//------------------------------// // 7 - Relapse // Story: Feedback // by RQK //------------------------------// Mayor Mare had to put her quill down, but not before she took a mental note. Sixteen forms. Sixteen papers. That was how many she had managed to finish in a row. That was a record. One of Sugar Cube Corner’s cupcakes lay on the edge of her desk. She had only taken a single bite out of it, and that had been at the bakery. The hot steam had long since faded and now the confection lay ready to crack and split open at any moment. Just the sight of it made her shudder. With a sigh, she stood up from her cushion and pushed it off her desk where it landed in the trash bin where it belonged. The Cakes would understand. Mayor Mare sidled toward the window and looked out past the edge of the town. The fields at Sweet Apple Acres were still a barren brown, built in disorderly lumps that refused to be tamed. She squinted and imagined that she could make out the faint shape of a large pony pulling a sleigh in the farthest corner. She turned her gaze toward the square below. The sun shone down on the grass just like on any other day, and yet the entire palette through her window appeared monotonic. The few ponies that passed through were equally so. The market had seen much lower attendance than usual as well, both from vendor and shopper alike. The fields and playgrounds, usually full of fillies and colts, sat empty. Her eyes drew to the former site of the Golden Oaks Library. It had been destroyed in a battle and then eventually removed; that site was now a hole in the ground. She knew that tree had been a part of the town since before she was born, but it had recently become undeniably attached to Twilight Sparkle’s image. That tree was now gone and dead. A new tree, a crystal tree, sprang out of the ground not far from there. Today, she had special reason to frown at it: no flowers remained around the tree. Mayor Mare was surprised at how often she had been frowning lately. She wasn’t the only one; she had noticed that, every so often, everypony would stop and look up at the castle above the town with crestfallen expressions. After all, she found it hard to forget when a reminder towered over the rest of the town. She placed a hoof against the curtains. Her job was to know Ponyville in and out. She had been doing just that for years. At the moment, she could not recognize what town lay outside her window. Pinkie Pie watched an earth pony lay a pocket compass onto the corner of a map. Smoothing the paper out, he looked up through eternally cracked and dirtied glasses. “Miss Pinkie,” he began with a deep-throttled voice, “the place you’re looking to go to is a bit difficult to travel to.” Pinkie Pie frowned dramatically. “But come ooooon,” she whined, “there’re artifacts that I need to get! This is not how you archeologist.” Stone Obelisk took a brief glance up the thick mist over the Crystal Mountains behind him. “I might be willing to go with you, but then again, I am the lead expeditionist in my party, and as such, I will not separate from my students for no good reason. And besides…” he said, glancing back at her with a contemptuous scowl, “you’re not even a part of this research expedition. I can hardly believe you even found our camp…” Two younger unicorns, who had been examining a set of rocks at another folding table nearby, glanced up at them. Pinkie Pie crossed her forelegs even tighter and stared into him. She puffed her cheeks so hard that her face turned red. The professor’s eyes fluttered as his scowl grew wider. Finally, he sighed. “…What did you say these objects were again?” Pinkie Pie immediately sprang up. “These things are part of a thing. It’s this really really big worldwide thing that seals this really scary thing behind a door. These stones are really powerful. And also—” “How do you know they exist?” he asked incredulously. Pinkie Pie wildly flailed her hooves, “Because we have numbers and a whole bunch of other stuff on them!” “From a verifiable source?” “Yup! We have Sunset Shimmer—” Stone Obelisk cocked an eyebrow, “That name doesn’t ring a bell—” She honked him on the nose, “Annnnnnnd, Princess Twilight Sparkle!” Several heads turned up from books or poked out of tents, all with curious and wide-eyed expressions. Whatever conversations that had been going on before were momentarily suspended. Stone Obelisk had to step back and take it in. “…That is a very verifiable source. I wonder how she is doing?” He paused to ponder his position a bit more, and then he nodded sagely. “Very well, Miss Pinkie. I will entertain this.” “Yippee!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, leaping into the air before diving into a hug. “Ooooooh thankyouthankyouthankyou! I’m so happy!” Stone Obelisk wriggled and writhed in her grasp, making all sorts of grunts and groans which quickly descended into gasps and wheezes. And without warning, Pinkie Pie zipped back to where she had been before, smiling expectedly. He quickly let off several gasping coughs, thumping madly at his chest. After a moment, he paused to catch his rhythm again. He straightened his lapel and brushed some dust off his collar. “Well, at any rate, there is just one issue that needs to be sorted out. You see, the area you wish me to take you to is difficult to get to. We will have to work out a way to travel there.” Pinkie Pie raised her hoof his into the air, “Oh! Oh oh oh! Me! Me! Pick me! Let’s all travel by asterisk!” Stone Obelisk deadpanned. “…What? Travel by asterisk? How does one even travel by—” * * * “Like that, silly,” Pinkie Pie said. Stone Obelisk raised a bewildered eyebrow. He scanned the surroundings and shook his head. “And here I thought you had gone quiet…” She groaned and cracked her neck. “Are we there yet…?” “Nearly. There should be a cave just over that ridge,” he explained, trotting up the incline. “Okie dokie lokie...” she wheezed. The higher up the ridge they climbed, the more she found herself fighting for air. While Stone Obelisk took it in stride, Pinkie Pie felt herself grow heavier and heavier by the second. Eventually, she practically dragged her hooves through the dirt. I want to crawl there sooooo baaad, she thought. The hill eventually crested and the spry professor nearly bounded to the apex. Slowly, amidst many heavy pants and breaths, Pinkie Pie caught up with him. She promptly collapsed into the dirt. “Ho, Pinkie!” he exclaimed, almost bursting at the seams, “we are almost there! Do not lose heart just yet.” She squinted. She could make out the faint outline of a formation through the white, ambient fog. The smallest grin pursed her lips. “Auh, I just, hah, need a moment,” she said as she reached into her tangle of a mane and procured a small and shiny flask. Quickly, she tipped it over, slurping the orange juice as it poured out. The professor smiled demurely. After a moment, Pinkie Pie replaced the flask and stood up. “Well, thanks for getting me this far, at least!” “Mmmmyes. However, I am curious,” he said inquisitively. “I am assuming that you have a good idea of what it will appear like, but say we enter that cave and it is revealed that the cave does not descend far enough.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You did mention that these objects are typically found underground.” Tentatively, Pinkie Pie reached into her saddlebag. She pulled what looked like a glass jar the size of a muffin. Within it swirled a vortex of magical energy. She had long abandoned the thought of trying to hear what it had to say. “I think,” she began, “that’s what these things are for.” * * * Spike took a whiff of the dark liquid now inside the pitcher he carried in his claws. The thick and tantalizing aroma of cocoa swam through his baby dragon nostrils. The batch was ready. Readying the tray, he pattered toward the stairs. He saw Sunset Shimmer at the top, splayed out in front of the crystal ball. She rubbed a hoof across her face, but that did nothing to diminish the bags under her eyes. Twilight Sparkle, meanwhile, flipped through several pages of the very book she had received from a time-traveling Sunset Shimmer. Pages upon pages of equations and figures and diagrams passed by with relative speed as she noted nothing of particular interest. A piece of chalk floated readily above her. She had already used it to note down the sections of the book that had grabbed her attention, partly because some parts had not been clear. “You want some coffee?” Spike asked as he walked up, taking a cup in his claw and extending it in offering. Sunset looked up with a frown. “Sure, thanks,” she said, reaching out with her hoof and taking it from him. He smiled before setting the tray off to the side. Taking his own cup, he lay down belly-first in front of the ball as well, all without taking a single sip. “So,” Spike began, “it’s just the coornits and the perrymatters?” Sunset nodded. “That’s right.” “These parameters are pretty straightforward,” Twilight said. “You just cross out the ones that you don’t want to do. Agreed?” “That sounds about right,” Sunset replied. “We just don’t know why there’re so many to begin with.” “And we don’t know what’s going on with the coordinates. I mean, a lot of them are crossed out, so the same logic should apply. So why put all of these ones—” she flipped a page to the section containing the notated, uncrossed-out coordinates, “separately and not cross them out?” Spike huffed, “Not to mention there’re a whole bunch of those, right?” Sunset scratched her head. “Yes. I… I umm… think that is impossible.” “So,” Twilight said, “now we have to figure out why I have it. …Add that to our ever-growing list of contradictions.” Sunset thumped her head against the hard floor with a long moan. “Why must everything go so wrong!?” Spike kicked his legs against the floor. While he had faith that Twilight could pull it off—no, that Twilight and Sunset could pull it off, their goal seemed to somehow slip further away. If they let it. “So, I guess,” he said, “we’ll just go with the normal plan in the meantime. Right?” Sunset shrugged defeatedly before rising to all fours. “Yeah. Let’s… let’s get to work.” * * * “Well? What do you think?” “Yarrr, we can’t very well put this back together.” “Do you think she’ll be disappointed?” “She has two more in ’er sack.” “Yes, but two more what?” Rainbow Dash groaned. “Ah, she be comin’ to.” “Poor thing.” A mild pain shot through her back for what felt like the first time. “Uhhh, who’s there?” she asked as she attempted to open her eyes. A cloudless daytime sky greeted her. Several seagulls flew in lazy circles overhead, passing several squawks between themselves. A slow and steady wind caught the debris from a crashing wave nearby and coated her with a light spray. An earth pony, carrying the strong and tired stench of salt, and (strangely enough) gills, looked down at her through his one good eye. He gave a satisfactory smirk, showing off his one golden tooth. “Welcome back. We reckoned ye were lost to Wavy Bone’s locker.” “Hoofbeard!?” Rainbow Dash cried, bolting upright. Something pulled and snapped within her back. Letting out a sharp cry, she retreated, allowing herself to fall back onto the warm, gritty sand. “Easy, lass,” Hoofbeard said, “don’t pull yourself out of shape.” “You were floating out at sea when one of our mantahawk friends found you, you’re very lucky,” a female voice said. Rainbow Dash rolled over. A pony, whose tail made up her entire lower body, perched on top of a rock. She had never seen such a pony before. No, wait, she had. Faint memories started to return. “You! You’re…!” Rainbow Dash frowned. “Uh… Help me out here…” “Jewel,” the merpony said with a smile, indicating herself with her fin. “Jewel! Yeeeaaah. I remember you now.” Hoofbeard adjusted his bandana to let some dammed sweat trickle out before he sat back against the rock. “Actually, we sent the mantahawk to track ye. Jewel and I thought it curious that ye be crossing the ocean by yerself.” Jewel chuckled. “And it seems to have paid off. You’re lucky to be alive.” “So then, you mind telling an old shipmate why you be out here by yerself?” Rainbow Dash rolled over and tried to lift herself onto her hooves. She moaned with each joint that popped with more pronunciation than the last. She tried flapping her wings, but they only went in every direction other than the one she wanted. “Listen, thanks for saving me and all,” she said as she brushed the built-up sand out of her coat and tried to shake out whatever clung in her mane. “I mean, it’d be awesome to catch up with you and stuff, but I reaaaally have to get going, heh heh. Where’re my things at?” she asked, looking around. Hoofbeard looked over at his lover with a cocked eyebrow, to which Jewel nodded affirmatively. “You see, lass, your booty be over there,” he said, pointing. “But the catch is—” Rainbow Dash charged over to her saddlebags. She threw the flap open and dug her hoof through it. She tossed several items into the sand, making notes as she went. She nodded when she threw a small red sphere into the sand. Good, the gum’s still there. She took out a jar containing a swirling magical vortex. She nodded again. There was one. And another. Two. But she remembered three. And then she flipped the bag over, shook it out, and even stuck her head into it. Nothing. “Where’s the other one!?” she cried, throwing her saddlebag into the sand. “I had three of these, where’s the other one!?” Hoofbeard shifted, reaching for something behind him. “I wager these be what you’re lookin’ for,” he said as he produced several small and jagged shards of glass which glinted in the sunlight. Rainbow Dash backpedaled and tripped over herself. She made several squeaks, but nothing resembling a worded response came out. “I tried to tell ye. It must’ve happened when ye hit,” he said, yanking at his beard. “But forget that,” Jewel said, narrowing her eyes in concern. “You’re in no condition to fly.” Rainbow Dash clinched her teeth, “B-but, I-I-I, I have to. N-n-n-n-n-no no no,” she stammered. She smacked the area around her, throwing up several clouds of sand and dust. “No no no no-ow!” She screamed again when it proceeded to blind her. Hoofbeard let his muzzle fall against his hoof. Questioningly, he looked over to Jewel. She shook her head downheartedly. “Alright, lass,” he said, “I have a proposition for ye. The truth be we know where ye be off to.” Rainbow Dash went silent and rolled over. She stifled her remaining grunts as she continued to wipe sand from her eyes. “Me ship be nearby. Jewel and I will take ye to where ye need to go. But first…” He cleared his throat with a loud grunt. “You’ll tell us what’s got you so worked up out here.” Through reddened eyes, she stared him down and went to spread her wings but, to her dismay, they, just like right before the crash, failed to respond. Her snarl faded as another thought came to her: I have no idea where I’m at right now either. She considered the two and frowned. And besides… they’re friends too, aren’t they? Yeah… “Well, okay,” Rainbow Dash began, straightening up, “it’s like this…” * * * Applejack looked up once more at the beating sun. It pounded at her and every pore screamed in protest. She sweated from places she had been previously unaware of and fought the urge to wipe herself dry. The sand swam underneath her hooves; at least, whenever it didn’t try to jump onto the two-sizes-too-big shawl across her back. Small dust-clouds blew off the tops of adjacent sand formations nearby. With the nearest settlement a few hours behind her and the next probably a few more ahead of her, she inwardly thanked Celestia that the sun would set soon. She grabbed her map out of her saddlebag. The landscape of dunes stretched for miles around. Ah think I’m in the right spot, she nonetheless thought, checking back and forth between the map in her hooves and the sand beneath her. Or, ’least Ah’m mighty close. She replaced the map and then took out a small glass jar. She peered at the swirling vortex of magical energy inside and then placed her hoof on the cap. As far as she could remember, all she had to do was let the spell out, and it would do the rest. Sucking in a breath, she twisted. The energy contained within shot out so quickly that she lost her grip on the jar. The energy crackled loudly in the air in front of her and it burned parts of the sand below via several arcing sparks. Applejack heard a zaaaap before the ball of energy dove into the sand. Applejack stared down for long moments. The sand blew idly by and the rest of the desert went on as if nothing had happened. A minute passed. She started sweating for other reasons. Nothing. Applejack facehooved. “Oh for land’s sake—” Without warning, the sand in front of her heaved and jetted into the sky. A shining object shot into the air amidst the debris, captivated by a mass of sparks. Applejack had to lower her stetson just to block out the light. A moment later, the dazzling display abruptly quit. The object plummeted to the ground, trailing smoke behind it, where it landed softly in the sand below. Applejack looked down at the object: a small and opaque orb, easily a fraction the size of the crystal ball back in Canterlot. Its purple glow easily poked through the white-hot illumination of the desert afternoon. She hesitantly prodded it. Nothing happened. Letting out a sigh of relief, she picked it up and gave it a once-over. So, she thought to herself, this here’s a stone. * * * Under the grey and clouded sky, the purple shine of the orb in the air bathed the entire surroundings in a stinging light. But it disappeared just as quickly as it came about. Fluttershy’s first instinct was to reach out and catch it as it fell. But as it landed in her hooves, she mentally scolded herself, thinking that perhaps it was the teeniest tiniest bit of a problem if she maybe tried to touch it without checking to make sure it was safe to touch. But she felt nothing. Aside from the warmth that it provided against her hooves, Fluttershy felt nothing. Nothing was trying to invade her body, at any rate. She played with it for a few moments, giggling under her breath as she admired its features. A voice beside her spoke in a language she didn’t recognize. Fluttershy paled before crooking her neck over. A diminutive and boney griffon met her gaze. The red streak lines painted across Charlok’s face scrunched together as he narrowed his eyes, and that said nothing of his beak-piercing. He spoke more of his language. A second griffon, who dwarfed the first, ruffled his feathers. “He says that ‘you did not say it would do that,’” Milbeak said. Fluttershy shrank and tried to hide behind her own mane. And then she took a good look around. The village’s central square had stopped. Mothers held their kids close to their chests and several others pressed themselves against walls and ledges and clung to anything else they could find. She sunk down, trembling against the ground. “Oh goodness,” Fluttershy whimpered, “I didn’t know that would happen, p-please don’t hurt me…” The smaller griffon spoke again. The larger griffon then provided the translation: “Do not worry, we are only a little spooked.” Fluttershy stopped shaking but did not rise. Charlok looked down at the hole in the ground. He dug at it with a claw, sampled the dirt with his beak, and then he shrugged. The griffon’s throaty voice then cast itself across the village, dispersing the crowd, and then he spoke to Fluttershy again. “You were right. There was something underneath our remote village that we did not know about,” Milbeak translated. The pegasus nodded. “Well, uhm, thanks. But I really didn’t know...” Charlok spoke. “We don’t fault you,” Milbeak translated. She uncovered her head. “Really? Oh, that’s a relief,” she said, standing up. With a nod, Charlok spoke some more in his native tongue. And Milbeak straightened up. “You did say you didn’t know what it would do. We remember,” he translated. Taking a brief glance toward the hole in the ground, she then bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality. I really really appreciate it.” “You... welcome,” Charlok himself replied with a smile. * * * Spike shook his head and glanced over at several calculus books on the side. He trailed over an intermediate algebra book as well and then to the beginner’s mathematics book in his hands. With a shake of his head, he threw it over his shoulder and ambled back to where Sunset stood. How do they do it? he thought. He took a seat next to the ball, letting his eyes wander toward the chalkboard as Sunset put the finishing touches on yet another differential equation, whatever that was. “Uh-huh,” Twilight said as she flipped through another large tome, jotting down notes on a sheet of paper. “I… I had difficulties with that too at first. It’s really interesting that they exist over there. I mean, they even act the same too!” Sunset backed away from the chalkboard, shook her forehoof with a snort and pointed “Yes!” before she turned and took a seat next to Spike. Flashing him a brief smile, she placed her hoof on the crystal ball. “You should’ve seen me the first time I met Principal Celestia. I nearly flipped!” Spike chuckled. “You two talking about Canterlot High?” Sunset nodded and stifled a chuckle. “Yup.” “Oh, yeah.” Twilight giggled. “I have so many questions about that. I’d love to do research on the nature of the two worlds.” “Well”—Sunset kicked her hindlegs around as she thought—“we could probably do that. We do have the books to communicate with after all.” “You’re right! We do!” “Yeah, to think that they exist in both of our worlds. All of them do. It’s just so… interesting.” “That the two universes are so much alike!” “But they have their own little differences too.” “And,” Spike offered, placing his claw on the ball, “the best part is you can talk to each other, even if you can’t go between them. I mean, now that we have the message journals and all.” The three of them shared voluminous laughs before falling into complete silence. Sunset turned back toward the chalkboard, twiddling her mane as she went. Her eyes wandered over it for a few moments as she checked the parts she had done. Twilight, meanwhile, turned the page in her book and then buried herself within the text. Spike received the ball and then vacantly drummed his claws against the floor as he set his gaze on the ball itself. Now that I think about it, he thought as a chuckle escaped his lips, this stuff with the ball looks a lot like what goes on with the mirror, don’t it? Heck, everything we just described could probably describe what’s going on here. It’s like Twilight’s in another world right now. There wasn’t a sound to be heard from between the three of them. Their devices carried on just like before. Like Twilight’s in another world right now. Spike blinked. Wait, he thought. Sunset slowly and shakily rose to all fours with bits of dry sweat forming on her brow. It couldn’t be. Twilight’s book slammed shut with an echoing thud. She looked up to where she thought they were watching from. “You don’t think—?” Sunset swore as she backpedaled, bumping into the chalkboard and sending it crashing to the floor. “You have got to be kidding me! You have to!” “There’s no way!” Spike cried, scrambling to his feet. “I just… she can’t be in an alternate world. Right?” Sunset held a hoof over her mouth. Her eyes oscillated back and forth as the hairs on her mane and coat stood on their ends. “…Right?” Spike asked. Sunset didn’t respond. Twilight ruffled her feathers as she stood up. Spike looked between the mare in the room and the mare in the ball. His free hand balled into a tight fist “But… but… she’s right there!” he yelled. “That’s Canterlot there! That’s Twilight there! That’s what our world looks like!” Silent stares were all he received in return. He pointed into the ball. “That’s not an alternate world! E-every time we’ve gone to some other world—and believe me, it wasn’t just Canterlot High either—they’ve been totally different!” “It doesn’t have to be ‘totally different,’” Twilight countered coldly. “It could be in something small. It could be the difference between your world and my world is a street sign or… Mayor Mare could be a pegasus, or…” Sunset swallowed and placed her hoof on the ball. “…O-or it c-could be that… our sets of coordinates are different.” Twilight let out a long snort as she stalked over to the window again. She kicked at the floor, and her wings refused to sit comfortably at her sides. She summoned the ball after her with her magic and she spoke softly. “…Yes. That would do it. It’s entirely possible that I live in an Equestria, one… that’s like yours in every way… except that my coordinates are not your coordinates.” Spike growled tightened his grip on the ball. Sunset shivered without discernable end. Her teeth chattered, her eyes fluttered, and her movements were jerky. She slipped off the ball and retreated, backing away one long and strained step at a time. Finally, she turned. And then she ran. She ran down the stairs faster than Spike could register. She ran without looking back. The sound of her charge echoed throughout the tower, only to be broken by the loud boom of the large, wooden entry door. Twilight slapped a hoof against her face. “I need to get out of this tower…” He did a double take. He took one step toward the stairs, and then another toward the desk. Stairs. Desk. And then he straightened up. “Twilight, I-I’ll be right back. Okay?” “Okay,” she replied. Spike set the ball down onto the floor before sprinting down the stairs. * * * Spike barged through the door at the end of the hall. The room that he entered dwarfed all the others. The ceiling loomed several floors overhead, supported by several pillars that were as still and silent as sentinels. Both aspects served to volley the report of the door slam around the room several times over. The casket on the altar was three days gone. Now in its place, Sunset Shimmer whirled around. “Don’t come any closer!” she barked, backing toward the window. “Sunset!” he cried, running across the room. “Don’t come any closer, Spike!” “Sunset! Talk to me!” Sunset stomped at the floor and charged something on her horn. “Go away!” He skidded on the long, red carpet leading to the altar, nearly falling forward as he did so. He had heard those words before. Spike shook his head and balled his fists. “No. I’m not going to make the same mistake with you that I did with Twilight!” Sunset took herself back, her wide-eyed expression etched across revolted features. The light in her horn steadied itself as she considered him at length. He swallowed. “Please, Sunset. I just, I just wanna know what’s wrong. Please, tell me!” Sunset’s frown grew even deeper before she snorted and averted her gaze. “I can’t deal with all of this. I don’t know how.” Spike nodded solemnly but did not respond. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I want to buck something. I want to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep. I want to hurt myself. I want to hurt someone else. I want to leave. And you know what I think?” Sunset paused to suck in a huge breath. “I think I actually don’t know what I want.” She lifted a hoof to her mouth and chewed on it for a few moments. “Is this what it feels like when someone dies?” she asked. Spike hesitated. “…Uh—” She swiveled around and stared daggers at him. “Is this. What happens. When someone dies?” He stood rooted to the spot for many moments. I don’t know, he thought as he twiddled his claws together. This is the first time it’s happened to me either. What do I tell her? He swallowed, “Sunset, I…” Sunset gritted her teeth. “S-say we succeed,” she said with a huff, “We get all the stones we want and we end up saving Twilight’s life? But that Twilight in that ball might be from an alternate world. So even if we save her, our Twilight is still dead. “Twilight dying was bad enough, but I’m making everything worse because I can’t let go!” she exclaimed, stomping the floor. “I’m driving myself insane because I can’t let go of the fact that she’s dead and I’m dragging you and everypony else down with me! Do you hear me!? I’ve screwed up everything because I can’t let go!” Her horn glowed ablaze and her eyes turned white-hot. Her mane flowed in all directions as it too glowed increasingly brighter. “And what happens if another one of my friends suddenly dies, huh!? How bad are things going to get then!?” No, Sunset, no! Spike thought. Don’t do this! Please don’t do this! Sunset’s aura now likened her to a miniature sun. “If this is what happens when you have friends and you end up losing them,” she boomed, “then maybe I’d be better off not having friends! I want to go back to being the old me!” Oh my Celestia! Spike thought. He took a wayward step backward before ducking underneath his arms. What was she going to do? Burn him alive? Hit him with a megaspell? Throw him out the window? The option for talking, feeble before, now shriveled up entirely. He steeled himself. But nothing came. He peered up from underneath his arms. What he saw instead was a statue of a mare on the altar. She had her hooves glued to her mouth like she had just uttered a blasphemous joke in front of Celestia’s face. The color had drained from her muzzle, and bit by bit, she started to shake. “I don’t mean that,” she said, hyperventilating, “I-I-I-I d-don’t mean that.” Spike sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Sunset.” “I don’t mean that.” She quivered and shrunk backward. “I d-don’t mean that. I don’t mean that.” He took a step forward. “Sunset!” “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—” “Sunset Shimmer!” Spike yelled, his voice near cracking, “Listen to me!” She cringed, trembling like a leaf in the wind. But where her quick succession of breaths had echoed through the room before, now she lay deathly silent. Spike let out a long sigh and approached her, testing his first steps to see if she would shy away before picking up the pace. He collided with her. His arms took her into a tight and conclusive embrace. He didn’t let go even as Sunset swayed to and fro within his grasp and sucked in several short breaths as she went (although both eventually began to subside). “I’m here, okay?” he said. She laid her head on top of him and let out a long and weary sigh. He stroked her back like he would have done with the Cake’s toddlers. “How do I deal with this, Spike?” she said with a broken voice. Spike shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sunset, I just don’t know.” “Then what do I do?” “Hmmm?” “Spike, y-you’re the only friend I have here. What do I do—” Spike blinked. “But I’m not,” he interrupted as he pulled away and grabbed her by the cheeks, fixing his gaze with hers. “You have a few friends here too. Remember?” Sunset flinched, looking around the room like she was searching for something. “You mean them? No. Those are Twilight’s friends. Not mine…” “But they are your friends.” “No they’re not.” “Yes they are,” Spike replied with a harder voice than before. “Sure, maybe they’re not as close to you are they are with Twilight. Maybe they aren’t the same as your friends from Canterlot High. But they still think of you as a friend. “And trust me, we’re all happy that you’re here.” Sunset snorted. “I don’t know… it just doesn’t feel that way.” Spike chuckled and crossed his arms. “We’re all in a bad way. That’s all.” Sunset turned a shade of red and averted her gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, shut it tight again, and then shook her head. “Even if they are my friends… they aren’t here right now. I still don’t have any answers to this,” she said, hiding behind her hooves. He frowned. “No, I guess not.” He tapped his foot against the floor and drummed his fingers against his arm while turning his mental wheels. A long-cooked response then came to him. “But I know somepony who does.” Sunset peered up at him questioningly. Spike’s gaze drew to a tower outside one of the windows. He followed it upwards where it stretched outside the frame. “And ya know… I think she’d like to talk to you too.” She bit her lip and looked over at the tower as well. She wiped a drop from her eyes and nodded solemnly. “I guess you’re right. It’s probably time. …I probably should have done it days ago.” Spike nodded. “Just not right now,” she said, twisting the curl in her mane. “W-why don’t we go back for now and get some more work done before the sun goes down?” Spike grinned. “Sounds good to me,” he said, before turning toward the door. Behind him, she gave one last look at the tower outside the window, and then followed suit. * * * Rarity took one last glance over the side of the carriage at the hole in the mud before humming affirmatively. “That was much less hooves-on than I expected, but I’ll gladly take it.” She leaned back against the seat and instead looked at the stone beside her. It was glossy and vibrant like an amethyst, free from scuff marks and scratches and internal tessellations, like the whole stone had been cut uniformly into the perfect, undented sphere it was now. Rarity thought thrice about trying to cutting it into something usable (after she got the information that she wanted out of it, of course). Shelving the thought, she leaned forward and fished into the saddlebag on the coach’s silk carpet floor. She took out a small pamphlet-map. Only a hundred miles north? That’s convenient, she thought. “Is everything okay back there?” a deep voice called out from the front of the cart. A bulging stallion looked back at her through soft and rounded eyes. The crusted mud that clung to his hooves accentuated his shiny black coat. The concerned cock of his eyebrow went almost unnoticed against the vague hint of a smile perpetually plastered across his muzzle. Rarity leaned forward and rested her gaze on everything apart from his face. “Oh, everything’s peachy, mister Range Rider. Absolutely delightful.” “I’m right happy. But maybe it’s time we left?” Rarity thought she heard the slow and viscous burst of a dirty bubble and she looked around again. She frowned at the trees which looked like they would fall forward under the weight of the moss and drown in the soft and runny earth at any moment. “Uh, eheh, yes. Quite so.” The carriage lurched forward as the wheels broke out of the muddy molds around them. Range Rider’s hooves slipped here and there, prompting him to dig deeper into the mush. Soon enough, they gained enough pace that the carriage practically pulled itself. Still, she worried, for a mud stain on the upholstery just would not do. She had half a mind to charter it for the Grand Galloping Gala. Instead, its evenly painted surfaces and lustrous padding contrasted the dank and grimy environment. She slapped herself. What was I thinking? “So, that was a spectacle there,” he said. “Was that all what you needed to do?” Rarity regarded the stallion once more. Oh, right, that’s what I was thinking, she thought with a smile. “Yes, of course. I got exactly what I wanted.” “Well then, if that is the case,” he said, “then maybe it’s time for me to take you back?” Mmmm. That molasses. I simply must keep this one for a while longer. She cleared her throat. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bits if you take me toward Grazing Gorge.” “Are you sure?” he called back, a slight waver in his tone. “That’s a hundred miles north of here.” “Positive. Besides, you don’t have to take me all the way there. I’ll be able to finish it off.” Range Rider shrugged. “Grazing Gorge it is.” “You are most kind, darling. Thank you.” With a happy sigh, the mare reached into her saddlebag, procured a pair of cucumber slices, and then reclined against the velvet cushion. I am so lucky that my two stones are nearly right next to each other. Who would have thought? * * * Normally, Sunset remembered, the pair of guards would have flanked the large ornate door. Tonight, however, they directly barred it. “The Princess has already made her position clear,” one of them said with an indifferent scowl. “You’ll have to come back later.” Sunset shifted uncomfortably. “No, please. I must see her. It’s… it’s very important.” “We are very sorry, miss. You must come back later.” She grit her teeth together. It was only a door. A teleport-proof door, sure, but a door all the same. It separated her from her desire; a few feet away, but somehow incomprehensibly out of reach. It had to be providence. Somehow, even after several dreams in the night, this was what she wanted. She wanted the door to be closed. Sunset retreated a few steps. Besides, she had no way of knowing whether she’d get a favorable reaction. A few more steps back and she’d be on her way back to the tower. It was the perfect ending. The guard looked over Sunset’s shoulder. “Not even you, Princess Luna.” Sunset paused and whirled around to see a dark blue alicorn looking down her nose at her. The air, which bent around the mare’s very presence, prompted Sunset to buckle by the slightest bit. Princess Luna smirked as she considered the guards. “Oh, I’m not here to see my sister.” The stallion in front of the door frowned. “Then I must ask that the both of you le—eeeeaaaevvve!” His body glowed with a dark blue aura as he, as well as the guard next to him, were swept off their hooves. “Help!” “Silence, you!” Luna hissed as she magically shook the pair for good measure. She then turned her attention to Sunset and winked. “Go on through. She’s waiting.” Sunset looked back and forth between the alicorn princess and the guard-turned-captives, and she frowned. Oh for Celestia’s sake, she just had to do that, didn’t she? Oh good… Oh good… She took a step toward the door, and then took two steps back. After taking one last fleeting glance at Luna, Sunset sighed. The flared her horn and the massive frame creaked open, catching several times on the hinge as it turned. Cautiously, she entered. The crackling fireplace and sprawling velvet bed met her gaze first. Her eyes then drew to the night sky that patterned the walls, completed by a tapestry depicting a shooting star. A clock on the wall counted each passing second with a pronounced ticking noise. Her fibers screamed that this was, in fact, Celestia’s room, and not that of her sister. Yet, even as everything demanded the same recollection as the rest of the castle, Sunset drew a blank. She tried and tried and tried some more, but no matter how she looked at it, the room was new to her. A large, golden neck ornament and complementary shoes watched her from a rack on the back end of the desk. An equally regal tiara guarded them from the desk itself. Sunset regarded the very placement of the objects and swallowed. Something moved through an archway on the side and she swiveled. And then Sunset Shimmer froze. Princess Celestia gaped back at her. Even her mane had ground to a halt. Celestia inched out of the archway and came to a halt at the edge of the carpet. One billion thoughts ran through Sunset’s head. Several pre-rehearsed conversations fought their way to the top but all fell by the wayside. The second-hand on the clock nearby took several eternities to stagger along. She could hardly breathe and yet, somehow, the need to breathe wasn’t there. Several years wound about in a painfully slow manner, coalescing through several emotions as they went. Princess Celestia now stood in front of her. Not principal, princess. Imposing. Pristine. Powerful. Just as a princess should be. Petrified. Bare. Incredulous. Just like herself. Sunset could see that the mare in front of her was trembling ever so slightly, just like she was. Maybe the mare on the opposite side of the room wasn’t Princess Celestia. Maybe, somehow, just for now, she was simply Celestia. But, as she remembered, Celestia was angry at her. And Celestia drew a deep breath. “Sunset…” Sunset flinched. “C-Celestia…” Celestia inched forward. “My stars,” she said, barely above a whisper, “you’ve returned... You’ve finally returned to me…” Sunset flinched again. She stood, even more wide-eyed than before. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be true. But it was true. Never in her wildest dreams. Not after what she did. And then Sunset let a tear fly down her face. And then another. Sunset surged forward. She galloped into a full sprint. She bounded straight into Celestia’s receiving embrace. The sound of the door closing behind her went through one ear and out the other. The two of them exchanged jubilated shouts and bawling exclamations before they settled for weeping into each other. * * * The fire crackled as it danced back and forth before the two of them. Sunset watched as the wood splintered and then fell apart. She dug her hooves deeper into the mattress below her, nuzzled herself deeper into Celestia’s side, and let out a degenerate sigh. Celestia responded by curling tighter around her. As the flames continued to reflect off her eyes, Sunset pursed her lips. “Who would have thought there was a chamber down there?” Celestia hummed. “I still cannot believe that it was right under my muzzle, and I never even knew about it.” She flared her horn and levitated a new piece of wood out of a chute on the side of the fireplace. Celestia gingerly fed it to the flames, and they responded with a renewed vigor. “This entire …series of events went under my muzzle.” “Was there really no clue?” Sunset asked, looking up at her mentor. “You would think, for all the time I have been here, I would notice these things.” Celestia gravely shook her head, “But I did not.” “Not even a little?” Celestia closed her eyes. “There…” she began, “was one instance that struck me as odd. It was after I had lowered the sun. I was reading when I looked over at the tower that she was staying in. It was dark at the time. But, for just a few seconds, the whole tower lit up with a bright white light. “But”—she hung her head in defeat—“curse me, I did not even think anything of it. I received the terrible news an hour or two later.” Celestia gazed at the tower in question. “Goodness, what was she doing in those last few days?” At that, Sunset let off a fragmented and subdued chuckle. “Y-yeah…” she said as she turned her gaze back to the blaze in front of them. Somehow, the flames took the form of Twilight’s face, and Sunset sighed with a discontent frown. And now I’m seeing things. I must be losing it. “Princess?” Sunset asked tremulously. “Just Celestia is fine,” Celestia replied with a smile. “…I think I need help.” “Certainly.” Sunset shivered and shrunk into herself. “I-I…” She gave Celestia a few fleeting glances but averted her gaze each time. “I can’t get over her.” “…O-Oh?” “I can’t… deal with the fact that she’s gone. I’ve never lost anypony before. I don’t…” She took a deep breath. “I can’t deal with this. It hurts. I’m not sure if having friends is worth this.” Celestia regarded her former student as a long frown spread across her face. Slowly, she let her eyes wander the room before she settled on a tree in the corner. Humming affirmatively, Celestia flared her horn, levitating over a small mirror shard that had dangled from one of the tree’s branches. “Sunset Shimmer,” she said, “let me tell you a story that I think may help you with this problem.” Sunset looked up attentively. “Once upon a time, there was a great king who was loved by many. He was very adept and brought happiness to all of his people.” Celestia narrowed her eyes and twirled the mirror shard about. “But dark forces sought to destroy everything. Slowly and slowly, he watched as his world slowly crumbled. “But… given the chance to right what went wrong… he practically leaped on it. He gave up his mind, body, and s-soul so that his… world might be safe.” Celestia let out a long and exasperated sigh, turning her gaze to the fire. “…He sacrificed himself?” Sunset asked. “Yes.” “…Just like Twilight did?” “Yes.” Sunset shook her head, “But… I’ve never heard about this king. He’s never been in any books, and—” “I know.” Sunset quizzically tilted her head, noting that Celestia now wore the largest grimace she had ever seen. “I never told you about him. He was a well-guarded secret. Plus this was very recent. In fact… Twilight Sparkle was there to witness it, and…” Celestia swallowed, allowing a wayward tear to drip down her face, “I was also there to watch it. Every long and painful moment of it. “And that memory haunts me to this very day.” Sunset tensed up, trying to push her next question back down her throat. But after a few moments, she yielded to her curiosity. “Who was he?” Celestia glumly shook her head. “For one thousand years, he was… somepony very dear to me.” Sunset flinched. The answer surprised her but, somehow, it didn’t. Of course. Celestia brought the shard to face. “This piece of the magic mirror is the only thing that I have to remember him by.” …Magic mirror? Like the one that leads back to my world? She scanned the shard in Celestia’s magical grasp. But that’s just a fragment, so the mirror she’s talking about is… Sunset gasped under her breath. Broken. He’s in another world. And he’s as good as gone! “But how lucky am I…?” Celestia said. “Huh?” Celestia laughed the sort of long laugh that shook her entire body. “How lucky am I that I had some ponies in my life that make saying goodbye so hard?” Sunset blinked. “But… you’re not…?” “Of course not, Sunset. While it is, perhaps, the price that I pay for having known him, I, for the life of me, just cannot imagine a life where I never met him. I think just knowing him bettered my life. My memories of him are so precious, and even if I can never have him back, I can find the strength to carry on. It’s strength that I have thanks to him.” “So,” Sunset said, “he was worth all that?” At that, Celestia draped her hoof across Sunset’s back and gave her a grin. “Always.” Well… Sunset thought, what would my life be like without my friends? What would have happened if I had never met them? She let off a faint smile. Nothing good, I guess. I’d be in a pretty bad place. Maybe I don’t ever want to go back to a life without them. But… even then, they’ve bettered my life already. Sunset chuckled before nestling herself into her mentor’s bosom. “I guess you’re right. Looks like I still have a lot to learn, huh?” Celestia chuckled before turning her gaze back to the fire. How right Spike had been. Already, Sunset could feel the vigor from before coursing through her again. The sensation was satisfying. For once, something in Equestria had gone right, more right than she could have hoped. How could she describe it? Was it elation at being proven wrong? Relief that she had been forgiven? It nearly didn’t make any sense. After throwing everything in Celestia’s face, the prospect of being in the same room had long left her conscious. Just by showing up, she had been forgiven. Was that really the case? Maybe she had been forgiven long beforehoof. That didn’t make sense. Parts of her didn’t want to forgive herself for the past. How could somepony else forgive her? Only a pony better than her could do that. Sunset hummed. Celestia was better than her. Looking up, Sunset noticed that, for the first time since the day they had met, Celestia appeared to her radiant like the sun itself. As Sunset then decided, there was nopony else she would rather be with. “Celestia?” she asked. “Yes?” Sunset smiled, turning a small shade of red, “Do you think that… uhm… I can spend the night? With you? Maybe?” A little bit of water welled in Celestia’s eyes. Her smile, uncharacteristically, showed the slightest amount of teeth. Celestia leaned down and nuzzled Sunset on the cheek. “Of course! That would be delightful.” The two of them shared a laugh that echoed through the night. Sunset paused, “Well then, I should… probably go let Spike know,” she said before giggling. “He might get worried.” “Actually,” Celestia said with a grin, “I can take care of that.” * * * Spike gagged and then emitted some green fire with a loud burp. The flames materialized into a scroll in the air in front of him. He snatched it out of the air without a second thought. Carefully, he unfurled it and let his eyes glide down the page. As he did, he toddled over toward the study area’s sprawling window, And then he looked toward Celestia’s tower with a grin. Way to go, Sunset. Rolling the note up, he doubled back toward the crystal ball on top of the desk and switched it with the note. “I’m gunna go to bed here in a second.” Twilight looked up and yawned as she placed the last few papers on top of a stack. “That’s all done, so I think I will too.” Spike moved toward the stairs, intent on taking the ball to his bed like he had during the previous couple of nights, but he wasn’t able to make it two steps before he paused again. “Hey, Twilight?” he asked. “How did I do today?” Twilight hummed. “Spike… I think you’ve done a fantastic job over the past few days.” He drummed his claws against the ball. “Do you think I’ve done well like… for myself?” Twilight smiled. “Of course I do. Why do you ask?” Spike looked back up at Celestia’s tower and smiled. Well, he thought, maybe because I’ve got this figured out after all. Or maybe I don’t, but I can do it. I can do this. He chuckled. “It’s nothing. Good night, Twilight.” She looked upward and smiled. “Good night, Spike.” Taking great care, he slowly set the crystal ball back down on the desk. He waddled down the stairs, without Twilight but instead with a small smile on his face.