//------------------------------//
// 9. Rebel Without a Cause 
// Story: Empathy for the Devil 
// by MarvelandPonder 
//------------------------------//





	Sunset Shimmer had no reason to exist and thus no reason to leave the bed. Her alarm prodded her, as if with a pointy stick. She slapped the snooze button, rolled away from the morning light dragging the plush of the blanket with her, and settled back into a drowsy haze. 

The only thing she bothered to do was hold Scruffers closer, who seemed to think Twilight was very sick and in need of guarding while Sunset was away. “Mrreow,” he said, and butted his head against her as if to ask, Where’s Sunset?

Last night he’d brought her something impossible. Like, actually impossible. Her cat, somehow, brought home Sunset’s foal blanket that she used to use in Canterlot Castle when she was little and scared of the dark. Apart from the mind-boggling revelation that her cat could phase through space-time, too, she appreciated the layers in this winter storm. All she wanted to do was sleep.

To the point that when the alarm rang again she growled and hurled the damn thing across her apartment. The blaring beep sailed away until she heard a promising crack and quiet returned to her daze.

Long enough later that she almost succumbed to the gravity of sleep, the scratchy tones of what she was starting to recognize more as Timber's voice than Rainbow Dash's ventured to ask, "Hey, Sunset?"

"Mmph."

"I don't wanna alarm you, but you're usually up nine snooze buttons ago," he said. If she strained to think about it, she could place his voice on the steps up to her bedroom platform. 

She didn't answer back. 

"Sunset?"

"Mmwhat?"

"I'm not an expert on public school, but last week it always started at the same time. So, uh, I think we're going to be late," Timber informed her. "... And Twilight's going to have major anxiety if we spoil her perfect attendance record." 

Sunset's eyes flew open and she swore loudly enough to wake any remaining neighbors. She was no stranger to ripping the blanket off in sheer panic, but she wasn't as accustomed to someone holding out tofu bacon and a hot cup of coffee for her. 

The heat burned the roof of her mouth as she stumbled through her morning at full tilt on icy roads, but the rush got her to class. Dishevelled and experiencing heart palpitations, but in class. 

But as class went on, Sunset continually re-realized she'd stopped paying attention. Problem was, she found herself profoundly apathetic to what should have been at least a fun challenge. Usually after daydreaming in the middle of a lecture, she could reinvest herself easily, almost effortlessly if the topic actually had something interesting to wrap her mind around. Nothing could get a hold on her.

Microchips shot his hand up at every question, sending a smirk at Sunset after every right answer as if to say he'd scored another point on her. Even the joy of spite couldn't get her to compete. 

Microchips approached her desk after class and set his jaw askew. "Those were awfully rudimentary questions for you to not even raise your hand, Sparkle.” The nerd brought his hands down on her desk. “Why did you let me win? What are you planning? ...Are you feeling okay? You know there’s this great new magic counsellor⁠—” 

Sunset knocked back his hand from her forehead and got up to leave. “I’ll see you next time, Microchips.”

Next time it wouldn’t be her, with any luck, but by then Twilight could win back her honour. With Timber finally back in Gloriosa’s clutches after the mayor's office and getting his ear yanked off, Sunset and Timber hadn’t been able to switch everyone back yesterday. He eventually managed to free himself and Rarity after a very long explanation and some pleading, but even still, he hadn’t got back to Sunset’s apartment until late, and by then both of them needed to collapse. 

But even if they’d had the chance, it was a little hard to feel the Power of Friendship flowing through her after being told she didn’t exist. She’d said she was tired from the road trip. Her friends understood, so she promised them all she would come back swinging after a good night’s sleep. 

And she had given it the old college try last night. The blowing blizzard cracked and creaked her shivering apartment building around her, but she tried.

Now that she’d had one, Sunset couldn’t tell if she needed more sleep or had too much. She guessed it didn’t matter. Helping her friends was always its own reward. 

That, and finally getting her girlfriend back. At this point, the first thing Sunset wanted was to be held. She never would have pegged herself as the type to miss physical affection at all, but now she craved it. Ever since they’d started dating, really⁠—Twilight had admitted the daydreaming about each other was mutual—but especially now. Talking to Twilight for hours on end, hearing her dorky snorty laugh (possibly from those nibbly little kisses that drove her girlfriend a little wild) while they cuddled up on her couch sounded like ascending to cloud-covered peaks of Mount Olympus. 

Dear Celestia, this pause is making me soft, she thought, staring out the window to the icicles hanging from the roof above, ready to pierce her heart as if plucked from cupid’s quiver. But, she couldn’t deny the facts: I miss my princess. 

Soft or not, the promise of girlfriend snuggles and helping her friends sustained her through her morning classes, counting the period bells to lunch. The last one freed her, but Cheerilee stopped her before she could leave. “Twilight? Could I speak to you for a moment?”

Sunset briefly wondered if Twilight had ever heard those words for anything other than awe and praise. She could just imagine how nervous Twilight would be every time regardless. “Um, sure thing, Miss Cheerilee.”

The other students shoved books into bags and clamoured out into the hall, leaving Sunset to approach Cheerilee’s desk by the frost-fogged second-floor window. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you daydreaming in class,” the English teacher said. “Is there a problem at home?”

“No, Miss Cheerilee,” she reported. She couldn’t imagine the Sparkles having any problems, the few times they were all together under the same roof. Twilight’s mom, racing off to international adventure and bestsellers, her dad, head ever towards the stars and pioneering interstellar advancements, and her brother always shipping off to new ports. Sunset hadn’t ever known a more impressive set of people all in the same family. 

“Are you sleeping well?” After Sunset offered up a nod, imagining that the real Twilight was sleeping fine, Cheerilee prodded her perplexed pout, sitting back. “Well, is there anything you’d like to talk about, maybe with the school counsellor?” 

She must have seen Sunset’s shoulders tensing on impulse. Miss Cheerilee turned her chair more directly toward her. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m concerned, Twilight. I know you must be under a lot of pressure with all of your college applications and I wonder if it might be getting to you.”

Sending off application after application had been her girlfriend’s whole life for weeks. Despite how frazzled Twilight herself got, Sunset knew not a single one of those elite and Ivy League applications would come back with a rejection. Oxenford, Hayvard, Princesston⁠—Sunset could barely keep track of them all, but she had a hunch they’d all be begging Twilight to attend.

At a certain point, Sunset suspected the sheer amount of choices would paralyze her girlfriend when the acceptance letters rolled in this spring, but she’d also been excited to celebrate every single one with Twilight. Finally, she’d have irrefutable proof Twilight was as amazing as Sunset kept insisting. Maybe that would get it through that genius head of hers.

Twilight and all the rest of her friends had futures ahead of them. What did Sunset have besides a past she couldn’t seem to keep behind her?  

Sunset shook her head, leaving Cheerilee’s talk behind. Twilight thinks I’m a good friend to the girls. The girls probably do, too. I’m going to fix things for them! It’s not always easy, but that’s what I do here. I fix what I broke.

Passing by the counsellor’s office on her way to the band room was a mistake. Sunset knew she should have taken the other hall, even if this was the most direct route. The sign-up sheet for counselling appointments overflowed with names like an overfilled goblet, a stack of papers drilled so desperately to the wall the clipboard looked like it might burst. It was a pale relief to find that some of those names were at least repeats. 

Counsellor Solstice emerged from his office waving goodbye to Scootaloo. 

“Thanks,” she told him, rubbing the back of her head. “I’ll think about it. I think that helped to talk about it, though.”

Sunset didn't know the kid extremely well, apart from the time when the Crusaders interrogated her in their clubhouse to sleuth out her real intentions for hanging out with their sisters not long after the Fall Formal. Sunset would have respected their spunk more if the rope hadn’t been so tight on her wrists or the lamp-light so bright in her eyes. 

But now, watching Scootaloo come out of that office felt like having rope around her chest, bound tight. 

If so many people are getting the help they need, I should feel happy for them, shouldn’t I? Sunset grimaced, watching Scootaloo leave before she had to explain herself to Sunset. Celestia, I’m being selfish again. They’re having problems I can’t fix and I’m pouting about it. Some friend.

Solstice waved goodbye to the sophomore student and as soon as she was out of sight, his expression collapsed into exhaustion. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep, steadying breath, ran a hand back through his dark, fluffy hair, and pushed the breath out as forcefully as it came. “Peaceful, calm surrender… peaceful calm surrender…”

When he reached for the sign-up sheet to call the next student to his office, Solstice startled when he noticed icicles forming on his fingertips and even more so when he found Sunset behind him. 

“Ahhh! Twilight Sparkle!” Terrified of the teenage figure before him, he grasped an over-productive heart. “I-I’m sorry, do I...? I don’t have you on my list. Did you come to set up an appointment? I’ve been hoping to speak with you and your friends.”

“Oh no, no,” Sunset balked, almost too forcefully. She pointed at the clipboard. “Passing by. Are we not going to talk about the ice on your fingers or… ?”

Internally, she reminded herself to at least pretend to sound like Twilight talking to a figure of authority, but even Twilight would have her suspicions. In fact, if anything, Sunset thought Twilight would have blurted it out faster. She loved her girlfriend very much.

Solstice winced at his colourless, frostbitten hands. “Seasonal magic,” he grunted. “Don’t be scared. It’s a flare-up. I’ve got it under complete control, that much I can promise you.”

The concept of magic being dependent on a season struck Sunset as strange, but then, pegasi controlled the weather back in Equestria. She could imagine how it would be evolutionarily advantageous to have extra magical energy to craft winter storms. 

She looked at his hand, the lack of colour almost startling, and cringed. Did I cause this? Is this because of the crack in the sky like Flash and Timber? How many other people are going to get magical powers because of me? She took a step towards him, unsure of what to do but wishing she could fix it somehow. “That looks painful. Are you okay?”

Before Sunset could probe further, a pink sunned the counsellor’s cheeks as his eyes snagged on something behind her. Naturally, Sunset turned, and even her eyebrows shot up when she got a look at Principal Celestia coming out of her office sporting a new bouncy bob cut. “Oh good, I’m glad I caught you.”

“You, that is, er⁠—” Solstice cleared his throat, looking quite a lot warmer now. Minus the beard and fancy accent, Sunset could’ve easily confused him for any other teenage boy around school. He fumbled with his tie with his still frost-bitten fingers. “I quite like the new haircut. A bold change, yes? You look radiant.”

Sunset remained on her best behaviour, as Twilight would, and didn’t roll her eyes at the forty-something-turned-insta-teen. But he was on thin ice. 

From her vantage point at the coffee maker located next to VP Luna’s office, Principal Celestia bit her lip (and Sunset wrinkled her nose; even Twilight wouldn’t stand for that). “Thank you. It’s like you said. A bold change can be a good thing.”

Once it had filled just under the brim, Principal Celestia handed Solstice a full mug of steaming hot coffee⁠—quite literally steaming. The sort of temperature lawsuits were made of. The mug, possibly meant for children, sported a snow-themed Whimsy princess character. Solstice held it in both of his hands and took a grateful sip. How he hadn’t burned his tongue off, Sunset didn’t know, but Solstice smiled at the principal. “Thank you, Tia.” 

“Of course. I thought you might like a refill, considering how busy you’ve been,” Celestia said, her hands lingering around his and lent him some warmth. “You’ve helped so many students in the school.”

“Helped is a relative term,” he muttered, sounding unnerved. 

“Of course you’d say that, but look around,” she said, gesturing towards the chattering cafeteria near their offices. Inside, along with freshmen and seniors alike, Sunset could see Juniper filming Wallflower’s exclusive interview with Bulk Biceps. Judging by the flapping motion he was making with his arms, Sunset didn’t need to read lips to know he was talking about one of the magical she-demons. She found herself oddly proud that he could do so without crying. “I’ve never seen the students so at ease and open to sharing how they feel about how dramatically they’ve been affected by magic. It’s remarkable! I think we’re really making a difference in their lives. You are.”

“Difference is also relative.”

Principal Celestia smiled, amused. “There’s harmony in the halls at Canterlot High and I have you to thank for that.” Noticing Sunset’s gaze, she cleared her throat. “And as your colleague, I believe I should remind you to take your contractually obligated lunch break. For your own mental health, of course.”

“How professional of you,” he quipped, smiling back. “Should I also remind you to do the same?”

Sunset sighed. Another problem that she caused that she couldn’t fix. At least in this case her victim had the help of her principal, and together, they seemed to have it under control. She hesitated, maybe would have lingered if the extremely obvious flirting didn’t make her want to find a new dimension to run away into. She narrowly avoided fake-gagging in order to say, “You know, you can just say lunch date.”

Trying not to hurl at their schoolyard grade blushing, she left the two of them to it, moseying her way to the band room where most of her friends were waiting for her on the orchestral steps. By the looks of it, only Timber was still missing, and by now even Flash had intermingled with the group. 

Technically speaking, they weren’t supposed to eat their lunches in the band room near the thousand-dollar equipment, but making friends with the music teacher had its perks. And today, that meant Flash could bring along his vintage Sugar n’ Spice Girls band lunch-box to sit among the girls⁠—in the middle, in fact⁠—and talk like girls do.

Twilight sliced her PB and J sandwich without crusts in two (with utensils she always came prepared with; Sunset would have teased her about it if it wasn’t so frequently useful) and gave one half to Flash. In return, Flash shared some of his mom’s homemade pork dumplings. Sunset did her best not to think about how good the tofu bacon tasted this morning since she refused to stoop to eating the creatures she used to have polite conversation with, but she could say she enjoyed the hearty smell now. Or, at least, it didn’t make her gag. 

Sunset trudged up to where her friends sat around eating lunch and noodling on instruments and plopped down. She caught the looks her friends traded amongst themselves but she let them. Taking slightly more sensible, humane bites than the real Pinkie ever would, Applejack wolfed the last of her apple before asking, “You okay there, sugarcube?”

The way her friends rallied around her made Sunset want to give them at least some kind of answer, but the best she could do was shrug. “Me? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, for a start, you’ve got one hell of a death wish if you’re pushin’ your luck with Rarity,” Applejack warned, but the concern shone through her currently baby blue eyes. “Haven’t seen you dressed like this since after the Fall Formal.”

It was possible Applejack had a point. Post-Fall Formal and post-she-demon, Sunset had honestly been a mess. Let herself go was probably on the charitable side. Between getting next to no sleep and carrying around the weight of her newly acquired guilt, she all but wrote a checklist of red flags:



Wore the same sweatpants for… longer than she cared to admit. 

Mismatched socks. And shoes. 

Bedhead. 

Avoided mirrors (read: afraid of seeing demon eyes).

Avoided sleeping (read: afraid of nightmares).

Got into super video games to avoid reality.

Late to everything by a minimum of 15 minutes. 

??? 

No profit, no stolen income = no heating.

Perpetually in need of a shower. 

Rolling up to school in the morning with a Red Minotaur and a full sleeve of Princess Guide cookies as the only part of her complete breakfast. 


Her new friends had been a godsend. Like, actual guardian angels. No, really, Sunset seriously doubted she would have survived without them. 

Dash barked a laugh then eyed the fashionista beside her. “Hey yeah, how come you haven’t gone nuclear on Sweatpants Shimmer over here?”

Sunset was impressed Rarity managed a casual shrug. “Oh, psh-aw. You all make it sound like I can’t accept a little change of wardrobe,” she said through a stuttering laugh, before waving the notion away like so much hullabaloo. “Sunset will relinquish her drab grey Give Up on Life pants when she’s ready to do so. I can be patient.”

“Thank you,” Sunset said, then frowned. “Wait, what’s wrong with my pants?” She became acutely aware that she hadn’t bothered to do up the drawstrings.

In answer, Rarity had a question for her. “Where would you be without me?”

“Without you? A thrift store. Without all of you? Celestia only knows. In the dungeons of Canterlot Castle, I assume.” Sunset realized how that sounded. “But, seriously, girls, I’m okay.”

“Got it. Totally not okay.” Making Fluttershy look like a proper jock in her letterman’s jacket, Rainbow Dash pounded back a “Thunderbird Power Lightning”-flavoured sports drink chock full of electrolytes and technically nonlethal amounts of sugar. She schmeared her lip dry before asking, “You’re still all hung up on the whole ‘No Other Sunset’ thing?”

“Of course she is.” Fluttershy frowned. Out of everybody, she’d probably stayed the closest to what Rarity would actually dress like if she were, in fact, herself, possibly just to be polite. Even still, hugging her knees in the way Fluttershy usually did made it impossible to deny her true identity. “It only happened yesterday.”

“I’d be hung up too if I found out news that weird,” Flash offered. “Of course, I’d also probably be weirded out if I found out there was another Flash. I mostly try not to think about him.”

Twilight fiddled with a dumpling. “It does tend to confound the mind...”

“Back up, how is this not a good thing?” Rainbow Dash stood herself up as if to address an assembly in the gymnasium, a habit of hers ever since around the time Applejack became co-captain of the football team. Took the two of them time to figure out how co-captaining worked, but these days the two of them moved in astonishing harmony out on the field. 

Even now, Applejack moved things out of Dash’s way while she paced. “So there’s no other Sunset Shimmer out there. As far as I’m concerned that means there’s no one else running around in this world cramping your style! You’re a free agent! Total lone wolf! Alpha and omega, baby!”

Sunset made a face at her. “You make being the only me in the multiverse sound like I’m a perpetually single pick-up artist.” Existentially single. While there was nothing wrong with being single, the suggestion had her hand twitching towards Twilight’s. 

Dash tossed her hands up in the air in a shrug she couldn’t be bothered to drop. “Pfft, whatever, I’m not a philanthropist.”

“Philosopher,” Applejack said, coming in for the assist. 

“Ha! See? I don’t even know the word! Point. Made.” She looked entirely too proud of herself and it made Twilight very sad. 

Twilight’s eyebrows pressed together. “Are you not reading the Word a Day calendar I got you? Do you not like it?”

“No, I totally am,” Dash told her, fists to her hips, “today’s is cromulent.”

Twilight squinted. “I don’t think it is.”

While Twilight struggled with that, Rarity took the liberty of straightening Sunset’s bow-tie (even if she wore her own leather jacket, it still looked wrong not to wear some sort of dorky neckwear). “Regardless, you, Sunset Shimmer, are no slouch. You’re hard-working, ambitious, and dangerously clever, which I hope you know is a compliment.”

Applejack nodded. “Eeyup. There’s plenty out there for a girl with your kind of drive. ‘Course, I’m taking over my parents’ farm, so I don’t know a whole lot about career-plannin’, but when I was a lil’un, I used to want to be a guitar player for this girl I met at camp, Rara?” She whistled. “Shoot, she was one hell of a singer. Real beauty queen, too. That girl was the brightest star I’ve ever seen shine.”

Rarity sighed, “Yes, yes, we all know about your first crush, darling. Very sweet, properly gay⁠—but the point?”

Applejack chuckled. “Point is even I thought I’d end up doing something different once upon a time. Ain’t a one of us has it figured it out at the start.”

That might have been comforting if Sunset was a ten year old chasing after girls at camp. 

Recovering from the crisis of her own, Twilight took both of Sunset’s hands in her own⁠—a move that, while perfectly platonic and acceptable for ‘Flash’ to do, made Sunset’s heartache. “You get to choose your own path. No more living in a princess’s shadow! I don’t have any doubts that whatever it is you chose to do, it’s going to be breathtaking.” A light tinge broke through on Twilight’s cheeks, like the last light of a long day. “And I, for one, really can’t wait to see it.”

It broke Sunset Shimmer’s heart to hear that Twilight had so much faith in someone who had no discernable future in this world. No more shadows. But maybe that was the problem. All day today, she’d felt like a person without a shadow. Uncanny. Anchorless. Untethered. “Thanks, but… I don’t know…”

Pinkie Pie patted Sunset on the back, using more of Applejack’s strength than she probably meant to. “N’aww, don’t be sad, Flashlight is totally right! You’re a true, true original.”

Sunset sighed, her face sinking into her hands. She didn’t mean to be a miserable sulk about it, but she thought it better than unloading all of what was going on in her head on her friends. They didn’t deserve that. She should have come into the lunch room bopping along to the beat of an upbeat life, lifting them up instead of taking them all down with her. Wow, I’m a failed protégé, a bad friend, and I don’t technically exist. Triple-threat.

Despite her best efforts, however, Rarity voiced some of her thoughts for her. “Oh, we all already knew you were unique and magnifique, darling, but I must admit, I don’t quite understand how this could have happened. How can it be that an entire person simply doesn’t exist when by all accounts they should?”

The lot of them turned their eyes toward Twilight, who startled when she noticed and clutched at her chest. “What are you all looking at me for?”

Applejack shrugged. “Oh uh, force of habit, I guess. You usually have some kind of smarty-pants theory on the go.”

“Oh. My guess is as good as any of yours. We exist in a multiverse. The full extent of which has yet to be determined, but between the two known universes we do have some idea of for certain, they’ve always appeared to operate as parallels.” She held her chin. “The circumstances that lead to, say, Pinkie and her twin sister Marble being born, must have been consistent in both universes.”

Pinkie beamed. “Ma and Pa say we were a fun surprise!”

Twilight didn’t seem to know how to take that. Sunset didn’t need to make eye contact with the rest of them to understand there was now a silent agreement not to tell Pinkie. “O-oh. Um, well, surprise or not, the point is you and your pony counterpart both exist because of similar circumstances. That’s what defines our universes as parallel: the commonalities.

“So, the simple if a bit callous explanation,” Twilight said, glancing down to her girlfriend, “is the circumstances that led to Sunset’s birth in one universe must not have been consistent in the other.”

Rainbow Dash angled her head to one side. “Did her folks do it in a magic hot-air balloon? Wait, we have those here… Did they do it in a magic train? Wait⁠—”

Rarity covered her mouth but the blush on Timber’s tan cheeks showed through. “Rainbow Dash, honestly!”

“Was there a dragon involved?” Flash offered. “We don’t have those.” 

Pinkie chewed some bubblegum in one cheek and spoke from the other. “I’m no expert on the subject, but what do we think about between-worlds limbo? Hot or not?”





Rarity huffed despite Applejack’s low-toned chuckling. “I hardly think it matters how it happened. The mechanics are not what’s in question here!” She’d crossed her arms and set them firm on her chest. A moment passed before she added: “... Sunset, dear, was it a dragon?”

Sunset snorted, her smirk pressing up against her hand. “Pretty sure I’d figure it out if I was half-dragon, but I can’t really speculate on the rest. I barely know anything concrete about my parents or where I came from, but that’s not the problem. I think… I think I’m the problem. What am I supposed to do in this world? What’s my life’s purpose here? What would my cutie mark be for?” Passing her hand through her hair, she stared around at her friends and dropped her hands at her knees. “You girls are humans, right? How does a human usually learn about their destiny?”

None of her friends looked eager to answer. At most, she caught weird looks traded and lighthearted chuckling. Sunset frowned, enunciating the word: “What?”

Hesitating, Twilight laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sunset, sweetie, that’s... not really how it works here.”

“Nobody is just told what they’re meant to do with their lives,” Rarity giggled out, holding her own cheek and aiming a smile at Rainbow and Flash. “And quite honestly, dear, even if there were some sort of Fates or oracles divining predetermined paths for us all, I can’t imagine you of all people taking to that well.”

Dash nearly snorted the rest of her Thunderbird sports drink. “Ha! Yeah, you’d probably do the exact opposite just to spite anybody who told you what to do!”

Flash hid a giggle behind his hand like a demure southern belle afraid of the sound. Something about that really tickled him, and Sunset knew from experience Flash Sentry was an extremely ticklish person. 

Sunset’s eyebrows pushed together, staring at all of them in an earnest attempt to summon the cognitive power to get the joke. She didn’t feel like she was firing on all cylinders today, for whatever reason. “No, not like someone bossing me around and telling me how to live my life, I mean how do you know what your purpose is? Scrying? Is there, like, a website? How do you know why you exist?”

Pinkie Pie shrugged up her shoulders next to her. “You don’t!”

Sunset recoiled from the slap to her fundamental understanding of everything in existence. Regardless of the fact that her vocal cords weren’t currently her own, the sound that came out, approximating “I’m sorry???”, was much more guttural than any sound she’d recognize as her own. Or, for that matter, Twilight’s. 

“Everyone decides that for themselves,” Twilight explained in a doctor-like tone that suggested You’ll only feel a little sting with cleaver in hand. “I think we all cope with it in our own ways, generally speaking. Some write ponderous queries on the nature of the universe, others find meaning in helping their loved ones or through charity work, and still, others are comfortable having no greater ‘purpose’ at all.”

Sunset slapped her forehead to garner feeling somewhere, seeing how it was fleeing. “Sweet Celestia…”

Fluttershy laid a hand against her knee. “Oh, it’s nothing to get too upset about, Sunset. I don’t think a person needs a purpose to be valuable, or at least, I hope you don’t.”

Clutching her head, Sunset stammered a fleet of unintelligent noises. One of her friends asked if she was feeling faint, but she didn’t have the mental power to decipher who that wasn’t already devoted to the thought blaring its sirens and powering through her mind like an ambulance through a thoroughfare, everything in its path pulling to the side: I shouldn’t exist. 

Sunset laid back on the top step, staring past at the fiberglass ceiling panels. 

Biting her lip, Twilight leaned over her. “... Sunny? Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Sunset moaned another particularly unintelligent noise.

“Oh no, we broke her!” Pinkie’s head hung over her, looking upside down from Sunset’s point of view. “Girls, we can’t break this Sunset, we only have one!”

Laid flat on her back as if the world knocked her there, Sunset stared up. How much of her thoughts should she actually share with her friends? How much should she burden them with this? Their concerns wouldn’t be sated with more non-verbal moaning (except maybe Flash; the boy had a talent in deciphering her veritable noises by then), that much she knew, but how were her friends supposed to comfort her anyway? What could they even say?

Sunset Shimmer knew she had no right to exist in this universe. Maybe at all. No purpose here, none left for her back home. Princess Twilight did everything Sunset was ever told she was destined for, and she did it so well they crowned the mare twice. Whatever flares of jealousy lurked under cover of the night inside her counted for pennies next to the fortune of realizing everything she’d ever thought made her worth something had already been fulfilled. Already covered. The universe offering a collective: We’re good, thanks. 

Nothing in Equestria. Nothing for her here, quite literally, nothing here was meant for her, any her. Assuming humans really did have no inherent purpose—and she could hardly call this shaky, sub-zero grasp she’d just developed an assumption—at least the universe deigned to let everyone else exist. They were supposed to be here, even if to design reasons by their own hands.

The circumstances that lead to Sunset’s birth were inconsistent. Her girlfriend’s, really her ex-boyfriend’s voice played back in her head. Is that all I am? An inconsistency? Some cosmic mistake? Sunset’s mind raced to the fact that she didn’t indeed know her parents or where she actually came from. Sweet Celestia. 

	At some point, and Sunset genuinely wasn’t aware of exactly when, Timber Spruce had entered the fray. He must’ve. Mostly because he joined the others in towering above her, next to Twilight, to stare down at her and ask: “Whoa. You good?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m good,” she said, and sat up in an attempt to play off her moaning on the floor was typical Monday blues. For all Timber knew, it was. She aimed an eyebrow back at him. “So, you ready to change everyone back?”

“Hang on.” Timber limbered up, performing pointless stretches with his arms that gave Sunset time to get up off the floor. Then, he promptly stuck out his hand and along with it, a grin. “Ready when you are, new best friend.”

Sunset smirked, her smile cracking. “Tcht. That’s the spirit, I guess. Flash, how about⁠—”

“Ready! I’m ready!” Flash stumbled up to the both of them like a batter afraid of the ball but still playing for the home team. He gave a thumbs up back to Twilight, who in turn gave one to him, before standing at attention, salute and all. “Just say the word.”

Sunset seriously doubted her body had ever saluted anyone as a genuine sign of respect before, but the weirder image was that Flash wore his lightning-struck shield emblem tee. It looked way too much like the times when they were dating that Sunset stole her boyfriend’s shirts (mostly because she didn’t have a lot of clothes of her own at the time). She made a mental note to change as soon as she got her body back.

At least I can fix what I screwed up. I know I’m good for that much, at least. 

“Alright,” she told the boys and offered a hand out to each, receiving one from each in kind, “we can do this. We’re experts at friendship.” Although, as she said that, Sunset had to shove down the thoughts screaming through her mind like, ‘You shouldn’t exist here and they’re all paying for it’ or ‘They’ll all see how awful you are eventually’ or even a reassuring ‘You’re breaking the universe. There’s a crack in the sky to prove it.’

	But shove aside, she did, and if that didn’t make her at least a little bit of a selfless friend, Sunset didn’t know what did. 

It was possible she didn’t know what did. 

Focusing on pushing her magic to Timber, a wave of disorientation blew through her, sending sickening swells surging through her skull. Going from one position in a room to another completely brought with it a vertigo. The guitars sitting on stands spun toward the ceiling. She blinked that sensation away, gripping her forehead. 

Feeling a lack of glasses on her face.

Sunset forced her eyes open despite the nauseating pull on her stomach. She looked down at her hands, finding orange skin. The back of her own hands. 

She barked a laugh. “I’m me. I’m me!” Sunset sunk her hands through familiar red and gold curls and her own voice cackling in her own ears. She’d never felt so thoroughly relieved to be Sunset Shimmer and no one else. She whipped around to her friends. “We did it!”

Out of the whole lot of them, Timber recovered first, dazed but above all still well-groomed from Rarity’s reign. The grim kindness in their features lowered Sunset’s stomach like a coffin laid to rest before Timber even had the chance to say, “I’m sorry, Sunset. I’m Twilight.”

Sunset shook her head, a small movement, but the disorientation made it feel as if she’d swung her head back and forth like the lurch of a busted carnival ride one bolt from falling to bits. “No… no, no, no...” She blinked hard to dispel the sick feeling heating up her throat. Despite herself, Sunset searched the others. “Where’s Timber?”

“Here,” said the person in Twilight’s body right next to Sunset, but he cradled his head beneath the bangs. Hearing what was now his voice and what would normally be Twilight’s, Timber’s eyes flared open. “Oh. Oh no.”

The person in Rainbow Dash’s body mewled next to her, rubbing her rainbow-coloured head. “Goodness... so many colours to accessorize with!”

“Aw man!” whoever was occupying Flash exclaimed, shooting up from her seat on the steps. She made Flash look like someone had cancelled a concert. “You guys need to stop stealing my hot bod!”

Twilight pointed at her. “So then, that’s Rarity and Rainbow Dash. Should we develop a role-call or some sort of attendance? At the very least, I’m going to need to make a spreadsheet…”

A country drawl squeaked forth from Fluttershy: “Aww butterbisquits… Guess I’m Fluttershy now. It’s Applejack, y’all.” A fact she confirmed by taking the Stetson away off of Pinkie’s head and putting it on her own. 

The person currently residing in Rarity gave a riotous giggle-snorting laugh, kicking out their legs. “Whee! I got Rarity this time! Do I get to wear a bunch of funny hats?”

“Glad you’re happy with me, at least,” Rarity said from her place in Rainbow Dash’s body, but she seemed preoccupied with the multi-coloured wardrobe she’d been given.

The same way the person in Applejack’s body made a muscle and couldn’t stop staring at it. Flash, Sunset had to assume. Which meant the quietest Pinkie Pie she’d ever seen had to be Fluttershy. 

Sunset shook her head. “Holy Tartarus, all of you are still in the wrong bodies? Why am I the only one who went back to normal!? What kind of bullshit is that!? This doesn’t make any sense!” Sunset groaned so hard she had to sit down. She did so, plopping down hard on the top step of the orchestra stairs, and sinking into herself. 

“It’s okay, Sunset,” Fluttershy said through the softest register of Pinkie’s voice. So soft, in fact, that Sunset almost thought it sounded like Fluttershy. She laid a gentle pink hand on her shoulder. “We know you’re going through a lot right now.”

Bad friend bad friend bad friend. Sunset massaged her forehead. “It’s not okay, but thanks.”

“Hey. Do you need your sledgehammer to smash stuff for a while?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Maybe let off some steam so you can, I don’t know, put us back in the right bodies for a change?”

That received her another slug from Applejack, albeit this time from an Applejack with all the walloping power of Fluttershy. Sunset wondered if Dash felt it or was just rubbing her arm to be polite.

“For once, I don’t think that’s going to help,” Sunset grumbled. She frowned. “We have to figure this out. Timber, what were you doing before you showed up to the lunchroom? What took you so long, anyway?”

“Aside from the terror of never living up to the example Rarity set with my boyfriend’s dad?” Grabbing it from Rarity’s pocket which up until just now would have been his, Timber waggled his cell-phone. “Guess who actually teleported to where he wanted to after a few dozen tries.”

Pinkie Pie raised her hand. “Ooo! I know this one! It’s Timbo!”

“Yea—” He stared, his smug smile dislodged. “I have a nickname now?”

While Timber grinned at that, Twilight took his phone in her hands and ogled at it. A fine layer of moss dusted the phone case as if it were a long lost relic straight from the set of a Daring Do serial. “Does it still work?”

“Yup! Gloriosa made sure of it. Getting it off the roof and sending her I’m Not Dead! texts is the only way I could get out of my perma-grounding for now. Turns out not answering her texts or calls, and you know, scaring her half to death kind of sucked for her. But hey, my phone still works, so there’s that. Thankfully I don’t think it rained at all and Camp Everfree isn’t getting the snow Canterlot City is.” He shrugged, but as he got his mossy phone back, Sunset’s brow pulled together. 

There wasn’t much snow outside of Canterlot City, she thought, remembering the sunny fields of Nightfall Reach and sparkling stretches of highway. Like an unseen lightning strike, a chill delivered from the northern nowhere lands of Unknown raked its claws down her back. 

Sunset took the few remaining steps between her and the frozen window and the tundra of a schoolyard below, the clarity of her realization stinging like the frost-bite on Solstice’s hands. “Girls? I think something much bigger is going on.”

Her friends tensed and swapped cautionary looks until Twilight asked with Timber’s voice, “Bigger how?”

The blustering winds whipping snow past the window outside whistled. Sunset grimaced. “We’re not the only ones with some rogue magic on our hands.”







Arriving at the counsellor’s office like a mob in search of somewhere to sharpen their pitchforks and light their torches, Sunset filled her friends in on her theory. None of them liked the sound of a new power that, well, powerful. They kept their geodes close. Sunset rapped her knuckles on his door, grimacing. 

Fluttershy frowned. “Are you sure? Counsellor Solstice seems so nice.”

“I know what I saw,” Sunset told them. “And if more people are suddenly developing Equestrian magic, we need to fix it.”

It appeared for a moment that they wouldn’t have the chance until Vice Principal Luna and Solstice emerged from the ever-mysterious staff lounge down the hall. Flash gasped and Rarity tried to snap a picture before the door shut, but no dice. The students of Canterlot High heard tell of many legends about what went on behind that prohibited extra-wide door. Some said hot tub. Others said it was the hiding spot for the retired (debatably haunted) Wondercolt mascot suit, Horsey the Horseshoe. Pinkie always wanted to believe Horsey was in the hot-tub.

Personally, Sunset had more realistic theories. Like massage chairs for every staff member. 

Whatever mysteries lie beyond, Vice Principal Luna seemed more intent on discussing the latest season of a Gladiator Plus show, Crown Jewels. She scoffed, smirking. “—oh, agreed, the set design is absolutely magnificent, but the historical accuracy is all over the map! You can’t expect me to believe Countess Artemis wouldn’t take swift, brutal revenge against her sister. That’s so unrealistic!”

“Oh, come, I’d like to believe not all royals are so blood-thirsty. Despite the bloody daft institution they represent, some might even be quite lovely people,” Solstice hummed, but then returned a harsh laugh and sardonic smile to match hers as they parted ways back toward their offices. “Fine. Those of us here in reality know better. To think, all that trouble over a crown...”

After spending years of her own life lusting after a throne, that pinged Sunset’s radar. Not that a Royal Family couldn’t be good⁠—she wasn’t grinding her teeth, nope⁠—but, well, she was glad to have her friends here to back her up if things went south fast.

For his part, Counsellor Solstice took to hosting a mob of angry magical teenagers crowding his office surprisingly well. He brightened and offered out a plate of what appeared to be home-made cookies. “Oh! Welcome! Would any of you like a cookie or warm beverage?”

Pinkie Pie reached for the platter, sticking Rarity’s tongue out in the process, only to reconsider with narrowed eyes. “Hold on a second, buster. Are these poison cookies? J’accuse!”

Solstice regarded the plate. “Well, they’re nut-free. I’ve never been asked about poison. But I suppose yes, you could say they’re nut- and poison-free. Is that… a frequent source of concern for you?”

Rather than answering, Pinkie snatched one and munched with judgemental eyes until she, too, brightened. “Ooo! White chocolate! Hmm, I don’t detect any nodes of chemically posiony stuff. Unless it’s white chocolate-flavoured poison! … Eh, in that case, well-played, sir, well-played.” She ate the rest of the cookie, accepting her fate.

Solstice took notes in a little notebook. “Interesting…”

Sunset hated how therapists found everything so interesting. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust his whole set-up, really. The soothing sounds of an ocean’s waves crashing and retreating from the shoreline played deceptively soft, as if to mock her with its calm. He’d stocked the office with comfy, overstuffed purple couches which her friends piled on and around, playing right into his therapist trap. Sunset herself leaned against the wall in protest. 

Above all, she counted herself lucky that she’d grabbed her leather jacket from Timber because despite the mocha-vanilla-scented candle and coffee pot, the room itself was so chilly she was surprised they couldn’t see their own breath. 

The expression on Fluttershy’s face was almost startling given how she currently looked like Pinkie Pie and that much single-minded, serious concern had rarely, if ever crossed Pinkie’s face. “Aren’t you cold in here, Counsellor Solstice?”

“It’s cold in here?” He didn’t seem to like that suggestion. “I’m quite alright, but if you’re chilly, I do have blankets here. Anything to make you more comfortable while we chat.”

“I’m going to be upfront: we’re not here for a counselling session. That ‘seasonal magic’ I saw in the hall today isn’t just freezing clipboards and fingertips, is it?” Sunset nodded up her chin toward the window. “You’re causing the blizzard. Is that what’s under ‘complete control?’”

Solstice slouched, sinking into himself, and his eyes wide enough to show the full whites of his eyes like his face had been pulled tight. “I-I…”

“Dude,” Rainbow Dash uttered, almost hurt, then launched forward, “evil magic? I vouched for you! Have you been planning this all along? Why did you really come to Canterlot High, just to mess with us?”

“Is Solstice Shiver your real name?” Flash stood in front of Timber, as if to shield him. “What else have you been hiding?”

“Do you even really care about the students or is that just a lie, too?” Applejack’s grip tightened at her side, knuckles blanching. 

Backed up towards the window, Solstice let out a breath. “I’m sorry I scared you. You don’t deserve to be left in the dark like that.” He turned his attention to the blizzard outside, if only briefly, then grimaced to them. “You may have a point. I was hoping I’d have time to earn your trust first, but I’m not willing to risk your safety for a more comfortable conversation.”

Solstice took a seat in the heather grey armchair opposite the purple couches, and the others followed his lead by sitting back down before activating their geodes on him. Although Rainbow Dash, in particular, thumbed her blue geode, ready if need be.

Solstice leaned forward, arms resting on his knees while he fiddled with his hands, as if to warm them up. “I’ve had this problem since I was about your age. 16? 17? Around then. I attended Canterlot High and I’ve never known exactly why I developed this disorder, but in hindsight, it’s obvious there’s something about this school that invites otherworldly magic. 

“But you have to understand, at the time, I had no one. No one else knew what was happening to me was even possible and it horrified me. Subzero temperatures doctors couldn’t explain, the ability to freeze my own hands solid, and on my longest nights when it got worse it turned me into this freakish, horrific thing, this …” 

“Demon,” Twilight supplied, her voice siphoning off like a faucet.

There was a flash of pain in Solstice’s eyes, but he nodded. “Yes. That’s what you call it now, isn’t it, but there wasn’t a word for what I was when I was your age.” Solstice rubbed at his neck, trying to hide his mouth on one side of his face. “Truthfully, I… Well, I thought I was a vampire.”

Cracking open a smile like a soda can, Rainbow Dash snorted. “What?” 

Cheeks gone to the roses, Solstice turned up his hands. “What other conclusion was I meant to come to? Fangs, nocturnal black-outs, a sudden inexplicable propensity for capes⁠—it’s the only thing that made any bloody sense.” 

“Huh. I could see it,” Timber said in the same appraising tone he’d once used to debate whether or not Sunset was an alien invader (which was only a technical truth). He bent his neck to one side as if to see if any of Solstice's skin was steaming in the light. “Total vamp vibes.”

Hands tucked into her armpits, Applejack screwed up her face. “Hang on a tick. Wouldn’t you know if you were a blood-sucker?”

Fluttershy frowned fiercely at her as though making to hit her. “Applejack!”

She leaned away from her. “What?”

“That’s so rude! Solstice just said he thinks he’s a vampire. Blood-sucker must be derogatory to him!” When Solstice looked at her bemused, she blinked. “Well, isn’t it?”

“To him, specifically? When can blood-sucker be complimentary?” Twilight asked, squinting.

“I have an Aunt that would take that as a compliment,” Flash hummed. Then, in explanation: “She’s a lot.”

“I just think you would know,” Applejack argued in an Am I wrong??? tone. 

“Whoa,” Pinkie Pie said, eyes popping out. “But what if you didn’t have to know? Then anybody anywhere could be a vampire at any time when they went to bed every night and not even know!” 

As Rainbow Dash frantically checked herself for signs of life, Rarity raised a polite hand. “Yes, I do agree with Fluttershy. We should like to be courteous while we’re confronting you about your intentions at our school: Would you say vampire is the preferred term?”

Solstice held his heart, expression softened. “I… don’t think I’ve had anyone ask what’s offensive to my vampiric sensibilities. I suppose I always expected more pitchforks. Although, that was back when being a vampire was the only explanation I had.” His eyes connected the dots back to Sunset. “I take it we all know better now, don’t we?”

Sunset’s mind ran ahead. Starswirl the Bearded exiled the Sirens to this world before the founding of Equestria, like the Memory Stone. In all the moons since then, it's more shocking that more magic hasn't leaked through, I guess, but latching onto a person like that… "Maybe it was something you touched? Like a magical artifact of some sort?"

Solstice shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Whatever started this, the magic comes from inside me now. I took it hard. I couldn’t tell my family⁠—still haven’t, really. I’m not proud of everything I did. I developed some bad coping mechanisms. Like heavy eyeliner.”

Rarity held a hand over her gasp. “Oh, you poor dear!”

Solstice nodded. “So, when it came time to choose what I wanted to do with my life, there was only one thing I wanted to study.”

He gestured toward the degrees on the wall: a psychology Bachelor's degree with a minor in mythology, a Master’s of Psychology, and a Doctorate in the same. All degrees had been awarded to Solstice Shiver. 

“I must admit I’ve been keeping an eye on Canterlot High for that reason, but nothing could have prepared me to see you’ve cultivated an entire community around surviving the hardship of magic. I couldn’t believe a whole school of students not only knew about magic, but fought it on a regular basis⁠—together.” He shook his head, taking a silent breath in and out. “You’re remarkable. I only wish you didn’t have to be.”

Sitting on the arm of the couch, Timber nodded. “They’ve got a bad habit of being remarkable, yeah.”

Applejack kept her arms crossed, secured to her chest. “If you’ve been keeping this from us for this long, how do we know you’re telling the truth now?”

Sunset thumbed her geode. “I know one way.” She explained to Solstice what her geode allowed her to do, how she’d see and feel everything, and while he looked hesitant, he also marveled her with the biggest, dumbest smile on his face.

“An empath!” Solstice turned one of her hands over in his, as if looking for the button to activate her or the diagrams that would explain her inner machinations. “Fascinating! A magical power that can almost exclusively be used for good!”

Sunset shrugged. “It’s a little invasive if I don’t ask for permission, but yeah, it’s pretty useful. So?”

Solstice nodded to the teenager in front of him. “Do what you think you have to, but please be careful in there. Stay briefly. There are things I’d really rather you not have to experience.”

A shadow fell over Sunset’s heart, sending a chill through her veins, but she grabbed his arm. A white light flared in her eyes until it was the only thing she could see.

	Solstice’s voice climbed each tonal rung of an arpeggio scale. The crackle had long since left his voice after several other warm ups and now, every note rang true. His vibrato trilled, his full baritone boomed. For once, he’d landed the lead role instead of the supporting man or the coveted Tree #3 and he’d be damned if he didn’t steal the show.

	His crew family raced around, touching up make-up and running a series of checks on the props and lighting cues. Tech week had been an enormous crunch to get everyone prepared, but every single member of the cast and crew brought their A-game. The scramble to put on the best show they possibly could filled the air with electricity. Electricity and hair spray, a dangerous combination. 

	Traipsing through the Arts and Languages hallway in full costume, Solstice felt like a superhero. He did have a cape after all. He high-fived one of the supporting cast⁠—“Excellent work!”—waved at a trio of chorus members crouching against the wall, and deftly moved the “caterer” (friend of the female lead who could order pizzas) out of the way of an oncoming prop gondola boat being moved into position. She blushed and called after him, “Thanks!”

	He also made sure to look up to see the tech crew maneuvering the lights and gave them a thumbs up. “Good show up there!”

	Finding himself back-stage, Solstice at least attempted to acclimate himself to the sounds of the audience rolling in. The chatter before the quiet, a few good-natured chuckles here and there. He usually liked to take the adrenaline and run with it⁠—use it to fuel his performance. He saw no utility in pretending he wasn’t a tad nervous. But that was fine. He could use any fear to his advantage. 

	Solstice tried his best not to be too loud as he came up beside the show’s make-up artist. He found her peering out the curtains at the audience, hands jittering. He spoke softly, as per backstage etiquette. “You’ve done a marvelous job, Rogue. I hope you’re not too nervous.”

	“Th-thanks, well, that’s why some of us are on-stage talent and some aren’t.” Radiant Rogue pushed a rose-coloured curl behind her ear. “Hey, I thought you said none of your family would be here.” When Solstice frowned she pointed out at the crowd. “Isn’t that your dad?”

	Hearing that was like a fortissimo smash on the piano keys. Solstice rushed over to the curtains.

	Out amongst the audience, sure enough, his father’s snow white-hair drew his eye right to the front row. Gripping his rolled program in tightly clenched fist. 

	Solstice’s eyes widened behind the curtain. 

	He left without a word for fear of what else might splurge out of his throat. His cape fluttered after him as he rushed, stiff-legged back to the drama room, past the hallway of his castmates catcalling after him, hoping to lure him into pre-show rituals. Despite their disappointment, he shut the drama room door behind him. He hardly managed to hide his panting. The mish-mash of props and costumes from old plays spun around. He stalked around the empty room, grateful his castmates had already changed.

	Solstice found himself practicing breathing exercises to stay calm. Splashing water in his face in the bathroom would just smear the hard work of the poor make-up artist, he couldn’t do that. His heartbeat knocked on his ears, demanding to be heard. “I’ll just have to… why is he here? Why on opening night?”

	Solstice trembled, a sudden and terrible cold overtook him, and he rubbed his costumed arms for warmth. He almost swore he could see his own breath⁠—what a marvelous time to be hallucinating! He slammed the window overlooking the school’s front yard shut. 

	Panting, he twisted around as he paced⁠—but he caught a glimpse of someone entirely different in the mirror. His eyes raced backward, and he screamed. Animal eyes glittered back at him, fangs poking from the sides of his mouth. His hair flowed as if still enchanted by the breeze. The breath clogged in his throat.

Solstice’s heart rammed into his chest. He looked closer, paling as he realized none of it was makeup or a trick of the light. “No… not now, please not now…” His breath pushed past his full set of fangs in awkward ways, like he had a mouth full of cotton.

A rapping on the door startled him away from the mirror.

“Solstice? You’re on in five!”

He rushed toward the door and used his body as a barricade. “No! No, you mustn’t come in, I’m⁠—I’m half-undressed!”

“Half-undressed?!” He winced at the sound of the stage manager’s voice. “We don’t have time for this! Are you coming out or aren’t you?!”

He chanced a look back at the offending mirror, in the hopes it had changed its mind, but he already knew the answer. He could feel the billowing steam trickling from his eyes, the sharp fangs prodding into his lip. His gut twisted painfully. “I… I don’t…”

 Solstice grabbed the collar of his cape, sinking into himself. What was he supposed to do⁠—go out on stage like this? Let his father and that crowd of people see him, or black out? Wake up with blood on his clothes?

All the months of practice and his poor co-stars… all their work couldn’t go to nothing just because of him. The photos of famous Bridleway performers lining the walls appeared impossibly far away. He felt so small. “Oh god… I have to quit the show.”

	The voice on the other side of the door grew quiet. “... Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t be your Shadow.”

When an hour later he emerged from the drama room he’d rather plunge himself into the depths of the earth than be seen by anyone. But he risked it, to watch his understudy, Canter Zoom, steal the show. Solstice slunk up to watch the performance from the shadows, wishing they would just whisk him away never to return. 

Sunset experienced a year’s worth of painful, burning shame in a single spin of a kaleidoscope: Solstice exhausted in class from fitful nights. Checking his eyeliner to find his pupils narrowed to slits, and trying to pass it off as Nightmare Night contact lenses. Shying away from everyone in case he froze them solid or his fingers turned to claws, and what if he lost control? 





The memory loss scared him the worst when he’d come to and not have any idea of what he’d done. Who he might have hurt. 

Time seemed to speed up. Those long fitful nights turned productive—textbooks open in the only dorm still lit up in the complex. He tended to his psychology classes, learning the mind, but in his spare time, he scoured through world mythologies for someone like him. Places where what he was had a place, a purpose.

And more than that, Sunset saw him exploring medicine and meditation. Years of counselling of his own. Learning how to keep the peace in his own mind. 

Calm, peaceful surrender...

Before she could give in to the guilt swirling around, Sunset let go. The counselling office materialized around her again. The smell of the vanilla-mocha candle, the purple couches, and snow fluttering outside the window grounded her back in the present. Sunset looked back at her friends, partially just to confirm they were there. “He’s telling the truth.”

The revelation wasn’t exactly comforting to everyone and Sunset couldn’t blame them. Twilight held a hand over her mouth, as if experiencing an echo of Solstice’s worst memories. Or, in some cases, lack thereof. 

Solstice made a calming there, there motion with his hands. “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. Maybe I don’t have it completely under control, but I’m helping your classmates and friends.”

From the very end of the couch, Fluttershy spoke up. “It’s true. His counselling is very helpful.”

Sunset turned along with the others, eyebrows raised. “Fluttershy...?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, but when I heard we had a counsellor who could help with magic, I thought it might be a good idea to try to talk about it.” She played with Pinkie’s wild curls, the colour of her face nearly hiding a blush. She avoided Sunset’s gaze in particular. “We go through a lot. We don’t get breaks that aren’t interrupted by more magical mishaps. Talking about it has been really helpful.” 

Sunset outright refused to cry in a counsellor’s office, so she forced herself to stop. Her sigh was harsh against her throat. “It’s okay, Fluttershy. I’m glad you got help that works for you.”

Solstice smiled and it was easy to see there was some measure of pride there⁠—albeit not necessarily for himself. He sat back down in his counsellor’s chair. “Your friend Fluttershy shared with me you’re all experiencing a magical flare-up of your own right now, though she kept your privacy intact and didn’t share what. But I have to admit, I have a guess: you’re not yourselves. You’ve switched bodies, is that it?”

The lot of them stared at each other, stunned. Fluttershy blinked. “But, how did you know that? I didn’t say we had…”

Counsellor Solstice nodded. “You didn’t, but your classmates have. Not in so many words, but they’ve been very worried about your out of character behaviour seeing as you girls are seen as something of a magical epicenter.” He pointed at Sunset. “And you confirmed my suspicion. Earlier in this conversation, you said you saw my flare-up in the hall today, but it wasn’t you who saw it. Unless you’re Twilight Sparkle?”

Sunset blushed and swore internally. “No… but I was this morning…”

Her friends took turns explaining what had happened to them while Sunset pummeled herself internally for blowing their cover so thoughtlessly. Good for nothing, can’t even help your friends or keep a secret to keep them safe. No wonder you shouldn’t exist…

By the end of their explanation, Solstice had written a whole pad’s worth of notes and he looked up from them to say, “That must be hard to deal with. What I’m hearing is that you’ve all been switched now twice and don’t feel like you’ve made very much progress towards a solution. Is that fair to say?”

The girls didn’t seem to want to answer⁠—Applejack rubbing her arm, Rarity coughing and looking away⁠—but Rainbow Dash could be counted on to have no ability to read the room. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“We have made some progress,” Twilight tried, possibly just to make Sunset not feel like such a failure. “Sunset’s returned to her body. Statistically speaking, there’s a chance that happened randomly, but I’d prefer to think it’s a step in the right direction. Our best theory so far is that it has something to do with Timber, Flash, me, and Sunset specifically, since, er, there’s some history there that uh…”

“We used to date and they used to date, and now we’ve pulled Le Switcheroo,” Timber explained, jamming his thumb in their directions.

“Yes, that.”

“I see,” Solstice mumbled, as if rehearsing his 10th grade play again. He stood up and held his hands together. “Consider this a suggestion, but has anyone ever told you that you might benefit from counselling?”

Sunset Shimmer wanted to scream. She did so internally.

“If I could be so bold, I think there are some underlying issues here causing your magical problem and I’d like to see the four of you individually⁠ before trying any group therapy.” Solstice clapped his hands together. “If, of course, that’s agreeable to you?”

At the same time, Sunset and Timber said, “No.” Twilight and Flash said “Yes.” They looked at each other.

Solstice smiled sheepishly. “I’ll give you some time to think about it.”