Monochrome

by A Man Called Horse

4

Like a slinking cat, Rainbow set her hooves on the cobblestone streets of Ponyville, just off the town square. She ran her gaze across the surrounding area, finding it quiet and largely unoccupied. What ponies there were moved quickly, without speaking and without wasting time with distractions. And none of them paid Rainbow any mind at all. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that last bit. As much as she felt down in the dumps and wanted to fly under the radar, to be outright ignored, as if she were just any other pony, wasn’t something she was used to.

She blew a lock of gray hair away from her eyes and set out at a trot.

She walked down Maple Avenue, away from the square, barely noticing as the buildings became more thinly spaced and residential. At an intersection, she glanced to the left before she could stop herself. A distinctive tree rose high into the air a few blocks away, its gray leaves flashing in the breeze like fish scales. She averted her eyes almost instantly.

Her aimless stroll took her to Ponyville Park, looking like an old photograph in the afternoon sun. Ponies were even scarcer here, but that suited Rainbow just fine.

As Rainbow crossed over a small bridge and rounded a bend in the trail, she passed by a park bench inhabited by two mares. They sat on opposite ends of the bench, as far apart as they could without falling off, with their faces turned away from one another.

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you two. What’s up?”

Bon Bon’s expression instantly became an exaggerated smile. “Why hello, Rainbow Dash! Nice day, isn’t it?”

Rainbow looked right, left, and back at Bon Bon, her expression flat. “Yeah. It’s lovely…”

“Just figured I’d get some sunshine,” Bon Bon continued. “Alone.”

Lyra snorted. “Rainbow Dash, could you please inform somepony that I’m the one doing the ignoring here, not her?”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Guys, I don—”

“And could you tell her that she’s behaving like a foal?” Bon Bon stated sweetly.

“Yeah? Could you tell Bon Bon that she’s a two-timing shrew?!”

“And could you tell Lyra that it was a simple misunderstanding and she knows it?!”

Rainbow watched them with wide eyes as they went back to giving each other the silent treatment. She began to back away slowly. “Ooooo-kay. I’d better get going. Have fun doing… whatever it is you’re doing. Bye!”

In a grayish blur, she was gone, darting around a bend in the path and behind some bushes.

“Sheesh!” she said once she was clear. “What’s up with them?”

That unpleasantness behind her, Rainbow continued on, shortly coming upon an unoccupied bench. She climbed onto it, stretched, and curled into a fuzzy ball. Deep breath in, and deep breath out. Closing her eyes, she perked her ears, listening to the sounds of the park—of which, it turned out, there were surprisingly few. Aside from the whisper of wind-blown foliage and the glugging of a nearby fountain, it was oddly quiet. She noted a distinct lack of birdsong.

Before she was aware of it, she was drifting off, the world around her falling away little by little. In the quiet of the park, she heard a very, very faint ringing in her ears, but she paid it no mind. She was vaguely aware of sleep as it wound its tentacles around her and began to pull her, like a ship, into the deeps.

“Rainbow Dash?”

Halfway into her startled yelp, Rainbow stifled it with her hooves. Her eyes darted open and to the side, finding Scootaloo standing there with a wince on her face. With a creak and a thunk, the filly's scooter fell to the ground.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” she said in a verbal mudslide.

Almost on reflex, Rainbow composed herself, slicking her mane back with a hoof and sketching the coolest smile she could muster onto her face.

“Heh, don’t worry, squirt. You didn’t ‘startle’ me,” she lied as her heart continued to fibrillate. “I was just dozing, is all.” For good measure, she reached out with a hoof and tousled the filly’s mane.

Scootaloo giggled. “Yeah. Don’t know what I was thinking. It would take a lot more than little ol’ me to scare somepony like you.”

Rainbow’s expression sobered. “Somepony like me, huh?” Then, noticing Scootaloo’s look of confusion, she changed the subject. “Hey, shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Nuh-uh! They cancelled it today.”

“Really? Just because all the color took a vacation?”

Scootaloo managed to giggle, nod, and shrug all at once.

“So, let me get this straight: You’ve got a whole day to do anything you’d like, and you’re just wandering around the park on your lonesome? What gives, kid?”

“Well, Sweetie Belle’s been sick since yesterday. Apple Bloom was with me, but when she heard that Applejack was behind on her farm work, she decided to go help out.”

“Applejack’s behind on her farm work?” Rainbow grimaced. “Oops.”

“So I’ve just been trying to find something to do.” She gave Rainbow a sly, yet shy, smile. “I wouldn’t be against—oh, I dunno—seeing some super-cool tricks.”

Rainbow didn’t need to look up to feel the weight of the dead sky pressing down on her. Nevertheless, she tried to smile—for the fans, and all. “Sorry, Scoots. I’m afraid I’m just not feelin’ it today, you dig?”

Scootaloo’s tiny wings drooped. “You’re not? Because of the color?”

Rainbow’s already-fragile smile began to crumble at the foundations. “To be honest, I don’t really know.”

“Do you… do you wanna talk about it?”

Rainbow met Scootaloo’s eyes, and felt a lump in her throat at the concern evident in them. She hopped down from the bench and gave Scootaloo a hug with one foreleg, resting her chin on the filly’s once-purple mane.

“Thanks, Scoots, but I’ll be alright. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“You? What do you have to feel sorry for yourself over? You’re the coolest pony in Equestria!”

Rainbow gave a weak, warm chuckle. “It happens to the best of us, kid.” She pulled away from Scootaloo. “I guess I’d better be on my way. I thought I’d take a nap here, but I don’t think I’m feeling as nap-y as I thought. What are you gonna do with you day off?”

“Well, I was thinking I’d head home and get back to reading Daring Do like you recommended. I’m almost caught up on the series now.”

“Good, good. Gotta keep up on the finer things in life.”

As Scootaloo picked up her scooter and mounted it, Rainbow spread her wings and prepared to the take to the sky.

“Oh, and Rainbow?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I ran into Spike earlier, and he said Twilight was close to a breakthrough with this Graying crud. Though you’d like to know.”

A thrill of something like hope ran down Rainbow’s spine and to the ends of her legs. “Whoa, really? That’s awesome. Maybe I oughta…” her expression drooped a bit. “Maybe I ought to go talk to her…”

“Well, as long as you’re making the rounds, you should stop by Rarity’s place, too. I went to see Sweetie and she—Rarity, I mean—seemed a little… um, out of it.”

Rainbow gave a rueful smile. “Must be the season for it. Thanks, kid.”

She watched as Scootaloo buzzed away, then turned her gaze to the edge of the park. To the right, she could just make out the upper branches of Twilight’s library. To the left, the banners of Carousel Boutique. She chewed her lip, spread her wings, and flew to the left.

* * * *

“Are we there yet?”

“As much as I would love to say yes, we’re but halfway there, by my guess.”

“Oh.” Spike bit his lip, glancing back and forth into the shadowy lengths of the forestscape around them. Even in the dim light, and not for the first time, the shapes of creatures could be seen, all fleeing in the same direction. Thankfully, the beasts seemed far more interested in escape than with waylaying a zebra, a dragon, and an alicorn princess. Spike noted with some apprehension that the three of them were the only living things heading further into the woods. He distracted himself from these worrisome thoughts by turning around and looking at Twilight. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Twi.”

“Sorry, Spike,” she said. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well… about all this Graying business.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I was just thinking that color isn’t inherent to reality.”

Spike did a double-take. “It’s not?”

“Not really. In a sense, color’s an illusion. It’s based on light, which reflects off objects at varying frequencies. Now, obviously, different objects can have different degrees of light absorption, reflection, and so forth, scattering the light in different ways. But it’s our brains that assign color values to them. It’s just an interpretation. Technically, the black-and-white world we’re seeing now is just as accurate.”

Twilight briefly tripped over a tree root, awkwardly using her wings to balance herself, then continued, “What that means, though, is that whatever’s causing the Graying isn’t affecting our environment, but rather, our minds. We are the ones the magic is acting upon, and for whatever reason—or maybe no reason at all—it’s inhibiting our ability to perceive color. That also explains why Ponyville looked the same as usual from Canterlot. If Canterlot’s outside the Graying's reach, then the ponies there would see colors just fine.”

“Huh,” Spike said. “I guess that sort of makes sense. Kinda matches up with what those books said about the meteor shower messing with our dreams and stuff.”

Zecora nodded along from her position at the head of their little caravan. “As much is said in zebra lore; I only hope there isn’t more.”

“More?” Spike asked.

“I think what she means is: If this thing can affect our ability to see color, what else might it do to our senses?”

What Twilight didn’t say was why she had been thinking these things. She said nothing to them about the strange, shadowy figures that had been following them for some time, observing them, obscured by the darkness, darting to and fro through the dim light of the forest. Worse, she was reasonably sure that the figures weren't actually there. Both Spike and Zecora, though taking note of fleeing animals, gave no indication that they saw these dark forms. The thought of hallucinating unnerved her, and trying not to think about it only made her headache worse.

“Magic that messes with your mind,” Spike mused. “That’s comforting.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Do you have any theories of what’s causing all this?”

“Well, I have one.” She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Considering the meteor shower, and what Zecora saw last night, I would guess that it’s a meteorite that fell to the earth.”

“A meteorite?” Spike said skeptically. “How could a space rock be doing this?”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t know, Spike. That’s what I’m hoping to find out. Like I’ve been saying all along, this could all be a wild goose chase.”

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a ghostly howl piercing the air.

“Gah!” Spike darted to Twilight, hugging one of her legs. “What’s that?!”

“Timberwolves, or I’m a duck,” Zecora muttered, crouching low. “Just passing through, with any luck.”

And sure enough, a large pack of the arboreal lupines sprinted into view a few dozen yards to the right, weaving through trees, giving yips and barks and howls as they fled. The fact that they seemed entirely uninterested in any intruders into their woodland world didn’t stop said intruders from ducking out of sight. In moments, the timberwolves were gone, their panicked sounds fading into the distance. The three travelers emerged, breathing a sigh of relief…

…with the exception of Spike, who proceeded to give a thunderous belch.

“Eugh, Spike!” Twilight scolded. “I know being frightened makes you gassy, but could you at least try hold it in?”

“I don’t think I could hold this in if I tried,” he responded, holding a scroll in his claw.

Twilight gasped. “Is that from the princess?” She levitated it from him without waiting for an answer and squinted at it. Sure enough, there was the royal seal. She promptly broke the seal and opened the scroll. “I wonder if she found anything.”

She cast an illumination spell, and as Spike and Zecora listened, Twilight read aloud:

“My dearest Princess Twilight,

“Unfortunately, we in Canterlot are no closer to understanding the phenomenon than we were last time I wrote to you.”

“Oh…” Twilight said, looking at the others will a flat expression. She cleared her throat, then returned to the letter.

“I have received word that one of the professors in my school—the astronomy professor, as it happens—made some promising discoveries in a recent experiment that might shed some light on the matter, but he’s still processing the data and hasn’t made a formal statement.

“But this isn’t why I’ve written to you.

“Canterlot has gotten reports that ponies living to the north of Ponyville had begun experiencing the same loss of color—the implication being a worrying one: the phenomenon is spreading. So far no other major population centers have been affected, but as it stands, Canterlot may very well fall under the influence of it in mere hours.

“I will keep you updated on the situation as it develops.

“Princess Celestia.”

“It’s s-spreading?!” Spike said, curling his arms to his chest, eyes darting back and forth.

Twilight gave a sigh and massaged her forehead with a hoof. “Seems that way.” She groaned inwardly and levitated the scroll into her saddlebag. “Let’s just hope the effects don’t get more dangerous. We’ve been lucky so far, all things considered.”

“If the magic is moving, then we should too,” Zecora said, facing forward down the trail. “We should be there in an hour or two.” She set off at a deliberate trot, Spike following a few paces behind her.

Twilight delayed just long enough to catch movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look, spotting a figure behind a nearby tree peeking out at her, wreathed in shadow. Somehow, she knew it was smiling.

She made herself look away and shook her head. You’re just imagining things, Twilight, she thought. Don’t get distracted.

After a brief shiver, she ran to catch up with the others.

* * * *

For some reason, Rainbow Dash had never been able to get into tea. Looking down at the cup in front of her, she knew there was every reason to like it—warm, comforting, a ghost of sophistication. But try as she might, tea just wasn’t her… well, cup of tea. Maybe it was the taste. More likely, it was because it made have to pee.

She looked up and across the table at another cup, hitherto untouched in front of an unoccupied chair. Raising her eyes further, she glanced up the ceiling, perking an ear to the faint creak of a floorboard overhead. This was followed by a closing door, and the sound of hooves descending a staircase.

When Rarity entered the kitchen, Rainbow was again struck by what a mess her usually glamorous friend was. Not that she would say so to her face, of course. She wasn’t stupid. But she also wasn’t unobservant enough to overlook the frayed mane, the bags under her eyes, and the near-grimace she wore on her face like a tribal war mask.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darling,” Rarity said, taking her seat at the table and raising her cup to her lips—using her hooves, Rainbow noticed.

“No problem. How’s she doing, anyway?”

She took a sip. “About the same as this morning, though I suspect her fever will be breaking soon. The poor dear will be up and about in no time.”

“You don’t think her illness was caused by the Graying, do you?” Rainbow asked. “I mean, I know that hasn’t really been its M. O. so far, but still…”

“Oh yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Rarity said with no small amount of sarcasm, turning dark eyes on her guest. “The loss of color must have given Sweetie a cold. And come to think of it, that one teenager down the street got a pimple recently; that must have been caused by it, too! I hear it even caused poor Berry Punch to spill her milk this morning. Will torments never cease?!”

Rainbow’s ears lay back against her skull as if blown there by a shockwave. “Er, yeah… heheh, I guess it is kinda…”

Rarity interrupted her with a raised hoof, followed by an aggravated sigh. “I apologize, Rainbow Dash. You didn’t deserve that. I’ve just been dour today.”

Rainbow fidgeted. “You, uh… you wanna talk about it?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” She took another sip of her tea and looked out the kitchen window, watching as the late-afternoon sunlight slanted in and onto the linoleum floor. “You take things like this for granted,” she continued quietly. “Color, I mean. It seems like such a small thing, and then it vanishes, and suddenly one’s world is turned upside down. Just look at my beautiful home, Rainbow. It’s hideous!”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Rainbow lied, looking across a kitchen that could very easily pass as a mausoleum. “Sure, it’s not as cheerful as it used to be, but it’s still home, right?”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t feel like it! And don’t even get me started on my designs! Somepony might as well have taken my inspiration behind a shed, beaten it to within an inch of its life, and left it for scavenger dogs to pick the bones clean. In my work room, I have bolts and swatches of fabric, and I know—oh yes, I know better than anypony—there are blues and golds and reds and pinks to stand beside the sunrise without shame! And what good does any of it do me but to render every vision in my mind to an unrelentingly gray shadow of itself?! And to top it all off,” she added, quieter, “there’s this damnable migraine I’ve been contending with all day.”

The room fell silent, and with a huff, Rarity drained the last of her tea from the cup and set it down with a gavel-like clink of chinaware.

However, the silence was interrupted by Rainbow snickering, then chuckling, then guffawing outright, clutching her belly with her hooves.

“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” Rarity asked with a glare.

Rainbow reined in her giggles. “Sorry. It’s not ‘funny’, really. It’s just… this stupid color thing seems to be having the same effect on everypony.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well… heh, Applejack’s heart wasn’t in her farm work because the orchards were so dull and gray. Then Fluttershy was down in the dumps because all her critters were riled up by it and she couldn’t calm them down no matter how hard she tried. And me? I wasn’t able to enjoy flying earlier. And to top it all off, I’ve been having an exemplary crisis all day. Real lame.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Um… what? Do you mean an existential crisis, darling?”

“Yeah. That.”

“How so?”

“Well, you know…” She merely pointed to her mane. “Colors are kinda my thing.”

Rarity hummed in understanding, then stood and went to pour herself another cup of tea. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”

“But it doesn’t!” Rainbow huffed, folding her forelegs across her chest. “They’re just colors! And this is just a temporary thing, right? So why does it feel like I’m not even me anymore?”

“Well, you are still you, darling. Even if you don’t feel like it.” She returned to her seat, continuing to stir her tea with her dull magic. “I suppose it goes back to what we were saying before: Somehow this situation has caught us off guard, and we’re all reacting strongly to it.”

Rainbow bit her lip, then bit the bullet. “Rarity? You haven’t been… seeing things, have you? Besides not seeing things, I mean,” she added, again indicating her once-colorful mane.

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“N-never mind.” Rainbow finally picked up her cup and took a meager sip of the almost-lukewarm tea. The taste nearly made her hooves curl. Little did she know that Rarity watched her all the while, concern etched on her drawn features.

“Is something on your mind, dear?”

Rainbow met her eyes, then looked away, exhaling through her nostrils. “I’ve just been thinking. You remember Gilda, right?”

Rarity sniffed. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah, well, the two of us used to be best buddies. We did everything together. But I haven’t heard from her once since that day at Sugarcube Corner.”

“Yes, it’s always a shame when friends have a falling out.”

“That’s just it.” Rainbow gave a fragile, fragile smile. “Friendship’s supposed to be magic, right? So how can it just… end like that? I know Gilda was a major jerk at that party, and I don’t regret standing up for Pinkie and all of you guys, but… I just cut her right out of my life. All because she made a mistake.” Like getting into a hot bath, Rainbow downed the rest of her tea in one gag-inducing shot, trying not to shudder. “And last night, I made a mistake. Now I feel like the one who might be cut out—like maybe I even deserve to be.”

“Oh…” Rarity set her cup down slowly, carefully now, as if it might break. “Is that what this is all about? Rainbow, you have to know that Twilight would never ‘cut you out’ like that!”

“Why not? I did it to Gilda, didn’t it?”

Rarity’s mouth closed with a faint clack of teeth. She fidgeted briefly, then got up from her chair, pacing through her kitchen and nudging various articles into their proper alignment, more for want of something to do than anything else. Rainbow, meanwhile, stared into the greenish-brown mush left at the bottom of her teacup, looking vaguely bird-like.

Finally, Rarity spoke. “Rainbow, I do believe you’re missing one key detail.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” She turned around and looked Rainbow in the eye. “This. Right now,” she said, pointing at Rainbow. “You’re repentant. You realize you made a mistake—though, for the record, I think you’re blowing the mistake far out of proportion—and you’re willing to do better. Tell me: Did Gilda ever show remorse, or apologize?”

“Well, no…”

“And would you have remained friends with her if she had?”

“Totally!”

“Well, there you have it! If you want to stay in Twilight’s life as much as she—I assure you—wants you to stay in hers, then do something about it! Show her how much her friendship means to you.”

“But… how?” Her voice small, foalish.

“Come now, darling. You’re Rainbow Dash, colors or not. Inspiring ponies is what you do. You’ll think of something.”

“I don’t know if I can, though! Not with how I’ve been feeling lately. Please, you gotta help me.”

Rarity’s tongue froze at the edge of a sentence like an icicle. It suddenly appeared that additional, invisible weights had been placed across her back and hung from her eyelids. She turned away, placing her tea cup in the sink. “I’m afraid I’m not much in the position to do much at the moment,” she said tiredly. “Between caring for Sweetie, and my own bedragglement, I don’t think I… I mean, I’d just…”

Rainbow’s helplessness turned to frustration, then bubbled outwards, ugly and irrational and venomous. “I see how it is. You talk a good game, but it’s just for show, isn’t it? Can’t get your hooves dirty?”

Rarity took a step back as if slapped. “Now, that isn’t fair, Rainbow Dash!”

“What is fair, Rares?” Rainbow stood up and walked towards the door. “It’s getting late, and I have a friend to keep disappointing. Thanks for everything.”

She departed without waiting for a farewell, slamming the door closed behind her. Rarity was left standing in her kitchen in a state of shock. The unicorn collapsed to her haunches and turned wet eyes to the floor.

* * * *

Through the thinning trees, the sky was just barely visible. The sun appeared to be setting, but this was merely an educated guess on Twilight’s part. Without color, there was no discernable twilight hour, no reds or pinks or violets to give away the sun’s descent. There was barely any transition; one minute she could see the trail in front of them, and the next she had to squint. Fortunately, she was squinting anyway. Her headache was so strong by now that she could feel it in her horn. Having considered the possibility of dehydration, she had taken one of the canteens in Spike’s backpack and sipped from it periodically during their trek, but it didn’t do much to quell the headache.

In the dimming light, she stumbled over a dip in the path and gave a snort. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m asking this, but are we there yet?”

“Funny that you should ask,” Zecora said, raising a hoof to a bush to move a branch aside, “because here we are at last.”

“Getting kind of loose with your rhymes there, aren’t y—” Twilight’s grouchy tone cut off suddenly at the scene before them.

Beyond the bush, the forest seemed to end suddenly, a large clearing opening before them. Except, as Twilight saw, this was no ordinary clearing. It was a disaster area. Trees, singed and stripped of their leaves, tilted to the side, their roots tugged lose from the earth like fingers slipping from a holdfast. What’s more, all the trees leaned in the same direction—more specifically, away from the approximate center of the clearing. It was silent here, even the leaves around the edge of the clearing seeming to keep still, as if afraid of being noticed. It was so quiet that Twilight could hear a high ringing in her ears. Her first thought was that it was tinnitus of some kind, but she suddenly realized the ringing wasn't in her ears at all. It was in her mind. She further realized that she had been hearing this ringing all day; she just hadn’t heard it until now. Her migraine gave a surge.

Twilight slowly stepped past the threshold and into the clearing. Instantly, she felt her fur stand on end. She panned her vision across the scene before them. “There’s something wrong about this place,” she whispered. "Very wrong."

“I concluded the same this morn. And I don’t even have a horn!”

They began walking into the clearing, going a good twenty paces before Twilight realized someone was missing. She turned, finding Spike still standing among the foliage, visibly trembling even from this distance.

“Come on, Spike,” Twilight said with a comforting smile. “It’ll be fine.”

Spike gulped down the rest of his fear and jogged out of the tree line and directly to Twilight’s side, so close that their sides touched.

In moments, something became visible at the center of the clearing: a dip in the earth. With a gasp, Twilight darted towards it, Spike running to keep up like a moon in its planet’s gravity. Zecora took up the rear, her hoofsteps deliberate and cautious.

Twilight came to a stop at the lip of what she now recognized as a small crater and peered into it. Even in the dark of nightfall, a black shape was visible at the bottom, and with a simple glimmer of Twilight’s horn, the mass was illuminated in dead gray light. As she looked at it, Twilight struggled to find words, in no small part because the words needed to fight through the cloud of knives hovering in her frontal lobe.

“That’s it.” Her tone dull. “That’s what’s causing it.”

Spike poked his head around her legs and looked for himself. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” she breathed. “If nothing else, I can feel it. Something very strange is happening down there, magically speaking. It’s like… like all the leylines in the area are caught on it. Like a swimmer being pulled underwater by a shark.”

Zecora finally came to a rest by Twilight’s side. Her eyes were wider than Twilight had ever seen them. “A fallen star…” She couldn’t even be bothered to finish her couplet.

“Well, technically not a star,” Twilight corrected, then shook her head. “You know what? Never mind.”

It wasn’t as big as Twilight had expected, maybe the size of a hoofball. It was as black and glassy as obsidian, but she noticed that it didn’t reflect the light of her horn. Try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. Finally, she stepped into the shallow crater and made her way to the meteorite, the pain in her skull increasing with every step until that ringing in her brain was like a train whistle. When she was close enough, she raised her hoof and brought it to the meteorite, but the limb froze just an inch from its surface, as if it were being repelled from the stone magnetically.

She set the hoof down and managed to tear her eyes off the meteorite, looking back to the others. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work—cast some analysis spells, see what I can learn about this thing.”

She turned back to the meteorite, examining it closely. Opening herself to the leylines around it, the shrill whine instantly filled her mind again. Through the cutting fog of her headache, she listened to the whine—not with her ears, but with that part of the unicorn brain that governs the horn. She searched deep into its magic, getting a feel for it. Finally, she noticed something. She gasped, taking a step back as her eyes widened.

“Wh-what is it, Twi?” Spike said, hiding behind Zecora’s legs now. “Do you see something?”

“I don’t believe it…” was her only reply.

“What’s the matter, dear Twilight? You seem as though you’ve had a fright.”

“S-Setting Carol was right.” She turned to look at them uncertainly. “The meteorite—all the meteors in the Haizum-Shabdiz cloud, probably—produce magical frequencies. But… there’s a pattern to it, just like Setting Carol said. It’s…”

“What?” Spike prompted.

Twilight chewed her lip and looked back to the black stone. “It’s almost like a signal.”

Comments

[musicluvr1974]

*whistles in amazement* Shoot... I hope this doesn't mean they're going to go through a ponified rendition of The Arrival...