> Sparkyll and Hyde
>  by Dragon Spire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
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     You know the story of how the renowned unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, discovered the true meaning of the magic of friendship, and how she ascended as an Alicorn princess. You know how the tales of how she and her closest companions saved Equestria from countless evils that threated all that they loved.

However, this is not the intended story. 

This is a tale that begs the question, "What if something occurred, something that drew Twilight Sparkle's main focus away from learning magic, before she ever met Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, and the other ponies with whom she would create unbreakable bonds?"

This is the story of Twilight Sparkle, and her endeavors to understand the elements of goodness and evil, which are inherent in every heart. 


Sparkyll and Hyde
Prologue:
Trapped



◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


"Twilight!"

Spike's cry, piercing the air of the Everfree Forest, penetrated the ears of Twilight Sparkle. Reacting like a spear was thrown at her, she ducked away from the cry and into a swarm of bushes. Branches clawed at her skin as she struggled to find an opening to see out of. There was no one in sight, yet she knew her little brother was out there, looking for her.

She forced slow, deep breaths through her system. Her little brother's calls for her continued, each cutting into her heart more painfully than the last. He could not be allowed to find her. Not ever. There was too much to lose if he did.

What would one so full of innocence want with someone like her, anyway? He knew full well what she'd did. Anyone else would've shrank back in fear, begging her to leave. But him? He yet tore into the forest, never giving up his search for his traitorous sister.

The thought, along with the violent weather, made her shrink deeper into the bushes. Thunder screamed overhead, its hardened tears pelting the earth with hail. There was no mercy from nature.

Prying out of her peephole, she scoped the area once more. Spike had gone quiet for some time now, perhaps muted by the thunder. Yet as she started to step out, she heard the alarm of a twig snapping behind her.

She bolted. Less than a moment later, she heard someone tackling into the same bushes she'd hidden in. They squeaked, called her name, but she was already gone. She galloped off, resisting the thought of who tried to ambush her.

As she turned her head away from bushes and pony, her eyes landed on her flank, where the outline of a twelve-pointed starburst rested. There used to be five small white starbursts surrounding it, but ever since she'd fled from her home, they - one by one - vanished. Her cutie mark had been slowly fading away, and this one starburst was all that remained of her identity.

Her cutie mark, her friends, her brother - even her colors were lost because of her actions. Her coat, once lavender, was a dull, grey hue that was similar to when she was long ago 'discorded'. Her mane and tail were a deep purple, close to black if it were any darker, and the pink and purple highlights in both were eaten away.

A fitting alteration, it seemed. She wasn't even a shadow of her true self anymore. Her past self would've been horrified if she knew what would be done at her hooves. Looking back on her mistakes, she tried to answer her own question of who she was now; but no answer came.

Try as she might, the sharp lump in her throat grew threefold, regretful tears joining the icy rain that had long ago drenched her mane.

Hooves thundered against the sodden ground and sending droplets of mud flying onto her barrel and face. The bleak clouds overhead roared and shook outstretched branches above her. They formed a thick grey blanket that blocked the skies from lighting her path. She was running blind.

Yet she pushed on. Not even the hammering pulse in her chest nor the thin oxygen burning her nostrils would stop her. Knowing what would happen if she stopped, even for a second, forced her onward. 

She dove into the thick of the forest, her eyes wary of incoming obstacles ahead. Behind her, the sounds of branches snapping and several hoofbeats made her heart sink. Her ex-friends. Which meant -

Twilight gasped, heat churning from her gut and numbing her body. "No! Please, no, not now!" she shouted to the contorted skies. Clenching her jaw, she focused all her energy into fighting back. Letting her take control again was not an option. This was not a battle that she would lose.

The pain writhed within her; a monster fighting to break free and attack. Her veins burned with an acidic sensation. Her rapid heartbeat, making her searing blood pump faster, wasn't making things easier, either. Some distance behind her, she heard someone yelling to another pony. Their voices were louder; they were catching up and closing in. 

Black began to edge around Twilight's field of vision. She could feel her heartbeat slowing to a crawl.

No . . . she couldn't fail . . . she couldn't let her hurt her brother.

Spike . . .

Her mind's eye conjured a memory from what seemed so long ago, in the Crystal Empire, before it was saved from King Sombra's grasp. She and Spike were embracing, the latter being victim to the usurper's trap of showing one's worst fears. She was reassuring him that his, that she would send him away, would never come to be. But in her attempts to salvage what she had lost, she had betrayed him especially, by breaking that very promise.

That memory, however, told her that it wasn't too late to redeem herself. Everything she was, or used to be, could still be forgiven, one day, when she was certain that each of her once-friends was safe from herself.

Gathering her strength, Twilight shouted through both her mouth and her mind, "You will not hurt them!"

Her horn fizzled and crackled. Pink wisps of smoke rose into the air. Closing her eyes, she began to search through her mind for her magic. She had so little left, she could hardly lift a quill now. But still she searched, finally detecting the smallest spark she needed. The spell activated, her horn igniting with a furious shade of pink. She felt the beast within - as well as the searing pain - withdraw after an irritated hiss.

A sigh had started to escape her before realizing how short-lived her victory was. She tripped on something - rewarding her with a new bruise - and her legs gave way from underneath, making her helpless to the mud puddle waiting for her.

Splashing into the pit sideways, mud drenched nearly her entire body. It was so deep that only her head, neck, and front hooves were above the surface. As the rain washed out her mane and stained face, the voices of her pursuers steadily diminished.

She released her pent-up breath, relieved in knowing they were safe for the moment. She knew they would eventually pick up on her trail again soon, so she would have to get up while the upper hand was still hers.

Wrenching herself out of the puddle was harder than it seemed. Her limbs ached in protest, and her heart drummed back to its dreaded beat, loud enough that anyone else would've faintly heard it. Her coat brown with mud, she pried the upper half of her body out and rolled onto her back, facing the angry sky.

Why do you continue to run, Twilight Sparkle? asked a deep, feminine voice. Twilight's eyes widened, then formed into a glare as she bolted into a standing position, ignoring her sore muscles. In the end, it will not matter. No matter where you plan to go, no matter how much distance you put between yourself and your so-called friends, it will come to nothing but a pool of fresh blood, and a mewling coward whose endeavors failed because of her selfishness.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Twilight immediately regretted her outburst, having only given away her hiding place. She whipped her head around, but there was no sign of her pursuers.

It was merely a question, the voice replied, taking her attention again. My point is, your  friends know this accursed place as well as you do. And even if not, your fleeing is a lost cause. You will not find the answers you seek, and you will only come to eventually return to those ponies and that dragon to finish what you started.

You mean what you started, she answered mentally. She made brief periodic glances at her surroundings; not only to watch for the others, but for the owner of the voice, who was most likely hiding to toy with her. Just because we share the same body, it doesn't mean we share the same soul. You and I are nothing alike.

The voice took on a more somber tone. You and I . . . are not so different, Twilight Sparkle. Remember that. After a pause, it continued, You never answered me. Why do you run when it won't matter in the end? Why do you even continue to protect those ponies? They don't even care about you anymore. You know this. All they want is to put you down like the feral beast you've become, especially that pegasus . . . Rainbow Dash, was it? She'd said that with a laugh edging her voice.

Twilight released a breath she didn't know she was holding, briefly clouding her vision with white breath. She considered her answer for several heartbeats before indulging her.

You tell me that I can't escape Spike or the others, or find the answers I need, but you're wrong. Yes, I betrayed them, and yes, they want to eradicate the threat that's here. If it weren't for my being a time bomb, I'd just let them come for me. But we both know that if I do, they'll die because of what I've done. She paused as thunder rolled and muted them both.
I may not deserve to be their friend anymore, but that doesn't change that they shouldn't be the ones to pay for what I've done. And until my heart stops beating, I will not let you hurt them.

The voice giggled softly. Even though her voice was that of Twilight's age, this laugh sounded like that of a filly's; something that unnerved Twilight more than she'd like to admit. She didn't need to ask what was funny to her, though. Knowing this . . . thing . . . well enough told her what was on her mind.

As expected, Twilight felt her heart jolt with a fresh wave of pain. She groaned, her knees buckling. Hot tears dribbled from her clenched eyes as she tried to contain the storm inside. Her heartbeat began to boom in her ears, in unison with the thunder above. 

The creature did not stop there.

She cast various memories through Twilight's mind, each of them reminding her of the sins she'd committed against her mentor, her friends, and herself. The worst memory that she threw at her  - resonating the most with how selfishly she'd acted - was joined by a stallion's dying scream, and the sound of bones snapping under a great pressure.

N-no! I didn't mean to . . . Please . . . I'm sorry . . .

Twilight's skin quivered as she wished for the nightmare to end. She wished for the strength of will to fight back like before, yet the memory continued its vicious assault, crushing any will to fix her grave mistakes.

Suddenly, the pain, memories, even her drumming heart, faded away. All of it did, as though one big volume control had been dialed back. Fearing the worst was yet to come, Twilight kept her eyes shut, fearing that she was giving her a false sense of security. That was one thing that she wouldn't allow her to have. 

As cold sweat and icy rain continued to slide down her face, she felt her spine tingle and the hair on her back stand with morbid anticipation. What felt like several minutes passed by. Twilight, finally gathering her courage, slid her eyelids open with an audible snick. She slowly filled her lungs to the brim with air, released it, then repeated the process twice. She had withdrew. For now.

Straightening her legs out, she reared to her full height, still wary of the present danger, both around and within.

What do you think you're doing, Ni--

Twilight's challenge was cut off by a nearby crackle of lightning. The bolt struck a dead stump five feet from her right before she jumped. But that wasn't why her heart leapt into her throat. As the lightning's glow was blinked away, she saw a set of eyes imprinted in her vision, their haunting gaze fading much slower than the bolt.

She felt her neck prickle with dread. Who was that? The better question is, why does he keep following me?

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him. He had first appeared back when this whole . . . situation . . . had begun, and had been turning up on several occasions since then; and only for the briefest of moments. The only thing she could remember about him was the eyes, green, their shape confirming he was a stallion, and so piercing as if he could look past her body and see her tainted soul. Worse yet, she felt a cruel sense of familiarity with each appearance. But was it the good kind of familiar, or bad? Friend or enemy?

What if . . . what if he was the one who stopped the attack? In every step of her journey here, his appearances had in small ways helped her get here, so maybe he -

Twilight's train of thought was once again interrupted. A tree branch snapped, followed by a grunt of exertion from a voice Twilight recognized at once.

A muscled earth pony leapt out of the trees, sliding around to face her. Applejack. If not the orange coat and tri-apple cutie mark, then the Stetson she wore.

Twilight turned to run back into cover, but the farmpony followed her exact movements. Covered head to tail in sticks, leaves, and splotches of mud, her appearance showed that she'd been the most determined to find her. Fixing her eyes on her target, she opened her mouth to speak.

Quelling her hesitation, Twilight aimed her horn to fire a light-beam spell - before remembering that she'd already used the last spark of spare magic she had.

Intriguing,  said the voice, her tone damp with sarcasm. So one expresses friendship by attempting to assault one another? 

Ignoring her, Twilight looked back to Applejack, whose hardened expression faded, replaced by fear. Using this to her advantage, Twilight rushed forward, jumped over her, and forced her back legs to strike. As predicted, she recomposed herself and dodged just before Twilight kicked empty air. As more of a distraction than a real attack, the back-kick would distract the others into checking on her while she made a break for it.

But her plan had a slight flaw. A lack of experience with back-kicking at nothing had the potential for serious damage. Her backbone faltered painfully, causing her fall into another mud puddle, soaking both herself and Applejack.

"Owww . . ."

Twilight winced as she picked herself up. Luckily, the damage was minor, and she could run a bit farther without making it worse. Applejack, meanwhile, was blinded by the mud splash, and was moving her hooves around like a blind pony in trying to find solid ground.

"Girls, there's Twilight!"

Her ears shot up as she heard the shrill voice of Pinkie Pie. Still dripping mud, she darted back into the trees, abandoning Applejack to the others' concerns.

She weaved between, leapt over, and ducked under branches that blocked her path. All around her, she couldn't see any kind of clearing that would lead to her destination; even if there was a pathway, there was no moonlight to show her the way. As she ran, she thought she heard Rarity, or possibly Rainbow Dash, screaming. The fleeting thought of going back to check on them crossed her mind before she mentally slapped herself.

Charging into a large clearing, she started to feel her stirring again, like a waking dragon hatchling. There wasn't much time left before she decided to emerge again. And there was no magic and no mystery stallion - as far as she knew - to prevent that.

In the clearing, she looked around, then straight ahead at the open chasm she was heading into. Her momentum too strong, she ground her hooves into the earth just as the first pulse from her hit.

She skidded, the friction spinning her in place before coming to a complete stop just inches from the edge. Tiny pebbles flew off the side and clattered into the walls before being swallowed by the abyss. Practically drinking in her breath, she backed up carefully and examined her surroundings.

Close to the left was a narrow bridge that provided a way across the chasm. Although the planks were sturdy, the ropes were only loosely secured to the pillars they were tied to, and some sections had bits of rot clinging to them. But across the way was where she needed to go.

"The castle of the Two Sisters. The library's got to be in there. Just like Luna said." The main concern of the Spike and the girls pursuing her in there wouldn't be a problem; it was a labyrinth in there, and there was more to it than meets the eye.

Just like the first time she came to the castle, the place was in shambles with its moss-ridden walls and centuries of disuse, but a great curtain of branches hid it slightly, enough that an ignorant set of eyes would miss it. Seeing this place again retrieved pleasant memories of her very first adventure with the girls, when they fought Nightmare Moon and formed friendships that she once believed were unbreakable.

She sighed. Once upon a time. Seems fate was a cruel mistress to trifle with.

Rainbow Dash yelled something, her voice distant, yet loud enough to tell that she was close.

She looked at the bridge. Crossing was risky, as the ropes could break at any moment. But did she really have another choice? After risking another glance to Rainbow's general direction, she backed up as far as she could. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the pain as much as she could, she charged.

Just before her hooves could hit the bridge's first plank, she jumped, gliding to the halfway point before getting a rough landing that caused the whole structure to shake and sway. She yelped, clinging to one of the planks.

"Okay, Twilight," she laughed hysterically, the dull throb in her chest starting to get the better of her. "Y-you're almost there. Just get off the crazy bridge and get inside the big, not-so shiny castle."

She inched across the remaining distance, taking one plank at a time. Some planks cracked, causing her to nearly fall. Crawling to solid ground, she turned to see all six of her pursuers approaching the bridge. Five ponies, and one dragon, judging by their silhouettes. The friends she used to be with. One of the two pegasi flapped open her wings and prepared to fly over while others stared intently. Their eyes spokes pleads, to just give up and come back.

I can't ever come back. Raising her back legs reluctantly, Twilight back-kicked the pillar holding the rope - injuring her spine further - but forcing the structure to break. The bridge, now hanging by one rope, swung onto its side, leaving it impossible to cross. Startled, the airborne pegasus' wings closed on her as she fell face-first into the ground. She rose, facing Twilight.

She didn't have to guess hard by her stance that she was glaring.

Wincing, Twilight turned away and cantered for the large, wooden doors of the castle.

Once inside she pushed a wooden beam across the closed doors. Part of the roof above her was missing, allowing either pegasus to get in; still, dislodging the beam would buy her enough time.

Facing the room around her she realized she was in the main hall, six corridors to her left and right and a small staircase winding behind the gold and blue banners of the Princesses.

"Okay, now what? The old library, right?" she panted, wiping the rain out of her eyes. "That was what Luna told me to do, so I will. Now I just have to find the right book to get rid of -"

A discordant melody of wood breaking, hinges creaking, and doors hitting stone walls announced the girls' and Spike's presence. Twilight cursed under her breath and continued her flight. She chose a corridor on her right, once again plunged in darkness. Hopefully this was the right way to the library. If not, she could still lose the girls. 

Exiting the narrow passage, she found herself in the chamber where the Elements of Harmony used to be. Straight ahead was the hall that led to the throne room. Nowhere near the library. She face-hoofed; at this rate, she'd never find the library in time!

She revolved herself and charged into the dark hallway to go pick a new corridor; only to find a blue aura of her unicorn friend inside. She skidded and again turned and ran. She shot past the structure and into the next hallway.

Before she knew it, Twilight had found the throne room. She ran towards the back in hopes of finding a new hallway to escape through, but she'd reached a dead end. She circled the round platform three times in desperation before collapsing onto her haunches.

". . . trapped . . ." she whispered, feeling the surrounding area cave in on her.

The pain increased, forcing her to inhale sharply. Pained tears slid down her face as she considered her few options. Negotiation wasn't viable. She wouldn't even be able to get near them without disaster. She didn't have any magic left to teleport or fight back, and the throne room was too high to jump out a window.

A fresh wave crashed through her, leaving the sensation of something trying to pry itself out of her chest. She stifled a pained scream and her vision went black again; she would be free any second. 

"No . . . I can't let her . . ."

Twilight stood up, her breaths drawn slowly and carefully. She stepped back into a wall behind her, using it as an anchor to hold onto her sanity, then cast a mental wall to protect her consciousness as she pounded against it. Her strikes became more frequent and violent and threatened to break her, but Twilight rebuild the wall whenever it was chipped away. She would not lose.

And it seemed she wouldn't. She drifted back into the subconscious, like she was giving up. But then she hummed sickly-sweet:

Behind you~

Twilight broke from her trance, glass shattering above her. The distraction rewarded her as she attacked Twilight with a renewed hunger, forcing her into a violent paralysis, her hooves twisting out of control.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the pink star on her flank disappear for the last time.
> Act I: Chapter One
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Act I: Chapter One:
Lost in the Darkness


One month ago . . . 

Canterlot's Triple Crown Hospital was considered a busy workplace for doctors and patients alike. As the primary hospital of Equestria's capital, it was unavoidable for code black to be initiated at least twice a year. On a daily basis did many ponies of many walks of life come and go; whether it be those of the noble class, or those just trying to get by with their lives, or the rare case of celebrities who needed the medical attention. It was enough for the employees there to keep them on the tips of their hooves.

Which was why they were knocked clear off when their next visitor wasn't a celebrity, but a princess. As she trotted into the room, surrounding nurses gasped and ran off, presumably to spread the word that Princess Mi Amore Cadenza had come.

The alicorn princess, though she went by her preferred name of Cadence, stared at the doors they'd retreated through curiously. They shouldn't have been surprised by now; her visits were frequent enough that such a reaction shouldn't occur. Even if she was just crowned as the Crystal Princess, she didn't take this attention as a sign that she should've been exalted.

She felt her father-in-law, Night Light, set a hoof on her shoulder. "It's alright, Cadence. They'll get over you in time."

"I know," she sniffed. "But would it be too much to ask they treat me like one of them, and to tell me where they moved her?"

He was quiet, leading her ahead through the narrow hallway of the east wing, until coming to a door and opening it for her. "The equine mind is a befuddling thing. I'll bet not even your aunt could figure out its workings."

"I'll bet Twilight could."

He laughed at her quip. "True. Very true, she could."

Both smiled, but the moment was quickly sucked away by the grim atmosphere engulfing them. It didn't help that the second hallway they'd entered was just as empty of life and light.

The rectangular lights overhead flickered and buzzed - the doctors had been cutting back on funding again by keeping old lights that clearly needed replacement. All the doors leading to offices to their left and right were closed shut, save for the set of double doors at the end that led to the waiting area. Had it not been for Cadence's presence, she would bet that this hall would be its exact opposite.

Taking her mind off the emptiness, she took a scroll from her saddlebag and read its hastily-written words for the hundredth time since receiving it just hours ago:

Cadence,

Please get our father - and Shining Armor, if possible - and come to Canterlot. There's something I need to show all of you.

~Twilight

Tucking the letter away, she let out a wispy sigh. What could be so urgent to have written such a short letter? But by such haste - and whatever this 'something' that she forgot to elaborate on was - she knew that she wanted to meet at the hospital; the same place they always met at whenever she made a breakthrough. But whatever the news was, she'd convey it back to her brother once she knew.

Her husband, although wanted by his little sister, was needed far more in the newly-discovered Crystal Empire. Having just overcome the threat of King Sombra's return, the crystal ponies, who were once the enslaved denizens of the kingdom, were still restless in the fears of a second return. They needed at least one of their two rulers to reassure them that the shadow usurper was never coming back.

Exiting the hallway, Cadence swept her eyes around. A small, simple room with several autographed portraits of celebrities, the waiting room had less chairs than ponies waiting to see their loved ones. Most saw her at once and started whispering. Three fillies and two colts were unaware of her entrance, their focus on the evening landscape through the window in the back.

Cadence approached the desk in front of her, where an earth pony with a blue coat was seated. Although occupied with a puzzle book, the commotion drew her out of her trance. "Oh! Princess Mi Amore Cadenza!" she exclaimed, brushing a strand of her sea-green mane off her face. "How may I help you?"

The princess smiled, driving back her dislike of the title. "Just 'Cadence' is fine." She paused, taking in the ponies around her, who were still gawking and whispering. However, after her glance, they all looked away. "I, erm, my father-in-law and I are here to see Twilight. Miss Velvet, I mean. I was told she was transferred to a different room?"

The nurse adjusted her cap and nodded. "Yes. You'll find her room at the fifth door to the left, after a right turn." She pointed to a new set of doors.

"Thank you very much." Walking on, she held the door for Night Light and followed after him.

As they were approaching the door, the concern of Twilight's letter started to nag at her again. "So . . . what do you think happened to Twilight? Could it be that she found it?"

He blinked, whatever train of thought he had dissipating. Despite the question, he conjured a smile, though a hint of sadness was there. "I'm sure everything is quite fine, my dear."

Cadence smiled. He had reserved that title, 'my dear', only for his closest loved ones, such as his wife, using it for her was a sure sign that she belonged in this family.

"But," he asserted, narrowing his amber eyes, "I don't thing it's wise to raise one's hopes just yet."

"But supposing really she did - " she stopped as they got to the indicated door "- she could finally achieve what many have failed to do."

"I understand that," his voice turning sober, "But I won't feed myself false promises until I see it for myself. I've lost too much from letting my imagination run rampant."

She dropped the subject, opening the door for him. He didn't need nor deserve to relieve that night.

Stepping inside changed the atmosphere significantly. Save for the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the room was deathly silent. Dust particles swayed over their heads along the current of the air conditioning's breeze and touched down on the machines in the back corners. One was the heart monitor, the other, a device with feeding tubes latched onto the chest and neck of the room's occupant.

Cadence felt her pulse jump to a rate that would send doctors in a panic. Never once did the sight of her mother-in-law sit well in her psyche.

Twilight Velvet laid on her back, unconscious, with the bed in a semi-upright position. Six large scars were painted on her porcelain coat. Three crossing incisions on her chest, one running across her forehead, where the remains of her shattered horn was, and two on her forelegs. A section of her purple and white mane was tied off in a bun, split ends jagging out.

Sitting by her side was her daughter, Doctor Twilight Sparkle. Her head resting on the edge of the bed, her fetlocks were intertwined with her mother's. She drew deep breaths, as though in a trance, as she looked for a form of response. Underneath her, in the small pocket between her four legs, sat her saddlebag, embroidered with her starburst cutie mark.

Her father stepped towards her, placing his hoof on her shoulder. She gasped, breaking from her trance and turned her head to face him. A wisp of her mane briefly covered her face from the sudden movement. But whatever surprise her felt instantly melted from her face.

"You came," she whispered, transferring her forelegs from her mother to her father in an embrace. She greeted Cadence similarly. "Doctor Stable told me that Blueblood was waiting outside for you. I was afraid he'd -"

"It's okay, Twilight," said Cadence. "He wouldn't have stopped us, not even with an army of his own." Eyeing Velvet again, she continued, "Did Stable say anything about her condition?"

She lowered her eyes. "They say her condition remains stable. She's fully healed, for the most part -" she took a brief glance at the broken horn "- but they're still positive that her comatose state is permanent."

Returning to her side, she brushed a strand of Velvet's mane off her face. Her expression alone said that it was the same as every other time they checked on her. Eight years of waiting had nothing to offer on the fortuity of her waking up on her own.

Twilight had been very young when Fate's hooves played a tragic card in her life. She was just accepted under the wing of Princess Celestia, as her personal protégé, and her entire family had come to celebrate the achievement with her. Magic was a powerful trait that ran in their blood, but being taken as an Alicorn princess' student was an honor reserved only for those with the greatest potential.

Velvet, however, left the house, presumably to catch a break from the thick of the party.

Less than an hour later, the Canterlot guards her macabre form on the mountain's scenic path. Her main relatives, Night Light, Shining Armor his then-marefriend, Cadence, and of course Twilight, all were brought to the hospital and found out that she was safely delivered to a life-support system. Her injuries presumed the result of a manticore attack, she was pronounced comatose.

Though Night Light had lost a companion, and Cadence, a future mother-in-law, Twilight took the loss the worst. She had resigned from her curriculum the next morning with the ambition not to learn how to control magic, but medical science. If her craving for knowledge was as raw as Celestia predicted, she believed it was possible to find a cure for her mother; not just for comatose states, but for the entirety of mental illnesses.

Twilight never knew, but Cadence was told by her aunt that she had a much-greater destiny, beyond her current understanding, meant for her; and pursing the scientific world yielded the risk of derailing it.

So after the time spent arguing and discussing, they reached an agreement: Twilight would take up her studies in magic, yet also study medical science to fulfil both purposes; if one as determined as her could find a way to cure mental illnesses, then it was a chance that Celestia was willing to take.

Three doctorates and six years later, at the age of fifteen, Twilight was armed with the knowledge she needed to start searching for a cure. With both magic and science at her side - the latter of which Celestia had told her was a substitutionary, advanced form of magic -  her magical capabilities reached a new level. She was nowhere near as powerful as Star Swirl the Bearded, Alicorns forbid, but she had quickly bloomed into an honorable doctor of science.

Yet it wasn't until she moved to the small town of Ponyville and met five other ponies and a zebra witch doctor that her work truly started to progress. These ponies were nowhere near her level of dedication, yet supported her all the way as she spent two more years studying under the zebra, Zecora, who taught her about the magical plants and herbs of the Everfree Forest, which would help get her closer and closer to the cure, however distant it was.

Unless . . .

Cadence looked back to the saddlebag that Twilight guarded so fiercely. She coughed forcefully, getting her attention, and made note of her letter.

Her eyes sparked. She wordlessly withdrew from the saddlebag a small, triangular vial filled to the neck with a clear white liquid. As Cadence carefully took it from her, she saw dozens of tiny, prismatic bubbles dancing around; they glinted so independently that she guessed the liquid had its own luminescence.

She passed it to Night Light, who eyed the bubbles, a wave of disbelief masking his face. "I-is this . . ."

Twilight stepped closer to her father. "Yes, father. I f-finally did it. I named it the TS8 Formula." She swallowed tightly, watching the vial as it was passed back to her.

"But I thought Zecora's ingredients weren't enough," pondered Cadence. "You found a different concoction that worked?"

"Not quite. I was missing something to support the formula's intended effects. Something not in the scientific range, but magical. The Mirror Pool. Pinkie Pie found and cloned herself by walking through it. But she made too many clones, so the girls and I had them all watch paint dry to -"

She stopped, realizing she yammering again. "Ahem. What I mean is, the pool Pinkie found has the ability to separate oneself by body and create a clone. But through careful analysis, I predict that when consumed, it can make the separation in mind instead."

Cadence thought for a moment. "But your previous works with Zecora only made your test subjects go mad. So if you have a liquid that can separate oneself mentally -"

She gasped, simultaneously saying with Twilight, "You can separate madness from sanity!"

"Yes! And since my formula is concocted by both magic and science, our understanding of how magic works could increase tenfold! Instant healing spells, long-distance teleportation, even easy access time travel! No, scratch that last one. My stories have proved time and time again that playing with time travel is anything but good."

"A-re you sure?" Night Light questioned. "Absolutely positive that this theory is correct? You are saying that you've only just discovered this . . . Mirror Pool . . . today, after all."

"There's no doubt about it, father. I even consulted Princess Celestia before summoning you here, and I've conducted precisely thirty-five tests on various animals to prove it. It's flawless!"

"Erm . . ." Night Light looked to his daughter-in-law for help.

Tell her, she said with her eyes.

"Twilight," he began, taking her hoof in his. "You should know, about Blueblood," he felt her stiffen, "We did run into him on our way here. But, uh, he just wanted to express his concerns of your work."

"And . . . what . . . did he say?" Her voice became tightly strained.

Night Light hesitated again, but sighed and decided to speak bluntly. "I'm only quoting. That your experiments are 'equally as dangerous as a rampant madmare, and do nothing but commit sacrilege to the Alicorns for how you toy with an equine's mind'."  

Twilight groaned, rolling her eyes. "That's not an expression of concern. He's just trying to turn you against me while hiding behind all his wealth and fame, again. Him and the other governors, they all say stuff like that just because they're afraid of what we could learn from my work. The only one who isn't against me is Sir Fancy Pants. All that stuff he told you is just spiteful hogwash!

"Um, no offence, Moonshine."

Doctor Stable walked by their room, the hospital pet pig trotting with him. 

Once they passed, she cleared her throat. "But with my formula, I can prove that Equine's nature can be cleansed of their insane selves. Blueblood and the others will have no choice but to see things my way after tomorrow."

"Excuse me. I'm afraid visiting hours are over," said a nurse, poking her head in the door. She wore a badge with the name Sweetheart sewn on it. 

"Very well," said Cadence, "We'll be leaving in just a moment." Turning to Twilight, she said, "I do believe in you, Twilight. Even if the Governors don't think so. And you have the support of myself, your brother, and our subjects at your side." True, she was showering her with well-needed support, but it help the crystal ponies more; why think about Sombra when they were too busy cheering on and talking about their princess' sister-in-law?

"Thank you, Cadence," Twilight bowed her head, "And give my regards to my brother as well."

After she and her father embraced one last time, Twilight strapped on her saddlebag went to her mother's side once more.

Cadence waited patiently at the doorframe; this was just her giving a final goodbye for the night. The unicorn whispered something in Velvet's ear, tears building up in her eye. "'Till the day I die . . ." she caught at the end. Her message given, she rejoined Cadence and walked out with her and Night Light.

"Goodnight, mother."
> Act I: Chapter Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Two: 
Of Madmares and Hypocrites


Tap tap tap. Tap, tap tap, tap. Tap tap -

"Miss de Lis, would you kindly stop that incessant noise?" groaned Princess Luna. It wasn't easy to file important documents for her sister when that noise bounced off the walls of the small, rectangular room of Canterlot's House of Law.

Fleur de Lis, facing the Princess of the Night, scoffed. "Well, excuse me for cursing promptness. I am only late to half a dozen other affairs across Canterlot."

Luna instinctively looked up at the clock over her head. It was currently ten-eighteen, nearly a half-hour after the meeting was supposed to start. Everyone of note was here, save for one, given the podium where they would speak was empty and gathering dust.

"Now, now, I'm sure Doctor Sparkle will be here at any moment, busting through those doors like the hero she is!" declared Fancy Pants, earning himself a death-glare from his wife.

"I think we've given up enough of our time," grumbled Blueblood. "How much longer does that doctor expect us to wait and neglect our matters of actual importance?" Allowing a cruel smile to cross his face, he added, "You'd think the prized pet of dearest Celestia would take her responsibilities seriously. She set the meeting herself, after all."

Fancy Pants arched an eyebrow at his son. "This talk of responsibility coming from the stallion who bribed palace workers into getting his name on the list of the Grand Galloping Gala, as well as spread rumors that he was Princess Celestia's nephew?"

Venom snapped in Blueblood's eyes. He started towards his father as Fleur rose to join him.

"Enough, already!" All three unicorns halted, turning to the earth pony in the corner. Cellist Octavia Melody had been leaning into the window, reading over her sheet music, but grew cross at their arguing. "It doesn't matter what we've done in the past. What matters is what we do now, and as the governors of the hospital. And for me, that's make sure a fool like Twilight Sparkle does not let her games get into my head, like it has for you three.

"When - or if - she comes, she'll only prove that she's wasted her entire life with these empty causes of hers. Curing madness? Twin natures of a pony's mind? They're ramblings planted into her head by Discord's black magic." Huffing quietly, she returned to her sheet music, penning a note onto the page.

Her intrusion seemed to calm the other three down, if only a little bit. Luna breathed out, relieved that the argument didn't escalate like last time, when their fifth governor was fired on the spot for making a quibble about Blueblood's past.

Truly, the Governors of Canterlot's Triple Crown Hospital were a fickle bunch.

Ever since Fancy Pants had founded the hospital alongside Fleur de Lis, they established a group of individuals who would maintain legal matters of the aforementioned hospital, since the princesses could only do so much to handle the matter of life in their nation.

They were made up of him and his wife and son, and Octavia. Though Blueblood dedicated his time to his duty since he would take over once his parents had passed on, Octavia's motivations were ambiguous. Already famous as a renowned cellist, it didn't seem enough for her, as she had donated thousands to the hospital, eventually earning her governor position.

Regardless, alongside her colleagues, she gracefully performed her duties, which included but weren't limited to, interviewing new employees, testing and administering new medicines or treatments, or in the case of today's meeting, further the careers of young, aspiring doctors.

If only the aforementioned doctor would show up.

Luna looked to the clock again. Ten-twenty. She may have appeared calm as her sister, but deep inside she was panicking.

Where was Twilight? Her tardiness was already reflecting poorly on her reputation, and as her surety, who took responsibility for her actions within the court, this would reflect equally on her.

The door across from Octavia burst open to reveal a hastily-dressed Doctor Sparkle. She had papers jammed in a tooth grip, and her mane and blue sweater had been frazzled in whatever adventure that had delayed her. Spike, her dragon assistant and little brother, was clinging tightly to her sweater.

Octavia and Blueblood snickered, to which Luna shot a warning glance.

"Shhry, shrry!" Twilight tried to say. "Shike!" Spike wrested himself off her back, then took the papers still hanging in her toothed grip. "I'm sorry, Princess Luna!" she shouted, now free to speak properly. "I thought I had more time, and by the time I left - "

Luna inhaled sharply, calming her jolted nerves. "Understandable. Just . . . don't allow it to happen again, please." Luna was cautious with her words, and her face became a façade of stone. Being anything less than strict to Twilight - with the Governors present - would have led to an uncomfortable situation.

Fancy Pants rose from his seating, beaming with high spirits. "Hello again, Doctor Sparkle. Always a pleasure."

"The same, Sir Fancy Pants," Twilight sighed likewise, smoothing out her sweater and mane. "But you don't have to use my title. We're all the same, average ponies, after all." She heard Blueblood scoff from behind her. "Well, not all of us. Some of us sink just a bit lower."

Luna concealed a smile behind her papers. Ever since one of her friends, Rarity, introduced her and Fancy Pants, their like-interest in science and medicine formed a strong friendship not unlike that of a father and daughter. The very idea of Doctor Sparkle's goal intrigued him, and thus put his funding into her work, purchasing state-of-the-art equipment for her research.

"So what took you so long, anyway?" asked Octavia. "Visiting your mother, Sleeping Beauty again?"

Twilight dropped her eyes to the dark streaks in the marble floor.

"You can't talk to Twi like that!" Spike burst out. "What if you had a loved one suffering in that Hospital, huh? I'll bet - mmphh!"

His defense was abruptly cut off when Twilight formed a zipper across his mouth. Her eyes narrowed in warning, she stared him down until he got the message.

"What I meant to say," the dragon restated once the zipper was removed, "was that Twi was checking, um, Mom's calorie intake with the feeding tubes." He looked to her, then sighed when she nodded her approval. 

Octavia let her smugness show, then tweaked with her cello's strings again.

"Now then," began Luna, "Now that everypony - and dragon - is here, we may begin." She did her best to ignore the 'finallys' and like complaints. "Are you prepared, Doctor Sparkle?"

"Just one more moment, please," she said, bringing Spike and her papers to the podium and dusting it off. While she straightened the papers, Luna picked up whispering from Miss de Lis. But her efforts of keeping her conversation hushed were in vain, considering the small room.

". . . you being so nice to her? Do you expect me to let you indulge in her heresy while she . . ." 

Luna cleared her throat, cutting off her berating him. Twilight, thankfully, finished her organization, and now stood ready. "Doctor Sparkle. You have set this meeting to speak about a breakthrough in your work, Project TS, correct?" A nod. "And your submission of said request for a meeting was made via these letters mailed to each of us just prior to today." Skimming over each letter one by one, she noted that each was meticulously written and varied in wording depending on the recipient.

"Tell us something we don't know, Princess," Blueblood interrupted. "Such as, why we should listen to this mare's ranting on the misuse of science? We've only heard it a hundred times before in meetings just like this one."

Fleur and Octavia both spoke assent, and Twilight and Spike both, desperate to rein the group in, argued back, creating an indiscernible clamor.

Luna started to rise from her seat, Royal Canterlot Voice at the ready, but Fancy Pants beat her to it.

He, very calmly, walked to the table and pounded the gavel against it. "Enough." His monotonous voice, if not the noise, startled the rest of them. Five other sets of eyes were locked on him, clearly their attention his. "Doctor Sparkle's methods of research may be unprecedented, but that does not change the fact that she is still a mare of great praise, both for her work and her deeds in Ponyville. If not for her and her companions, we would, all of us, be but slaves to Discord's cruel magic. So, as a noble-pony of Canterlot, I say she deserves the chance to present her request. Are we agreed?"

He said this question with a sternness in voice and a furrowing in brow. 

Without hesitation, the other three governors settled down, even showing enthusiasm that Luna already knew was forced. He faced Luna and bowed. "I do hope you'll forgive my impertinence for that, your Highness." He returned to his place, nodding at the doctor.

"Thank you, Sir Fancy Pants," Twilight smiled. "Your support in my work won't be ignored once my formula is successfully tested." Clearing her throat, she restacked her papers again, took the first sheet from the pile, and began reading.

"Distinguished governors, before I begin, I must thank all of you for hearing me out in this vital matter concerning our society. I know that through my work, our very understanding of magic and its properties shall - "

"Doctor Sparkle," complained Octavia, setting her sheet music aside, "Perhaps, just perhaps, you'd do some real good to skip the pleasantries and proceed with the purpose of this meeting . . . if there is one to speak of."

"Of course, Octavia," said Twilight without missing a beat. She passed all the cards to Spike, who set the stack aside, taking one to draw on the back. "I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me for my good manners. I wasn't, after all, raised by snot-nosed dignitaries who stick their heads up like drunken turkeys."

Before she could respond, Twilight began her presentation.

"As I was about to say, Governors, Princess Luna, my work centers around this one belief that I have followed since taking up my studies in science: that in every one of us, even the best of us, there resides two separate natures; two distinct souls, if you please."
She held out her hooves to emphasize her statement. "One is conceived of our goodness, and one of our evil. But it's not limited to ponies alone. Every one of the many races in Equestria and beyond have these natures, be they dragon, zebra, griffon, minotaur, breezy - if a race is sapient, they, too, have these natures."

She circled the podium, approaching the governors. "We experience this evil on a daily basis; it represents our actions, whether the intentions are good or not. Our greed, anger, jealousy, even violence, comes from our evil natures, which influence our actions without our consent. This is why ponies like King Sombra and Nightmare Moon came to exist; their evils' pull at them made them who they were."

She turned to Luna, as if nervous. But the Princess nodded for her to continue. What she did in becoming Nightmare Moon were conjured both of her own actions and the pull from her evil, so Twilight was indeed correct to say so.

The doctor breathed out in relief and continued. "But in the medical case, an essence of evil exists to build up over time in certain ponies and eventually render them insane, taking away their sapience."

"So, a nature of evil is similar to a disease, such as multiple sclerosis?" Fancy Pants inquired.

"Yes, exactly  like a disease," she pointed at him. She looked beyond excited that at least one was following. "It's a disease in itself, in fact. These insane ponies lose their sapience - their free will to reason and think on their own - and are therefore locked away."

"But is it genetic?" asked Fleur. "Surely there's some marker for who goes insane and who goes, erm, well . . ."

"Comatose, perhaps?" Octavia finished, her stare burning holes into Twilight.

Twilight stammered, losing herself for a moment before restating herself. "No, not genetic. I haven't found any indication of a marker or anything, so I believe it's merely random. Everypony is born with completely different personalities, so their natures and how they function are different as well.

"And, yes, Octavia," she finally addressed her. "My mother's comatose state is included, since it is considered a loss of sapience. But these effects can be countered with the correct combination of magic and science that can separate the evil from the good. If that can be done, a fallen pony's sapience can be returned."

Twilight's excitement began to grow greater and greater as she spoke, like a bubbling geyser soon to detonate. "Yesterday morning, a dear friend of mine helped me discover the final key ingredient to make this separation possible, and my experiments with the completed formula, my TS8, on various animals have all proven successful. So I speak to you truthfully when I say that control over these natures is not fantasy, but it can be achievable."

"An interesting theory," Blueblood stated dryly. "But what does this have to do with the request you've yet to address?"

"I was just getting to that." Twilight sighed, looking to Luna once more. She had told Luna ahead of time what her request would be, looking for advice on how to approach.

"Delicately," Luna had told her. "Speak with confidence, but choose your words delicately when it comes time to make your proposal."

The doctor drew a deep breath, then released it. "My colleagues, my request is this: although my formula works on animals, I must prove it can affect one with sapience. I ask for permission to test my formula on one of the asylum ponies to prove its potency."

As both she and Luna expected, even with such delicacy, Twilight was met with backlash. Fancy stayed quiet, as his voice would already be drowned out by the other three recoiling.

"You see, Fancy?" Fleur proclaimed. "She speaks of sacrilege, tampering with a creature's mind!"

Blueblood walked towards her, face contorted in a sneer. "You're treading dangerous ground, Doctor. Do you expect us to willingly damn an innocent pony to your games?"

This was getting out of control. Luna jumped out from her desk. "Calm yourselves, everypony! She would not ask this of you if it wasn't important!"

"Yeah!" said Spike. "How is she supposed to do her stuff with the potion if you won't let her test it first?" He flinched, as though expecting another glare, but was instead rewarded with a smile from his sister.

"Thank you, Spike. My assistant has a clear point. I cannot treat these patients without a proper test on one with sapience."

Fleur stood with her son, chuckling daintily. "If you so desperately need a test subject, then why not evaluate it on your pet?" She gestured towards Spike. "You did say that dragons are sapient, too." 

The dragon's emerald eyes shifted between the unicorns, pupils thin as paper.

"No." Twilight wrapped her leg around him. "I wouldn't risk Spike's safety. Not even to save my mother."

"Yet you're absolutely content with risking the well-being of a pony you don't even know?" said Blueblood.

She just walked into a trap.

"Well, um . . ." Twilight looked at Luna for help.

But what could she do? She wasn't a governor; she had no power to change their minds, not even as a princess. Settling these matter belonged to the governors alone.

Recomposing herself, Twilight said, "Listen, I understand my work is . . . new. Nopony has ever attempted it before. Maybe that's why you're standing against me. It's only Equine to be afraid of the unknown. And I also realize that most of Canterlot shares that same fear, and helping me could put your reputations at risk. But all I'm asking is for one pony doomed to insanity; I can't move forward until I have one!"

"And . . . this would be a terrible tragedy?" Octavia deadpanned.

Facing her, Fancy Pants huffed angrily. "Whatever is your problem with Doctor Sparkle? Can you not see what she is trying to accomplish? She could save many, many lives with the TS8 Formula!"

"Other ponies may agree with your opinions because of your reputation and ownership of the hospital, Fancy Pants," Octavia shot back, "But here, the law of us governors comes first. I will not be moved by your fame. Twilight Sparkle is a heretic and a witch who spits upon everything the Alicorns have done to build our society and fields of science."

Twilight jaw locked into a grimace. "Princess Celestia is the one who taught me all I know about goodness and evil," she asserted, approaching her. "And unlike you three, she never gave up on me when I breached into new territory of medicine or unwound theories unheard of. So if you really have a problem with what I believe, why don't you take it up with her?"

Octavia did not sway an inch. "Please. You'd believe your master if she'd told you the sun was blue and made rainbows sprout out of everypony's plot. You'd believe her no matter what she'd say."

Twilight inhaled shakily. "Are you really here to make a difference? Or did you donate all that money just to have a reason to deny me the chance to save my mother?"

"You never stood a chance. This is Canterlot, where only the strong survive, not ponies leeching off my reputation."

"Enough!" The room shook with Luna's voice. "Do you not see what has happened?" she pleaded. "Even as we speak, our evils drive us against one another - this is exactly what Doctor Sparkle was trying to say! Do you truly hate her so much that you'll choose spite over the furtherance of our understanding of magic, of life?" She looked at them all. Blueblood and Fleur both had poison in their eyes, Fancy had separated himself from the rest of them, and Octavia still eyed Twilight, who was taking care of a startled Spike. "Well? Is there any reason, other than to secure your reputations, that you stand against her?"

Fleur and Blueblood's expressions fell; the latter suddenly became very interested in the marks in the walls, while the former pretended to pry dirt from her hooves.

A smile ghosted both Fancy and Spike's faces, certain that Luna had them where she wanted them - until Octavia spoke up.

"Actually . . . your Highness, there may be one thing the good doctor has missed." The cellist spoke gently, as if talking of weather. "Doctor Sparkle says that this . . . TS8 Formula . . . is supposed to separate our natures from sapient life, and was successful on various animals, correct?" 

Twilight looked up at her and nodded, in time with Luna, neither sure of where she was going with this.

Her tone began to take the form of malice. "But she has not said whether these animals were sapient themselves. If the TS8 only separates these 'natures' from animals - whom aren't even your target patients, since they are mindless and lack sapience or morality - how do we know we're aren't damning an innocent pony to your experiment?"

Luna stopped short. Of course the animals Twilight tested on weren't sapient! It was unwise to jump to conclusions and test a live pony at that period! But Octavia had a valid point; testing on someone not of your target patient could mean a world of difference in results. That was why all those experiments worked every time: because the formula was separating something that was never there!

And by Twilight's struck expression, she figured that out as well. How could they convince the governors now?

"Doctor Sparkle?" she spoke reluctantly

Twilight blinked back into reality. "What, Princess Luna?"

The Princess bit her lip, then responded, "I fear miss Melody has a valid point. How do you know a pony test subject would remain unharmed, considering her observation?" 

She swallowed. She was looking for a way out, but none came. So she finally answered. "I don't, your Highness. I've only tested the Formula on non-sapient animals, and I don't know what results would come if used on a pony." She dropped her eyes to the floor.

Her face was what hope looked like when it was shattered into a thousand pieces. But Luna still had to conclude the meeting. "Well then," she sighed. "Shall we vote? Spike, you, too, are entitled."

"In that case," he said, "Yes, Twilight should get a test subject! If you dummies opened your eyes for one second - " He didn't need to see Twilight's grimace to know he had to be quiet. "Um, never mind."

Blueblood was next. "As a noblepony of Canterlot, my answer is 'no'. We have enough madmares loose in this city."

Then Fleur. "No."

Octavia followed. "I believe I made my opinion quite clear already, your Highness."

Fancy Pants had not spoken since arguing with Octavia. Closing his eyes, he said regretfully, "I . . . abstain my vote."

Luna sighed again. "By three votes to one, with one abstention, Doctor Twilight Sparkle's proposal is rejected." Pounding the gavel against her desk, she exited her seat. "You are dismissed." 

She gathered her papers quietly, only looking up once to see Twilight doing the same at her podium.

Looking back down, she heard Twilight say, "Just leave me alone, Octavia. You've won. What more can you do to destroy my work?" The cellist must have gone to her to gloat.

Octavia's voice didn't sound the least bit affected by her remark. "You should be thanking me, Sparkle. If I hadn't saw your flaw, one innocent pony would be dead, and you would have been, at best, impeached from your position."

She heard her pass by the desk, then approached Twilight. Fancy Pants had gotten there first, whispering, "I am exceedingly sorry, Twilight. I do hope you'll find another way."

She forced a smile. "Good day, Sir Fancy Pants." He took the hint and followed his wife out of the room.

Spike helped Twilight throw her papers away, since they were all notes that would never be used again. "Come on, Spike, let's go home."

He clambered onto her back. "But . . . what about Pinkie's congratulations party? She said she made your favorite!"

"Then . . . I-I'll just tell her I'm not feeling well," she replied glumly. "At least it isn't a lie." She stopped when Luna stepped out from behind her desk.

"Wait, Twilight Sparkle. Perhaps if you convinced them to see a test for themselves. I'm sure Fluttershy wouldn't mind another -"

"It doesn't matter, Luna!" she snapped. "I lost! They refused to listen to me, and now I can't proceed! They may as well have shut my entire experiment down for all they did!"

Luna stepped back. She never reacted like this. Never once did she even use a first-name basis with her or her sister.

Twilight saw the hurt expression behind her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, Princess. But it's true. If only they could look past their own greed, and think. They call themselves supporters of science and medicine, but they're hypocrites, every last one of them." She started to correct herself, not meaning to include Fancy in that, but Luna understood. He was the only one of the four who even wanted to listen.

"I do not disagree, Twilight Sparkle. They are fools. If they truly valued saving the lives of others, they wouldn't consider their reputations firsthand. But the power they have to decide matters of the hospital is theirs alone. We can only do so much to counter that."

Twilight heard her apologetic tone loud and clear. "I know. But I also know that I can save my mother, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of other ponies just like her, if only they'd just give me the chance to try! 

Link

"How can I pursue the truth when they can block each step I take?" She started to turn away, but Luna met her eyes again.

"Twilight, you have come too far. Remember what you have at stake!"

She sighed. "Yes, I know you're right. My mother depends on me, now. 
 But I'm so weary of this fight! I have to win, but I don't know how."

Pulling away from her princess again, Twilight felt Spike's warm touch on her shoulder. He slid from her back to see her.

"You have set this dream alive, so we gotta see it through. We gotta see it through . . ."

He held so tightly to her hoof. Even if a sliver of her wanted to quit, he wouldn't let her. Not unless he knew when it was time to give up.

Twilight exhaled, accepting her brother's encouragement. "I'm sorry, Spike. I shouldn't let this get to me. We lost today, but at least they didn't shut us down."

"Yeah! We'll get 'em back, someday."

Taking him in his aura, she carried him out of the room.

"Eight years ago, I started this just you and I; now together we'll see it through to its conclusion!
Who are they to judge my use of science? They're clueless to all the endless possibilities I see!
"It's ludicrous, Spike! I'm bound by their decision!"

"Seems vision is a word they've never heard . . ." contemplated Luna, who followed close behind them.

"If it mattered none, they would earn my derision." She chuckled grimly. "It's absurd . . ."

"Come on, Spike," she said again, letting him walk alongside her. "And good day, Princess Luna."

The Princess of the Night watched until unicorn and dragon leave, dark feelings stirring in her chest before she forcefully stifled them. "And yet . . . the fact remains: those bastards hold the reins . . ."

Locking up the courtroom, she left Canterlot's House of Law, papers in aura. Her and her sister had to finish notarizing these papers, so she flew straight to the castle where Celestia waited. All the while, her prayers for Doctor Sparkle's continued search for the truth went out to her.
> Act I: Chapter Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Three:
What's Behind the Façade


Project TS: Entry 515.
Date: September 13th
Time: 4:32 PM 

Since my meeting with my colleagues five days ago, I have returned to Ponyville to restudy my books in search of a solution to my current problem: that my results on testing animals with the TS8 is invalid to compare with the results of a pony subject. Surely, by returning to my research with fresh eyes, I can find a way to convince the governors to reevaluate my theory.

However, three days into my studies, I had been invited to perform for the delegates of Saddle Arabia, and while I was practicing for that, an emergency came up from a n old enemy boastful performer pony whom declared me her rival.

Except she had thrown a wild card into the mix. The major details are for a story that has little to nothing to do with my project, and therefore will be told another time.

But what really matters here is this pony's wild card: the Alicorn Amulet.

I don't know much about it, but from what the girls found, it's an ancient artifact that can grant anypony - even non-unicorn races - unlimited power. But there's a catch: it corrupts the user the more spells they cast. It's the perfect example of dark magic, something Princess Celestia warned me never to go near.

We just barely got it off Trixie, our visitor, in time, considering how insane she'd nearly become.

But speaking of my mentor, after the ceremony for the delegates, she asked me to retrieve it from Zecora, who currently has it, and bring it to Canterlot. 

She knows Zecora is more than trustworthy, and that a witch doctor's hut is the last place a thief would look for it. So why?

But it made me realize, she didn't exactly say that she wanted to lock it away. What if, just what if, she may be interested in trying to reform its magic? As the pony who taught me all I know of our goodness and evil, and the one who told me that anypony can change, it may just be possible that's what she's doing!

That may seem like a joke, but it could be very likely it could happen. Magic, at its very core, is pure. It is only the intentions we have that warps it into what it is; ponies with hearts of darkness, like Sombra, change it into dark magic, which corrupts or kills. But dark magic, like a misunderstood villain, can change for the better. So why can't an artifact of said magic?

With that asked, I'll make note that I've taken the liberty of moving all my equipment to my study in Canterlot - with Princess Celestia's consent, of course. Once my theory is proved, I will use the formula on my mother. And until that happens, I want to stay as close to her as possible. The girls don't know this yet; I don't want them to worry needlessly about me when they already know about how my meeting went.

But anyway, once I go to Canterlot tonight and deliver the amulet to Princess Celestia, I'll ask what her intentions are for it. Surely she must have something good planned for it. Surely.

I'll make a new entry once I've settled in Canterlot.

~Doctor Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight closed her journal and slipped it into her, sighing contently with having her thoughts poured out on the pages. She swiveled in her seat at a stone table and faced her best friends; Spike, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie. They all waited in patiently for her to finish up her entry.

"So you done there yet?" asked Rainbow, who was bucking a hacky sack to Pinkie, and caught it from her as it was tossed back.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, I am now."

"Why does Princess Celestia want the amulet so badly?" Fluttershy murmured. "Doesn't she know how dangerous it is?"

"That's what I'll find out when I see her," she reassured her. "I'm leaving to get it from Zecora shortly. But once I'm done getting it to the princess, it's back to work for me. This business with the amulet has already taken up too much of my time." 

"Wha - ow!" Rainbow recoiled, the hacky sack colliding with her eye. 

"Sorry, Dashie, sorry!" called Pinkie.

Picking up the hacky sack, while simultaneously rubbing her eyeball, she replied, "Don't mention it, Pinks. It's all good." Then turning to Twilight, "What do you mean, you're going back to work? You've been working your flank off since that stupid meeting!"

"I'm sorry, Rainbow. But I need to examine every existing option to work around my colleagues ruling."

Applejack had been playing with Winona, her dog, but took a seat beside her. "I appreciate your diligence an' all, but Rainbow's got herself a point; even a hard-workin' mare like myself needs a break every so often."

"Yes, darling," said Rarity, who was occupying herself with cleaning the table with a sanitary cloth. "You shouldn't be wasting valuable time thinking about those pompous fools. Making yourself so intricately wound up like you are is exactly what they want!"

There was no denying that. Octavia, especially, would do anything to take bliss in Twilight's suffering.

"I know, girls, but it's imperative to me that I finish my work. Every day that I delay is another day that my mother and many other have to stay in their comas and asylums." She rose, checking the inside of her saddlebag for the formula.

Following her sigh that confirmed it was there, Rainbow hovered over to her. "Hold on. I get wanting to do a ton of work for something good, but would it really be that great, your mom finally waking up, but seeing you like a zombie from overdoing it?" Before she could conjure a response she shouted, "Well, Spike, when was the last time she kicked back?"

The little dragon, engulfed in his comic book, pulled away, tapping his claws. "Hmm. She came home to study five days ago . . . she found the Mirror water with Pinkie, mixed potions with Zecora three days before that . . . helped save the Crystal Empire . . ."

He would have kept going, but Rainbow cut it, "My thoughts exactly. It's high time for a break."

"Um . . ." There was no way out of this. With six sets of eyes watching her, she couldn't think up a lie without getting caught. "Alright," she sighed. "I'll . . . take some time off. But only after I finish my work!" All of them started to protest, though Fluttershy was merely begging with her eyes rather than the others, but she put her hoof down. "I'm so close that I can almost taste it. It wouldn't be right to quit then. But I promise I'll take plenty of rest once that's done."

"Pinkie Promise?" Pinkie's eyes begged.

She groaned. "Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." Although unenthusiastic about the wording, the promise itself, she'd keep. "Now, I'd better go get the amulet," she added, seeing the sun starting to set. "I've got a long night ahead of me."

"Oh, but please be careful," Fluttershy whimpered. "Only the Alicorns know what's in that Everfree Forest.

"Don't . . . worry . . . Fluttershy!"  said Pinkie Pie, taking the hacky sack to bounce on her head. "What -" boink  "- Could possibly -" boink "- Go wrong?"

The pegasus retreated deeper into her mane. "I'm sure I could think of a few things." She started to squeak, until Applejack got to her.

"Iffin' you that worried, 'Shy, I'll go with Twilight to get that amulet. That okay with you, sugarcube?"

Twilight nodded. "I'd really appreciate the company."

Spike looked up again. "Are you sure you don't want me to come along? I can help!"

"I appreciate that, Spike," said Twilight, nudging her saddlebag towards him, "But I just don't feel comfortable bringing the formula with me. I've put too much work into it, and I don't want it getting lost or destroyed. So what you can do to help is watch it for me."

"Got it!"

"Alrighty, then," cheered Applejack. "Let's go!" She charged towards the looming forest without waiting for the doctor.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


When the two arrived at Zecora's hut, Twilight knocked quietly, then waited.

"Ya probably don't wanna burst in there like when the parasprites came to town," Applejack had warned her.

The door opened silently, Zecora stepping into the frame. "Ah, I welcome you, Applejack and Twilight. Of your pleasant visit, what is your highlight?"

She gestured the two to enter. Intricate masks decorated the room, and in spaces where they weren't were long shelves filled with various potions. In the center of the room was a cauldron with a simmering pink liquid, and steam from it wafted upward to a gaping hole that Twilight presumed was a chimney.

"Perhaps a spot of tea, to share with you and me?" the zebra offered, holding three empty cups.

"Beggin' your pardon, Zecora," Applejack smiled, "But we ain't here for a social call. See, the princess asked for the custody of the Alicorn Amulet, and asked Twi here to bring it over."

Zecora looked skeptical at first. Anyone could trot in pretending to be, or manipulating, them into getting the amulet from her. But when Twilight took out the letter that Princess Celestia wrote, she eased up. 

Taking the parchment from her, she carefully read over its cursive lettering. When finished, she sighed, "I know not what she plans with this jewel, but I do not take her for a fool. Safe in her care, it will be, and of its grasp, I will be free."

"'Of its grasp, I will be free?" questioned Twilight. But the zebra already turned her back towards a green and blue mask depicting a windigo. She pressed something there, causing it to rotate and reveal a compartment sealed with a slab of oak. As she nosed it upward, Twilight asked again, "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

She paused. "No, Twilight Sparkle. I've had no trouble. Only with it here, my stress has doubled. Now that the Amulet I can release, I may return to my potions in peace." She pushed the wood the rest of the way. Inside was the cursed item. Wings of silver and ruby spread out like a harbinger's hooves, the Alicorn's eyes bore into Twilight with a malice that still frightened her.

She felt Applejack lay a hoof on her. She must have been shaking, because she mouthed, 'It's okay.'

Zecora brought it over and dropped it into Twilight's hooves. Having left her saddlebag with Spike, she didn't know how to handle it. But Applejack quickly solved that problem; she removed her hat, put the Amulet in, and set it back on.

"Take great care delivering this," Zecora eyed them both, "Else your duty will be remiss."

"Don't you worry none," said Applejack. "We've got this tighter than a cat in the bag."

They started for the door, but Twilight stopped. "Um, Zecora? What do you think Princess Celestia is planning with the amulet? Could she be doing more than just locking it away?"

Applejack looked surprised at this sudden pondering. So did the zebra.

When she recovered, she rebuked, "I pray that such interest will never come to be. Through her and this jewel, a dark fate will guarantee."

Twilight turned back to her. "But . . . with her magic, she could reform the dark magic in it, couldn't she? And if ever the Elements of Harmony were ever put out of commission, we could use that magic instead!"

Zecora furrowed her eyebrows; in frustration, or in suspicion of her curiosity, Twilight wasn't sure. "Evil is evil, no matter how one says it, and seeking this black art will only death emit."

"Evil is . . ." Twilight bit her lip in exasperation. Was she the only one who didn't know about this? Did this zebra even know anyone who tried it, or was she just being prejudiced toward it?

"C'mon, Twi, you'll be late for the train. Y'all can talk 'bout this later." Applejack tried to pull her out the door, but Twilight risked one more question.

"But how do you know? Do you know of anypony - in history or in stories - who have tried to use dark magic with good intentions, to reform it?"

She paused, pondering her answer. "To my knowledge, there are none which speak of this," she finally said. "For dark magic is a subject to dismiss."

She was avoiding the subject, deliberately. Why? Was she so afraid of what could happen if one tried, that she was actively trying to dissuade any encouragement to? If so, it was the second time this week Twilight had been prevented from exploring the possibilities, only because of their fear of the unknown!

Twilight fought not to show any visible anger toward Zecora's cowardice. Of course, it was understandable that she couldn't take a chance like that. But it wasn't right to discourage another's curiosity for it! 

"I must ask you, Twilight Sparkle, for the name," she resumed, breaking Twilight's train of thought, "Of the one curious like a moth to flame. Somepony is eager to question me, so who seeks to use dark magic, I plea?"

Sweat beaded her neck. She couldn't afford to let Zecora think that she was interested in using dark magic. She wasn't. But if it could be reformed, then it was worth the question. After a pause, she looked to Applejack. There was a clear reason she wasn't the Element of Honesty.

"Trixie asked me about it." She felt her friend stiffen behind her. "She came back to me today, said she wanted to do some good for the world of unicorns by using her experience to reform dark magic. I was going to explain to her why it was dangerous, but I guess I didn't have the answers I needed." She shrugged her shoulders at the last statement. "But now that this matter's settled, I can lead Trixie away from the stuff."

To her relief, Zecora bought the lie. "I am pleased that you are guiding her to the path of light. Using dark magic will only create a life contrite. It would be ill to find that she hid beneath a dark façade, believing that her redemption was - like her shows - just a fraud."

"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up, Zecora." Truthfully, she wanted to say that if a villain could be brought to the light, then a type of magic could, too. But she bit her tongue and forced a smile.

Waving good-bye to the zebra, the two left the tree, and trotted along the forest path. The trip back was uneventful. Despite Fluttershy's warnings, there was no danger that met them, not even in the paths of manticore and timberwolf territory. Undoubtedly, the creatures were far more concerned about gathering food for the coming winter than picking on two ponies passing by.

It wasn't long before Twilight felt her friend's stare lingering on her. She wanted to know what happened when she lied to Zecora. Ignoring it wouldn't do her any good, so she finally said, "I just wanted to clear something on my mind, that's all. I was curious, okay?"

Her friend relaxed. "I still don't think you shoulda lied to her, though."

"If she knew what I was really thinking, she would have been on my case for hours." They both knew by the tone she used, like a mother scolding a child for asking what rat poison tasted like.

But in this case, the rat poison was disguised as box full of diamonds. One would just have to wash out the dangerous stuff first.

Applejack sighed. "I s'pose she would have. But that stuff she said 'bout a façade, it makes me feel like you're just like the governors."

She stiffened. She didn't mean it like that, but it still took Twilight a few breaths to remind herself. "I am nothing like the governors. I lied just once, so I wouldn't needlessly worry her. My colleagues, they're the ones hiding behind masks and pretending to be something they're not." She continued, not even waiting if she'd follow.

"So they value their money over advances in medical stuff, I get that." Applejack caught up to her quickly. "But is that why you really hate 'em so much?"

Several hoofbeats passed before Twilight said, "Is it that obvious that I hate them?" Not sarcasm. Really, did she hate the governors, sans Fancy Pants? Her friend nodded, to which she sighed. "It's not just their money. Canterlot revolves around this one phrase, 'only the strong survive'. But not the physically strong. The popular. It's all a game to see who gets the highest on the social ladder. And the more amazing everypony thinks one is, the higher up they go."

Three more hoofbeats. Applejack guessed, "And considering your work is . . . not very appreciated, since your methods are different an' all, that means the Governors rejecting it makes them more popular?"

"Yes. Even though they say they're all for advancing the field of medicine, the fact that my work's undesirable by the majority makes the governors instead choose to parade around in their own masks. It makes them their own hypocrites, just like us all in one way or another."

" . . . Just like us? But I ain't -"

Link

She took Applejack's hoof as they broke into the main part of town. Perhaps this would be a good way to explain.

"There's a face that we wear in Celestia's day 
It's society's mask, it's society's way 
And the truth is; that it's all a façade!

"There's a face that we hide 'till Luna's stars come shine!"

Applejack blinked, starting to get it.

"An' what's hidin' inside, what they choose to confine -"

"Is our true self!" they sang in unison. "Locked inside the façade!"

They looked to their left and right, to the neighbors whose dark secrets were their own. They took notice of them and ran to the street to join.

"Everyday,
Ponies, in their own sweet way,
Like to add a coat of paint -"

"An' be what they ain't!"

"That's how our little -"

"Game is played;
Living out a masquerade!
Acting a bizarre charade!"

"While playing the saint!

"But there's one thing I know, and I know it for sure:
This disease that we've got is not meant for a cure,
But I'm certain, life is terribly hard -"

"When your life's a façade!"

Rarity suddenly burst from the crowd, ensnaring both ponies in her forelegs, one pointing out to various bystanders.

"Look around you, I have found you cannot tell by looking at the surface what is lurking there beneath it!"

Then pointing at one of the mail-ponies:

"See that face? Well, I'm prepared to gamble, what you see is not what you get,
For we're all masters of deceit!"

"So what's this darn sinister secret?
The lies that they tell you are true -"

"It's that each soul you meet on the street isn't one soul, but two!"

"Nearly everypony seen,
Like him, and her, and you and me
Pretends to be a pillar of society!"

"A model for propriety -"

"Sobriety and piety!"

"Who shudders at the thought of notoriety!"

"The fillies and colts here before you,
Which none of them ever admit,
May have saintly looks, but they could be heartless crooks;" 

"Hypocrites -"

"Hypocrites!"

Rarity, Twilight, and Applejack stood in a triangle, facing each other while everyone else circled them.

"There are preachers who kill, there are killers who preach!"

"There are teachers who lie, there are liars who teach!"

"Take your pick, dear, for it's all a façade!"

Twilight took the lead, trotting through town with the rest behind her.    

"If we're not one, but two, are we evil or good?
Do we walk the fine line that we'd cross if we could?"

"Are we waiting to break through the façade?"

"One or two might look kinda well-to-do.

"Ha!

"They're as bad as me and you, right down to their hooves!"

"I'm inclined to think -"

"Half Equine thinks the other half is blind!
Wouldn't be surprised to find -"

"They're all in cahoots!"

The doctor stopped, spun toward her crowd as her friends, all of them, joined her.

"At the end of the day, we don't mean what we say,
We don't say what we mean, we don't ever come clean!"

"And our answer, is it's all a façade!"

"Is it's all a façade!"

"We are not one, but two, 
We are evil and good
And we walk the fine line we'd all cross if we could!" 

"It's a nightmare we can never discard!"

"So we stay on our guard!"

"Though we love the Façade!"

"What's behind the Façade?"

"Look behind . . . the Façade."

Everyone suddenly scattered away, leaving behind the six ponies and one dragon for their routines.

"Where'd everypony come from?" Twilight rhetorically asked.

Hopping next to her, Pinkie put a hoof on her shoulder, giggling quietly. "Everypony knows that song was an ensemble! You really shouldn't sing that as a duet!"

"Erm . . ." Twilight tried to unravel what she meant, but ultimately gave up. "Never mind. It's best if I get the amulet out to Princess Celestia while I still have my bearings."

Applejack removed the amulet from her hat, breathing with relief that nobody had tried to swipe it during that flash-mob, and set it in the saddlebag that Spike held for her.

"Do take care on your trip, dear," Rarity warned. "I now more than a handful of lowlifes willing to mug you for that amulet. Especially that no-account, self-centered creature, Blueblood!" Her jaw ground into itself as she presumably flashed back to her worst 'best night ever'.

"I'll be careful, Rarity." Twilight slipped the saddlebag on and tightened the straps. "As long as it's with me, nopony's going to abuse its power. Or use it at all, for that matter." She then noticed a mail-pony - the same one Rarity pointed at before - approaching them with a letter in hoof.

"Good afternoon. Letter delivery for Rainbow Dash. Sign here, please?" 

After doing as asked, Rainbow took the letter and paid a small tip, which was gratefully accepted as she excused herself to continue her shift.

Reading the letter's address, she raised an eyebrow. "Canterlot? I dunno anypony in Canterlot."

"A secret admirer, perhaps?" teased Rarity, batting her eyes. "In all seriousness, it could be important if it's from Canterlot."

Rainbow tore into the letter. Minutes passed by as she carefully read it word by word, until a smile painted her face.

"Well? Who's you new lover?" asked Pinkie, poking her with her elbow.

"For one thing, it's from an old friend of mine and Fluttershy's." Rainbow waved the mentioned pony over to let her read. She, too, smiled, more so than Rainbow. When taking the letter back, she continued. "And she's invited all of us to a special event in Canterlot that solves my 'Twilight Needs a Vacation' problem."

Twilight stammered a bit. "B-b-but I already Pinkie Promised that I'd take a vacation after my work was done! You can't -"

"So take a night off now, and then take a real vacation when your work is done! Besides, when you were gone, I got the feeling that anything we'd invite you to tonight would be rejected. You deserve this. So, I sent a letter to the Princess to tell her." She hovered close to her, smiling maliciously. "And you know what she replied back?"

She handed Twilight a scroll with the Princess's royal insignia ribbon stamped at the bottom. Twilight reluctantly took it, reading it aloud.

"'Dear Rainbow Dash, your concerns for my student are greatly appreciated, and will be addressed. Twilight, if you are reading this, please consider how hard you've worked to get this far over the last few years. I understand you want to aid your mother as soon as possible, but take it upon yourself to take a few days off your work. As for the matter with the amulet, I trust you with the task I've asked of you, but do not worry yourself over returning it tonight. I will come for it one week from now, enough time to for a vacation from your work. 

" 'Yours truly, Celestia.' "

Twilight's eye twitched slightly. "You . . . sent a letter . . . to Princess Celestia . . . asking her to order me to take time off!"

"Twi, you need this as much as anypony else," Spike sighed, fist-bumping with Rainbow. Then he grinned, "And you wouldn't want to directly disobey the princess, would you?"

"Uh . . . But, I . . ." Twilight held back a curse, and instead repeatedly banged her head against a nearby bench. When finally through, she groaned. "Fine. But when whatever this special event your friend is throwing is over, I'm going back work, because the princess didn't say I had to take exactly a week off!"

"Wouldn't expect anything less from you," chuckled Applejack.

Rainbow took flight and said, "Since we've all been invited to this thing in Canterlot, head back home and grab whatever you need. Tonight's scheduled for a cold night. Let's meet back here in fifteen."

As everyone darted off to their homes, Rainbow laughed to herself. "And I'm sure Silver Mist'll give us a warm welcome."     
> Act I: Chapter Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Four:
Grand Opening of the Altrotta Theatre


Three hours of a long train ride later, Twilight stared out the window, watching the great city come into view. Many would wonder how the capital could possibly stay fixed on the side of a mountain, but the doctor only wondered what destiny had in store for her in her home city. Destiny was an ever-splitting path that flowed carelessly, regardless of what decision one took.

The PA pinged overhead, announcing that the train would arrive in ten minutes; enough time to ponder her conversation with Fluttershy about Silver Mist.

"Well, Silver Mist was my and Rainbow Dash's old teacher in the flight academy," she had told her when they first left. "See, I couldn't really fly all that well because I was afraid of heights, but everypony had to pass a flight test in order to graduate. so she came in and taught me how."

"But didn't those butterflies who saved you way back when do that for you?"

"Oh, they did, but Silver merely instructed me on the movements of one's wings and sometimes the history of pegasus flight. Did you know that we used to fly with hang gliders instead? And our wings were propellers to increase our speed! Erm, the point is, she never pushed me further than she needed to; she always said that I could never fly unless I actually tried. It wasn't until those butterflies that I knew, and she was so proud of me when I came back."

"Wow. So what did she have to tutor Rainbow on?"

"Everything else." She'd said so with a naively straight face.

Rainbow had picked up the story from there. After she and Fluttershy had graduated, Silver moved on, saying something about finding other ponies who needed her. The three wrote back and forth often, but hadn't seen her in person, until now. The pony she was helping now was the owner of a theatre celebrating its grand opening tonight; the Altrotta.

"I saw it on my way home from a few of my past meetings," Twilight had remembered. "Ponies over there were working around the clock painting and shining it up, but I didn't realize it was going to be a theatre."

"Yeah!" Rainbow had cheered. "And the owner's so in touch with Silver that she's reserved front row seats just for us!"

"I just hope Silver will like you," Fluttershy had shivered.

In response and encouragement, Rainbow had taken her in her hooves. "Don't be silly, Shy! It may have been a while, but she's friendly around anypony!" She had glanced at Twilight, "Uh, but yeah, don't give her a hard time, though. She gets real vicious when somepony irks her."

Given her rubbing the back of her head, she was nursing past bruises from making that mistake several times over. 

Twilight lifted her head from the window and climbed off her seat. Underneath was her saddlebag, full of what she needed after tonight. Her plan was, after the grand opening ceremony, she'd return to her old home and set up in her study. Her father already knew her plans, and accommodated the house to her and Spike's needs. What would come after tonight was still up in the air, but that was the beauty of destiny: you never knew what was waiting for you.

Despite that she preferred to let it come at its own pace, rather than trying to drive her mind wild with the outrageous possibilities, like the one time she'd gotten a little crazy with her Smarty Pants doll.

Opening the saddlebag, she checked her formula, bubble-wrapped, of course. Adrenaline jumped in her veins as she hid it again; as far as the girls knew, she was going back to Ponyville with them. She'd have to confess before they got back to the train station, only so that they wouldn't worry during the opening.

Next was her journal. The leather crackled, even in her aura, from eight years of being well used. The top layer was nearly gone, save for the space where the title, 'Project TS: Property of Twilight Sparkle' read. Putting back in its place, she checked the quills, inkwells, and ink supply in the side pockets. All accounted for, and in doctor-approved state.

Lastly came the Alicorn Amulet; she dreaded having to check it again. Her aura reluctantly fastening around the artifact, she winced as a mental weight pressed into her. Cold whispers emanated from the grey alicorn's eyes and chanted the unicorn's name in beckoning. Urges to speak to it filled her, forbidden secrets teasing her to have but a small taste of what its magic could do in the face of light -

A hard chuck and disgusted snarl later, the object was at the bottom of the bag and pressed down by her journal. Its influence withdrew at once, practically hissing at the unicorn, an unspoken promise that she'd sooner forget in its whispers. Warmth steadily returned to her body as she tried to soothe her jolted nerves. 

If that was what Trixie felt when she first found it, she dreaded to think what she had to deal with when it was actually on her. Zecora was right about one thing: dark magic did have its perils. But her belief that even the darkest demon could evolve into an angel stayed rooted in her heart. Princess Celestia always told her to see past the bad in everyone; wouldn't it also be fair to find that spark of light in a malevolent artifact? All who fell to their darkness did so because of their greed and willingness to embrace evil - she wouldn't, and she was anything but greedy.

"Y' alright, sugarcube?" she heard Applejack say. Pink flush dusted her face, realizing that her internal struggle had attracted six pairs of eyes.

" . . . Yep. Never . . . better, girls," she replied choppily.

Applejack gave a knowing smile. "T'ain't nothin' to worry about, sugarcube. That silly necklace'll be outta' your hooves next week and locked away fer good." She faced the others, resuming her part of a conversation.

"Spike, could you come here, please?"

Her call didn't arouse any suspicion in the girls. Rarity moved aside for him to get through, then settled again.

"What's up, Twi?"

Clearing her throat, she drew a low voice, "So you know what's going to happen for the next part of my work, right?"

"We're gonna stay with Dad for awhile -" he nodded.

"- Hopefully no more than two weeks."

He ignored her interruption and continued, "And my job's to take notes on the TS8, such as the instant effects and 'sim-toms'."

"Symptoms."

"That's what I said." He frowned. "But why worry about that now? Did you find a test subject?"

"I'm try -" Twilight bit her outburst back. "Sorry. I'm trying, okay? The Governors aren't ponies one could . . . negotiate around so easily. I'll find a way. Just not through my colleagues."

"Right. And -" he glanced at Applejack, who was still enthralled with her conversation "- This staying-in-Canterlot thing is between us, yeah?"

"Yes, keep it between us."

She spun back to the window, the gentle, many lights of the lampposts sparking up the mountainside. Moonlight shone over one side and made a behemoth shadow over the landscape below. As they closed in, the PA once again, in a dull, tinny voice, announced, "Attention, mares and gentlecolts, we have arrived in Canterlot, the shining capital of our Equestrian nation. Please prepare to disembark and gather your luggage. Thanks for choosing the Friendship Express."

"Come on, Fluttershy, let's go!" Rainbow demanded, tapping her hooves right by the exit. As the door hissed open in tandem with the engine, she dove out, not even bothering to wait.

"Huh," Twilight shrugged, "I had no idea she was a teacher's pet." Following after her, she put on her saddlebag, not even having a moment's peace before the amulet started whispering to her again. It was nowhere near as vehement as before, but she still felt its claws press into her.

"You all set, sugarcube?" Applejack came up to her, hearing her shudder.

Twilight hesitated. Did Celestia even know that the amulet was doing this to her? She shook herself out of her stupor. That was ridiculous. Princess Celestia, her teacher, putting her in danger if she knew its potency? "Yes, everything's fine, AJ. Let's go." 

Her gaze lingered on her, then rested on her saddlebag.

"Really, Applejack, I'm fine." Twilight laughed at her voice crack. "I have it here safe and out of sight."

"But is it outta mind?"

"Well . . ." She got her there. Was it even possible to hide secrets from the Element of Honesty? "Look, I'll be alright once we get to the Altrotta," she promised. Hoped. Okay, lied.

But it didn't matter. After one more examination of the saddlebag, her friend sighed. "Just be careful, alright? I couldn't stand the thought'a you sufferin' more than a billy goat eatin' a tin can. And we don't need any of those Gove'ners swiping that thing, either."

Those bastards would have to pry it from her cold, dead hooves before she saw it in theirs.

She was already out the door and into the thick of activity before she could wonder where such a catty remark came from.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


The seven made it nearly halfway to the Altrotta before they were met with, what Twilight was dreading, reporters actively searching for any scrap of news to steal from ponies trying to get by. Most of them were already at the theatre to report its opening, but a handful were standing by, waiting patiently just for her.

Considering that the Autumn equinox was planned early, it was unreal that they weren't driven away by the cold snap.

"Doctor! Doctor Sparkle!" One called, his spotting her a siren piercing the calm and attracting others. "What are your comments to your recent meeting with the Governors of Canterlot Hospital?"

"Was your project was shut down?"

"What about your row with Miss Melody?"

Twilight cringed under their stares and storm of questions. It was incredible. Every time she had a meeting, the reporters were the first to claw at her hooves for details. "Please excuse me. I'm sorry, I can't talk right now." Squeezing out between two reporters, she started for her friends, only for more to gang up on her.

"Wait, Doctor! Just tell me, are Sir Blueblood's claims that you threatened him true?"

"Fleur de Lis claims that you've been experimenting on asylum ponies without their consent!"

They pressed into her like a predator closing in on its meal. Having enough, she activated her teleportation spell.

"Run! She's using a spell!"

"She'll kill us!"

With a pink flare, she was gone, coming out in the middle of the shopping district, amongst a circle of ponies. They all jumped away, crying out as she steadied herself on a nearby crate. "Shoot. I knew I used that too quickly." A minute passed before she could stand upright, though she still wobbled as she walked off.

Her friends were just outside the area, running to her when they spotted her.

"Twilight! What happened?"

"Y'all, 'kay, sugarcube?"

"Where'd you go?"

She held up her hooves. She couldn't take all these questions, not even ones from her friends, much longer. "Reporters." Her brief answer settled their concerns.

"What, and you just ran from them?" Rainbow gawked.

"Now, Dash, not everypony wants swarming attention," Fluttershy muttered. "And she's had to deal with reporters since her project took off here."

Twilight nodded with her. "I've dealt with them since I was thirteen, when ponies started noticing that I was especially young to have advanced doctorates." She shrugged. "I'm kinda used to it. I just don't feel like hearing whatever hooey my colleagues made up about me this time."

"Oh, darling," said Rarity, "Don't you let them get to you; they are symbiotic with ponies of renown. Really, do you think they could survive without leeching off one's fame?"

"Do you, um, want to tell Princess Celestia what's going on? She might be able to get those reporters away."

Twilight forced a tight swallow. "No, Fluttershy. What would that prove? They all would jump at that and claim that I'm dependent on an Alicorn to get things done. Besides, I shouldn't have to, even if it did solve anything. This is my battle to fight. But thank you anyway."

"Oh. Of course."

Rarity then harrumphed, whipping out a medium-sized piece of black fabric. "Well, if that's the case, I believe that this will help with your dilemma."

Twilight slowly took it with her magic and slipped it on, buckling the clasp at the neckline. "Thank you, Rarity, but . . . black?" She was the type who'd burn any article of clothing that was black, if found in her closest. To see the fashionista in black was a sole occasion, when she was trying to go through Ponyville unnoticed when Fluttershy was having her 'modeling career'.

Ah heh . . . It's just a silly thing I keep for rainy nights," Rarity blushed. "I may have taken it in a hurry after packing my emergency crystal scarves . . ." Everyone else either sighed or rolled their eyes as Twilight examined the cloak.

There wasn't much to say in detail about it, except its fabric was made for the winter season, providing a thick blanket of warmth over most of her body, except for the hock of her back legs, its furthest reach. 

She pulled the hood up so that it hung just over her horn, grateful for a shield from the biting wind. "Thanks again, Rarity. I really do appreciate it."

"Of course, dear. But I'll receive the thanks once we're out of the midst of these ruffians."

They moved on, Rainbow and Fluttershy taking the lead, followed by Pinkie and Rarity, and Applejack stayed closest to Twilight, who trotted in the back. Spike was stretched out on her back.

The cloak certainly helped; most ponies ignored her, unknowing of her identity. Spike, however, was the main reason that some took a double-take, and more shot daggers in their eyes.

It was bad enough, her having to deal with those stares whenever she travel through the city. They were conjured by ponies who actually bought the governors' lies. But she was at least grateful towards Rarity, that her cloak warded off the attention of reporters, who were far worse. Ponies who weren't reporters didn't have to question her about those rumors.

Not like she could do anything about it. If she truly acted on her frustration, she'd only succeed in proving them correct. So, like the governors, she had her own mask to wear; better yet, a muzzle. A muzzle disguised as a mask of indifference to the lies and the reporters and the opposition. The ponies who surrounded her in Canterlot and her colleagues, they were the wardens. They played their games and forced her to tighten that muzzle and to swallow their chess pieces like a bitter seed. It was her doing the forcing, but the governors were the reason it ever existed.

Her dreary pondering was cut off as she bumped into Applejack, who stopped.

"Well, well. I'll be darned," she whistled.

The two-story building stood on a small hill, a large flight of stone steps leading up to the front doors. Its overall facade a shade of evergreen, the frames of the windows on the second floor and the doors were traced with gold paint. The trails also were painted in intricate patterns before closing in the center, where its text was shown in raised lettering:


Altrotta Theatre: Dinner and Show Parlor


Reservations Only! 


Twilight swallowed softly, climbing the staircase, wary of the ponies surrounding her. Now came the hard part; having a good time planted in one place, vulnerable to those who despised her.

"Whoa, Silver wasn't kidding when she said she helped make this place ritzy!"

Rarity sighed. "Agreed. Though, this whole thing reminds me of a hotel. Maybe it's the structure?"

Stumbling on a step, Twilight closed her eyes, taking in the scent of fresh pinewood and the clamor of lively music and chattering inside. "I think it is. Erm, I mean was a hotel, if my memory's right."

Spike fingered his lip in thinking, then exclaimed, "Oh, yeah! It's that run-down hotel that used to be here when we'd go to the pegasus race track!"'

"Mmhm. Except it was so out of the way of everything, nopony knew it was even there." She helped Spike off her back and let him walk on his own. "Even I thought it'd been demolished years ago. I guess whoever Silver's helping now wanted to put a hotel-ish spin on their theatre."

"Or they wanted to go the easy way without puttin' any real work into it," Applejack frowned. Her remark did make sense, being that, as Spike said, it was practically at the race track's doorstep. The last thing a theatre needed was having their shows interrupted by thunderous cheering from there.

"What do you suppose we do about getting inside?" asked Rarity, eyeing an usher that stood by the door. "I don't believe a letter from a manager would count as a reservation for us." The stallion's green aura surrounded a clipboard, no doubt with the names of expected customers on it. 

Twilight stepped around Rarity and pulled her hood back, unintentionally taking on the look of a wanderer looking for shelter. "I'll handle this, Rarity." 

Straightening out her mane in a somewhat-orderly fashion, she approached the usher. 

"G'evening, miss. Your name?" the usher spoke before she could say anything. His attention was more on the clipboard, however.

"Twilight Sparkle."

He glanced up, seeing familiarity flicker in his eyes. But despite it being a split-second, she caught that it wasn't the friendly kind of recognition. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Nevertheless she forced herself to say, "I'm sorry, but my friends and I don't have reservations, but I think we're expected."

With Rainbow's permission, she passed him the letter from Silver Mist. The usher's eyes waved back and forth across the words, scrunching his eyebrows, then eyed her clothing suspiciously. Wondering what kind of doctor came to a theatre dressed in a cloak and sweater. She swallowed again, reconsidering her confession. 

The usher glanced inside, eyes searching for someone, then huffed. "Fine. Get in, miss. But, please, don't 'pect any favors next time. This is a theatre, after all." She exhaled softly and gave a quick 'thank you' just as she heard him mutter something about 'giving free rides'.

As she and the girls slipped inside, they took in the interior. If it used to be a hotel, there was no evidence here. Whatever one would find in a lobby had been gutted out, making an expansive room with a stage twenty feet away, and a dining area between that and the girls. Twenty-five or so tables had been set out, six cushions per, in a checkerboard pattern across an oak floor. All but one had been filled with patrons.

The stage itself didn't have much detail besides massive, spread-out wings making up the frame above, and green curtains folded at the sides. A winding staircase nearby the stage ran up to the second floor, presumably off-limits to the public from what little life there was up there.

"I take it back," said Applejack. "Whoever did the work on this here theatre broke tooth an' hoof."

Pinkie, spotting a bar over to their left, 'oohed'. "Girls, they have a super-large amount of sarsaparilla!" She started to dive forward before Rarity stopped her.

"Erm . . . that's not . . . sarsaparilla, dear."

Twilight zoned out of their conversation, eyes scoping for Silver Mist, assuming the name meant she had a similar colored coat. A pony like her couldn't be that hard to find in a crowd of ponies with hues of blue and white and yellow.

"Hey! What gives!"

A spell activating behind her, as well as Spike's outcry, pricked the doctor's ears. Wheeling around, she charged back to the doors to find Spike behind a wall of green light. The usher's horn glowed the same color, eyes squinted. Twilight's objection died as he snarled to her, "Not it."

Stunned, Twilight argued, "What? No! He's with me, sir."

The usher didn't waver. "Don't care. It's not welcome here. One spark from it, and this place'll become the 'Ashtrotta'." Twilight heard Pinkie laugh at the pun and shot a look at her. The others must have heard too; they all stood behind her, ready to defend the dragon.

"For your information," said Rarity, approaching him, then standing on the edge of her hooves to meet his eyes, "It is a he, and he has as much privilege to enter as we do."

"You six don't have a privilege. I let you in because Silver apparently invited you. Otherwise, doctorate or no, I would've thrown you out by now." His cold eyes drilled into Rarity's, making her resolve disintegrate into worthless ash as she slinked away, muttering an apology to Twilight. "Sorry. Just enforce the rules here, mares."

Twilight bit back a thousand retorts, that muzzle of hers threatening to break. Silver Mist sounded nothing like a pony who would make a rule against other species entering. But she finally resigned with a sigh. "If you won't let my friend in, then I don't need to stay." The girls all started for her before she raised a hoof. "Not you, girls. You can stay if you want, but I don't want to. Not if Spike can't come with us. He's as much of a family as you're my friends."

Meanwhile Spike shuffled between feet, whether touched by her defending him or disappointed with the usher, she couldn't tell. "Listen, Twi, you don't have to leave. I'll just go back to our old house for tonight."

Twilight was already mentally rejecting at the idea. There was no way she wanted to spend the evening without all of her friends, especially not without Spike. "Spike, no. This isn't fair to you. You shouldn't be alone."

The drake folded his arms. "I'm not spending the night alone. Dad's got Fridays off, remember? Besides, mister bouncer here -"

"Hey!"

"Aw hush, I'm talking. Point is, I don't belong in here, and these ponies know it. So why not put that to good use?" He leaned forward before she could ask what he meant. "You're walking into a brand-new parlor, full of those dumb snobs, with you-know-what in tow and no defense whatsoever from it getting stolen." He began rolling his hands in a cycle to emphasize. "But say I took it for tonight, you'd have nothing to worry about, yeah? And nopony would know you ever had it. Just saying, being caught with it would be really bad for your rep."

"Spike, all I'd have to do is place a simple containment spell on it to keep prying hooves out." 

"I take it that it keeps stressful energy inside, too?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow sarcastically.

"I -" She saw it in his eyes that he knew. The amulet still whispered to her, weighing her shoulders down like a boulder, clawing its dark ideas into her mind like a drag - griffon's claws. Even for one so young, it must have been obvious, the pressure she felt. And if he of anybody knew . . . "Fine," she sighed quietly. "But don't even -"

"Don't touch it more than I need to, don't leave it out in the open. Don't worry. I'll just put it in the safe soon as I get home. Give it here."

Deciding to give the whole saddlebag to avoid more suspicion from the usher, she passed it over, after the wall had been reluctantly taken down. As soon as she had, the whispers died out, and warmth returning to her body. She held back a shudder and instead focused on Spike. Her saddlebag looked heavy in his grip, but he seemed capable enough for the trip. "And, Spike?"

"Hm?"

"Just . . . please . . . be careful with it. It's not that I don't trust you, but the thing in there . . ." To say that tears didn't threaten to break through would have been a lie. This was wrong. He was too young to deal with such a dangerous thing.

Spike grinned back at her. "I'll be fine, Twi. I Pinkie Promise on that." He used his free hand to make the silent gestures of said promise and started to turn around. "I see you back home, okay?" He stepped around patrons waiting to go inside, and was swallowed by the night.

The usher had watched him closely, and now blinked at Twilight. "Well. Such sentiment for an imp like it."

Literally blowing off his dry insult with an exhale, she spun back, entering the semicircle of her other friends.

"Sugarcube? Y'alright?" asked Applejack, trying not to sound dense. Tapping her front hooves together, she glanced out from where Spike had left, then at Twilight, who also was looking.

"Mm . . . Maybe it's better this way, Applejack. I'd have to constantly look over my shoulder if he didn't take it with him. Trust me, I'll be better once we settle down.

"It hurts me to accept an atrocity like that," said Rarity. "Just because he's a dragon, it certainly isn't justified for him to be treated as such."

"I'm gonna talk to Silver about this," Rainbow said angrily, "That rule's stupid as Tartarus, and I'll buck it outta here, to the moon!"

As tempting as it was, Twilight didn't see a reason for her to do so. "That won't be necessary. My coming to the Altrotta's a one-time thing if this is the case. I just want to enjoy tonight, like he wans us to."

Trotting past the tables occupied by snobbish nobleponies, they headed for the one they presumed was theirs. As many of them glared at her, or slid their spare cushions under their table whenever she passed them, she did her best to ignore them. She may have been dirt under their hooves to them, but even dirt had its part to play.

At one point, she spotted Fancy Pants at a table, Blueblood and Fleur's backs to her. Waving quickly at Fancy, she ducked back down just in time to hear Fleur say, "Whatever are you grinning about, Fancy dear?"

"I saw a wonderful display of ponies tap-dancing back there." He hadn't missed a beat with his reply.  

Rainbow snickered, then winked at Twilight.

On stage, a pegasus mare about Twilight's age was singing a jazz-themed song, twirling in place to the tune.

Rainbow flew up and did a three-sixty spin until drifting back down. "I dunno," she shrugged, turning back to Twilight, "I don't see her any - Look out!"

Twilight just in time to see a stallion's hoof thrust back. Throwing her front-legs up, she prepared for the blow.

Thwap!

She heard the music stop and nearby ponies fall quiet. She risked opening her eyes to find that a grey wing had blocked the attack, startling the stallion. This wing had no feathers on it, as though someone had ripped them off, leaving it instead tattered and ugly. The other wing was probably the same way.

"I believe that's enough of your roughhousing, sir," said the pegasus. Twilight looked to where the wing and body met and saw a pale-grey mare with a blood-and-peach-colored mane that ran past her shoulders in thin, spaghetti-like strands. Her icy-blue eyes pierced into the attacker's, which were wide with surprise.

When the moment passed, he snarled at her, "I say! This isn't your concern, madam. Excuse yourself at once!" 

The mare lowered her wing and walked around him. As she passed, Twilight saw her cutie mark; twin feathered wings folded protectively around a cracked heart.

She risked a look at Rainbow, who grinned, bumping her hooves together in a 'go get em' fashion. Silver Mist.

Silver spoke again, in a soft voice. "This is a theatre, not a fight club. I will not tolerate the Altrotta being treated as such." She extended a 'wing' past Twilight to push her to a safe distance. "I will ask you once: apologize to Doctor Sparkle and return to your seat, or leave the Altrotta." She paused, then added with a grin, "Sir."

Sputtering in disbelief, the stallion raised a hoof, trying to strike again, this time at Silver. Instead, his blow was averted by her left 'wing', which she swung down to force his hoof to the floor. Recuperating himself, he then threw his other foreleg to which she twirled one-eighty and blocked with the same wing. Throwing that limb upward, she used that distraction to back-kick him in the throat. She stepped aside, letting him stumble forward. 

Twilight blinked, suddenly registering that Rainbow was cheering. 

The stallion hissed and started to let himself up before Silver pinned his neck with her front hoof. "You sadistic foal of a -"

"I believe you owe the doctor an apology now," she cut him off.

The stallion instead growled at her, struggling against her leg. "I'd rather eat my -"

She pushed harder, cutting off his oxygen. "Look, I abhor violence as much as the next pony does. But please, for the love of the Alicorns Above, don't make me do something regretful." She tapped her free hoof, sighing. "And make it snappy. I have better things to do than foalsit."

He swallowed, glaring at Twilight, then murmured an apology.

"Oh, for heavens sake," Silver whispered to herself. "Fine, it's acceptable. Glitz, Cashmere?" She motioned two ushers to her. "Remove him from the premises, please?"  She lifted her leg, then stepped back.

"Wait! You said--"

"I gave you one chance; you wasted it, now leave."

As the ushers escorted him out, Twilight heard Applejack whisper to her, "What in the hay was his problem?"

"Three guesses why," Twilight deadpanned.

The pegasus singing her jazz number had watched the confrontation in shock, forcing her to lose her place and start over again.

Rainbow and Fluttershy were the first ones to approach Twilight and Silver. "See, Fluttershy?" grinned Rainbow, flying just over her. "I told you Silver could take him." The yellow mare just whimpered through closed hooves. 

Silver grimaced, approaching her. "You. Wings tucked, haunches down, eyes forward!" Rainbow froze, petrified, and folded her wings, plopping to the floor. "And don't slouch!" She became stiff as a post. Silver scanned her ex-student meticulously, even brushing dust off her mane. 

"Wow. Now I see where you get the Stare from." Twilight whispered to Fluttershy, who laughed quietly.

"Yes, but she never had to do that for me."

They turned back to Silver, who finished circling Rainbow, and made eye contact with her, ice meeting fire, before breaking into a grin. "I apologize, Rainbow Dash. I couldn't help doing that again, just for fun."

Rainbow's jaw practically unhinged. "What! But you -"

"What kind of school reunion would this be if I did not mess with you in front of your friends? Which, by the way, I'm proud of your efforts with friendship."

"Do I get a Wonderbolts sticker?" Rainbow gasped.

"Um, no, but moving on . . ." Turning to Twilight, she said, "I'm sorry you had to see that show of violence before, Doctor Sparkle. I saw him following you, so I assumed he had nothing good planned. I was hoping our grand opening would be without incident on your part . . ."

"Wait, you knew I was coming?" 

Silver chuckled lightly at this, as though the answer was obvious. "Surely, Rainbow and Fluttershy told you about their letters to me? I was eager to meet you for some time, since hearing about the return of Princess Luna. And when I helped found this theatre, I knew I had to send invites for all of you."

"Huh. I hadn't a clue Rainbow Dash an' Shy were writin' that much 'bout us," said Applejack.

Silver nodded at the farmpony. "Yes. I got bimonthly letters from them both talking about your adventures, and how each of you now hold an Element of Harmony. You, specifically, represent the Element of Honesty; a personal favorite trait of mine. But I never thought I'd see the Harmony Bearers in person, much less two of my own students." She reached for a glass of wine, sipping it carefully. "So, do you find the theatre to your liking?"

Twilight, taking a glance over her surroundings, answered. "Well, it certainly looks wonderful. You've done a great job of running it so far, and I'm sure the pony you're helping knows that, too."

Silver laughed quietly. "Thank you, Doctor Sparkle. I'm pleased with the compliment, but I just oversee the food and seating, and take care of any complaints that we may have in the future. The Altrotta isn't really mine to command."

"Silver Mist!" Everyone except the summoned jumped; she let out an exasperated breath.

"Speaking of . . ." 

A navy blue pegasus dive-bombed right in front of her, golden eyes glaring. Whatever her cutie mark was, it was hidden under the green uniform she wore. 

Twilight gasped at her frame; her legs were like stilts that she thought would snap in two at any moment. "Where the hell is Soa -"

Silver walked calmly to her, closing her mouth with a 'wing'. "Please, calm yourself, Glider." she said caringly. "We cannot have our guests being scared off." She gestured to Twilight.

Turning to the doctor, Glider's fire-orange braid swung off her shoulder, batting her face before she shakily guided it back with her wing. Her bangs her unkempt and were tipped with gold. Her tail, on the other hand, was short and unbraided. The bunched-up cluster of white freckles on the bridge of her nose loosened when she recognized Twilight.

"Ahem. Doctor Sparkle, right? A . . . um, a pleasant surprise." She shook her head, flustered, then breathed in haltingly and started over. "I'm Gliding - erm, Glider, that is. I own and oversee my Altrotta Theatre." She secured an air of professionalism. "Ponies come to me if they have bigger complaints than dusty tables or hairs in food. But if that ever happens, I doubt they'll leave happy with my answer. I've chosen my chefs and performers as carefully as your teacher chose you. But I digress. Quite the colorful party you've invited, Silver. Those two are your former students, right?" She poked her muzzle at the pegasi.

"Yes. They are also the Bearers of Loyalty and Kindness."

"Are they? Well . . ." She studied them for a minute, every detail, then said, "Seems you taught them well. As students and friends of Silver, you're welcome in my theatre anytime, regardless of reservation."

"Awesome! Free dinner, Fluttershy!"

"I'm afraid I can't give everything for free, um . . . Dashell."

"Rainbow Dash."

"Right." She flushed, eyes drifting to Twilight again before addressing Silver. "Have you or have you not found him yet?"

"Not quite," Silver murmured, "But I am certain he will come any minute now."

Glider ground her teeth, snarling under her breath. Looking about ready to explode, Twilight backed off. Instead, she drew in a long, deep breath and muttered, "Damn it. Idiot." Then muttered something. Twilight caught the words, 'was so sure' and 'scrutiny's never wrong'.  

Something about her was off, Twilight realized, but not the changeling-queen-disguised-as-future-sister-in-law kind of off. Maybe just a bit of a nutcase. 

Glider cleared her throat, spreading twitching wings, and walked ahead. "Silver, keep both eyes out for that slack-off bastard. I'll go ahead and direct our guests to their seating."

"Right away. Fluttershy, do you want to help me look? We've so much to catch up on."

After eyeing Rainbow for her approval, she chirped, "Sure! I'd like that. Excuse me, Dash . . ." She slipped out from the group, following her out of the area.

Glider was a bit ahead, so the others trotted after her. "You'll have to ignore my concerns," she began. "When I sent out the schedule to my performers, one of them, I assume, ignored it. Now, I have to depend on a fractured group to entertain until he arrives." She glared at the floor. "He was supposed to sing with them, but if this keeps up, he'll be lucky if he makes the last performance."

"Forgive my questioning," said Rarity, "But I happened to notice that you've not set an actual play. I assume that's what a theatre is meant for?"

"Oh, I do plan plays," Glider replied, clearly trying to ignore her rudeness. "But I wanted tonight to be a music showcase; honoring great composers and lyricists of our time, such as Arab Menken and Maestro Wildhorn. I've even planned a Harness Zimmer showcase for the near-future. It would make sense, beginning . . . um . . ." She glanced back, eyes scanning for something. She panted, then looked away. "Right, um, beginning the career of the Altrotta with an overture. Mind the pun, if you will." 
She forced an airy laugh, then stopped at a table and pulled out cushions for the guests. "Well, here we are. I do hope you enjoy yourselves. I'll get a waiter over in a few. And good luck finding a patient to test your theory on, Doctor Sparkle."

Twilight opened her mouth, but she already took off, zooming towards the second floor. She landed at one of the doors up there and disappeared inside.

"Y' alright, sugarcube?"

She flinched from Applejack's hoof touching her shoulder.

How?

"How did she know I was looking for a test subject?" she asked rhetorically, bewildered.

Her friends all took skeptical looks, before Pinkie guessed, "Maybe she just read it in the newspapers. Everypony's been reading them like I've been eating cupcakes."

"No, no." She shook her head. It wasn't possible she could have read it. "The details of our meetings are to stay in that very room, or only be shared with public officials." And as Bearers of the Elements of Harmony and her greatest supporters, her friends were entitled to that knowledge. "And I know none of the governors said anything, because mentioning what I needed would have risked the chance of benefitting me." Revealing what they denied her would have led to questions as to why, and then expose them for their spite against her. No, there had to be some other explanation.

They all caught her starting to panic, to which Rarity jumped to her aid. "Breathe, darling, breathe. Rainbow Dash may have accidentally slipped that detail into one of her letters, and Glider may have learned it from Silver."

Rainbow sank in her cushion. "Yeah, I might have. I don't remember what exactly what I wrote, but I did write her the day after you came back. Sorry, pal?"

Rarity's exercise worked. Twilight forced slow breaths, until finally closing her eyes. "It . . . it's okay, Rainbow. I think something so miniscule won't be harmful with Silver. If you say she's trustworthy, then I believe it. I don't know about Glider, though . . ."

The summoned waiter came to take orders before she could elaborate. First of all, she doubted that was how she knew. Rainbow had the least bit interest in her work, since it was complicated, to say the least. So why would she write about it? Secondly, even if she did, Glider didn't seem like the type who keep it under the radar. But the first point superseded the second, so she dropped it.

The jazz-singing mare finished her set list, diving into the back as she was replaced by another pegasus, this one with a dark blue coat. She began singing a classic Bridleway number, Twilight's thoughts plaguing her from recognizing it.

She, and the jazz singer must have been part of that 'fractured group' Glider had mentioned. Twilight looked down to the entrance, where the usher from closed the doors to signify that the theatre was full. This tardy performer would do well to avoid Glider at all costs; she seemed nothing like the forgiving type.

She started to drink from a glass brought over when a clatter of pans hitting the floor sounded from behind, followed by Silver hissing something at the interruption.
> Act I: Chapter Five
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Five:
Good 'n Evil


Soarin's wings bristled in the icy wind clawing at his mane. His feathers laced with ice crystals and sore muscles from prolonged flying made their wings tight against his back. Other than a pair of flimsy goggles he'd 'borrowed' prior to leaving the Wonderbolt Academy for the last time, he wore a thin cloak to cover his lower back and flank, and shield himself from the worst of the cold.

Thunder rumbled overhead and dark clouds blocked his view. For the worst of luck, he could have already flown over Canterlot and was halfway to Appleloosa without even knowing it. There was the option of diving down to reevaluate his location, but he chose not to.

There were some ponies who buried their frustrations by creating art, or going to a play, or just taking a brisk walk. Soarin's preferred method was flying high up into the clouds, where the dangerous ambiance of thin air and cold wind helped the mind wander. His teammates used to scold him for risking his safety, often giving lectures on oxygen starvation and killing brain cells, but he knew better. He taught himself a long time ago of how to pace his breathing so something like that wouldn't happen.

But the main reason he did it? For the exhilaration of every heartbeat, every full breath he would take once his 'suicide flight' - dubbed by his teammates - was over. Everyday, ponies around him would take their blessings for granted, thinking there was something more out there. Not for him. He refused to take for granted the things that kept him alive. Let it never be said that someone who took their things for granted knew what they had when the 'lights went out'.

Unfortunately, even the best ponies forgot that sometimes.

A long time ago, Soarin would have looked back on his career with the Wonderbolts and think how darn lucky he was to be where he was.

But, no. Never again. 

When he last set eyes on the Wonderbolt Headquarters, when he'd dropped his uniform off for the last time, he felt only the slice in his chest and Spit's words in a conversation all about him.

Reckless. Only a means to an end. Better off without him. His replacement will bring glory back to our team!

Soarin bit the inside of his cheek, gasping lightly against the lack of air. Memory after memory of the loyalty he thought the Wonderbolts represented overcame him with every flap of his wings. Practicing loop-de-loops with Fleetfoot. Signing autographs. Hanging out with Spit. They were beautiful, for a time. But looking at them in the now, they were just minutes on a clock that ticked to the moment when Spit would make up that venomous lie, urging him to quit:

"I'm sorry, Soarin. I tried to convince them, but this last show was their last straw. Baltamare's threatening to sue us unless we let you go. If we don't the Wonderbolts could most likely shut down for good."

Of course, in his kinder nature, he left, never suspecting a thing. And it was in his good luck that Glider and Silver Mist, two showmares looking to start a theatre, were waiting outside for him, offering a new job. A performer, both singing and acting, if he were up to it. Having nothing to lose, he signed on. It was weird, though, how they knew he was a decent actor, and an even more decent singer. He had never told anyone, since he was signed up with his team before the end of high school.

But he wasn't a Wonderbolt anymore. He knew it, Spit knew it; hell, even his own cutie mark knew it.

He tightened the clasp to his cloak, careful to conceal his flank. Thankfully, Dusty was talented in makeup, she could help out with that issue.

. . . Assuming he got to her before Glider found him.

Seeing the mountain peak coming into view, he dove down into fresh air and checked the ascension of the moon. It was close to six when he'd left. He swore into the empty air. At its current height it was well past eight-thirty. He was supposed to be onstage at seven sharp.

Glider was going to kill him. Scratch that, she was going to personally bury him. Alive.

Huffing out a hot breath, he snapped into a near-sonic boom towards the city. He may have been dangerously late, but he wasn't going to run from taking responsibility for it. Not like Spit did.

Aiming himself so that he was level with the train station, he tucked his legs in and locked his wings in for landing. The ice imbedded in his wings vaporized, freeing the feathers.

The station came at him, his hooves just scraping into the roof as ponies below him screamed and ran for cover. He laughed. Ponies these days were such chickens.

His distraction, however, rewarded his with slamming into the side of a hotel building. Hooves outward in an 'x' formation, he peeled off the wall and collapsed onto his side. His skull jolted as he bit down on his tongue, coppery flavor filling his mouth.

The nearby ponies stopped and laughed at the former Wonderbolt's display of clumsiness. Soarin helped himself up, shaking off his dizziness.

Idiot! Wasn't this what Spit was trying to tell him? That he too easily distracted himself? He couldn't even perform a proper landing anymore. Whatever sharp reflexes and tactics that made him invaluable to the Wonderbolts were dead, and denying that was only driving that final nail into the coffin of his career.

Ignoring those who ridiculed him, he slipped into the shadow of a dark alley; a little-known shortcut that led directly to the Altrotta. If he followed the right path.

Go straight, then a left, two rights, then a second left. Then straight the rest of the way.

Leaping over a trash can wedged between the narrow walls, he skidded at the exit. A glowing sign pointed at the pegasus race-track, indicating this was where he needed to be.

Poking less than one green eye out, he spotted the twin streetlamps at the Altrotta's steps, just now lighting up. The theatre was impossible to miss from there. Save for the gold lines all over, it reminded him of the mansion from that Mareo Sisters spinoff game. Ponies of all races and ages were pooled on the fronts steps, their shouts faint from where he stood. The doors were to close soon, and his last chance to get in would be gone.

He fluttered over a conveniently placed table (not at all sarcastically put) and raced for the entrance. Cold chills traced his coat, the adrenaline from his flight beginning to wear off. Reaching the lampposts, he tripped over a tiny drake He had reached the lampposts in front of the stairs when he tripped over a tiny drake, who carried a load on his back, and flailed alongside him.

"Hey, careful!" the dragon yelped, pushing himself back up. "I got some important stuff in here!"

Soarin mumbled an apology before hopping back up. On any other day he'd be more than happy to help the drake carry that sack, but with his own load on his shoulders, he couldn't afford to.

He pushed through the ponies packed at the doors, all of them chucking their complaints at him, regardless of his 'excuse mes'. 

"Alright, everypony, theatre's full! Get home!" Avalanche, the entrance usher, waved the ponies back, eager to shut the twin doors.

"Wait, Avalanche!" Soarin jammed his hoof into the small crack, holding the door open.

"Well, well, Soarin," the unicorn smugly grinned. "'Bout time you got here. Glider's gunning for you."

He exhaled, a white puff of air escaping. "I know. I . . . got sidetracked." He tried to push the door open. "Now, can you please let me in?"

Avalanche's mossy eyes held only teasing sarcasm. "You got wings. Who says you can't just go through the second floor?"

The yellow glow from the windows was gentle. Inviting, even. He and his fellow performers all spent their free time and bunked up there. But so did Glider. Her silhouette fell from the light like the looming shadow of a tombstone.

"Damn it, you know why!" He banged his free hoof against the door frame.

The other grinned in his tantalizing him, about to say something else, until a mare's sharp voice could be heard. He pulled away, then groaned, mumbling something to her. "Alright, fine, Soarin. Get in here, before Glider finds you."

He brushed cold sweat from his face. The others behind him protested and tried to butt in after him, only for Glacier to completely shut the doors.

"Damn nobles, thinking they can get whatever they want."

"I hear ya."

"Soarin!" He yelped, feathers ruffling. A hoof grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face the stern blue eyes of Silver Mist. Behind her, there was another mare - at least, he thought so. They used their mane as a shield from his eyes, but one turquoise eye curiously peeked at him.

"Where were you?" Silver demanded. "The others had to fill in for your lateness!" Her 'wings' flared out as if they 'thought' the feathers were still there. They still creeped him out; that is, how deathly they looked compared to the rest of her.

"Hi, Silv'," he smiled awkwardly. "Um, sorry I'm late?" Losing the grin, he sighed, "I had some issues back at Cloudsdale. I'm really sorry." He had stepped closer to her as he spoke, offering his hoof in apology.

Silver's icy expression softened, eyes shifting. "Oh, Soarin," she sighed, "Fine, I forgive you." She took his hoof, then turned around, facing the walkway on either side of the dining area, made especially for kitchen staff and performers to navigate with ease. Her friend followed close behind like an obedient puppy. "I'm afraid Glider may be less understanding than I. Now get to the backstage, quickly!" She shoved him ahead.

"Wait, you're telling Glider I'm here?" Soarin panicked.

Silver gave a sympathetic look. "Soarin, you know I can't lie for you. The next time Glider sees me, she'll ask if I saw you. I've the responsibility to tell her, choleric as she is."  

Rolling his shoulders, Soarin accepted the inevitable and trotted off.

As he passed, the other mare brushed her mane off her face, and gave a small smile to him. "Um, hello." She must have been antisocial, because then she retreated back into her mane with a small peep.

"This is Fluttershy, a previous student of mine from many years ago." Silver briefly explained. "I'm certain you've heard of her as the Bearer of Kindness, yes? Then facing her student, "You have seen Soarin on some occasions, haven't you?" 

Fluttershy withdrew from her shield. Once, Silver. I was at the Young Flyers' Competition supporting Rainbow Dash, and Soarin was there." She glanced briefly at him, then retreated back into her mane.

Meanwhile, Soarin reminisced back to that competition. He didn't recall ever talking to Fluttershy, but definitely saw her amongst the crowd. But the thought of greener times with the Wonderbolts brought salty bile rising in his throat, so he changed the subject. "So, Fluttershy? Nice to meet you. Did you want to go have a drink later, or go out - Ow!" Silver had knocked him upside the head with a wing. "Alicorns Above, why'd you do tha - Ow!" And once more.

Silver hopped in front of him. "That one was for blasphemy, Soarin. I will not tolerate you cursing our princes and princesses, living or dead!"

The stallion rubbed the back of his head, certain there was already a bruise forming. "Heh, sorry, Silv'." Then glancing at Fluttershy, "I was just kidding. I just say that to be friendly." A pause. "She ever use corporal punishment with you?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head. Why wouldn't she talk to -

Oh, right. Fluttershy.

The mare's expression, though, answered clearly enough that Silver's wing-slaps were meant for ponies like him.

As he took the lead again, he glanced back to check if Glider was coming, but then collided into a cart with stacked trays and pans. Falling over the cart, which flipped onto its side, his back legs caught into of the shelves as the metalwork spilled across the floor with a loud clatter, drawing unwanted attention from nearby nobleponies. Only his front legs kept him from banging his head.

"Be careful, Soarin!" Silver hissed at him. "That is not making this ordeal of yours any easier!"

The pegasus gave that half-hearted, doofus grin and freed himself, careful to keep his head down as he slinked away.

The entrance to the backstage was little more than an empty frame with a rope strung across it. The sign there read, "Performers Only!". He hopped over, and walked to his right. Darkness muted the hallway, save for a dim orange glow at the end, where the others were waiting. Lively music played there too, a muting spell cast to allow performers to do as they pleased without disrupting the outside.

As he walked, Soarin tripped once or twice on some props laying around, making noise that was drowned out by the music. He'd have to talk to Night Glider about that later. Her bad habit with leaving props laying around was dangerous. Unless she'd meant it for Glider . . .

Night's silhouette made a graceful bow up onstage as she finished her number and slipped through the curtain. As she fluttered off the stage, her navy-blue coat morphed into the darkness, making her equally-blue eyes and silver, wind-blown mane stand out like candles in darkness.

"Well, it's about time you got here," she remarked, annoyed. "Where were you? Shopping for cloaks?" She eyed his suspiciously.

Soarin bowed his head, saddened. He'd have to come clean soon enough, but for the time being settled with, "I got a little sidetracked."

Night's low glare softened, then changed to a small smile. "You're still a half-flanked slacker, Soarin. But as long as you're alright. Now get in here; we're all waiting!" She gently grabbed his hoof in hers and led him towards the light.

As they entered the small square room, they saw, among five backups and musicians, a young pegasus mare with a bluish-grey coat and a fluffy grey mane. She stood on her hind legs singing her heart out in a jazz-like voice: 

Link

"Here in Canterlot's end,
It's the pits of the earth
Where you won't find a friend,
Where your life has no worth!

"Death is waiting;
Fate is marking your card!

"You've got one chance in five,
They're odds you must outdo
If you want to survive,
So be fast your hooves!

"Life is hard here;
For it's Discord's backyard!"

The musicians all applauded her just as she did a spin, coming muzzle to muzzle with Soarin. "Oh, hey, Soarin!" Her pink eyes were like Hearth's Warming. "You actually came!" The musicians waved at Soarin.

"Told you he'd come, Dusty," said Night. "I just didn't know when exactly." 

The mare's actual name was Dust Devil, but both Soarin and Night called her Dusty for short. She nuzzled Soarin in a tight hug, did the same with Night, then waved them in.

"I didn't know what to do since you weren't here," said Dusty, "So I just started cheering up the musicians, and they liked how I mixed Wildhorn's songs with a jazz theme, so I went with that. Although, I wish Nighty could'a helped with that, but she sucks at jazz, so it was just me!"

Night just shrugged and walked to the back wall, where a device with a crescent moon hung just above her head. It exactly matched her cutie mark. "In my defense, I can make some hell of good props and settings for your numbers to make up for it." To emphasize, she pulled a small lever hidden along the prop, which made the moon switch phases.

"Mm, yeah, that's true," Dust Devil mumbled, then changed subjects. "Oh, did Silver tell you yet? Some stupid noble pony was bullying this unicorn doctor, so she came to help and totally whooped his flank! You should have seen it, Soars." The musicians nodded assent.

Soarin blinked, impressed, but got his focus back. "That's great, Dusty, but I need your help with something."

"Look, Soarin," said Night, "I get that you didn't mean to take so long, but you can't exactly hide from Glider. You'll have to fess up sometime. But maybe she'll let you off with a warning or something."

Dusty 'pshhed' at that. "Yeah, right. Do you know that yesterday, I was thanking her for this job, just explaining that I had a little sis to take care of since my weather job in Ponyville was a bust. But she just rolls her eyes at me and says I'm 'wasting my time with family'."

"Dusty, please!" Soarin tapped the table, getting her attention. "This isn't about Glider! I just need you help covering this up!" Whipping off the cloak, he showed the mares his cutie mark; or rather, lack thereof. The musicians stopped in their own conversation, blinking in misunderstanding.

"We'll give you all some room," said one of them, starting for the stage. "We need to do some last-minute tuning, anyways." Soarin could tell that some of the musicians wanted to stay for the juicy details, but the ringleader's statement made it clear that he wanted to respect his privacy.

When the room was cleared out, Dusty was the first to speak. "I-I don't get it. Where's your cutie mark?"

Soarin paused, looking for a way to say it correctly. "It . . . vanished . . . when I left Cloudsdale to drop my outfit off."

"But how?" Night demanded. "W-what happened that -" She was too flustered to even form a question. Made sense, since he didn't know the right questions to ask either.

So he started with the most simple explanation. "Spit lied to me. There was no lawsuit."

Both mares wore uncomprehending expressions.

"What?"

"B-but, the accident! I thought -"

Soarin held a hoof aloft to hush her. He didn't need to relive his night with his date, then passing out in the middle of his routine. The chaos that followed after was enough memory to cringe from. "I dropped the uniform off, but as I was leaving, Fleetfoot came in. I didn't want to start an awkward conversation, so I hid behind the lockers. But she was talking to Spitfire about the new recruit - and, yes, the same mare I was with - and how she'd recover lost funds."

Night's eyes narrowed. "She was your replacement."

He sighed. "Yeah. Apparently, she'd auditioned once, and they were just waiting for somepony to screw up enough to make up some garbage about a lawsuit to guilt them off the team. But lawsuit or none, it'd work either way. I know, because Spit said that, clear as day. She was 'boohooing' about how much she 'regretted' lying to me just to 'spare my feelings'. 

Dusty was breathing in shaky cycles. "So, the cutie mark?"

"The Wonderbolts represent honor, teamwork, loyalty. When I realized they really didn't respect any of these, I'm assuming my cutie mark bailed on me, too. So, can you? I don't wanna raise any questions."

Dusty wordlessly complied, taking out a special makeup kit meant especially for making fake cutie marks for plays, and went right to work.

Night was still rooted where she was. "But they need you." Her words held no confidence.

"Nopony needs me, Night," Soarin mumbled back. "I was just a toy to be played with until I wasn't wanted. I was never needed."

"O-okay, so it was bound to happen," stammered Dusty, trying to keep her hooves steady. After tracing the lightning bolt and wings, she moved to the other flank. "I mean, I was kinda fired the same way. Well, I wasn't lied to, I don't think. But I screwed up during the annual water-gathering in Ponyville, and they had some better weather ponies to take my place."

Moving from her place for the first time, Night sighed. "'Harmony is reserved for the few, harmony is shattered amongst the many.' A whole team of competitive pegasi . . . I'm not even surprised anymore. Just like them . . ." She lovingly traced the edges of her cutie mark. Nothing to do with flying.

"C'mon, cheer up already!" Dusty snapped. "None of those dumb ponies matter anymore. We've got us, now, and I say that's all we need. Just a couple good friends and a job to do together . . . sorry, that was cheesy, wasn't it? My sis says I spew stuff like that all the time."

Soarin quickly shook his head. "No, you're right. The Wonderbolts are dead to me, anyway."

"And my family," muttered Night. "Thanks, Dusty, you're the mare."

"Yup, that's what I'm here for. Speaking of which, you're all done, Soars." She packed her makeup and set the box back to its place. "So, what do you think?"

Soarin trotted to a mirror in the back, staring his reflection down. Both marks were finely detailed, from every feather to the edges of the lightning bolt - it was all even traced with black to make it stand out more. "Exactly as if I was still a Wonderbolt." His tone hung bittersweetly. If he looked hard enough, he could imagine his signature uniform on him.

"Regardless of the Blunderbolts, you look better with this cutie mark," said Night, placing herself within the frame, next to him, "Rather than a different one."

"Oh, really?" He purred slyly, "Maybe you want to compliment me some more up on the balcony later?" He brushed a wing under her chin teasingly, before the call of one of the musicians sounded.

"Girls, Soarin, you're on next. Get ready."

Soarin nodded at him. "Got it. We'll be right there." Happy, the backup returned to his place onstage.

"To be continued?" Night tilted her head.

Soarin clambered onto the stage, facing the curtain. "Sure. But leave the cuffs home."

She blushed insanely pink. "Soarin!"

"Come on, you love me." The three took their positions, him in the lead, and the mares behind and to his sides. He'd offered, in many rehearsals, for Night to take lead, but she didn't want it, saying that she was much more comfortable under one's hoof. Applause sounded from the other side and the limelights cut out. It was almost time. The performer entered the backstage, nodded respectfully at the three, then teleported.

There was a chance, a slight chance, that Soarin could turn this around; if Glider was impressed by his first real performance, and then some until the end of the show, maybe she'd be almost as forgiving as Silver.

He slipped through the curtain, hearing his teammates close behind.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Twilight stamped her hooves and cheered for the unicorn singer. His baritone voice provided a perfect performance of 'Stars' from Neigh Misérables, her favorite song from that play; contrary to the belief from her friends that it had to do with her cutie mark. The reason was, beside the touching instrumentals, the many open interpretations of the lyrics. Some believed it referred to the Alicorns Above, the deceased Alicorns who became one with the stars upon their passing, and protected their subjects in their disembodied eternity. Some argued that the song was from Princess Celestia's perspective in hunting the 'fugitive', Nightmare Moon for stealing her sister away.

As for Twilight herself? It was a little bit of both for her. Clearly, the stars acting as sentinels were the Alicorns Above, awaiting the day when the Solar Princess would end the Nightmare's reign of carnage.

Fluttershy had returned to her seat just before the song had begun, just in time to find her fruit salad waiting for her.

"Back so soon?" Applejack had asked.

"Yes, Silver had to tend to other patrons, so I told her I wanted to rejoin you," Fluttershy had said. "Besides, she'll meet up with us later."

She had stared nibbling on orange slices sandwiched with spinach leaves when the singer slipped behind the curtains, taking mind to the darkness now that the limelight had cut out.

"Well, you certainly received your wish, Twilight," said Rarity, eating her own salad between sentences, and only one leaf at a time. "You did hope for there to be an homage towards this play, did you not?"

She did. Her absolute favorite play, and her absolute favorite song from said play? She'd be crazy not to!

Rainbow faked a yawn. "All they do in that play is stand around, complain about their problems, and occasionally duke it out! Where's the awesome stuff?"

"Say what you will, Rainbow," Twilight answered, "But its production is a landmark on the history of our culture! First it was a book, cherished by all, and -"

The lights dimmed down once more and cut her off. Here came the next act. Soft, deceptive music similar to a snake charmer's pungi mingled with the anxious crowd's applause.

"I wonder who's up next?" pondered Applejack. "Music sounds like somethin' that jazzy mare sung darn good."

Twilight pressed her lips together. "I have no idea, but with what we got so far, I'm certain it'll be as great as the others." If squinting, she could make out three silhouettes up in front, and a small group in the back; five or seven at most, by her count. The main three held various poses on their hind legs, the one in the center standing the tallest, and their faces were illuminated when the limelight returned.

The two mares on the sides were both performers from before; one with a coat darker than Luna's and the other who sang jazz and had a palette that looked like someone sprinkled soot on her. But the stallion in the center . . .

"Soarin?" Twilight gasped. She nearly spilt her beverage when her aura lost its grip for a moment. What in Equestria was he doing here? When looking around, she saw each of her friends shared similar looks.

"Well, well, well. I never thought I'd see the day when Soarin were singin' Bridleway . . ." whispered Applejack.

"Maybe he's doing a side job for extra money?" Twilight offered, mostly recovered by the sudden turn, but then was rejected by Rainbow, who slammed a hoof onto the table, making the plates and glasses rattle.

"Hellloooo! Wonderbolts are richer than horse-crap! Richer than both Princesses combined! He probably lost a bet or something."

Rarity, however, held a look of distain after the moment had passed, and scoffed. "I wouldn't doubt that. Especially what this one does in his spare time with young, naïve mares . . . He's more slippery as an oiled snake in Froggy Bottom Bog -"

"Quiet!" Pinkie shushed. "They're starting!"

Link

Rarity had settled down, yet was stubborn to lose her visage of contempt. Facing the trio of pegasi again, Twilight saw that Soarin was taking the lead, while the mares looked to him; in the metaphorical and literal sense. He let himself down on all four hooves and walked predator-like to the edge of the stage, trapping the audience in a startling, emerald gaze. 

"Good 'n Evil, and their merits;
They've been argued through history as well as they should.

"My philosophy - any filly can see - Good is Evil . . .
And - there - fore - all - evil is . . . good!"

His wings extended with grace, he snapped them into his back as the music swelled. The mares then went their own way, performing little hops and circling the stage.

"I'm impressed so far," said Twilight. "I had no idea he could sing!" Each of the girls, save for Rarity, all watched the performance with wonder. The fashionista snorted in response and muttered something drowned out by the music.

Soarin turned on one leg, back to the center and continued, all the while his words dripping with contempt and sarcasm.

"How do you tell Evil from Good?"

"Tell us, Soarin!" Twilight heard a fan-mare shriek.

"Evil does well, and Good . . . heh, not so good.

"Evil's the one that is free everywhere,
Good is the one that they sell!

"You must decide which is Heaven . . .
And which is Hell . . ."

The mares returned to his side, laying on their stomachs, staring up at him, and copying his words:

"Heroes maintain,"
(Heroes maintain,)

"'Evil's a curse!'"
('Evil's a curse!')

"But it is plain,"
(But it is plain,)

"We aren't fooled, Good's even worse!"

The mares slid up onto their legs seamlessly, struck another pose, then walked towards the end of the stage with him.

"Evil's the one that they tell you to shun,
"'Good is the one to embrace.'"

"Say that, and Discord'll laugh right in your face!"

Soarin joined the mares, holding each in a wing.

"The battle between Good 'N Evil goes back to the start!"

"Envy, hate, and the Elements tore the Sisters apart!"

"The key thing about Good 'N Evil:
Each of us must choose!"

"Heaven and Hell is a hell of a gamble to lose!

"But as I peruse,"
(As I peruse,)

"This world we abuse,"
(This world we abuse,) 

"It's Hell that we choose!"
(It's Hell that we choose!)

"And Heaven must lose!"

Twilight felt the tips of her ears burn white-hot. It couldn't be that simple. Yet the answer spoke otherwise. She couldn't miss a word of this. "Rarity? Mind if we switch seats?" Hers sat in front of the table, perfect for a closer look. Rarity shrugged indifferently and moved aside for her. Whipping out a notepad in her sweater's pocket, she began to take down notes on the song so far and now.

(Evil!)
"Evil is everywhere,"

(Good!)
"Good doesn't have a prayer!"

(Good!)
"Good is commendable,"

(Evil!)
"Evil, dependable!"

(Evil!)
"Evil is viable,"

(Good!)
"Good's unreliable!"

"Good may be thankable, 
But Evil is bankable!"

Soarin strutted off the stage, looking no longer than a few seconds at each table where most of Canterlot's hypocritical noble-ponies sat. He stopped at Twilight's and eyed the doctor. 

"Evil's for me, Good, you'll pursue,
Just doesn't suit me to be . . . Daring Do"

Green piercing purple, his eyes skimmed over her, almost judging. Twilight was unsure of what to make of his stare. She dropped her gaze away.

He then stepped towards Rarity and tried to lift her chin, but his wing was slapped away. Instead, he grinned, heading back to the stage.

"It's easier by far by the way that things are to remain Good 'N Evil . . .

"Than try to be,  Evil . . . and . . . Good . . .!"
(Easier by far to remain Good 'N Evil than try to be Evil and Good!) 

He and the mares returned to their original poses from the beginning, the lights cut out, and the song ended. Hoofstamps and whistles filled the room, including from Twilight's circle of friends. Rainbow was, among all of them, the most excited, and was whooping with glee.

"Yeah! Go, Soarin!"

Twilight herself hid a smile under the shadows, scanning her scribblings on her notepad. Bad was good, and good was bad . . . Sacred was profane . . . and better to be mad in a world that was insane. In a world where everyone was insane.

It could work! She really could do it!

It took all her will to keep her hooves from trembling. If this was correct, she didn't have to worry about getting a pony from the asylum. Her test subject was close, much closer than any of her friends could guess.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Soarin and the mares bounced from genre to genre, from play to play, with a dozen more songs. Each of them, although enjoyed, couldn't draw Twilight's mind away from her discovery. She writhed as every concluded song led to another, grander one. It was a mental torture, to dangle over the line between having a pleasant night off, and combing over this new idea.

Finally, ten o' clock struck.

"Thanks, everypony, and have a good night!" All three crowed in unison before departing backstage. "As for us, we'll 'Altrotta' outta here!"

As the heaping crowd surrounding them dispersed from the building, Rarity set a small pile of bits and then some to pay for her and everyone else's meals, and to tip the waiter.

"Gotta hand it to y'all," said Applejack to Fluttershy and Rainbow. "You done picked a good place to unwind." She plucked a scarf from Rarity's bag and began winding it.

"Oh, so you did enjoy tonight?" said Silver Mist. Her mane looked damp with sweat, and a few stray hairs stood out from it. She didn't have to explain, it was clear she had to walk against the ocean of patrons.

"Eeyup. I reckon it's safe to say we all had a darn good time."

This seemed to brighten the wingless pegasus' face. "Oh, that's good. Glider will be thrilled to know our opening yielded the results she wanted, minus that earlier complication."

"Just have Soarin put in a good word for me at the Wonderbolts Academy," Rainbow grinned at Applejack, "And we'll call it even, AJ."

Silver winced back at this. She stepped back, towards Fluttershy, before Twilight could question it. "I'm sorry, dear, but I have to return to other matters with Glider. I do hope you understand." Quickly beelining to the staircase, she left the group alone.

Curious. With everyone situated, she withdrew her notepad, scanning over what she'd wrote. As she drank in the information and organized it to something that made sense, it dawned on her how much she owed Soarin. She would never have realized this without his help. And like anyone who had decent manners, she hated leaving debts unpaid, or, at least, without proper gratitude. "Wait, girls?"

The others were turning to leave, all dressed in their scarves and winter coats. "What's up, sugarcube?" Applejack piped up, setting her own bits on the table.

"I . . . I want to stay a bit longer . . . there's something I need to talk to Soarin about."

"Oh, talk with him, dear?" Rarity began with an edge to her voice, "Whatever it is you may have in mind, leave such a temptation alone. That stallion is nothing more -"

"Rarity!" Twilight shouted. "I never said anything about that! I just want to ask him some questions!" The fashionista scrutinized her, then motioned for her to elaborate. But she couldn't exactly say that he gave her the help she needed. "I . . . want to know why he's really here. We were all wondering the same thing, so I think it's better to lay this question to rest."

Rarity scowled, most likely about her friend having anything to do with Soarin. But eventually, calm washed over her face. "Oh, very well," she muttered softly. "But please, do be careful with that scoundrel."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" That voice made Twilight bite down hard enough to break teeth. "Dearest Soarin was shot down from the Wonderbolts in his prime. Such a shame. Really."

Twilight faced her. "Not tonight, please. I'm not in the mood, Octavia."

She had approached her and the girls with two stallions in tow, one of which was the usher who refused Spike entry. "Why? Going home to restudy your books again, now that your work has hit a rut?"

She broke her eyes from the cellist. She hated that she knew how compulsive she was. But she couldn't bring herself to speak up, not at what cost it had.

But Rainbow quickly came to her defense. "Hey, back off! She said, not tonight." She interrupted when Octavia tried to retaliate. "She's got way more important things to do than deal with losers like you! She's Princess Celestia's student; she's got world-changing magic to discover! And you? What mediocre music pieces are you writing that's gonna distract somepony for five minutes?"

Her mouth went agape. One of the stallions started for her, but she held him back. "No. Like she said: time's ticking. I've better things to do than squabble with Celestia's pet. As for you five, you should be ashamed you have anything to do with her." With a small huff, she twisted on her hooves, trotting away.

"Yeah! That's right!" Rainbow screamed after her. "Keep running, tramp!"

"Rainbow Dash!" Twilight gasped. "You can't just -"

The pegasus didn't look phased. "What? Everypony was thinking it. I just had the guts to say it."

"Aw, don't let it go buggin ya, sugarcube. She darn well deserved it."

Twilight sighed. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean she should still get that sort of treatment." She looked ahead to where her adversary departed. "But I can tell she's in for a big fall. If she doesn't let go of her jealousy over me, she's going to find herself in a lot of trouble someday. And those good looks those stallions are swooning over? They won't help in the slightest."

The sound of a curtain being pulled hit Twilight. Revolving to the source, she saw Soarin and his friends hopping down from the stage.  Excusing herself, she started towards him, already several different ways to start the conversation spinning in her brain. Yet as she did, fear passed over on the lighter-colored mare's face as she glanced up to the second floor.

"Soarin, look out!" she screamed. Soarin, too, looked up, then darted forward.

But Glider was faster. Much faster.

Like a fiery bolt, she dove from the second floor, hooves booming on the wooden floor just in front of him. He jolted to a stop, slipping onto his back from the momentum. The two other mares tried to fly to his defense, but Silver had appeared from the shadows to stop them. In that time, Soarin swerved for the opposite direction, and Glider once again cut him off. Before he could react, Glider sucker-punched him aside the jawline. He staggered groggily, face smacking into the floor.

Twilight shouted indiscernibly, about to teleport in front of the assailant, only for Rarity to hold her back. "No! Let go!"

"Dear, please!" she moaned, fighting against Twilight's strength. "Interfering shall only complicate things; for both him and you."

She struggled a few more times, but Twilight finally gave up, laying on her knees to convince Rarity. When wearily looking to her side, she saw the exact same thing had happened to Rainbow, being restrained by Applejack.

Glider now held Soarin captive, one wing tightened around a leg, now that he stood on all fours. Most of the conversation was indiscernible, but from she could make out, he was the late performer, and she was demanding to know why he was late.

"I gave you this job when you had nothing!" Glider suddenly panted loudly. "I can just as easily throw you away, just like those Wonderbolts did! And I'll find singers better than you, those who can take their schedules seriously."

Soarin's reply was too quiet to hear.

Then one of his friends flew beside her - the darker one with her silvery mane - and spoke to her. Whatever she said, Glider took on a smug visage and answered, "Oh, fine. If that's all it was. But don't expect me to throw any pity parties in the future. Even if we're both 'Gliders'." She let go of Soarin, chuckling to herself as she fluttered to the kitchen area.  

Soarin stumbled over to a table, using a platter as a mirror to examine his bruise.

Twilight took no hesitation to go help him, and was just fast enough to avoid Rarity's attempts to grab her again.

"Oh, shoot!" she heard her swear. "I didn't even get the chance to give her my special whistle!"

Whistle? Twilight didn't know she'd kept these things around her, as she believed they were just ear-ra -

She held back a gag, realizing what exactly the whistle was for. "Oh, for buck's sake," she spoke under her breath.

The two other pegasi were hovering over him like protective mother hens, asking a plethora of questions, while Soarin was obviously rolling his eyes, but not in derision.

"Excuse me, please, I'm a doctor," Twilight commanded. The mares both recognized her and backed off, while Soarin scrutinized her.

"Huh. Didn't know you were a legit doctor, being Celestia's pet and all," he said.

Twilight bit back her anger and sighed out hot air. Why did everyone think she was some kind of slave to the princess, and particularly tonight? Dropping it, "I'm not that kind of doctor, but I have plenty of experience in the first-aid field to legally tend to injuries. My actual doctorates include medicine, neurology, chemistry . . . Right, your injuries. Now let's see . . . slight bruising around your cheek, major bruising on the jawline . . ." She pressed down on the bone with no reaction. "No fractured bones, no dislocated jaw -"

"Aw, that's too bad," said the lighter pegasus, "Would've spared us our ears."

Soarin shot a look at her. "Shut up, Dusty." There was no spite in the statement, presumably this was playful banter.

"Moving on," Twilight continued, "I don't see any other significant injuries. I just recommend icing that twice a day, especially before performances, and limit your speech to only necessary talking, just in case." Soarin quickly held at hoof at Dusty before she could say anything.

"Good to know you had my back there, Doctor," he turned back to her. "Or should I say, 'good to know you had my face'?"

Chuckling lightly, Twilight answered, "Yes, I think 'had your face' applies here. And you don't have to call me by my title. The doctor thing just comes with my PH.D.s.

"So I guess all that spite you get comes with it too?"

"Well, no. It comes with doing meaningful work that nopony's ever tried before." She offered him a seat, to which he accepted, and she followed suit. From behind, she heard a shuffling of hooves. Good, her friends were leaving. She needed this time alone with him. The two mares also took this hint and left as well, though the darker one had returned very briefly with an ice bucket.

"I'm sorry about having to talk about this," Twilight said, helping the ice into a plastic bag, then handed it to Soarin, "But I was told about the Wonderbolts, and your issue with them." Soarin snorted, pressing the ice with a wing. "But my friend wanted to know what had happened."

The pegasus looked grim over having to talk about it, but indulged anyway. "Let's just say that if she's planning to tryout for the team anytime soon, let her know that the Wonderbolts aren't exactly as loyal as they make themselves out to be." So betrayal. Maybe a replacement, resulted from Soarin's last show gone wrong. She'd read the papers about that, but being fired from the team must have just happened recently, or privately.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

But Soarin ignored it. "If it keeps one more pony from having their dreams shattered the hard way, it's an ordeal I'll put up with."

It was a good point to consider. "If there was a way to help you, I'd do it. But I'm not here to pour pity on you. I actually came to thank you."

Soarin laughed quietly. "What, did I indirectly kill one of those Governors you hate?" When Twilight shook her head, he replied, "Okay, never mind. At least there's that one who actually supports you." He smiled, his emerald eyes tracing hers. "So, seriously, what'd I do?"

"You helped me with your song, 'Good 'n Evil". I dunno . . . I really needed an outsider's opinion on this problem I had, and everything in those lyrics . . . just fit."

"Technically, those lyrics aren't mine. They're Wildhorn's. I just endorse them, and pray to the Alicorns Above that lawyers don't come knocking down our door."

"They still helped." She paused. "What do you know about my experiments and the natures of goodness and evil?"

Soarin shrugged. "Not much. I didn't pay attention in philosophy class."

"That's okay, I'll just sum it up. We all have two natures, good and evil, and they influence our actions. When evil becomes uncontrollable, we lose our sentience. But it's in random cases, so it doesn't happen to everypony."

"That's damn reassuring."

"Language. Anyway, I used to think that my formula, my TS8, could only separate good and evil from those who have already fallen, but it doesn't just work for them. Your song taught me that everyone's natures, how they're set up, that is, are different. No two levels are the same. Think of it like a scale -" she conjured one such scale made with pink light, the plates holding a dark and light orb "- Everypony's scales are different, everypony has different conditions in which their natures translate. An overblown egotistical personality, a physical deformity, or a even an everyday mental illness."

Pans and dishes clattered for the second time that night. Both Soarin and Twilight looked at the sound's source and saw Glider struggling in a food cart, all legs in one shelf, and her wings fluttering helplessly. A waiter tried to help, but she shouted at him. "I don't need your help! Just watch where you're going!" Managing to pry her limbs out, she snarled at anyone in her path, and flew back to the second floor.

"What was that about?" Soarin pondered.

Twilight couldn't provide an answer. They both settled back as she continued. "Erm, right, everypony has evil, and my TS8 can remove it. Only, I didn't know that it wasn't just the insane or comatose who could be affected. But everypony can. I know that now."

He watched as she released the spell. "But wouldn't it be better to destroy evil instead? There wouldn't be any more suffering."

"It won't work. Reforming someone into purity is not only impossible, but it's unkind. By doing so, one would remove all free will to act as they please. Even pulling a harmless prank would be out of the question for one without any shred of evil. Darkness has its part to play in us, because it's how we know what we do is right or wrong. It's only because it's too overpowered that I'm doing this."

"Hey, sugarcube?" Applejack called galloping towards her and Soarin. "Pardon me for breakin' up your, um . . . soirée?" The unicorn frowned at her, but was ignored. "But Silver's sayin' they gotta get to closin' up shop. We'd better go get Spike and get us home."

Of course. Spike was still guarding the Alicorn Amulet. In the back of her mind, she knew that by the time they 'picked Spike up', her friends would know what she was up to. But for the time being, she'd let them savor for a bit longer the feeling of not being deceived.

"I'll be right there, Applejack." When she left, the doctor slipped on the cloak Rarity had lent her, brushing the fabric meticulously. "I'm sorry to break this up so quickly, but you probably need to go back to your friends, right?"

"Yeah, I do. But I'm lucky to have any friends, considering what I'd been through as of late." He sighed, gently touching his bruise.

Did he even have any friends outside the Wonderbolts when he was still a part of the team? Or did he even have any friends now, besides those two mares? It only reminded her of when she moved to Ponyville under the charge of making friends, to her reluctant obedience. She didn't have time to make friends when she needed to find the correct recipe for the TS8 Formula, and this whole, 'friendship' thing was just driving a wedge into her priorities.

Did she ever tell her friends how much she hated doubting her mentor's wishes?

Through all the friends she'd made in Ponyville and the lessons she'd learned, she had honed her mind to have a tolerance towards the governors and those who bashed her work, and, most importantly, two of them were links in the chain that led her to finding the key to the TS8; Zecora with showing her trade in little-known potions, and Pinkie Pie, with finding the Mirror Pond.

Would she have even gotten close without the magic of friendship? 

Twilight touched her hoof to Soarin's, sending sparks up her leg. "Then be glad to know you have one more friend." Sparks of doubt ran in his emerald eyes. "No, I mean it, Soarin. I can't thank you enough for what you've done. It's very possible that my mother will be saved, thanks to you. It's only fair to extend my hoof in friendship."

She withdrew a card from her pocket, a business card with just her name, profession, and Canterlot address. "If the condition of your bruise worsens, or, more importantly, if you need somepony to talk to, I'm staying in Canterlot for a couple weeks." As Soarin's eyes glinted, worry spread within Twilight as she remembered what Rarity said; about that 'special whistle'. "But I mean simply that. As a friend."

"Oh, you needn't worry yourself, Doctor," he answered, seeing the fear in her eyes. "I don't think you have enough of a lack of innocence to take a chunk out of me." Taking the card with feathers, he tucked it away, shooting at her a sly wink. "I'm sure you've got a busy night of your own, so I'll let you get to it." Before trotting to the staircase, he added, "And thank you. I mean, for everything. That friendship and whatnot. Glad I could do some kind of good for a pony like you."

He disappeared into the second floor. A cold chill swept through her as she pried her hooves away, and to the exit. They'd meet again soon, she was sure of it. But what did he mean by 'a pony like her' . . .?

A small smile crept onto her face. It really didn't matter, did it? He helped her, and she helped him. That's what friends did.

It was nice to know she wasn't the only one who saw those around her as they were as it was; some more good, some more evil, but none ever staying on one nature. Everyone was insane in this world, in their own way. And her Formula was the cure to insanity, the beacon in which it would lead them back to the light.

Exiting the Altrotta and joining her friends, Doctor Sparkle returned to the world of cynics and madmares, where passions are shot down and careers ruined if you didn't take care. But she would. The governors would finally see what she was trying to accomplish, those rumors stripping her down would finally die, and honor would be brought to the Princesses. But most importantly, her mother would be brought back to where she belonged. All because of an outsider's opinion.

But for now, there was work to be done.
> Act I: Chapter Six
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Six:
Hyde


Two auras, one blue and one pink, were beacons in the shadows. The owners of those auras, Rarity and Twilight, led the small group of six.  Behind them, Fluttershy trembled in her steps, clinging to a surprisingly sleepy-eyed Pinkie Pie. Rainbow was scouting their surroundings for anybody trying to sneak up on them.

A few, dim lamps glowed around them, but that didn't disarm Twilight's wariness. There were those who used Luna's night as a weapon against careless travelers, but she wouldn't be.

Her reputation in the city, even if it was a good one, attracted the worst of Equine to her, even in her filly days. Back then, Phalanx, a close friend of Shining Armor's and his replacement as Captain of the Canterlot Guard, had taught her various defense methods whenever escorting her home. She was no fighter, unlike her brother, but blocking even the fastest punches because easy with his guidance.

But even then, she couldn't shake that feeling of uneasiness that draped over her like the surrounding night tried to. Her newest breakthrough, her solution provided by Soarin, was a double edged sword; while she knew what had to be done for her work, being armed with that knowledge chained her to suspicion that her enemies, Octavia especially, knew as well. She never told her back at the theatre, but she shivered still, expecting her to slither out and steal her one chance away, just like before.

So when they finally made it to her the detached two story house, its lavender facade fell in her gaze as the scent of petals flurried into her.  

She walked along the brick pathway leading to the front door and took in the two horizontal flowers beds underneath the windows. Lilacs, daisies, and morning glories, all in neat patterns, though the daisies came in twos before the others. The door she was about to unlock had a yellow arch above her, and further up, the cutie marks of both her parents. 

She had no idea how long it was since last thanking her father for not erasing her mother's mark. He would have her back soon.

With a swift turn of the key, she opened the door ahead for her friends. "Make yourselves comfortable." She loosened the clasp of the cloak Rarity had lent her and folded it. Its soft fabric skimmed at her hooves as she set it by the door. Very good quality, even if Rarity hated black.

To her left, in the living room, the girls all took seats there. Her right, the kitchen. Spike was nowhere to be found in there, sneaking jammie dodgers, nor was he hiding on the staircase in front of her, reading his comic books. She decided to go to the living room.

Considering she was part of one of Canterlot's well-to-do families, the utter lack of glitz dripping off the walls would have scared most noble-ponies away. Two single seats by the hearth, a four-pony sofa, and several bookcases in the back were the extent of furnishing here. The white oak floor clicked against her hooves as she took one single seat across from her friends, a curled-up Spike occupying the other. A large book was barely hanging in his claw-grip.

Rarity, having chosen to sit by the fireplace in between Twilight and Spike, rubbed her hooves before the dying flame. It looked like it had been smoldering for awhile.

Twilight's saddlebag was placed at the foot of Spike's chair, and after brief examination, she sighed. Everything was accounted for; her journal, her quills and inkwells, her . . . amulet.

As soon as she remembered it was there, it went back to its old habit of whispering to her. She unconsciously squirmed back, what brief calm she had now washed away.

Applejack, daft to her unease, spoke up. "Now that we got Spike here, let's get that amulet back home. Can't wait 'till the Princess comes t' pick it up, lock it up for good."

The doctor hesitated, reaching over to Spike and stroking the spines along his back. Applejack, and by extension the others, were assuming that only brought the amulet to keep tabs on it, not to temporarily store it in her study. It was time to come clean. "I'm not going back to Ponyville, girls."

The surprise that mingled amongst her friends' faces didn't show on Applejack's.

"Darling, whatever do you mean?" Rarity laughed, thinking she was joking. Next to her, Pinkie, her mane slightly deflating, eyed Twilight like a saddened puppy.

"It's not permanent, Pinkie Pie," Twilight responded, to which the earth pony lightened up a bit. " I just need to finish my work. I've discovered something important tonight, and I have to make use of this information now, before I waste any more time."

"So you lied t' us," Applejack grimaced. "And played us for fools." Twilight's gaze descended back to Spike, avoiding eye-contact with her.

"But . . . why would you do that? You trust us, don't you?"

She could feel Fluttershy's stare weighing her down. Shifting her hooves, she locked eyes with all of them. "I do trust you. All of you. But I know that while you support me, some of you don't fully understand, or believe in, my work. What I've told you about my work is a lot to take in; it's an unprecedented curiosity." Applejack raised her eyebrows as if showing impatience. "I didn't want to tell you because it would have only made you worry, or worse, think I was crazy."

"Look, Twi," said Rainbow, sliding off her seat. "You're right about one thing: I don't believe in this potion baloney. But I'm still right behind you, even if this formula thingie does work to save your mom." She approached her and stared close at her. "But that was cheap, lying to us like that. Think of what Pinkie's feeling, that you basically broke your promise!"

"No, she didn't." Both Rainbow and Twilight turned to her. "She said that she'd take a super long break once her project was finished. But it's not finished yet, so she's still entitled to working right now!"

"But she took a break before. Wouldn't that, y'know, count as a Pinkie Promise break?"

"Sure-golly it would! But you made me Pinkie Promise not to ruin the surprise that you got her time off! Paradox~!"

Rainbow groaned. "Point is, what you did isn't right! That's not what friendship is, and so help me, I'll drag you back to Celestia's hooves if you pull that sorta stunt again."

Twilight swallowed tightly. "Yes, of course. And I really am sorry, Rainbow Dash. But I'm following what I think is the best path. That's all I'm asking you to understand."

"Whatever." She trotted away, muttering obscenities under her breath. She'd be back in relaxed spirits with her in time - just needed to vent for a while.

Rarity picked up the conversation from her. "So, confessions aside, what it this important thing you've discovered? I understand it most certainly is the vital piece of the proverbial puzzle in evading your colleagues' ruling, but what exactly did you find out?"

She swallowed before answering. "Who my volunteer is going to be." She expected horror, surprise in the least.

But all she found on Rarity's face was disgust. "Oh, dear, please do not tell me you are meaning to enlist that scoundrel, Soarin, as your volunteer."

"What? No!" She stepped back, a deep blush covering her face. Her shout startled Spike awake, knocking the book over with a loud thump.

"Aah!" He looked all about. "What! Who! What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Spike," she hugged him. "I didn't mean to scare you. The girls and I were just . . . talking."

He caught her tone and realized. "Oh, the paraspite's outta the bag, huh?"

"Yes, you could say." Her hoof bumped into the book, prompting her to look at it. " 'The Foal's Guide to Crossbows: How to be a Sharpshooter Extraordinaire'? Spike, what is this?"

"I . . . uh, was going to make a crossbow to practice with? Y'know, just like Mistress Marevelous!" He pulled out an issue of Power Ponies, with a snarling Mistress Marevelous on the front cover, using the said weapon.

Twilight was about to object, but Rainbow cut in. "He's got something going there. How else is he going to defend himself when more monsters appear?" Putting a hoof up to her mouth to prevent his hearing, "And he can't always depend on slingshot princesses to save his hide all the time, can't he?"

"That's my sister-in-law you're talking about," Twilight deadpanned.

"So what? I'm guessing he's staying here, too. Not like you care if we know. But he's gotta have something to do while you're busy."

Picking up the book, Spike said, "I'll bring it back to the library tomorrow if you want." The book was heavy in his arms, so Twilight helped levitate it back to the shelf by the hearth. It was small, but big enough for his own collection of reading material. She went to give him the comic book, but looked at the cover again.

Her knowledge of the Power Ponies was lacking, but she was told on multiple occasions that Mistress Marevelous depended more on her weapons than her powers, amongst other trivia concerning the earth pony. This trait of hers made sense as to why Spike suddenly took an interest in crossbows; He was just a fan displaying his passion for what he loved.

"No, that won't be necessary, Spike. Just come to me whenever you finish your crossbow, and I'll help you with target practice."

"Really? O-okay, thanks, Twi." Spike accepted the comic book from her with a shy smile and sat down to read.

With one task out of the way, she levitated her saddlebag, but when she tightened the straps against her barrel, Applejack stepped in front of her. "You're not going to start, too, are you?"

The farm-pony's expression remained stoic. "Nope. Got nothin' more t' say, sugarcube. Rainbow Dash done covered most of it. I know at the end a' the day, you mean well for your mother, so I'm forgivin' you. All I want is for you t' be careful. You've been stretchin' yourself all over with all this work of yours, and t'ain't healthy."   

"You gotta have more faith in her, AJ," said Spike, setting the comic book down. "Twilight can take on any test that's thrown at her! I bet by this time next week, there'll be TS8s stacked on every shelf in the hospital! Those Governors'll fall flat on their knees, eating their own words!"

"I'm sure, Spike," the farmpony chuckled. Twilight was walking towards Rarity to give her cloak back when she heard her say to him, "Make sure she goes straight to bed. If she's really wantin' t' work at once, she gonna need all the rest she can get."

"I'll give it a shot," she heard Spike say, "But she's almost as stubborn as you."

Twilight ignored them both for the moment and went to Rarity, bundling the cloak. "Thanks for letting me borrow this, Rarity."

Rarity turned to her, scoffing. "Please, dearie. Keep it. If I take that dreadful thing back with me, the newspapers shall become more scandalous than that Gabby Gums incident. You look like you need it more, anyway." At that instant, Pinkie started rubbing her knees, a small grimace overtaking her usual smile. "Is everything alright, Pinkie Pie?"

The earth pony blinked, as if not hearing the question, then looked at Rarity. "What? Oh! Everything's super-duper! Just a silly false alarm! I hope . . ." She started to trot out first, looked worriedly at Twilight, then slipped outside. Each of the girls all gave their own goodbyes before leaving, with Rarity being the last.

"I'll see you soon, my little Spikey," she cooed to the dragon, then looked at the doctor. "I wish the most fortuitous of luck to you, Twilight." She stepped out with the others as she watched them through the window.

Spike had climbed up next to her, his eyes sighing. "Golly, isn't she something?" He slid down, grabbing a broom next to one of the bookshelves.

Putting the cloak back on under her saddlebag, Twilight trotted to the staircase, looking up at the doorframes at the second floor. "Is father already in bed?"

He set the broom back, having already cleared away the dust. "Oh, right. He told me that he's spending the night at the observatory. One of those giant comets are coming back, so he went to go study it." He paused, thinking, then said, "Why don't you settle in? I'll heat some cider for you, get you one of your favorite stories, too."

It was tempting, to just do as Applejack wanted and take the night off. She could just do her work in the morning and a nice night of curling in her old bedroom, remembering times gone by.

But as Spike headed for the kitchen, she remembered how adamant she was to fulfil her promise. "That . . . sounds nice, Spike. But I'd rather pass for tonight." He eyed her. Both of them knew that for her, there was a time to relax, and a time to work. Once she made up her mind, no force in heaven or hell could convince her otherwise, unless it was a discussion between her and Princess Celestia.

"Eh, you can't blame me for trying. Can't I do anything for you before you go?"

Twilight pointed to the fireplace. "Throw another log on. Tonight's going to be the coldest of Autumn." he obeyed, going to a box in the kitchen to take one, then blowing a small flame until the wood caught. That done, he nestled back into his chair, the same Power Ponies comic open for his reading. "Well, goodnight, Twi. I'll have breakfast ready for you around eight."

Twilight rose, but something gnawed at her. "Spike?"

He closed the comic book, tilting his head. "What's up, Twi?"

"D-do you . . . remember mother at all? Before the accident?"

Spike had to think before answering. "I . . . I guess? I'd just hatched before it happened, but I definitely remember she had blue eyes, like Rarity's. Oh, and that she was awfully nice. I remember her talking to me, that I was so lucky to have you, and that you'd go on to do something great." He stared quizzically at her. "Why do you ask?"

Hesitantly, she answered, "I want so badly to do the right thing for her, but everypony, in their own way, thinks I'm a madmare. I just . . . I don't know if I'm doing the right thing."

Spike placed his clawed hand on her hoof. "Of course you are! That TS-thingy is gonna help everypony! And if those governors can't realize that, then they're deliberately blinding themselves and trying to make you blind, too. I know you're doing the right thing, because if you were the one in a coma instead, I'd be doing the same thing and taking the same risks as you."

Twilight closed her eyes, processing this. Her little brother, sacrificing his childhood just to save her - exactly what she'd done for their mother. Family was all that mattered to her; and him as well.

She wasn't fully aware when she whispered it: "I have to do it for her sake."

"Huh? Did you say something, Twi?"

She quickly covered it up, not wanting her plan to scare him. "Nothing, Spike. Just thinking out loud." She stroked behind his ear flap. "Thank you for listening. I have to go, but don't worry about me, okay?"

"Sure. So long as you promise not to forget about me up there," Spike chuckled, slowly sinking it the chair. His breaths had slowed, and within two minutes he was fast asleep.

He pulled a blanket over him and returned the comic book to his shelf. On a higher row, there were three books; all written by the doctor. She lacked her mother's skill to weave stories together, but these books were exceptions - all historical in hidden secrets of magic. Through careful research and opening her mind to the fusion of magic and science, she rediscovered them and published their creation, creators, and uses in the past. The money that was gained from those went directly to funding her main work.

Most of these secrets were invented by Star Swirl the Bearded, and nearly three-quarters of them being defense methods during the war in the Crystal Empire. One of these, the very spell that Twilight was most proud to have found, was a reservoir spell; unicorns could use the subconscious part of their brain to store a massive supply of magic simply by adding a little bit each day. When desperate times came, they could use it to survive for days without food or water, or, in the case of battle, unleash a devastating attack that would otherwise be impossible.

Not long at all after did she start her building her own, with Princess Celestia's permission.

Leaving the bookshelf, she looked to the dozen photos above the fireplace. Each had part of her family; some were her and Spike posing together, some of Cadence and Shining Armor in high school, and just the one of both her parents together.

"I promise, Spike," she whispered,  "I'll bring this family together again. I'll make everything better. The Governors will see the truth for certain."

The governors had stood in her way far too many times, choosing class over reason and riches before kindness. They were desperate to stop her, and they came close with the last meeting.

But it was just another obstacle that was nothing once she'd overcame it, thanks to Soarin. She now considered him a friend, yet no amount of friendship would ever pay the debt back for what he'd done for her.

For better vocals 
For song intro and better instrumentals

"Now there is no choice
I must conquer all
The fears I've kept inside
They've no place to hide . . .

"So it comes to this:
My final moment
That will decide my fate,
When everything I've fought for is at stake!
To bring a change that I alone can make . . ."

She turned the lights off with her magic, until the flames from the hearth were the only source of lighting. After enabling the lock, she slipped out the front door, tightening the clasp of Rarity's - her - cloak. Her study tower, standing a hundred yards in between her house and the castle, reflected the moonlight like a beacon of hope as she made a brisk trot towards it.

"This is the moment,
This is the night
When all those doubts that kept me back face my might!

"Every endeavor,
I have made, ever
Is coming into play,
It's here and now, today!"

Reaching the foot of the tower, she ascended the staircase. A dozen images were conjured, each portraying a vital step taken to lead to this moment, when every drop of blood, sweat, and tears would finally pay off.

"This is the moment,
This is the time,
When strength of science and my magic are aligned . . ."

Reaching the zenith, she dissolved the images and set her hooves onto the rail. Her eyes met the heavens as she remembered the legends of the Alicorns Above, how they guided and protected their subjects.

"Give me this moment,
This precious chance . . .

"I've gathered up my past,
Now a future's all I ask!"

She spun around and thrust the doors open. Candles all around her ignited as she passed them, the hush of night illuminating a faint wisp of fire.

"This is the moment,
When all I've done
All of the dreaming, scheming, and screaming become one!

"This is my time,
Watch it glimmer and shine!
When all I've lived for becomes mine!

"Through all these years,
I've faced my fears alone!
But now the time has come,
To prove to those fools I've made it,
On my own!

"This is the moment!
My final test!

"Destiny's found me,
And I'll never accept second best!

"I won't back down
I will not fall!

"This is the moment,
The sweetest moment of them all!"

She tore off her cloak and tossed it aside. As she came closer to the window, a ribbon of pure moonlight glistened and twirled around her body and lifted her hooves off the floor.

"This is the moment!
Damn all the scorn!

"This day or never,
I'll sit forever with Alicorns!

"When I look back, 
I will always recall
Moment for moment,
This was the moment . . .

"The greatest moment of them all . . . !"

The moonlight dissolved as she dropped back onto her hooves. She laughed, allowing a few childish twirls to control her as she walked over to a long table. The candle on one corner was dim, so she churned more magic into it, enough light that she could see the whole table and everything on it.

A working sink - installed prior to her owning the tower - a large, cube-shaped structure holding scientific equipment, and an open space by the candle for her journal when she needed to write.

She undid the clasps of her saddlebags and took out her journal, smoothing it on its space. "Welcome home," she chuckled.

When the tower was build centuries ago, there were only a couple bookshelves to fill in the space. But when she gained possession of it, she added a few more, the table, some stray chairs, and a chaise lounge by the table. It was all to make it feel more like a second home (or a third, considering Ponyville).

Flipping through the pages, she pulled out a quill and inkwell and began to write, reading aloud as she did.

"Project TS, entry five-sixteen. September thirteenth -" she checked the clock inside the structure "- eleven forty-five P.M. I started this journey alone, considering friendship to be little more than a distraction from my work. But when Princess Celestia sent me to Ponyville on the day of Nightmare Moon's return, the ponies I'd met showed me what it was really about; that facing one's destiny alone will lead to nothing. In truth, they require finding a bit of ourselves and the goals we seek in others."

She paused, drawing water from the sink. "Ahem. Each of these ponies that I grew close to, including but not limited to, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Zecora, and Sir Fancy Pants. They all played a vital part in my journey that I would have otherwise not found. And most recently, my friend Soarin taught me that as our two natures war, we have, in our own hooves, the power to choose - what we want most to be, we are. Through this, I have the understanding that the TS8 can not only affect my target patients, but anypony, whatever their ailments may be.

"Therefore, I realize I have no other choice but to make myself the test subject of the TS8's evaluation. I will take one week to record the potency and side-effects of the Formula. After this night falls, I will see to it the governors will no longer hide the truth of what I'm doing. Their days of holding me back end now."

After cleaning the tip of her quill, Twilight retrieved the formula. The sewn pocket she had Rarity make for it kept the vial secure, even with the saddlebag now laying on its side. She retuned to the table, careful with her aura surrounding it.

Link

"I must be wise
I must try to . . . analyze each change in me

"Everything I see
How will it be?
Will I see the world through different eyes . . . ?"

Holding the vial before her vision, she watched the light of the moon leak through it and glint off the tens of dozens of pin-sized prismatic bubbles that twirled inside.

"Like the break of dawn
Bringing forth new light,
Like the come of Spring 
Slaying Winter's bite,

"I will bring this change,
This test will arrange,
A brand new life . . .

"I'm on my way to help Mother
Find her way, tonight . . ."

Twilight popped open the lid, eyes tracing the path of the bubbles rising from its mouth. 

"Leading her out of the darkness,
And into . . . the light . . ."

Zecora often told her that her concoctions tasted bitter because of the roots she had to grind up for them. That, and the water from the Mirror Pool may have toned the flavor down, since aside from its magical properties it was just spring water. Her guess was this combination would taste like some of those unsweet teas she'd tasted at the Day Spa.

The aura almost faltered from her giddiness, but she tightened her grip at once. It was wondrously thrilling, putting it mildly, that she was about to open herself to a new way of feeling alive; her natures of goodness and evil becoming equal, neither one heavier than the other. Her quirks influenced by evil would remain, but those all the more made her the pony she was. She could only wonder ever more about what the formula would do to her physically.

She tilted the neck back to drink.

"Wha -" Something glinted into her right eye, forcing her to set the formula down. Black spots swam in her vision until the blindness cleared. As she looked to the source, she saw the Alicorn Amulet's ruby peeking out from the saddlebag, the light from the candle glinting off the jewel. 

"I'd better put that away before I do anything else," she thought aloud, knowing that if the formula made her drowsy, anyone could take advantage of her vulnerability.

Aura flickering with reluctance, she put it away in the drawer that doubled as a safe. It was stupid, but the key that unlocked it was the same key that did so with the doors. She had meant to amend that issue, but could never find any free time Princess Celestia had in which she could ask about something so trivial.

As she shut the drawer, she could feel its cold fingers withdrawing, although a breath of its influence still lingered. The doctor drew quivering breaths that lacked the warmth she coveted, despite her thick sweater.

"It's over, Twilight," she rubbed her temples. "You don't have to deal with it again until Princess Celestia comes for it. You've nothing to worry about."

Truly, she wanted to believe herself. She was right; she would pass it on to her mentor, who would lock it deep within the crystal caves, nevermore to cast its blood-eyes upon senseless victims or unleash its devastating magic.

Yet . . . something tugged ceaselessly at the back of her mind, like a noose tightening around her neck, insisting nothing was fine. 

Then, at first a wordless whisper but building up as it became stronger, Octavia's voice spoke through her subconscious:

If the TS8 only separates these 'natures' from animals - whom aren't even your target patients, since they are mindless and lack sapience or morality - how do we know we're aren't damning an innocent pony to your experiment?

This was what the cellist had asked her at the meeting; it was, in fact, the very question that had ruined her entire proposal for a test subject. But that was before, when it was little more than her colleague's attack and an error on her part. Yet now, now she could hear the question within the question: What if the Formula isn't strong enough to do as you say?

Her heart sank to the pits of her stomach. If she only tested on soulless animals - creatures that lack free will and therefore either natures - how did she know this experiment wouldn't worsen the situation of the recipient? Or worse, kill them?" 

Of course, this was why the test was to be taken. All cures needed to be proven. But Twilight knew already that this was a lame excuse. She never took the strength of the formula into consideration and, in overconfidence, assumed that it worked only because it was effective on animals without sapience, an oxymoron in itself.

"And suppose it's not strong enough to effect me," she whispered, "I'd have to find all the ingredients all over again, including finding a mixture to strengthen its properties . . ." 

Which would have been simple enough, except her colleagues would know what she'd done. Working behind their backs, self-endangerment . . . those were enough to get her into a heap of trouble if it failed. But Octavia, who wanted nothing less than to destroy her work, would do anything to use this against her. Lies spread all over the city that the doctor tried to take her life when she knew she'd fail, at best. Her work could be taken away,  her sanity 'proved' invalid. She'd be the only sane pony in an asylum.

"I can't let second-guesses throw me off," she panted, pacing left and right, "But Octavia could be right! I can't just . . . test something that may be faulty! Princess Celestia told me never to take assumption over evaluation! Oh, what am I supposed to -"

Then, like a hand waving them on, her eyes followed a silent beckon and fell on the drawer. At once she felt it prod at her. Her heart hammered tightly in her chest, and her hooves were frozen in place.

And yet the more she felt its presence, the more she realized how clear the answer was. "Of course!" she gasped. "I can use the amulet to . . . um, increase the formula's capabilities!" Her curiosity of dark magic reformed could be sated, too! She'd prove both theories with one swipe! "Nopony will ever have to know that I . . ." 

Her voice died out, as she realized why this was far too easy. Her spirit sank to the pits of her heart. " . . . But I can't. The amulet is far too dangerous; Trixie was fortunate for our intervention. It turned her desire for petty revenge into a lust for power, and could've turned far worse."

But she had a stronger will than that bombastic showmare. Compared to Trixie, she was pure; a simple little spell that wouldn't even take a minute, the corruption couldn't touch her then. She would be left in an impasse without it, but as long as she was using it for good, there was nothing to lose; it was a win-win situation all around.

Still she stubbornly fought with the idea. "Princess Celestia would be furious. She trusted me with keeping it until she comes for it; I can't betray her." She stared at the keyhole almost longingly. "And besides, she's warned me of the dangers of dark magic. Even if I want to prove dark magic's good potential, I must obey Princess Celestia's wishes."

You'd believe her no matter what she'd say, Octavia's voice rang again.

Twilight froze, the words hammering in her brain. What did she mean by that? Well, Soarin, had jokingly referred to her as Princess Celestia's pet. Were they both imply that she was -

"No. No!" She shook her head, refusing to submit to the idea. Princess Celestia was wise and kind. She'd never manipulate her loyalty. Dark magic was forbidden for a reason, and Princess Celestia was only enforcing that restriction for the safety of her citizens. She knew what was best.

So why wasn't Twilight believing her own words?

Everything she ever knew - about the natures of the heart, about magic, light and dark - that all came from Princess Celestia. But all she knew about dark magic was that it was dangerous and forbidden. And it was all she ever needed to know . . . according to her mentor.

But she obviously knew there was more to it, didn't she? So why avoid the subject?

"Because she's afraid of it . . ." Yes, that had to be. A benevolent diarch of an entire nation; she couldn't afford to risk her own life just to test such a wild theory. And considering all sapient races had goodness and evil, neither could she allow her own subjects access to it, as not everyone was trustworthy; Trixie's example made that very clear.

But if it really wasn't incorrigible, why wouldn't she at least let someone else try? But every time that Twilight had asked, she would just change the subject or repeat her worn-down, 'it's too dangerous' speech.

"Just like Zecora did," she muttered. Both of them did that; avoiding the question, berating her efforts to know. Only because they were truly afraid of seeing what lurked behind the veil; the very same reason her own work was reviled!

Protecting her student from the unknown was one thing, but refusing to let her explore it for herself was an abomination!

She could almost see herself in a black void, strings burned into her legs, and Celestia yanking at the rod above.    

Blood ran down her chin and dripped onto the table. She had been biting her lip to swallow her anger towards Celestia. Forcing a slow breath, she quelled her emotions. This did not change the loyalty she had for Celestia. She still was a benevolent leader, and she still allowed Twilight the freedom to learn anything else. After all, she had supported her goal to pursue science over magic, despite her doubt over it.

But forcing her to ignore the prosperities of dark magic had to stop. "I'm sorry, Celestia," she said coldly, "But I'm doing what I think is right."

She made her choice.

Opening the drawer, she levitated the Alicorn Amulet and put it on, hardly noticing its previous influence, and instead felt fiery warmth that spread through her entire body. Pure magic surged through her veins, leaving a tickling sensation in her forelegs. Was this how Trixie had felt when she put it on? Her heart thrummed like a hummingbird's wings and almost gave her the sensation of having her own.

As ecstatic as she felt, there was work to be done. Setting her gaze to the TS8 Formula, she gave one command to the Alicorn Amulet: to increase her formula's potency.

Lightning the color of jade stones crackled at her horn. Her eyes glinted briefly in the same precious hue. Her electrifying aura jumped from her horn and attacked the vial. Coiling around the glass like a snake, it buzzed and zapped as the formula glowed intensely, then faded, like a dying scream. The bubbles that had constantly wandered diminished, warping the white liquid into a dozen hues until Twilight, satisfied with her work, ended the spell.

The lightning receded back into her horn, tracing the creases that twirled along it. Her eyesight blurred a bit as a slight hiccup in drinking in all that magic, but refocused just as quickly.

Her head pulsed like a violent heartbeat, making her clutch it in both hooves. "Ah . . . mm . . . I can't say Celestia didn't have a point with its dangers. But I can't let her control me. Maybe I should show her the true extent of what it could do -"

Taking that as a sign that its corruption was already pining for her, she tore it off. It tried to bring her back, but she would have none of it. After locking the drawer tightly, the feeling of coldness finally vanished, freeing her to breathe again.

"Now . . . let's see what happened . . ." Twilight walked to the table. To her surprise, its color was now that green that her horn shot wit the amulet on.  "Huh. I guess . . . dark magic used selflessly has different color effects," she said, not completely sure. Much as she wanted to explore this new development, she'd dawdled long enough; it was time to begin testing.

Taking another sigh, she raised the vial and quickly downed the entire glass in three gulps.

As predicted, it indeed tasted bitter, but also had a salty quality to it, almost like drinking sea water. It stung her throat like so, and left her thirstier than before, but she refrained from taking anymore water until she was done recording.

"Eleven fifty P.M. It's done. I've taken in ten fluid ounces - the entire contents - of the TS8 Formula." She wrote down what she'd first experienced, then continued as more side effects kicked in. "I f-feel . . . a bit lightheaded . . ." Her quill shook in her aura, forcing her to tighten her grip until it snapped. She cursed, fetching a new one. Heat prickled her veins as beady sweat dampened her neck. She threw off her sweater, not minding that it bunched up under her hooves.

As she turned back to the journal, bubbly laughter overtook her, the effects of her lightheadedness combining with a sense of euphoria.

"No noticeable . . . behavioral . . . differences . . ." She managed to hold in her laughter long enough for it to fade, allowing to her to regain some sense of seriousness. "I don't . . . feel any of the main ef-effects quite yet, but due to the current reactions, I believe this is the first stage of the formula's effects."

With a sigh, she set the quill down again and walked back to the window, chuckling softly. She couldn't help it; the tingling in her veins tickled like crazy. As the sensation finally ebbed back to slight prickles, she rested her head on the glass watched the stars in a dreamy trance.

"Now the die is cast;
Nothing left to lose

"Time alone will prove
My theories through!

"I'll show Equestria that I'm . . ."

She never finished her verse, for it was replaced with a gasp. "Oh . . . d-dear Alicorns . . ."

The pain first pricked gently in her chest, but then exploded through her entire body in a scorching flare. Twilight yelped and jumped back, violently swatting at her forelegs. The soft heat in her veins evolved into searing acid and tore at her legs, crippling her balance as her head banged into the floor. The shock blackened her vision briefly, and a crushing pulse ran through her skull.

Help me! Somepony! A wild paroxysm of convulsions wracked her body, her legs twitching hysterically. She so desperately she wanted to scream, but the salty bite of the Formula burned at her throat. Hot tears streamed in her eyes, the walls of the study melting into a contortion of stained-glass. Her horn crackled pathetically, bright sparks raining from the tip.

T-that's it . . . Lu-luna's out . . . patrolling . . . Distress s-signal . . . Biting past the pain, she lifted her head and prepared a flare spell. Magenta filled the creases in her horn and surged into a blinding ball of light . . . only for the clawed hands of the Alicorn Amulet to puncture into her spine. The spell shot only two feet before fizzling out into nothingness.

Hope died out faster than the air in her lungs. Wh-what? How did . . . ? Something knew what she was doing and disabled her, because now those icy hands took hold of her neck, restraining her and cutting off her magic. They next tore into her mind and began filling it with something cold as Death's fingers. Her head throbbed as her heartbeat drummed in her skull, and her legs became numb and heavy as wood.

Then, like Death's scythe dealing its killing blow, a slash of raw agony struck Twilight's heart, and the light in her eyes faded. Blackness crept over her vision as she whispered.

"S-spike . . . "


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


A stillness as quiet as death crept over the study. So quiet that one could hear the moonlight twinkling as it fell on the still form of Doctor Sparkle. No breath was taken, nor any heartbeat drumming.

Her coat had become matted with sweat, with stray hairs jutting out, and her mane had become tangled in her struggling. A thin trail of blood painted her muzzle subsequent to hitting her head, shattering the illusion of her merely being asleep after a long period of exhaustion.

Then, as the midnight alarm faintly chimed from the bell tower of the castle, a high-pitched whining sounded. A shimmering light sparked at the tip of her horn. To call it silvery would be incorrect; this light was not pure like silver, for it looked more like a glimmer that just barely escaped a mud-splotched diamond. Dull and lifeless.

The whining diminished, and as it did, the spark spread from her horn like ink spilled on paper, to her head, then to the rest of her body, sucking away her lavender hue and starburst cutie mark and replacing it with a grey, dark as burnt ash. The same thing happened to her mane; the cobalt of her mane, pink and purple streaks included, were eaten away and instead given a poisonous purple.

Her chest began to rise and fall. A soft moan dripped from her lips as her face clenched. Her hooves twitched as well, almost imitating running.

Awake.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


She gasped as she awoke with a jolt, as though being yanked to the surface after so long of drifting underwater. The air she sucked writhed in her lungs, forcing her to hack it out violently, along with a thick glob of what she was certain felt like blood. Her eyes, feeling glued shut, took great effort to be opened, and when she did, was met with a piercing ray of moonlight, at which she hissed, and pawed at her eyes.

When they at last readjusted to the light, they traced their surroundings. Bookshelves, a large window, and glass laying about on the floor. Glass . . . she didn't remember knocking anything over . . .

Standing herself up, she felt her tendons bending and stretching to her will, and her heartbeat hammering in her chest. That mixed with the sheathing and unsheathing sounds of her breath made a cacophony of madness, yet at the same time, peace. Her hoofsteps were lighter than she remembered as she wandered around the study, eyes flitting on anything that caught her interest. In fact, nothing in her body or soul seemed familiar; not like she was a different pony entirely, but that she was . . . rebooted? Yes, that may have been the correct word.

Her eyes fell on a leather-bound journal that sat next to a snuffed-out candle. Using the moonlight, she read the open entry. Friendship . . . natures . . . TS8. She slowly remembered that she was the doctor. Doctor Twilight Sparkle, who had used the Alicorn Amulet to increase the formula's effects to separate a pony's natures.

. . . Which explained why she didn't feel like herself, like she was in a suit of armor too small for her. "So. It did work." She hardly blinked at the surprise that her voice had changed. It still had a 'Twilight Sparkle' feeling, but it was deeper-toned and had a spirit of serenity. It was beautiful and cool, like a waterfall inside a cave.

But if the TS8 Formula worked, why was her voice altered like this? Recalling the glass shards - which she presumed came from knocking a cup over in her seizure - she scoured the floor in search of a particularly large shard, not minding that she stepped on the smaller bits.

Finding one that fit her liking, she eyed her dull reflection. Her coat was a dark grey and her mane a long, tangled mess of sickly purple. Her cutie mark was gone, obviously meaning that any shred of Twilight Sparkle had gone with it. But her eyes . . . they were two precious jadestones with black slits cut through the middle. But they weren't the normal slits of a batpony of Luna's guard. Wide at the top, they thinned and curled slightly near the lower eyelid, like a snake's eyes.

It made sense now. The TS8 Formula had indeed separated her natures, but did far more than that. The freedom she felt in her soul was not one of innocence. In being separated from her nature of goodness, her evil had been reborn as the mare she was now; she could feel it. As her heart pulsed, so too did an insatiable desire lurch at her like the claws of the amulet.

But first, she needed to write. "I am a doctor, after all," she whispered with a rasp. "I must record my findings; as any good doctor should." 

When she approached the journal, her right hoof, as though being lifted by a marionette string, began to reach for the book. She then snarled, slapping it away with her free hoof, then skimmed over the words, until her eyes stopped at one particular sentence:

'After this night falls, I will see to it the Governors will no longer hide the truth of what I'm doing.' She looked again at her reflection and grimaced; not at the image, but that a name so light-hearted as 'Twilight Sparkle' did not fit this mare.

Taking the glass shard in her mouth, she cut a deep gash into the meat of her right upper leg and bit back a groan. She watched as the blood seeped out in thin lines along her foreleg and dribbled to the floor. Next she looked at the quill and focused on it, clenching her eyes shut. 

Nothing happened. 

She glowered at its insolence and tried again, this time imagining puppet strings latching to, and lifting it. The sound of magic tinkling barely sounded. When she opened her eyes again she saw that a very faint aura of jade surrounded the quill.

Satisfied, she dipped the point deeply into the red ink. Not minding the excess drippings, she set quill to paper and crossed out all of the words in that sentence. Except three:

'After this night falls, I will see to it the Governors will no longer hide the truth of what I'm doing.'

Yes . . . It was partially synonymous with her previous name, yet worked on its own with who she was now. It may have seemed, to others, jarring and awry, but that was what made it perfect. As her evil reborn, her name reflected that of deformity; it was meant to be awry.

"September . . . fourteenth," she purred softly, "Twelve. . . o'six A.M. . . . All is well~ . . ." At the bottom of the page, she wrote her newly-donned name:

Nightfall Hyde. 

She dropped the quill beside the name, leaving a large splatter on the parchment. Laugher escaped her lips with the glee she couldn't and refused to contain. 

Swiping up the cloak she'd tossed aside, as Twilight, Nightfall walked to the window, tightening the clasp and fixing the hood. At least generous little Rarity knew what she was doing, letting her keep it.

Grinning with immense satisfaction, Nightfall continued her 'entry', ignoring the fact she wasn't writing anymore. "I am pleased to say, the TS8 Formula worked better than I could ever have hoped. Thanks to my . . . inclusion of the Alicorn Amulet, I've come across a very pleasant new development . . ."

Link

A tremor surged through her body, one of both pure exhilaration and pain. She relished it. Everything she felt, regardless of it being pleasant or not, were reminders that she was alive.  Alive. Such an . . . invigorating word . . . She laughed a raspy chuckle, whispering very softy: 

"Free . . ."

Nightfall let out a vicious cackle and threw the balcony doors open.

"What is this feeling of power and drive I've never known?
I feel alive!

"Where does this feeling of power derive
Making me know why I'm alive?"

Dark, glittering shadows suddenly formed. Bearing no faces, rather masks of empty air, they danced around her, even sang along in hushed whispers. She grinned at the shadows, amused, and weaved her way around them. She stared at the stars, leaning into the railing.

"Like the night, it's a secret
Sinister, dark, and unknown

"I do not know what I seek yet,
But I'll seek it alone!

"I have a thirst that I cannot deprive
One that I shall truly connive!

"There is no danger I couldn't survive,
Feeling like this!

"Feeling alive!"

With a quick thrust of her foreleg, she dissolved the shadows into a long ribbon, that twisted around her body and lifted her slightly as she sneered at the heavens.

"Like Luna in an enigma,
Lost and alone in my strife

"Damned by some heavenly stigma,
 But blazing with life!"

She leapt off the balcony, plummeting to the pavement. The shadowy ribbon spun much faster, surging her towards the ground as she landed with a sickening crack of the pavement. She burst into a dash through the streets.

"It's the feeling of being alive!

"Filled with evil, but truly alive!

"'Tis a truth that cannot be denied!

"It's the feeling of being Nightfall Hyde!"

She laughed euphorically, the glee contorting her face as she stared out at the city. She started to step forward, but felt pain surge in her bones again.

"Wait . . . what's this? Sweetness? Sympathy?" She sighed, amused at the discovery. "I thought I'd lost those feelings." Even as Twilight Sparkle's evil reborn, a little bit a goodness must have been injected into her heart. "It's fate . . . such bliss. But it won't save these ponies from me having a little . . . fun. I'm afraid your folly, Twilight Sparkle, will cost you dear . . ." 

She beamed her toothy smile, rasping soft chuckles under her breath, until her eyes fell and narrowed upon Hoity Toity's Fashion Emporium; Quite the pompous sympathizer towards Blueblood's 'cause' in trying to tear down her other half's work.

Who was he to judge Twilight Sparkle's work in the field of medicine when he had apathy for everything except his frilly gowns and flashy tuxes?

Nightfall hissed with pleasure, fangs protruding from her canines and eyes alighting jade. "I'm here . . . I fear . . . and you will pay dear, my dear Hoity."
> Act I: Chapter Seven
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Seven:
Repercussions


The train's steam engine hissed as Applejack stepped off the train. Cold sweat clinged to her face like dawn's dewdrops, which she proceeded to wipe off. Rarity stood beside her, wearing a frilly dress and holding a parasol in her aura to ward of the morning's heat. "Now, Applejack," said the fashionista, "I'm sure everything's fine." She nervously twirled the parasol, switching it over to her hoof. "Spikey just . . . worries too much, that's all."

"I don't think so," Applejack replied, "Spike ain't the kinda person t' write letters all willy-nilly. He had t' have written us because Twilight didn't listen t' me."

Rarity lowered her gaze, wanting to argue, but knew deep inside she was right. From how hastily Spike had written his letter, this wasn't a normal case of excess studying. For the whole of last week, there was little word between Twilight and her friends, besides Spike's letter requesting them to come to Canterlot and speak to the doctor. 

But only Rarity and Applejack were able to come. Everyone else already had their own errands to run; Fluttershy was already in Canterlot delivering some oolong tea for the doctor, and Rainbow Dash was on her way to the Wonderbolts Academy. As for Pinkie Pie, she had gone to see her off in supporting her.     

The two mares took haste in traversing the streets and kept their eyes out for the turn to Twilight's house, the clicking of their hoofsteps echoing down the streets. The city was devoid of life, unusual for the its reputation, but with the sun hardly reaching past the roofs of the various restaurants and boutiques, it was apparently too early for nobleponies to tend to their decadent errands. Even the ones who weren't considered nobles were only just rising.

Canterlot wasn't completely a ghost town, though. There were a few citizens enjoying the brisk air of the morning, even a barrel's worth of nobleponies were wandering as well. Otherwise, the only signs of the city not being abandoned were the night guards by Hoity Toity's Fashion Emporium.

"I find it rather appalling," Rarity spoke up, taking a change of subject, "That those guards are still taking questions regarding his boutique. You can question newscolts only so long before the crime bleeds dry." The guards currently on shift, one questioning a newscolt and the other jotting his answers down, both shot her a look at hearing her.

She and Applejack stopped, the farmpony eyeing the boutique and seeing Hoity Toity himself inside, trying in vain to salvage what remained of his wares. "You have t' keep in mind, Rarity, somethin' like this ain't goin' away so easily. Vandalism just ain't natural in Canterlot; let alone crime in general. I'd feel that suspicious, too, if my barn looked like some animal scratched it up with their teeth." Again, she looked at the business stallion picking up the countless ribbons of fabric, all looking like they were torn through with the sharpest incisors.

"Well, I suppose whoever was behind this truly hated him with a fiery passion," said the other mare, almost defensively, which caught Applejack off guard.

" . . . Didn't they question you, too? You did have some kind of grudge with him."

Twirling the parasol in her aura, Rarity scoffed. "Really, Applejack! Do you seriously imagine me tearing up those gorgeous dresses! And especially with these?" 
She jabbed her free hoof at her bright, albeit dull, incisors. And when Applejack had a look of exasperation, she realized she was making the wrong point. "Oh, no, that wasn't a grudge, dear. The only reason he vocally abused my work back then was because I made the mistake of taking your prototype gala outfits to the stage. I admit I deserved that harsh criticism, but that means nothing in the case of grudges."

She didn't mention it, but because Hoity Toity was her greatest ally in the fashion world, she also shared in his misfortune. With his wares destroyed, he had to put their partnership, as well as any extra funds, on hold. That was one of the reasons she was able to close her boutique for the day without any greater loss, despite it being one of the bigger days for her business to draw in funds. 

It went without saying that the guards' suspicions of her involvement dissolved just as quickly as they came.

"Still," said Applejack, "Somethin's off about this here caper. Even if an animal were t' somehow break into that specific store, why'd it leave everythin' else alone, even the safe with a hog's worth of bits in there?" Rarity didn't answer, neither of them knowing for sure. Be the perpetrator pony or animal, there were too many loose ends to consider. It was obviously a hate crime, as the bits were left alone, and any enraged animal would have torn everything up, unless controlled otherwise. All the guards could really do now was try to quell any panic from the citizens.

They resumed their walk, taking the turn after Hoity Toity's boutique, as it was the road closest to Twilight's house and study tower. The bright gleam from the tower's golden spire nearly blinded the pair to the two figures descending the twirling staircase. As they drew closer, Applejack could make out that the leading was much smaller than the following, and she shared her concerned visage with Rarity, suspecting what might have happened up there.

Their suspicions were swiftly confirmed as they got to the foot of the staircase, closing in on Spike and Fluttershy, both who got off the last step.

"I'm real sorry about that," they heard Spike say, "I really thought she'd open up to you." Fluttershy nodded calmly, although they didn't know if she was agreeing or just trying to move the conversation along. Spike then offered, "M-maybe you can come back tomorrow. I . . . I'm sure she'll listen then."

But the mare frowned in reply. "Um, n-no, that's okay. It's clear s-she wants to be left alo-lone. I mean, I'll still come by to bring her that tea she likes, but maybe it's best not to bother her until . . . she's . . . ready to talk." By the time she noticed Applejack and Rarity approaching, she slowed down, but finished her sentence.

"Oh, good, you're here," Spike sighed, relieved at the newcomers' presence. Fluttershy must have already told him about Rainbow and Pinkie, since he didn't ask.

Fluttershy shrunk a bit, then asked shakily, "Oh, h-how long were you t-two . . .?"

"Don't worry yourself none, sugarcube," said Applejack, "We just got here ourselves." Fluttershy seemed to calm a bit, before her eyes shifted slightly, then narrowed.

Applejack followed her eyes and saw it, too. Pinkie and Rainbow were coming up to them, both holding the same air of concern. Pinkie had her mane drooped slightly, but not completely draped like Fluttershy's, and Rainbow was grounded to the pavement.

"Rainbow Dash? What are you and Pinkie doing here?" Fluttershy questioned. "I thought you were at the Wonderbolts Academy?" 

"Yeah, I kinda was," Rainbow rubbed the back of her head, "But then Pinkie started freaking out with her jitters and looked like this."

She gestured to the party pony, who, although avoided eye-contact, continued, "My Pinkie Sense started going off and told me Twilight needed help, so I asked Dashie to take the balloon here."

Fluttershy gasped, then said, "But, Dash, what about the Wonderbolts? Aren't they . . .?"

"I know, but I couldn't leave like this. It just didn't feel right, living the dream while Twi was still here doing . . . whatever it is she's doing." She still had her initial Wonderbolts training suit draped over her back, and she glanced at it longingly for a moment before looking away. "I guess I could always sign up next year, anyway."

Spike stepped towards her. "Rainbow, I . . . I didn't realize that--"

"Don't you get all sappy on me," she snapped, her casual attitude coming back. "All I'm saying is that I'm not leaving her all alone. Now, where is she?"

The drake paused, hesitant to answer. But when Rainbow started to advance, he quickly obliged. "Up in the tower, like she has been over the last week. But I doubt you'll get anywhere with her. She hasn't been letting anypony come see her at all. Even Fluttershy and I have tried, but . . ."   

His voice trailed off, so Fluttershy finished for him. "She snapped at us . . . a little bit . . . and maybe told us to go away . . ."

Rainbow stared up at the tower, her sympathy melting away. "I didn't ditch the Wonderbolts and come all the way to Canterlot to hear she yelled at you! I'll give her a piece of my mind, if that's how she'll--Augh! Hey!" She had started to take flight for the tower, before Fluttershy had somehow pinned her wings back to her body.

"You can't!" she pleaded. "It was my fault she even yelled . . . I should have just left her be . . ."

Setting her hooves on the ground again, Rainbow scoffed. "Are you kidding me? Why are you suddenly defending her? And don't say, 'because I bothered her'!"

"But I did. And she clearly wants to be left alone so she can finish her work in peace, Dash." She spoke firmly, letting go of Rainbow's wings.

"But we're her friends! We're more important than some stupid experiment!"

"Now, wait a moment, Rainbow Dash," Rarity cut in, stepping forward. "You cannot possibly think she can place us--ponies whom she's hardly known for three years--above a thing she has dedicated all her energy and her entire life to. Do you believe friendship is much more important than research that could potentially save countless lives?"

Rainbow started to retort, but got caught in her question. She tried to defend her point of view with the smarmy reply of, "Well, it is the Magic of Friendship we're talking about." But after seeing Rarity's no-nonsense glare, she compromised. "Okay, fine. I'm not against life-saving potions; really, I'm not. I just don't see how Twilight locking herself away with nonstop work is good for her. She's been like that for . . . for . . .?"

"Exactly a week, Dash," Spike finished. "I remember, because you girls were coming back from the Altrotta exactly seven nights ago."

The pegasus clacked her front hooves together. "Right. So she's actually hurting herself by ignoring us! We should be playing hard ball, not backing down to give her space!" To emphasize, she shot a look at Fluttershy, whose gaze darted away from hers.

"Wait, Dashie," Pinkie spoke up. Her mane poofed up a bit more as she regained her airy voice. "What about what Rarity said? She might be hurting, but she's still sacrificing her time and energy towards something meaningful to her. It's just taking longer than she wanted it to be, and she can't finish it if we're in her face half the time."

Rainbow flapped over beside her and said sympathetically, "Okay, yeah, I get that. I've mentioned before that I don't believe in this potion stuff, but I'm still supporting her, aren't I? But are you saying we should seriously let her drive herself to the ground?"

Taking the time to think for a moment, Pinkie finally answered, "No, no. We shouldn't let her be so alone. But it won't be any fun for her, us trying to force her to come out. It might just drive her away from us instead!"

"So what you suggest we do?" said Applejack. "I'm all for helpin' Twilight, but you're darn right 'bout us drivin' her away."

"I know what we shouldn't do," mumbled Fluttershy. "Gang up on her all at once." Each of the girls nodded assent, besides Rainbow, who grimaced, to which Applejack guessed she still had a ghost of wanting to knock Twilight's door down instead.

Then Rarity, folding her parasol, added, "So, as all of us speaking to her simultaneously would be counterproductive, we therefore should have just one do so?"

"Right," Spike nodded. "I would suggest Applejack would be up for the job. Besides, Twi asked me to bring her here anyway, something about needing a favor."

Applejack nodded as well. He had mentioned that as well in the letter, but the details of this 'favor' in the letter were the same as what she heard from Spike's mouth.

She didn't see a need to bring it up, but she believed that if any of her friends, Twilight would most likely listen to her, having been by her side at most of the meetings with the Governors. Even at the ones that ended badly, like the most recent one, she was there to keep the doctor's spirits from failing. Perhaps in that light, Twilight would come to listen to her. 

"As for the rest of you," she spoke up, "I think it's best if y'all get back t' Ponyville. Like Rarity said, havin' all of us here might complex things more than they should. We can meet up at Sugarcube Corner later on."

For the most part, they all agreed, but Applejack could have sworn she heard Rainbow mutter something about, 'wasted effort' and, 'a whole year'.

Once the girls were all out of sight, Spike led Applejack inside. As she walked to the living room, she saw that everything had looked completely untouched since her last visit, save for Spike's Power Ponies comic books lazily spread over the room.

In reply, the dragon cleared his throat awkwardly and began scooping up each and putting them on their proper shelf. "So, can I get you anything, Applejack?" he asked, tweaking with one comic so it was perfectly lined up with the others. "Tea, coffee, cider? Hard cider?" He looked completely on edge as he ran quickly through the options; his claws were especially jittery as he couldn't keep still.

"Umm, that's okay, sugarcube. I just wanna get t' the main issue." She stepped aside to see the door frame at the far end of the room. "Pardon my askin' but where's Night Light?"

Spike swept up a pile of wood chippings and worn springs; the mare guessed those were the remains of his attempts to make his crossbow. "Oh, he's still at the observatory studying that comet. Being that Twi's been so busy, he's requested extra shifts there."

He spoke with a tremble to his voice, prompting the farmpony to realize that there was more to the problem. "Sugarcube, are you sure everythin's alright with Twi? What's goin' on?"

And as she said so, Spike looked as though he was allowed to speak without any strings attached. "I didn't wanna say around Fluttershy. She'd be freaked if she knew." Still, he glanced around, as though expecting someone to come in as he spoke. "I've already said about her being up there and not talking to any of us. It was alright, at first, just her being up in the study for longer periods of time, just reading and working, reading and working. I mean, she didn't come down 'till three o' clock, but still."

"What'cha mean, 'at first'? What about the TS8 Formula? Didn't she up and test that?"

"I tried asking about that, several times, but she kept dodging the question." He swallowed tightly, but continued. "And she was awful jumpy, too. Like, when I had set out a glass for her she screamed, like she was half-expecting a manticore to barge in."

Applejack hesitated with her next question, until reminding herself that she was here to draw Twilight out, no matter what was needed to do so. "You think the test had backfired?"

"I hate thinking it, but that's gotta be why. Which is bad news, considering the Governors. I don't think even the Princesses can stop them from shutting her work down."

She grimaced. In the times she'd accompanied Twilight to the meetings with the Governors, she'd seen the worst in those ponies like Octavia and Fleur de Lis; the only exception was Fancy Pants, a real gentlecolt in her opinion, as he showed respect to her despite their cultural differences. But she didn't think even he could have an ultimate say in saving her work, with one being against three. "That'll just go and encourage Twi t' work even harder, which might make things worse." 

"It's not entirely her fault for having that kind of drive," Spike defended. "Twi and I were taught to work hard for our goals, just like how Shining Armor worked to become Captain of the Canterlot Guard, and Princess Cadence to become, well, princess. I guess a dedication to Mom after that accident just hammered in that moral for Twilight, especially since Dad used to illustrate the books she wrote."

An insignia of each of the family's cutie marks--including Night Light's--were set on the hearth next to Applejack, to which she looked at. The twin crescent moons on a blue background looked fitting for both illustrating and astronomy, the latter which Night Light went back to ever since Twilight Velvet was--

Applejack shook the thought off and took a change of conversation. "You said that she was fine at first. What in the hay changed that she got all holed up like a squirrel in winter?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but I'll bet that mare that's been up there with her had something to do with it." She caught the edge in his voice at once, and started to worry.

" . . . What mare? I thought she was alone."

"Oh, definitely not." He crossed his arms, glaring at the ceiling instead, as the study was too far away to see out the windows.

Then Applejack said, "But I assumed you ain't got the privilege t' let anypony into the study without Twilight's permission." It was true, for back in the Golden Oaks Library in Ponyville, if someone needed to see Twilight directly, they had to notify Spike first, who, in turn, asked her. It was a little petty, in Applejack's opinion, but as she had to study both magic and science, it was necessary to cut down on distractions.

"I don't," said Spike cautiously, "But I guess Twilight invited this mare ahead of time, without telling me." Then he glowered, "Otherwise, I'd have booted her out right there. Pow! Come on, the way her eyes freaked me out, she had 'city scum' written all over her face! I should have--"

He started to lose it, before Applejack managed to mollify his temper. "Whoa there, sugarcube, t'ain't gonna help losin' your head over this here mare." 

Spike, breathing more calmly, apologized. "Sorry. Ever since I saw her that night, I've been so angry. I guess that started the moment I set eyes on her. Something in me just . . . clicked, and I just couldn't control myself."

"It happens t' the best of us, sugarcube. Now--" She sank down to his eye level and held him close as her motherly nature kicked in "--How's about you start over and explain what that mare was here for?"

"Okay." He breathed slowly, recalling the memory, and began, "It was only the one time I ever saw her, maybe two or three days after Twi first came out. It was past midnight, I know, because the fire I'd set up right before going to bed was smoldering with a couple flames poking out. Anyway, she was standing in front of the hearth, staring at those flames. When she realized I was awake, she just . . . stared at me with those slitted eyes."

"You think she was one of Luna's guards?" 

"No, she was a unicorn, and like I said, 'city scum'. She looked nothing like a guard." Applejack thought over this, wondering if there really were Earth and Unicorn batponies as well. When this whole thing would blow over, she'd have to ask Twilight about that curiosity. 
Spike continued, "Like I said before, I felt that click, and I was suddenly angry. I demanded to know what she was doing here, but she refused to cooperate, only telling me that Twilight invited her. I dunno, with how suborn she was, I couldn't help but think I saw her before, like my Mother. But after she mentioned her invitation, she also said that Twilight had new orders for me to start bringing her meals to the door, and not bother her or the other mare while she was working."

Releasing the drake from her forelegs, Applejack stiffened, both physically and emotionally. She had gotten up so quickly that she bumped into Spike's shelf, and a few comic books slid off. "You gotta be kiddin' me. Twilight can't be that buried in her work t' go orderin' a stranger t' give you orders."

"Yeah, but after that night I couldn't even get her to come out, so I didn't have much of a choice," Spike replied, his voice becoming flat with melancholy. He picked up the comic book that slid furthest from Applejack, who, in exchange, took it from him and set it accordingly by issue number, although she herself never dictated organization.
As Spike set the last issue onto the pile, barely able to line it up with the others with how his claws trembled, he added, "But here's the scary thing: later on, the very same night, I'd gone to bring Twi some of that caffeinated tea she likes, maybe to try talking to her. But when I set the tray down to knock, I heard her crying."

Applejack blinked, then furrowed her eyebrow. "You sure that wasn't the other mare? Twi don't sound like the weepy type."

"No, it was definitely her voice. But she sounded so . . . broken." He swallowed tightly, struggling to control his voice. "I wanted to see her, but what that mare said . . . about leaving them alone . . . really got to me. I couldn't do it . . ."

Pain spread in his eyes; the kind that came when you knew there was nothing to be done to help the situation. Applejack had seen that pain in her family's eyes when she tried to abandon them for her aunt and uncle in Manehatten, when not all the words in the world could have convinced her to change her mind. "Don't you worry none about Twilight, little sugarcube. I'll help her outta this slump, just you watch."

His eyes lighting up, Spike opened his mouth to say something in thanks.

"Spike!" Twilight's shout was heard a split-second before the doctor materialized in between him and Applejack, cutting off his own voice.

Her appearance startled Applejack for how deteriorated she looked, accurate to what Spike had said. Her mane was tangled from neglect of brushing and her eyes had the slightest trace of dark circles underneath. She also noticed the right sleeve of her sweater was rolled up, where a bandage bound her right foreleg; it looked as though it needed changing one or two days ago, judging the brownish splotch of dried blood. 

Applejack held back her herd of questions, mainly about the bandage and the strange mare, as she was already yelling at Spike.

"Didn't I ask you to come back up after dismissing Fluttershy?"

Spike, only looking somewhat off guard, recovered quickly. "I had to talk to Applejack, here!" He crossed his arms again, looking away and added, "Geez, don't yell. The nobleponies are still lounging across the street, y'know."

At the mention of Applejack, Twilight's anger was quelled, if only for the moment. Rubbing the temple of her head with her good foreleg, she said, "Fine, fine, sorry, Spike. I should actually be thanking you, but for right now, I need you to do something." Three pages of paper were pressed forcefully into his claws.

"Sugarcube?" Applejack spoke up. "What are those--"

"In a minute, Applejack! I'll get to you in a minute." Twilight had spoken hastily and hardly spared a glance back at her before going back to Spike. "These are to go to Zecora. Tell her I will pay her for these when I come by next week to pick them up, and I'll pay double for the Mirror water."

After standing, she ran her good hoof through her mane, in a small attempt to recompose herself. She turned to face Applejack.

"Wait, Twilight, I can't go all the way to the Everfree Forest!" Spike said, voicing his obvious concerns. "Can't I just send it to her, like I do with the Princesses?"

Twilight groaned, wheeling back to him. "It doesn't work like that, Spike! The Princesses can receive letters because they have direct connections with magic, as in, a horn. Zecora can't receive letters that way because she's a zebra! And I'm far too busy to go myself, so I need you!"

Spike thumbed the edge of his jaw in thought. "Wait, isn't that racist?" he finally answered, grinning playfully. "I think it's racist. The Princesses really wouldn't--"

"Damn it, Spike! Go! Now!" Twilight shouted, even louder, as her eyes flared blood-red.

The silence that followed was so thick that Applejack could hear Spike's startled panting. His pupils ran thin with the same fear before he blinked them back to wider slits and swallowed tightly. "S-sure, Twi. What I-I-I meant was I was . . . just leaving now!" He forced out fake laughter and waved to Applejack. "So, yeah, s-see you later, Applejack?" He sidled back towards the front door as Twilight eyed him sternly; just before darting out, Applejack just barely saw him tearing up.

"What in the hay'd you do that for?" she whipped towards the doctor. She was about to go off on her tangent about how she warned Twilight not to overwork herself, but at seeing the blankness on her face, her words caught in her throat.

Twilight stared at the floor, mouthing something about the maretric system and vials, not even noticing Applejack. It wasn't until the farmpony cleared her throat that she blinked. "Oh. Right. I was making you just stand there that whole time. Sorry." She mouthed something else, pressed a hoof to her muzzle in thought, then led Applejack to the bookcase in the corner adjacent to her father's room. "I had something that I needed you to do."

That whole time? Applejack thought. "You okay, sugarcube? You don't seem t' be yourself." Twilight suddenly burst with a perverse laugher. "What? I say somethin' funny?"

The doctor breathed shakily, her eyes dilated, then forced out a hacking cough that sounded nothing like her previous laughter. "Had this crazy coughing fit this morning. Heh . . ."

Applejack eyed her cautiously, taking tentative steps, but eventually dropped it, stepping to the side of the bookcase.

At the foot of the bookcase, there were several drawers that had those well-polished handles that all had a large loop so even earth or pegasus ponies cold fit their hoof into to pull the drawer. Twilight took the handle of the lowest one--manually, Applejack noticed, as she did put her hoof through the loop--and from inside she withdrew some envelopes; again, manually.

Whatever the reason, Twilight was deliberately refraining from using her magic.

After shuffling the three envelopes, the number Applejack confirmed as she watched her, she held them out for her. "Now, listen closely. I need these letters delivered in my stead. One is for Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, one is for my brother and Princess Cadence, and one is for you and the girls. Hold on!" 
Applejack had reached for them, only for her to yank them from her hooves. "It's imperative that you listen to this part, especially. There may come a time that I'll become ill, or I have to leave Canterlot without explanation. If that time ever comes, only if that time comes--" She set the envelopes into Applejack's hooves. "--Any question you might have, or perhaps have right now, will be in these letters. I expect you to pass those instructions along to the other recipients."

As Applejack began to set the letters securely into the brim of her hat--where she kept items of importance when she didn't have her saddlebag on her--Twilight sighed as she seemed, for the first time that day, relieved. The weary crinkles underneath her eyes ebbed a bit as she began breathing more steadily.

But for Applejack, her curiosity and worry didn't settle as easily; it only became more choking like dust in an all-out brawl. "I don't understand, sugarcube. What happened t' you last week that made'ja all so . . . reclusive? Look, I wanna help you, but I can't if you're just gonna shut us out."

Twilight rubbed the wound on her right leg, her left trembling as she did. " . . . I can't. There's too much going on for me to explain it. I have my work to do, the Governors to deal with when they come by tomorrow, and Princess Celestia to give the Alicorn Amulet to."

"But can't you just settle down for a few days and just talk t' us?" Applejack persisted, reaching for Twilight. "There's no loss for a few days' rest, as I'd tried t' tell you last week."

Pulling away from her, Twilight sighed. "I just can't, Applejack. Now, please, let me go back to work."

She must have known that when around Applejack, she might as well have had a lie detector instead of a horn, because that was all she said before plopping onto the sofa, trembling again.

But Applejack wasn't going to take it easy anymore. Like Rainbow had said, maybe it was time to play hard ball. "Look, if you're not even goin' t' answer a simple question about last week," she said, making sure her eyes drilled into hers, "Then I don't gotta do you any favors." Removing the letters from her hat, she tossed all three onto one of the single seats, intending to leave them and the household.

"Applejack!" She heard the panic in Twilight's voice, but didn't stop. Not until she had gripped her shoulders and forcibly spun her around. "Please, Applejack! I wouldn't have asked if I didn't trust you!" She must have seen the skepticism in her, as she sighed again, releasing her shoulders. "I made a miscalculation with the TS8 Formula. I thought I had it right, but I was off by a mile. Just some . . . incorrect amounts on some of the ingredients."

The farmpony caught her hesitation at the end. But everythin' before that seemed true. Could she be only half-lyin'? Nonetheless, she continued to listen.

"That's why I need the ingredients all over again. But I also need to reexa-examine everything I ever learned about the natures of . . . Goodness and Evil, and the Formula itself. That's why . . . um . . . why this is t-taking so long to work on. Not that the Governors will help at all with that." She fidgeted more in what she said, alerting the farmpony.

She could've kept going with blackmailing her to answer her questions, but she was betraying her honest nature enough as it was. And even so, she would do more harm to Twilight by betraying her trust by withholding her task. "Alright. I'll deliver these here letters for you." She picked them back up from the chair and set them back into the brim. 

Meanwhile, Twilight let out a pent-up breath and almost smiled. "Thank you, Applejack. I just--"

"Save your thanks for when this is all over," Applejack stopped her. "Or at least until you give the whole truth."

How realistic the doctor's 'confusion' looked. "But . . . I did tell you the truth. I miscalculated, and now--"

"I know that now. But I also know you're hidin' somethin' from us." From the glare she received, she could tell Twilight was getting tired of being cut off. But still she went on. "Whatever happened that night, it's got you scared outta your wits, and now you're workin' your flank off tryin' t' finish your work before the Governors shut you down."

Twilight broke eye contact. "I'm just doing what I'm supposed to, Applejack. But it shouldn't concern you about what happens in my study."

"Yeah, I get that. But whatever the reason you've locked yourself away, it isn't--shouldn't--be the reason t' lock your own friends out!" She regained some of her sympathy and asked again, "What happened that night? We are your friends, sugarcube. Believin' your philosophy or not, each of us have been right behind you the whole time, even buttin' heads with the Governors, too." 
She saw Twilight blink several teary blinks, seeing that she was getting through to her. "I hate t' say it, but you've lost that fire of friendship you once had. That drive that inspired you t' find your solution that came from the Magic of Friendship. I've known you long enough t' know when you're hurtin'; I can see it in your eyes."

"I can't, Applejack. This isn't something I should drag you or anypony else into," Twilight begged.

The farmpony sighed, giving up. Eventually, she would break through that thick skin of hers and find out what she was hiding. But as Pinkie said, pushing it too far would only drive her away from them. "Fine. You don't wanna talk about it. I'm not against you, Twi. But at least try t' understand, what you're doing could ruin your friendships. Just think about what Spike's probably feelin' right now."

Twilight stared at her, unsure of what she meant. She mouthed again, before it clicked. "Oh no . . . no no no no." Panic spread in her eyes as she remembered how she snapped at Spike. "I have to go bring him back!" She started for the door, before Applejack stopped her.

"Now you understand?" She admittedly had to fight against herself not to sound too callous. "This is why I warned you not t' go workin' yourself t' the ground." Twilight glanced at her again, desperate to find Spike. "Save yourself the worry. I'll help him with that half-danged fool journey of yours. At least then, it won't take the whole day t' complete it."

Stepping out of Twilight's way, she watched as regret spilled onto her face. "Spike . . . Applejack, I--"

"I said don't worry about it," Applejack repeated firmly. "You just try t' clear your head and take the day off, for once." Some of her bottled-up anger seeped into that, as Twilight flinched from it. Before she said anything else she knew she'd regret, she left the doctor to her thoughts.

As she stepped out onto the streets, she began sealing up her bitter emotions towards the doctor. It spooked her, how easily it broke through, and how liberating it felt to assault Twilight with said feelings. Albeit, she managed to control most of it, but something had made her . . . want to lash out at her. Weird. It was just like what Spike said about losing his temper at that mare.

She shook her head. Maybe it's just all this gloom from worryin' about Twi, she decided. Let's just go and find us a little dragon.

Outside, the business day had finally begun for the noble ponies. The streets were already flooded with ponies on their errands, as Applejack kept getting knocked aside by the pompous nobles. Some of the day guards flew over her, relieving the night guards from questioning Hoity Toity.

It wasn't long before she found Spike, sitting at one of the benches by the train station, waiting for the next ride to Ponyville. She weaved around a family and stepped in front of the bench just before he saw her.

"Applejack? I-I thought you were . . . were still with Twilight . . ." The dragon trailed off, clearing his eyes out.

"Don't you worry none about that, sugarcube," Applejack brushed it off, "Let's go do this fool's errand of yours." Her agreement to join him raised his spirits, as he reached to hug her foreleg.

"Thanks, Applejack. But what about Twilight? Did you talk to her?" he asked eagerly.

Applejack looked away, but gathered her thoughts. "I did, but let's not worry about her. She got her own thoughts t' tend to."

Just as the train pulled in, Applejack secured the letters in her brim. She'd have the letter meant for her and the girls put in her bedroom at Sweet Apple Acres, and deliver the letter to the Crystal Empire after taking care of the potion orders to Zecora with Spike. As for the Princesses' letter, she'd bring that last, before dropping Spike off back at Twilight's; that is, if he even wanted to go back there.

She'd ask him about that later, though. He needed a friend to comfort him right now, not bring up touchy subjects.
> Act I: Chapter Eight (Take Two)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Eight:
Rising Perils


" . . . What just . . . ha-happened there?"

"Ugh, my head . . . head hurts . . . "

"What's all this glass doing here?"

She struggles to get herself off the floor, brushing off the snowflakes of glass scattered around her body. She doesn't remember having broken that much glass in her seizure, only one small cup that she'd drank from just minutes before it happened. So where did it all come from?

Hot, sharp pain jars through her foreleg as she picks herself up, nearly stumbling again from the sudden sensation. It feels as though someone had poured acid on it. Terror surges through her as thousands of preposterous and unlikely explanations shut out logic and reasoning.

But she looks down to find that none of these are true. The terror is still very much there, but with less of an impact upon seeing a deep cut laced across her leg, a long, straight line of red painted across purple flesh. But no knife did this; the skin outside is torn, as though the weapon's edge was unevenly jagged.

She finds herself looking at the shards of glass on the floor and understands immediately. Whoever did this to her used one of these pieces of glass to cut her! But why just the foreleg? Most assailants would prefer to leave lasting wounds on their victim, wounds that would disable them, if they weren't aiming for straight-up murder. And where did the excess glass come from?

Forcing deep breaths to calm the rising panic and to think clearly, she goes to the journal. Perhaps clues can be found there. Whoever did this to the both reviled and praised Doctor Twilight Sparkle wouldn't be able to resist gloating over this assault by writing in these pages.

The book lays open, on the same page of her own entry before blacking out. She is meticulous with her search, though. She scans each page thoroughly before moving on to the next.

Nothing. Just the entries of her progress throughout the last eight years.

She eventually comes back to that last entry, but something odd catches her eye. She didn't see it upon picking up the book the first time, so she investigates. Some of the words in her own entry are crossed out with red ink, but there's an entry of its own to this unknown writer.

The words are sloppy beyond belief, but she can just make out that there are only the date stamp--six minutes after midnight of September fourteenth--and three words, that 'all is well'.

And a name.

Sensing a familiarity in this blood-red ink, she is met with reluctance--it becomes clear to her that whoever had cut her also had used her own blood to write this. Bile rises in the back of her throat in disgustful horror. The sick bastard who did this would hang if Princess Celestia ever knew who did this. And, quite honestly, she wouldn't protest against a harsh sentence.

But in gathering her courage, she leans forward and reads the name.

And regrets doing so.

The name, 'Nightfall Hyde', recoils at her, dark memories of the previous night lunging at her. A shard of glass slicing through her foreleg. Blood spurting from the wound. A glittering black ribbon of shadow spinning around her. Galloping through the streets and slamming her body through the front window of a fashion store. Tearing fancy dresses and tuxedos into piles of strings.

And the most haunting eyes, jade-green of color, and thin, curved slits instead of round pupils.

All these come back to her like a waking nightmare, and the next thing she knows, she is screaming.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Twilight blinked slowly as the memory receded back into the depths of her mind, bringing her back to the living room couch, where she sat with a cup of cold oolong tea resting in her hooves. With how often the memory replayed itself, reminding her of that dreadful morning, she had almost become indifferent to it. She thought almost, because the only thing that she hated seeing the most in it was the set of eyes that were her own.

Or, rather, her darker self's eyes.

It didn't matter. They were still her own eyes, but they truly belonged to a part of her that she thought she'd kept hidden away for good. They were the eyes of her anger, her arrogance, and her need for perfection. These were the eyes of the so-called 'Nightfall Hyde'.

The doctor glanced down at the tea that remained untouched, then, with a resigning shrug, got up to go to the kitchen. She was more than awake now, so she poured the contents of her cup into the sink and set it aside. Her work had taken a hit on her vitality and, by extension, her patience with anything that distracted her from her work, especially now that she had a second consciousness in her head.

There was not much she could describe about Nightfall Hyde due to her lack of knowledge of this sort of thing, besides the obvious of it being made of her darker self. This thing showed little restraint in its actions, judging by it vandalizing Hoity Toity's Fashion Emporium and the use of those faceless shadows, but there was little more to discern about it. Her first transformation into it was so clouded, as if seeing the memory through a fading dream.

"So what if it's some kind of amnesia-inducing monster that came from the Alicorn Amulet?" Twilight blinked, then conceded, "No . . . that's ridiculous. I know the Amulet was in my control. It couldn't have possibly thrown off my formula, because I ordered it to selflessly increase the potency of my formula. So it shouldn't have backfired, right?"

Whatever the reason behind the formula's outcome, finding that out wouldn't change that 'Nightfall' was real, and that it and Twilight were technically the same pony. "That night proved it was so right there. What other explanation could there be to say otherwise?"

The night she referred to, exactly the third night after all this had started, was when she discovered that what she was seeing wasn't a dream, and it wasn't going to end by her denying the truth.

At the time, she had been in her study reviewing her notes in an attempt to find out what the 'side-effects' of the TS8 Formula meant; the fatigue and headaches were surely from her overworking, but there had to be a logical explanation behind her sudden seizure, since never in her life was she prone to them.

As for 'Nightfall'? She was a doctor of science, for pony's sake! What she'd seen in that nightmare was obviously a fabrication derived from the Formula taking its intended effects! Besides, it was nothing short of silly to think that she actually now had a separate consciousness in her mind.

And the glass on the floor, and the haunting journal entry? If she were right about her assailant, they must have also wrote in the journal and spread glass over her body to make her think that. Just a elaborate prank meant to frighten her.

However stubbornly she wanted that theory to remain true, Fate's hooves had another thing coming to her.

The seizure had come out of nowhere; unlike the last time, where it slowly developed from a tiny prick to searing pain, it exploded with little warning and knocked Twilight onto her side. In either an act of the Alicorns' mercy or just the suddenness of the seizure overwhelming her, she had lost consciousness in mere seconds this time.

Then the dream began.

Just like the first time her memory was muddled. Her sight and hearing faded in and out, as though she were struggling to stay awake. There was not much to discern through the dreamscape, only that she was descending the staircase of her study.

In one moment when the dream became especially vivid she tried to reach out, perhaps gain a sense of what was going on, but all she succeeded in doing was lift her right hoof, which trembled violently and knocked over a vase by the steps, before she was pulled back under.

A dying fire. A few resilient flames jutting out, refusing to die amongst the charred wood. Voices; one masculine, sharp with anger and fear, the other, feminine and soft and tranquil, but also dark, as though a threat loomed on the edge of her voice.

But it was impossible to know what they were saying. Their words slipped away into the abyss as soon as they were spoken.

These memories appeared then vanished like the flickering smoke of a candle, leaving her no time to think as one image was replaced by another, until, finally, it all went away when she woke up on the small staircase inside the study.

Even after waking up bits and pieces of the dream washed over each other like repeating echoes on an endless loop. A part of her had believed that it had felt so hauntingly real; what kind of dream imitated the small jolts that ran up your legs when you walked and the wind caressing your mane?

But Twilight, being the doctor that she was, was about to dismiss the idea of the dream, just as she had with the owner of those jade eyes and the glittering shadows. But that was when she remembered the vase. It had tipped over in her efforts to move herself; at least, it did in the dream. So did that mean that all this, not just the vase, but the shadows and the pair of eyes she so feared, was real?

She eventually decided that there was absolutely nothing to lose from a simple test. If the vase was standing upright, then great! That just meant she was right, that all of this was just as she'd said, just a part of the Formula's effects. If it was laying on its side . . .

A heartless chill ran through Twilight. It almost convinced her to just stay inside and check the vase later. But she had to do this. If there any way to settle her fears, this was it.

So she stepped outside and scanned each vase that adorned the flight of stairs, all upright. Then she'd reached the bottom, about where she remembered hitting the one vase. Not only had it fallen on its side, but dirt and flowers had spilt over the remaining stairs in a chaotic-garden heap.

Panic had sliced down to the very core of her heart. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as she looked at the daisy petals that had been scattered on every step. She had hardly known she teleported until after she was back in her study, and when she did, she broke down, crying back into sleep right on the staircase.

From then on, the doctor had stayed as long as she could in the study, only coming out when she absolutely had to. Her tower now her sanctuary/prison, it was the only place she knew she, her mother, her work, and her reputation were safe from Nightfall's antics. If anyone knew what had happened in the last week, it would be fortunate if she weren't arrested for her actions. She did use the Alicorn Amulet against her mentors wishes. 

But she couldn't stay locked up forever. As Applejack had proved with her visit, everyone would start to get suspicious. So the best way to go about fixing the problem was first learning all she could about Nightfall until she found a solution that disposed of it for good.

It was simple, really. Nightfall was a consciousness of her nature of Evil, meaning she was purely evil. The TS8 Formula's purpose is to balance the two natures by eradicating the excess evil in one's heart. Therefore, drinking the formula would wipe Nightfall out of existence; all she had to do was make it again. Although, perhaps not with the inclusion of the Alicorn Amulet's magic. She still didn't know why it had acted the way it did, but it clearly was the reason the test had failed like it had.

But why did it backfire on her? She was using it for the desires of others, not her own! Magic, regardless of it being light or dark, obeyed whoever used it, so the same should have been said for the Alicorn Amulet!

"That's a mystery to be solved for another time," Twilight muttered to herself. "For now, I just have to make sure this thing doesn't take over again." Then she sighed, "It won't be easy. Waiting a whole week with this thing lurking in my head, I'll just be glad when Zecora gathers the ingredients."

On the pages she'd given Spike, who would then pass them onto Zecora, she'd ordered the ingredients of the TS8 Formula, including the Mirror water. Unfortunately, Zecora getting all of these would take several days, and that didn't include the water, which the pool's entrance had been closed by Twilight herself.

So, all in all, Twilight was to remake the TS8 Formula by waiting a week for the ingredients, while trying to keep Nightfall at bay, then eliminate the creature, and, at last, prove her theory to the Governors to finish her work and free her mother.

All of this without letting her friends, mentor, or anyone else find out the truth.

"The only problem is, the Governors are coming tomorrow," she groaned. With them haven found out about her testing the Formula behind their backs, they had arranged a meeting in which they would decide whether or not to shut her work down. And it was painfully obvious what they would choose, regardless of if they let her defend her case.

Although, and this was just her thinking hypothetically, it really wouldn't hurt anyone if, after this conflict was ended, the Amulet was taken out one last time; just a simple spell to slip a suggestion into the Governors' minds to officially reinstate her work. Then she'd bring it (somewhat reluctantly) to Celestia, who probably had some secret vault beneath the city.

"Hello? Twilight, are you home?" A series of hurried knocks suddenly followed a stallion's voice.

The doctor felt her knees buckle. But . . . but I thought they weren't coming until tomorrow! But the voice sounded naturally hoarse compared to Fancy Pants' or Blueblood's. No noblepony would dare visit another with their voice sounding anything less than classy.

So, who . . . ?

Not like it mattered. They would have to be sent away. With Nightfall here, there was no telling what could happen that would lead to it being discovered. 

"So I'll greet whoever's there, tell them that I can't stay, and just return to the study," she told herself, fixing her mane so it didn't look as messy as before.

And after smoothing out the kinks in her sweater, she went to open the door. Sunlight pierced into her eyes as she stepped outside, blinding her from being so used to being cooped up inside.

"Oh, good, you're home." The voice sounded relieved, more than a visitor passing by should have been.

Twilight blinked, her vision clearing up as she found Soarin of all ponies at her doorstep, gazing at her with those emerald eyes, although they looked lackluster in a fashion derived from overexerting himself, and maybe a lack of sleep. He had a dark cloak clasped around his neck that covered most of his midsection. It looked like one of cheap quality and made with a scratchy material, and a disconcerting splotch was on the left shoulder area that emphasized that he must have picked it up off the street.

Before she could even ask about the splotch that was bothering her, Soarin spoke up again. "Sun got your eye?" He playfully gave a grin almost bright as the sunlight that had blinded her, almost making her forget that he sounded panicked before.

". . . No, it didn't," she answered slowly, shielding her eyes otherwise. "Well, technically yes, it did, but . . ." She didn't have to see to know his smile was growing as she stumbled over her words, so she started over. "Never mind. Good morning, Soarin." Now to excuse herself. "I appreciate the visit, but I . . . have my own errands t-to run. I hope you understand."

As she started to step around him, Soarin mimicked the motion, replying, "I get that. But . . . um, you remember saying that if I ever needed a friend? 'Cause I--"

"Yes, I remember, Soarin," she said impatiently, "But my hooves are tied. I can't help you." She attempted to teleport past him, except her aura flickered and the spell fizzled out.

Getting desperate at seeing her attempt, Soarin's words became extremely rushed. "Look, this isn't a casual visit. I wouldn't have come on one of your busy work days if I didn't need your help, bad." Barely, just by a split-second, Twilight saw his eyes flicker at the splotch.

Something was up, and she had the feeling that Soarin didn't have anyone else he could turn to. Somepony has to help him, even if medical aid isn't my main education. "Alright, Soarin," she answered him, "Come in, quickly." She stepped back inside, leaving the door open for him. I just hope this won't take too much time, she thought with dread.

As she led him into the living room, Soarin looked around, almost in awe of the utter lack of jewelry dripping off the walls and the simple furniture. She could imagine what was running through his thoughts: how plain the place was in design, compared to many other Canterlot homes. As a Wonderbolt, he was, without doubt, invited to a countless amount of lavish parties hosted by the richest of Canterlot, so the subtlety of her home must have been a breath of fresh air to him.

Soarin followed her into the living room, and, after gesturing him to do so, took his place on the sofa.

Ready to just get this over with, Twilight requested, "Now, what is it you need my help with?"

Showing a look of intimidation by her bluntness, Soarin undid the clasp around his neck and bunched up the cloak, careful that the splotch was under layers of the fabric.

It had given the answer away, so the shock wasn't as effective, yet horror still shivered in Twilight's bones at seeing the shiny pink gash that ran below his left shoulder blade, just close enough to his neck that he couldn't decently bind it himself. The only good thing about it was that it had stopped bleeding some time ago; the cloak, while possibly meant to staunch the flow, was also responsible for the pus that was setting in. Bile threatened to rise at the back of her throat as she inhaled slowly.

"It really wasn't this bad last night," Soarin said, glancing at the wound. "It was only bleeding, so I figured I'd be okay without help."

"Then," Twilight started to ask, her stomach settling, "What made you change your mind?"

Soarin blinked, looked at the cloak, and shrugged, "It got infected."

"I see," Twilight deadpanned, going to pitch the cloak into the garbage, highly possible where he found it firsthand. Once the thing was gone, she went to the kitchen and grabbed the necessary things to clean and bind the wound from a cabinet above the stove--these included hydrogen peroxide, several disposable washcloths, and a small box with medical tape, ointment, and a thick roll of gauze.

There was still hot water left over from when she made her oolong tea so recently, so she poured it and some of the peroxide into a small bowl, then put everything onto a tray, which she carried on her back.

"I'm surprised you were fine with doing your own binding, considering," he remarked to her as she came back. "For me . . . ehh, it's just an 'If-you've-seen-one-you've-seen-'em-all' kind of thing."

Twilight instinctively glanced down at her right foreleg, where the binding had started to slip off. She could make out a brownish stain of dried blood on the inside of the gauze, and her wound started to burn after so long of being under layers of the material. She resolved to put fresh bindings on after tending to Soarin.

The pegasus watched as she balanced the tray and set it down beside him. "Why don't you just levitate all that stuff?" He looked like he wanted to list her feats of magic to drive his point home, but he refrained, most likely because he knew she would only send him home with more injuries than he came with.

"It's a long story." The answer she gave was so overused, but she wasn't about to say that her magic flickered so often now, and occasionally made her drop things, that she preferred not to try using it. That would only bring more questions than she'd care to try to explain for.

Soarin, again affected by her blunt response, shrugged in defeat and dropped the issue. So Twilight set herself beside him, grabbed a washcloth, and went ahead with cleaning the wound.  As she brushed away some of the pus, she slowly realized that this was an assault wound. If the depth of it wasn't enough, the way it was jagged--as though the assailant had used a shard of glass--convinced her.

She looked worriedly at Soarin, who didn't notice. He was too busy wincing from the peroxide, so she focused back on her task.

The infection, although ugly on the outside, was very weak, so purging it didn't take much effort. And maybe only one or two doses of ointment would brush it off for good. More likely, it would be binding it that would be more worth the trouble because of the position on his shoulder.

"You're lucky to have come when you did, Soarin," she sighed, getting up. "I just wish you came sooner, before it had gotten infected." 

Soarin shook his head. "Like that would even help. It was almost past one o'clock when I had gotten back to the Altrotta, away from that mare."

"So why come to me, when you could have just reported her like everypony else would have?"

"Well, she didn't exactly give out her 'Arrest Me!' card," he answered sarcastically. "It was way too dark to tell what she looked like. The most I could say was that she was a unicorn and had this dark cloak, so I couldn't tell what her cutie mark was. Oh, and I could tell she wasn't from Canterlot."

Twilight blinked. "How do you know that she wasn't from here? You've hardly been here yourself. And actually been here, not stopping for a noblepony's party, I mean."

"Ouch." He feigned a blow, even setting his hooves over his heart and sticking his tongue out. "But seriously, it doesn't take long to know that it's considered a travesty not to know the simplest magic spell when you're a unicorn and a resident of Canterlot. And this mare could hardly shoot out more than a few sparks from her horn." Then he smiled slyly, "I think she was trying to show off."

"Oh, do tell," Twilight deadpanned as she began unwinding the roll of gauze. Typical of Soarin to think that, if what Rarity said was true.

"Yeah," said Soarin, unaware of her sarcasm, "As if it wasn't impressive enough that her aura was this cool jade color."

Twilight stopped, the gauze slipping from her hooves and onto the floor. Jade?

She tightly swallowed. No, it couldn't be it, could it? Twilight dared to ask, "S-soarin . . . did you . . . ever get her name?" Please . . . Alicorns Above, please don't let it be--

"Oh, sure. I couldn't forget it if I tried to: Nightfall Hyde."

" . . ."

Soarin, in hearing her whimper, tried to look back at her. " . . . Twilight? You okay?"

The doctor had stepped back, far enough away so that he couldn't see the fear that crossed her eyes.

Nightfall did this? No, I did. But . . . but that doesn't make any sense! I didn't dream about it, and Nightfall's only vandalized different parts of Canterlot! So . . . why . . .?

"Twilight?" Soarin was still waiting for an answer.

So she admitted, "No. I-I don't . . ." Her hooves kept her frozen in place; really, the terror running through her was the only thing keeping her from escaping back to her tower once more. She didn't know what she could do without breaking down into a panic, or tears, or both.

Soarin must have thought that she'd become ill, because he then said, "I can just take it from here and leave you be, if you'd like."

It was too easy. All she had to do was say 'yes' and she'd be rid of him. But after inhaling a sharp breath, Twilight chose otherwise. "No, I can do this," she said, to herself and Soarin.

She bent down for the gauze, brushed it clean, and cut through the material and folded it into a thick rectangle--all in slow shaky movements. After applying it, she tore two strips of tape off and finished binding the wound. "That should do it, Soarin. Probably two more does of this ointment, and your wound should close."

Soarin got off his seat and accepted the small tube from her. "Okay . . . thanks."

She didn't respond back, but took the medical supplies and began working on her own wound while she thought through what had happened.

So she, as Nightfall, had attacked Soarin. But why? All Nightfall ever did was smash windows and tear dresses, and, to the extent of her knowledge, was perfectly content with that. So there was no reason for it to suddenly hurt another pony.

Except . . .

Twilight then berated herself for being so dense. Its personality was solely derived of her evil; it only made sense that this meant it was a living influence of her negative emotions towards equine; every boastful thought, every rebellious act against higher authority, and every angered retort that had ever crossed the doctor's mind were the blood, skin, and bones of Nightfall Hyde.

And in being raised to be the best pony she could be, it was natural that these were shut away to make way for being a model of propriety. Albeit, ponies like Fleur de Lis, Blueblood, and Octavia all lacked said propriety, making it difficult to keep these dark thoughts underneath a façade of indifference, if not serenity.

But what if that was what caused Nightfall to do this in the first place? It wasn't just born of those negative emotions; it was her negative emotions, so it had technically been caged its entire life solely for existing. And, like Twilight in suppressing those feelings to preserve her reputation, it had grown restless in being little more than a caged animal, one that didn't realize it existed until after Twilight had drank the TS8 Formula.

So when she did, the gate to Nightfall's prison was thrust open, freeing it to vent her frustrations without consequence.

But in putting Soarin into the equation, it occurred to Twilight that maybe Nightfall was getting tired of just vandalism. She despised the cynics of Canterlot, so maybe it now realized it could unleash her bitterness in a much more satisfying way--by directly attacking those who'd wronged her.

Then again, Soarin did no wrong to her. He was someone in need of friendship, and one who Twilight accepted as a friend. There was no reason for Nightfall to hurt him. But the wound said otherwise.

So now more than ever the situation was direly desperate. The TS8 Formula is the only thing that can kill Nightfall--it scared her, that she was really thinking of it like that--But all the ingredients will take anywhere over a week to recover! So should I look for the ingredients myself? No, no! That means putting everypony in danger to my darker self! So do I just stay in the study the whole time!

"Your foreleg's gushing out," Soarin spoke suddenly, staring wide-eyed at her.

Twilight gasped, looking down and seeing her wound was bleeding again, probably from all the stress she had just put on herself. I can't start panicking now, not with Soarin here, she scolded herself. "Yeesss, so it is," she smiled awkwardly.

Somehow, he could sense her fear and went beside her. "It's okay, Twilight. You just have to calm down and focus."

She blinked. He meant about the wound, but really, it was also him comforting her from her fears of Nightfall. In a way, he was briefly taking Spike's place as a foil to her all-out panicky quirks.

He's right. I can't figure anything out unless I just breathe. So after a slow breath, along with some comforting thoughts from Soarin, she began calculating her predicament. I'm risking so much with either choice. On one hand, I could lose my reputation and my work if I stay here and wait for Zecora. But saving them won't matter if Nightfall hurts more ponies like Soarin! No . . . beforehand I considered my work more important to save, but that was before I realized the real danger behind Nightfall. I have to stay here . . . I have to hang on until Zecora gets everything I need.

"There you go. Looks like you've got the hang of it," said Soarin, noticing her calm visage returning. "I used to wonder why that whole Want-it-Need-it spell thing happened in the first place, but I guess I get it now."

Twilight groaned. "Don't remind me." She borrowed the ointment from him and applied it while he stepped back, sat down, and watched her work.

This was but a mild annoyance at first, but she slowly progressed into feeling uncomfortable. Weird curiosity flickered in his eyes whenever she glanced out of the corner of her own, but despite her discomfort he seemed perfectly content to watch.

He's free to leave whenever he wants, she thought, descending into irritation. Preferably right now, before Nightfall takes over again.

But still he didn't budge. Twilight sighed, trying to distract herself by thinking about the scientific explanation of how a unicorn shoots a beam of light.

Picking up the roll of gauze, she dropped it into her free hoof, then proceeded to twirl it around her leg to bind it. Pressing the edge of her chin onto the strip, she started to perform her task . . . only to get halfway around before her legs crossed.

She tried to toss the roll upward to continue unwinding it, but overshot it, as it fell onto the floor and completely unraveled down to its cardboard tube.

The doctor face-hoofed, groaning.

"Want some help?" Soarin asked, in an innocent kind of cheery way, and went to retrieve the gauze.

Twilight stuttered, trying to find some way of saying that she wasn't so incompetent to be unable to mend her own wounds. But she clearly couldn't do this on her own, unless she wanted use her magic in an attempt that would most likely lead to her aura flickering out and bringing her back to square one.

So in reluctant submission she sat back as he rolled the gauze--however clumsily the task looked--back. Then, with her instruction, placed the side of the gauze that hadn't touched the floor onto her wound and steadily twirled it with both hooves, although in each cycle one would stop to hold her leg steady then go back to unwinding.

The contact made Twilight pray to Alicorns Above that her face wasn't blushing.

But with how neatly-done his handiwork was, she couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten the experience in binding wounds. "Since when were you a medic?" she questioned.

"Hm? Oh, right, the binding. Well, it was a class I took at the Wonderbolts' Academy." In seeing her perplexed look, he laughed, "What, you thought we were just one-trick--" He caught her glare, as if she was telling him not to go there "--Erm, I mean, showoff stunt flyers?"

Twilight then shook her head. The most she knew about the team was that they were indeed stunt flyers with a vast history spanning just after Princess Luna's banishment, and that Rainbow Dash was obsessed with them. In fact, she was sure she'd give her an hour lecture for daring to think that they were just stunt flyers.

"Okay, maybe they sort of are, but we're required to pass four stages of training before we're considered fully-fledged Wonderbolts, and the whole course takes two years, so . . ." He trailed off, biting down on the medical tape to tear a long strip off. "But, yeah, there's flying, obviously, but there's also espionage, medics, and combat, all of which you can probably figure out for yourself."

"So you--and every Wonderbolt ever--are essentially Swiss Army knives."

"Yeah, yeah, kinda fancy way of putting it, but at least we're not one-trick ponies then."

Twilight glared him down.

"Ummm, hey, look! Your wound's bound up!" He darted back before Twilight could say anything. The doctor held her stare for a few seconds more, then decided to test her bandage. The binding was evenly wound, twirled diagonally around her leg, a much better job than her own work several days ago. It clearly showed that he knew his trade well.

She tested her weight on her leg next, finding no further pain nor discomfort from how it was wrapped. Bending the knee would provide some limitations, but that was only something she'd get accustomed to in time. "Well, thank you, Soarin."

"It's really nothing special. Everypony else on the team probably knows this sort of thing better than I do." He glanced sadly behind him, to where Twilight's eyes followed. And instead of his cutie mark of two wind crests rising towards a lightning bolt, there was a blank palette.

Twilight gasped, "Soarin, your cutie mark!" She walked around him, confirming her surprise. "When did that . . .?"

"Really, you just noticed now?" he laughed bitterly. "It's been gone for over a week, ever since Spit abandoned any sense of staying true to her morals by lying to me."

She didn't say anything for several moments. She'd seen something like this in her studies in the lost secrets of magic, something that happened more often in the Pre-Celestian Age. While it was very rare to happen in these modern times, cutie mark loss was still something that could have happened to Soarin. "When exactly did this happen?"

He glanced up at her. "I dunno, maybe right when I'd accidentally eavesdropped on Spit and Fleetfoot." Shifting closer and spying her cutie mark, he asked, "Why, you think you know something about it?"

"I think so. There are times when a pony's passion and the circumstances in which they follow that passion can no longer be coincide, so the cutie mark's own purpose for existing then becomes moot."

Soarin blinked several times.

"Ugh. Alright, let me try a simpler explanation. We know ponies get their cutie marks when they discover their destiny, or special talent. It represents who they are, and what they're meant to do. But . . . there are times--very rare, almost unheard of, even--in which circumstances stack against somepony from using their talent, even to the point of permanently. In that case, their cutie mark has no reason to exist if one can't use their talent anymore.
"Take for instance, Princess Celestia. Although her talent is controlling the sun's orbit, we all know that stars can die one day. So when that happens, Celestia has no sun to control, therefore she can't use her talent, and her cutie mark will eventually disappear."

Soarin brought a hoof to his jaw. "The Wonderbolts aren't just about flying or defending Equestria's safety. We're meant to inspire its citizens to maintain honor, respect, and loyalty. But they violated what they stood for by lying and betraying me."

"Exactly. You must have realized that even if you made it back into the Wonderbolts, you could never trust them again. You know they don't stand for those things anymore. That's why your cutie mark disappeared."

"Okay, but what do I do? I can't just stay a blank-flank for the rest of my life, can I?" 

"Not necessarily. That talent is still very much there. You just have to reignite that passion, or that sense of loyalty and honor. If Princess Celestia had found a new star that could sustain Equestria's life, her cutie mark would return. Really, a cutie mark isn't your capabilities, only a symbol of what you're capable of."

The pegasus groaned. "Thanks, Twilight, but I don't think I'm getting my cutie mark back anytime soon if that's the case. The Wonderbolts aren't going to let me back onto the team anytime soon." He gave a bittersweet smile. "It's funny. Just before I was referring to the team as though I were still a part of them. Now what does that say about me? That I'm stuck in the past?"

"No, of course not, Soarin. I think you see them as family, even after everything that's happened." Hearing him laugh again, she asked, "What's funny about that?"

He looked back at her, incredulous. "You really don't know jack about the Wonderbolts, do you?" When Twilight answered with silence he elaborated, "We aren't . . . weren't just like a family; we were family. Maybe not all by blood, but we treated one another as though we were. Every party we were invited to, every show we performed at--even our days off when we just hung out at home--we spent those times together.
"Of course, the whole Wonderbolts team is divided in different branches like the reserves and the combat-only groups, but we, the main team, were all as family as family gets."

"How you describe it," Twilight pondered, "It reminds me of Applejack's family, and all their reunions."

"Applej . . . oh, right, the pie vendor. Nice mare. Very pretty, too. Yeah, I guess that's a good comparison."

She waved the distraction off. "But what happened to you? What changed that made Spitfire hate you so much?"

Soarin scoffed, going back to the couch. "Wasn't a matter of hate. Even after everything she did, I heard her say that she really did regret lying to me. Trouble is, though, she often forgets that we're not just a team that entertains for a living. For her, if somepony's performance scores are dropping, that means it's their time to leave.
"I was a pretty decent flyer there. Got a lot of ponies cheering for me. But, I dunno, three, two months prior, I just started declining. Then that one show happened, where I crashed, and that was it."

"And instead of just talking about it and trying to work through the problem together, like a family should, they took a shortcut that had too high of a personal cost," Twilight finished, then letting her eyes drop to the floor as her own hypocrisy sank in. "Trust me, Soarin, I would know about that more than you realize. Maybe if I'd thought about that myself I wouldn't even be in this mess."

She hadn't meant to let that slip in. It just happened. As she was talking about what should have been done, she realized her own error in judgment. Perhaps it was because her own guilt fueled her sympathy towards Soarin.

The pegasus faced her. "Hey, it's alright. I got by being alone, so long ago, so I think I'll get by doing it again." He cocked his head. "Besides, what are you talking about, you knowing the situation yourself? You're nothing like those Wonderbolts, certainly not like Spitfire, either."

"Maybe, but I still made a horrible mistake . . . probably one I can't fix so easily," Twilight sighed. It was too late to take it back, so she might as well have elaborated. "You would think that friendship is the easiest thing to come by, but so many ponies think of it as the same as being faultless. Well, it's not. Friendship is something so complex and vast that even the best of us make unforgivable mistakes. Even I have so much left to learn about it."

Soarin had suddenly gotten close to her. His emerald eyes flared with kindness as he said, "So work through it together. Talk about it. Those five seem like they haven't given up on you yet. And unlike Spitfire, I don't think it's too late for you to fix it."

She glanced away. "It's not so simple, Soarin. Like I said, friendship, however magical it is, is so complex. If any one of them knew what I've done, they wouldn't see me as you might."

"Okay . . ." he raised an eyebrow, "But you have to try, right?" He lifted her head with his wing. "You can tell me, if you want. Whatever you say can't hurt me all that much."

Before she was even aware of it, he'd leaned in and pecked her gently right on the muzzle before brushing a strand of her mane back. She would have backed away right there, but for the first time since the testing and Nightfall's appearance, she felt secure. 
She didn't let herself think about it before she returned the kiss, which required her to stand on the tips of her hooves due to his height over her, but she didn't care about the effort. She felt heat rise up her spine as Soarin's wing released her chin and closed around her in a small hug. A smile crept along her face as she--

Twilight gasped, clutching her midsection as she fell backward onto her flank. Everything she felt, the calm, the warmth on her lips and where Soarin had his wing, warped into a sick sensation of constriction and venomous heat pouring into her bones.

"Twilight? Are you all right? Twilight!" Soarin's voice melded with a pained whine as her darkness tore through her will to stay conscious. She drove out all thoughts of Soarin and clenched her eyes shut, imagining a steel cage forming around the creature. She could feel a mindless rage from it tearing through her, but she held strong as she could. Normalcy eventually returned as the pain it brought on her faded away. "Twilight, what happened?"

"I can't . . . this can't be happening," she whispered to herself. Nightfall couldn't come out now, not with Soarin here! Her transformations were supposed to be random, so why did it almost happen now, of all times?

The scale . . . It was like the scale she'd shown Soarin back at the Altrotta, how one's actions or inactions tilt the scales to either Goodness or Evil. It may have been the same here; these transformations were likely going to happen randomly, but her actions or inactions may become an influence of when they would come.

And what I felt with Soarin . . . Nightfall almost took over then . . .

Whatever the reasons for it attacking Soarin, they weren't out of spite; perhaps a stronger, more violent, especially vicious, version of whatever this was. Of course, Nightfall wasn't like everyone else, ponies who weren't split into two personalities solely made up of their natures, so maybe it couldn't express its emotions like them, and instead resorted to affection through violence.

Which meant Soarin was in far more danger than any uptight noblepony in Canterlot was in.

The pegasus had spent the whole time of her reflection on Nightfall's motivations watching her crumble, and listened to her whispers of disbelief as realization slowly crept onto his face.

"I'm so sorry, Twilight," he apologized after a long pause. Helping her up, he sighed, "That was wrong of me. I should be treating you like a respected pony, not like those mares I've wasted my time with."

Clearly misunderstanding, Twilight tried to recover. "No, Soarin, it's not you. I just--"

She only succeeded in convincing him further, because he stepped away from her, smiling in a bittersweet way. "It's okay, Doctor Sparkle." Twilight winced at the sudden usage of her title. "I get it. You have a reputation to protect, for your mother's sake. You can't go ruining it by . . . consorting with the likes of me." He started to turn away. "I promise I won't ever do that to you again."

As he started towards the door, Twilight almost stopped him, about to explain why she had freaked like that. But her mouth stayed shut. This was the perfect chance to get him out of the crossfire. If she had nothing more to do with him, then the Nightfall in her would eventually lose interest in attacking him.

You can't hurt what your enemies don't care for. Regrettably, that meant breaking the same friendship she'd offered him only a week ago.

"Y-yes, Soarin," she stammered, trying not to word it too coldly. "I just can't . . . consort with ponies like you, n-not when my work's at stake." She stiffened, taking on an air of seriousness. "My offer for friendship is still open, but I can't have anything more to do with you. It's for my family, so I hope you understand."

"Yep. Gotcha, Doctor," he said back, receding towards the front door. He pointed at his shoulder, "Thanks again for helping with this thing, so I owe you big. So, see you around?"

Twilight nodded, unable to say anything else without risking breaking her façade. Her eyes followed his movements of opening the door, slipping outside, and closing it just as quietly. For the second time that day someone had left because of her harsh words against that someone, but this time she knew they were said for the better.

But . . . her heartbeat still raced, and she felt like her face was flushed, as though embarrassed. Struggling to breath, she began to wonder if this was some new side-effect that was brought on by her corrupted formula. "I'll just have to keep recording these effects until Zecora finally has those ingredients," she told herself. Then, everything would be fine. There was nothing to worry about, right?

She sniffed, rolled down the sleeve of her sweater over her bandage--Soarin's bandage--and went back to the study to work. 
> Act I: Chapter Nine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

         
Act I: Chapter Nine:
A Talk with the Princess


A brisk wind had settled into Canterlot on the autumn morning of September twenty-second. The weather ponies recruited to match this wind accordingly had decided to completely clear out the skies, letting the sun shine though and lift the spirits of those who walked about.

In which case, was everybody.

Everywhere one looked, whether it be in the streets or the various shops, in the local park or at the train station, the city was full of ponies going about, entering stores and purchasing their wares, then proceeding to the next agenda. But unlike any usual Canterlot day, these ponies performed their tasks with content smiles and gleeful spirits, both without any desire to give trouble to the owners or fussing over the quality of the wares.

This mature spirit had settled onto the store owners themselves, as most had left their windows and doors open as a welcome invitation to both customers and the soft breeze alike. Even Hoity Toity himself--whose ruined wares were yet to be replaced--was caught up in this infectious glee, and ended up opening his own store in offering hospitality. 

By noontime the infection had spread to nearly everyone in Canterlot, as most had gathered in the city park laughing and dancing; although the reason behind it all was unclear. There was no national holiday set for today, and the nearest celebration, the annual Canterlot Running of the Leaves, was not scheduled to happen for another two weeks.

A cynical noblepony would perhaps demand the reason behind the celebration, but today there were none who asked. Even those nobleponies had joined in, albeit at their own boundaries, as they stood off to the side just watching it all.

It was a quiet, holiday-free morning that welcomed the casualty of life; and one that allowed a freedom from the strains of formality that controlled the city.

. . . Which was why no one was completely surprised when Princess Celestia herself walked through the crowd, having partook in the casual affair through her choice of fashion. Bearing none of her golden regalia, not even her crown, the princess only wore a beige saddlebag and a long lavender-and-white scarf that had been done in a loop-and-tuck knot, with the ends caught in the breeze sweeping from behind her.

Some of the ponies tore themselves away from what they were doing to kneel before their princess, and, after allowing them to finish their gesture of respect, she gave a subtle nod in telling her subjects to proceed. Seeing that they settled down again, she moved onward.

The rest of the walk went uninterrupted, allowing Celestia to ponder on her surroundings. This park, when erected, had been planted with hundreds of oak saplings, the end result making the place feel more like a forest. The orange leaves above her served as a thick canopy to shield from rainy days; it was so thick that lanterns were needed to light the place, even on this cloudless day.
And along her path was a long, wide rut that had sunk into the ground from centuries of its use during her favorite event of the autumn, the Running of the Leaves--this year was to be the six-hundred forty-fifth event since its establishment to make the job of preparing for winter much easier, as back then pegasi would manually pick the leaves off.

She laughed quietly. Her memory had not dulled in the slightest, even after a millennium of guarding and guiding these ponies.

Coming out of the clearing, she slipped past another group of ponies. One of them, a small colt, pointed at her scarf as if complimenting it, so she offered a smile before moving on. The scarf in question was a gift from one of Twilight's Ponyville friends, Rarity, who'd knitted it herself. In fact, she had made a hundred-or-so of them in both memory of Twilight Velvet, Doctor Sparkle's mother, and support towards the cause surrounding her.

Of course, having received the very first scarf, Celestia being seen wearing it had boosted vital funding towards finding a cure.

She exited the park, setting all four hooves on the cobblestone--but as she did, a biting surge of wind wormed under her skin. Shivering, then wrapping the scarf a bit more, she stopped and looked back to the palace, where numerous of golden spires pierced the skies. In one of them, Sir Blueblood was no doubt performing his duty to direct the winds.

The Wind, although a life-giving force of nature, was still a force without thought or control, just like the clouds or plant life. So a master was needed to maintain control over it, with Sir Blueblood being the perfect choice. Even if his manners were, in her silent opinion, juvenile.

In the five years that he had charge over the Wind, he showed a great potential in his talents, yet a poor example in maturity when it came to his lust for power. She didn't know how, but he'd somehow gotten a rumor going about for the last Grand Galloping Gala that he was Celestia's nephew in hopes of establishing a reputation of his own; and it was by her good grace, and Luna's urging, that she didn't remove his position when she found out.

"Oh, Blueblood, what have you done now?" she said wistfully, returning her thoughts to that sudden breeze. Very few knew it, but being the Knight of the Wind had a personal quirk that, depending on the pony in question, could be good or bad; since the winds and their direction were controlled, their nature could also be manipulated, depending on the knight's mood. On the day after the Gala, many of Celestia's subjects had complained that it was extremely humid outside, despite it being scheduled to be a cool day.

So with this sudden gust being bitterly cold, Celestia could easily sense something like joy, but it felt like a cruel joy. The kind that a smug fool would take to heart.

It took the Princess several glances at her destination and the celebrating ponies for it to fully click. And when it did she felt her spirit damper quite a bit. Questioning nobody in particular, she looked to the empty skies. "Was it not enough for you to crush my pupil's hopes? Did you spread what you call joy amongst my subjects just to gloat even more so?" Like any time that she would ask the skies this kind of forlorn question, there came no answer.

Surely, this glee that had infected her ponies originated from him and his colleagues, if only because of their own exultation. Joy is a thing that should always be spread to one another . . . but this exists for the wrong reasons.

Drawing a deep breath, she moved on, heading towards the tall study tower that was Twilight's. As she drifted onto the path leading there, she couldn't help but notice an creamy-colored unicorn with a red mane and thick sweater talking with the cellist Octavia Melody. They seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, but they were too far away for their conversation to be heard, even for her keen hearing.

Moving on, she finally got to the base of the tower, choosing to fly up, rather than take the stairs. With her massive wings the detour only took a few flaps to reach the top. "Now then . . ." She set her hooves onto the balcony, then raised one to knock. The light sound of tapping almost echoed inside the study, reflecting the feeling of emptiness.

I hope she's alright . . . she pondered. It had been some time since last speaking with her student--their encounter with the return of the Crystal Empire was one such time, but most recently was when she was approving her use of the Mirror water in her TS8 Formula, nearly two weeks ago. Therefore, it was high time to have a face-to-face talk, especially now that her work was shut down.

The Solar Princess had waited for a few minutes, ever-so patiently, but there was no reaction to her knock. No hoof-steps, no shuffling of papers as they would be crushed under-hoof; just . . . nothing.

Even Celestia couldn't keep her patience steady. She knocked again, this time with greater results; a startled cry could be heard, as well as that sound of papers crunching as Twilight rushed to the door. She couldn't help but smile at that.

The door creaked open, contrary to the previous display, partially revealing a sleepy-eyed Twilight Sparkle. "Huh? Oh, P-princess Cele-lestia?" Her voice sounded quiet and shaky, as though driven by fear. "I . . . I didn't realize you were coming today."

She offered a gentle smile all the same, even though they'd set this date to discuss custody of the Alicorn Amulet just last week. "No need to apologize, Twilight. I thought you would appreciate a visit, some time for us to sit down and just talk."

Twilight opened the door the rest of the way, stepping out into the sunlight to meet her mentor. Her appearance had certainly deteriorated in the fashion of one who had refused to leave their place of work for days on end--stress-induced, but still with a sense of tidiness, as her mane had been hastily brushed out. "Guess it doesn't take a wizard to know I failed, huh?" she murmured.

Having immediately caught on, Celestia replied, "No, we won't be discussing the matters of your work, not if you don't want to. This is just a simple talk, one that sets aside our connection as mentor and student. I'm not here to judge your actions, and not to grade your tests. I'm just here to talk."

Twilight made a slight bow, her shoulders slumping into the action. "Thank you, your highness, but . . ." She hesitated, a strange glimmer showing in her eyes. "But I . . . um . . . have some wor-work I need to do . . ."

Celestia raised an eyebrow slightly. Maybe the results of the Governors' visit had gotten to her, worse than she originally thought. But her eyes were dilated, nearly into tiny pinpricks. "By whose order?" she questioned her claim. "I haven't given you any assignments since the Crystal Empire, and the Governors . . ." She stopped herself. "That doesn't matter. You have no work that needs attending to."

Swallowing tightly, the unicorn backed up a bit, struggling to breathe. There was definitely bothering her here. Was she still convinced that she was here to judge her by her failure? It seemed the most plausible explanation.

"Yes, of-of course not," said Twilight, answering to the fact that she had no work. "What I mean is that . . . uh . . . I just d-don't feel like having any visitors right now."

The Princess got closer, her tone patient. "Twilight, I'm not here to scold you. I'm not even disappointed in you. If this is all about the--"

"No, it-it's really not that. I . . . I don't feel well . . . I just want to be alo-lone."

"Hmm . . . yes, you do seem ill," said Celestia upon placing a delicate hoof to the base of Twilight's horn. "Then perhaps some tea may help?" Before Twilight refuse again, she finished, "I insist. Please, let me help you."

Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but ultimately gave a sigh in submission. " . . . Alright." She moved aside, allowing the larger pony to enter, then quietly shut the door with her hooves. 

Light shone in from windows all around the study, brightening up the place like a welcoming home. The small staircase that led to the second floor was impossible to miss, and Twilight borrowed the lead to guide Celestia up into the 'laboratory', where the doctor had spent the last eight years researching the magic of science.
Although this wasn't what she intended for her student to learn, Celestia found her efforts in it commendable, putting it lightly. She established herself as a doctor of science, unearthed lost secrets of magic, and proved herself more than worthy of her place as much as if she'd taken her original path. She would have elaborated with her thoughts, but then took notice of her equipment; that was all--every vial, burner, microscope, and then some--still on the long table in the center of the room. 

She took a quick glance, but Twilight was busy scribbling something at the table before she dissolved the paper, presumably to Spike to ask for tea.

Upon her returning to her side and verifying her guess, Celestia noted the cube-shaped structure, "I see your colleagues decided to let you keep all of your equipment."

The unicorn stiffened her back. "Actually, they didn't want to, obviously because I can't work without it. But Fancy Pants . . . he fought against them to let me keep everything."

Celestia blinked. "I see."

"He reminded them that he commissioned most of it, so it technically belonged to him to do what he wanted. I mean, they gave in, but Fleur de Lis didn't look very happy about it."

"I do not doubt that." Certainly not, considering Fleur's taste for stallions . . . especially ones who will bend to her will at any cost to keep her.

Twilight continued, "Then, after the others had left, he told me I had a new chance, now. To try again."

"Yes . . . that was quite noble of him," Celestia said after a drawn-out pause. "But . . . you're not going to take that suggestion seriously, are you? You got off fortunate enough this time. Suppose if they change their minds about your equipment?"

Her subtle warning didn't quite reach her. "It doesn't matter. I have to finish this. My mother is the only thing that matters to me, and I will free her. Even if it means my reputation and my sanity."

She was playing a dangerous game here. To risk her reputation was to risk her current position as Celestia's student, and, by extension, her intended destiny. "Twilight Sparkle," she worded cautiously, "I would advise you not to test the Governors' patience. Please understand, if you are caught doing this, there is nothing I can do to help you. At best, I would be forced to remove you from the position of my student."

Having drawn in a deep breath, Twilight faced her with that strange glint in her eyes. "I don't care! They can't stop me from achieving this! Once everypony sees what the TS8 Formula--my formula--can do, they'll have no choice but to release it to the public! Nopony would dare refuse to administer a formula that can cure madness, save lives! And what they'll do about me after it all?" She gave a bitter laugh. "They can do whatever they want to me, just as long as I get what I . . ."
The glint of her audacity died out after a slow blink, and Twilight suddenly raised her hoof to the base of her horn and rubbed the area.

Celestia, who had stepped back, admittedly startled from the outburst, took cautious steps forward, then nestled a wing around the unicorn, just as she always did when she was ill or upset. "Twilight, are you sure you are alright?" she questioned, making sure that their eyes were locked.

At first, Twilight hesitated, but then sighed. "N-not really. I'm so sorry, Princess. I'm just so . . . so tired. Why am I even fighting when there's always going to be somepony who stands against your work? Those ponies . . . they don't even care that I'm doing something for the better of equine." She brought both hooves to her skull, and groaned, "And . . . this headache doesn't help at all . . ."

Celestia closed her wing around her, completing a feathery cocoon. "You have my forgiveness, my faithful student. It is only natural to wish things would go our way but once in a while." Looking out the window that gave a grand view of the city, she sniffed, "And, if I may be honest with you, I, too, have never found a liking for ponies like Fleur de Lis and Octavia Melody."
She wrenched her gaze away, closing her eyes as if in a sigh. "I'm afraid I allowed Canterlot to become a city full of them in grief of losing my sister. And now, well, I could reverse it, establish new laws that would allow fairness for all, but I think we both know that others would only see such actions as favoritism towards you."

"O-of course, Princess . . ."

They both suddenly heard the sounds of the study door being opened and dishes clattering. Spike came into view as he set a tray onto the top of the stairs, climbed up, then picked it up. It had a steaming kettle, two glasses, and a sugar bowl. "Hi, Princess Celestia," he greeted cheerfully, upon getting to the table. Then he asked nervously, "Um, oolong, right, Twi? I, erm, put the tea bags in already."

Twilight pushed herself out of Celestia's embrace and approached him. "Yes, Spike. Thank you." She bent down as he slid the tray onto her back, then slid it onto the table, on the small space where her journal usually was.

She must have locked it away when the Governors came, Celestia presumed.

Spike came by her and asked casually, rocking on his heels, "So, how's palace life?"

"Oh, tiring at times, Spike. You have to listen to fools demand lower taxes and more benefits to being famous for hours on end. Fortunately, those are the rare off-days, when nopony has anything fun or interesting to talk about." She looked back at Twilight, who shoved a chaise at the end of the room to the table, then rejoined the two.

"I don't suppose . . . you have anything else for me to do . . . do ya, Twi?" said Spike.

Twilight gave a slight shake of her head. "Sorry, Spike. I just needed the tea for the two of us."

Sensing the cold strain between the two siblings, Celestia then invited, "You could join our company if you want to, Spike."

Spike started to turn. "Nah, I'm good. It, um, looks like you two need to talk about important stuff, anyways. Don't wanna eavesdrop on ya. So . . ." He slowly waved, then excused himself.

Even after the door shut, Celestia eyed where she last saw him. Whatever was going on between them, hopefully this ordeal with Twilight's work's termination would be a blessing to patch it up.

Nodding to herself, she went to the chaise that Twilight had arranged for her. It was unfortunately too small for both herself and Twilight, but even then she seemed content to just stand beside it while she took the seat. After slipping the saddlebag off and hung it on the corner of the table, she sat down, watching the unicorn manually pour the tea and drop the sugar cubes in. Even with said sugar cubes she had used her hooves, rather than her magic, thus bringing an air of concern in Celestia.

The fatigue, headaches, now her refusing to use even a levitation spell . . . "You said you were feeling ill," she said, finally stating that concern. "Have you, by chance, been overusing your magic, Twilight?"

"Huh? My . . . my magic? I . . ." She broke her gaze from her, then started to say something before trailing off.

Keeping a cool head, Celestia patiently elaborated, "Because I've only seen these combined symptoms on times that you had overused it. In minor cases, I mean."

Twilight nodded knowingly. They both knew what happened when Twilight used her magic too often, or used too powerful a spell, in a severe case, rather than this minor one.

Once, when she was a filly, she'd poured all her energy into a healing spell, only for it to backfire on her, resulting in her falling into a coma of her own for two days. Doctor Stable, a well-known friend of her father's, discovered and carefully explained an anomaly in which her magic was connected to her in a unique way.
Unlike other unicorns, who only grew tired or had a slight headache at worst, Twilight's magic had a strong connection to her very life force; the doctor had explained it as being like a major artery, that if severed from the rest of the body the tear would kill it.

What Celestia saw now was a sign that said that Twilight may have overused her magic recently.

"Y-yes, Princess," Twilight finally replied to her mentor's question. "I was trying to boost the potency of the TS8 Formula one night. I overcharged my magic and fainted until the next morning. As for the Formula . . . I did drink it, but the spell . . . um . . . it fizzled out. It ac-actually weakened the formula's effects. That . . . That's why my test failed, and why everything lead to this."

"I see." There was no judgment in Celestia's voice, nor anger for her taking such a huge risk. After a moment's passing, she continued. "I hope this has taught you to be more careful from now on. Taking risks for a good cause is noble, but not when that risk is far too costly for one's own good." Twilight winced, dropping her eyes, so she added, "But as long as you're unharmed, that is all that matters."
She gestured for her to come to the table. "Now come. Let us not let this tea Spike made for us go to waste."

Twilight obeyed, seating herself beside the chaise that Celestia took, and offered one glass to her on a shaky hoof, then took the second. While Twilight waited, eyes filled with impatience, Celestia took quiet sips of her tea, which tasted of vanilla and brown sugar; it reminded her of Hearth's Warming cookies.

As her student drank her tea, some of her vitality returned, judging by the color that sparked in her irises and her headache seemingly stopped, because she didn't touch the base of her horn anymore.

After waiting a long minute, Celestia began to throw in small talk, beginning with the festivities that everyone partook in, (though she omitted the reason why) to the recent success of the Altrotta theatre, which had drawn in quite the large crowd for its wide array of musical genres; not that Soarin's former popularity with the Wonderbolts didn't help with finances.

"About that, Princess," Twilight had piped up, "How come you and Princess Luna weren't there for the opening night? I think the owner, Glider, she had told me you'd reserved seating for yourselves."

Celestia finished her tea, its warmth surging through her veins. Did I reserve those seats? Yes, she did remember talking to Glider personally, asking for spots at one of the tables in a far corner, where few would take notice of their presence, and fewer be bothered by their tremendous height blocking the show. 

Nodding, she confirmed Twilight's statement, "We would have gone, however, the mailing system was a tad off that day." Twilight blinked, not realizing the joke. "Too many nobleponies demanding free perks to go with their nobility, and too few letters from my favorite niece."

"Oh. Were you two talking about the upcoming Equestria Games possibly taking place in the Crystal Empire?" She drained the rest of her tea, then poured herself a second cup, pausing to offer Celestia more as well. 

"No, thank you. And as for the Equestria Games, we haven't thought that far yet. There's still Cloudsdale and Appleloosa to consider for that. Rather, Cadence and I were engaged in a discussion of starting a business trade between our cities. Now that the Crystal Empire has returned in all its glory, the rest of Equestria will want to know and experience more of it. Crystal berries, building materials, even the fabrics made there are considered of high value." She set her glass aside, then focused on Twilight. "Of course, it isn't about making a quick bit. I only mean this as the rest of Equestria getting the chance to learn about the lost empire."

Twilight blinked, confused. "You mean Cadence was exchanging a contract with you? But she's never been able to work on a business contract--at least not without hours of dissecting the fine print."

"Hm, yes, that was always one such chink in her array of talent. But I had spent the day helping her through even the tiniest detail of what must be done to ensure this trading deal be fair for both parties. And, quite honestly, by the time I'd settled those troublesome nobleponies, I really didn't feel like making a public appearance."

"Heh, if only it were that easy," Twilight mumbled. "Just thinking about how easily Octavia can get away with what she does . . . it's almost depressing." She suddenly drew in a shaky breath and pressed a hoof to her chest for a moment, clenching her eyes, before slowly relaxing, releasing said breath in what Celestia thought was relief. Then she got up, walking to the front of the table, then back. Then repeated.
Finally, she made eye contact with her, saying in a firm voice, "Let's just get to the real reason behind your visit. You came to collect the Alicorn Amulet, right? I know you said you would today . . . but with the Governors, I wasn't so sure at this point."

Celestia hesitated, having caught a tone of relief in her voice, but nodded.

"But," she suddenly shifted moods, "I know you always make small talk when you're trying to settle me in for bad news . . . so what's going on?"

Her eyes looked as though they burned with curiosity, yet a dread for what was about to be said, so the Princess didn't hesitate. "I supposed by now you've heard of the recent attack on Hoity Toity's boutique?"
Twilight nodded, fully paying attention. "Good, because you may also know that the crime hasn't stopped there. Over the last week, there have been several reports of boutiques and restaurants being broken into and ravaged, all places that belong to nobleponies."

"But the safes and registers have all been left alone," Twilight added. "At least, that was what I heard from some of the guards who questioned me. Erm, that is, they just wanted to know if I saw anything is all."

"I understand. And Glider had told me last night she found scratches all over the side of her theatre, and one pony left in shock. The poor soul kept saying that he saw a demon."

Again, the unicorn nodded, but not before taking on a startled visage. "S-so, what does this have to do with the Al-alicorn Amulet, again?"

Choosing her wording carefully, Celestia answered, "I fear this perpetrator has no intention of stopping their mayhem, but rather they wish to further it; mainly through seeking out the Amulet. That would explain why the safes and registers in each store have been left alone."

Twilight got onto her hooves and fidgeted in place, as though anticipating the next bit of her information. Celestia gave a heavy sigh. In all her years of selecting and giving pupils with raw magical talent certain assignments, she never once thought she'd have the desperation to ask for such a trying task. "Now, Luna and I discussed the matter thoroughly, and came to realize that if they really are looking for the Amulet, our palace would be an obvious pick as to where it's hidden."

Dread clouded Twilight's eyes. "S-so you want me to continue guarding it. Here, where they would easily miss it."

Regrettably, Celestia felt nothing short of relief, now that she didn't exactly make the request herself. " . . . Yes, Twilight. I know I promised to take it off your hooves today, but with this threat in Canterlot, Luna and I must focus wholly on bringing them down, before they cause real damage to the city. And as my prized student, you certainly have the ability to protect the Amulet from the wrong hooves."

She wasn't met with the confident visage of her student, but rather a sunken expression, as though disappointed in what was forced upon her. "Oh . . . of-of course, P-princess . . ." She sat back down on her haunches, deliberately avoiding her mentor's gaze.

"T-twilight? Are you certain you're alright?" When she didn't so much as make a sound, Celestia glanced at a drawer in the table, presumably where she kept the Amulet. " . . . It's been giving you trouble, hasn't it? Calling your name?" Her head shot back up as she gave an incredulous expression. "Yes, it does seem obvious to me now." Clearing her throat, she elaborated, "You should be at ease to know it's only natural for the Amulet to call you. It has a tendency to lure only those with raw power or a great ambition . . . or the rare case of both."

Now she was the one who broke her gaze. I've said too much already . . .

She heard Twilight get up again. "You know what the Amulet does? Then wouldn't that mean you know how to destroy it? Or at least counter its magic?" She grasped her wing with trembling hooves, looking curiously at her mentor.

But Celestia withdrew her wing, pulling away from her. "What I know is not important to this current issue, Twilight. I merely speak of past encounters with those who used dark magic."

"But if you know how it works," Twilight desperately begged, "Maybe we can find a way to destroy it and--"

T w i l i g h t S p a r k l e.

The unicorn's ramble suddenly cut off, and she stumbled back, undoubtedly taken aback by the sudden use of Celestia's Inner Voice. Not the Royal Canterlot Voice, but something considered sorcery amongst those who weren't Alicorns. Really, it was just a mind-to-mind speech that she and Luna shared when they needed a private conversation, but on the rare occasion in which she needed to be heard at all costs, this voice that drilled directly into the recipient's mind would always succeed in getting their attention.

Twilight gasped tightly, her whole body clenched into a tiny ball; clearly she had it in her mind that she'd upset her mentor, who would now punish her for pressing a subject that should have been dropped.

Celestia promptly severed the link and help Twilight up, before she could break into a plethora of apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to do that, Twilight. But I needed your attention, and quickly."

"I-I didn't mean to upset you, I just--"

"You didn't upset me. You did nothing to bring displeasure. But I have my reasons as to why I've never spoken of dark magic, nor its uses." Drawing a quick breath, she resolved, "Let us make a deal, Twilight." Twilight looked up to her, intent to listen. "I will tell you this one thing, why I've never spoken of the subject to you. But, in return, I expect to hear no more of it during our sessions or conversations. Are we agreed?" She carefully shaped her tone to be gentle, but also very firm. Hopefully not too firm.

Had her tone gone too far, it seemed Twilight didn't care, for she answered with a quiet nod, "Yes, Princess. Um, I really am sorry for--"

"Don't. I already told you there was no reason to apologize. Now"--she maintained an orderly fashion with what would be a brief lecture--"You already know that magic has existed for a long time, perhaps since the beginning of Equestria itself. But it has no true alignment to it. It is as you say in your work; every heart has a good and evil side to it, so the same possibly could be said for magic itself.
"But in every story, every fable, every history, therein lies a fool lacked the responsibility to use magic properly, one who strives to reach their goals through shortcuts. That is where dark magic makes its mark in their story. At the very core of our being, we all want power in some way, shape, or form, and in seeking this, magic, if used incorrectly, becomes dark magic. Therefore, the fool in these stories and pasts would forever be known for using dark magic in the hopes of a swift victory, but would only succeed in bringing their own downfall."

Celestia glanced at the drawer again. "The Alicorn Amulet, however, is purely dark magic. Even I don't know who or what created it, but it was designed to be only dark magic, and to call out to ponies with raw potential or ambitious desires, regardless of race. What's worse, dark magic has been known to make itself more enticing the more one knows about it, good or bad.
"This is why I've never spoken of the subject with you. Even with your unfaltering faithfulness towards me, dark magic could still mold you into something like King Sombra became. There will come a time in which you will have the responsibility and resolve to learn about dark magic, yet resist its calling. However, now isn't that time."

She brought an end to her lecture, giving Twilight a look that silently asked if this information sufficed.

"I understand, Princess Celestia," Twilight bowed slightly. "But, if I may ask one more thing, what about ponies who tried to, hypothetically, use dark magic for a selfless reason? Since magic is a force that can be molded to the user's wishes, wouldn't dark magic do the same?"

A bold hypothesis to ponder on, but nonetheless foolish to follow through with. "Dark magic cannot be controlled, regardless of the user's intentions."

Twilight suddenly hopped beside her. "But why can't it? All forms of magic obey the user, right? So dark magic should--"

"You promised me, Twilight." She interrupted, albeit with a patient tone. "I have told you the necessary information on this subject. Now I expect to hear no more of it for now." Upon seeing her student's desperate expression, she added, "You will learn all there is to know about dark magic, its dangers, its reasons, and everything in between; and I mean everything. When you are ready."

" . . . Y-yes, Princess. I swear I won't ask again."

Adding a soft smile to her words, Celestia continued, "Thank you. Now, speaking of, 'when you are ready', there is one more thing I must address before leaving." She lead Twilight back to the table, where she'd left her saddlebag resting on the writing space. "Back when you passed your test concerning the Crystal Empire, I had told you that it was time to take the next step in your studies in magic. I think now is a good time to make do on that promise."

As she went to the table for her saddlebag, she could feel Twilight's eyes practically drill into her back with curiosity. She undid the magic-operated latch and withdrew the spell-book she'd anticipated giving to a student who proved themselves deserving to know the spells within. Now, in Twilight's hooves, that anticipation would pay off.

The worn leather of Star Swirl's journal was cracked at the edges, and its pages had a yellow, crispy quality to them--it appeared as though the slightest, reckless touch would turn the book into scraps. This was thankfully not the case. Celestia had long ago applied a carefully-crafted spell intended to preserve the journal and its lettering within, therefore allowing the student who deserved this test to dive into the teachings of late unicorn wizard without worry of the pages themselves.

She turned back to Twilight and gently lowered the spell-book to her eye level.

"Oh my . . . i-is this . . .?"

"This is Star Swirl the Bearded's spell-book, yes," she chuckled in reply. "And it's yours to read and study as you please."

Careful with her movements, Twilight received the spell-book, making a quick scan of the pages. "This is the next step of my studies?"

Celestia nodded. "It is. You are to read through this spell-book. Learn what you can, try the spells out for yourself, even. And when you think there is nothing left to learn from here, you may come to me and make a summary review of what you learned."

"T-thank you, Princess. I'll protect this with my life." The stars in her eyes winked out, however, replaced with a somber expression. "H-however, I'd still like to continue pursuing my actual purpose, and work on finishing my formula."

The princess nodded again. "Very well. But keep my admonition in mind, Twilight. Yes, this is entirely your choice. But it will come at a price you must pay if found out."

This didn't deter Twilight in the slightest. "I get that. There are too many risks behind what I'm doing. But it doesn't change the fact that I have to do this. Please understand, if for nopony else, then for my mother. I've been held back far too long by those hypocrites, and I'll do whatever I can to stop them from taking her away from me."

Celestia scrutinized her student carefully. Yes, something had changed in her spirit. Something had unhinged her confidence and made her eager to rise above the odds. She hesitated to call it arrogance, but she certainly showed a bit of overconfidence . . . could it be that King Sombra did something to make her like this? Or did going into the field of science just open her up to being a stronger mare?

She shook off the suspicion, deciding that it was because of today's occurrences. It didn't matter. In time, she would succeed in her endeavor, free her mother, and finally return to the path that was patiently awaiting her. "Very well, Twilight Sparkle," she said again. "You may continue your research. Just remember what I said. Those ponies are not known for being open-minded."

"Princess, I swear I'll show them, one way or another. You know what I'm capable of."

Celestia slipped her saddlebag on, securing the belt around her barrel. More than you know, my faithful student. "Yes, but I also encourage you to read through that spell-book. After all, you may yet learn something new about the magic of Friendship."

With that, she said a brief farewell to her student and let herself out of the study. It was high time to return to her sister and continue the morning routine of putting nobleponies in line, the festive spirit of the city notwithstanding.
> Act I: Chapter Ten
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Chapter Ten:
. . . This Time, the Predator's Me!


". . . So I told Blueblood off. Told him, 'You wouldn't know a decent wine if your 'auntie' poured it down your tuxedo!' Oh, how he shut up right then. Gave me a well-earned peace." Octavia chuckled quietly, her weariness dragging her back into the melody of her hooves clacking on the pavement. Having received a generous payment for her performance alongside her partner-slash-rival at the Altrotta Theatre, she only wanted to return to her cozy flat.

Still, yet still, she had her shoulders forced back, her head held high, and every step taken meticulously. Appearances were everything, after all. Even the few Solar Guards who stood by, eager to end their shift, could spread unhealthy rumors should she lose posture for but a moment.

But she wouldn't. 

She didn't have to look to her reflection in the windows to know that she carried herself with the grace of an angel. And the crescent moon which hovered over the city like a dim flashlight further enforced that image.

Bouncing beside her, Deejay PON-3, or Vinyl Scratch, nodded her head in agreement of her story. That she got respite from Blueblood's nonsense, that he knew nothing of wine, or that plucking that raw nerve with the Gala was fitting payback, Octavia couldn't say. Vinyl couldn't exactly clarify with head nods.

Actually, she seemed more focused on where her hooves bounded in erratic steps rather than what she was saying. And with each step, the impossibly-large hunk of metal on her back--her 'instrument' that folded when in disuse--swayed uncomfortably, threatening to crush her like a bug at any moment.

Octavia tried not to sigh. Unfortunately, she couldn't speak her mind, not until the guards' shift ended in a few minutes. Come midnight, they would begin to switch with their bat-pony Lunar counterparts, leaving them enough time to talk for themselves.

"So," she tried to start up a conversation anew, "Today was an interesting day. Soon after I'd finally rid this city of Doctor Sparkle's work, I came across a young ex-student of Celestia's school."

She heard her friend's pace slow. Turning back, she saw the deejay wore an withering stare.

"Erm, well, that is, this unicorn," she stammered, "Was quite interested in an internship at the hospital. Said that she wanted to be a Governor like myself and make a difference in the city."

Having forgotten about the row between her and Doctor Sparkle, Vinyl jabbed a hoof at her open mouth, tongue dripping out.

"Oh, come now, being a Governor is a prosperous opportunity for education, benefitting livelihood--oh, wait, deejays wouldn't care much for that sort of thing. They just lurk in the dark looking for their next prey to feast on." She laughed as Vinyl clutched her heart as if staking herself through for such a low blow. But soon after she fell back into her walking rhythm, oblivious to Octavia's craving for conversation.

Having enough, Octavia glanced to the guards. Many as they were, their numbers thinned as they drew closer to the train station. "Vinyl, please, just talk to me," she whispered. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Seeing the irritation behind her purple glasses, she watched her look around as well, then practically ripped them off. "Look, y--" Her voice came out choked from phlegm buildup, forcing her to clear her throat before starting over. "Tavi, you know how I feel 'bout talking in the open. Too risky for these dolts to know ya."

"Dear, if this is about your fears of nobleponies hearing you, stop," she said, prodding her side. "Everypony knows your association with me; therefore they see you as my equal, regardless of if you can or cannot speak."

She flinched as her friend shoved her hoof away. "Pshhh, yeah right. Only thing they feel for me is restraint. Not for you, they'd send me running back to Ponyville.

"They know nothing. They covet my connections to all genres of music, something which they shall never get their hooves on."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not talking around other ponies, period. You're the only one I trust with my secret. Think you of all ponies should know that having a secret hiding in plain sight suddenly released can send a small shock through 'em."

Like it or not, she was right. Canterlot wasn't known for its diversity in culture, and dubstep was considered the lowest of low in the eyes of nobles. So something this juicy in terms of gossip would ruin Vinyl for good.

"Fine. Just--just fine. Do as you will. But what I fail to understand is why you've ever let that veil be presented in the first place." When first meeting, it was mere accident that she found that Vinyl could talk. Why she played mute was another story, one that she never felt comfortable telling once.

Instead of answering right away, Vinyl looked around, waiting to pass the next guard. Only after he nodded them along upon their passing did she enlighten her. "Remember when Discord broke out and mushed everypony's brains into jelly?"

Octavia shuddered in answer. The memories of seeing nothing but her reflection melt into mutilated monstrosities wherever she looked were still raw in her mind.

"Yeah, well, I got stuck with me being forced to talk 'till my voice ran hoarse. And then some!"

"Shhh . . ." The guard perked his head up a bit.

"Okay, so yeah, the big guy just kept laughing at me, said it was so funny that I didn't trust anypony past you. Said everypony was scum in my eyes 'cept you."

Octavia blinked, not understanding.

"Well, they are. I didn't figure it out 'till after he was sealed again. You can't trust everypony, Tavi. If there's a stuck-up jerk that doesn't like your opinion or who you are, they'll destroy you. Every word you say, they'll find a way to warp it 'gainst you and ruin all your dreams."

She learned that from Discord? God of chaos and disharmony? So she was basically saying that it was okay to play mute for everyone just because she was untrusting. Octavia almost shouted at her for taking such an immature lesson from the demon.

But it did make some sense. Truth turned into lies to ruin names, reputations, even hopes for the future. And with simple disagreement as the root of the cause, this practice was practically mandatory in Canterlot.

Something about that plucked at her skin and crawled with an icy chill down her back.

Vinyl noticed her expression and said, "Hey, I'm alright, Tavi. C'mere." She grabbed Octavia into a tight headlock that nearly choked her.

But what did she care? It was a pleasant feeling, being this close to her. She almost got even closer before realizing what she was doing, in the sight of the guards.

Yanking herself out of the embrace, she berated herself for being careless.

They trotted in silence for some time, until reaching the station. Just past it and off in the distance, a train howled its coming arrival, so Octavia hurried to pay the fare and lead Vinyl to the platform.

To her surprise, the deejay darted to the very edge, so closely that the Friendship Express nearly took her muzzle off upon pulling in. Not to her surprise, she silently protested when Octavia bit her tail and yanked her back. Only when the train had stopped did she release and let her dash into the train car.

She paused, realizing that she wasn't followed. She poked her head towards the seats as if to say, 'Well, you coming?'.

"I'm . . . afraid I can't. That unicorn I mentioned? As a governor, only I can file for her internship tomorrow. I can't exactly further the career of such an student in Ponyville, now can I?" Vinyl hopped in place, pointing at her instrument, then the cello. "Yes, yes, I'm aware. But I cannot just drop my duties for a sudden collaboration. I'm sorry."

The deejay shook her head, giving a soft smile as she backed up, letting the door slide closed.

Good. She bought it. Truthfully, she could file that internship whenever without consequence. But it was better to say otherwise, if only to avoid being dragged to Ponyville. The last thing she needed was for a stray reporter to catch her picture there. Especially not now, when everything was going so smoothly for her in terms of reputation.

But Vinyl . . . she stood out from the hogwash that was Ponyville; she did not let it define her or her music. She was an enigma wrapped in a ribbon of dubstep, yes, but that was what made her stand out in the first place. To live in a place like Ponyville was a fate that she didn't deserve. And Octavia's attempts to get her to move in with her were always shot down into the dust.

She'd never sever her roots, not ever. Octavia knew this as she watched her friend take her seat.

With a long hiss, the train pulled away, leaving the cellist alone in the lingering quiet. At least she was alone now; the streets being so abandoned, the trip home would be a cinch.

Turning about, she exited the station and beelined for the shopping district, her flat being right in the middle of it.

If only it weren't so cold tonight. The short time between getting to and leaving the station had allowed the wind to pick up considerably, the chill almost pushing her off her hooves.

"Alicorns above, Blueblood, would it kill you to ease up? Even I'm--"

"Octavia Melody."

She sucked in a sharp breath, hooves grinding into the pavement. "What--who's there?" Someone certainly did call her name from behind. Upon turning to the direction of the voice she found only darkness. At her hooves, the pearly moonlight flittered like the surface of a lake. Then a small shadow fled across, ripples of ink breaking the illusion.

Following the shadow, her eyes set on the presumed owner of the voice: a small, slender bat-pony with a dark cloak, its hood drawn over her horn. How she had a horn, Octavia was dumbstruck to figure that out, since bat-ponies, far as she knew, only had wings. Yet the slits in her green eyes said she was certainly of their kind. "Alicorns Above," she swore again, "You frightened me! Do you realize how rude it is to sneak up like that?"

The newcomer didn't so much as blink. Had she closed her eyes she would have blended perfectly into the walls with her grey coat. "It's a splendid evening tonight, isn't it?" she said in a hush. Octavia blinked, moonlight catching her eyelashes. Was she talking to herself, or just shooting the breeze? "I think so. It warms this pony's heart to see that friendship yet thrives, even in this decadent city."

Or she had drunk one too many hard ciders before her shift.

"I-I beg your pardon? Are you insulting your own city?" she asked, drawing closer to the poor soul.

Again the guard took no notice of her, save for eyeing her in such a way that one would at Tartarus' curious demons of old. "And what a lovely pair of friends this city has to behold: The elegant cellist, Miss Melody, and the 'mute' deejay, Vinyl Scratch, from Ponyville of all places!
"Still," she hummed, suddenly taking interest in twirling her hoof daintily before her face, "A fine friendship that bloomed from those differences. Though, I would think your friend's almost certainly the wrong gender to associate yourself as more than friends, wouldn't you agree?"

Heat flooded Octavia's face. How could she know that--?

She swallowed, stepping back a bit before remembering who was above who. "Y-you dare insult me? You realize that anypony could hear us, spread that nonsense to the papers? That's a right way to ruin one's good name around here!" Brushing a strand of mane back, she pleaded, "If you cannot keep your sorry lies to yourself, I suggest you shove them back into whatever hellhole you've conjured them from. And tell your fellow guards to mind their own business, too, once you're sober!"

Huffing under her breath, she turned to leave. The guard instead let out a bout of laughter that seized her in place.

So child-like . . . 

"That . . . that's funny, isn't it, my friend?" Octavia opened her mouth to deny their friendship, but then heard, "She thinks we're drunk. We offer truth to her, and she takes it like we're all tipsy." She chuckled again, stepping around to meet the cellist's eyes.

"W-what is this? Some kind of joke from Vinyl?" No, it wasn't, she realized. Vinyl's pranks were juvenile, low-brow on occasion, but not unnerving like this. This was real. "Have you gone mad? Your superiors shall hear of this when I'm done with you!"

"Oh, I assure you, I'm quite sane. More sane than I've ever been. It's all thanks to my best friend. I was so confused in the beginning, but I've finally set myself apart from her. I am me, now."

The mare--not a guard, Octavia realized, as there was no armor jutting from under her cloak--took a step towards her. Octavia retreated two.

"What are you babbling about? I don't understand!" Octavia demanded. Her chest felt heavy with the greedy breaths she drew in.

Rocks shifted from behind her, eliciting a sharp yelp from her. The mare used the distraction to get uncomfortably close to her. "And it's been liberating. So much truth I've witnessed since. And what I've come to know," she purred, tracing a hoof along Octavia's jawline. "Is that I can do what my friend was too much of a coward to. I can peel away those wretched façades, those masks, and reveal truth to all."

Octavia swatted her hoof away, stepping back shakily. "Get . . . get away from me . . ."

"Oh, but I wouldn't be so eager for your turn. You may find that the raw flesh isn't so pretty compared to nectary skin."

Eyes and horn lit up in a haunting glow. More pebbles clattered from behind Octavia. Just when she was about to turn again, something seized her hind leg.

The cellist screamed, flailing forward on her forelegs, and gasped desperately. The thing that had her was cold, so cold that it felt like the claw of the Reaper.

Ice squirmed up her leg and spread to the rest of her body. Her mind slogged, her vision blurring as she saw her assailant's silhouette drawing closer.

As she drew her head close, she could see sharp, manticore-like incisors poking out from her opening maw. Octavia forced slow, focused breaths through her lungs. She had to focus!

The muscles in the mare's neck tensed up; just a little longer . . .

Her muzzle clenched into a snarl. Now!

Octavia rolled to the side, just hearing the air snap as the mare's jaw came down. Not fast enough. Octavia felt the sting of a tooth pricking upon her dodge. Still the mare made contact with the pavement, her teeth scraping against stone. She recoiled back, snarling under her breath.

The binding slid off Octavia's hind leg at once, its chill still hovering over her skin. Smirking, Octavia stood, only to feel warmth dribbling down her ear. She brushed the spot, finding a thick glob of her blood upon pulling her hoof back. She . . . she actually bit me! I'll . . . I'll make her pay for--

Movement flittering out of the corner of her eyes, she glanced up. And flinched.

The mare was recuperated, legs poised for a pounce and eyes tracing her body like a meal.

Quick, numb pulses pricked her veins. Drunk, spiteful, or mad--or perhaps all three--this pony was a wraith out for blood. Her blood.

A grin crept across the creature's face, as though daring her to run.

Oh, I will. And then you can consider yourself screwed, miscreant. She wheeled about, hooves skidding before carrying her away to the shopping district, where most of the guards were occupied for the constant burglaries that happened there. Scared silly as she was, she didn't have to fear, knowing the guards were right around the corner.

"Guards! Arrest this pony! She's . . . !" No reply. "Hello! Anypony!" But still nobody came. What in damnation is wrong with these guards! Do they not know of 'protect and serve'! The cello bearing down on her, she stopped short, whipping her head about for those lazy excuses for soldiers.

"Nopony is coming for you, Miss Melody." Octavia jumped, barrel colliding into the side of the floral shop. The voice was everywhere; from every shop surrounding her, to the open skies, even emanating from the wall she'd pinned herself against.
Yelping, she jumped again, away from there, batting at the air around her hysterically. "Why should they, if they knew just what kind of pony you were? And even if they rose above their spite, why would they hurry to slip their armor on, when the mist is their only companion through the night?"

Cold traced along her neck. She looked up to the moon. Midnight. You fool! The Guards are changing out! She wanted this! The cold pricked at her when she realized why she wanted this. Nobody to see . . . or to intervene.

Growling, she pushed herself off, charging for the street leading to her flat. A shadow grew in her path, rising into the form of the mare as she laughed in her face.

Spinning back, she aimed to take the other way, but met with the same result.

"Arrggh!" Octavia screamed into the empty air, her adrenaline having dulled her brain. She cursed herself, realizing that she'd just given her position away.

Just think! Nopony can be everywhere at once, not even the Alicorns! Therefore, these shadows existed to keep her guessing, and keep her trapped. So where could she go that she didn't block off? The shadows at her hooves swirled in ocean-like waves, rippling with the nearing steps of the mare.

Where!

Her eyes scanning furiously over her surroundings, they set on a narrow alleyway. The mare had blocked the main streets, mainly the ones leading to her flat. So an off-course path would be left alone. She dove for it at once, her side ramming into the corner.

Once inside she noticed that there were shredded papers and empty cans, all undoubtedly accumulated from past wind storms. But it still caught her off guard when her back legs scrambled on discarded plastic. She shot both front hooves into the walls to keep from falling, smarting the flat part of them.

Pushing herself back up, she ran on, her hooves tearing up any unfortunate scraps of paper that were in her way. She constantly hit her barrel against the narrow walls, and the neck of her cello case screeched against the wall, chips of brick raining on her head.

On and on the gap stretched, with little more than lines of concrete and closed windows clouding her vision. The constant sameness of the walls started to sink into her, her imagination that the walls were getting more narrow growing wild.

Finally, some ten feet ahead, the night sky twinkled like a beacon. She exhaled a pent-up breath, desperate to cut the distance.

Eight feet . . . Something clattered from behind a ways off.

Five feet . . . hooves clicked in the street like a dying heartbeat.

Two . . . the sound was approaching her!

Octavia halted, gnawing her lip to contain the raw scream that'd nearly escaped. If she just stayed still, maybe that mare would leave.

"You cannot flee forever . . ."

Swirling in her ears, the mare's voice locked Octavia's joints in place. Even if she wanted to move, her ramming pulse had other intentions. Every pump of her heart threatened to pry her mouth open, threatened to sing out her location to the mare.

"Masks crumble . . . skin rots . . . truth escapes, and liars fall."

Copper filled Octavia's mouth. Her bowtie squeezed her throat like an awaiting noose that tightened with every louder step that the mare took.

She could swear the air was getting harder to mold into her chest. Finally unable to keep herself rooted, she bolted for the exit, her foreleg scraping the wall as she did.

Her gamble paid off poorly.

Something, the same cold something that'd gripped her, swiped at her forelegs, both collapsing beneath her. Octavia rolled along the road, into a stone fence, groaning from the impact. All four legs clenched into themselves; she didn't want to move or see the mare was waiting.

But she was. She withdrew the demonic things, whatever they were, and stepped out into the moonlight. By whatever dark workings, she'd been in the alley with her, as she slipped out of the crevice with a thin frame and ease that Octavia lacked.

Octavia lifted her gaze to her, purple with round pupils meeting jade with equally round; she was enjoying this. Why else would this thing's slitted eyes be so curious now?

Despite that, she never tore her eyes away. If this thing was going to try killing her, she wanted it to see her hardened gaze drill into its soul, supposing it even had one.

"Ah, Miss Melody. Elegant, beloved cellist of the capital, friend to aspiring dreamers . . . except when they're better than you, and when they stand between you and another step up the 'essential' social ladder." 

"You're m-making a dangerous mistake," Octavia spat. "What you're doing . . . you'll burn for it. Everything you are, everything you love and own and dream for--it all goes down the pipes with but a word from me! I'll see you burn--ah!"

Octavia grabbed her fetlock, spotting a deep red sear amongst grey hair. The mare's horn jade glow ebbed, a small grin barely visible in the moonlight. 

"You think I care about something so trivial? Well, I don't. You can't hurt me." She reared up to her hind legs, pupils thinning to paper. Her intent may have been to smash the cellist's head in, but she overlooked that her stomach was wide open for an attack.

Octavia rolled towards her and bent her hind legs back, kicking them right below the ribcage. The mare doubled over, hacking out a glob of blood as she hit her head on the ground. 

The cellist didn't stay to watch. Charging back into a gallop, her assailant was left behind to the distance.

Now getting to see her surroundings, Octavia found the Altrotta just ahead, its street lamp a candle in the shadow. The theatre was just a short way from the shopping district--from her flat. It had been a long run; had it not been for that cursed mare, she could have taken the short path and been home by now.

Fast as she ran, she was not trained for athleticism. Her legs quickly wore out, her muscles burnt for want of rest. Her breaths wheezed in futility and despair, the cold air burning at her nostrils and throat. The adrenaline that'd been a comforting solace now ebbed away and was taken over by spikes jolting through every bone.

Coming to the corner of the Altrotta, she skidded at the sharp turn, ribs slamming into the pavement. She let out a sharp cry, only letting herself rest when she picked herself slowly back up before darting off again.

She kept her eyes constantly flitting on each building before moving to the next. She cursed herself thrice-fold for making the facade of her flat the same grey as her own coat. Now the moonlight was her only friend to guide her home.

Breaking into the main square of the shopping district, Octavia spotted her two-story flat, its glimmers bouncing off the windows. Thank Alicorns. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. The tightness in her chest melted into sweet mush and prickled a gentle warmth down her spine. Blinking off her tears, she practically slammed into the door and dug for her key in the cello case.

Although the moon was a friend, time was not an ally.

The mare barreled into her, slamming both her and her own head into the wooden door. Her cello case went flying in the chaos and popped open, revealing the oak instrument and its bow. "Mmph! Get away from me!" she shrieked. The mare only cackled as she groped at her.

Ramming her knee into her head, Octavia crawled away, towards the case. She wrapped both hooves around it, forcing herself not to think about it, and poured all her strength into the swing.

Crackkk!

Octavia fell back from the momentum. Her head smarted into the pavement and blood seeped into her mouth. She steadily helped herself up to see her triumph.

She gasped. N-no . . . how . . . ?

The cello had made contact with the mare's head and shattered into a thousand pieces--that she'd seen before falling. But aside from some stray chippings stuck to her face, and a thin trail of blood seeping from her muzzle, she was unscathed. Only on closer look did she realize that she'd conjured a small shield, which shrank into nonexistence, its purpose done.

But around her, every chunk, string, and splinter of her beloved cello laid on the pavement.

The mare wheezed a deep breath. "Welp. For somepony so eager to take action over submitting to others, you sure like to flee." She slammed her hoof into her neck, then pinned her there with the other. "But at least you weren't boring or as pathetic as I thought. But now . . ." Looking about, she spied the pieces underneath her.

Her horn lit up, and every piece floated before her eyes. Then, like a black hole, they all sucked in together and began constructing . . . something.

Out of her cello! "What are you--" Octavia tried to protest, but her neck was constricted further. That was her cello she was defiling! She had no right to tinker with it, no right to tamper with its former perfection!

Her anger aside, there was a fascination that she couldn't hide. Even the tiniest splinter danced midair before melding with another; some even changed their shape to become whatever twisted device the mare was making. One particularly large chunk morphed into a curved, triangular slab, and the strings all twirled into whiskers at the cross below it.

It wasn't until the slab had a sharp edge ground into it that she realized it was a dagger! "You made my cello into a dagger!" she screeched again, this time trying to break out of her grip. No avail, however.

Once the mare switched her grip on Octavia's neck to her aura, she eyed her new weapon. "There, now. Isn't that a wonderful improvement?"

Octavia spat, opposing the mare who defiled the instrument she'd owned since the start of her career. But still her eyes drew to it, curiosity that obeyed its thirst without her consent.

Despite all the splinters, the blade's surface looked impossibly smooth, and the curve looked like that of a manticore's canine tooth. The aforementioned strings were fused on either side of a thin handle, and some kind of rune was burned into the pommel, glowing that haunting green that she grew to hate.

After stroking the blade's edge a few times like a new pet, she shifted her eyes from the sharp tip to Octavia. "Now then, a proper test for this blade . . ."

Cold, heavy silence burdened Octavia's mind.  The mare's reach slowed to a sluggish pace as the blade hovered over her.

"N-no, please . . . I--" Her breath clawed in her lungs as she desperately pawed for her cello case. The bits! She still had her payment from Glider! The small yet bulging sack fell out, distracting the mare long enough for her to grab it. "L-listen to me. There are two--no! Three hundred bits in here alone! Enough to buy a fl-flat like mine. Just take it and let me go!"

The mare hardly blinked when Octavia pressed it into her hooves, instantly tossing the bits into the darkness.

"What are you doing! I have more! I can--"

"Don't want your bits. Especially not when you nobleponies toss it about like cheap candy anyway."

Octavia shrank back into the door, hind leg inching for the case. "B-but . . . my influence! My influence can launch whatever career you're after. Just look at Vinyl! She . . . she's accepted here solely because I'm associated with her!" She swallowed, too late to catch her mistake, and shot for the case.

"Solely because of that influence of yours?" the mare challenged, before weaving around the cellist and kicking her case--and only key to safety--away. "Oh, what a painful loss for your friend, then. She'll surely miss your precious influence."

Octavia scuffled back, falling into the door. "Ah! Wait, I mean that as a good thing, for you! My influence can--"

The mare clicked her tongue, her expression sardonic. "You just don't get it, Miss Melody. Stop living in your delusion. Renown. Influence. Reputation. Whatever you prefer to call it, you can stuff it. Because I. Don't. Care. Why should I, when in this world, no good deed goes unpunished? I've spent my life playing Good Girl, always seeing for myself that was exactly the case."

She sighed, her voice somber. "So why even try to be the good girl, when all you're doing is digging a deeper grave for yourself? That is why, with nothing left to lose, I made myself the nightmare that everypony thinks I am. Just for you." The blade hovered above her head like a scorpion's tail ready to strike.

Octavia's heartbeat pulsed numbly. She slammed her hooves into the door to break it down. But her strength proved futile, as her energy ebbed away, and she sank onto the steps. "Please . . . Don't do . . . this . . . You can have anything you want . . . I'll even forget you came . . ."

The mare paused, blade hovering above her head. "Really?" she sniffed. "Anything I've ever wanted, Miss Melody?"

Octavia exhaled. Whatever the price, she was willing to pay it. "Y-yes, of course! You'll have it, I swear!"

An ever-shifting kaleidoscope of expressions passed over the mare's face. Her hoof thumbed at her lip in thought with each passing emotion. But she suddenly retreated a few steps and mumbled something under her breath, anger contorting her expression.

If not for her predicament, Octavia would have found herself pitying the soul.

Then the mare blinked, as though just waking from a dream. Her blade daintily twirled in her aura before it sank into the edge of her jawline.

White hellfire was all that Octavia felt. It lanced up from the incision, through her entire skull. Her drawn-out cry, although genuine, was made in the pale hopes that the guards, passersby, anybody, would come to help.

Hues of purple, grey, and jade all rippled together in a distorted palette behind her tearful eyes. Her breaths heavy in her chest, she couldn't draw out another plead for life. A gasp escaped her lips as the blade next traced the skin under her eyes.

"What I really want, more than anything, Miss Melody?" the mare asked. Hiding a foxy smile, she inched close, so close to feel the heat of her breath in her ear.

Octavia heard,  "I want my mother back, you malignant hypocrite."

Her rushing heart, its pulses brought on by the mare and her ramblings, dropped in her chest, its beat stopping cold.

D-doctor . . . ? Octavia couldn't breathe. She wouldn't . . . she'd never do . . .

But she couldn't unsee it. The dark mane, the small build, even that curious glint that highlighted the doctor's eyes . . . it was all there. "W-w-wait . . . Wait! T-twilight, please, I--!"

The wooden blade dug into her flesh, right under her right eye, and skidded down to her open, screaming jaw that cried out for the help that would never come.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Skip to 2:03

A slender silhouette dashed through the alley. Her thin frame made her little more than a slip of paper drifting through, and when she came out, she found herself at the entrance to the park.

Cold sweat trickled on her coat and her breaths were drawn in fleeting wisps. She looked skyward, to the moonlight that flittered through the canopy of leaves. Since the Lunar Princess' return, ponies began to cherish the beauty that she brought to her subjects; it gave them a sense of how small they really were in a daunting, large world, and by extension gave them that sense of what life and its bliss truly was.

That bliss was exactly what Nightfall felt run thick in her veins, thicker than her own blood. But not from the glow dancing on her face.

No, what caressed her face was thick, oozy, wet blood, its dying warmth kissing the corner of her lips. She ran her tongue along the corner, shuddering at the encounter of sickly, coppery flavor. Her chest rumbled with a chuckle, which burbled to a loud cackle.

It was so easy. All those fantasies of those pretenders disappearing, their dark webs of deceit perishing with them, finally a reality.

But not as Twilight Sparkle. As good of a doctor she was, she was crippled by the fact that she couldn't afford to stoop to their level, lest she ruin her name and doom the pony whom had birthed her.

Nightfall, on the other hand . . . she was no one. Nothing, in society's eyes. Therefore, nothing to lose at all.

And now? Now that Miss Melody had met with fitting comeuppance, she could hardly hold her breath in. She wanted to dance, to scream, to proclaim the destruction of the cellist who played with lies and stallions and mares alike, anything to unleash this burbling glee that threatened to break her skin.

And the best part? The cherry that cinched together this triumph? Octavia was only the beginning. Nightfall, thirsting for the demise of the wicked, knew there were more ponies out there who refused to ditch their masquerade and accept truth. And she wanted to show them all!

"Animals trapped beneath Tartarus' pits,
Need to run rampant and free!

"Predators live on the prey they outwit,
This time, the predator's me!"

Nightfall suddenly clutched her chest, her heart lurching against the veins. Fire bled through her body. She gasped as a streak of pink started to form in her mane. 

Clenching her jaw, she focused her magic, driving herself back into the recesses of her mind, making the pink streak and aching pulse ebb as well. It wasn't time to go yet, wasn't time to be the doctor. This time belonged to Miss Hyde alone.

"Lust, like a raging desire, 
Fills my whole soul with its curse!

"Burning with primitive fire . . .
Berserk . . . and perverse . . . !"

Horn igniting in a torrent of green, she teleported far away, so high up that she stood on one of the golden spires of Canterlot Palace. Two back hooves to stand on the tip, one pressed to her chest in wicked bliss, and one outstretched to the stars that were but a reach from being her companions.

"Tonight!

"I'll plunder Heaven blind,
Steal from Alicorns!

"Tonight, I'll take from all Equine,
Conjure all kinds of scorn!"

"And I feel I'll live on, forever!
With Discord himself by my side!
And I'll show myself that tonight, and forever,
The name to remember's the name . . .

"Nightfall Hyde!"

On the wind's breath she could hear a deep-throated chuckle, but she ignored it. Letting her body fall, her hooves skidded off the golden stone right before leaping from balcony to balcony.

"What a feeling to be so alive!
I have never seen me so alive!

"Such a feeling of evil inside!
That's the feeling of being Nightfall Hyde!

"This feeling of being alive!
There's a new me I see come alive!

" 'Tis a truth that cannot be denied!

"There's no feeling like being . . .

"Nightfall . . . Hyde . . . !"

Her bones jolted upon landing off the last balcony, the force enough to break bones. But what did she care? Her magic protected her anyway. It was the reason she had survived this long.

And now that Miss Melody was gone, she'd live forever. There was nothing in Heaven or Hell's forces, in Doctor Sparkle's efforts nor Miss Hyde's will, that would come to hurt her.

She was free.




End of Act I

> Act I: Interlude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act I: Interlude:
The Vow


"Everypony has fears, Scootaloo. Everypony must face them in their own way. But they must be faced; or the nightmares will continue."

The pegasus filly groaned and started to rub her left foreleg. A rippling wave erupted from her, sending many a boulder flying. The little one was awakening.

Princess Luna took flight immediately. She'd learned one too many times that dreamwalking had its dangers, and staying behind while a subject was waking up meant risking being stranded in their subconscious. As she glided back up to her moon, she risked one more glance at the filly, giving a final call. "Face your fear!"

Her voice melded into the tendrils of slumber before she thrust back into the world of the wakeful. A sharp jolt wracked her body as she found herself back in her chambers. The sensation was not unlike waking from a 'falling nightmare', although it only happened in certain dreams. While she left most whilst the dreamer was still asleep, being forced to leave upon their awakening had its inconveniences.

Stretching her wings out, Luna cut off the energy surging in her horn and clumsily stepped off her crescent bed. While her magic allowed control over the Dreamscape, she still had to abide by its rules. All magic has a price, after all. So as such, she could not control the fatigue that came with pulling out of each dream, since she technically had to be asleep to enter.

"Ah, Scootaloo, I pray you have the courage to heed my advice. I've not seen so much fear in a single pony since . . ." She stopped herself. That was a millennium ago, and Tia had long since forgiven her. "I will check on her later on," she decreed to herself, should she need a final reminder. Yes, she would tend to that once she recuperated.

She approached a small water basin that was decorated in pink ceramic flowers and proceeded to splash water on her hooves and face. Magically chilled, the icy water stung her face, bringing her back to her senses before taking a drink.

Thirst and fatigue sated, she sighed, turning to resume her quest in the Dreamscape, when a shy tapping sounded at her door. Had she not been paying attention, she might not have heard it.

"You may enter," she called to the visitor. The door creaked open, and a small scarlet head poked in. Her chocolate, impossibly-curly mane fell over her eyes before she pushed it back. "Ah, come in, Lucy," Luna smiled. The mare, her attendant, trotted in, eyeing the lunar décor with her trademark curiosity, before it fell away.

Usually upbeat and--like her namesake--a bit of a Loose Cannon, she was carefully selected by Tia to be Luna's attendant and friend, mainly to help her adapt to the new customs and holidays since her banishment. Secretly, she found their friendship not unlike Tia and her prized student's.

But as the earth pony approached, she bore a grimace, hooves fidgeting when she stopped. "So sorry to bother you, Princess Luna," she finally said, "But . . ."

She was waiting for a reply. So Luna gave one. "You were not bothering me, my friend. Now, pray tell, what is on your mind?"

The attendant nodded. "The others and myself were wondering what the occasion was, what with the sky and all. It's past summer for an aurora borealis, and the beacon from the Crystal Empire should have . . ."

She trailed off, having seen Luna's expression. "Lucy . . . what borealis? I did no such thing." If someone were toying with her stars, may Tartarus save them, for they would know the true definition of nightmares. She exhaled, quelling whatever rage had threatened to build.

"Well, i-if you didn't do it . . ." Lucy sighed giving up. "Just . . . follow me. It'll be easier to see yourself." She led the Princess out of her chambers, down a dark hallway lit only by the moonlight streaming through withdrawn curtains, and to the balcony area where Luna performed her celestial duties to bring out her wondrous stars.

Only, it wasn't just beauty of the night they saw.

Painted all over the sky, a red aurora borealis glowed in gory waves, as though the stars themselves were bleeding out. Had Luna not been trained to see these stars and guide them for countless years, she herself would have thought it to be a freak of nature. But this was her light that was being contorted! The only other ponies capable of making such a spectacle of her night similar to this were . . .

Luna shuddered a fearful sigh. Having felt her tremble, Lucy asked, "You know what this is, then? Did you make this?"

"N-no, Lucy. T-this isn't me . . ." But she knew exactly what it meant. 

As if hearing her thoughts, her attendant whispered, "So what is it?" Shifting her eyes from her Princess to the aurora, she awaited an answer.

But Luna was frozen herself. Prickling ice spread all across her skin and bit into her bones. She swallowed, forcing back that wave as it receded into little more than a wisp. Gulping again, she said, " 'Tis a premonition, Loose Cannon. A warning that blood has been spilled this night."

"B-blood . . .?" She heard Lucy back up, presumably back into the comforting shadows. "Then who . . ."

"I cannot say. But other poor souls shall follow. I'm certain of this." She closed her eyes, silently praying that the deceased had not suffered so long before death took them; but following another shudder she realized that this was not the case.

Lucy returned to her side, standing up onto the golden railing. "More will die? And there's nothing to stop it? There has to be a way to!" Her optimism was ever a comforting candle in the ink of dread; but even now it could not drive away these feelings of ill. Not when a life had been stolen. Not when more were threatened to be stolen as well.

"There is a way. We can stop it." She subconsciously brought a hoof to her chest and shuddered. "But these things take time and preparation, precious resources that we severely lack. And try as we might, more blood shall be spilt; I know this." Leaning against the railing, Luna stared up at the macabre rendition of her night. Not a minute passed before the silence became painfully thick.

Lucy didn't have to ask, since she complied anyway. "I know this, because I've seen it before." Her heart rippled with sharp heat as it spread throughout her body, nearly forcing a cry out of her.

But she would not falter. She had to be strong her sister's subjects, as well for Tia, who would need her comfort for this trying time. But most importantly, she had to be strong for the pony who was in the truest peril.
> Act II: Chapter One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act II: Chapter One:
Determining Termination


The room was sterile and white. Smelled like bleach was heavily applied to clean the walls on a daily basis. Smelled like the aftermath of death.

A one-way window in the far wall, a tissue box half full, and the table it rested on, its color her namesake and one leg shorter than the other three. These were the things that Silver Mist found solace in amongst the sameness of the bulky squares tiles that made the walls and floor. The veins running between them threatened to suck in her sanity and crush whatever sense of peace she had left. 

Her eyes shifted to the window. She wondered, was it meant to separate the interrogator from the interrogated? And for whose safety? Her reflection, a wingless pegasus with an stringy mane and ice-blue eyes blank with numbness, and a scar on the left side of her face, stared back at her like a stranger compared to the one who was smiling two weeks ago; her spirit felt as though it'd been pulled away from her mortal coil.

Drawing a slow breath, she eyed the clock. Having been put in here nearly an hour ago, she waited for Princess Celestia to begin her interrogation, to discern fact from her stories and unveil the identity of the Canterlot Murderer.

That was the name they chose for the unicorn without a cutie mark, a young mare with some vendetta against the upper class of Canterlot.

Not a very clever name, if she had any say of it. Anyone could've trotted in to slit the throats of those they despised and forthwith be called a Canterlot Murderer.

The Bridle Collector was a clever name. The Grave Keeper was a clever name. Really, anything with a bit more effort would be far more clever than the 'Canterlot Murderer'. How about, 'The Markless One'? Beside fillies and colts, no pony had a lack of a cutie mark, and this killer always slipped away from the authorities unharmed. Unmarked by cutie mark and wound. Or, what about 'Vendetta' - no, that was taken already. Or maybe--

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. She twisted herself in her seat, cringing when cold metal met her backside. Before her shuffled in Princess Luna, Captain Phalanx, and a young Lunar guard whose coat shifted in various shades of brown along his neck and barrel.

"Greetings, Silver Mist," Luna said first. "You do understand why you are here?" She kept a close eye on Phalanx, who stumbled right into the table, its bad leg making it wobble against his weight.

"I'm . . ." Silver pried her eyes off the captain, "I am to give my assessment of the recent killings of the Canterlot Murderer, as I was a prime witness to each of them. But, I was aware of your sister overseeing the interrogation."

The Lunar Guard went to help Phalanx, who nearly fell into the floor. "Well . . . 'interrogation' is a strong word," he said, once recovered. His large eyes, a deep yellow, shifted between his princess, captain, and Silver. "We'd more like to say . . . 'questioning'. Can't go scaring the citizens more than they have been, right?"

Suddenly curious, she asked, "What's your name?"

Looking genuinely surprised, he stammered, "Erm, Night Owl, Miss Mist." Cute.

"How long have you been serving your squadron?"

Another pause. "I'm new, Miss. I was in training for the last three months, but then I got recruited to Canterlot."

He was barely an adolescent, barely old enough to know how to grip a spear correctly or stand tall for those he swore to protect. And his wide-eyed countenance told her that his early enlistment was not his choice.

Luna seemed to sense her thoughts, answering for her, "As you can see, we've grown desperate to keep the peace in this city, to the point that some of our trainees have been put through early. Most of our veterans are spread all over the city to ensure maximum safety for my subjects."

"No child deserves this," Silver murmured, quiet enough that only Luna heard.

Rather than break into an argument, Luna ignored her comment and continued, "I've taken over the duty of questioning the various witnesses. My sister, capable as she is, must focus on the wind's direction now that the Knight of the Wind has passed on. 'Tis better this way. It can only help to have a fresh mind to uncover the facts and identity of the Canterlot Murderer."

"And to put the bastard down." Luna shifted to the captain, who was leaning into the wall in a sorry attempt to appear casual, but only came off as someone who looked like he was about to faint.

"Phalanx," Luna warned him, "If you aren't capable of performing your duties properly, then may I suggest you get your bedrest?"

His horn sparked hot orange in response. "Why should I sleep peacefully when your subjects cannot? Had I gotten those slack-bum Lunar guards to get to their posts straightaway, none of this would've happened!" Luna attempted to protest, but he then said, "And don't speak to me about sleeping when there's work to be done. You would know yourself why you can't."

Grimly nodding, Luna waved him off. It only took a second for Silver to realize they were referring to her dreamwalking. Hundreds of frightened citizens in one city alone meant a torrent of nightmares to deal with in a single night, and this had been going on for two weeks.

"Never mind. Just try not to say anything foolish." She readjusted, turning back to Silver. "Now, I am going to go through this swiftly as possible, so that we both understand everything about the killer. Night Owl?"

The Lunar Guard withdrew from his armor a file marked with the initials 'O.M.' and passed it to Silver. Her eyes traced the lettering, drinking in the information within. Estimated time of death, September twenty-third, twelve thirty-one. Cause of death . . . shock to the heart?

"We believe the killer," Night Owl said with hesitation when she brought that to attention, "had created numerous lacerations on the cellist's face . . . until the pain was too much for her to stay conscious."

"Mm." Thank Alicorns she couldn't. No soul deserved to suffer for that long. She returned to the file, noting the weapon of choice was a wooden dagger, assumed manipulated with magic, as she herself had seen it used on two other victims. Anyone could carve a wooden dagger, but keeping it sharp and unstained required a meticulous rune spell.

So they were looking for a unicorn that was adept at magic. Correction. They found a unicorn adept at magic; she was being interrogated at this moment, her motives against the late Sir Blueblood being the strongest piece of evidence against her.

Coming to the end of the file, she passed it back to Night Owl. "I noticed that photos weren't documented."

The Lunar guard shifted in place, briefly stealing a glance at her princess, who nodded. "We . . . made an exception for this victim. Yes, it's protocol to document everything, including photos, on the deceased, but . . ." She waited. His mouth opened and closed as though the words he was looking for died before they could leave him.

Finally, he turned to Princess Luna for help. "We had to rely on her cutie mark to first identify her," she said bluntly.

Silver swore quietly, her native language overcoming her.

"I wish I could say that we don't have to do this now, but - " Luna started anew.

"No. I understand. I've put this off too long as it is. Just tell me where I have to start." 

Luna nodded at Phalanx, who shoved himself off the corner and leaned his weight on the table. "Miss Melody's funeral. Day after she died. You were one of the attendees, correct?"

"Yes. Octavia had performed at the Altrotta the previous night, so I was obliged to pay my respects to her . . ."


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


The wingless pegasus stood in the farthest corner of the funeral home, away from the throng that stifled any free air in the small room. Despite the mass, it was so quiet that her ears had been ringing for time now. None of the attendees wanted to even whisper for fear of shattering the small urn with their voices.

The urn, painted grey and lavender, stood on a small pedestal in the back like the centerpiece of a collection of artifacts and idols, and the many who had gathered around it treated it as such.

Some of them were even kneeling before it.

Pathetic. Was there even a small group of mourners not here to kiss flank and make claims of how close they were to her?

At least it was better than what had happened twenty minutes before, when some had started discussing the 'symbolism' of her death. The eyes were the window to the soul, and they were marred when the guards found her corpse, so it must have meant  that she really wasn't the 'saint' she claimed to be. That had turned ugly fast, with the entire room split between those that spat on her name, and those who claimed she was an angel.

But what would they know of angels? They wouldn't know if one was standing in their presence at that moment.

The argument had gotten so heated that Octavia's fellow musicians had to intervene. At least they knew the meaning of respect. The Ponytones, Noteworthy, Lyra Heartstrings--even Countess Coloratura had come to pay her dues, and she wasn't even an advocate of classical music. She'd given a small eulogy about who she was; just a pony who lived her life as she saw fit. Only the Alicorns had the right to judge, not the monster who'd killed her in cold blood.

That quelled the discord between the two opinions quickly, but they were back to this 'worshipping-her-like-a-goddess' nonsense.

It wouldn't have bothered Silver Mist so much, if she was here only to mourn. Really, she wanted to take in the atmosphere, hear what others had to say to honor her memory. Ha. So much for that. Even the idea that ponies were kissing up to gain social status lodged her into such a sour mood that she sought respite in the light champagne she nursed off of.

"Well. Such a shame." The richly suave voice of a mare behind her caught her attention.

Fleur de Lis. She watched the lanky mare tip-toe to the center of the room, towards Hoity Toity. She twirled a near-brimming glass of wine in her pink aura before bringing it to her lips. Blueblood, her venomous son, shadowed her closely, his efforts to court one of the Ponytones shot down when she ignited a small spark on his hoof. Fancy Pants was nowhere to be seen.

There had been whisperings throughout Canterlot that Fleur had divorced him. Something about him being unsupportive of her goals, but Silver knew the truth. She knew all about his connections with Doctor Sparkle, and how much Fleur hated said connections. And fighting to let her keep her equipment, even after her work had been discontinued, must have been the snapping point of their thin thread of marriage.

"There goes another poor soul who could've benefitted our city more," Fleur chuckled daintily. Silver found herself hateful of that laugh. "Truly, irreplaceable." Hoity Toity gave a curt nod, said something in return that was too quiet for her to understand.

"Hello, Miss de Lis. I was hoping I might find you here," said a new voice. Fleur flinched, then turned to face it. Silver couldn't see its owner past her. "Pretty evening tonight, isn't it? A perfect night for equine to come together and mourn for a puppet-master who yanked too hard on the strings for her own good. But you can't blame these ponies; like-minds easily attract to one another."

Silver walked around at an angle, Fleur's body steadily revealing her visitor. She had to scan the area a few times before seeing her; a small unicorn mare wearing an inky cloak to conceal her face and coat color. She faced down, and her pawing at the floor made an uncomfortable clinking sound, but Silver saw the horn jutting out like an outstretched dragon's claw, accusing. 

Fleur was oblivious. "Can you not see we are occupied with our own means?" she snapped. "If you want an autograph so badly, see me at the Maretoria's Secret showcase next week." She wasn't seeing it. How could she, under all that vanity for herself?

"My apologies, O goddess," the mare hummed, her voice mockingly sweet like poisoned honey. "I just wanted to sympathize with you. Losing two of your closest associates is a crying shame. Perfect tools to benefit 'the city' - too bad you cut their strings the second they were useless to you."

She got closer to her.

"Y-you stay away! What are you even babbling about?" Her voice peaked, drawing both glares and curiosities from all around.

The mare laughed quietly. "That . . . that's funny. Octavia said that exact same thing to me before I got her to understand."

She waited a moment, before the collective gasp was taken when they realized. Silver herself winced. She didn't want to believe it, but seeing this mare there put a dangerous, knowing chill into her skin.

The mare lifted her head, her horn crackling a green light. By her command, the floor underneath them groaned and boomed. Silver jumped back as equally startled shrieks filled the room.

Lines of purple-black color filled in the veins of the marble and traced towards Fleur. Any pony in between scrambled away from the light and into the corners. Fleur herself had started for a corner, but froze as the lines met at her hooves and rose up. Four snake-like tendrils met her eyes. They had come up through the floor seamlessly as water, and they followed her every move.

Silver risked a quick glance. Everyone around her was a statue, eyes round and fixed on the pair; they were ticking time bombs about to explode into panic-mode. She wouldn't have enough time.

Then Fleur screamed. The tendrils had latched onto her, one roping her legs together, one seizing her barrel, and the last two wrapping around her neck and skull. They coiled around her so tightly that they became a shell that incased her completely, muting whatever screams she tried to unleash.

Then hell broke loose.

The crowd erupted, all charging for the exit in a wild stampede. Even if there was a chance for guards to show up they would never get past the ponies fighting each other to get through the small doorway.

Silver wedged herself in a small pocket of space, toppling over the glass table she'd sat at before, her mind racing for a way around the crowd. "Everypony! You have to move!" She tried to shout over their terrified cries but just contributed her voice to many in a wall of pure noise.

In between the bodies pushing against each other she spotted Fleur kneeling--no, sinking into the floor. Her knees vanished below, glistening darkness crawling along her legs. She thrashed about, blind to her surroundings, unaware that she was practically being dragged past Hell's gates.

Someone tripped and fell into Silver, his horn punching into her neck as they both went down. Her face landed in the remnants of the table's surface, a puddle of shards amongst the metal frame. She gasped, her vision blotting. Warmth flooded her left cheek; she was certain that side had been cut open by her fall.

Forcing herself up, she faced the crowd once more, not minding that the unicorn fled before giving an apology. She could barely make out Fleur, now down to her barrel, her face exposed from the tendril as the mare was leaned in close. She was whispering something to her and as she did, Fleur's face molded from that of fear to one of knowing horror. Then she was consumed once more. She tried to let out another scream, but it was quickly muted behind those sickly tendrils.

Silver, beyond frustrated, snarled, stamping her hoof into the glass. The bite that ran up her leg in response gave her an idea. Immoral and dangerous, yes, but it was better than watching Fleur die.

Picking a particularly-large shard, she marched towards the river of ponies. "Mve! Ev'pny, mve!" she shouted, mouth tightened around her weapon as she waved it around menacingly. A mare with an open gash bleeding down the side of her face and waving a piece of glass around like a madmare; everyone around her reacted accordingly by shrinking back from the more-immediate danger, opening a gap towards Fleur. But as their fear turned in her favor, some tested it by rushing past her, and a couple of them barely nicking themselves on the edge.

Finally making it through, she spat out the thing and searched for the three ponies.

Gone. Blueblood, the mare, the tendrils she'd summoned, gone. Not a single crack in the floor to say they were ever there. She must have fled upon seeing her coming. 

She took two steps forward but then tripped on something. Looking down, she assumed it excess marble in the floor, a chip forgotten when the floor was smoothed out--then she saw the spark of pink flicker from it. It blinked, slowly and feebly, before snuffing out for good.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


"Were your intentions with the killer lethal, or were you just trying to scare her off?" Phalanx had finally gotten in sync with his duty and spared no question to Silver.

"I . . . I really don't know what I was going to do when I reached her," Silver admitted. There had been little time for planning when she was just trying to fight through the crowd; the captain could easily divulge that from her story. "All that mattered to me was finding a way to get to them both."

"And these--" Phalanx probed, examining her stripped wings "--would be of no use to fly over?"

Silver sighed. "No. Not at all." The look on his face said he was curious about that story, how she lost them, but suddenly having little desire to speak, she silenced herself.

"What of the attack? You say these tendrils she'd summoned, they were a product of dark magic?"

She mentally thanked Luna for diverting the conversation. "I believe so. I could feel it in the air itself when they materialized in front of Fleur de Lis." She yanked a tissue out of its box, the thought of magic being used so malevolently misting her eyes.

"Then that means we are looking for a unicorn with an adept skill in magic, specifically in dark magic, and a load of spite for the upper class," Night Owl pondered. "Would that fit the profile of the young mare we apprehended last week?"

Phalanx shook his head profusely. "Not likely. She hardly knows how to teleport."

"But what if that's her angle?" Both guards turned to Silver.

"What do you mean?"

The pegasus cleared her throat,  her proposal thought carefully before being stated. "This killer has a pattern. Kill the upper class, specifically those who have hidden behind masks their entire lifetime." She rose from her seat, walked to Luna. "Dig deep enough, and you find out that Octavia wasn't the perfect gem that everypony thought she was. Same for Fleur de Lis; her past dictates that she'd manipulated her assets for her own means."

Luna caught on to her idea fast. "So in that philosophy, the killer herself, assuming she is our primary suspect, has been masking herself by hiding her true skill in magic to appear weak."

"But what about her coat color?" Phalanx protested. "Surely white is a severe contrast to grey."

"But keep in mind, dark magic has a wide array of spells that were written in the Pre-Celestial Age. One that could change appearance is not so far-fetched." Luna said quickly, appearing especially nervous, an expression that Silver had never seen on the princess.

"You're grasping at straws, your highness! Anypony could pin a frame job on a weak unicorn and use that claim to keep it pinned!"

"But you arrested Miss Rarity in the first place!" Night Owl exclaimed. "Are you . . . defending your own primary suspect now?"

"I . . . I don't know!" He stomped at the floor, starting all of them. Drew a sharp breath. "Damn it, it's just . . . it feels . . . perfect. Just think. When we apprehended the mare, she looked terrified, didn't know what we were talking about. And the killings; they suddenly halt the day we arrest her? It's just too perfect."

Luna drew a wing over him, just like Celestia did when comforting a weary student. "It's all very confusing, yes. But we must stay vigilant. We will discern if Rarity is our killer or not. But for now, we must learn of the other killings." She turned to Silver. "I apologize for this. You should not play a part in our struggles."

"No, it's fine. I was trying to help, but I think I made things worse." The frustration shared by all four was equal; the more they tried to unravel the truth, the more it became bunched up and convoluted. "I may as well continue. After Fleur had died, your sister made the announcement to advise everypony to stay indoors, or to travel only by day." Sitting down again, she brushed a loose strand of red off her face. "But it was advice, not law. So it was expected for many to disregard it and carry on with their lavish parties."

Night Owl shuffled through his papers. "According to this file, you and your associate, Glider, both were witnesses to the triple murder at one such party last week."

"We were invited by Blueblood," she confirmed, already tasting bile at the back of her throat in mentioning that name. "Since her reputation in the city was growing, I suppose everypony there wanted a piece of it, too."

"Her Altrotta theatre was an instant success."

Nodding, she said, "Everypony needs a little escapism now and then. Her theatre, without bragging, was the perfect outlet to do so. With that said, she'd closed the theatre for the day and had us both attend, despite my reluctance to join . . ." 


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


"Are you certain we should be out here, Glider? I don't feel safe here." Her wings pressed into her side out of uncomfortable habit. She and Glider, her associate and friend, stood in a small circle of empty space, away from the main attraction of the Garden Party hosted by Blueblood.

Glider rolled her eyes, tugging a loose string off the gold-colored gown she'd bought for the party. "Loosen up, already. Nopony's seen the killer in a whole week, so she's probably not coming back. I'm guessing she fled back to some dark cave to suck Fleur's insides out."

Silver flinched at the mental image. "That's not what I mean. And how can you take the loss of life as such a joke?" 

Withering from her pained stare, Glider's orange braid slid onto her face. ". . . fine. Sorry. I just meant . . ." She trailed off, guiding the braid back in its place, behind her shoulder. "Agh, forget it. What are you even afraid of?"

"Them." Silver thrust her muzzle at the crowd of nobleponies. "You do realize that they didn't invite you just know you and your theatre, right?"

She sighed. "Really, Silver? Do you even know me?" She squinted at them, "I knew the second I looked into Blueblood's eyes that he wanted to scrounge up whatever fame I drew to myself, not to 'make friends with me'." She subconsciously looked to her flank, where her cutie mark was hidden under the cheap fabric.

"You may be able to know an individual with just a look," Silver warned, "But stay away from Blueblood nonetheless. Whatever he can offer you is not worth it."

Glider huffed quietly. "Did you already forget how I put that pretty colt in his place?"

She did not. It wasn't even a day ago that he'd slinked up to the theatre, invitation for Glider in aura, and cheap pick-up lines in mouth. And one blue hoof stomped on his manicured hooves when he spewed the first one.

"My point is," she sighed, "I've my own reasons for being here, and it's not to woo the whelp. So relax. Enjoy your time off, before you give yourself an ulcer." She trotted into the thick of the party before Silver could stop her, so she followed her in.

Despite the vastness of the crowd, it was particularly quiet, the only real sounds being the surrounding chatter, infinitesimal in volume, and the violins' melody. Classy. The kind of atmosphere that Glider wouldn't have been caught dead in.

Yet she showed no signs of caring. She sidled by a guest, Fancy Pants, on closer inspection, and politely tapped his shoulder.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," he piped up, turning to her. "You're Miss Glider, correct?"

"That's me, yes. Proud owner of the Altrotta, and friend of yours, if you'd like."

Silver blinked. This was a surprise. Her smile, for the first time in a long time, appeared genuine. As though her age had reversed, the crinkles in her eyes ebbed and revealed a mare so young and innocent. Even the cluster of white freckles--often bunched up between her eyes--relaxed and settled on the bridge of her muzzle.

Fancy hadn't noticed that change, having never met the mare. "Ah, yes. I would appreciate some friendly company right about now." He sighed, brushing a hoof at the back of his head. "I shan't give you a sob story, but my wife broke our marriage off not long before her death. Tragic mess it is, these murders. I just wish I'd been there to help her."

"One shouldn't be too hard on oneself. You had no way of knowing, and no amount of wishing can reverse it." Fancy nodded assent.

She seemed happy. Happy enough that Silver didn't want to interrupt her. But as she wandered off, she faintly heard, 'connections' and 'formula' from Glider's side of the conversation.

"Hm . . ."

Deciding not to think too much about it, she explored the area where the musicians played. Naturally, those Glider had hired were there, and a few nodded to her before resuming playing. They considered her good company, since she never yelled at them like Glider did. She moved on, spotting a group of four ponies - two doctors from the Canterlot hospital, Blueblood, and Avalanche, the theatre's usher.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, approaching the four.

Avalanche turned his head briefly, then back to his companions. "Just enjoying the hors d'oeuvres, Silv'. Mind your own business." The doctors murmured in agreement, holding out glasses to toast the unicorn.

"Does she always snoop so much?" said Blueblood. His sneer made her wince.

"Nope. Just when she thinks it's convenient for her."

She bit her lip, holding back a sharp remark. "I was just curious of the presence of the doctors. I'm not looking to fight." Apologetically, she reached out a hoof to Blueblood.

"Hooves off!" he jumped back. "Do not touch me, clod!" Stroking his tuxedo carefully, he panted, " . . . just had my coat brushed this morning."

Giving some distance, she apologized again, "I didn't mean to offend you. I was just looking for somepony to talk to." Considering recent events, it was hard to carry a conversation past 'hello'.

Blueblood huffed, his back to her. "Well, you came to the wrong ponies to . . . talk. As you can see, I am trying to restore order to the hospital. Now that my mother's passed on, her will dictates that her power as a Governor shifts to me." Was this the reason for this ridiculously-decadent party, to celebrate power being bestowed to Blueblood? "I must do my duty to uphold the same honor and responsibility as she did in life. And you're interrupting it. Shoo."

Having enough, she allowed a small, hostile grin creep in. She'd given him the chance to accept her apology, but he'd rejected it.

"Honor . . . and responsibility? As in upholding those things just like your mother did? That's great, then. Only, is your definition of honor running out of the room while your mother was being sucked into the floor, while I was literally the only one trying to save her?" It was obvious to her. With him nowhere to be found when she got to the place where Fleur died, the only logical explanation was that he fled.

She didn't have to look up to know she had plucked at the right nerve.

He sputtered, presumably unable to find a comeback. "But you failed her," he decided on. "It's because of you  and your useless wings that she's dead!" His outburst drew everyone's attention. Next to Fancy, Glider was crouched down, ready to come to her side.

"At least I tried," she retaliated, jutting her face into his. "You, on the other hand, failed her the second you ran away like the coward you are." Avalanche started towards her, but she quickly snapped, "And you. Don't think I do not know what you did. Glider made it a policy that all are welcome in her theatre, and you know it. So why did you think it was justified to deny a baby dragon in as well?"

Actually, she already scolded him on this, after the grand opening, but she wanted to see the look on his face, being chided like a child at a party where he was trying to build reputation for himself.

"Dragons, yes, could burn buildings down. But this one was the savior of the Crystal Empire. I think one of that heroic magnitude could restrain a few sparks in his maw. You were just being spiteful towards his friends, including that doctor, yes?"

She heard everyone murmuring around her. Dragon or pony, saving an empire wasn't something to be overlooked. Glider had relaxed beside Fancy, her foxy smile standing out.

Avalanche backed away, torn down and intent on leaving. But he bumped into a small mare and jumped back, next to Blueblood.

"You know, I was literally about to say those things myself," the mare said, a laugh clear in her voice. "These ponies don't deserve the praise given to them, after all. But, you, Silver Mist, are certainly wise to see past the veil of fame." She stepped out, her hoofsteps in the grass magnified by the breaths that everyone held. They all knew who she was, hearing her voice. Silver's ears rang from the prolonged silence.

The Canterlot Murderer flashed her eyes beneath her hood, penetrating Silver's before shifting to Blueblood and Avalanche.

L e t 's  j u s t  g e t  t h i s  o v e r  w i t h.

Everyone around her scuffled back, quickly, some tripping over one another. They must have heard it, too. The silent voice had drilled into her, its echo dancing in her head. But before she could fathom what that was, the mare darted forward, wooden dagger unsheathed. Her figure was a fleeting shadow, her purple coat melted with black cloak as she rushed past Silver. And towards Avalanche.

A slice.

A scream.

Several screams.

Hooves retreating. 

That was what Silver heard before she could register Avalanche laying in the grass. Green eyes blanker than an old, broken emerald, and vital fluid seeping from his throat.

And beside him? A writing Blueblood, Avalanche's blood having sprayed across his face. His eyes wild, he looked at his hooves which were equally coated from the growing puddle. 

Then the screams came. 

"S-somepony get a hose! Please!" He tried wiping the blood off on the grass, only succeeding in getting loose blades stuck to his hooves and face. His breaths were unspeakably rapid as he ran in circles, looking someone to help him. But everyone he encountered fled, terrified by his appearance.

Silver, horrified herself, retreated behind the trees. If she moved, even an inch, who would say he wouldn't maul her in his terror?

The mare just watched him. Of course he wouldn't go near her. But it was her instead who approached. "What's the matter?" she hissed, pressing a hoof into his chin. "Afraid of getting dirty!"

Still he squirmed in her grip. His screams turning hoarse, he finally collapsed into the ground, his movements becoming slower and slower. The light in his eyes ebbed like a dying flashlight, until his cries dwindled to whimpers . . . then nothing.

Silver pried herself from her hiding spot. It felt forbidden to even breathe after witnessing . . . that. Her chest felt so heavy when she forced air in. Even so, she lifted her hooves to get to the mare and deal with her. But Fancy Pants beat her to it.

"H-how . . . ? How can you even begin to live with yourself, knowing you've committed these . . . atrocities?" He stopped when less than a foot from her.

The mare faced him, both boring into each other. Silver's current position allowed her to see his eyes; blue and hardened. Little beads of sweat were visible under his horn, yet he remained rooted where he was.

Finally, the mare said, "I saddle it to my future self, who ponders my actions and determines that what I'm doing is worthy of her attention. I am purging this city of its worst hypocrites."

"And . . . I suppose I am next on that list?" he stiffened. "I know what you are about to say; you will tell me that I had let my wife control me for too long, manipulating my actions to follow the example of the unprincipled nobles. I will confess. I did so willingly, to show that I loved her - not to be like them." His tone was accepting. Raw fear glinted in his eyes, yet he was accepting what was about to happen.

"Love blinds us, Fancy Pants. Some of us don't know when to quit when we fight to keep our lovers, never realizing that the cost of keeping them will be too great."

Silver blinked, her instinct to help him suppressed. They spoke as though just passing the time, talking about the values of the hospital. She knew what was going to happen, yet couldn't bring herself to move.

Fancy sighed. "I was fooled by her beauty, inside and out. She was once beautiful on the inside, personality almost matching mine, not to boast. But she changed. Very much so over the years. I was fooled into thinking she was still the same, so I fought to keep her, completely ignorant of the consequences around us.

"So . . ." he lowered his head in submission " . . . do what you will. I just want my son back. I want to see my true wife again."

"Fancy . . . don't . . ." Silver's voice felt raw, her words, poison, as though spitting them out could only be done so little at a time.

Then the mare murmured, shakily, "You're the f-first to admit your wrongs. And you did, in the end, make up for it by sacrificing ev-everything for my friend. T-thank you."

With a quick step, and a sharp snap, Fancy fell over, joining Blueblood and Avalanche. His blank eyes, still open, bore into Silver, whose knees gave way as she knew she did nothing to save him. The mare, either ignoring or blind to her presence, walked away, whispering under her breath before teleporting.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Phalanx shifted his focus from Luna to Silver. "You're saying he willingly let her kill him? He didn't even try to fight back? Flee? And what about you? You say you did nothing to save him, even when she was right there!"

She glanced up from the table's surface, in which she'd been unconsciously drawing circles with her hoof. "I can't explain exactly why I didn't help. I just felt frozen. More than that. Apathetic . . . I just felt myself not caring if he lived or died, yet another part of me wanted to fight those feelings. It felt like I'd been 'discorded' all over again."

She shuddered at that last part. After breaking from his prison and corrupting all of Ponyville, Discord's influence stretched to Canterlot and hit everyone there hard. She and Glider - then occupied with refurbishing the future Altrotta's interior - turned on each other, Glider suddenly hogging the funds for the theatre, and herself not even caring that she wasted it all on flight suits. The incident had set the theatre's opening back by six months.

Luna spoke up, shaking her from her memory. "It seems to me that Fancy Pants was fully aware of the actions which earned our killer's spite." Phalanx must have again brought up Fancy's passive behavior. "Even if he wanted to, I doubt he considered fleeing a viable option."

"But the least he could have done was stall for time!" Night Owl protested. "Divulge her identity, maybe?"

"No, this killer's much smarter than that. Remember the point I made, about how our suspect being the killer is too perfect?" Phalanx corrected him. "Anypony smart enough to successfully pin a frame job on another's bound to know how to act exactly like said scapegoat."

"And it doesn't exactly help that Miss Rarity's being far too stubborn for her own good."

Silver nodded in agreement with Night Owl. She herself read in the papers of how uncooperative she was with the guards who arrested her, and how reserved she'd been in past interrogations, despite the raw details being redacted.

"But the clear evidence is still there," said Luna. "She has connections with both Fancy Pants and Doctor Sparkle, the latter whom Fancy did sacrifice his reputation to aid, and a . . . history . . . with Blueblood. Not to mention Silver Mist's valid point that she may have been hiding her true talent in magic."

Her Lunar guard sucked in a slow breath, as though carefully gathering his thoughts. "Yeah . . . about that doctor?"

" . . . yes?"

He was oblivious to Luna's suddenly-tense expression. "She matches those exact credentials as well, doesn't she? Adept in magic, and had a bad history with the other Governors - she was close to Fancy Pants, to boot."

Phalanx perked up. " . . . Huh. And she has been locked away in that study for quite some time. How does -"

"And why would a doctor, consumed with her work, suddenly drop it to murder her adversaries?" Silver butted in. "Think about it. She'd been working since . . . um, four weeks now? Right before this all started, I think. But she's been working for a cure for her comatose mother. And she'd suddenly throw all that away for petty revenge?"

Luna, looking far more relieved now, joined in. "And not to mention the city-wide lockdown. Now that we're dealing with a serial killer, nopony is allowed to enter or exit the city - save for Equestrian officials - and nopony is allowed to travel alone or by night; this killer is now rendered unable to leave the city without revealing herself, and Doctor Sparkle has been nowhere but in her study.

"She may be many things, but a petty vengeance-seeker is not one of them." She faced Phalanx. "Does that answer your question?"

Her captain took two trembling steps back. If not the clear evidence, her faith in Twilight was sure enough to convince him. "Yeess . . . Your Highness. I meant no offence. It's our duty to check every piece of evidence, and I was just doing my job." Night Owl, meanwhile, avoided her gaze in case she came after him next. He was the one who brought it up.

"Yes, yes, doing your job, good for you. Now, I believe Silver Mist has informed us of everything she knows -" she paused, waiting for her to confirm that she had no other details to share "- so if you would kindly escort her home, that would be doing your job."

"Your Highness," both Phalanx and Night Owl said in unison.

She eyed Silver next. "And thank you for your assessment. I have no doubt that with it we will put an end to this terror."

Silver nodded, following the guards out. The interrogation room was deep in the castle, so they had a long way of turns and stairs to traverse before they were out on the abandoned streets.

Winking starlight lighting their way, the guards were especially cautious in their steps. Following Celestia's order to lock the city down, hardly anyone went out anymore. Just wasn't worth the risk to shop or socialize, supposedly - even if the specific order was that they could travel by day, and in groups of no less than three.

" . . . going to take a massive hit on the economy," Silver heard Phalanx mutter. He and his lunar counterpart trotted ahead of her, side by side.

"It's for everypony's safety. You know that. And the killer hasn't shown her face since that triple murder last week. Who's to say she'll come back again? Maybe she's had her fill of blood and death."

"You said that a week ago, right before the triple murder, when she didn't show up again after Fleur. And what about after this is all over? A city-wide lockdown is no joke. Businesses here'll lose money fast, be lucky if they don't close down. And the presses all over the nation'll be swarming us for news, never letting us a moment's peace." He paused five heartbeats before speaking again. "Even if this bastard vanishes tonight, the damage she did'll affect us for a long time."

Silver stopped listening. How quietly they spoke clearly said this conversation was their own. But they did have a point; now that everyone was too scared to leave the refuge of their homes, many, if not all, businesses were going to have a hard time of surviving. Glider threw a fit when the gravity of the situation dawned on her, her theatre only just starting out.

They came the stone stairs leading to the Altrotta. "You, uh . . . okay to go from here, Miss Mist?" Night Owl asked her, leaning his weight on the lamppost by end of the steps.

"Yes, I'll be fine. Go home, and quickly, the both of you." A pony so young deserved a good night's rest.

They both nodded, then galloping back into the night after each other. Only the Royal Guards were allowed to travel in pairs, as they were more than trustworthy to travel alone.

Silver exhaled, pushing herself up the steps and inside the large building, heading straight for the staircase leading to the second floor. A much easier job nowadays, since nearly all tables and cushions had been put back into storage. Save for a few musicians and actors playing cards and several ponies who couldn't make it home before evening, the place was barren.

Just as lifeless as the streets.

Once she got to her quarters, a small room with but a fat cushion and a birch wood dresser sparingly covered with random knickknacks, she settled on the cushion. It wasn't much for a bed, but that was her choice. Mattresses were expensive anyway. She meant to go see Glider, but talking about death and bloodshed all afternoon and into the evening wore her down to her soul.

She'd almost drifted, only startling awake when hearing grinding from the other room. Glider's. "Hm?"

Getting up, she switched over to Glider's room, finding the blue pegasus sharpening a prop blade. Technically, it was real, but previously dulled for obvious reasons.

"Glider? What are you doing?" She didn't answer, setting the blade down and fetching a breastplate that fit perfectly on her small frame. "Glider." Her student weaved towards a mirror instead, checking her reflection, then nodded, satisfied. Silver huffed. "Gliding Du -"

"That's not my name," she grunted, her head finally snapping to her. Then she sighed, disgusted. "Why do you have to do that? You know I hate that name."

At least it worked to get her attention. "I would not have to, if you would answer me. Now, what is the meaning of this?" She waved her hoof at the sword and breastplate to emphasize.

"What's it look to you? I'm going to kill that murderer. Going to give her a taste of her own medicine; see how she likes it when some monster comes at her, weapon blazing, and ruins her business."

"Oh, really?" Silver deadpanned. "And you've forgotten about our lockdown, and the fact that this pony is deadly."

Glider scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I can fight. And if these guards won't get off their rumps to do something, then I will." Taking the sword, she sheathed it at her side. "And lockdown or no lockdown, you won't stop me."

"You know I wouldn't. But would you kindly tell me why you want to break curfew, attempt murder, and risk getting killed yourself?"

"Think, Silver. These ponies are desperate to stop her from getting to other cities, but they won't do what's necessary."

"Because the fight could ruin public property - "

"It's just buildings; they can be fixed."

" - Or have somepony else seriously injured."

"The needs of many outweigh the needs of few. Some ponies have to die for a better cause. Those caught in the crossfire are just unlucky." She messed with her armor, tightening the straps. "Besides, when I kill this pony, who's been terrorizing us all and leaving the guards too scared to do their job, the Princesses will be obliged to reward me. Me, the hero of Canterlot, finally getting what she deserves."

Silver trembled. Wherever this was going, she knew that it would be unpleasant. "And that is . . .?"

Glider sighed, as though incredulous that she didn't know. "The TS8 Formula! I heard it from the doctor herself, back at my opening! The evil in every heart comes in many shapes and forms; comatose states, physical ailments - " she lifted a wing right at her temple " - Mental illnesses. And Fancy Pants! He told me that she's just about got it down! It's close, so close to hitting the shelves."

So that was why she was so interested in him. Not for fame. Not for friendship. For a potion. Silver broke her eyes off from her. Should have know she was getting her hopes up. That genuine smile had to have meant something good, that she was finally healing after . . .

"You were never interested in giving friendship a chance, were you?"

"Of course not. You know how I feel about friends and family; not worth my time to quibble about stuff like that. But just think, Silver! I can finally cure myself. I'll be . . . normal. Isn't that what you wanted?" Her eyes were wide with hope, as though expecting Silver to agree instantly.

This was not going to go well. Even as Silver hesitated, she saw her smile fade. "Glider . . . do you really think that your anxiety can be cured . . . by a potion? You're practically scraping the bottom of the barrel, looking to drown your problems in a 'miracle liquid'. That's no better than an alcoholic's escapism." A crack began to form in Glider's pane of hope. But she couldn't stop herself. "I became your mentor to help you learn how to cope with your illness, not to abolish it. If you do this, you will never be the same again."

"B-but that's what I want . . . t-to be normal . . . not . . . this." She gestured to herself.

"But what will the cost be, to rid yourself of the cons of your mind? Will you lose the pros as well? You attentiveness to ponies' personalities? Your boundless generosity? I can already see you losing it, just considering this . . . thing!"

Her eyes hardened to their familiar state. "I-I don't care! Don't you want your wings back?" Harsh blow. Of course she wanted to fly again. "Well, I want a calm mind that doesn't freak at even the slightest complication!" Her breaths started to get more violent. "You've got no idea how this feels! To be stared at like you've got a tentacle creeping outta your eyes! The second they know you, they think you're brain-dead, useless, unable to do anything for them - yourself!"
Silver tried comfort her, but she flinched. "T-that's the only reason you ever came to me, isn't it? Because I'm useless without you. And now that I have a way out, you don't want me to have it! So that I don't need you anymore, is that it!"

She started to hyperventilate. Silver had to get to her before she passed out again. "N-no, of course not! I just want you to consider what you are about to -"

"No!" She swatted at her, then put her face in her hooves. "Just stop it. Stop looking at me like I'm some . . . useless thing. I promise things will get better when Doctor Sparkle fixes me." She lifted her head, her gold eyes tinged with red. "Just . . . let me do something for myself for once."

She pulled away again, this time diving out the window. Her wings spread out, picking her up in midair. Silver watched her silhouette being consumed by the night, carrying her off to a bitter path where the killer waited. Reluctantly turning away, she brought herself back to her room. There was nothing left to be done for her. 

Mind numb, she came to her dresser and toyed with the knickknacks there. Most of it was stuff considered seeds of nature; broken acorn shells, pine needles bundled together with maroon ribbon, and small rocks formed into curious shapes by the stretch of time. Some of it was considered by many treasures of the world, such as the gold chain bracelet she'd found on a snowy path five years ago, right before meeting Glider, or the gold bit that had a pinprick hole near its rim, a charm she'd many times considered making into a necklace, but never did so.

But what she treasured most of all was the single grey feather laying in the center, the greatest piece of her collection. Taking it in her gentle grip, she saw traces of dirt and the notch near the top from all those years of carrying it around. But even so she couldn't imagine parting with it. It was the last reminder of who she was before coming to Equestria.

She hugged the feather close to her one more time. Never did she want Glider to think of her as a disciplinarian. She just wanted to be seen as she was; a pony who gave her more than a second glance when she needed a friend.

Setting the feather back in its place, she walked back to the window, cold wind caressing her mane and 'wings'. The last breeze on her face. The last calm breath she would take.

The last good-bye.

And just like clockwork, the quiet, careful, but still audible steps she was expecting tapped behind her. She closed her eyes. Felt the air around her turn bitterly cold.

"I would offer you my hospitality, but . . . you know how it is. So let me be straight to the point; I know who you are. I . . . suppose I figured it out when Luna was acting jittery upon mentioning you. She was trying to protect you, wasn't she?" She shook her head, disdained. "But I'm not the one you're after, am I? Whatever Gliding Dust did to hurt you, she did it for her family."

She chuckled. "But she's always been tough on the outside. To know how to hit her hard, you've had to pay attention. So I presume that your way of getting back at her . . . is through me."

Letting go of her wispy breath, she faced Twilight Sparkle - or, as of now, Nightfall Hyde. "Do what you will. I'm dead anyway."

Twilight kept her jade eyes fixed on her, only the unsheathing of her breath being her response. Finally, counting her hoof on the wooden floor, her wicked blade slid out from under her cloak.
> Act II: Chapter Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act II: Chapter Two:
Hollow


Gifts were a wonderful thing. Store-bought, or hoof-made, they were items given to a recipient to represent love, compassion, and care.

But, like all pleasant things, they would sometimes be taken for granted and forgotten. Like an old sweater. To most, a sweater was just a sweater. It was good to snuggle up in on chilly autumn nights, and nothing more. But to a select few, it would be more precious than all the jewels in a grand kingdom.

A sweater, and by extension, all gifts, were all about memories. The day it was received, the day it was given, the days that would come of cherishing it . . . days that could have been. The thick, wool strands hoof-knitted to perfection were not unlike the fibers of an active brain - millions of them meticulously weaved, every last one of them vital to its structure as countless neurons were fired through them within the time of a thought being formed.

And if just a single strand became undone, so too would the whole structure break down, eventually.

But if put in the right care, such a gift could still be preserved nearly a decade later. If cared for correctly, such a sweater could still be wrapped around the owner like a mother's embrace. Not to replace that mother's embrace, no. But to remind that child that she would never leave; their spirit would stay with them in that sweater, eternally hugging them tightly to see to it that they never forgot that they were loved.

These thoughts, and more, made Twilight Sparkle realize that her own mother's embrace had slipped away - just like the snugness of the prized sweater that she'd worn since taking up her studies eight years ago - and abandoned her to the dark waiting for her. As the days passed, it outgrew her degenerating frame until the time came that she constantly tripped over the sleeves and finally, with all reluctance, tucked it away in a closet until she could regain lost weight.

The doctor bit down on the match to keep her teeth from chattering, and angled her head for the tip to strike the table's surface. Sharp squeals ignited from the match rather than flames in three different attempts, and on the fourth too much pressure had been applied, snapping it in two.

"D-damn it . . ." This would have been so much easier if she had claws like Spike's, or at least hooves that were steady enough. Sifting for another, she bit down, much more gently, and attempted another scrape at the table. A spark. A flame. Orange heat consumed the tip.

She carefully tilted her head so that it met the wick of the candle. Watched as flames jumped from one point to the other. Then opened her mouth and stamped on the fallen match, ignoring the hot bite in the flat of her hoof.

A pool of light soaked the area surrounding Twilight, the table, and part of her chaise. Her shadow was a scar in the small border encircling her from the midnight outside its range as she brought the candle close to her chest. The flame nearly caught the tuft of lavender hair a few times, yet she kept it near. Small, weak, only just the tiniest bit warm, but still perfect. Having this little bit of warmth gave her needed comfort.

Leaving the flame only briefly enough to slurp down the rest of her oolong tea with two careful hooves, she took the candle in her mouth, over to the reading area of her table, where her journal laid. The caffeine now vibrating in her veins would wake her up enough to focus. 

She began to read. She wasn't egotistical, not in the slightest, but perusing her walk of life since fillyhood could only help distract her. Any distraction nowadays was a paradise; it helped her forget, if only for a while.

Besides, memories were a powerful force. They were just like books existing to remind, to express, and to encourage. They told stories of times long gone, of recent joys, or forgotten dreams. Memories, in their rawest form, had the aptitude to bring oneself together . . . or to break them down.

As each page brought her closer to the last, she found herself confronted with memories of the same ponies she was trying to escape from. If her eyes closed, she could see the fear laced in theirs as the light faded from them. If she cupped her ears, all she ever heard were screams for the mercy that would not be granted. They had cornered her in death, unrelenting ghosts with hooves pointed out in the same accusation that she'd once pointed with.

Quiet whimpers gurgled at her throat, and she slapped the book shut. This was a bad idea - she should have left it be. She tossed it aside, joining with the growing pile on the floor, all consisting of reading material that failed to put her mind at rest. Somewhere in the bottom of this pile was the very spell book of her idol, Star Swirl the Bearded. The dozens of forlorn attempts to delve into its secrets, as her mentor had suggested she do, and perhaps find some cure to her problem had finally put it there to be forgotten.

"Sorry, Celestia," she remembered having said aloud when she'd discarded it, "I've too much on my hooves to worry about the accomplishments of some wizard."

All this time spent trying to escape into her books was one big reminder that she should have been working instead. Should have been toiling over her journal to recreate the TS8 Formula. In another time she would have been humorously yelling at her own reflection for procrastinating like she did.

Trouble was, there was nothing to procrastinate from. Armed with the knowledge she needed to move forward, Twilight had prepared her equipment for operation, and primed her quills for recording results, albeit having to resort to clumsy hoof-writing nowadays. She had even the time to shine up every last vial so that her reflection jumped out at her.

She was ready. So the problem? Zecora wasn't.

A little over a week ago, just three days shy of the triple-murder and the city-wide lockdown initiating, the zebra had delivered the bad news that she was missing four of the remaining ingredients of the formula; that included the water from the Mirror Pool. As for the rest, the cold snap rolling in from autumn was making them scarce. Even if she found them, would they be untainted from the cold?

Much to Twilight's chagrin, Zecora promised to have them 'when she had them'. Her damn rhyming and evasive language easily registered as the fact that this search would take weeks at best. Not good enough. She needed those things a week ago.

All this desperation put the unicorn on the edge between calm and insanity, and fidgeting in a corner praying for her to search faster would tip her over the edge. She needed a distraction. One that had nothing to do with her work, or magic, or science. One that could at least make the voices go away.

Forcing herself from the table, she pattered in small steps to the chaise, briefly leaning into it to regain balance on stilt-like legs, and got to the bookcase. She selected the first book she could find that matched her requirements, which turned out to be an atlas.

There were rumors that Yakyakistan had a beautiful landscape around wintertime. It would be foolish to explore the land without prior knowledge.

She closed her eyes. A light tinkling opened them, and she saw the aura she'd conjured was attenuated; she could barely see its magenta color. Yet she pulled the book toward her, its weight making it drop slightly once away from the shelf.

It had nearly gotten into her waiting grip before the aura, like a flickering bulb, sputtered and died, the tome smashing her front hooves upon its fall.

"Owww! Damn it!" She shoved her own fetlock into her mouth to bite back more colorful words to accompany her injury.

"Having a little trouble with your magic?"

A whisper that made itself known in thick silence made the doctor jump as though a gunshot had ricocheted by her ears. She whipped around, staring into the chaise where the voice came from.

Nothing but darkness. The chaise lay empty, as always. She was alone.

But she wasn't alone. Never alone.

"Maybe you should stop drinking so much tea. All that stuff can fray the nerves - it's no wonder our little brother sees us as snippy."

She instinctively curled into herself and collided with the bookshelf. Books rained from the impact and punched into her head and spine. Twilight bit back a groan and a whimper. "You're not here. You're not real." Blood rushed in her ears, nearly drowning out the voice, but not enough. 

"Ohhh, I'm very real. Realer than you could hope to be."

The voice came from her right, where the staircase to the first floor was. A small shape rose from the flight, horned head angled so both slitted eyes were fixed on her.

Nightfall.

"After all," the grey mare continued, "What point is there to living if one's time is spend in a gilded cage, hiding in the hooves of comfort, rather than taking this existence for all in all? Better to choose not to live at all, if that's the case."

She was not here. Scientifically and logically, she could not be here because she was -

Twilight locked the thought in the deepest cage of her psyche, where it could never take spoken form. She didn't want to say it. She knew it in the truest part of her heart, but she still didn't want to say out loud that this Nightfall Hyde was a part of her, same as her horn was part of her. Or, better yet, same as her OCD tendencies were a part of her.

The mare's look of annoyance implied that she heard her perusal. "You are denying the truth. Rejecting it, even."

"I'm not rejecting anything," Twilight mumbled. She couldn't find any courage to pull her eyes away from the fallen books at her hooves.

"But you are. Refusing to speak truth is just the same as rejecting it. Does Celestia accept the secrets of dark magic by refusing to speak of them? No." She turned away so that she walked to the table. "You can ignore truth, but it doesn't make it go away. I am, and will always be, you."

Twilight knew that. She was the epitome of her passion, of her despair, of every panic attack she ever suffered. But most of all, she was made of her rage. Every day that she had to bite back a sharp retort from the governors who tore her confidence down and persecuted her for what she believed was another day that her bitterness grew, until it became smart enough to name itself.

In a way, Nightfall was always there, same as she stood before her now.

Her other self nodded as she played with one of the Bunsen burners. "That's right. I have always been there. Perhaps not conscious as I am now, but it's still true." This time Twilight knew she could hear her thinking. "And all that stuff I'm embodied from? They all share something that makes them the same: all imprisoned in the unspoken world to preserve reputation." Snarling rumbled from her as she slammed a hoof on the table. The vials beside her jumped as Twilight did. She felt herself constrict until her legs pulsed with the blood struggling to pump through.

Nightfall chuckled, resting her head in her hooves. "But I digress. You really can't go blaming yourself. It's only the nature of a sapient to bottle up those things. It's how society works. Truly, truly, a broken, stupid system. But there's no reason to call you a hypocrite now, after so long of calling out those bastards for their prejudice when hiding our own. You chose that night, September thirteenth, to say, 'no more'. You set me free. You threw open my cage to embrace who we really are in our core."

Sucking in a puff of breath, she blew out the candle, ensnaring them both in darkness. Twilight shivered, remembering that night in full force. Her cries, the heat lancing in her bones, the soft chuckle of a demon gone loose. She got up clumsily and rushed past her other self, fumbling with another match before it dropped.

"Ah, yes. That was mean, wasn't it? Allow me." Her horn sparking green, a flint flew off and into the candle, relighting the room in a sickly jade glow. 

How was it even possible that she could so easily light a candle now, then Twilight couldn't? When she first 'woke up' as Nightfall, she could barely levitate, as she as Twilight couldn't now. The tables had turned on her, so to speak. 

Shutting out the alarm bells in her head, she pulled the candle close to soak in the heat. "W-why . . . why are you doing this?" the doctor shivered. "Do you think I want to be reminded of that night?"

Nightfall rounded the table and rubbed a hoof into the small of her back. Equally, she felt horror and calm as the knot in her back was smoothed out. "I know it was scary at first. I was frightened, too. But it was better for both of us. And I owe you everything for what you did just for me, sister. That's why I'm doing this."

"P-please don't call me that." She pulled away from her, death-grip still on the candle. Twilight had faced many fears in her short lifetime. Failure, letting her family and mentor down, the forces of the unknown - even the things conjured from her mind - just to name a few. But seeing all these fears take the form of a pony who was the cause of several innocents' deaths and city-wide panic infecting everyone who survived frightened her the most. And she - it - was calling her 'sister'.

Nightfall drifted closer. "Whyever not? We are so akin in our hopes, our goals, and our passions. I'm like the sister you never had."

"I have a sister. Cadence is my sister, not you."

She'd crafted her words in hopes of puncturing her, but the grey mare simply retaliated, "Cadence doesn't understand us. She doesn't get our goals, and she'd certainly show more gratitude for having her worst enemies disposed of. Shouldn't you, considering what I did for you?" She again latched herself onto Twilight, gently caressing her jawline. "Cadence doesn't know what fillyhood without a mother is like; but I do. Oh, I understand completely what pain it is to see the injustice of losing Mother and being denied our chance to get her back, over and over again."

"At least Cadence didn't have to resort to murder to get what she wanted."

"She was never pushed to such dire circumstances. We had to stop them. They shut us down, forbid us to continue what we were meant to do. They may as well have killed Mother themselves, so they thusly forced our hooves."

Twilight writhed from Nightfall's grip, accidentally nailing her in the face. But her body simply dissolved into ashen mist before reconverting five seconds later. So she really wasn't there. Either she really was dreaming, or - the more likely considering her lucidity - Nightfall existed outside the physical plane through her mind's eye, not unlike the workings of a madmare's disease.

"You're wrong!" she said. "They didn't have to die! There's always a better way!"

"Just like there was a 'better way' than to use the Alicorn Amulet to boost the formula's strength?"

". . . I . . . the amulet . . ." She dropped her hardened stare. "Well . . ."

Nightfall smirked. "Just as I say. Sometimes the easiest path is the best one to choose, regardless of what we're told."

"So you're killing innocents just because I made a mistake? How is that even remotely fair?"

"They weren't innocent!"

Twilight jumped back. The candle dropped and sent them both under the curtain of shadow once again.

Nightfall drew a sharp breath and said through gritted teeth, "Those two-faced liars were guilty as the prisoners of Tartarus, and I gave them their sentence."

"That doesn't mean we should be the ones to deliver it. That's not who we are!"

Her other self's hooves clicked as though turning away. "Is it? You would be surprised to find how many ponies would be aghast after a heart-to-heart with themselves like this one. Take for example our interest in sweet little Soarin. We never considered ourselves the romantic type until he came along."

"Knock it off. I don't feel that way."

"Oh, but you do." If she could see her, Twilight was sure she was eyeing her slyly. "Mother always warned us of days when we'd fancy the company of a handsome stallion. And we fell hard for Soarin when he came to our house with his injuries -"

"Injuries you caused."

"- I believe it's call 'tough love'. But he regardless came to us; he clearly couldn't keep his mind, or his hooves, off either of us. I wonder who he'll end up choosing - all I know it'll be a choice to die for."

Twilight caught heard the double meaning in her voice and stiffened. "Don't you dare drag him into this! He has nothing to do with us! He's innocent!"

"You don't feel 'that' way, hmm? If you stay out of it, I might consider," she replied harshly. Was she serious? Did she mean she'd spare his life if Twilight didn't interfere with . . . whatever it was?

She huffed. "What point are you trying to make with him, anyway?"

"You fail to realize, but he has more to do with us than you think. He's but one of the reasons I exist. Remember the lesson he shared the night of the Altrotta?" Twilight blinked, waiting for the 'punchline'. " 'The key thing about good and evil, each of us must choose'? Hmm? 'In our hooves, we have the power to choose, and what we want most to be, we are'?"

She thought about it. Sapient creatures discerned right from wrong with their natures, which also influenced them towards one or the other, depending on personality or situation. And the situation that led to this mess hinged on her fearing the formula would fail, and choosing to use the Alicorn Amulet!

Her other self's silhouette advanced on her. "Now you understand? You chose. The amulet was a conduit of your choice, whether to continue cowering under the hooves of those unrightfully in higher power, or to break from our chains and do something about them!"

"But . . . but I used it with good intentions! It shouldn't have created you!"

"No . . . it shouldn't have. Yet here I am. I only know what you know, so don't ask me why it didn't work as you wanted." Her tone was somber. Even if she was lying, she sounded like she really didn't know. "But I do know that its magic still courses through our veins for one purpose: to purge Canterlot of these pretenders!"

"I won't let you. I can choose to end this right now!"

Nightfall clicked her tongue. "You forget the power of choice and consequence, sister. Our actions are our own to choose, but consequence is the result of said choice; and as a scientific doctor, we don't choose the result we're given. And ours was me, the mare who put those fools in their place, the same mare who tells you now that it's far too late to turn back."

"But you still could have chosen to forgive the governors. They were just . . ."

Just what? Just doing their job? Just doing what they thought was right? They both knew she was wrong, no matter how she intended to finish that sentence.

"Forgiveness, and lack thereof, is exactly why we are separated as we are. We are the same, but you won't take certain measures to get what we want, even if you want to."

"You think I wanted the governors, my colleagues, to die?"

"I know you did," Nightfall chuckled. "From the inside out, and from every day you had to put up with them and their nonsense, you had a desire for nothing less than to see them gone. Don't think I didn't feel your gratification when we finally did them in."

She trotted to the drawer where the amulet was stored. And unlike Twilight, who felt herself tremble, she opened the drawer with no hesitation, seemingly welcome of its influence as she caressed the ruby against her face.

"Don't you remember that feeling, Twilight Sparkle? When we watched Blueblood writhe and scream and die? It's not every day you get to see someone you loathe quite literally scare himself to death." She set the artifact away. "And Fleur? Mmm, how she wriggled in our tendrils, same as her puppets struggling against their strings."

She was getting too close to Twilight again, taking deliberately slow steps as her glowing eyes lit her frame.

"N-no, I didn't . . . "

"Don't lie. I know you remember. We chased little Miss Melody down through those alleys and trapped her. Are you still rejecting the truth? Because I recall that you enjoyed every second of cornering her, of cutting open her face with our knife and watching her scream. And we screamed with her, sister. We screamed out of pure bliss to see her suffer for her wickedness!"

"Stop it!"

"You know you loved it. That feeling of finally unleashing all those pent-up thoughts that chained us to the wall . . . that was us. And we have never felt more alive than when we embraced the Alicorn Amulet's magic, just like how Soarin embraced us in his lost state -"

"Enough!" Twilight reared up and slammed her hooves into the floor, tile chips bursting and hitting her face. She opened her mouth to tell her she was wrong, that she didn't take perverse pleasure in slaughter . . . Yet her voice managed little more than a squeak. It felt . . . incorrect. The stab she'd get when she had to lie to her friends and her princess had become familiar as of late, and pricked at her now.

It was no question that she hated the governors. Every last one of them, even Sir Fancy Pants, who chose his wife's prejudice over her work, even when it hurt him. Having nothing but hate for them was natural when her mother, innocent in her own right, still suffered by their hooves just for what her daughter believed.

So it felt like a tight chain around her neck was broken when she heard herself say, "I wanted them gone. They all stood against me, so I wanted them out of my way." She breathed shakily. "And I couldn't find myself happier when they were finally gone, all of them. But not like this. I didn't want it to be like this." She murdered them. They both did, and took pleasure in doing so. The governors had their fates sealed the moment she chose the amulet's magic over her own.

She felt Nightfall stand beside her. She didn't bother shoving her away again.

"You see? Truth liberates." An aura encased her head to meet Nightfall's eyes. "And you realize that there are more out there, just like us, suffering the lies of their enemies. We can help them, Twilight. Hypocrites have run Canterlot has been run to the ground, and Celestia won't do anything to stop it, but we can. Together, our magic combined, we can stop it all. We can end all this nonsense of goodness versus evil.

"With our magic . . . who says we even need a TS8 Formula?"

Twilight froze. What did she say?

"That's right. We could have saved her from the very beginning. Our magic is strong, perhaps even stronger than Star Swirl the Bearded's. That is exactly why Celestia held us back. She's afraid of us. She knows that plucking Mother right out of her coma is the least of what we are capable of. We were meant to explore our true potential together, sister."

It could happen, couldn't it? Luna's Dreamscape spell wasn't impossible to reach, so long as they had enough magic to penetrate it. Which they did. And they could free her so easily, just as they'd promised her all those years ago. It was all either ever wanted: one unicorn family finally glued back together, as it should have stayed.

And Mother, wouldn't she be filled with pride to see her daughter grown into the mare she was . . . a murderer . . . who slaughtered five ponies . . . and used . . . forbidden magic for her selfish needs . . .?

Twilight shut her eyes tightly. "Are we . . . really so evil that we've become the ultimate hypocrite?"

She heard her retreat, as though flinching.

"Well? Are we?" She turned, walking after her. "Do you really think my mother would want this? A city in ruins because of you - because of me - and innocents murdered by her daughter? And what about that choices and consequences bullcrap? You're putting the choice in front of me, expecting me to think that the consequences won't negate that?"

"Twilight, if you just listen to me -"

"I think you know we can't both exist. No matter what I choose, we'd just fight for this body's control for the rest of my life. I chose evil once, and look where it took me. So, really, the only one that could possibly benefit from choosing it again is you." She sighed. "I was so stupid. I should have known better than to trust the amulet . . . over myself."

Her real self. The one that let her fears of failing consume her in that moment. But still the one that knew that Nightfall's intentions were beyond perverse. "I may have chosen wrong before," she cornered Nightfall into the table, "but I'll make the right choice when I finish my formula and get you out of my head. For good."

Nightfall fixed a curious eye on the doctor. A vast array of emotions crossed her face, indecisive of what thoughts to think out. Her hooves pawed at the ground in trembling strokes. Nearly a whole minute passed as she did this; Twilight was almost sure she had pinned her down.

But she then exhaled. Chuckled grimly. And said, "You're right. We would spend the rest of our lives fighting, wouldn't we? One sister ready for action, one too cowardly to do what she must. I was truly afraid you'd realize that. Because now I cannot allow you to walk away, Twilight Sparkle."

What came next happened so fast that Twilight couldn't blink. Purple-black tendrils, not unlike the one that killed Fleur, erupted from her being and charged at the doctor. One fastened noose-like around her neck, two around her barrel, and one with a death-grip on her horn. That tendril squeezed tightly, forcing a pained cry from her. She was slammed into the opposite wall, the impact tipping over the bookcase next to her.

"Mmph! Nightfall! What are you doing!" She thrashed all four hooves, but the tendril had her stuck like a bug on flypaper.

Nightfall waltzed over, scooping up the dropped candle and lighting it on her way. "Sorry. But if that's the way you feel, I can't let you live." She used one tendril to stroke her face. Twilight whimpered, feeling a trace cold as death where it touched her. She focused her magic again, but the other just chuckled, "Oh, do try, Doctor. Do try. It's not like you'll even get a spark our of that useless horn. And so long as I'm here, you never will. And I'm not going anywhere," she whispered playfully in her ear.

"What do you plan to do to me? You can't snap my neck like you did to Fancy - you'd just die with me!"

"Mm. I'd played with the thousands of colorful ways to kill you if that weren't the case - breaking your bones, disembowelment, perhaps even classic hanging, which is where you'll end up if you reveal yourself now. But I already figured out the perfect way to do it, and survive, myself."

Twilight glanced at the green flame of the candle she was holding. Revisited her pondering as to why she had gotten so weak. She hardly had the magical prowess to even light a candle like Nightfall could.

Magic. Her connection to magic. The doctors warned her that it was connected to her in a special way, that overusing it was especially perilous. They called the two-day coma she fell into as a filly an act of mercy from the Alicorns Above. What if that was how Nightfall planned to kill her? Was killing her now?

The headaches, the lack of appetite, the inability to teleport, to even levitate - it all connected to the symptoms she'd had in small cases of overuse!

And Nightfall, who when first awakening couldn't even perform levitation herself, was pinning her to the wall with tendrils made of raw magic.

She was leeching off her magic!

As horror crossed over her face, Nightfall unleased a howling laugh. "Now you get it? Your magic is a literal artery hooked to your life force!"

And she was devouring it to kill her in the slowest, most painful way possible! Consuming her magic was only half of the killing stroke: the other half was letting her know that so she could stew in her panic, knowing that nothing in her power except the TS8 Formula, which was practically unreachable now, would come to save her!  

"But h-how is that even possible? You're me!"

"We've gone mad, Twiliy. Talking to ourselves, referring to us as 'we'? We're two parts of one soul, now. And if I, say, transfer your magic to my part . . . well, you already know what the doctors warned you would happened if your magic was exhausted."

And she intended to stand as the only Twilight Sparkle when this was over. Once drained, she would be trapped in the same abyss that Nightfall once occupied, no better than a rotting husk, malnourished of the magic that kept her alive. She, the side of her that her friends, princesses, and everyone knew, would be gone. Forgotten in place of Nightfall Hyde.

She struggled with the tendril fastened around her neck to breathe. "Y-you're a soulless monster. You don't care that you're killing yourself."

Nightfall hissed back at her, "So were you. 'I'll make the right choice when I finish my formula and get you out of my head for good'." Sneering, she slammed Twilight's head back into the wall. "You're right. We are the ultimate hypocrite. Because you're no better. You wouldn't hesitate to kill either, if you were pushed beyond your limits. The only real difference between us? I will be the one who survives." She withdrew the tendrils and let Twilight slump to the floor. She turned to leave.

"W-wait . . . Nightfall . . ." The mare paused midstride, not even bothering to turn. "Just . . . answer something for me . . . Fancy Pants . . ." She felt her ears flatten into her skull. "Did he really deserve to die? He made mistakes, but do you even feel sorry that you 'had' to kill him?"

He was just like a second father to her - to them. And though his own hypocrisy was clear, that didn't make the pain of losing him less stinging to her. It was unreal to think that Nightfall didn't feel likewise.

Nightfall didn't move for the longest time. Her hooves, one foreleg curled into itself in its cycle, didn't even paw at the floor again. But after a long stretch, she sighed. "To kill the stallion who was there for us when our real f-father couldn't, who still fought to let us keep the equipment after e-everything fell apart . . . it . . . k-killed me, too."

Sighing again, she drifted down the staircase, the front door opening and closing with the quietest click.
> Act II: Chapter Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act II: Chapter Three:
Obsessed


It wasn't a dream.

She had stayed in the same spot where Nightfall had left her, staring on at the staircase from which her other self descended. So certain was she that Nightfall spoke to her via her dreaming, and that she would wake up any moment with clammy hooves and a sheet of sweat on her forehead. It had to be. It just had to.

Yet as minute after painful minute passed, Twilight's desperation to know that she was merely dreaming -and not hallucinating her conversation with Nightfall - overflowed into her racing heart. Like the orange glow of the sun briefly flickering outside the window, the truth of the matter was dawning on her. This was not a dream, she did hallucinate, and everything Nightfall told her was, therefore, true. To deny now was only a game of kidding herself.

And like three deadly blows from the Reaper's scythe, those three points crippled her legs as she collapsed into her books and let out a scream that recoiled off the walls and vibrated the glass around her. "Damn it! Alicorns damn it!" Gasps of hyperventilation were all she could draw into her lungs, and with each desperate gasp, the barriers that she'd built to keep her panic swallowed and her mind steady broke down and flooded out of her eyes.

It was collapsing. Her work, her sanity, her very life; it was falling apart. And not one damn thing could be done to stop it. To salvage one or two things was possible, but what did it matter when she was far too late to escape from her choice? By letting her own self-doubt seize her, she had forgotten all that her princess taught her to learn or be. More than that - she abandoned it.

She was supposed to be this intelligent, wise doctor, following the restrictions of dark magic! Yet how did a single moment of curiosity shatter her future as a the pony who cured madness? The Alicorn Amulet, whatever its purposes, used its trickery and opened her heart to its corruption. It opened her heart to Hyde.

In the very meaning of the phrase, she was engaged in a dance with Discord himself. Foolish, and dangerous to none but the one who accepted him.

After a time, her eyes had finally dried out. Calmness should have been the first thing to come after crying, as always like the comfort of a mother to her fearful child. Yet that feeling - the kind of standing in a black hallway at darkest night, when you know that you're alone, yet feeling eyes pried on your back - would not let go of her so easily.

That feeling of dread had latched onto her, same as Nightfall was latched to her magic.

The doctor sniffled quietly. Before her stood two choices.

One: curl into a little ball and force out more tears until she either shriveled up in starvation or Nightfall killed her herself.

Or two: actually get off her flank and do something to fight back and reclaim the life that Nightfall wanted to steal.

In no way was either choice going to be easy, and anyone could think that the second would be much harder. But facing the truth that she was dying gave her one good insight - that she had to stay strong, for both herself and her mother, who still depended on her.

Rising from her old books, damp with old tears, she hobbled to the table. The brief light of dawn had vanished, the sun slipping above a vast sheen of grey clouds that hung over the city. Her study could only be made out in silhouettes with the pitiful light that broke through the clouds. Yet it would have to suffice; she had neither means nor will to try messing with the matches again, and assumed the box's contents had been scattered after Nightfall's little . . . chat.

Stray papers were scattered on the floor near the pile of forgotten books and tomes , and on top was her journal. She plucked it with a careful jaw and brought it to the writing space. Sifted through filled entries as the pages brushed against each other like fallen leaves. Near the end was an empty page. She was running out of space for entries, even for a six-hundred page journal; a quibble in the long run.

"October sixth -" The quill in her hooves splatted ink over the page. With a small exhale, and a quick motion, the page was discarded. She started anew. "Oct-tober sixth. Sev-seven forty A.M. Nightfall told me that our choices are our own to choose, and that consequence is the result of that choice. We can't escape the result, but must answer for it. And . . . when I chose to use the Alicorn Amulet, I never considered . . . this of all things to happen. I can't keep ignoring the oncoming danger." She paused in a sigh. "Nightfall has set herself apart from me, and become her own pony. She feels, and thinks, and lives just as anypony else would. And just like anypony else, she fears. She knows that I want to recreate the TS8 Formula and use it to be rid of her."

But wasn't that the core instinct of every living thing, sapient or not? To survive? And her efforts to rid herself of evil, exactly what Nightfall was, terrified her darker side. In that sense, and in the sense that she was technically not even a month old, she was little more than a filly huddled in the corner, begging the mad doctor not to hurt her. Except this filly had her own tools of torture to manipulate.

"We've become two separate parts of one soul. We've gone mad, mad enough that this separation of ourselves is possible. And because of that, she's found a way to kill me. Princess Celestia warned me many times about how . . . frail my connection to magic is, but I never imagined it was this bad. Nightfall intends to drain my magic, severing that connection. Not only will it kill my half, but it may just make me forget I was ever 'Twilight Sparkle'. We are still the same pony, so . . . m-my consciousness as me will . . . sl-slip away and go right into Nightfall's. I'll n-not only die, I will become Nightfall Hyde."

And her bloodlust would become Twilight's as well. She wouldn't stop. Not ever. Her thirst for violence didn't just extend to the governors. She would long for the blood of bystanders, innocents . . . her friends. Her Spike. Even thinking that she could ever hurt her brother sent a prickling shiver through her spine.

"So, my formula, this time untouched by the amulet's magic, is my last hope to beat her. But Zecora still doesn't have the ingredients I need, and even if I can't afford to wait any longer, I can't leave the study. Nightfall's control over her comings and goings are too arbitrary. There's just too much of a risk to endanger somepony else."

She scribbled the words faster than ever, her thoughts pouring like spilt ink over the pages.

"And even if I do get the formula made, I'll have to kill her myself, in essentially the same way she intended to kill me. I'm no better than her, even without this choice. Everything she has done, she did to earn my favor, perhaps in the hopes that I wouldn't want to go through with using the formula. She did what I've always wanted to happen in the secretest -" she crossed that out "- most secret part of my heart: the governors being removed, getting revenge on Octavia, and so much more. She is the embodiment of the desires that I couldn't speak of, solely for my mother's well-being. She is everything I feared to be."

"Am I interrupting something, sugarcube?"

Twilight shot her head up and spun quickly. The sudden momentum threw off her balance and landed her on her side. A few feet away from the table stood Applejack, in her hoof an open letter and on her face a scowl that even Tartarus' wardens would fear.

It was one that Twilight certainly feared. How long had she been standing there? Did she hear what she'd been reading out loud? What was she going to do now that she knew?

Already her imagination, or Nightfall's own will, threw images into her mind's eye. She was chained, being dragged to Princess Celestia, disgust ridden on the alicorn's face. Doctors were unplugging the dozens of wires connected to machines that kept her mother alive.

Guards bringing the doctor up to the gallows, where a rope awaited her. 

Nightfall's voice rang clear: There's only one place to go for madmares like us.

No. No! That wouldn't happen! It couldn't!

"A-applejack, I can explain!" she started. She rose hastily to approach, but the farmpony's withering stare held her back.

"I damn hope you can." It didn't seem possible, but her emerald eyes narrowed more so, making the visage of a pony whose patience had long since vaporized. She walked past her, to the writing space. Twilight was quick enough to snap the journal closed and tossed it aside before her friend could see its written words, although that seemed moot now.

"H-hold on! How much did you -"

Applejack again struck her with such venom in her eyes. "Why don't we start by you explainin' what the hell this letter's s'posed to mean?" She spread out the folded paper on the writing space. On a closer look, Twilight immediately recognized her insignia at the bottom of the page, along with her name, however sloppily written.

She'd opened her letter! "Applejack! I told you that was only supposed to be opened under the appropriate circumstances! Not whenever you felt like prying into my personal life!" She wanted to clear up this question, of how much Applejack had heard or knew, but seeing this letter opened before intended unlocked a burst of rage from her gut.

"Yeah? Then maybe you'll think better of abusin' yourself the next time you got secret letters to pass 'round." Her attention dropped to Twilight's thin, stilt-like legs, which she immediately tried to cover up with little effect. "So, you wanna tell me who Nightfall Hyde is?"

She knew. At least in part, she knew. It would only be a matter of time before she figured out -

"Must be a real important pony to pass all your equipment to."

What?

She must have looked dumbfounded, because Applejack then groaned and smoothed out the paper again. " 'I, Doctor Twilight Sparkle, pass on my equipment, journal, and formula concoction to Nightfall Hyde, should I pass on or leave Equestria. She will complete my work, as promised, and take credit for the completion of Project TS'." She spun around fast. "Remember now?"

No, she didn't. She never wrote a will! When did she write a will? She wrote confessions - letters revealing that she used the Alicorn Amulet and had become corrupted! She wrote those in dreading if she was overtaken by the amulet's magic, her friends and princesses could remove her as a threat, by any necessary means. But that was before she knew this magic as Nightfall Hyde, and certainly before she was a murderer. Before the stakes became too high to let anyone know the truth.

So why did Applejack have a will, not a confession?

You're welcome, sister.

She froze. Nightfall was there; she could feel her stirring. How could she be active, even when withdrawn? Better yet, how could she know about the letters? They . . .

. . . they were written by Nightfall, not her. The sloppy wording. The mention of Nightfall Hyde, even though she didn't refer to her as that at the time.

She mentally conjured the memory of her writing those letters. A pink aura held a quill dripping with ink. But soon, the image distorted and shifted, like a dream quickly shifting to a nightmare, and the aura turned green. It wrote in words hardly readable, as a voice thick behind phlegm read out, "I, Doctor Twilight Sparkle, pass on my equipment, journal, and formula concoction to Nightfall Hyde . . ."

You're welcome, Nightfall said again.

Did she . . . did she manipulate her memory . . . to make her think that she wrote a confession?

. . . how far could she go, then, to tamper with what she thought was real and what was not? What if that was how she was able to speak to her? Not a dream, not insanity, but memory manipulation?

She faced Applejack. "How long ago did you -"

Applejack cut her off with a stomp. "No. I'm askin' the questions here. And remember what you said to me 'bout that? That all mine would'a been answered with this letter?" She advanced on her, pressing the letter into her hoof. "Well, ain't that just amusin'? Cause all I got are more questions! So you better start explainin'."

Firm right where she stood, Applejack wasn't planning on moving until she had her answer.

Twilight's tight swallow could have been taken out of fear or relief. For one thing, Applejack wouldn't be standing here giving demands for answers if she really heard Twilight write her entry. There was both an advantage and disadvantage to this: her lack of knowledge, though a good thing, could change with one question, and she would prod for answers until Twilight relented.

Long ago, Applejack the Bearer of Honesty was one of her closest friends, someone who Twilight could trust with her secrets because she believed in her. But she was still the Element of Honesty. If she learned that Nightfall was the same pony who murdered innocents and terrorized all of Canterlot, and was asked to keep that a secret . . .

At once that image of doctors unplugging her mother struck again.

"Nightfall," Twilight threw out a quick lie, her mind set on keeping her mother safe, "Is a colleague. From . . . from the hospital." If Applejack reacted, she didn't show any sign. She just kept her withering stare on her. "We met a few years back and, um . . . well, her interests in my work were . . . certainly influential. And, you know, work reviled by the rest of the city, she was the only one I trusted enough to pass my stuff over to if I ever did disappear."

Applejack scrutinized her for over a minute, as if thinking. Opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. For a moment she thought that she was buying it. She let out a wispy sigh, finally backing off. "Alright."

Twilight blinked. "Alright?"

She nodded. "Alright." But then added, "A collegue, huh? Then why is it that, until right now, I ain't heard of this 'great colleague' who's helped you so much to the point that you felt like bequeathin' everything to her?" 

One sentence. She unraveled that lie with just one. Damn. Question! 

Really, she should have been prepared for Lady Lie Detector to sever it, but she didn't think it'd happen that quickly! Twilight snapped her mouth shut.

Applejack sighed, "I thought as much. Now, it might just come as a surprise to you, sugarcube," she said the name of endearment spitefully, "But I'm not your bad guy, cause I actually wanna help you."

Then she shouldn't have come here, practically, indirectly, threatening her mother! She was just so damn stubborn! Too stubborn for her own good; and what if she finally got her answer? She would just screw both her and her mother over. Her honesty dictated that she would take that information and rat her out to Celestia!

She'd rather let Nightfall overtake her and go on a rampage before letting her mother die.

Thunder rumbled outside. Two quick flashes of lightning ignited the room, highlighting Applejack's face. In that split-second, Twilight saw her glance away, as though now realizing that her stubbornness was equally matched by the doctor's. Whatever she was thinking, she tried to outwardly hide it, but her ear flicking slightly betrayed that she lost her resolve to push for her answers.

Her stance finally loosened. " . . . Fine. I get it. You got your reasons for keepin' quiet. But they ain't good reasons to keep yourself locked up here."

"You're right about one thing," Twilight's voice strained. "I have my reasons." To save their damn lives, to keep them as far away from Nightfall as possible! "And you have no right to butt into my personal life."

Applejack shook her head slowly. "I got that right when it started concernin' your brother." She walked back to the table, opening one of the drawers. Twilight couldn't, for the life of her, remember if she locked the one with the amulet, and for a moment feared she had been found out.

But she instead selected one with photos, not an evil artifact. "After our little trip from the Everfree Forest, I realized, this obsession was only gonna get worse. So I told Spike he could bunk with me until you got your mess sorted out." She sifted through photo after photo, Twilight noticed, of her and Spike together.

Only those.

"But you wanna know what he told me? He said that he had to stay with you - not because you told him to, and certainly not out of obligation for your work."

She selected, from dozens, a single photo, and practically threw it at Twilight. She just barely caught it in her hooves. "He wanted to stay behind, just so that he could be there for you, when the time came that you couldn't handle this work anymore. Again, not because he had to. But because he wanted to. Because he really cares about you, and wants his sister back."

Twilight looked down at the photo. It showed her, a filly cradling an infant Spike in her forelegs. She looked surprised, just realizing her mother was taking that picture, and was about to beg her not to out of embarrassment.

She gasped softly, remembering that day. That picture had been taken after she'd come home from the test that made her Princess Celestia's student. With Spike at her side.

The professors hadn't expected the egg to hatch, nor was it ever supposed to. Yet it did. And they had an impossible child on their hooves. Had Twilight not begged her mentor to let her keep him, he would have been sent off to be experimented on.

She was a filly far too innocent to realize the implications of 'experimenting', and Princess Celestia agreed that Spike belonged with her.

Twilight turned the photo, reading the small footnote on the back: Already grown up! - Twilight Velvet.

Oh, Spike . . . what did she . . .?

"That mare is the one I remember, before work and potions got the better of her." Applejack's hardened stare was becoming all too familiar to her. "I don't even see a pony here. Just a shell, somepony who's hollowed herself out for a potion." She softened her gaze, voice thawing. "I know you ain't abusive. I know you're anythin' but cruel. But is . . . shovin' everypony away worth what you're doin'?"

Was it? Even if she had those ingredients in her hooves, even if she were rid of Nightfall this very second, never to take possession of her body again, getting her friends to trust her again seemed a distant path that she could no longer take. Those friendships were a broken mirror; even if it were somehow fixed, the cracks would forever remain.

Which was why she needed to fix her mistakes as soon as possible. And she couldn't afford to wait any longer on a letter that might never come. "You're right. Spike doesn't deserve this. So . . . do you really want to help me that badly?" She was careful with her tone. What came next was nothing short of manipulation. But she had no choice.

Applejack inched forward, eager. "Of course I wanna help you. Anythin' to turn this around."

"Good. Because I need you to go back to the Everfree Forest."

As expected, Applejack stumbled on her hooves. "Say . . . what, now?" That skeptical look was back, and seemed there to stay.

Still she continued. "I've asked Zecora for the ingredients to recreate the formula, but she's been at it for weeks. I don't have any time left, so I need you to go and just take whatever she has. And then bring it back."

Already the farmpony was rejecting the request. "Now hold on! I said I wanted to help you, not help indulge your work! I'm not gonna throw you right back into that same damn addic -"

Twilight couldn't help herself. At once she sprung on her friend, pinning her right into the table. The cube structure trembled upon impact, and a vial dislodged and broke on the table's surface. "Applejack, please! I wouldn't ask you if I didn't need this done!"

Applejack flinched, eyes wide open . . . almost fearful. At once she got off, drawing a distance. Being delirious would only convince her friend to instead retrieve a straightjacket. "Please, Applejack. I have no excuse for what I've done, not at all." She prayed that she wouldn't catch the double-meaning, that she would only think of her seclusion. "I can't even ask this of you, but I need you trust me. Just for a little while longer."

She waited. Her friend still looked like she'd seen Discord himself inside Twilight's eyes. In a sense, that was especially true. Here Twilight was, thin as bones and eyes wild, demanding she go right back into the cursed forest and enable the work that became an addiction. 

"I do trust you, sugarcube," Applejack said, her expression sobering into mere caution. "I'd stake my life on trustin' you if I had to. Just for that, because I do trust you . . . I'll do it." Twilight opened her mouth to thank her, but then she said, "But the moment, and I mean the very second I get back here, you will tell me everything. And I mean everything."

Her tone clearly said that it wasn't a request. Twilight started to protest, but she stamped her hoof, cutting her off.

"I mean it, Twilight! You tell me everything, or you can forget 'bout ever getting those ingredients!" She meant it. She would leave right now, and let her slip into insanity if she didn't agree. Of course, she didn't know that she was going insane because of an evil twin, but still. Hesitation to abandon her wouldn't happen.

Twilight smoothed out her mane as best as she could. Stray hairs jumping out like wild sparks weren't even a question, and they weren't helping her case of sanity. " . . . fine. I'll tell you about the letters when you return."

"Everything, you mean? You'll tell me everything?"

She sighed. "Yes. Everything."

Applejack nodded. "Good. S'pose I'll leave you to it, then." She turned away, went back to the staircase. As Twilight returned to the table, she heard her heavy hoofsteps pause at the door, then resume after the loud click of the knob.

Silence drifted back into the study. Faint drizzle patted the window, and Twilight stood by it, watching tears fall into the streets. Back when equine culture was far more . . . rustic . . . ponies believed that rain was a sign of the Alicorns Above weeping for their subjects. When great suffering was felt amongst gods. Perhaps today that was true.

Lives were lost, fear ruled the city over the Alicorn Princesses, and a monster had been unleash for curiosity of one who played with powers she didn't understand. That was more than reason to cry.

"I'll never be able to escape from you, will I?" Twilight murmured, returning to the table. "You won't ever stop trying to kill me, even after I've gotten rid of you. It's all to prove that you and I -" she twisted the knob of the Bunsen burner and held the will over it with careful hooves "- live and breathe as one."

Darkness played its role in every creature with sapience; this Twilight always knew, for without evil, how could one tell right from wrong? But until now, she thought of it as a disease, something that had to be removed to better a patient.

She was kidding herself. Nightfall came to her so she could reveal truth, to open her eyes to what evil really was to good: inseparable.

To split oneself completely of evil was impossible by any means other than divine intervention. To think otherwise was to act as a god, to try having for themselves that power which belonged only to divinity worthy of it.

The TS8 Formula would decrease evil, as intended, but it would never really obliterate it. Even if only a shadow of evil remained, it would only come back, stronger and more lustful for vengeance. And then the cycle would repeat. Her darkness - her Nightfall - would return all over again even if she drank the formula and freed herself.

Nightfall, Twilight, - they were the same pony. At the very core of who Twilight Sparkle was, she was two halves of a soul that was so intricately intertwined to the point that they were inseparable - not because they wanted to be, but because they couldn't be separated.

Their moral extremes reflected off each other; one half that refused to contain it, and the other that begged for mercy to be dealt. And the truth that Twilight shared Nightfall's same desire to attack, a desire so drowned throughout her life to stand for good that it was forgotten, frightened her most of all.

Link

"What streak of madness lies inside of me?
What truth do I fear to embrace?
My bloodlust is all Nightfall Hyde sees
It's all a game she's made . . . for me to face . . ."

She circled the table, sight rising to the cube-like structure holding every last piece of her equipment. The equipment that Fancy fought to let her keep . . .

The vials all shone off the light of bleak morning. Her mind played with her, images of the lives lost dancing on the glass. Fleur de Lis drowning into the floor, Blueblood writhing as blood seeped into his coat, and Silver Mist, who hardly moved a shiver as her wings were sliced off and her windpipe opened. And her fate wholeheartedly accepted. Each of them, to her dread, spurted some deranged glee in both Nightfall and her.

"What is this strange obsession
That's tearing me apart?
It puts . . . my soul at question,
Of what's in my heart . . .!"

Sitting solemnly at the end of the structure was the very same vial that had birthed Nightfall. She started to turn away, but barely caught her reflection; only, green, snake-like eyes fixed intently on her, instead of purple irises. Twilight recoiled, falling at the foot of the chaise. Even after the vison had gone, she'd dare not even breathe.

"Am I the mare that I have claimed to be?
Or am I somepony I don't know?

"Is there a part of me about to die,
For all my vicious lies
And the choice I've made . . .
For you . . .?"

She just laid there, curling into the side of the chaise. Suddenly felt . . . so tired. Longing for her mother's embrace, to tell her that things would be alright in the end, she slowly closed her eyes. The very last thought that came to her, before a soft prickling touched at her heart, was that even if she had won, even if Nightfall was gone, she still lost.

Because even if by some grace from Princess Celestia that she was allowed to insert the formula into her mother's treatment and managed to save her, in what world would Twilight want to live in, where her mother would awaken, only to see in her daughter's place, a murderer?


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Grey, purring clouds blotted out the sun, what little light that escaped falling onto the nearby trees. How many weather pegasi objected leaving the refuge of their homes just to organize the clouds for a dreary, all-day rainstorm?

Spike exhaled a curious sigh. He certainly wouldn't have objected to a change of pace if he could control clouds. Then he'd actually have something to do.

He hung in the space of the front door, watching with little interest the light drizzle needling his scales. The sun, although blotted out, still stood over the city to say that he wasn't breaking curfew, allowing him this moment alone. Anything to get rid of this stupid cabin fever, and to do more than reread his crossbow manual, waiting for a request that might never come. 

He'd stayed behind with Twilight to care for her, same as she cared for him, but being treated with little more than a cold shoulder and being trapped in a city on top of a mountain had eaten his resolve. But how could he leave? What if he liked being with Applejack over Twilight? Then he'd leave her all alone, for good!

So . . . he was gonna wait. He just had to be patient. Twilight would come back around. She always did. Always. She'd love him all over again, and things would be okay . . . wouldn't they? 

"Was . . . was it something I did?" He looked to the golden spire of her study tower. She was so close, yet so distant from him. "Just let me do something to fix it, and I promise I will. So, it'd be great if you'd just tell me . . ."

He sighed again, attention back onto the clouds as he stepped out, feeling the harsh wind curve into him. He didn't care where he went, only that it was away. Away from the empty stares and the dismissals. Away from feeling like, despite her promise, he was being sent away. Worse, being slowly disconnected from her. Would he even care about her anymore by the time she had finished her project?

Link

"The rain falls at my feet,
And I see tears run across empty streets . . ."

He'd entered the small, local park, the canopy of trees shielding him from the rain. Just when he was about to sit down however, he heard another voice, right above him.

"I stare on at the clouds,
Passing by like lovesick crowds. . ."

Spike moved on, deciding to let the stallion sing as he added his own voice quietly. No one would bother either anytime soon; the park was long since abandoned out of fear for what had happened just a week ago . . .

"I think of her, who we were . . .
But when I think of her, then I remember . . ."

"Remember . . ." 

"In her eyes, I could see
Who I can choose to be!"

Spike reached his hand out to an oak tree, his clawtips leaving faint marks on the cold bark.

"In her eyes, I saw a sister's love . . .
One strong as the Alicorns Above!"

He took his hand away, shivering as fresh memories of being yelled at and pushed away lashed out at him.

"But then things changed, a heart gone cold."

"And I don't know how to reach her soul . . .
By looking in her eyes, could I ever stand . . . in her glow?"

"By looking in her eyes, can I see beyond the sorrow in her heart?"

Lifting his head, he saw a faint silhouette move across branches, the expected groans quieter. He rushed after him, wondering what he was going through. Hopped onto a low branch and settled there. 

"Will her eyes show love for me,
Or am I remiss?"

"But I'm not a fool to miss,
That love . . . in her eyes!"

He stood right up and squeezed his claws into fists, sight to the pouring sky.

"I know their every look,
Her eyes!"

"One glance was all it took,
Her eyes!"

"But most of all, the look that had set me free!"

"If I'm wise, I should walk away, 
Yet again. . ."

Spike then knew why he was here. Because for all the times that Twilight had been there by his side, she did it out of love. It was why it was now his turn to support her back. Even if all he got were empty stares, because he knew they were false. He just knew!

"But truth is, I'm not smart,
I can't just ditch her now
I'll always stand with her . . ."

"After all," he whispered to himself, tracing his claws along the cracks of the bark as a soft smile broke through.

"Friendship's worth forgiving for . . ."

"Now I realize . . ."

"Everything worth living for,
It's there! In her eyes . . .!"

"Love is worth forgiving for!"

"Now I realize -"

"Now I realize -"

"Everything worth living for,
It's there! In her . . . eyes . . . !"

Spike laughed quietly, his breaths in quick heaves. He blinked away the moisture from his eyes, while mentally scolding himself for being sappy. But whoever the other guy was, he sounded much happier, too. Whatever he was going through, Spike knew he could get past it, same as him, if he just tried. 

He slid off the branch, his decision made. He would wait for Twilight, no matter how long it took. Because he was her brother, and wasn't it exactly what family did - endure hardships for those they loved? And Spike loved his sister. 

Family, friendship, love, it was all worth the wait and the effort to fight for. And wait and fight and endure he would.

For Twilight.
> Act II: Chapter Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act II: Chapter Four:
It's a Dangerous Game . . .


Thunder snarled overhead as raindrops the size of bullets pelted into the earth, spraying mud all about with loud plops. The constant noise sang with the wind's cry, its howling desperate as the calling of a banshee lost to the physical world. It was a noise that warned all passersby that nature was a force to be reckoned with, even it was merciful with the light drizzle hardly a few minutes ago. Those unfortunate not to return to their homes in that small space of time had nothing left but to face nature's dangerous beauty.

Soarin ducked under a shield of braches as shards of hail tried to poke his eyes out. They bounced harmlessly off the surrounding leaves before falling to the ground and melting in its neutral temperature. He exhaled, deciding to retreat from his nest and return to the ground.

As he stepped carefully through the moisture, mud sticking to his fetlocks, he looked around for anyone else hiding in the park. He could only hope that kid got home okay, or better yet before the storm kicked in full force. Even though he was choosing to be here, no one deserved to be caught in one so fierce.

After scouting further for a few more minutes, he decided that he really was alone, leaning forward for a clear view of the clouds. Anyone smarter than him would turn back at once, rather than face the storm to relieve days of glory in daredevil stunts.

Somewhere behind that blanket of grey was Cloudsdale and, by extension, the Wonderbolt Academy and Headquarters. He fixed his eyes on the spot he was most certain it was hiding and training new initiates; directly northwest of Canterlot's spires.

He couldn't help a grimace as rain dripped down his muzzle. Did Spitfire know about the trouble Equestria's capital was in, and that her former friend was barrel-deep in it, too? Scratch that - news of the Canterlot Murderer had reached some of the outside cities within a fifty-mile radius by now, including Cloudsdale. The real question was, did she even care?

If he'd heard right when stumbling on her and Fleetfoot talking about their replacing him with Lightning Dust, he recalled that Spitfire regretted lying to him. That if there was way out without betraying him, she would have taken it.

Which implied that there was still a sliver of amity left in her heart.

Yet she knew that Glider hired him for the Altrotta, which she also knew was in Canterlot. And she disregarded the coincidence of her showing up right when he had to resign as a chance to 'start over'.

So why hadn't he heard anything from her? Even a letter asking if he wasn't dead yet would have been nice.

He hated the feeling he had right then - the pain of betrayal coming back tenfold. The first time hurt enough as it was, and Spit was already dead to him the moment he discovered her true intentions. But to feel this all over again meant that there was a part of him that still trusted her. How could it be possible to feel trust for the person who took your life to give to someone else?

Blood seeped off his chin. In realizing his jaw was clenched to tight that he'd bitten his tongue, he forcing himself to relax. Closed his eyes and listened to the rolling thunder. Memories of standing outside of the Academy and watching lightning split the sky in two replayed in his head. Every time training got so hard that he couldn't stand, or the other trainees got on his case one time too many, all he had to do was go outside and watch.

Spitfire joined him sometimes. Told him stories of her fillyhood when things were rough on her end. Then they'd fetch blankets and whisper sweet nothings before the rain lulled them both to sleep.

He shook his head disdainfully. That was before they moved up to captain and lieutenant, and their work dictated that they take on a certain persona, treat their fans a certain way, and fall from glory in a certain failure. For him, all three shifted to him being the star example of 'love them and leave them'.

"Soarin."

The voice, spoken as though the owner was tipping between irritation and caution, made him jump. The rain had lightened considerably; he therefore blamed his daydreaming for not hearing their approach, especially since upon turning he saw that there were at least dozen ponies.

Most of them were the background musicians from the Altrotta, complete in their trademark outfits of green vests with a sewn-on emblem of a flying pegasus, its wings stretching over the boundaries. It was safe to say that these clashed poorly with most of their color palettes.

Topping the group like twin spires of a mountain were Dust Devil and Night Glider, the latter of whom he was certain the voice came from, given her rigid posture and dark expression.

"So this is where you ran off to?" said Night. Again, her voice was strained in the sense she was trying to keep her patience in check. "Dust told me you 'had to get out', but I didn't want to consider she was right."

Beside her, Dusty found herself more interested in the fallen leaves, her eyes shrunken to little pink dots. There were deep crevices on her face, as though she had been forcing a smile all hours of the day to keep everyone's spirits up, even if it only yielded the expected outcome in a hostile environment.

Wind howled behind Soarin's ears, muting his response. "I needed some time alone. Get myself together and gather my thoughts. I'm sure you get that."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure. And while you're at it, leave us with Mewling Nightmare. Because that makes a ton of sense."

"You think I don't care, Night? Silv' was my friend, too. She cared about all of us, not just Glider. And Glider . . ." he sucked in a sharp breath ". . . well, she returned that care equally. You have to realize, she's taking this much harder than any of us ever could."

He shivered at the memory of her scream, reflecting off the walls of the Altrotta when she found Silver's body not even a whole day ago. Just when Glider opened her theatre for those who couldn't make it home past curfew, one quick swipe told that not even that place of refuge was safe anymore.

No one, not even the performers who were right by the front entryway, heard whisper nor hoofstep from the Canterlot Murderer as she snuck into Silver's quarters, sliced her wings off, and opened her windpipe. No one was aware she was ever there, until Glider had burst through the front doors with a crazed look in her eyes and blood matting her coat.

Night dragged a hoof through strewn leaves before continuing, "That gives her no excuse to act like a child. Had she stayed out of the Guard's matters, none of this would have happened. The killer would have been dealt with by now if not for her."

"The princesses can't even find her," Dusty spoke up for the first time. "What makes you think the Royal Guard could?"

She gasped as Night spun towards her. "Are you serious? Dust, any professional help is better than one idiot who doesn't even know what she's doing! You saw the scars; the only reason Glider's still alive is because she rightfully fled."

Dusty backed away, gulping as Night followed. She looked to the others, but none of them moved.

Soarin watched the exchange carefully. He kept it to himself, but he had his own regards to Glider's attempt at the killer; she did try a direct attack, something which the Guard was too scared to do, albeit ending in futility, and a house arrest order by the captain until 'further notice'.

It seemed the only reason she wasn't given an official imprisonment was that she did end up getting a good look at her face, and she awaited an evaluation for the next day.

Gathering her thoughts in a deep breath, Dusty answered, "She may have acted dumb, but that shouldn't be reason to condemn her. Her heart was in the right place, and she lost her best friend because of that."

Night scoffed. "There was no right place for her. I heard her myself. She wanted to get back at the killer to get her hooves on a potion. If you honestly think that there's glory in seeking reward like she did, stop kidding yourself and wake up." Dusty opened her mouth to argue further, but she cut in, "Just stop. If you don't believe me, why don't you go ask her yourself? In fact, tell her that she'll have her potion and that everything's gonna turn out great in the end, just because she's the good guy in her story."

Soarin sighed, seeing her drop her gaze in defeat, and Night let a small, smug grin edge her face. Everyone present knew why Dusty couldn't do as asked, because Glider ended up screaming at anyone who ignored the 'do not disturb' sign.

" . . . you don't have to be so cruel," Dusty whispered.

"I'm not being cruel. I'm accepting the circumstance just like the Royal Guard is, and just like you should be." She jabbed a hoof at Dusty. Her already-small eyes narrowed, her expression frightening to Soarin.

She barely spoke above her previous whisper, "Funny how you put all your faith in the Guard when you couldn't help abandoning them first."

The atmosphere changed quickly, and Soarin dove in between the two mares before Night could charge at her. She snarled with bloody murder in her eyes, forcing him to throw her back. "Hey, hey! Leave her alone, Night!" The rest of the troupe began chanting with the thunder for her for blood to be spilt, but he ignored them. Shoving her back once more, he spun and launched a small back kick at her that would only knock her down.

Night grunted, kneeling in mud as he grabbed her, dragging her away from the thick of the action. 

They walked - or crawled, since Night resisted so much, screaming obscenities at Dusty - for about a hundred yards, into the thickest part of the park, before he let her go. At once she slammed a fetlock into his gut. "I don't need you butting in like that!" she snapped, tucking her wings.

"I - cack - kinda have to when - cack -" he coughed "- when you're trying to pick a fight, as usual."

She responded with glaring down the blades of grass that hadn't died from the coming winter.

"Come on, don't treat me like the bad guy," he said carefully, as she was easily a loose cannon when ticked off like she was. "What happened back there?"

Night huffed, but as the rain continued to slide down her face, she muttered, "Just been thinking about my family lately. You know my dad's a commanding officer, and my mom's his lieutenant, and my sis is Fle -" she waved that one off. "Y'know, all related to branches of the guard."

"You said they were . . . unsupportive of your talent in show business?"

"I hated that they didn't listen to me. But now," she looked to the sky, "Damn it, I see them everywhere. Just . . . everypony turning against each other now reminds me too much of what I went through at home."

Soarin nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. It was raw instinct that if put into a hostile environment with no way out, no help coming, and the cards constantly stacked unfairly against the inhabitants, everyone turning hostile towards one another was going to happen sooner or later. It was the Canterlot Murderer's game; bring pain and disharmony onto the ponies of Canterlot just for her amusement. And what better way to cause pain than to prick fear and let them slowly drive themselves mad until they were at each other's throats?

"It's gonna be okay, Night. We just gotta stay sane until this blows over."

"It's never going to blow over, Soarin!" she snapped. "That . . . monster is never going to stop. We're her playthings to her. Just pieces on a board that she can knock off at any moment!"

He drew back. He realized then that the killer's little game was working; he could see Night cracking right before his eyes, her faith in the Guard saving them already lost.

"She . . . she's just like Discord. Worse." She wheezed deep breaths, hyperventilating. "And what if we get past this? Even if the killer dies tonight, that memory stays with all of us for the rest of our lives! We'll never stop looking out our windows, skimming the streets, feeling like there are eyes on our shoulders right before they kill us . . ."

What could he even say now? As she wept before him, he knew there was no escape. The only way out of Canterlot, the train station, was blocked off for use by 'public officials' only; the stories of those who tried to bargain, plead, even fight their way past the guards filled the newspapers like cancer.

He reached out for her in an attempt to comfort. "We're going to survive, Night. We going to be okay. We have to be." He was unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"How can you even know? You don't know anything!"

"Night -"

"Leave me the hell alone."

Soarin dropped his hoof, the breeze tangling his mane as the soft plop of her hooves left him.

He felt tempted to go after her, yet he felt himself go the opposite direction. There was just no reasoning with her - with anyone that let themselves get consumed by their fear. Like he did.

He wasn't even aware of where he was going. Singing wind shifted his path, luring the leaves off their branches as they swirled around him. Some were pelted down while others got stuck in his mane, which he brushed out with a swipe of his hoof. He just wanted to get away from those he couldn't help, away from the reminder that he'd unintentionally broke another mare's heart.

Ever since his incident with Doctor Sparkle, he tried to be better about his morality, but Fate seemed to have other ideas. While claiming to understand her rejection, he felt like he was dying inside. He knew what 'just being friends' meant for someone like him. In Canterlot, even being seen with his kind meant the ruin of one's reputation.

And try as he might, there was no escape from his past. Doctor Sparkle knew that perfectly well, and tried to explain it as her protecting her mother's well-being.

He didn't want to believe that she was just like the other nobleponies, but when she revealed that to be the case, he knew she deserved better. Someone like her deserved . . . a prince. Stainless and noble.

Coming to the end of the park, where grass changed to hard pavement, he looked up to the empty city. The wind that blew harsher into his face seemed to enforce the absence of life across the city. Everyone was huddled in their homes, begging the Alicorns to save them, yet it may as well have been that Soarin was the only one left alive.

There was nothing to be found here, and his thought process made him dread being alone. He moved to return to the thick of the trees.

. . . when something caught his eye.

He stumbled right into the arms of a low hanging branch, smarting the bridge of his muzzle. Barely seen out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he saw a purple palette, but as he swallowed tightly and turned, what he saw was entirely different.

Leaned into the building closest to him, less than ten feet away, his visitor had her stilt-like legs crisscrossed over one another in a relaxed posture. Very few had a lanky frame like Glider's, hinting to Soarin that she had finally left her room and stalked him here. Yet in a state of dreaded familiarity, he recalled one other pony who had a slender figure.

As soon as he stepped back, an airy chuckle danced on the wind, pricking his ears. Not once did that laugh sound natural. While he got the same anxiety for it as hearing swords scrape painfully against one another, it, too, lured a sense of calm. Like his own brain was being hypocritical of what to think.

Before he knew it, she had approached. The hood of her black cloak was up, so her gemstone eyes were the only things visible there. The slits thinned and widened in heartbeat patterns, flitted left and right; it made him think of wandering wraith, looking for family long dead.

Fixing on Soarin, they blinked slowly as she pulled her hood back slightly, just revealing her muzzle and tip of her horn. A thousand needles stabbed his spine, and a raw tremble coursed his bones. She held herself strong, as though daring anyone to think less of her; even the breath she took sounded like a bold aria crafted to keep outsiders in their place, and those whom she invited drawn in.

She was beautiful, even if in the same sense of calling a Bengal tiger about to pounce beautiful.

"Soarin," she rasped, feinting hurt, "Are you that surprised to see me?" She closed the remaining distance and raised a grey fetlock to smooth his wing.

Soarin suppressed a second shiver. By no account was the wind the cause of it. "Um . . . n-no, just thought you were somepony else, Night . . . fall."

She chuckled. "You could say it almost was a moment ago." She waved her hoof dismissively before Soarin could ask what she meant. Instead, she faced herself to the park and waited. Soarin saw her ear flick impatiently under her hood.

She wanted him to follow.

To follow or to run? Nightfall was waiting for an answer, and he knew that only one choice would further the inevitable. He was very fast - even if he'd stopped training for a solid month he could outfly most pegasi - but he read the news. Say what you would about exaggeration, but no one would lie about something so critical as a killer having the ability to summon tendrils with but a thought.

A smile was clear in her voice as Soarin obeyed, walking alongside her. "Wise. You wouldn't have made it past the shopping district." She resumed her pace.

"What is it that you want from me?" In hindsight, talking back to a murderer who was infatuated with him wasn't the best idea. But in the sense that he was once the Wonderbolt renowned for daring roaring storm clouds to try and take him down, he felt his chances were good enough to risk it.

Nightfall's stride didn't falter once. Leaves crunched under her hooves in quiet crinkles as she waited a tense five heartbeats before answering, "Why can't someone like me stop by to say hello every once in a while?"

"Because the last time we said hello, you tried to cut my shoulder blade out," he gritted his teeth.

"You were living a lie. You were becoming just like those masqueraders, right before I put them in their place."

"I didn't want to draw needless attention to myself. It's bad enough that being an ex-Wonderbolt has enough of that as it is."

She suddenly spun around, her horn exploding in green, an aura wrapping around his body. She said softly, "You should be a little more grateful. I don't see anypony pointing hooves, laughing at you now. They all are in their homes, away from us."

Soarin exhaled past the magic squeezing his throat, "And whose fault is that for happening?"

Her eye twitched slightly. Yet a smile cracked across her face. "At least you listened to me." She let him go and pressed her nonexistent weight against a tree trunk.

As Soarin was knelt in the earth to recuperate, the energy of her aura vibrated the surface of his coat. He realize, he had stopped trying to paint fake cutie marks via Dusty's makeup kits, ever since he and Nightfall had first met. Although he wanted to tell himself that it was out of want to be more honest, it was half-flanked in that ultimate hypocrisy.

He was lying to himself even then, because the true reason was that he feared Nightfall Hyde. The night they met, he'd made the mistake of wearing that fake cutie mark, and Nightfall knew at once its duplicity. She reacted with giving him the gash that sent him to Doctor Sparkle, and the fear that made him never again want to paint a lightning bolt with wind crests on his flank.

"If I may, Soarin," he heard Nightfall say as he pulled himself up, "I'll admit I didn't come simply for pleasantries." She raised a hoof before her face, swiveling it slowly in its socket as eyes were glazed in a daydream. "A little problem has come up, and I may just disappear for a little while."

Soarin blinked. Where could she possibly disappear to? She'd foolishly trapped herself in by scaring everyone into initiating the lockdown. But if she was going away, at last . . .

Seeming to sense his thoughts, she added, "But don't think you can escape that easily. Even if I don't come back, you'll find me again. You'll come right back to me, just as always when being obeying morality gets too . . . difficult." She met his eyes as a haunting echo of her voice penetrated his mind.

W h y  e l s e  h a v e  y o u  n o t  r a t t e d  m e  o u t  y e t ?

Cold sweat seeped from Soarin's forehead. Why hadn't he? He damn well knew Nightfall Hyde's little secret; he somehow knew deep inside even before she became a murderer. He just had that feeling when they crossed paths, and all he felt in her presence was a cold aura brimming with bloodlust.

At any point he could have reported her to the princesses and have this terror ended once and for all. At any point he could have redeemed lives that were now and forever lost. He could have again felt the air of being a hero in the eyes of many, just like once upon a time as a Wonderbolt.

But it was too late for that future. He'd already damned himself the moment he and Nightfall met.

There was no escape. Nightfall was deadly, unrelenting in her passion to kill. Running would only give her a reason to sate it with him that much sooner.

And his life was the only thing left to be taken away. Too long had society stolen from him - his reputation, his career, even the friends he thought he could trust - and claimed him to be unredeemable because of his past; it worked so well that it even convinced Sparkle of that.

Yet Nightfall, in being the only one who someone like Soarin could ever deserve, could give him what he'd craved for, what no one else could; acceptance.

The mares that passed by, broken heart after broken heart, all lacked this. Most were too shallow to look past his fame and see an everyday pegasus, and an even greater number tried to use his name to their advantage. They lacked the understanding that he was just like them, and certainly not a hero. Far from it.

But Nightfall understood. She understood perfectly what it meant to be spat out by society and left to one's own desires, so long as they didn't interfere with the upper class. She knew his struggle against indescribable thirst, having given in to that passion herself.

Hyde was a monster, an immoral creature built up by Equine's insanity. But her silver tongue spoke truth, forcing masks to fall and ponies to see themselves stripped of their façades. And Soarin wanted nothing less than to be true to himself.

Link

"I've been fooled before;
True friends with cruel masks
Tricked by pity, abandoned by their pride . . .
Yet I see your eyes . . . deadly, they pierce my soul,
Revealing secrets . . . I've tried to keep inside . . . "

Nightfall moved away from the trunk. Her steps taken slowly, her maw opened as an intangible voice haunted over their surroundings. Shifting carefully, Soarin watched her approach and continued to sing.

"With but a single touch, 
With but a single word,
In the moment your eyes meet mine
I realize I'm lost,
Ensnared in your embrace
Full of feelings I can't define!"

She closed the distance between them and coiled her hooves around his. Leaning in close in a rasp, he could feel the tips of her teeth graze his ear. 

"It's a sin with no name -"

"Like a bite by the flame -"

"And the senses, they claim . . ."

"It's a dangerous game!"

The voices hushed, their master releasing Soarin as she trailed around him. Soarin followed with his eyes as hers drank in his image. She cracked a smile, a glittering black ribbon thick as blood revolving her.

"My darkest dreams,
I fought against them
But play with Fate . . .
And your nightmares come true!

"Too late to stop . . .
Our descent into Discord's dance! 
The frightened hero . . .
Doesn't know what to do!

"Will Discord leave her be? 
Will she finally see -
In my will, there's no way to win!"

Soarin pulled her back in, the shadow spinning furiously around them both. He threw his hooves at her mane, caressing it. Nightfall suddenly blinked, tears dripping down her face, and he equally cried with her.

"There's a line I have crossed
     No escape from the cost
     No forgiveness to cleanse my sin!

I don't know who's to blame -"

"It's a crime and a shame!"

"But it's true all the same -"

"It's a dangerous game!"

Nightfall grit her teeth, her tears burning into mist quickly swallowed by the shadows. Her expression darkened to so strong an intensity that her eyes glowed, the snake-like slits sucking Soarin in. 

"No one speaks,
Not one word . . . 
But what words are in our eyes?

"Silence speaks -"

"Silence speaks . . ."

"Loud and clear -"

"Loud and clear!"

"All the words we don't want to hear!"

He flared out his wings and seized Nightfall, tightly enveloping her as her body shook violently. Wind, rain, and shadow flew around them, trapping them both.

"In but a single touch,
In but a single word,
In the moment your eyes meet mine!

"I am losing my mind
I am losing control
Fighting feelings I can't define!"

"It's a sin with no name -"

"No remorse and no shame,
Fire, fury and flame!"

"Cause it's Discord at blame!"

"And Alicorns proclaim . . .!"

They broke apart, the shadow dissipating into black mist that evaporated. Soarin, his chest heavy with his breath, folded his wings. He felt his heart pulse tepidly, as though held in a dragon's squeezed fist. He met her eyes, seeing that Nightfall's eyes were glazed over - they flared a deep color that poked at his subconscious.

Something . . . something was trying . . . to be remembered . . .?

But she then blinked, the thought snuffed out with the forgotten hue. He opened his hooves to her, drew her in and their distance closed as emerald met jade.

"It's a dangerous . . . game . . ."

She pressed her muzzle to his. Her kiss was vicious in gnawing his lip with spiky incisors that felt like knives to his soul. Resistance meant nothing to him; he pushed himself into her kiss and equally bit, his wings again enveloping her from the outside world.

In the back of his mind, he could swear he heard screaming, crying for salvation, but he shut it out. There was no salvation; he and Nightfall were already damned. The only scream left was one for passion, for the death of what morality remained in himself and in Nightfall Hyde.

Gasping for air, he broke off the kiss, folding his right wing while the left remained draped over his love. Nightfall let a smile crack over her face, allowing him to lead her away.

Another bout of hard rain came down on them. Using his wing as a shield over her, he took her out of the park, into the main part of the city. He sensed prying eyes hovering on them, but it didn't matter anymore what they saw. He and Miss Hyde had taken that last step, and it was too late to escape damnation from their point of no return.
> Act II: Chapter Five
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act II: Chapter Five:
When the Mask Falls


"Thank you kindly for agreein' to this on such short notice, Your Highness. If anypony can get her to listen, it's you."

Princess Cadence followed Applejack off the train and to the entry point where 'public officials' were being examined by the Royal Guard. Consisting of both divisions, a Solar guard was casting spells on each pony that passed before being allowed clearance into the city, while the Lunar simply stood by as grunt force, his kind lacking the horn needed for these spells.

She paid close attention to this particular spell. The unicorn lowered his horn on the small of the back of the pony ahead of her, a turquoise shimmer seeping from the tip and crawling all over his barrel and forehead, as though searching for wings that existed under his coat and verifying his horn's authenticity. The magic warbled as it, after a long minute of this searching, dissipated into nothingness. Both guards motioned him to move along before facing Applejack.

"'Mandatory examination', I know," she cut them off before they could say anything. "You'd think after three times of goin' through this you'd know it was me." Still she stiffened her body to prepare herself.

"They are simply doing their job, Applejack," chided Cadence. She watched her reactions to the magic, seeing the discomfort brought to the earth pony from lacking both wings and a horn, though it was meticulous in looking for signs of them.

"I know that. Doesn't mean I gotta like squat 'bout it, though." She suddenly grunted when her forehead was prodded, painfully, Cadence guessed by her reaction. "Hey, ya mind?"

The guard withdrew his magic, but not for her complaint. "You're clear, miss. And you'll have to forgive us if we happen to find a changeling using our methods, like it or not." His tone sounded like he couldn't care less about her comfort, which Cadence suddenly understood. He didn't have time for comfort when so few ponies dared come outside, Canterlot feeling little more than a ghost town lately. "If you please, Your Highness," the guard turned to her.

She nodded. "Do what you must." Her eyes averted from her company and to the sun being pulled below the snaggletooth of Canterlot's peak. Less than an hour of daylight was left before curfew would be initiated for the night. They had that allotted time left to make their way to Twilight's study, speak to her, and deliver her to the Crystal Empire.

Unless the curfew did not account for her, given her status? Or did it enforce it tenfold? Was there a platoon supposed to escort her if this was so?

She winced from the spell placed on her. She understood why Applejack disliked it; the magic pressed into her back forcefully and pulled at the feathers on her wings as they coursed over them. This discomfort made her unfurl her wings, the sensation alike to water pouring over them, minus the wetness.

To distract herself from this, she brought up the subject heavy on her mind. "Applejack, about what you told me about Twilight. Was it true?"

She knew exactly what she was talking about. "I wasn't exaggeratin', if that's what'cha think. I simply told you and Shinin' Armor what I saw when I'd gone to see her. Nothin' more and nothin' less."

Cadence nodded, jiggling the magic on her forehead a bit. When she had come to her and her husband some few hours ago, a saddlebag reeking of fresh earth and incense on her back and a desperate plea on her lips, she described Twilight's deteriorating state - how thin she'd gotten and how many times she'd stumbled from lack of sleep - all from overworking herself on her experiment.

Shining Armor had looked shaken by this, at once proposing to go and speak to her. Cadence, however, felt the wiser to get her to open up and listen, and Applejack agreed. As she was more familiar with her work, she could convince her to leave it behind, just long enough for the killer to be dealt with.

"I believe you," she said, drawing a deep breath to quell the demons that made her imagination run rampant. "And if it is as desperate as you say, then you were wise to come to me when you did. Twilight and Spike both will be taken from here and be well cared for until Canterlot's troubles have passed. Surely she will understand this."

Yes. She would first see to Spike, make sure he was secure, then, with Applejack at her side, confront Twilight to the best of her abilities.

The guard finally extinguished the spell and backed up to give a steep kneel, as though apologizing for simply fulfilling his duty. She gave her silent thanks in response, moving on to rejoin Applejack, who waited on the main road, and walked alongside her once reunited.

"Several good nights' rest, some good food, and not a word 'bout the killer for them to hear," she sighed. "It's exactly what they need. Thanks again for considerin' this."

Cadence thought for a moment before replying. "Of course. But this is what I don't understand: why did Twilight so suddenly lock herself away? When I had last seen her, she had the completed formula in her hooves, and I thought she couldn't be happier." She was going to see her mother again so soon. But she omitted this additional thought.

Applejack said, "I never got myself a straight answer. All she told me for sure was that she'd gone and tested her formula, and it failed. Somethin' went haywire, but she's doggone against tellin' me what did. That's partly why I came to you."

A cold breeze swept through her wings. "There must be a viable reason why she's chosen not to explain herself." All ponies, she contemplated, had their own secrets and failures that they were too ashamed to be let known to any but themselves.

"Or she's just bein' a stubborn ass," Applejack chuckled grimly.

She lead her off the main road and started for the shopping district. Although this path would shortcut them to Twilight's house and, by extension, her study, Cadence felt a weight in her heart. Dead leaves scattered on the breeze and across their hooves as they trudged on the hollow street. There was no one here - no one running the stores, and no one looking to purchase. She may have blamed this on the oncoming curfew, but the truth was in the dust and the veins of ivy that had long since made homes on doorknobs and sills and benches.

The princess looked for any exception to this, a child looking into the toy stores, wanderers trying to savor daylight before having to return to the homes that had become prisons as of late. But the only audience to her and Applejack was of curious squirrels and lizards that nested in the empty window frame of a fashion store, broken glass shards jutting from the upper corners like teeth about to snap shut on them. 

Dismayed by the sight, she hurried along, spying Twilight's house on the side of the road. The indoor lights were out, yet Cadence knew Spike was inside, recalling Applejack telling her of his poor treatment as of late. A victim of neglect without his sister to comfort him, perhaps Spike was the one in greater need. There was no chance that his father could help him; Night Light had, just the same as Twilight, thrown himself into his work at the observatory to escape a home with little to do but embrace panic and despair.

With a small nod to her, Applejack walked past and went inside. Cadence waited, deciding that Spike would only be overwhelmed if he saw her with Applejack. Naturally sharp in wit, he would know something was wrong and insist on helping to get through to Twilight.

But he didn't deserve to see her as she was. Even by description Cadence felt blame for not caring for her sister - someone like Spike, whose job was to care for her needs, would only feel that tenfold.

Another minute passed, and another, before Applejack came back out, locking the door behind her.

"Is he alright?" She trotted over to meet her halfway.

Applejack's answering expression was grim. "As best as he can be. He's asleep, the poor thing dreamin' 'bout something. But at least he's at peace."

"Good. Then let us go," she said, bringing herself to her friend's side to teleport themselves to the base of the study tower.

They climbed in silence, the wind getting colder and colder the higher they went and the last rays of the sun piercing into Cadence's eyes. Exhaling a shaky breath, she mentally practiced the words she would say to her sister, tweaking the ones that she feared would set her off. Applejack had made no mention of coming to her when last seeing the doctor, so it was expected that she wouldn't take her presence well; much less with her on Applejack's side of the coming argument.

Reaching the twin doors, Cadence faced Applejack, gave a curt nod, and rapped four quick times. Hollow echoes followed, but an answer didn't come. "Twilight?" she called. She always answered her door, regardless of what time it was or what new assignment she was tearing into. "We have your ingredients, Twilight!" she tried again, looking to the saddlebags that Applejack wore.

She was again answered with silence and wind bristling her coat.

"What now?" she turned to Applejack.

Applejack nudged the door, the hinges squeaking in response. "It was unlocked when I came this mornin', too. Guess we can show ourselves in." Like so, they pushed the door open and stepped inside. The staircase going to the second floor, the main area of the study, had little lighting to rely on, and Cadence thrice stumbled on steps she thought weren't there. One of these days she had to ask Twilight about hanging a lantern here.

Making the last step, Cadence looked over the room for her sister. Nothing looked much different from the last time she had visited her sister here, albeit it was a while ago, long before Twilight had found the completed formula. The bookshelves surrounding her were undisturbed, as they should have been in a quiet home, the chaise set beside one of them, and that peculiar structure that Twilight used for her equipment was still in working order. A crossbow rested beside it, and in her curiosity Cadence went to inspect it, though her hooves slipped several times on her way there.

What she held was meant for a filly's hooves, but it was understandably made by one. The bow itself wasn't secured correctly - it swayed to one side when she picked it up - and the sight to aim with was literally a flap of paper taped on. The trigger, however, was in working function, complete with the necessary safety latch. It was clumsily-made, yet could work in a desperate time.

A note was taped onto it. Scrawled on it in ink that was almost still wet was Spike's name, and a short request to help him practice if Twilight had the time.

"Oh, that figures."

Cadence set the crossbow back in its place, and turned to Applejack, hearing her exasperation. "What is it?" She moved to join her where she stood beside the chaise lounge. At first seeing nothing save for Twilight's favorite sweater cast over the arm, the hair on her neck then bristled, the small form's barrel rising and falling ever slowly registering in her sight. 

Applejack muttered, "I say she's gonna tell me everythin' when I got back with her stuff, and what's she do? Sleep for once just to avoid it longer."

But Cadence hardly heard; she was preoccupied looking at the floor. At the blood that trailed in front of the chaise and dotted the floor.

Those weren't scattered papers she was slipping on before . . .

Bile rose in her throat as she was at last aware of the stinging, coppery scent coming from her stained hooves. "Applejack . . ."

Her friend followed her gaze, seeing the blood, too. She jolted, barrel hitting the arm of the chaise as she retreated, Twilight's sweater falling in a blue heap. "She wasn't like this when I saw her just this mornin' . . ." She shook her head rapidly, as though this would disregard the image as a hallucination.

Snick.

Both mares flinched, turning to the source of the sound. Twilight's eyes fluttered, making similar sounds before they shifted to Applejack and Cadence. "Who . . .?" she tried to say, her voice rough through a layer of phlegm. Rising into a sitting position, her bones popped and crackled, and her eyes shifted to Cadence. "Oh. Now you're here." As she stepped off the chaise, her jaw tightened, her lips forming a thin line as though she'd tasted something vile when expecting sweetness.

"Twilight? You okay, sugarcube?" said Applejack, starting to approach her.

But she didn't break her sight from Cadence, simply answering her with, "Twilight Sparkle isn't available."

Cadence, in assuming this was Twilight despite only seeing her silhouette in this lighting, went to the table where she lit four candles, the mare's sight drilling in her back.

An inkling of recognition spurred in her upon seeing the mare now in clear view. But with this was an awareness of horror in spotting oozing red blood on the side of her grey barrel.

Another attack of copper flooding her nostrils confirmed what she feared; that it was of fresh blood. 

She lost her breath, blue light eating the tip of her horn as she aimed it at the pony.

The mare sensed her hostility and looked to the source of her unease. "Oh, that? You don't have to be scared of me for that," she chuckled. "My bae and I were just having a little fun." She smoothed a hoof over her barrel, drawing it away wet.

Cadence trembled as she forced herself two steps forward. Fear was the last thing she could afford to show at this crucial moment. "Where is this 'bae' of yours now?"

"The Altrotta, I presume. Most likely sleeping off all the fun he had today."

"And where's Doctor Sparkle?" Applejack asked. If she wasn't already three feet away from them, she would have been standing directly in between the two ponies. Cadence wanted it to stay that way, if her suspicions were correct. 

The mare, meanwhile, walked around the far side of the table, dismissing Applejack's question. "Why bother? You wouldn't believe a single word that came from my mouth if I told you exactly where. Rest your mind with knowing that she's out at the moment."

". . . I don't think I believe you." A part of Cadence wanted to bargain with this pony, make a compromise to settle matters peacefully. But another, the part that took in the sight of fresh blood, felt that there would be no peace so long as her sister was missing. With a small breath, and a suppression of her instinctual want, she let her aura consume a quarter of her horn in warning. "I will give you a chance to tell me where she is. If you choose not to cooperate, I will use necessary force."

"I'd listen to her, ma'am," Applejack concurred.

  The mare couldn't seem to care less about Applejack's presence, ignoring just about everything she said, but she was fixed on Cadence; she was playing with her. This was especially true when pausing behind the cube structure and cocking her head, a beaker bloating one eye and a smile that was all teeth stretched on her face. "Would the Princess of Love really attack another living thing? What's 'necessary force' to you? Poking me with that horn until I beg for mercy?"

"I won't warn you again," Cadence pressed on. "I think we both know that it's in your best interest to not keep your colleague's location to yourself."

"Ooh. You opened your letter early, didn't you?" She tsked. "You naughty horse, ignoring Twilght's instructions." She was past the corner, now directly in front of Cadence.

Applejack saw this and wedged herself in between the ponies, one hoof pushing the princess back. "Twi gave us plenty reason for openin' our letters, mainly because of you."

Cadence had been suspicious enough when instead of an explanation, she had found a bequeathing to a pony she had never heard of in her letter, her concern for her sister-in-law too great to ignore. And now this same beneficiary was here, alone, refusing to cooperate with giving Twilight's location? It was too much for her to take in, even without bringing the blood in account. She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought that came from picturing all those components together.

She focused on Applejack again, who had them both backed three more steps. The mare - mentally going over the letter, she fished the name out from the borderline of discarded information - Nightfall only closed that distance with the same number of steps, forcing them into the wall.

"Since you and Twi are apparently so chummy," Applejack asked, trying to distract her, "How'd that work to you bequeathin' everythin'?" Her voice was edged with sarcasm; she didn't seem to care why Nightfall was to bequeath Twilight's work. It was, Cadence believed, a raw, itching frustration that wouldn't go away so long as Twilight was missing.

"I am more than just a colleague of hers, little Applejack," Nightfall answered, finally looking at her. "No simple colleague would go out of their way to provide the clandestine wants that Twilight had, but I did because I am more. I am her flesh and her blood; the only one who could act accordingly just for her."

Cadence's aura faltered, and realized that she had unconsciously backed up. "You cannot be her sister." She hardened her resolve, returning to her previous standing.

Nightfall wasn't Twilight's sister. It wasn't a denial; it was the absolute truth in knowing her sister-in-law as though she were her own blood. For this parasite to slink in and claim herself as a blood relative . . .

She trembled, pin-sized beads of sweat needling at the base of her horn, which began to darken.

Nightfall seemed to sense the thoughts racing in her mind - or she predicted just what she thought - for she could swear her teeth looked more like needles. "You don't know Twilight Sparkle at all, Cadenza. How could a usurper like you ever understand her?" She spat the word "usurper" with little more love than one regarding Discord or a changeling brood. "You're not the one who helped her cry herself to sleep every night without a mother there to comfort her. You are not the one who stayed with her, sitting in the dark while she spoke - every daydream, every tantrum, every ambition to be great. And when those governors turned against her? I was finally able to escape from the shadows then, and was able to do exactly what she, helpless without me, could not.

"And you? All you ever did was sidle in and woo her brother to steal her away." She clicked her tongue, then running it along the tips of her incisors.

"That - that's not . . ." Her stance faltered, and she felt as though she couldn't draw her breath in without it cutting the insides of her throat. Questions, outrages, regrets, it all flooded her mind, and she had half of one to go find Celestia and seek her help to deal with this creature - whatever it was.

But Nightfall had forced her choice with one little smirk, black, thin shadows rising on either side, and, "If you cared at all for Twilight Sparkle . . . you would have come here to be what a sister is . . . before she decided her fate with me."

Cadence hurled the magic in her horn before she could stop herself, the room plunged in light the color of onyxes. The second the spell had been released, something unlocked deep inside of her. She felt a rage spur in her that she'd never tasted this fervent.

She launched herself at Nightfall, who had stumbled back in the wake of her magic, and recovered only a moment before falling once more. Cadence pinned her down, three hooves on her barrel and one pressed firmly against her throat.

"What did you do to her!" she demanded. "I don't know how, but it's you, isn't it? Did you cut up her face, too, or did you just snap her neck?"

Nightfall's gasps vibrated the hoof that steadily pressed down on her larynx. All she had to do was squeeze a little harder, and the Canterlot Murderer - this lockdown, this terror coiling itself around the city and her dear aunts - would be finished.

Applejack was crying out, something about not being able to find Twilight, but she drowned out her negligible words. Fire wreathed at her heart, at the hoof that could shatter this creature's larynx and end its merciless existence right now. Whatever it did to Twilight, Cadence had the chance to make it endure tenfold.

Yet Nightfall began to laugh. Tears sprang and slid down her face as her mouth opened and closed with faint titters. Fear crossed over her features, and she wheezed out, "Y-you . . . I knew you c . . . couldn't be the pretty pink p-princess . . . so inno . . . innocent and  pure . . ."

Click-twang.

Cadence's ears shot up at the unfamiliar sound, and she looked up, the source before her. Aimed right between her eyes was the dull tip of an arrow rested on Spike's crossbow, Applejack's hooves wrapped clumsily around the trigger. She had moved around her and Nightfall and taken up the weapon.

Her lips were moving, but Cadence couldn't focus. The words sounded smothered, a heaviness blanketed onto her brain. She focused instead on Applejack herself, discerning the tremble in her stance as she lowered the weapon slightly, but not enough to quite fully take her aim off of her. She didn't want to shoot; the pain in her expression showed that she had become desperate.

The haze over her was fading, for she heard her words clearer as she started, "Applej-"

The farmpony retreated, raising the crossbow once again.

Confused, she looked back to Nightfall, who was crawling away, hoisting herself up with the table before a grey hoof clutched at a darkened throat, her face pale.

Cadence blanched back, her hooves scattering until she banged herself against the wall. "A-alicorns! What did I . . .?" She shook her head rapidly. That wasn't supposed to happen! What did she even do?

She heard hoofsteps, some kind of sloshing noise and magic particles twinkling, and Applejack's gasp and another click-twang. "I don't know what the hell you did to her," she snarled, "But I know a half-decent weapon when I see one. Takin' you down'd be easy; a quick shot to your, say, fetlock or spine would do it. Somewhere that won't quite kill you, but it'll sting worse than a rattlesnake bittin' ya."

Cadence saw that she had the crossbow level with Nightfall's foreleg, and that Nightfall herself was eyeing the tip warily as those . . . things - she could only identify them as tendrils - withdrew into the floor.

Nightfall drew in several quick breaths, eyes darting in between pony and weapon as if trying to work out a way to escape. Once, she tried to move, but Applejack cocked the weapon and she shriveled into a ball, head poking out as she glared.

She . . . she was afraid. 

After a long minute, she exhaled and snarled, "Fine. You want your precious 'sister' back, O Highness?" She coughed, kneading the skin at her throat. "Take her. She's sided you, anyway." She rose, flinching as the arrow followed her movement, then suddenly teleported.

"Where did - hey!" Applejack cried out. Cadence only just spotted the mare rip off her saddlebags before teleporting again, this time reappearing at the table. She threw the ingredients for the TS8 out before her, emptying the vials and cloth pouches into a flask, bringing that over a Bunsen burner.

Cadence risked a small step, curiosity titling her head. "What is it that you are doing?"

"Allow me to show you just where the good doctor is." She paused, then added spitefully, "Cadenza." 

Her horn flared a deep green that attacked the vial, veins of electricity scurrying around the glass like a devious cockroach that was poisoning the contents. Nightfall giggled to herself, her magic lighting that sickly-sweet grin she bore as she worked, faint zapping and bubbling filling the remaining silence. About two minutes passed before she halted, the aura cutting out and bringing her back into darkness, save for the silhouette from the nearby candle.

Burnt wood and soil and lavender clouded the air, and Cadence's eyes watered from the heavy smell. There was something all too familiar about it, and she suddenly found herself in between places; still here, but simultaneously in a hospital room, faint beeping on the edge of the memory.

It wasn't until Nightfall had taken the flask away and held before her eyes a concoction clear as water with tiny, rainbow-colored bubbles floating about that she knew why it was familiar. 

She was looking at Twilight's TS8 Formula.

"Just what are you planning to do with that?" Cadence demanded, approaching the mare, careful to staunch her hostility with a much firmer grip. "And what exactly did you do to me?"

"What's the matter?" Nightfall chuckled. "Are you afraid of science? Afraid of the truth? And if you really want to know what I did, why don't you ask your 'sister'?" Twirling the vial once, she popped the cork off and downed half of the contents.

At once she visibly shivered, her muscles contracting beneath her ashen skin. The vial was set on the edge of the table in time; she collapsed onto the floor, howling laughter following her.

Applejack dropped the crossbow and pushed Cadence behind her. "What the hell is this!"

Cadence could only watch as Nightfall squirmed in place, bones pulsing and snapping as they affixed to a slightly thicker frame, and incisors dulling to equine teeth. When all sounds but her laughter ceased, splotches pricked the center of her mane, tail, and back, spreading color over her body like spilt ink and even taking away the discoloration of the bruise that Cadence had given her. Rising moonlight poured over her body, revealing a light shade of purple.

Heat pricked Cadence's ears. "No . . . th-this isn't . . ."

But then a starburst formed where Nightfall had no cutie mark. And pink and purple streaks trailed into her mane and tail. And lastly, Nightfall's cachinnation lightened to an airy voice that Cadence recognized from all the late nights when she had to soothe her nightmares away.

Nightfall's final, guttural growl let way to the scream of one in terrible pain as her body stilled.

Cadence and Applejack screamed simultaneously, "Twilight!"


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Soarin was the last thing she remembered before truly passing out.

Specifically, his soft moan and a wing clutching at his barrel, angry red dribbling between the feathers.

Twilight wanted to reach out to him, scream his name, run with him to escape Nightfall, anything! She as Nightfall saw to it that she as Twilight could only drown and watch. The memories flickered in and out, very faintly, and any words or sounds perceived lost their meaning underneath what felt like gallons and gallons of water rushing between her ears.

Nightfall took in a sadistic glee in knowing her good self could do nothing; Twilight was all too certain of this when she, in response to Soarin crying out, dove her head in and smothered his lips, taking it too far with running her tongue over his teeth.

Vomit boiled in her gut in recalling this. But she shouldn't have felt this if she was still in her dream state. After this thought made itself known, she felt the mental pull to consciousness, and she heard voices at the edge of her awareness.

Was there something else to this dream that Nightfall wanted to show her? She didn't remember this part of the dream at all. She strained her ears, listening for some clue as to what had happened.

". . . gical explanation . . . can't be! She's . . ."

"You're seein' . . . saw that thing . . . her! . . . hidin' from us!"

Twilight felt confusion at hearing both. The first voice, the older one, spoke as though her voice was raw; she was trying to quell the second's bloody screaming, but she shared fresh horror that couldn't be hidden from her voice.

Recognizing the voices, she drew up their faces. Yet when she grasped for names they slipped away like shadows in hooves. Any further effort sent an electric throb through her skull, and she moaned. It hurt too much, she wanted to rest. She instead focused on their words, trying to discern what they meant.

She didn't remember seeing them at all in her dream state; it was just Soarin and their . . . erotic kiss. Was there something Nightfall didn't want her to see when she possibly interacted with them? That had to be, because they were still here when she as Twilight woke . . .

Horror spiked in her heart. They had seen her revert. If she woke up immediately after Nightfall receded back into unconsciousness - and she always did, discovering this from previous transformations - and if the visitors had been here long enough to be having this conversation, then they had seen before their eyes a grey mare morph into the renowned Doctor Sparkle.

Hooves clopped behind her. Louder, louder, coming for her.

"She's awake," the older one said. "Let's just hear what she has to say first, Applejack. Please."

Applejack. She was who had screamed. Who had seen a murderer shift into the friend she'd been trying so hard to pry the truth out of.

Pulling her legs in and rising carefully, Twilight prayed to Alicorn after Alicorn that this was another dream Nightfall meant to torment her with. She would open her eyes and see they weren't here, only her and a demon out to break her down in a fight that was her own. No one else's.

Wishful thinking. That was all it ever was.

When she opened her eyes, there Applejack stood, her expression convulsed as a thousand lost words were a maelstrom in her irises. Standing beside her, with a long, pink and purple wing extended to separate her from Applejack, was her sister-in-law, Cadence. Quavering with horror scarcely suppressed, the smell of her sweat was heavy in the air.

Both stares told Twilight two vital things. One, they had seen enough to learn what she wanted to be left to the past when she was through with Nightfall. And two, her fate was now left to their hooves, and their hooves alone. 


Applejack, the Element of Honesty, couldn't keep this to herself if she tried with all her might; neither her element nor her morals would ever let this go quietly.

And Cadence - Princess Mi Amore Cadenza - had no choice but to turn her in, or else turn against her own kingdom and everything her aunt raised her to be.

When they left this room, that would be the end of her work and of her mother's last chance. It was over.

So in submission, Twilight exhaled, approaching her friends and watching as they scurried back like shadows from light - rather, like light from an insatiable black hole. "Well, you wanted to know everything," she croaked, pausing to clear her throat. "Right, Applejack?"

Her friend breathed shakily, and moved around Cadence with the same trembling. Afraid of her, she yet drew out one last shred of trust to voice her question. "Y . . . are you really the Canterlot Murderer?"

Part of her wanted to say "no", as the Canterlot Murderer was Nightfall, not her. But she knew who she was by extension. "Yes," she said, keeping her voice monotone to keep out of it the satisfaction of seeing her enemies gone, and the pain therein of admitting that. "In a way, I am."

"Wh-why?"

She gulped. "They may as well have killed my mother in shutting my work down. I became desperate, I wanted to hurt them. When Nightfall came to be, she was the outlet that fulfilled my want to do so." She felt Cadence coming close to her, and she moved away. "Please, don't. I don't want to hurt you."

". . . I . . . just want to understand. You did something to me. You made me attack, and I couldn't control myself to stop it. And then you . . . she said you could explain just what that was."

Twilight winced, hesitant to answer. Nightfall's influence was spreading over everyone she was close to, more and more as she got stronger. "Princess Celestia always said that I have a natural talent for bringing ponies together." She waited for a question that didn't come, then continued, "I apparently bring out the best in everypony by just being me. So . . . you could feasibly understand that Nightfall does the opposite; she brings out the worst in ponies just by being near them. The things they wish they weren't . . . the vices they never knew they had, they come out and overtake their morals.

"Do you remember, Applejack, how you snapped at me, and tried to pry more information by refusing to help? And I believe Spike told you something about how angry he'd gotten when close to her."

She heard a soft gasp from her. And Cadence was breathing hard.

Speaking to the latter, "I guess she revealed something about you that you wish wasn't there."

Cadence seemed to hesitate. She didn't seem to want to discuss it - understandable - for she instead said, "You speak of her as though you are two different ponies. Is Nightfall another soul trapped in you?"

"No." She turned away, her eyes glazing as she stared into space. "She's me. Specifically, my darker side - my essence of evil. But we've both gone so far off the brink that she's set herself apart from me; we could be completely different ponies and be none the wiser about it.

Silence followed, and she guessed that the two ponies were exchanging uncertain glances.

She sighed, "I will explain to the best of my abilities."

And she thusly recounted how she became Nightfall, beginning at the night of the Altrotta's opening, when she decided to make herself the test subject for the formula. She explained that although the formula was put through many evaluations before facing the ultimate test, doubt had begun to seep in, and she asked herself, "What if?" 

"What if I fail?" haunted her, reminding her that she was setting everything on the line - her tutelage under Princess Celestia, her work, her reputation, her mother. She couldn't afford a second chance. So on a whim and the curiosity of the properties of dark magic used for good intentions, the Alicorn Amulet became her solution.

She had paused her story to see her friends' reactions; Applejack looked appalled, as though asking, "What have you done?" Cadence had grimaced, her frown sympathetically deepening as she described her seizure after drinking the corrupted result and being reborn as Nightfall Hyde.

She explained the true purpose of the letters; to tell what she was telling now. But Nightfall had deceived her, altering the letters to become wills; perhaps to further distance her from her friends.

It seemed to work, given Applejack's reaction.

Nonetheless, they would buy her time until Nightfall was dealt with, believing that she could get a fresh batch of ingredients by the end of the week, thus negating the need to ever read her confession and damn herself.

But all that changed when Octavia was murdered. Even if the ingredients were brought when expected, Nightfall wouldn't give up so easily; she had become dangerous, both to herself and everyone around her. As long as a Canterlot Murderer was around, Twilight couldn't risk coming out and bringing her friends to harm. And as long as she stayed secluded, unable to fetch the ingredients, Nightfall was free to drain her magic, ensuring that she, not Twilight, would be the one to see the end.

Finished with her story, Twilight rested her head on the table. She couldn't bring herself to see the disgust on her friends' faces. As Princess Celestia's student, there was no chance to go quietly; the news would swarm all over her like flies over filth, bringing ruin to everyone she cared about. Not just her princesses, but her family, and those associated with Nightfall Hyde.

It was unfair, society punishing others for something that was all her doing. They would accuse Princess Celestia of poisoning her mind with dark magic, drag her father and brothers in the vortex of media and never leaving them alone for a moment, and Soarin . . .

Soarin. Soarin. He had an association with Nightfall Hyde! An unwilling one, but an association nonetheless! Would the authorities think he was a part of her serial murders?

Twilight jolted from her place, groping in the dark for a quill. She couldn't let that happen! She wouldn't. Alicorns damn herself and Nightfall to Hell before she would let him share her fate! 

"S-sugarcube? What are you -" Applejack began.

"One moment," the doctor cut her off. The quill twisted and tilted in her clumsy hooves, but she was able to touch the tip to paper and write coherent words that strayed off in askew streams of ink. She heard her friends behind her. They were watching, but she didn't care. Cadence once tried to help her by writing with magic, but she stopped her with a quick "no".

A minute, perhaps two, passed until she finished, marking her signature at the bottom before swiping a blank flash card and signing that, too. She turned to Cadence. "I have no right to ask anything from you," she sighed. "But this is something that I'm asking for my friend, not myself."

Her sister-in-law hesitantly took the papers and read the front where the recipient's name was. "Soarin? The Wonderbolt?" She wasn't as familiar with the stallion as she or Applejack were.

"What's Soarin got to do with this?"

"More than you'd think, Applejack, and his life may be in danger because of that. There's a city pass with this letter; I need you to make sure he gets it, and that he leaves Canterlot at once." She wanted to explain further, but there wasn't any time left. Nightfall could come back at any moment, even with the small amount of the TS8 she'd consumed.

Regardless of what little explanation she could give, Cadence tucked the papers away for safekeeping. "I'll do this for you, but . . ." She glanced at Applejack, who suddenly found interest in the blood stains marking the floor.

Twilight knew exactly what she was going to say; it was what was going to be said again and again before she could be allowed penance for her crimes. A part of her wanted to stop her, say that she knew what it was, but it was not in her right to demand anything. She listened.

"We cannot ignore what is now known. You used dark magic, became the Canterlot Murderer, and . . . and c-caused all of this to happen. I can't . . . can't keep this secret, Twilight. You know what must be done when we leave."

". . . I understand," Twilight nodded bitterly. "But you don't have to go to the authorities."

Applejack started to say something, clearly misinterpreting that, but she stopped her.

"That's not what I mean. You don't have to go because . . ." She swallowed. There was only one place to go for madmares like her. "When this is finished, when I've taken the formula and rid myself of Nightfall, I'm going to turn myself in."

"Hang on, sugarcube," Applejack begged. "If you just tell the authorities what you've just told us, you could still save your work! Cadence and I can help ya get right back on your hooves."

But Twilight shook her head. "No. Everypony will know my story and how the formula went wrong. If just that little bit of dark magic could make me what I am, they would fear it. And the doctors would never let it anywhere near my mother, either."

Her work, she thought, was doomed the moment she had submitted to her fear and let that damn amulet clasp itself around her neck.

She felt Applejack's hoof on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Twilight. If I'd know that much sooner -"

"You did what you thought was right. And it was. Anypony else would have been pushing for answers just the same." She sighed, "I don't deserve to ask, but please, wait for me to turn myself in. Nightfall is dangerous as long as she is still here, and being around authorities could spill more blood than ever."

She saw Applejack nod out of the corner of her eye. "I swear it, sugarcube. I'll wait for you however long it takes for you to take her down."

Twilight nodded her thanks, turning to take the formula in her hooves. "You should go. Do what you have to, and take care of my family for me."

She heard Cadence say, "We will, Twilight. And even if it takes the rest of my natural life, I'll find a way to help your mother get back, through your formula or some other means. There are a hundred other mothers out there who need saving, too."

"Yes." She didn't want to think too hard about what this meant for her own.

As she listened to eight hooves clicking away, her eyes skimmed over the insides of her formula. The moonlight swam over the tiny bubbles there, reflecting blues and greens and yellows on her coat. This liquid would be one of the last things she drank before being confined to a new, physical prison, and then before only a rope would be the last hug she'd feel.

She stared into the open mouth, only to hear hooves pause. "Twi?"

This last question. She'd answer it as best as she could. "What is it, Applejack?"

She sense her close behind her, enough that they could speak in whispers. "You . . . you said that Nightfall's been feedin' off your magic. Usin' it to save herself from you."

"Mmhm."

Hesitation lingered in her voice, and several times its cracks echoed off the bookcases. But she finally managed, "If that's the case . . . what will happen when the formula supposedly kills her?"

Twilight didn't answer immediately. She had been overthinking things lately, so to overthink this would also be unwise. It put her in this place, after all. ". . . We'll just have to find out, won't we?" She didn't have to listen very hard to know this did nothing to comfort Applejack's fears. But it was the best she had. "I pray that someday, somepony will forgive me for this."

A sigh and retreating hooves were the last thing she heard from Applejack. 

How Twilight wished she could say she was alone, now. But never; not since the last month. Now she could only hope this mouthful of liquid could bring the temporary solitude that would comfort her until she turned herself in.

And then? Then, when Rarity was freed from her false accusations, when every last one of her interrogators and betters had their fill of questions and saying how disappointed they were in her and wanted her gone, she would find true solitude in a length of rope and empty air below her.

This would be the legacy of Doctor Twilight Sparkle.

"I'm so sorry, Mother," she said, her voice barely a decibel above a whisper. "I couldn't keep my promise. I couldn't save you."

She tipped the mouth over her own and downed the contents in two dry-tasting gulps. Heat prickled down her spine and her head felt light as though she could fall over with a breath. The TS8 churned in her gut, and she knew it wouldn't be long at all before the effects began to kill Nightfall. She would be little more than a forgotten memory, and Twilight would be alone to face her crimes. In a way, she was showing Nightfall a mercy by sparing her from facing her superiors herself.

Setting the vial down, she pulled herself to the sink and washed the blood off her barrel. Tainted water dripped on the floor, but she felt little concern for it.

She dried herself, went to the chaise lounge, reached for the bundle that was her sweater, and slipped on the sleeves that hung too loosely around her legs.

She buried her face into the collar, inhaling the scent of lavender and roses - her mother's favorite flowers.

It was the scent of past, broken promises.     
> Act II: Chapter Six
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Act II: Chapter Six
...Before It's Time To Say Adieu, World


The task that Twilight had set Cadence and Applejack out to do was nearly complete. Cadence had been directed to the room where Soarin was staying by a kindly young mare who had perked up upon the mention of the doctor. "He'll be elated to finally hear from her again," was what she'd said before excusing herself to a suitcase overflowed with all the things one could expect belonged to a spinster, and muttered as she worked, about someone called "Night Glider" running off without saying goodbye.

Blame couldn't be given so freely for the state of things. Tables had been stripped of the silk cloths covering them and shoved to the sides, opening up what used to be the dining hall, and the cushions, without haunches to rest on, had all but a few been put back into storage, the last being passed out to prop up heads instead. Top that with the dimness of dust-covered chandeliers and the waft of bodies pressed together over several days, and then flood the place, and it would be easy to convince even the cheeriest spirit that they had entered the belly of Monstro.

Those who stayed inside the cadaverous building, as guests who couldn't make it home before curfew or as employees, were either hunkering down and hugging their pillows, or packing their things to make an escape attempt, though the latter group had shriveled from the princess as soon as she came near.

They were fools. All of them. No runaway would make it past the train doors with thirty guards of both fleets itching to take down the killer, leaving Cadence without need or want to stop them. And, though clandestine in knowing it, there was no point in escaping, if what Twilight promised was any indication and she contained Nightfall by the next morning.

The princess sighed, raising a hoof to knock on Soarin's bedroom door. Three knocks resounded against the white birch.

Though Twilight had sent her and Applejack out to deliver her message, Cadence was alone tonight. Applejack was already bound on the train to Ponyville by the princess' bidding, and would be home with her family by three A.M. What she did come the next morning when sleep and everything they'd seen had processed was entirely up to her; the only thing that mattered right now was making it through the night.

As for Cadence herself, she dreaded her return to the Crystal Empire in which she'd face Shining Armor and the endless questions about his sister's well-being. None of them could be answered without breaking her promise to Twilight. She would dangle on a moral tightrope with either side contrived of lies - lying to her husband, or lying to her sister-in-law of that said promise.

It was horrifying for her to admit, but the morning, in which Twilight vowed to turn herself in and explain everything, could not come soon enough if only to keep from deceiving either pony. 

It occurred to Cadence that there was no answer to her knocking, so she gave another rap. With yet still no answer given, she was about to splinter the wood with another rapid barrage.

"There's no use knocking for somepony who isn't there to answer." Cadence turned to whoever spoke. Standing with his wings tucked tightly against his sides was Soarin himself. He looked tired, as though having gone three days without sleep. Then again, was that not the case for everyone these days?

"There you are," she said. "I need to speak with you at once."

The stallion moved up to her. "Pretty much all the performers freaked out and quit on us when this lockdown started. Now it's just me and Dusty and Night... though maybe it will be just me, if what Dusty told me is true," he finished, a solemn note joining the last syllable. "What'cha need me for? Am I in trouble?"

"No, no. I'm not here on official business," Cadence assured him. He smelled of blood and sweat, both dried into hair. "Are you injured?"

"Mm, you could say," he groaned. He lifted a wing, showing off the right side of his ribs. An ugly red line was cut into the cage, but it looked shallow enough that it wasn't fatal. "I, uh, said something dumb, and this mare took it the wrong way."

"I see... do you require help?" Cadence moved around him to inspect the wound further, lifting one of his wings, but Soarin yanked it back with a quiet snort.

"That would be great. It's... kinda hard to stick bandages on. No horn and all."

He led her into the room, darting across to tug a cord that opened the curtains. A long rectangle laid itself out on the floor and gave enough light to make out the room's corners, as well as the eleven other beds that gathered dust and the one Soarin went straight to. From under it, he pulled out a steel box that was turning brown at the edges. It wasn't until it squealed and split in half that she realized it was a lunchbox. A Wonderbolts' branded one on a closer look.

"If you could just slap it on for me, that would be more than enough help," Soarin said, bringing the box over to show a full stack of freshly wrapped bandages, as well as some tubes of assorted medicines.

"It would be wiser to disinfect the wound first, I believe," Cadence advised him.

He thought about this, and then answered with a shrug, "I took a clean bath."

Cadence hesitated...and gave her own shrug. "Alright. I suppose that works." She levitated the one of the bandages and tore open the wrapping, then summoning an aura around a tube of antibiotic ointment.

"So why are you here, Princess?" Soarin asked while she worked. "If I'm not in trouble, I mean. I know you aren't here for a show, obviously with us being shut down. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you here until now."

"No, not ever." If she angled her head just right, she could see the stage and curtains shrouded above it. Like someone so closed off that they rejected anyone's help or comfort. "We were considering to reserve a show. My husband and I, but ruling an empire hardly grants any vacation days, and by the time the killings started..."

"Yeah, I hear you. And it's a shame. "Horrible as the worker reception was, even I admit this place was damn amazing."

Cadence silently admitted that she could appreciate a subject capable of discarding the formalities akin to keeping a clean tongue and bowing every five seconds while in her presence. It saved time, patience, and possibly lives. "And to answer your question, I came on the behalf of my sister-in-law, Twilight Sparkle."

It was fortunate that she'd just laid the bandage firmly against his side, for he jerked back.

"Doctor Sparkle? Is she alright? What did she say about-"

Cadence gently tugged him back to smooth out whatever air bubbles were still in the bandage straps. "Let me explain myself first. Questions can wait." Unfolding her wing, she passed off to him the package of ribbon and paper that held the written, beseeching words. "My sister-in-law had asked me to bring this to you at once, as well as the request that you leave Canterlot with that same haste."

Any of his collective nature that once existed fell into shambles. "But, the lockdown... and the guards..." He messed with the seal and managed to tear it off, the smaller sheet that was Twilight's "official" city pass swirling out and around his head before it settled at his hooves. He read the few scribbles of wording, and then looked up to Cadence, mumbling. "I...I don't understand. A one-way pass?"

"May I?" Cadence asked, nudging a wing at the scroll.

He obliged without protest, though Cadence sensed this was out of numb bewilderment rather than obedience; her heart was enclosed by a cold chain, each link forged by seeing such an expression on her crystal pony subjects in recent days.

With a swift motion, she unfurled the letter and held it before her eyes with her magic. The blue aura helped her see the words better, but it didn't say much for how splotchy they had been written by two untrained and hasty hooves. But patiently she skimmed over the words, and read them aloud in a steady voice.

"Soarin, I'm writing to warn you that you must leave Canterlot. I can't explain why you have to leave at once, or how I know of the danger that you're in, but I beg of you to trust in me and what I'm to say. I've enclosed to you a pass that will utilize my authority as Celestia's student and the Bearer of the Element of Magic, allowing you to leave the city without any trouble from boarder patrols, and a chance to get away from Nightfall Hyde."

Curiosity won out, and Cadence looked over; Soarin had turned stark pale. His throat narrowed in what she thought was a dry swallow, the very culpability that Twilight herself had upon being discovered emulating in the slight, airy sound following the motion.

She kept reading. "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am for doing this to you; I fear this letter will be the last connection we will have with each other, as I will not be able to see you again. Please don't question why. I can't provide the answers you want. I can't provide anything except what's enclosed, and my gratitude for the lesson you had taught me.

"All I can ask of you now is to leave Canterlot behind and start a new life. Embrace who you truly are, not what others see you as or want you to be, and keep in your heart the knowing that the memory of being your friend has comforted me in the last month of my life, and will forever be kept deep in mine.

"Your repentant friend, Twilight Sparkle."

Cadence let the letter fall with a rustle and a whistle. It was clear, more than ever, that the stakes depended greatly on whether or not Twilight would subdue Nightfall for good, and this was not the first time that Cadence reconsidered keeping what she knew from her aunts. The very walk here had been a battle, after Applejack had voiced her own concerns; she had more than once tripped herself by letting her left hooves move to the castle, and the right hooves, to the Altrotta.

The promise she had made to Twilight wouldn't matter if she got hurt regardless of the outcome; if Cadence caved and told Celestia the truth, her aunt would, without a doubt, order for her arrest while Twilight's internal fight was still under way. Betrayal, the slightest spark, would be all it took. She would lose, and Nightfall would be free, if her claim that her emotions played a part in the transformations was true.

But if she waited, just as she was asked, turning herself in and awaiting death row were all her sister-in-law had left. It did not escape Cadence that Twilight hadn't written, "the last month of my life" to be synonymous with, "previous".

And from the look on Soarin's face, he had come to a similar, if not much lesser, conclusion.

"I..." he started slowly, "I'm sorry, but Doctor Sparkle doesn't owe me anything. She'd already saved me." He snatched the letter, skimming over for himself. "Is she in some kind of danger? Why can't we ever meet again?"

The draftiness of the building left a cold sweat on her nape. "Twilight...my sister-in-law has become ill in recent days," she decided on. "I had just come from her study with her letter, and she was so weak she could barely stand." Lies didn't taste well on the tongue, and hers were bitter as envelope glue.

"What kind of ill, though?" he pushed on. "It couldn't be contagious, right?" But he stopped Cadence before she could contrive an answer. "She could barely levitate stuff the last time I saw her... did Nightfall do something to her?"

"I..." It would be far simpler to play along. There would be far fewer questions that way. "...yes."

"Her magic's dying, isn't it?"

She nodded.

Soarin swore under his breath. "I read the papers about those bastards shutting her project down, a while back, and I thought things couldn't get worse. And then this happens? This on top of the whole lockdown and Nightfall out there?"

Another nod, unable to draw the words out.

"I just don't get it. Why did she bother with me, of all ponies? And is she even allowed to give me this pass?" he asked, swiping up the rectangular sheet.

"I don't think so," Cadence admitted. "But we're past the formalities and traversing the laws; the guards would sooner face Tartarus than doubt the authority of somepony who is trust... who's aligned with my aunt."

The pegasus made a strange sound, one that seemed to project an amazement that the guards could be easily fooled by such faith in their authority figures. At least, that was how Cadence thought of it herself.

"And as for why she's doing this, Soarin," she concluded simply, "You are her friend, and she couldn't stand by doing nothing for you."

"Well," he sighed, "That's good enough for me. I guess I am good enough to be her friend."

"Believe it, Soarin."

"You'll take care of her, right?"

"Of course. But, if I may ask you something..."

Soarin had been folding the letter when she spoke, and looked to her. "What is it?"

She asked her question slowly, warning adding to her tone as she put Twilight's safety to mind, "Your interacting with Nightfall Hyde... was it something that you willingly partook in?"

She needed to rest her conscience. It was the apprehension of every parent or guardian to question a colt that had more than just friendship with a daughter. Even if this wasn't directly the case, Twilight had claimed he was innocent of conspiring with Nightfall Hyde - she wanted to hear it from Soarin himself.

And as expected, he hesitated. But then he surprised her. "Let me get this clear to you, Your Highness. Nightfall came to me. Not the other way around." He said this with a firm belief in his words. "You know the whole hostage gig, right? Cooperate with the bad guy, listen to her insane philosophies about what's wrong with the world, and maybe, just maybe, get out alive."

"I see. And did you have a takeaway from listening to these 'philosophies' of hers?"

He sighed. "I could have left at any time, but A, she would have run me down in seconds, and B, she did have a few good points that nopony regards nowadays. Nobleponies, and the higher-ups in general, don't care about us. They see us as we are - lower than them. So we shouldn't pretend to be better than we are."

Cadence sensed it, so she waited for the "but".

"But she missed a bigger point."

"Will you humor me?"

He obeyed. "Nightfall took that too literally. She gave up on ever improving herself is everypony else was only going to see her faults. But here's my question: if you're going to give up on being a good pony, or purging a vice, or achieving your dreams - or just anything - what's the point of existing at all?"

And just like that, the suspicion she had against Soarin evaporated. Dumbstruck by the question itself, Cadence shook her head in the slightest of motions.

Soarin lightly, kindly chuckled. "You get it, then? That's why I didn't have a takeaway from her 'philosophies'. Well, except for what I just said."

Cadence wet her dry lips. He had nothing to do with Nightfall, at least not with taking her side and taking victims of his own, and she could put her concerns at ease with that. She murmured, "I suppose trying is all we can afford to do."

"Yeah. And trying to get away from Nightfall is all I can do right now."

Cadence took the hint and backed up. "Of course. Goodnight, then. And I wish you safe travels and a better life elsewhere."

"Tell Twilight I said goodbye?"

"Yes. And I'll see her safe from Nightfall, so you two can meet again someday." She turned and dove from the railing before she could break down and reveal anything else to him.

She slowed her descent and touched the floor with an echoed thump. The impact trembled up her legs, and she exhaled.

She had come here in suspicion; Twilight asking her to deliver a letter to someone she hadn't known of until now was alarming enough, but to ask for it to be delivered to a pony that was also associated with her evil incarnate had left her appalled.

But she was glad to have been proven wrong.

What he'd said made sense. Nightfall was a part of Twilight, the part of her that relied too much on shortcuts or just leaving things as they were. And Soarin wanted nothing to do with that. Not anymore, it seemed. Twilight had changed him more than either could realize.

And Cadence would be damned if she gave up on her sister-in-law.

She entered the most congested area of the theatre, where the ponies were huddling themselves to their cushions or companions most, and cast her magic over them all. Dark ribbons unfurled from their bodies and drew to her, gathering in a single point before her. The ponies had raised their heads for only a second before settling back down, their eyes closing in peace. 

"Rest your spirits. It will all end soon enough," she said softly, before tucking her wings and exiting the theatre.

She decided. Never mind what outcome came in the morning, and never mind choosing whether or not to speak to her aunts. When Twilight would turn herself in, she would fight to defend her. Even if it took the remainder of her own life, she would fight to see her sister free and away from death row.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


In three minutes, he had his things packed and the Wonderbolts trademark saddlebag slung over his good shoulder. The scar on the other was healing pretty well, but he preferred not to rely too much on it. There were times that he'd wake up at night to his shoulder burning, and had to apply more ointment. He was gonna go broke using that stuff.

He picked up Twilight's package. The scroll, with writing that for once looked just like his, and the pass, more collected and official by only a smidgen. He hugged both papers to his chest, crumpling filling the silence of the small room.

He was so certain that Cadence had come to arrest him right off the bat. He'd kept telling himself that getting involved with Nightfall was going to bite him in the rump sooner than later, and it seemed too ironic to be suddenly be fearful of one who otherwise was a symbol of comfort and refuge.

But he suddenly knew what he was doing when answering her question; a spark burned in him, one of understanding himself. He hardly had to think out his answer before he told Cadence exactly what he thought of the Nightfall and her mindset.

Giving up and turning to self-indulgence simply wasn't an option for him anymore. It was his old life of turning to the lovely mares of the nightlife because of his slipping performance rates, and letting his scores drop even lower because of that, and he wanted out. What he said was true in absolution.

Realization that Nightfall was wrong had come to him earlier that day, right after she had slashed his ribs for questioning her. As he'd laid on his bed, patting the cut with his sheets, he was helpless to watch more and more bandages get tossed in the bin. The smell of copper became familiar to him, and red was his accenting color - he had woken himself up to what Nightfall, - and he himself - really was.

He knew, without any doubt holding him back, that what he now wanted no longer had room for Nightfall's mindset, or for Nightfall at all. With a sharp squeal of the straps, Soarin tightened the saddlebag, and moved out.

"Soarin...?"

He stopped short, biting down a curse. Of course she wouldn't make it easy to leave.

He wheeled to his left and faced Glider, who stood by the doorframe, the hoof and wing on that side gripping the wood, while the other hoof was fiddling with something absentmindedly. Her mane was a wildfire without the braid to contain it, and much longer than Soarin had thought it to be, as it trailed past her neck and down to her knees. The few flyaway hairs made a dance in the draft, and in the little trembles of her chest puffing rapidly. Soarin could only guess that she had been fighting a panic attack just a few minutes ago.

"Soarin," she asked again. "Can we talk?"

Soarin sighed, "I can't stick around right now, Glider. I have to go."

The mare narrowed her eyes. "You've spent several years courting the lucky mares, but you can't talk to me for ten minutes? Surely," she said with a touch of irony, "you could spot ten out of the hundred-thousand minutes you'll have to yourself out on the road."

Soarin's mouth parted. "Were you spying on me?"

Glider shoved herself from the wall and whipped his face with her wing. "Idiot," she snarled. "Nopony packs their saddlebags to the brim for a milk run. If you can even get away with breaking curfew."

Soarin tried not to let his stupidity puncture his pride, but even those efforts deflated it with a needle's prick. "So, you weren't spying."

"No, I was, but better for you to know how conspirous you look, trying to make an escape."

"It's 'conspicuous'."

"Exactly my point. Make it more subtle, at the very least."

"No, the word is..." He decided to give up before he'd frustrate himself more so. "Why were you spying on me anyway?"

"First of all, this is my theatre. No words slips out from any mouth between these walls without my knowing."

Commotion erupted from the first floor. Soarin and Glider both flinched, hearing at least two voices going at each other and a table shattering before three more voices joined in the fight. Soarin caught a few words, including, "cushion", "child", and "mine", as well as some curses even he wouldn't catch himself using.

Glider, in a blur, flew to the railing and stood atop the thin line of wood. In her haste, she'd dropped the thing she was messing with, and Soarin took the chance to examine it. Glider wasn't going to mind. "That table's coming out of your pockets!" she hollered at the offenders. "I don't care which of you started it, but I expect you to divide your payment in full by morning!" And she made a jerking motion to shoo them back to their resting places.

Soarin took in the item. It was golden, alright, and made of chains that were weaved in a tidy bangle that was thin as Glider's legs when she'd stopped getting out of bed. Every third link had a charm connected, and these charms switched between stars and lightning bolts like the way a checkerboard was designed. He never liked jewelry, or even the color of gold. It sickened him for being reminded of the gaudiness of the noble class, and how they practically bathed in it for their parties instead of offering it to those in a dire circumstance, and so he disregarded the bangle as gaudy, too. And someone like Glider really didn't seem like the glitz-wearing type.

It was swiped up in a instant. He looked up at Glider, who just scoffed as she looped the thing around her hoof to play with it again. Behind her, a fresh argument was rising over the old one.

"As for the why," Glider continued as though having never been interrupted, "I like to know things. It gets my mind off my own problems because other ponies' problems make me wonder and think. Unfortunately, your princess explained why your dear doctor couldn't come talk to you herself before I could unravel the question myself."

Soarin started to get defensive to Twilight. Even now, facing the fact that she was practically banishing him with her pleading that he leave, he thought well of the doctor. Very well, in fact. He could humor a notion of running his hooves along that pink streak in her short hair and laying a peck or two along her neck, - he stopped himself before carrying himself away. He didn't need Glider seeing that grin of his.

But as he considered what Glider said, he also grasped the true weight of her spying. She'd seemingly heard everything between him and Cadence, meaning she'd also heard her question him about his involvement with Nightfall. In the wrong ears - absolutely hers, since she had the motive and guts to try to kill Nightfall once - that discussion could be warped into a confession. All Glider had to do was send for the guards, who'd be convinced that Soarin knew where Nightfall was and how to stop her, and she'd easily have her house arrest lifted - she'd get her precious reward, too, if she pushed for it.

Glider seemed to sense his distress. She said, "If I wanted to turn you in, you'd be pinned to the floor in a flat split-second."

"That's what I'm worried about," Soarin mumbled, distractedly. Opening night had left his head spinning when she'd come at him like a lightning bolt, and let him crash into her when he'd wheeled back the opposite way - all this in the same second.

"Well, stop." She looked down and burned her hooves from one rubbing the carpet and the other, the bracelet. "I'm not here to make an enemy, or to ruin the rest of your life."

"Then what are you here for? You said you had something to tell me, right?" He threw his saddlebag onto his back to try and make his point.

Here Glider fell silent. Soarin nearly broke the floorboards waiting for her to just say it, instead of looking down and pushing that stupid bracelet into her face like it was a lost pet. Why did she even bother leaving her room at this point; up to now, she had been content to lock herself away and refuse to eat, having no one anymore to coddle her like Silver Mist did. So what pulled her out now, and when he was supposed to leave?

"Glider," he pressed. "I don't have time for this."

"You know how Spitfire tricked you into quitting the 'bolts?" she said quickly.

Soarin stared her down. "What's that got to do with anything?"

She was panting now. He would've done that breathing trick that he'd often seen Silver do with her, but he never stuck around to memorize it. And helping her would have only been done to get the answer out of her faster.

"Spitfire..." she stammered at last. "Spitfire wasn't at blame for setting up your accident. I did it."

If she were to throw Soarin to the bottom floor, the air in his chest couldn't have left him faster. And then it flooded rapidly into him, hot and fast. "Don't you dare make a joke out of this." He advanced onto her, and watched her stiffen herself to match his height.

"I'm not. I was behind the whole plot of getting you expelled."

"Unless you're secretly the CEO of the entire Wonderbolts corps, I seriously doubt it."

She shook her head, "I could only dream of being a CEO. But I am not lying to you."

Soarin couldn't stop himself this time. The floorboard splintered beneath the hoof that stomped it. "Why would I believe you? Do you-"

"For the past few minutes since you had examined my bracelet your eyes have constantly been flitting to my bracelet on and off. And not because you have itchy hooves."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"But it does," Glider insisted. "You've been staring at it because there's something that bothers you, something you didn't know was bothering you until you looked at it. But you can't name the reason why. You can only associate the shapes and color with something bad, because it reminds you of something unpleasantly related to those things.

She tossed the bracelet to him. Soarin winced as the charms smacked together and against his chest. They were heavier than they looked.

"I know what envy looks like on the face from seeing my own in the days after my sister had abandoned me and the promise she'd made that we'd fly together as 'bolts. Yours has that same fiery envy, and this bracelet is obviously the reason. It reminds you of somepony who did the same to you...or at least helped do it."

Relief for finally knowing subsided Soarin's anger. He had been looking at the stupid thing, but the thing Glider described was an unconscious thought. He'd thought about that particular pony, but he couldn't remember the exact thoughts. He just remembered the action of thinking. But he'd sooner turn himself in like Princess Cadence might've demanded he do than forget the face that fit Glider's description and had stars and lightning bolts for an insignia.

"This thing is too fancy, and released way too early," he said through a gritted jaw, "to be official Wonderbolt merch. How exactly do you know Lightning Dust?"

Glider hesitated. "Do you have family, Soarin?"

Soarin just stared her down.

"If you did," she sighed, "you'd know what loyalty in the family is. If parents lose their jobs,  it's only natural for the children to steal or beg for money to see them fed. Or if the youngest sibling can't walk on their own, the oldest puts them on their back for a ride, if only to make them forget for a bit." Another sigh. "You, as a brother and a son, or a sister and a daughter, do what you must to make your family happy. Even if you're beat like a dog over and over for it.

"I...screwed up on an audition that Lightning and I were doing together. I panicked in the moment and took both her and myself down. That was why she abandoned me; her chances to get onto the team were ruined, and I felt bad that she was still struggling from that day while I was off living my newfound dream of running the theatre."

Soarin had some sympathy for that; blacklisted flyers, and the aimless futures they went on to, were a popular subgenre of horror stories to tell in the locker rooms, and none of them ended with, "happily ever after". He wondered if Lightning Dust was hearing his story right now.

"I had gone to a show to see about vouching for her to get a second chance," Glider resumed, "or if auditions were at least open. But then I saw you."

"What about me?"

"Well," she stammered, "nothing the typical eye would catch at a passing glance. Nothing anypony else's eyes would discern. But my eyes are special; they can see things that few others can. The best I can describe it as is soul reading; it's not mind reading, not nearly close, but I can read certain impressions just by looking into somepony's eyes. What the pony is feeling, what things they did, what food or drink they stuffed down their throats... whatever is fresh in the mind's eye, I can read.

"What I read in yours was... companionship. Lipstick, cheap cider, a mare who couldn't keep her hooves off you. And what was inside was affecting you outwardly; you looked stupid and drunken on one-night love, and I'm surprised nopony else noticed."

"Spitfire noticed," Soarin grimaced. "And I'm guessing you took your findings right to her."

"She froze up right when I said, 'lipstick' and your name in the same sentence. Everypony knows the general rule of a career: if you can't shape up, you ship out. Spitfire was dragging her hooves to avoid either option for you, so I offered her a deal."

"I think I know where this is going," Soarin stopped her. "I heard all this crap from her and Fleetfoot in the locker room when I was returning my uniform. Lightning Dust came to me the night before my big show, and we had a nightcap together. But it was a numbing serum, right?"

The way he growled the word made Glider shrink away. "It was," she confirmed, her voice miniscule as a marble dropping in an immense cavern. "And specifically concocted to remain undetected by magical means, and something that could leave your system fast if somepony thought it was foul play and wanted to use a scientific method."

Soarin nodded sharply. "Right. And my crash simply looked like an accident of my wings crippling, so I was dismissed under means of being "out of my prime". Leaving my place open for Lightning Dust, of all ponies who just happened to be practically at the bottom of the waiting list for tryouts, to trot in and take the glory."

Glider looked eaten alive. Like she wanted the earth to swallow her up and let her never again see daylight. "...I didn't know you had found out. You never told me."

"Yeah, well, it never occurred to me that maybe you had something to do with it!" And, he realized, that wasn't even the worst part. Even after finding out that he'd been betrayed by his own partner, even after letting that bitterness stew and process throughout the last month... it was nowhere near the whole truth. He was never even standing on its doorstep. "You..." he hissed. "You took everything from me..."

"It may put you at ease," Glider stared to say, cautiously but shakily, "that Spitfire had first refused my offer. She was very loy-"

"That doesn't fix anything!" Soarin exploded. Glider launched herself back, but he followed her fast. "You obviously shook her down after telling her to betray me again and again. You turned her against me!"

"I-I know, and what I did was wrong. That's why I'm telling you now, so you can know how sorry I am."

"Are you serious, Glider? A sorry isn't going change this!" His voice snapped across the theatre. Ponies on the first floor, as one, droned curiously and gathered beneath them; this was the barest of regard that Soarin gave them. "I had to leave friends behind! Ponies who I knew actually were upset that I was fired! Or did you buy them off, too?"

"Now you're just being a child," Glider recoiled. "I wasn't out to ruin your life; I wanted to give back the chance of glory to my sister."

"By taking mine away?"

"I don't think you get it. You stupid celebrities blinded by fame never get it. My sister and I had to grow up without parents, and without this world ever giving a second look at us. So I had to give up everything so Lightning could finally live her dream!"

"At. My. Expense!"

Soarin wound up his back and threw every once of energy out into a hind kick that shattered the railing. A section tore itself off, splinters flying, and plummeted to the bottom floor. Screams, impacts of wood against bodies, and departing gallops rose in the air like the remnants of a mushroom cloud, and dust sprung with two hundred concurrent fleeing bodies.

Maybe Nightfall was right all along; maybe he was just like her. Nobody ever saw stars or celebrities throwing their anger around as they pleased, and as such, being nobody allowed him that freedom. It was balm over his heat-filled veins.

And seeing the treacherous, pathetic heap that was his former boss tremble under him was bliss. She was no longer the big bad wolf of the Altrotta, but the little girl in red crying for what was lost, and he felt good seeing her reduced to this.

"Please, Soarin..." Glider pleaded. The bracelet dropped at her hooves as she rose. She came as close as she dared, two feet from him. "I just wanted my sister back. Wouldn't you have done anything for family?"

At a different time, Soarin would have compared this statement to Twilight's, and her fight to save her mother. But there was that difference between her and Glider; the means of one were honest, while the other was conniving. Apathy clogged whatever pity he once had for Glider.

"Was it even worth it?" he asked in a murmur.

"What are you talking about?" But Glider knew exactly what he meant. She dropped her gaze. "The same day of the premiere, I went to the academy to see her, check on how she was adjusting..."

"And?"

She messed with her mane, yanking the strands to fashion her trademark braid. "...she...she pretended not to know who I was. Not literally, like asking who I was. But just... just seeing right through me."

"I see. But one thing I don't get: why did you really offer me this job of...of singing showtunes and cleaning up for you, if you wanted me out of Lighting Dust's chance to become a 'bolt?" Yet the answer was clear the moment he finished uttering his question.

Pity.

She pitied his being without stardom, and the strong probability that no one would hire a washed out celebrity. That he could sing decently was just a perfect coincidence that she used to an extra advantage of selling off his former fame.

"You know, you're just disgusting. I can't see why Silver wasted her time with you. You're... she should've..." He hissed, tempted to kick the rails again. Instead, he stomped, booms like gunshot vibrating the floors, two more holes added.

And from the way Glider looked, she wasn't disagreeing with him. In fact, that also explained why she'd run off trying to kill Nightfall and get Twilight's formula as a reward. The guilt she had was eating her alive right now - who was to say it hadn't been just a few days ago? Lightning Dust ditching her twice must have left a scar on Glider, one so deep that she'd become desperate to remove whatever it was that made her unapproachable. She'd become desperate to have the world accept her, not as she was, but as what it defined as "fixed".

"I can't make you understand how sorry I am," Glider said. "But I know you'll be happy with knowing that I'm paying for what I did, and will be for a long time. I lost my only real friend, my theatre, my dream...and my sense of identity." She hitched up the back of her vest, showing off her flank. Bare, and no such defining mark of individuality to show off. "Now I'm just like you. Really, worse than that."

She was a blank flank like him. And after what she'd said about Lightning Dust disowning her on the same day that he'd overheard Spitfire and Fleetfoot, he didn't doubt it if she'd lost her cutie mark at precisely the same moment as he.

And even after all that, and losing Silver Mist to the killer, she'd still held out and paid every bleeding drop of gold she had left to keep her employees financially secure. Pity or no pity, the theatre job saved Soarin's life; anywhere else, and malnutrition and the cold hearts of Equestria would have killed him. He owed her this, at the very least.

"I'm sorry, Glider," he said. "I'm sorry all that's happened to you, because nopony deserves that. But what you did won't justify that. Especially not with me."

Glider nodded numbly. "I know."

Soarin looked to her, and thought about the pass; precisely, if more than one could be vouched for it. But he knew that the guards would jump him as soon as they saw Glider breaking her house arrest. He'd never see the outside of Canterlot then. "I hope you do. 'Cause you're gonna end up living the rest of your life with that on your shoulders." He threw his saddlebag, turning from her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

And he walked away and closed off the gape in his heart. He could process what he felt, and ask himself if he'd said the right thing, later, when he was safe. The heights called him now.

He climbed up the railing closest to the entry doors at the front, balancing with his outstretched wings. Glider wasn't saying anything behind him - only the light shuffling of a heavy hoof on the carpet - she wasn't about to protest what he was doing, much less to one who didn't work for her anymore. As for the ponies below him, they had settled down to sleep, but they mostly converged by the double doors.

His glide, therefore, would be best as a ten-foot fall, two feet from the floor, and another five to fly across to the doors. His hooves would flick the ears of the fancy nobles, more or less stirring them before the inevitable harrumph and return to dreams.

Just the way he liked his gliding.

He swiveled his wings in their sockets; the rib wound itched angrily, but this small flight wouldn't be a problem at all. He jumped...

...and Glider slapped a heavy hoof on his shoulder, yanking him back. His torso hit the thick beam of wood, and his stomach flopped.

"Aaah," he moaned, picking himself up and whirling to her. Alicorns' sake, Gl-"

Her face was obscured by the hood, the fabric swaying with a struggle to stay upright. What little skin Soarin could see outside of fabric choking what he couldn't was layered with goosebumps and bulged veins, and the mare was chattered in a pained wail that sounded like the Windigos of the Frozen North.

"Glider...?"

The corner where she had been mewling was empty.

Nightfall's cries lessened with Soarin's voice. She peeled the hood and pressed into him, her slitted eyes rushing to the corners pointed at him. There were a dozen expressions that had marked her face before; smugness, passion, glee - anger. Definitely anger, when he'd say something that she'd be offended by, hence his most recent wound. But now, her pupils thin to the point of nonexistence, gave way to the real, raw fear only seen in a child, or a parent about to lose that child.

Hissing out a long string of laughter through grinding teeth, she wept through her eyes. "You can't - I'm not letting you - Run!"

Soarin pulled a helpless inch from her. He had to remind himself to breathe. "Nightfall? Nightfall, what's wrong with you?"

She wheezed, "S-soarin...help..."

And she cackled again, like the worst case of a madmare who had seen the world break before her eyes.