“Forty bits for a lantern is just ridiculous!”
Twilight leered at the bazaar’s owner, an aging grey stallion with a distinguished look and a sack of bits for a cutie mark. He stared back impassively.
“My shop, my price.”
“I remember coming here a few days ago and seeing that same lantern priced five bits. Five! And now that everlasting night is here, you bumped it up to forty? You’re shamelessly taking advantage of other ponies!”
“The recent crisis has nothing to do with the increase in cost,” the shopkeeper said with a slickly polished smile. “It’s just a quirk of economics. I assure you, had Celestia arrived and everything gone normally, this lantern would still be forty.”
Twilight fumed. A small adventuring pouch rested on her flank—she’d picked it up from her apartment after the scene in the festival plaza. The pouch was comfortably heavy with the weight of the bombs Amethyst had given her, as well as the other material she’d picked up from her apartment—thirty-five bits, all the money she had in the world.
“Oh bless your entrepreneurial soul, but you are a terrible liar,” Twilight growled. “Well, did you hear how there’s an entity out there trying to bring back the sun? Did you hear how it’s allied itself with a pony from this very town?”
Twilight brought herself up impressively. “That pony…is me!”
Twilight wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she’d expected, but a barely-stifled yawn and unimpressed, half-lidded eyes sat nowhere near the top of her list. Uncomfortable silence reigned for over a minute.
“Don’t you offer some kind of…hero discount…?” Twilight said weakly.
“Forty. Bits.”
The purple mare let out a frustrated groan before levitating her money out of the pouch and onto the shop counter.
“This is thirty-five bits,” she said. “This is all the money I have. Literally all of it. I’m willing to give it all to you without a fuss. It’s thirty more than you would have expected to get for a lantern yesterday. It’s thirty more than you should be getting. For pony’s sake, I’m trying to save you! Can I have that lantern? Please?”
“You can have it when you get five more bits.”
“I need it now!” Twilight said, exasperated. “How am I supposed to get five bits just like that?”
“How should I know?” the stallion returned. “Go hop across platforms over a pond and hope five bits are hovering in the air or something. Go break pots, everypony loves keeping their bits in pots.”
Twilight blinked at the utter stupidity of his suggestion. “Break pots?” Twilight said slowly, as though the words themselves might debase her intelligence. “Break pots. That’s your brilliant suggestion?” She spied a squat, ugly pot in the corner of the shop. “Oh sure, let me just start with yours!”
She gripped the pot with her unicorn magic and smashed it against the wall, to the shopkeeper’s astonishment.
“Hey, you can’t just—”
He paused, aghast, as the purple pony stared at the shattered remains of the pot. Five bits were just lying there on the floor.
“Well looky here,” Twilight said with a smug grin. She tossed the money on the counter alongside her own.
“Forty bits, buddy. Now give me that lantern.”
“That’s my money!” said the stallion. “You can’t just take it! I should bill you for the cost of that pot!”
“But you said to smash them,” Twilight returned with false innocence.
“I didn’t mean mine! I refuse to sell to you!”
“I have a sword.”
The shopkeeper eyed the length of metal strapped to the mare’s back, as though noticing it for the first time.
“…you make a compelling argument. Fine, take the lantern.”
Twilight raised the item above her head triumphantly as the owner continued speaking.
“You got a lantern. You’re a unicorn, so you won’t need to worry about fuel. Just ignite it with magic and douse it the same way. Use it to light up the darkness. Now get the hoof out of my store!”
Twilight complied, and as she stepped down onto the streets of Ponyville, she couldn’t banish the cheesy smile from her face.
“Aw man, that was awesome! Heh…I should break pots more often.”
As her hooves trod the paths through Ponyville, Twilight’s smile gradually evaporated. Ponies walked all around her in a parody of everyday life, each pretending that nothing was wrong. Mostly, they failed.
Twilight herself could not help but gaze skyward. Inky blackness stretched above her. The moon—silhouetted bright against the expanse—perched in the exact location it had hours ago, and it would continue to hang in the same spot, forever motionless.
To a pony who had lived her whole life accustomed to the moon spiraling its way through the sky the thought was somehow alien, and a little terrifying. The stars, too, stood unmoving against the sky, fixed and corpselike.
You ‘triumphed’ against a stallion just trying to make the best of what is likely to be the worst situation he ever lives through, the purple pony thought. Even if he was a jerk, there are far worse enemies out there…nice going, Twi.
Humbled, she stepped through the door of the library.
“—and powerful Trixie would be a far more stupendous and, dare I say, worthy choice than some do-nothing blank flank! Surely you could reconsi—”
Amethyst hovered in the air of the library, its candescence bathing the building in soft purple light. At Twilight’s entrance, it turned its attention to her, abandoning the blue unicorn mare addressing it.
“You return, Twilight,” said the creature, seemingly oblivious to Trixie fuming behind it. “Did you find any hint to the pony of Generosity while about the town?”
Twilight glared at Trixie, who was supposed to be helping her comb the library. She entertained the thought of rebuking Trixie for calling her a blank-flank and trying to steal her spot as Amethyst’s helper, but ultimately decided just to ignore the other pony’s behavior.
Trixie can be annoying—okay, okay, she can be REEAAAALLLLYYY annoying—but she and I are ultimately on the same side.
“No,” Twilight replied, “I did not find the pony of Generosity. Though I found one stallion who is most definitely not. Did you two have any progress looking for information on the Diamond Temple?”
“Our search was also fruitless,” Amethyst said. “Though admittedly somepony spent most of her time nagging me rather than searching—”
“Hold that thought!” Twilight interrupted. Her sword hovered in the air before her.
“What is it, Twilight?” asked Amethyst. “Minions of Nightmare Moon?”
“No,” Twilight said. She pointed a hoof at an alcove under the stairs, barely lit by Amethyst’s radiance. “Pots.”
Indeed, two pots squatted in the recess. Trixie shot a puzzled look at Amethyst, and fancied that it was returned—but with a floating ball of light, who knew?—but before either could speak up, Twilight charged the pottery.
“Take—THIS!” she screamed, shattering both vessels with a single swipe of her sword. Twilight smugly sheathed her blade and began poking through the remnants.
“Twilight…what are you—” Amethyst said, but before it could finish Twilight turned to face it, grinning triumphantly.
“Six bits!” she exclaimed. “You know, there may be something to this pot-breaking business…oh, sorry, I interrupted. Carry on.”
“Erm…yes. As I was saying, our end of things was not as productive because Trixie spent most of her time trying to usurp your place at my side rather than actually searching.”
Trixie melodramatically turned her face from the other two, and threw in a haughty sniff for good measure.
“For your information, the great and powerful Trixie is more than capable of double-tasking! I may not have found anything about the Diamond Dogs, but the great and powerful Trixie did discover a part of the wall on the second floor that looks unusual. Tapping on it makes different noises than the rest of the wall does. Is this not exquisitely suspicious?”
Twilight and Amethyst raced upstairs, followed closely by Trixie. Twilight breathed a fragment of magic into her new lantern and studied the second-floor wall. The section Trixie had mentioned was immediately noticeable; the paneling looked choppy, the color was off, and the whole thing looked out-of-place. Twilight experimentally poked at it with her sword and was rewarded with a slight echoing sound.
“There’s something behind here,” Amethyst observed, floating closer to the wall as Twilight backed away. “Now we need only figure out how to bypass it.”
“This calls for a gentle hoof,” Trixie suggested. “No need to demolish the whole building with the great Trixie still inside.”
“No,” Twilight responded. “Every second we dither here the guards and other ponies are toiling like slaves under the Diamond Dogs. They’ve probably already followed up on their threat to cut out the guards’ tongues. We absolutely need to solve this as fast as possible. And that leaves us with just one option…”
Trixie and Amethyst turned and saw Twilight levitating one of Amethyst’s bombs before her, a mischievous smile on her face.
“STAND CLEAR!”
Twilight flung the bomb against the wall, ducking behind a stray desk as she did so; Trixie emulated her with a potted plant. The circular object hit the wall and fell to the floor, where it rested for all of two seconds before exploding.
The bomb’s output was relatively minor, thankfully. The building withstood it easily and the surrounding walls were only a little bit singed. That being said, the explosion was loud—louder than Twilight anticipated—and it flung small rubble over her head and down to the first floor.
As the dust from the explosion cleared, Twilight stood, ears ringing just a little bit, and saw a hidden chamber with what looked like a pedestal within.
“Yes!” she exclaimed, pumping a hoof into the air. “Oh yeah! I am the mare!”
Trixie poked her head out from behind the potted plant, trying—and failing—to shake errant debris from her mane.
“Y-You’re crazy! Both of you!” she said, pointing dramatically in Twilight’s direction. “The great and powerful Trixie won’t allow you to jeopardize her safety!”
The blue mare raced downstairs, long gone before the dust cleared.
“Eh, who needs her?” Twilight said, still lost in the euphoria of her first bombing. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
The hidden pedestal bore a lone book. Its cover was faded red and totally featureless, with no images, words, or designs. Twilight opened it to the first page and saw a picture of a spider-like creature that struck a chord of familiarity within her.
“This thing—weren’t there a few accompanying Nightmare Moon’s horde?” she mused, turning her gaze to the description accompanying the picture.
“‘Tektite,’” she read. “‘Arachnid-like creatures that plagued ancient ponies. They jump wildly with powerful legs. Aggressive and dangerous.’”
“Ah, is this true?” said Amethyst. The book, devoid of the telltale sparkles of unicorn magic, levitated free from its perch and floated over to the violet orb. Pages flapped as the enigmatic creature studied it.
“I see, I see,” Amethyst said ponderously. “This appears to be a manual of ancient Equestrian monsters. If Nightmare Moon has revived the Tektites, other such beasts might lurk in her army. With this, I should hopefully be able to provide helpful information on how to approach certain monsters.”
The book poofed away; Twilight supposed Amethyst had sent it to wherever it had stored the bombs before giving them to her.
“Well, that’s useful, I suppose,” Twilight said, “but ultimately we’re not any closer to solving the problem of the Diamond Temple than we were originally. Maybe we should—”
A sudden knocking at the library’s door interrupted her. Twilight rolled her eyes in frustration.
“Oh come on,” she complained, trotting down to answer the door. “It’s eternal night out! I suppose it counts as a midnight dreary, but still! Who goes out gently rapping, rapping on chamber doors?”
Probably somepony curious about the explosion, she grumbled to herself. The telltale aura of her red-violet magic gripped the library door. She flung it open.
“I’m kind of busy, what is it?” she drawled.
On the other side of the door stood four of the menacing skeletal creatures from the Diamond Dog’s horde. Vibrant vermillion light glowed from sockets devoid of fleshy eyeballs.
“…oh,” Twilight said.
On the street behind the skeletons, the few ponies out and about were quickly making themselves scarce. Pegasi soared away from the creatures without direction; a stallion closed his shutters, leaving a solitary crack through which one eye still peered—he seemed unable to look away, despite his fear. A mare gathered her son and raced indoors, slamming the door behind her; Twilight did not need to hear the door locking to know it was being done.
One pony stood brazenly in the center of the street, however: a blue unicorn mare with a smile that was not so much smug as it was downright sadistic.
“That’s her!” Trixie cried, pointing a hoof in Twilight’s direction. “She’s conspiring with a purple creature to bring down Nightmare Moon. They were combing the library for the secrets of the Diamond Dogs!”
Twilight stared at Trixie in shock, her brain racing to process the new information. Think, Twilight, think! Don’t panic…you can’t panic…
One of the skeletons stepped forward, its withered hoof gently, almost gingerly, brushing against the ground. For some reason Twilight found her attention fixed to the intricate bones of its leg, unable to keep from wondering what sort of sorcery allowed it locomotion without muscles.
Focus, Twi! the purple pony raged to herself. Think back to your fight with the sootlings. Don’t choke up—you can get out of this!
“Twilight Sparkle…” the lead skeleton growled. A sound that nopony would ever mistake as earthly in origin passed as its voice. “You are hereby ordered to lay down your sword. Turn over the creature and your life will be spared to work as a slave.”
Twilight’s stunned silence lasted for two or three seconds before she composed herself.
“Yes, yes,” the unicorn stuttered, “yes…I will come quietly, of course. But if I could just—I’d like to beg for the opportunity to say two words first, please.”
She felt the monster’s eyes sweep impassively over her. “…very well,” it acquiesced.
“Right, yes, of course,” Twilight said, nervously pawing the ground with her hooves. Her horn briefly shimmered with power. “What I’d like to say is…
“Bombs away.”
The bomb, which she’d lit while it was still inside her pouch, soared into the group of enemies. It did not even have enough time to hit the ground before it exploded. Concussive force ripped through the skeletons, scattering them and sending small fragments of bone soaring through the night sky. The lead monster was flung in Twilight’s direction; she met its bleached skull with her blade.
Once—twice; the sword clove against the monster before it had time to react, the clattering sound of metal on bone splitting the night sky. The second blow drove the unholy light from its eyes; flecks of orange power meandered skyward as the enchantment holding the creature gradually died. Its remains crashed earthward, mere bones once more.
Twilight leapt from the library’s doorway, landing in the center of the three staggering monsters. She swiped her blade against a creature flanking her; it shuddered back, retreating. Twilight leveled her sword before her, gathering her focus for a spin attack, but something struck the back of her head, shattering her concentration.
As she turned, she noticed a lance of bone bouncing against the dirt from the corner of her eye. Even in the madness of combat some rational, scholarly part of her brain was eager to note the keen awareness required to track the missile while not losing track of the monster. This was the first time she’d experienced first-hand effects of adrenaline’s clarifying power.
Twilight lunged at the monster that had struck her, attempting a stab, but it leapt clear, jumping far higher than any earthbound pony could have hoped for.
It landed some distance away, launching another bone, but Twilight’s sword swatted the projectile from its path. She returned fire with another bomb; it sailed through the air and struck the skeleton, detonating on impact.
The second explosion proved too much for the monster; it too collapsed into a pile of bones.
Twilight allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction before a whooshing sound reminded her that the fight was only half won. One of her foes collapsed top of her, pushing her to the ground and knocking the wind from her body. The monster scrabbled against her, its wasted hooves raking against her hide as gumless, rotting teeth bared in a snarl.
Panicking, Twilight found herself unable to overcome the beast’s supernatural strength despite her best efforts to struggle back. She levitated her blade, swinging wildly at her attacker. The first swipe missed the monster by a clear foot, the metal sounding a thin whistling noise as it sailed through empty air. Her second attack fared little better.
Twilight forced her errant emotions aside and coolly moved her blade with telekinesis, slowly lining up the shot. The blade drove through the creature’s exposed ribs, provoking a brief flash of power and a hiss from her assailant. It scrambled away, allowing Twilight enough room to stand.
The purple pony hacked, gathering her breath, and gauged the two remaining monsters. They stood side by side, appraising her in return.
Without warning one of the beasts leapt skyward, sailing past her head; as Twilight whiplashed to track its movement motion blurred in the corner of her vision, and she ducked to avoid the projectile flung by the other one.
She raced to meet the landing monster and met its lunge with her blade, dealing too much damage for it to keep its enchantment intact. As the monster crumbled, Twilight’s ears pricked at the sound of her remaining adversary charging her from behind. She spun, swinging the blade in a wide arc, and struck true, dashing the last of them into bones.
Twilight surveyed the battleground with pride and exhilaration, and prepared to sheathe her sword. “Well,” she said, trying to ignore her racing heart, “that didn’t go too—”
A flickering of light and a brief popping sound were her only warnings before something unseen slammed into her side. A sudden explosion—a cacophony of light and sound—and Twilight found herself flung back by the force of the attack, skidding painfully for several feet before slamming into the wall of a building.
She stared up, dazed, her vision blurry from the sudden brightness of the assault. Trixie, still wearing that same smug smile, leered back resolutely. Power gathered on her horn’s tip, coalescing into a bright point that cycled through a myriad of shimmering colors.
“Did—did you just hit me with a firework?” Twilight asked.
“Technically I just hit you with a spell meant to emulate a firework,” Trixie said in a singsong taunt. “But now we’re just arguing semantics.”
Another lancing spell launched in Twilight’s direction. It had far more distance to cover this time, and Twilight barely rolled out of the way—no mean feat for an equine with a woozy head. The firework spell exploded, bathing the empty street and the black sky above with cheery light and loud popping.
Twilight took to her hooves and charged in Trixie’s direction.
If I can close the distance, she won’t risk launching those attacks so close to herself!
She bobbed and weaved, barely avoiding two more of Trixie’s flickering assaults, until she finally got close enough. Twilight kicked off the dirt, leaping into the air with a cry as she readied her sword above her head, preparing a jump attack.
As Twilight descended upon her rival, Trixie let out a small titter of satisfaction; the ground around her was suddenly obscured in a cloud of foggy smoke.
Twilight landed in the obscuring haze, her sword striking uselessly against the ground. She swung left and right in wide arcs, desperately trying to hit Trixie, but her sword only clove air.
The smoke cleared a few seconds later, but Trixie was nowhere to be seen. Twilight cautiously lifted her sword before her.
Where—
Another spell struck, this time from behind. The faux-firework’s explosion pressed Twilight forward. As the unicorn landed painfully some distance away, a thought meandering through her dizzy skull expressed concern that the bright flashes of light across her vision were not aftereffects of Trixie’s magic, but evidence of a possible concussion.
Trixie’s hooves clipped against the ground as the blue mare approached Twilight’s sprawled form. She stopped less than an inch from Twilight’s flank, and stared down at the beaten pony.
“Oh yeah! Oh! I am the mare!” she said in mockery before segueing into a derisive chuckle.
Twilight growled, bringing her sword to bear against Trixie. It passed unimpeded through her foe, and the image of Trixie collapsed into a breath of dust and leftover magic.
“Illusions. Obscuring smoke. Fake fireworks.”
Trixie’s words stepped from an alley down the street, and the speaker followed close behind them.
“Probably not that impressive in the long run. But they’re useful skills for a stage magician—and the great and powerful Trixie knows how to make the most of them. They’re my talents; I’m comfortable with them and know what they can and cannot do.” The blue pony’s smile turned from smug to a sort of condescending pity. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, blank flank?”
A small round object, briefly held by Twilight’s magic, flung through the air on a collision course with Trixie. The magician simply leaned her head to one side; the missile sailed past, harmlessly bouncing on the ground behind her.
“A rock?” Trixie said, voice laced with disbelief. “Did you seriously just throw a rock at me? Pathetic.
“Amethyst!” she continued, projecting her voice. “Trixie knows you’re listening! Look at how easily your champion was beaten down! How much more do you think she can take? I can keep this up, you know. If you want me to stop, then pick a new chosen one! Somepony great. Somepony powerful! Somepony—like Trixie!”
A flash of purple announced Amethyst’s presence.
“Trixie.” The enigmatic voice wavered with power, and it did not seem to come from the glowing sphere itself, but rather the very air surrounding it. “You are confident?”
“Yes.”
“You think your talent is enough?”
“Yes!”
“You want the glory?”
“YES!” Trixie howled. “Trixie is sublime! Trixie is paramount! I will go down in history as the greatest hero who has ever lived; my legacy will last forever! I deserve nothing less!”
“You’re deluded,” Amethyst said. “I would rather be used as a basketball than be willingly partnered with you.”
Trixie stared at the mysterious being, her face a mixture of fury and disbelief.
“You are not worthy, Trixie. You will never be worthy. Your flaws define you. I could spend the better part of a day discussing the defects keeping you from herodom…but I will limit myself to three.
“First, your arrogance. Should you leave it unbridled, it will corrupt you, and bring you crashing down. Second is this: your heart holds a beautiful seed of compassion. You could nurture it, grow into a loving and benign pony, but you shut it away and choose to walk a wicked path. And third…”
Amethyst paused. There was a flicker of magic from Twilight’s horn.
“And third,” Amethyst continued. “You were not smart enough to recognize that that wasn’t a rock Twilight threw at you. It was an unlit bomb.”
Trixie’s head spun. Behind her, the construct glowed with power.
“Oh—” she said, before the explosion roared and flung her out into the open.
Twilight was upright in a moment, racing down her opponent.
Trixie stood, legs wobbling, and as she raised her head she saw Twilight charging right at her.
The blue unicorn let out a sound that could only have been described as an undignified squeak. She gathered light to her horn in an attempt at the firework spell.
Even after all the punishment she’d endured, Twilight was still too fast.
The sword scored against Trixie’s right flank, and Twilight’s adversary let out a shocked and frightened breath of pain. The small remaining smugness vanished from her eyes, replaced with sheer mortal terror.
Trixie took a step back, but Twilight met her in a headbutt, their skulls sending a resounding clack as they crashed together.
A flash of smoke suddenly masked Twilight’s vision. This time, she was ready for it.
She raised her sword before her, focused her energy, and unleashed a spin attack. The whirling blade cleanly sliced through most of cloud; through her telekinesis, Twilight felt it strike something behind her, and heard Trixie’s voice cry out.
As the obscuring smoke faded, Twilight turned and saw Trixie racing away. As the magician fled into the night her voice, laced with undercurrents of fear and hate, carried back to Twilight:
“Swords? Bombs? The gods’ favor? Well, even with all that stuff, a wimp is still a wimp, huh? I, the great Trixie, will never accept you!
“Someday I’ll get real power, Sparkle—and then you’ll be sorry!”
Trixie’s final taunt lingered in the night sky. Twilight stood steady, eyeing her adversary until the blue mare vanished from sight. Only then did she sit her haunches on the ground, panting in exertion.
“That—that—I guess I didn’t do too bad,” she said between heavy breaths.
“Indeed not,” Amethyst remarked, meandering over to hover near her. “Though the fact that Trixie threw in with Nightmare Moon’s flunkies so easily is, to me, disquieting. Already ponies are turning to the darkness.”
Before they could say any more, a sudden racket met their ears. Twilight raised her head wearily, and her stomach sank as she saw monster reinforcements heading in her direction. They were some distance away, but closing fast.
“Wonderful,” Twilight muttered, struggling to stand. “More fighting…”
“Twilight, you’re too exhausted from the previous fight.” Amethyst said. “Without recuperation, it’s probable you might not win your next one.”
“But what do you want me to do?”
“Heroes are defined by their courage. And sometimes, courage means running when you’d rather not.”
Twilight nodded at Amethyst’s words and dashed off in the other direction. Behind her, the monsters erupted into howls and pursued.
As they raced through the street, a barred window opened and a young mare stuck her head out.
“Yeah, go Twilight!” she exclaimed, before a straggler of the monster group paused and looked up at her.
The mare stared down sheepishly. “Um, I mean…long live Nightmare Moon.”
Twilight sprinted through the night-shrouded alleyways of Ponyville, desperately trying to separate herself from her pursuers. She didn’t dare look back, but the noise of the monsters gradually intensified. She needed to shake them, and shake them fast.
My fight with Trixie took too much out of me, Twilight thought. I can’t keep up this pace forever…
A door opened a few steps away. A white-coated unicorn poked her head through.
“In here!” she hissed, waving a hoof in Twilight’s direction. “This way, quick!”
Twilight didn’t have the luxury of weighing options. She ducked into the building before even considering any other course of action.
The unicorn shot a second-long warm smile at Twilight before nudging her in the direction of a small filly.
“Sweetie, take this lady upstairs and then hide, do you understand?” the unicorn said in a firm voice.
The young mare nodded and took Twilight’s hoof in her own.
“This way,” she said, pulling Twilight towards the dim steps leading upwards. “Hurry, hurry!”
Upstairs, the filly led Twilight to a small room filled with tidily organized boxes. “Stay quiet,” she said, before gently shutting the door.
Alone in the darkened room, Twilight could do nothing but sit and try to ignore the burning pain of her injuries. Below her, she heard the sound of a muffled conversation.
“We know you are hiding her, pony,” said a low guttural growl.
“Heavens, why would I do something so stupid?” That was the unicorn, Twilight was sure of it. “I’m certainly not about to endanger myself or my family by taking such a risk. Why, I was the first pony to submit to the will of Nightmare Moon! How incongruous of me to defy her so quickly!”
A low murmuring answered her.
“Besides,” the unicorn’s voice continued, “why would I want to help the fugitive? Celestia never did anything for me. Personally, I think the disappearance of that garish sun was an improvement.
“Oh, and I know that you’re all being called to help pacify that errant Hydra,” she said sweetly. “So can you really waste time looking for one pony while trying to deal with such a big problem? And oh—before you go, I wanted to make a tribute to Nightmare Moon. Here, take this chest of jewels. I’m sure I can trust you to ensure that it reaches the right individual, can’t I?
Silence reigned for a few moments.
“Your tribute of jewels is…most generous, pony,” the guttural voiced spoke. “And you are correct in claiming that we are needed elsewhere.
“But do not forget this day, pony. For we will not.”
The door shut and Twilight heard the horde slowly moving away. For a few minutes absolute silence hung, but then, mercifully, the door opened. The white unicorn smiled down at Twilight.
“Are—are they gone?” Twilight asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” she exclaimed. She collapsed to the ground in weariness and slowly passed out.
As Twilight came to, she found herself in a bed more comfortable than any she had ever known. She tried to stretch out, but her body still ached and strained from her earlier encounters.
Twilight collapsed against the inviting mattress, and something next to the bed caught her eye. A couple of small, heart-like objects—colored a rich and comforting red—rested on a stand.
“What…?” Twilight said, reaching out to touch one. Her hoof brushed against one of the hearts; to her astonishment, it vanished. Before she could think what this could mean, Twilight let out a surprised gasp as a wave of energy flooded her body.
The purple unicorn flung the covers away and watched in amazement as the heart’s energy not only gave her new vigor but also revitalized her wounds. The smaller nicks and scrapes knit up quickly, her dull aches subsided, and even her more cringe-worthy injuries seemed to improve, though they did not heal outright.
Twilight blinked, astounded, and turned her gaze back to the remaining heart. She noticed a tightly-furled scroll resting next to it.
It was a letter.
My Dearest Twilight,
I know it has been many long years since we have spoken, and I am sorry. I wanted to comfort you after your dreams were crushed in the exam, but I couldn’t think of what to say, and so I kept my distance.
I saw you around Canterlot as the years progressed, miserable and friendless, and so many times I thought I might say hello, to bring a little cheer into your world again. But every time I tried, a black little voice in my heart stopped me—a voice that told me that you probably didn’t care about your old foalsitter, that you might not even remember who I was.
To my everlasting shame, I listened to that voice. And then one day you moved to Ponyville, and I realized that I had delayed too long, perhaps losing you forever.
Now the world faces the greatest peril it has seen in a millennium. I am not powerful enough to stop this threat.
But you are, Twilight.
I know you’ve been chosen. I know you’re already working to unite the Elements. And I know that if anypony can save us, it’s the smartest, sweetest, and most capable filly I ever sat for.
I am nowhere near my aunt in terms of power, but what little I have I give to you. These hearts are aspects of my strength—they are scattered across Equestria: in trees, under stones, carried on the wind. Use them to rejuvenate yourself in the fight against evil.
Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake.
I love you, Twilight, and I believe in you. I always have.
As Twilight finished reading the letter, she felt hot tears against her face; she couldn’t recall when she’d started crying.
“Clap your hooves and do a little shake,” she whispered to herself. “Cadence…”
The letter, released from Twilight’s telekinesis, slowly floated down to rest on the bed.
A few minutes later, Twilight wiped her tears and carefully set the letter in her adventuring pouch. She nuzzled the remaining heart and it vanished, breathing more life into her body. A few small aches and pains persisted, but she felt mostly intact.
Twilight stepped out of the bedroom; a young filly curled on the hallway floor, dozing in the glooming darkness.
“Um, excuse me?” Twilight said.
The filly woke with a start.
“Wait, what? Oh! You’re awake!” The little pony hopped excitedly. “Come on, come on! This way!”
She zipped down the hallway to a door vaguely lit by a soft purple glow.
“RARITY!” the younger pony exclaimed. “SHE WOKE UP!”
Twilight poked her head into the room and saw the white-furred unicorn engaged over some odd object. Nearby, Amethyst hovered over the book they’d found in the library.
“Sweetie Belle,” the unicorn scolded, though in a playful, gentle tone, “raising such a racket with guests in the house simply won’t do. But thank you for keeping lookout, you were ever so helpful.” The younger unicorn beamed at the older one’s words.
The mare motioned for Twilight to enter, and as she approached, Twilight noticed details which, in the frenzy of escaping from the monsters, had earlier slipped past her: the unicorn looked to be similar to Twilight herself in terms of age, and she too lacked a cutie mark.
“Hello dear,” the white pony said with a smile. “I am Rarity. And you are called Twilight, are you not?”
“Twilight Sparkle. Have we met before?”
“Not directly, but I’ve seen you around Ponyville, and heard your name here and there,” Rarity said warmly. A mantle of soft bluish light bathed her horn as more material levitated to her workstation.
“Though we never met, I always felt a certain…kinship, if you will,” she continued. “After all, both of us have yet to uncover our special talents.”
Twilight felt her cheeks color in shame, as tended to happen when somepony pointed out her lack of a cutie mark, but Rarity—noticing the look on Twilight’s face—continued with words of comfort.
“Don’t,” she said with a warm firmness. “I know how much it can hurt, but the slings and arrows of taunts and backbiting are only as strong as you let them be. So what if you haven’t a mark? Nothing says you need one to be proud of yourself.”
“Thank you,” Twilight murmured. “But it can be…so hard, sometimes.”
Rarity nodded, her eyes never wavering from the material before her.
“I certainly sympathize. When I was just a filly, I always wondered what my special talent would be. Of course, I loved making costumes and dresses for other ponies, and in my heart of hearts I always hoped that I might be a pony who designed for a living. Even as a child, I dreamed wonderful visions of the greatest, finest clothing spinning from my hooves.
“It so chanced that I found myself designing costumes for the school play. The clothes I made were good enough, I suppose, but I wasn’t really happy with them. They weren’t perfect.
“Suddenly a tug of power led me away from my home. I was drawn over hill, under stone, to a place I’d never been before. I knew—I just felt it, in my bones—that I was being led to my destiny.
“Deep inside, I wondered if I was being pulled towards gems and jewels. I’d always wanted to use such precious stones in my work—all my best designs called for emeralds and sapphires, diamonds and rubies! If I could find some to put on the costumes—!”
Rarity shook her head and smiled sadly, as if bemused by the filly in her memories.
“Oh, me. Can you guess where my burst of magic took me? A rock. A big, lone monolith standing at a cliff’s edge.
“I stood there, waiting, wondering, and nothing happened. The rock was just a rock, and the surge of power a mere fluke.
“So I returned to the school and watched the production. It was…okay. My costumes were okay. And watching them onstage, realizing that my talents could never excel enough to match the images in my head, that’s when I knew what my dream of fashion was: a dream, by a pony ever destined for ‘okay.’
“I shelved my unachievable dreams and turned my interests towards the real. I supported my parents in their business. And while I never lost my love for fashion…I stepped it down into a mere hobby.
“I made a few dresses over the years; sewing one here, crafting another there. They were always missing that extra ‘oomph’ to make them shine.”
The white unicorn, still busy at her worktable, nodded at a drawing on the wall. In the dim light of a few candles and Amethyst’s glow, Twilight discerned a sketch depicting a smiling unicorn mare in a magnificent dress, the centerpiece of which was a brooch of several jewels, settled just below the mare’s neck.
“While my fillyhood dream of a gem-finding spell amounted to nothing, I still scrounged for them over the years: trading in goods and favors for a rare find, or digging in the dirt.”
“I helped!” Sweetie Belle injected, smiling.
“Yes you did, Sweetie,” Rarity said with a smile. “And together over the years, we managed to fill one chest; one fine chest, stuffed with jewels and gems, with which I was to make a dress that would finally fulfill my youth’s ambition.”
A chest full of gems?
Twilight’s mind spiraled back to the events she’d overheard before collapsing.
“Oh no,” she breathed. “Oh. Oh, Rarity, you gave it away, didn’t you? You bribed the monsters with it so that I could be spared.” Twilight’s legs started to shake. Rarity didn’t even know her that well, and to throw away years of work just for her own sake—!
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorr—”
“Oh, hush!” Rarity interrupted. “You really think I consider valuables, or the dress they might help create, more important than the well-being of another pony? Heavens! What sort of unicorn do you think I am?”
Sweetie Belle, standing next to her sister, nodded in resolute agreement.
“Twilight, it was not only Rarity’s gift that sent the monsters on their way.”
Amethyst, who had stayed silent during the exchange—indeed, so silent Twilight had almost forgotten its presence—spoke.
“The monsters had another job to do,” it continued. “They were to quell a Hydra.”
Twilight recalled Rarity mentioning something about that to the monsters during their initial visit.
“What is a Hydra?” she inquired.
“I’m not sure,” Rarity supplied. “I just remember that after the initial darkness fell and everypony swore fealty to Her New Majesty, I was out and about trying to gather essentials for Sweetie Belle before everything inevitably went haywire.
“As I passed a shrouded alley—more shrouded than usual, I mean—I heard deep whispers. The speakers were monsters, talking how all the local minions were being summoned to bring a Hydra to heel.”
“But why go after it?” Twilight said. “Aren’t the monsters all working for Nightmare Moon?”
“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” Rarity whispered conspiratorially, “but I don’t think all of them are playing along. This Hydra creature must be doing its own thing, and Nightmare Moon can’t have that. By bringing it down, she shows that monster disloyalty won’t be tolerated, and demonstrates her strength in destroying such a powerful adversary. I’m assuming, of course, that Hydras are foes of great power.”
“Hydras are terrible beasts,” Amethyst confirmed. “There’s a segment on them in this book. They have multiple heads and are titanic in size, easily dwarfing ponykind. They prefer swampy locations, so one is likely lurking in the nearby bog.
“And it’s not the only monster to be uncovered in these pages. Dreaded beasts now serve under Nightmare Moon, some of them terrible to behold. Gohma, an ancient arachnid, is a monster that lays hundreds of eggs and is only vulnerable in its swollen, bulbous eye. The Armos are living statues that serve as perfect soldiers, never resting or flinching from wounds until the enemy is destroyed. A cabal of mighty warriors, the Darknuts, were known for their ceaseless—”
“I’m sorry,” Twilight interjected. “But…the mighty dark what?”
“Darknuts. They were fierce fighters who—”
Amethyst stopped abruptly, exuding just the faintest aura of wounded dignity as Twilight collapsed to the floor, tittering with giggles. Sweetie Belle soon joined her, and even Rarity covertly hid a smile.
“Well,” Amethyst said with an air of long-suffering, “if we are quite finished—”
“Oh, we are quite finished,” Twilight said between chortles. “Yes, time to be serious. How in Equestria will we ever be able to face Nightmare Moon and her mighty dark nuts? Wow, that book is just a treasure trove of information, isn’t it?”
“It most certainly is,” said Amethyst. “It has information on all kinds of monsters. Including the Diamond Dogs and their ancient seat, the Diamond Temple.”
That got Twilight’s attention easily enough.
“Oh, listening to what I have to say now? Good. According to this tome, the Diamond Temple is ancient holy ground to the Diamond Dogs, abandoned when their old society shattered. Modern generations have attempted to reclaim it, but to no avail.
“The Temple is a treasure trove—literally, in fact. It’s a great mine where precious stones beyond imagining are hacked free from the walls.”
Rarity stared at Amethyst, eyes wide.
“Now that the Diamond Dogs have both the blessing of Nightmare Moon and one of the Elements of Harmony, they are poised to reclaim their ancestral territory. Other monsters and captured ponies are there as servitors and slaves. It’ll be difficult to approach from the front.
“Thankfully the book, while lacking a map of the structure itself, provides a way to locate it from aboveground. It notes the main entrance…and the hidden side entrance as well. The makers of the book were kind enough to include a key to the side entrance.”
A flash of light heralded the appearance of an aged, worn, but still ornate key topped by a stylized emblem shaped like a jeweled scepter.
Twilight levitated it over to herself.
“Well done,” she said. “Now all we have to do is reclaim the Element and then unite it with the pony it is destined to be with.”
Twilight turned to Rarity and Sweetie Belle. “Thank you both so much,” she said. “Without you, I would have been caught by the monsters. You even put your lives in danger to shield me. And Rarity, you gave away your most valuable possessions for my sake. I don’t know how to thank you for what you have done.”
“Oh pish-posh,” Rarity said affectionately. “If you really are the pony destined to banish this night, I say that’s payment enough.
“Here,” she continued, “I think you should have this. I’ve just been putting on the finishing touches.”
Rarity’s blue magic enveloped the item she’d been working on and brought it over to Twilight.
“A shield,” Twilight noted. It was made of a polished, dark, handsome wood. An inscribed symbol of soft orange and yellow dye, a stylized rising sun, blazed on the shield’s front.
“For the sun’s champion,” Rarity said. “Every swordsmare needs a shield to protect herself with, after all. I made it my new project and worked on it nonstop.
“And here,” she said. “A companion piece.”
A cap of green material, long and conical, settled on Twilight’s head. The unicorn caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror at the back of Rarity’s room, and her first instinct was that her headwear was utterly ridiculous, something no sane pony would wear. This impression was immediately banished by one that found the hat endearing, somehow, and inexplicably worthy of a hero.
“Thank you,” Twilight said to her new friend.
New friend? she thought with a twinge of shock. Did I really just make a new friend? She couldn’t say whether the sentiment intimidated or captivated her. Probably a little of both.
“You put your life on the line to protect me,” said Twilight. “You let me sleep in your own bed to recover. You gave away your most valuable treasures to safeguard me; heck, you even made me new equipment to bring to the fight against evil. I don’t know if I’ve ever met a pony so generous.”
As the word passed through Twilight’s lips, time seemed to slow for her. Thoughts cascaded through her mind like a tumbling waterfall, each suspicion feeding the next.
Generous.
A pony so generous.
Celestia preserve me, could it be? Amethyst said I was destined to achieve a ‘great bond’ with the wielders of the Elements.
“Amethyst,” Twilight found herself saying, “if I found a pony I suspected was a destined holder of one of the Elements, how would I confirm this?”
Amethyst considered her words in silence for a few seconds before responding.
“Rarity,” it said. “You suspect Rarity is the pony of Generosity.”
“Wait, what?” exclaimed Rarity. “What are you trying to say?”
Amethyst wordlessly turned its attention to the white pony and bathed her in purple light. Rarity stood enveloped for just a few moments before the power retreated back into Amethyst.
“She is,” it confirmed, a note of wonder in its voice. “Rarity is one of the destined wielders of the Elements of Harmony—the pony of Generosity.”
Rarity stood in shocked uncertainty, her eyes darting worriedly between Amethyst, her sister, and Twilight Sparkle.
“What…” she said in a whisper. “What does this mean?"