What was going on? It seemed like such a simple question. But after Twilight had reappeared down in the basement, and a few voices that she didn't recognize called for the unicorn by name, Knowledge had begun to have second thoughts about getting her answers. Not that Twilight gave them to her anyways. She'd done little more than move aside a dusty old shelf and throw on a set of old saddlebags from behind them before she grabbed Knowledge by the hoof. The world came and went several times after that in a sickening collision of shapes and colours. There was no time to take any of it in before another burst of white swallowed it and her up again.
When it finally stopped, Knowledge saw that they were at the edge of a sizable forest. The faint chirping of birds might have been pleasant had she not promptly remembered her stomach, doubling over and retching half-digested bran muffin into the grass. Her sickness wasn't helped by a faint smell of smoke. She turned, and she thought she could see a thin, grey trail coming from Twilight's horn. The unicorn was wobbling precariously even as she faced Knowledge again with horror-struck eyes.
“Just... Just go, run!” she gasped. Still no answers.
Knowledge wiped a hoof across her mouth. “But... what—”
“No time, let's just go!”
Knowledge followed the singular instruction and galloped under the trees, her disarray leaving no room for anything but obedience. Though the unicorn's all-too-apparent fear was doing its own wonders for inspiration. After a short while, Knowledge tried to slow down, until she heard Twilight call from behind her.
“We're,” she panted, “we're not... far enough away... yet...” Knowledge picked up her pace, imagining it was Twilight chasing her.
For a few more minutes, they ran like this. When Knowledge risked glancing around again, she saw only trees, the same green colour cut into the shapes of maple, oak, and elm leaves. Somehow she could tell just by looking at the soft textures and colours of the coniferous plants around her that they were not in that so-called Everfree Forest Twilight had brought her attention to earlier, so she counted herself lucky for this small blessing. As she slowed down and tried to catch her breath, a purple blur broke the uniform of her vista, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out in alarm. Twilight had overtaken her and was still running.
It took Twilight a few seconds to realise Knowledge had stopped, and a few more to take a look around for herself and walk back to join her. She wheezed out her mouth, while Knowledge settled for silently breathing through her nose. Twilight levitated a canteen from out of one of her bags, unscrewed the cap, and tipped it back. A faint puff of dust in the eyes greeted her, reminding her of how long it had apparently been since the container was actually filled with anything. Her tired face got a note of bitter frustration to it, and Knowledge could imagine she was restraining herself from chucking the empty container into the dirt. In truth, Knowledge herself was really only winded from their run. The head start at the forest’s edge Twilight had given them meant that they couldn't have been running for more than ten minutes total. Knowledge thanked her earth pony vitality nevertheless.
Curious about her guesswork, Knowledge looked up at the forest canopy. The few visible patches of sky above were beginning to turn bright orange as evening overtook the late afternoon. The day refused to relinquish to the night just yet though, the fading sun's light creating a colourful blanket of the foliage overhead. It was as if the Running of the Leaves had decided to come in summer. Only one set of hooves trotted beneath the treetops, however, frantic, but too weak to shake any of the still healthy green leaves from their branches.
“Spike was.... and Celestia sent those... she was going to...” Twilight sputtered as she paced in a circle. Her breathing amounted to no more than short whiffs as her panic stole what little air exhaustion couldn't. Knowledge sat in place, watching, before noticing something in the corner of her eye. About twenty feet away to her back left was a small path she had missed before. She kept quiet in case anypony was walking their way, though Twilight might just give the two of them away anyways.
Several times, Twilight turned to face Knowledge and looked like she were about to speak, perhaps to insist that they keep running, but she always looked away and resumed her mumbling steps before she even got a single word out. What little vegetation lay upon the forest floor had been shuffled away under her hooves, and a ring-shaped groove was starting to appear in the dirt. It was becoming increasingly likely that the unicorn might just wear herself into the ground—literally—before she finally spoke up, though apparently still to herself. “Where can we go? Where can we go? I don't know what—”
“Twilight?” Knowledge cut in. She'd caught her breath, and though she still had questions, to a bystander she could have appeared almost collected, certainly more so than the unicorn before her. “Are you alright?”
Twilight glanced up, eyes squinted. “Do I look like I'm—” She looked away and shook her head. “No, not your fault. You don't understand.”
“Don't understand what, Twilight?”
“Celestia knows. That's why we had to leave.”
“What? How?” Just more questions.
“Spike, my assistant,” Twilight clarified, as she finally settled into place in the dirt. “He told her. He was supposed to keep me there in the house. The princess would take me away, and probably find you after that.”
Knowledge shivered, Twilight's words fast becoming an eerily plausible image. An image of this Celestia appearing before her to take her back to that horrid garden. She then snorted, feeling suddenly resentful. “Interesting friends you're keeping, Twilight. Selling you out like that. Selling us out.”
Twilight instantly leapt to her hooves and shrieked, “Don't you dare say that!”
Knowledge flinched, remembering the powerful magic the unicorn had displayed earlier, but promptly shouted right back. “Well, why not? It's the truth, isn't it?” Neither pony seemed to care about the noise they were making, and underneath their loud words the rest of the forest had gone deathly quiet.
“No! No, no, no. He...” Twilight looked away. “He didn't understand. He didn't know about you, or even about me. He was just worried. It's—”
“Not his fault? That's the second time you've said that. So, whose fault is it then?”
Twilight didn't look at her. She just sat back down again, mumbling towards the ground.
“Well?” Knowledge huffed, sick of Twilight avoiding her questions. She walked right up to Twilight, grabbed her head and turned it back towards her. “Answer me!”
“It's mine.” Knowledge's impatience evaporated. “I did this. All of this. To you. To Spike. To all of my friends.” At that, Twilight began to cry. “They don't even know. They don't even know what's going on. And now I've just... left. What kind of friend am I?”
Knowledge pulled Twilight closer and let the unicorn lean her head on her shoulder. Knowledge speculated that even in her past she had never been so unprepared to comfort another pony. But when she felt her neck become soaked with tears, and a pair of fore-hooves wrap around her waist, she couldn't imagine doing anything else.
“Twilight, I... I don't know your friends.” Knowledge felt the grip on her waist tighten, and the light tickle of eyelashes pressed further into her neck with the soak of tears. “But I know you. You helped me. You're a good pony.” She pulled Twilight away slightly so she could face her. “Anypony worth being called your friend could see that.”
“But... But I left them. I left them behind.”
Knowledge shook her head. “You didn't leave me.”
Twilight stared and blinked away her tears before nodding her head a quick few times, sniffling loudly. “We should be going,” she said, her voice flat. “It'll be dark soon. I don't know where we can go, but we at least have to go somewhere.”
“Okay.” Knowledge was still lightly gripping Twilight's shoulders, and hesitated before adding, “I meant it, you know. About you.”
“I know. Thanks.” Twilight turned around and looked to her left. She pulled open her saddlebags again and unrolled a map. “We'll stay off of the path, but we'll at least go in the direction it leads in. With any luck we'll eventually come out on the other side.”
“Lead the way, I suppose.”
The two of them continued due west for several hours, not trading a single word. Twice Twilight stopped and stood silently, most likely double-checking their route, before signalling that they should continue. Knowledge did not offer any arguments or alternative suggestions on their path. Twilight had the map, and even without it, Knowledge was hardly the better-suited to choose their direction. She decided to simply keep an eye on the trail running beside them.
“By the way, those things you said back in the library. Where did that come from?” Twilight suddenly asked.
Knowledge looked back in surprise. She ducked just in time underneath a particularly low branch before answering Twilight. “What things?”
“That stuff about Canterlot. The castle, the valley, the forest, or lack thereof, I guess. How did you know all of that?”
Knowledge blinked. Now that Twilight had brought it up, Knowledge finally realised that she had no idea where all the things she had said about Canterlot had been dredged up from. They were just... there. “I don't know. I just knew. As for that Everfree Forest...” She shrugged. “I guess I wanted to be right, because what I said felt right. Like it was... how I remember it.”
From up ahead, she saw Twilight turn and give her a hopeful smile. “Maybe the library did you some good after all. Maybe things... maybe it's all coming back to you now.”
“I don't know if I'd like that,” Knowledge admitted.
Twilight's head tilted. “Why not?”
“Everyone and everything I ever knew is gone, so what does it matter? And that's assuming anything is really coming back at all.”
“But don't you think there's a chance?”
“It just feels like wanting, that's all. A lot of wanting, and no having.”
“Sometimes wanting is enough.”
“Is that so?” Knowledge said, thoroughly unconvinced.
“Let it drive you. Make you the pony who you want to be. It's what I've always done.”
Knowledge didn't have an answer for that, and their mutual silence returned for another hour. Even as it grew darker, Twilight didn't offer any light from her horn to guide their way. She must have thought it too risky, and Knowledge didn't necessarily disagree. But after Knowledge tripped over a particularly large and protruding root, she spoke up. “It's getting too dark.” Looking left, the dirt trail was nearly lost to her eyes, seeming more like an inky river in the blue-black evening shadows.
Twilight turned as though she were about to protest. When she instead gave a start and rubbed her nose, Knowledge looked up. A raindrop slipped through the silhouetted leaves overhead and caught her in the eye. She blinked it away and looked back down to Twilight, who’d changed her mind about arguing.
“I think a big storm is coming anyways. It should hide us from anypony looking, at least.” Their ears perked up at a sudden thunderclap. “Let's get somewhere dry.”
It didn't take long for them to find a cave, albeit a very small one. It was little more than a mound of rock, only just over twice as tall as them, and very shallow. It was near the edge of a clearing, and Twilight almost suggested that they keep searching before the rain started in earnest. The two of them had to sit upright with their backs against the stone wall to be sheltered. Twilight kept peeking fearfully out the entrance up at the sky, mumbling something about weather pegasi, and how she hoped that they would not be spotted.
“At least nothing was living in here, right?” Knowledge tried to lighten the mood. Before they had ducked inside the narrow space, Twilight had briefly checked the cave floor for droppings, finding nothing. She'd insisted on making sure of a lack of animals, murmuring rather sheepishly about a bad experience she'd had with bats.
“Yeah. Fluttershy taught me how to check these caves after the whole Winter Wrap-Up incident. If anypony knows her animals, it's her.”
Twilight shut her eyes, but Knowledge knew there was no way she had fallen asleep so quickly. A light sniffling sound confirmed her suspicions. Twilight tucked her limbs in closer to her chest and shivered. “I'm so lost. I'd know what to do if my friends were here.” She opened her teary eyes and looked up at the sky again. “I want my friends.”
Knowledge shuffled over and pulled Twilight closer. The warm weight on her shoulder returned, familiar to her now. “I'll be your friend.” Twilight made no move to leave the embrace, pushing quietly into her side.
They sat that way for a long time, the sky's nightly blue now a pitch black from the storm clouds. While Twilight breathed into her coat, Knowledge listened to the rain and watched the skyline. If any weather pegasi were still about, then they certainly weren't making themselves known. Most likely they had all retired for the night, and Knowledge could feel the late hour pressing down on her as well. But somehow it didn't feel right falling asleep first. Knowledge certainly had more questions for Twilight—not the least of which concerned that Celestia pony—but the unicorn was clearly in no state to talk about such things at the moment and, truthfully, neither was she.
Knowledge heard an abrupt snort, and looked down at Twilight in surprise. Twilight shifted so that her nose was no longer pressed into Knowledge's fur and was still once more. Her chest rose and fell, breath as light as a breeze. Beneath her shut eyes, the trails of tears in her fur had dried, and her lips had the barest hint of a safe and contented smile.
Twilight's limp form felt heavy, her body having finally caved beneath the day's pressures. Only Knowledge's own eyelids felt heavier, and she propped her head against Twilight's for support. A single spot of dark blue sky was still visible above, with one little star peeking out observantly. It glimmered like a wink just as Knowledge finally eased her eyes shut to rest.
~\\***\***/***//~
Inside her petrified body, Knowledge felt the heat in her fiery heart and pounding mind. But this heat didn't comfort her; it mocked her by burning her terribly. Neither sensation would leave her be, and her stone eyes would have cried if they could.
What is this? Why do I burn? Who—
She seemed to appear suddenly. The white pony: Celestia. She stepped into Knowledge's sight and levelled her with the most terrible of looks. Disappointment, anger, sadness, it was all there, and it made the heat feel even more excruciating. Celestia seemed then to be the sun itself.
Are... are you the one who—
There was no answer, of course. Celestia mercifully shut her eyes for a short while as she began to cast some spell. Knowledge waited in burning agony, and eventually the eyes held her again. She watched in mute horror as Celestia's expression became even angrier. Another spell was cast, but Celestia kept her eyes locked this time, unblinking.
“I know you can hear me.”
Knowledge couldn't think past the pain anymore, and started to plead. I can't move! I can't move! I can't—
“I ask one question.”
It hurts!
“Why?”
Please... I don't deserve this... I don't...
Another voice came then, indignant and sharp. She almost didn't recognize it as her own.
Because it is my right.
Wh-What? What's going—
It was always my right.
Celestia's frown deepened. The fire burned brighter, and Knowledge could not even scream as she crumbled inside a white light.
~\\***\***/***//~
The last dream of the night. Luna made it a point to have her head—and every other dreamer’s head—clear of everything else before she even attempted this.
Celestia was just around the corner from her, and Luna peeked carefully. The older pony stared at the empty pedestal from before, her eyes occasionally drifting towards the other statues. She completely ignored Discord.
Celestia's dreams were never normally like this, and not just in terms of location. The fear the older pony exuded rendered the imagined Canterlot Garden choked with fog, and the humidity would have made it hard to breathe were the ponies inhabiting the waking world. True, there was scarcely a time Luna could remember Celestia without a single worry, regardless of how expertly her sister hid it from everypony else. It was a sad part of their roles as princesses to take care and keep mind of every little happening that concerned Equestria, all so that others may know a peace of mind that they themselves would never even be able to comprehend. But, much like back in the garden that gloomy afternoon, Luna felt there was something missing. The usual prominence of Celestia's assured nature now rendered it impossible to overlook its absence.
“I know you're there.”
Luna cursed to herself, but kept quiet in the faint hope that her charade could be maintained. She was never one for invading dreams in private, so she blamed a certain lack of practice on her part. She usually liked to make herself known to the ponies she visited. There were few things more satisfying to her than being able to soothe away the nightmares of a pony, and then see them face those same fears for themselves the next time they met.
What fear Celestia possessed, however, she not only couldn't rid herself of, but refused to confide to anypony, even Luna. Luna knew all too well that a fear unshared was a fear that would never be overcome. And so, she was tasked to find out for herself what Celestia was so afraid of.
“Don't ignore me, Luna.”
Not tonight, it seems.
Luna stepped out from behind the hedge row, but Celestia didn't look to her, still staring pointedly ahead. As Luna sat down beside her, the mist bent away around them at unnatural angles, as though afraid to make contact. The little bubble of air the two sisters now shared was quiet for a long minute.
Luna saw one last opportunity before her window closed for the night. After all, what could be simpler than talking to one's sibling? “Celestia, you know that you can always—”
“No. Not this,” Celestia stated uncompromisingly. “This was my mistake to make, and mine to correct.”
“Horseapples!” Luna exclaimed. “That excuse may have flown when it was just you here in Canterlot, but not now! We're sisters! We live, we rule, we make mistakes, and we fix them, together!”
“Too many ponies are caught up inside this mess already, Luna. I'd give anything to keep one more out of it, most of all you.”
Luna refused to be patronized. “So, you expect me to simply ignore this matter? Twilight Sparkle is one of my subjects as much as she is one of yours! If you are bound, I am bound. It need not be any more complex than that.”
“She was my student.”
“She still is! And regardless of whatever Twilight has done, why should it affect us? Why should this be your burden to bear alone?”
Celestia turned to face Luna. She took a deep breath before speaking again. Her voice wavered as though she were in physical pain. “A long time ago, Luna, I made the single largest mistake anypony could have ever made. You were the one who bore the brunt of the consequences. The day you came back to me, I swore I would never let anything like that happen again, the same way I swore it the first night without you, and every night after since. I still swear it now.”
Luna's wide eyes were shining with tears even as their dark pupils grew even darker with resentment. The steam of her exhales compounded into the anxious fog around the two of them, the white clouds having pushed in close again. The surrounding garden was now all but lost, the only lucidity remaining to the two sisters being each other.
“Don't you dare,” Luna seethed. “That mistake belonged to the both of us. It's not just yours to selfishly swear away, to seek repentance for. That you would even think to compare what Twilight Sparkle has done to—” She cut herself short in her rage, and gave a derisive snort. “What changed?” she asked in frustration.
“What?”
Despite herself, Luna smiled inwardly. She had caught Celestia off-guard. This was her chance. Whether Celestia told her the truth or not, Luna would have at least one of her questions answered.
Are you hiding something else from me, sister?
“Mere hours ago, you said that you could speak to me. What changed?” When Celestia didn't speak, Luna felt her heart harden. The silence was its own answer. So, this is how it shall be then, Tia? So be it. Her next words were slow and precise. “If you truly believed what you say now, you would call every royal guard back to Canterlot.”
“Luna—”
“Every last one. And then, you would go out and find Twilight Sparkle yourself.”
The air suddenly began to feel very warm. For a moment, Luna saw the sun in Celestia's eyes, chasing the fog around them away. Nothing and nopony could hope to hide from a light so bright. But Celestia merely shut her eyes with a sigh, and turned away again. “You misunderstand me, Luna. What I am embroiled in now also began a long time ago. When I was still alone.” Baffled, Luna said nothing, and allowed Celestia to continue. “If I involve you now, I'll have broken my promise twice.” She shook her head. “I will not let that happen. Not while I still have a chance to stop this on my own.”
“What is this you speak of? What mistake?” But no sooner had Luna finished speaking did she finally realise something. I've been gone a thousand years. I—
Celestia interrupted her thoughts. “Dawn will be soon. I think it's time you left, Luna.”
Luna was too preoccupied to feel angry or indignant. She gave a half-aware nod, and walked off before Celestia could notice her discomfiture. She spread her wings and soared into the featureless black sky. A bright white light appeared before her like one of her many stars, and with it came loud, powerful gusts of wind. She travelled on, and was soon opening her eyes to the sight of her personal bedchambers. She sat up and glanced to her right for the balcony doors.
The rain from the previous day had finally stopped, though apparently only recently. The droplets on the wide glass doors looked like stars to match the midnight blue of the curtains, and it made the night sky look twice as expansive as it normally did.
Darkest before the dawn.
Celestia would expect her to lower the moon in a short while, but Luna made no move to climb from her bed. As she studied every familiar crater and contour along the lunar surface still hanging in the sky, she tried her best to remember another old face. The face of the city she once and still knew.
Luna remembered the old Canterlot castle as assuredly as she knew this one. True, much of the old was now destroyed or dilapidated, but her memories stood with firmer foundation. She remembered the front hall, the Elements of Harmony sitting in their places and lighting the chamber brighter than any brazier. She remembered the intact throne room, the back windows rising high above her and Celestia's seats to greet the night and day skies equally. Even the least trodden hall, the simple, barren, and oh so dark room which held the petrified Discord out of sight of their subjects she recalled with ease. It was what was absent from her memories that made her so fatally still.
In my time, the old Canterlot never had a sculpture garden.
~\\***\***/***//~
Early mornings in Sugarcube Corner were no stranger to Pinkie Pie. It was when the sun was just beginning its slow crawl across the sky that she would rub the sleep from her eyes, hop out of bed, and then prepare for the start of the confection shop's business hours. Typically, the only greetings that she would trade at this hour would be to Mr. And Mrs. Cake, who would mumble their sleep-laced words of acknowledgement back, the both of them too tired to wonder how the pink earth pony could be rejuvenated so quickly after only just awakening.
This morning, however, the shop found itself occupied with several more ponies than usual, not to mention a baby dragon. The six friends had decided to take advantage of the fact that Sugarcube Corner had still another hour before opening time to have a group chat, though Pinkie found herself abnormally sapped of energy, and barely able to participate. Late yesterday, after hearing of Princess Celestia's surprise arrival in town and the disappearance of Twilight Sparkle, she had been wide awake throughout the night. The Cakes had been understandably concerned for her when her greeting to them that morning had not entailed diving headlong into their faces and letting loose a sustained and ear-splitting “Hi!”.
“Pinkie Pie?”
“Whuzzat?!” Pinkie waved her forelegs to keep upright as she started, having nearly fallen asleep again. When she had regained her equilibrium, she noticed that Rarity, sitting at one of the store tables with Applejack, was addressing her. Fluttershy was eyeing her in concern from in front of the store counter, while Rainbow Dash had yet to return from suddenly bolting out the front door again. Shortly beforehoof, the sky-blue pegasus had said something about “getting answers” out of the two royal guards posted at the entrance to the library.
“I said, darling, are you certain the guards didn't tell you anything else yesterday?”
Pinkie huffed and crossed her forelegs. Her annoyance made her temporarily forget her exhaustion. “Hmph, no. I'll tell you, Rarity, those guys have got a lotta' nerve! I was just trying to get my afternoon orders filled out, when they come in and ask me if I've seen Twilight lately. I tell them nope-arooney, and then they ask if I've seen her acting funny, and then I try to tell them about how my doozy from yesterday disappeared. I mean, if Twilight's gone just like my doozy then they must be connected, right? Boy, she sure does have a knack for those, doesn't she? But anyways, do they care about that kind of important stuff? No! They just looked at me like I was crazy! Can you believe that? I—”
“Pinkie Pie!” Applejack loudly cut in. “I think we get the point, sugarcube. But I don't disagree with what yer' sayin' about the nerve on them ponies.” In the silence of the closed shop, the others could hear Applejack grinding her teeth. It was a rare time when Applejack and Rainbow Dash agreed so unanimously on a point, but it had taken every word the other friends had to keep the earth pony from joining the pegasus in confronting the guards. “They think they can jus' strut up to all our homes, ask us questions like that, and not tell us anythin' back? Ponyfeathers, that's what it is!”
“Now, Applejack,” said Rarity, trying to keep Applejack calm. “I'm sure they have their reasons for—”
“Reasons?!” Applejack whirled on her. “I'll say it again. Pony. Feathers. This is Twilight we're talkin' 'bout! We deserve to know what the hay is goin' on!”
“Well, you're not gonna hear it from the guards.” Rainbow Dash had chosen that particular moment to fly back inside the store. “I got nothing. Call me crazy, but those guys are being even quieter than normal.” Applejack regarded her with impatient disdain, but Pinkie Pie wasn't sure if it was directed at Rainbow or her bad news.
“Yeah, crazy.” Everypony heard what sounded like a hiccup, and Rainbow turned to look beside Rarity's chair at Spike. Given the only topic between the friends so far had been Twilight, he wasn't holding together particularly well. “Are you sure he hasn't come up with anything yet? That last one sounded promising.”
Rarity was furious in an instant, and with her right front leg pulled Spike closer to her. “Rainbow Dash, please! Can't you see that Spike is still upset?” Of the five ponies currently present in the shop, Rarity had been the first to hear of the strange news concerning Twilight. As was apparent with all of them, the guards had brought only questions and no answers, the only difference in Rarity's case being that they had also quite literally dragged Spike along with them.
Rarity had, of course, sympathetically allowed Spike to stay at the Carousel Boutique during Twilight's absence. Even so, she had mentioned Sweetie Belle telling her how the baby dragon had been restless enough to be heard through the walls. She'll come back, he'd been saying, according to Sweetie. I know it. I know her. She has to come back. Celestia said everything will be fine.
That last phrase in particular had caught Pinkie's attention, and it had been her who had insisted upon sending another letter to the princess when the guards had proven unhelpful. Spike had hardly been composed enough for much of anything however, and the friends had to write the letter themselves.
Afterwards, Pinkie had managed to talk Rarity into having Spike at least send it. She had known for a while of Spike's deeply secret crush on Rarity, and while she hated exploiting such a thing, Rarity was the only one who could convince the baby dragon to sufficiently pull himself together. “If not for Twilight,” Rarity told him, “for me?” Pinkie recalled that being the only time so far that day that she had seen Spike smile.
Pinkie came back to the present—and the waking world—once again by the loud growl of a particularly frustrated pegasus. That's it. I'm tired of this tired-pants routine. She zipped away from the counter momentarily while Rainbow Dash addressed Rarity.
“We're all upset, Rarity! I just... I mean, I don't know why... Twilight never... arrgh!” Rainbow brought a hoof up to her face. “This whole thing doesn't make any sense. It's making my head hurt.”
“Your head, and Spike's tummy!” Pinkie said, back at her seat and slightly more chipper than before as she breathed over a mug of black coffee. Everypony turned to Pinkie at once, their collective confusion for how the pink pony suddenly had the caffeinated beverage disappearing as her words registered. They turned to Spike just as he belched a wreathe of flames which fast materialised into a rolled parchment. “Whoops! Never mind! Hey, now that I think about it, isn't that—”
“It better be!” said Applejack, who swiped the scroll off of the floor narrowly ahead of Rainbow Dash and opened it. The pegasus burned a hole into the back of the earth pony's head before hovering a few feet off the ground to peek for herself. As they both read, their eyes gradually lost their narrowed anticipation. Rainbow's widened incredulously, while Applejack's looked about ready to incinerate the paper. Instead, it merely dropped from her shaking hooves.
“W-What?” Fluttershy asked. “What did it say?”
Rainbow shook her head as she handed the paper to Fluttershy. Pinkie peeked over to see what all the fuss was about, and her face blanched. Her mug tipped and spilled her coffee all over her lap and she yelped in pain. Rainbow Dash's disbelief led her to almost whisper her words. “We've been form-lettered. I didn't even know the princesses had form letters.”
“This is ridiculous! Does nopony have an answer?!” Applejack cried. Everypony cringed. Spike withdrew further under Rarity's chair with a groan. When he groaned a second time, Pinkie glanced down at him. His cheeks looked green.
“Uh, girls?”
“I'm sure that the princess is just busy trying to find Twilight, Applejack.” Rarity said, ignoring the vicious stare she received in turn. “She must be short of time.”
“Girls?”
“Why not ask us for help, though?” Applejack asked. “Seems like a good use for both of ours times ta' me.”
“Girls!” Pinkie yelled, then pointed. On cue, Spike belched another plume of flame, and confusion took hold of the group. Rarity took the paper this time, the first to recover from the shock of having received two letters from the princesses. Something about this one seemed immediately off to Pinkie, however, and she caught her tail twitching. She eyed the letter carefully. Not a coincidence. Never a coincidence. Rarity opened the letter tentatively and gasped.
“From Princess Luna!” Rarity's exclamation caused the other five friends to gather around her. She read aloud.
Mine dearest subjects, friends of Twilight Sparkle,
We send thee this letter in secret, without Celestia's prior knowledge. It pains us to have to contact thee in this manner, especially regarding this recent turn of events, but let it be known we have little choice.
Rarity paused for a moment, thrown off by the linguistic oddities of the letter, before she continued.
Mine sister is a pony of many secrets, as are we. But we had hoped following our return after a millennium away from Equestria that, at the very least, no more secrets would be kept between Celestia and ourselves. If our suspicions of her are correct, then those hopes were, sadly, in vain.
Do not mistake our intentions, however. We are condemning Celestia of nothing but unneeded secrecy, at least so far. Considering this matter of Twilight Sparkle and her highly dubious crime, the irony is not lost on us.
Everyone, save for Spike, gasped.
“Twilight, a... a criminal? I thought she just ran away!” Fluttershy cried in horror. She hugged herself tightly with her own wings. When her breathing became laboured, she realised that Pinkie Pie had also latched her front legs around her and Rainbow Dash in a sort of terrified group hug. Pinkie looked to Spike, who continued to stare at the letter, looking surprisingly unfazed.
“I talked a bit with Celestia,” he said quietly. “I knew she must have done something wrong.”
Rarity's surprise left her grip on the scroll loose, and suddenly the single sheet of paper was revealed to be two. The new sheet floated down to rest on the floor.
Twitchy tail, thought Pinkie. Never fails. Hey, that rhymed!
Rarity picked this second paper up and held it aloft in front of her with her magic. Another round of gasps followed as the ponies studied it. Pinkie's rhyming smile vanished in an instant, and with it her hope that Luna was telling some kind of joke about Twilight having committed a crime. After all, why would the guards leave out a detail like that? Why would the princess?
The majority of the top half of the poster was dominated by Twilight Sparkle's portrait. What little that was not was emblazoned with bold, black letters spelling out a single, grim word: WANTED. Pinkie had a quick, sad realisation, wishing that Twilight wasn't smiling in her portrait, as though oblivious to the trouble she was in. The Royal Guard must not have been able to find a more suitable picture for the poster.
Why show her smiling? Wherever Twilight is, she's not smiling. I wouldn't be smiling. Why—
“Um... Pinkie Pie, are you okay?”
Pinkie Pie turned to Fluttershy then Rainbow Dash, both still clutched tightly inside her hug. They were both staring at her. “You're crying,” the blue pegasus said, looking just as concerned as the yellow one.
“I'm okay,” Pinkie insisted, though her grip tightened. She refused to regard the smiling photo of her missing friend again, and instead turned to the other unicorn. “Rarity, could we just finish the letter, please?”
Rarity nodded. “Of course, darling.” She cleared her throat to continue where she had left off.
As thou will no doubt be able to tell from what we have enclosed along with this letter, Twilight Sparkle's situation is dire, even more so than what thou may have first thought. Celestia had wanted to keep this situation contained, so to speak, but this has now obviously proven impossible. Regardless, she is still being stubborn with the whole truth of the matter, and if she will not reveal it to us, we have no doubts that her exclusion will include thee as well.
We are left with no other alternative but to request thy audience and aid. Be warned, what we wish to ask is no small undertaking, and it is outside of even our right to demand of anypony. We make this plea not as a ruler, but as a friend, one whom thou have already aided immeasurably not more than a year past. Any one of thee may decline should thou desire it. We are friends, and there is and never will be any room for blame among us.
Come to Canterlot, and meet us in the Canterlot Sculpture Garden midnight tomorrow night. Do not let Celestia know of thy presence within the city. We will elaborate further upon our meeting.
Safest travels and dearest dreams,
Her Majesty, Princess Luna of Equestria
The group was silent in contemplation, but not over Princess Luna's proposition. Pinkie could feel the cloud of mutual agreement that had settled over the entire group in that regard. Another common feeling, one of doubt and unease, was what held the ponies' tongues now. Surprisingly, Fluttershy was the first to give it its voice. “This is terrible, girls. Why... Why wouldn't Princess Celestia want us to know something about Twilight? What could be so bad that she would do,” she shivered at the floating wanted poster, “this? Why wouldn't she think we could help?”
“Don't matter none. Point is, t'aint right,” growled Applejack. She glanced back at Rainbow Dash, who'd since wriggled her way out of Pinkie's grasp. “I reckon you were right, RD. Somepony is keeping quieter than normal.”
Rainbow looked lost. Her friends, or the princess? Her two loyalties pulled at her, and she didn't know which to let win out. “Hey, she probably would have told us about this sooner or later, right? I mean, maybe that's why the guards—”
“I ain't a pony who jus' goes to tell a guard whenever I see ma' friend from on a poster! I'm the one who should be out lookin' for 'em! I thought if anypony else was that kinda' pony, it was you, Rainbow Dash!” Her eyes turned to slits. “Looks like I thought wrong.”
Rainbow seemed to lose all of her colour. It came back in a single hue, coalescing in her eyes in pinpoints of red hot rage. Her jaw clenched and unclenched as her nostrils flared. Applejack almost looked like she was regretting her words. Neither pony said anything as they stared each other down.
“Oh, my,” Fluttershy whispered. Pinkie hugged her tighter.
“Well, I'm not thinking, AJ. My mind is already made up,” Rainbow said tightly. “Not about the princess, but about Twilight. I'm. Going.” She flew right up to Applejack to push her snout against hers. “Try to keep up.”
When Rainbow Dash looked about to fly out the door again, Pinkie opened her mouth to protest, but Fluttershy beat her to the punch. “No, we have to go together!” she cried. “Um... that is, if everypony is going, I mean.”
“Well, I do believe it's unanimous, isn't it?” Rarity posed.
“Darn tootin'!
“Yeah!”
“Oh! Well, of course!”
“Yuppy-duppy!”
“What are we waiting for?”
Rarity should have been overjoyed at the easy voting, but her eyes had a sudden glimmer of pain to them. Pinkie was momentarily confused by this before she realised who had spoken up last. Rarity coaxed Spike away from the table, and turned him to face her directly.
“Spike, a moment please?” she asked.
“Uh, sure. Anything for you, Rarity.” Rarity led him a little ways away, and it was clear that he was the only one in the room who didn't understand what she was doing. But eventually, as she whispered to him, his expression turned to shock and his tears began anew as he shook his head. Rarity gently put a hoof over his mouth before he could argue. She continued to speak, still too quietly for the others to hear, but Spike soon lowered his head to face the floor and gave a barely noticeable nod.
“You can tell her we said hello,” Rarity said, audible once more. Spike gave a clogged chuckle, and wiped his fresh tears away. He nodded again, more firmly this time.
“Just... whatever you're gonna do in Canterlot, do it fast, okay?” he begged Rarity. “I can't take any more ponies leaving.”
Rarity leaned down and planted a kiss upon Spike's forehead. He swooned, and Pinkie Pie savoured having a happy mental image of the baby dragon once more. As long as she had the smiles of her friends in her mind, she needed no further baggage for her travels. On that same note, Rarity had turned to address them all again.
“Pack up, girls. Next stop, Canterlot!”
~\\***\***/***//~
Twilight awoke quickly but calmly. One moment she was dead asleep, and the next she was staring out the cave at the pale yellow of the morning light shining into the clearing. The sky was perfectly clear, but the ground was soaked, a deep puddle having formed just outside the exit to the two ponies' shelter.
The world was slanted slightly to the right, and as Twilight moved to even her head out, she felt something scrape by it. With Twilight's support now removed, Knowledge's own head hung down straight and limp, her breaths slow and silent. Twilight stared, feeling Knowledge's chest rise and fall from their proximity and continued embrace.
Her sleep had been surprisingly dreamless, and even though she was still fully aware of the danger the two of them were in, she felt calm. For the first time in days she could think straight: thoughts, plans, theories, and the potential consequences of all of these things flowed far more smoothly than she had remembered them doing late yesterday. She felt clear, and she gave literacy to the feeling with a deep breath of cool morning air.
When she turned back to face Knowledge, Twilight risked using one of her hooves to lift the earth pony's head so that she could see her face. Knowledge continued to breathe evenly, and it came as quite a surprise to Twilight when she heard what sounded like a gasp. She worriedly looked back out to the clearing, expecting to see somepony looking right at them. But she soon realised the sound had been from right next to her. When she turned back to look at Knowledge's now visible face, she frowned.
Though her eyes were closed, Knowledge's brow was wrinkled and her face had its own frown. Twilight found herself remembering the “experiment” from back in the library, particularly its hectic and terrifying conclusion. But unlike then, there was no attempted screaming, and Knowledge's breath stayed precise. Perhaps too precise. Had her eyes been open, Twilight would have thought Knowledge to be a perfect portrait of great attention and concentration. It was a look she herself had at times, mostly during her lengthy study periods, according to Spike.
For a few minutes more, they sat like this. Finally, almost anticlimactically, Knowledge opened her eyes. It nevertheless had an effect on Twilight, who had to suppress her own quiet gasp. Knowledge was very still for a few moments, the look of concentration on her face now in full bloom inside her rose pupil's, which looked just the slightest bit darker. She looked almost stern, and when her gaze did finally turn to look at Twilight, the unicorn felt as though she were shrinking.
Knowledge eventually blinked, and now looked to share Twilight's same unease. She took a breath, and shivered. “I saw her.” And then, louder. “Really saw her, I mean.”
Twilight looked away. So that's it. She really did know.
“She spoke to me.”
Twilight was instantly paying attention again. She stared wide-eyed as Knowledge continued. “She wasn't making any sense, and I couldn't answer her anyway. I... I was trapped.” The words spoke for themselves to Twilight, and she bit her bottom lip. “The worst part was the pain. I felt like I was on fire. I don't know if she was doing it or not, but it hurt so much. I just wanted it to stop, but it was inside me, like it was a part of me.” Her brow furrowed in thought, and she shook her head. “And then I told her—”
“Wait, wait,” Twilight interrupted, confused. “You said you couldn't talk. But, then how—”
“There was a spell she was using. Maybe she could hear my thoughts.” Twilight shivered, imagining eavesdropping on the mind of a petrified soul. Knowledge's first screams came back to her. “But, what I thought... It was me, but it wasn't. I didn't even know what I was talking about. But, I sounded so...” Knowledge hesitated. “I sounded like I belonged in that garden.”
Even when Twilight gasped, too shocked to tell her not to think that way, Knowledge didn't respond. Her face had gone totally blank.
“Knowledge?” Twilight asked, then immediately winced. “I'm so sorry, I—”
“No, no, it's fine. I may as well get used to it. My mind is made up.” Twilight tilted her head. Knowledge glanced down at her cutie mark, before turning to Twilight again. “I don't want to know who I was anymore.”
Twilight couldn't believe her ears. “But, you can't just stop thinking about it!”
“Sure I can.”
“But... But, we need to figure things out! You can't just give up! You—”
“Who said I was giving up?”
Whatever Twilight was about to say, she instantly lost it. She could only sputter confusedly. “But, didn't you just say that—”
“You told me yesterday that wanting something could be enough, and that I should let my feelings turn me into the pony who I want to be. But, whatever kind of pony I was... I don't like her. I don't want to remember that pony, and I don't want to be that pony. Even if that pony isn't as bad as I think she was, there's no point in me trying to be that way again, is there? What's left for her?” She reached over and put a hoof on Twilight's shoulder. “I don't want to be that pony. I want to be your friend.”
Twilight thought of how angry Knowledge had been back in library. Figuring out that her Canterlot had been long destroyed, and that all of the places and ponies that she knew were irreversibly gone as well, had taken its clear toll at the time. But, now... Knowledge seemed so willing to let it go. Hold onto nothing.
Because there is nothing. She has nothing.
Twilight's head was spinning, but she kept her nausea in check for just a few moments more. “Knowledge... is it alright if...” she asked, and Knowledge gave a small grin and a nod. “Knowledge, even if that's what you want, what will we do? Celestia won't just let us go free. And if we are going to deal with... this, we have to know what it all means. And all that might rest on—”
“Me,” Knowledge said plainly.
“Yeah.”
Twilight couldn't think of what else to say, and when Knowledge stayed silent as well, she stood up, stretched, and walked around the deep puddle at the cave entrance to investigate the rest of the clearing. Her hooves quickly became slick with mud. She frowned, and slung her saddlebags back on.
“Look, whether we do anything or not, we're in no shape to do it right now. We should get out of the forest first. Get our bearings.” Twilight didn't know if Knowledge was listening or not, but it felt good to put the pieces of a plan together out loud. She could disconnect the words from the rest of the noise that was beginning to inhabit her head again. “If we keep heading west, we should reach the forest’s end in a few hours. From there, we can get directions to Los Pegasus. It's the closest city I can remember for miles.”
Knowledge didn't argue. She merely stood up to stretch and walked out to join Twilight. The whole while, she wore a spaced-out, pensive face. Her wistfulness had been abandoned though, and Twilight soon realised that Knowledge was looking towards the clouds on the western horizon expectantly.
“Los Pegasus?” she said, clearly thinking out loud. Even though Knowledge had almost certainly never heard of the place before, Twilight caught onto what she must have been thinking of. The name alone indicated a city in the clouds. “But how will we...”
“Don't worry. We can probably get a balloon ride up to the city.” Knowledge began to open her mouth again, but Twilight anticipated her next question. “And when departure time comes, I've got just the spell for that. Trust me.”
There was a flicker of worry in her eyes, but Knowledge nodded all the same. Twilight looked down at her hooves and frowned. “There's mud everywhere. We need to be careful not to leave tracks.” The two of them turned around and washed off in the puddle. After this, Twilight elected to take a short drink of cleaner rainwater out of a smaller puddle nearby, Knowledge hesitantly following suit. It made them gag, but the excitement of yesterday had left them both completely parched, and Twilight knew that Los Pegasus was at least a day of nonstop travel away. There wasn't any room for them to be squeamish right now. Maybe when they reached the city Twilight could treat them to the unique Los Pegasus style cuisine as a way of apology, an opportunity at that. She herself had never tried the stuff, and what city was better suited to silver linings than a city in the clouds?
They departed without another word, Twilight trying her best to steer them towards rougher and drier areas through the forest; short rock outcroppings and long-dead creek beds. Their hooves became sore after only an hour, but they ignored it and pressed on. Eventually, they began to chat again to distract themselves from their scrapes and bumps.
“Y'know, I may be an earth pony,” Knowledge jokingly complained, making sure to keep her voice low. “But that doesn't necessarily mean I look forward to this kind of rough stuff.”
“No arguments here,” Twilight replied. “But we should savour the solid ground while it lasts.”
Knowledge gave a snort. “Solid ground. Sure, right.”
Twilight grinned. “Afraid of heights?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
The two walked on.
~\\***\***/***//~
It might work, Luna thought frantically. I pray it does not, but it might.
The plan would look deceptively simple on paper: find the spell, go to the garden, cast it, and she would have her answer. But Luna knew that defining the activity in so rudimentary a manner was not only a comfortable lie, it was downright disrespectful. Whatever the situation she found herself in after she cast the spell, it would be far from simple. Anything which had the potential to change her, Celestia, and all of Equestria's ultimate fates deserved more hallowed treatment.
If it didn't work, then she would have to accept that she was being foalish about this place. And then she would have to continue to deal with the matter of her sister's own foalhardiness about Twilight Sparkle, as well as what was truly causing it. If it did work... then they were both even greater foals than she could imagine.
If it works, one of us will lose the other.
Luna almost stopped and turned to leave right there, just at the threshold between the halls and the outdoors, but eventually started walking again. She thought of how easy it had been to find the spell. It had been tucked away among the Pre-Classical Era volumes, not even within the archives reserved for her, Celestia, and the higher staff, but the public library. This soothed her just the slightest bit. It was so simple. The spell had been right there, in easy reach of anypony. Surely if a secret was this poorly hidden, there was no secret at all, right? Then again, a cockatrice remedy spell would not exactly be known for frequent, daily usage.
She was coming around the maze's outer bend. Her eyes looked straight ahead, not turning up or down. She was thankful that Discord's own pedestal was tall enough that she did not have to look at him. Any and all nostalgia she possessed for her past did not include the draconequus.
Any will do, I suppose. She settled for the Statue of Friendship. The three fillies depicted were stacked on top of one another's backs, like some foalish balancing act borne of boredom. Were they truly ponies, they would be the kind of friends who would get little out of a visit to the garden. They would bicker to cover their parents' scolding voices, and their art appreciation would extend only to making faces and having staring contests with all of the other statues.
Luna looked at each of the three smiling granite faces in turn. The noonday sun gave all of their features perfect clarity. She took a single huge breath, and closed her eyes. She cast the spell as she remembered in the book, and she felt the weight of the statues enter her magic's hold. Opening her eyes again, her sight began at the middle and moved outwards. Eventually, she saw the edges of her midnight blue aura. Luna stopped and stared here, where the spell glimmered at its brightest.
A trick of the light. That is all.
Still she stared. And stared. And... nothing was happening. Even after waiting for another minute, nothing changed about Friendship. No new colours were appearing upon the stone, no physical change or movement other than Luna's own shifting magic was perceivable. Everything was as one would expect of a simple stone statue. Luna stopped casting the spell and stood there, thinking. She had gotten exactly what she had wished for. The spell would either work, or it wouldn't. Nothing could be simpler.
But, is it that it simply can't work, or that it won't work?
The first question brought a second, and then even more still. If it was a matter of the spell not working, then why? Was it this way with all of the statues? If not, which ones were the exceptions? How would she be able to tell, especially when up until now, she had been so ignorant of such a potential problem right under her own nose? Was she just going completely mad?
I could search for days, and get no answers, she realised. I've done nothing.
Luna immediately chided herself. Nothing was too strong a word. If Celestia would be of no help, and if her own efforts were to be this fruitless, then there was still one more ace left to be pulled. She looked back up at the statue.
Friendship.
Twilight Sparkle's closest friends. Not only were they the only ponies who could possibly claim to know more about the unicorn than Celestia did, but they were as much heroes of Equestria as Twilight Sparkle was. The newly chosen bearers of the Elements of Harmony, the first mortal ponies in all of history to ever be granted the honour.
The Elements. The thought had only occurred to Luna just then, and for a moment she felt foalish for it. Until one other doubt crept its way back to her: There were six elements, and currently only five ponies between the friends. She and Celestia could hardly serve as substitute bearers either. They were no longer bonded to the elements. It was the very reason why Discord had been able to escape his imprisonment in the first place.
Leaving even that much aside, Twilight Sparkle's friends would hardly be in the mood for such dark speculation on a garden they had hardly visited. They would want their friend back, and Luna had sworn to respect that. It was they who were doing her a favour. She was the one indebted, not them.
Still, namesake alone dictated that the Elements of Harmony were never found far apart, and Luna knew that Celestia had placed enchantments upon all of them since Discord's previous “borrowing”. A worthwhile first step upon the friends' arrival would be to look into the possibility of a tracking spell. The Element of Magic had found its mortal bearer once before, after all.
“Your Majesty!”
Luna turned towards the sudden voice. Galloping down the garden path was a pegasus guard. His wings were folding back into his sides, clearly having just finished flying quite a ways. He stopped a few feet from her and opened his mouth to speak, only to immediately begin to catch his breath instead. Luna waited patiently as he lifted his helmet to wipe his brow, and straightened his stance. Finally, he addressed her.
“I apologise, Princess, but we have a problem. A very big problem.”
“What is it thou speakest of?” Luna said, having converted to using the Royal Canterlot voice. In the back of her thoughts, however, she remembered Celestia telling her that such linguistic traditions were no longer practiced. The guard tried his best to not look taken aback, but his eyes still widened slightly. He swallowed before answering her.
“It's... It's your sister, Your Majesty. Princess Celestia is gone!”
Luna immediately went into denial, refusing to let her distress show on her face. Twice in two days? It simply wasn't possible. Her shock left her voice a few shades quieter than before. “Thou must be mistaken.”
The guard shook his head. “She never arrived to oversee noon court. We assumed she must have simply been running late due to... recent issues, but when her office and bedchambers were investigated, she was nowhere to be found! A city-wide search is underway as we speak, but so far nothing!”
Luna almost didn't hear him. In those few horrible moments, she remembered her “conversation” with Celestia the previous night. She had been too distracted to pay much attention at the time, but Celestia had clearly resented one particular insinuation of hers. Or perhaps, inadvertently, Luna had convinced her of something. Either way, Luna had made her thousand-year mistake a second time. She had doubted her sister's resolve.
For Twilight Sparkle. Celestia has gone for Twilight Sparkle.