//------------------------------//
// Epilogue - Part 1 
// Story: Through the Well of Pirene 
// by Ether Echoes 
//------------------------------//


Epilogue - Part 1






“However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.” Stanley Kubrick.



Daphne


Bells sang from every corner of Canterlot to ring in the dawn. It was the third day of Princess Celestia’s return and still the celebratory fervor had not died off. Her beloved subjects had felt her loss too keenly not to need to remind their princess that they loved her dearly each new morning. Their silver song touched the Royal Castle as gently as did the breath of winter making its rounds across the countryside. The pegasi were being understandably gentle with Winterfall’s coming, particularly given how badly the weather patterns had been damaged by the demon maelstrom.

Airy, high-vaulted windows looked down over the mountain and its embracing vale. Very little sign of the preceding weeks had imprinted themselves on the landscape, aside from the scars left by the Wand Fortress’s bombardment. That, too, remained as well; with the chaos in the Wand nation, there had been no one to fuel the massive warmachine, and, with all the critical damage it had sustained in the rebellion and subsequent battle against the titanspawn, its engineers had given it up for good and beached it like some giant’s toy dropped beside the lake to the city’s south. With just a little effort, I could focus my vision enough to see the pony and goblin crews swarming over its surface to pick it clean of valuables and process the remainder back down to raw materials. It was the first of what would be many new steps in cooperation between the formerly disconnected kinds.

Cooperation between diverse peoples was a topic much on the minds of the people seated around a low table in Celestia’s room, I found as the guard at the door ushered me in. Twilight Sparkle looked downright ecstatic as she flipped through a notebook and made annotations on a scroll already dense with information. Applejack pushed a pen around on the table in abject boredom, while Rarity inspected herself in the table’s mirror-finish. Maille and Twig lounged on cushions on the other side, the former resplendent in a pearl-and-lilac gown while the other fidgeted nervously with her drink in a red magic grip, trying not to stare too openly at the figure at the head of the table. She, of course, was Celestia herself.

Three days and nights of recuperation and the ruler of Equestria still lay atop several cushions rather than sit at the table. Not for the first time, our eyes met, and I felt the bone-deep sorrow and weariness that still plagued her so long after having her mind and will suppressed and driven by that terrible instrument. Still, she lifted her head with the grace and pride only a mare of a thousand years could muster and smiled at my entrance, showing how much she’d recovered. Her sunset mane flowed magnificently down her side once more, blowing in its own ethereal breeze, and her voice was clear when she greeted me, “Hello, Daphne. We’re just about ready to get started. Is Naomi with you? She wished to be a part of this as well.”

“She’ll be along in just a minute,” I said. “She just got delayed coming back. A matter about an impromptu street performance by a local school.”

There were times, are still times, when I wasn’t sure how I felt about being able to speak confidently about events I was neither physically present at nor had any rational connection to. Just another thing I’d need to get used to.

“I see you’re settling in well enough.” Maille brushed a silver lock behind her ear. “When did you start wearing hooves again?”

I gave my tail a flick. “Just last night. I wanted to take a walk around without everypony staring at me.”

Twilight frowned. “I was under the impression you weren’t comfortable as a mare, though. Weren’t you happy when you had the chance to be human again?”

“Of course, but…” I lifted a hoof to inspect it. “I don’t really feel like this is so unnatural anymore. I wondered for a long time if I was losing myself, and I suppose I was for a while there. It was really touch and go. After I got my cutie mark, though, it got a bit better, and then events after that… well, I have my feet in two worlds. I have to accept that. I’m a human and I’m a pony, too.” I spared a glance at Celestia, thinking of Pirene as I did. “Even if the pony part hasn’t really manifested until now, it was always there, waiting under the surface.”

Twig tilted her head curiously. “So all you need to do is think of yourself as a pony and ‘poof’? No rigamarole with slipping yourself into a carefully crafted role like we do?”

“My little foray into chaos taught me a lot of things I’m not sure I really understand yet, and probably never will.”

“You’ll have quite a bit of time to ponder the questions you have, my little pony,” Celestia said.

Applejack’s and Rarity’s ears instantly perked up, and the former straightened herself to look at me. “Is it true, then?” Rarity asked. “Is our Daphne here truly another…?”

“There is certainly some measure of what I once termed ‘alicorn magic’ in her, yes,” Celestia agreed. Seeing Rarity’s eyes light up, she added in an amused tone, “I wouldn’t start planning another coronation, though.”

“Well, I think we should start—” Rarity almost bit her lip as Celestia rode over her suggestion, and her cheeks rosied. She crossed her hooves on the table. “Well, one can forgive a girl for dreaming.”

Applejack raised a hoof. “Not that I really care—and I gather from meetin’ Daphne that she don’t, either—but ain’t that kind of what an Equestrian Princess is?”

Celestia tilted her head. “I’d been under the honest impression that the trait was exclusive to certain exemplary ponies and that they should be accorded some responsibility in order to use it wisely. In truth, I’m pleased to see that other species, humans included, have some version of it. It never quite satisfied my sense of fairness.”

“I’d imagine that’s why you made Twilight and the other princesses with status equal to your own, rather than insisting on your divine right of birth and hoarding reign,” Maille said thoughtfully.

Celestia answered only with a mysterious smile.

I stepped from the doorway just in time to avoid being struck on the behind as Naomi marched in. Never in her life had my friend ever looked so proud merely to be alive, and it showed with every strike of her newly-minted hooves against the floor. Her rich red mane danced in coppery rings down her sides and her tail was like a proud crimson banner. She flexed her forelegs in a graceful pony bow as if she’d been born to it and beamed at Celestia. “I’m sorry for being late, your Highness,” she announced, “there were these impossibly adorable foals putting on a play, and I just couldn’t help myself. I galloped straight here as soon as I realized I was running late.”

“That’s quite all right, Naomi. Please, have a seat. You were quite insistent on being part of this meeting, and I want to hear what you have to say.”

“And a lot to say I have,” Naomi agreed, going to seat herself on a cushion. She practically glowed as an earth pony, her soft gold coat emphasizing her fiery hair. She patted the seat next to her and I settled down as well. “I know I’m young compared to everyone else here, but I think I can speak intelligently about the matter.”

I nodded faintly, but needlessly. Celestia was a good enough judge of character on her own.

Twig wagged her head. “It provides some tidy symmetry, with the common ponyfolk, goblins, and humans—uh, usually humans—getting equal representation. Assuming you don’t mind us speaking for the Ring, Sword, and Cup. I’m not sure anyone can really speak for Cup right now, I guess, but the Seer is recuperating and gave his blessing, and Knight Saria asked us to fill her in.”

“Everything said here is nonbinding, regardless,” Celestia said. “This is merely for the sake of perspective.”

“Yes,” Twilight Sparkle nodded vigorously. “Now that we know there are other worlds, the question for Equestria then, is, well… what do we do about them?”

“‘Do’?” Rarity tilted her head. “Twilight, dear, that was impossibly vague. What do you mean by ‘do’?”

Applejack tapped the table. “What she means is what’re we gonna have to do now that we know they’re out there? There’s whole peoples out there we ain’t ever heard of that we need to figure out. Do we keep ‘em out? Let ‘em in? Are we gonna trade with them? What with? And what about their side?” She nodded her head over at Naomi, Maille, and Twig. Implicitly, I noticed, she didn’t really seem to include me in that arrangement. “Goblins ain’t had contact this good with ponies since ever, and humans still don’t know we exist.”

“Let alone the question of whether or not we should contact them,” Twilight said. “I don’t like to think about not opening up free and honest inquiry, but we don’t really understand the kind of dangers that exist in the outer worlds. There’s also the dangers here in Equestria that might get out if we’re not careful.”

“It is not ‘whether’, my beloved student,” Celestia said with quiet conviction, “but when. The Veil my mother and father created to keep Equestria secure is fading rapidly, as it has weakened all this time. Even were it not for that, we have entered a new Age, and even I only have memory of one. I feel it as surely as I breathe; change is coming, and we will neither be able to maintain isolation nor will we thrive if we try.”

“Goblin merchants are already leaping into the market,” Maille said. “Word spread fast through the troops going home. It’s a trickle, now, just the ones who’ve already been smuggling back and forth, but it’ll get bigger soon.”

“Well, shucks,” Applejack said, “I shoulda sent word to Big Macintosh. We’ve got plenty of winter stores, and I’ll bet no goblin or human’s tasted any apple quite so fine as an Apple Family Heirloom.”

Rarity pressed forward. “I do see your point, Twilight, but we’ve met these humans and we’ve seen they’re really very much like us, even if they are positively child-like when it comes to matters of magic. The goblins are rough-and-tumble, certainly, but that’s nothing new after griffins and minotaurs. A well-crafted diplomatic exchange, perhaps, and sponsored exchanges could go a long way to smoothing difficulties.”

Twig grimaced. “Well, uhm… that’s going to be tricky. I mean, I guess the circumstances are a little different with the damage done, but…”

Naomi cleared her throat, cutting in with the sort of confidence at being heard only someone who’d grown up in a large, extended family could muster. “Pardon, but, I think I can add a little perspective here, if you don’t mind me sharing my thoughts.” The others quieted and turned to look at her. She gave a pleased twitch of her tail and flicked her ears forward. “It’s funny, actually, that we mention how isolated Equestria has been, but I think that really pales in comparison to how tragically locked off the human side of earth is. The goblins—” She nodded her head towards Maille and Twig “—have had limited contact with both worlds and others for millennia. Maybe Equestria was ignorant of its place in the world, but you really have no idea how right you were when you said that humans were child-like about magic, Rarity.

“Picture, if you will, how you ponies felt when you learned that your world wasn’t alone. A little shocked, perhaps? Surprised at the scale of it, really, and how near at hoof it was, but not really all that floored by the prospect.” She shook her head. “Imagine if you will a world where not only have people been convinced that they are the sole intelligent species in the world, but that any possibility of there being other habitable worlds with other kinds of thinking life must be millions of miles, billions of miles away, a gulf so vast it won’t be breached in lifetimes. Imagine not only not having magic, but all evidence, all evidence indicates that magic and the supernatural in general are completely lacking, or they’re so shoddy as to be completely suspect.

“Then, I want you to take that feeling and apply it to not a handful of decision makers, not their hundreds of advisors and top-level bureaucrats, but I want you to apply it to a planet of nearly seven billion people. Not all of them don’t believe in magic, I should clarify, but all of them believe in something that is going to be shaken to the core by this revelation. The true history of the world is something no one, as far as I know, has guessed, and these aren’t the sort of people who give up their cherished beliefs lightly.”

She took a deep breath, her mood growing somber.

“Then there’s the darker portion of it… namely, that while people in general may be happy to accept Equestrians, not every ruler or government out there is quite as enlightened as our beautiful Princess here. I know that Equestria isn’t quite as peaceful as I’d hoped when I came here; I know you have neighbors and politics and the like, but you haven’t had the sort of resource crunch and bitter wars that we’ve had, not in an Age. The goblins know what I’m talking about, I’m sure. We don’t have magical power, no, but compared to the goblins and ponies we’re lightyears ahead in technological advancement. The revelation of Equestria is going to be a seismic event that will test the stability of every government on our earth and the fragility of our world view. Even the most progressive, forward-thinking person on the planet is going to be shocked to the core.”

Silence followed Naomi’s “thoughts.” Celestia lifted her head and smiled faintly. “I can see that we were not amiss in waiting up for you, Naomi.”

“Well,” Twig said, a little flabberghasted, “what do you suggest, then? You sound like you already have a plan.”

“Oh, I’ve had a plan for a while now,” Naomi said brightly. “I kind of figured something like this was coming eventually, so I’ve been turning it over in my head almost since I arrived in Ponyville. You see… I agree with Twilight in that you need to be careful, but I also agree with Celestia in that, eventually, for one reason or another, we will need to bridge that gap and heal the wound. Maybe one day Equestria won’t be separate anymore, or maybe things will change on the human side, but, one way or another, Midgard is going to become aware of itself again. What we need to do is lay groundwork so that we can try to control the impact as best we can.” She reached back into her saddlebags and pulled out a notepad. “What Equestria needs, foremost, is to become more fully aware of its neighbors. To that end, I’d like to propose, with Celestia’s government and the aid of the goblins, an organization to sponsor and facilitate ponies going to the human side under the guise of magic—pony, Wand, or goblin. We need to remit not only knowledge and goods, but technical, scientific, professional, and political expertise, so we’d need to infiltrate them into universities, trade schools, corporations, media, and government. Simultaneously, we need to find select humans on the other side who can be trusted to start building relationships with so that we can smooth the way. That way, when the time comes, we’ll have not only advocates, but well-placed people able to help blunt the blow.”

All of a sudden, I started to laugh.

Naomi prodded me in the ribs as I dissolved into giggles. “Something to add, Daph?”

“Oh, no.” I grinned and wiped the tears from my face. “Just reflecting on irony. I’m kind of superfluous all of a sudden, and yet I feel like that’s a good thing.”

“Well… that’s not really true.” She frowned. “Even if my plan is a good one…” She paused and tossed her mane. “And of course it is a good plan… but even if it was a flawless plan, we still can’t predict everything that’ll happen. If anything, you’re more vital than ever, even if you never had the chance to be the person you were supposed to be… the Age is still your oyster, you know, and it may need you to help resolve it.”

That sobered me up right quick, albeit not for the reasons Naomi thought it did. It reminded me that I’d come here not only to listen to Naomi’s plan, but to discuss something important with Celestia. As I glanced up at the princess, though, she seemed to sense my need and cleared her throat.

“That does sound like an excellent start, Naomi. I think I’d like to give this my tentative approval and direct you to my advisors. Twilight? Could you and the girls take Naomi to see Cabinet and make sure that they know she’s to have their full cooperation.”

“Of course!” The younger princess rose to her feet and gathered her materials in a telekinetic scoop. “I really want to hear it, too. I have some ideas that I think could improve it; you probably don’t know a lot about unicorn enchantments, do you, Naomi?”

Naomi glanced my way, knowing something had passed between the princess and me, but she allowed Twilight to draw her into a conversation and they nattered right out the door. Maille and Twig sensed that they, too, were being dismissed, and rose to step outside. Maille paused by me, looking down with her eyes thoughtful. I sensed she wanted to talk, and knew who she had on her mind, but she held back and glided out the door with her friend a moment later.

“Your aunt says ‘hello,’” I said as the door shut behind Maille. My tail flicked unsteadily, back and forth. I tried setting it on my usual left and then on my right. I tried laying it out straight. Eventually, I rose to my feet and began to pace. It was perhaps a smidge rude, but my nerves were firing too rapidly to sit or lay down. I felt overstimulated, as I often had during an intense project, a sensation I now knew was caused not by any mundane malaise but by something supernally great.

If I cleared my mind and listened to my heart, I could feel it. At any given moment, I was a conduit, and information flowed ceaselessly into and out of me. I could turn my head up and see through stone and slate roofs and the depths of space, an invisible star pouring the light of knowledge through my soul.

“Change is never easy,” Celestia said by way of quiet answer. “The best changes, and the most difficult, are the ones which force us to reexamine ourselves and ask the deep, probing, uncomfortable questions of who we are, what we stand for, and whether or not we may be wrong about ourselves and our perception of the world around us. The mind is a machine which generates a narrative that addresses our circumstances, and the truly healthy mind is one which is constantly moving and flowing to adapt, and thus is ever uncomfortable and certain only in its own forward momentum. Failing to update one’s personal narrative in the face of new ideas is a recipe for ossification, and the death of reason and growth.”

I paused and glanced at her. “You got all that from my telling you that your aunt said ‘hello’?”

“No,” she laughed softly. “I got ‘all that’ from the way you flicked your tail.” She pushed herself up on her forelegs and tapped the cushion next to her.

Reluctantly, I walked over and sat by her. It felt a bit like violating her personal space; no, worse, it felt like I was an unknown and unwanted relative who’d shown up at the door bedraggled and needy. The thought gave me further pause, and I tried to unpack it as best I could.

Really, it all seemed so clear after I examined it. Pirene, in our brief, terse meeting, had felt like Mother did. For all that I ostensibly didn’t know her, I felt as though I had all my life. With a disturbing lurch, I cottoned on to why I felt so lost and disturbed as a pony, even to that instant—because it felt natural, because it resonated with my soul. I was Pirene’s child, and part of me had known it and longed for it, and I’d rejected it out of fear.

Once again, Celestia seemed to sense the unspoken shift within me, and her wing settled in around me. Already twice my current size, the wing practically engulfed me in warm, soft, clean feathers. I felt the limb tug gently and I leaned into her, breathing the soft scent of her coat in.

“Comfortable with it or not, you are kin of a sort, in spirit, though not in flesh.” She chuckled. “You’re afraid, and rightly so. You know the changes in you didn’t stop when you gained your cutie mark, nor when you assumed yourself into the celestial realm with young Marble Stone, nor when you defeated the Morgwyn and brought yourself back from chaos. You’re not a coward, either; you didn’t shy away when your sister was taken, and you won’t turn aside now.”

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be, though, or what I’m supposed to do.” I looked up at her. “Okay, sure, I have all this power that I’ve barely touched and don’t really understand. I have insights and knowledge and the power to see the past and sometimes the future and distant places. What does that make me, though? Some sort of soothsayer for Naomi and her plan to reunite the worlds? Am I going to succeed the Seer and make a prophecy to guide the world to a new, better outcome?”

Celestia smoothed my mane back with a hoof. “This is going to make me sound like the most obvious mentor in the world, but, I don’t have any answers you can’t give yourself, Daphne. You’re on your way to becoming an alicorn—and the human equivalent of that, whatever the name for it is—and that means more than power, it means responsibility and, as importantly, a certain amount of self-determination. Twilight and Cadance were and remain my beloved students, but all I can do now is guide them and try to nudge them to become better ponies. According to the Seer, destiny is what we make of it, and no pony epitomizes that better than us.”

“Ugh.” I scrunched my face up. “You’re right, that was singularly unhelpful.”

She laughed and gave me a squeeze with her wing. “I know, but it’s true. I can listen to your concerns and provide suggestions, Daphne, but you have to chart your own course in this. I would love to help you sort it out—and I know just where to start, too.”

“Oh?” I glanced up at her.

“Well, yes, shouldn’t it be obvious?” She beamed. “The magic of friendship. You know better than I how you managed to live through the last month or so, let alone succeed. Twilight Sparkle is guided and supported by her friends, and without them she would have been nothing more than one more of my students.” She glanced out the window into the clear blue of the sky. “Of late, I’ve been feeling the lack. I wonder, perhaps, if events might have gone differently if I had friends like hers still. Your sister reminded me that I am, in some ways, still a child wandering after her mother and father.”

It was the first time anypony had directly brought my sister up for a while, and the indirect mention stiffened my tail. Still, something Celestia said stuck with me, and I frowned. “You know, there’s going to be more.”

Celestia glanced down at me.

“More alicorns. More of their human equivalents—heroes or demigods or whatever—and the other races. More chaos, too. I’m not confused about one thing about myself: I’m still pouring magic back into the world. Real magic, too, not mere goblin or unicorn stuff.” I worried at my lower lip. “Naomi doesn’t know the half of it, yet. The Elements of Harmony, the Arcana, you, Twilight, everything… it’s just a few small pieces of a nine world puzzle. The divine and the mortal worlds are growing closer once again. My sister and I are only the newest symptoms of it.”

The words put into perspective some more of the strange feelings I’d had. Visions of the world shifting, of sands blowing off ancient monuments, of shapes stirring in the deep. Fires leapt awake on distant mountains and ice cracked in the dead of winter. Men and women waking in the midst of their lives as if from a long slumber.

“Even on my earth, there are things that have been just… lying dormant instead of simply going away. The titans are sealed, but their spawn live on and try to gnaw at the chains.” I frowned still more. “There have been forces building up to it for a while now. Twilight’s taking of the Elements and her subsequent rise to alicorn status. Discord’s and the Crystal Empire’s return. The events of three days ago have broken the floodgates, though, and even if I wasn’t here I don’t think they’d have stopped, merely slowed.”

“Well,” Celestia said quietly, “I certainly wasn’t exempting myself from the need to change. If anything, my recent tragedy has proved that turning my gaze inward and away from the outside universe will only expose Equestria to incalculable danger. We’ll simply have to adapt to meet each challenge as it comes up.”

“I hope that we can. You’re right, though; my burying my head in the sand or refusing to face myself.” I sighed heavily. “And I absolutely do need to talk to my friends. I’ve been avoiding something else, too.”

“Oh?”

I shook my head and stirred from the warm shelter of her wing. “Thank you, but I’ve unloaded on you enough. I’m going to need to do a lot of thinking on my own about this, too.”

“As you wish.” She folded her wings at her side and extended a hoof. “As per your request, I have kept your activities as quiet as equinely possible, though of course rumors do fly at the speed of a racing pegasus. Still, even without an official mention, I want you to know that I’m grateful for your actions here. Should you require anything at all, please do not hesitate to see me.” She smiled again, a knowing smile. “Take it from me… when you’re looking forward to as long, long a life as you are now, it’s important to have ponies you can turn to and rely on in times of need.”

“I hope I won’t have to impose on you, Celestia,” I said with a grateful smile. “If it’s any consolation, know that you will know what it feels like to have friends again, both old and new, in the coming years.”

The Princess blinked and looked faintly astonished. There are perks to this job, as it turns out.

As I wandered through the castle, I felt like nothing so much as a stone in a river. All around me flowed the currents of other ponies’ lives, and I could see them all. Even if they didn’t know it yet, every servant, guard, petitioner, and visitor to the castle today would find their lives shaped by coming events. Today they thought they’d narrowly avoided another scrape with existential disaster, but tomorrow they’d be wondering about vacations to Mag Mell and the effect foreign magic would have on their lives, tomorrow they would worry about how their children would deal with the human world and vice versa, and the day after that…

Well, even I can’t see that far ahead.

I allowed the currents to carry me on, metaphorically, until I left them at the filigreed gates that opened out onto the still-green palace gardens. There was, as had been the case for the last several days, no traffic going to or from this part of the palace. The few ponies who knew why did not speak of it, but everypony in the castle knew one way or another that it was to be avoided at all costs.

The trees were a world’s difference from the ones back in the Everfree State Park, but somehow, as I walked under their swaying boughs, it felt a lot like that October day way back when. The experiences of the past month had been enough to fill a lifetime, and yet the touch of loamy earth beneath my hooves brought me right back to a deceptively routine park walk. Little packs of snow here and there on the earth hinted that winter was making itself known even in this secluded sanctuary.

Following the sound of bird song, I found the one I’d come to see. She stood with the sunlight dappling her flanks and gazing up with a quiet smile at a pair of blue jays dancing and wheeling overhead. Her mane ran long and golden down her side, waving and sparkling irrespective of the still air and her pale cream wings were tucked up against her side. A deep, untouchable pain lurked just beneath the skin, but for now she seemed at peace here where it was quiet and apart from all else.

“I didn’t think you liked birds,” I observed as I walked in over a bed of moss. I glanced up at the two and saw two small soapstone statues, a pool in a palace hall. “Though I suppose you would make exceptions for those two.”

Amelia gave a weak chuckle and turned to face me. It was hard not to be struck every time I saw her by how changed they were since that walk so long ago. The incredible age I saw in her eyes was too like Celestia to be entirely her own, and it brought me back out of that day and into the present—and, to some extent, her future. I steadfastly ignored looking ahead, though, and focused on the now. “I still prefer bugs and spiders and snakes, don’t worry.” She lowered her horn to touch mine in a close, loving gesture that was also entirely Celestia’s.

I accepted it all the same and reached up a little higher to rub my cheek against hers. “We can’t all be perfect.”

She laughed again in a manner less forced and fell into step alongside me. The two jays went to sit on an elm branch while we walked through the garden at a meandering pace. I spied the white Staff against the trunk and glanced back at her. “Have you heard anything from the goblins?”

“Twig comes to see me twice a day. I’ve had to explain to her that it would be very rude to Celestia to skip out before she has had a chance to recover and pass judgement.” She ruffled her wings and gazed out at the wall. “Even if it were only temporary.”

The Amelia I’d known wouldn’t have hesitated for an instant at fleeing punishment. This change, though, I knew had been potential in her. If nothing else, Amelia stood by her convictions. “She hasn’t said anything to you, then?”

“No. I’m in no hurry, though. I think we got to know each other… a little too well as it is.” She said it lightly, but she couldn’t hide the pain lurking in her tone.

I walked a few inches closer to her and gazed up. She stood a little shy of Celestia’s height, which still meant that she towered over me. Still, when someone’s heart lays bare to your gaze, there’s a rather significant leveling effect. “So this is how it is, now, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“This,” I gestured up and down her. “You can look like anything in the world, now, and this is what you choose to spend your private time as. Doesn’t it feel… I don’t know. You spent several days bridling Celestia. Now you are an alicorn—isn’t that a little messed up?”

Amelia sighed. “Yes. Now I am.” She glanced my way. “No, it’s not some sort of self-loathing martyr thing. You should know better.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t always violate other people’s deepest secrets all the time.” I jested, but sometimes people needed the reminder.

“Mm,” she said doubtfully. She walked a few paces more before going on. “I lived her life, Daph. I mean… well, that’s exactly what I mean. I lived her life. I have something like two thousand years of memories and most of them aren’t originally mine. How am I supposed to cope with that? I know they aren’t mine, but when I think back on the things I like it’s her that comes up more often than me. I…” She looked down at her hooves. “This body feels more me than any other. I just don’t know where she begins and I end sometimes, Daph. That’s… that’s scary, and yet it’s not, and that kind of scares me even more.”

Pausing together between rose bushes, we shared a look of mutual sympathy. My heart went out to her at once, and, between one breath in the next, my head was level with hers as shoes instead of hooves dug into the trail. My arms went around her neck and we embraced one another.

“Sometimes, I want to h-hurt,” she admitted in a quiet whisper. “Hurt more. I want to suffer like this so I can stop… stop feeling so damned guilty all the time. Part of me doesn’t want it to ever go away. Guilt hurts a lot more, Daphne.”

“I know,” I said and tightened my grip around her. “You can’t understand how it feels to know I’m responsible for what you’ve become. If I’d just…” I stopped before I could gush on. “I’ve gone over this so many times already. If I’d just done any number of things, today wouldn’t be today and we wouldn’t be standing here.”

“I do, a little,” she said, then added bitterly, “or Celestia does, at any rate.”

“I know what that is like, too.” I cupped her cheek and ran a thumb along her fine coat, getting used to the feel of who my sister had become. “We’ve changed so much, Amy.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get used to that, I suppose, you and me.” She bit her lip and hesitated. “Daphne… do… will there ever be a time when… when I feel all right again?” she asked with such deep-seated guilt I felt my stomach twist. It wasn’t even just that she felt guilty over her actions—merely asking the question, entertaining the possibility that she might no longer feel the way she does, left her deeply pained.

“Yes,” I answered with no hesitation at all, and in deference to her feelings added, “but it won’t be easy. You—we need to accept a lot of things that are going to be difficult to countenance. I don’t know if you’ll ever entirely get over it, because it’s going to shape you from here in, but… yes, there is a light for you, too. I promise, you’ll see it again someday.”

She buried her face into my chest and wrapped me up in her wings tightly. I held her as she cried and stained my white shirt with tears. I didn’t care that she was technically older than me in every way that counted—she was still my sister, and I would be as big a one as I could be from now on.

I stroked her mane, running my fingers through its length and twirling a tip around my index. “Heh, you know, it occurs… I still owe you ten cookies.”

“Daph-ne!” she protested with a stamp of a hoof, the words choked through tears. “You’re ruining the moment.” She paused. “Also, you never accepted the deal. It doesn’t count.”

“Well, I’m still going to make good on it.” I kissed her horn. “You kept me seeking you for the better part of a month, after all. Ten homemade cookies in mother’s kitchen, then. We’ll have to pick some eggs up on the way back tomorrow; I can see Father’s let the ones in the fridge go bad.”

“Daphne…” she said again with more hesitance. She ruffled her wings and shifted her feet, opening her mouth.

I put a finger to my lips to forestall her and shook my head. “No, Amy. Don’t think about it too much. We need to heal, and not just you or me.”

Amelia sighed and acquiesced with a bowing of her head. “Okay. Tomorrow. I promise.”

“Thank you.” I gave her neck another squeeze. “Do you want to spend some time alone here…?”

“Yes.” Her head tilted up to look at the sun through the leaves. “It helps with… everything.”

“Does it help her, too?” I asked.

“Morgan?” she glanced away into the more shadowed parts of the gardens. “I don’t know. I don’t particularly care, either.”

“Liar.” I brushed back her mane with a gentle touch. “Redeeming her redeems you—you believe that right down to the bone. Maybe you’ve become part-Celestia, but I know you believe that you became something else, too.”

Amelia shivered. “Damn it, Daph. You don’t need to be so blunt about it.” She looked back at me. “It’s… a little more than that, honestly. It’s less that I think I became like the Morgwyn… I…” She scuffed at the earth.

“You feel like you always were,” I said, and suddenly understood. I didn’t need magic for this one; it was clear enough on its own. “You want to lose yourself in Celestia, don’t you? You want to deny the Amelia part in every way you can. You think that you were always bad.”

There was no answer. Amelia stared at the earth as if she were trying to bore into it and hide away forever.

“I can’t give you answers, Amy, but… never think that way,” I said with a voice firm in love and conviction both. “I’m not just saying that, either. You screwed up, yes, you admit that, but you took long, hard steps to make it better, too. The little sister I knew is the same little sister that pulled through on the mountain top three days ago, not Celestia. You were, and are, a determined, willful person who accomplished a lot of really incredible things. Until you learn to own that truth, you’re never going to get over your pain, and burying yourself in Celestia is just going to make it worse. Even if it was just eight years, those experiences make you who you are and distinguish you from her, for good and bad.”

I tilted her head up to meet her green eyes with my own. “You’re Amelia, King of Wands, maybe kind of Princess of Equestria, and my little sister.”

“Little big sister,” she grumbled, but I could already see my words were having an effect as she lifted her head to meet my gaze levelly. “Also, if you call me a princess, I’m going to call you one, too.”

“Ouch.” I winced. “Touché.”

Her own transformation was less sudden than mine. It was a shiver and a shake, a slightly unsteady rising from four legs to two that became more certain as her body popped and shifted. She reached back and shook free her long blond hair and straightened her tunic. It was still unspeakably strange to see my formerly eight year-old sister as a fully grown woman in the prime of her life, but I suppose in retrospect it was one of the least odd things I’d seen.

Even in this shape, her semi-divine nature was clear if one knew how to look. The power behind her eyes, the unnatural grace of her limbs, the way the light seemed to fill her hair in a sort of halo—I knew that I had that same nature to me as well, now. What really set us apart were the faint slitting of her eyes, the slight feline cast of her face and limbs, and the cat-like pointing of her ears. More scars, more trauma.

“You’re right,” she said at last. “Ugh. Why do you always have to be right all the time?” She rubbed her arm as it raised goosebumps and frowned down at her fingers. “This body still doesn’t feel entirely right, though. Even without the whole ‘wow, I have big girl parts’ thing, I still feel a little more at home on four legs.”

“Another thing we have to get used to.” I smiled and smoothed her tunic for her, straightening it out to best take advantage of Maille’s crafting. My sister had filled out the promise she’d shown as a child, and it felt comforting to see a bit of mother’s genes come out in her like this, even if it was far too soon. “Poor Mother. She’ll have to beat the suitors off with a sword and a copy of your birth certificate.”

Amelia blushed and swatted me. It was good to see her acting normally again, no matter how tinged with her omnipresent guilt it was.

“There’s one thing I wanted to ask, by the way.” I frowned faintly. “That thing you said, when you surrendered your power… why did you pick that, of all things?”

“You mean, why didn’t I hand the power of the gods over to you?”

“For which I’m profoundly grateful, but still, why?”

She smiled slightly. “Because of that, actually. Everyone’s probably been telling you that you were born for that moment, that you were supposed to be the one to fix everything and make it all better. I don’t doubt for a minute that you were meant for it, in the sense that they created the prophecies to bring you to that moment, but… I know you, Daphne, better than they do. You would have done the best you could, you never would have been as selfish as me, but by the same token you never could have brought yourself to really, truly change the world by fiat. It’s not in you to take things away from people without giving them a fair chance, which you would have had to do for any real effect to occur.” She looked across the gardens to where her staff lay. “There’s still the possibility that we can change the world in a deep, powerful way, but I’ve made it so that one person will never be able to gather that kind of power and have the sole authority to do so like I did unilaterally. We’re past the point where we need some vast, pseudo-parental figure telling us what to do, and if we’re going to fix the world it needs to be done cooperatively and with mutual consent and regard.”

“A direct repudiation of the right of conquest?” I raised an eyebrow. “You have changed.”

She crossed her arms. “And I’ll still kick your butt in Civilization if I have to. Soft, culture-loving weakling.”

“War-mongering tyrant.” I laughed. “Oh! That reminds me.”

“What, you needed a reminder of something?”

“Hush.” I reached out a hand and concentrated on the saddlebags I’d shifted away on my transformation back into a human. Reaching inside, I pulled a long, thin white plush snake out of the air. He was a little crinkled after being stuffed in it for so long, but a little smoothing did wonders. Proudly, I held him out to her. “I promised myself I’d return this to you when I found you again. I kind of missed that by a few days, but… really, I think today is the day I really found you again, talking with you here.”

“Asmodeus?” she murmured, and her voice cracked like a little girl’s. She gingerly took the serpent in hand and looked at its little head. Then, in spite of all her ancient dignity and vast power, she began to cry again.

The last time I’d held that snake, I denied to myself that I had been bawling like a child. Now, I admitted it freely. We came together again, sister-to-sister, and held one another as if we feared we might be torn apart again.

“I’ll come,” she whispered into my hair. “I’ll come home with you tomorrow. I promise, I really do this time.”

“I know,” I answered, and, for just a few moments, everything was all right again. Really, truly all right. The ecstasy would fade soon, but I held onto that perfect moment for as long as I could.

Eventually, though, we had to part. I slid back into pony shape and she did, too, and started on out of the garden. My thoughts turned to Marcus and found Leit Motif as well, and I smiled as I peered in on them. They were so awkwardly cute around one another, each one a little uncertain of where to go but both eager to try. Really, I should have been ashamed at peeking at them while they had no way of knowing that I was, but a wandering mind is hard to rein in.

As my mind wandered, though, it drifted back towards the garden. I found myself looking back in on my sister as she stood in silent contemplation by a statue of Celestia. Without me there, she had removed her facade of calm to let the welter of emotions beneath her skin boil forth. She leaned heavily against the Wand, as if the earth were trying to swallow her up.

Then a shadow detached itself from Celestia’s shade, resolving into the dark form of the Princess of the Night. My sister saw her at the same time I did, and her eyes widened. At first, she lifted the staff defensively, but then, with a defeated, almost grateful expression, she lowered her head and held the staff wide, exposing herself. Startled, I turned and prepared to gallop back.

Luna regarded my sister with a hard gaze. Tension revealed itself in the set of her jaw and the tautness of her coat against her muscles. Rather than lower her horn, though, she lifted a hoof. “Be still. Were I to take vengeance, Amelia, I would have done so before now.”

“I didn’t really believe you would anyway,” Amelia murmured, but I could sure hope went unspoken. Damn it, Amelia, I thought we’d discussed that.

Luna’s lips pursed tightly and she folded her wings at her side. “My sister, when she woke, told me of how you had shared experiences. I am… aware you know me as she does.”

“I wouldn’t presume—”

“It matters not,” Luna said, shaking her head. “You have gone well past the horizon of presumption already; any more will not change anything.” They stood awkwardly for a few moments, with Amelia unable to look at her directly and Luna unable to take her eyes off her. “My sister has spoken for you. She has told me a great deal, and I have always been inclined to believe her, but I came because I wished to…” She took a slow breath and flexed her wings nervously. “I want to have it from you directly.”

Amelia stared at the ground. “When you were restored by the Elements of Harmony, the very first thing you did was apologize to your sister. I… didn’t. I still haven’t. It’s not that I’m not sorry. I am sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t… express it in words. I don’t think my apologizing would mean anything. I feel remorse for my actions, but the fact remains that I was in full control of myself. I wasn’t possessed, like you. I was lied to, but that’s not enough.”

“Why?” Luna asked, rather bluntly.

Amy’s head pulled up. “Why, what?”

“Why isn’t it enough? I want you to explain it to me.”

“Because I deliberately ignored warning signs and problems with the lies that were being fed me. I didn’t want to hear the truth, and so I didn’t tear apart the holes like I should have. What I did… it was my failure. I can’t apologize in any way that’s meaningful.”

Luna snorted. “My sister would call that a particularly unhealthy attitude.”

Amelia nodded. “She’s a hard mare to live up to, isn’t she?”

Luna winced and glanced up at her sister’s statue.

“You’re right, though. It isn’t very… healthy.” Amy scrubbed her hand in her hair and looked at Luna imploringly. “Honestly, I don’t know how to cope with this. I’m out of my mind half the time. Daphne tells me it’ll be all right, one day, but I don’t see it.”

Luna sighed and shook her head. “She is right, to a point. You are correct in that it was different for me, but I was far from blameless. I do know what it’s like to have to live with the guilt… the guilt of being one to place your own selfish desires in the way of the world’s well-being. The truth is, Amelia, that you will never stop feeling guilt, but it will fade. It may seem unforgivable now, but you will come to place it in context. All things considered, you weren’t as bad as you could have been, and that matters.” She turned and started back towards the palace. “Unlike my sister, I don’t know if I can forgive you yet for what you did to her. I do know what it’s like to be in your hooves, but the part you’re missing is that an apology can become meaningful when one changes and acts in a way to address the offense. Become a mare worthy of her legacy and perhaps we can meet again under better circumstances.”

“I hope so,” Amelia whispered, half to herself.

I tore my perception back to the castle’s main corridor by the gardens and sighed heavily.

“Why so great a sigh?” Marcus asked. I turned and found myself face-to-face with a tall, tan pegasus with speckled wings in a black jacket. He stood cockily, if awkwardly, in the corridor with Leit Motif at his side, the latter looking concerned.

“Just thinking about Amy is all,” I said reassuringly, and glanced over their shoulders to see Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy approaching.

“Hello, everypony,” Fluttershy said. “Oh, Leit Motif, you’re back from the market?”

“And with a cute friend, too!” Pinkie Pie said as she bounced to a stop. She squinted at him suspiciously. “He looks kind of familiar, actually. Have we met before? I may have thrown a party for you at some point.”

He rolled his eyes. “You have, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, uhm… th-this is Marcus, Pinkie,” Leit said abashedly. “Naomi talked him into it when they met with Amelia this morning.”

Fluttershy scuffed the tiles with a hoof. “I thought that might be it, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Naomi?” Marcus asked, ruffling his feathers automatically as he grinned down at Leit Motif. “I seem to recall somepony else saying she’d love to show me around the Canterlot shopping district as a native…”

Leit Motif blushed purple and hid her face behind her mane, mumbling something incoherent.

“This is a good look for you,” I said teasingly. I took one of his wings and pulled it out to look. “You should consider sticking around.”

“Hey, hey, hooves off the merchandise.” He snatched it back and ran a hoof through his dark mane. “And I might have to if you can’t clear my name back home.”

“Clear your name?” Fluttershy asked. “How do you mean?”

“Oh, I’m just wanted for the multiple murders of Naomi, Daphne, and Amelia. I’m going to have a lot of fun getting a job with my search engine history.”

“Search what…?”

“Don’t worry, Marcus,” I said. “We’ll take care of that. You won’t have to bother with future employment.” I smiled cryptically. I was definitely going to enjoy some parts of being an oracle.

He gave me a slightly alarmed look, but Pinkie Pie was already butting in. “Oh! We totally need to show the others! Everypony gets to be a pony!” Then she went bounding down the hall.

As we followed her lead, Marcus and Leit Motif dropped behind us a bit. She ducked her head and glanced at Marcus out of the corner of her eye. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” he asked.

“Sticking around. For any length of time. Once you’ve gotten your name cleared.”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “you know it’s funny, but I was kind of planning on leaving home for a while anyway once I got my GED. I couldn’t really figure out where, though. Now I’ve discovered that there’s whole worlds out there that no one from mine has ever seen and lived to tell about it.” He stretched a wing out to lightly brush her side. “That, and there’s some people I’d like to get to know.”

Leit blushed so deeply her cheeks turned almost black, and, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching, snuck a quick nuzzle on his cheek.

I stifled a giggle. It was uncertain, tentative, and a little awkward, but thrilling all the same. Quickening my steps, I hurried to follow Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy out into a courtyard. Led by the sweet song of a lyre, we found Lyra sitting in the shade of a peach tree with her back legs crossed. For somepony who had been bedridden with magical exhaustion for the better part of two days and with fresh rows of stitches from injuries taken, she looked radiant with the flashes of sunlight touching her mane.

“Rarity-y-y-y!” a girl’s high voice protested. “Can you knock it off, please? That stuff smells terrible.”

Rarity let loose an annoyed huff of air. “Maybe if you’d keep your scales nice and clean I wouldn’t have to polish them so often.”

“They’re almost all gone, now! I didn’t want scales to begin with!”

“And as long as you have them I expect you to take good care of them! You really should be more concerned with your appearance, Sweetie darling.”

From the other side of a fountain I saw Rarity pinning a smaller pony so she could rub a rag against her side. Sweetie Belle’s feet had returned to hooves and most of the scales had faded over the last few days, though her mane and tail still glittered with bits and pieces of crystal and her horn was still unusually large and sharp for her age.

Apple Bloom grinned from where she sat. From the looks of it, she could have been any normal pony, but there was still a wildness in her curly red mane and her eyes were curiously bloodshot. “Yeah, Sweetie.” She sniggered. “If your scales ain’t bright enough to see your reflection by, it just won’t cut it.”

“Laugh it up.” Sweetie lashed her tail like an angry cat. “You’re already back to normal.”

“Hey, girls!” Pinkie Pie said as she bounded to a halt. “You’re looking great today!” She bent down to Sweetie’s side and found a dozen odd pink ponies staring back. “Oh, hey, I really can see my reflection!”

“I know, isn’t she gorgeous?” Rarity sighed. “All this lovely crystal will probably be gone soon, though, if Apple Bloom is any indication. Are you quite certain it won’t be permanent, Maille?”

Maille turned a page in the book on Equestrian arms and armor she was perusing at the fountain’s side. “That really depends on her. Goblinization depends on a lot of factors, including how long it’s been, how intense the experience was, how much it matters to her that she keep to a particular identity… if she really isn’t comfortable with it, then she’ll change back eventually.”

“Vindication!” Sweetie Belle pumped a hoof into the air.

“Speaking of, where is Scootaloo?” Fluttershy asked. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”

“Right here!” a voice shouted, moments before a tiny orange form whipped by in a blast of air. With a graceful mid-air pirouette, Scootaloo alighted on top of the statue at the center of the fountain, grinning from ear-to-ear. There had been no apparent change in her form since the previous day, nor the one before that, nor the one before that for that matter. She flexed her large, powerful wings to their fullest extent, and then her second, smaller pair as well. Two claws kept her grip on the statue’s head admirably.

A chuckle came from above and a puffy white cloud descended. “Nice landing, kid, but you’re still sloppy. You only sent Fluttershy jumping, like, four feet at best.” The occupant grinned and tossed her mane in a shower of color. “I could have scared her enough to make her jump ten.”

Fluttershy looked down from the tree branch she’d fled to. “Oh. Rainbow. You’re feeling better?”

Rainbow Dash glanced over at her and her grin slipped a bit. A haunted shadow crossed her features for a fraction of a second, and then her smile was back in full force. “Yeah, I’m feeling great. Healthy as a horse.”

Remembering how badly Celestia had been and noticing how Rainbow didn’t seem particularly inclined to get up off her cloud, I questioned that. Not openly, though—Rainbow Dash had her own methods of coping.

“Hey, so,” Marcus said, striding forward, “you’re digging the new form, kid?”

“Oh, yeah,” Scootaloo revved her rear wings and hovered down to join her friends. “It’s totally sweet. I mean, look at me! I look almost like some sort of pony-griffin thing.”

“Hippogriff,” Sweetie Belle added.

“Yeah, one of those! And I can fly!” Her face turned distant with a beatific smile. “I’m not lumbering through the air waiting for my magic to kick in right, either. This is real, proper flying. Tidy.”

“Proper tidy,” Apple Bloom agreed.

“Stars,” Rarity groaned. “Please tell me that’s not going to be the new slang with you girls.”

“Wire says it all the time,” Sweetie Belle complained. “It’s a great word!”

“If Wire jumped off a bridge, would you do it?”

Scootaloo nodded vigorously. “Yes, because I can fly.”

Marcus glanced over at Maille with a lopsided grin. “I take it she’s not liable to turn back anytime soon?”

She laughed. “Probably not. Speaking of, you seem to be coming along rather nicely.”

“Hey, hey.” He raised a hoof. “This is only temporary, strictly try-and-buy.”

“I think it’s a great look for you,” Rarity said, now pulling a comb through Sweetie’s mane. The little filly beat her hooves on the ground, but was powerless to escape her sister’s ministrations. “Most of the castle mares seem to agree. I’ve heard them talking about the mysterious stranger who arrived and fought off the invading monsters with thunder and fire.” She giggled and pointed her head at one of the windows looking out from the palace.

Marcus turned his head in time to catch a gaggle of pony heads dropping out of sight. He groaned and covered his face. “I finally, finally get the chance to be an action hero, and the only girls around to appreciate it are horses. This is truly hell.”

“Mm. I don’t know about that,” Leit said from his side. “It seems like it might not be as bad as you think.” She did cast an absolutely withering glare at the window, though. I pitied any of those mares if they were daring enough to try anything.

I tried to get closer to Rainbow Dash, but her cloud just “happened” to drift further up as I neared. Rainbow pointedly didn’t look at me and called out to Scootaloo, inviting her up. Instead, I sauntered over to Lyra. “Hey, you’re being quiet,” I said. “That’s extremely uncharacteristic of you.”

Lyra played a sad little melody, her hoof rippling across the streams. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just had a nasty shock this morning is all.”

“Oh?” I tilted my ears forward. “What’s up?”

“Hector rejected me.”

I stared. “Sorry, what?”

“Shot me down, just like that.” She tapped her rear hooves together. “I suppose I expected it. It never could have worked out between us.”

“You don’t say.”

“I mean, he’s who he is and I’m just a common but independent and vivacious unicorn mare of only slightly extraordinary talents with my whole life ahead of me and big plans that can’t wait on a stallion.” She sighed lustily. “Still, it was nice dreaming of settling down.”

“You worry me, Lyra.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” she said reassuringly. “He was a perfect gentlecolt about it.”

I scrunched my face up. Could he really have…? I wondered. The new Age could have shaken something loose, I guess, but… I shook my head quickly. No, more likely Lyra had just been screwing with us the entire time. Probably.

I decided I’d rather leave it at that.

“So, big plans, huh?” I asked instead. “What’s that going to entail?”

Lyra switched to a complicated little melody. “Well, Princess Celestia is going to honor me publicly—after I get back from our trip—which is going to be just murder on my musical career.”

“What?” Every word she said just dragged me deeper down the rabbit hole. “I don’t follow. How could fame be a bad thing for that?”

“Celebrity means I’m a sell-out. I’ll be completely ruined.”

“I see.” I didn’t.

“But, hey! Some doors closed, others opened up, some literally. There’s that city of goblins out yonder, and maybe one day I’ll take a spell over in your world. I bet I could make a killing.”

“Yeah, but it might be a little hard to get around on the human side of Earth.”

“So I figured, though it seems to me I’ve heard some rumors that it might be changing in some substantial ways sometime soon.” She gave me a tight little smile. “I figure there’s going to be a lot of opportunity come that direction. Maybe somepony of my talents might be able to find a niche somewhere.”

I worked my jaw quietly. Lyra had surprised me time and time again over the course of my journey, and, if that wasn’t a pointed reminder not to take everything she did or said at face value, I might as well hang up my seer credentials at once. Looking at her in a new light, I saw a mare virtually everypony throughout her life had consistently underestimated to their considerable detriment. She played her melodies and spouted seeming nonsense with a free-spirited, devil-may-care attitude while quietly working to better the lives of those around her.

Really, I got the strange impression that Lyra, of everypony who had come through this mess with me,  had been the most prepared and the least damaged.

“So is everypony as cute as Hector over on your side, or is he an outlier?”

Then again, maybe she was already nutters to begin with. I started to laugh helplessly.

A polite cough drew my attention, and I looked up to find a pair of uniformed pegasi waiting solicitously. With a leg in a cast and a bandage over one eye, Captain Holder looked the worse for wear, but even still he stood tall and proud. At his side stood young Lieutenant Critical, sporting a much shorter red mane to make up for the fire damage done to it. The Captain doffed his cap and inclined his head politely. “Miss Daphne. A fine thing to see you among the living again.”

“A fine thing to be so, Captain.” I smiled warmly in return. “I’m glad to see you all right, too. And Lieutenant… no, Lieutenant Commander Critical now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She smiled brightly, shifting to show the fresh insignia rank on her shoulder.

“Somepony took notice of how the lieutenant took charge of the battle after my second and myself fell,” Holder said sardonically. “I agreed that such behavior was hardly suited to a mere midshipmare.”

“Then I owe you for keeping Naomi safe,” I said, “even with the monsters ordered to avoid direct harm, I know there were a lot of ponies who were seriously injured.”

“With respect, ma’am, it’s we who owe you,” Critical disagreed. “Your guiding us out of that storm made sure we arrived at all, and your information was invaluable to the defense of the wreck.”

I winced. “The Lodestone was a beautiful ship, and she really came through for us. I don’t think we’d be here without her. You have my condolences, Captain.”

“She did her duty, and we ours,” Holder said, though it didn’t take a seer to tell that his voice was tight. “There has been some good news on that front, however.”

Critical was less restrained, and practically bounced on her hooves. “We’re being recommissioned! Princess Celestia had what was left of the Lodestone hauled back to the yards and it’s going to be retrofitted into a new model. She even promised that we’d be the first to field-test new guns from Mag Mell.”

“Lieutenant Commander, please. It ain’t seemly to celebrate violence and its implements,” the captain chided, though I did catch his mouth quirking up.

I smiled. I could well imagine this stoic sailor quietly gushing over his metaphorical child in the privacy of his own cabin. “You’ll see a lot of changes in military technology over the next few years. With any luck, it’ll be irrelevant sooner rather than later.”

“Do you think so?” Critical asked, her ears wilting. “That just seems like a complete waste.”

“I can’t foresee all threats, but… well—” I glanced over at the others, especially the young Crusaders playing along the stones “—truth be told, things are going to get more chaotic from here in, at least for the immediate future. More creatures like the ones you faced on the mountain, except acting without compulsion, and stranger things. I don’t know if conventional war will ever come to Equestria, and I truly hope it doesn’t, but you may have need of those weapons.”

Captain Holder grunted. “Equestria’s been caught with her rump exposed more often in recent memory than I like. Even if it ain’t normally in our nature, I plan to be prepared. Relying on heroes like Princess Twilight to save us is just asking for trouble; one day she might not be there to pull our straw out of the fire.”

“I hope the nation’s in good hooves, then,” I said, and reached forward to embrace the two of them. “Duty or not, you two and your crew were incredible. Thank you.”

Captain Holder coughed awkwardly, reddened, and reaffixed his cap, while Lieutenant Commander Critical giggled and gave me a squeeze back.

The captain was right. She did seem a little giddy. I gave her a closer look and smiled mysteriously. “Oh, and congratulations to you and your husband, Critical.”

“Huh?” She tilted her head, puzzled. “You mean the promotion?”

“Nope. Don’t worry, you’ll find out.” I giggled. “Thanks for coming to see us, too, both of you.”

Captain Holder tipped his hat. “I wish you luck in your own future.” With that, he took off to join the others. Lieutenant Commander Critical trotted along behind him, sparing another puzzled glance back at me as she went. I approached as Rainbow Dash came down to greet them, coming upon the rainbow-maned mare from behind.

Hearing my hoofsteps on the stone, she turned and met my eyes. Pain leapt from her skull into mine, reflections of Celestia and her friends, memories from Amelia’s blended into hers, and, above all, the terrible, constricting feeling of helplessness as golden chains closed in around her.

“I’m not forgiving her,” Rainbow Dash said quietly, her voice barely a croak. “I gave her a chance, and she…”

“It’s fine,” I answered gently. “I don’t expect you to. I’m her sister, not her… person who makes excuses for her. Do you think you ever can?”

“I don’t know.” She ducked her head and kneaded the cloud uncertainly. “She’d have to change. I don’t know how somepony can make up for that, though.”

Her humiliation at being rendered helpless couldn’t have been more clear. That and being compelled to turn on her friends was a powerful combination for resentment. Tension the likes of which Rainbow Dash had rarely known in her life riddled her features and tightened the corded muscles beneath her coat. I wondered if anyone but her closest friends would ever know the difference, or whether or not she was seeking the help she obviously needed.

Poor Twig. I hoped she’d be able to overcome the legacy of lies and terror her kind had brought to Rainbow Dash’s doorstep.

As the awkwardness built between us, though, Scootaloo, evidently feeling like not enough attention was being paid her, took the opportunity to dive in and thunk softly into the cloud next to Rainbow Dash. At once, Rainbow put on a cheerful, happy-go-lucky grin for the child. “Hey, Rainbow! Let’s go race around the towers again! I think I can totally beat you this time one-two-three-go!” she rattled out and immediately shot into the air like a tiny orange rocket, leaving vapor in her wake.

“Hey, wait up, kid!” Rainbow called, shooting off into the air after her. “You’re not beating the champ that easily!”

I paused my recollection and concentrated on the image of Rainbow Dash in the moments before she’d left, projecting my memory of her in front of me. The smile, which had at first seemed forced, I now saw lighting up her face and putting a spark back in her eyes. Her body, rather than tense with lingering fear, was coiled with excitement and verve.

I smiled and started walking away, towards the castle gates. Hoofsteps pounded after me, and I glanced over my shoulder to find Leit Motif racing to my side. She tossed her inky mane to right it and gave me a shy smile. “You looked like you were deep in thought again.”

“I know, it’s starting to become a really bad habit.” I shoulder-bumped her and we giggled. “There’s a lot for me to think about, really. Big things are happening and, like it or not, I’m kind of a part of them now.”

“It feels like I’ve needed the last few days just to catch my breath. That trek up the mountain was murder on my legs, let alone what happened at the top. I didn’t think my heart would ever stop pounding for as long as I lived.” She glanced back towards the courtyard and then back at me, our hooves clopping rhythmically on the tile. “It feels a bit like I’ve neglected you since you got back.”

“Don’t be crazy,” I said reassuringly. “We’ve both been busy. Honestly, I was worried you might feel neglected. If it wasn’t Princess Luna asking me for more details, it was the Ring and Sword representatives asking about visions, or Discord hinting loudly for information on whether or not the titans will really be freed sometime soon and if he should look into Ragnarok insurance.”

“Will they?”

“Not so far as I can tell, no.”

“Oh, good. We don’t offer coverage for apocalypses in any event. The firm would already be bankrupt.” She grinned at her own joke, something she never would have done just a few weeks ago.

We paused in a foyer to admire the mother-of-pearl inlays on the tile of an indoor gazing pool. Our images reflected back up at us, a bruised, long-haired dark mare with a mirthful smile and a somber, withdrawn blonde. It’s like we’d reversed positions. Well, I hadn’t exactly been ecstatic when I’d come to her doorstep, but I was certainly pleased to see her.

She turned her head to glance at me through the curtain of her mane. “Bit for your thoughts?”

“If my thoughts are coin-operated, it may take quite a few to get them all out,” I said with a slight smile. “A lot of things, I guess. Same things that have been bothering me for the last couple days, really.” I harkened back to Celestia’s words and met her eyes, the ones that were so much like my own. There was no coincidence in that, even if the reason for it escaped me. Two lost souls locked in a strange embrace across the universe.

“You’re still kind of trying to figure out what you’re supposed to do now, aren’t you?” she asked.

I gave her a wan smile.

“Me too.” She kicked a back hoof awkwardly.

“You?” I gave her a curious glance. “What’re you confused about?”

“Well, after confronting the fact that my entire life since leaving you was a stress train that violently derailed and its burning aftermath filled me with hollow lies, I’m kind of at a loss.” She tugged at her mane. “Okay, so maybe not that melodramatic, but… the idea of just going back to my house in Ponyville and closing it again isn’t really acceptable, you know? For the first time in my life, I have real friends that I can’t count with four hooves alone. I’ve changed too much since you found me. I’ve… really, finally grown up. After the sort of month I’ve had, how do you just go home and pretend nothing changed?”

I stared at my reflection in the pool without answering.

“There’s things I want to do now, places I want to go, people I want to see, and, well… there’s you.” She placed a hoof against my side. “I lost you once, Daphne, and it ruined my life. Wherever you go, well… I want to be there, too. I want to be a part of your life again. You’re… you’re the sister I never had, and I’ve felt your absence my entire life.”

“Leit…” I took her hoof and held her close. “I understand, of course. I… well, maybe it would help if I just showed you.”

“Showed me what?” she asked, lifting her ears.

I gestured her along, and together we passed through the vaulted ivory passages of the castle and out into the crisp wintry air of the mountain city. As we passed the government buildings surrounding the palace, I pointed to a street corner. My horn lit up and green mist swirled in front of us, forming a flat representation of what I saw with my other senses. An ornate bronze arch that opened to a stairway leading beneath the road. “In just a few years, Canterlot’s going to have its own public transit system. There’s the subway entrance. You should see the galleries down there—in a nation called Russia, their underground stations are breathtaking works of architecture, but they’ll pale in comparison to what you’ll have going in Canterlot.” I painted the image for her, of vaulted, mosaiced halls lit with golden chandeliers. Even the trains had an elegance to them, with dark wood accenting gold and red finishings.

A charming blue-and-white railcar moved up the mountainside through my window of time, its engine glowing with a unicorn’s enchantment. In its wake were white-wheeled cars with sleek lines and quiet electric engines. A glimpse of the sky far above showed at least a dozen airships, all more sophisticated than the noble Lodestone but just as beautiful.

I walked with Leit, pointing the window at different buildings. “See in there?” I turned it to a store selling phonographs and vinyls. Small saddle-hooking radios and colorful TVs appeared. In one screen, ponies chatted around a table in a television show not yet conceived, while in another Princess Celestia visited a children’s hospital with foals not yet born. “Ponies are going to take to mass media like Applejack to apples. The ability to talk with one another over great distances instantly is going to be a huge hit, and your kind’s native creativity is going to soar.”

Leit Motif pursed her lips thoughtfully. “This isn’t really what’s bothering you, though. I mean, you and I have both known that contact would change us. Heck, we’re already doing a lot of this ourselves. Ponies are no strangers to invention and change; I know for a fact that there’s been successful experiments at sending messages over phone lines and shrinking engines to develop small, personal transports; this is just us cheating by cribbing your notes.”

“If that were all, I’d call it a day and stop worrying.” I closed the illusion—we were attracting stares by the gaily-garbed passersby anyway. “Heck, as far as social changes go, you ponies are going to be great. It’s more than that, though. Did you know goblin steel, the kind that Maille works with, has two to three times the tensile strength of the best stuff we humans have come up with? They have to work it with magic, it’s so durable. Picture buildings twice as tall as the ones in Manehattan, but instead of bulky and drab they’re light and delicate. Architecture and art are going to become almost synonymous in Equestria, and that’s just the start. In just three months there’s going to be a play by goblin artists—and goblin scam artists will proliferate, too, leading to more and better organized law enforcement agencies. In three years, new forms of magic from across the known Worlds are going to be made known and studied. I can’t predict what sort of strangeness that’ll cause.” I tilted my head. “Have you heard of yakshas, sprites, gnomes, kirins, or ababas?”

Leit Motif shook her head.

“They’re creatures with magic not too dissimilar to the sort we unicorns use, mental projection of internal power and all. Those’re the least alarming of supernatural oddities that will become more and more relevant as time goes on, and I can’t even begin to predict what sort of impact they’ll have here on Equestria, let alone the nations of my world.” I winced. “Speaking of, my world’s about to get a lot uglier before it gets better. People don’t realize it, but they’ve just narrowly avoided a rather severe collapse, and the sort of problems we’ve had recently are only the start. War, famine, climate degradation…”

I bit my lip and looked back at the castle, which glittered in the afternoon sun with its proud towers thrust into the air. “That’s really just the tip of the iceberg, though. I’m looking out onto a vast ocean of possibility and I see deeper currents, powerful ones that will put these early movements to shame.”

“Tell me,” she urged. “I can’t help you if you just cryptically hint.”

I shook my head. “You know all this talk about divine magic and ancient heroes and monsters and the awesome legends of the past? What once was will come again, and we won’t be ready for it, no matter what we do. New alicorns, demigods, the relics of ancient civilizations…”

Leit Motif stared thoughtfully at me for a long time, saying nothing. I scuffed at the street and glanced up at her, watching as the breeze stirred her long mane and tousled mine. All around us the elite of Canterlot walked about with their noses in the air, blissfully unaware that the storm they had just weathered was only a prelude for the hurricanes to come.

“So,” she said at last, “what I’m hearing is that this stuff you’re talking about isn’t coming for a while, and there’s really not much you can do about it, which means you’re getting worked up for nothing.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I—wait, what?” I snapped my head back at her. “How do you mean by that? This isn’t nothing, it’s an inexorable future full of challenges that I have to be prepared for!”

“Right—” she nodded and lifted a hoof to emphasize her point “—an inexorable future, meaning one that you can’t directly influence yet.”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t going to be dangerous and worrisome for the people and ponies affected.”

“No, but what are you going to do about that?”

“I—” I opened and shut my mouth. “Well, I mean, I’m…” I stamped a hoof. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about! I don’t know what I should be doing and I need help figuring it out!”

“Exactly.” Leit Motif reached out and poked me in the chest. “Listen to yourself, Daphne. You’re getting worked up over things that you don’t honestly have control over. You’re stressed because you feel—no, you’ve been made to feel—like you’re responsible for everyone on every world. Sure, that’s what the ancient prophecy-makers intended for you, but that’s not the way it is anymore. Even if it wasn’t, though, you’re still getting stressed out by putting too much on yourself when you have no ability to do anything about it.” She smiled sadly. “Take it from somepony who knows what she’s talking about. After I lost you, my parents thought that the best thing they could do to help me was warning me about where I was going to end up. They loved me, in their fashion, and they thought that by hammering me into shape and scaring me into responsibility, I’d buckle down and make sure that I had a great future. I did great, at first, I studied constantly and learned a great deal of things which I still use today, but I couldn’t keep perspective.”

She turned her head to look down the road, and I saw the tower of Celestia’s school for the gifted just above a coffee shop. “You know what happened then,” she said sadly. “I was so frightened of losing everything, so stressed out by what was expected of me, that I lost it completely. I abandoned everything I knew because I’d grown to hate it. How much worse is it for you, somepony who can see the terrible possibilities that other ponies only dream about?”

“It’s not just going to go away, though.” I looked at her imploringly. “How can I just turn my back on it? Sure, right now I can’t do much aside from help Celestia prepare, but in the future I might need ten of me just to keep up.”

“So prepare,” she said, “but do it sensibly. Don’t freak out about what you can’t change, learn what you need to learn to prepare, and when the time comes, don’t screw up.” She nudged my shoulder with a smile. “You said it yourself, it’ll be a few years before anything you said really manifests. You have unicorn—and maybe goblin—magic to learn, not to mention getting a grip on your own powers. That’s enough to go on as it is. You don’t think Celestia, Luna, Twilight, and the rest of us are going to sit on our butts, do you?”

I shook my head, laughing weakly. “No. Damn it, Leit, when did you start being wise?”

“I’ve always been wise, I just forgot about it.” She giggled. “I seem to recall I was always the voice of reason when we were kids.”

“You mean a scaredy-pony.”

“Healthy caution!” She grinned and gave me a squeeze. “You’ll be fine, Daphne. You’ve already pulled us out of the fire once. Let go for a bit and be yourself again. If anypony has deserved a rest, it’s us.”

Her shoulder was warm and close as she held me up. “Fine,” I mumbled, “I’ll… try.” I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. I packed as much of my tension and formless fears of the future into it as I could, expelling them from me. The resulting sense of lightness left me feeling heady and almost disoriented—I couldn’t give up all of my concern, not by a long shot, but it felt good to let go.

“I’m glad I found you again, Leit Motif.” I lifted my hooves around her neck. “I wish we’d been able to come together without having to save my sister or without this… weight hanging over us.”

“Me too,” she said quietly, “but I’m not letting you go, no matter how hard it gets.”

Leit had always talked about how I changed her life and completed her, but I’d only rarely stopped to think about how she’d done the same for me. I filled the void left by the gnawing of my nebulous, as-yet-to-be-determined responsibilities with her love, propping it up by Amelia’s and Naomi’s and a dozen others who’ve become so near and dear to my heart.

There would be a time to relax and recuperate from my ordeal, but the thing that would keep me sane is their love for me and mine for them. No one is an island, not even Aquarius.

I’ve spent so much time and energy worrying at how I’d fix a broken world that I’d driven myself to distraction, but Leit Motif reminded me of the look I’d seen on Rainbow Dash’s face when Scootaloo had reminded her of their own special bond for one another. Healing damaged worlds begins with the people in them, and if we remember the bonds of friendship, that truly divine magic which our pony brethren rely upon, then even in the face of a chaotic and uncertain future we can find hope.


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