//------------------------------// // The Aftermath // Story: In the Absence of Sunset Shimmer // by MyHobby //------------------------------// Little Sister Scootaloo walked through the door of a little café, her shoulders tensing. She scanned the seats for familiar faces, but she didn’t need long to look. One head of brilliant red and yellow hair stood out from the crowd, drawing her eyes against her will. This was it. Last chance to walk out and say she couldn’t find the blindingly-obvious woman that was Sunset Shimmer. She unzipped her leather jacket and turned her eyes to the ceiling. “This one’s on you, Apple Bloom.” She moseyed on over to the booth, giving the high-chair at its side a wide berth. So, Sunset had brought Sunny as backup, huh? Using cuteness as a weapon was fighting dirty. She let herself thump into the cushy seat. “What do you want, Sunset?” Sunset flinched back. The nervous expression she had been wearing snapped into a pained frown. Scootaloo held back a sigh and waited for her to get her bearings. “Um. Hi.” Sunset squeezed her hands together. “How are you?” “Peachy.” Scootaloo leveled her eyebrows. “How are you? Are you well? Golly gee, isn’t that swell?” She draped her arm over the booth back. “Look, I’ve got to meet Lickety Split in, like, three hours, so can we make this quick?” Sunset rested her head in one hand. “I’m sorry.” “Yeah, I know.” Scootaloo opened a menu and did her best to ignore Sunny’s adorable babbling. “Why did you want to meet, Sunset? Isn’t it enough to drag up bad memories every Hearth’s Warming Eve—?” “Because the bad memories need to be put in their proper place.” Sunset Shimmer sat up and tried to catch’s Scootaloo’s eyes. “And the good memories need their opportunity to shine.” Scootaloo kept her mouth shut. She didn’t have anything nice to say, let alone something she could say in Sunny’s presence. She flipped to the next page of the menu. “Look,” Sunset said. “I know you hate me, but—” “I don’t hate you.” Scootaloo coughed down a lump in her throat. “I’d just rather not spend time with you.” Sunset folded her hands. “Then why did you come?” “Apple Bloom begged me to come.” Scootaloo let the menu drop. She slumped down in the booth. “And I had this hope, just this slightest hope, that you’d have something new to say.” “Yes, well…” Sunset glanced at the waiter as he came to take their orders. “I know nothing I can say will magically fix our relationship.” They both gave him a terse set of orders, and then sat in quiet. Scootaloo folded her napkin into a little bird, calling her meager origami skills to the test. She set it on Sunny’s highchair and smiled as the boy took it and fiddled with it. It was demolished in seconds, of course, but that was toddlers for you. Scootaloo glanced at Sunset. “So why did you invite me? What do you want?” “I want to be a family again.” Sunset shook her head, rubbing her upper arm. “I know it’s a pipe dream. I know there’s no way we can go back to being what we were before. I just want you to… I want us to finally move past…” She closed her eyes as her forehead wrinkled. “Oh, Scootaloo, I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I can’t imagine how betrayed you must have felt.” “Yeah,” Scootaloo grumbled. “And you know what the worst part was? That—” “I could have stopped it at any time.” Sunset sucked in her lips. “Just by taking responsibility.” Scootaloo had her hand up, a finger raised, ready to belt out a series of point that she had practically memorized. At Sunset’s words, she coughed and lowered her arm. Sunset sighed. “For the longest time, I’ve said that my past does not define me. And really, it doesn’t have to. I don’t have to live like I can’t move beyond it…” She shook her head. “I went about it the wrong way. I ignored my past. Avoided it. Never brought it up. I put the past in the past and hid it away. It came back to haunt me, regardless.” She tapped the table. “I want to take responsibility now. My past doesn’t define me, not alone. It’s just one small part of me. But I can’t deny it anymore. I want to fix my mistakes, or move past them, or overcome them.” Scootaloo stared at Sunset, her heart numb. Her knee bounced beneath the table, nervous energy pouring through her veins. Sunset used her napkin to daub the edges of her eyes. “One of the biggest mistakes I ever made was losing my little sister.” Scootaloo turned to Sunny. He looked back with childlike seriousness. She booped him on the nose, causing him to giggle. “Scootaloo…” Sunset Shimmer prepared herself with a deep, stuttering breath. “Would you be willing to try to be a family again?” Scootaloo rubbed her fluffy purple hair. “Me saying yes isn’t going to make the hurt go away.” A sandwich was placed before Scootaloo, alongside a glass of water. She bit into the meal, but couldn’t taste it over the heaviness in her chest. “And I know it’s not fair of me to say no.” “I’m not asking you to be fair.” Sunset picked at her salad. “I’m asking what you’re willing to do.” “So it’s on me, now, huh?” Scootaloo tapped her chest. “It’s up to me whether we start calling each other sisters again, it that it? Is that your game? Turning it all onto me—?” “No, it’s up to the both of us.” Sunset held her hands out. “It has to be a joint thing, Scootaloo. But I can’t do anything if you don’t want it. We could spend the rest of our lives and never say another word to each other…” She looked to the tabletop. “Or I could be honest about how much I miss you.” Scootaloo fluttered her eyelids against a sudden sting. Sunset went on, “And I’ll take the first step and say how truly sorry I am about the horrible, horrible pain I put you through, and how I’ll never, ever let it happen again for as long as I live. And that is a promise from the depths of my soul.” “Scooroo?” Sunny said. He reached for another napkin and held it out to her. “Duck?” Scootaloo looked from Sunset to Sunny. She took the napkin and folded it into a swan. “Here’s a real ugly duckling for you, Kid.” She stuffed another bite into her mouth. “I don’t know where to start.” “Like I do?” Sunset squirmed in her seat. “I’m going in blind, Scootaloo.” Scootaloo popped her knuckles. “Maybe if you… just told me about your day? Would that be a start?” Sunset wiped away a tear before it could fall from her chin. She stabbed her fork into her salad. “If you want?” Scootaloo glanced to the side and saw her two origami swans battling for dominance of Sunny’s highchair. She gave him a slow, uneasy smile. “Yeah. Let’s try that.” *** Take Up Arms Scootaloo flapped her purple-tinged wings and flew lazily a meter above the ground. She followed close behind her small group of friends as they made their way through Ponyville. The aftertaste of ice cream from Sugarcube Corner licked at the corner of her mouth. Today was the day Rumble rode off to his Royal Guard training. Rumble walked at the front of the procession, speaking with Spike about this or that. Apple Bloom snuck a word in edgewise every so often, and Sweetie Belle wasn’t afraid of letting loose with a snarky quip. Button Mash and Featherweight were arguing about video games, no surprise there. Everybody had given their well-wishes, said how proud they were of Rumble, hoped that he would write… Scootaloo hadn’t said a word. Too soon, the time came to give their final goodbyes. The train station was packed. Rumble walked to the far side of the platform, giving his older brother Thunderlane and sister-in-law Cloudkicker a hug. A few other ponies and townscreatures milled around, slapping him on the back and slugging his shoulder. She landed lightly on his back and tapped the top of his head. He jumped at the sudden weight, but held her up easily. He turned his head and smiled at her. “Hay, Scootaloo—” She planted a long, passionate kiss on his lips, her hoof caressing his mane. She held him still, her wings twitching against her back. She pulled away with a smack. “You have to be safe, you hear? You have to come back. You go train to be the best darned soldier you can be, but then you have to come back.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I’ll come back if you wait for me. Honest truth.” “I will.” She slid down from her back as he sat. Her eyes tilted down. “It feels like we just got this thing off the ground.” “We kinda did.” He looped his leg around her back and turned her. “But hay, check it out. See the new building they’re putting up?” He pointed to the long, low construction project being assembled at the edge of town, beside the Everfree Forest. “That’s the new Royal Guard Barracks. The guards won’t be staying in the castle anymore. In fact, I hear they’ve got a whole troop moving in.” He winked at her. “When I graduate, all I have to do is get myself assigned to Ponyville.” She smirked. “Think they’ll let you do it?” “I dunno why not.” He kissed her mane. “I’ll miss you, Scoots.” Thunderlane lifted a set of saddlebags over Rumble’s back. “Don’t forget to write, little bro. We’ll keep in touch!” “An’ keep yer half-witted remarks tae yerself,” Cloudkicker added. “Ye’ve got eno’ muscles wit’out performin’ twenty wing-ups e’ery time ye open yer fool mouth.” The train whistled. The conductor hollered out for all he was worth. “All aboard!” Scootaloo gave Rumble a peck on the cheek. She blushed bright as she backed away. “So… see yah.” “Bye.” Rumble stepped onto the train car. He squared his hooves, turned to her, and gave her a nervous smile. “Scootaloo… I love you.” “I—ah…” Scootaloo coughed. She tried to force words out, to answer with something… anything! But the train pulled away, leaving her in a cloud of steam. “Aw, come—You’re gonna leave me with that?” She slumped to her rump, grimacing at the speeding locomotive. She brushed her mane back, scratching her neck. A flick of her wings tossed her into the air. “Hay, Scootaloo!” a voice said from the ground. She looked down to see Sweetie Belle calling up to her. “Scootaloo! I’m taking you for lunch!” Scootaloo crossed her forelegs and raised an eyebrow. “Since when?” “Since I said so three seconds ago!” Sweetie Belle waved her hoof insistently. “Come on. Time’s wasting.” The crowd dispersed once the train was gone. Scootaloo hovered behind Sweetie, trailing behind the last stragglers. Sweetie Belle tossed her mane. “So where shall we go?” she asked. “The Silver Spoon? The Apple Family’s market cart? Perhaps the local café? Anything but Hayburger, please.” Scootaloo smirked. “Hay-oh, welcome to Hayburger—” “Zip it.” Sweetie Belle pursed her lips. “Very well. The café. Don’t worry, I’ll foot the bill.” “Come on Sweetie, I’ve got a job,” Scootaloo said. “I’m good for it—” “You are wearing neither saddlebags nor a coin purse.” Sweetie Belle winked. “Trust me, I’ll foot the bill.” “I’d rather you pay the bill, but if you’ve got the horseshoes for it…” Scootaloo grinned. Sweetie looked at her with leveled eyebrows and heavy eyelids. “That was awful,” Sweetie said. “I’ve had worse.” Scootaloo settled down onto the smooth road. She trotted through the outdoor café’s front gate and picked a table out. Sweetie sat across from her. Scootaloo leaned her elbows on the tabletop. “So, why the sudden interest in lunch?” “It’s noon.” Sweetie Belle patted the bottom of one of her curls. “And you need a friend.” Scootaloo’s ears drooped. She maintained an upbeat smile. “I’m good. Really. Thanks for looking out for me, but…” “Scootaloo…” Sweetie adjusted her frameless glasses with a spell. “You’ve been quiet as the grave. If you need somebody to talk to, you needn’t look further. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’ll be right there. If you need a friend, well, you have several but I will try to suffice and—” Scootaloo flew over the table and wrapped Sweetie Belle in a tight hug. The unicorn gasped, but recovered quickly, resting her forelegs across her friend’s back. “’M-’m sorry,” Scootaloo said, her voice warbling. “It’s just that Rainbow joined the Wonderbolts and Rumble’s going away and it’s hard and…” She held on for all she was worth. “I thought I was supposed to be the one everybody came to for encouragement.” “But who encourages the encourager?” Sweetie Belle nuzzled her. “You can’t possibly be upbeat all the time. Not even Pinkie manages that.” “Nah, but she’s close.” Scootaloo sighed and wiped her eyes, tilting her head towards the sky. “Gugh. I’m gonna be a mess for the next few weeks, aren’t I?” “Maybe. You’ll get back into a routine. You’ll get to stay in touch.” Sweetie shared a half-smile. “And in six months or so, he’ll roll back into town, good as new.” Scootaloo smiled and tiptoed back to her seat. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Sweetie signaled the waiter that he could come and take their orders. “Remember, if there’s anything you need, I’ll be there.” Scootaloo scanned the menu and ordered a daisy sandwich. She tapped her hooves together and played with the angle of her wings. Her eyes lit up. “I know something.” “Yeah?” Sweetie Belle sipped from her teacup. “What’s that?” “Do you think if we added wings to our wagon, I could pull it while flying?” Sweetie Belle set the tea down. She folded her forelegs atop the table. She set a simmering look over her glasses. “No.” “You know it’ll cut travel time in half—” “Scootaloo, I will be there to encourage you on any venture you set out to accomplish…” Sweetie shook her head. “So long as I get to keep my hooves on the ground.” Scootaloo clicked her tongue. “You of all ponies know that if you’re gonna shoot for a dream, you gotta aim high.” “You’re right.” Sweetie pointed a hoof. “You should ask Apple Bloom for help. She’s the engineering type.” “I could totally add in a new cushion.” “No.” “Hay, yeah! And new suspension for when we land hard!” “Nope.” “I could make it all lacy and stuff so you’d be travelling in style.” Sweetie Belle smiled and rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just teasing me.” “Yeah.” Scootaloo leaned back. She caught sight of their waiter bringing out trays of their food. “Just a little levity does a day good.” Sweetie Belle sniffed her soup du jour. She lifted a spoon to her lips and sipped. “I find that hard to argue with.” Scootaloo lifted her sandwich and licked her lips. She glanced up at her friend. “Hay, Sweetie?” “Yes?” “Thank you.” “It was my pleasure.” *** Order A woman crept through the doorway into the back of the lecture hall. Students filled the desks, sitting in tiers that circled around the podium several meters below. The woman took an empty desk and crossed her legs. She sneered at a sleeping student three tiers down. The sneer dissipated when she saw the professor giving the lecture. He was a big man by any standards. Muscular, tall, and broad at the shoulder. He never strayed far from the blackboard, gripping his notes in one hairy hand and holding chalk in the other. His was formally dressed in a black suit with glistening golden buttons. “In conclusion, the natural world is held together by order.” His black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, while his prominent sideburns made him seem like he had been pulled from history. The woman almost expected him to don a stovepipe hat at the end of the lecture. “Life cannot exist without it. If a single unit—the distance from the sun, the gravitational pull, the size of the planet—was off by a fraction, this planet would cease to exist as we know it. The systems must work together in harmony. If not, one species will wipe out another. An ecosystem can fall to changes in the weather.” A clunky, metal brace was clasped around his right leg. A cane rested against the blackboard, topped with a glistening lion’s head which roared in triumph. The professor circled a word on the board. “Entropy. It is merely a term we use to describe the truth that the isolated system that is our universe is gradually tearing itself apart. Order itself barrels towards a heated death. Dramatic, perhaps, but basic observation deems it unquestionable.” He dropped the chalk into a slot on the board and grasped the cane. He made his ponderous way to the lectern on the far side of the stage. “Over the next few weeks, we shall go further in depth with this concept and what it means for thermodynamics. We shall make physicists out of you yet.” He slapped the stand with his cane. The sound echoed across the room, waking the sleeping student. “Read chapters one, two, and four of your textbooks in preparation for Thursday’s lecture. That is all.” The students filed out, but the woman stayed. She looped a strand of hair behind her ear with her index finger. She stood up once she and the professor were alone in the room, a folder tucked under her arm. “Doctor Sombra? A word, please?” He locked the clasps of his briefcase and hefted himself upward with his cane. He gave her a withering look. “If you have questions, please make an appointment. I have a meeting I cannot miss.” “I’m not a student.” She walked at a quick clip down the stairs to the podium. Her high heels tapped against the smooth floor. “Not of Ursagryph University, at least. My academic interest lies in a… slightly different direction.” Sombra eased himself down the stairs a step at a time. His awkward gait brought a wince to his face every time his braced leg thumped against the ground. “I’m… not interested… in writing my memoirs. I have… little money for charity. I dislike public appearances. I dislike politics a great deal more. I fail to see… what you could want from me.” “It’s not what I want from you,” the woman said. She touched the bright-blue streak flowing through her violet hair. “It’s what I can give to you.” He grimaced at her. “Salvation for my soul, I suppose?” “Definitely not.” “So the other thing, then.” He leaned close to her and spoke in a low, gravelly voice. “I despise gold diggers and social climbers equally, madam. Your charms have nothing I have not seen before, and nothing I cannot say no to. Perhaps you shall have more luck at the Blueblood estate. Good day.” He shuffled past her. She waited to a count of ten before speaking. “Three years ago, April first, you published an article in this institution’s magazine. ‘The Science of Magic.’” As she expected, the thump, thump, thump of his footsteps stopped. He hunched his shoulders and sent her a blazing glare. “It was an April Fools article. It was a joke.” “You don’t have a sense of humor.” She pulled the article in question from the folder and dropped in on a nearby desk. “And I’m not laughing.” She tapped the snippet, pointing out several sentences she had highlighted. “It says here that ‘Magic is made up of three basic components. Emotion is the power behind the spell, the guiding force, the very intention of the user. Mathematics is used to understand the individual makings of the spell, from which can arise infinite combinations. The third component is the interweaving of these ingredients, and how the same ingredients, with the same volume, can become a completely different spell if strung together in an alternate fashion.’” She smiled at the metaphorical storm clouds hovering around his face. “Have you heard of a small high school overseas? Known as Can—” “The Canterlot High Hoax; yes, I’ve had the pleasure of innumerable students coming to me with news of that.” He turned on his heel and hauled himself towards the exit. “A teenage girl copes with her harsh reality with fantasies of magical lands and happy ponies, while her five closest friends encourage it. I doubt that was healthy for her development.” She opened the folder. “I’ve seen with my own two eyes that it is not a hoax.” “Madam,” Sombra growled, “unless you have physical evidence that magic does indeed exist, I must brand you as a complete lunatic—” A desk to his right glistened bright blue and levitated. He stumbled, gripping his chest with his free hand. He swore, his eyes growing wide. “I think that will suffice?” She let the desk slam back into place. “Excellent. Now we can focus on the important things.” He fell into a chair. He gripped the edge of the desk as his braced leg scraped the ground. “What do you want?” “I want to learn how you discovered magic, Doctor.” She pressed her palms against the desk and leaned over him. “And then I want to help you perform it.” Sombra’s lip twitched back. “Me?” “When doing anything, it helps if the person believes it’s possible.” The woman paced alongside the desks, a catlike grin on her face. “You’ve had an encounter with the magical world, Doctor. When was this?” Sombra stared into space. His meaty hands gripped his cane. “When I was… a young boy… three women came to my hometown. They did… impossible things. Impossible. They caused arguments to erupt. Tore families apart. Spread distrust. All just by being there. And that was merely the beginning.” He tightened his jaw. “Before they moved on to prey upon some other town, one of them—I forget her name, but she seemed off even by their standards—took the children aside and told them a story. A… a story very similar to the one I heard from Canterlot High, to be honest. She described… dragons and hydras and people who created the weather… She described magic…” He shook his head, his craggy face warping into a deep frown. “It was only later I realized she was holding us hostage to escape our village’s witch hunt. We never found the women again. When I wrote the article at the insistence of my friend, I was merely relating a fantastical tale from my childhood.” “Perhaps you were,” the woman said. “Or perhaps you were subconsciously reaching out, seeking those with similar experience. Those who could show you the truth.” “I’m not a professor of psychology, so I cannot answer that.” He glanced down at his injured leg. “You can truly teach me magic? Impossible things made real? A complete defiance of everything I know to be fact?” “All that and more.” She stood tall, her legs ramrod-straight in her pencil skirt. “Are you willing?” Dr. Sombra fished through his pockets and retrieved a flip-style cell phone. “Fancy Pants? I’m afraid I cannot make our appointment. The pain in my leg is… it’s too much. Yes, another day. Next week at the usual time would be delightful. Good day.” She reached out an arm. His hand dwarfed hers as he shook firmly. He met her eyes with a dark glower. “To whom do I owe the honor?” “Glimmer,” she said. “My name is Starlight Glimmer.” *** It’s Humble, But it’s Home “All hope was lost!” Hoops declared to his children, sitting on his lap. He thrust a wing to the sky. “The mare was tumbling to certain death, the Wonderbolts had been knocked unconscious, when zowie! Rainbow Dash tore through the stratosphere with an explosion of color!” “Wow!” Stardust Shimmer said. “Was that the sonic rainboom, Daddy?” “It sure was, kiddo.” Dribble Drabble drooled. Sunset Shimmer slid a rook into place on her chessboard. “Check.” Adagio Dazzle examined her options, scratching her graying mane. “Aaand… Knight takes rook.” “Drat.” Sunset rested her cheek on her hoof. “So… what did the princess say?” “She said thank you.” Adagio clicked her tongue as Sunset maneuvered her other rook into position. “She said she’d bring us any information she finds about the portal. Knight takes bishop.” “What?” Sunset squinted at the board. “Drat again. Bishop takes pawn.” “Rook to A-5.” Adagio tapped the piece absentmindedly. “She tried to talk with you, you know. Just to talk.” “I know. Queen takes bishop.” Sunset Shimmer glanced toward her family, a groan rising from her chest. “Is it bad that I don’t really care?” Adagio raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to quantify that statement, hon.” “I am completely comfortable with my life here as it is.” Sunset swept a hoof over the board. “I teach language, meet interesting people, spend some time socializing with the townscreatures, then come back home every night and settle quietly in. That’s life. It’s easy. It’s sane. I’m tired of this talk of alternate universes and princesses and magic…” Adagio rolled her eyes and took a pawn. “You were willing to help me study the portal—” “You’re my best friend.” Sunset moved her queen. “Check. I’d be an ogre if I didn’t agree to help you.” Adagio chuckled. “You little racist, you.” “What?” Sunset lowered her eyebrows. “Come on! Don’t tell me ogres are actually a thing.” “Distant cousin of the cave troll.” Adagio slipped a bishop across the board. “Bishop takes queen.” “Well, the Society for Kindness to Ogres can call me out later.” Sunset Shimmer raised a victorious hoof. “For now, I’ll say that you’ve fallen into my trap.” “Rook to A-1.” Adagio’s smirk split across her face. “Checkmate.” Sunset’s hoof flopped to the table. “Huh?” “Yeah, that wall of pawns, right in front of the king?” Adagio shook her head slowly. “Not a great idea.” Sunset scowled at her. “Hay, it was your idea to play chess in the first place.” Adagio waved a hoof. “Don’t blame me because you haven’t been practicing.” She stood up and stretched. “It’s kind of a metaphor for life, you might say. You’ve walled yourself off and it’ll just end up with you trapped—” “I don’t wall myself off.” Sunset Shimmer crossed her forelegs. “I always let in the ponies I trust.” Adagio laughed. “You don’t trust Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship?” “She’s powerful and she’s public,” Sunset said, counting off her hooves. “That’s a combination I want absolutely nothing to do with.” Adagio Dazzle hung her head. She nodded and wrapped Sunset in a one-legged hug. “Alright, you’ve got me. You like your privacy. What about the other Sunset? Your double? Your sister from an alternate-universe mister?” “That’s… different…” Sunset’s horn sparked, gathering up the chess pieces. “She and I already have a built-in kinship. And… We understand each other, to a degree. She’s also not a purple pony princess. I’m… I’m actually looking forward to meeting her family. It’ll be nice.” Adagio smiled. “That’s more like it. That’s the Sunset I know. Always eager to try new things.” “Once,” Sunset giggled. “I’ll try anything once.” With a nod, Adagio turned to the children. “Come on, kids, give Aunt Dagi a hug before she goes home!” Stardust nearly tackled her to the ground, but Adagio’s strength held up. She gave the filly a squeeze and patted the little Dribble on the head. She made a point of slugging Hoops in the shoulder, possibly leaving a bruise, before telling him “Keep yourself out of trouble.” She nuzzled Sunset, and was out the door. Evening overtook the outer reaches of Fillydelphia, casting a rich purple glow over their little town. She trotted across the dusty streets, waving a greeting to a few creatures not yet home from work. Fergus the leprechaun and Winifred the diamond dog waved back. She came to her little home, barely more than a hut. She sighed and pushed the creaky wood door open. It was a two-room house. One where she slept, and one where she did the cooking, cleaning, and eating. She struck a match and lit the lantern sitting over the little writing desk tucked into one corner. Pages and pages of musical notes were written on scrolls, the makings of several unfinished songs. “Eh.” She shrugged and turned away. “One of these days.” She stood in the center of the room, turning her head every which way. Her eyes darted around and her ears danced atop her head. Seeing and hearing nothing, she lifted the rug splayed across the floor and revealed a trap door. It was not sealed with a latch, but a magical lock; one only capable of being opened with her voice. She leaned close to it and whispered, “Welcome to the show.” Tumblers rumbled. The door swung outward. A spiraling staircase led into darkness. She went down, and the door closed after her. The room at the bottom was small and cramped. It had a single magic-lit lantern in the center of the rocky ceiling. Adagio stopped by a wooden chest and kicked it open. She saw several glistening, golden apples sitting inside. She took one out, admired her reflection, and bit into it. Power filled her body. Wrinkles disappeared from her face as color returned to her mane and coat. Her apparent age receded several years, drawing her elderliness away and transforming her into a middle-aged mare. Adagio flexed her strong limbs as they burned with energy. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked to the far end of the room. A mirror sat against the wall. It was rounded, as tall as two ponies, framed with spiraling patterns, and featured a perfect reflection. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a palace. Go figure. Adagio touched her hoof against Starswirl the Bearded’s magic mirror, stolen from Princess Twilight Sparkle’s Ponyville castle. She traced its edge all the way to the bottom. Her smirk turned sinister as she stared into her own eyes. “Okay, then, big boy. Let’s see what makes you tick.” She laid a notepad on top of the chest and slid a pair of goggles over her eyes, their multicolored lenses keyed to sense magic currents. A unicorn could have found them with a simple descrying spell, but earth ponies—and former mythical sea creatures, for that matter—required a little assistance. Slowly but surely, the secrets of the wizard’s design came together. Between what Twilight leaned about the pool portal and what Adagio discovered about Starswirl’s, she would soon enough be able to make her own mirror. Then the fun could really start. *** Well, Shoot! Lord Mayor Applejack stood in the middle of the freshly-paved, smooth, spotless road that was Mane Street. She looked slightly to the left, where a giant, five-clawed footprint had crushed through the asphalt and tar. She turned back to the spotless road that had been the cornerstone of her mayoral campaign. Applejack sighed. She grimaced at the footprint. She refused to look at the dozens of others leading up and down the roadway. A few had started to fill with water. Applejack sighed. She heard a faint boing, boing, boing as somepony hopped up behind her. Pink filled her peripheral vision, which could only have belonged to one mare. “Hi, Pinkie.” Pinkie Pie smiled wide. “Hi, Applejack! Whatcha doooin’?” Applejack sighed. Pinkie Pie looked down one way, then swiveled her head around to look the other. She bobbed her head. “Looks like the city budget needs to find some room for a little road repair. And maybe we should add, like, a dragon-path that leads along the edge of the city. You know, for when Little Spike grows up.” Applejack gritted her teeth. “Y’all can stop callin’ him Li’l Spike, you know.” “Y’all as in just me,” Pinkie said, “or y’all as in ‘everybody in the city?’” Applejack sighed. “There, there, Applejack.” Pinkie adjusted Applejack’s cravat, tying it just a little too tight around the neck. “Once we install those dragon-path-thingamadoos, we won’t have to worry about any dragons crushing the road again.” With a smirk, Applejack looked to the sky. “Ah guess you’re right—” “We’ll just have to worry about water getting into the cracks in the road and then freezing during winter and expanding into ice so that it makes the cracks bigger and turns them into potholes which can make ponies trip, fall, and break their legs.” Pinkie waved a nonchalant hoof. “Not to mention the propensity ponies have to drive especially rough over the roadways, which can be a doozey when your cart doesn’t have the proper suspension but otherwise feels like gliding on silk. They never notice the scuffs and chips and dents and, yes, cracks that result.” Applejack sighed. “So,” Pinkie Pie said, bouncing on her hind legs. “Whatcha doooin’?” “Lamentin’ my lot in life.” “Funny thing about lots in life.” Pinkie Pie whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “If it’s a big, empty sandlot, it’s just perfect for a friendly game of hoofball. Just a thought.” Applejack pulled the hat from her head. “Is that a metaphor?” “Yeah, kinda.” Pinkie giggled. “It’s also an invitation. The girls are meeting up at Sugarcube Corner. Got an hour or so to hang out?” Applejack narrowed her eyes at the road. She untied her cravat and let it hang from her neck. “Yeah, shoot, why not? The roads ’ll keep an’ the protestors can have a break. Lead the way, Assistant Mayor Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie Pie pronked along, Applejack trotting in her wake. The pink mare glanced at a footprint as large as a wagon. “Wow. I guess you can say Big Spike really left an impression, huh?” Applejack sighed.