Ghosts
Sunrise beamed through a castle window. Sunset Shimmer groaned, keeping her eyes firmly shut despite the assaults on her eyelids rudely interrupting a pleasant dream of a dear old friend. Yet the sunlight brightened, and as she opened her eyes, she caught a glance at another snoozing face. She cuddled up – some dreams come true.
Twilight stirred, first with a little rumble and then rolling over into Sunset’s arms. At the physical contact she recoiled, eyes bursting open and ears jumping up as little exclamation marks over her head. Time paused as Sunset met her eyes with a weak smile, and as the second passed, Twilight quickly threw her gaze in the opposite direction, letting her ears droop back to their sleeping orientation as she rolled over to hug herself. “You startled me.”
Sunset grinned, bulging her pupils innocently. “I’m sorry?”
Exhale. “It’s fine. There is no shortage of worse ways to be startled.”
“Ah, you’re welcome then.”
Twilight giggled. “Thanks.” She yawned. “I’m sorry, I’m really not me when I’m tired. Years of late-night royal events have taught me how to mask it away after dark, but I’m really not used to guests early morning.”
“Makes sense, yeah.” Sunset tilted her head fondly. “Though some might say you’re the most you when you’re tired.”
“I guess?” Twilight rolled her head gently around her neck. “It’s just weird having ponies around this early.”
“What, are you not used to sleeping with mares?” Sunset stuck her tongue out. “Before you dispute the facts, I woke up in your bed, so yeah, we slept together.”
“We didn’t engage in intercourse.”
Sunset gasped, choking on a giggle. “Oh, of course not. What ever made you think I was suggesting anything of the sort?”
Twilight flopped her ears. “Fair enough. I grant that the idiom was ambiguous, so perhaps the error in interpretation was my own,” she said. “Imprecise language is the root of far too many logical errors and social misunderstandings alike.”
“Uh-huh.” Sunset curled her mane in her hoof. “Although, since you were the one who brought up – not me in any way whatsoever – I must ask in the interest of linguistic precision. Would you like to fool around – ahem, engage in intercourse?” She rolled over in bed, inching herself closer to the princess. “Not that you should read anything into me asking. Clearly just an exercise in precise language.”
Twilight blinked. “I’m the Princess of Equestria. That seems a risky proposition.”
“That didn’t stop us when we were teenagers,” Sunset sung, elongated her vowels. “But consider: perhaps my propositioning you wouldn’t be risky” – she winked – “but just risqué?”
“I guess? Anyways.” Twilight unhooked herself from Sunset’s arms and climbed out of bed, stretching her legs two at a time unfazed by Sunset’s watchful presence, then opening the bedroom door with her magic to reveal a mailbox attached firmly to the other side. She directed a small stream of purple magic at the lock, causing the box to latch open and drop a stack of medium-priority scrolls. The scrolls levitated towards her muzzle and into an archive bin as she skimmed each in sequence. Meanwhile, Sunset rolled herself onto the floor and over to Twilight, who finished and said, “I’m needed in a few hours at the RTSS facility on the outskirts of the city – not that any such facility or organization exists whatsoever, of course.”
“Equestrian ambassador to Ottawa by my own merit, and oh, I woke up in bed with the Princess if they deal in nepotism.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “I’m sure whatever clearance they need isn’t a problem.”
A small smile tug on Twilight’s lips. “If you don’t have diplomatic duties on the other side of the portal, you could come with me.”
“Diplomatic duties on a Saturday morning?”
Twilight grimaced. “Normal in my world.”
Sunset mirrored the grimace. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Meh. So is that a yes?”
A faint blush. “It’s a date.”
Twilight tilted her head with a smile. “Alright. I’ll need about an hour to get ready. Feel free to make yourself at home; any of the Guards can help with directions to the washrooms.”
“Thank you,” Sunset turned a faint pink, unnoticed by Twilight who turned away and descended into a distant hallway.
Once alone, Sunset made her way to her saddlebag resting against the leg of a bedside table and produced an aged book, which emitted a faint magic glow from a magilectric circuit routed along the spine. Connected to the book by a faint string was a faux quill, which she took with her magic as she opened to a bookmarked empty page and began to write.
Amber:
Yesterday’s unexpected activity along the border was by Equestrian officials. All foreign nationals involved returned shortly after we were notified. I am in Equestrian Canterlot now but expect to be back on Monday.
Please extend my sincerest apologies to Rift for missing our one-to-one.
Best regards,
Sunset
She darted her eyes through the text, and with a satisfied nod, signed Sunset Shimmer in sloppy cursive below her printed given name, pushing the message across the fabric of space.
After a tense moment of hesitation, she opened a heading on the next page:
Twilight Sparkle:
I’m so sorry for the late notice, but I won’t be able to make our lunch tomorrow. There was some “interesting” activity at work. Long story short, I’m with the princess.
I may or may not have made some confessions I may or may not regret. (Shocker, right?) Anyway, what’s done is done. Unless the world collapses – which is admittedly an ongoing risk – I’ll see you next Sunday.
Love,
Sunset
Immediately she signed and closed the book. She turned to rest her head against her lap, closed the book, and merely breathed.
Later that morning, Twilight Sparkle entered the ground floor of a laboratory, Sunset forming the shadow of her wing. A middle-aged yellow earth pony greeted them, prostrating himself for the princess. “Your Highness.”
“Good morning,” Twilight said. “I was informed that you had an update on the arson case, Mister…”
“Lemma Neighed.”
“Pleased to meet you. May I introduce you to Sunset Shimmer?” After a brief bout of lip-biting hesitation, she added, “Sunset is the case’s advisor to the Crown on extra-dimensional affairs.”
Sunset raised an eyebrow with an amused warmth, outstretching her hoof to Lemma. “It’s honour to meet you.”
“The honour is mine. Please, follow me. There is an instrument, I believe, of interest to your investigation.” He trotted to an adjacent room, the mares tagging side-by-side behind. “Completed only one moon ago, our one-of-a-kind temporal spectrometer is the latest addition to our catalogue. Despite academic interest to the theoretical physics community, the design is classified due to its potential for abuse.”
“Abuse?” Sunset asked.
“Indeed.” They passed through to the hallway on the other side of the room, cutting across to a door that clicked and sparked unlock with physical touch from Lemma’s hoof. He opened the door with his mouth to bring the trio to a restricted stairwell. “While classical, spatial spectrometers are well-known and commonplace in university laboratories, a series of delicate tweaks can alter the device’s orientation. Classical spectrometers contain a single sensor calibrated to the T axis in fourth-dimensional space, thus measuring transverse waves produced over time forcing perpendicular spatial motion along the X, Y, and Z axes.” Two flights of stairs up, and they continued to climb. “On the other hoof, our instruments’ three sensors are calibrated to the X, Y, and Z axes respectively.”
Twilight’s mouth hung down. “Thus measuring transverse waves produced over space forcing two-dimensional perpendicular spatial motion and one-dimensional temporal changes.”
“Exactly.” Yet another floor ascended. “By rotating the sensors via Starswirl’s Second Method, we can surveil time travel in real-time.”
Finally, the group reached the final floor, the stairs disappearing into a door with a large red stop sign on its exterior with fine lettering underneath. Ignoring the warning, Lemma grabbed the knob and led the group into the interior viewing platform. “Unfortunately. time travelers are not what we’re here to see today.”
Inside, the group found themselves on a small ledge with support bars for safety along the edges, overlooking a ten meter drop composed of multiple rooms stacked together without floor or ceiling to subdivide, the space spanned by an oversize metal contraption. Dozens of indicators lights dotted the device, none illuminated, and a thick cable extended from the base of the device up to a small enclosed box at the side of the ledge.
“Welcome to the pride and joy of the Royal Thaumaturgic Surveillance Service.”
Twilight’s pupils contracted into tiny dots. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.”
Sunset shook her head warmly and winked at Lemma. “She’ll get over it, eventually.”
Twilight shook her head sideways and up. “I can’t believe I’m really seeing this in-pony. I do remember signing off on the proposal, but no quantified measurements can do justice to seeing it here, oh my gosh.”
Rosy-cheeked but grinning, Sunset placed a gentle hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.
“If it isn’t too much to ask…” Twilight smiled. “Could I see it work its magic?”
Lemma kicked his hoof against the floor. “Unfortunately, no. It stopped functioning early Friday morning, contemporaneous to the incident under investigation as I understand.”
Sunset furled her brow. “Why wasn’t the Guard informed about this then?”
Twilight nudged her, whispering, “Equestrian bureaucracy is its own field of magic.”
Unfazed, Lemma replied, “Especially on novel instruments, benign equipment failure is not uncommon. We’ve treated the past month as a glorified beta test before wider deployment. An incident report was filed internally, and a team was dispatched to investigate. Again, purely technical concerns.” He scratched his nose. “At least, they were until the Guard barged in last night.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to like where this is going.”
A snort. “I bet Angel would.”
Lemma sighed. “The project to build the temporal spectrometer was led by the original designer of the device, Canterlot’s leading expert on temporal mechanics.”
“Moondancer.” Twilight facehoofed, leaving her hoof against her head covering her vision. “What are you going to tell me next, there were sightings of a mysterious purple unicorn named Starlight Glimmer destroying the machine?”
He tilted his head. “Pardon? No, nopony was seen at the facility, and we have state-of-the-art intrusion detection. Only the most talented of unicorns could impersonate one of our staff.”
Twilight shook her head. “Starlight is the most talented unicorn I have encountered. There was no material evidence of a security breach at the library either.”
“I see.” Lemma flushed from yellow to off-white. “While the cause of the outage has yet to be identified, there is no evidence suggesting physical damage. Indeed, the machine is still powered on and producing readings, but every sample from every sensor has zero within a ninety-five percent confidence interval.”
Twilight tapped her foot. “What’s the issue? Doesn’t that just mean nobody is time traveling at the moment?”
“No,” Lemma and Sunset replied in unison, exchanging a quick glance as the latter continued, “There is no real meaning to time travel at the moment. If anyone has ever traveled backwards through time, they travel back an infinite number of times. Once backwards, then forwards to the present, then backwards again. It’s a loop.” At Lemma’s stupefied expression, Sunset smiled. “What? I read a lot of science fiction in high school.”
Twilight’s foot tapping quickened as a silly smile planted itself on her face. “So if anyone had ever traveled back in time, we should see that rippling bidirectionally into present, like a wave. Wait, doesn’t that require an infinite amount of energy? Doesn’t that violate every known conservation law?”
“Exactly, and no, it does not. The machine would detect the same energy as used to initiate the time travel, bouncing across the timeline in an infinite sequence of action-reaction pairs,” Lemma said. “But as I said, the focus has been on the machine itself. Our analysis has merely consisted of monitoring the first derivative of a moving average of sample amplitudes. In the beginning, we observed increasing behaviour after filtering out for background noise, so we hypothesized the device could predict the occurrence of time travel in Equestria.”
Sunset raised her hoof. “Wait, now I’m lost. Didn’t we just establish that time travel is symmetrical so the samples should be constant? Seems pretty useless.”
Lemma flashed a shallow smile with tired eyes. “Right. It was not constant, but after a sufficient period of increase, the amplitudes began to decrease instead, and we now know the resulting pattern is a wave. Useless in applications, but theoretically groundbreaking. But now it’s just reading zero, which contradicts both hypotheses about the devices’ behaviour. In the end, we burned through a lot of bits on the project, and on Friday morning, even our revised theories were invalidated by inexplicable equipment failure.”
“Hmm.” Twilight pursed her lips. “Sorry, but did you ever meet Moondancer?”
A nod. “I was assigned as the liaison between the designer and the RTSS. Moondancer was a character alright. I first met her after the project statement of work was signed, and she waltzed in here, bright-eyed and bushy-browed. She never entertained small talk about her personal life, or asked about mine. It was all business with that one, but the passion in her voice talking about the machine was unparalleled. I always thought I loved my job, but she put a new meaning to it. She returned weekly throughout the project’s construction, somehow a bit more excited each time.” He laughed. “Judging by the amount she wiggled her ears, anyway. The day construction completed and we powered on the machine, she couldn’t stop bouncing.”
Twilight smiled. “That’s Moondancer.”
Another nod, slower this time. “But something changed. When I saw her two weeks ago, after two weeks of successful operation, she was a mess. I don’t think she combed her mane in the week between, and the dark circles under her eyes were worse than mine during my university days. She was muttering to herself, ears drooped and twitching for the whole hour, never once even making eye contact. She suggested the differentiated average as an analysis technique but offered none of the brilliant insights she peppered in every other conversation we had. She did visit last week and just a few days ago, but her words each time were ever sparse, like she was under some kind of spell.”
“A spell.” Twilight cursed under her breath. “Lemma, my sincerest apologies in cutting short the story, but do you have access to the raw data from the machine’s first week?”
“Absolutely, yes.” He trotted over to the box to the side of the ledge, which he popped open with a hoof stretched out over the barrier, scrolls folded and compressed inside with dust collecting at the top as new data fed in from the cable at the bottom, forming a first-in first-out data queue. He extracted the top few centimetres of scrolls and paged through with his hoof. “Here. Maybe you’ll have more luck than she did.”
Sunset and Twilight stared at the page together, neither saying anything at first. Eventually Twilight said, “That spell from Moondancer’s laboratory didn’t come out of nowhere. The elements of the coefficient matrix weren’t lucky guesses either. This data, this wave…”
Sunset swallowed. “Yeah. It’s not just one wave though. Look at all the smaller peaks and troughs – this is a sum of multiple waves.”
“Moondancer would have noticed that too, of course.”
“You don’t think…?”
“I do think.”
Sunset summoned a creative human world interjection, earning a confused wince from Lemma. “Okay, so we won’t get any useful insights from the raw time-domain data. Er, space-domain? All but the most coarse components are far too high-frequency to perceive with the naked eye.”
Twilight facehoofed. “Ugh. Taking a moving average of the data will serve as a crude low-pass filter.”
Lemma frowned. “Come again?”
“I don’t think it’s an accident Moondancer gave you that analysis technique on her worst day. This instrument is far too precise for noise reduction to help more than it hurts. She would have known that full well it would have simply obscured the data.”
He drooped. “You think there’s something she didn’t want the Service finding out?”
“It seems so.” Twilight tapped her hoof against the ground. “This is a good lead. But back to the data, we’re inherently interested in the spectrum, and if we look at the frequency-domain instead, we might gain some insights.” A gulp. “Come to think of it, Moondancer’s spell does embed what in hindsight looks suspiciously like a Fourier transform to extract the frequency-domain from raw data. If only someone had experience with such a spell…” She stared innocently at Sunset.
“Absolutely not.” Sunset spat. “I love you, Twilight, but there is no way I’m casting that horror again.”
“I love you, too.” Twilight smiled automatically, manually readjusting to the frown a beat later. “I was just going to ask to cast a Fourier transform, not Moondancer’s entire spell, but I can do it.” She squinted and tilted her hown down to the page as a spell formed, and slowly tilted back up to trace out a path midair, building a projection of a graph: the frequency spectrum.
Sunset stared at the projection. “I’m not sure what to make of this. It has far too much internal structure to be random. Honestly, it almost borders on fractal-like in ordered beauty. But it’s not like there’s a cutie mark in the middle of the graph; this isn’t a magic kindergarten scavenger hunt.”
Twilight opened her eyes fully, maintaining the projection with ease. “There do seem to be clusters of frequencies with far more amplitude and far more structure than the noise between them, repeating up the spectrum like harmonics.”
Lemma piped up. “Perhaps you could focus on one cluster a time?”
Twilight complied, and with a slight change in the colour of the magic aura, the graph zoomed in to a cluster towards the middle, and immediately, Twilight gagged.
“I take it you’ve figured something out?”
Twilight sputtered. “The pattern is amplified here and shifted to a much higher frequency, but undoing the modulation, this is clearly my own magic signature.”
Sunset laughed. “I’m proud. I don’t think many ponies know what their own magic signature looks like in the frequency domain.”
Twilight breathed. “I spent a lot of years alone, Sunset. And signatures to me look just like they feel. They are the same object, just viewed through different isomorphisms.”
“Nerd,” Sunset coughed, as Twilight rolled her eyes. “The other clusters then?”
With silent compliance, the graph zoomed out and in to each cluster left to right. “About a dozen unknown before myself, trailed by Starlight Glimmer, myself again, and finally, unknown. How helpful.”
Sunset shivered. “We both know what that spell meant, though. I’d wager anything one of the first signatures is Starswirl’s…”
“…which means the last is Sombra’s.”
Lemma went wide-eyed. “Sombra? As in, the King Sombra?”
Twilight nodded. “It is a likely possibility, given the circumstances, but given only the raw data, we would need access to the signature database to confirm.”
His eyes drifted, theory and practice no doubt swirling in his head. “Princess, while the canonical archive rests securely with the Guard, we do have an archived copy on-site in the building.” He hesitated. “I’m no detective, but something tells me you’re about to ask if a certain eccentric poked through the archive’s access logs that day.”
“Yes, if you would be so kind. Thank you.” Twilight punctuated her statement with a smile a centimetre too wide, which Lemma quickly returned as he alone exited through the double-doors back into the stairwell. As soon as he was out of sight, Twilight’s smile dropped with force towards the ground, bouncing back up in a rhythmic beat.
Sunset frowned. “Are you okay? It feels like we’re making progress, right?”
Twilight did not respond except in an acceleration of the beat.
“Right. Do you want to talk about it?” A shake of the head. “Okay, want me to use my geode?” An apologetic nod instead. Sunset smirked, closing the physical gap between them and immersing herself in her friend, images flashing through her mind and distant voices drowning out the tapping marking real-time. She held the touch as her eyes misted back into the present, slowly Twilight’s beat to a halt.
“I miss Moondancer more than ever, Sunset.” Her words were whispered, as if the spectrometer could hear if she was too loud. “There’s a growing pile of evidence against her, but somehow I just miss her long-winded tangents, and the fact that she sat through mine. I miss the fact that when nobody else outside my family did, she seemed to understand me, and somehow, despite her diagnosis, I understood her. I’m grateful I met my Ponyville friends, but I can’t help but wonder if abandoning Canterlot without a word so many years ago wasn’t one of the biggest mistakes of my life, second to what I did to…” Twilight sighed. “To Angel.”
“I hear you.” Creasing her eyebrows, Sunset adjusted her hooves into an embrace and squeezed. “But the past is in the past, and believe me, if we’re going back that far, the past should really stay in the past.”
“The past is in the past,” Twilight repeated, emptily, slowly. “The past is in the past,” she said, with a little more force and a bit faster pace. “Sunset? Given she escaped tracking in-universe in this timeline, what if that’s where Moondancer is hiding?”
Sunset pursed her lips. “In the past? I thought Starswirl’s method was limited to a minute at most, if you could even pull off the spell.”
“True.” Twilight raised a hoof. “But somepony generalized Starswirl’s method to extend the duration of travel arbitrarily, provided a sufficiently powerful energy source to initiate travel. An energy source like the Tree of Harmony, in the form of the Elements, or perhaps the Cutie Map?”
“Starlight Glimmer.” Sunset scrunched her eyes with a moan. “I’m peeved. If she’s in on it, they could be anywhere by now. Doing anything.”
“Y– yeah.” Twilight inhaled with far too much force to be subtle. “The leading magic theorist traveling back in time with the most powerful living unicorn, committing crimes rippling into the present?”
“Unsettling when you put it that way.”
She inhaled with a fast zigzag of small exhales slowing the stream. “My first student and my… My first friend.”
Sunset cuddled her cheek against Twilight’s.
“I miss them both.” She choked on her breath. “I miss Moondancer and Starlight, my Ponyville friends, Princess Celestia. I miss the life I left behind when I took the throne. I miss the days I could be myself around ponies who wanted me for more than my title, when I could pace around and recite digits of pi without worrying about my public image.” Twilight rumbled, an empty lull passing through her throat. “Seeing the ponies I used to love disappear? Seeing their ghosts only in the evidence? Seeing Angel ready to arrest just about anypony for the treason on the slightest shred of circumstantial evidence?” Twilight buried her head against Sunset’s shoulder and shrieked, muffled only by a hasty silence bubble cast on instinct. “It’s too much, Sunset.” She sniffled and enabled a free flow of tears. “It’s just too, too much.”
Against the rapid expansion and contractions of her friend’s chest, Sunset merely held still and stroked her mane. “I’m here for you, friend. I’m here.”
A few minutes in, as the wailing wavelength increased and the amplitude decreased, Sunset caught footsteps in the stairwell. She squeezed one last time, holding Twilight a little longer, a little tighter, and finally let go. Twilight sucked in a packet of air, popped the bubble of silence, and creaked upon her eyes as the door creaked open.
“I’m sorry for the delay, Princess.” Lemma shut the door behind him, carrying a manilla folder on his back. “Logs are stored in the basement.”
Sunset flashed a grin, stealing center stage while Twilight rubbed her eyes dry. “Look on the bright side: you got your cardio for the day.”
Lemma chuckled. “That I did. A copy is here if you need it, but to save you the trouble: yes. Moondancer accessed the signature database about six hours after the spectrometer was initially powered on.”
Twilight took a breath. “I see. Please forward a hard copy to Guardian Angel in the Royal Guard to coordinate analysis. If there is nothing further, I believe it is best we return for the interim.”
Lemma nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.” The door opened, and the group descended the stairs single-file in silence, Lemma’s eyes lasered in concentration, Twilight’s swirling off into the distance. and Sunset’s warmly set on Twilight.
Just before exiting the facility, however, Sunset said, “Wait. If we jumped to conclusions based on the log, we would be no better than a certain flying friend. Just to avoid jumping to conclusions, could we take a peak at the signature database ourselves?”
“Certainly,” Lemma said. “Just one floor down from here to the basement.”
Downstairs, they followed Lemma into an enclosed adjacent room with stacks of filing cabinets on each side, the stacks on the left sorted and labeled numerically, and the stacks on the right alphabetically. Sunset turned left and craned her head to read off the letter ranges, stopping at the S drawer which she yanked open with her magic. Within the cabinet, twenty-six cardstock dividers with labeled tabs stuck out, and Sunset grabbed the stack of papers under O, and fishing through, producing the file indexed Sombra.
“Here.” Sunset passed the page over to Twilight. “Do you recognize the data?”
Twilight squinted, eyes rolling back as if calculating, and then nodded slowly. “The last frequency cluster. Moondancer’s spell was correct.”
Lemma swallowed. “Does that mean our spectrometer captured evidence of a threat to Equestria traveling in time?”
“Yes, it would seem so.” The mares exchanged a glance. “And it would seem Moondancer knew that too, three weeks ago.” Twilight bit her lip, first at the tip then curling her mouth in until her teeth sunk in halfway to her chin. She clenched her eyes, and with a sigh, released her mouth and opened her eyes. “Yet neither I nor the Guard was informed.”
Sunset hesitated and met eyes with Lemma. “Could you give us a minute?”
“Certainly.” Lemma flashed a curt nod and retreated to the stairwell. “Come up when you’re ready.”
As the clip-clop of hoofsteps disappeared to silence, Sunset wrapped a hoof around Twilight. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t know.” Twilight buried her head in her hooves. “Maybe Angel was right about Starlight or Moondancer after all.” She coughed. “I realize there’s no guilt or innocence for either mare until all the evidence is collected and analyzed by the Court. But my mind keeps wandering to every what if?, to every way I lose the ponies I loved. Ponies who for all I know might not even be alive.” She choked on the passage of air. “Maybe they are miraculously innocent, but they still could’ve succumbed to the fire. Ponies don’t just disappear without a trace.”
“I’m sorry.” Sunset adjusted her gentle grasp. “But if it’s any consolation, could I promise you something, Twilight?” A shallow nod. “Whatever happens, I’ll be by your side as long as you need me. Even if I need to tell some politicians back home to diplomatically kiss my rear and postpone meetings until I can return. If the Prime Minister can wait, so can the Canterlot nobility. You’re the priority, Twilight.”
She shook her head. “Equestria’s safety is the priority. I don’t matter in the end. Maybe Equestria needs Princess Twilight Sparkle – that’s okay. The princess will be there for her ponies.” She swallowed. “But she and I are not the same. I’m still the little filly that abandoned her only friend in Canterlot to obey her princess, spending years pretending to be a mare fit to lead.” She wiped her eye and inhaled. “Celestia knows it paid off, since I am the princess now, and all that matters is the future of Equestria.”
Sunset stared. “Okay, so Equestria is your priority. That’s fine.” She curled a lock of Twilight’s mane in her magic, as she extended a hoof for a gentle caress on the cheek. “But you’re mine, Twilight Sparkle. You’re mine.”
Moisture formed around Twilight’s eyes. “Thank you. But I can’t be.”
Sunset gently tugged at the curl of mane, draping it down against Twilight’s muzzle. “Watch me.”
Twilight ran her teeth alternately through her upper and lower lips, the slight popping leaving a faint crease on each iteration. Eventually she shook head. “Your diplomatic work is more important than I am, Sunset.”
“I disagree.”
“You’re being reckless.”
“So what if I am?”
“You’re under oath to protect Equestria. I could have you removed for failing to represent the state per your duties.”
“Alright,” Sunset said, with a slight shrug. “As long as Angel’s removed, too, for whatever stack of laws she’s broken.”
“What?” Twilight’s voice shook, the crescendo of authority crashing off guard. “Angel’s served her time.”
“And you?”
“Me?” Twilight asked.
“Yeah,” Sunset said, tone not particularly accusatory but somewhat listless. “You haven’t done anything in your short tenure as Princess that would get you forcibly removed? On the other side, Parliament could issue a vote of no confidence. I realize your bureaucracy doesn’t work that way here, but you know as well as I do there are limits to what you can do. The law applies even to a princess.”
Twilight sighed. “You make it sound so easy to get a political pink slip.”
“Do you ever worry about a coup d’etat?” Sunset’s voice grew serious. “Your friend in the Guard would love to have your job, wouldn’t she?”
“No.” Twilight replied firmly. “No, she would never. I know you don’t trust Angel, but this isn’t about her.”
“Okay.” Sunset drew back. “But it is about you, Twilight. I’m worried about you. You’re living in a game of chess of your own design, where you’re the queen and there is no king.”
“Princess Celestia left me in charge. What are you suggesting?”
“Abdicate, throw an election, elope with an old friend back to Ponyville and live for the present for the first time in your life?” Sunset brought her hoof towards Twilight’s, who instinctively took it. “What the nation thinks you are capable of doing, what you yourself think you are capable of doing, and what you are actually capable of are three different universes.”
Twilight sighed. “Thanks, I think. I won’t.”
“I know.” Sunset contorted her face about illegibly. “C’mon, if you insist on staying in Canterlot, I know just the place to help you clear your head.”
A sheepish smile. “Lead the way then.”
The open sky embraced Princess Twilight Sparkle overhead as she waltzed through the Canterlot Royal Cemetery grounds, wings outstretched and covering Sunset Shimmer in their warmth, a trace of a smile set on the princess’s face and a blush set on her friend’s.
“Thank you for taking me here,” Twilight said, rolling her lip around and adding, “however morbid.”
Sunset smiled. “Not many ponies come here this time of year. Maybe some think it’s dark or sad, but I think there’s something peaceful.”
“Yeah?”
Sunset shrugged. “I’ve flirted with the end too many times to count, between rifts in spacetime, magic-addled monsters, and the time… Never mind.” Twilight blinked, unquestioning as Sunset swung away her words. “Being surrounded with the deceased in such a tranquil location takes away the fear of it, you know? When it’s my time to go, if it’s a bit like this, I think that’s okay.”
Twilight nodded and softly said, “I try not to think about that era, between my wings and my friends’ lack. Maybe in a way that makes the quiet here all the more meaningful.”
A breath. “We can only live for the present. And for me right now, the present is enjoying the outdoors with the coolest pony in my life.”
“Coolest?” Twilight snorted. “I am many things, but I don’t think cool is one.”
“Oh?” Sunset stopped, and Twilight followed, fanning in her wings. Once they were steady, Sunset placed her hoof on Twilight’s forehead. “Oh dear, you’re right, you’re hot. I’m so sorry, my mistake. You’re clearly not cool.”
An eye roll. “Clearly, and that’s one of the most cliched lines in the book.” A beat. “And you know I’ve read the book, for any book in question.”
Sunset flashed her tongue. “If even you can pick up on a pick up line, I guess it really is that trite.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means my lips are waiting.”
On cue, Sunset puckered her lips outward into the air, eyes closed expectantly with a knowing smirk tugging at her cheeks. Twilight giggled. “I guess I’ll have to find out the old-fashioned way.”
Sunset cracked open an eyelid. “Kissing me?”
“Investigative research.”
“Last I checked, ponies having been smooching long before Sherlock Pones or the scientific method. So I’m just saying if we’re really going for old-school here…”
Twilight giggled. “You know, I’m not the observant pony about these sorts of things, but my deduction skills are implying that you might be attracted to me. Or in heat.”
“Or both,” Sunset licked her lips as Twilight bit her own. “Too much? Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She sighed. “I’m sorry if I’m out of line. All my mental reserves are tied up right now worrying.”
“Hey,” Sunset said. “I’m the one flirting with you; you’re not out of line. I’m happy to lend a pair of ears, though.”
Twilight nodded slowly, silently. Sunset strained looking for eyes she could not find as Twilight hung her glance downward.
“Still thinking about Moondancer and Starlight?”
Another nod. “I think Moondancer used to look up to me when we were fillies. I didn’t really realize that at the time, but looking back, the signs were there.”
Sunset smiled. “Who wouldn’t look up to an adorable prodigy?”
“Prodigy,” Twilight echoed, tasting the word on her tongue. “I’ve never liked being called a prodigy. I was proud to be Princess Celestia’s star student, but I didn’t want to be the center of attention.”
“Not really your style, eh?”
“My style?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I guess you liked all the adulation as the filly.”
“Kinda led to my downfall, but yeah. The more the princess praised me, the more I thought of myself as the princess incumbent.” She shrugged. “I’ve grown a lot since. Oh, and you make a better princess than me,” she added, poking Twilght’s wings.
“That’s just it. I never wanted to be a princess, or a prodigy. As a filly, I just wanted to learn, grow academically, explore the richness of a supernatural world.” She smiled weakly, gaze distant. “That’s all Moondancer wanted, too. But fate had other plans.”
Sunset snickered. “By fate do you mean Princess Celestia?”
“No!” Twilight flashed red, breath quickening then quickly retreated. “No. This isn’t Princess Celestia’s fault.”
“Didn’t you just say…?”
“I don’t blame Princess Celestia. She had Equestria’s best interests at heart.”
A frown. “Did she have your best interests in mind?”
“Of course,” Twilight said automatically. “Princess Celestia would never lead one of her students into a path that could harm them.” Sunset stared back deadpan, prompting Twilight’s ears to flop down. “Again? Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m over it. I was intolerable back then anyway.” Sunset shrugged.
“Anyway, my destiny was princesshood. Moondancer’s was academia.”
Sunset tilted her head. “Was she jealous of you?”
Twilight laughed breathily. “Hardly. She gets to research to her heart’s content while I’m stuck kissing diplomats.”
Sunset crossed her arms and puckered her lips. “What, so kissing diplomats is exhausting? Need I remind you the Equestrian diplomat to Canada is an excellent kisser?”
She giggled. “Point taken.”
Sunset bopped Twilight on the nose.
“Hey, what was that for?”
“For getting off-topic. Also, for being cute. But mostly the topic. You were talking about Moondancer?”
“Moondancer.” Twilight clicked her tongue. “She was my first friend, but she was different than other ponies.”
Sunset smirked. “Gosh, Twilight having friends who aren’t entirely normal. Colour me shocked.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Twilight hesitated. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but she was open about it, and I guess you already caught a glimpse through your geode yesterday.” Another pause. “Moondancer was different in a… spectrum sort of way.”
“Ooo.” Sunset grinned. “Nerdy and queer? If she wasn’t missing and under criminal investigation, I think I’d ask her out.”
“Not the gender spectrum or the sexuality spectrum.” Twilight’s voice grew faint. “The autism spectrum.”
“Sure,” Sunset said without missing a beat. “But if she is into mares, I’d still totally ask her out.”
“Moondancer was diagnosed when we were fillies, and to be honest, it didn’t change anything between us. She was still Moondancer, and I was still Twilight, and we were both socially awkward introverts who sat side-by-side silently reading separate books.”
“Friendship is magic?”
“Something like that,” Twilight said. “I never paid any attention to it as a filly since she was my baseline for normal, but looking back, it should have been obvious. Moondancer had a number of self-stimulatory behaviours and some academic interests with depths unparalleled by anypony I know. Myself excluded. If I asked, she would monologue about any one of them for as long as I would let her, and even if I didn’t, somehow she could connect any conversation topic to chemistry or magic theory – hey, why are you looking at me like that?”
Sunset chuckled. “No reason, no reason at all. Proceed, dear friend.”
“Alright.” Twilight clicked. “It wasn’t all cute, though. Moondancer would have shutdowns, especially in crowds or loud spaces. They weren’t frequent in the classroom, to my knowledge, but when they happened, she would freeze, hyperventilate, not answer any questions that weren’t strictly yes or no.” A frown. “To be perfectly honest, I never really minded as a filly. Those were just Moondancer moments, the good and the bad. But Celestia knows if someone like her were princess, the nobility would riot.”
“Twilight?” Sunset raised her voice with an edge.
“Yeah?”
“What do you mean someone like her?”
Twilight blinked. “Moondancer found a home for herself in her research, in a laboratory where she could shine as an autistic pony, not a pony pretending desperately to be non-autistic. I don’t think she lacked the raw ability to bear the Element of Magic, but leading the nation? I don’t know if she would crumble, even if she could keep up a neurotypical facade for a little while. Out of all the gifted unicorns in Equestria, Celestia chose me for a reason for the thankless job.”
“I don’t buy it.” Sunset frowned. “Sure, Equestria has had few rulers throughout its lifetime and much less time to contemplate who is fit to lead, but so what? Not too long ago, back home, no heads of state were, uh, mares. Certainly none would dare be openly gay. But we’ve learned leaders come from every background, and discriminating only holds a society back.”
Twilight squirmed. “This is different.”
“Different how?”
Twilight raised both of her eyebrows. “My day as a princess involves meeting with hundreds of self-righteous ponies, navigating a delicate, imaginary, and completely arbitrary social hierarchy with undocumented contradictory norms that make no sense to any rational pony, myself included, but which cause scandals to transgress. I sit through obnoxiously loud crowds, I keep myself totally still and proper in the company of proper ponies, and I’m forced to plaster on an artificial smile while I’m at.” She sighed. “Hoof tapping doesn’t cut it in the throne room. Princess Celestia taught me that lesson early.”
Sunset winced but did not reply, allowing Twilight to continue.
“But I put up with the duties of Princesshood because Equestria needs me. I wouldn’t wish anyone to fill my shoes, least of all a pony with sensory sensitivities or the need to move to self-regulate.” Twilight sighed and frowned. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Twilight…”
“I’m sorry.” A triad of slow clicks. “It isn’t that Moondancer would not have been fit to lead.”
A faint smile. “You think in some alternate timeline, Moondancer would have been prepared for Equestria?”
Twilight paused, face frozen, mouth hung down. Finally, she said, “Yes. But I don’t think this Equestria is ready for Moondancer.”
The duo shared a moment of silence.
A whisper. “Twilight?”
A hum with an uptilt.
“Was Equestria ready for you?”
Another click to silence, finally broken by an almost inaudible, “No.”
“Is it ready now?”
A helpless frown replied in lieu of speech.
“Canterlot isn’t so overtly ableist that an autism diagnosis would hold ponies like Moondancer back from the roles you and I have.” Twilight’s frown deepened. “But if I learned one thing in my studies under Princess Celestia, it was that in a world of extraworldly villains, Equestria needs heroes. Every heroic task I faced under her guidance, freeing her sister, facing Sombra and Tirek… I don’t know if it would have been too much for Moondancer.”
“I haven’t met her,” Sunset said. “But she sounds a lot more capable than you’re giving her credit for.”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t doubt her ability. But in the heat of the moment, staring down an eldritch monster? I don’t know how much heroism she could take without a shutdown. Or casting that timeout spell.”
“Timeout?”
“Yeah.” Twilight smiled at the memory. “Moondancer was a problem solver, and when we were fillies, she saw the shutdowns as a problem to be solved in a uniquely Moondancer way: her timeout spell. I’m a bit hazy on the theory, but mechanically, it was a derivative of the Clover method. Still, given her age and the relative complexity of the magic involved, her ingenuity was impressive in retrospect.”
“Only in retrospect?” Sunset laughed.
“I lived in my own bubble as a filly; I didn’t notice everything. Moondancer monologued to me about the spell one time before I moved to Ponyville. She said it really helped her remove herself for a few minutes from a situation to catch her breath. I only cast it once myself, as an academic exercise after she showed me her derivations, but I was happy to listen and learn.” A giggle. “Leave it to Moondancer to piece together a spell to manage autism.”
“It sounds like you two really hit it off.”
“Ish?” Twilight smiled sheepishly. “Neither of us knew anypony else our age who wanted to quibble about magic theory.”
“Sure.” Sunset scratched the side of her head with her hoof. “Besides, I don’t get between a pair of ponies and their special interests.”
“A wise choice.” A giggle, cut short into confusion. “Wait, you know what special interests are?”
“Yeah. I guess you don’t know, but a friend of mine back home is on the autism spectrum herself. Given I’ve had the pleasure of listening to no shortage of infodumps, I think it’d be a little hard not to know what special interests are.”
Twilight rounded her lips into an o. “Are you…?”
“Autistic?” Sunset swatted her hoof. “Nah, I’m just a garden-variety, gay neurotypical. I’m here to support you guys, though.”
“You guys?” Twilight’s eyes bulged.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” A sympathetic frown.
“I’m not on the spectrum.” Twilight declared bluntly.
“I wasn’t saying you were.” Sunset stuck her tongue out. “I’ve just noticed you stimming–”
“Self-stimulatory behaviours are natural and associated with a myriad of physical, psychological, and neurological conditions, indeed including but far from limited to autism spectrum disorders.”
“Alright then.” She threw her hooves up in a shrug. “Your special interests, though?”
“Circular argumentation. Special interests are a euphemism for the passions of autistic ponies, myself not included. Therefore my interests, while truly special to me, are ipso facto not special interests, even if some of them might overlap with special interests of a small subset of autistic ponies.”
Sunset sighed. “Just, be honest: besides the alone together shtick with Moondancer, did you have any friends as a filly?”
“Of course,” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Shining Armor, and my parents for that matter.”
“Family doesn’t count.”
“What about Cadence?”
“Still family.”
“Not at the time. She was my foalsitter.”
“I rest my case.”
“I see your point.” Twilight sighed, and as Sunset glanced at her with heavy eyes, she bit her lip. “I don’t understand why you’re pushing this.”
Sunset glanced away. “I’m worried.”
“Worried I might have autism?”
Sunset shook her head. “No, if you do, that doesn’t change how I think of you.” She paused. “Worried you’re digging your own grave.”
Twilight’s ears tilted towards the floor with her eyes scattering to a corner, her tight regal posture deflating, Sunset’s words thumbtacks to the spirit. “It’s too much. Princesshood, nobility, the case. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”
She flung her hooves around Sunset, who tilted down her head distantly. “I’m here for you always. I’m sorry for bringing up a sore subject.”
“It’s okay.” Twilight curled her head, increasing the surface area of physical contact between the mares. “I’m sorry for getting defensive. I guess – hypothetically – it would not have to be the end of the world.”
“It would not be at all be a bad thing, no. And hey.” Sunset squeezed. “You’re Twilight Sparkle, and you’re wonderful exactly as you are. It sounds like Moondancer saw that. I certainly see it.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me for speaking the truth.”
Silence.
Relative silence.
In absolute terms, escalating angry voices, the clip-clop of hooves on pavement, and the whirr of infrastructure filled the air dreadfully.
“Sunset?”
“Yes?”
“Has the world always been this loud?”
Sunset simply tightened her grasp, lest she speak one word too many, and the two shared a moment under the moon. “Can I nuzzle you?”
“Yes.” Twilight replied automatically. “You can touch me any way you want, Sunset.” Her voice choked a bit. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been touched by a friend.”
Sunset complied, and for a moment, Twilight relaxed.
A moment interrupted by a piercing scream out of sight, leading Twilight to jump out of the hug with her wings outstretched, hovering a centimeter over the air, while Sunset stared, frozen.
“Literally loud, huh?” Sunset flinched.
“Literally,” Twilight panted breathily, rocking herself back and forth, starting slow but accelerating with each utterance. “Literally indeed. I don’t remember the world being loud like this when I was a filly, back before I became a Princess. But it’s like someone cranked up the volume to max when Princess Celestia stepped down, and not just because of Canterlot’s urban noise pollution. Literally. Literally.” A small distracted grin accompanied a slowing down of her rocking. “It’s kind of a fun word. Literally, literally, literally.”
Sunset nodded, rubbing her snout against Twilight’s head in the process.
“Lit– sorry.” Twilight blinked. “Since yesterday, somehow it is even louder.” By now, she was moving her body at upwards of two or three hertz. “I haven’t said anything, but it feels like everyone is screaming. Let alone–”
Shriek.
A second scream in the distance washing over Twilight’s ramblings, leaving aggressive hyperventilation in its midst. A crescendo of sirens and strobing lights followed from a tiny carriage. Twilight squirmed, clicking her tongue and tapping her hoof against the ground with the beat, belly expanding and contracting in comic proportions as Sunset stood helpless. A moment later, and the tiny carriage became full size on the road behind the grounds, illuminating the sky, and drowning out all other sounds in its roar. Twilight’s squirming halted, as she clasped her ears with her hooves and pushed with nearly enough force to concuss.
As the carriage approached, Sunset’s vision was blinded by a piercing light. She closed her eyes to readjust, and when she opened, she was met only by the silent night, alone with her thoughts in the darkness.
The squirming, the breathing, the panic had disappeared in the flash.
Princess Twilight Sparkle was missing.
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ah, when your mentor taught you to mask so well that you've fooled yourself
:(
oh damnit, don't leave sunset behind
i can't help but feel like this is sunset going "oh hey scitwi infodumps all the time. and by the law of multiversal similarity..."
Looks like the labyrinth becomes more convoluted.
Sunset going for the Twiangle? Very daring. Or I'm reading too much into things.
I feel like I need to understand Tarasell's sixth law for this one.
Okay, even they acknowledge that "time travel in real-time" is some sloppy terminology. But the readings going from wave patterns to nothing... That may not be equipment failure. That could be something extratemporally altering the fabric of reality such that time travel is, will be, and retroactively was impossible... though the ripples of that kind of cosmic redefinition would carry much larger consequences than just wiping the temporal slate clean.
Or it's just equipment failure.
Interesting to see Sunset hesitant to mention the Time Twirler. Has she ever brought it up with Twilight?
"Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy."
"You know what I mean."
"Just trying to lighten the mood."
"You took me to a graveyard."
"Yeah, where it's meant to be peaceful. So be at peace."
Oh crap.
Oh crap.
Oh, this will not end well. Not in the short term, and likely not the medium. Long-term may be manageable, but we'll have to see how it shakes out. Sunset may want to call in Twilight's Ponyville friends. It's been a while, but they should be able to help calm her down... assuming she can involve them without an interdimensional incident. At the very least, they should get Spike involved. I imagine he's a key factor in managing Twilight even in canon. (And if we're being honest, Earth monarchies dealt with rulers that had far more bothersome issues than autism... though Equestria's last ruler spent a millennium with no worse eccentricities than a sweet tooth and a puckish sense of humor. Again, this'll be trouble.)
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Twilight is the best at anything she does, and I do mean anything
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Dun dun dunnnnn!
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I was going for vaguely plausible technobabble that would result in a pun on the word spectrum, not a rigorous exposition about the mechanics of time travel.
Definitely had that trepidation coming about the wing comment but that dialogue there makes it all worth it
And oh crap indeed.
More importantly, here's a completely Angel-free chapter, save some name drops
Next chapter you won't be so lucky, sadly for SunsetThis was an interesting chapter. It's still unclear what this is leading to on the mystery side, but now we see why the fic's called Spectral. It's interesting to depict Twilight as on the autism spectrum but absolutely unwilling to admit it, or admit that she could do things to make her life easier.
I'm unclear, so enough time has passed that Twilight's friends are dead, but not enough for Moondancer, Starlight, and Sunset to pass? Or are the other Mane Six not dead?
Twilight mentioning Guardian Angel having served her time is definitely another hint that this is Cozy Glow.
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The rest of the Mane 6 are alive and will show up a few chapters from now.
Wow, there's a lot going on here, but I love the back and forth banter... You know, up until dun dun duuuuuun!
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*drops grand piano on audience*
Gosh, I love seeing how well you've woven our PM conversations into such thoughtful representation here. It's fantastic.
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I've always gone with Equestrian or Equuish.