Lethe

by Nicroburst

One

Harken, sister, to my words, for they shall be the last you hear from me.

Chapter One

JUST over the hills of Canterlot, nestled among the crags and spires of the mountain, flowed a river. Nopony could tell its source; water seemed to seep from the very rocks of the peak, cascading down, and gathering into rivulets. Streams snaked down the hillside, slipping quietly past the illustrious city to gather together, following the nearby train tracks. Moving silently through the countryside, the river made its way to the town of Ponyville, gently caressing the outer bounds of the bordering farmland before it slipped into the Everfree Forest.

The river had gone largely unnoticed in Ponyville. It was forgotten, discarded in favour of closer, larger supplies of water. The river did not so much as notice their lack of attention. It simply followed, like the sun or the moon, in its own endless cycle.

***

She floated to awareness slowly, as if drifting her way upwards through a twilit sea, buoyed only by the breath in her lungs. Her eyes remained closed, preferring the comfort of the darkness. She trembled, perhaps from cold, or from some other insight that awaited her.

She became aware of her foreleg, draped out from under her torso. It tingled, in the uncomfortable manner of a limb that hadn’t yet realised it was awake. She shifted her body, but the throbbing continued, capturing her focus, and drawing her to it until she opened her eyes, seeking the object of her annoyance.

Her mind traced its outline, trying to place the contours and colours she saw in it. She could not recall its name. It played with her, danced before her. It hid in the shadows, slipped between the dappled patterns of the sunlight splayed across her.

Blue. The word drifted up after her from some deep fibre of her being. The form was blue, and that was right. She lay on her blue leg. Next to it, beside her foreleg, she could see tufts of green. Grass, yes, grass and dirt and rock and water.

Abruptly, she realised she was indeed seeing. That, then, must mean she was awake and alive, here beneath the trees and the sun.

She rolled over with a small groan. The sound broke the stillness of the air, and she could hear again; the dull roar of the river dwarfing her. She stayed still, feeling the throbbing in her foreleg—Blood, pumping through me, around me. There was a rhythm to this, to the world around her. It filled her with contentment.

But the sun’s rays were hot. Forcing herself to her hooves, she stepped towards the forest, wavering on her legs for just a moment. The shade was thicker here, denser, and the air cooled around her as she moved.

Her relief was short-lived. The trees loomed above her, silent, statuary monuments. Following their trunks up, she craned her neck, causing it to twinge. They were high, far higher than she was.

She felt small, caught between the river and the forest, between the hot day and the cool shade. Shying away from the trees, she watched the shadows slide over her. The cross-linked pattern left her uneasy, and projected an air of menace.

With a grimace, she flapped her wings, trying to generate a breeze around her. Wings. Of course she had wings. She was a pegasus, after all.

She flapped experimentally, but all she managed to do was propel herself upwards, rising a few feet into the air.

Mud rose around her hooves as she landed. The ground was wet—probably because of the storm last night. Wait, what? She looked around. Yes, there had been a storm, a severe one. She could see evidence of it everywhere she looked. Broken branches lay near her, leaves and twigs scattered around, the muddy ground holding clouded puddles of water. Bits and pieces of debris were floating down the river.

More than that, though, it was in the air. A fresh scent, heavy with humidity, it rejuvenated and refreshed. She breathed deeply, savouring it. It was as familiar as her own body. It surrounded her, enveloped her, and comforted her.

Who am I?

The thought came suddenly, with force enough to floor her. Her eyes widened, ears laid themselves flat against her skull, drawing her skin back and causing her fur to stand on end. She staggered, legs nearly betraying her as her full weight crashed down upon them.

She could recall nothing. She reached inwards, towards that nothingness, that part of the mind that stored knowledge, experience, and scrabbled at it. Like a desperate beggar, scrambling for a last crumb of food, she searched, and came away filled only with despair.

She sank down, first sitting, and then laying herself flat against the ground. The mud seeped into her coat, layering itself against the filth that had already dried on her. She struggled and found nothing.

Finally, giving up and consigning herself to this emptiness, she crawled towards the river. The sun had not relented, drying her throat as it dried out the nearby puddles of water. She was parched.

But before she could lower her head to drink her fill, she caught sight of something on the water’s surface. A round face, blue underneath the grime and muck she’d been lying in. Wide eyes, relief and apprehension warring against a deep red—magenta—stared back at her, at the multihued mane that crested her head.

But she found within herself no name for this image. She took away no understanding, no realisation or epiphany. She shut her eyes, unable to look any longer, and pulled away from the river.

She heard a different noise. It contrasted against the background of the forest, the wind, and the water. Hoof-steps, running—galloping—towards her; it was the sound of somepony approaching. She lifted her gaze. Above her, coming down from the ridge of a small hill, she saw a purple pony. She studied the pony, scrutinised her as she came closer. A mare, she realised, words coming to her mind. A unicorn.

“Rainbow!” the mystery pony shouted, her voice resounding. Reaching her, the pony threw herself forward, hooves clasping themselves around her back.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded. “What happened?!”

She opened her mouth to speak, wincing as her lips cracked. She coughed, once, twice, forcing moisture down her throat. “I . . . I don’t know,” she whispered, falling into the hug.

“You look like hell,” the unicorn whispered.

She felt herself pushed back, studied at arm’s length by lavender eyes. She stared at the newcomer drunkenly, finding comfort in her concern. She had been known. She had been known.

“Who are you,” she said, voice cracking on the words as they left her. She took a deep breath, and tried again, louder, with confidence. “Who are you?”

The unicorn just stared at her, concern turning to worry. “It’s me. It’s Twilight.”

She just shook her head, her own uncomprehending gaze meeting Twilight’s. The unicorn took a step backwards, separating the two. She felt a brief pang, and she raised her hoof after Twilight.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Twilight asked. She shook her head again in mute response, mane drifting around her head. She could see red and green entwined, framing her vision of the unicorn.

“Hold still,” Twilight said. Her horn began to glow. Her eyes were closed, face calm and relaxed.

“Twilight?” she asked nervously. The glow began to expand. She scrambled backwards, away from it, falling onto her side just two steps back. She crawled, hooves splashing through water, throwing mud up into the air as she moved. “Twilight?!”

There was a flash of light from behind her. With a cry, she regained her hooves, throwing herself away from the light. Forward, up, and out over the river.

But she didn’t hit the water. Her jump turned into a glide, and she turned her head, disbelieving, to stare at the outstretched wings over her shoulder. She was flying. She was flying!

She rolled her shoulders, testing the muscles, and then flapped downwards, hard. The glide turned into a leap, and she rose several feet.

She let out a whoop of excitement, rolling onto her side to turn. Back on the bank, watching her, the unicorn waved a hoof, beckoning. The light was gone.

She landed next to Twilight, mouth spread wide in a fierce grin. She felt . . . alive, in a way she hadn’t since she’d awoken. There was a thrill, running through her, a line of energy spreading down her spine and through her limbs. The air wasn’t heavy, but sweet. The breeze wasn’t cold, but bracing.

“Rainbow!”

She shook herself, throwing loose clumps of dirt and mud into the air. “Sorry,” she said. “You startled me.”

She didn’t understand what was happening. She had no basis for understanding, after all, didn’t know what that light had been, or what Twilight’s intentions were. But she felt safe, here. As if Twilight’s appearance had filled something the absence of which she was only beginning to grasp.

“It’s just a teleportation spell. We’re going home,” Twilight said. That same light began to spread out from Twilight’s horn. This time, she didn’t back away.

“Twilight . . .” she said.

“Yes?”

“Who am I?”

The light spread over her, pierced her with a tingle that ran all over her skin. It poured into her eyes in a thick stream, blinding her. Just for an instant, it became her.

And before she faded completely, she heard Twilight speak.

“Rainbow Dash. Your name is Rainbow Dash.”

***

‘Home’ was, for Twilight, a library. As the after-effects of the teleportation—vague nausea, slight dizziness and an after-image superimposed on her vision—faded away, Rainbow glanced around at her surroundings.

She was standing in the centre of a large, circular room, Twilight beside her. Along the walls, bookcases lined every nook and cranny, only grudgingly making way for the few doors, and the stairs. Their shelves were replete with books of every kind, from great tomes to thin novels, even a few scrolls.

A soft carpet covered the floor, threads rendered in a simple cross-linked pattern. Several chairs and couches were arranged on it, positioned to allow visiting ponies isolation or company, should they be seeking either.

“You live here?” Rainbow asked, taking a step forward and sniffing the air. Beyond her own earthiness, she could smell a sweet tang, floating through the room from behind a nearby door.

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed, nodding. “Though it is a public library.”

“What’s the smell?” Rainbow asked, her stomach grumbling. When had she last eaten?

“Lunch,” Twilight said simply, coming around to look Rainbow in the face, and laying a hoof on her shoulder. “We were just about to eat when Fluttershy reported you missing. Why don’t you go upstairs and have a shower? I’ll get some food ready.”

We? Fluttershy?

Rainbow smiled, nodding, and sprang up the stairs. Her earlier apprehension seemed to have disappeared, though she didn’t know where. She mentally shrugged, quickly scanning the rooms before her. More books, more books, study with more books, bedroom with more books . . . the shower’s probably through there. Sure enough, she found a small bathroom adjacent the bedroom.

The shower was in a corner. Rainbow stepped in, awkwardly twisting the knob with her mouth, and taking the time to think over her situation. She felt . . . comfortable around Twilight, almost safe. They’d obviously known each other for some time. As the hot water rained down on her, washing the grime from her coat and down the drain, she remembered how lost she’d felt. How alone. Twilight had filled that void. Her appearance had given Rainbow something to hold onto—something to grasp. A reason to hope.

But she still didn’t know who she was. Rainbow Dash . . . it was a name, but nothing more. Who had she been? What had she liked, or hated? Where had she lived? Questions piled up in her mind, each demanding attention, demanding answers. She had nothing to offer them.

Resolutely, she pushed them from her mind. Twilight had been able to teleport the two of them Celestia-knows how far. Surely she’d be able to do something, to magic up some solution. She had to. It was all Rainbow had; a hope, kindled by the unicorn’s words.

The water ran through her fur, turning black against the porcelain white of the floor.

But what if she couldn’t? Rainbow had no idea what the unicorn was capable of. She could well be unable to help her. Rainbow had no reply to that thought. It sat at the forefront of her mind, refusing to be budged, a gentle fear that would undermine everything around her.

She refused to be worried. The water cleared, the last of the grime melting away. Rainbow raised her head, painstakingly screwing the tap to turn the water off. She shook herself, leaving her fur matted. After all, there was no point worrying. Either Twilight could help, or she couldn’t. Rainbow would just have to wait and see. Already, she knew she hated waiting.

She grabbed a brush, instinctively knowing how to use it. In a few minutes, she was satisfied. Twilight’s voice drifted up the stairs to her, calling her down. She must have been able to hear the shower’s noise.

Turning, Rainbow caught sight of herself in the mirror. No longer covered in mud, she saw herself, a vibrant blue under a rainbow mane. Rainbow Dash, she thought. Just a name, but . . . there was a strength to it; a strength that held her, defined her.

She headed back downstairs, jumping the railing to fall slowly, supported by slow, steady wing-beats. Twilight smiled at the display, gesturing to bowls of salad and oats, laid out on the table.

Rainbow didn’t wait, rushing over to fill her mouth. Twilight, however, didn’t join her. Instead, studying her with those scrutinising eyes, she sat down opposite her and crossed her hooves against her chest.

“You’re sure you aren’t hurt, Rainbow?”

“No,” Rainbow replied, her voice muffled by the food. “I’m fine.”

“What can you remember?” Twilight leaned forward, placing her hooves on the table. Rainbow glanced up at her, catching her gaze. Something there held her, stopped her from looking away.

“Nothing,” she murmured. Twilight pulled back, and Rainbow blinked a few times, rapidly, dropping Twilight’s gaze.

“Nothing at all?”

“Not a thing,” she agreed, hiding her face in her food.

“Hmm . . .” Twilight trotted off, heading to a shelf on the wall. Rainbow couldn’t help but stop her eyes from following as Twilight began to nose her way through the books, though she didn’t stop eating.

“Hey, uh, Twilight,” she began. Twilight glanced back at her. “Uhh, well, thanks. For all of this,” she said, gesturing with a hoof.

“Not at all,” Twilight replied. “You’d do the same for me.”

Rainbow smiled at that. It spoke to the Rainbow she’d been, the pony she no longer knew.

“This is really great food, by the way,” she commented, just as the kitchen door opened. Rainbow turned, half-standing as a lizard-like creature walked through. A . . . a dragon, she thought in disbelief.

It stood a touch over Twilight’s shoulder, purple scales covering his body though they gave way to a leathery hide down his front. He had green spines protruding from his back, running down his spine, and a crest that would have just tickled Rainbow’s nose, had he stood before her. Standing on two feet, he had arms and hands with wickedly-sharp claws, and a thick tail ending in an arrowhead.

“Yeah,” the dragon grunted. “Don’t worry about it.” It approached the table with its own bowl—full of what appeared to be gemstones. Sitting down, it lifted a claw clutching a handful of the stones and threw them into its mouth, closing its jaws with a loud crunch.

Rainbow nearly fell out of her chair, her mouth working without noise. Twilight giggled, observing from the side of the room.

“Rainbow, this is Spike, my number one assistant. He made the food.”

“Oh. Oh! Uhh, thanks, Spike.”

“What’s going on?” Spike asked, glancing between the two ponies and narrowing his eyes.

“She’s lost her memory, Spike,” Twilight said softly. The dragon shared a glance with the unicorn, and then looked over at Rainbow. She could feel a growl growing in her chest, bubbling and foaming as it rose. She was getting sick of that worried look.

But Spike remained quiet, crunching through his gems. Rainbow sat in the silence, finishing her food while watching Twilight search through the shelves. When she’d licked the last oat from the side of the bowl, she slid it over to Spike, who stacked it on his and carried them back into the kitchen.

“A dragon, huh,” Rainbow said. Twilight stood back from the shelves, purple light—her magic, Rainbow supposed—wrapping around a small book.

“Spike’s been with me since I was just a filly,” Twilight said distractedly, perusing the book while she walked back to the table.

“That’s . . . cool, I guess,” Rainbow said, earning herself a smile from Twilight. Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You just reminded me of . . . well, of you.” Reaching the table, Twilight placed the book under Rainbow’s nose. “Here,” she said, tapping the book. “I think this’ll help.”

Rainbow glanced down, quickly scanning the title: Practical Mental Magic.

“There are a few things I want to try, but we can start with a simple Restoration,” Twilight said, squaring her shoulders. “If you’re ready?”

That fear leaped back into her mind. She needed to be okay, to recover from this. She’d kept it under control so far, but there was a hollow sensation growing in her chest. What terrified her wasn’t this, wasn’t a shower and a meal, safe in another’s company. It was the outside world, the future, spanning away before her.

She dreaded it. She didn’t know her job, her friends, or her home. She had lost her dreams and fears, triumphs and failures. An entire history, lost. How could she just return to that, empty?

Rainbow swallowed, and then nodded her acquiescence. “Please. I just want to remember.”

Twilight’s horn burst to life, sending sparks of magic flying from its end to disappear in the air. Beckoning, she reached forward to press her horn against Rainbow’s forehead. Once again, the light enveloped her, filled her. But when it faded, Twilight sat still, with wide, intense eyes fixed on Rainbow’s face. Her ears were pressed back against her skull, and a hoof, slightly trembling, was covering her mouth.

“Well?’

“There’s . . . there’s nothing there,” Twilight whispered. Rainbow could barely hear her, so quiet was her voice. “It’s all gone.”

“Of course it’s gone!”

“No, listen to me, Rainbow.” Twilight swallowed. “That spell awakens suppressed memories. In the vast majority of amnesia incidents, trauma causes the mind to suppress those memories, and the spell can bring them back. You . . . I’ve never heard of anything like this. It’s as if something took them.”

Rainbow quailed. Twilight couldn’t help her. They sat here, in this tiny room, without a clue what was going on, and for all her magic, she couldn’t help. She felt bile rising in the back of her throat, and for the first time since she’d awoken, felt anger, building to a crescendo.

“What ‘something’?” she demanded.

“I don’t know.” Twilight’s voice was still quiet.

Rainbow surged upwards, out of her chair to hover in the air. She didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know why she felt as she did, but that was immaterial. She needed to fly, needed to move, to burn off this useless energy that was pouring into her, protesting her helplessness. She needed to fight.

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, though her every fibre screamed at her to go. “Did I live around here?”

Twilight stared up at her for a long moment. “You live in a cloud house with a rainbow. You can’t miss it,” she confirmed.

That was enough. With a cry, she tore through a nearby window. The glass shattered around her, breaking into tiny fragments that split the sunlight into a kaleidoscope of colour around her. Then she was gone, blasting into the sky.

***

From overhead, Rainbow could see the entire town. She glanced backwards, at the library she’d sprung from. It was a large tree, windows, doors, and a balcony set around its trunk.

She could see the streets and open squares, the parks and fountains, all spread out beneath her. They sprawled, a rough shape describing the town, linking themselves together at odd angles, lined with houses. Here and there, there were larger buildings—a town hall, a bakery, a school. All the tiny parts of a town came together in an incredible pattern.

The place was still in somewhat of a mess. Puddles slowly drying out in cracks and potholes, broken branches littering the parks and streets, even piles of debris, gathered together in the gutters, and choking the entrances to the storm drains; all of it indicated that the storm had been here, too. Rainbow took a deep breath, savouring the fresh air.

The streets were full of ponies. Chatter lazily drifted up to Rainbow, idle noise, the sound of a crowd. It was just another day to them, walking the streets and parks, spending time with others, or working on projects. They sold produce and goods, bought necessities and luxuries. Some looked up, staring at her, pointing or waving their hooves. She turned away.

Rainbow fixed her eyes on the sky. There were no clouds anywhere around her, just pegasi going about their daily business. Rainbow ignored them, ignored their shouted greetings and queries. The sky seemed to open to her, so empty. She could go anywhere, and anywhere she went became where she was.

She focused on the beat of her wings, the chanting pulse of blood in her neck. That rhythm stabilised her.

But the further she flew, the more the sky contracted around her. Her vision shrunk, closing from the entire horizon to those few clouds still drifting on the slight breeze.

There, over there. She could see a house made of clouds, a rainbow pouring down its front. That had to be it.

She landed on its porch, and just like that, her reckless energy abandoned her along with her anger, leaving her drained and, if she was honest, scared. Tentatively, she pushed the door open, finding it unlocked, and stepped inside.

The house was simple. A small kitchen, with dirty dishes in the sink, lay against a far wall. Rainbow could see several empty tubs of protein, lying on their sides on the counter. Closer to the door, a couch, and a uniform draped over its back, a simple lightning bolt design embroidered on its back.

Rainbow glanced around the walls, looking for pictures. She found just one, hanging by itself over a mantle; it depicted herself with five other ponies. One of them was Twilight.

The room seemed lonely, devoid of life. It was as if she’d just picked up and left, giving no warning, and taking nothing with her. In her absence, it became a mausoleum. Rainbow found herself paralysed, stuck between two impossibilities. She’d had a life here; friends, dreams, and challenges. Was that what she wanted?

But if she feared who she’d been . . . what did that make her? She was a blank slate, with endless possibilities stretching out before her. She could be anything. To return here, to take another step into this life, would throw all that away.

I was more than a choice, once.

Rainbow stared at the picture on the mantle, unconsciously walking towards it. They all seemed so happy there, herself, Twilight, and the other four. She picked it up, if only to hold it. Concentrating, Rainbow tried to name them, tried to let their names well up out of her, but nothing surfaced.

With a sigh, she replaced the picture on the mantle and turned away. The spell had been broken, and she stood in the middle of the room. Moving to the fridge, she found a dirty glass and poured herself some water. The cold liquid slipped down her throat, and she found herself pouring more. It took three full glasses before she stopped.

With a weary step, Rainbow explored the rest of her house. She didn’t know why she was holding out that tiny spark of hope, nor what she was looking for, but she couldn’t stop herself from opening every drawer, every cupboard. She went through what few clothes she had, found posters of other pegasi in uniform. There were even a few books, beside her bed.

Picking one up, Rainbow read the title out loud: Daring Do and the Trek to the Terrifying Tower.

She slumped onto her bed. There was so much she didn’t know about herself. The prospect of taking up that life again seemed as monumental as the prospect of starting anew.

Was that all that scared her?

Twilight had mentioned several things she’d wanted to try. Somewhere, Rainbow had known that the whole time. She’d left before she could move to the next attempt. Rainbow turned that idea over in her mind, dissecting it. Why had she fled her best chance at recovering?

Was it because she did not want to recover? Could she be happier now, content to simply allow Rainbow Dash to slip away? No, that idea felt wrong, felt alien to her. She couldn’t leave this place so simply, no more than a thief in the night.

Was it because she had had such high hopes? She’d trusted Twilight, trusted that the unicorn could make everything better. That she’d failed at the first hurdle meant nothing. Her faith in her friend—Rainbow’s eyes widened at the thought, a small smile spreading over her mouth—was unshaken.

But despite that faith, her hope had been shaken. She’d entertained the concept that she’d never recover, and it had left her nothing behind which to hide.

So yes, she was scared; scared that Twilight would fail, scared that she’d be left like this, a broken pegasus in an empty house.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, thinking, but there was still daylight, filtering in through her windows. Rainbow rose, trotting through her house, out onto the porch and taking off with a gust of wind, leaving a multihued trail behind her.

***

Rainbow knocked on the door of the library, hearing a scramble from inside as hoof-steps rapidly approached. Twilight opened the door, relief breaking out on her face as she saw Rainbow standing there.

“Rainbow,” she murmured in greeting.

“Twilight,” Rainbow replied.

“Come in.” Twilight turned away, trotting back to the centre of the room with Rainbow following. Spaced around the table were four other ponies. Rainbow instantly recognised them from the picture on her mantle.

The pink one was the first to speak, rushing forward to embrace Rainbow in a tight hug. Spluttering as her mouth was rudely invaded by masses of curly pink hair; she could only gasp in the earth pony’s grip.

“Dashie!” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Right behind her was the yellow pegasus, who threw her own forelegs around the pair, though she kept her mouth shut.

Thankfully, the others—a white unicorn with styled purple mane and an orange farmer, complete with hat—remained seated, though they did offer their own greetings.

“Wherever have you been, darling? We were worried sick!”

“Twilight’s been tellin’ us about your memory an’ all. Ah wouldn’t worry, Rainbow. Twi’ll fix everything lickety-split.”

Rainbow disentangled herself, taking a step back from the group and throwing a helpless glance over at Twilight.

“Rainbow, this is Pinkie Pie,” Twilight began. The pink pony began to bounce. “Fluttershy,” she said, indicating the yellow pegasus. She had a pink mane, long and curling, and still said nothing. “Rarity,” Twilight continued, nodding at the unicorn, “and Applejack.” The farmer tipped her hat.

Rainbow looked over them all, the five faces that had come here just for her. They were her friends, without a doubt. A warmth spread through her. So easily, so quickly, they made her feel welcome; a part of the group. Beyond that, Twilight’s smile from the center drew her in. It was an assurance; fuel to the spark of hope that lived still in her breast. Hope that she would recover from this nightmare, this amnesia.

It was enough to convince her, and to earn them her trust. She felt herself go limp, and she steeled her limbs, fighting not to betray her weakness as she made her way to the table.

“Rainbow . . .” Twilight began. “I know this is hard for you, but I want to keep trying.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“We’re going to give you our memories,” Twilight said, looking over at the group. Each of them nodded, serious expressions turned to Rainbow. “I’m hoping that will be enough to remind you. If there’s anything in there—anything I missed, or was buried so deep I could not see it—I hope this will help to bring it all back. And at the least, at the very least, you will know something of yourself.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said tonelessly. In truth, it didn’t much matter what they were planning on doing. Right then, at that instant, she would have agreed to anything. She blinked hard, biting her lip in an attempt to clear the tiny bead of liquid that was forming at the corner of her eye.

Twilight swallowed, giving her head a little shake and igniting her horn. Closing her eyes, she sent a brilliant beam of light out, catching each of the ponies on their foreheads. Rainbow could see dust swirling in that light, brilliant specks of light dancing in random, perfect rhythm.

Then that light arced towards her. Lacking even the time to blink, Rainbow felt it strike her, sink into her, and she slumped back in her chair, eyes closed.

Images played out before her from five different viewpoints, all superimposed, running over each other in a mess of colour and light. Somehow, she understood it perfectly, felt each fact slide into place in her mind. Each experience, and each associated emotion fit within them and created a portrait of a pony.

Rainbow Dash.

She was a protector and defender, regarded as hero by many in the town—and across Equestria. She’d saved multiple lives by herself, countless with the aid of her friends. She was one of the fastest pegasi ever to live, the only one to ever achieve the Sonic Rainboom. She was fierce, possessed with a single-minded drive that pushed her onwards to ever greater heights.

She was stubborn and prideful. More than once, her daredevil attitude had placed herself and those around her in danger. Her thoughts first went to herself, and then to others. At her worst, she was selfish, arrogant, and reckless.

The scenes continued. Each built on what she knew; each added something to the picture. But through it all, the good and the bad, her strengths and weaknesses, her glories and failures, all the many moments that had made up her life, she found a trait leaping out at her, leaping like she had, arriving with a flourish through the mists, the castle rising above her and the chasm dropping away below. Loyalty. She watched from five pairs of eyes as she returned with a rope in her mouth, returning to her friends from the temptation of her own glory.

Rainbow weakly opened her eyes, finding those five faces leaning towards her. Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but Rainbow held up a hoof in a silent plea for quiet.

She knew who she’d been, could feel that pony burning in her mind like an avatar of life. But it wasn’t her. She hadn’t lived those moments, or that life; she had only been shown them. The aspect she saw in her mind was perfect, through all its flaws. She saw herself as they knew her; as her five friends had seen her, and she despaired. How could she hope to live up to that pedestal, so far elevated in their esteem?

“I’m sorry,” she said, watching the expressions drop around the room. “It’s not me.”

She winced as the table seemed to explode with noise, Applejack and Pinkie vehemently disagreeing, Rarity demanding to know what had happened, Twilight muttering to herself, and Fluttershy, simply staring at her.

“It wasn’t me,” she said. Slowly, the noise receded. “I can see her—the one you call Rainbow Dash. I can see her as you do, and I know—I know!—what she’s been through. But I don’t feel it. I- How can I explain? What it is to feel like a stranger in your own body?”

Nopony had an answer for her. Rainbow cast her gaze around the room, until finally, she turned to Twilight.

“Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Can I talk to you, please? Alone?”

She led the unicorn outside. The sun was just setting on the horizon, the yellow orb sinking into a haze of orange and red. Rainbow braced herself against the chilly air. Twilight shivered, the tiny sounds making their way to Rainbow’s ears.

“We need to go after it,” she said. “Whatever it is, the thing you say stole my mind.”

“I agree,” Twilight replied simply, before she could continue.

“Just us,” Rainbow said. Twilight’s eyebrows rose, posing a silent question. “I- I don’t know why. With you, I feel . . . safe, as if nothing could ever go wrong, so long as you’re with me, as if you have all the answers. I can’t face it alone, Twilight.”

“And the others?” Twilight asked.

“They aren’t a part of this,” Rainbow said fiercely. “They didn’t find me. You did.” Rainbow pressed herself against the unicorn’s side. “Only you,” she whispered.

“Alright,” Twilight said. They stood together for a beat. Rainbow’s heart soared, a serenity descending over her. Twilight would come, and that was enough.

“I sent a letter, you know,” Twilight said, “to the Princesses.” She glanced at Rainbow. “Nopony in Equestria knows more than them.”

Rainbow nodded. She could see Celestia and Luna, standing tall through her newfound memories. They seemed wise—benevolent, and powerful.

“They didn’t know anything.”

“We’ll find it, Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Together.”

“Together—but in the morning,” Twilight said.

“I almost remember, you know,” Rainbow whispered drunkenly. “It hovers on the edge of my mind. As if . . . as if I could just reach out and grasp it, and everything would come flooding back.

“It was me,” Twilight said, her head turning to Rainbow. In the growing dark, she could see a gleam in those eyes, reflecting the nearby fire of the lamp hanging from a branch.

“What?”

“That spell, Rainbow. I’m so sorry.”

“Twilight . . .”

“It was my mind, holding that spell, and shaping it. I know what you saw, and what it meant.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s why you want to be alone, with me. Why you don’t want the others with us. There isn’t anything there to grasp, Rainbow, it’s just me, holding your hoof in the dark.”

Comments

[Lostzilla]

nice set-up, i think Rd is a bit out of place, well she is out of place ha..ha.....ha (bad joke)
I think everything is going too fast, try pacing a little more, nevertheless its a very good job and well written

[Nicroburst]

1368170
Thanks for reading, hehe. I appreciate all feedback, although I probably wont be making significant changes. There are reasons for almost everything in there. I know pacing has always been my main issue, but ... well ... it gets faster. A lot faster.
As for Rainbow, my version of her character has always diverged from the show and most fanon. Won't go into how, that's what the story is for!
Quick note: The story has mostly been written out, should go up on a once-a-week update schedule.

[SnowyNightt]

great story, interesting idea

[Mossflower]

finished the first chapter just now, and i gotta say, very interesting; the only thing which bothered me a little was the unorthodox use of single quotation marks instead of double, it's not huge, but given how many use double marks it does make itself known.

[Ladrian]

I realize you wrote this forever ago, but I'm just getting here, and I'm just reading it now, so I'm going to make random ass guesses now. As if this were written by Sanderson, I'm going to try to guess the twist at the end. In pursuit of this goal, I will take complete shots in the dark and claim victory if I happen to hit with one. Now that my extremely scientific and perfectly logical justification is out of the way, I will commence with the guessing.

No, RD, your memories weren't taken, you gave them up! For some reason. (?) I did say shots in the dark.

Or... It was Twi that stole your memories. Damn, that would be harsh.

Also, there must have been some pretty high winds in that storm, huh? Eh? Eh?... Imma riot.

A RIOTER-- okay I'm done. For now.

Also also, just pondering what would result in this effect given the abilities we already know of in the cosmere, and the first thing that came to mind was if you dumped ALL your memories into a coppermind. The connection to others should still be there (theoretically resulting in trust and good feelings when thinking of/seeing them), as that is actually a different feruchemical power, but the memories themselves would be gone.

And TwiDash. Yes. All of my Yes.

Welp, onto the next chapter. I hope my play-by-play analysis is entertaining to read.