//------------------------------// // Chapter Four - Waiting For a Train on Mobil Avenue // Story: DECEPTION // by Christian Harisay //------------------------------// Wha-what happened? Where did he go? Where is he? Where am I? WHERE AM I?! Twilight immediately tried opening her eyes to see where she was, only to realize she could not see. Was she blind? Did the fire blind her? There was no pain. Third degree burns don't hurt, was the first thought to boil up from the roiling pool of terrified and confused emotions in her mind. Reflexively she put her hooves to her face, feeling for damage. There was none. Why can't I see? WHY CAN'T I SEE?! In the same moment she realized she also could not hear. She strained and exerted herself to hear something, anything from her surroundings. Nothing. It was on the verge of collapsing into hysteria that she realized she could hear. But she could only hear herself. In fact, the only sensations she could experience were coming from herself. The moment she realized this, all of them swept over her with the force of a tsunami. Her terrified, labored breathing. Her frantic, thundering heartbeat. Her muscles quaking with fear. Cold sweat beading up and sliding over her feverish and suddenly sensitive skin. Her eyes darting back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, desperately trying to pierce through the clinging darkness. Instinctively she lit her horn. Faint, purple-tinted light illuminated her surroundings. Except there were no surroundings. All she saw was a pool of light around her upon some barren surface. The blackness still dwelt all around her, like a crushing weight bent on smashing her delicate bubble of light. It was thoroughly unnerving, far worse than the last time she had ended up in a dark place where she didn't know where she was. At least then, there had been something to see. At least then, the imposter posing as her old friend Cadence had the decency to tell her she was trapped in the caves beneath Canterlot. "Hello?" The word nearly caught and died in her throat; it was as if the darkness was trying to push it back inside her. "Hello?!" This time she managed to get the word out, but instead the darkness swallowed it. Oppressive, lingering silence remained, leaving her with nothing to hear but herself. "HELLO?! SPIKE? CAN YOU HEAR ME? SPIIIKE!" She didn't realize she was screaming until she stopped. But still she heard nothing. No responses. No noises. Just darkness, silence, and her own palpable fear. Panic set in. Fight-or-flight overwhelmed her logic, and with nothing to fight... Twilight bolted. "SPIKE! WHERE ARE YOU?! SPIKE! SPIIIKE!" She had never galloped so hard, screamed so loud, or been so frantic. On and on she ran, until her breath came in ragged gasps, her blood burned like fire, and her heart felt like it would tear itself apart. She couldn't tell how long she had been galloping through the seemingly endless unconstructed world. It could have been a minute, an hour, or even a day. However long it was, eventually she succumbed to sheer exhaustion. Her legs gave out and she collapsed to the ground, dust and sweat stinging her eyes. Every muscle trembled uncontrollably as her adrenaline wore off. Her mind was in a worse state. Her fear lingered like a clinging mist as confusion and worry took to the forefront of her mind now. Questions and concerns buzzed in her head, worrisome and unnerving by their lack of closure. Where was she? What had happened to her? Where was Spike? Where in the hay was she? Am I...? Oh, no... Nonononono... Please no... I can't be... A terrible thought rose up suddenly within her; one that swept away all the others; one that left her cold, numb, and suddenly unable to breath. Am I... DEAD? It couldn't be that. It just couldn't! Think, Twilight! Maybe you’re still just in a dream. If that's the case, all I have to do is reach out with my mind and... There was nothing to feel. The familiar threads of magic at the barriers of a dream could not be felt. Only emptiness. Panic threatened to set in again. Desperately she tried throwing her mind further out. Nothing. With supreme effort, gritting her teeth with sheer force of will, she cast her consciousness out as far she could, almost blacking out before she couldn't continue any more. Absolutely nothing. Despair crashed through her. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled into the thirsty dust. Dear Celestia... I'm really... I really am... She couldn't say it, not even in her head. Twilight buried her face in the dust, weeping like the lost soul she that she was now. It was all over. She would never see her friends again. They were gone forever. Horrible images flashed through her mind in rapid succession, each passing one tearing her to pieces. Her friends, gathered around her grave, mourning uncontrollably, a cold grey tombstone now all that was left of their dearest friend. Celestia, sitting solemnly on her throne, tears like liquid crystal running down her face, lamenting the loss of her beloved pupil. Shining Armor and Cadence, her mother and her father, weeping and holding each other, torn apart inside over the loss of their dear little Twily. And Spike. Spike, her lifelong friend. Spike, who had stuck up for her at times when nopony else would, not even herself. Spike, who had shown there was a spark of goodness in him no other dragon alive had. Spike, waking up from his nightmare to find Twilight lying next to him, at first thinking she was only asleep... Spike, a twisted, hideous monster, finally fallen victim to an inner demon which he had spent his very soul trying to fight. Spike, whom she had failed utterly. The strength of her sorrow extinguished the light of her horn, and the darkness rushed in. She wished she had never met her friends. She wished she had never been born. She wished she could cease to exist. Any of those things would be better than this awful misery. But she already knew wishing for such things were futile. There was nothing to help. Nothing to soothe her agonized soul. Oblivion gorged itself on the bitter sound of her woe. - - - - - - Twilight lay in the dust like a dead thing, her face caked with dried tears. She wanted to cry but couldn't; she had run out of tears what felt like hours ago. The most she could manage was an occasional dry sob. She wanted to think, but couldn't; her mind would not stop dwelling on how she had lost everything. She wanted to move, but couldn't; she knew there was nowhere to go. So she lay in the dust, morose and miserable. She finally understood what it meant to be heartbroken. All her life, she thought it was just an expression, but now she knew better. It hurt. Her heart really did feel broken, each beat of it slow and torturous. It burned, like a heavy lump of searing metal. It weighed her down, even more oppressive than the omnipresent blackness. Time passed, if it was passing at all. Maybe here there is no time. There certainly is no light. Would it be such a stretch to propose that here time does not exist? She had started thinking somewhat normally again. Perhaps her subconscious had simply shut out her grief, but for whatever reason, she could think again, though she didn't know what to think about. There was nothing to do here. Nothing to logically work out like she always did. With her logic confused, something deep and instinctive took hold. She got up back onto her hooves. She didn't know why; she already knew there was nowhere to go. She lit her horn, and again, she stood in a small pool of light surrounded by clinging darkness. She simply stared into it. It made no sound, no movement, no anything. It was nothing, yet somehow it seemed like it was more than that. The whole time she had been here, the nothingness had been everywhere at once. It was the only thing besides herself that she could hear, see, or feel. She knew it watched her everywhere that she went, for she could feel it on the back of her neck. It gave Twilight the sense that it was hunting her, making it something dangerous, oppressive, and predatory. Another thought occurred to her. When she had panicked the first time, she had run. Now, she was through running. She ought to find a way to fight the darkness. Fight the darkness? THIS darkness? How? There's no way I could make a light bright enough, and it's not as though I could just manipulate a sunrise into... wait... Manipulation. This whole time she hadn't thought of manipulation. Yet as soon as she thought it, her brain shut it down. There is nothing to manipulate. I couldn't feel the parameters of a dream spell at all! Try it anyway, something from deep inside her mind seemed to say. What do you have to lose? Resolve bloomed inside her. Her face set with renewed determination. With new purpose she began to channel energy into a new spell. Her horn began to glow brighter and brighter. With no dream magic to concentrate on, she simply concentrated on an idea: one simple idea. Let there be a sunrise. She could feel energy draining from her, a sign that the spell was having some effect on something. Gritting her teeth, legs trembling, she focused on that one goal like it was the only thing that ever existed. Her horn brightened to a blinding intensity, practically searing her eyes. Then when she could sustain the energy no more, it went out. Shaking, she nearly fell over again as she sat down to rest, her head hanging with exhaustion. She couldn't even dwell on whether the spell had worked or not; she was busy trying to not pass out. After a long while, she raised her head to look around her. For a moment she nearly thought it hadn't worked. But as the afterimage of her magic faded from her eyes, she noticed something. A thin, almost imperceptible line of deepest blue appeared in front of her. Breathlessly she watched, hoping beyond hope. With torturous slowness, the line grew. The deep blue color began to brighten. Hues bloomed and spread across what could only be the horizon: a dazzling array of gold, yellow, pink, red, and orange. And then the sun itself appeared, blazing bright, warm, and majestic. Twilight would have cried tears of joy if she wasn't sick of crying already. So instead, she simply closed her eyes and basked in the welcome radiance with a tired smile. The sunlight felt more like a bath. Its warm caress softly stripped away her anxiety, fear, and sorrow. Her body ceased its tremors completely. Her breathing slowed and relaxed. With the crushing psychological heaviness of the darkness dispersed, it felt as though a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She almost felt as though she could drift away on the rising morning currents to forever float across the carefree blue sky. For once in all of Twilight's life, it felt good not to think. It felt good not to worry and to just simply be and be one with her surroundings, especially now that her surroundings consisted of nothing but light: warm, glorious, soothing light. She felt rejuvenated in a way an afternoon at the spa had never even come close to, not even when it came with the special treatment package. Yet even her newfound good mood could not last forever. With her fear and sadness gone, and her usual composure slowly returning, her nonstop thinking and reckless curiosity began to resurface. Neither cognitive function was happy with being suppressed for so long, and they had sworn blood oaths to make up for lost time. She took one last deep breath to prepare herself, and then Twilight opened her eyes. She sat on a perfectly flat surface comprised entirely of hard-packed dust. It stretched away in every direction, with not a single feature to behold upon it. The sky was almost equally empty. Not a single cloud drifted across the endless blue, though its familiar color was a far more welcome than her previous surroundings. Its only occupant was the sun that she had created. It was the only thing that was moving in this whole world. A pang of loneliness struck with a sudden, stinging shock. While she had found nothing in the dark, there had always been a tiny glimmer of hope, even if it was a fool’s hope, that there might be something hidden in it. Now with the sun shining down on a world where she was the only feature, the painful truth was finally revealed. She really was alone. She didn't begin to cry, but she couldn't help but feel depressed. She just wanted to see her friends again. She just wanted to get out of here. But where is here? And that thought brought her back to a problem she had thought she'd already found out the horrible answer to; am I alive or dead? On the one hoof, no matter how hard she tried, she could not detect any sign of dream magic. It simply wasn't there. But that may not mean I'm dead. I might simply be on a level of dream where the rules have changed. One so deep that I can’t even feel the magic. I never have gone down past a level two dream. But how can I be sure that I'm dreaming if I can't feel the magic? Then there was the matter of manipulation. She HAD made a sunrise, exactly as in a dream. No, not exactly. I cast a spell and that made the sun. In a dream all I had to do was reach out with my mind and rearrange the structure of the dream like it was a set of building blocks. Her mind took in other things about this new world that needed considering. If this was a dream, wouldn't her mind have automatically created surroundings and projections? Here there had been nothing until she had made the sun. Yet even that was not proof for one conclusion or the other. Her charts taken from her previous dream sessions had shown that the spell artificially compressed the wavelengths of the mind while increasing the frequency. So was she in an extremely deep dream, then? One where the wavelengths couldn't be compressed any further and the mind created an absolutely minimalist world in order to keep the brain from damaging itself? Twilight made a note to herself that if this was a dream, and she did wake up from this, she should start keeping track of brain temperature in addition to wavelengths of thinking patterns. She pondered this and several other factors she had experienced since her awakening in this world. Yet no matter how much she thought about her dilemma, she could come no closer to an answer to her state of existence. Eventually she stood and stamped a hoof out of sheer frustration. She, the brilliant Twilight Sparkle, protégé of Celestia herself, had tried to figure out a problem, and a basic problem at that, and come up with the worst possible result: She still did not know the answer. She started as she realized the sun was already well past the limits of the horizon. She'd been musing on her Rubuck's cube of a problem for what had to be at least a couple of hours. Scratch that, Rubuck's cubes are easy. This is proving more to be like a Rubuck's dodecahedron. Looking around at the empty world around her, she came to another realization. Dreamscape or not, she had been here longer than she had ever been in some kind of bent reality, and there was no indication that her internment here was temporary. She concluded that she would have to start thinking in the long term. But where to start? What’s there to do? I DID make a sunrise, I wonder what else I could... whoa... The realization hit her as unexpectedly as a freight train thundering down the middle of a street; this world wasn't some empty wasteland, it was a blank canvas. She could do anything she wanted. The power of creation itself was in her hooves. If Pinkie Pie can bend a world in half... Let's see what I can do. She lit her horn. - - - - - - The sun passed the apex of its slow climb though the heavens, and its light now shone upon a much different world. Twilight now stood upon the sandy beach of a half-moon bay that opened out into a vast ocean. The air now blew a cool sea breeze, carrying with it mist from the thundering surf. It carried through her mane and blew past her to rustle the leaves of a vast forest carpeting over gentle rolling hills. The scenic vista nearly stole her breath away. This was the first time she'd ever been to the beach. Her parents had suggested it when she was just a foal, and a couple of times they had even made plans, but life just kept getting in the way. There had never been the time. Then what with becoming Celestia's protégé, raising Spike, her endless studies on magic, moving to Ponyville, making new friends, and all the adventures and escapades that had ensued since, there simply hadn't been the time or the means for a simple, relaxing trip to the beach. And now here she stood on one. It was exactly as she had imagined it would be. Despite never having been to the beach, she had naturally read a few books on the subject. Some even had pictures of the more famous beaches, like the Boardtrot in Santa Cruz or the King's Beach in Seahorse City. But actually being on a beach, even the nameless beach she had just created, simply could not be compared to a photograph. The golden sands, the aqua blue waves, the warmth of the sun mingling with the coolness of the wind, it all was simply too much to put into words, much less a book. It was paradise. She felt like she could stay here forever. Spotting a small alcove in the tree line, she imagined that a small cottage would look really nice there. She imagined going to sleep every night listening to the soothing sound of the waves. The more she thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea. A small cottage would be practical, a plus for her, and the scenic vista would lend it a quaint yet slightly exotic air. Yet even as she was about to light her horn again and begin creating, something in her mind gave a small but insistent tug. She frowned. You can do more than that. Where was this coming from? Suddenly she realized this was something else, something she didn't think she had in her: a spark of creativity. She also realized it had been trying to manifest itself for some time now. It had been given a little bit of life in the dream when she had lit up the sky around Canterlot, and promptly forgotten in the rest of the day’s events. It had been the sheer awe that she had when Pinkie Pie had done things that had literally made her jaw drop. What should I do now that I can do anything? An idea struck her, and the creative spark within her roared to life, almost changing her vision. In her mind's eye, she saw something that was not, but that could be. Towers glimmering like elegant spikes of pearl and silver, banners caught high in the morning breeze. Every hour, on the hour, the clear ringing of silver trumpets to announce the time. Great, beautiful gardens. A vast library. An observatory to rival any in the real world. A laboratory stuffed with everything she had and wished she had. A throne room as grand as Celestia's. All of it built and arranged in an elegant design based on one simple idea. She turned towards the tree line and cantered into the woods. After she’d gotten a ways in, she stopped and lit her horn. Even considering she had already created a world, the magic at work here would have been considered a marvel. Trees reversed their growth, their branches withdrawing into their trunks as they sank back into the ground. Vines and undergrowth retracted into the forest. Grass slipped beneath the soil as though worms were sucking on the roots. And in less than a minute, a perfect circular clearing of bare, level  earth well over half a mile across lay before Twilight. Keeping her horn lit, she began to trot towards the center of the clearing. As her hooves passed over the ground, the soil beneath them began to compress, then changed color from brown to the dark grey of granite. The inertia of the transformation picked up speed and moved ahead of Twilight, converting the last of the clearing to a courtyard of bare stone just as she reached the center. When she reached it, she did an about face, once again looking towards the sea. Concentrating harder, her horn lit to a blazing intensity. The circle of stone began to rise. Slowly and majestically, a tower of smooth stone began to ascend past the tree tops, the earth rumbling gently as it did so. Plumes of dust shed from the exterior of it and drifted across the forest, borne by the sea breeze. When it rose over two hundred feet above the forest, the great mesa of stone gently ground to a halt. Twilight walked back to the edge of the newly created mesa and took in the view. The ocean looked like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket. The wind rustled softly through the forest below, like the murmurs of a friend in another room. She leaned against the wind, smiling, and had a crazy notion to pretend she was weightless. She sighed contentedly. In this moment, she was happy. Suddenly the wind gave a more energetic gust, unexpectedly chilling her and snapping her out of her reverie. It's going to get really cold up here tonight, and I know I'm not going to finish this soon enough. I need to make a place to stay. Another idea struck her, and she made her way back to the center of the grey mesa. Lighting her horn again, she converted the stone in the very center back into soil until she had a bowl of earth about a hundred feet across. Then, slowly, a sapling began to sprout from the very center. She took her time molding the tree as it grew: hours, in fact. She wanted every branch, every window and door, every angle to be just right. With the patience of a sculptor, she gently guided the tree along its accelerated life, carefully realigning its growth when it started to seem off. As she worked her magic, time wore on. The sun hung low on the horizon and dusky orange permeated the sky. Her tree house stood in the center, exactly as she remembered it, down to the very last leaf. The sight of her familiar home in this alien place felt incredibly reassuring to Twilight. She was amazed at how suddenly relieved she felt, it was almost as if nothing had happened to her.  Opening the front door and walking inside, she took it all in. Every book was in its proper place, as it always was when she organized at the end of every week. On a nearby desk, sheets of parchment, bottles of ink, and spare quills were arranged neatly. The floor and shelves were dusted and clean, the rugs shaken out and free of stains. Yet something seemed off. Unsure of what it was, she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. There was her bed, exactly as it was, soft covers neatly folded and pillows arranged for maximum comfort. There was Spike's bed, blankets tossed hither and thither in a wild tangle. All her posters and star charts were right where they should be. But something still seemed off. Something she couldn't put her hoof on. Was it the dimensions of the tree house? No, it couldn't be. She'd measured it before, and she knew that if she measured it now they would be the same. Everything was fine, and in perfect order with no one to disturb it.   No one... That was what was wrong. No sounds of Spike perusing about the kitchen, preparing their evening meal. No Owloysius scribbling away on a piece of parchment, double-checking her notes for her. No bright peeps from Pee-Wee, Spike's pet phoenix. No knocks on the door from one of her friends stopping by to say hi or somepony else wanting to rent a book. No one at all. Twilight barely managed to fight off another pang of sorrow and loneliness as a tear welled in her eye. If this was a dream, wouldn't her subconscious have conjured up Spike and the others, much like Spike had made a projection of Rarity? Just exactly what was this new existence she found herself in? She had never gone this long without a definitive answer to question, and certainly not such a deeply profound question as: am I really dead? Or was she on a level of dream where the rules as she knew them had changed? An entire day spent here, and she still didn't know. As she wondered about her predicament, she noticed that it was getting dark outside. The profound, oppressive darkness that she had enough of for a dozen lifetimes was returning. There was something else she could occupy herself with. She went back outside to affix the heavens more to her liking. - - - - - - The sun had gone down some time ago, but a clear sky, full moon, and stars beyond counting adorned the heavens. She sighed to herself. It was indeed beautiful, and she could see why Luna had lamented in the past that everypony else always slept through the night. The moon was a queen lavishing in a bed of black silk strewn with tens of thousands of jewels, a trove that would make every dragon alive burn with envy. All of them were so clear, so precious, and so perfect, making the night sky resemble a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. Clouds of white stars clustered together to form pearly swathes of milky white. Clusters of young stars, seen as bright multicolored sparks of energy, lit their respective nebula in dazzling arrays. And yet even amongst this epic display of light and color there with still those that stood out from the crowd; like Sirius, a bright blue spot to shame any sapphire ever dug from the earth; or Betelgeuse, even brighter still; its powerful red beacon of light shining out like a celestial lighthouse. Summoning and falling into a couch from inside her home, Twilight lay on her back and marveled at the eternal dance of the sky. Even with her uncertainty at her future gnawing at her, she still felt some measure of comfort from the sky and her surroundings, even if they had been fabricated. I’m building my own world. I guess there are far worse places to end up. Deciding to sleep under the newborn stars, she summoned a pillow and her favorite blanket from her house and nuzzled up to them. Finding as comfortable a position as she could, and suddenly feeling very tired from the exertions of her day, she waited for sleep to come. It never did. Not to say that she stayed awake all night, either. Her body seemed to go somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. She felt her body relax, her heart slow, her breathing deepen and her thoughts thicken with lethargy. Her eyes drooped, but they never closed. A small part of her mind remained aware of her surroundings, of the tree she slept in front of, of the wind, and of the fantastic sea of stars. And it was against this backdrop that instead of dreams, she had visions: real and yet transparent, for the backdrop of stars could be seen through them at all times. Images flashed before her eyes: the dusty tome she had found in the Canterlot library; pages and pages of Dominus Cob's notes; candles burning down to their nubs as she spent night after night constructing and refining the spell; a book full of empty pages, because she hadn't read it before; Pinkie Pie smiling and laughing while Ponyville burned; an omelet from the fiery depths of Tartarus; the thing-pony, shrugging; painting the sky with stars; chocolate cake; Prance bending in half; Discord laughing maniacally while reality tore itself apart; a wall of water obliterating everything in its path; water balloons flying through the air; Spike on a pile of books, murmuring in his sleep. All the while, the slow dance of the stars accelerated to speeds only seen in dreams. The images continued: red flames erupting from between great steel doors; Spike's eyes filled with a dying love; a strange room of glowing gems, and an even stranger feeling for Rarity; a contorted monstrosity of her friend, pinning her down and screaming in rage before filling her face with fire. Twilight sat up with a start. The moon was gone, and the stars had faded away into the blue. The ocean waves could still be heard in the distance, like the breathing of a great animal. The horizon was illuminated with the faint glow of the sun, eagerly waiting to be summoned. Extricating herself from beneath her blanket, she rubbed her hooves on her aching head. She had been completely unprepared for this. A world that she had to create herself? An unearthly trance replacing the familiar touch of sleep? What was this? Where was this? "I can't figure this out..." she said to herself, suddenly realizing this was the first time she had spoken aloud since she had run screaming through utter blackness. She sat for a while upon her couch, blanket draped across her like a half-shed cocoon, her mind spinning its wheels but finding no traction. Ultimately, she settled on doing something very unlike herself; she stopped thinking about it, at least for now. She simply couldn't take it anymore. For the time being, at least, she decided to just focus on her palace. She lit her horn, and with another great effort pulled the sun up from the depths of a sky unseen. It blessed the new day with warmth and light as it watched over her world. Twilight took a moment to appreciate it, staring off into the space of the cerulean atmosphere: a moment that lasted for longer than she intended. Shaking her head and refocusing, she turned her attention back to the granite plateau. - - - - - - A day passed. The sun rose and fell, and beneath its journey the stone mesa was molded and fabricated into a more recognizable shape. Towers sprung up along its outer edges. The inside was hollowed out. She spent much of the day drawing up plans for the inner workings and mechanisms of what she had in mind. Despite working all day, near the end of it Twilight realized she never really felt tired, at least not physically. Mentally she felt somewhat fatigued, but she knew that was because deep down she was still trying to figure out if she was alive or dead. Even when she cast a spell that would normally have been very dangerous, she would feel exhausted for a little bit, but she would recover very swiftly: far quicker than she normally would. She also noticed that not once did she ever feel hungry or thirsty. The realization of these things only further unsettled her, because they were more pieces of information that didn't give her an answer. The sun had set, and she fell once again into the waking trance that had replaced sleep. Again strange visions played out before her, this time against the backdrop of the ceiling in her bedroom. Twilight was sitting at a circular table outside what was one of her favorite local diners back in Ponyville. The sun had set a while ago, making the warm glow of the lamps contrast beautifully with the deep purple of the distant sky. When the other occupants of the table came into focus, her heart lept. Her friends. She was with her friends again! The sights of their smiling faces as they conversed with one another brought such joy back to her heart that she feared she might tear a muscle in her cheek from her grin. “Girls,” she choked out through tears of joy, “I missed you all so much!” Not one glance or word was directed at her. They just continued with their inside talk, uninterrupted by her presence. The excitement was swept from her as something more ominous began to creep back in. She looked from one to the other, and saw that their smiles were less genuine that they first appeared; they were mere masks hiding their true emotions from the elephant in the room everypony knew was there, but that they were all pretending not to be thinking about. They weren’t happy; they were together in somber bittersweetness. Then she realized that she could not understand what they were saying. She could easily discern that they were all speaking in clear Equish, yet somehow she couldn't understand the words. It was as if the phonics and emotional intonement of whatever they were saying had lost all their meanings, coming across to her as nothing but babble. She looked to the pony to her left and spoke. “Rainbow?” she dared ask, not realizing her voice was shaking until she did. Nothing. She tried to get attention by waving a hoof in front of her face. Still nothing; it was like she was invisible. “Rainbow?” She looked to her right. “Rarity?” she raised her voice. Nothing whatsoever. She stood up in her seat and rapt her hooves upon the table. None of them so much as looked in her direction. Rainbow Dash said something that made Applejack roll her eyes and mutter, to which Rainbow sniped back with her own snappy remark. Rarity cut in, putting the bicker to a halt, and then added a comment of her own with a slight, forced smile that made all the others adopt sheepish expressions. Applejack looked at Rarity sideways, saying something bashfully before pulling her chin up to proclaim something with more gusto. Pinkie replied to this, finishing her thoughts with a strained giggle. Then Fluttershy, who looked the saddest of them all, raised her head just long enough to say something before lowering her mournful gaze down again, prompting Rarity to put a comforting hoof on her shoulder. Twilight felt herself getting angry as she looked back and forth between her oblivious friends.  “Hello? Why isn’t anypony listening to me? HELLO!?” she yelled, then teleported atop the table and got right up in Rainbow’s face. “RAINBOW DASH! LOOK AT ME!” She didn’t. Growling in frustration, she turned to Applejack, then back to Rarity, shaking each of them in turn and yelling right in their faces. She put her forehooves on their shoulders and shook them, but they did not move or react to her. They didn’t even flinch. She got right in between Pinkie and Fluttershy as the two exchanged some thought or other; they looked straight through her. Her temper reached a fever pitch, and she began to yell and scream, smashing plates with her hooves and throwing food in a maelstrom of magic. She might as well have been a phantom. Her friends had absolutely no clue of her existence. Twilight picked up the plate in front of Pinkie, ready to bring it down on her head, when suddenly she looked at her. Twilight froze, looking at the silenced pony staring solemnly in her direction. But Pinkie still wouldn’t meet her eyes and just watched her from across the table. Suddenly she realized that Pinkie wasn’t looking at her, but where she had just been sitting. Looking back behind her, she saw Spike approaching the table with a tray containing six mugs of cider, looking more depressed and miserable than she’d ever seen him. Turning to face him, she saw that the rest of them had become quiet too now that the metaphorical elephant had finally decided to sit down at the table. Morosely, Spike slid the tray onto the table and pulled himself up into the empty chair. All eyes remained locked on Spike as each of the mares took their drink, and whatever sweetness had been in their bittersweet gathering got up and left for another table. Rainbow Dash broke the silence as she looked back over the gathering of friends, lifted her mug, and said something short. A prolonged moment after, Applejack did the same, raising her drink and repeating the phrase. Pinkie Pie repeated the process, toasting with the same few words. Twilight looked to Fluttershy and watched her mouth intently as she followed suit, memorizing the lip movements and tongue placements of the words. She then looked to Rarity and repeated the movements, saying the words in her head. She gasped when she heard herself saying them. All eyes returned to Spike, still holding his cider close to him. Slowly, he mustered the will to follow through, and with a terribly shaking claw he raised his cider. This time, when he spoke the same words said in sacredness by the rest, Twilight understood him perfectly. “To Twilight.” With the toast having gone full circle, each of them elevated their drinks just a little higher, then took a respectful sip. Silence hung for a moment, leaving Twilight in eerie stillness as she stood transfixed upon the table. Rainbow Dash once again was the one to break the silence. “I’m gonna miss you, egghead.”   “We’re all going to miss you,” Pinkie added, her ears as drooped down as her inflection. Spike’s disposition grew even more distressed, clutching his drink in pain. His words barely made it out legibly through his choked mourning. Twilight almost didn’t hear him from his hushed tone and her own return from her night visions. “I already do.” Twilight lay unmoving in her bed, staring at the part of the ceiling where she had last seen her friends transposed upon, blinking out the excess tears welled up in her eyes and letting them flow freely down her face. It felt like hours before she pulled herself up, slouching over the edge of her bed and letting what tears remained drip down across her muzzle. “I do too,” she whispered. “I miss you all so much.” Her room was still dark. Looking out the window, she saw the faintest trace of indigo painted upon the black canvas that covered the world. With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, she dragged herself the rest of the way out of bed and paced outside to raise the sun again. - - - - - - Another day came and went. Massive gears, cogs, springs, and pendulums were fabricated and placed inside of the monolithic structure, meshed together, double checked for flaws and other incongruities, then finally set in motion. The towers were further refined in their shapes, then hollowed out for her to do some interior decorating the day after. It was late in the afternoon of the third day that she finally finished the palace. It was marvelous to behold. What had once been a featureless stone mesa was now an enormous clock/castle. The tree house stood in the very center of the structure on the axis of the gigantic hour and minute hoofs, which were hundreds of feet long and made of black marble. An intricate network of paths and gardens formed an elegant architectural web over the face of the clock, forming a courtyard. At the three, six, and nine o'clock positions on the face were three tall, elegant towers, and at the twelve o'clock position was the great hall. Between each of these were two smaller, equally spaced towers, so that at each hour position on the clock there stood a tower. Each tower was given a particular purpose, especially the three larger towers. At the three was the astronomy tower, with multiple windows and balconies for astrological study or simple, wistful star gazing. A very large onyx and bronze-ringed telescope poked through the pantheonic roof, which was a gradient wash of deep indigos and regal violets, with arches of gold and stars of silver flecked across its night-sky dome. The six o’clock tower was the library, and a very impressive library at that. Every book she had ever read was to be found among the many floors organized around a grand spiral staircase. The very top level was reserved for all her favorite books, and the especially treasured ones were placed in a special alcove housing an enchanted spellbook that levitated over an arcane table crafted from obsidian and diamonds. The tower that sat upon the ninth hour was her new laboratory, and it was filled with every piece of scientific equipment a pony could think of: sorcery, enchantments, hexes, counter-hexes, charms, potions, medicine, particle physics, quantum mechanics, and even the many disciplines of alchemy, complete with charts of transmutation circles, could be experimented with in this one tower. The palace itself, formerly the cold dark grey of stone, was whitewashed, giving it a pure and majestic appearance. It’s towering pillars and grand spires, interconnected walkways with ornate arched supports surrounded a central citadel, which stood above all else, but was with such sweeping, open curves that it bore the air of both might and sincere, compassionate welcoming. Twilight had never been a vain pony, yet she couldn't help but marvel at what what she had created. This masterpiece of architecture, engineering, and magical prowess should have taken years to construct. It should have taken thousands of ponies working around the clock to build it with nary a moment to rest. She had done it all by herself, and in three days. In Equestria, this would have been one of the Great Wonders of the World. It would have been a center of learning and governing. It would have been a source of pride to whichever city it might have been constructed in. Indeed, Twilight imagined it just might have become the new cultural hub for all of ponydom. If only somepony else could see it. Just like that, her spirits sank again. Nopony else would see this. No gifted foals and brilliant scientists would make great discoveries in her lab. No dignitaries and upper-crust businessponies would debate and deal in the grand hall. No lovers would wander through the gardens in the courtyard, or stargazers look to the heavens through the telescope. There would be no hushed whispers or the quiet rustle of turning pages in the library. This grand palace had no real purpose. It was just an empty monument without ponies to use it, to live in it, or simply appreciate it. She would probably be able to give it a tiny mote of usefulness as a new home, but she by herself would never be able to make it reach its full potential. Sighing dejectedly, she tried to think of something else to do. She was able to occupy herself with some books from her new library for the last few hours of daylight, but it ultimately did little to brighten her mood. It was with a heavy heart and stormy conscience that she took to her bed that night. It was on this night that her waking visions took a turn for the stranger. She was now in an icy cave. Barren rocks with a coating of frost littered the floor under icicles as clear as diamonds and cruel as dragon's teeth. She got to her hooves and looked around, noting the carpet of powder snow and a cold air that chilled her breath to a mist. Looking onward, she saw that the cave tunneled back farther, and near the entrance of the twisting and winding passage she saw a frosty wooden sign that read: FIND YOUR POWER. The cryptic words were written on an arrow pointing into the tunnel. Nearing it for closer inspection, she saw a clear set of tracks; small prints with three clawed toes, and whose number and spacing were indicative of a fairly small, bipedal creature. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew of only one thing that could’ve left tracks like that. She galloped into the tunnel, following the trail of claw-prints through winding passages and over heaps of ice to their unknown destination. After a minute in hot pursuit, she found who she was looking for. Spike was making his way through the icy blue halls, following a strangely calming little white ball of light farther back into the cave. Her heart jumped a little at the sight of her long-lost friend. “Spike!” she called out to him. “Spike!” The dragon continued his trek through the cavern, not once making any indication that he had heard her. Twilight could feel the loneliness catch up to her and cut her skin with its teeth. She reasoned that she must be in another non-interactive vision, but that didn’t keep it from hurting any less. She continued to follow Spike further down into the deeps of the ice. On and on they continued in silence, never stopping until they reached the end where there was another clockwork door with a pair of golden handles. The oddly therapeutic sphere of light disappeared into the cracks between the doors, prompting Spike to reach out and grab both handles. Depressing the latches, the inner mechanisms sprung to life; the orchestra of clicks and scrapes as pieces moved into place echoed gracefully through the ice cave. With a heave, Spike cracked open the doors, and Twilight felt the faint touch of a familiar feeling flow through her as a gentle glow of light spilled through the opening. Spike entered the adjoined cave and Twilight followed. As she crossed the threshold, she was instantly hit with a powerful sense of déjà vu. Underneath the frost and ice was a familiar network of glowing gems connected by spindly strands, bathing her in the dazzling array of icy cerulean and warm vermilion that danced together in a spectral waltz. Perched upon a frozen pedestal lay Rarity, her mane styled with extra flair and flashy glamour and coat almost shining with the illustrious sparkle of the light she basked in. With a restrained pace indicative of reverence, Spike slowly strode towards her, stopping a considerate distance from her practical throne. Rarity turned to look at him, and her face ignited with more passion than the entire crystal web surrounding them. “Spike!” she exclaimed with enthusiastic joy through a broad smile as she hopped down from her rest and trotted up to meet him. Without a moment of hesitation, she pulled Spike into an affectionate hug, nuzzling him with grace as she breathed his invigorating scent. “Oh, Spike,” she cooed in their embrace. She pulled back to get a better look at him. Their sights met, and her crystal blue eyes became ablaze. Graciously she moved a hoof under Spike’s chin, opening up her soul through her gaze. Twilight watched the scene in silence, not daring to move lest the placidity be disturbed. Her ears perked up again when Rarity whispered gently into Spike’s ears, like an intimate exchange meant only for him to hear: “What matters most?” Twilight was about to move, about to try and ask them just what in the hay was going on, but time seemed to slow to a crawl. Without another word they separated, and Rarity hoisted Spike onto her back and galloped off several paces. She jumped through the air with a delightful giggle into an adjoining tunnel, then playfully landed on her tummy to slide away like a penguin to wherever. The cave faded away and she found herself staring blankly at the ceiling. She lay there for a long time simply doing nothing, her mind in a daze. Vaguely she felt as though the gears of her mind were turning slowly and sluggishly, unable to find a purchase. Part of her didn't want them to. Eventually the more logical, schedule-driven, orderly part of her won over, and she dragged herself out of bed. Silently cursing herself for letting the sun hang just below the horizon as long as she had, she opened her window and lit her horn to raise it, the sky lighting up as the celestial pieces began to move again. Then she tried to decide just what to do with the rest of her day. She tried playing around with her new laboratory, spending a few quiet hours reading in the library, and even tried her hoof at cooking in the kitchen, which was located in the one-o-clock tower. It ended disastrously, with her frantically throwing a burning pan into the sink. Then she tried simply wandering through her gardens and taking in the surroundings, but it all did little to make her feel better. Which was how she found herself perusing through the items in the dresser drawers next to her bed. The sight of so many little knick-knacks with pleasant memories attached to them made her spirits lift a little. Here was a locket her mother had bought her, there was her first quill, and there was an entire volume of little encyclopedias she had made for her doll. Then something glinting in the dark corner behind the miniature Encyclopedia Equestria's caught her eye. Levitating it from the drawer with magic, she gasped a little. Almost completely forgotten within the drawer, and now glinting in the sunlight, was one of her very first possessions: a glass gyroscope. It had been a birthday present for her when she was a very small foal, even before she had met Cadence.  Oddly enough, she couldn't remember who had given it to her. What she could remember was being entranced by the sparkling contraption as it spun inside its cage, holding itself upright for several  moments before finally falling over. She also remembered being slightly disappointed every time the gyroscope fell over. At the time, she had wished the gyroscope could just sit and spin forever. Smiling to herself, she lit her horn a little brighter, and the gyroscope flashed a brilliant purple. Then she set it down on the bedside dresser, bracing one tip against the wood and the other on the underside of a hoof, and set it in motion with magic. Releasing both her hoof and her magic at the same time, she sat and watched tentatively.   A minute passed. Then two. Then five. Still the little gyroscope continued to spin as though it did not have a care in the world, only showing the slightest of wobbles as it rotated. Twilight smiled; now the little gyroscope really could spin forever. Yet despite herself, her spirits lowered again almost immediately. She had realized an almost forgotten foalhood dream, but now what? She still needed something truly meaningful to do. Finding herself at the edge of the palace a few minutes later, she sighed dejectedly and leaned against the ramparts, looking out over the forests that spanned across the sweeping hills all the way to the mountains off in the hazy distance. Glancing down, she imaged that if this was in Equestria she would probably be looking out at a surrounding city, at ponies in the streets below going about their daily business, whether it be shopping, enjoying a bite at a cafe, or peddling their wares at a market. She perked up a little. She could practically see it as though it was already there, just as before when she built the palace. She could imagine various districts each with their own unique feel, iconic landmarks in addition to the clockwork palace, and even a convenient transit system to interconnect it all. It would definitely be something meaningful to keep her preoccupied... - - - - - - Five days passed. As they did, a sprawling seaside city grew around the palace. Markets were created, shops were built, homes founded, streets paved, tracks laid, signposts erected, and everything else involved in building a city was done. Practically all Twilight did every day was wake up, build until sundown, then go back to “sleep.” She was creating the city so quickly that on the third day Twilight found herself using the trains to get around instead of walking. It was a marvelous city indeed. One market held a statue of the Royal Sisters, prancing and facing each other so that the tips of their horns touched, and made entirely out of precious metals like gold and platinum. At the center of the city park, one could see a single levitating orb surrounded by orbiting crescents adorned with runes. The streets were paved with interlocking stones of cunning design and arranged in a circular grid pattern emanating from her palace. It was a city Twilight found herself falling in love with. When she wasn't off creating new districts, she sometimes found herself wandering through the ones she had already made and simply taking it all in. Occasionally she would add a detail or two she had overlooked, like a street sign here, or an awning over an outdoor cafe there, but for the most part she simply meandered down the streets in awe. Yet despite all this, she still hadn't cured herself of the random pangs of isolation and loneliness. Sometimes it would happen while she was building, sometimes while she was trying to admire her hoofiwork, but it happened most often was while she was riding the train. On the afternoon of the sixth day into creating her city, she had spent most of the morning constructing a museum on the southern side of the bay, then had decided to go back to her palace for some library time, so she could decide what artifacts she would put inside it. Which was how she found herself sitting alone on the platform of the train station, waiting for the locomotive to appear. Looking around her, she felt again the bitter sting of isolation. There should be other ponies waiting for this train. There should be a colt next to me impatiently checking his watch. And another colt struggling to hold all his marefriend's baggage. And a couple of parents trying to keep an eye on a bunch of overactive foals. Looking up above her, she found herself reading the platform sign. Mobil Ave. She was suddenly perplexed. She didn't remember naming the station or its subsequent street. Why had she come up with a name like that? Her entire attention became focused on that single sign. Why didn’t she remember putting it there? Did it mean something? What did it mean? She felt like she had just discovered something important, but to her frustration, she couldn't make heads or tails of it. She almost lost track of the time pondering the conundrum as she just sat there, waiting for a train on Mobil Avenue. Her concentration was broken by the rattling of the rails and robotic, clinking melody of the polished chrome train with a clock for it’s face rolled into the station. Suddenly very annoyed, she didn't even wait for the train to come to a complete stop before wrenching open a door with magic, hopping on, and slamming it shut with a disgruntled huff. Waiting for the train to start moving again after she had sat down didn't help brighten her dour mood. Even when the train did finally start moving again, her face adorned a gradually more intense scowl with each passing clack of the wheels. Looking out the window at the passing streets, she didn't have time to register any of the shops or signs or any other details she admired. She only saw them just long enough to see that they were empty. She felt the loneliness transfix it’s insatiable gaze upon her once more. She jerked her head away from the window, instead opting to focus on whatever was in front of her: rows upon rows of empty seats. It wasn’t like how she was used to riding in a train. It wasn’t like how riding in a train was supposed to be. There should have been ponies reading the newspaper en route to their destination, murmurs of other ponies engaging in idle chat, a ticketmaster trotting up and down the car asking for proof of purchase, and the delighted squeal of foals chasing each other up and down the length of the train. Instead there was just her. Her, the faint chug of the engine, and the click-clack, click-clack, click-clack sound of the wheels endlessly grating on her nerves. By the time the train finally ground to a halt at the palace station, she felt like screaming. - - - - - - In no time at all she was back inside the palace, though not in the library. Instead, she spent the rest of the day in her lab, brainstorming ideas on how to better get around than using the infernal train. Idea after idea was drawn up on sheets of paper, then crumpled up and thrown away. A hot-air balloon? Too-slow. A glider? Too dependant on wind. Simply teleport everywhere? Too disorienting. She spent so long working out the problem that she forgot to raise the moon for a while, something that irked when she finally realized it. She continued to work on the problem instead of going to sleep that night, while the moon continued its slow swim across a sea of stars. Idea after idea went from brain to paper, and while she came up with several that would have solved her problem, from a motorized cart to a pedal-powered gyrocopter she had once seen Pinkie Pie use, none of them seemed satisfactory. It was with equal amounts of aggravation and depression that she walked through the door to the tree house that evening, unable to focus on anything other than what a wasted day it had been. As she walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth, by chance she glanced through the window to see the moon, casting a square of soft white light across the mirror. She sighed as she squeezed a small glob of toothpaste onto her brush. The tedium of having to raise the sun and moon herself, though a simple enough process, was wearing on her, and she was beginning to appreciate the Sisters more that she was standing in their horseshoes. The brush froze halfway to her mouth. She stared at herself in the mirror, wide-eyed. An idea, as simple in its premise as it was brilliant and majestic in its scale, one that she had not dared to think or even dream of, had now manifested itself upon the realization that she was performing the most important duties of the Sisters. Wings... The idea terrified her as much as it enthralled her. Turning oneself into an alicorn was not something one considered lightly, or concluded upon and enacted within several minutes. More to it, how could she even dare consider elevating herself to the level of Celestia and Luna? But the more she thought about it, the more she realized in a way she already had. Was she not already raising the sun and the moon? And how would it be an affront to the Sisters if they were not even part of this new world, whatever it was? Tentatively her mind reached the conclusion: she was already playing the part. It was best then to accept the full responsibilities of her new role. Finally her mind accepted the idea with certainty and a spark of eagerness. Vigorously she resumed brushing her teeth, her demeanor now ablaze with barely controlled realization of potential. Her body was almost shaking with sudden excitement. After she rinsed and spit, she looked in the mirror again and thought that she might have have to cast a spell to stop herself from grinning, because her face was starting to ache. The whole time, the simple, glorious idea blazed in her head like a million suns: I'm going to be just like Celestia! - - - - - - The next three days were a flurry of activity, experimentation, and research. Transformation spells were not unfamiliar to her; she had given Rarity a set of butterfly wings for a trip to Cloudsdale, but those had only been temporary and crafted from gossamer and dew. This was going to be permanent; an alteration of her own flesh that would change her very body as she knew it. Biological charts were consulted, diagrams pored over, notes catalogued, her own anatomical composition recorded, and potential spells constructed. Everything else, save for the rising and setting of the sun and moon, was put on hold. It was on the morning of the fourth day that she finally felt comfortable enough to try and perform the initial experiment. She stood in front of a mirror, horn aglow, ready to cast the magic. Excitement and trepidation filled her in equal measures. The sheer weight of what she was about to do bore down on her mind like a lodestone. But she had spent so long already researching this. There was no turning back now... The purple glow of her magic enveloped her. Her back began to itch and sting, but she tried to pay no attention to that. This spell required all her concentration. She felt the muscles in her back begin to twitch and spasm uncontrollably. Still she continued with the spell. Two bulges began to form on her back just behind her shoulder blades. Then a most bizarre sensation came as the bulges rose further and began to elongate. It was like growing pains magnified by a thousand: not excruciating or torturous, but still rather uncomfortable and irrationally unsettling. Gritting her teeth, she muscled on with the transformation, as the two long growths now began to take on the distinct shape of wings, angling as new bones began to grow in them at an astounding rate. As she continued, other little bumps began to sprout from the tips and back of the new wing bones, which then elongated and sprouted into feathers. It was beginning to be too much to bear, as new nerves, blood vessels and tendons took shape and molded in a matter of seconds, sending an avalanche of new and bizarre sensations flooding into her brain across alien nerve pathways, connected to neural clusters that had never existed before. Somehow, she managed to maintain her concentration. Finally, blessedly, the spell came to a close. Twilight gasped for air, realizing she had been unconsciously holding her breath. Her sides ached like a bad cramp. Closing her eyes, and trying to remain calm from the bewildering sensations of suddenly having two extra limbs, she tried to flex her new wings. It was just like trying to move after her legs had fallen asleep from reading too much. Pins and needles and ant bites radiated from the two new unwieldy things on her back. Slowly, painfully, she retracted and extended them, alternating between folding them up and unfurling them all the way. Finally, the pain abated, and she looked at herself in the mirror. Over the years, she had grown accustomed enough to seeing her reflection in the mirror that the image the glass displayed was always something she had expected to see. What she looked like was familiar, set, and psychologically understood. She was Twilight Sparkle, a unicorn. So what she saw staring back at her was unnerving in a sense, because the unicorn in the mirror had never had a set of functional wings. Slowly, she sent mental commands to move her wings. She could feel them shift and move as muscle fibers contracted and expanded, and she could see in real time through the mirror that her wings, indeed her wings were moving. She twisted her head to look back, and almost jumped when she saw them. She couldn’t help but feel like a fool for a moment, but then again, she had never glanced behind her and seen a pair of wings affixed to her back before. Twilight kept looking back and forth from the reflection of her wings in the mirror to the wings attached to her sides. She found her heart fluttering at a more rushed pace and her skin under the fur felt clammy. Her mind was slightly upended and confused as it struggled to reevaluate the psychological presets of what her body was and wasn’t supposed to be or be able to do. Tentatively, she put a hoof to her wings, and almost gasped in surprise as sensory receptors responded to the touch. She could feel the neurotransmitters traveling on newly forged pathways firing in her brain, feel electrical signals running up and down her nervous system, and feel on the points of contact that she was indeed touching her hoof to her wings. She moved her hoof across the margin, sucking in air from another flurry of unprecedented sensations flooding her brain. She could feel the movement over various rows of her feathers (Sweet mother of Celestia, I have feathers!), feel as the slight drag made the rachis lightly tug on the roots where they met her skin and on flesh that they had sprouted from. She put her hoof back down, staring at the wings in her reflection once more. On a whim, she put some effort into her movements, flapping her wings once. She felt the resistance from the air work against them from the single beat. She felt the gentle gust of wind they generated tickle her fur and tussle her mane. She even felt the counter force to gravity attempt to lift her off the ground. She looked at herself in the mirror. A smile alighted like the dawn on her face as she ruffled her new wings and pawed the ground. She chuckled once, then twice, then came the fits of giggling as she began a hyperactive prance-in-place. Then she lost herself in uncontrollable, jubilant laughter, hopping around in quick circles, wings fluttering of their own fruition in the winds of her joy. She felt wonderful! There hardly was a spell she’d ever cast before with such results that had left her feeling this invigorated, this renewed, this enticed by possibilities as boundless as the sky itself. Her spirits soared even as she calmed down enough to look at herself again in the mirror, wings at attention and smile still consuming her face. The orderly, scheduled part of her brain tried to reassert itself. Okay, you’ve had your fun. Back to the other matters at hoof... NOPE. Her excitement burst free for a second time as she started bouncing around her bedroom again, wings buzzing ecstatically. “Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes!” She caught sight of herself in the mirror again, prompting her to rein in her overjoyed celebration to take in the marvel. Even at a standstill, her wings were still fidgeting in her excitement. I definitely look more like a royal now, she mused as she looked herself over, from her cute little horn to her magnificent set of wings. She recollected that idea, tracing it all the way back to its inception, starring in her bedroom mirror and realizing just how similar her role was to the Sisters’. Technically speaking, I am a royal now. Her horn glowed once more with her magic, and a flash of light later she stood bedecked in more appropriate attire. She wore a set of bronze horseshoes with a matching breastplate that had been polished to an illustrious sheen, ornately designed with intricate and ingeniously drafted engravings: illustrations so delicately reminiscent of the rays of light from distant stars. Almost immediately she knew something was missing, and immediately after she knew what it was. I need a crown. Lighting her horn again, she focused on a matching tiara to go with the rest on her ensemble, but then another idea struck her; one that seemed more appropriate. A second later, the tiara of the Element of Magic apparated upon her brow. True, she reasoned that gold wasn’t the most copesetic of precious metals to pair with bronze, and there was also the thing concerning... Never mind that now. Then unfurling her wings to their fullest, she turned sideways to look at herself better. Princess Twilight Sparkle stared back from the mirror, her expression one of complete and utter awe and joy. For several wondrous minutes she looked over herself from every conceivable angle, enraptured by her own image. She'd never been a vain pony in terms of her looks, perhaps occasionally when it came to her intellect, but with the way she looked now she couldn't help but begin to understand what Rarity was always so on about when it came to aesthetics. She emerged from her laboratory a changed pony. Her heart felt light, lighter than it had ever felt while she was here. The sun shone down brightly on her palace, and for the first time she could appreciate the vibrant colors of the gardens that made up the courtyard. She walked to the ramparts and looked out over her city, and was able to simply marvel at it and how beautiful it looked. The cool breeze coming from the sea energetically ruffled her mane, and suddenly she felt attuned to the wind in a way she never had before. Like all ground-dwelling creatures, before the wind had simply felt like a force. Some days it blew and some days it didn't. Now, it felt as though it had personality, as if the cool breeze wanted her to spread her wings and bear her away on its currents. It tugged at her mane and teased through her fur like a foal desperately wanting to play. Initially she tried taking the usual Twilight approach to learning anything new: consulting a book. But much to her surprise, this was something her books couldn't help her with. She didn't have a single one on the subject. In fact, she realized would be hard pressed to find one at all, considering pegasi weren't renowned for their bookkeeping and had been passing down their training mostly by word of mouth and hooves-on experience for generations. So her self-teaching came down to trying to remember what brief glimpses she'd had of watching young pegasi trying to take to the skies. It was a clumsy method, but it was all she had. She set her training ground to the beach, so just in case something went wrong at least she'd have the water to break her fall. It was a long day. It was hard enough trying to learn to fly and get used to her wings. One thing that constantly surprised her was just how strong they were. She'd never understood for herself how much strength was needed just to move the air around her, but the new muscles in her back rippled with power. Yet it never seemed to be enough. No matter how hard or how fast she flapped them, she was never able to get very far off of the ground. It was a process that was making her begin to appreciate Rainbow Dash's flying prowess and feel more sympathy for poor Scootaloo. That jab at her spirits weighed her down. She could almost feel gravity’s pull on her mass increase with another of those cursed debilitating thoughts. She shook her head clear, and went back to practicing. About mid-afternoon she managed to get all four hooves off the ground. She experienced a brief moment of elation before she dropped out of the air and landed rather ungraciously in the sand. It was invigorating, but to her dismay, a feat she couldn’t seem to replicate. Still she kept trying. And trying. And trying. The sun was hovering low over the horizon, so she had to stop for a moment to set the fiery orb, but still she was keeping at it. She had not figured out how she had gotten all four hooves off of the ground and had not managed to replicate the feat. No matter how hard she tried, she just seemed to be too heavy. It was late, she was tired, exasperated, and just wanted once to be able to soar. Maybe I can remedy that another way,  she thought to herself. Then she realized: Most pegasi learn to fly when they’re still young. They’d be smaller, so less mass. Gravity wouldn’t affect them as much. And when they do learn to fly, avian muscular strength would further build incrementally as they fully mature. I’m a fully grown mare trying to fly with wings that are hardly a day old. They’re not strong enough to generate enough lift or thrust to propel something as (relatively) heavy as myself yet. An idea had occurred to her. Technically it was cheating, but she promised herself she'd only do it this once... She lit her horn. The purple aura of her magic surrounded her, and she felt her weight decrease dramatically. Spreading her wings, she drove them down. Instantly she felt herself propelled into the sky as though she had been shot out of a cannon. She screamed in surprise and panicked, and in her panic forgot to keep flapping. She began to fall straight towards the sea below, and just before impact she remembered she had wings again. She opened them wide and drove them down as hard as she could, and again she shot up into the sky. This time, though, she was ready, and kept pushing herself against the air. As a lavender missile, she streaked into the skies. Twilight's spirit soared as high as her body, and she began to whoop and holler with delight as she rocketed into the heavens. It was so freeing! Like riding a roller coaster and she wasn’t strapped in, only caring if her hooves were in the air. The wind whipping past her face and flowing through her mane was ecstatic to make her acquaintance. The setting sun illuminated her in brilliant golden light, making her coat shine like a jewel. She felt like she could go on forever, soaring up into the stars, to join their great company and shine out as a brilliant purple beacon: the fairest star ever to be seen. Soon, though, the air began to grow chilly, forcing her to slow her meteoric ascent. Eventually she leveled out and was content to simply glide on the edge of space. The stars began to come out as the sun's light dimmed, and they were brighter and more luminous than she had ever seen them. It was as though they were surprised to see her in their company and glad that she could make it. Out of curiosity, she looked down to see how high she had flown. What she saw eradicated her excitement in a flash. Stretching out before her was an empty, blank horizon, vanishing into the inky sky in the waning light. Below her, the edge of the forest was slipping away below her field of view. It had all been for nothing. All this creation had done little to fill the empty void of this world. It had done nothing to fill the empty void in her heart. She'd couldn't bear to look at this. She wheeled around and began to fly back the way she came, choking back tears. - - - - - - Even considering she had used magic to decrease her mass, Twilight landed on the grass in front of her library much harder than she had anticipated. Some vague, distant part of her mind told her to make note of that and be more wary of it should she fly again in the future, but it was a whisper in the turbulent, howling winds beating her head and her heart. Everything she’d done had been for nothing. The world was still empty. The forest and seas were devoid of life. Her city was a sprawling ghost town. Her palace was a throne to a nation of one, and her library would never, ever again be filled with the welcoming company of her friends. The magic alleviating gravity’s pull on her faded, and she almost collapsed to the ground right then and there. As if the burden of her heart and poignant distress weren’t concrete shoes enough. She put a cold hoof to the door, and found herself unable to move beyond that. She knew it didn’t matter where she went to lay down to rest and remain abandoned and isolated even from the comforting embrace of complete slumber. Home was where the heart was, and wherever that was, it certainly wasn’t here. And she hadn’t even fixed her broken heart; she’d just shrugged it off, forgotten about it, then learned to live with it.... most of the time. She still hadn’t moved. She lowered her head with an insufferable sigh. It wasn’t home, and it would never be, but it was the closest thing she had to it. It would have to do. A choked whisper made its somber way up from her clenched and parched throat: “I never asked for this.” She pushed open the door to the library. The hinges squeaked, bidding her to enter into the empty darkness. With nowhere else to go, she dragged her hooves across the ground and carried herself inside, shutting the door with a hind leg. She stood for a moment, breathing in the smells of residual sap and stale, dusty book bindings. Typical. Just like how it always smelled when nopony had been by for a while... Another stab of sorrow afflicted her, but she did not flinch or attempt to look for a distraction. It took her this long to learn that there was no escape from the loneliness. With strained effort, she lifted her head to look around her library. It stood steadfast in the quiet evening in deathly silence, without even a single cricket to break the maddening placidity. Every book was in its exact place, stacked neatly in perfect order across the many walls of shelves. Not a single tome was misplaced or carelessly strewn somewhere, ensuring Twilight would never have to track down the culprit and lecture them about the Dewpony decimal system. It looked just the way it did the first day that she had created it, undisturbed by anypony. She looked away from her books to the desk over by the window. The quills, bottles of ink and parchments were still as neatly organized as they had been over two weeks ago, and each individual sheet still as blank and devoid of purpose as the infinite dust. She thought of all the things she would never write on them. Of all the friendship reports on lessons she’d never learned from experiences she’d never had, and how she would never be sending them to a princess who would never read them, because she would never be able to contact her regent, ruler, mentor, and dear friend ever again. She turned away, unable to bear the sight of another blank canvas and looked instead to nowhere in particular. Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, showing that even amongst the shadows, there was nopony to associate with, preemptively killing any foolish notion that might have been bold enough to hope that the lurking darkness secretly housed Pinkie Pie, just waiting for the right moment to spring another surprise party. She turned to pull her dead self up the stairs, head hanging as low as her tail in sorrow, wings so limp from depression that the index feathers were almost dragging across the floor. Even from this point on the stairs, it was evident that everything in the library was still perfectly neat, orderly and clean... almost as good as it had been when Fluttershy brought over her animal friends to freshen the place up in her attempt to bribe Twilight of her spare ticket to the Gala. She wasn’t even trying to stop it now; trying to hide from the relentless, predatory loneliness was useless. Always had been. There weren’t even any dents or cracks in the walls or shelves from the countless times Rainbow Dash had crashed into them. No creases in the sofas or wrinkles in the rugs from the times she would come over to read Daring Do and the Whatever for hours on end. No warmth coming from the fireplace that sat cold and empty, bereft of any mugs of hot chocolate or plates of s’mores like Rarity and Applejack had made for her first ever sleepover. She even for a moment thought she had picked out the exact spot where Spike had in immeasurable generosity given his fire ruby to his love. She was trembling by the time she’d lumbered into her bedroom. She didn’t even bother to shut the door, pull back the covers on her bed, or even undress from her royal wear; she just dumped herself straight onto the sheets with as much irreverence as a corpse thrown into a mass grave. She could feel the weight of her own body, burdened with the shackles of her depression. She could feel every torturously slow, searing beat of the dead weight in her chest. They hurt. Twilight sat back up, attention transfixed. Displayed clearly in the sullen moonlight was Spike's bed, blankets tossed hither and thither in a wild tangle, undisturbed and unoccupied. It looked the exact same way that it had over two weeks ago. Her composure became statuesque in the cold moonlight. Something told her to leave be and let it lay undisturbed; to turn her back on it if she had to. It would not solve any of her problems. But they went ignored. She needed something tonight. Anything. A weak aura appeared around her horn, and with what felt like as much effort as moving the heavenly bodies of day and night across the sky Twilight pulled the little blanket from the basket. It floated through the air and fell into her awaiting forelegs. Twilight held Spike’s blanket as if it was as precious as her own foal. On and on she stared at it. It only hung limp in her forelegs, lifeless and unfeeling: unable to love her back and tell her everything would be okay. Twilight pulled the blanket in close, and an anguished sob escaped her, then another as despair dug its hooks into the corners of her mouth. Then the dams broke. Twilight collapsed back into her bed, hugging the blanket as tightly as she’d shut her eyes in grief, two weeks’ worth of tears pouring from her eyes and spilling down her face. She cried because she missed her loved ones. She cried because she still didn't know if she was dead or dreaming. She cried because the blanket was not Spike, and because the blanket would not hug her back. But most of all, she cried because she had finally come to the realization of a horrible truth. Dream, no dream: dead, not dead, it didn't matter. She had been here, in this reality, for over two weeks now. The only things that had changed were the changes she made herself. There had been no clue or sign of how she might see her friends again. Whether by the hoof of the Grim Grey Horse or by her mind putting itself in a place she never should have gone, she was trapped here forever. Trapped in a place where everything was ultimately pointless.  Trapped in a barren wasteland that leached her of meaning and belonging until any notion of significance was hunted to extinction. There had been so many times that she thought that she had regained a sense of purpose, but such was this place she had been condemned to live in, that even becoming another princess and shepherding the sun and moon across the sky meant nothing. Now all she wanted was to be out, but she couldn’t even find the exit sign, much less disappear. So many times it seemed like she had a mission, but now she just cried herself to sleep. - - - - - - Her vision was curiously more clear than it ever had been during these night visions, as her closed eyes prevented a backdrop from being seen through the strangely opaque ghosts. She found herself in the icy cave again, the frozen air rustled only by the fog of her breath. She saw the dumpy wooden sign straight out of a cartoon pointing her into the cave again, telling her to find her power, whatever that meant. Maybe she could get a definitive answer this time, but she doubted it; it’s not like any of the other visions she had gone through had allowed her to interact with anypony. There was hardly any point to it, until she came to the bitter realization that this was the closest that she would ever come to seeing her friends again. So again she followed the trail that Spike had left for her into the tunnel. She eventually caught up to Spike, making his way through the tunnel just like before, but there was no white ball of healing light guiding him this time. When they reached the doors, both paused, perplexed. They hung ajar, and no warm light greeted them to extend an unspoken invitation. Something caught Spike’s eye inside, and he darted into the cavern. Having already determined it didn’t matter where she was, she followed Spike in at a trot. There was no harmonious dance of lights within. What few gems still remained lit had a very weak glow, providing little more than a faint red light for illumination and making the entire room dim and dangerous. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, she gasped. Stacked around the whole enclosure where multiple piles of random and nonsensical material possessions, ranging from treasures to sentimental personal items to the mundane and even trashy. Though there was one thing that had been there the last time, and it made it heart ache to see it so. Rarity lay on the same pedestal as before, but her appearance could not have been a greater antithesis of how it was previously. Both her forelegs and hind legs had been tied together with leather straps (something that in of itself made Twilight cringe), then tied to her body, forcing her into a prone position. Several interconnected metal rings had been drilled into her horn; they glowed with jagged runes that kept her from using her magic. A harness had been strapped to her head, which forced a large bit firmly into her mouth and kept her muzzle shut with a bridle. All her bindings had been tied with a mess of knots to a thick post. The poor mare was a wreck. She looked as helpless and heartbroken as Twilight felt before she had fallen “asleep.” There was no style in her mane and tail. Her eye shadow and lashes were gone. The once-curled locks of regal purple were disheveled and dirty and looked as though small parts had been ripped straight from her scalp. Her previously clean white coat was grimy all over and covered in smears, stains, dirt, grime, oil, and worse, blood. Worst of all was her cutie mark. In a gesture of true sadism, it had been desecrated with deep cuts and open, infected wounds that had been carved directly into her flesh, composing an image that crudely resembled a gem in the shape of a heart. “Rarity!” Spike was at her side in an instant. “Rarity!” She flinched as Spike got her attention. Her eyes were awash with terror, fear, confusion, and a broken spirit that would not let her even dare to hope in full. “Spike?” Her voice was muffled through all the obstructions. “Is... is it really you?” “Yeah, it’s me,” he reassured her, looking frantically back and forth between her and the post, then bolted to the stake and began clawing at the knots. “I need to get you out of here!” A great and terrible roar bellowed through the cave with a force that shook to the bone and left the eardrums ringing painfully. All three of them froze. Twilight felt chilled to the marrow, her eyes pinpricks and the whole of her body made clammy with cold sweat as the fear paralyzed her. The grating whines of metal shifting caught her ears. Twilight looked back just in time to see the doors slam shut on their own volition, locks sliding into place. They were trapped. She was trapped, helpless again. The shuffles and clatters of tumbling rocks prompted her to snap her head back towards its original direction. A claw of sharp talons emerged from a hole in the ceiling before the rest of the figure launched itself down to the floor. Her heart pounded away in her chest in a thundering panic, desperately trying in vain to break free of its bony cage and gallop away in its own feeble attempt to escape the inevitable fire. It was HIM. The one who had banished her to this forsaken existence. Avarice deftly slinked across the floor on all fours, moving back and forth as he closed in on Spike and Rarity, eyes never deviating away from his victims: a lethal predator stalking its mortally wounded prey. The stained and tortured unicorn desperately tried to distance herself from the beast, even though her restraints prevented her from doing anything more effective than scoot across the floor like an injured caterpillar. Spike remained motionless, stricken with paralyzing fear. “Spike...” Avarice hissed, inflections saturated with smarmy triumph as he elevated himself, towering over the little dragon without even having to stand up. He moved in dangerously close to Spike, taking hold of the ropes in his hands with nigh but an index finger and thumb. He plucked them from Spike’s grasp as he asked but a single question: “What matters most?” Avarice’s wicked, victorious grin pulled tighter as Spike remained rooted in place, resigned to defeat. Then his head snapped upwards, and he looked directly at Twilight. His lips parted to reveal those vicious and hungry fangs. Immediately she whipped around and tried to smash her way back through the door she had just came through, but for all that it moved it might as well have been fused to the stone and ice. Glancing over her shoulder, cold dread flooded through her. Avarice had stood up and walked over Spike. Towards her. Twilight pressed herself against door in a vain attempt to phase through it, but she knew it was hopeless. He was going to hurt her again. He was going to hurt her and abuse her, then he was going to bathe her in an inferno and send her to Celestia-knows-where. He was standing in front of her now. Right in front of her. Twilight was petrified with pure terror, a mouse looking into the cold eyes of a cobra. A tiny voice in the back of her head screamed desperately to move, but the rest of her brain couldn't send the commands to her body. She couldn't even remember how to breathe. She looked into his face, knowing beyond anything that she would see it contort in rage, and fiery doom would erupt from his mouth. She knew she was going to suffer again, and she knew he was going to enjoy every moment of it; he had that exact same look on his face as the last time. For one single, infinite moment, they simply stared at each other, those exact eyes of her friend’s sharpened cruelly, already burning her with sadistic glee. He moved closer, opening his mouth, and she knew her end had come. She tried to beg, to plead, to simply scream, but all that came out was a pathetic squeak. But no fire came from Avarice's maw. He reached out with a single talon and lightly dragged its sharp tip across her cheek, eliciting a trembling shudder from the terrified mare. "Aw, what’s wrong, Twilight?" he asked as he moved his maw right to her ear, changing the tone and pitch of his voice until it was a vile mockery of Spike’s. “Aren’t we still friends?” He laughed once and he whipped around, smacking her across the face with his tail and slamming her into the ground. Twilight finally regained her voice just soon enough to scream in anguish and terror. This was it. The dread burrowed into her like a knife, becoming her death sentence. She screamed, just waiting to be murdered by the fire again. It never came. She shook in fear, eyes clenched shut, just waiting for the agony of being burned alive by her friend’s evil reflection, but it never came. She heard a shuffle across the room and dared to open her eyes. Avarice had bounded back to the other two. He grabbed the post and ripped it from the ground in a single pull, hoisted up his captive with a single arm, and with a malicious laugh flew back into the tunnel from which he came, carrying the frantically screaming Rarity along with him. Spike looked helplessly up at where the two had exited. What little light remained in the gems began to die, becoming replaced with an inner black so dark it seemed to steal away the very light. As her vision faded to black, Spike buried his face into his hands and wept until even his cries were extinguished by the shadows, and Twilight got the closest she’d gotten to real sleep in weeks. Then she was awake again. On the dresser next to her bed, the glass gyroscope still spun, just as it had been doing for days now. Its faint crystalline whirr almost seemed to mock her. Twilight wiped her face of dried tears, then got out of bed. Her body felt exhausted and drained. Her wings ached like no other part of her body ever had before. Looking out her bedroom window, she saw the sky filled with deep colors and overlaid with a pale orange, the light of the sun asking to be raised. However, instead of raising it, she left her tree house, then walked to the ramparts of her palace and looked out over the sea. Why should I raise the sun? What’s the point? What’s the point of anything? She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the stone as her depression began to sink in. She didn't know how long she stayed like that. A small part of her told her she should go and do something, but the rest of her simply asked: what? What should she do? What did it matter? Something else nagged at her too. Then she realized the nagging thing was coming not from within, but the world around her. Then she realized that her ears had perked up, because the thing was a sound. A sound coming from the sea: the sound of water. Not waves, but rushing water. A lot of rushing water. Twilight opened her eyes and looked up, and what she saw froze her in place. An unbelievably, impossibly huge wave was headed straight towards her. The wall of water towered over her palace like it was little more than a sand castle, rushing towards her with unnatural speed. She barely had time to register the sight of the mountainous liquid behemoth before it was sweeping over the outskirts of the bay. Then it was crashing over the beach in front of her palace. Then it was sweeping over her city, uprooting buildings like blades of dry grass. Then it was in her face. The breath was driven from her body as she was suddenly enveloped in crushing, freezing darkness. She flailed her legs helplessly as riptide currents tumbled her over and over again. She had to fight her way to the surface. So she fought. She had a sudden sense of rushing upwards through the darkness, towards air, towards freedom! Twilight's eyes and mouth shot open as she bolted upright. Not water, but air rushed into her lungs. Her vision was filled with blurry shapes and lights. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She quickly wiped the water from her eyes, the blurry shapes coming into focus, and her heart leapt in shock. She was in the basement of the library. There was Spike sleeping next to her, no longer moving and talking in his sleep, but having an expression that almost seemed mournful. There was her brainwave recorder, needles scratching away on a slow moving river of paper. There was the apparatus strapped to her head. She looked at herself. She was just a unicorn now, like she had otherwise always remembered. There was Owloysius, looking at her, his eyes wide and filled with concern, an empty cup gripped in his talons. "Hoo?" he inquired. Twilight simply stared at him as water dripped from her face. "Hoo?" Owloysius asked with more urgency. She stared at him, dumbfounded, trying to piece everything back together. “Owl... Owloysius?” “Hoo,” he confirmed. It clicked, and everything flooded back; she remembered saying so long ago... “Wake me up.” It really was Owloysius. It really was her basement. She really wasn't alone anymore. “Owloysius!” Twilight rushed forward and embraced him with an urgency that she had never once had before, wrapping her forelegs around him in a tight hug so fierce that the poor owl’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. She lightly cried through her shaky breath. “I... I was s-so scared... I t-though I’d never... t-that I’d never s-see any,” she sniffed, ”anypony ever ag-again...” "Hoo..." Owloysius hooted in a bewildered tone, pulling a wing from the vice-grip of her hug and tentatively patting her on the back of her head. She let go of the owl, and he fell in a crumpled heap of feathers to the floor, whimpering slightly. She turned back around to Spike, longing to hold him again after having cried herself into night visions partly because she didn’t have him. She reached out a hoof to him. Spike snarled in his sleep. She froze, hoof suspended in mid-air. Maybe... maybe I should just let him sleep, he doesn’t know what hap— Twilight looked back to the owl and opened her mouth to say something, but realized he wouldn't know, either. Hay, she didn't know what just happened. How could she know what just— The machine: the machine would tell her. Instantly she teleported away from Owloysius and to her machine, the owl hooting in surprise. Frantically she picked up the roll of paper on floor with magic and spread it before her, her eyes taking in the data, her mind looking for answers. There was where she went to sleep initially, the waves dramatically decreasing in wavelength and increasing in frequency in the pattern she was getting used to seeing. The pattern then held for sometime, then took a turn down the rabbit hole. They simply dropped off. There was no frequency or wavelength, just a line with the faintest tremors of activity; it was like she was in a coma. Then she gasped as she continued to read. No... No, it can't be! I was down there for over two weeks! How could the pain of thinking she lost everything, the joy discovering she could do anything, the awe of creating as though she were a goddess, the disappointment of just how little better it actually made her feel, the depression of not being able to fill the hole in her heart where her friends were; how could all of it have only lasted... “Nine seconds?!”