//------------------------------// // Prologue / Chapter 1 // Story: Double Trouble: The Flaws Within // by Masterius //------------------------------// Prologue “No doubt about it, Spike; there’s definitely something strange going on at that school.” From behind her, Spike lifted his muzzle up from his bowl of bone‑shaped kibble and barked several times in response, stubby tail wagging back and forth. When she didn’t say anything else, he lowered his head back down and returned to busily eating. Twilight Sparkle nudged glasses back up her nose as she intently gazed at the cork board in front of her. Tacked or taped to it were quite a few photos, graphs, charts, readouts, and even a small prism. Along with all of that were a hefty sprinkling of yellow pushpins, all of them connected by what appeared to be a haphazard connection of thick red yarn. But appearances could be deceiving. Dead‑center of the cork board—‍and, not‑so‑incidentally, pinned to the board by the exact middle pushpin—was a photograph of the school in question. That school. The one that every cord originated from, radiating outwards like the spokes of a wheel. A school which Twilight was extremely familiar with. After all, she’d attended it once. Chapter One “It’ll be OK. Honest.” Twilight gazed back at Sunset Shimmer, who had hesitated behind her. Both of them were standing at the rear of the equine rampant sculpture in front of Canterlot High School. A statue which, to most eyes, was just that: a mere statue. But as the both of them were very well aware, it could be far more than just a “mere” statue. In fact, both Princess Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer, due to their past studies and innate abilities, could sense the portal that invisibly gleamed before them. This was not the first time, or even second time, that Sunset Shimmer had been present when the portal had been active. It was, however, going to be the first time passing through it since the consequences she’d suffered—both disastrous and wondrous—from stealing Princess Twilight’s crown. Passing through it… …and into Equestria. Equestria. The world of her birth. It was also, to her shame, the world where she’d made some of the worse decisions in her life. The land where she’d willingly chosen to follow an extremely selfish and extraordinarily dark path. The land she’d willingly decided to leave, choosing a life of temporary exile in exchange for the pursuit of power, glory, and adoration. The key word there, of course, being “temporary”. For Sunset Shimmer had always intended to return to Equestria, and not as any sort of prodigal filly, either! No. No, her return would be as a conqueror; subduing her birth world, deposing her former teacher and Equestria’s monarch, Princess Celestia, and taking the reins of power and control into her own hooves. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the combined efforts of Twilight Sparkle and her friends, Sunset Shimmer would have succeeded, achieving, at the very least, the level of power she’d always craved. She shivered, running hands up and down upper arms, leather jacket providing no warmth at all against feeling as if a cloud had just covered the sun and plunged her into deep, icy shadows. Yes. Oh yes! She’d finally attained the power she’d always known was her due. And in doing so had almost forever lost the pony she’d once been. Would have lost herself to the monster she’d become. Except for Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Who, miracles of miracles, were now also her friends! Not only didn’t they hold her past errors in judgement—“boo‑boos”, as Rarity put it—against her, but they’d actively forgiven her and had extended their friendship to her. That would have been wonderful in and of itself, but they had been equally determined to help others come to learn of, and accept, her contrition and change of heart. That hadn’t been easy at all and, to be honest, things had remained quite rocky for a while. But after the events of the “Battle of The Bands”—after the very clear and unmistakable evidence of Sunset Shimmer’s remorse and determination—her classmates’ and teachers’ viewpoint had undergone a very significant change. Oh, there were still some that remained a bit standoffish to her. Then again, even the Magic of Friendship didn’t automatically make every person best friends with everyone. But by the time the school year had wound down, Sunset Shimmer could honestly say that everyone had at least forgiven—if not forgotten—her for her past actions. But while she’d confronted all of her past demons—excuse the pun— here, in this world, there remained a few more lurking in her closet. There. There. In Equestria. The chill intensified, her skin goose‑bumping. Twilight seemed to understand what was going on with her friend. Turning fully around and stepping up to her, she hugged Sunset Shimmer in a gentle yet firm embrace. “Honest, it’ll be OK,” she repeated. Stepping back and resting hands atop Sunset Shimmer’s shoulders, she softly said, “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s OK, too. Nothing says we have to do this now, you know.” Sunset Shimmer nodded. “I know. But I’m afraid if I bail now I’ll never have the courage to face this again.” Twilight Sparkle snorted. “One thing you’re not short on is courage, Sunset Shimmer. We’ve all seen that!” Sunset Shimmer ducked her head, feeling her cheeks heat up. By now, between months of writing back‑and‑forth with Twilight and conversations with their mutual friends, Sunset Shimmer had learned quite a bit about the Princess of Friendship and her extensive experiences. So having Twilight tell her that she was brave was an extremely treasured compliment! In fact, one of the many results between those back‑and‑forth messages and of the conversations and tales told by the others—even if Pinkie Pie’s needed to be taken with an often large dose of salt—was that Sunset Shimmer now possessed a very clear idea of who Twilight Sparkle was and all she’d endured. Or, more accurately—and respectfully—Princess Twilight Sparkle. One of many things she’d learned had been discovering the many traits she’d shared in common with Princess Twilight. Both of them loved learning. Both of them were magically powerful, way above and beyond most unicorns. Both of them had valued scholarly pursuits, and lessons, and learning, above anything else…including socialization and friendship. And both of them had once been Princess Celestia’s personal, private student: her protégé. There had also been one crucial lesson both of them had found difficult to learn, and that was the value of friends and friendship. And in Sunset Shimmer’s case, that had been compounded by both a lack of humility as well as a sense of entitlement. She’d known she was meant to be an Alicorn Princess. Known she was destined to rule Equestria! Even now, Sunset Shimmer cringed, recalling in exquisite detail exactly what she’d said to Princess Celestia the last time they’d spoken, remembering the spiteful words she’d thrown in her face. And now she about to return to her birth world for the express purpose of reuniting with her former mentor, a reunion she’d once sworn would never, ever occur unless it was in triumphant victory. One starting with Sunset Shimmer having conquered Equestria before finally facing, at last, a defeated Celestia, and ending with deposing and kicking her beaten foe off the throne before claiming her rightful position as Queen. Even though that had definitely changed, nonetheless Sunset Shimmer had felt no real desire to return, even if simply to visit. She had no friends there, and, honestly, held no good memories, either. She’d alienated everyone—well, everypony, that is—on her quest for power and entitlement, and, much as she’d like erasing those memories from her mind, she knew keeping them were valuable as lessons to remember. Painful lessons at times, yes, but valuable nonetheless. Here, though…here she had friends. She’d earned her place here. She had a future here, and one that was bright and wonderful. That still surprised her, for there had been a time when the only future mattering to her were power and privileges. Here, the only things she could absolutely count on, could depend on, were her friends and the power of their shared friendship…and Sunset Shimmer had come to realize, and accept, that those were more valuable to her than the throne of Equestria could ever be. So, for the most part, Sunset Shimmer was content leaving Equestria as a part of her past. However… Twilight quietly stood there, patient and supportive in her silence, quite certain she knew what was running through Sunset Shimmer’s thoughts at the moment. Although, she admitted, try as she might, she couldn’t really imagine what Sunset Shimmer had to be thinking about. Which was meeting Princess Celestia again. Princess Twilight’s heart had been fit to burst when Sunset Shimmer had—albeit diffidently—broached the possibility of—perhaps, someday—meeting with Princess Celestia, confessing that her words and actions to her had been increasingly weighing, especially as the Magic of Friendship had continued growing and flourishing inside. As time passed, Sunset Shimmer understood, more and more, just how patient, kind, and loving Princess Celestia truly had been. And because of that understanding she’d also grown in appreciation and acceptance how terrible her words and actions must have wounded her teacher and mentor. With the insight the Magic of Friendship had gifted her, Sunset Shimmer could replay all that had passed between them with fresh eyes, and realized just how awful, how horrid, how wicked and evil a filly she’d been. And how much pain Princess Celestia must have felt when she’d been left no choice but to dismiss Sunset Shimmer as her personal student and expel her from the Castle. And how much agony she must have felt once she’d realized Sunset Shimmer had hated her so much she’d willingly chosen to leave Equestria for a world that she’d known nothing about. Or how much heartache she felt each and every time she thought about her former student. Which, as Sunset Shimmer now knew, was quite often, for Princess Twilight had, when asked, been completely honest about things. What made it even worse was that Princess Celestia wasn’t prying. It wasn’t as if she was asking about Sunset Shimmer because she worried what sort of evil, nefarious plans she might be plotting or carrying out. Oh no. That wasn’t it at all. Instead, her former teacher and mentor asked about Sunset Shimmer’s health. Her feelings. Was she adapting well? Was she happy? Was she settling in OK? Sunset Shimmer’s vision blurred a bit as tears spangled her view. Princess Celestia had never given up on her student, not even long after she’d had so many good reasons for doing so. She’d believed in Sunset Shimmer. She’d cared about her. And still did. Which is why Sunset Shimmer had finally decided to make at least this one trip back to Equestria. She wasn’t sure how long she’d stay, or if she’d ever return again after this, but she was going to make at least this one trip. Because she owed it to her teacher and mentor. Because the Magic of Friendship had shown Sunset Shimmer the price of her betrayal of Princess Celestia’s trust and belief in her. This visit wasn’t going to be easy for her, that much she was sure and certain about. Then again, few things that involved emotions were easy, because emotions were quite often intense. The fact she’d been entirely in the wrong about everything while Princess Celestia had been entirely correct was unpleasantly distressing, too. Add in the fact Princess Celestia had only been loving in her concern, mix all of that together and you had a recipe guaranteed to make Sunset Shimmer feel like an inch‑tall foal. Her lips suddenly twitched. At least she never saw me as a raging she‑demon, she mordantly thought before growing sober and serious. Yes, it had been truly awful those first few months after the Fall Formal debacle. Having to see—having to be with, having to interact with—all her classmates every school day—fellow students that had seen her turn into that…had, for that matter, been turned into zombies by her—hadn’t been easy. Nope, not easy at all. And if it hadn’t been for the friendship that Fluttershy, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash had extended to her, ‘not easy’ would have been ‘impossible’, instead. They had been, and still were, a warm, welcome refuge embracing her in a loving, supportive hug whenever she’d needed one. And she’d needed a lot in the beginning. But she’d never had any emotional connection with her classmates back then. They’d been nothing but pawns to her; at best cat’s‑paws, and at worst expendable cannon fodder. She’d known their strengths and weaknesses, but those were only important as providing ways and means of manipulation. But she did have an emotional connection with Princess Celestia. She’d been a student of Princess Celestia’s for years. Her personal student. They’d shared a relationship that had been so close an uninformed observer could have been forgiven if they’d assumed Princess Celestia and Sunset Shimmer had been mother and daughter rather than teacher and student. The Canterlot aristocracy and nobility certainly hadn’t been unaware! In fact, most of them had been green with envy at the access to, and relationship with, Princess Celestia that Sunset Shimmer had enjoyed. After all, how many of them could say they’d enjoyed private picnics with her Highness? Had virtually complete and free access to the entire Palace? Could, for just about any reason and at just about any time, waltz right up to Princess Celestia and request—and be granted!—an immediate, private conversation? Sunset Shimmer had done an excellent job of forcing all those emotional feelings and connections into a teeny‑tiny box deep inside her, locking them away into a place where she could conveniently ignore them. But she couldn’t ignore them anymore, not since she’d opened herself back up to feeling again. In the beginning, she’d had to focus on the immediacy of dealing with school and classmates in the aftermath of the Fall Formal disaster, but the groundwork there was now firmly established. Sunset Shimmer didn’t need to maintain constant focus there. And now that school was over for the year, she could begin broadening her horizons, as it were…and that included righting old wrongs everywhere, to the best of her abilities. She loved the friendship she had with all her friends, but they did make tough examples to follow. True, each of them had their own little flaws—who didn’t, after all?—but their strengths…those blazed! Sunset Shimmer often basked in the fiery power of their strengths and, amazingly, because of the friendship she shared with each of them, she shared those strengths with them. Not as powerfully, perhaps, but nevertheless they were there. And because of that, Sunset Shimmer now could no more not try to right a wrong than any of them could. Which didn’t mean the experience was going to be pleasant. Princess Twilight had tried, quietly yet sincerely, easing Sunset Shimmer’s worries over that. Indeed, in addition to the many, many messages they’d exchanged, she’d taken two occasions to arrange for, and take, time from her duties in Equestria in order to physically travel through the portal, doing so for no other reason than to sit down and talk with Sunset Shimmer. Alone. Not to also visit her other friends while she was here, but to privately visit with Sunset Shimmer. Because Sunset Shimmer needed a friend with whom she could confide; to consult with; to have an ear to listen and a shoulder to lean on. Another tough act to follow. Facing Princess Celestia wasn’t the only fear worrying Sunset Shimmer, although in this case terror was much, much closer to the mark. For, once she’d made the decision to accompany Princess Twilight back to Equestria, once that had become a done deal, she’d discovered another anxiety worming its way inside her. When Sunset Shimmer had first arrived here, she’d been dismayed at discovering there was no Equestrian magic, not even the smallest trace. She’d gone from being an individual whose power rivaled that of a true Equestrian Princess (even if Princess Celestia had refused to admit that or grant her the actual title) to somepony no stronger than anypony else about her. However, although she might have lacked the magic that had always been a part of her, Sunset Shimmer hadn’t lost a single iota of her cunning intellect or scheming nature. So, although she might have, indeed, been disarmed of her mighty arsenal of magic, in those arenas she was just as dangerous as ever before. Plus, she’d also known exactly what was needed to regain all that she’d lost—and more!—and precisely how to go about doing that, too! However, it hadn’t been until she’d placed Princess Twilight Sparkle’s stolen crown containing the Magic Element of Harmony atop her head that Sunset Shimmer had felt the magic she’d lost fill her again. And, needless to say, that hadn’t turned out well at all. Since then, Sunset Shimmer hadn’t had the feeling of her old power back, any more than she’d felt since she’d first arrived here. However, she did feel the Magic whenever she played music, the same that all of her friends now felt whenever they played. Well, played, or sang, or even sometimes hummed. It was a peculiar sort of Magic, one that apparently only manifested whenever it involved something melodic. Because of its very nature, one firmly established in the Magic of Friendship, it was a power meant to be shared, meant to bring pleasure, fun, enjoyment. It wasn’t one that should, or even could, be used for wicked, selfish ends. Unlike the power Sunset Shimmer had once controlled. Back in Equestria. Where she was about to travel. Sunset Shimmer wished she had as much faith in herself as all her friends had in her. If she had, she’d be feeling a lot more copacetic about her return! Princess Twilight had assured Sunset Shimmer she’d no reason to fear anything. (Granted, she’d also admitted having no evidence, empirical or otherwise, to support her conclusion; Princess Twilight was nothing if not scrupulously honest when dealing with research) She could still vividly remember Princess Twilight’s soft violet eyes gleaming as she’d declared her trust in Sunset Shimmer. I don’t know exactly what will happen, or even how it might happen, she’d said. I know what it does with me, and how it feels. It’s very odd coming here and, well, ‘losing’ my horn, and my magic. That I notice, but it’s not really something that stands out when I go home and I get both back. My hypothesis is, because that’s normal for me and being human isn’t, becoming, and remaining, human is a bit unsettling. But for you, well, this is now your ‘normal’, so you’ll likely feel odd at first when all those sensations and feelings come back. But I know that’s not really what’s worrying you. Princess Twilight had paused a moment, her eyes gleaming even more intensely. You’re scared that, once your magic comes back, so will everything else. All the things that made the old Sunset Shimmer who she was. And, indeed, that was what had been—and still was, for that matter—frightening Sunset Shimmer. She was terrified of the powerful temptations that old power could rouse in her. But if she was panicking over that, Princess Twilight wasn’t, for all she’d said at the end had been, But the old Sunset Shimmer is just that: old. You’ve grown. There’s far more to you now. Learn from the past, but don’t let the past define who you are now. Trust in yourself. I do. One tough act after another! Closing her eyes, Sunset Shimmer took a deep breath, steeling herself. Opening them again, she felt a sudden intense flood of warmth as Princess Twilight, saying not a word, just stood there, arm outstretched and hand open, a gentle, supportive smile on her face. Reaching out, Sunset Shimmer took the proffered hand then felt a tingle as Princess Twilight gave it a gentle squeeze. “Ready?” she asked. Sunset Shimmer took a second, even deeper breath, then nodded. “Now, or never!” she lopsidedly grinned. of them looked about, making sure no one was actually looking their way…then they stepped forward, passing at the same time side‑by‑side, together, through the portal. Neither having paid any attention to the rather plain, white van parked just across the street. The drum of the integrated electronic piezoelectric accelerometer slowly revolved, the recording needle holding steady as it traced a thin red line down the center of the paper. Nearby sat a modified quantum gyroscope, at the moment detecting nothing unusual. Twilight Sparkle sat at the small table inside the cramped quarters of her mobile lab, nibbling the eraser nub of the pencil usually stuck into the bun at the back of her head. She was totally focused on her apparatus, all of which required constant fiddling as none of them were off‑the‑shelf items. In fact, virtually all of her devices were either built from scratch or heavily modified beyond their makers’ wildest dreams. Which made sense, of course, as you couldn’t find magic detectors and analyzers anywhere. A very small part of her wanted, out of sheer frustration, to bite the pencil in half, but Twilight had long ago learned to control emotions, unruly things that they were. Emotions were disorderly, chaotic, and undisciplined. Give her cool, clinical, orderly, and organized facts and figures any day! She’d always believed that, and had spent her life so far honing that as her own personal philosophy. Regardless of what others had tried telling her to do. Still, at this moment it was harder than usual to remain cool and analytic. She’d waited months for CHS to let out for the year so she could bring her equipment there for on‑site analysis, and now that she was finally here there was a girl just hanging out next to Canterlot’s school statue in front of the main entrance. Why she was loitering there, Twilight hadn’t a clue; in Twilight’s experience, most kids wanted to be as far away from school as they possibly could. Sighing in exasperation, Twilight took a sip of herbal tea as she waited. Today had been a long time in coming, but she was certain it would culminate in success, confirming her research and validating her doctorate thesis: Magic: A Natural, Measurable Force. It wasn’t that people didn’t believe in magic, precisely, because they did. The problem, as Twilight saw it, was that anything producing results through mysterious influences or unexplained powers that couldn’t currently be measured or otherwise explained wound up being called “magic”. Twilight simply didn’t believe the natural world could be that chaotic, that messy. There were Rules. Logic. Organization. Action A produces Result B. Pure and simple. Twilight flat‑out refused to believe there was a force in the universe that didn’t follow logical rules. Granted, people might not know the rules or understand how they worked, but that didn’t mean those rules didn’t exist. For reasons Twilight couldn’t understand, though, it seemed people felt that organization and rules weren’t always necessary, and nowhere was that more clearly seen than in personal relationships and socialization. Take, for instance, the crystal‑clear concept of honesty: speaking the, plain, unvarnished truth; stating pure, obvious fact. Nothing could be simpler than that! Yet when dealing with people, it was apparent the last thing they wanted hearing at times was honesty! It hadn’t been all that noticeable at first, but as Twilight had grown older and had been exposed to more and more people, she’d come to realize just how chaotic, even purposeless, relationships actually were. They took far more energy from a person than you ever got back, and they distracted you from the more important things: lessons, research, study, and knowledge. That realization became especially obvious whenever Twilight got the bit between her teeth when something interesting came along. When that happened, anything that came between her and her studies not only exasperated her but could, under the right circumstances, actually infuriate her. Peeking through the small, dark‑tinted window again, Twilight glanced once more at the statue. One of those circumstances had happened here, in fact. She’d been a freshman at Canterlot High School at the time, but only because “society”—she disdainfully sneered at the term—had decided, then decreed, a girl her age had to be at that specific grade level. The thing was, Twilight had already, on her own, been pursuing online, college‑level courses…and passing them. Indeed, not only that, but had contacted several universities and colleges, submitting to them her application for early admission. Much to her delight, she’d been provisionally accepted by one of the more prestigious ones, and one that was local, too. She’d just needed a recommendation from her principal as one of the requirements...and that hadn’t gone very well at all. Nudging glasses back up, Twilight scowled, emotions getting the better of her as those memories surfaced. She hadn’t given the need for that requirement a second thought—or a first thought, for that matter. Twilight hadn’t seen any reason for that to be a difficulty, and so had walked into the meeting with Principal Celestia completely confident the necessary recommendation was a done‑deal. Except Principal Celestia hadn’t seen it the same way. Regarding anything of a purely scholastic nature, she’d been more than willing granting Twilight the highest of honors; which had greatly pleased her, even as expected as that had been. Nonetheless, Principal Celestia had been reluctant signing off on the required recommendation. And why? Because she’d been concerned about Twilight’s lack of social skills and interpersonal relationships! Whether Principal Celestia had meant to do it, whether she’d known it or not—and that hadn’t mattered to Twilight; not then, not now, and not ever—she’d made herself an enemy of Twilight’s for life. Principal Celestia would not sign off on the recommendation. For one of the very few times in her life, Twilight had flown into a rage. She’d pounded her fist on Principal Celestia’s desk; she’d yelled loud enough that Vice Principal Luna had, alarmed, stepped into Principal Celestia’s office. She had reveled in the shock and pain she’d seen in Principal Celestia’s face as she’d coldly, clinically, dissected her to pieces. She hadn’t focused on nor had stopped with the reservations Principal Celestia had presented, but had excoriated Celestia herself. Both Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna had been so shocked and stunned at the sheer venom and vitriol Twilight had hurled they’d been paralyzed and rendered speechless. Twilight had stormed out of Principal Celestia’s office when finished her tirade. She’d no idea how she must have looked, but had basked in an odd sense of pleasure when the entire hallway of students parted before her like a school of panicked minnows before a shark as she’d stormed off, stalked out the main entrance, and left school early. There had been a fringe benefit to that outburst: from that moment on the entire school had shunned her, leaving her free from the annoying distractions of feeble attempts at socializing. Considering how loudly, and how acidly, Twilight had expressed her opinion to Principal Celestia regarding how “valuable” she considered relationships and friendships, well, it hadn’t surprised her that her outburst had been overheard and then gossip‑spread throughout the school. And while other people might consider the cold shoulders she’d gotten as hurtful, Twilight herself had only seen that as an absolute positive. By the end of her freshman year Principal Celestia had finally relented. It wasn’t that she’d reconsidered Twilight’s passionate pleas, but she’d unhappily accepted Twilight had irreparably damaged any chance of establishing any sort of friendship with any of the students at Canterlot High School, and that, perhaps, just perhaps, she’d find the value of friendship with others sharing her level of academia and knowledge. And so Twilight—finally!—was enrolled at Everfree University. Within a year she’d earned three Bachelor’s Degrees. Within the next she’d earned four Master’s. And now, this year, she was working on her doctorate. Soft violet eyes glittered behind lenses as Twilight glanced again at the rearing horse statue in the school foreground. She no more believed in Fate or Destiny than she did in anything else except, of course, that of pure, clean Science, so finding the largest incidences of detectable magic—by far!—were centered here was almost nauseating. She’d almost believed they’d found out about her research and were somehow tricking her with false signals. Almost believed; Twilight softly snorted in disdain. There was, of course, no way anyone there had the ability, know‑how, skills, or abilities to do that! Which meant, naturally, that the data she’d painstakingly accumulated was real evidence! In addition to the cold, hard facts her devices had accumulated, she’d also collected a great deal of anecdotal tales these last few months. She would have dismissed them as tall tales, as fables, except her detectors had also responded during those episodes. As well, even she had seen the blazing, double‑helix rainbow that had towered up into the skies last Fall. So those tales, rather than making her feel skeptical had, in fact, whetted her beliefs. This last month, Twilight had been patiently taking up stations around the school, accumulating data, refining the harvested information, and triangulating positions and vectors. To the best of her analysis and interpretations there were two loci: one, more general, was Canterlot High School itself, and a second, much more focused, was that statue itself. She’d just picked up her mug of herbal tea and was taking a sip when every device in the van went berserk. The cup went flying as Twilight jerked forward, utterly focused on her instruments; adjusting a dial there, a slide here, an antenna there. Within moments she’d refined the power and position of the signals, and wasn’t really all that surprised seeing them match those of the statue. Whirling about, Twilight peered through the tinted glass again, fervently hoping that girl had finally left, almost snarling seeing two girls now there ! That grimace instantly vanished a moment later. Where did she come from? Twilight wondered, puzzled. She hadn’t been there before, and it wasn’t very likely she could have passed by Twilight without being seen, either. Granted, it wasn’t totally impossible, but it wasn’t very likely, either. Returning to her apparatus, Twilight could clearly see the energy signals were just as strong as ever. Whatever had just happened was obviously still happening, even if she couldn’t tell at the moment just what that something was. But the one thing she was absolutely sure and certain about was that the energy she was detecting wasn’t anything that Science currently recognized! This was the breakthrough she’d been seeking! Fiddling with the various devices, Twilight continued refining the data streaming to them and, as she did, a dawning realization came over her. Not only was this energy something she’d become intimately familiar with over these last few months, but, with a few minor adjustments, several pieces of her measuring equipment could be altered to generate and transmit, instead of receive, those same energy pulses! Small fingers flew over the selected pieces of equipment as Twilight rapidly made the necessary adjustments. She’d just about finished when, without warning, every remaining measuring device suddenly went silent. “Oh no!” she cried out. “No no no no no!” Whirling to the tinted window, Twilight stared out then felt her jaw drop a bit. The scenery remained unchanged, nothing of obvious note having appeared or changed… …except there was now no one at all standing by that statue!