• Published 15th Feb 2015
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Three Little Visitors - Daniel-Gleebits



A string of robberies has been going on in Sunset's neighbourhood, but things change when Sunset's apartment is targeted, and the identities of the thieves become a topic of debate amongst her friends.

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The Risks Associated with Parenthood

Three Little Visitors: Pt 8


If Twilight had asked Sunset precisely how she felt about her theory, Sunset would have been brought up short about how to answer. In truth, she rather hoped that she was wrong.

The Apotheostones were an ancient myth, older than Equestria, older than the tales of the old tribes, older even than the first recorded historical writings on the Royal Pony Sisters, whose antiquity rivalled that of almost any other subject in history.

Sunset had read many of the stones’ associated myths, which whilst widespread across many lands and varied greatly in details, most accounts agreed on several key premises. The Apotheostones were more than simple magical jewels imbued with the ability to carry the life essence of ancient entities across eternity. They were the physical hearts of immortals, crystalised by eons of existence, hardened into red glass by the compounded beats of a thousand lifetimes. Like their owners, the stones became imbued over an incalculable amount of time by the very nature of the entity to which it belonged; any part of that ancient being had become infused with consciousness in and of itself, but in the heart – that most stubborn of organs – lay the desire to persist, the single-minded will to defy the inevitable march of time.

Even immortality has its limitations.

As Sunset knew only too well, no immortal being is entirely impervious; her entire plan of conquest had depended upon it. Even the Royal Pony Sisters, Discord, Tirek, or Cerberus, although their bodies resist time’s slow decay, are not immune to the changing nature of the universe. Each of them can be overcome by superior powers, they can become ill, their natures can be altered.

They can bleed.

No one in the modern day knows what happens should an immortal be destroyed, but if the myth of the Apotheostones was true, then something about them, a piece of what they were, persists. Their no longer beating hearts are taken, the rough, jagged forms hewn down into blood red jewels, and heralded in many ancient myths to be sources of extraordinary power.


This was the legend in totality as it came down to Equestrians today. Sunset remembered being told this story in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and being entirely fascinated by the story. All old tales interested her, but those that told of great heroes attaining fabulous power intrigued her the most. She often wondered if it was this earlier desire to be a hero – to be more like the Princess herself – that had begun her path towards turning from her teacher.

When she became disillusioned with her teacher, and broke Equestrian law by penetrating the forbidden section of the library in Canterlot, she had discovered the surviving writings of Oldbark the Unseen, and along with many other secrets that were not hers to know, she found out that the story of the Apotheostones was perhaps not merely a subject of mythology.

Enoch, a powerful and learned unicorn who hailed from an ancient settlement close to the Roaman heartland, wrote to Oldbark of the Lotus Society, a group that most historians agreed was a philosophical movement started by unknown intellectuals who saw that great wisdom might be achieved by beings who defied death. Such immortal beings would become the perfect rulers, wise in their experience and compound knowledge; they would lead the world into an age of peace and enlightenment. Sunset had to admit as she read them that the idea had some appeal, and in its way had been carried out in the rule of the Royal Pony Sisters.

By Enoch’s time however, the pursuit of general knowledge and enlightenment had greatly diminished. The group, originally reclusive in hopes of retaining philosophical purity, had by his time become a society of common knowledge. Public buildings devoted to their researches were to be found in major cities around the world, and their lower members known to the masses as the faces of the organisation. Sunset had been excited to discover that Enoch thought that this sudden change in secrecy was a means to begin altering the perception of the laity.

The true reason for the society’s openness was because they had discovered their means for becoming immortal, and were preparing their public image for their inevitable assumption of power. According to Oldbark’s letters, Enoch had become disillusioned with the means by which the group wished to become immortal, which was known only to the highest members of the society, whom still remained shadowy.


Modern history as Sunset knew it details how the group suffered a mysterious inner collapse, and faded from the public view a generation or so before the founding of Equestria. By the time of the Royal Pony Sisters, the group was essentially defunct, but nopony ever knew exactly why or how the group had dissolved. Not even any of the surviving discourses that Sunset had scanned through had any definite information.

According to Enoch, who had left the order at about the same time as its initial collapse, the Lotus Society had believed that they could use Apotheostones to preserve their life forces into perpetuity, and that the wisest and most influential leaders of the group would become immortal rulers of the world.

Enoch had disagreed with the method, citing the true nature of the stones as a reason to mistrust their usage. His objections fell on deaf ears. The unicorn himself cited greed and ambition amongst the reasons for his peers pursuing the idea, but in later years admitted that it was perhaps fear that made them do it. Fear that their order would never achieve its age-long promise, fear that their dream of a perfect world would never be realised.

Whatever the case, Enoch remained an observer of the organisation, and wrote horrified letters to Oldbark of its internal collapse, which he cited was a sudden and unaccountable disappearance of its leadership.

Without their grandmasters to guide them, much of the society’s knowledge was lost, the hierarchy broke down, and the group fractured into numerous individual cells. The in-fighting led to many sections simply disbanding, whilst others were forcibly dispersed by anxious local administrations that did not tolerate the associated violence.


This was the legend in totality as it came down to Sunset Shimmer.

But this wasn’t what was driving her right now. Despite the many implications and academic interest that she was positive under normal circumstances would make her stay up whole nights at a time just for the pleasure of discovering something strange and new, these were not what captivated her.

Adagio’s memories remained etched onto the inside of her skull. They returned to her in quiet moments, and even sometimes when her mind was simply wandering. Her friends were quick to notice her newfound distractedness.

“Sunset, dear,” Rarity said kindly, taking a hold of her wrist.

“Huh?” Sunset said suddenly.

“Just because Pinkie does it, that doesn’t make it a good idea,” Rarity continued, still in the slow, kindly tone of one talking to the mentally impaired.

Sunset looked down, and then looked to her own hand. “Oh,” she muttered, blushing. “Ketchup on frozen peaches. Not the best idea.” She forced a smile, but her friends were all giving her looks of concern. She feigned not to notice, and engaged herself in eating her dessert.

The school cafeteria was as loud and animated as usual, which helped to divert Sunset’s attention from her friend’s inviting stares. She knew they wanted to ask her all sorts of things, but if they did, then they’d have to come out and ask her; she wasn’t in the mood to indulge them voluntarily.

“Has everything being alright?” Fluttershy asked, leaning forward a little to look at Sunset’s face.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Sunset asked.

“Well aside from the obvious,” Rainbow scoffed, nodding at Sunset’s still blistered fingers, “you look more tired than... than—“

“Than a dog chasing a bone on the end of a stick stuck to its back?” Applejack supplied.

“Yeah, what she said,” Rainbow said hastily.

“I’m fine, really,” Sunset said, sitting up straighter. “I’m a little tired, sure. Good thing I got my end of year project done early.”

“Have you found out anything new about the pendants, then?” Rarity asked, intrigued.

“Nothing,” Sunset admitted, swallowing the last of her dessert. “I know Twilight’s been combing the library, and Princess Celestia promised to offer her help sometime this week, but information on the sirens is so old it’s passed into myth. Just like my idea.”

There was a pause. Sunset hoped that the urge to ask questions had ended. Just six more minutes until the bell... It kind of felt weird being back at school.

“So how are the girls doing?” Rarity asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“Fine,” Sunset muttered. Then considering that a longer answer might satisfy them better, she added, “they’re settling in better than I thought, but...”

“But what?” Applejack asked.

Sunset paused, trying to put the problem into words. “Well, imagine you wanted to cause trouble in class, but didn’t want to get caught. And also imagine that those with whom you wanted to cause trouble could all speak a language no one around you could understand.”

Rainbow Dash let out a snort of laughter. “My kind of kids,” she said fondly.

“They can’t be causing that much disruption, can they?” Rarity asked a little fretfully. She, and everyone else, looked at Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie, who’d arrived late to lunch, had been industriously shovelling her food, and Rainbow Dash’s dessert muffin, down her throat with indecent haste. Mouth full of food, she looked up to find everyone staring at her. She gave an enormous swallow, gagged for a second, and then let out several deep breaths.

“They’re...” she waved a hand vaguely. “Creative,” she said eventually.

“Do they cause much trouble during English lessons?” Sunset asked, feeling a lurch in her stomach.

“Not with Maud,” Pinkie admitted. “But if I’m there...” She shrugged. “I don’t get it. It’s like they don’t take me seriously.”

There was a round of forced coughing and determined lack of responding that Pinkie thankfully didn’t seem to find out of the ordinary.

“Well it’s working out anyway,” Sunset said to cover the silence. “It’s only been a week, and they can already talk to me on a basic level.”


What Sunset didn’t tell her friends was what else the girls had learned about the English language.

After school, Sunset waited alone at a nearby bus shelter as she did every weekday, listening to her music player and reading the book Pinkie had given her: A Derp Guide to Koine and Classical Greek.

“La... laas...” she said, trying to read a particularly long adjective in a test sentence, before scoffing irritably. “Why can’t every culture just use the same diphthongs?” She set the book down in annoyance, knowing that trying to force herself to get it wouldn’t help her in the least. Her spirits rose however when she heard the ringing of the bell from the school, and almost instantly the front doors crashed open. In and amongst the horde of younger children erupting from the entrance, strode her three charges. Well, two of them strode. The third sprinted across the green, paused briefly at the road, gave a cursory glance in either direction, and then pelted across the road and tackled Sunset’s middle.

Prepared for the impact, Sunset caught Sonata and ruffled her hair.

“Have a good day?” she asked.

“We can have snacks?” Sonata replied.

Sunset gave her a warning look, although she had to force herself not to smile. Adagio and Aria stood behind Sonata, Aria as aloof as ever, whilst Adagio stood in a power posture with her arms folded. Sunset knew that posture. Combined with her slightly mocking smile, Adagio was trying to look happy whilst maintaining an air of authority. Unfortunately for Adagio, her attempt was simply too cute, and Sunset could not take her seriously.

“Trouble?” Sunset asked, eying them all beadily. She focused on Sonata first, whose wild emotions and inability to effectively hide her feelings made her the most likely one of the three to give away any attempt at deception. Sonata shook her head, smiling expectantly. Sunset’s eyes moved over to Aria, who stared back unsmilingly. Finally, she eyed Adagio. They locked eyes for a long moment, Adagio’s smirk never leaving her face. After a while, Sunset smiled too, and reached into her pocket. She held up three wrappers.

“Who has the Crackle Apples?”

Sunset suspected from the outset that she would encounter trouble from the sirens in the form of misbehaviour, if not from all three, then certainly from one or two. She also knew that, in the view of the three girls at least, Sunset’s authority over them was limited to that of a landlord over tenants, as opposed to that of parent over children. In their minds, they accepted Sunset’s protection and hospitality, and so were obliged to follow her rules as dictated by common courtesy. Sunset felt that if she pushed them too far, they might simply leave as they had done before, no matter how the state regarded their status as her legal dependants. She could hardly expect them to understand government procedure.

As a result of this, and from a personal preference, she’d determined upon positive reinforcement to pre-empt bad behaviour. She had no doubt that this would work on Sonata, and had little worry about Aria causing trouble unless prompted to. Adagio, though evidently mature for her age, was still young enough to be tempted by the alluring sweetness of candy, despite making an ostentatious act of not caring about it.

Sunset watched Adagio savouring the flavour of her soda-flavoured candy bar, smiling to herself. Sonata had scoffed down her triple chocolate muffin before the other two had opened their packets, and was spending a good portion of the walk home licking the remnants off her cheeks and the end of her nose.

“Don’t do that,” Sunset said to Aria in Ancient Greek, and then muttered in English. “You’ll break your teeth.”

Aria swallowed the sour sweet she’d been crunching on and rolled up the bag before slipping it inside her coat.

Perhaps out of familiarity, the three of them had foregone the normal clothes that Rarity had made for them, with the exception of coats, hats, and gloves, and refused to wear shoes. Sunset’s insides had squirmed guiltily when she told Rarity of this, and as Rarity tried her best to cover her disappointment and hurt feelings. With renewed spirits however, Sunset’s friend had turned to designing new clothes in the same range as the dresses the three of them were used to wearing, and came up out fairly quickly with a whole line of them based on designs she’d found online.

“They’re really the merest nothing,” Rarity admitted modestly. “There’s really not much design to them. I could whip up fifty of them by the end of week!”

Sunset had assured her that that would not be necessary, but thanked her for the variety of colour the sirens were now able to enjoy, as opposed to their usual white.

The real problem was footwear.

All of them espoused the greatest dislike to shoes of any kind. Even Aria, the only one brave or apathetic enough to try them on, complained at the discomfort, despite trying every single shoe the shopkeeper had to offer.

“I’m sorry, madam,” he said, scratching his head. “That’s every woman’s shoe we have.”

“You’re not having sandals!” Sunset snapped, as Adagio examined a set of leather high-heels. Adagio scowled and stood a pace back.

But no matter how much Sunset tried to explain that the cold would hurt their feet, even make them ill, none of them would listen, and stubbornly wore their sandals.

Sunset grimaced as she glanced at the thick socks she’d persuaded them to wear as well.

Socks and sandals indeed she thought with a sigh. Desperate measures...


At home, Sunset allowed the three of them to line up by the front door. They’d removed their coats, hats, and gloves, and stood in their dresses, all three of them holding onto each other’s shoulders or arms to stop any of them gaining a head start.

Sunset took her time, ostentatiously setting her own coat on the hook, seating herself on the sofa and gazing over at them lazily. They all glared back, varying degrees of anticipation on their faces.

Sunset raised a hand. All three of the girls flinched, Adagio’s hand almost shooting for the door handle. She held them entranced for precisely four more seconds, and then let her hand fall.

Sunset had to admit that it was a close-run thing. Adagio touched the door handle first as expected, but Aria’s hand knocked it away before she could turn it. But in the end Sonata prevailed; shoving Adagio sideways, both she and Aria crashed to the floor, Aria spitting orange hair out of her mouth. With a triumphant giggle, Sonata pulled the door open and disappeared down the hall.

Snarling, Adagio used Aria to push herself up and sprinted after her.

Sunset chuckled to herself as Aria brought up the rear, tapping her fingers together as she waited for the inevitable explosion of dialect words and scrabbling of limbs when the victor finally returned.

As expected, the victor in question reappeared in the doorway a split second before the others tackled her out of sight again.

“Break it up, break it up,” Sunset said loudly. “Stop!” she boomed in Ancient Greek, just to make sure the point got across. All three of them stopped fighting and stood up, Adagio grinning smugly and waving the mail up for Sunset to inspect. “Come on, Adagio won,” Sunset said coaxingly, as Sonata puffed out her cheeks and huffed. Aria gave a disgusted snort and strode into the apartment, not looking at any of them.

With victorious care, Adagio seated herself on the biggest chair, and picked up the remote. As per the usual wager the girls had between them, the winner had control of the television when Sunset wasn’t using it. Sonata sat down on the sofa, pouting but otherwise taking the loss well. Aria sat down in the corner next to the book case, muttering some choice swearwords under her breath whilst skimming through magazines.

In just the short week since they’d started to learn English properly, Sunset noticed that each had learnt additional words and phrases that she was sure Maud and Pinkie hadn’t taught them directly.

Sonata for instance seemed to have memorised a great many words to do with food, and learnt to pronounce her favourite sweets and snacks. This came in very handy for her when Sunset took them to a corner shop, a newsagents, a supermarket, the mall, a vending machine, or indeed anywhere at all that happened to have sweets of any kind.

Aria, much to Sunset’s surprise, turned out to be more bookish than the other two, and sat alone for long periods looking at pictures in magazines and books. Now that she had learnt to read a little, Sunset often found her with the training reading books from the school. What was less promising however, were the insults Aria had translated. Unlike English insults, which typically poked fun or exaggerated some part of a person’s life or physical features, Ancient Greek insults typically involved implications and threats as to what the insulter was going to do with the target’s body after they died, typically involving crows, dismemberment, spit, and obscurity. It was quite something for Sunset to come across Aria having an argument, and her telling the other person that she was going to watch the crows pecking at their eyeballs.

Adagio on the other hand didn’t specify in any aspect of the language, but seemed to be more generally adept at it. Sunset could only surmise that Adagio picked up the language from those who spoke around her, for she noticed that Adagio would frequently use words and phrases that her friends used, sometimes in the incorrect context.

“Adagio, be sure to share with the other two at some point,” Sunset warned.

“I won,” Adagio reminded her, turning up the volume.

Sunset raised an eyebrow, and plucked the remote from Adagio’s hand. “I’m not asking you to let them take over,” she said severely. “Just try to watch things all of you like. You know Aria doesn’t like watching The Sarah Mane Adventures.”

“That’s because she lacks refinement,” Adagio chuntered, folding her arms.

Sunset repressed a smirk. Rarity would be so proud.

“True,” Sunset said conspiratorially, “but she’s not to blame for that. Be nice, okay?”

Adagio rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh before nodding once.

Exiting to her bedroom, Sunset shut the door, and hoped as usual that the three of them would be adequately distracted.

Her room, small by most standards, had become a veritable laboratory since the retrieval of the pendant shards. Aside from her bed, wardrobe, and a mirror, the room housed a writing table that Sunset had once used to do her homework on. Now, it held her laptop, her magical journal propped on a stand, a pair of tweezers, several plastic food storage boxes, various stationary, several metal apparatus, a microscope, and a pile of scrap paper. If one were to try to picture a wizard’s work table, all that would be missing would be the oddly shaped flasks and the skull-shaped candle holder.

Sunset seated herself at this table, determined to make some headway today. She pulled out one of the food containers, on top of which was a number ‘3’, and contained a number of roughly similar sized pendant chunks. With the tweezers, she pulled one out, and set it in a small glass tray. Then she flipped through the scrap paper until she found the relevant notes.

“Size three,” she read. “Today’s subject...” she peered through the microscope, made a few adjustments, and then scribbled some additions. “Colourless. Interior lattice erratic and unstable. Visible cracks.”

Once finished writing, she pulled the tray out again, and picked up the little shard. With her forefinger and thumb, she applied pressure to the shard. Then she set it down, and picked out a small metal hammer from the stationary box, not unlike what one might use to open walnuts. She struck the shard several times with escalating force. After the fourth time, she set the hammer down and picked up her pen again.

“Retains structural integrity under physical pressure. Speculate that only magic may cause damage. Withhold certainty for possibility of excessive force.”

Flexing her fingers, she rifled through the pages of her journal to a page she needed. I’m sure Twilight had some interesting speculations on their susceptibility to magic here somewhere...

The page in question followed the same sort of note-taking that Sunset had been doing. In total, all of their combined research existed in the dual pages of this magical journal, both girls over the past week having put up anything they thought to be significant about the pendant’s properties. Twilight’s research into the magical effects of and upon the pendants was invaluable, as she was the only one of the two who could perform any such experiments.

Sunset began to read.

All normal forms of magical manipulation have failed.

Attempts at transformation magic: Unaffected

Sensory detection magic: No results

Teleportation: No unusual effects

Dark Magic has been avoided. Potential and tentative use if all other avenues fail.


“Hmm...” Sunset sighed, staring into space.

Nothing was working. No reactions were being elicited, either by magic or physical interaction. But Sunset didn’t want to have Adagio touch the shards again, given the near disastrous effect it had had last time. And she didn’t want to have to put Adagio through that again. Sunset didn’t know the full extent of the potential horrors Adagio had seen in her life, but if the memories she had seen before were any indication...

After a few moments of silent reflection, she became aware of a presence in the room. She looked around in her chair, the old wood creaking. Aria stood there.

“Something wrong?” Sunset asked.

Aria looked a little embarrassed. After a few moments of silent dithering, she lifted her left forefinger. At first Sunset didn’t understand, but then she saw a little line of red travelling vertically along the end of the digit.

“How did you do that?” Sunset asked, taking hold of her hand and inspecting the cut.

“Magazine,” Aria said through her teeth.

“Ah. Paper cut,” Sunset surmised. She looked into Aria’s face. Aria was looking down at the floor, but this close Sunset could see the traces of wetness in her eyes, and the way her jaw was tightening.

“It’s okay,” Sunset said, rummaging through her stationary. “Just put it in your mouth for a moment whilst I get... ah, here we go.” Sunset smiled a little wryly as she opened the tin of plasters. “Look, smiley faces.”

Sunset watched with some amusement as she saw Aria’s mouth twist at the sight of the little yellow smiley faces on the plaster. She held out her finger and looked away.

As Sunset moved to wrap the plaster around the cut, a single bead of blood emerged slowly from the wound, shimmering there like a tiny ruby. Sunset paused, staring at it, an idea blossoming in her head. Possibly sensing the hesitation, Aria looked around, frowning.

“Oh, um...” Sunset wrapped the plaster hastily around the finger. Aria raised an eyebrow suspiciously, so to stop her asking any questions, Sunset pulled her hand up and kissed the finger. “To make it feel better,” she said, repressing a strong urge to grin.

Aria’s reaction was predictable and satisfactory. Turning bright red, her mouth scrunching up like she were sucking a lemon, she stormed out of the room, stopping briefly at the door to shout angrily “Thanks!” before slamming the door shut behind her.

Sunset allowed herself a quiet chuckle, and the feelings of fondness to suffuse itself through her gut before returning to the issue at hand, and the sudden inspiration Aria had just given her.

Hoping that Twilight was in range of her journal – Sunset needed a quick response to this – Sunset set pen to her own journal and wrote one short line

Have you tried anything using blood?


Sunset waited, watching the next part of the page with expectant intensity. She found herself willing the page to start writing words, the idea was so fresh in her head. If her theory had been right all along, then perhaps using blood... it made sense in a poetic sort of way, and since they knew nothing about these pendants, it was only logical to try everything. She was tempted to try something now, but she wanted a second opinion before she did so.

After what seemed like an indecent amount of time, but was in fact only about thirty seconds, the journal buzzed a little, and new words began to appear below Sunset’s last submission.

I haven’t used blood in any of my experiments, no.

What are you thinking, Sunset?

You have to be careful using blood in magic. As a unicorn, your magic flows through your veins even if you can’t use it in your human form. Adding your blood to any magic object would have similar, if not more permanent consequences as ingesting or wearing said object.


Sunset nodded to herself. She had anticipated this response. She knew that Twilight’s warning was not without merit; blood did indeed carry the magic of the unicorn. Unlike pegasi and earth ponies, who drew their natural magical affinity with the elements from their surroundings, unicorns generated magic of their own as sources of magic. Conferring one’s blood willingly was tantamount to sharing one’s magic; it was a very personal and very risky bond.

But on the other hand, they needed to get some headway with this investigation.

I know, Twilight. You’re right of course, but I really feel we need to at least try it. So long as I simply take a sample of blood, the risk should be minimal. I have no idea of exposing any of the shards to an open wound if that’s what you’re thinking.

After rereading what she’d written, she realised the faintly antagonistic tone, and quickly added

I know you’re trying to look out for me, and as your friend I’m grateful for it. But I feel it’s an avenue worth exploring. And please don’t suggest doing the experiment yourself.

she added on a sudden impulse

Lets be blunt here; you’re more important than I am, and if something does go wrong, your alicorn magic is far more powerful than my unicorn magic. It’s safer to everyone if I conduct initial testing.


She waited a while, feeling her insides writhing. She knew that she’d just unloaded a lot of verbiage onto Twilight, and was honestly unsure of how Twilight would respond.

In a way, Sunset found herself hoping that Twilight would ask her not to do it. Every rational part of her told her it was the only way, that it was the best way to progress. And her gut told her that it was a hunch worth exploring. But at the same time, she thought of what had happened the last time they’d managed to interact with the shards. The terrible, burning heat, and the desperate attempt by the pendant to connect with her. She thought of the sirens in the lounge, all playing or watching TV. She thought of Sonata grinning her gap-toothed smile, of Adagio folding her arms and giving that superior smirk she liked to affect when she was trying to cover up her happiness, and of Aria’s bright red face when Sunset had kissed her finger.

Sunset suddenly found herself fearing not so much for herself, but for how they might react if she proceeded with the experiment, and something went wrong. What if something went wrong and Sunset was hurt or even killed? Who would look after them? Or what if the effects were so disastrous that it killed them too? What if the shards did something to Sunset? What if it made her dangerous? Might she, under the pendant’s influence, harm the three playing innocently in the next room?

All of these thoughts and a number of other off-shooting scenarios buzzed around in her head, creating a pit in her stomach, a well of trepidation and fear.

Without being entirely conscious of it, she stood up, and made her way to the door to the lounge. Without making a sound, she exited her bedroom, and walked lightly into the kitchenette. From there she peered into the lounge; none of them had noticed her. That was how she wanted it for now; her mood was too susceptible for questions or attention.

Sliding a particular kitchen drawer open, the pit in her stomach seemed to widen a little as she spotted the crumpled, official looking paper within. Careful not to crinkle or rustle it, she extracted the letter, and returned to her room.

At her desk again, she found that Twilight had yet to write back. Taking a deep breath, she unfurled the letter and straightened it out. She stared at the line that she’d read over a week ago, remembering it exactly.

Legal Guardian.

Once again, the words evoked within her a sort of feeling of apprehension; one might even call it dread.

“That’s exactly what it is,” she said sternly to herself. “Pinkie made jokes about it, but it’s the truth.” She sighed heavily, sitting back in her chair, all of the unhappy emotions swirling around in her head and heart. “I’m no parent,” she scoffed. “Just what am I doing? I can’t take care of three kids. I can’t even look after myself properly.” She opened her hand and looked at her still bandaged fingers.

Arrogance always was one of your more notable qualities, said a malicious little voice inside of her.

“Oh geez,” she groaned. “Internal discussions are what I don’t need right now.”

So saying, she made an effort to block out the little voice. But what it’d already said to her could not be so easily removed. It was right after all. She was being arrogant.

VRRP! VRRP!

VRRP! VRRP!

Sunset looked up from the letter and her ruminations to find the journal vibrating again. She leaned forward and began to read.

I don’t know what to say, Sunset.

A promising start...

I’d be lying if I said that I was okay with this plan of yours. Everything I know about magic screams at me to tell you not to do it, or at least to advise you to approach it with extreme caution. The ramifications could be terrible, and the price a dear friend of mine.

If for no other reason, I could easily disregard your assertion that we need answers. No matter how important it is to find out about the pendants, no information is worth you compromising your safety. Even if it took a year, or ten years, or however much longer, I’d spend every day of it in gruelling research if it meant you not putting yourself at risk.

Of course, I love research, so maybe that’s not saying much, but in the end I find myself coming to an unassailable conclusion. I must support you in your idea.

Firstly, I have reason to believe that you may be correct in your hypothesis. If the stones really are the remnants of ancient immortals long dead – contrary though that statement is – then it seems reasonable to me that intermingling it with the essence of life might evoke a reaction.

But more than that, Sunset. I find myself agreeing with you because, when all is said and done, you are my friend, and a friend more like myself than any of my other friends. I trust your judgment, and I trust your capabilities to keep yourself safe.

But please, be safe.

I eagerly await whatever results you may achieve.

- Twilight


For a short while, Sunset sat unmoving. Her bright blue eyes lifeless and unseeing, she might have appeared dead to any casual observer. But after a few minutes, she seemed to come back to focus. She glanced down at the letter she was still holding, telling her of her status over the three girls. The three girls who were, legally, and for all intents and purposes,

“My daughters.”

Saying it out loud made the reality of it sharpen into greater focus. Deny it though she had, ignore it, trying to make it something else more comfortable, that was the reality of what she had done, of what she had taken on, willingly, and voluntarily.

She had become their parent.

Sunset folded up the letter and set it down on the desk.

There was only one path forward now. For their sake, to make sure that they were safe, that they would be able to grow up healthy and free of these broken jewels’ insidious magic, she had to find out what she could. Either way there was a risk, but in a choice between that risk being to them, or to her, the choice was clear.

She reached into her box of stationary, and pulled out an X-acto knife, unused and gleaming. Setting it to her left thumb, one of the only un-bandaged digits, she hesitated a split second before sliding the blade across. A prick of pain, a bead of blood, and the deed was done.

She set the thumb over the little glass dish under the microscope; a little blob of blood fell, shimmering in the middle of the dish. That should be enough.

“Let’s go small,” she muttered, rubbing her forefinger and thumb together. She seized one of the boxes of shards, and pulled off the lid. The box contained some fifteen of the tiniest shards, bright red like the bead of blood sitting in the glass dish. Choosing a pebble-shaped little chunk, Sunset picked it up with the tweezers, and with due care and precision, lowered it into the dish.

With a small relaxation of her fingers, she let the tiny pebble fall from between the tweezers’ arms, directly down, onto the drop of blood.


- To be Continued