“You are mistaken,” the Tree of Harmony said. “We have communicated once before, when my magic was used to make you a magical creature.”
That was so long ago, but Meg could still remember it like it was yesterday. In that moment, she had felt embraced by harmony, accepted by harmony; she had perceived a timeless connection to harmony; harmony had given her a purpose, a destiny—even if the nature of that purpose had remained frustratingly murky. Every time she had ventured near the Tree, she had felt that oh-so-diluted harmony. “That really was you.”
The ventilation system quietly rumbled.
“F-five seconds. Leave already!”
What the hell was Twilight waiting for?
Then she left, taking the humans and gathered stuff with her.
Three seconds.
Meg was alone.
Two seconds. She closed her eyes, unable to watch.
One second.
She forced her hoof down on the mouse button.
The ever-present background sound of air rumbling through the conduits and vents on the warehouse’s ceiling ceased.
Wait.
That couldn’t be right.
It wasn’t possible.
That computer didn’t control the HVAC system; that was absurd.
She opened one eye.
Then the other.
“I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she croaked out. It seemed appropriate. All around her were stars embedded in vague mist. She looked down. More of the same. She took a few steps. What she was standing on felt solid, if invisible.
Not what she’d expected, to put it mildly—not that she’d had expectations. Was this the interior of the anomaly? Why hadn’t the atoms of her body been ripped apart? Regardless, there must be a way out of this, or it would be a paradox. Nothing had changed in that respect. But she was alive and in one piece, and that was a good start!
For who knew how long, she wandered about, no closer to figuring this place out or how to get out of there. That was starting to concern her, paradoxes being forbidden or not. Yet she couldn’t escape the feeling that it… seemed familiar?
Princess Celestia was before her.
It clicked.
“Oh no no no no. I didn’t sign up for this! You are not making me a princess!”
That produced a smile. “Nor need you become one. Nonetheless…” She took a half-step. “Walk with me.”
Meg did so. “Nonetheless, I’m getting a horn out of this, aren’t I?”
“I shall tell you what I told Twilight: It is time for you to fulfill your destiny.”
Meg halted. “I am not one of your little ponies.”
Celestia turned with a sigh to face her. “It is not I who decides such matters, Meg. Know that once, long ago, I was brought here myself for ascension. If you wish to blame something, blame your cutie mark.”
My cutie mark. The mark of her destiny. Which only begged the question, of course. Who—or what—handed them out?
And why now? No need to ask; it was for the same reason Twilight had ascended when she did: She had proven herself worthy. She had passed the test. What had Meg’s test been? Clicking that damn button knowing it would have been certain death if not for the paradox that would cause?
When did Meg get her cutie mark? After being blasted by the rainbow cannon when she first became a pony. And come to think of it, when did Twilight ascend? After likewise being blasted by the Elements of Harmony. Coincidence? Could be. After all, Meg had not been blasted by the Elements just now.
The princess resumed walking. Meg quickly caught up to her. “Don’t I at least get a montage of significant moments of my life?”
Celestia tittered. “For many years I had hoped for Twilight’s ascension and had planned accordingly. This is as much a surprise to me as it is to you—not that I have the means, naturally, of observing your life in your realm.”
The seemingly omniscient Celestia, bearer of future-revealing visions, was surprised by this turn of events? That was actually somewhat comforting to Meg. It ruled out a time loop in which she had met her in the past, never mind one in which she helped to raise her or even—god forbid—gave birth to her.
The stars slowly shifted position as they walked. “Then how did you know to be here?”
“It’s an arrangement I have, and let’s leave it at that.”
Mysterious as ever, Meg thought—and it implied no answers would be forthcoming from the princess concerning who or what—can one have an arrangement with a what?—decided these things.
But then a rather important matter occurred to her. “Which Celestia are you—that is, what time period are you from?”
“Your present, Meg. When you were brought here, you were also returned to your own time.”
Meg grunted. “Convenient. Wish I knew who to thank.”
In silence the stars continued to shift.
“So I never returned from that warehouse. Twilight must be worried sick about me.” Never mind her husband!
“I have yet to see her since you two departed for your mission, but my faithful student shares your belief that paradoxes are forbidden.”
“A belief that has yet to be proven false, thankfully.”
“It would so appear.”
“Even so, the sooner we get this over with, the better, I guess.” And have her life turned upside down yet again.
Celestia gradually came to a stop and nodded at Meg. “I feel the time has come.”
“Just another minute!” Meg quickly shouted, to who or what wasn’t clear. She removed her phone from its holder. It looked okay. It woke up like it should, but it didn’t have a signal. Why not?
Right. Airplane mode. She turned that mode off, potential network confusion be damned. Still no signal. There were several possibilities. Perhaps the means by which she arrived here did not activate Steve’s magic. Or maybe it did, but the other end of the wormhole was in the middle of that anomaly and that’s what’s blocking the signal. Regardless, she wasn’t going to contact anyone from this place.
She took a panoramic video of this strange realm. Evidently this place was compatible with the physics on which the phone operated. She held it out. “Please hold this while I go through… whatever is about to happen. I can’t risk losing the video I took at the warehouse.”
A warm yellow glow surrounded the phone and lifted it away. “I shall keep it safe.”
That being taken care of, it freed her to wonder how one prepared for this. Never mind that, what the hell was everyone gonna think when they saw her new appendage? Never mind that, what would this do to her human form?!
Rainbow swirls filled her vision.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to relax. She had met her future self; there was no horn sticking out of her forehead. No wonder she would eventually be able to handle hyperspace—though without a horn? Some mysteries still remained.
It hadn’t hurt being turned into a pony that first time; she hadn’t even noticed the transformation as it was happening. It was no different this time. And she was already magical—
But not this kind of magical! It suffused every cell of her being, filling her with… she had not the words to describe it. It wasn’t just earth pony or unicorn magic, though she knew that to be part of the package. This was fundamentally different. It had to be alicorn magic.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Meg did so, to see Celestia pointing her phone camera at her. “You know how to operate a phone?” she asked, flabbergasted. The diarchs had steadfastly refused the gift of a phone. Was she going to regret not locking it first?
The elder alicorn levitated the phone back to her. “Twilight showed me how, while demonstrating the wonders of human technology. I figured you would like to see your transformation, possibly show it to others.”
Meg reached out a hoof to take hold of her phone. Then she almost face-hoofed. She had a horn now; she could actually look up and see it. Except she didn’t know how to use it. And anyway it was a bad idea to risk first using telekinesis on her phone. She returned the phone—using her hoof—to its holder—which was still on her leg, unaffected by her transformation. Well, better safe than sorry, and she got a video out of it—who would she show it to?
“Shall we return to Equestria?” Celestia asked.
“And then enroll me in magic kindergarten?” Meg flatly asked and pointed at her horn.
An almost suppressed titter. “Only should it prove necessary.”
Meg sighed and looked around. How big was this place? There was no obvious boundary. It also seemed devoid of life; why did it exist? Two questions that could be asked of Tartarus—and probably the Breezy realm—for all she knew.
Stop avoiding the inevitable. “Let’s go home.”
Celestia’s horn flashed and Meg found herself in the converted cavern, with the princess still in front of her. Her co-workers were all present, too occupied to have noticed their arrival. Meg was wondering how to break the ice when it was done for her.
“Your Highness—es?”
All turned upon hearing the voice of the Royal Guard, one of several assigned to guard the portal. Their attention then turned to Princess Celestia—and then to definitely-looking-like-but-not-actually-a-princess Meg. They were definitely staring at her new horn.
The definitely-a-princess took command of the situation. “Meg is not a princess of Equestria nor shall she become one in the foreseeable future. That having been said, Meg has ascended and is now an alicorn.”
Another guard had joined the first and bowed. “Understood, Your Highness.” He returned to the portal.
“Does this mean she gets a promotion, or at least a raise?” Martin asked half-jokingly.
“No, it does not,” their manager, Jake, replied. “And it’s safe to say she ain’t becoming a princess of humanity either.”
How many times will this conversation be repeated? “I didn’t ask for this, you know. And, no, Princess Celestia did not cause this.”
“But I was there to help her through it.”
“Any singing, or a montage of your life?” Martin just wasn’t going to give it a rest.
Meg practically growled at him. “No.”
Celestia was innocently looking elsewhere.
The younger alicorn went over to her workstation, where her pendant was. Without bothering to put it on, she pressed her hoof upon it. She lifted her perfectly normal hand and felt her forehead. No horn. Looking expectantly at the others, she said, “Well?”
“No different,” Diana said. The others nodded in agreement.
“That’s something,” Meg mumbled. Then she felt ridiculous. Future Twilight had transformed into a perfectly ordinary human when proving to Present Twilight that said transformation did not affect her status as an Element Bearer—if seeing her own future self as an ordinary looking human wasn’t enough. “Anyone know where Twilight is?”
“She was here earlier,” Jerry said. “No clue where she is now.” No one else volunteered to say differently.
“We need to find her so she knows I’m okay,” Meg said to Celestia.
“She did mention you not returning from the warehouse, yeah.” Jerry said.
Meg sighed. “Long story. Short version: anomaly creation has been taken care of.” She put on the pendant and squeezed. “And got this horn as a souvenir.” She preempted the questions. “Like I said, long story.” As she walked back to the princess, she added, “I can thank my cutie mark, apparently.”
“Ah-HA! I knew I sensed it!”
Discord was pointing straight at Meg.
Meg knew exactly what to say to him. “Would this happen to be the first time you’ve sensed this?”
The draconequus was unable to move a muscle.
“What about that time we encountered my future self?”
A jaw moved, but no sound came out.
“Or how about the past? The distant past?”
He finally relaxed, lowering his arm. “Let me get back to you on that.”
“Wait!”
It was too late. Discord had vanished.
Celestia bore her trademark smile. “That was quite informative.”
“Yes. It was.” Meg noticed her co-workers all gawking. “He completely ignored the humans in the room. Sure speaks volumes.”
“That’s a good thing,” Jake said. “Right?”
“What do you mean by ‘distant past?’” Diana asked.
I had to say that in their presence. “Just a suspicion,” Meg said, convincing no one. If only Smooze’s speech synthesizer worked better. “He could’ve told us where Twilight was,” she said to Celestia.
“I’ll send a message to Spike.”
Meg wasn’t too sure how effective that would be. Those two weren’t in the same room all that often these days. She lifted her leg with her phone. Maybe, just maybe, Twilight had hers with her.
No signal.
“Great,” she mumbled. The trip through that strange realm—no, it might still be that the anchor point in her universe was in the middle of the anomaly. Uh, and in the past? Could her husband’s magic handle temporal displacement? Regardless, the point was there would be no signal until she revisited her universe.
She could go to her workstation and send Twilight an email—no, she would likely receive the message via Spike first anyway. Nonetheless her eyes lingered on the keyboard. She really needed to master telekinesis, and sooner rather than later. Fortunately, she knew the perfect unicorn to help her with that—who, she just realized, may or may not know she hadn’t returned with Twilight from the past.
“First send the message to Spike,” Meg said, “then let’s find Steve.”
Twilight pushed open the door to Sugarcube Corner and held it open with her magic for Rainbow Dash and Applejack. As soon as she spotted them, Mrs. Cake rushed out to greet the trio.
“Oh thank Celestia! You gotta help Pinkie! She can’t stop it!”
“Stop what?” Applejack asked.
“Just go upstairs—now!”
Without hesitation, Twilight teleported to the top of the stairs. The door to Pinkie’s room was open, so she rushed inside.
“Hi-hi-hi Twi-twi-twi-twilight!”
The pink pony was practically jackhammering through the floor. Rainbow Dash flew into the room; Applejack was not far behind.
Twilight had seen this before. “Pinkie Sense?”
“Yeppers!” The shaking had stopped for now. “It’s a doozy!”
There weren’t too many candidates for that at the moment. “It’s about Meg, isn’t it?”
Pinkie tilted her head in thought. The jackhammering resumed. “N-n-need t-t-to b-b-be m-m-more sp-sp-speci-ci-cific.”
“Did she return?” Dash asked.
“Cl-cl-cl-closer.”
“Why would her return be a doozy?” Applejack asked.
“I-I-I don’t know.”
Sometimes Twilight wondered just how useful Pinkie Sense really was. It wasn’t proving terribly useful right now. “At least Meg is okay—I guess?”
Pinkie rubbed her right front kneecap and her left ear folded. She brightened. “That means Spike is about to arrive with a message from Princess Celestia!”
All turned to the door. Spike ran in, breathless. “Twilight! I’ve—is Pinkie alright?” For Pinkie had started jackhammering again.
Twilight grabbed the scroll from Spike’s grasp with her magic and unrolled it. “Meg has returned… and…” She looked up at Pinkie. “Meg’s an alicorn? That’s the doozy?”
Pinkie jackhammered some more. “Al-al-almost.”
Applejack looked askance at the scroll. “Meg has become an alicorn? How does that work? You were destined to be a princess, prepared for the role by Princess Celestia herself.”
“M-meg’s not a-a-a-a prin-ce-cess,” Pinkie said. “Sh-she’s an ali-i-co-corn.”
“They’re one and the same,” Applejack flatly said.
“Pinkie’s right,” Twilight said. How was she right? No, don’t question it. “Meg is not a princess, nor is she planned to become one.”
“A non-princess alicorn,” Rainbow scoffed. “Sure sounds like a doozy to me.”
Pinkie collapsed to the ground in relief and beamed. “I know, right?”
And now we know why Tirek had to be broken out of Tartarus first. Because he was broken out by a pegasus and a unicorn, not an alicorn and a unicorn. And how many other ponies will consider a non-princess alicorn to be an oxymoron?
Pinkie bounced to her hooves. “You should probably go see her, Twilight. I’m fine now.”
The closer Meg got to Professor Arcane Scroll’s office, the more she wondered what she had gotten herself into. Here in Canterlot, Princess Twilight Sparkle would get nods from ponies in passing. Non-Princess Meg Coleman got… confused looks, looks that persisted well after the passing. At first she tried mentioning she wasn’t a princess, but that only made them even more confused. So she stopped bothering. She feared it may prove necessary for Celestia to hold a non-coronation for her, so that her little ponies would cease their confusion.
Finally she reached his office, its door closed. Briefly she contemplated whether this mage would know how to undo an alicornification. That made her snort. Fat chance. She knocked with a hoof.
The door opened. Nopony was right behind it, of course, not when all the occupants of the room were unicorns. All were staring at her in disbelief. “Hey, all. A funny thing happened to me…”
Steve rushed over, eyes locked on her horn. “You don’t say.”
Sunset Shimmer was next, mixed emotions apparent on her face. “Is this one of Discord’s pranks?”
“I’m… afraid not. It’s the real deal. I even went to the same place Twilight went, and Celestia was there to—”
Sunset soured.
“Celestia did not do this to me, Sunset. She said to blame my cutie mark, if I needed to blame anything.”
The unicorn’s head dipped. “Sorry. I… I guess I still got some issues.” Her head lifted. “Have you used it yet?”
“Don’t know how.” She looked at her husband. “Figured you could give me some lessons, later, since you’ve already been through this.”
“Sure, no problem.”
The professor finally chimed in. “You should consider learning the theory, now that you have the means of putting it into practice.”
“Meg!” cried Twilight from behind her.
Meg turned around to see Twilight—and Rainbow Dash?—standing in the hallway.
“Whoa. She really is an alicorn!”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “You thought Celestia made a mistake?”
“Well, no… obviously…” The pegasus stood next to Meg and wrapped a wing around her. “Look, Twilight, you’ve got a new spelling buddy!”
The corruption of “spell casting” made Twilight cringe.
“I can’t cast spells,” Meg said, “not yet, anyway.”
Rainbow smirked, giving Meg a squeeze. “And Twilight couldn’t fly when she got her wings. But she was still my new flying buddy!”
“Anyway…” Twilight shook her head. By the time she had finished doing that, Meg was presenting her phone to her. Twilight took it in her magic. “Yeah, that’s the place.” Celestia would have panned into view just about now; Twilight look up.
“She said to blame my cutie mark.”
Twilight switched the phone off and sent it back to Meg. “Can’t say she’s wrong.”
Meg return her phone to its holder.
“I don’t get to see it?” Rainbow complained.
“Maybe later,” Meg responded. “But not now.”
Rainbow pouted.
“Can we get back to business here?” Arcane asked.
Meg looked at the blackboard, full of an odd mismatch of magic equations, tensors, and differential calculus, no doubt concerning the stars in the Equestrian sky. It made only a little sense to her. “Yeah, we’ll get out of your way. By the way, the anomaly creation has been taken care of. We now just need to get rid of it in the present.”