//------------------------------// // 32. Lost // Story: Lost and Found // by Cloudy Skies //------------------------------// The train platform was neither crowded nor empty. It was a staggeringly normal Wednesday late afternoon in Ponyville, the darkness just setting in around the snow-covered village. All around, ponies went about their business in an incredibly boring and normal manner. Here, a pair of ponies discussed the weather as if though the heavy snowfall was a surprise despite being in the newspaper this very morning. There, a pony hummed to herself. And in the distance, around the bend and past Overlook Hill, a small plume of snowspray signalled the train’s approach. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. Less than ten minutes ago, Rainbow Dash had been napping. She’d fallen asleep trying to figure out whether she should go home and celebrate Hearth’s Warming Eve with her parents this year. At least she had the option. She just kept thinking about a certain pair of parents who didn’t have the luxury of such a visit. It was all a giant headache. When she’d managed to convince herself she would decide on that later, she instead busied herself trying to work up the energy to get excited over the prospect of finding a gift for Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Twilight and all of her friends. She would probably still be doing exactly that if not for the fact that a burly pegasus had knocked on her door. “And you saw her? You saw them?” Rainbow Dash asked the pegasus stallion again. She was rocking back and forth on her hooves, and though she was trying her best to stand still by Pinkie Pie’s side, her wings had a life of their own, spreading and furling at random. “Silly, you asked that a minute ago!” Pinkie Pie said, nudging her in the side while the messenger pegasus failed to hide a small sigh. “Yes, miss. Once. I’m acting on orders, so it’s not relevant, but I saw them when I passed through to the food car. A yellow pegasus mare with a long pink mane and an orange earth pony mare with a long blond mane,” he confirmed, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before making for the ticket office. “Excuse me a moment. I was told to inform the staff here that it’s not the Baltimare express that’s coming in next.” “Are you okay?” Pinkie Pie asked, tilting her head. “I’m fine!” Dash snapped. “I’m—of course I’m fine,” she said, shifting her weight from her left hooves to the right. “Why? Don’t I look fine?” she asked, bringing a hoof to her mane. Pinkie Pie giggled and nosed into her withers. “Silly. Of course you do, even if you don’t have a hat. Maybe Rarity will bring a few hats?” “Of course. That’s what’s wrong with the picture. Hats,” Rainbow Dash said, rolling her eyes. “I just thought you’d be extra super-happy, like, even happier than I am, and I’m really really happy even if I didn’t have time to bring even a banner or any treats beyond the cupcakes I’ve stashed around here somewhere—I forget where.” “I am happy,” Dash said, swallowing and kicking at the snow. “Because you always said they’d come back,” Pinkie continued, a little more quietly. She pulled back and let her eyes slip to the ground. “Even when some of us maybe thought that there was a teensy-weensy chance that something had gone very wrong,” she added. Rainbow Dash had no answer for that. She cleared her throat, glanced around, then shrugged, all in short order before throwing a foreleg around Pinkie’s neck and giving her a brief hug. “Stop being stupid,” she said. “You’re making me sad. It’s just weird. I won’t believe it until I see it.” “Ah, hello my dears!” Rarity chimed. The unicorn had snuck up on them, slipping between a pair of pegasi to take up position at their sides. “You’re way late,” Dash complained. “This is kind of important, didn’t Shrike or whatever tell you to not pack?” “That he did,” Rarity said with a huff. “And you’ll observe I’m not wearing anything, and I’ve not packed. I stopped by the library to have Spike send a message. He’s at the library sometimes when he’s not in Canterlot, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to warn Twilight that we’re coming.” “Aw, isn’t Spikey coming along?” Pinkie asked. “I, ah, considered that,” Rarity admitted. “But I am not sure he should be there for this if it’s serious. He is just a baby dragon, after all.” Rainbow Dash blew her mane out of her face and sighed. “You really think it’s that bad?” “I don’t know about you, but I’m in regular contact with Twilight, and the princess has been getting worse with each passing day lately,” Rarity replied, shaking her head. “And the pegasus guard pony was really serious and boring and angry-faced!” Pinkie Pie agreed, bouncing on the spot. “Princess crisiseses are the worst!” “Crises, dear,” Rarity suggested. The train came into view soon after. A pony wearing a red jacket stepped out of the train station proper and called out the change in schedule, leading to a lot of confused ponies stepping away from the platform when it became obvious that it wasn’t the Baltimare train being early. Three ponies stood together waiting with bated breath in an increasingly tense silence as the train approached, the lead team of eight earth ponies only now beginning to slow down. “It’s just weird that it’s a train and all,” Rainbow Dash finally admitted. “Sorry?” Rarity asked, but Pinkie just smiled, right back on track with their earlier conversation. “They’ve been gone for so long, and I’m supposed to believe that they’re going to arrive on a train, just like that?” Rainbow Dash asked, willing herself to do just that. Trying to make it sound like something that could happen. For all her time spent telling others and herself that they weren’t gone, it was impossible to allow it in her mind. That, or she was nervous. She almost laughed at the thought, but the smile died quickly on her lips. It was a ruse that lasted all of two seconds. A moment later, Rarity leaned against her. “I suppose there is some irony to that,” Rarity agreed. “I bet they’re hungry,” Pinkie said by way of nothing. Every second, the train drew nearer. Rainbow Dash’s wings quivered and her hooves itched. She was half tempted to fly to meet the train, to part the curtains early and see if this was just some cruel joke. A minute later, the large stallions at the fore of the train trotted past the station at an easy pace, slowing down to a walk as they watched, the plough and the first cars sailing by at a crawl. Rainbow Dash shook the snow off of her mane. “Express train to Canterlot, royal business!” a unicorn mare shouted, stepping out from the leading car. She briefly scanned the platform and locked eyes with the trio just as they were joined by Shrike Star, the pegasus who had met them. “You four, get on. We’re leaving as soon as we’ve switched pulling team.” Shrike needed no further invitation, and Rarity and Pinkie Pie made for the closest car. Only when she was convinced she saw nopony familiar in any of the windows could Dash make herself follow them inside. The pegasus guard led the three through the length of the train, past a quiet food car and numerous cars with regular seating where annoyance seemed the general theme of the ponies’ moods. Likely, they were bothered by the change in plans, but Rainbow Dash hardly saw them at all. The quartet barely slowed down as they worked their way through the sleeper cars, earning more than a few glares. Of those who looked up, some were pegasi. A few were yellow pegasi. None were yellow pegasus mares with pink manes. And then Shrike stopped. “Corporal, we’re ready to move,” he declared, his big flank filling the doorway almost completely as he addressed an orange stallion of some description, a monumentally uninteresting earth pony in golden armor. “Um, did you find—” a soft voice chimed. Rainbow Dash’s every muscle tensed. Pinkie squeaked as Dash pushed her aside and barreled past her, Rarity toppling over with a shriek. She leapt through the air pushing Shrike or whatever-his-name-was to the ground, hitting the floor with a thud once she was past the door frame. Stacked beds lined the walls, and the armored stallion stepped back while she scrambled to stand. Upon the closest bed, next to Applejack, Fluttershy sat at rest, and when Dash entered, Applejack offered her a smile and scooched off to the other side of the bed. Time didn’t have the decency to stop like Rainbow Dash’s heart did, but the rest of the world might as well not have existed. The yellow pegasus sat just as still as she, frozen with her wings half spread. She was covered in layers of dust and dirt, and her mane was longer than it had ever been, both frayed and frazzled. The usually soft mare was sleek and toned, and it would have been easy to think she had the wrong pony, but there was no mistaking it. It was Fluttershy. It was her Fluttershy, and despite the layers of grime, her clear teal eyes shone. Past the windows, Ponyville station began drifting away. Other ponies were talking somewhere; a thousand paces away, right next to her ears; it didn’t matter. She sat still and stared until Fluttershy’s open-mouthed stare turned into a blush and she buried her snout in her own neck. “Your wings!” Dash blurted. Her mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once, and she latched on to one thing she knew for sure. Fluttershy’s wings were a mess, her feathers in disarray. The chatter around them stopped for a moment, and she was vaguely aware that her friends were looking at them, but she didn’t care. “You’re a mess,” Dash added, snorting. She leapt onto the bed, circling around to sit behind Fluttershy. “I mean, your wings. You’re fine. I guess,” she muttered, swallowing. “Um, Rainbow Dash—” Fluttershy began, but she cut herself off with a squeak when Dash reached out to grab her left wing and began nosing the feathers back in place. It was a deliciously mindless task. “Like a mother hen,” Applejack chuckled from off to the side. Dash shot her a half-hearted glare. There would be time for greetings and hellos later. A time to hang out. Right now, she was busy piecing her life back together, one feather at a time. The vacuum was rapidly filling. Dash closed her eyes and buried her snout in Fluttershy’s wings, hoping that she would not notice the tears that she rubbed into her feathers. “Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy repeated. Her voice cracked and trembled, punctuated with a sniff, but Dash would have none of it. She reached out to touch her side. It was so achingly, wonderfully awesome to hear her say her name. “Fluttershy, could you do me a favor?” Dash asked. “Okay,” Fluttershy breathed. “Don’t go anywhere,” Dash sighed, leaning around to touch their foreheads together. “Just don’t leave. Don’t do anything stupid for a while. Forever would be good.” “Okay,” Fluttershy repeated, her wings quivering the slightest bit. Dash let go and let her fold her wings properly, inching forward to sit at her side. As an afterthought, she wrapped one of her own blue wings around her, pulling her close. Finally, everything was alright again. As if a signal had been given, Pinkie Pie reached out to poke Rainbow Dash. “You’re back! And you’re okay!” the pink pony proclaimed. She beamed as brightly as only Pinkie could, wrapped around Rarity and Applejack both, but Rainbow Dash could see tears glistening in her eyes. Rarity was quietly holding on to Applejack for dear life, for once not complaining about getting her pristine white coat smudged. For a brief moment, Dash met the farmpony’s eyes. She’d seen better days for sure, but the grin the orange mare gave her was the same as always. “Howdy,” Applejack said to Dash, giving Rarity and Pinkie Pie a squeeze. “Yeah. Hi. Welcome back and stuff,” Dash grinned, finally looking about the room. The two stallions had left at some point, and all five ponies were bunched up on the same all-too-small bed. Rainbow Dash held Fluttershy close still, the other pegasus’ eyes shut as she leaned into her. There were so many things unsaid still, but there was time. Applejack and Rarity sat by the other side of the bed, and Pinkie Pie lay between them as if she was trying to touch, snuggle and hug as many of them as possible, all at once. It was nearly perfect. Nearly. “I don’t wish to ruin the moment,” Rarity said, clearing her throat. “But this dreadful business with the princess, is what you said true? You think we can help her?” “We have to,” Fluttershy said. “If not, she might, um. She might never wake up.” Rarity gasped, and Pinkie Pie gaped, a hush falling over the room before Fluttershy continued. “It’s kind of a long story, but the Elements might be able to help.” “Uh, we kind of didn’t bring them,” Dash said, furrowing her brow. “No, I mean, us, the bearers,” Fluttershy said, meeting her eyes for just one moment before looking away. “We don’t know. Is Twilight with her?” “Yeps! She’s been in Canterlot all winter,” Pinkie chirped. “Ever since the princess told her that she really liked Twilight, and Twilight said she wasn’t sure, and Celestia fell asleep—” “Wait. Like her?” Applejack asked, scratching her head through her hat. “Like her—” “Yes. ‘Like her’ like her,”  Dash interrupted. “Stuff’s happened back here too.” “Do you reckon that’s why she fell asleep?” Applejack asked, looking over at Fluttershy. “Um, I don’t know if love and harmony are related like that—It could be? Maybe? We could ask Brighthoof?” “Uh,” Dash said. “Who’s that?” “Oh wowsie, I thought I was the only one who had little bonus friends only I can see who I never tell anypony about,” Pinkie said, scrunching up her face. “Oh. Shoot. I just did. Who is Brighthoof?” “Sorry—” was as far as Fluttershy got before the conversation was rudely and efficiently interrupted by a bright flash, a purple streak whisking past them, a yelp and a loud crash from the other end of the train car. The ponies, as one, blinked and leaned out from the built-in bed. “Egh, take a note. Teleporting onto moving trains is a terrible idea,” Twilight groaned. The purple unicorn lay upside-down against the door at the far end of the car, rubbing her head. “Twilight!” Applejack called, grinning. “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance. Twilight’s eyes went wide and she broke into a smile as she rose to stand. She shook her head briskly before galloping over to the bed, launching herself into the air and throwing a foreleg around Fluttershy and Applejack each, hugging them close. “You’re okay! I feared the letter was fake, or a joke, but I’m so glad!” she said. Dash reluctantly let go of Fluttershy and poked Twilight in the side until she gave her pegasus back. The smiles, laughter and giggles were quickly spent, a few muttered comments at the two long-lost ponies’ appearance being all Twilight offered before sobering up, jaw set. “Celestia,” Twilight finally breathed more than she said. “You know how to help her? Her breathing’s getting shallower and shallower. Do you know what’s going on?” “And who the hay is Brighthoof?” Rainbow Dash asked. “If y’all just sit down, Fluttershy and I can explain,” Applejack said, scooting over to make room for Twilight, but the unicorn shook her head. “If you can help, then please do,” Twilight said, speaking so quickly it was hard to catch her every word. “I’m very glad you’re back, I really am,” she added, a smile flashing past her. “But she’s getting worse with every passing moment. I don’t care what you do so long as we can do something.” Rainbow Dash snuck her wing back around Fluttershy, who offered no protest beyond shrinking back a tiny bit, away from the increasingly desperate unicorn. “Way I see it, we’re stuck on the train for another hour or two, is all,” Applejack shrugged, brow creased. “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll take it from the start?” Twilight shook her head, her horn taking on a bright glow whilst she spoke. “No! No time. Luna called in the court physicians again, but I know it’s not gonna help. I’d love to hear your story, just later.” “We don’t know we can help for sure,” Fluttershy admitted, steepling her hooves. “It’s just something we saw. We think—” Twilight’s horn glowed ever brighter, her eyes clenched shut while her chest heaved. The air around them began to vibrate and thrum with unspent energy accompanied by a whine that grew louder and louder until it suddenly was gone. A loud clack of wood on stone concluded the spell. “—but we don’t know for sure if, oh. Um. Goodness,” Fluttershy finished. The six ponies sat in the bed still, but there was one notable difference; the bed itself stood in a palace hallway outside of a large sun-emblazoned door. “Twi? With all due respect, don’t you ever do that again,” Applejack growled, and though she held her silence, Fluttershy gave a very small nod of agreement. “It’s been a mighty long time since that last spell of yours, but I ain’t likely to be comfy with any teleportation magic for a while.” Twilight made no reply to that, and Applejack rolled her jaw. “Speaking of, what in the hay happened? I plain forgot to ask since it’s been so long—” “Easier to grab one object and everything with it,” Twilight snapped, sweat streaking from her brow as she stepped off the bed. “No. Way back when,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes. “At the slumber party.” “It’s not important!” Twilight spat. “Can we please just—if you can help, if you have any idea, please,” she repeated with a pleading look. “Please help her.” Fluttershy swallowed. Things had changed in their absence indeed. For all the warmth that she felt from Dash’s presence, for all that she wanted nothing more than to stop and make sense of all that was happening, she saw in Twilight’s eyes the same desperation that had become so intimately familiar during the loneliest of nights. A minute ago, it had been an alien notion that Celestia, princess and co-ruler of Equestria, sought something more with their Twilight. If that was hard to believe still, even if it was wonderful, but she knew that Twilight was in very real pain, and if she was scared, then so was Fluttershy. She took a deep breath and nodded. She could repeat herself, say she wasn’t sure, that she didn’t know; or she could do her best. She rose to stand, offered Rainbow Dash a weak smile, and hopped off the bed. Applejack followed, as did they all. The gravity of the situation was truly felt the second Twilight’s horn glittered and threw open the doors to the opulent bedchambers that lay beyond. It had been a story of maybes and hopefully-nots, of sleep but not true danger, but when Fluttershy first lay eyes upon the alicorn, she knew she wasn’t resting. She was dying. Perhaps the others saw in her a sleep that would not break, but to her, to a pony who had seen the tapestries wherein the fate of the first of alicorns had been woven, the sight was far more dire. The larger pony lay on her side, chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. Stood by the bedside, Princess Luna waited, but she barely looked up when they entered. They were the light, the candle that would keep her alive. Fluttershy led the ponies past the threshold to stand before the bed, earning a weak smile from the Princess of the Night. When the group of friends moved together, it became obvious how tightly woven their bonds still were. Without word or direction, they spread out in a loose semi-circle around the large, soft bed. Twilight hopped onto the bed itself and leaned down to nuzzle into Princess Celestia’s mane. All eyes were on her. Something made a muted clatter somewhere behind them, but nopony turned to look, everypony holding their breath. “I don’t understand,” Twilight said, breathless. Her eyes flitted from Applejack to Fluttershy and back again. “Is something supposed to happen? What do we do?” “She does seem to rest a little easier,” Luna murmured, looking to the others. “What is the plan? Should we leave you?” “I am not quite sure, Princess,” Rarity admitted. “Applejack?” It was all they had. Fluttershy had seen first-hoof the magic that lay in affection, in love and in harmony, but they had no such cards to play. For all that they loved Celestia, and whatever Twilight felt, she had no idea what they were to do if their presence was not enough. The others muttered among themselves and spoke quietly, Applejack starting to explain in simple terms what they had learned from the old tapestries and journals. A faint hiss played at the edge of Fluttershy’s hearing. She flicked an ear and turned to look over her shoulder while the others talked. Brighthoof stood not far behind her. Even as she watched, the shadow was seeping out of the bottle, coalescing to give him form. Shocked into silence, she stared open-mouthed as the ghostly pony gained solid form. He seemed even more clearly defined now than he had been before, and when he finished taking shape, he looked just like a real pony, a deeper green in his coat and his mane a healthier brown. She meant to make a noise, to get Rainbow Dash’s attention. Dash stood next to her with a wing extended to touch, just so she knew she was there, but her eyes were on Applejack. She needed only to move an inch to the left to get her attention, but she was brought short by one singular fact. Brighthoof held a hoof up to his mouth, hushing her. There was no magic in it. She knew she should call for help, but there was none of the old malice or anger in his eyes. That alone saved him. The unicorn’s expression was one of unfathomable sadness as he looked past Fluttershy to the fallen ruler. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he whispered to her, and none of the others seemed to hear him. “I never wanted this to happen. I just wanted her to remember. To know I existed. That I died. But I can still make a difference. You will have to forgive me for having eavesdropped again, but if Celestia loves her, and if she loves her back, I can be the catalyst for something good. The knowledge that killed me can yet serve a purpose. Everything comes full circle.” Fluttershy glanced over at the others where they were still talking, then back to Brighthoof. She tried to wrap her head around what he was saying, and ever so slowly, realization dawned on her. “Wait,” she whispered back. “No, wait. Please don’t—” she tried, but it was too late. Brighthoof raised his voice, bringing all attention to himself. “And that’s it?” Twilight asked, hysteria tinging her voice. “The tapestries just showed the Elements around the princesses—” “Alicorns. Weren’t the princesses, far as we know,” Applejack interjected. “—but no way to fix it? No cure?” she finished. “I’m sorry, Twi’,” Applejack muttered. “I’m starting to think we should have brought the Element necklaces after all,” Rarity suggested. “We would suggest researching other alternatives, but knowing of the attachment to the Elements in general does little. It was Celestia’s field, not ours,” Luna admitted, shaking her head. “But the magical bottle-pony said they wouldn’t help, and genies never lie unless you feed them cinnamon!” Pinkie countered. “Alright, alright, just let me think!” Twilight cried, clutching her eyes shut. She tried to do exactly that, to think, but all that greeted her behind her eyelids was a world without Celestia. Without her princess. A world where she had failed to reach out and seize what could be. She knew it was a pointless, destructive mental exercise, but in her mind’s eye she saw what could have been if she had dared. What would it be like if she let herself stand shoulder to shoulder with Celestia? What would it be like to touch her with the respect she gave a friend—and maybe something more—rather than that of a subject? “Finally,” a deep, grating voice announced. Twilight sprung up to stand on all fours, nearly tripping over Celestia in the process, and every pony in the room whipped around to face the odd, green unicorn who stood in the center of the room; all except Fluttershy. Twilight’s most timid of friends stood with her head hanging low, obviously frightened out of her mind. “What is the purpose of this?” Luna asked, narrowing her eyes at the stranger. “You are neither servant nor guard.” “That’s our buddy, Brighthoof,” Applejack said, the name coming out a snarl. At the gaunt unicorn’s feet, a curious bottle lay, an exact match to the one Applejack had just told them about. Rainbow Dash slipped in front of Fluttershy, crouched low and wings spread, but the yellow mare did not so much as move. “Precisely, and at last, my plan is coming to fruition,” Brighthoof said with a nod and a feral grin. “You have left yourself unguarded, and now I shall have my revenge.” “Revenge?” Pinkie asked. “That’s silly, there’s nopony here who wants to be revenged on, sorry! Maybe you can try next door?” “Oh but there is,” Brighthoof said. At his words, bright green barriers flared to life across the room, magic the color of his horn’s glow separating the ponies. Luna, Pinkie and Rarity to one side, Applejack, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash to the other. A simple tunnel between himself and the bed upon which the princess rested, and Twilight with it. “Celestia has had this coming for over two hundred years, little pony,” he snarled. “For so very long have I waited to finish this, and now, my hour is come.” “Idiot,” Luna snapped. “It is the work of seconds to undo—” Twilight leapt down from the bed, neatly putting herself in his path. Her hooves echoed loudly on the clean marble floors, a neat set of clops that silenced the room. “And what do you think you can do, little filly? Who are you to her?” Brighthoof asked, arching a brow. He didn’t look the least bit surprised. Still his horn glowed, the air warping around a bright sheen of magic so potent, Twilight could feel a chill down her spine. She just couldn’t sit and watch. She had seen this before. “I watched her fall once already,” Twilight said, widening her stance. “I can’t get that memory out of my head. Celestia falling to Chrysalis’ corrupted strength.” “Twilight Sparkle, stand back and let us handle this,” Luna said, raising her voice in command, but Twilight shut her out like she did with her friends’ worried cries. “It’s been so easy to forget that I didn’t just watch. I was part of it. When she failed, she trusted in all of us to make things right. She trusted in me. She shouldn’t have to ask. I should have acted sooner, but most of all? It doesn’t matter!” ”It doesn’t matter if she’s a goddess or a pony with all the flaws that come with it, because I’m here for her, just like she’s been here for me all my life. Not just because I should, but because I can. Because I want to. I can make a difference. I know that now. She doesn’t trust in me for my benefit. She does so because she wants to and because she has to.” “Words that mean nothing to me. Weak. You will both fall,” Brighthoof concluded. A bright green lance of energy surged forth from his horn, only for Twilight to swat it aside with a flash of purple light. She’d feared him moments before, but it was the easiest thing in the world to disperse his attack, to turn lethal intent into nothingness. “Words? I don’t care about the words! If you try to touch Celestia, I’ll fling you clean off Mount Canterlot!” Twilight yelled, stomping the ground. “Better,” Brighthoof allowed before his horn flared up again. The walls of the room shone with reflected light as he sent another burst towards Twilight. Again, she dissipated it on pure reflex. Her ears rung with the sharp sounds of the magical blows; she knew rationally that there was more magic at work than she had ever used before, but it took no effort. There was no bottom to the well she drew from. “Better,” he repeated, his horn growing brighter and brighter with every word. He made a dismissive gesture, all traces of humor giving way to a mask of pure rage. “But weak! I will have my revenge, and I will not be denied! Stand aside or be rent asunder, little pony. You do not know what forces are at work!” “I don’t care!” Twilight spat back. “I don’t care for how long you’ve been nursing this grudge!” she said. Magic welled up inside of her, and she stood not between Celestia and Brighthoof, but she faced down Chrysalis, too. She stood side by side with Celestia, ready to act with her, not for her. Months of pent up impotence and regret budded in her horn, and one final element triggered it all. “I don’t care. I love her, and you can’t have her!” Twilight screamed, letting loose all she could find to throw at him. She did not realize she had been holding back until that final barrier was breached. The world was bathed in light, a single keening wail preceding a thunderous roar before all was white, then black. Slowly, the world returned. The high-pitched whine never quite died away, but other sounds sprang forth from the void. The void, as it turned out, was much helped by Twilight opening her own eyes while she rose to stand. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up on her back. The room was covered in a fine layer of rock dust. The green barriers were gone, but in their place, translucent sky-blue magic covered most of the room. Strong, sparkling magical barriers layered over every nook and cranny, woven tight around her friends and the bed. Luna stood at her side, horn aglow. Her magic was near absolute, but one part was missing. Specifically, a wall was missing. Luna’s barriers were tattered and frayed where a great section of the far wall had been destroyed so violently, there was no rubble to speak of. Half-way through the next room, crumpled up against one of the royal bath chambers’ hot tubs, Brighthoof lay. His hooves gave off a low hiss, the unicorn spirit slowly beginning to evaporate before their eyes. Twilight swallowed and stared through the hole in the wall. It wasn’t his fault, and he was no longer a threat. She was only vaguely aware that her friends were talking, trying to get her attention. Still words bubbled to the fore, and she did not know where to aim them except at the stranger who had questioned her love for Celestia. “She’s fallible. She’s still the best of us, but she’s not perfect,” Twilight said, coughing as she drew breath. Steam from the bathroom was mixing with the pulverized rock. “That’s the point. I understand now what she meant. She had to fail to show me there is room for another. At least, there was, but now she’s lost to us,” she said, fighting back the urge to lay down on the spot. “Because I never told her—” “Twilight? Luna?” Twilight froze. There was no mistaking that voice. Celestia sounded tired and worn, but though her ears were still ringing, she knew it was her. Twilight’s head whipped around so fast her neck hurt. “Sister!” Luna gasped. Fluttershy gasped, Pinkie Pie bounced on the spot and grinned, and all her friends crowded the bed. On pure reflex, unthinking, Twilight teleported onto the bed.