Upon regaining consciousness, the first thing that Sunset Shimmer felt was the cool sensation of grass against her skin. Her head was still spinning from… something. The last thing she remembered seeing was the strange new mirror, and then a flash of light, and then… something else.
It didn’t take long for Sunset to decide on the first order of business. Namely, trying to figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Slowly, she stood to her hooves.
The first and most obvious thing that stood out to her that they were hooves, not feet, and that she had four of them. That was already a red flag. She was supposed to have returned to the human world by now, and returned to human form. But for reasons that she couldn’t even guess, she was somehow still a pony.
The second thing that stood out to Sunset was that there was something around draped around her neck, that wasn’t there before. She looked down, and saw herself adorned with a very familiar accessory.
“Huh? My Geode of Empathy?” she said. She carefully ran her hoof across the orange gemstone, feeling its touch against her frog. “But isn’t it supposed to disappear when I’m in pony form? Like it gets absorbed into me, or something.”
…Now there’s a weird thought.
No time to dwell on that. The next order of business was to try to figure out just where she was.
She was standing in what looked to be some kind of massive garden. All around her were lush green plants and shrubberies, with cobblestone paths leading in different directions. Above, the clear night sky twinkled with a glittering web of stars, and a large waxing moon gently illuminated the earth below.
A twinge of unease struck at the back of Sunset’s mind. The night sky was not anything new to her, but something about this sky seemed… off. She didn’t know what it was, at first. But the more she looked at it, the more she realized something was very, very wrong.
Those stars… I don’t recognize them at all. They don’t look like any constellations in the human world or Equestria.
Sunset’s mind ran through an entire list of possibilities, and none of them were very good.
“Okay. Okay, don’t panic. Sure, I have no idea where I am, and I might be in another world entirely, if I can just write to Princess Twilight and explain the situation—”
Sunset reached across her shoulder to grab her saddlebags… only to be suddenly and painfully reminded that she wasn’t wearing any.
A harsh yelp escaped her throat. “The journal! I left the journal in the human world!”
As Sunset’s breathing began to quicken, she started to pace around in a circle, her hooves wearing a rut into the dirt beneath her. “Okay, okay, okay. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic,” she hurriedly repeated to herself. “It’s no big deal. It’s no big deal. You’ve got this, Sunset. You’ve survived in a strange new land before, you can do it again.”
The first thing to do, she concluded, was to find her bearings. It was difficult to say where she was. In the distance, she could vaguely make out the spires of a city, but under the darkness of the night it was difficult to discern anything more than that. For now, she settled on wandering the garden, hoping to find anything that could give her a clue of where she was.
Eventually, she found her way to what looked like a large, open-air marble rotunda. Large leafy vines crawled up the archways of the structure, and the center space was quite large, no doubt intended for public gatherings.
Curiously, Sunset stepped inside, and what she saw in the center of the rotunda threw her for a loop.
It was… a granite statue. But what it was a statue of, Sunset had no idea. A female figure with long hair, wearing a dress with a pragmatic, old-fashioned design that emphasized durability and ease of movement. She was roughly human in body shape, if only around four feet tall, but the ruff of fur around her neck and the shape of her ears made her distinctly squirrel-like in appearance. Sunset’s thoughts immediately turned to the beastfolk who lived in the lands south of Equestria, but something about this statue told her that she wasn’t a beastfolk. At least, not the kind that Sunset knew.
What caught her attention more, however, was the statue’s pose. Her face was twisted into a furious scowl, with her teeth fully bared. Just from her expression, she could almost hear the statue snarling in fury. Her body, meanwhile, was positioned as though it were lunging forward — her arm outstretched as though she were desperately reaching out to seize something from someone.
Sunset stepped forward, her entire body tense, yet all the same overcome with curiosity.
“What is… why would someone carve a statue like this?” she said. “And… why here?”
An idea popped into Sunset’s head. A horrible idea, one that she didn’t even want to consider. But she knew it was a possibility.
She reached out, and gently placed her front hoof on the statue.
“Unless…”
The stone around her neck suddenly flared to life, nearly blinding her with its brilliant light. Sunset’s vision went blank, and she felt the familiar sensation of seeing from eyes that weren’t her own.
----
The young Xandra’s tears fell silently as she cradled the Whoot in her arms. She had found it lying on a stray cloud on the outskirts of Faerieland, its breathing ragged and shallow, suffering from some unknown affliction.
She hurriedly carried it to the Healing Springs, in the hopes that the Marina’s magic might be enough to nurse it back to health. But by the time she had arrived, it was already too late. The little petpet’s heart had already stopped.
But she wasn’t ready to give up. There was one faerie still who might be able to help, one with magic that might be powerful enough to reverse even death.
And so she carried the Whoot deep into the Faerie City palace, past the guards, and into the private quarters. She pushed open the door to Fyora’s bedchambers. There, the Faerie Queen was sitting on her reading chair, her pink wings scintillating under the sunlight that poured through the window. Her eyes lifted away from her book, lighting up as Xandra approached.
“Oh?” she said. “Xandra, what’s this you have here?”
“He’s dead,” Xandra choked, barely managing to hold back a sob. “Can you bring him back?”
A deep frown crossed Fyora’s face. No words came from her lips.
“Please,” Xandra begged. “He was suffering when I found him. He shouldn’t have to die like this. Can you bring him back to life?”
Fyora hesitated to answer, and when she did her voice was grave and muted. “I’m sorry, but what you’re asking of me is impossible.”
“But… but why?” said Xandra. “You’re the strongest faerie there is. Why can’t you bring him back?”
Fyora stood up from her seat, and placed a gentle hand on Xandra’s shoulder. “I know that it’s sad to see another life end. I’ve seen many people I cared for die in my lifetime. But you must understand, it’s not our place to interfere with the natural balance of the world.”
“Natural… balance?”
“Life and death are both parts of the same thing,” Fyora explained. “Without death, life as you know it couldn’t exist.”
“But… but you don’t die,” said Xandra with a sniffle. “Faeries don’t die.”
“That’s not true, I’m afraid. We may not age, but we aren’t immune to death. We still suffer sickness and injury, the same as anyone else,” said Fyora. “And besides, we Faeries have always been outsiders to this world.”
“So?”
“So it means we have a unique responsibility,” said Fyora. “With our power, everything we do has a profound impact on this world. And the strongest magic, even with good intentions, can have disastrous consequences. If we used our magic to bring back the dead, soon everyone would be asking us to return their loved ones. And if we were to bring back everyone that ever died, it would devastate the ecosystem, and life as you know it would be impossible.”
“So… you’re not gonna help him,” Xandra muttered. “That’s what you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry, my student. I wish I could. But part of wielding power is knowing when it’s best not to use it. I hope you understand.”
----
Sunset let out a gasp as she was suddenly snapped back to reality. Even more so than usual, this glimpse into another person’s memories left her dazed and disoriented.
And when Sunset finally came back to her senses, she was immediately struck dizzy again, this time by an epiphany. There was only one thing that her vision could mean.
She looked the statue straight in the eyes. Xandra. Her name was Xandra. Horror clawed its way deep into Sunset’s chest, as her mind raced towards the unavoidable conclusion.
“You… you’re alive.”
Once again, sunset’s Geode began to glow. But this time, instead of pulling Sunset into a memory, something entirely unexpected happened.
As if it was responding to the Geode’s light, a spiderweb of cracks began to appear on Xandra’s statue. A symphony crackling and popping noises echoed through the rotunda, as the cracks worked their way up, from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head.
Then, a sudden crash of shattering stone. Sunset winced as little flecks of granite were sent spraying out in all directions. She instinctively covered her eyes with a foreleg, and threw up a shield spell for good measure, protecting herself from the worst of the shrapnel.
When the noise subsided, Sunset dismissed her shield and peered out from behind her leg. There, collapsed onto her hands and knees on a pile of gravel, was Xandra. Her speckled green fur was matted and covered in granite dust, and her breathing was heavy and strained, but she otherwise appeared unharmed.
After a brief coughing fit, Xandra blinked rapidly. She moved her hand towards her face, and tentatively flexed her fingers.
“I’m… free?”