• Published 26th Jun 2021
  • 2,346 Views, 143 Comments

Ruin - RB_



The world ended on the last day before summer vacation.

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Unstable

Sunset’s stomach growled. She did her best to ignore it.

She was lying on her back on the floor of the library. Her Black Box sat next to her, useless as it was with the cable to their radio relay cut.

She stared at the ceiling.

Sunset had no idea how much time had passed. She hadn’t bothered to wear a watch for what had been supposed to be a short jaunt on the other side of the portal, and the sky never changed. Her guess was half a day, but it was just that: a guess.

Upon discovering that the portal had closed, seemingly inexplicably, she’d gone into survival mode. She’d known that the portal wouldn’t be reopening any time soon, so she’d busied herself looking for food and water in the castle.

Water she’d found quickly; she’d discovered a bathroom on a previous trip (why did that feel so long ago, when it had only been a few weeks?) and had headed straight there. She’d turned the tap to see if the water was running.

The good news was that it was running. The bad news was that it was cloudy and grey. Certainly not something she’d want to drink unless she was desperate. Which she would be, if worse came to worst. So she’d gone back out into the castle proper and began searching it for something in particular: a kitchen.

She found it after some time. It was a pretty nice kitchen, by her estimation. Spacious. Well-equipped. Of course, her current experience with a kitchen was just the small stove, sink, and microwave setup she had in her apartment, so perhaps she wasn’t the best judge.

She’d gone to the pantry, but she discovered what she’d honestly expected to find: all the food that had been there (and there had been quite a bit) was mostly rotted and decayed. Certainly nothing remained that was edible.

She’d found a few canned foods, and had searched the kitchen for a can opener. But when she’d opened them up, she found more of the same. The magic drain had even affected them, sealed up as they were. That, too, had been Sunset’s expectation.

What she had wanted to find, and had found rather easily, was a glass jug. She’d taken it over to the sink. A dish towel had hung next to it; she’d removed it from its hanger and laid it across the top of the pitcher, leaving a little slack so that it formed a sort of well.

She’d opened the sink’s taps. Sure enough, the water here had been choked with dust as well. This time, however, she’d come prepared. She’d slowed the sink’s flow to a small but steady stream and positioned the pitcher under it, letting water flow into the towel. As she’d watched, the towel had become wet, and soon waterlogged. Water had begun to drip out of the bottom of the towel, into the pitcher.

Sunset had held her little contraption together for some time, letting the water collect. The water was still cloudy, but a lot less so. In contrast, the top of the towel had been stained quite darkly.

And so, once the pitcher had filled with water, Sunset had turned the taps off and disassembled her little water filtration unit. She’d taken the jug of water with her back to the library, where it now sat on one of the tables, the water level about half depleted.

Sunset had tried to sleep, but given the lack of food, it had not come easily. Still, she’d managed to pass some time that way. Now, though, she was too hungry. All she could do was lie there and hope the portal would spark to life soon.

If it ever did.


Yet more time passed. Sunset’s hunger grew deeper. The water level in the pitcher grew lower.

Sunset sat on the opposite side of the room from the portal, her back up against the hard crystal wall. She stared at the mirror, her reflection staring back at her tenfold from each of its fractured pieces.

“C’mon, Twilight,” she muttered under her breath. “Open the portal already. It must be charged by now, right?”

She stared at the mirror.

It did not change.


The pitcher was completely empty of water now, and Sunset’s throat was getting dry. She’d put off refilling it, just in case the portal opened while she wasn’t there, but now she was getting desperate.

She sighed. Nothing for it. She should have brought the dishtowel with her; then, she could have filled it in the nearby bathroom. Instead, she’d left it in the kitchen, which was much farther away. She’d have to risk it. Sighing, she grabbed the pitcher and turned towards the door.

Then, there came the powerful, crackling sound of unrestrained electricity from behind her.

Sunset whipped around to see the portal opening, at last. Her tired eyes grew wide, and the corners of her lips turned upwards.

A figure emerged from the portal: Twilight Sparkle, wearing a ventilator mask.

“Sunset!?” she shouted.

“Right here,” Sunset said, waving.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright!” Twilight said. “We were so worried—come on, let’s go back.”


Sunset emerged through the portal into the human world, Twilight supporting her. Starlight was standing in the middle of the tent; she stepped forwards as Sunset stumbled in.

“Sunset! Are you alright?” she said, then turned to Twilight. “Is she alright?”

“Just very hungry,” Sunset said. That was a lie; she felt a bit sick as well, and weak in her limbs. “How long was I on the other side for?”

“About a day,” Starlight said.

Sunset grimaced. “That explains a lot.”

Twilight pulled up a folding chair for her. Sunset sat down.

“Starlight, could you get me some food?” she said. “I really, really need to eat something.”

“Sure,” Starlight said. “I’ll see what they’ve got in the cafeteria.”

She ran off, through the tent’s flap.

Sunset turned to Twilight. “Alright. What happened? Why did the portal close?”

“You’re, uh…” Twilight swallowed. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Okay.”

Twilight sat down at her desk, spinning the chair around to face Sunset.

“While we were waiting for the Can-Opener to recharge,” she said, “I checked through the data logs of the last few times we opened the portal.”

“And?” Sunset asked.

“Well…” Twilight inhaled sharply. “On the last five trips we’ve made, the portal has closed earlier than predicted. It started out very slight, so slight that I could have dismissed it as simply within error tolerance, but now it’s much more significant.”

“So what are you saying?” Sunset asked.

Twilight grimaced. “I… think the portal’s becoming unstable.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said. “It could be the magic drain sapping away the little bit of magic still in the mirror. It could be that our repeated use of the Can-Opener has accelerated the magic’s decay. It could even be that the link between our worlds is naturally growing further apart.”

Twilight inhaled sharply. Whatever she was about to say, Sunset knew she wouldn’t like it.

“But,” Twilight said. “Whatever the reason, what I do know is: it’s not safe to use the portal anymore.”

And there it was.

Sunset’s heart sank into her stomach. “You can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely am,” Twilight said. Her gaze was firm. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Then how are we supposed to get to Canterlot?” Sunset said. “How are we supposed to get the pony-siders home? How are we supposed to figure out what happened to Equestria if we can’t go there?

Twilight shook her head. “We can’t. We’ll have to find another way.”

“But—”

“We can’t risk you getting stuck on that side of the portal forever, Sunset!” Twilight said. “I’m sorry, I know it’s important, but I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger. I refuse to.”

Sunset put her head in her hands. Her mind reeled. She didn’t know what to think. She felt like she was being pulled in so many directions, all at once, and all she wanted to do was scream.

“This… this can’t be happening,” she said.

“I know, Sunset,” Twilight said, gently. She stood up and walked over to the seated Sunset, squatted down and put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure out something. I promise. But for now, there’s nothing we can do. We can’t use the portal anymore.”

Sunset said nothing.

“Please, Sunset.”

“I—” Sunset said. “I need to go.”

“Sunset—”

Sunset stood up. Her mind spun. Her head hurt. She was still starving, but that was the least of her worries, now.

She brushed past Starlight, who entered the tent just as she left, carrying a tray of food. Sunset grabbed a roll off the tray as she passed. She brought it up to her mouth as she crossed the school’s courtyard and took a bite. She set out for the sidewalk that ran around the school.

She needed to keep moving. It was the only way to calm down the whirling storm in her head.

If she even could.


Twilight let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She closed her eyes.

Starlight set the tray down and took a seat at her desk. “I’m guessing Sunset didn’t take the news about the portal too well,” she said.

“No, she took it about as well as could be expected,” Twilight said. “I…”

She swallowed.

“Maybe I was too direct? I don’t… I’m not good at these things. Should I have been more gentle?”

“Too late to regret that now,” Starlight pointed out.

“I guess.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments.

“So…” Starlight began. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said. “I honestly have no idea. We have to come up with some way to get back to Equestria, but I don’t even know how to begin, and… augh.”

She ran a hand through her hair.

“It’s okay,” Starlight said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Will we?” Twilight said. “Just getting the portal open was a massive endeavor—I practically invented an entirely new branch of science just to get it working! Now I need to figure out how to open a whole new portal. I don’t even fully understand how the existing portal works!”

“I can help you,” Starlight said. “I… I know about magic, so—”

“Do you know how to open a portal to an entirely different universe?” Twilight asked, looking at her. “Especially considering you’re not a unicorn and can’t actually cast spells right now?”

Starlight’s smile faltered. “Well… no. B-but I’m sure the two of us working together can—”

“I’m sorry, Starlight,” Twilight said. “I appreciate your optimism, but right now what we need is a plan, and I don’t think either of us has one.”

Silence.

Twilight inhaled. Exhaled. “Could you just leave me alone for a bit? I need to think about this.”

“Oh… Okay,” Starlight said. She stood up. “I’ll just… go.”

“Thank you.”

Starlight walked to the tent’s flap. She took one last reluctant look over her shoulder, then left.

Twilight leaned back in her chair and cast her gaze towards the ceiling. She needed to think; that much was true. But the wall that now needed to be scaled was just too high for her to even comprehend, and she didn’t even know how to begin to climb it.

“Agh!” she shouted aloud. She mussed up her hair. “I’m so… worthless! I can’t even…”

She let the sentence hang in the air.

Twilight took a deep breath. Let it out slow. She spun her chair around towards her desk, intent on going through the logs on her computer one last time. But her eyes fell on something else.

Twilight stared at the elements on her desk, and the electronic components that surrounded them.

“Could the Elements open a portal?” she wondered aloud. “Midnight was able to open portals when she had the power of the Elements… so maybe…”

But it was a long shot. She’d told Sunset she might be able to awaken the Elements, but that was just her grasping at straws. There was no guarantee that she’d be able to get them working, let alone well enough to open a new portal.

But… wasn’t there another possibility?

“A spark, huh?” she said to herself.

There was one option. There was only one option.

But was she desperate enough to take it?

Twilight swallowed.

For Sunset’s sake…

…maybe.


Starlight let her ‘reassuring’ smile fall the moment she was out of the tent. Her thoughts were racing faster than Rainbow Dash at a derby. There was something squirming in the pit of her stomach.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it did nothing. Oh, she tried to sound optimistic, to be supportive and capable, but that was just an act. Just the role she’d chosen to play for the good of the team, for the good of her fellow ponies.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart hammered away in her chest.

She needed to get away.

Actually, she knew exactly where she needed to go. Who she needed to visit.

She set off towards the school building. Stepped through its doors. Headed into the depths of its hallways. She passed the gym, passed numerous Ponyvillians hanging out in halls and classrooms. She reached the back of the school, pushed her way through a rear door. Set off towards her destination within the little grove of trees that lay to the southeast.

Towards the school’s garden, and a little rock with a starburst carved into its face.

She arrived at the edge of the trees. She inhaled sharply; she hadn’t been here since the funeral. She’s been avoiding it, specifically. Now, though, she felt she could avoid it no longer.

She headed inside.

The garden was beautiful. It was clear that someone had taken a lot of care in maintaining it, even during the summer. Starlight had no idea who that someone was, but she appreciated their service. This place was much more than a garden, now; it was the resting place of her mentor. Of her friend.

And there, in the center of the garden, was her grave.

Starlight approached the stone with some reluctance. She questioned if she even deserved to be here. But she had things she had to get off her chest.

She sat down in front of the stone. Touched it with a shaking hand.

“Hello, Twilight,” she said. She let the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “It’s… it’s been a while, huh.”

She swallowed.

“I… Celestia, I wish you were here right now,” she said. “If you were here, we might have had a chance… Why did you have to stay in Equestria? You knew it was going to kill you, I’m sure of it. Why? You must have had your reasons, but…”

She trailed off.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” she said. “All this time I’ve been giving everything I have to supporting Twilight and Sunset, but I know it’s not enough. I know that. And now we’re stuck, and… what am I supposed to do, Twilight? I just want someone to tell me…”

She could feel tears building in her eyes. She rubbed them away with a forearm.

“I’m so sorry…” she said. “This is all my fault, and I don’t know how to make up for that anymore. How I can ever make up for it. “You and all of Equestria and our entire world are dead because of me. How am I supposed to make things right? How can I ever make up for what I did? I don’t… I just don’t know what to do anymore—”

She heard footsteps, behind her. Her eyes widened, and slowly she turned to look at whoever was behind her.

It was Sunset. And she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were narrowed, her gaze suspicious.

“What do you mean,” she said, “‘because of me’?