdy sort of warmth.
“I’m sorry,” Applejack finished. She gave their linked hands a squeeze as she pulled Twilight to her feet.
Before Twilight could respond a light flashed from between their fingers. She blinked in surprise as a tiny pinprick of gold danced down Applejack’s arm and looped across her skin in an elegant and glittery cursive. Then the speck winked out, leaving just the golden word inscribed upon her wrist.
“What on earth was that?” Rarity leaned in to get a better look, and Twilight quickly let go of Applejack’s hand to give them space.
“More magic?” Fluttershy suggested.
“But not the scary magic,” Pinkie added, standing on her tiptoes to prop her chin on Applejack’s shoulder.
Or anything but magic, Twilight protested to herself, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. She didn’t bother moving to join the group, comfortable in her position across from them with all the space between.
“So what’s it say?” Rainbow was the last to join, brushing past Twilight to stand at Applejack’s side. Her gaze remained locked forward almost unnaturally, as if she didn’t want to risk looking at anyone else.
Applejack raised her arm and squinted at it for a few seconds. “Integrity,” she read out. “Huh.”
Huh, Twilight echoed as the others dissolved into discussion about what the word might mean. She flexed her hand in front of her face and stared at it, almost daring the light to return and write something else. Integrity, and an apology.
And despite everything, somehow the weight on Twilight’s shoulders felt just a little bit lighter.