A string of robberies has been going on in Sunset's neighbourhood, but things change when Sunset's apartment is targeted, and the identities of the thieves become a topic of debate amongst her friends.
Sunset has heard in the news that a series of robberies has been occurring in her neighbourhood recently, but never did she believe that she of all people would be a target. Upon discovering the thieves invading her apartment however, Sunset finds herself thrust into a cavalcade of awkward situations over who she suspects the robbers to be, as she feels that she can neither ignore the situation, nor entrust it to the proper authorities.
Sunset slurped happily on her milkshake, enjoying the company of her friends. It sometimes still surprised her even now that tranquil scenes like this one could fill her with the sort of contentment and joy that had evaded her in her lonely days. There sat Pinkie Pie, attempting to create an impromptu tower out of the table’s service wear, whilst Fluttershy held her own drink away from the inevitable collapse that was to ensue. Rainbow Dash and Applejack, as usual, were arguing about something or other. A casual observer might think there need be some concern, as the pair of them could become quite loud, but Sunset knew by now that they could argue over just about anything and be best friends again within five minutes. It was all rather endearing really.
“Oh I’d be only too happy to help you, dear,” Rarity said candidly with a wave of her hand. “Frankly I’m flattered you’d ask, especially on something this important. This speech is nothing to turn your nose up at.”
“It’s just a proof reading, Rarity,” Sunset said, awkwardly. “It’s no big deal, I’d just really appreciate it.”
“Sunset, darling; we all know of all of us, you’re the academic. The notion that you would ask for help in your own area of expertise is a compliment. Although I have to wonder why you’re doing this so early; it’s not due until the end of the school year.”
“I might want to change it between then and now. I’ll have no chance if I leave it until the last minute.”
Other than this point, Sunset didn’t see any point in arguing. Rarity had that sparkle in her eye that was usually reserved for when she had an ♪ideaaa♪! To avoid saying anything else she finished the rest of her milkshake. Apparently sensing her reticence, Rarity turned her glamour-beams on the next available target.
“Just what are you two arguing about?” she demanded, suddenly stern.
Rainbow Dash gave her a heavy-lidded look of confident victory, which had seconds later been directed at an exasperated Applejack. “Hm?” she asked.
“We’re arguing about that string of robberies that’s been happenin’ down on fifth street near the school,” Applejack explained, a little huffily. “Arr-Dee reckons it’s some kid gang doin’ it.”
“It totally is!” Rainbow cried emphatically, looking beseechingly at them all. “I’ve seen them!”
“You have?” Sunset asked, vaguely interested.
“Well... yeah, I kinda saw them,” Rainbow said more hesitantly. “I mean, I saw them, but then I kinda didn’t too, you know?”
“No,” Rarity said in a flat tone.
“I mean, I saw them in this alley, hopping out of a window. I think there was three of them, but it was dark so I didn’t get a good look, see?” She looked around hopefully.
“Moonshine,” Applejack sighed, sitting back comfortably.
“Is not!” Rainbow retorted, glaring at Applejack.
“Well, supposing you did see three kids jumping out of a window, how do you know it was these same robbers in the news?” Sunset pointed out.
“I...” Rainbow began, but then stopped. Her eyes flicked this way and that for a moment as they all looked at her expectantly. “I... guess I don’t,” she conceded, settling back in her seat.
Sunset felt a twinge of pity in her chest for Rainbow; she knew what it was to feel excitement and a perceived sense of uniqueness over a discovery. Even Applejack didn’t look too happy about disillusioning her friend.
“Still,” Rarity said in a more upbeat tone. “Whoever they are, I hope they don’t come anywhere near my boutique.”
“Yeah, for their sake,” Applejack exclaimed with a chuckle.
“My father was only showing you his rifle,” Rarity said, colouring up. “He thought you’d be interested.”
“All I know is that when I come into a room, a big, moustachioed man with a gun ain’t exactly what I’d call a friendly welcome.”
“I’m gonna get fat,” Sunset muttered to herself, looking guiltily into the paper bag of pastries. The walk from Sugarcube Corner wasn’t nearly enough to work off such a large amount of calories. But Sunset didn’t care; Mrs. Cake’s pastries were just too good to resist.
Resistance is futile, her conscience told her, which Sunset thought a strange thing for her inner moral-compass to say. Shrugging, she took one out, salivating at the mere feel of its soft warmth and overpowering smell, even on this cold spring morning. Taking a bite, she felt the sugary treat dissolving on her tongue, the icing melting into a nectar of irresistible sweetness.
“It should be illegal to make cakes this good,” she muttered, rubbing convulsively at her waistline. As she lamented the future prospects of her potential figure, her ears picked up an odd sound. She paused, and then looked behind her. As usual on school days, the street was utterly quiet. Only rarely did cars even come down the street at this time of day. School days off were always like this. So what had made that odd click-clack noise?
Sunset scanned the street narrowly once or twice, frowning, but could see nothing unusual. Shrugging, she turned back around and started to walk again. She hadn’t taken six steps, when she was caught up short again, this time by a small hissing sound. She turned around quickly and looked hard at the street behind her. It hadn’t been the hiss of air escaping a tire, nor the hiss of a cat warning off another cat. It had sounded more like someone making an impatient or irritated noise between their teeth. But there was no one there.
On a hunch, Sunset peered down a nearby narrow alleyway. She’d passed quite a few on her way down the street, for this was an avenue made up almost entirely of shops and small businesses, and small openings were made to accommodate delivery trucks and vans. She narrowed her eyes for a moment or two, but had to admit that she could see nothing.
Shrugging to herself, she carried on. “You’re just getting paranoid,” she told herself out loud. “Guilt will do that,” she sighed, taking another bite of her cake.
She didn’t think of the odd sounds again until she arrived inside the lobby of her apartment. Stopping to give one of her cakes to Old Jim, the doorman, she paused on her way to the stairs.
Like most people, Sunset had a sixth-sense for half-perceived oddities in her daily routine. Exactly how long it takes for a kettle to boil, or how many pops or clangs happen every morning as the boiler tries to warm up the building. In this case, Sunset frowned at the door, sure that it had clattered shut a few seconds later than it usually did. She looked to Old Jim.
“Did you see someone come in the door after me?” she asked him.
Old Jim looked up at her myopically through thick spectacles, lowering a magazine. “What?” he asked in his quivery old voice.
“Err,” Sunset muttered. “On second thought, never mind.” She smiled and stumped towards the stairs.
When she reached her floor, she was accosted momentarily by old Mr. Ferry who lived opposite, and then proceeded to unlock her door. Fumbling for her keys with her free hand, she dropped the bag of cakes to the floor, cursing as her keys clattered next to it. Sighing in exasperation, she bent down to pick up the bag and keys, when she heard something down the corridor.
Okay she thought to herself. Just who is that?
She snuck quickly down the passage to the stairwell again, looking for the source of the noise. No one. She peered down the stairs themselves. Nothing. She scowled, feeling a creeping sensation of trepidation. Was someone actually following her, or was she just being paranoid over perfectly innocent sounds?
Ears pricked for more noises, she made her way back to her apartment, and opened the door. She took one last look down the corridor, and then closed her door with a snap. She turned the bolt in the door to lock it, and set her bag of pastries in the kitchen, fully intending to sit down with a mug of tea and another cake to watch some television. Unfortunately, this happy plan was broken by the disagreeable feeling persisting within her of being followed. She paced the room a little, her eyes flicking several times to the door as the feeling of an insubstantial hand lingered on her shoulder. She looked out of the window, sat down, stood up again, went to her bedroom, looked in the bathroom. She listened for any out-of-place sounds.
What’s that rattling? she thought with a start. Then she realised that it was just the bathroom pipes. They always do that
She’d just persuaded herself to sit down and pick up her mug of tea, and beginning to feel her heart rate decreasing, when a sound rang through the room that nearly made her jump clear of her seat.
Knock
Knock
Cursing again as she felt hot liquid hit her upper legs, she stood up and set down the mug. Making her way quietly to the door, she carefully placed her eye to the spy hole. She blinked; there was no one there.
More suspicious than ever, she checked the bolt on the door to make sure that it was securely locked, and then made to turn away.
Knock
Knock
Knock
She put her eye to the spy hole again. Still nothing.
She frowned, a modicum of intrigue poking at her from beneath her misgivings. Whilst she hesitated, the knock came again, but continuous and louder than ever. Quickly now, she opened the door, and stared out. No one was there.
“Hello?” she called, looking left and right.
“Hello?” a squeaky voice repeated.
Sunset looked down, and opened her mouth in bewilderment. A little girl was standing there, a girl of about six or seven. This might have been perfectly ordinary, had the girl not been wearing what appeared to be a Greek or Roman-style dress, and sandals. The girl was staring up at her with bright magenta eyes, grinning widely. She had a tooth missing, and smudges on her cheeks. She also had bright blue hair, about shoulder length. The girl looked oddly familiar, yet Sunset could not for the life of her say whether or not she had actually seen her before.
The girl had her hands behind her back, and was bouncing on the balls of her feet expectantly, but she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, looking up at Sunset. Sunset simply stared back.
“Um... can I help you?” Sunset asked eventually, trying to sound kind as opposed to confused.
The girl didn’t exactly reply to this, but raised a hand, and pointed passed Sunset to the apartment within. Sunset turned automatically to see what she was pointing at, at which point she felt the girl dodge by her into the room.
“Hey!” she cried, as the girl skipped inside.
The girl laughed, looking back at Sunset and grinning cheekily. Sunset blinked rapidly at her.
“Who are you?” she asked the girl, frowning. The girl didn’t reply, but hopped on the spot excitedly, as though she wanted Sunset to chase her. When Sunset simply stood there looking bemused, the girl seemed to change tack. Spotting the mug of tea on the coffee table, she picked it up and took an experimental sip.
“Stop that!” Sunset snapped, stepping hurriedly forward as the girl choked and spat the drink out. The girl made an exaggerated sound of disgust as Sunset snatched the mug from her. “Where are your parents? You can’t just come into people’s homes and—“ Sunset stopped admonishing her as the girl giggled and leapt onto the sofa. “Stop!”
The girl ignored her command and jumped up and down on the chair, bouncing to the other side when Sunset attempted to grab her arm. Blowing a raspberry, she leapt over the arm of the couch and ran into Sunset’s bedroom.
Utterly nonplussed and seething with irritation, Sunset ran after her. “Put that down!” she roared, as she skidded into the room to find the girl bouncing on the bed, Sunset’s magical journal over her head. The girl made a cheeky motion with her hand in front of her nose, and skipped nimbly away from Sunset’s reaching arm. “That’s not yours! Give it back, now!”
The girl blew another raspberry, but seemed to be having too much fun to pay much attention to her surroundings. Bouncing on the bed’s edge, one of her feet slipped off, and she fell with a squeal off the back and out of sight.
Sunset winced as she heard the double thud of the girl and the book hitting the floor.
“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning over the bed. As was to be expected, the girl seemed to be momentarily stunned, biting her lip whilst rubbing her backside. As Sunset struggled internally as to whether she should remonstrate the girl or act kindly, she heard a sound from the main room. Apparently the girl had heard it too.
With suddenly cat-like reflexes, she scrabbled to her feet and leapt onto and over the bed whilst Sunset was distracted. Grabbing the door handle, she used her momentum to swing off it and out of the room, slamming the door shut as she went.
Sunset had leapt after her too late. She seized the door handle, but the door wouldn’t open. She pulled harder.
“Let go of the handle!” she shouted, as the door slammed shut again. She gaped as she heard multiple voices on the other side. I’ve been had!
Anger surging through her, she wrenched the door open, yanking the handle out of the girl’s grip. She stumbled back into a second girl with purple hair in a loose bun at the base of her neck, carrying a large brown bag. Sunset stared. A third girl with bright orange hair looked up at her with the startled look of a cornered cat. All three of these girls, Sunset noticed absently, wore the same ancient-style dresses, frayed and dirtied. She also noticed, less absently, that the orange-haired one had her laptop under her arm.
All three of them stared at Sunset. Sunset stared back at them. Then Sunset recovered first.
The orange-haired child cried out savagely as Sunset wrested the laptop from her hands. Sunset’s victory was short-lived, however; a lancing pain in her right shin brought her tumbling to her knees. The girl holding the brown bag dragged Blue-hair out through the open door to the hallway. Orange-hair followed, pausing once to give Sunset a look of hearty disgust.
“Wait!” Sunset called after them, limping to the door. But it was too late. She only had time to see one sandaled foot disappear around the corner to the stairs, and the distant sound of feet rapidly descending the stairs. Sunset sprinted after them, trying to ignore the pain in her leg. Startling Old Jim as she ran passed his desk, she pushed open the doors to outside and stared around.
Nothing.
Not a sandal or filthy white dress to be seen.
“A-Are you alright?” came an uncertain voice from behind her. The doorman put a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “You look troubled. Were those three children bothering you?”
Sunset looked at the doorman, hesitating. “No,” she said eventually. “I just... they just looked familiar, is all...”
Sunset’s response was immediate, and performed with military precision. After only an hour or two of dithering and walking the streets in a vain hope of finding the three girls, Sunset pulled out her phone, and placed several calls.
“So what’s up?” Rainbow asked, seating herself on the bench and trying to look attentive.
“And why are we in the park?” Applejack asked, raising an eyebrow at a passing jogger.
Sunset paused, not meeting any of her friend’s gazes. She had to communicate this correctly, or they might not believe her.
Although to be honest she thought wryly, I’m not sure that I believe me.
“I had a run in with... well, with three little girls,” she began.
“A run in?” Fluttershy asked, evidently concerned at the term.
“What do you mean, you had a run in?” Rainbow narrowed her eyes, unusually shrewd.
“I mean they broke into my apartment and stole my cakes,” Sunset explained.
Her friends all stared at her in astonishment. Rainbow blinked and opened her mouth, pausing a split second before actually speaking.
“You said three little girls did this, right?” she inquired slowly.
“Yes,” Sunset confirmed. “And the weird part is that I think—“
“So, what?” Rainbow continued, a smirk beginning at the corner of her mouth. “They shimmied up a pipe and through your window?”
“No,” Sunset said, frowning. “They knocked on the door.”
“They broke into your apartment by knocking on the door?” Pinkie Pie said out loud to herself. “And it worked? I gotta try that sometime.”
“Hold on, ya’ll,” Applejack boomed quellingly. “Let Sunset explain.” She turned to Sunset, a determined look on her face. “Have you called the police?”
“Well, no,” Sunset admitted. “I kinda wanted to discuss something with you guys first.”
“Discuss something about the robbery?” Rarity asked. “If it’s about the cakes, I think you paid about seventeen dollars, darling.”
“It’s not about the cakes,” Sunset said, starting to get irritated with all the interruptions. “It’s about the girls.”
“Oh!” Rainbow cried, sitting up excitedly. “I bet it’s those thieves I saw!” She ogled Sunset with shining eyes. “I was right, wasn’t I? It totally is—“
“I think they might be the sirens!” Sunset bellowed over Rainbow’s yammering.
The group all fell silent. Rainbow, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie’s mouths fell open. Applejack blinked, her eyebrows disappearing under her fringe. Fluttershy put a hand absently to her mouth.
“The sirens?” Applejack asked, as though to confirm that she’d heard correctly. Sunset nodded awkwardly. “Huh. Well, I...” she didn’t seem to be able to think of anything else to say.
“The sirens broke into your apartment and stole your cakes,” Fluttershy said wonderingly, looking utterly perplexed.
“Oh, I am so beating them senseless!” Rainbow raged, recovering from her astonishment. She slammed a fist into her other hand as Sunset raised her own hands for quiet.
“Wait, wait!” she said over the hubbub. “It wasn’t the sirens. I mean, not the sirens we knew.”
“But you just said they broke into your apartment,” Pinkie pointed out.
“No, these girls... well, they were younger. Much younger. Like six maybe. Seven at most.”
“So it wasn’t them?” Rainbow asked, her shoulders slumping.
“That’s the thing,” Sunset sighed exasperatedly. “They looked like them. They had their hair and eyes, and... but I don’t see how they could be them.”
Applejack took her by the arm. Turfing Rainbow away from the bench, she sat Sunset down and spoke patiently. “Tell us what you’re thinking, sugarcube.”
“You said that these girls looked like the sirens,” Rarity began, sitting down on Sunset’s other side. “What exactly did they look like?”
Sunset described the girls as best she could. She described the hair and eye colours more precisely, and told them about the weird clothes they were wearing.
“Sandals and Greek dresses?” Rainbow asked, frowning at the barren trees and grey sky. “That’ll be a jolly Christmas.”
Sunset bit her lip at this. Whoever the girls were, Rainbow had a point. By the looks of the three girls, they were homeless or runaways. Those thin and fraying white dresses wouldn’t keep them warm in the approaching winter. Perhaps it would be best to inform the authorities...
“Come to think of it,” Rarity said, as though a thought had just come to her. “Has anyone actually seen the sirens? Since the battle of the bands, I mean.”
They all shook their heads.
“I just assumed that they skipped town,” Rainbow huffed.
“I think I saw them once a few days afterwards,” Fluttershy said tentatively. “They looked a little off.”
“Off in what way?” Sunset asked.
“Distracted, I guess you’d say,” Fluttershy answered through her fingers. “It was like they didn’t notice things around them. And they also kind of looked ill. All pale and...” she broke off as everyone stared at her.
“You don’t think they died or something?” Rainbow asked seriously. Applejack punched her arm. “What?” she asked indignantly. “It’s not like I wanted them to die!”
“I think we’d have heard if three teenage girls were found dead,” Rarity said squeamishly. “But it is strange. If Rainbow is to be believed about these thieves being children, the reports on the robberies did start about a week after the battle of the bands.”
“So, what?” Rainbow asked, grinning. “The sirens just up and turned into little girls in white dresses and began a life of larceny? Did those necklaces age them up or something?”
“Come to think of it,” Sunset muttered, frowning. “By all accounts, the sirens are supposed to be immensely old. They were banished here during the Unification Period by Starswirl the Bearded. If anything, their pendants made them eternally youthful, not older.”
“Well if you think about it,” Pinkie put in, “we don’t actually know anything about what those necklaces did except suck in negative energy.”
Sunset raised her eyebrows at this somewhat out-of-character insight. “That’s true. The origins of the sirens is a complete mystery, and the nature of their magic was never studied. They were a dangerous threat, and so were stopped before they could cause any more havoc. But that meant that Starswirl never discovered how the sirens really worked.”
“Well this is all very interesting,” Applejack said after a brief silence. “But what are we gonna do about these girls? All this stuff about the sirens is just speculation until we meet them.”
“That’s true,” Sunset agreed. She frowned, remembering her walk home. The sounds and phenomena happening behind her suddenly made more sense. “They came after my cakes. I think they must be homeless to break into my apartment just for food. Although the orange one did try to steal my laptop too.”
“Do you think they live near your apartment?” Fluttershy wondered.
“Maybe,” Sunset said doubtfully. “I don’t know where they could live though. There’s no orphanages, abandoned buildings, or other places near me that I know of where they might stay.”
“Ooh,” Applejack said with dawning comprehension. “That’s why you wanted to meet in the park. You reckon they’re here somewhere.”
“Well, what do we do?” Rainbow asked, looking around.
None of them spoke. It seemed none of them had any ideas.
Over the following two weeks, Sunset thought about the three little thieves often, but saw them not at all as she continued to work on her homework speech. She reworked it several times in between the rest of her homework, and sent several e-mails to Rarity for additional revisions.
Rainbow’s words about the dropping temperature frequently occurred to her as the weeks went by, and the first frosts began to glisten on the moist grasses of the city. However, it wasn’t until an unlikely trip to the shops over by the industrial sector that Sunset saw the three thieves again
The industrial area of the city was, as anyone can imagine, a grey area full of tall chimneys, box-like buildings covered in warped and blackened metal. One or two office-like towers stood out with shiny signs and large corporate logos, but in the main the coming winter bleached even these of what little colour they had to offer. The shops nearby were a long, L-shaped series of the more expensive sorts of shops: electronics, bookshops, a posh cafe, and specialty stores like the art shop and the novelty outlet.
Having gotten there a little earlier than she’d meant to, Sunset treated herself to a coffee and stuffed pretzel before setting off to the novelty store, intending to get Pinkie something for her birthday. Stuffing the last half of the pretzel into her bag, she huddled against the wind outside of the cafe, heading for the shop next door.
Really, she thought with a sigh, it’s the only place in town to get something for Pinkie Pie.
Reaching out for the handle, the door suddenly burst open, knocking Sunset’s coffee right out of her hand. Upon recovering from the shock of being hit by a door, she looked down to find a small person lying on the ground.
“Y-You!” she cried.
The girl looked up from under her dishevelled blue hair and gasped in horror. A second girl, carrying what looked like a bed cover inside a plastic case, said something Sunset didn’t understand. By the tone, Sunset thought it was a curse, but it was no word Sunset had ever heard before. The second girl kicked out at Sunset, who dodged backwards, and then with her free hand, pulled the first girl roughly to her feet. Both began running just as the third girl came tearing out of the shop, an irate shop worker hot on her heels.
The shop worker swore loudly, and then noticed Sunset. “Oh, sorry miss,” he said, abashed.
“No problem,” Sunset said. She hesitated, watching the three of them dodge in between early morning shoppers, and then on an impulse, ran after them.
“Ma’am?” the worker called. “You don’t have to. I’ll just call the police!”
Sunset followed the three into the wooded area that blocked the gaze of shoppers from the full ferocity of the industrial sector. The three didn’t look back after themselves, but simply ran on what was clearly a known path. Sunset at first marvelled at her own tracking abilities, but then supposed that the three of them had simply become accustomed to not being followed this far beyond the scope of the public eye. Watching from behind a thick tree, Sunset saw them scale a wire fence, throwing the stolen bed covering over before the purple-haired one climbed over herself. Sunset followed shortly after, almost losing them next to a long row of abandoned looking warehouses.
She scowled as she looked around for the girls, wondering if she had indeed lost them, when the sound of falling debris drew her attention. There, climbing through a glassless window, was little Blue-hair.
“Warehouse twenty three,” Sunset muttered, looking up at the big sign next to the main door. It looked rusted shut, which would explain why the girls climbed through a window. She contemplated the window doubtfully. “I’ll never fit through that,” she whispered aloud. Nonetheless, she raised her head to the window, which was at her eye level, and peered inside. A large, metal crate stood two feet away, blocking sight to the interior.
What’s that? Sunset thought, frowning. She turned her head to angle her ear into the building, and listened. Several high voices were talking together, all in a strange language that Sunset did not understand. It contained a great deal more S’s than English did, and the speakers had a strange inflection to their voices.
Sunset looked left and right for a way in, but the length was solid wall, interspersed with windows, none of which could Sunset get through. Trying the front, she found that next to the large, striated-metal door was smaller door with peeling blue paint. The handle was a little gritty, but it turned alright. The hinges on the other hand had rusted straight through, causing the entire door to collapse inwards with a loud crash. Sunset’s view of the interior was lit by pale morning sunlight, which cast a strange sight over the interior through large windows set in the roof.
What looked like a small campsite had been set up against several metal containers. Two piles of dirty rags made up what was clearly meant to be makeshift beds, whilst a questionably tethered hammock was suspended over them between a length of pipe and a bar on the side of one of the containers. At the centre of these was an old, rusty barrel lightly smoking and smouldering, whilst around this was a mess of oddly assorted items, stored magpie-like around the little den in piles. Sunset couldn’t help but think this to be an enormous fire hazard; the barrel was rusted and burned black, and the items around it were all extremely flammable.
At the sound of the door collapsing, three familiar faces looked up in alarm. The two on the floor, who’d been fighting over some toy or other, dropped it immediately and ran behind the metal crate hiding the open window. The third, who’d been up on the hammock, scrabbled to get out, became entangled, and promptly crashed to the floor with a dull thud. Before she could recover, Sunset was standing over her, pulling her gently up. The girl went pale as chalk at Sunset’s touch and tried to pull away, but Sunset instinctively seized a hold of her upper arm to stop her running.
“Aria!” the girl cried fearfully. “A-Aria!”
“Aria?” Sunset repeated. “Did you say—“
“Aria!” the girl screamed. “Adagio!”
Keeping a tight hold on her, Sunset could only stare at the girl, struggling and crying. Although the way she was saying the names made it a little difficult to be sure...
“Sonata?” Sunset said slowly.
The girl looked even more scared at this. She said something in that strange language again. It sounded like a question, but Sunset had no idea what it could be. When Sunset didn’t say anything, the girl resumed struggling, calling out for Aria and Adagio.
Sunset looked her over more minutely. The dark blue streaks in her hair, the dusky blue skin, and the magenta-coloured eyes; it looked just like her. But how could it be?
When it became clear to Sonata that the other two weren’t coming back, she began to cry in earnest. Her arm still held firm, she looked frantically around as though looking for an exit.
“Oh no you don’t!” Sunset said hastily, pulling Sonata’s arm up as the little girl made to bite at Sunset’s hand. Sonata cried out louder, her pitch becoming higher, shaking and twisting as hard as she could. But Sunset wasn’t letting go. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she couldn’t leave Sonata in this squalor. She grimaced as she looked at the little den she and the other two had made, at the discarded wrappers and food containers they had evidently either salvaged or stolen. Sonata herself was thin; the arm Sunset was holding was scrawny and a little wasted. Her struggling didn’t have much more than tenacity behind it.
“Sonata, settle down,” Sunset said firmly.
Sonata either didn’t understand, or ignored her. It was kind of sad to watch her repeatedly hitting Sunset’s forearm with her sharp little fist. If she couldn’t understand, then what could Sunset do...?
On an intuition, Sunset took firm hold of Sonata’s shoulders, and fixed her with a penetrating stare. “Stop.”
Sunset wasn’t sure what it was that got Sonata to stop struggling, whether the tone, the word itself, or the stare. Sonata, trembling all the while, she blinked the residual tears from her eyes and stared back at Sunset, apparently transfixed. Then her stomach gave an enormous rumble.
“Are you hungry?” Sunset asked, smirking.
Sonata sniffled a few times, and then mumbled something thickly in that strange language. She made no attempt to run or continue struggling as Sunset rummaged with one hand in her bag, and pulled out the half-eaten remains of her stuffed pretzel. The pastry filled the stale air of the abandoned warehouse with a warm smell, and Sunset had to stop herself chuckling at how it caught Sonata’s attention. She suddenly went still and quiet, like a dog that’s sensed a cat. Still, Sunset didn’t like to see the ravenous hunger in her young eyes.
Letting go of Sonata’s upper arm, she held out the bag. Sonata’s eyes flickered between Sunset’s face and the bag a few times. She raised her hand slowly, as though she thought Sunset was going to snatch the bag away at the last moment, and then seized the food with lightning speed. Before Sunset could even open her mouth, Sonata dived over one of the rag piles and sat munching the pretzel, her wide eyes fixed suspiciously on Sunset.
Sunset picked up the empty bag, and regarded Sonata with regret. To her eyes, the girl had the look of a wild and starving animal, cold and frightened. It genuinely pained her to think of the sirens as they once had been, and to see one of them now.
“Hey,” she said in a coaxing tone.
Sonata gulped down the last of the pretzel in the voracious manner of a starving wolf, and regarded Sunset warily. Sunset saw her eyes dart a few times to the big metal crate behind where the window was.
Cringing at how creeper-like this sounded, she said “Do you want to come to my house? I’ve got more food if you want.”
Sonata tilted her head to one side, but otherwise said nothing.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Sunset asked, doubtfully. Sonata’s blank stare gave her all the answer she required. “Food,” Sunset said clearly, picking up the bag and pointing at it meaningfully.
Sonata hesitated, frowning slightly. “Fo-od,” she said hesitantly, again with that strange accent.
Sunset nodded encouragingly, pronunciation not being high on her list of priorities. “Would you like more food?” she pointed to the bag again, and then held out her hand.
Sonata stared at her cautiously for a few moments, her gaze flicking a few more times to the window. A sullen look came over her face as, Sunset imagined, she saw that the other sirens had evidently left her behind.
“Food?” Sunset coaxed, rustling the bag.
Sonata bit her lip, but with all the hesitancy of a skittish sparrow eying a hungry cat, she emerged from behind the rag pile, and came over to where Sunset knelt. Sunset kept her hand raised, but Sonata didn’t seem inclined to take it. Lowering her hand, she smiled a little tightly before standing.
The trip back to Sunset’s apartment was fraught with awkwardness and difficulty. Both her own misgivings, and Sonata’s obvious distrust, prevented any length of the journey to be remotely easy. That, and the fact that the sight of a teenage girl walking alongside a thin, vagrant child in odd clothes caught the eye of most everyone they passed.
At the wire fencing, Sonata refused Sunset’s offer of a boost, and climbed over it herself with all of the ease and dexterity of a spider. At the bus stop, Sonata stared at the cars as they went by as though she thought they might suddenly attack her, something Sunset wished she’d taken note of before trying to get her onto the bus.
“Come on, you have to get on,” Sunset said in her most soothing tone, as Sonata held tightly onto the bus stop sign.
“Err, miss?” the bus driver asked. “Do ya’ll need some help there?”
“No thank you,” Sunset trilled, bearing her teeth in what she hoped was a winning smile. “All under control.”
The bus driver, a large, square woman with a world-weary face, raised an eyebrow, and reached down the side of her seat. “You don’t reckon she’d be persuaded to get on?” she asked, holding up a lolly-pop. “Ya get more flies with honey. I keep a stash just for cases like this,” she added at Sunset’s questioning look.
Sunset wondered if that meant the driver often encountered kids clinging to metal posts.
“Food,” Sunset said, which got Sonata’s attention. Sonata opened her eyes and looked around to see the driver waving the lolly-pop. Within half a minute, Sonata was huddled on a seat next to Sunset, looking fearfully around at the bus’ interior, as though she was regretting letting the sugary treat tempt her into the belly of this mechanical beast. Sunset tried to comfort her as best she could, and Sonata seemed too scared to pull away from her encompassing arm.
Even the walk to her apartment had its fair share of difficulty, since Sonata had a fascination for just about every shop they passed. Sunset frequently stopped as Sonata pressed her nose up to shop windows, staring at the window displays and mumbling strange words. Once or twice, with a keen eye for intent, Sunset saw Sonata eying several shop patrons in a particular way. Taking Sonata’s wrist, she half walked, half dragged her back to the apartment building, Sonata griping and moaning all the way.
“Oh my,” said Old Jim, the doorman, as Sunset finally crossed the threshold of the building. “Who’s this young dear?” he asked good-naturedly. “Relative of yours?”
“Y-Yes,” Sunset stuttered. “Yeah, um, younger cousin. Just visiting, you know?”
“Well hello there,” Jim smiled creakily at Sonata over his desk. Sonata retreated behind Sunset’s leg, looking thoroughly mistrustful. “Oh dear,” Jim chuckled. “Don’t worry, Sunny-girl, I get that reaction a lot.” He pulled a funny face, which with his whiskery cheeks and deep-set wrinkles, looked like it could be an internet meme.
Sunset smirked as she heard Sonata try to hold in a laugh, which escaped in a snort through her nose.
“Ah ha!” Jim cackled. “There, you see. Old Jim’s not all bad, eh?” He sat back, chuckling, whilst Sunset smiled down at Sonata. The girl’s face went red, but she tried to cover herself by folding her arms and pouting.
When they finally reached Sunset’s apartment, Sunset watched Sonata carefully to see if she reacted to being back here. Sonata showed no signs of negative association with the place at all; she simply looked around with a vague, child’s interest, touching everything and picking things up to look them over. Sunset didn’t much mind; she didn’t have too many valuables, and none that were easily accessible to Sonata. Watching her from the kitchen, she fished around in the fridge.
“You like orange juice?” she asked. She didn’t think Sonata understood, but she held up the bottle for her to see.
Sonata trotted over to the counter, and watched Sunset pour the juice into a glass, and push it towards her. Stopping only to give the drink a suspicious sniff, she drank it down in one go, and eagerly held out the glass for a refill. Sunset smiled indulgently as she refilled the glass.
Please, sir. Can I have some more? she thought.
OJ in hand, Sonata returned to examining the room some more whilst Sunset rummaged around for something she could eat. She didn’t have much snack-able stuff; her parents had taught her the value of cooking, and cook she would when possible.
“Then again, I do have a few frozen TV dinners...” she murmured to herself.
Without Sunset noticing, Sonata set her glass down on the coffee table, and started picking up random things from it. A magazine, some lipstick, a beverage coaster, and—
Just as she’d clicked the ‘Start’ button on the microwave, Sunset jumped as a scream tore through the room, and something fell to the floor with a plastic clatter. She peered into the living room, and opened her mouth uncertainly.
“Sonata?” she called. The girl was nowhere to be seen. She looked to the door, which was still shut and locked. “Sonata? Where’d you—“ But upon stepping out of the kitchen area, she found Sonata crouching behind the sofa. “What are you doing?”
Sonata didn’t say anything, but tentatively put her head around the side of the couch, and stared fearfully at something beyond. Sunset followed her gaze, and saw in addition to the remote control being on the floor, the television had come on.
“You’ve never seen a TV before?” Sunset wondered aloud. When Sonata continued to stare with great distrust at the flashing screen, Sunset walked over and patted the television’s top. “It’s not going to hurt you,” she said, smiling. She picked up the remote, and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. Sonata didn’t move, but simply kept staring at the television as though she thought it was going to suddenly sprout legs and chase her.
Sunset held up the remote, catching Sonata’s eye, and flipped the channel. The screen flickered, changing to an episode of Box Battles. She heard Sonata give a little gasp. She changed the channel again to an episode of Power Ponies: In Space, which finally enticed Sonata out of hiding.
Clambering over the sofa’s arm, she knelt next to Sunset, looking at the remote control with wide-eyed fascination, biting a forefinger absently. Sunset offered her the remote.
“You want to try?” Sunset asked, smilingly. “TV,” she said, pointing at the television.
“Tee-vee...” Sonata repeated, hovering a finger over the remote with painful hesitation. Pressing the up button, the channel flickered again. Sunset found it both endearing, and frankly hilarious, to watch Sonata gasp and giggle as the screen changed over and over.
DING!
“Oh, food’s ready,”
“Food,” Sonata agreed. “TV. Food.”
“That’s... actually correct,” Sunset said, impressed, taking the no-longer-frozen dinner out of the microwave.
When Sunset put the dinner down on the table, Sonata’s fascination with changing the channel came into conflict with her need to eat. The struggle was short, and with a single huge rumble of her small stomach, she abandoned the remote and picked up the dinner tray.
“You should use the fork,” Sunset suggested as Sonata picked out the carrots with her fingers. She held the fork up for Sonata to see. “Fork,” she said clearly.
Sonata spared it a passing glance, then carried on eating, using the little piece of bread to scoop up the peas. Sunset didn’t bother trying to teach her etiquette at that moment; it didn’t seem likely that she’d learn, nor was it particularly fair given how hungry she was.
The dinner vanished in under two minutes, at which point Sonata drained the last of the OJ, and picked up the remote again. Before she began however, a thought seemed to strike her, and she turned to look at Sunset. Bowing her head a little, she said something in her unknown language. Although Sunset didn’t understand what was said, she thought she detected a grateful tone. She was, however, somewhat astonished when from inside Sonata’s white dress, the little girl pulled a dirty, crumpled draw-string bag. Tipping the bag upside down, three of four coins fell out into Sonata’s hand, which she then held out to Sunset.
“What are you...?” Sunset asked, genuinely perplexed. Then it struck her. Sonata was paying her. “Oh no, that’s okay,” she said, smiling. She pushed the hand back, but Sonata simply moved her hand around Sunset’s and thrust the coins at her more insistently.
Sunset looked into Sonata’s determined, almost defiant expression, and felt maybe it would simply be kinder just to take the coins. A single quarter, a dime, and two rusty pennies tumbled into Sunset’s hand. Sonata smiled at her, and then returned to the television.
Sunset had sat there thinking whilst Sonata flipped the channels, eventually fixing on some cartoon about a purple dragon with a pet unicorn trying to save the world from the Moon Lizard. She pondered Sonata’s behaviour: stealing, yet reciprocating favours, her apparent inability to speak English, and the strange reactions to things like buses and televisions.
She began to doubt, more than at any other point before, whether this really was Sonata Dusk. It just seemed impossible. Absently, she reached out and plucked a lock of her blue hair. Unlike the Sonata she had known, who’d kept her long hair in a ponytail, this little version had straight, shoulder length hair with a flat fringe.
Sonata pulled her head back, looking a little creeped out.
“Sorry,” Sunset said, blushing a little. They sat awkwardly for a moment, Sonata looking uncomfortable whilst Sunset tried not to feel like someone who’d lured a little homeless girl to her house for personal gratification. The frightening thing was that in a sense, she met all of those criteria.
Pursing her lips, she stood up and retrieved a pillow and cover from her bedroom, and set it on the sofa. She hoped she didn’t have to explain this part, and despite Sonata looking uncertain, she seemed to get the gist.
When Sunset had gone to make her own dinner, however – scrambled eggs and toast – she found that Sonata was no longer watching the television, but standing in front of the window, watching the oncoming dusk.
“Something wrong?” Sunset asked.
Sonata lowered her head. “Aria...” she said sadly. “Adagio...” She said a few more things, but Sunset got the idea. She thought that she should really try to be supportive, but didn’t see how to do so, being unable to talk to her. Sitting down with her dinner, she thought that the best thing to do would be to simply be there for her.
“Ooh,” she cooed, flipping the channel to nickelodeon. She personally didn’t much like what was on, but it did have the effect of enticing Sonata over to the couch again. Sunset wasn’t paying much attention to Sonata whilst eating, but all of a sudden became aware of Sonata edging along the seat, and eventually laying her head against Sunset’s side. She did it as slowly and gently as it is possible to do, as though she thought Sunset wouldn’t notice.
Sunset didn’t mind it, and didn’t try to push the boundary. She knew, or guessed at least, that Sonata was feeling vulnerable, and wanted reassurance. Sunset wasn’t the type to take advantage of something like that.
Well, not anymore, anyway.
To say the least, the day had been a strange one. Sunset had many misgivings about her choices, and even more about what the implications of them might be, but she also knew that she couldn’t have acted any other way. She couldn’t have left them alone, three little kids on the street in winter. And she didn’t feel like she could inform the authorities either. Doing so posed a great many problems, or so it seemed to Sunset. Problems that she knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with, or figure out, alone.
When the sound of slow, heavy breathing reached her, Sunset carefully lifted Sonata’s head from her and down onto the pillow, and stood up, careful not to wake the girl. Picking up her phone from coffee table, she flipped it open, and began typing a collective text message.
When Sunset had gotten up the next morning, she experienced a shift in her view of the previous day. She had invited a known thief into her home, and it hadn’t occurred to her what might happen whilst she slept. What was to stop Sonata taking what she wanted and running?
She felt a stab of guilt at this suspicious frame of mind when, upon entering the living room, she found Sonata curled like a cat on the sofa. An overwhelming warmth rose up inside her as she stroked the girl’s hair; she wondered if this was what having a child felt like.
Seeing that it was a little after seven, and Sunday, she let Sonata remain asleep whilst she cooked up some breakfast, amusing herself with how long it would take for the smell to wake Sonata up.
“Morning, sleepy head,” Sunset sang, as Sonata’s tousled head emerged over the back of the couch. “Here you go,” she said, sliding a plate of eggs and toast over the counter. Sonata seized it hungrily and dived back behind the couch.
Sunset set up her own plate and a mug of tea, and came around to sit next to her. “Geez, chew your food,” she chuckled, as Sonata scarfed an entire egg in one gulp. Within thirty seconds her plate was finished, and she immediately picked up the remote control. Sunset watched her press the ‘channel switch’ button for a while, amused by the look of frustration overcoming Sonata’s face, until finally taking pity on her and pressing the ‘power’ button.
Sunset kept one eye on the clock. Ten o’clock was two and a half hours away, but it would take half an hour to walk there. Whilst she was contemplating what she was going to say, and how she was going to present Sonata, she suddenly became aware of a peculiar smell on the sofa. Then she realised what it was.
“I think you need a bath,” Sunset said, nudging Sonata.
Getting Sonata to leave the television was a difficult business. She whined and moaned and made one or two remarks in her native language, but eventually Sunset managed to lug her off to the bathroom.
Sunset rather expected a similar, if not worse battle to get Sonata into the bath, a prospect she didn’t exactly relish. The idea of stripping her down and forcing her bodily into the bathtub made her feel incredibly deviant.
As it transpired however, no such battle of wills occurred. No sooner had Sunset turned the taps on, then Sonata grinned happily and looked altogether excited; an odd response for a kid to have towards a bath, in Sunset’s opinion. Rather to Sunset’s consternation, Sonata pulled at the thin cord around her middle, and threw off her dress and some long strip of fabric in one fluid motion before diving into the tub. Averting her eyes out of politeness, Sunset retrieved a towel for her, and set it down before making to leave. She was brought up short by Sonata saying something or other in a concerned tone. Sunset looked back, Sonata’s private area effectively concealed by the water now.
“What?” she asked.
Sonata smiled and patted the water in front of her, looking expectant.
Sunset frowned for a second, and then went red as her hair. “W-What?” she blurted. “You want me to...” she pointed at herself and then at the bath. Sonata nodded eagerly, grinning her gap-toothed smile. “Oh! No, no, no,” Sunset laughed nervously. “No, that’s okay. I’m all clean.”
Sonata’s thin shoulders slumped. To Sunset’s horror, the girl’s eyes seemed to grow larger in her face, and her lip began to tremble.
“N-No,” Sunset said, raising her hands and shaking her head.
Sonata clasped her hands together and began rocking from side to side, her eyes shining.
Sweet Celestia, that’s just not right...
Within five minutes, Sunset had exited the bathroom and returned, wearing an old swim suit. She knew that such a measure was ludicrous and utterly pointless, but it made her feel moderately better about sitting in a bath alone with a little girl.
In stark contrast to Sunset’s discomfort, Sonata was positively gleeful. She giggled at the lathered shampoo on Sunset’s head and splashed her whenever she seemed to think Sunset wasn’t paying attention. Sunset had to admit to herself that the perfectly unconcerned way in which Sonata was treating the situation was a little comforting, but it also intrigued her. Was communal bathing a normal thing to her?
What Sunset figured out too late was that, when they got out of the bath, Sonata had nothing to put back on. Sunset held the “dress” out of her reach, wincing at how greyed and dirty it was. Sonata apparently took this as a game of some sort, for she took off butt-naked into the lounge, and refused to put on the towel Sunset had used to dry her with.
“They don’t fit...” Sunset groaned, when Sonata finally consented to try on some clothes. The problem was that Sunset didn’t have any smaller clothes that were Sonata’s size; she had arrived from Equestria essentially the same height as she was now, and even her elastic-banded knickers refused to hug to Sonata’s wasted frame.
Scratching her chin thoughtfully, Sunset eyed her bed through the open door to her bedroom, and believed that she had an idea.
Attempting to ignore Sonata dancing around the room, Sunset set to work cutting up an old bed sheet, trying to make it look like the white dress Sonata had been wearing. This wasn’t difficult, since the dress could more accurately be described as a glorified smock, and Sunset’s limited amount of sewing equipment was adequate enough to piece it all together.
Snapping a string of pinkish-purple thread between her teeth, she tied the end and held up the garment.
“It looks mostly the same,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as Sonata.
Sonata turned her head to one side. Seated on the couch with her chin resting on her knuckles, still stark naked, she vaguely resembled The Thinker. She stood up to allow Sunset to put the dress on her, and gave it an approving nod once she’d skipped around the room a little.
“You need some kind of underwear though,” Sunset muttered uneasily.
Sonata tugged at the base of her new dress, as though trying to keep out a draft.
“I guess I have enough here to make you some...” Sunset said speculatively, sifting through the remains of the bed sheet. She was just deciding that she probably didn’t, when Sonata picked up the longest strip, and without any fuss, wrapped it around her nethers.
“Huh...” Sunset said blankly. “Well that would explain why you didn’t have underwear before.” She looked at Sonata speculatively whilst she tied the pinkish cord around her middle. “You’ll need a jacket though.”
Sunset sat opposite her friends, eying them all one by one. They in turn, all completely ignored her, staring like one single entity, at Sonata. She, poor girl, sank low in her chair, determinately not looking at any of them.
“Wow,” Rainbow said finally, breaking the silence.
“She does kind of look like her, doesn’t she,” Applejack added.
“What in the world is she wearing?” Rarity asked, distastefully.
Sonata shrugged off the black leather jacket Sunset had given her. It was so big that it made her look a little like a shiny, metallic bat with skinny blue legs and a white belly, but this wasn’t the object of Rarity’s scrutiny.
“My goodness,” she cooed peevishly, eying the roughly sewn white dress. “It looks like you made this thing yourself.”
Trying not to let any of them see the rising colour in her face, Sunset pushed the slice of cake in front of Sonata further forward, shooing Rarity backwards in the same movement. She gave them all a meaningful look not to crowd her.
“The poor dear,” Fluttershy breathed, her huge blue eyes shining as she surveyed Sonata’s scrawny arms. “She looks like she’s starving.”
“No kidding,” Rainbow grimaced. “Eat up, kid. Put some meat on those bones.”
They all watched her, each giving her reassuring or easy smiles. Unfortunately, Sonata still seemed much perturbed by the staring, and consequently too afraid to touch the cake.
“She doesn’t talk much,” Applejack observed.
“I don’t think she speaks or understands English,” Sunset said, tugging idly at a lock of hair.
“She does talk though?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what language is it?”
Sunset paused. “I don’t know.”
They all frowned, giving it some thought.
“Elle parle français?” Rarity offered.
“Sprechen Sie deutsch?” Fluttershy asked Sonata kindly.
“Español?” Rainbow suggested, shrugging.
Sonata responded to none of them.
“Mozhet, ona po-russki govorit?” Applejack suggested.
“What was that?” Rainbow demanded.
“Russian. Mah great uncle Anton lives outside Kursk,” Applejack explained upon seeing the perplexed looks on every face.
“Maybe if she said something, we could guess it,” Rarity suggested.
“I don’t know...” Sunset said slowly. “I couldn’t tell what it was.”
“Go on, dear,” Rarity said to Sonata. “Could you say something for us?”
Sonata remained silent, pressing into the back of her chair. Apparently absentmindedly, she began tugging at her fingers, as though unsure what to do.
“Yeah, see,” Sunset began, gesturing helplessly. “This is kind of what I mean. She doesn’t understand what we’re saying.”
“There are none but Zuul,” Rainbow Dash said, eerily.
“I told ya to stop quoting that dang movie,” Applejack chided.
“Zuul?” Sonata asked. Sunset looked at her quickly as she said something else, apparently to herself, in which only the word “Aria” was discernible.
“Dang,” Applejack said flatly. “I never done heard that kinda language.”
“It didn’t sound like anything I’ve heard before,” Fluttershy concurred in a troubled voice.
Whilst they all puzzled this, Pinkie burst into laughter. “Oh you sillies! Sounds Greek to me,” she snorted, and then to Sunset’s utter astonishment, leaned over the table, and cheerfully said something in the same language to Sonata.
Sonata’s eyebrows shot up under her fringe; she looked as surprised as Sunset felt. She said something else, which Pinkie replied to.
“Now hold on a minute,” Rainbow interrupted, tugging Pinkie back into her seat. “You understand what she’s saying?”
“Yuh-huh,” Pinkie said brightly.
“Well what’s she speaking?” Rainbow demanded sceptically.
Pinkie snorted again. “I just told you. Ancient Greek. Duh.”
Sunset frowned. Well that would explain the dress and the sandals. And maybe some of the strange behaviour. She knew that Romans had communal bathing, but had the Greeks? Human world history was not her strong suit...
“Hold on one moment, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said suspiciously. “How in the world do you know Ancient Greek?”
“Classical and Koine actually, going off of Attic,” Pinkie corrected. “I learned it with Maud when she was studying to go on her archaeological trip.” She shrugged. “They needed a rock expert.”
“And why did that necessitate her learning to speak Ancient Greek?” Rainbow asked, evidently confused.
“Cuz she wanted to read the rocks,” Pinkie explained, in the slow, deliberate manner of explaining that one plus one equals two to an overly emotional toddler.
“So what you’re telling us,” Sunset said quickly, before anyone else could interrupt. “You understand what she’s saying?”
“Oh yeah,” Pinkie assured her, waving an airy hand. “She’s speaking a late form of Classical. I know it like one, two, three,” she said, raising three fingers in turn.
“So what is she saying?” Sunset asked eagerly.
Pinkie listened to Sonata, who’d been talking for some time, apparently unaware of the debate going on around her. Sunset thought perhaps that the lack of anyone to talk to over the previous day had built up inside her, and was erupting into this effusion.
“She says you don’t have any oil for your bath,” Pinkie noted.
Sunset blushed furiously at the thought of the bath that morning, although she hoped that no one noticed.
“She thinks that you’re a nice lady, although your hair kinda makes you look like your head is on fire,” Pinkie continued, translating smoothly.
Sonata smiled at Sunset, as though she had complimented her. Sunset smiled back, unsure whether the description of her hair was offensive or not. “Okay. So, um...” Sunset tried to think of an appropriate question.
“Ask her what happened to her,” Applejack said to Pinkie. “Like how she got so small.”
They all watched as Pinkie and Sonata conversed. Pinkie, animated as usual, gestured and shuffled around as much as she usually did; there was no getting the mood of the conversation from her. Sonata on the other hand, looked utterly perplexed, and replied with amused incredulity, rather as though she thought Pinkie Pie was crazy; a typical reaction from strangers.
“What did she say?” Sunset asked.
“That I have a mind like a snapped aulos, and that it blows in the wrong direction,” Pinkie said looking blank. “I wonder what that means.”
“Is that all she said?”
“She also said that she doesn’t know what we’re talking about. You know,” Pinkie said, growing thoughtful, “I don’t think that she remembers us.”
“We are sure that it’s her, right?” Rainbow asked.
“It looks like her...” Fluttershy said tentatively. “She’s just small and adorable now.” She looked around furtively. “Not that you weren’t adorable before,” she said quickly to Sonata. “I just mean that, you know, when you were before, you weren’t as small and... um...”
“She was with the other two when I found her,” Sunset said, as Fluttershy shrank down in her seat. “It can’t be a coincidence that there’re three little girls who look like the sirens, and have their names too.”
“That’s a good point, darling,” Rarity said, nodding wisely.
“Well here’s my biggest question,” Applejack said, jabbing the table with a finger. “What do we do with her?”
“Do with her?” Sunset repeated nervously.
Applejack leaned forward on the table, a conspiratorial look on her face. Instinctively, everyone else leaned in too, even Sonata.
“She’s a little kid out on the streets; we cain’t just leave her out there, and I doubt any of us can just take a kid in off the street.”
“Easy,” Rainbow Dash said. “We tell Principle Celestia. She’ll tell the proper authorities or whatever.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Sunset said uneasily.
“Me neither,” Applejack agreed.
“Why not?” Rainbow asked, frowning.
“Well first off,” Sunset began, “we don’t know why they’ve turned into children.”
“So?” Rainbow shrugged, evidently unenlightened.
“So what if they undergo other magical transformations?” Sunset said, annoyed. “What if they turn back to normal? What if they keep getting younger? What if they regain their powers? It’s too much of an unknown to just assume they won’t change in some other way.”
Rainbow blinked, looking troubled.
“That’s a fair point,” Rarity added slowly. “If they did somehow get their powers back through this... change they’ve undergone, we’re the only ones with the magic to stop them.”
“Or what if something dreadful happens to them?” Fluttershy piped up fearfully. “Only Sunset or Princess Twilight might know how to help them.”
“And if we do hand them over to Principle Celestia, and Vice Principal Luna, well, they ain’t stupid,” Applejack put in. “If they recognise these gals as the Dazzlings, how’re we supposed to explain that? Ya’ll know they’ll want us to.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Rainbow admitted. “But—“
“And what if they don’t want to go to the proper authorities?” Fluttershy added.
“Well, that’s not really up to—“
“And what if—“
“Okay, I get it!” Rainbow snapped. She turned pink as she noticed that the entire cafe was turning to stare at her. She cleared her throat. “Okay, I get that we should probably think on this some more,” she conceded. “But what do we do with Sonata until then? And what about her sisters?” She frowned. “Hey, where’d Little Blue go?”
Sunset looked down. Empty chair.
“Did any of you guys see...” she let her sentence tail off. There she was, over by the door.
“Oh wow,” Rarity breathed in astonishment. “It is them.”
“Sonata?” Sunset called over to her.
The girl turned guiltily. Just outside the door were unmistakably her sisters, their dirty dresses blowing in the chill wind. Adagio directed a grim look inside as Aria hissed furiously at Sonata through the small opening in the door.
“Wait!” Sunset called. “Pinkie, come over and explain to them.”
“Okie dokie!” Pinkie trilled, bouncing over the table and skipping after Sunset.
Upon the other two seeing Sunset coming, Aria gave up all restraint. She pushed the door fully open and seized Sonata’s arm, but Sonata put up some resistance.
“Wait a moment. Oh, Pinkie, can you...?”
Pinkie obliged, quickly offering the three girls a short greeting. Much as with Sonata, the other two sirens seemed somewhat surprised to be addressed in their native language; they paused in bewilderment, looking wary.
“Tell them they don’t have to live on the streets anymore,” Sunset said hastily, saying the first thing to came to mind. She was only too aware that the three of them would only stay as long as their surprise held them. “Tell them they can live with me. At least for a while,” she muttered the last part.
Pinkie jabbered for a little bit, keeping at least Adagio enthralled. Aria looked impatient, and Sonata nervous. When Pinkie finished talking, Adagio spoke, her eyes on Sunset.
“Huh, I guess that is a point,” Pinkie said, looking impressed.
“What did she say?” Sunset asked.
“She asked how they can be sure that you won’t just sell them to a brothel or into slavery.”
Sunset stared at her. Several potent emotions swirled around in Sunset’s head for a moment or two, before settling on the one that seemed to make the most sense.
“Why... would she ask that?” Sunset asked hoarsely, her throat dry.
Unfortunately, Pinkie seemed to take this as a question to be posed, and turned to translate it. Before Sunset could stop her, she’d spoken a few words, and immediately Adagio’s expression turned suspicious. She bumped Aria’s arm and made a small gesture with her head before turning and running. Aria in her turn took firm hold of Sonata’s wrist and pulled her away. Taken by surprise, Sonata had no choice but to trip along in Aria’s wake.
Sunset cursed. “Don’t translate that!” she snapped at Pinkie. Rushing outside, she saw Aria turn a corner, still pulling Sonata along. As Aria disappeared, Sonata twisted out of the grip and stood on the corner for a moment, looking back. The gesture she made was quickness itself, but Sunset saw it distinctly. Inclining her head, Sonata touched her right hand to her chest, and then vanished after Aria.
Sunset didn’t pursue them. That last little gesture had given her pause. As she stared at the spot where Sonata had disappeared, Sunset’s friends emerged to see what had happened.
Rainbow whistled.
“Geez,” she said, impressed. “They move fast for scrawny little things.”
“Dear?” Rarity asked cautiously, putting a hand on Sunset’s shoulder.
“Huh?” Sunset said, coming to herself.
“Shouldn’t we...” Rarity left the sentence hanging, giving Sunset a questioning look.
Sunset considered. “They don’t trust me,” Sunset mumbled, biting her finger. “Perhaps it would be best...” she paused. “Maybe I shouldn’t try to force them to...”
“We get what you’re saying, Sugarcube,” Applejack said, giving Sunset an approving pat on the back. “But on the other hand, they’re just kids now. They cain’t be expected to look after themselves. ‘Specially not in the cold months.”
“Oh!” Rarity exclaimed, her melodic tone quivering. “I know what we can do. Why don’t we all put forward some money for some supplies for them? If they don’t trust us enough to come live with us, maybe they’ll at least take food and clothes and things.”
This idea was readily agreed to. Rarity in particular disappeared for an entire hour and a half as they all hit the mall and the nearby supermarket. Whilst Pinkie and Applejack had selected a range of food to give, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had gone to pick out some clothes, going off what they thought Sonata’s size would be.
“We selected a size or so bigger, just in case,” Fluttershy said, holding up a bright yellow turtle-neck.
“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed, trying to stretch out a pair of jeans. “Reckon they can just roll up the sleeves or legs if they need to, you know?”
“And we got ‘em some bread, milk ‘n apples,” Applejack added. “Although actually these apples I had in my truck.”
“And, Pinkie?” Sunset asked, guessing the answer to the question she was about to ask. “What did you get?”
“Bottled water,” Pinkie said innocently.
“Oh,” Sunset said, taken aback.
“And cake,” Pinkie admitted. “And cookies, and some candy, and packets of crisps, and some—“
“Alright,” Sunset interrupted, raising her hands and trying not to roll her eyes. “I get the point.”
Pinkie paused for a moment or two, her eyes going this way and that. “And some water flavouring stuff.” She held up an array of the flavoured powder packets. “In six different flavours.”
“What did you do, Sunset?” Applejack asked, curiously. “You look out of breath.”
“I’ve been trying to find out where Rarity went. I couldn’t find her for the life of me.”
“Well I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell us where she’s been,” Applejack smirked, looking over Sunset’s shoulder. “Here she comes now.”
Sunset only had time to look around before she was nearly bowled over by a shopping trolley. Nimbly side-stepping it, Rarity appeared from behind the monstrous pile of linens and fabrics.
“Rarity?” Sunset exclaimed. “You didn’t get them all this, did you?”
“Geez, Rarity. I know your thing is generosity, but damn!” Rainbow snickered.
“Oh shut up!” Rarity snapped, pulling out her phone like a mad-man pulling out a switch-blade. “Sunset, look at this!”
“W-What?” Sunset asked, resisting the urge to back away. Rarity had a wild look in her eye that was somewhat alarming.
“I saw it inside, the televisions in the electronics shop. It’s all over the news!”
“What is?” Applejack asked.
Rarity bit her lip as she swiped her finger across her phone. “You did say you found the girls living in the industrial sector, right?”
“Yes...” Sunset said slowly.
“And they were in an abandoned warehouse?” Rarity inquired further, in the manner of someone deciding which wire to cut as the countdown approaches zero.
The effect of Rarity’s hesitancy was building a heavy sense of foreboding in Sunset’s gut. She snatched the phone away and looked at the screen. A bucket of ice cascaded into her gut, chilling her from head to foot. All of her friends crowded around to see.
The phone was open to a news article with the caption
News Now: Fire Breaks Out in City Industrial Sector!
Followed by a video showing firefighters tackling a blaze around... around...
“Sunset?” Applejack said quietly. “Is... is that...?”
Sunset couldn’t respond. She nodded tremulously, as a thousand horrible images flashed through her mind.
“When did this...” Sunset cleared her tight throat. “When did this happen?”
“About an hour ago,” Rarity said swiping the screen to move the article down. “The fire started about thirty minutes after we... you know, last saw them.”
Sunset couldn’t say anything.
“Come on, now,” Applejack said bracingly. “We don’t know that they were there. They’re probably just out robbing some place.” She paused. “That sounded better in my head.”
“There’s been no report of anybody dying,” Rarity said quickly. “It’s unlikely they were there. I’m sure that’s all Applejack meant.”
“Yeah, what Rarity said,” Applejack mumbled.
In a transparent effort to convince Sunset that none of them thought that the sirens were hurt, they had given her all of the stuff that they’d bought that day. The idea, Sunset knew, was that she’d need them for when she found the sirens again, and she was grateful for their confidence. But she also noticed that even they had their misgivings.
Sunset contemplated the rolls of fabric against her living room wall that Rarity had hastily insisted she have before hurriedly leaving, her voice heightening in pitch the longer she stayed. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy had a harder time of hiding their feelings. Pinkie, whose feelings cascaded outwards like a super novae over a virgin planet, only managed to stop herself crying through some bizarre biological ability to literally suck the tears back in whenever they escaped. Fluttershy pretended to have a cold, and blew her nose frequently to have an excuse to wipe her cheeks clean of the silvery streaks of tears.
Even Applejack and Rainbow Dash let some of their concern show through. Rainbow’s attitude turned taciturn and irritable, exploding at the least provocation, whilst Applejack’s mood darkened into silence and sighing.
But only Pinkie offered to remain with Sunset, and late into the afternoon, Pinkie could be found seated next to Sunset on her couch, rocking back and forth. She wasn’t her usual self, Sunset noticed; her usually buoyant personality had dimmed into a tentative sort of nervousness. Even her hair seemed to have deflated.
That’s not norm— Sunset stopped herself, remembering not to use the ‘N’ word.
“Thanks for sticking around, Pinkie,” Sunset said eventually. “But there’s no need, really. I’ll be fine.”
“You will eventually,” Pinkie said, turning her mug of cocoa around in her hands. “But not now. How can you be?”
“It’s not like we knew them well,” Sunset said, shrugging. “It’s sad, but it’s not like I had any deep attachment.”
“Don’t say stupid things,” Pinkie whispered, darkly.
Sunset looked at her, intending to reply, but a cold feeling came over her when she saw the dark glint in Pinkie’s eye, and thought better of it.
“You want to play a video game or something?” Sunset ended up asking. She didn’t really want to play, but sitting there drinking hot beverages with Pinkie was starting to feel like the opening to a murder mystery novel. Unfortunately, playing video games didn’t seem to cheer Pinkie up any. She remained brooding and unsmiling, quite unlike her usual self.
How has this turned into me cheering her up? Sunset wondered wryly.
Sunset was almost glad when someone knocked on the door. She didn’t want any visitors, but a reason to get away from the sour mood enveloping Pinkie was a welcome relief.
Before she got to the door, the knocking sounded again, more frantically.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sunset called. “Grief. What could possibly be so—“ she stuttered to a halt as she opened the door. Her surprise caught in her throat.
“Uh... Tee-vee?” Sonata said uncertainly, waggling her fingers at Sunset.
Sunset stared, mouth agape. There they were, on her doorstep. Adagio glared up at her, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. Sonata, awkward and fidgety, was shifting her weight from side-to-side, unable to meet Sunset’s eye. Aria stared at the floor, her face tight, as though she was holding something in.
“What’s going—“ Pinkie asked, looking over Sonata’s shoulder. She gave an exaggerated gasp, and her hair sprang back into its usual bounciness with an unmistakable ‘Boing!’ sound. “Hey!” she cried, seizing Aria and picking her up. “It’s you guys!”
Pinkie’s elation levelled off when Aria cried out in evident pain and began struggling in her grip. The smell of smoke and burned fabric wafted into Sunset’s apartment, and Sunset suddenly noticed that all of their white dresses were greyed, and Aria’s was singed at the edges. Then she saw the dirty cloth wrapped over her right arm, and the reddened skin around it.
“Pinkie, get my first aid stuff out of the bathroom. Quick!”
The following hour was total pandemonium. Sunset’s first aid kit was a small thing that came with the apartment, and thus mostly consisted of plasters, pH measuring tags, and anti-bacterial ointment. She did have a bottle of aloe vera, as she herself had been burned a few times whilst cooking, but otherwise she had little in the way of medical supplies.
Pinkie returned from Mr. Ferry’s room across the hall with an armful of bandages, dropping them down and hopping on the spot as Sunset undid the make-shift covering on Aria’s arm. Aria struggled not to move, held in place by the other sirens whilst Sunset had firm hold of her wrist, and peeled off the cloth. It came away with a sticky, puss residue, but the burn seemed to be relatively minor. The skin was largely intact, and only a few small areas were burnt away. Still, it couldn’t be said to look painless. Aria tried to pull away several times as Sunset moved to put the green gel to the burn.
“Pinkie, will you please explain what this is?” Sunset asked after the fourth time Aria had yanked her arm back.
“I have. Like, twice now,” Pinkie exclaimed.
“And what did she say?”
“She said to keep your witchcraft magic away from her. And then she called you a... well, she said to keep your magic away.”
“Tell her it’s medicine, not magic,” Sunset suggested.
“What do you think I’ve been telling her?” Pinkie complained. “That it’s candy? If it was, it’d be terrible candy. It tastes like cactus and cough sweets.”
“How do you know—“ Sunset cut herself off, deciding not to ask. “Look, it’s not magic,” she said calmly to the sirens. She squirted some onto her hand and rubbed it into her own arm, and held it up. “See? Nothing magical. Just medicine.”
Pinkie translated, but Aria at least seemed unimpressed. Sonata hurriedly said something to Adagio, who seemed to be wavering. Eventually, Adagio spoke a few strict-sounding words in Aria’s ear. Aria scowled, but closed her eyes and stretched out her trembling arm. Gently taking her wrist, Sunset began to spread the gel over the wound. Aria’s arm jerked a little, and she held back a gasp of pain, which then relaxed into a tremulous deep breathing. She opened her eyes, evidently surprised; Sunset imagined she had not expected the cool feeling that the aloe vera induced. This had the positive effect of calming Aria down a little as Sunset tenderly rubbed the gel into the wound.
Once Aria had been properly bandaged up, she inspected her bandaged arm and shot Sunset a few furtive looks.
“She said thanks,” Pinkie told Sunset when Aria muttered something.
“Oh,” Sunset said, slightly surprised. “You’re welcome.” She smiled at Aria.
“Well technically she bid the gods to bless you, but it’s basically the same thing,” Pinkie amended.
“Yes, thank you, Pinkie.”
“Although if you look at it in a philosophical sense,” Pinkie began again.
“Could you ask them if they want something to eat, please?” Sunset interrupted before Pinkie could really get into her stride.
Strangely enough, despite the fact that all three of them looked as though they were still literally starving, Aria and Adagio proved to be a great deal more picky about what they ate than Sonata was. Whilst Sonata eagerly devoured the apples, bread, and cake, and downed her grapefruit soda in under three seconds, Aria eyed her cake as though she thought it was poisonous. That is until Sonata snatched it out of her hand and scoffed it down before Aria could get a word in edgeways.
Adagio refused to eat anything beyond the apple, and pushed the soda away so forcefully it fell off the table and splashed over the carpet. Ignoring Sunset’s look of outrage, she sat with her arms folded, face set like a stone.
“I don’t get it,” Pinkie sighed after several fruitless attempts to get Adagio to speak.
“I get that she doesn’t trust me,” Sunset said sadly, “but I don’t understand why that means she has to act this way.” She wrung the rag out into the sink and put the stain remover away, eyeing the three girls sitting on the couch. Despite Aria and Adagio’s reticence in being in Sunset’s home, neither could be entirely aloof to the concept of television.
With a sly smile on her face, Sonata had switched the television on, making sure the volume was high. Adagio leapt back and pressed herself hard into the couch, her face going paler than goat’s cheese. Aria, who’d just been tearing apart her crusty bread with her teeth, inhaled a chunk of it and began to choke.
Laughing raucously whilst Adagio unstuck herself from in between the cushions of the chair, and Pinkie Pie heimliched the bread out of Aria’s windpipe, Sonata flipped the channel a few times. Naturally enough, once the other two had discovered that the TV was no terrifying magical edifice, they smoothly proceeded to arguing over the remote control.
Before either Pinkie or Sunset could intercede, the other two leapt upon Sonata and began a furious battle for control. Holding the remote out of reach, Sonata kicked out, only for Adagio to bite Sonata’s ankle. Seizing the fallen appliance from Sonata’s slackened grip, Adagio leapt up, and then fell spectacularly over Aria’s outstretched leg. Before Aria could act, Sonata yanked her back by the back of her dress.
“Hey!” Sunset barked, as Adagio grabbed Aria’s bandaged arm. “That’s not on!” She seized Adagio’s wrist and pulled her away from Aria, who backed away, nursing her arm and biting back tears.
Rather to Sunset’s surprise, Adagio reacted a great deal more violently than she expected. Twisting like a wounded snake, she gave a guttural, animal cry and tore her arm from Sunset’s grip. Sunset almost stepped back at the fury in Adagio’s face. Breathing heavily, she made for the door, only to be brought up short as Sonata cried out to her.
“What are they saying?” Sunset asked Pinkie, as the two girls had what seemed like a heated dialogue.
“Well,” Pinkie began, “she’s begging her not to go,” she indicated Sonata and Adagio respectively. “And promising that she can have the godly box wand. But she says she doesn’t want to stay,” she pointed to Adagio again over the top of her other arm. “But she says they don’t have anywhere else to go,” she continued, folding her other arm under the first one. “And now she’s saying that she’s not going to stay another minute in this place with the creepy witch woman and her babbling pink homunculus.”
Pinkie frowned suddenly, unknotting her arms.
“Creepy witch woman?” Sunset asked, feeling kind of hurt.
“Babbling pink homunculus!?” Pinkie erupted. “Why I oughta—“
“Not now, Pinkie.”
Sonata was wringing her hands, and giving Adagio the big puppy-dog eyes. Cheeks regaining colour and rolling her eyes, Adagio gave a snort of impatience and flopped down onto the sofa again. Folding her arms so tightly one might have supposed she had an invisible straightjacket on, she glowered at the floor and ignored everyone.
Sunset watched her closely, unsure what to make of this behaviour. She looked to Pinkie, but her friend only shrugged, evidently as clueless as she was. Eventually, Sonata sidled up to Adagio and spoke soft words to her, which according to Pinkie, was a press for her to eat. Apparently to stop Sonata pestering her, Adagio huffily bit into the apple she was given, snapping off great rough chunks with a brutality that suggested the apple had wronged her at some point.
Sunset kept an eye on this whilst tending to Aria’s arm again. “Pinkie, could you text everyone and tell them what’s happened, please?”
“What should I tell them?” Pinkie asked, whipping out her phone.
“What?”
“What should I text?”
“Err... they’re safe? They’re here? I don’t know, common sense stuff.”
“Huh,” Pinkie said, thoughtfully. She tapped away at her phone for a bit. “Okay, done.”
“Thanks. Now—“
“Hey Sunset,” Pinkie interrupted.
“What?”
“If you’re going to be a mom now, does this mean you’re not going to school anymore?”
Sunset stared at her. She was about to ask “What?” again, but she was aware that she’d been forced to say that several times already in response to Pinkie’s irrepressibly arbitrary nature. She looked at the three sirens, all staring at the television with varying degrees of interest on their faces.
“Pinkie, I’m not going to be a mom to them,” Sunset said, frowning. “That’s just silly.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Sunset gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “Because, like... well, first of all, I’m not their mom.”
“Yeah,” Pinkie agreed, waving her hand. “Go on.”
Sunset made an impatient noise and spread her arms. “Pinkie, I don’t know what you want from me here. I can’t be a mom. In this world I’m just a kid.”
“In this world?” Pinkie asked, narrowing one eye.
“Well in Equestria I’m an adult. Ponies come of age quicker. But I still wouldn’t be a mom there.” Sunset paused, looking at the floor. “I mean, I don’t think I would be.”
“You didn’t know anyone your age who was a mom?” Pinkie asked. Leaning on her hands on the back of the sofa, she tilting disturbingly close to Sunset’s shoulder.
“W-Well...” Sunset said, edging away. “I guess there were a few with a special somepon—I mean, special somebody. But I wasn’t one of them. Anyway,” she said, regaining her composure. “This discussion is academic anyway. I have school; I can’t be a stay-at-home mom.”
“True,” Pinkie agreed. “Which brings me to my point. What are you going to do with them whilst you’re at school?”
Sunset’s shoulders slumped. She looked at Pinkie, feeling a chill come over her, not the least because Pinkie had actually made a coherent point. Sunset hadn’t considered what she’d do with the sirens whilst she was at school.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Sugarcube?”
“No. But it’s the only choice we have, I think.”
Sunset gazed at the opaque glass of the door, her eyes flowing over the words engraved into it. The name did not make her feel any easier about the situation.
“If we don’t want people knowing because they might tell the authorities,” Rainbow said, doubtfully, “do you really think it’s a good idea to tell them? Of all people.”
“Again,” Sunset said heavily, “no, I don’t. But it’s the only choice we have. And they know about the sirens and about what they did as the Dazzlings. They know we were the only ones who could stop them. If anyone can help us and understand, well...” She sighed. “They’re the only ones I can think of.”
“But what if they decide to inform the authorities anyway?” Rarity asked, chewing her thumb nail.
Sunset tugged Rarity’s hand from her mouth before she could mess up her nail polish. “Then there’s nothing that we can do. But like I say, who else can we ask? We can’t risk asking any of your parents; they don’t know about what we’ve done.”
All of her friends looked at each other, sighing and nodding. None of them had told their parents about what Sunset had done, or what the Dazzling had done. They couldn’t hide the magic, but that didn’t mean having to put their parents backs up to people who could no longer do harm. Or so had been their opinions.
Sunset looked down at the sirens. Adagio and Aria were looking around at the school in mild interest, spotting all of the bright, primary colours, pictures, banners, and trophies. Sonata held Sunset’s hand. Although Sunset hadn’t noticed it, Sonata had watched her stare at the door, and was now regarding the door with suspicion.
“Are we all ready?” Sunset asked. Her friends all set their expressions.
Pinkie pulled out a pair of shades and set them in front of her eyes, her chin thrust out. “I was born ready.”
“Hey!” Rainbow snapped, snatching the glasses back. Pinkie grinned innocently, dodging Rainbow’s intended smack to the head.
Sunset raised a hand on the door, and repressing the instant desire to turn around and walk away, she knocked three times.
“Come in,” said a voice from within, and Sunset pulled the door open.
The inside of the office was the sort of place where fears either rested, or spiked into terror. It wasn’t the room itself that had this effect as such, but what the room contained. A large wooden desk sat in front of a tall school flag, and a shelf crammed with books and trophies. Strip lights hung from the ceiling, casting an iridescent light upon the occupants as the sunlight failed to penetrate the blinds on the window. To an adult, these surroundings, and the distinct smell of warm paper from the printer, would have the feel of an office or other such mundane location. To a student however, should they care about such things, there were few things through the school day that could inspire more trepidation. Mostly because of who occupied the office.
Principal Celestia didn’t look up at first; she finished scribbling something on some formal piece of paper on her desk, and placed it into a tray before looking up. Her eyes roved over Sunset and her friends, and then down at the sirens. Her brow creased ever so slightly, but she looked back up at Sunset specifically, and smiled a polite smile.
“Hello girls. Is there something we can help you with?”
Sunset held Celestia’s gaze, but could feel all of her friends giving her sideways looks. Behind Celestia, running through a filing cabinet, was Vice Principal Luna. At Celestia’s words, she looked around as well, directing a more suspicious look at the three sirens.
“I... hope so,” Sunset answered. She bit her lip as Celestia raised her eyebrows a little, catching the hesitancy in Sunset’s tone.
“Might I ask who these children you have with you are?” Celestia asked, not looking away from Sunset’s face.
“That’s actually what we came to talk to you about,” Sunset muttered, resisting an urge to tug at a lock of her hair.
In short order, she explained who she and her friends believed the three girls to be, and the odd circumstances and characteristics that they had discovered since encountering them. Principal Celestia remained seated with her hands steepled in front of her, a thoughtful expression on her face. Vice principal Luna on the other hand looked very shrewd. Her eyes flickered between Celestia and the three children, and once to Sunset’s face.
When Sunset had finished explaining, Celestia interlaced her fingers, staring at her desk a while.
“I have to wonder, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia began, “why you’ve come to me about this matter.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Sunset said awkwardly. “The thing is, we sort of need your help.”
“I’d figured that much out,” Celestia said, smiling. “But with what exactly? And more to the point, why have you come to me?” She sighed at Sunset’s look of confusion. “Twice now, in recent time, I have failed to spot and stop threats to the safety of this school and its students.”
“Sister—“ Luna began, but Celestia cut her off with a raised hand.
“Perhaps I could not be expected to counter the... supernatural aspects of these encounters, which you and your friends have been able to deal with, but I, as an adult, and the individual responsible for all of your safeties, should have been at least aware of the mundane signs of danger.” She exhaled slowly. “Under these circumstances, I hope you’ll understand why it is I am surprised that you would come to me for any sort of help in this particular area.” She nodded towards the sirens.
Sunset looked at her three wards. As Celestia lowered her elbows to her desk and leant forward, Sonata stepped nimbly backwards and behind Sunset’s legs. Adagio, who’d been glaring at Celestia with great suspicion, narrowed her magenta eyes and folded her arms. Aria stared at the floor, apparently taking no interest in the conversation at all.
“Extraordinary,” Celestia mumbled. “It certainly looks like them. Do you have any idea how this came about?”
At that moment, Adagio let out a derisive sound and turned her head away, saying something in her native language. Whatever she said, the tone was scathing enough to let everyone in the room know the intent.
“Some things don’t change, apparently,” Rarity whispered, her lip quivering.
Sunset gave Pinkie a questioning look. Pinkie cleared her throat. “Something about, err... well...”
“Pinkie can understand what they say,” Sunset said in answer to Celestia’s slight frown.
“I see,” Celestia said, looking rather impressed. She gave Pinkie an indulgent smile. “What did she say?”
Celestia blinked, and then shared a raised eyebrow with her sister. Both women looked back to Pinkie, their expressions meaningful.
“I’d really rather you told me what was said, Ms. Pie,” Celestia said levelly.
Sunset at least registered the usage of Pinkie’s surname rather than her given one, and the shift in atmosphere this inspired.
“It may be important,” Celestia added more kindly.
Pinkie cleared her throat, giving the most nervous giggle Sunset had ever heard. “Well, she asked a question.”
“And what question did she ask?” Luna inquired, her voice full of foreboding suspicion.
Pinkie cleared her throat again and swallowed. “Erm... she asked if this, err... if Principal Celestia was...”
Sunset stared at Pinkie in bewilderment. She came over with an idea that perhaps she didn’t want to know what it was Adagio had said, as it was something that could make Pinkie turn so brightly red.
“It’s okay, Pinkie,” Sunset said encouragingly. “If it’s something shocking, I’m sure she’s just saying it out of anxiety.”
“Indeed,” Principal Celestia said, smiling pleasantly. “Speak freely, Ms. Pie. Whatever it is, I’d like to know.”
Pinkie looked around with desperate eyes, and Sunset could tell that she was hoping someone, anyone, would come to her rescue. But no one said anything. They simply stared at her with varying degrees of interest on their face. Apparently realising she had no way of not saying what was asked of her, she licked her lips, and then spoke in a rush, as though to get it out before her tongue decided to cut her off.
“She asked if this is the brothel Fire-head is selling them to. And she called you a... um...” Pinkie’s explanation sputtered to a halt.
An almost comical silence fell over the scene. Celestia’s mouth was slightly open, and a sort of braying sound escaped it before she managed to close it again. Luna apparently went to say something, but was so surprised that it caught in her throat. Both women looked down at Adagio, eyes wide.
“Wh... I...” Celestia coughed politely into her fist. “Why would she... how does she know what a brothel is?”
“What have you girls being filling her head with?” Luna snapped angrily.
Sunset and her friend erupted in protestation.
“Us?” Rainbow exclaimed.
“How could we fill her head with anything?” Rarity huffed indignantly. “Only Pinkie can understand what she’s saying!”
Fluttershy let out a miserable little squeak, although actual speech seemed quite beyond her.
“I-I assure you we haven’t said anything to her that... I mean about...” Sunset stuttered to a halt.
“Luna, I doubt very much that Sunset or her friends have done anything to pollute the minds of these young children,” Celestia said, quellingly. “I think it more likely they learned about that sort of thing whilst living on the streets.”
Luna’s lips thinned. “I suppose that is more likely, sister,” she conceded.
“Ms. Pie, please explain that this institution is not a brothel,” Celestia said, her tone curdling a little on the last word. “Please explain that this is a school, and that no one is going to be sold to anyone else. Sunset Shimmer,” she said, turning to her, “what help is it that you want from us? I’m assuming that if you wanted to hand these girls to the proper authorities, you would have done so yourself.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Sunset began.
She explained about her and her friend’s misgivings about the nature of the siren’s apparent transformation. Celestia hummed a little when she had finished, giving herself over to some serious thought.
“What you say does have some merit,” Celestia agreed. “This strange transformation of theirs does make them an unknown variable. And as much as I hate laying responsibilities upon you all, it has became quite apparent that you are the only ones capable of handling such situations.”
“What we need is for them to come to school so that we can keep an eye on them,” Sunset explained. “And so that they don’t just sit around my apartment all day.”
“Or try to steal anything,” Pinkie said, nodding.
“They steal?” Luna asked icily, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, well...” Sunset swallowed, giving Pinkie a sideways scowl. “Like I said, they were homeless when we found them, so they were stealing to survive.”
“It was all in the news,” Pinkie went on eagerly. “Lots of burglaries and—Mmph!”
“What Pinkie meant to say,” Rarity interceded as Rainbow and Applejack slapped their hands over Pinkie’s jabbering mouth, “is that they’ve had a very hard time recently, and I don’t believe that they understand how wrong they’ve been. But if we took them in and let them go to school, they may learn better.” She gave a winning smile which all of her friends emulated. Except Pinkie, who gave a thumbs up, and muffled something that Sunset thought might have been
“Yeah, that’s what I meant to say. Didn’t I say that?”
Luna didn’t seem impressed by this display, but Celestia looked faintly amused.
“I understand your concern, girls,” she said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “And I appreciate it as well. It speaks well of you to concern yourselves with their welfare.” She gestured to the sirens. “And the welfare of those they might harm. However, you have to understand that I can’t simply allow them into the school.”
“But—“ Sunset began to protest, but Celestia raised a hand again to cut her off.
“Sunset Shimmer, I assume that they don’t have any form of identification?” She waited expectantly for Sunset to answer her, but Sunset could say nothing. “Anything that might prove who they are? Who their parents are?”
Sunset bit her lip. “N-No...”
Celestia steepled her hands again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow them to simply enter the school. Should anyone look into their backgrounds, however remotely, and find that they’re three orphaned children on the street, or,” and here she looked pointedly at them all, “under the care of a group of teenagers, then I would be at the very least be suspended from my job for not having reported it.”
“Ah,” Rainbow summed up. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Isn’t—“ Sunset stammered. “Isn’t there anything...” Her hope died at the look on Celestia’s face.
“I’m sorry, Sunset Shimmer. At worst I’d be arrested. You have to see that from the law’s point of view; you’re a group of teenagers. In the eyes of the law, you’re children yourself, not responsible even for your own lives. How can you be expected to look after three little children whose language you don’t even speak?”
There was a pause, during which time Sunset’s insides seemed to melt and fall away inside of her. She felt something take hold of her hand, and looked down to find Sonata looking up at her with concern, her tiny blue fingers holding her own.
“If you’ll all excuse me,” Celestia said heavily. “I have a lot of work to do.” She looked up at her sister. Luna looked faintly surprised, but then “Sunset Shimmer, a moment if you please,” Celestia said as Sunset was about to exit after her friends.
Luna said nothing, but gave Celestia a highly suspicious look. Celestia glared back at her for a moment. “Sister, you’re not thinking—“
“Luna, if you’d please excuse us a moment,” Celestia said calmly.
“Sister,” Luna said more forcefully. “If you’re thinking of having that woman—“
“Luna, if you must stay,” Celestia interrupted. “Then would you please not intercede in our conversation.”
Luna’s face grew slightly pink. “Celestia, if you’re going to do this, then I will be a part of it,” Luna growled. “As Vice Principal of this school—“
“As Vice Principal of this school, it is your duty to lead the faculty and students should I at any point become unable to do so,” Celestia said firmly.
Luna stood there, fuming. Eventually, with a violent exhalation of breath, she marched straight-backed from the room, shutting the door with a loud snap.
Sunset and the sirens watched her leave. Sunset felt an ominous tingle running up her spine, and Sonata seemed a little unnerved too. Adagio on the other hand merely looked disdainful, whilst Aria continued to show as much interest in everything going on around her as a cat takes of anything.
“Um...” Sunset began, turning back to Celestia.
Celestia regarded Sunset for a moment or two before speaking. When she did, she spoke in a slow, considering sort of way, as though she was weighing each word before speaking it.
“Sunset Shimmer,” she started, and then paused. “What are your eventual intentions for these girls?”
“Intentions?” Sunset asked nervously.
“Do you anticipate bringing them up? Caring for them? Are you going to raise them?”
“W-What?” Sunset blurted. “N-No, I—“ she broke off, trying to regain control of herself. “I’m not their mother.”
“I know that you’re not,” Celestia said kindly. “But if you intend to watch over them, and have them live with you, then I’m afraid that you cannot escape this responsibility. The fact that you live alone in an apartment without adult supervision is, I hope you’ll remember, due to a technicality in the law.”
Sunset felt the heat rush to her cheeks. This was perfectly true. Back during her days as the Queen Bee of the school, Celestia had confronted her about her living arrangements, and Sunset had set Celestia straight by discovering the said ambiguity that allowed her to live on her own. Celestia had not given her point up easily, but had eventually been forced to capitulate. The ambiguity did not, however, extend to Sunset having dependants, even if they were her own children. They would be taken and placed into care the moment the state found out.
“Are you going to report this?” Sunset asked, squeezing Sonata’s fingers a little. Sonata looked between Sunset and Celestia, evidently sensing the tension.
“No,” Celestia said eventually. She picked up a pen and began scribbling something on a sticky note, and then push it across the desk. “I can’t accept them into this school without paperwork. All that leaves is for you to get them some.”
Sunset’s eyes flickered to the note. “And this will help me get them some?” she asked, picking it up.
“I must ask you, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said in a surprisingly dark tone of voice, “not to speak of this to anyone. For both our sakes, and for theirs, it would not do to get out the favour I call in order to do this.”
“If you’re uncomfortable with doing it,” Sunset replied, going to put the note down. “I’d rather not put you in any danger.”
“Don’t be silly,” Celestia said, standing up and pushing the note back at her. “As the adult responsible for you all, any risks in this venture must be mine. I would simply prefer that that risk be minimised.” She smiled at Sunset. “That woman will help you; she owes me a favour. Simply do not inform anyone, even your friends, of what you do. If all goes well, you’ll be able to have these girls in school in a few days. I’ll even excuse you from school for it to be done. Just don’t procrastinate, alright?” She gave Sunset a knowing look.
As Sunset exited the office, she looked down at the note. It was an address followed by what Sunset imagined to be an office number, a telephone extension, and a name.
“Chrissy,” Sunset said aloud. She shrugged; she’d never heard of the name before.
Her friends, who’d been waiting outside, quickly crowded around her.
“What’s that?” Applejack asked, looking at the note.
“Nothing,” Sunset said quickly, hiding the note. “Just an excusal from school. You know, so I can sort this out.” She gestured to the sirens in answer to their questioning looks.
“Sweet.” Rainbow grinned. “Time to kick back!”
“Yeah,” Sunset said absently, not listening. “I’m gonna head back home.”
Rainbow made a jealous sound. “Typical. I guess we’ll see you after school, then.”
The bus stopped in the middle of the town square, right next to the large equestrian statue at its centre. The three sirens had apparently never seen this part of town, since no sooner had they exited the bus, then they tried to climb the statue.
“Stop that,” Sunset called, trying not to smile as Sonata scrabbled up the statue’s leg like a monkey. “Don’t even think about it!” She snapped, as she saw Adagio inching towards a woman’s purse on the bench next to the statue. Adagio looked around at the noise, and noticed Sunset watching her. She spread her arms and tried to look innocent, but then pulled a face and slumped her shoulders when Sunset beckoned them to follow.
The address lay in what Sunset knew to be the older side of the city’s main centre, where the oldest churches, shops, and government buildings lay. The city hall and the art gallery, two of the city’s most notable landmarks lay here in preserved glory, surrounded by the creeping imminence of time’s unforgiving march.
They passed by the city hall and into a long street of tall, grey buildings, all with faded white walls and tarnished plaques on their fronts next to impressive glass and steel doors wedged into their ancient faces. Following the number on the sticky note, Sunset and company stopped in front of a triangular shaped building on the side of a roundabout.
“This is the place, I guess,” Sunset muttered uncertainly, waving the kids ahead of her. Sonata and Aria seemed appropriately awed by their surroundings, probably because of the ostentatious shout-outs by the surrounding architecture to the classical design. Adagio maintained her perpetual look of grumpy disinterest, and simply fell into line as Sunset walked through the sliding doors next to the sign
Department of Social Services
The interior was every bit as antiseptic and businesslike as the school was, and a great deal less interesting looking. Whilst the school had the raucous and vibrant colours of children’s works plastered across its walls, this building did not. It had a withered looking money-tree in one corner and that was about it. A deserted desk stood between two doors, whilst two more doors to the left and right led to long corridors full of offices.
Adagio made a disgusted sort of sound, as though the building fell short of her expectations.
“Come on,” Sunset said quietly, ushering them ahead of her. The double doors behind the desk both led to a room with a set of lifts. The right wall had, for whatever reason, a picture of a colourful map, and the other side had a floor guide. Sunset referenced this against the sticky note. “Floor seven.”
Sunset had been braced for the trouble this was going to cause. Getting the kids into the lift wasn’t the problem; it was spacious for a lift, evidently meant to be able to carry things like cleaning trolleys and carts. When the doors closed and Sunset’s finger hovered over the ‘7’ button however, she took a deep breath, and braced herself.
To be fair, she thought that they took it better than she’d expected. Only Sonata was clutching the side of Sunset’s head with her arms wrapped like an overexerted elastic band around Sunset’s face. The other two had been too scared to move.
Adagio leapt out of the doors as soon as they opened and fell upon the floor as though trying to hold onto it, whilst Aria was plainly trying not to be ill. Her good arm was raised to her mouth, and she was twitching like someone trying to hold it in.
Sunset didn’t have the heart to tell them they had to go down again, and regarded with pleasure the fact that they wouldn’t understand her anyway. Giving them a moment to get their bearings, Sunset prised Sonata from her face, and shook Adagio a little to rouse her from the floor. Aria proved the more enduring, as she shook off her torpor and followed without additional fuss, although she still looked a little green.
The office in question lay at the end of the hallway, and was preceded by a small secretarial office that came as something of a surprise.
Seated at a desk was the most extraordinary person Sunset had ever seen. The person herself was small, almost meek looking, but her attire and hair made her appearance just eccentric. Her hair, a bright, bubblegum pink, was enormous, and seemed to hang around her like a second, larger person. She wore a crisp white business shirt underneath a bright pink suit and matching tie that was the exact same colour as her hair. She sat at her desk apparently writing something.
She looked up as Sunset approached, but said nothing. Sunset glanced down, and was brought up short when she realised that this person was holding a crayon. Sunset looked left to the wall that the desk sat against, and saw that the corkboard there wasn’t covered in business-related things, but by crayon pictures, and the in and out trays on the desk were full of official looking papers all scribbled on by crayon.
She looked back down at the ostentatiously pink individual still staring back up at her, a pleasant smile on her face.
“Hello,” Sunset said.
The secretary didn’t say anything, but stuck her tongue out and blew a short raspberry. Sunset blinked in consternation.
“Uh...” Sunset scratched her cheek, utterly nonplussed. “I need to see...” she inspected the note again. “Chrissy?”
The secretary gasped in apparent joy and looked towards a pale wooden door with a small brass sign on it.
“Oh,” Sunset said. “Can I just go in?”
The secretary tilted her head to one side for a moment, and stared vaguely over Sunset’s shoulder. Sunset looked behind her to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing there. She seemed to be just staring into space.
After a few moments, the secretary seemed to come back to herself and pushed a button on a little speaker.
“Yes?” A voice said from the other end, muffled by static.
The secretary issued a series of raspberries into the receiver, as though this were a form of speech.
The person on the other end said something indistinct, and then “Send them through.”
The secretary smiled up at Sunset.
Then Sonata piped up. Too short to reach over the desk, she popped her head up as much as it would go, and blew a raspberry too. The secretary gasped again.
“Sonata!” Sunset chided. The secretary however, leaned forward to peer down, and again began to spit a number of raspberries, accompanied by several complicated and seemingly nonsensical gestures. Sonata giggled and responded.
Sunset watched this exchange for a moment, and then looked down at Adagio and Aria for help. Aria seemed to be trying to keep out of it, but Adagio simply looked up at Sunset just as confused. She shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Well, we’ll be going then,” Sunset said in a forced, cheerful tone. “Come on, girls.”
The sirens followed, Sonata a little reluctantly, as the secretary waved after them. Sunset looked up at the name holder on the door.
Chrysalis
“I said you could come in,” said a voice from within. Suppressing a sudden lance of dislike in her brain, Sunset opened the door.
The interior was bright, well lit by the cold winter sunlight filtering through the windows, and the room itself was a few degrees colder than it was in the rest of the building. Aria shivered and held her burnt arm close. Sunset, looking around, felt vaguely that they might be in the matrix; everything was tinged with a greenish tint, as though the sunlight had bizarrely turned a sickly shade of lime.
The person behind the desk sat in a relaxed posture, leaning back in a comfortable chair, her hands clasped in front of her. Sunset had the immediate impression of visiting Principal Celestia’s office, but only if Principal Celestia had been the spawn of evil. Like Principal Celestia, this woman was tall and shapely, but her black business suit and dark skin were at complete odds with Celestia’s usual almost angelic glow. The woman had long, straight green hair, and bright, piercing green eyes. She wore a black clip in the shape of a crown to keep her hair from falling into her face, and had a devilish looking smile playing across her green lips.
Sunset all of a sudden rather felt like a child in the woods being followed by a wolf.
The woman extended a slender hand, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. Sunset noted the radiation green nail polish on them.
“Please, sit,” the woman said, in the tone of a Transylvanian aristocrat inviting a lost stranger into their mysterious and oddly out-of-the-way castle.
Sunset let the kids sit first, as there were only two chairs. They squabbled for a few moments over one of them, until Adagio and Aria crammed themselves in, excluding Sonata. Somewhat to Sunset’s surprise, Sonata didn’t whine or complain, but stood by looking...
What’s that look? Sunset wondered, narrowing her eyes at Sonata’s expression. Guilt?.
Seating herself, she pulled Sonata up and onto her knee.
Once they were comfortably seated, Chrysalis sat forward, and interlaced her fingers on her desk. She had the look of someone who knows a great secret, and is preparing to astound the room with it.
“I’ve had a rather interesting call today,” she said, barely keeping mirth from her tone. “So, what can I do for you today?”
The visit to Chrysalis’ office was satisfactory, if not unnerving. There was no way of getting around it; the woman was just plain creepy. Like, Cruella de Vil creepy. Sunset felt like holding onto the three children just in case Chrysalis suddenly decided to skin them and make a coat.
Nonetheless she made the falsified documents for them in double-quick time. She even seemed happy to do it. Sunset didn’t know whether this was because she was happy to be rid of owing Principal Celestia a favour, or because she just genuinely liked committing fraud. She doubted that she derived pleasure from doing Sunset a kindness somehow.
“You’ll receive your papers in the mail in three-to-five business days,” she said, leaning back in her chair once she’d finished a long series of questions. “Princess Pastel has already paid for processing.”
“Thank you,” Sunset said as pleasantly as she could.
“Oh believe me, dear,” Chrysalis said, smirking. “It was my pleasure.” As Sunset stood up to leave, she spoke up again. “Oh, just one thing though. These records will not stand up to a proper investigation. For instance, if the police or government establishment were to become involved. Too many loose ends that I can’t contrive to tie up. Do try not to get arrested now.” She chuckled a low, sinister chuckle, as though she was imagining the scene.
“I’ll, um... try. Not to, I mean.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t want to be rude, but why do you keep laughing?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Chrysalis said, grinning. “Just a thought of what Moonface’s reaction was to her sister calling after me.” She turned her bright green eyes from Sunset to the children. “They don’t talk much, do they?”
“They do amongst themselves,” Sunset said honestly.
“Strange clothes, too,” Chrysalis went on. “Especially for this weather.”
“Foreign customs,” Sunset said after a second or two of thought. It wasn’t like Chrysalis didn’t know the girls weren’t ‘legit’, but explaining their true background would only complicate things.
Chrysalis regarded Sunset for a moment or two. “I think that we’ll be seeing each other again at some point in the future.” She smiled that creepy, you-don’t-want-to-meet-me-in-a-dark-alley smile, and gave a polite little wave to indicate that they were dismissed.
Sunset had not liked the implied return to their lives Chrysalis mentioned, but she strove to look on the positive side. They had achieved a victory here, surely, and she was determined to keep that impression. In an effort to bolster her own optimism, she took the girls to a small cafe she was fond of near to the town square, and attempted to mime the use of a menu. Fortunately these menus had pictures of most of the foods, and Adagio seemed to grasp the concept quick enough for the other two to realise what to do.
Whilst Adagio and Aria squabbled over a chocolate éclair, Sunset sat stirring a coffee, absently adding a sugar cube to it every so often without really paying attention. Pondering her situation, she had the nagging, stomach-churning feeling that her life had made an irrecoverable change. That something, somewhere, had altered permanently, and that she was powerless to stop it, that she might not even have the power to see what it was. She looked over the three sirens, adding the sixth sugarcube to her coffee. Adagio and Aria had settled their fight, having ripped the pastry in half, and now both munching their respective pieces with their backs to each other. The sight was rather endearing, and made Sunset smile, but then she noticed Sonata just sitting aside from it, apparently without taking any notice or interest in the discord.
“Sonata?” she asked. The little girl looked up quickly, as though coming out of deep thought. Sunset nodded her head to the plate holding Sonata’s lemon muffin. Sonata forced a smile and picked it up, taking a bite from the cake. For her sake, Sunset feigned looking away, and saw out of the corner of her eye Sonata instantly put the food down, and start looking brooding again.
Sunset considered this odd behaviour, barely noticing Adagio’s hand shoot out of nowhere and swipe the rest of the muffin. Sunset watched Sonata closely for a while as Aria and Adagio fought over the muffin; for some reason she found this occupation in Sonata’s mind a little disconcerting. But it wasn’t as though she could talk to Sonata about it, so for the present she was pretty much stuck.
“Perhaps I could get Pinkie to teach me how to talk Greek,” she thought out loud. “Or get them to speak English. That’s probably be more helpful. Or maybe a little of both.”
She pushed the coffee towards Sonata in an attempt to engage her. Sonata picked up the cup in an uncertain grip, and sniffed at it.
“What’s wrong?” Sunset asked as Sonata gagged on the first sip. “It can’t be that bad.”
Sunset had to admit the truth of Sonata’s judgment however when she tasted the honey-like contents of the coffee.
“Yah,” she rasped. “Bit too much sugar.”
Despite having a million and one things on her mind, Sunset managed to maintain her interest in Sonata’s unusual behaviour. It was admittedly hard not to notice it, since Sonata had developed a habit of detaching herself from her friends.
Friends? Sunset thought. Sisters? By birth or closeness?
Whatever the label, Sunset often found that whenever a fight or petty squabble broke out, Sonata would subtly remove herself, and more often than not seek sanctuary with Sunset.
Whilst Sunset was going over the latest revision of her speech, Sonata suddenly appeared next to her chair, peering interestedly at the screen whilst Adagio and Aria fought over the remote control.
When Sunset was readying herself to take a shower, Sonata appeared in her bedroom, dripping wet and naked, as Adagio and Aria had apparently tried to kick each other out of the bathtub.
And when Sunset attempted to cook scrambled eggs and toast for dinner one night, she nearly tipped the contents of the frying pan on the floor as Sonata appeared suddenly behind her whilst Aria chased Adagio around the living room for pulling her hair.
This was becoming so frequent that Sunset began to unconsciously move around expecting Sonata to be standing right under her elbow. If she turned around to walk somewhere, she instinctively leaned to one side to avoid a hypothetical six year old that might be standing there. When she picked something up, she raised it high enough not to clip someone of Sonata’s height across the crown.
Several days passed, during which time Sunset stayed at home to make sure the sirens remained. There was no danger of Sonata leaving, in Sunset’s opinion, and Aria showed no inclination to move most of the time, let alone leave. Adagio on the other hand was very restless. She’d kick around the apartment most days trying to settle on some occupation, and whether consciously or not, staying as far away from Sunset as possible. Most if not all of her fights with Aria were initiated by her, and several times Sunset caught her trying to leave the apartment when Adagio evidently thought Sunset wouldn’t notice.
This last thing greatly concerned Sunset. She couldn’t watch Adagio twenty-four-seven, so what if Adagio was leaving sometimes? Perhaps at night?
Whatever the case, Sunset did her best, Pinkie’s words constantly in her ear.
If you’re going to be a mom now, does this mean you’re not going to school anymore?
“I’m not their mom!” she snapped at an imaginary Pinkie on the fourth day off, slamming her hand onto her clean kitchen surface.
A little squeak under her elbow told her that she’d scared Sonata with the sudden movement.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, ruffling Sonata’s hair. “Oh, that’ll be the mail,” she continued at the sound of the buzzer.
Instantly Adagio leapt out of her tussle with Aria and sprinted for the door. Undoing the latch she swung out of the door and pelted down the hallway, Aria and Sonata in hot pursuit. Sunset repressed a smile as she felt the elephant herd charging back upstairs. As expected, Adagio had the letters in hand, and with one arm casually holding Aria back, she flipped through them.
Quite why she did that, Sunset didn’t know; it’s not like she could read what was on the letters. She plucked the letters from Adagio’s hand, and tossed back a bright green one for them to fight over.
“Bill,” she muttered. “Advert, advert, advert, aha!” she set down the first four and held two letters, both from the Department of Social Services. Then she paused. “Two?” she muttered. Had they perhaps sent only two of the girl’s papers?
Opening the first one, she discovered that this was not the case. All three girls’ identification, social security numbers, and other official forms bulged from the envelope’s interior. So what was the second letter? Opening it up, she found only three sheets of paper. One, a folded letter with instructions, and the next a folded in half welfare check.
Sunset stared at the check in bewilderment, her mouth slightly open. What was she getting welfare for? She’d never applied for it, and she had a job, so she wasn’t on the dole.
She set these down on the kitchen counter and opened the third sheet of paper, and felt herself very nearly faint. This had to be a joke. There was no way that this could be true, it just couldn’t be.
“Hi Sunset!” cried a loud, shrill voice.
Sunset leapt so much her feet actually left the ground. Without even thinking, she stuffed the letter into the nearest kitchen draw and slammed it shut.
“Neat, are we making loud noises?” Pinkie asked, closing the door behind her. “Wooooooooo—“
Sunset slapped a hand across her mouth. “No, Pinkie,” Sunset said through gritted teeth. “No, we’re not. You just startled me.”
“Oh, heh heh,” she chuckled. “Yeah, I do that.”
“Um, any reason that you’re here?” Sunset asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company.”
Pinkie snorted. “You so silly. Rarity asked me to give you these.” She held up some paper bags by their handles, the distinctive logo of Rarity’s family boutique emblazoned in purple across their fronts.
“What are they?” Sunset asked.
“Clothes, duh,” Pinkie laughed. “For the kiddies. How they doing?” She looked over Sunset’s shoulder and saw Adagio holding the green envelope out of Aria’s reach. “Fun!”
“Oh yeah,” Sunset said, half laughing. “She was going to make them clothes.” She set the bags down. “Hey Pinkie, I’ve got something to ask you.”
“Yuh huh?” Pinkie asked, plucking the envelope from Adagio and holding it up high.
“Do you think that you could teach me to speak Greek?”
“Sure could,” Pinkie answered, as Adagio clambered up onto her back and Aria punched her in the calf with her good arm.
Sunset waited. “Well, will you?”
“Oh, you want me to?”
“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t ask otherwise, would I?”
“I guess not,” Pinkie said thoughtfully, skipping around Aria and bouncing Adagio into dizziness. “I’ll bring the books over next time. But that’s the second thing I wanted to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“Principal Celestia said to tell you that she’s letting the sirens into the school. In the elementary classes, but first she wants them to learn English.”
“Well that’s a problem,” Sunset sighed, putting a hand on her hip. “Who can teach them?”
“Maud can of course,” Pinkie chuckled, as though this should be obvious.
Sunset frowned. “Didn’t you say she was in Greece on an archaeology trip until March?”
Pinkie gave her head a scratch, looking puzzled. “Yeah, but for some reason they sent her back. Something about her being creepy.” She shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”
“Yeah...” Sunset agreed, crossing her fingers behind her back. “Me neither. But doesn’t she have to go to school?”
“No, she had all of her school work up till spring break with her, and Principal Celestia said it’d probably be better if she does that at home rather than starting in class half way through the semester.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Sunset considered, rubbing her chin. “So your sister’s going to teach them English at the school?”
“Badabingo!” Pinkie sang, shooting Sunset with two finger guns. “Principal Celestia’s even going to give her credit for volunteer work.”
“Sweet,” Sunset agreed.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Pinkie said, leaning on Sunset’s shoulder. “What does Twilight think about you being a mom now?”
“Pinkie, seriously,” Sunset said, instantly thinking of the letter in the drawer. “I’m not their mom. Stop...” she paused. “Twilight?”
“Yeah,” Pinkie giggled. “I mean, you totally told her, right?”
Sunset blushed, her face turning red as her hair.
“You know, with the magic book?” Pinkie continued, grinning. “What with the pen, and the writing, and the magic.”
Sunset muttered something in response.
“What?” Pinkie asked, cupping a hand to her ear.
Sunset repeated herself a little louder.
“Sorry, one more time,” Pinkie said, leaning closer.
“I hadn’t gotten around to it,” Sunset admitted. “It didn’t occur... I’ve been kinda distracted.” She looked at the sirens. Having gotten bored of waiting for Pinkie to give the green envelope back, they’d retreated to the sofa to watch television. She noticed Sonata sat on one end of the sofa, whilst the other two occupied the other.
“Don’t you think maybe she’d be able to help with the whole Dazzlings-turning-young thing?” Pinkie inquired. “You know, magic and all.”
“I get it, Pinkie,” Sunset snarled. “Looking after three kids all day keeps you pretty occupied, you know?”
“Okay, okay,” Pinkie snickered, raising her hands in defeat. “Whatever you say, mom.”
“They will never find your body,” Sunset grumbled, shoving passed a chortling Pinkie into her bedroom. As she went to close the door, she made the mistake of peeking a last time into the living room, until she caught Pinkie watching her. Pursing her lips at Pinkie’s condescending grin, she shut the door to and sat down on her bed with more force than was strictly necessary. Taking the magical journal out of her dresser, she opened it to the latest page and set her pen to paper.
“So go on then,” Pinkie said eagerly, leaning into Sunset’s shoulder. “Write it. Go on!”
“What should I write?” Sunset asked.
“Um...” Pinkie hummed for a moment or two. “Good question. This is kind of a big thing.”
“What if I write that we found the sirens again?” Sunset asked speculatively.
“Wouldn’t that make it sound like we’re in trouble?” Pinkie asked.
“I guess so... how do I tell her what we think has happened to them without making it worrying or confusing?”
As they puzzled over this, the door squeaked open, and a pair of magenta eyes appeared in the crack. Pinkie said something stern in Greek, and the eyes retreated for a second, followed closely by the sound of knocking.
“I told her to knock,” Pinkie giggled.
“What is it, Sonata?” Sunset asked kindly.
Sonata stepped nimbly inside, instantly spotting the book on Sunset’s lap. Noticing this interest, Sunset asked Pinkie to tell her what it was. Once Pinkie finished, Sonata’s eyes sparkled with childish intrigue. She bounced onto the bed to look over Sunset’s shoulder as the latter pondered something to write.
After a few seconds, she seemed to get bored or impatient.
“She asked if she can have a go,” Pinkie explained as Sonata gently shook Sunset’s shoulder.
“Oh,” Sunset said, eyebrows raised. “Um, sure, I guess. It might get Twilight’s attention. Can you write?” she asked Sonata. Sonata took the pen as Pinkie translated, and she shook her head, but set pen to paper anyway. Without pausing or second-guessing herself, Sonata swept the pen across the paper. Sunset saw to her mild surprise that she wasn’t writing, but drawing something. It took a few moments before she could tell what it was, but eventually she saw that it was meant to be four people, one of them taller than the others. These people were all holding hands, and had the exaggerated smiles and eyes of a child’s drawing.
“I think that’s meant to be you,” Pinkie pointed out, indicating the tall one. “Yep, that’s your bacon hair.”
Deciding to ignore the sleight against her hair, Sunset contemplated the picture. The smaller three figures had triangular shapes on their bodies that she immediately guessed to be the siren’s Greek-like dresses, and all of their hair was so distinctive that their identities couldn’t be in question. Sonata finished by colouring her own hair in the blue of the ink pen, and set it down, looking pleased with herself.
They all sat there looking at the picture, Sunset feeling something down in the base of her heart at the simple little scene. Which was then boomed into the open by Pinkie loudly cooing
“Awwww! She drew you as their—“
“If you call me their mom again, I’m going to slug you!” Sunset snapped.
Pinkie paused, apparently sensing real danger. “... How about their... big sis?” Pinkie asked tentatively. She leapt off the bed as Sunset raised her fist. “Okay, okay! Hey, I think Twilight’s talking back.”
The book was suddenly glowing with a magical aura, and juddering like a mobile phone on vibrate. Sonata jumped and ducked down behind Sunset’s shoulder, whilst Sunset and Pinkie looked at the words appearing on the page.
Hello,
Uh... thanks for the picture?
Sunset let a thin-lipped smile spread over her face. She set pen to paper.
Hey Twilight,
Yeah, sorry, that was Sonata. I didn’t know she was going to draw you something. Don’t worry though, she’s not the same Sonata you remember, she and the other sirens have undergone a little
She paused a moment, and then settled on a term
change.
They waited a moment, and then words began appearing on the paper.
Oh, that’s good!
Did you extend friendship to them? Have they accepted? That’s great to hear!
Sunset bit her lip
Well, actually, when I said ‘change’, I meant something of a more physical nature.
As she pondered how best to explain herself better, Sonata spoke up.
“She asked what you’re doing exactly,” Pinkie said.
“I’m telling a friend of ours that you’re living here,” Sunset said, Pinkie smoothly translating for her.
Sonata pointed at herself questioningly, and said something that Pinkie translated to be Sonata wondering why Sunset was doing so.
“Because it’s important to tell your friends things,” Sunset explained. “They’ll find out things sooner or later, and it’s best if they find out from you. It hurts their feelings sometimes when they find out from other people.”
This explanation seemed to have an effect on Sonata. Once Pinkie had finished speaking, Sonata sat looking troubled and thoughtful. Sunset watched her, expecting her to say something more. After a few moments however, she slid off the bed as though in a dream, and exited the room, all the while tugging at her fingers and staring into space.
Sunset and Pinkie looked at each other, both of them perplexed. Pinkie shrugged as the book buzzed and glowed again. Sunset looked down, expecting a question, but it said only one thing.
I’m coming
This was so unexpected that Sunset didn’t even have time to prepare herself for the neon pink explosion that erupted next to her. Leaping up, Pinkie let out a squeal of delight, accompanied by a mysterious burst of confetti.
“Twilight! Coming! Here!” she squeed loudly, bouncing on the spot.
“Yeah,” Sunset said with earnest pleasure. “It’ll be great seeing her again. And I’ll bet she’ll have some ideas about what happened to the girls. Pinkie, can you—“
“Already doing it,” Pinkie said, texting on her phone so fast that her thumbs were a bubblegum blur of movement.
“Brilliant, then all we have to do is get over to the school and wait—“
Sunset stopped as a sound from the other room sent a tremor of fear through her.
“What was...?” Pinkie asked, looking up from her phone.
Sunset bolted to the door and wrenched it open to find a shocking scene. Adagio stood off to one side, her face pale and devoid of expression, except for a sort of horror dancing in her eyes. On the floor not too distant away was Sonata on her back, Aria kneeling on top of her, repeatedly punching at every bit of Sonata she could reach with her good hand. With each strike she cried a throat-tearing howl of rage, her eyes sparkling with angry tears.
Without preamble Sunset leapt forward and pulled Aria back, enduring her flailing legs and fist as Aria shrieked in protest.
“What’s going on?” Sunset demanded in her most commanding voice, setting Aria forcefully down and standing between her and Sonata, sobbing on the floor.
Aria let out an animal-like growl and hurled a flurry of dialect words at Sonata around Sunset’s legs. Sunset didn’t dare take her eyes from Aria to ask Pinkie what was being said; Aria’s face was bright red, her eyes wide and her shoulders rose and fell with each shallow breath. After a short pause she threw out an accusatory finger at Sonata and shouted a question.
Sonata seemed unable to look at her, but through a bloody lip she sobbed something in response. Whatever she said, it seemed to break Adagio from her trance, and she suddenly looked coldly furious. She asked another question in a low, venomous tone, and when Sonata didn’t reply, she turned away with a sound of disgust. She grabbed the handle to open the door to the hallway.
“Wait a minute,” Sunset said suddenly reaching out. Adagio smacked her hand away, not looking at her, and she and Aria pelted out of the door.
Sunset cursed. “Pinkie, can you go after them, please?”
“S-Sure,” Pinkie stammered.
Looking at her for the first time since coming out of the bedroom, Sunset noticed her eyes were over bright, and she wondered what could have been said to elicit such a reaction from the usually buoyant Pinkie Pie. She decided not to say anything yet as Pinkie left the room.
“Sonata?” Sunset asked tentatively.
Sonata propped herself on one elbow, looking away from Sunset. She didn’t respond.
“Come here,” Sunset said soothingly, placing a hand on Sonata’s shoulder. “Let me see—“
Sunset stopped. The look on Sonata’s face at that moment, so lost and full of remorse, sent a thrill of recognition into Sunset’s heart. She’d felt enough regret in her short existence to understand what Sonata was feeling, and what had just transpired. It explained Sonata’s unusual behaviour, her strange detachment from her friends that Sunset had noticed.
Sonata remained where she was, tears cascading her face and blood from her lip dripping onto her dress. A livid bruise was growing on her right cheek, and her eye had gone a little puffy, but her arms had taken the brunt of the attack.
Sunset sighed, a low and mournful sound. Standing up briefly she returned with a wet cloth. Lifting Sonata’s chin, she dabbed the blood from her lip and held the cold material there to keep the swelling down. Sonata didn’t struggle; she seemed too distraught to do much of anything but sit staring into space, occasionally letting out a small sniffle.
Pinkie returned a few minutes later, at which point Sunset had managed to carry Sonata over to the sofa, where she curled up into the cushions and gave herself over to a fit of silent crying.
“You couldn’t catch up to them?” Sunset asked dispiritedly.
Pinkie shook her head, blinking the tears from her eyes. “They got out of the front door and... they just... they were gone.” She wiped her eyes and sat down.
Sunset looked at her from her position on the sofa. Whilst stroking Sonata’s hair, she tried to build up the courage to ask the question she needed answering.
“Do you know what happened?”
Pinkie sat for a short while, gathering her thoughts. Eventually she sat up a little straighter, and seemed to attempt to look at Sunset directly, but didn’t quite manage it.
“She told them something,” Sunset prompted. “She said something to them that made them angry. Did you hear what it was?”
Pinkie bit her lip. “I did, yeah.”
Sunset waited. “Could you tell me what it was?”
“You know the fire at the warehouse,” Pinkie said slowly, as though forcing her teeth and tongue to say these things against their will.
Sunset felt a sense of foreboding build in her chest. It couldn’t be possible. Sonata wouldn’t have...
“Well, she started it,” Pinkie mumbled in an almost inaudible voice, inclining her head towards Sonata.
Sunset could think of nothing to say. She’d pleaded internally, begged whatever powers might be out there with the capacity to prevent this awful truth from becoming a reality, but reality could not be changed by hopes or wishing.
“Why?” Sunset asked. When Pinkie didn’t reply, Sunset thought that maybe she had only thought the question, and repeated herself.
Pinkie hesitated for a second or two, and then once again forced herself to speak. “To... come here. To live with you, I think she meant.”
Waiting for Twilight to appear was one of the most depressing moments Sunset had ever experienced, and she had been forced to experience a fair few of them throughout her life. It wasn’t standing with the deflated Pinkie Pie, or the limp and unresponsive Sonata that made it an unhappy wait, although neither helped. It was that each time one of their friends showed up, all of them with broad smiles on their faces in expectation of seeing Twilight again, they all asked what the matter was. Every time Sunset explained the situation, their face fell into a look of utmost horror. Fluttershy indeed had been so overcome by the revelation that she’d nearly burst into tears.
“Poor Aria...” she gulped, both hands at her mouth. “Her arm burnt over something like that...”
“Aria tried to stop the fire,” Pinkie said tonelessly. “It didn’t... well...”
They all looked at each other uneasily. Sunset saw in their faces their imaginations forming pictures of a little girl on the edge of a fire. She shut her eyes hard as the imagining progressed smoothly into the fire suddenly erupting forward, and engulfing the girl’s outstretched arm. The phantom pain of it happening tugged hard at Sunset’s insides.
“So where are they now?” Applejack asked, her tone serious.
Pinkie only shook her head. Sunset croaked “We don’t know.”
Sunset looked down to her right. The bruise on Sonata’s cheek had bloomed into a solid purple, as had the ring around her eye. A scattering of bruises on her arms stood out against the dusky-blue skin, giving her the look of a colour-altered leopard. No matter who looked at her, or who spoke, Sonata didn’t react to any of them. She didn’t seem to want or be able to cry anymore, but a blandness lay over her eyes and face like a mask.
“Well then, we’re in the same fix as last time,” Rainbow announced, flinging her arms in the air. “It’s cold out here, and there’s a storm coming tomorrow.”
“I doubt they’ll do at all well in a storm,” Rarity muttered tremulously.
“Especially with Aria’s arm,” Fluttershy moaned. “It’ll be so vulnerable. What if she gets sick?”
They all looked to Sunset. For whatever reason, they looked to her as though for answers, but she had none to give. She didn’t know where the two sirens were, she didn’t know how to persuade them to come back. She didn’t even know whether it was the right thing to bring them back. For, what had come of her extended kindness? She’d bred into Sonata a desire to be with her, or at least a desire for the comforts Sunset could provide, such as they were. And what had been the result? A desperate plan to force her friends into begging at Sunset’s door, a plan with disastrous and potentially lethal results. They could have all died...
Then there was that... letter, sitting in her kitchen drawer. Sunset’s stomach churned at the thought of it. And then it churned a second time at the thought of what losing the girls meant now.
“Darling?” Rarity asked delicately. “Darling, are you alright? Why are you crying?”
“Huh?” Sunset asked, her voice brittle. She noticed all of her friends still looking at her.
“It’s alright,” Applejack said robustly. “We’ll find ‘em. Ya’ll just wait, Ah got a whole family who’d sooner eat Granny Smith’s walker than let two kids sit out hungry on the street.”
“I’d sooner freeze my own magic wings off than let that happen,” Rainbow declared. “I know Fluttershy’s with me, amiright?” She smacked Fluttershy companionably on the back.
Fluttershy coughed but managed a small smile. “Y-Yes,” she stammered. “I’m sure we’ll find them. We just have to figure out where they’re likely to be.”
At this, Pinkie’s hair popped spontaneously back into its usual helium-light vigour. “That’s a great idea!” she announced. “We could totally find out where they usually stay and stuff.”
“We already knew that,” Rainbow Dash pointed out. “In case you don’t remember, it burned down.”
“Well that can’t have been the only place they go,” Pinkie said, undaunted. “We’ll find out where and get them back.”
“I don’t think they want to come back,” Sunset muttered miserably. “Adagio never wanted to come.”
Her friends evidently were at a loss for anything to say to this comment.
A strange, hollow tinkling sound as though of pixie dust being forced through a long tunnel sounded behind them, and a purple hand preceded the emergence of the entire body of Twilight Sparkle. Stepping out of the portal, she looked up and smiled widely, before noticing the mood of the group looking around at her. She blinked.
“Did I come at a bad time?” she asked uncertainly.
In belated fashion, the group greeted Twilight back to Earth with a renewed stab at friendship and forced cheer. Sunset herself directed the muscles in her face to morph into something approaching a smile and hugged Twilight earnestly. Given everything that had happened, she was honestly happy to see Twilight.
“It’s so great seeing you all again,” Twilight said, beaming. “I don’t know how, but it always feels like I’ve been away for ages whenever I visit.”
“I dare say that it’s just your royal duties,” Rarity said charitably. “I suppose they keep you busy.”
“I thought Princess’s had lots of servants and stuff to do that for them,” Rainbow wondered.
“I don’t really have any servants,” Twilight commented, shrugging.
Rainbow frowned. “Then what’s the point?” she asked, speaking in a tone that suggested all sense had departed the world.
“So what’s up?” Twilight inquired. “What’s this about the sirens? Are they around?” Twilight looked left and right, apparently with the hope of seeing them standing close by. Everyone gave each other sideways glances under Twilight’s encouraging smile. “Sunset told me that they’d changed.”
Rainbow let out a snort of laughter. “Oh, is that how she put it?”
“What’s so funny?” Twilight asked, frowning. “Am I not getting something?”
Probably with the intention of getting to the bottom of things, she turned to Sunset. Then she paused, her mouth half-way to forming a word.
“Yeah,” Sunset began awkwardly. She side-stepped, allowing Twilight to see the little figure standing behind her. “They changed. Just not how any of us expected.”
Twilight stared for a moment or two, and then walked hurriedly over and knelt down. Sonata looked at her briefly, but was still too listless to do anything else. Twilight took her chin gently in her hand, and looked closely into her face. Then she tugged at a lock of hair, gripped her shoulders briefly, and then turned her around a full circle. Everyone watched her with a mixture of fascination and confusion.
“Amazing,” Twilight breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Aging spells are advanced enough, but this...” she stood up, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “When did this happen?”
“We don’t know,” Sunset said. “We found them like this a few days ago. Although we think they might have been like this since a little after the battle of the bands.”
“They looked sick when I saw them last,” Fluttershy added helpfully.
“They?” Twilight asked. “Where are the other two?”
“Ah,” Pinkie Pie said guiltily. “Well, you see...”
Twilight looked between them all and sighed. “What happened?”
As Sunset’s apartment was the closest of their houses to the school, Sunset was soon playing host to their entire coterie in her patently too small apartment. Twilight took the chair, whilst at Sunset’s insistence Rarity and Fluttershy took the sofa with Sonata. Applejack sat on the floor whilst Rainbow lounged next to her, and Sunset stood in the kitchen, leaning on the counter.
“I’m so sorry, Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight said wholeheartedly. “I know that you were honestly trying to help them.”
“Yeah, well,” Sunset said gloomily. “That didn’t work out, did it?”
“Oh come on,” Applejack protested. “T’ain’t over till it’s over, Granny Smith always says. We’ll find them.”
“We should be out there,” Rainbow said, punching a fist into her palm.
“We don’t know where to look,” Applejack pointed out, giving Rainbow a raised eyebrow.
“So, what?” Rainbow asked, spreading her arms. “We sit here and do nothing?”
“No,” Twilight interjected. “We need to find out where they are. To do that, we need information. It’s only mid afternoon, we have time.”
“What kind of information, Twilight?” Rarity asked curiously.
“Well, where did they live?”
“In a broken down warehouse in the industrial sector,” Rainbow answered blithely. “It’s kinda scorched a bit now though, thanks tot he blue arsonist over here.” She jabbed a thumb at Sonata.
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t mean that, I mean before. When they were older. Surely they lived somewhere else then?” She looked around at them all.
“Oh...” Rainbow said, blinking a few times. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. They didn’t look homeless back then, did they?”
“That’s a good point,” Sunset muttered. Her immediate impression was to ask Sonata where she thought this former residence might be; if Aria and Adagio knew of it, Sonata would surely know as well. But there again lay Sunset’s uncertainty, her hesitancy.
Should she ask Sonata? Should she even look for the other two? He desire to help had led to all this trouble to start with. Why hadn’t she simply done what she knew to be the right thing, and simply informed the authorities? Sure, she’d told herself that it was because their sudden transformation was an unknown, potentially dangerous phenomena, and whilst she knew that to be true, that hadn’t been why she’d done things the way that she had. The reason that she’d took them in herself had been because she wanted to be the one to do it. She’d felt responsible for it.
Seen from a dispassionate point of view, it was arrogant of her. Arrogant and irresponsible. Sure she had her friends to help her, but they were six teenagers taking on the role of parentage.
“Sunset?” Twilight asked. “You look like you have an idea.”
Sunset looked up. “I...” she hesitated. Her friends weren’t stupid. They would figure out to ask Sonata sooner or later. Sunset couldn’t let them do it though, there had to be another option. And then it occurred to her. “Yeah, I do.”
As they all knew, Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna didn’t leave the school for a good hour or so after the students went home. Five o’clock was pushing it, but when they arrived at the office, Sunset breathed a sigh of relief to hear voices from within.
“I got this, guys,” she said to her friends. We shouldn’t be a minute.
Her friends all looked faintly surprised.
“Shouldn’t we come in too?” Twilight asked.
“Yeah, what’s the deal?” Rainbow asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing,” Sunset said hastily. “I just want to ask something personal as well. Nothing about any of this,” she explained in reply to the curious looks this elicited. Sunset was forced to give into a little duplicity here. “Just something about my grades.”
“Oooh,” Rainbow said, sneering. “It’s okay guys, she just doesn’t want to hurt our feelings.” She placed both hands on her heart like a Shakespearian actor and let out a protracted sound of false agony. “Oh woe is we poor stupid people!”
“It’s not like that,” Sunset grumbled, the heat rising in her cheeks.
“If it’s about the speech, dear,” Rarity said. “I think you’re going a bit far. We all have to give presentations as well, and we’re not—“
“It’s not about the speech,” Sunset cut in. “Please, it’s just something personal, okay?”
Her friends all looked at each other. Sunset felt a little guilty for snapping at them.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s fine,” Applejack said robustly, clapping her on the shoulder. “Personal stuff ain’t nuthin ta be ashamed of. T’ain’t none of our business to ask.” Here she turned to Rainbow and Rarity to bestow a stern gaze upon them. Rarity looked suitably uncomfortable, and even Rainbow had the grace to turn a little pink, even if she did roll her eyes and fold her arms contemptuously.
“Thanks,” Sunset said with a tight smile. “I’ll be right back.”
The inside of the office was darker than last time given the latter time of day. Even though the sun was shining directly through the window now as opposed to the oblique angle of noon, the sun simply didn’t seem to have the same power to light up the space as it had.
Principal Celestia sat behind her desk as before, the glow of her computer monitor giving her face a whitish glow. Vice Principal Luna on the other hand, perhaps because of her similarity to the Luna in Equestria, seemed to emit her own dark radiance that meant, even in the darkened corner next to the photocopier, she was easily seen.
“Welcome back, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said, smiling. “I assume everything has worked...” her sentence tailed off. “You only have one of the girls with you,” she observed. Luna looked around as well at this, frowning.
“Yes,” Sunset began, but paused as Celestia gestured for her to sit. She lifted Sonata onto the seat next to her and sat down.
“Is something wrong?” Luna asked, eying Sonata with a concerned-looking gaze.
Sunset took a moment to properly gather her thoughts. “Yes,” she began. She proceeded to explain the gist of what had happened in the past few hours, and her concern of what might happen as a result. Both Celestia and Luna looked grave and worried.
“Those poor children,” Luna whispered, apparently to herself. Owing to the room’s dimensions, her voice carried so that everyone could hear her.
“This is a most serious turn of events,” Celestia concurred, interlacing her fingers.
“That’s mainly why I’ve come,” Sunset said tensely. “I wondered if maybe you had records here of where the Dazzlings used to live.”
Celestia raised her eyebrows. “You believe that might be where they are?”
“I can think of nowhere else they could go that wasn’t some other makeshift home,” Sunset stated. “If they found somewhere else after leaving my apartment, it may take weeks to find them, if at all.”
“I have their records here,” Luna said, closing a filing cabinet. “Hard copies of their applications. Incomplete at best, but it does have an address on it. I dare say they didn’t intend to stay at school long after conquering the world.”
“Oh my,” Celestia said, looking rather surprised when she looked at the file. “They certainly did have high opinions of themselves.”
She turned the file around and showed Sunset the address. Sunset’s eyebrows shot up her forehead faster than someone stepping on hot coals. “Stepton House Road!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “Just about the most expensive urban land in the city. Taking a house there...” she let her sentence tail off impressively.
“If they left or were evicted from that home after Sunset Shimmer and her friends stopped them,” Luna said speculatively, “I can’t imagine the house being occupied very quickly. It may still be vacant.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Sunset said, her brow contracting seriously.
“You said that this was the main reason that you had come to us,” Celestia added, fixing Sunset with a wary look. “Did the person we sent you to—“. She paused and pursed her lips as Luna coughed pointedly. “Did the person I sent you to, help you?”
Sunset bit her lip, the contents of her kitchen drawer springing back into her mind. “She got me the girl’s paperwork, yes,” she said, inclining her head.
Celestia looked somewhat relieved, although Luna’s folded arms tightened and her lip curled. “Good. So you have the paperwork then? I took the liberty of putting their applications through beforehand. Once we have those papers we can fill in the gaps in our information and we can set up a date for their admission.”
“That wasn’t the only thing she sent though,” Sunset added awkwardly. She took a deep breath as Celestia and Luna waited for her to go on. “She set me up for welfare. I received a check in the mail along with their papers.”
Sunset was just steeling herself to say what else had come with it, when Luna and Celestia both seemed to catch on without being needed to be told. The colour drained from their faces, and Luna’s folded arms unknotted.
“Oh my...” Celestia breathed.
“I told you that she couldn’t be trusted!” Luna erupted.
“I know, Luna,” Celestia said, still looking distracted.
“You can be sure that she hasn’t done this out of the kindness of her heart!” Luna carried on.
“Most likely she hasn’t,” Celestia agreed, staring into space.
“She’s played you for a fool!”
“So it would seem.”
Luna pursed her lips, the anger in her face giving way to irritation. “Why must you always agree with me when I’m right, sister? It makes it so hard to argue with you.”
Celestia paused, the shadow of a smile briefly appearing on her worried face. “In order to grant you welfare on behalf of the Dazzlings,” Celestia began, fixing Sunset with a serious look, “you would have to be granted legal status as their caregiver.”
Sunset felt the heat in her face intensify. If her name were a description of her physical attributes, then she’d no longer be shimmering, but blazing.
“I’m their... their...” she swallowed. “Legal guardian.”
A long pause followed this, after which Luna let out a sound of disgust. “I told you that woman was nothing but trouble!”
Celestia ignored her, but sat there regarding Sunset Shimmer grimly over her interlocked fingers. After a little while she sighed.
“I trust that you understand what this means?” she asked.
“I think so,” Sunset said, suddenly not sure.
“Among many other things, it means that, officially, any and all disciplinary issues that the school has must be reported to you, as their legal caregiver.” She licked her lips. “Which in short means that the very moment any of them acts up to such a degree that the parent needs to be notified, it will be discovered that you are said caregiver. And at that point, we the staff would be required by law to inform the authorities to your situation.”
Sunset’s insides went cold. “And then it might even be discovered that you had a role in it all.”
“Precisely,” Celestia said gravely.
“If I ever get my hands on that harpy...” Luna growled.
“But isn’t she endangering herself in all of this?” Sunset asked desperately. “Surely as the person who actually orchestrated all of this—“
“She’s a wary person, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia sighed. “And a clever one as well. I feel certain that she will have covered her tracks very well indeed. No, it was foolish indeed to place any degree of trust in her.”
Luna’s fiery expression softened a little at this. “But it was a necessary one though, sister.”
“I thought so at the time, yes,” Celestia said. “Well, it can’t be helped now. We can only pray that they do not give trouble in school. Or that we can intercept any disciplinary action. Although even that will be considered suspicious if done enough times.”
Sunset bit her lip. Of all the things to be placing all of their hopes on, the siren’s compliance to authority was not one of the first of their traits Sunset would have chosen. In fact it was pretty far down the list. Like, a sticky note stuck to the end of the list, kind of far down. Underlined in red ink. With a skull and cross-bones drawn next to it.
“Oh, Sunset!”
Sunset jumped a little as she exited the office. “W-What?” she asked, bewildered.
Rarity, who’d been the one to cry out, pointed to the window. Sunset’s mouth fell open as she stared at the sky. In the opposite direction to the sun, like a mighty hand stretching forward across the sky, was a dark cloud, deep and black as smoke, blighting the skyline. In front of the window, little flakes of snow were beginning to tumble down onto the already frosted grass.
“The storm’s early,” Applejack said darkly. “Never trust a weatherman.”
“Did you get the address?” Flutterhsy asked, her voice full of nervous concern.
“Yes,” Sunset confirmed, holding up a piece of scrap paper.
As Sunset had described, the area of town where the siren’s former residence stood was on the richer end of town. In summer the area was intensely green, almost unnaturally so, interspersed with the myriad colours of exotic flowers maintained by the gardening staff of the sensitive home owners. In winter, the area lost a great deal of its beauty to an austerity imposed by the grey faces of the house fronts, and the skeletal winter trees that stood like wasted hands clawing at the sky.
Sunset rather hoped that none of these chilling thoughts were occurring to her friends. The rapidly thickening snow only served to compound the dismal scene, since the blank whiteness blocked from sight even the faded colour of the houses and road signs. The entire place was very cold, the wind biting at their cheeks and noses.
“It’s a good thing we went back for these!” Rarity called over the howling wind, indicating the bags Applejack and Rainbow Dash were hauling. They had returned to Sunset’s apartment before heading out, retrieving the clothes that Rarity had made for the girls, and Sunset was heartily glad for it now. If this storm persisted, the other two sirens would be frozen to death before the next day’s sunrise.
Holding tight onto Sonata’s gloved hand, she could still feel the girl shivering violently. Sunset had tried to persuade her to remain at the apartment, but Sonata had been firm; she refused to stay behind. It couldn’t have been plainer when they’d exited out onto the first two inches of fresh snow that Sonata had never seen it before. Sunset didn’t imagine that they got much weather like that where ever Sonata originated from. The sight of the mysterious weather seemed to have steeled her resolve to find her sisters.
“Whoa...” Rainbow breathed, impressed.
The address they had come to wasn’t the largest affair in the neighbourhood, but it was the most unusual. It had a bone-white facade with a rich purple trim, and gold-painted double doors; Adagio’s trademark colours. Like many grand houses, it attempted to make itself glorious by borrowing from an older style, in this case that of the ancient Roman portico with an arrangement of white pillars, and a 19th century theme on the windows. A fountain to one side displayed an impressive statue of a rearing hippocampus, with three beautiful maidens standing in classical postures before it.
Sunset curled her lip a little at the blatant, tacky ego-stroking the sirens had evidently indulged in during their stay here. The house itself had evidently not suffered too greatly in the relatively short time since the battle of the bands, but the dilapidation of the place could be easily seen in the untended lawns and overflowing letterbox.
“Notice of Eviction,” Pinkie read aloud, looking at a bright yellow sign stuck to the golden doors. “Do you think that means they’re—“ She cut off as Sunset gave the doors a push. They swung open with a creak, letting a flurry of snowflakes into the dark interior. “Well, they might still not be here,” she said defensively.
“Look, there’s a light,” Applejack said, pointing through a doorway to a set of stairs.
Pinkie paused, and then grinned awkwardly. “It could be someone else,” she said feebly.
“She’s right,” Twilight said, frowning. “It might be someone else up there. Keep on your guard, girls.”
They crept inside, Twilight trying politely to shrug off Pinkie’s grateful hug. Sonata tugged her hand from Sunset’s and walked more confidently inside, looking around. Before Sunset could stop her, she let out a worried little mew and pelted towards the stairs.
“Sonata, stop!” Sunset hissed. Sonata didn’t listen, but disappeared into the room with the stairs and out of sight.
They all ran after her, trying to move as quietly as possible. The thick and luxuriant carpets made this relatively easy, their footfalls masked in the fabric and thin layer of dust they were kicking up from the floor.
Up a wide set of stairs they found themselves on an extensive landing with four different hallways. Sunset caught the end of Sonata’s ponytail whipping out of sight to the left and followed. They passed door after door; the place could have been an apartment complex in and of itself.
“Music room, bedroom, bathroom, storage room,” Pinkie sang in a whisper, skipping silently down the corridor as she looked in at all the rooms.
“Pinkie!” Rarity hissed. “We need to be quiet!”
They all came to a halt as Sonata stopped, looking around as though lost.
“What?” Pinkie asked, cupping a hand to her ear.
“I said you need to be quiet!” Rarity hissed louder.
“Girls—“ Sunset began.
“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” Pinkie said in a stage whisper.
“Rarity don’t!” Twilight gasped, as both she and Sunset realised what was about to happen.
Rarity took a deep breath. “I said that you need to be quiet!”
She blinked, looking around at all of the tense and shocked faces staring at her. Her face went pink.
A sound up ahead. Everyone’s heads snapped in its direction, not daring to move. Up ahead on the right was a door that was open. A feeble, sputtering light like that of a low flame issued from it.
“Did you hear that?” Rainbow asked, her eyes darting around in the dark.
“Wind maybe?” Applejack suggested. “The draft in here is terrible.”
“Well that’s what you get with an over-the-top heating system and no proper insulation,” Rarity muttered, apparently unable to stop herself rolling her eyes.
“No, I think that’s a someone,” Sunset said tensely.
“We won’t know unless we go check it out,” Twilight stated.
None of them moved.
Sunset looked around at her friends without moving. Sonata alone of them seemed eager to press on, and it was only with a firm grip on her upper arm that Sunset held her back.
“So, err... anyone gonna go check it out?” Rainbow whispered, trying to sound jovial.
No one answered her.
“I mean, I would of course.” She gave a small chuckle. “But I... got this twisted ankle, you know? Ow!” She yelped as Applejack stood on her foot.
“Yeah, looks like it hurts,” Applejack said, smirking.
“Will you both be quiet!” Rarity snapped.
“Twilight, can you hold onto Sonata, please?” Sunset asked. “I’ll go check it out.”
“You sure?” Twilight asked solicitously. “I can go if you—“
“We’ll get nowhere if we keep second guessing ourselves.”
Sunset walked forward, trying not to make any noise. The door ahead wasn’t fully open, but ajar. As Sunset came level to it, leaning against the wall to get a look through the opening, she reached out a hand to push it open. Her heart, already beating harder than usual, gave a lurch as the door creaked. She froze, eyes wide, listening for any sounds from within.
Nothing.
Then she noticed that she wasn’t breathing, and drew in a slow, deep breath.
Taking a hold of the handle, she opened the door a little more forcefully. It gave the slightest of grinding noises as it opened.
The first thing to occur to Sunset was that the room seemed to be empty, yet oddly there were candles all over the place, flickering and sputtering in the persistent draft. This puzzled her, and she stepped into the room with her trepidation transitioning smoothly into confusion. She took stock of the bed, the make-up table, the wardrobe in the corner, the desk next to the bed, the slightly moving curtains, a pile of laundry in a dark corner. A number of bubbly posters full of cartoon characters plastered the walls, some from shows Sunset knew, and others utterly foreign to her. Candles stood on every surface, gilding the room in an orangey light, but probably because of the light, gave the room no additional warmth. The air was icy and metallic, the bite of winter eating into Sunset’s exposed face.
“It’s okay, there’s no one in—Eek!”
She had been walking around the room in search of some indication of who’d been inside, when she drew near the pile of laundry. It wasn’t laundry, but the covering from the bed, which she now realised had been stripped bare. And the little pile had moved.
“What’s up?” Rainbow yelled, exploding into the room with her fists raised. “Come out and fight, cowards!”
“Rainbow, it’s not—“ Sunset tried to explain, but all of the rest of her friends broke inside after Rainbow, all looking as battle ready as they could. Except for Fluttershy, who peeped her head around the corner, trembling and trying to look small.
“Where are they?” Pinkie demanded. “Let me at ‘em, let me at ‘em!” She threw a few test punches at the air, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Girls, stop!” Sunset snapped, raising both of her hands. “It’s okay. At least I think so.” She looked down at the covers on the floor. They were moving again, but shiftily, as though whatever was underneath was moving slowly and deliberately.
She reached down, and took a hold of the cover. With all of her friends watching, she yanked the sheets away.
If Sunset was entirely honest with herself, she rather expected there to be some more energetic reaction. Flailing arms and legs was the very least she’d expected, if not to be tackled to the floor. Instead, Adagio and Aria sat huddled against the wall, staring up with wide and frightened eyes. To be sure they both made a job of looking angry and threatening, but in the cold their efforts were made exceedingly feeble.
“Oh my gosh!” Fluttershy cried, finally entering the room herself and leaping down next to the pair of them. “Look how cold you are!”
Sunset did look. It was startling to see just how blue their arms and legs had gone. The blanket and sheets had done little to help them, and she doubted being wrapped in ten such sheets would have done any better. The house was simply too cold, and the snow outside was making it colder.
“Rarity, pass me the bags, please. Quickly!” Sunset snapped her fingers to break Rarity from her trance.
Somewhat flustered, Rarity passed around the bags, and everyone extracted the clothing.
“Come on,” Sunset said gently, reaching out her hand. “Come on, lets get you out of here.”
Neither of the two girls moved. Trembling with the cold, Aria was shutting her eyes hard, as though resisting physical pain, whilst Adagio stared up at Sunset with oddly blank eyes. After a short pause, Sunset retracted her hand.
Without preamble, Pinkie sidled up beside Sunset and jabbered something at the two. Still, neither responded. “I asked what was wrong,” Pinkie explained at Twilight’s prompting.
“Well duh,” Rainbow scoffed with her usual tactfulness. “They’re freezing. Let’s get them off the floor.”
This process sounded easier than it actually was. Aria put up a little struggle, not wanting to be separated from Adagio, but once again Adagio herself put up a voluble degree of protestation. It bordered on panic. Eventually, with Rainbow and Applejack’s physical assistance, and Fluttershy’s soothing voice, they managed to get both girls onto the bed, and wrapped them in the clothes Rarity had made for them. Sunset discovered that where the two had been sitting had been the least drafty area in the room, screened by the proximity of the wardrobe. They hadn’t been there just to hide.
Whilst Aria sat munching on a Twix bar she’d managed to swipe from Rainbow’s coat pocket, Fluttershy sat singing to Adagio. It didn’t seem to make Adagio feel any better, judging by the look of her eyes and face, but it did seem to calm her down.
“Fascinating,” Twilight muttered to Sunset. “It really is them. All three of them.”
“Any ideas of how it happened?” Sunset whispered back. “We had a few ideas, but nothing concrete. I don’t think even they know what happened to them.”
“If their memory went when... whatever happened to them occurred,” Twilight went on speculatively, “it might not necessarily be that the age regression took their memories, like reversing a tape recorder.”
“What are you thinking?” Sunset asked, sensing an epiphany coming.
Twilight bit her lip. “What if I said that I found it strange that the sirens lived for so long as they did?”
“What do you—“ Sunset stopped. “Starswirl the Bearded... he banished them a thousand years ago. So you don’t think that that was their natural lifespan?”
“I think we’re making too many assumptions about them,” Twilight said seriously. “If you think about it, what did we really know? That they possessed dark magic, and that that magic was geared towards their absorbing negative energy in order to mind control people through magical spells cast in the form of music. That is the substance of what we know about them. But everything else is pure speculation. How long they live, whether their powers were hereditary or obtained, to what degree their magic influenced their personalities; none of this we had any way of knowing.”
“So what do you think they are now?”
Twilight smiled. “I do not know, former student of Celestia. What do you think?”
Sunset felt a little warmth re-enter her cheeks. She thought for a moment. “I think we need more definite information. Something we can study and gleam definite answers from. I don’t think the girls themselves will be much help with that though, not in their current state.”
“I agree,” Twilight said grimly. “What we need is some kind of record. Maybe they left diaries or journals?”
“If so, this was their house,” Sunset said thoughtfully, looking around. “If anywhere, they’d keep them here.”
“Do you think that we should look around?” Twilight asked uneasily. “I mean, I know it’s likely important and they aren’t the same girls that they were before, but... Sunset?”
Sunset looked up. “Hm?”
Twilight gave her a sympathetic grimace. Sunset had been watching Sonata as they talked. “Concerned?”
“To be honest, yes. Given what happened between them.”
Despite Sonata’s initial eagerness to find the other two, when they had actually found Aria and Adagio, Sonata had stealthily maintained her distance. Currently she was crouching behind Rarity, making adequate use of the superfluous decorative fake fur around the middle of the coat the fashionista was wearing to hide herself.
“They’re practically sisters,” Twilight said in a rallying tone. “I’m sure they’ll get passed it. I have a brother of my own; fights are part of the occupation.”
Sunset, who had no brothers or sisters of her own, was forced to concede to Twilight’s greater experience of these matters. She supposed in the end that Twilight was probably right. Maybe. For the moment their happiness wasn’t exactly the highest priority.
“I think they’ll be fine,” Fluttershy said uncertainly. “Children aren’t exactly the same as animals, but I think if we just get them somewhere warm and let them recover a little, we’ll be able to move them from the house soon.”
It became immediately apparent that they could not move them outside yet. The snow storm was as fierce as ever, and the wind howled against the side of the house, penetrating unseen spaces and making sounds like ghostly wails surge through the halls.
Downstairs in what appeared to be the main lounge, which had the proportions of the school gymnasium, was a working fireplace. All holding candles from the bedroom, they moved through the darkening house, Sunset feeling like a character from a cartoon about teenage detectives in a haunted house.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Sunset said tentatively.
“Why not?” Applejack asked. In true always-prepared farmer fashion, she’d produced a silver lighter from her back pocket, and Rarity had discovered that the metal cabinet next to the hearth contained lighter fluid and shapely chunks of charcoal. Disdaining to touch the dusty fuel herself, Rainbow had shoved her aside impatiently and casually tossed a pile of them onto the blackened logs in the fireplace.
“After what they’ve gone through, I don’t think they appreciate fire as much as they used to,” Sunset explained, glancing at Aria.
“Well ah don’t see that we got much choice,” Applejack sighed. “How else we supposed ta keep warm?”
“Maybe there’re electric heaters around here,” Rarity suggested. “Battery powered ones,” she said pre-emptively, as it was clear Applejack was about to protest.
“I’ll search the basement,” Rainbow said, raising her own candle. “That’s probably where all the storage is. Come on Fluttershy.”
“Oh come on, just think of all the cute little spiders and creepy-crawly things we’ll find down there. You love that stuff.”
“B-but I—“
“I’ll search the kitchen!” Pinkie announced, skipping out of the room.
“Ah’ll see to making this fire ready in case nothin’ turns up,” Applejack said, snapping the lighter head shut.
“Then I shall search the surrounding rooms,” Rarity said composedly. “There’s sure to be a cupboard or something with supplies here somewhere. Perhaps a lantern or some torches.”
“Sunset, could you help me search upstairs?” Twilight asked.
“Sure,” Sunset said. “Maybe we can find some answers while we’re at it.”
They both moved off towards the door back to the stairs, when Sunset felt a tug on the back of her coat.
“Sunset?” Sonata said hopefully.
“Oh.” Sunset turned around and bent down. “You want to come too?” She pointed up stairs.
“You want to come too,” Sonata parroted, nodding.
Sunset couldn’t prevent a smile creeping across her face. She took Sonata’s hand, but was suddenly brought up short by Aria appearing on her other side and taking firm hold of her other hand. Sunset blinked.
“You want to come as well?”
Aria didn’t reply, or even look at her. She and Sonata were looking determinately away from each other, but Sunset got the idea that Aria didn’t want to be left here with Applejack tending the fire. Her little face was burning red, which was only partially obscured by the diamond patterned scarf wrapped around it.
Odder still, Adagio had sauntered over, her arms folded moodily and her face in the most determined scowl she could force it into. This appeared to be difficult, thanks to the numbness in her still cold face.
“They should really wait here and wait for the others to find a way of warming them,” Twilight said, sounding concerned. “They’re still so blue looking.”
“I would agree,” Sunset said, “but I doubt that they will, if the grip Aria has on my hand is any indication.”
Twilight snorted with laughter, but tried to pass it off as a cough. “Fine. Maybe we’ll find something whilst we’re looking. Let’s keep an eye on them though, we don’t want them overexerting themselves.”
As the house was so large, and they had the entire second floor to themselves, Twilight and Sunset decided in the interests of overlooking nothing to begin from the west wing, and proceed incrementally to the east wing.
One thing that Sunset immediately noticed was that all of the sirens seemed to have two or three bedrooms, and that they had very few clothes in them. Those they did have were reminiscent of the ones they’d worn during their period at Canterlot High. This puzzled her, until she found a drawer in one of Adagio’s rooms crammed full of receipts for rent clothing. All of the receipts were charged nothing, despite the fact that much of what they had numbered in the hundreds of dollars.
Sunset’s lip curled; their obvious vanity nudged something inside her a little close to home.
It seemed that the sirens had alternated rooms, since they were all relatively close to each other, presumably simply for variety’s sake. Sonata’s rooms were the most radically different, with colour schemes, bed styles, and even the windows changing with each room. The room with posters seemed to have been hers as well, a small monument to a wide array of her favourite media.
Aria’s changed the least; all were plain and brooding, but filled with a variety of things seemingly collected, as though she took things and threw them aside the moment she got bored with them. Sunset remembered the piles of toys in the warehouse, and wondered if this was just part of Aria’s personality. What few decorations she had were dark posters of bands or black and white posters of noir and thriller films.
Adagio’s had the most grandiosity by far. The first room had a four-poster with silken banners, and velvet covered chairs with matching coloured carpets on a dark wood floor. A walk-in closet, again with few to no clothes in it, stood dark and empty, interspersed with mirrors that repeated their reflections infinitely like a fairground ride. Sunset glanced discreetly at Adagio pouting behind her, and imagined her older self strutting around in front of the mirrors, trying to get that perfect look.
In Adagio’s third room, they found a change. Whilst it could still be said to be grand, this room showed a lot more wear than the previous two, indicating in Sunset’s mind that this was where Adagio spent most of her time, and perhaps had some sentimental value to her. She ran this theory by Twilight.
“Possibly,” she replied, looking at Adagio for any signs of emotional response. “Difficult to say, but we found no personal effects in the other rooms.”
“True, just furnishings,” Sunset concurred. “Not even any jewellery. I thought they’d have diamonds and gold and whatever else they could get their hands on.”
“Well,” Twilight said gravely, opening a set of drawers, “they did already have special jewels of their own.”
Sunset raised her eyebrows. She supposed Twilight had a point there. Perhaps the sirens hadn’t been greedy, just incredibly narcissistic and vain. And you don’t need to acquire wealth to get attention when you have magic.
“Oh hey, look,” Sunset said, picking up a wireless hairdryer. “I think this still works.”
Sonata, who’d been hovering close to Sunset’s leg, jumped and let out a squeak of alarm as Sunset switched the device on. Aria laughed openly, whilst Adagio maintained her look of lofty disdain. Sunset turned the end of the dryer on Sonata, who flinched, but then almost instantly became intrigued. Taking it in her hands, she held it to her face and grinned into the hot air.
Predictably, no sooner had the other two noticed Sonata’s delight with it, Aria and Adagio converged, Aria darting forward and seizing it from her grasp whilst Adagio approached quietly from behind, evidently intent on snatching it from Aria when she least expected it.
“Um... should we stop that?” Twilight asked, giving Sunset an inquiring look.
“Nah, it’ll keep them happy whilst we look around.”
“I guess. Oh! Look at this,” Twilight said, looking down at the station of make-up where Sunset had found the hairdryer. In and amongst the spiked hair bands, enormous cans of hair spray, and nail-polishes of seemingly every colour known to mankind, was a number of objects that didn’t seem to belong there.
“Is that an account book?” Sunset asked, peering at the little leather-bound journal Twilight had picked up.
“It is!” Twilight said with glee. “Household arrangements and everything! She was so organised!” She coughed as she glanced back down at the scattered mess of the makeup table. “Well, on paper anyway.”
“Perhaps she felt responsible for the other two,” Sunset said thoughtfully. “As their de facto leader.”
“It might have just been another power trip,” Twilight said more seriously. “Keeping tabs on the other two’s spending I mean.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t be speculating on her motives,” Sunset suggested. “It doesn’t do us any good now.”
Twilight shrugged. “Anything might be helpful. But you’re right, we’ve got nothing concrete on this.” She moved away.
Sunset however stayed to mooch through the rest of the odd items, holding her candle high to cast its dim light over the area. Instantly, something caught her eye; a small jewellery box of purple and gold dotted with little spikes nestled between a large hairbrush and a rack of curlers. On an impulse she opened it, and the gasp that came out of her mouth drew Twilight instantly back.
“What?” Twilight asked, holding her candle up as well.
Sunset didn’t reply, but reached down into the box, and pulled up a clear, plastic bag. She and Twilight stared into it, their eyes wide.
“This is perfect,” Twilight breathed. “This is better than I could have hoped for! If those are what I think they are...”
Sunset could hardly be less excited.
Setting down her candle, she tugged off her gloves and pulled the top of the bag open. With Twilight watching her eagerly, Sunset carefully fished out a few hard, spiky objects, and held them in her palm. They both looked down at them, two students of magic roving expert eyes over the curious items... and frowning.
“This is one of their pendants, right?” Twilight asked, squinting her eyes at the chunks and shards.
“I think so,” Sunset said slowly.
“Then what are these clear parts?” Twilight asked.
Sunset had no answer. Even in the flickering light of the candles, it was clear that the shards in Sunset’s hand were mostly red, but that some of them were clear. Sunset picked one up and held it closer to the candle flame. It felt coarse, and had a matte quality to its surface, like glass on a beach.
Confused, Sunset held up the bag itself, and saw a word written in permanent marker on its side.
Adagio
“Perhaps they just got mixed in with the pendant shards somehow?” Twilight suggested.
“Maybe...” Sunset muttered. “I don’t think so somehow though. Possibly it’s an effect of them being destroyed. Perhaps the red colour is some sort of power gauge. That would explain why they glowed brighter when the three of them grew more powerful.”
“That’s a thought,” Twilight said, nodding. “Or perhaps it’s some kind of magical scarring from when they were destroyed. We didn’t get a good look at the pendants when we won. We might not have noticed these pieces.”
Their academic musings were interrupted when Twilight’s eyes were caught by something to her right.
“I think she wants you for something,” she whispered.
Following Twilight’s line of sight, Sunset found that Adagio was standing next to them, looking up with a look of impatient curiosity. One shapely eyebrow was raised at a sharp angle, and her magenta eyes glittered with perceived authority. Sunset had to stop herself snorting at the adult way in which Adagio carried herself in her teeny child’s body.
“Did you want something?” Sunset asked, hoping her tone would interpret her question. She noticed that Aria had won, or been allowed to win the fight for the hairdryer. She stood wafting it at her face whilst Sonata stood uneasily off to one side.
Adagio fixed her eyes on the shards in Sunset’s hand.
“Oh, you want to see?” Sunset asked, holding her hand out.
Adagio frowned at the shards, as though she’d not been expecting that to be what Sunset had been holding. Giving Sunset one last look of condescending suspicion, she reached out a hand to pick one of the shards.
No sooner had her skin come into contact with the roundish chunk of red stone, then everything in Sunset’s senses changed. Touch, sight, smell, hearing, even the dusty taste on the air altered, turned into something unfamiliar.
A whirl of new feelings washed through her in the space of less than a second, and... and then everything changed.
The effect was instantaneous and frankly uncomfortable. If Sunset had been obliged to describe it to someone, she would have said that it was like travelling through the portal to Equestria. The principal differences were that as opposed to the wide array of colours and unending whiteness beyond, all she could see were shadows flickering over a black and white background, murky and indistinct. Perhaps it was only the rapid passage through this odd landscape that made it seem so, but it seemed to Sunset that the shadows were not stationary. They appeared to her to be moving in wild, erratic twists and lunges, as though she moved through a host of dancing demons. The effect of most disconcerting.
The second difference was that, unlike the portal to Equestria, Sunset herself didn’t seem to move. She stood perfectly still, her breath caught in her lungs as though she was frozen in time, and her surroundings moved instead. Most assuredly they did, for Sunset felt the very ground beneath her feet surging underneath her, although it felt like no floor she had ever stood upon before.
After what might have been a few moments, or possibly several dragging years, Sunset managed to build up the courage to look around. For the first time, she noticed something beyond the shadows. In between their flickering, twisting forms, she saw places, flashing in and out of sight like photographs seen through a broken camera lens. Out of curiosity, she attempted to focus on one of them, although what this might achieve she didn’t know.
Sunset blinked. Everything had stopped moving. And everything had changed.
She looked around, and found herself in what appeared to be either an alley, or a small side-street of some kind. She frowned. Something was off about this place.
“All of the buildings are made of wood,” she observed, scratching her cheek. “And they’re not particularly well built either.”
This was true. The close-connected shacks and ramshackle buildings surrounding her varied in their standards of withstanding the elements. Some were solid looking but very old, whilst others were barely more than bits of broken timber fashioned together into primitive sorts of shelters.
Another weird thing, Sunset thought: “Where is everyone?”
The lack of people all around was incredibly unnerving. It was so quiet that Sunset could feel her senses heightening. Her ears filled with the indefinable whining of utter silence, her eyes flicking from broken down doors to far off shadows, fully expecting that the moment she looked away, something would appear.
Then she nearly jumped out of her skin as a sound echoed all around; a child’s laughter. In the utter silence it sounded sinister, reverberating in her ears so that it became impossible to know where it was coming from. She looked around desperately to see where it was coming from, and then she gasped.
Like holograms being belatedly activated around her, people began to appear in a great wave. It started behind her, a multitude of people appearing seemingly from nowhere, until the narrow little street became choked with them. The formerly silent street filled with the cacophony of the crowd, people arguing and shouting and talking.
And then another odd thing happened. All of the people changed for a brief instant. Sunset’s heart skipped a beat as she saw every person’s form flicker and change, morphing from two legged humans to four legged creatures, and then back again. This happened several times, completely entrancing Sunset, befuddling her, like watching a cinema screen distorting with a burning reel.
What’s going on? she thought desperately. What’s happening? Where am—
“Ah!” she cried.
Something small, about half her height, had run straight through her. Right through her back, and out through her chest, apparently without noticing her in the slightest. Sunset’s words of wonder caught in her throat as she recognised the bushy mane of orange hair.
“Come on!” Adagio shrieked happily.
And then two more people about the same height sprinted past Sunset, one with purple and green hair, and another with brightest blue. And then the weird flickering effect happened again. The three girls disappeared, replaced momentarily by three...
“They’re ponies!” Sunset gasped, unable to help herself. And she had just enough time to see that everyone around her were different as well. Some of them were ponies, but the vast majority of them seemed to be sheep.
“Um...” Sunset muttered, as the children disappeared around the corner. Instantly all of the people around her and their associated sounds vanished. Before she could react, her surroundings darkened to black as though the sun had been extinguished.
When the light returned, she found herself in a dimly lit building. The edifice was made of stone once painted with bright colours, but now dulled and chipped to show the greyish material beneath. Sunset felt curiously small, as though she had shrunk, since everything around her seemed to be larger than she expected them to be. And she couldn’t seem to be able to move, not even her eyes. Then her head moved of its own volition. The sensation brought on a feeling akin to sea-sickness, her stomach lurching with the feeling of her body moving without her commanding it to.
What the— she thought wildly. She saw her own hands and feet. She was sitting on the floor, her hands in her lap. Her body was definitely smaller, and her clothes were different. But they were definitely her hands; they were the same yellowish hue... or were they?
“Are you okay?” asked a voice.
Her head moved again, and turned her eyes towards a boy with white skin and purple curly hair. Or was it a boy? Again the odd distorting phenomena swept over her surroundings, and the few people she could see in the dimness of a nearby wall sconce changed. The boy turned into a lamb. The girl beyond him turned into a filly, and the girl beyond her a ewe. In the periphery of her vision her own hands turned to hooves.
“I’m fine.” Her own voice sounded high and child-like. She wished that her body would stop acting on its own.
She heard footsteps, and everyone fizzed back to human. From the shadows at the far end of the room came a broad figure, square-ish and oddly proportioned. A woman, clad in many shawls and holding a tureen of some sort, shuffled forward, and set the food down in the middle of the room.
“Don’t crowd, don’t crowd!” she called authoritatively, as all of the small figures around surged forward, Sunset herself amongst them. They all paused at the sight of the woman’s raised finger. She held it for a few moments, and then pulled out some wooden bowls. Deliberately, and with her sharp eyes still holding them all in place, she knelt down and scooped up whatever was in the clay container with the bowls, and handed them out. “Bunch of animals, the lot of you,” she said with familial humour.
When she handed one to Sunset, Sunset felt herself scamper back to the wall instead of staying with the rest of the children, and began scooping the contents of the bowl up with her hands to her mouth. Then her form flickered again, and she was plunging her muzzle into the bowl instead, lapping up the contents greedily.
What the hell is going on? Sunset thought, as she changed back to human. A great confusion had set in her mind. Or perhaps, not her mind, but the person she was at the time. She felt feelings unconnected to her, and realised that she could feel physical sensations that shouldn’t have been hers. She suddenly realised she had an intense hunger that the thick and tasteless food she had just ravenously devoured was barely able to alleviate.
Another, even more potent feeling within her, was one of trepidation, or fear. Rampant, undiluted fear. Something was going to happen to her, and she knew it. Something awful, something that had happened before. She probed her own mind to see what it was, but it was as though her own mind were trying to block out the memory.
“Adagio?”
That was the woman, the woman with the food. Sunset looked up, and saw her leaning down over her.
“Adagio, dear?” the woman said again. “It’s time to go now.”
Her mouth opened, her jaw tight and shaking.
“I-I can’t... I don’t w-want to...”
The woman’s brow creased. “I know you don’t. But there is no choice.” She reached down and grasped her arm. Sunset felt her heart leap in her chest. Panic she did not understand enveloped her, clouded her mind. Her surroundings warped, became a confusion of lights and sounds.
“No! Please don’t make me!” she screamed.
The scene changed.
She couldn’t be sure of what was happening, for everything was black. Then she realised that she had her eyes closed tight shut. She could only hear, and smell, and what she heard and smelt set her flesh tingling. The air was very close, warm, and moist. Low, male voices whispered all around her, interspersed with other, primal sounds. She could feel herself trying desperately to block them out. She smelled sweat on the air, and something sweet like perfume or incense.
A low chuckle very close to her made her skin crawl, and then a large, thick fingered hand touched her shoulder. It began to nudge aside the fabric there so that it slid down her upper arm.
“Sunset!”
Sunset drew in a breath, feeling as though she had been near drowning. She careened backwards into the makeup table and scraped her back against its side.
“Sunset, the pendant!” Twilight screamed.
Sunset opened her mouth, her fuzzy brain half-forming a question, until a sudden burning pain blocked out all other thought. Her hands flew to her chest. The shards of broken stone were fixed there, pressing towards her heart through the fabric of her coat. They burned like molten metal. She screamed.
Twilight leapt forward and tried to seize the shards, pry them free, but she screamed too, backing away with her hands steaming.
Sonata shrieked in horror, and Aria dropped the hairdryer which clunked to the floor and bounced away from her. Adagio backed slowly away, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, tripping backwards against the bed. Rapid footfalls from below indicated that their friends had heard the noise.
Sunset seized hold of the shards, and despite the fact that they burned her fingers, she couldn’t let go of them. They would burn though her coat, reach her chest and scorch into her heart! She cried out as her flesh hissed. The room filled with a sinister red light, the shards glowing with a bloody radiance.
Without warning, something bowled her over and swatted her hands aside. Sunset looked up through streaming eyes to see Aria’s pinched little purple face, her brow furrowed as she scrabbled at Sunset’s chest. With enormous effort, she yanked the largest shard away from Sunset’s chest, and with a grunt of disgust, threw it hard across the room.
Sunset looked down desperately, about to pull away the other shards too, but the heat abruptly stopped, and the deathly radiance dimmed. The pressure lessened, and with a revolted gasp, Aria swatted away the remaining pieces.
“Stop right there, dirtbag!”
Everyone in the room jumped as the door blew open and a mass of pink flew into the room. Executing a forward roll, Pinkie stood up on one knee, aiming a pair of salad tongues into the shadowy corners of the room.
“Um...” she said after a short pause. “Where’s the dirtbag?”
“Dear me, what is going on up here?”
In scattered fashion, the rest of their friends burst into the room, staring around shining torch beams into the shadows.
Rarity spotted Sunset and Twilight huddled by the dresser, both of them holding their burnt and blistered hands in front of them. “Oh my darlings!” she cried, leaping down next to them. “Whatever happened to your hands?”
Neither Twilight nor Sunset were much able to form comprehensible sentences at that particular moment. Fluttershy vanished and reappeared carrying a number of supplies that she hastily explained she found in a bathroom cupboard down the hall, and with Rarity’s help began to bandage their hands. Meanwhile, Sunset noticed, Pinkie was talking to Aria. Sunset had never seen the little siren talk so much before, but right now she was gabbling away in rapid Greco-dialect, pointing at the chunk of red pendant glimmering on the floor.
“No Pinkie, don’t!” Sunset exclaimed, as Pinkie went to pick it up.
“What?” Pinkie asked, looking puzzled. She held the stone between forefinger and thumb, and nothing whatsoever was happening.
Sunset frowned. She began to puzzle over the incongruity of this, but soon found that her curiosity and confusion was being steadily overridden by something else inside of her. As the pain in her bandaged hands receded into a dull pulse, her mind returned inexorably to the images the pendant chunk had inspired in her.
“Sunset?” someone said.
Sunset felt something touch her shoulder. She let out a shriek and tried to leap back from her seated position on the floor, tripping on the carpet and falling backwards onto her elbows.
She stared up at Rainbow, who had pulled back her hand in shock.
“Um... sorry?” Rainbow said feebly.
Sunset felt cold sweat on her head, and her entire body was shaking. She’d never felt so frail, so brittle, so... exposed before. Not even her defeat and exposure to the school for the terrible person that she’d been compared to this feeling. It was more than just emptiness, a fragile form revealed to unfriendly eyes. There was a sense of unwanted intimacy, of violation. The touch on her shoulder had sent a thrill of terror through her that she couldn’t quite understand.
She looked up at her friends, all looking shocked and concerned. Sonata stood beside her, pulling at her fingers and looking tearful.
After a few moments, her heart rate returned to normal levels, and she regained control of her ragged breathing. It felt so much like coming back to her own body that she took hold of her own arms as though to ground herself. The feeling of fear receded quickly as the memory of what she had seen fell into a well of time inside of her. It felt like an old memory, something that she had buried deep within her for a long time. And with this mental certainty came a feeling of loneliness, a terrible feeling of solitude. A cracked reality of infinite darkness she dare not reach out towards, lest it fall away and reveal some even more ghastly world beyond it.
All of these feelings came upon her so fast that for a while she wasn’t sure of her surroundings. When she came back to herself again, she found that someone was nudging her shoulder. Sonata. She managed not to jump this time.
“Oh... hello...” Sunset rasped. Her throat was so dry...
Sonata’s face was streaked with tears. She put her arms as far around Sunset as possible and gripped her tight, as though she thought Sunset was going to fall into the floor.
“Whoa, hey there,” Rainbow said tentatively, as Sunset rubbed Sonata back. “You back with us?”
“What?” Sunset asked.
“You kinda... zoned out on us,” Rainbow explained awkwardly.
“Whatever is the matter?” Rarity asked, her face pale. “You’ve been sitting there staring into space and crying.”
“We didn’t wanna move ya or anything, considerin... well...” Applejack glanced at Rainbow. She too looked white and afraid. Sunset suddenly began to feel a little ashamed.
“I... I s-saw...” Sunset began, but then something occurred to her. She looked around. All of her friends were crowded in front of her, all eyeing her with concern. Sonata had pulled away and was looking frightened. Aria on the other hand wasn’t near the group. Sunset looked behind her, and found out why.
Sunset stood up. The movement was so sudden that her friends all gasped or stood back. Without paying attention to any of them, Sunset moved over to where Aria was kneeling next to Adagio.
The lead siren was sitting against the bed, her knees tucked up to her chest with her arms around her shins. Sunset wasn’t entirely aware of moving towards her, but she knew exactly how Adagio was feeling. She didn’t know how she knew; perhaps it was the haunted, deadened look in the eyes, or the glittering dew on her brow, or the way she was trembling as though expecting something to happen, or perhaps it was all or none of these things. Whatever it was, Sunset knelt down next to her, and carefully pulled her into a close embrace.
Adagio reacted as Sunset had expected her too. She shook violently as soon as Sunset made contact, and for a few moments she fought wildly, trying to swing out her arms, kick her legs. She opened her mouth and began to cry out words Sunset did not understand. After a while however, her words thickened, and she began to sniffle; Sunset did not let go.
“It’s alright,” she breathed, almost sobbing herself. “I know. But it’s okay.”
Sunset had the uncomfortable feeling that, despite the fact that she was saying this to Adagio, it was at least in part meant for herself. But whatever she was feeling, Adagio had felt before her, and Sunset needed warmth, the proximity of another person, to be told she wasn’t alone with this terrible emptiness. In a vague, emotional way, she reasoned that Adagio needed the same thing.
After a few moments, Adagio’s sobbing cries that Sunset presumed were demands to be let go lapsed into incomprehensible sniffles and crying. Much to Sunset’s surprise, she felt Adagio’s thin arms grip her suddenly around the middle.
“Err...”
Sunset looked up. Twilight was kneeling next to her, Sonata hovering uncertainly behind the alicorn’s back.
“Sunset, would I be asking too much if I asked...” she seemed to cast around for the words she wanted.
“I’ll explain,” Sunset said, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. “I’ll try anyway. But I don’t think that I can now.”
“I understand,” Twilight said, nodding.
Somehow, Sunset really didn’t think that she did. She, Sunset, didn’t think she herself understood. What she suspected, she dearly hoped was wrong.
The set up for the sleep-in was simple enough, but fraught with many minor complications. Unable to find any alternative heat sources other than the battery-powered hairdryer, they had no recourse but to hunker down in the main lounge next to the fire. Applejack and Rainbow Dash made their way around the room using whatever materials they could find to plug up the numerous means for the draft to come through, Rarity all the while hooting and complaining at their use of such exquisite fabrics like the curtains to be used in such a manner.
Much to Fluttershy’s unease, Pinkie Pie made it her business to call all of their parents and explain where they were.
“Hi Mrs. Rarity’s Mom, we’re staying in an abandoned scary mansion on Stepton House Road because we’re hemmed in by the snow, hope we don’t freeze to death in here, see you later, bye!”
“Um... Pinkie?” Fluttershy ventured tentatively. “Perhaps we could be just a little more informative, and a little less... direct.”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m doing it?” Pinkie asked, genuinely bemused.
“Well, it’s just that, um, the way you’ve said it all might be considered kind of... just a little...”
“You’re not being very delicate about it, darling,” Rarity called over. “Although you’re not the only one.” She glared at Applejack, who was studiously ignoring her whilst she shoved a wall tapestry against the gap under a side door.
“Sunset?” Twilight asked. “You’ve been kind of quiet for a while.” She pursed her lips when Sunset didn’t reply. It wasn’t that Sunset didn’t want to speak, she just couldn’t summon the energy to do it. “I know that you’ve experienced... umm,” she glanced briefly to one side. “Well, something.”
Sunset looked at Twilight. She was holding the three plastic bags containing the shattered remains of the siren pendants. Aria had retrieved the pieces that had attacked them, distastefully dropping them into the bag and handing them to Twilight. The princess had sat for a long while simply examining the bags, not daring to open them, sifting them around through the plastic with her bandaged fingers.
Sunset supposed that under usual circumstances, she’d be just as curious, just as willing to dismiss a painful experience in pursuit of knowledge. Right now however, she wasn’t up to it. Her mind was entirely enveloped.
Adagio sat with Aria on some of the sofa cushions set up by the fire. Despite Sunset’s misgivings, the sirens seemed to have no problem with the fire, and huddled close to it. Sonata on the other hand, apparently still feeling traces of guilt, was sat over by Twilight, feigning interest in the shards of broken pendent too.
Sunset stared at Adagio, wondering what she was thinking. In spite of her newfound friendships, and the relationship that she’d had with Princess Celestia and her parents, Sunset had never really felt a great connection with anyone. She felt too dissimilar. In the case of her friends, she still felt feelings of taint, pangs of guilt for what she had been. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever lose those misgivings, or if she wanted to lose them. Perhaps it was only those feelings of regret that made her the person that she was now. Narcissism aside, she liked who she was now.
Adagio however, or at least this younger version, Sunset felt some kind of connection with. She too was different from what she had once been, with a checked past and new chance at life. And then there were the memories they now shared, for Sunset was sure that that was what they were. Memories of a distant land in a different time. And all Sunset could think about was what they had been, and what they signified.
The next day, they struck camp from inside the old mansion. Rainbow leapt up to a higher window above the door and landed deftly on the four or five feet of snow outside that was blocking the door. No sooner had she begun to dig the door out of the way however, then Applejack pulled the door open from the inside, giving Rainbow a patronising look.
“I would have exited through the window anyway,” Rainbow stated, her face burning. “I always start the morning with deft acrobatics.”
Applejack said nothing, but simply smiled widely all the way back to the area of town they were familiar with, walking easily through the ploughed road courtesy of the city. This highly uncharacteristic form of mental torture so threw Rainbow off that she could only mutter resentfully all the way back, unable to retaliate or retort to comments that did not come.
Twilight took the opportunity whilst everyone else was eagerly watching Rainbow collapse inwardly at the inability to argue with Applejack, to inquire as to whether Sunset was feeling any better.
“Yeah, kinda,” Sunset said, putting on a smile. “In truth, I didn’t really feel bad. Just... well, shocked, I guess.”
“I know that what happened was probably really scary,” Twilight said, putting a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “It seemed to only burn the two of us, didn’t it?”
Sunset frowned, giving Twilight a probing look. “Didn’t you...?” she asked faintly.
“I’m sorry?” Twilight asked, leaning in.
Sunset blinked, recovering herself. “Didn’t you see the images?”
Twilight raised her eyebrows. “Images...?” she asked slowly.
“You didn’t see them,” Sunset surmised. “When Adagio touched the fragments, for an instance, I saw things. Memories; I’m sure that’s what they were.”
Twilight looked very serious all of a sudden. “We’ll talk more when we get inside.” She ran a hand over the outside of her coat pocket, no doubt feeling for the bags of shards. “If it’s alright, I’d like to hear all about this.”
“I’m not really sure how to begin,” Sunset said, setting down Twilight’s coffee on the kitchen counter.
“Anywhere you feel comfortable,” Twilight said delicately. She glanced down at her coffee, the look on her face made Sunset think that she was trying to steel herself to say something unpleasant. “Given what happened yesterday, I wouldn’t ask anything of you right now. You seemed... well, I only ask because it may well be important to understanding their condition.”
Both Twilight and Sunset looked sideways into the living room. The three in question were watching TV, Adagio and Aria on the couch, Sonata on the nearby chair. Adagio had reconstructed her veneer a lot faster than Sunset had been able to, but her unusual silence and unwillingness to scrap with Aria over every single little thing gave away that she was in an altered mood.
“I’ll tell you,” Sunset said, resting her head on her hand. “The only problem really is, I’m not sure what to make of some of it.”
“What do you mean?”
Sunset proceeded to explain the first memory, going into as much detail as she could remember. She described the way the people had appeared only as Adagio approached, and how they seemed to flicker between humans and ponies.
“You saw sheep as well?” Twilight asked, evidently intrigued.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Sunset said. “I thought the same. And given the way they dressed as well.”
“Between Saddle Arabia and the Roaman Republic,” Twilight agreed. “Fleece. Not a lot of contact between Equestria and the countries beyond the Griffon Kingdom. Saddle Arabia was really the first one since the Founding to meet with the Royal Pony Sisters.”
“And then Maretonia,” Sunset added.
“So, we have their place of birth and the remains of their pendants. To be honest it’s more than I hoped for. Researching their condition should be made easier with this information.”
“I actually had a thought on that,” Sunset said, swirling her coffee a little.
“What kind of thought?”
“It was when I guessed that they come from Fleece. I reminded me of a legend Princess Celestia told me.”
“There’s a lot of legends in Fleece,” Twilight said, evidently trying not to smile too much. “It’s kind of famous for its extensive mythology.”
“I know,” Sunset said, a little nettled. “It’s not something about the spirits or monsters though. It’s about the Lotus Society.”
Twilight suddenly stopped smiling.
“I’m guessing you’ve been taught about them too?” Sunset guessed.
“Sunset, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking... I mean, there’s evidence to suggest the existence of the group of course, plenty of it. It spread quite far. But there’s no evidence to support—“
“How would we ever know?” Sunset interrupted. “As far as I know, Fleece isn’t open to us to this very day. Too afraid of what Roam might do if they opened ties with Equestria.”
“That’s true,” Twilight conceded. “But that’s always meant that we know next to nothing about them except what’s come from discoveries in allied lands.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Sunset, twiddling her thumbs.
Twilight narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Sunset licked her lips, the familiar guilt rising in her guts. “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have been alive for a long time. Roam wasn’t always the power it is now. The forbidden sections of the library in Canterlot have some records dealing—“
“Wait a second,” Twilight said quickly, leaning excitedly across the table. “Are you saying that there are records of the Lotus Society in the forbidden... I’m totally allowed in there!” She let out a squee of excitement. “I can’t believe it! This is fantastic!” She stepped forward, a mad gleam in her eye. “Tell me, what do you—“ She paused, her smile dimming.
“It’s alright,” Sunset said, her mouth tightening. “You know my history with our teacher. I wasn’t supposed to be in the forbidden section, but since I have been, I’ll tell you what I know if you like whilst you’re here.”
In a more subdued tone, Twilight invited her to continue. “I know that the Lotus Society was a philosophical group devoted to pursuing immortality and enlightenment. That’s all in the standard histories. They began in the ancient east across the sea, and spread as far as the pre-founding tribes before disappearing sometime before the Founding,” Twilight summed up. She eyed Sunset warily. “But that doesn’t mean they actually found a way to become immortal.” She glanced into the lounge again. “No, it’s ridiculous,” she muttered. Sunset took a sip of coffee, noting Twilight’s sudden edginess.
“The main contemporary account we have about them are from Oldbark the Unseen.”
“I’ve read about him I think,” Twilight said interestedly, nodding. “I think Starswirl the Bearded wrote about him.”
“Oldbark was a hermet of sorts who lived in the forests dividing the old Unicorn Kingdom from the Earth Pony settlements. Clover the Clever details how Starswirl sought Oldbark out in his youth to gain knowledge from him.”
“So there are accounts written by Oldbark himself in the forbidden areas in Canterlot library?” Twilight asked excitedly.
“Of a sort,” Sunset replied vaguely. “He wrote very little instructions or records, but did write a great deal to correspondents, including with Starswirl. The letters he left behind about the Lotus Society are those shared with Flyvius, Enoch, and the Pegasus of the Cold Mountains, all of whom come from the lands we now call Roam.”
Sunset looked up at Twilight. Her eyes were full of the fascination of learning. It was clear that Twilight was drinking in this new information with an almost indecent amount of eagerness. Sunset smiled and continued.
“Enoch himself was supposed to be a member of the Lotus Society, whilst the other two simply lived in places where the Society was prominent. All three of them corresponded frequently with Oldbark, and several of their letters deal with the Lotus Society, especially those written by Enoch when he left the order.”
“Why did he leave?” Twilight asked, looking surprised.
Sunset breathed out heavily. “During his time at least, the object of the Lotus Society had become less intellectually centred than it had been before. The goal of immortality had led the group for centuries to try to discover things like the philosopher’s stone, the elixir of life, the fountain of youth, that sort of thing.”
“Which don’t exist,” Twilight sighed. “The only confirmed immortals are sprits and alicorns, neither of whom can have their immortality siphoned, only their magical power.”
“Exactly. But Enoch’s letters indicate to us that the society believed one of their methods did work.” Sunset paused for a moment, knowing just how the answer was going to sound to Twilight. Twilight looked at her eagerly, waiting for the answer. Sunset sighed. “The method that they claimed to work was the Apotheostones.”
Twilight’s face instantly turned sceptical. “Ridiculous,” she scoffed. She stared at Sunset for a few moments, as though waiting for Sunset to cry “Ha! Gotcha!” or something. When Sunset merely continued to stare seriously at her, Twilight waved an impatient hand and continued. “The Apotheostones? Seriously? They’re just as much a myth as the rest. The Stones of Impression, the God’s Jewels—“
“The Alicorn Amulet,” Sunset said quietly.
Twilight stammered to a halt. Sunset smiled a little grimly. Twilight had told Sunset of her encounter with the unicorn Trixie, during their correspondence via the journal. In a fit of academic idleness, Sunset had pondered over this curious jewel in her mind, and considering the effects that it had had, as described by Twilight, Sunset had thought it likely, if not all but confirmed.
“How do you...” Twilight began weakly. She gave her head a little shake. “What makes you think that the amulet was an Apotheostone?” Twilight asked, sounding incredulous.
“I don’t,” Sunset admitted. “It’s a hunch at best. But given what you told me about it, and given Oldbark’s letters, I think it at least likely. Twilight, do you know what the stones are meant to be?”
Twilight exhaled, looking exceedingly troubled. “According to the myths,” she said, laying a heavy stress on the last word, “they’re supposed to be vessels for powerful, ancient creatures to preserve their life forces in. Anyone who wore them was supposed to eventually become whatever being had been impressed upon the stone.”
“Consider then what the amulet was, and what it did. It bestowed Trixie with incredible power, rivalling that of the Princesses, and slowly corrupted her nature.”
“It made her greedier, more inclined to show off, yes,” Twilight confirmed. “Not that you’d notice with her,” she continued with a roll of the eyes.
“Well, imagine if she wore it for several weeks, or months, or years. What do you think would happen?”
Twilight didn’t reply for a while, and then seemed to rally.
“Okay,” she began, raising her hands. “Okay, just suppose that the Alicorn Amulet was an Apotheostone, let’s just concede that that’s true. Are you saying that the siren’s pendants were also stones of impression too?”
“I don’t know that to be the case,” Sunset repeated, trying to keep her voice neutral. “But just consider for a moment if they were. If the girls somehow got a hold of stones like that, it’d explain why their powers were tied to the pendants instead of being natural abilities.”
Twilight interlocked her fingers, scowling at the table. “I don’t know, Sunset. I still don’t know whether to believe that these stones even exist, let alone that the siren’s pendants or the Alicorn Amulet were examples of them. Still, if it’s true, and their personalities were being corrupted, it might help make sense of their desire to conquer the world.”
Sunset blushed. “I don’t know about that,” she said quietly. “It could just have been that they had power. Power corrupts, and all that.”
They discussed the matter for a large portion of the day. The only things that Sunset didn’t mention to Twilight were details about the last memory. She said only that the memory had been of somewhere warm with moist air, and that Adagio had had her eyes closed throughout. Twilight was entirely mystified, and didn’t inquire much further, being much more interested in the significance of the second memory. She conjectured at great length about Adagio’s childhood, and bounced many of these ideas off Sunset whilst the latter mainly stood around trying to suppress her misgivings.
Twilight was not entirely convinced by Sunset’s theory that the siren pendants had been the mythical Apotheostones, and Sunset frankly couldn’t blame her. Whilst a lot of the events that had gone on could be explained if Sunset was right, there was no tangible evidence in favour of it other than the stones themselves. In truth, it was simply solving a mystery with another mystery, since almost nothing was known about the stones outside of myth and legend.
When their friends arrived in the early afternoon, Twilight announced that she was returning to Equestria. In front of the portal back, she announced the news to her somewhat disheartened friends.
“I need to study these stones more,” she said, holding up the bags. “I can do that better in Equestria, where I can use my magic and the library. Don’t worry,” she said, smiling sadly at their disconsolate expressions. Rainbow Dash’s expression was stony, but she had to hide a small sniffle under the guise of a cough. “If all goes well, I’ll be back in a few days. It shouldn’t take too long since Sunset gave me some research parameters.” She smiled more warmly at Sunset, who forced herself to return it, and then turned to depart.
“Wait a moment,” Sunset said at the last moment. “Hey Twilight, do you reckon I could hold onto Adagio’s pendant?”
Twilight turned back, looking surprised. “Oh. Sure, I guess. What for?” she asked, giving Sunset a worried look. “Remember what happened when Adagio touched them.”
“I do,” Sunset said quickly. “I’d just like to be able to look at them myself for a little. Maybe I can find out something and you something else.”
“Maybe,” Twilight said, perking up to the idea. “Why don’t you come back to Equestria with me? You can use your magic there to study them more easily.”
Sunset’s insides twisted. “N-No, thanks Twilight, I’ll just work from here.” When Twilight started to look concerned again, Sunset went on. “I have to look after the ki— I mean, the sirens after all. I’ll just study them at home.”
Sunset bit her lip, inwardly cursing her hesitancy. It was clear from the look on Twilight’s face that she could tell something was bothering Sunset regarding this matter. In fact, there were a few things, not least being the sirens themselves. Fortunately however, Twilight was a tactful person, and raised no more questions, and handed Sunset the bag without fuss.
When Twilight departed through the statue’s base, Sunset and her friends stood around a little awkwardly for a moment, before Pinkie suddenly erupted into her usual energetic spirits.
“A few days?” she exclaimed suddenly. “That’s barely enough time to organise a decent return-after-a-few-days party!”
“No way that’s actually a thing,” Applejack said, looking questioningly at everyone else. They all shrugged, except for Sunset. For the first time since before seeing those images, Sunset smiled. Indeed, if she hadn’t had her wits about her, she might have laughed out loud; trust Pinkie to bring her crashing back to earth. But she didn’t want to be questioned right now, and so citing the girls probably destroying her apartment in her absence, she hastily departed.
On her way home, she looked down at the shards in her hand.
She knew that she had to learn more about them, and more specifically, about Adagio. Something in her memories stored in these broken pieces might well vindicate her theory, and...
Sunset swallowed. Perhaps she could learn something about the sirens themselves. Who they really are. If she was to help them, she needed to know all that she could about them, and where better to start than in the beginning?
If Twilight had asked Sunset precisely how she felt about her theory, Sunset would have been brought up short about how to answer. In truth, she rather hoped that she was wrong.
The Apotheostones were an ancient myth, older than Equestria, older than the tales of the old tribes, older even than the first recorded historical writings on the Royal Pony Sisters, whose antiquity rivalled that of almost any other subject in history.
Sunset had read many of the stones’ associated myths, which whilst widespread across many lands and varied greatly in details, most accounts agreed on several key premises. The Apotheostones were more than simple magical jewels imbued with the ability to carry the life essence of ancient entities across eternity. They were the physical hearts of immortals, crystalised by eons of existence, hardened into red glass by the compounded beats of a thousand lifetimes. Like their owners, the stones became imbued over an incalculable amount of time by the very nature of the entity to which it belonged; any part of that ancient being had become infused with consciousness in and of itself, but in the heart – that most stubborn of organs – lay the desire to persist, the single-minded will to defy the inevitable march of time.
Even immortality has its limitations.
As Sunset knew only too well, no immortal being is entirely impervious; her entire plan of conquest had depended upon it. Even the Royal Pony Sisters, Discord, Tirek, or Cerberus, although their bodies resist time’s slow decay, are not immune to the changing nature of the universe. Each of them can be overcome by superior powers, they can become ill, their natures can be altered.
They can bleed.
No one in the modern day knows what happens should an immortal be destroyed, but if the myth of the Apotheostones was true, then something about them, a piece of what they were, persists. Their no longer beating hearts are taken, the rough, jagged forms hewn down into blood red jewels, and heralded in many ancient myths to be sources of extraordinary power.
This was the legend in totality as it came down to Equestrians today. Sunset remembered being told this story in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and being entirely fascinated by the story. All old tales interested her, but those that told of great heroes attaining fabulous power intrigued her the most. She often wondered if it was this earlier desire to be a hero – to be more like the Princess herself – that had begun her path towards turning from her teacher.
When she became disillusioned with her teacher, and broke Equestrian law by penetrating the forbidden section of the library in Canterlot, she had discovered the surviving writings of Oldbark the Unseen, and along with many other secrets that were not hers to know, she found out that the story of the Apotheostones was perhaps not merely a subject of mythology.
Enoch, a powerful and learned unicorn who hailed from an ancient settlement close to the Roaman heartland, wrote to Oldbark of the Lotus Society, a group that most historians agreed was a philosophical movement started by unknown intellectuals who saw that great wisdom might be achieved by beings who defied death. Such immortal beings would become the perfect rulers, wise in their experience and compound knowledge; they would lead the world into an age of peace and enlightenment. Sunset had to admit as she read them that the idea had some appeal, and in its way had been carried out in the rule of the Royal Pony Sisters.
By Enoch’s time however, the pursuit of general knowledge and enlightenment had greatly diminished. The group, originally reclusive in hopes of retaining philosophical purity, had by his time become a society of common knowledge. Public buildings devoted to their researches were to be found in major cities around the world, and their lower members known to the masses as the faces of the organisation. Sunset had been excited to discover that Enoch thought that this sudden change in secrecy was a means to begin altering the perception of the laity.
The true reason for the society’s openness was because they had discovered their means for becoming immortal, and were preparing their public image for their inevitable assumption of power. According to Oldbark’s letters, Enoch had become disillusioned with the means by which the group wished to become immortal, which was known only to the highest members of the society, whom still remained shadowy.
Modern history as Sunset knew it details how the group suffered a mysterious inner collapse, and faded from the public view a generation or so before the founding of Equestria. By the time of the Royal Pony Sisters, the group was essentially defunct, but nopony ever knew exactly why or how the group had dissolved. Not even any of the surviving discourses that Sunset had scanned through had any definite information.
According to Enoch, who had left the order at about the same time as its initial collapse, the Lotus Society had believed that they could use Apotheostones to preserve their life forces into perpetuity, and that the wisest and most influential leaders of the group would become immortal rulers of the world.
Enoch had disagreed with the method, citing the true nature of the stones as a reason to mistrust their usage. His objections fell on deaf ears. The unicorn himself cited greed and ambition amongst the reasons for his peers pursuing the idea, but in later years admitted that it was perhaps fear that made them do it. Fear that their order would never achieve its age-long promise, fear that their dream of a perfect world would never be realised.
Whatever the case, Enoch remained an observer of the organisation, and wrote horrified letters to Oldbark of its internal collapse, which he cited was a sudden and unaccountable disappearance of its leadership.
Without their grandmasters to guide them, much of the society’s knowledge was lost, the hierarchy broke down, and the group fractured into numerous individual cells. The in-fighting led to many sections simply disbanding, whilst others were forcibly dispersed by anxious local administrations that did not tolerate the associated violence.
This was the legend in totality as it came down to Sunset Shimmer.
But this wasn’t what was driving her right now. Despite the many implications and academic interest that she was positive under normal circumstances would make her stay up whole nights at a time just for the pleasure of discovering something strange and new, these were not what captivated her.
Adagio’s memories remained etched onto the inside of her skull. They returned to her in quiet moments, and even sometimes when her mind was simply wandering. Her friends were quick to notice her newfound distractedness.
“Sunset, dear,” Rarity said kindly, taking a hold of her wrist.
“Huh?” Sunset said suddenly.
“Just because Pinkie does it, that doesn’t make it a good idea,” Rarity continued, still in the slow, kindly tone of one talking to the mentally impaired.
Sunset looked down, and then looked to her own hand. “Oh,” she muttered, blushing. “Ketchup on frozen peaches. Not the best idea.” She forced a smile, but her friends were all giving her looks of concern. She feigned not to notice, and engaged herself in eating her dessert.
The school cafeteria was as loud and animated as usual, which helped to divert Sunset’s attention from her friend’s inviting stares. She knew they wanted to ask her all sorts of things, but if they did, then they’d have to come out and ask her; she wasn’t in the mood to indulge them voluntarily.
“Has everything being alright?” Fluttershy asked, leaning forward a little to look at Sunset’s face.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Sunset asked.
“Well aside from the obvious,” Rainbow scoffed, nodding at Sunset’s still blistered fingers, “you look more tired than... than—“
“Than a dog chasing a bone on the end of a stick stuck to its back?” Applejack supplied.
“Yeah, what she said,” Rainbow said hastily.
“I’m fine, really,” Sunset said, sitting up straighter. “I’m a little tired, sure. Good thing I got my end of year project done early.”
“Have you found out anything new about the pendants, then?” Rarity asked, intrigued.
“Nothing,” Sunset admitted, swallowing the last of her dessert. “I know Twilight’s been combing the library, and Princess Celestia promised to offer her help sometime this week, but information on the sirens is so old it’s passed into myth. Just like my idea.”
There was a pause. Sunset hoped that the urge to ask questions had ended. Just six more minutes until the bell... It kind of felt weird being back at school.
“So how are the girls doing?” Rarity asked suddenly, changing the subject.
“Fine,” Sunset muttered. Then considering that a longer answer might satisfy them better, she added, “they’re settling in better than I thought, but...”
“But what?” Applejack asked.
Sunset paused, trying to put the problem into words. “Well, imagine you wanted to cause trouble in class, but didn’t want to get caught. And also imagine that those with whom you wanted to cause trouble could all speak a language no one around you could understand.”
Rainbow Dash let out a snort of laughter. “My kind of kids,” she said fondly.
“They can’t be causing that much disruption, can they?” Rarity asked a little fretfully. She, and everyone else, looked at Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie, who’d arrived late to lunch, had been industriously shovelling her food, and Rainbow Dash’s dessert muffin, down her throat with indecent haste. Mouth full of food, she looked up to find everyone staring at her. She gave an enormous swallow, gagged for a second, and then let out several deep breaths.
“They’re...” she waved a hand vaguely. “Creative,” she said eventually.
“Do they cause much trouble during English lessons?” Sunset asked, feeling a lurch in her stomach.
“Not with Maud,” Pinkie admitted. “But if I’m there...” She shrugged. “I don’t get it. It’s like they don’t take me seriously.”
There was a round of forced coughing and determined lack of responding that Pinkie thankfully didn’t seem to find out of the ordinary.
“Well it’s working out anyway,” Sunset said to cover the silence. “It’s only been a week, and they can already talk to me on a basic level.”
What Sunset didn’t tell her friends was what else the girls had learned about the English language.
After school, Sunset waited alone at a nearby bus shelter as she did every weekday, listening to her music player and reading the book Pinkie had given her: A Derp Guide to Koine and Classical Greek.
“La... laas...” she said, trying to read a particularly long adjective in a test sentence, before scoffing irritably. “Why can’t every culture just use the same diphthongs?” She set the book down in annoyance, knowing that trying to force herself to get it wouldn’t help her in the least. Her spirits rose however when she heard the ringing of the bell from the school, and almost instantly the front doors crashed open. In and amongst the horde of younger children erupting from the entrance, strode her three charges. Well, two of them strode. The third sprinted across the green, paused briefly at the road, gave a cursory glance in either direction, and then pelted across the road and tackled Sunset’s middle.
Prepared for the impact, Sunset caught Sonata and ruffled her hair.
“Have a good day?” she asked.
“We can have snacks?” Sonata replied.
Sunset gave her a warning look, although she had to force herself not to smile. Adagio and Aria stood behind Sonata, Aria as aloof as ever, whilst Adagio stood in a power posture with her arms folded. Sunset knew that posture. Combined with her slightly mocking smile, Adagio was trying to look happy whilst maintaining an air of authority. Unfortunately for Adagio, her attempt was simply too cute, and Sunset could not take her seriously.
“Trouble?” Sunset asked, eying them all beadily. She focused on Sonata first, whose wild emotions and inability to effectively hide her feelings made her the most likely one of the three to give away any attempt at deception. Sonata shook her head, smiling expectantly. Sunset’s eyes moved over to Aria, who stared back unsmilingly. Finally, she eyed Adagio. They locked eyes for a long moment, Adagio’s smirk never leaving her face. After a while, Sunset smiled too, and reached into her pocket. She held up three wrappers.
“Who has the Crackle Apples?”
Sunset suspected from the outset that she would encounter trouble from the sirens in the form of misbehaviour, if not from all three, then certainly from one or two. She also knew that, in the view of the three girls at least, Sunset’s authority over them was limited to that of a landlord over tenants, as opposed to that of parent over children. In their minds, they accepted Sunset’s protection and hospitality, and so were obliged to follow her rules as dictated by common courtesy. Sunset felt that if she pushed them too far, they might simply leave as they had done before, no matter how the state regarded their status as her legal dependants. She could hardly expect them to understand government procedure.
As a result of this, and from a personal preference, she’d determined upon positive reinforcement to pre-empt bad behaviour. She had no doubt that this would work on Sonata, and had little worry about Aria causing trouble unless prompted to. Adagio, though evidently mature for her age, was still young enough to be tempted by the alluring sweetness of candy, despite making an ostentatious act of not caring about it.
Sunset watched Adagio savouring the flavour of her soda-flavoured candy bar, smiling to herself. Sonata had scoffed down her triple chocolate muffin before the other two had opened their packets, and was spending a good portion of the walk home licking the remnants off her cheeks and the end of her nose.
“Don’t do that,” Sunset said to Aria in Ancient Greek, and then muttered in English. “You’ll break your teeth.”
Aria swallowed the sour sweet she’d been crunching on and rolled up the bag before slipping it inside her coat.
Perhaps out of familiarity, the three of them had foregone the normal clothes that Rarity had made for them, with the exception of coats, hats, and gloves, and refused to wear shoes. Sunset’s insides had squirmed guiltily when she told Rarity of this, and as Rarity tried her best to cover her disappointment and hurt feelings. With renewed spirits however, Sunset’s friend had turned to designing new clothes in the same range as the dresses the three of them were used to wearing, and came up out fairly quickly with a whole line of them based on designs she’d found online.
“They’re really the merest nothing,” Rarity admitted modestly. “There’s really not much design to them. I could whip up fifty of them by the end of week!”
Sunset had assured her that that would not be necessary, but thanked her for the variety of colour the sirens were now able to enjoy, as opposed to their usual white.
The real problem was footwear.
All of them espoused the greatest dislike to shoes of any kind. Even Aria, the only one brave or apathetic enough to try them on, complained at the discomfort, despite trying every single shoe the shopkeeper had to offer.
“I’m sorry, madam,” he said, scratching his head. “That’s every woman’s shoe we have.”
“You’re not having sandals!” Sunset snapped, as Adagio examined a set of leather high-heels. Adagio scowled and stood a pace back.
But no matter how much Sunset tried to explain that the cold would hurt their feet, even make them ill, none of them would listen, and stubbornly wore their sandals.
Sunset grimaced as she glanced at the thick socks she’d persuaded them to wear as well.
Socks and sandals indeed she thought with a sigh. Desperate measures...
At home, Sunset allowed the three of them to line up by the front door. They’d removed their coats, hats, and gloves, and stood in their dresses, all three of them holding onto each other’s shoulders or arms to stop any of them gaining a head start.
Sunset took her time, ostentatiously setting her own coat on the hook, seating herself on the sofa and gazing over at them lazily. They all glared back, varying degrees of anticipation on their faces.
Sunset raised a hand. All three of the girls flinched, Adagio’s hand almost shooting for the door handle. She held them entranced for precisely four more seconds, and then let her hand fall.
Sunset had to admit that it was a close-run thing. Adagio touched the door handle first as expected, but Aria’s hand knocked it away before she could turn it. But in the end Sonata prevailed; shoving Adagio sideways, both she and Aria crashed to the floor, Aria spitting orange hair out of her mouth. With a triumphant giggle, Sonata pulled the door open and disappeared down the hall.
Snarling, Adagio used Aria to push herself up and sprinted after her.
Sunset chuckled to herself as Aria brought up the rear, tapping her fingers together as she waited for the inevitable explosion of dialect words and scrabbling of limbs when the victor finally returned.
As expected, the victor in question reappeared in the doorway a split second before the others tackled her out of sight again.
“Break it up, break it up,” Sunset said loudly. “Stop!” she boomed in Ancient Greek, just to make sure the point got across. All three of them stopped fighting and stood up, Adagio grinning smugly and waving the mail up for Sunset to inspect. “Come on, Adagio won,” Sunset said coaxingly, as Sonata puffed out her cheeks and huffed. Aria gave a disgusted snort and strode into the apartment, not looking at any of them.
With victorious care, Adagio seated herself on the biggest chair, and picked up the remote. As per the usual wager the girls had between them, the winner had control of the television when Sunset wasn’t using it. Sonata sat down on the sofa, pouting but otherwise taking the loss well. Aria sat down in the corner next to the book case, muttering some choice swearwords under her breath whilst skimming through magazines.
In just the short week since they’d started to learn English properly, Sunset noticed that each had learnt additional words and phrases that she was sure Maud and Pinkie hadn’t taught them directly.
Sonata for instance seemed to have memorised a great many words to do with food, and learnt to pronounce her favourite sweets and snacks. This came in very handy for her when Sunset took them to a corner shop, a newsagents, a supermarket, the mall, a vending machine, or indeed anywhere at all that happened to have sweets of any kind.
Aria, much to Sunset’s surprise, turned out to be more bookish than the other two, and sat alone for long periods looking at pictures in magazines and books. Now that she had learnt to read a little, Sunset often found her with the training reading books from the school. What was less promising however, were the insults Aria had translated. Unlike English insults, which typically poked fun or exaggerated some part of a person’s life or physical features, Ancient Greek insults typically involved implications and threats as to what the insulter was going to do with the target’s body after they died, typically involving crows, dismemberment, spit, and obscurity. It was quite something for Sunset to come across Aria having an argument, and her telling the other person that she was going to watch the crows pecking at their eyeballs.
Adagio on the other hand didn’t specify in any aspect of the language, but seemed to be more generally adept at it. Sunset could only surmise that Adagio picked up the language from those who spoke around her, for she noticed that Adagio would frequently use words and phrases that her friends used, sometimes in the incorrect context.
“Adagio, be sure to share with the other two at some point,” Sunset warned.
“I won,” Adagio reminded her, turning up the volume.
Sunset raised an eyebrow, and plucked the remote from Adagio’s hand. “I’m not asking you to let them take over,” she said severely. “Just try to watch things all of you like. You know Aria doesn’t like watching The Sarah Mane Adventures.”
“That’s because she lacks refinement,” Adagio chuntered, folding her arms.
Sunset repressed a smirk. Rarity would be so proud.
“True,” Sunset said conspiratorially, “but she’s not to blame for that. Be nice, okay?”
Adagio rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh before nodding once.
Exiting to her bedroom, Sunset shut the door, and hoped as usual that the three of them would be adequately distracted.
Her room, small by most standards, had become a veritable laboratory since the retrieval of the pendant shards. Aside from her bed, wardrobe, and a mirror, the room housed a writing table that Sunset had once used to do her homework on. Now, it held her laptop, her magical journal propped on a stand, a pair of tweezers, several plastic food storage boxes, various stationary, several metal apparatus, a microscope, and a pile of scrap paper. If one were to try to picture a wizard’s work table, all that would be missing would be the oddly shaped flasks and the skull-shaped candle holder.
Sunset seated herself at this table, determined to make some headway today. She pulled out one of the food containers, on top of which was a number ‘3’, and contained a number of roughly similar sized pendant chunks. With the tweezers, she pulled one out, and set it in a small glass tray. Then she flipped through the scrap paper until she found the relevant notes.
“Size three,” she read. “Today’s subject...” she peered through the microscope, made a few adjustments, and then scribbled some additions. “Colourless. Interior lattice erratic and unstable. Visible cracks.”
Once finished writing, she pulled the tray out again, and picked up the little shard. With her forefinger and thumb, she applied pressure to the shard. Then she set it down, and picked out a small metal hammer from the stationary box, not unlike what one might use to open walnuts. She struck the shard several times with escalating force. After the fourth time, she set the hammer down and picked up her pen again.
“Retains structural integrity under physical pressure. Speculate that only magic may cause damage. Withhold certainty for possibility of excessive force.”
Flexing her fingers, she rifled through the pages of her journal to a page she needed. I’m sure Twilight had some interesting speculations on their susceptibility to magic here somewhere...
The page in question followed the same sort of note-taking that Sunset had been doing. In total, all of their combined research existed in the dual pages of this magical journal, both girls over the past week having put up anything they thought to be significant about the pendant’s properties. Twilight’s research into the magical effects of and upon the pendants was invaluable, as she was the only one of the two who could perform any such experiments.
Sunset began to read.
All normal forms of magical manipulation have failed.
Attempts at transformation magic: Unaffected
Sensory detection magic: No results
Teleportation: No unusual effects
Dark Magic has been avoided. Potential and tentative use if all other avenues fail.
“Hmm...” Sunset sighed, staring into space.
Nothing was working. No reactions were being elicited, either by magic or physical interaction. But Sunset didn’t want to have Adagio touch the shards again, given the near disastrous effect it had had last time. And she didn’t want to have to put Adagio through that again. Sunset didn’t know the full extent of the potential horrors Adagio had seen in her life, but if the memories she had seen before were any indication...
After a few moments of silent reflection, she became aware of a presence in the room. She looked around in her chair, the old wood creaking. Aria stood there.
“Something wrong?” Sunset asked.
Aria looked a little embarrassed. After a few moments of silent dithering, she lifted her left forefinger. At first Sunset didn’t understand, but then she saw a little line of red travelling vertically along the end of the digit.
“How did you do that?” Sunset asked, taking hold of her hand and inspecting the cut.
“Magazine,” Aria said through her teeth.
“Ah. Paper cut,” Sunset surmised. She looked into Aria’s face. Aria was looking down at the floor, but this close Sunset could see the traces of wetness in her eyes, and the way her jaw was tightening.
“It’s okay,” Sunset said, rummaging through her stationary. “Just put it in your mouth for a moment whilst I get... ah, here we go.” Sunset smiled a little wryly as she opened the tin of plasters. “Look, smiley faces.”
Sunset watched with some amusement as she saw Aria’s mouth twist at the sight of the little yellow smiley faces on the plaster. She held out her finger and looked away.
As Sunset moved to wrap the plaster around the cut, a single bead of blood emerged slowly from the wound, shimmering there like a tiny ruby. Sunset paused, staring at it, an idea blossoming in her head. Possibly sensing the hesitation, Aria looked around, frowning.
“Oh, um...” Sunset wrapped the plaster hastily around the finger. Aria raised an eyebrow suspiciously, so to stop her asking any questions, Sunset pulled her hand up and kissed the finger. “To make it feel better,” she said, repressing a strong urge to grin.
Aria’s reaction was predictable and satisfactory. Turning bright red, her mouth scrunching up like she were sucking a lemon, she stormed out of the room, stopping briefly at the door to shout angrily “Thanks!” before slamming the door shut behind her.
Sunset allowed herself a quiet chuckle, and the feelings of fondness to suffuse itself through her gut before returning to the issue at hand, and the sudden inspiration Aria had just given her.
Hoping that Twilight was in range of her journal – Sunset needed a quick response to this – Sunset set pen to her own journal and wrote one short line
Have you tried anything using blood?
Sunset waited, watching the next part of the page with expectant intensity. She found herself willing the page to start writing words, the idea was so fresh in her head. If her theory had been right all along, then perhaps using blood... it made sense in a poetic sort of way, and since they knew nothing about these pendants, it was only logical to try everything. She was tempted to try something now, but she wanted a second opinion before she did so.
After what seemed like an indecent amount of time, but was in fact only about thirty seconds, the journal buzzed a little, and new words began to appear below Sunset’s last submission.
I haven’t used blood in any of my experiments, no.
What are you thinking, Sunset?
You have to be careful using blood in magic. As a unicorn, your magic flows through your veins even if you can’t use it in your human form. Adding your blood to any magic object would have similar, if not more permanent consequences as ingesting or wearing said object.
Sunset nodded to herself. She had anticipated this response. She knew that Twilight’s warning was not without merit; blood did indeed carry the magic of the unicorn. Unlike pegasi and earth ponies, who drew their natural magical affinity with the elements from their surroundings, unicorns generated magic of their own as sources of magic. Conferring one’s blood willingly was tantamount to sharing one’s magic; it was a very personal and very risky bond.
But on the other hand, they needed to get some headway with this investigation.
I know, Twilight. You’re right of course, but I really feel we need to at least try it. So long as I simply take a sample of blood, the risk should be minimal. I have no idea of exposing any of the shards to an open wound if that’s what you’re thinking.
After rereading what she’d written, she realised the faintly antagonistic tone, and quickly added
I know you’re trying to look out for me, and as your friend I’m grateful for it. But I feel it’s an avenue worth exploring. And please don’t suggest doing the experiment yourself.
she added on a sudden impulse
Lets be blunt here; you’re more important than I am, and if something does go wrong, your alicorn magic is far more powerful than my unicorn magic. It’s safer to everyone if I conduct initial testing.
She waited a while, feeling her insides writhing. She knew that she’d just unloaded a lot of verbiage onto Twilight, and was honestly unsure of how Twilight would respond.
In a way, Sunset found herself hoping that Twilight would ask her not to do it. Every rational part of her told her it was the only way, that it was the best way to progress. And her gut told her that it was a hunch worth exploring. But at the same time, she thought of what had happened the last time they’d managed to interact with the shards. The terrible, burning heat, and the desperate attempt by the pendant to connect with her. She thought of the sirens in the lounge, all playing or watching TV. She thought of Sonata grinning her gap-toothed smile, of Adagio folding her arms and giving that superior smirk she liked to affect when she was trying to cover up her happiness, and of Aria’s bright red face when Sunset had kissed her finger.
Sunset suddenly found herself fearing not so much for herself, but for how they might react if she proceeded with the experiment, and something went wrong. What if something went wrong and Sunset was hurt or even killed? Who would look after them? Or what if the effects were so disastrous that it killed them too? What if the shards did something to Sunset? What if it made her dangerous? Might she, under the pendant’s influence, harm the three playing innocently in the next room?
All of these thoughts and a number of other off-shooting scenarios buzzed around in her head, creating a pit in her stomach, a well of trepidation and fear.
Without being entirely conscious of it, she stood up, and made her way to the door to the lounge. Without making a sound, she exited her bedroom, and walked lightly into the kitchenette. From there she peered into the lounge; none of them had noticed her. That was how she wanted it for now; her mood was too susceptible for questions or attention.
Sliding a particular kitchen drawer open, the pit in her stomach seemed to widen a little as she spotted the crumpled, official looking paper within. Careful not to crinkle or rustle it, she extracted the letter, and returned to her room.
At her desk again, she found that Twilight had yet to write back. Taking a deep breath, she unfurled the letter and straightened it out. She stared at the line that she’d read over a week ago, remembering it exactly.
Legal Guardian.
Once again, the words evoked within her a sort of feeling of apprehension; one might even call it dread.
“That’s exactly what it is,” she said sternly to herself. “Pinkie made jokes about it, but it’s the truth.” She sighed heavily, sitting back in her chair, all of the unhappy emotions swirling around in her head and heart. “I’m no parent,” she scoffed. “Just what am I doing? I can’t take care of three kids. I can’t even look after myself properly.” She opened her hand and looked at her still bandaged fingers.
Arrogance always was one of your more notable qualities, said a malicious little voice inside of her.
“Oh geez,” she groaned. “Internal discussions are what I don’t need right now.”
So saying, she made an effort to block out the little voice. But what it’d already said to her could not be so easily removed. It was right after all. She was being arrogant.
VRRP! VRRP!
VRRP! VRRP!
Sunset looked up from the letter and her ruminations to find the journal vibrating again. She leaned forward and began to read.
I don’t know what to say, Sunset.
A promising start...
I’d be lying if I said that I was okay with this plan of yours. Everything I know about magic screams at me to tell you not to do it, or at least to advise you to approach it with extreme caution. The ramifications could be terrible, and the price a dear friend of mine.
If for no other reason, I could easily disregard your assertion that we need answers. No matter how important it is to find out about the pendants, no information is worth you compromising your safety. Even if it took a year, or ten years, or however much longer, I’d spend every day of it in gruelling research if it meant you not putting yourself at risk.
Of course, I love research, so maybe that’s not saying much, but in the end I find myself coming to an unassailable conclusion. I must support you in your idea.
Firstly, I have reason to believe that you may be correct in your hypothesis. If the stones really are the remnants of ancient immortals long dead – contrary though that statement is – then it seems reasonable to me that intermingling it with the essence of life might evoke a reaction.
But more than that, Sunset. I find myself agreeing with you because, when all is said and done, you are my friend, and a friend more like myself than any of my other friends. I trust your judgment, and I trust your capabilities to keep yourself safe.
But please, be safe.
I eagerly await whatever results you may achieve.
- Twilight
For a short while, Sunset sat unmoving. Her bright blue eyes lifeless and unseeing, she might have appeared dead to any casual observer. But after a few minutes, she seemed to come back to focus. She glanced down at the letter she was still holding, telling her of her status over the three girls. The three girls who were, legally, and for all intents and purposes,
“My daughters.”
Saying it out loud made the reality of it sharpen into greater focus. Deny it though she had, ignore it, trying to make it something else more comfortable, that was the reality of what she had done, of what she had taken on, willingly, and voluntarily.
She had become their parent.
Sunset folded up the letter and set it down on the desk.
There was only one path forward now. For their sake, to make sure that they were safe, that they would be able to grow up healthy and free of these broken jewels’ insidious magic, she had to find out what she could. Either way there was a risk, but in a choice between that risk being to them, or to her, the choice was clear.
She reached into her box of stationary, and pulled out an X-acto knife, unused and gleaming. Setting it to her left thumb, one of the only un-bandaged digits, she hesitated a split second before sliding the blade across. A prick of pain, a bead of blood, and the deed was done.
She set the thumb over the little glass dish under the microscope; a little blob of blood fell, shimmering in the middle of the dish. That should be enough.
“Let’s go small,” she muttered, rubbing her forefinger and thumb together. She seized one of the boxes of shards, and pulled off the lid. The box contained some fifteen of the tiniest shards, bright red like the bead of blood sitting in the glass dish. Choosing a pebble-shaped little chunk, Sunset picked it up with the tweezers, and with due care and precision, lowered it into the dish.
With a small relaxation of her fingers, she let the tiny pebble fall from between the tweezers’ arms, directly down, onto the drop of blood.
Sunset had been so sure that something would happen, that once the realisation that nothing was happening began to settle into her mind, she actually felt a profound sense of disappointment. Her insides sank like deflating balloons, and her renewed sense of determination and optimism buckled slightly as reality punched it in the gut.
Sunset sat back in her chair with an alarming creak of protesting wood, staring at the little red chunk of pendant sat dully in the spot of equally red blood.
“How is that possible?” she asked no one in particular. “How can nothing have happened? I have magic inside of me, in my blood. Something should have...” she exhaled and leaned forward on the desk, glaring at the little pebble. She was visited by a strong urge to swat it away, but instead channelled her sudden anger into flipping through her notes.
“There has to be something. Something we missed. Something has to make these damn things work!”
Lines of text, haphazard diagrams and magical calculations; she shoved them aside, disturbing her boxes of arranged pendant shards which toppled over and spilled across the desk. With a guttural cry of frustration she slammed her fist down, and was instantly met with a lancing pain.
Sunset swore loudly as she clutched the side of her hand, which was now bleeding profusely. The culprit protruded like a thorn from her flesh; one of the larger chunks of transparent pendant. Cursing under her breath she tried to pull it out, wincing with each attempt, until it occurred to her to use the tweezers. Once it was out, she held up the shard to inspect. Apart from the fact that it was splattered with blood now, it seemed undamaged, so she set it down in the microscope tray.
“Well at least I have bandages here,” she grumbled angrily. She dabbed up the residual blood with a wad of bandage, and then tied another length of it around her hand. “Great. Another injury to add to the rest of them.” She exhaled irritably and looked down at the mess of shards all over her desk. The careful arrangement of size and colour was now simply a mess of little sparkling glass pieces amongst the papers, stationary, and blood. Oh, how her hand hurt...
“Sunset?”
Sunset’s heart surged up into her throat. Clutching her stinging hand she spun around in her chair. Sonata leapt backwards, looking a little scared. Sunset blinked.
“E-Err...” she swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. “Y-Yes?” she asked, trying to sound upbeat.
Sonata looked unwilling to speak for a few moments, as though she thought that Sunset was going to yell at her. Sunset felt a stab of guilt. She also noticed out of the corner of her eye a bright purple eye peering through the crack in the door to the lounge, and a magenta one above it.
Sunset forced a smile and turned around fully in her chair to face Sonata properly. “It’s okay,” she gestured to the desk. “Work makes me angry.” She chuckled.
This air of lightness seemed to relax Sonata a little. She prodded a few of her fingers together in complex ways and swayed from side to side, looking thoughtful.
“You were shouting at the table?” she asked, looking at the desk.
Sunset smiled genuinely then. “Yes. The table made me angry,” she confirmed. She stood up. “How about we go to the park?” she suggested on an impulse. She suddenly found that she didn’t want to be inside right now. “It’s a sunny day; we can all go over by the pond and feed the ducks if you like.”
There was a moment of confusion whilst Sonata tried to interpret some of this. “Ducks?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and looking puzzled.
“Oh, um...” Sunset snapped the fingers of her good hand. “Birds. The ones that go quack.”
Sonata’s expression filled with recognition. “Ooh!” she said excitedly. “Ducks!” She giggled and started making quaking noises too.
“Ducks?” said a puzzled voice from the door. Sunset pretended not to hear the sounds of squabbling and hissing that was going on behind the door – which was somewhat duck-like in its own way – but said in a louder voice
“Yes, feed the ducks. Is that something you want to do?”
Sonata erupted into such peels of excitement that she forgot to speak in English, and leapt onto the bed crying out ancient words so fast that it all blended into an incomprehensible babble. Sunset reached up and plucked Sonata off the bed. “Well we’re going to need some bread first.”
“I like bread,” Sonata commented absently, swinging her feet a little in the air.
“I know you do,” Sunset said, setting her down. “I know. So, are you two coming?” she asked as she and Sonata entered the lounge.
Whilst Sonata sat down to put her sandals on, Adagio and Aria were trying their best to make it look like they hadn’t been listening. Unfortunately Aria had apparently forgotten that she had been against watching television since Adagio had won the rights to the channel, and so her sitting companionably next to her sister on the big chair was not entirely convincing.
“What is ducks?” Aria asked, trying and failing to not seem interested.
“Birds that eat bread!” Sonata squeed, leaping to her feet.
When Aria continued to look unenlightened, Adagio scoffed and said something fast and low in Ancient Greek.
“Ahh,” Aria said, trying to look knowledgeable. “Ducks.”
“So, are you coming?” Sunset asked, slipping her own boots on. “Dress up warm. The spring might be coming, but it’s still cold.”
Aria shrugged and got up, retrieving her coat from its hook on the wall. Adagio on the other hand remained seated.
“Adagio?” Sunset asked. “Are you coming?”
“I won,” Adagio replied, not looking away from the TV.
Sunset glared at her severely for a few moments, but Adagio simply remained watching the TV. Sunset let out a quiet sigh that Adagio wouldn’t hear, and nearly pinched the bridge of her nose with her damaged hand. And then she thought of something.
“You know,” she said to Aria and Sonata, who were waiting by the door. “I bet the baker has some fresh hot-cross buns too.”
Over Sonata’s eager cooing, Sunset distinctly heard the creak of the springs in Adagio’s chair. She knew that all three girls liked pastries, and waited a moment to see if Adagio was enticed enough to come. But nothing happened.
Pursing her lips, she ushered Aria and Sonata ahead of her. “Stay inside, okay?” she called back to Adagio. “Don’t answer the door to strangers, and don’t use the telephone.”
Adagio didn’t reply, but waved her hand half-heartedly over the back of the chair.
As Sunset expected however, once they reached the lobby and said goodbye to Old Jim, she heard light footsteps on the stairs behind them. Adagio marched up to them, wrapped in her purple coat and hat, and determinately not looking at any of them. Sunset smiled at her, trying not to look too smug.
Adagio cleared her throat. “Nothing on TV right now,” she mumbled through stiff lips.
“Too right,” Old Jim grunted, giving his magazine a little shake.
Adagio stoically maintained her not-caring, don’t-look-at-me attitude all the way to the park, and quite a ways in.
Sunset had been surprised and somewhat delighted to discover that her girls had prior knowledge of the park, since the three of them were aware of the disc golf course, and that Sonata was very good at the game. Sunset herself was terrible, and the remaining two fairly good, so Aria and Adagio had insisted that Sunset be on Sonata’s team the first time that they’d played.
This time, Adagio stubbornly stood on the sidelines, sitting down and tearing blades of grass out of the ground while the other two played. Sunset sat next to her, not saying anything for the moment, but simply inflicting her presence on Adagio whilst watching Aria and Sonata play.
“They’re having fun,” Sunset commented innocently, as Sonata somehow managed to ricochet a disc off a metal sign-post and into the chain basket. Sonata gave a whoop of joy which was swiftly cut off as Aria shoved her to the ground. “Don’t you want to play with them?” Sunset asked coaxingly.
Adagio hmph’d and scowled.
“Are you going to be grumpy all day?” Sunset asked patiently. “It’s only TV.”
When Adagio didn’t reply, Sunset put an arm around her shoulders. For a moment she didn’t say anything, remembering her realisation.
My daughters...
“Come on,” she said in an upbeat tone, giving Adagio a little shake. “They’re having fun. And I know how much you hate it when they have something that you don’t.”
Adagio seemed to take a moment to digest that. She stared at a particularly green blade of grass that she’d just torn up. The grass all around shone with the lustre and brightness of spring, nurtured by the fresh sun and the melted snow.
“Are you going to play?” she asked, giving Sunset a side glance.
“Sure. Want me to be on your team?” Sunset grinned as Adagio leapt to her feet. Barking something in Greek, Sunset just managed to catch something that sounded like “Listen up, girl-boys!”, which Sunset guessed from the tone was Adagio trying to sound like an army commander. Apparently the Ancient Greeks hadn’t referred to their soldiers as “maggots” in their time.
Sonata sprang to attention, throwing out an arm with her fist clenched in a military salute. Aria stood next to her, but folded her arms and looked unimpressed.
The teams didn’t change; Sunset and Sonata played on one side, and only just managed to keep up with Aria and Adagio as they made it across the course to the other side of the park next to the football pitch.
Despite being repeatedly shamed by three people at least seven years younger than her in a recreational sport, Sunset was in high spirits by the time that they’d finished. The cool air and bright colours brought on by the cloudless sky made her feel refreshed, and all three of her kids having evidently had a good time was immensely gratifying, even if one or two of them were trying their best not to show it. Aria would no sooner have shown enthusiasm about winning than she’d spontaneously learn to speak Spanish, and Adagio was so careful of her dignity that she would rather bite her own arm off than jump for joy like Sonata did. Instead, Aria and Adagio maintained a revolting air of superiority and delicate victory, which they both managed to ruin for each other within seconds when Adagio reminded Aria that she’d won twice today now.
Holding the two of them apart, Sunset took both firmly by the hand and led them out of the park to the bakery next to the newsagent. Sonata skipped after them, snickering at Aria and Adagio on either side on Sunset, whilst the two of them pouted and refused to look at anything.
“I swear, you two,” Sunset sighed, setting their hot-cross buns in front of them whilst they sat facing away from each other. “It’s just a game.”
“Your fault,” Adagio muttered resentfully at Sunset. “You made me play.”
“Adagio,” Sunset began with forced calm, sliding the plate with her bun back across the table. “Pouty children don’t get treats.”
Fast as lightning, Adagio snatched for Aria’s bun, but Aria had seen it coming. She seized the bun first and, to Sunset’s disgust, hocked an enormous wad of spit onto it before rubbing it all over the bun. Sneering at Adagio, Aria proceeded to eat the pastry as slowly and obviously as she could while Adagio scowled at her.
Sonata belatedly took up her own bun and held it close to her, in case Adagio got any ideas. After a few moments of fuming, Adagio unknotted her tightly folded arms, and seemed to make an effort to calm herself.
“Sorry,” she muttered without moving her lips.
Sunset hesitated, but thought that it was probably the best she was going to get, and so returned the bun to her.
Adagio took the pastry back soberly enough, but then took a massive bite out of it, and ate it right next to Aria’s ear, her mouth open and making loud chewing sounds.
“Oh for goodness sake...” Sunset sighed, as Aria growled and shoved Adagio away from her. As they began to fight, Sunset decided it was probably best just to let them settle it themselves. There was no one around to complain about the noise so far as she could see. Just to make sure, she looked surreptitiously at her surroundings.
The baker had a small number of tables and chairs outside of his shop underneath an awning, European style. Perhaps owing to the sunny and mild day he’d decided to put them out in hopes of attracting sit-down customers, but so far it seemed no one else had taken the bait. In fact no one was walking about on this sleepy street, and even cars didn’t seem to be frequenting it. It was quiet. Except for...
Sunset spotted them at once and almost choked on her coffee.
Chrysalis – along with her enormous-haired secretary – were walking down the street towards them. Both wore their suits; Sunset supposed that they were on lunch break or something. Neither of them seemed to notice Sunset and the kids, but turned right into the park and disappeared behind the high hedges.
If Sunset was blunt, she couldn’t say that she was overly happy to see the social worker, not that it really mattered. In many ways she had screwed Sunset over, but in many other and more numerous ways, intentionally or not, she had benefited Sunset and her new family. Sunset had quickly discovered, much to her horror, that three prepubescent girls ate a lot of food, tended to create a lot of mess, and needed a great deal of school supplies among other things.
“Call this a school system,” Sunset had growled as the register at the stationary store escalated into the triple digits.
Sunset shivered at the memory. In short, the welfare check and her status as a caregiver had saved her neck several times in just a single week. Her job wasn’t exactly low end, but it certainly couldn’t keep up with herself and three children.
“Can we feed the ducks now?”
Sunset blinked and looked around. Sonata was looking at her hopefully.
“Oh. Um, sure, yeah. Let’s go get some bread. And knock it off, the both of you,” Sunset said sharply to Adagio and Aria, who were still poking each other in a half-hearted way. “You’ve fought enough today.”
The pond – a somewhat misleading name – sat at the centre of the park. Its extent was quite large, broken up into five or six large man-made pools. At the centre of the largest of these pools was a tree-infested little island, where the birds who weren’t able or weren’t inclined to go further south for the winter liked to dwell in the winter months.
Handing the bag of bread to Sonata and strictly instructing the three girls to share the bread equally, Sunset allowed them to run to the water’s edge and tempt the ducks and swans away from their island.
“And don’t let me catch you throwing the bread at the birds!” Sunset warned them.
She watched them for a little while, just to make sure they didn’t instantaneously disobey her the moment they thought she wasn’t watching. She observed further around the pond another trio of girls walking and laughing together. Within moments she recognised Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo, and decided that with someone else around to make her children feel observed, it was probably safe to sit down and watch from afar.
Turning to the bench near a low wall where flowers usually bloomed, Sunset was somewhat disconcerted to find that she was not alone. The person on the bench smiled a somewhat creepy smile.
“Well hello there,” said this person, watching Sunset with an amused eye.
“Oh,” Sunset said, caught off-guard. “Um, hi there, Ms. Chrysalis.”
“Looks like they’re having fun,” Chrysalis observed, glancing towards the water front. “Why don’t you sit down, and we can watch out for any unsavoury types whom might be around.”
Sunset made no verbal reply to this, but sat down regardless, trying to not make it obvious that she was trying to lean away from the older woman. Chrysalis either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, but sat with one leg over the other, tapping away at a little touch-phone.
“Nice day,” Sunset observed lamely, feeling the uncomfortable silence pressing in from all sides.
“Yes,” Chrysalis replied absently, and then was silent.
Good grief, Sunset Shimmer thought to herself, trying to watch the three girls holding out bread for the ducks to eat. She half wanted Aria or Adagio to start teasing the animals just so she’d have an excuse to go over and tell them off. Misbehave, one of you. Come on!
“So, is that secretary that was with you around?” Sunset asked eventually, finding nothing else to say.
“She went to visit her sister who lives on the other side of the park,” Chrysalis replied. She looked up at Sunset Shimmer, and seemed to read the unspoken question in Sunset’s face. “No, I didn’t go with her. Her sister creeps me out.”
Sunset had to hold in a chuckle at this. She had to wonder how frightening someone would have to be to creep someone like Chrysalis out.
“So,” Chrysalis herself began, putting her phone away. She leaned forward on her knee and looked sideways at Sunset with her deep green eyes. “How’s family life?”
Sunset’s lips thinned a little. She was honestly almost instantly incensed by the question. How this woman had the audacity to sit there with that I-know-exactly-what-I-did look on her face...
“It’s fine,” Sunset said, trying to keep the anger in her voice to a minimum.
“Looks to me like you’ve had your hands full,” Chrysalis remarked, looking at Sunset’s lap.
Sunset looked down and saw her bandaged fingers and hands. “Accident in the kitchen,” she said briefly.
“Mm.” Chrysalis eyed her for a moment or two. “You don’t seem like the clumsy type to me. But then,” she shrugged, “with three little six or seven year olds running around, perhaps it’s not so surprising.”
After another awkward silence, Sunset felt she’d best speak up again. “I don’t think I thanked you for going to that extra trouble.”
“And so you shouldn’t,” Chrysalis said, sounding callously amused. “Kudos to you if it helped you out, but I won’t lie to you; I only did it to get one over on Princess Pastel. If I could only have seen her and Moonface’s expressions when you told them.” Her smile dimmed momentarily. “You did tell them, didn’t you?” she asked quickly.
The little fire burning in Sunset’s gut crackled hotter and higher inside her. “No, I didn’t,” she lied.
“Yes you did,” Chrysalis said with satisfaction, her smile returning to full vigour. “You’re a terrible liar, Sunset Shimmer.”
“I didn’t used to be,” Sunset muttered to herself.
“To be frank, I rather thought that you’d be having a great deal of trouble,” Chrysalis said blithely.
“Yeah, well,” Sunset grumbled. “Teenager still in school with a job and three kids.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” the older woman continued in the same off-hand sort of voice. “It’s little carrot-top over there.” She pointed ahead towards Sunset’s three children, who were by now talking to her friend’s sisters.
Sunset frowned. “Adagio? She can be a handful, sure,” she admitted. “She’s very independent.”
“Is that so?” Chrysalis asked, as though mildly interested. “Are you sure you aren’t misinterpreting that a little?”
“What do you mean?” Sunset asked, genuinely bewildered.
Chrysalis looked her dead in the eye, as though trying to read something in her expression. “My god,” she sighed. “You don’t know, do you?”
Sunset wasn’t going to play that game. Making an effort not give any signs of impatience, she returned her gaze to the girls.
Chrysalis didn’t seem pleased with this tact. Her expression soured a little; she looked rather put-out. Leaning back in her seat, she forced her face back to cool, sneering civility. And then she dropped the bomb. The one thing guaranteed to knock Sunset right out of her complacency with the situation.
“That girl has been sexually abused.”
Sunset’s heart suddenly seemed to gain ten times its usual weight. A noticeable tremor ran through her entire body. She looked at Chrysalis again, thinking, hoping even to see a sign that she was making some cruel, sick joke. Surely, she couldn’t possibly be serious. But a deep pit of dread had opened up underneath Sunset’s leaden heart. Her own suspicions as to Adagio’s past problems aligned disturbingly with this statement. She had tried to assuage the idea as much as possible until she had some more definite evidence of it, until she was sure...
“How can you tell?” she asked, her voice a little weaker than before.
Chrysalis wasn’t smiling anymore; if anything she looked a little thoughtful. “I’ve been a social worker for thirteen years; you pick things up. When you say she’s independent, do you happen to mean that she likes to do things alone? Doesn’t cooperate well? Is she perhaps the leader amongst the three of them? I’m guessing she can be rather possessive and controlling.”
Sunset reluctantly agreed that this was indeed the case. “I don’t quite see how that—“
“What happens when you touch her when she’s not expecting it?” Chrysalis interrupted her.
Sunset paused. In her mind, she remembered the few times that she’d grabbed Adagio’s arm, touched her shoulder, or even when she’d tried to comfort her at the siren’s mansion. The colour draining from her face, the widened eyes, the almost instant need for seclusion.
“She never wants to be alone,” Sunset objected, feeling she should try to insert a little back and forth in case Chrysalis was wrong. She really hoped Chrysalis was wrong.
The older woman gave Sunset a blunt stare. “Would you ever want to be alone if that had happened to you?”
Sunset didn’t feel herself qualified to say. She tried hard for a moment to empathise with the hypothetical. Then a wave of cold shot over her as the events of a week ago came back to her with sudden clarity. That terrible feeling of cold and loneliness; she would have held onto anything at that point, anything at all just to feel that she wasn’t falling away into a shrinking world of darkness.
She swallowed. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”
Chrysalis gave her a sharp, searching look. After a few moments she looked away again. “I’d keep an eye on her. She seems to be coping well with it, but you don’t want it to internalise and eat away at her.”
“What should I do?” Sunset asked nervously.
Chrysalis exhaled. “Well I suppose I’ve put you in a bad position. You can’t go to a doctor about it. I’d suggest just be a mother to her. Love, support, and affection. All that sort of thing. I’m sure she’ll get over it.”
Sunset frowned at Chrysalis and her evident lack of empathy.
“How did you become a social worker?” she asked resentfully before she could stop herself.
“One of life’s little jokes,” Chrysalis said with a dark little chuckle. “You might be interested to know that Pastel and Moonface sort of got me into it.”
“Principle Celestia did?” Sunset was so surprised that the question dropped from her mouth without her volition.
“Shocking, hm?” she asked, smirking. “Believe it or not, we used to be on... erm, friendlier terms. Not any more, obviously.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Chrysalis snapped. She glared at Sunset for a moment or two, holding Sunset speared on her gaze, before cracking a malicious little smile. “Oh, I like you. You’re so easy to tease. In short, we used to know each other, but they were both good and wonderful and perfect, and wanted to go off to better the next generation. Me, not so much, so I went into bureaucracy. The fact that I happen to be in the particular bureaucratic office that deals with distributing wealth equally to the needy is just one of those little ironies.”
Sunset sat a moment to digest all of this. Everything that Chrysalis had told her.
“Why are you so open about all of this?” Sunset asked.
The other raised an eyebrow to show that she had no idea what Sunset meant.
“I ask you questions and you give me straight forward answers. I used to be a bad person, and all I ever did was lie, and drive people apart without them knowing it was me.”
“Used to be? Seems I met you too late.” Chrysalis laughed. Sunset waited for an answer. “What can I say? Who is out here to hear me other than you? And what are you going to do about it?” She inspected her phone and then stood up, evidently about to leave.
“But you can’t be all bad,” Sunset persisted. “Like you said, you work for social services. And even if you didn’t mean to, you’ve done me a few favours.”
Chrysalis actually laughed aloud at this. “Sunset Shimmer,” she began, her voice still trembling a little with laughter. “Villains who twiddle their moustaches are easy to spot. But those who cloak themselves in good deeds are well camouflaged.”
With that, she walked away.
Sunset sat there frowning for a while, thinking.
“Did she just quote Star Trot: The Next Generation?” she wondered aloud, incredulous.
A sudden sound broke her from her ruminating, and she looked towards the water’s edge to find that Sonata was crying loudly and pointing at the bag of bread in Scootaloo’s hand.
“Whoa, hey!” Sunset cried over. “Aria, you let go of her arm! Adagio, get off her back!”
Compared to the events of the park, the return home was more-or-less ordinary. After managing to pry Adagio from Scootaloo’s head, and calm Sonata down enough to stop bawling, Sunset had apologised to a teary-eyed Scootaloo for the missing patch of hair Adagio had ripped out. Scootaloo put on a decent show of no concern, and walked away with her friends without additional fuss, her jaw set as though experiencing rigor mortis.
Sunset had had little patience with Aria and Adagio, but hadn’t felt up to really yelling at them after her conversation with Chrysalis. In front of the door to her apartment however came an ample distraction.
“Hey Pinkie Pie,” Sunset called.
“Sunset!” Pinkie squealed. “I was wondering why you weren’t answering. I was about to send you like a bujillion text messages.”
Sunset heard Adagio mutter something in Greek. She didn’t catch all of it, but thought she heard “the homunculus again”.
“What’s up?” Sunset asked, pulling out her keys.
Pinkie held up a thick book she was carrying. “Came to give you this. It’s the book Maud used. I thought it might work better for you than the one I used, since you so brainy and all.” She snorted with laughter as Sunset ushered the kids in before her. “I think you make a good mom,” she observed, but then looked suddenly guilty. “Sorry, I forgot that... sorry.”
Sunset waited for the internal writhing to take hold whenever Pinkie made her Momma Sunset genialities... but none came. The sensation seemed to have moved upwards, out of her guts, and into her chest. She looked at the three of them a moment, Adagio holding up the remote like a trophy whilst Sonata and Aria watched her like rabid animals ready to pounce.
“It’s okay Pinkie,” Sunset said, managing a warm smile. “I am their mom in some sense. At least, now I am. And if I am any good at it, it’s because you guys all helped me to—“
She got no further than that. With tears in her eyes, Pinkie seized Sunset around the middle and hoisted her into the air in a rib-crushing hug.
“Aww!” she cried, snuggling her head into Sunset’s jacket. “You’ve embraced motherhood! It’s an awesome responsibility!”
Sunset found it a little strange to be told about responsibility by Pinkie Pie of all people, or might have found it strange had she not been undergoing the sort of physical pressure usually exerted upon tectonic plates during earthquakes.
“Thanks, Pinkie,” she wheezed through the hug.
“It’s like my Momma-Cloudy used to say,” Pinkie went on. “Life’s like a pile of bricks. You stack ‘em just right, and you get a pretty nice looking wall!”
“I don’t know what that means,” Sunset gasped, as she heard several disconcerting cracks come from her spine. “Not to rag on the lovin’, Pinkie Pie, but could you let me down?”
“Oh,” Pinkie said, setting Sunset down and grinning bashfully. “Sure thing, Mommy-Sunset.” She poked Sunset coyly in the shoulder, her face one immense smile.
Sunset rubbed her arm a little where it had been bent the wrong way, grinning sheepishly, and felt something collide with her middle. Looking down, she found a patch of bright blue at her waist, magenta eyes sparkling up at her.
“Mommy-Sunset,” Sonata said eagerly, holding her tight.
Sunset quite honestly believed that she might have cried something tearfully aloud, if Pinkie Pie hadn’t beaten her to it. In a torrent of excessive emotion, Pinkie erupted into voluble sobbing.
“It’s just s-s-so beautiful!” Pinkie bawled.
Sunset set a hand on Sonata’s head, feeling the full impact of the moment. Leaning over the back of the chair meanwhile, Adagio and Aria amused themselves by making loud and obviously retching sounds.
“It’s so exciting!” Pinkie Pie continued as Sunset shut the door to her bedroom. “Sunset Shimmer: Official Mom! Eee! I’m just so excited!”
“And I thank you for it. Saves me the trouble of getting too emotional about it myself,” Sunset joked, grinning.
“I wish I had kids,” Pinkie said dreamily, staring off into space.
“Now there’s a frightening thought,” Sunset muttered, rubbing her chin.
“What?”
‘Oh. Um, nothing,” Sunset said quickly.
“Oh, neat!” Pinkie began suddenly, her limited attention span drawing her to Sunset’s laboratory table. “Love the decorations, Sunset. Very evil wizard.”
“Evil wizard?” Sunset asked, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well there’s blood all over the place,” Pinkie observed.
“Oh,” Sunset mumbled, remembering. “Yeah, forgot to clean that up.”
“Isn’t this your magic texting journal?” Pinkie asked, plucking the book itself from its stand and holding it up to look at. “Why are you sending Twilight your math homework?”
“I’m not,” Sunset said. “Those are magical equations.”
“Ooh!” Pinkie cooed excitedly. “Can you tell me what they mean?”
Sunset blinked. She hesitated with her mouth half open. “You want me to explain what the equations mean?” Pinkie nodded. “Well... they’re complicated.”
“I got time,” Pinkie said happily, sitting on the bed and looking expectantly at Sunset.
Sunset hesitated just a moment more, and then gave herself over to the inevitable. She sat down on the chair and took the journal from Pinkie.
“Okay,” she began. “Well, I tried first to gauge the level of TP the pendants have.”
“Uh huh,” Pinkie said, nodding wisely. “And how did you do that?”
“Well in Equestria there are simple spells to gauge the power of magical objects, but there’s also Velvet Night’s Theorem of Sensory Extrapolation,” Sunset explained. “That’s what this is here.” She pointed to a complex series of symbols arranged in a mathematical format.
“I see,” Pinkie said, still nodding.
Sunset looked at her askance. “You do?” she asked cautiously.
There was a pause. “Well... no, but you made it sound important, so I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Pinkie grinned awkwardly.
Sunset was patient. “Well, the theorem is also called the Thaumaturgic Aura Differentiation Test. An object, if actively magical, will give off an aura, which if in contact with another aura, will give off a resonance as the two interact. This resonance can be measured to determine the TP of the object—”
“Tee-pee?” Pinkie asked, breaking momentarily from her torpor.
“It’s an acronym,” Sunset explained, not pleased at the interruption. “It means Thaumaturgic Power. It simply a term referring to its various magical properties; amount of magic energy, certain active abilities, stability of the object, etc. This can be extrapolated by feeding the results of the resonance, and the known amount of energy being generated by the controlled aura into the theorem.” Sunset looked doubtfully at Pinkie Pie. “You follow?”
“Huh?” Pinkie said, jumping a little. “Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, I do!”
Sunset stopped herself sighing. “Look at it this way. When I sing and transform, I give off a magical aura that I am able to regulate. When that aura comes into contact with the aura around the shards, they disturb each other and give off a measurable resonance. Since I can independently measure and control the level of energy used in my own magic, I can apply that number and the figure measured from the resonance effect to extrapolate the TP of the magical object.”
“Okay,” Pinkie said, putting on grave and serious looks. “Just as a matter of interest... what does thaumaturgy mean?”
“It’s the scientific term for magic,” Sunset summarised. “Magic is a very broad term. Thaumaturgy refers specifically to the active practise of magical arts by individuals learned in a recognised field.”
“Right,” Pinkie said, still putting on the uncharacteristic look of serious reflection. “So with that in mind... explain the whole thing again, because I didn’t understand a word of it.”
Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose, trying her hardest not to groan aloud.
“Look,” she began is as patient a tone as she could muster. “Maybe we should just leave it. It’s a very complicated field unless you understand the basics. It takes years to learn.”
“Oh no, come on!” Pinkie exclaimed. “I can learn!” She looked over the desk for inspiration. “That, tell me about that. You found something out, right?”
Sunset turned to see what she was pointing at. She grimaced a little to see the little plastic tray and the two pendant shards inside, the one sitting on a single drop of dried blood, and the other splattered liberally. She sighed.
“No I haven’t found out—“ she stopped, doing a double take at the contents of the tray as her mind told her that something was amiss. She looked back at the tray, trying to determine what her mind was telling her wasn’t right. She frowned, and then blinked as a pink hand appeared from beyond her peripheral vision and reached towards the tray.
“Oh wow,” Pinkie said, sounding either disgusted or awed, it was hard to tell.
Sunset opened her mouth. She had an unaccountable urge to tell Pinkie to stop, but as she puzzled as to why, no words escaped her. Meanwhile Pinkie’s hand stretched forward unencumbered, and reached the tray. No sooner had her finger reached the two little red shards, then Sunset realised what was wrong.
Two red shards!? she thought wildly.
“Pinkie, wait! Don’t touch—“
It was too late of course.
Pinkie plucked the shard from the tray, and instantly it began to glow, radiating a malevolent crimson light. Pinkie gave a noticeable shudder and caught her breath in her throat. Sunset saw her legs give way beneath her and caught her half way to the floor.
“Pinkie? Pinkie, are you okay? Pinkie?” Sunset gave her a little shake.
Pinkie’s eyes were wide open, dilated as though with fear.
What could she possibly be seeing? Sunset wondered. She looked down at the shard on the floor. As Pinkie fell it had dropped from her grasp to the floor, where the light inside of it flickered like a malfunctioning LED. Apparently the contact had been too brief for it to build any momentum, for it shuddered only once or twice on the floor before the light dimmed to nothing, and it remained quite still and innocent looking. Except for the dark splotches of dried blood still present on it.
Pinkie muttered something. Sunset leaned in to hear what it was she was saying.
“I’m sorry...” she whispered, her eyes still wide and staring. “I’m so sorry... I didn’t know...”
“It’s okay, Pinkie,” Sunset assured her, trying to lift her up and onto the bed. “You’re going to be okay, I don’t think you held it long enough to—“
“I didn’t know there was another way...” Pinkie muttered, staring fearfully into space.
The out of context nature of this sentence puzzled Sunset. Her brow furrowed, and she was about to ask Pinkie if she could hear what Sunset was saying, when for what felt like the tenth time that day, Sunset’s heart froze over with what Pinkie said next.
“B-But all I’ve ever done since being here is... drive everyone apart... I don’t know the first thing about friendship...”
Sunset retracted a slightly trembling hand.
“I’m sorry...” Pinkie sniffed, two thin streams running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry...”
It took a little time for Pinkie to quite recover from her exposure to Sunset’s memories. Sunset herself had not been able to comfort her, having been rather shocked when she realised what had happened. Sitting in her chair, her mind slowly recovered, and dwelt on the source of the trouble; the little red shard.
After a while, Sunset regained enough sense to remove the dangerous little thing, using the tweezers on her desk to drop it into a ziplock bag. With a black marker she labelled the bag.
My Worst
After a while, Pinkie seemed to come back to herself. She appeared to be surprised to be seated against a wall, and for a moment looked around as though not recognising her surroundings. As soon as she spotted Sunset, she instantly looked away.
“Are you okay?” Sunset asked, quietly.
Pinkie opened her mouth to say something, but then paused. “Yes,” she said eventually. “I just... I saw...”
“I think I know what you saw,” Sunset said when it became evident Pinkie couldn’t continue. “You... said some things.”
Pinkie said nothing in reply to this. After a few moments of staring determinately away from Sunset, she hesitantly muttered
“I didn’t know that you felt that way.”
“Really?” Sunset asked, bravely trying to smile. “I thought I made it all sort of obvious. I was basically a bitch to you guys back then.”
“No, I mean... when you put the crown on, I saw you crying then, but... you were so scared.”
“Pinkie, please don’t,” Sunset said quickly.
“It was like... I thought someone was going to—“
“Pinkie, please just stop!” Sunset snapped. “Yes, I was scared. Of course I was scared! I made myself alone, I made everyone else frightened of me so I could get what I wanted. Do you have any idea how scared someone has to be to live like that? All it takes is one moment of weakness, one instance of opening up to someone. If you let them know how you really feel, let them know who you really are—”
Sunset stopped herself, realising that she was ranting. She subsided into an awkward silence.
“You’ve been carrying that around for a while, huh?” Pinkie said, a small instance of humour in her voice.
“I guess you could say that,” Sunset said, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “No one is going to be scared of you once they realise that you’re just an ordinary person like them. You guys proved that to me.”
“Are you still... I mean, you don’t still feel like that, do you?” Pinkie asked, picking herself off the floor. “Afraid, I mean.”
“Not so much anymore,” Sunset admitted. “It helps having friends. I’ve been able to do things I didn’t think I would usually be able to because...” she paused, her thoughts drifting to the three in the living room. “I’ve known you guys were there to help me out.”
Pinkie smiled rather more sincerely. “You know we got your back,” she said, patting Sunset’s shoulder with a slight return of her usual enthusiasm. “Whatever it is, we’re there like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“I know,” Sunset said, feeling the warmth of gratitude in her veins. “And actually,” she said, looking at the shard in its plastic bag. “Although I’m sorry you had to go through that, I think that you might have actually helped me out again.”
“Really?” Pinkie asked, suddenly brightening as her tone zoomed upwards to its usual high pitch. “Wow, I’m good. I didn’t even know I was helping.”
“Indeed,” Sunset said, her sense of academic interest starting to reappear. During her brief deep rumination on what had happened, she believed that she had come to an understanding of why it had happened.
When Sunset had seen the memories within the shards at the siren’s mansion, it had happened when Adagio had touched them. Sunset had occasioned the shards no disturbance up until Adagio had come into contact. And now, Pinkie had experienced the same phenomenon, only with Sunset’s memories.
Sunset gathered two things from this occurrence: first, that the shard, which had previously been clear, was now red. From exposure to Sunset’s blood, it had imbibed her memories. The more intricate ramifications of what this meant needed to be explored of course, but it gave some insight into the nature of how the pedants had worked.
The second inference that Sunset made, and this was perhaps the more important discovery, was that to access the memories within the pendants, there needed to be contact with the original holder of those memories. In Adagio’s case this was evident, but in Pinkie’s case, Sunset had not touched the shard herself. Instead, the shard had been smothered in her blood; an indirect link. And perhaps more importantly, the shards had not suddenly become active and tried to latch onto either Sunset or Pinkie.
Did that perhaps mean, Sunset wondered, that this indirect contact limited the pendant’s ability to drain magic to power itself?
Once Pinkie Pie had left that day, Sunset began a very long and in-depth correspondence with Twilight via the magical journal, eagerly describing the effects and what she had conjectured regarding them. Twilight was unable to return yet as she had, under Princess Celestia’s guidance, elected to use dark magic on the pendant shards, and had to monitor their reactions closely.
Over the following days, Sunset discussed the probability of regulated access to the pendants’ knowledge through the limited contact that she had theorised Pinkie to have undergone. Twilight was incredibly unsure with the idea, but did agree at least that there was a great deal of precedence in favour of it.
They argued the point back and forth for days, Sunset even taking her journal to school with her in order to maintain the discussion. Her friends became really quite nosey about the whole situation, and sometimes even brought attention to it in class when Sunset was pretending to take notes. Fortunately, she had a collaborator who managed to prevent any serious instances of discovery by her friends or the teachers.
“Ack!” Rainbow yelped. “What the hell, Pinkie?” she hissed, leaning across the divide between her and Pinkie’s desk as the latter retracted her foot.
“Ms. Dash,” Mr. Flake snapped. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Rainbow’s lips tightened. “No, sir,” she grumbled.
“Well here’s something I’d like to share with you,” Mr. Flake replied coldly, setting a detention slip onto her desk with a firm smack. Dash’s expression soured, and she gave Pinkie Pie an evil stare of quite high intensity.
“I only wanted to know if Twilight was coming back soon!” Rainbow raged, still giving Pinkie the meanest glare she could muster.
“Simmer down, Rainbow Stack,” Applejack said dispassionately.
“Twilight said that she’ll be back soon,” Sunset assured her friends. “She’d have been back a week ago, but she and Princess Celestia have been running some pretty dangerous experiments. Even Princess Luna has looked into the problem, although Twilight didn’t say how.”
“Yeah, I saw,” Rainbow said without thinking. “Dark magic. Who knew?”
“Twilight can use dark magic?” Rarity asked, looking worried.
“A lot of advanced magic students can,” Sunset explained. “Try not to think of it as bad; dark magic is a natural force like any other.”
“Isn’t it different from other kinds of magic? Surely there’s a reason it’s called dark magic.” Rarity asked, narrowing her eyes.
Sunset took a moment to consider the question. “Try to think of the difference between dark magic and other forms of magic as the difference between fire and water. Unrestrained, dark magic will spread anywhere and everywhere it can, whilst other forms of magic flow and take a path of least resistance. Most other forms of magic are easily storable, but dark magic is notoriously difficult to contain. Dark magic can be destroyed by overpowering it with most other forms of magic, whilst dark magic will slowly erode other forms over time. Dark magic will consume you if mishandled, and is generally considered to be very dangerous to use by the untrained. It has no will or intention, it just follows a very destructive nature if let loose.”
“Like fire,” Applejack summarised.
“Exactly. So when using it, Twilight must have someone watching it at all times. Considering how potentially dangerous it might be, I can’t imagine her letting many ponies be exposed to that kind of risk.”
“Certainly not,” Rarity said robustly. “She’s far too responsible for that,” she added, a hint of pride in her voice for her friend.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Fluttershy put in timidly. “But, um, I don’t suppose that you have come up with anything yourself, have you?” She paused. “It’s okay if you haven’t, I was just wondering,” she added in one breath.
Sunset looked at her for a moment, and then glanced at Pinkie Pie. Pinkie didn’t look back, or give any sign that she knew Sunset was looking at her. She hadn’t been as talkative as usual ever since what had happened, but fortunately the tell-tale sign of her deflatable hair hadn’t occurred and given her away.
“Not yet,” Sunset said, rallying a little. “I’m hoping that Twilight’s experiments might give me some new ideas on how to proceed. I think the pendants must have had an extremely specific way of being used, possibly to make it difficult for any would-be thieves to make use of them. I’ve considered that they’re probably attuned to a current user.”
“Well no one’s usin’ ‘em now!” Rainbow said, grinning in a satisfied sort of way. “Not thanks to us, anyway.”
“Do ya think that’s making it hard to study ‘em?” Applejack asked, giving Sunset a serious look. “The fact that they’re broken means that no one can use ‘em like the sirens use’ta.”
“Oh, but remember what happened in the mansion?” Rarity objected. “Perhaps there’s still some sort of a link.”
Sunset glanced at Pinkie again. Maybe she was imagining it, given her own feelings, but she thought that she saw Pinkie shudder a little.
“Ah think we all remember what happened at the mansion,” Applejack said severely, taking hold of Sunset’s wrist and holding up her bandaged fingers. They really were taking a long time to heal.
Rarity blushed. “I wasn’t suggesting—You can’t think that I was saying—“
“We don’t, Rarity,” Sunset said. Applejack had the grace to look apologetic. “There might well be a way to use that connection. Just differently.”
They were right of course, for Sunset had already thought of a way to do just that with Pinkie’s help. She didn’t want to tell her friends just yet however, since it was clear that at least some of them – Applejack in particular – had major reservations about the idea.
But as she had said, she wasn’t going to try anything out until Twilight was finished with her own experiments; she wanted Twilight back to help her with the experiment she had in mind, and as much as she trusted her friends, she didn’t want to put them in danger over a possibly disastrous magical experiment. Twilight at least would have some knowledge to defend or protect herself should something go wrong.
Whilst she waited for this promised time, Sunset focused her attention upon another tantalising subject; that of Adagio’s dark past.
Fascinated though Sunset was to know precisely what had happened, her primary motivation was of a far nobler origin; she was genuinely concerned for Adagio, and solicitous for her future health and happiness.
When she tried to think of the older, villainous siren that had stalked the school and insinuated her metaphorical claws around the collective throats of the student body, Sunset could honestly see the primordial beginnings of it in the smug or aloof looks Adagio frequently employed to meet any and all attention anyone paid to her. The older siren had worn them like a skin, a comfortable approximation of her true feelings to those all around her, making it clear how superior she was, and how certain she was of that superiority.
The younger Adagio on the other hand, wore the expressions like a set of clothes that she hastily pulled on whenever she was conscious of being observed. Sunset could tell that it was already a comfortable fallback for her whenever she was unsure of how she should present herself, but she didn’t think that Adagio felt the way she seemed. Sunset would often observe her in the apartment or out amongst her sister sirens looking entirely different from her scowling, abrasive attitude. Happy, carefree, mischievous; just as a child should look.
If Sunset could facilitate the preservation of that happiness and (relative) innocence, then she certainly would do so.
Sunset had considered how she could learn more of Adagio without seeing the memories from the pendants; they had been a starting point, but until she and Twilight experimented with them more, they were temporarily a dead end.
She immediately determined that asking Adagio herself about her past were a bad idea, and even indirect methods might be problematic should Adagio catch wind of what she was doing. Instead, she began with asking Sonata.
Being by far the most sympathetic of the three children to Sunset, Sunset imagined that Sonata would be an ideal informant, especially if Sunset made it clear that she was asking in order to help Adagio out.
Unfortunately, the attempt was largely unsuccessful.
“Um...” Sonata said, sucking thoughtfully on some red liquorice. “I don’t really know.”
Sunset paused. “You don’t really know what?”
“Well, I know about what we did together,” Sonata said. “Like, living with the other children and taking stuff to people to get coins, but I don’t really know what Adagio did when she wasn’t with us.”
“Did she ever seem unhappy?”
Sonata stopped sucking the liquorice for a moment. “We were all kind of unhappy sometimes,” she said, contemplating her candy as though it no longer tasted very sweet.
Sunset thought for a moment, trying to think of a more specific question to ask her that she might be able to answer with more clarity. Whilst she was doing so, Sonata seemed to be following her own train of thought.
“I think Aria said something once about Adagio being sad.”
“Did she say anything else about it?” Sunset asked cautiously.
“Well, thinking about it,” Sonata mumbled, stuffing the entire string of red candy in her mouth, “it might have been a few times. I think Aria followed Adagio somewhere once. Or twice. Or maybe a bunch of times.”
Sunset watched her closely, hoping for more information. Sonata smiled at her innocently.
“Sorry, I don’t listen much to Aria when she gets all serious. Got any more liquorice?”
Sunset sighed, but obliged the little siren’s capacious hunger for sweets. The best thing to do, Sunset thought as Sonata tore into a new string, was to ask Aria herself.
Sunset approached the coming questioning with all of the precision and care of military reconnaissance, and executed it with all of the success of British Intelligence cracking the German Enigma machine.
“Thank you, Alan Turing,” Sunset muttered, as this pleasing analogy occurred to her. “Ah, I think that’s Pinkie Pie!” she said to her children.
As was to be expected, Sonata leapt up from what she was doing and sped to the door to open it, whilst Adagio and Aria remained seated amongst the colouring books they’d been focused on. Adagio as usual was being careful of her dignity, whilst Aria was simply pouting. She kicked aside the book she’d been working on and stood up to flounce off out of sight of the door.
“No pouty-butts in the house,” Sunset warned her sternly, as Aria threw herself onto the sofa and folded her arms tightly. Aria ignored her. “Hi Pinkie,” Sunset said, smiling, as an enormous tangle of pink hair bounced across the threshold.
“Hi there!” the person the hair belonged to tittered. “Are we ready to go?” she asked the two standing in front of her. “Oh? Where’s number three?” she asked in a mock concerned tone.
Sunset’s mouth thinned a little at how badly Pinkie could fake confusion. “She was naughty,” Sunset said with a sigh. “And naughty girls don’t get to go. Have fun at the playhouse, you two,” she said, kissing both girls on the cheek. Sonata hugged her, and Adagio gave a disgusted groan, trying in vain to suppress the glow in her cheeks.
Sunset waved them down the hallway, and then closed the door.
Target cornered, she thought. As she felt her hands rising to rub themselves together in a sinister way, she stopped herself and decided to dial back the creepy a little.
This has to be done carefully, she reminded herself. Aria is the most reclusive. It might be difficult getting her to talk about something like this to me.
After concurring with herself, Sunset glanced sideways at Aria, trying to gauge the mood. As expected, Aria was looking most unhappy with her. But Sunset had had no choice; the girls did everything together, even take baths at the same time. It was a wonder they didn’t use the toilet together too. This had been the only way Sunset could tear them from each other short of kidnap. Again.
“So,” Sunset said, leaning over the back of the sofa.
Aria said nothing.
“Hey, I said no pouting,” Sunset chided in a faux-severe tone. With any other child she’d never have tried it, remembering herself how obnoxiously annoying it had been whenever her uncle Starshine had done it to her, but with her index fingers she reached down and pulled the corners of Aria’s mouth into a disgruntled smile. Aria still didn’t move.
“Oh come on,” Sunset said, sitting down on the sofa, making Aria bounce a little. “You know it was Sonata’s turn on the television.”
“And Adagio thinks that what you watch is dumb,” Sunset said with a shrug.
“Huh!?” Aria exclaimed, shocked out of her straightjacket-like resentment.
“Oh yeah,” Sunset continued blithely. “All three of you have very different tastes in TV. Adagio just doesn’t tell you to your face.”
Aria sat fuming for a few moments, but then gave a violent sigh and returned to grumbling silence.
“Adagio doesn’t tell me a lot that’s going on with her,” Sunset admitted. “I’m guessing she doesn’t talk to you or Sonata much either.” She watched Aria out of the corner of her eye, hoping for a reaction. For a few moments it seemed like Aria wasn’t going to say anything, but then she gave a disparaging sort of sound out of her nose.
“She doesn’t say anything, but it’s not like I can’t tell,” Aria mumbled, her arms tightening.
“Can’t tell what?” Sunset asked.
Much to Sunset’s surprise, Aria looked quickly around at her, her expression almost shrewd. But then she recovered and looked away again.
Aria’s grasp of English was more tenuous than the other two, but Sunset was able to compensate enough in order to make out what was being said.
“Tell me,” Sunset prompted. “What can you tell?”
Aria scowled. “She acts like a princess all the time,” she grumbled. “She doesn’t think I know how she really is.”
Sunset decided to ignore the transparent resentment. It was clear to her at least that Aria was simply angry about Sonata and Adagio getting to go to the playhouse. This could be information gold.
“How is she really?”
“Do you think I haven’t had grown-ups look after me before?” Aria snapped. “Always prying, always asking, always wanting something.”
“I only ask because I’m worried for you guys,” Sunset said solemnly.
Aria scoffed.
“That woman in Fleece,” Sunset said, watching Aria closely. “She looked after you, and other children too. She sent Adagio some... where.”
Sunset tailed off when she saw how pale Aria’s face had gone. Aria looked up at her.
“What do you... did she tell you about—“
“I saw in the pendant fragments,” Sunset explained. “Do you know what happened then? Did that woman send you where she sent Adagio?”
Aria sat unmoving and unspeaking. Sunset wondered if she’d pushed Aria too far, but then Aria looked up at her, a new and almost striking look in her face and eyes. It was almost a pleading look.
“We all did work,” Aria said. “You don’t make us do work for coins. You make us go to academies.”
Sunset supposed that Aria meant school. “Yes,” she admitted. “It’s important for you to learn.”
“She told us we had to work. We needed coins for food.”
“Did you have to work?” Sunset asked, wondering what a six year old could possibly do.
“Sonata and me, we took things places. We got coins for taking paper and jars to people.”
“And Adagio did...” Sunset swallowed as her throat constricted a little. “Something else?” she finished. “I don’t suppose you ever—“ She stopped herself here. It was clear from her face that Aria did not enjoy being reminded of her past. “Hey look, it’s lunch time,” she said with a stab at cheerfulness. “We’ve still got some of those make-your-own-pizza lunchables if you like.”
Whether it was from a genuine adoration of pizza-like lunchables, or because Sunset had dropped the subject, Sunset did not know, but Aria seemed much happier eating than talking. They watched television for a while as they ate, Sunset trying to gauge whether or not she should press Aria for more. It was clear that Aria knew a great deal of what had happened, and that she wasn’t comfortable with how it had turned out. But Sunset needed to know what had happened. She knew that at least Adagio had been... sold at least once, but had anything else happened? Had it continued? What had happened to make the sirens what they were?
How had they attained the pendants?
To Sunset’s surprise, Aria raised the subject herself.
When the show they had been watching ended, Sunset took away their plates, and Aria sat perched on the edge of the sofa. Sunset observed the clock, and saw that they have a little less than two hours before Pinkie returned.
“Do you really care about us?” Aria asked suddenly as Sunset came back into the lounge.
“Of course I do,” Sunset said earnestly.
“Why?” Aria asked sharply.
Sunset sighed a little at the question. “Well, first it’s just not right for kids to be out on the street. But I do have personal reasons too,” she added, as Aria gave her a sceptical look. “You three... well, I used to know three people a lot like you. They tried to do awful things, and my friends and I stopped them. But looking back on what my friends and I did... I think we should have done something to help them. We didn’t.”
“Did they die?” Aria asked after a short pause.
“In a way,” Sunset said quietly. “I suppose I was trying to make up for some things when I took you in, but I do care for the three of you. I can’t make you believe that, I know; all I can do is hope that you’ll believe me.”
Aria seemed to take a moment to consider this. After a while, she spoke to the floor.
“If you want to know what happened to Adagio, then you need to ask her,” she said flatly. Sunset’s insides sank a little at this answer. She bit her thumb nail, wondering how to prompt Aria to say more, even if it simply softened her up for a fresh attempt in the future, when unexpectedly Aria spoke again. “But if you care,” she said quietly, “then keep her away from those red stones.”
Sunset blinked. “Red stones?” She frowned. “Why would I need to keep her away from the pendants? Does she want them?” An unpleasant thought occurred to Sunset. “Has she been trying to get them?”
Aria bit her lip. “No. She doesn’t remember,” she muttered. “She doesn’t remember any of it. I asked her. Sonata remembers, but Adagio doesn’t. The stones are bad.” She grabbed Sunset’s sleeve. “You saw what they did to you!”
“I understand,” Sunset said quickly, taking hold of Aria’s hand in a reassuring way. The little girl’s voice had been rising a little hysterically, and her usually impassive face had developed an intensity that Sunset had never seen before. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to expose any of you to them. Although,” she said, trying to smile, “you seemed to handle them well enough.”
Aria’s mouth twisted. “They’re bad,” she repeated.
“You said that Adagio didn’t remember the pendants,” Sunset said, frowning a little. “What did you mean?”
Sunset waited while Aria took a moment to gather her thoughts. She considered how strange it was to be having such an adult conversation with someone who was biologically only six or seven years old. Aria looked the part of a child, making all manner of facial expressions as she went over internal dialogues, kicked her feet against the front of the sofa, bouncing up and down slightly in her agitation. Anyone watching might think they were an older sister sitting with a younger.
Aria sighed, and looked Sunset in the eye. “There was a man who came to where we lived. He asked for Adagio all the time to take to the grown-up house.”
“The grown-up house?” Sunset asked uncertainly.
“The place she went to get coins!” Aria said, twisting her fingers and looking uncomfortable.
“Sorry, sorry,” Sunset said hastily. “I know what you mean now.”
Aria’s discomfort eased a little, and she went on. “Adagio didn’t come back for a while. Days went by, and we didn’t know where she was. We weren’t allowed to look for her, but then she came back, and took us away.”
“Took you away?” Sunset asked, puzzled.
“Sonata and me. She came back wearing the red stone.”
“And she was... different?” Sunset guessed.
“She was happy,” Aria whispered.
Under usual circumstances, this statement would seem perfectly innocuous. Even the way in which Aria said it, although chilling, wouldn’t have been all that concerning despite the implied horror. But what Aria followed it up with made Sunset wonder what exactly had happened.
“She had... little spots all over her. Little dark spots everywhere.”
Sunset waited for her to elaborate, but after a few moments of silence she asked “You mean, on her skin? Like, she was sick?”
Aria shook her head. “Everywhere. On her clothes, in her hair, everywhere. Little dark red spots. I think it was...” Aria didn’t seem able to go on. Not that she needed to; Sunset got the gist.
Again she was struck by just how adult-like Aria was acting. She wondered if having these old memories impressed upon Aria’s mind the sense of just how old she really was. Or maybe having such harrowing childhood experiences made Aria mature for her age. She and Adagio seemed much alike in that regard, with Sonata being the obvious exception.
“So you don’t know where she got the pendant from?” Sunset asked. Aria shook her head. “Where did you get yours?”
“Adagio gave them to us,” Aria replied with a shrug. “She had three of them.”
“And then what happened?”
Aria gave Sunset an odd look. “I don’t know.”
Sunset stared at her. “You don’t know?” she asked, sure she’d misheard. Aria shrugged again. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“She gave us the stones, and then I can’t remember what happened,” Aria said slowly, as though speaking to someone a little dim. “Or at least, I’m not sure what happened afterwards. Sometimes it’s like I can remember, but if I try to think about it, it goes away.”
Sunset’s brow furrowed. If what Aria said was true, then Adagio at least had no idea of what the pendants were for, or what they could do. Sunset asked Aria specifically what Adagio had done when she returned with the pendant.
“She sang,” Aria replied.
“Makes sense,” Sunset mumbled. “And when she did, did people start acting strangely?”
Aria blinked. She gave Sunset a searching look. “How did you...?”
“Thanks for telling me all of this,” Sunset said smilingly. She rubbed Aria’s shoulder gratefully. As she made to get up, Aria seemed to force herself into speaking.
“What are you going to do?”
Sunset looked back into Aria’s intense, almost suspicious eyes. She couldn’t help but sigh internally a little; Aria still didn’t trust her. But Sunset didn’t take it personally, nor to heart.
Really, she thought with a little smile, it’d have been weird if she did trust me, after everything they’ve been through.
“I don’t know,” she said frankly. “But if I can, I’m going to help. Oh,” she said as an afterthought, “and any coins you earn, you keep them, okay?”
With that, she left Aria sitting on the sofa, looking confused.
“Why are you smiling so much?” Pinkie asked.
“Am I?” Sunset considered the point. “Mm, things turned out well today, I think.”
Sunset flipped the eggs in the pan and with deft aim managed to catch it on a plate. Sliding across the counter she continued “Can you pass that to Adagio, please? Now, who wanted their scrambled?”
“I did!” Sonata cried, popping up next to Pinkie and veritably drooling.
“It’s kinda weird,” Pinkie said in a far away voice, swallowing an entire bread roll whole. “When I think about how you used to be, seeing Momma-Sunset is just bizarre.”
“Well not to sound like a Disney heroine,” Sunset said, grinning, “but people change, you know?”
Pinkie took a moment to digest this. “Do I count as people?” she asked, frowning. “I like the way I am.”
“Don’t worry,” Sunset laughed. “I think it only happens to people with something wrong with them.”
“That sounds just vague enough to work. I’ll take it!” Pinkie said, folding her arms. “Hey, Sunset? You know those eggs are burning, right?”
“What?” Sunset said, looking down. She swore as quietly as she could.
“Yeah, the smoke kind of gives it away,” Pinkie went on, gesturing at the whitish steam rising from the pan. “Then there’s the smell, the black eggs—“
“Thank you, Pinkie, I get it!” Sunset said cheerfully through her teeth.
“What were you looking at, anyway?” Pinkie inquired, bumping Sunset out of the way and taking over. Sunset paused for a moment whilst Pinkie removed the bits of burnt egg with the spatula. “I always make these in the microwave.”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Oh?” Pinkie said.
But Sunset didn’t elaborate. Perhaps because of her conversation with Aria, Sunset found herself watching Adagio warily. She didn’t expect anything nefarious from her, not at all. Well, not anything out of the ordinary anyway. But suddenly some of what Adagio had been doing in the past seemed altogether less innocent. Coming into Sunset’s bedroom when Sunset was working, asking questions about what she was doing, and inquiring specifically into the red fragments.
At the time Sunset thought nothing of it; Adagio was a child, of course she was curious. And like Aria said, she didn’t remember the pendants. Why would she be after them? It made no sense that she would be. What could she even do with them? If anything they would harm her more than anything else.
That’s the problem, Sunset thought to herself. Maybe it’s just paranoia, but...
“Hey Pinkie?”
“Yeah?” Pinkie said from the sofa.
Sunset blinked; how long had she been standing there?
She shook off her torpor. “Could I ask you to watch the kids for a little bit? I need to pop out for a moment.”
“That depends,” Pinkie said, her expression falling into the closest approximation of seriousness it was able to. “How much ice cream you got?”
Sighing audibly and making a mental note to pick up some more Häagen-Dazs on the way home, Sunset walked swiftly to her destination.
“Seriously, I can only afford the small ones,” Sunset grumbled as she waited for the traffic light to turn. “That girl eats too much. That ice cream is expensive.” She jumped as the car waiting for her to finish crossing honked its horn.
After having sworn loudly at the driver and endured a vulgar diatribe back, Sunset fumed all the way to her destination, and had to stop herself kicking the door open in frustration. Opening it as demurely as she could, the bell above the door tinkled with a delicate and refined resonance, the echo of which she heard coming from speakers upstairs. The sound of which was almost instantly shattered by the distinct sound of a gun going off.
Sunset shrieked, having been completely caught off guard by the sound, and almost tripping head-first into a sale’s bin. Catching herself on its rim, she looked wildly around for the source of the noise, and instantly heard a loud and angry female voice ringing from above.
“—could have killed someone, you idiot!”
Sunset barely had time to push herself up and set the basket to rights before two people came running as quietly as they could down the stairs.
“What happened?” Sweetie Belle hissed at her older sister. “Mom told dad he couldn’t load his guns in the house!”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Father’s still remembering the robberies,” she said impatiently. “Despite the fact that I’ve told him a hundred times that those were caused by—“ she stopped as she roved automatically behind the till and saw Sunset. “Oh!” she exclaimed, doing a double-take. “Sunset, darling, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Oh, so you caused dad to fire prematurely,” Sweetie Belle said, glancing shrewdly at the bell above the door.
Sunset decided to ignore that; the obvious joke was beneath her.
“Go play somewhere, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, waving her off.
“Mom told you not to talk to me like that!” Sweetie Belle growled, giving her sister the kind of look that burns.
Rarity retorted with a cold shoulder that put icebergs to shame. “And mother told you not to stream movies from the internet, now go run along.”
Sweetie Belle blushed and stomped back up the stairs. Rarity meanwhile put on a delighted smile.
“What can I do for you, Sunset?”
“Trouble in the household?” Sunset asked quietly, directing an eye upwards.
Rarity pursed her lips. “Pay no mind. I’ve told father again and again that the robbieries have stopped – didn’t mention names of course – but he just seems to have developed a fondness for his guns.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, with a name like Magnum after all.”
Sunset again chose to ignore the obvious dirty joke, and brought the conversation around to the reason for her visit.
“I don’t suppose you have a jewellery box I can borrow that’s lockable, do you?” Sunset inquired.
“Oh certainly,” Rarity trilled. “Just as a matter of interest: why lockable?”
Sunset explained her suspicions as succinctly as she could. Rarity rubbed her chin and stared thoughtfully at the countertop.
“Well, darling,” she said slowly. “It sounds to me as though you need a safe-box more than a jewellery box.”
“I didn’t want to make it seem weird or suspicious,” Sunset explained sheepishly. “If I do something obvious like hide the pieces or put them in a place that’s obviously meant to be difficult to get to, I think it might make her want to get at them more. That’s how I was when I was a kid,” Sunset finished reminiscently.
“I see your point, dear,” Rarity concurred, momentarily directing a mysterious look at the ceiling. “I have just the thing.”
Rarity turned, and marched smartly back upstairs. Sunset waited, looking idly around at the racks of coats, dresses, and other articles, until Rarity came back with a beautiful, albeit slightly worn looking box.
“Here you are,” she said, her chest expanding with apparent pride.
Sunset stared at it. The box was not large, and had shiny blue fabric with a golden trim. It was a pretty thing to be sure, and by most standards would have been handsome, but in the context of Rarity it looked oddly dull and out-of-place. Sunset made an I-don’t-get-it face.
Rarity tutted impatiently, and held the box up, pointing at its front. Where usually there might have been a little handle to open the box, or perhaps a tiny, ornate padlock, there was a little row of numbers.
“It’s a combination lock,” Rarity said proudly. “And don’t let its looks fool you; this little gem can withstand a crowbar.” She patted the box like one might pet a cat.
“Oh yes?” Sunset asked, looking sceptical.
“Oh indeed yes,” Rarity said, smirking. She pointed to a part of the gold trim; there was an irregularity there, as though something had been trying to wedge the box open. “Sweetie Belle and her friends tried it once.”
“Wow,” Sunset said, impressed. “What were you keeping inside it?” she asked, turning the box over to see if the size would give any indication.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Rarity said hastily. “You want it or not?”
“Sure, it should work. How much?”
“Oh, nothing, darling,” Rarity said cheerfully. “Consider it a gift.” When Sunset protested this, Rarity tutted again and waved an airy hand. “Very well, very well, consider it a loan. Return it when you’re done with it if you want to.” She gave Sunset a coy smile. “It’s bad manners to refuse a gift, you know.”
Sunset had no real issue with leaving her three girls home alone, or with Pinkie Pie; they could take care of themselves no problem, and she trusted them enough by now to not cause any serious issues.
Re-entering the apartment with a bag of replacement ice-creams, she made sure not to rustle any of her bags. Keeping an eye on the back of Pinkie’s head, she managed to toss the bag containing the box onto her bed through the bedroom’s open door. Unfortunately, whether because she heard the light thump of the box hitting the bed, or because of her innate sense of smell for anything remotely sweet, Pinkie turned around.
“Oh, sweet!” she said. “More ice cream!”
“No more ice cream,” Sunset said, pointing severely at the little pile of empty containers on the coffee table. Pinkie grinned and gave a nervous laugh.
“Aww,” Sonata whined, popping up next to Pinkie’s head. She put on the old puppy-eyes, the effect of which was a little ruined by the residue of dulce de leche around her mouth.
“You’ve had enough for tonight,” Sunset said, and then muttered “or any other night,” as she put the replacement ice cream in the freezer.
“What did you go out for?” Adagio asked.
Sunset looked back at her. Her expression seemed innocent enough.
“Nothing in particular, just went to see Rarity. Incidentally,” she said as the thought occurred to her, “I don’t want any of you three going to her boutique alone.”
“Why?” Sonata asked, looking bemused.
“Her dad’s gotten a little... trigger happy.”
She allowed Pinkie to explain the nature of the idiom, and what exactly guns were.
“I want one,” Adagio said, smirking.
Sunset knew better than to contest this assertion. Challenging her would simply push her to solidify her position; she just had to be cautious should the desire arise again. Seeking then to change the subject, she sat down between them all and asked what was on TV.
“Storage Horse,” Aria said, waving the remote.
Next to her, Sunset heard Adagio give a thinly veiled sigh.
- To be Continued
How to get Banned from a Store in under Five Minutes
Twilight returned to the human world precisely one week, five days, and thirteen hours after departing. Or at least, that’s what Pinkie Pie claimed it had been.
“How could you possibly know that?” Rainbow dash challenged.
“You mean you don’t?” Pinkie asked, looking genuinely surprised. “You were making such a big deal of her being gone.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Twilight said, blushing a little. “I know I said I wouldn’t be gone long, but Princess Celestia had a few ideas and she couldn’t really spare much time away from court.”
Rarity smiled and stared dreamily into space for a moment. “Royal court,” she sighed.
“So we had to get things done right then and there,” Twilight summarised.
“So, hit on anything useful?” Applejack inquired.
“Yeah, we heard you were doin’ dark magic stuff,” Rainbow Dash put in, grinning and holding up clenched fists. “Tell me something spooky happened!”
“Spooky?” Twilight asked, bemused. “Not really.”
Rainbow’s shoulders slumped. “Seriously?” she asked, evidently greatly disappointed. “Come on, you can’t use buzz words like ‘dark magic’ and not expect people to—“
“It started a zombie apocalypse, didn’t it?” Pinkie said, folding her arms and adopting the quintessential expression of That Guy who had always known what it was that had happened was going to happen.
“Pinkie, darling,” Rarity began, her tone dripping with condescension. “I’m fairly certain Twilight did not start a zombie apocalypse.”
“There’s a number of things in Equestria that could cause zombies to rise,” Twilight said helpfully, “but the pendant shards aren’t one of them. There is the Arashanovac Amulet, or the Seven Statues of Beht.”
“Twilight, those things are from the Daring Do series,” Rainbow pointed out, as though worried for her sanity.
“True,” Twilight admitted. “But in Equestria, those things are all real.”
Rainbow said nothing for a few moments. “Yeah, I’m going to pony land.”
“Be serious for a moment, Rainbow,” Applejack said irritably.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Rainbow replied solemnly.
“I best not tell her that Daring Do is an actual pony,” Twilight whispered to Sunset in a confidential tone.
“We’re not sharing the futon with her, are we?”
“Adagio, be nice.”
In what Sunset considered to be a rather old-fashioned way, her three children gathered around Twilight when Sunset had announced that she’d be spending a lot of time with them, and greeted her in as formal a way as they could; Sonata, all beaming pleasure, Aria looking unusually uncertain and frequently glancing at Sunset, and Adagio narrow-eyed and warily polite. Twilight greeted them all in turn, shaking Sonata’s child-sized hand, smiling at Aria, and trying to do the same for Adagio, although her attempt cracked a little under the coldly suspicious light in Adagio’s magenta eyes.
“She’s not sleeping here,” Sunset assured them, giving Twilight an apologetic look. “Rarity has offered her family’s guest bedroom. She lives just a street or so away above her shop.”
“Sounds just like Rarity,” Twilight chuckled with a reminiscent smile.
“So like I said,” Sunset warned, raising an admonitory finger. “Be nice.”
After offering Twilight a drink and setting the girls some new colouring books to have a go at, Sunset and Twilight retreated to her bedroom where, seated on the bed, Sunset explained the nuances of the occurrence with Pinkie Pie. Twilight was highly interested, having been longing for a fuller report in person.
“I think I should like to talk to Pinkie about it as well,” Twilight said, rubbing her chin. “But if your conjectures are correct, then we’ve gained valuable insight into the nature of these objects. And...” She swallowed. “About what you said before. About the Apotheostones.”
“You found Oldbark’s letters?” Sunset asked, perking up.
“Yes. And Princess Celestia confirmed what you say as well. For obvious reasons the information has been suppressed for centuries, but such items do exist, and they do in fact come from the still beating hearts of immortals, carved into jewels.”
“Not all that well suppressed really,” Sunset huffed. “The Alicorn Amulet was at least well known to students of magic.”
“True, but Princess Celestia told me that she believed that covering up everything that had already been known would have been too monstrous a task, and fraught with risks of rediscovery, so—“
“She laid misinformation,” Sunset said suddenly, starting to grin. “That’s brilliant.”
They sat reminiscing for a moment, until Sunset spoke up again.
“Well you’ll get your chance soon,” she said, breaking from her daydream. “Pinkie’s coming over soon to give me some reading material for the kids.”
“For the kids?” Twilight repeated, giving Sunset a knowing look.
Sunset blushed, but otherwise managed to keep her composure. “So what did you find out, anyway?” she asked. “You made it sound like you found out something important.”
“It might be important,” Twilight said slowly. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up too much. As you described, not much causes the pendants to react, especially not the clear ones.” Sunset agreed that this was the case. “Well, when I used dark magic to interact with the red shards, they finally reacted, just not very... well, it wasn’t what I expected.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Well, to be honest I expected the pendant to devour the dark magic, feed off its energies and perhaps regenerate. Repair? Do something!”
“It didn’t?”
Twilight shook her head in a lost sort of way “The dark magic was repelled.”
Sunset blinked. “I’m... sorry, what?”
“Every attempt to use dark magic on the red shards failed. We left the shards over night in a magically-enclosed crystalline container with a dark miasma. The darkness couldn’t get within a few inches of them.”
“Now that’s curious,” Sunset said, frowning.
“It was indeed,” Twilight said, staring at the floor as though remembering the experiment in detail. “But what was more interesting was what happened to the clear ones.”
Sunset waited for a moment for Twilight to go on. “Are you waiting for me to ask?”
“Huh?” Twilight looked up quickly. “Oh, sorry. Well, what you told me about Pinkie... when we used dark magic on the clear shards, they kind of... absorbed it. Not like the sirens absorbed dark energy,” she followed up, forestalling the question. “It was different.”
“Different, how?” Sunset asked, almost unsure if she wanted to know.
“We didn’t notice it until the next day,” Twilight went on. “But the shard had turned red again.”
Excitement erupted in Sunset’s stomach. “Just like the ones I had did!”
“Yes,” Twilight said, smiling. “They’d imbibed my memories through the dark magic.”
“Well surely that’s a big deal!” Sunset said with a laugh. She cuffed Twilight’s shoulder. “And you had me going about it being nothing special. What else did you find out?”
“Nothing other than what you discovered, I’m afraid.”
Sunset’s excitement dipped sharply. “Oh,” she said, glumly.
“Yeah,” Twilight said with a little sigh.
“No, come on,” Sunset rallied. “You have to have found out something. I mean, you had Princess Celestia with you.”
“Sunset,” Twilight said contemplatively, “how many memories are in the shard that has yours in it?”
Sunset blinked. “Um... I don’t know, actually. Only Pinkie saw—“ Sunset stopped herself. “Why do you ask?”
“The shard that I have has only had one, very short memory. The one time I used dark magic willingly, when helping to save the Crystal Empire. That’s why I was quite excited to come back and see the one that you had made. We couldn’t find out much just from one memory of something I already know.”
“And what exactly are you hoping the one I have can do?” Sunset asked, puzzled.
“What we primarily need,” Twilight said, raising a finger in instruction, “is a means to traverse the memories within the shards. To study them in an orderly fashion, rather than jumping randomly. We couldn’t access any of Sonata’s or Aria’s, as you discovered, without them to grant access. With your shard, we can practise sifting through memories in an orderly way. Hopefully, at least.”
“I see,” Sunset said, still feeling trepidation running up her spine.
Just at that moment, the doorbell rang.
“That must be Pinkie,” Sunset said, seizing upon the excuse to drop the conversation. “I’ll just go let her in.”
Pinkie was only too happy to help, although she like Sunset seemed to have reservations about using Sunset’s memories.
“They’re...” she said, looking for an appropriate description. “They’re, not good,” she finished, lamely.
Twilight looked between her two friends, at their closed and reluctant expressions. “If you’d rather I didn’t see,” she said delicately, “I’ll understand. You two can perform the experiment yourself if you want to. We have the TP of the shards fairly well mapped out, so there shouldn’t be any unknown variables.”
Sunset bit her lip. “I’d rather not,” she said tightly.
“They’re not that interesting,” Pinkie said with false humour.
“Just use Adagio’s!” a voice hissed.
They all turned quickly to the door. Through the crack shone a purple eye, its edges crinkled in scowl lines.
“Hey, now!” Pinkie said indignantly. “It’s rude to spy on people!” She paused a moment. “Except when wearing a disguise.”
“It’s okay, Pinkie,” Sunset said, hurrying to the door. She poked her head out and peered into the room. Sonata and Adagio were both happily still colouring, the television loud enough to mask the whispered talk coming from Sunset’s room. She ushered Aria inside and closed the door. “I think that Aria might want to help,” Sunset explained in response to Pinkie and Twilight’s questioning looks. “She’s concerned about Adagio.”
“Concerned in what way?” Twilight asked.
Sunset briefly explained what Aria had told her about how it had been Adagio, after disappearing with a mysterious person, who had attained and distributed the pendants long ago.
“Fascinating,” Twilight said, staring speculatively at Aria. “That’s a destination.”
“A what?” Pinkie asked.
“A destination,” Twilight said. “If we’re to traverse the memories in the shards, we need something to latch onto. Something that acts as a focus point, like a spot on a map. And we need details in order to do that. Aria can provide those details.” She smiled kindly at Aria. Aria didn’t smile back, but as usual looked indifferent and wary.
“Don’t mind that,” Sunset said with a smile, as Twilight looked a little off-put by Aria’s external coldness. “Aria’s just worried that Adagio might be interested in having the pendants again.”
“Has she told you that she wants them?” Twilight asked Aria.
Aria hesitated. Glancing once at Sunset, she proceeded to speak quietly, as though frightened of being overheard. “Not exactly. I just think she does. Adagio found them first, and brought them to me and Sonata. After I put mine on, I woke up in the big house. I don’t even know how we got there.”
“Big house?” Twilight frowned, evidently not understanding.
“I think she means the mansion where we found her and Adagio when it was snowing.”
Aria nodded. “Snowing,” she repeated, shivering a little as though remembering the cold. “We all woke up in the house, and I knew that the stones had done something. We looked for valuable things. I found the broken red stones before they did. I put them in a different room so Adagio and Sonata wouldn’t find them.”
“The red stone,” Twilight repeated. “It’s a poetical name, considering what they are.” She frowned a little at Aria when the little siren looked unenlightened. Then she looked at Sunset Shimmer. “She knows what these are, doesn’t she?”
“I don’t think so,” Sunset said with a shrug. “They lost their memories.”
“Well yes, I know that,” Twilight said, waving her hand. “But surely you told them what they are. The children do know who they used to be, don’t they?”
A peculiarly awkward pause followed here, during which time Sunset felt her internal body temperature rise. She hadn’t of course, and she saw no reason to do so, but the way Twilight spoke made her think that perhaps there had been a reason that Sunset hadn’t seen.
“I haven’t told them, no,” she said cautiously.
“Told who what?” Aria asked, looking between Twilight and Sunset.
Twilight looked flabbergasted. “Sunset,” she began, in the constrained manner of someone trying to intimate an important point without raising their voice. “What were you thinking? You can’t keep something like that from them!”
“Keep what from who?” Aria asked, more impatiently.
“It just didn’t seem important to tell them,” Sunset said, defensively. “I mean, do you think it is?”
“What do you think will happen if they ever find out for themselves?” Twilight snapped, evidently becoming infuriated by Sunset’s lack of understanding.
Because it’s important to tell your friends things
Sunset herself had said those very words to Sonata. Did that make Sunset a hypocrite? Undoubtedly. But on the other hand, what had happened when Sonata told her sisters what she had done? It’s difficult to say whether telling them had been a wise thing, or an unwise thing.
“Sunset?” Twilight prompted.
Sunset jumped a little. “Huh?”
Twilight sighed, giving Sunset a mingled look of sympathy and impatience. “It’s your choice in the end, I suppose, but I think it would be better if you told them before they assume that you’ve been hiding it from them.”
“Hiding what!?” Aria cried.
Pinkie, who’d been keeping unusually quiet during the exchange, suddenly clapped a hand to Aria’s mouth. All four of them looked towards the door, listening. But they heard nothing but the drone of the television, and after a few moments of nothing happening, Pinkie took her hand off Aria’s face. Sunset stood up and tip-toed over to the door. Opening it a crack, she looked out to see Adagio watching the TV, and Sonata pouring herself some juice. Neither of them seemed to have been disturbed by the sound, nor did they seem to notice, or perhaps not care, that Aria was missing. Sunset frowned as she closed the door again
Returning her mind to the subject at hand, Sunset supposed that Twilight had a point. She, Sunset, hadn’t really been keeping the history of the Dazzlings from them, it just hadn’t seemed relevant. They weren’t those people anymore, and as far as Sunset knew there was no way for them to become those people ever again. At least, not with magical powers. What had it mattered?
Looking at Aria however, Sunset remembered her suspicion that Adagio was interested in the pendant shards. Perhaps Adagio couldn’t get the pendant and its associated powers back, but what if she regained the memories of her past self? She alone, according to Aria, had known the origin of the three siren necklaces. Had she sought them out? Had she desired the power of them to save herself from whatever fate the man who took her away had in store for her? Or had she perhaps taken the stones simply to gain power for herself?
There was, of course, the other option, that Adagio had been an unwilling victim of the pendants. Given how the shards had reacted in the siren’s mansion, that seemed at least possible, if not plausible. They had tried to latch onto the nearest source of magic they could find. What if Adagio had been ensnared in a similar fashion, and transformed into the villainous siren Sunset had known?
Then there was the big issue of trust. Sunset wanted the sirens to trust her, but trust was a two-way street. Without being unwise, she had to give the three of them reason to trust her, and trust them in return.
“Aria,” Sunset said, coming to a decision. “Do you remember what I told you about why I agreed to take you into my home?”
Aria nodded. The little girl had an unusual ability to sense moods for someone her age; the cautious look coming over her face told Sunset that Aria anticipated bad news. “You said you did it because you felt sorry for us,” she summed up.
“And do you remember why else?” Sunset prompted delicately.
Aria thought for a moment. “You said because you felt bad about those people who died. The ones you wanted to help.”
Sunset bit her lip, and then began to tell her the truth.
Aria listened to Sunset’s explanation without interruption. Her face grew paler and paler as Sunset revealed who the sirens had been, what they tried to do, and how Twilight and her friends had banded together to stop them.
“That’s not right,” was the first thing Aria could articulate. “Th-That’s wrong! I don’t remember—“
“We believe that your memories have been affected,” Twilight explained gently. “You changed from teenagers to children, we think, as a sort of regression. Like going back in time.”
Sunset, conscious of Aria’s tenuous grasp of English, re-explained what Twilight said into Aria’s native tongue, with the effect that Aria looked more horrified than ever. She looked at her hands, as though checking that they were still her own, and not those of a malevolent magical teenager bent on world domination. Sunset’s eye lingered on her still bandaged right arm.
“But...” Aria began, but then fell silent. She seemed to have no more to say.
Sunset was frankly surprised that Aria was taking the news as well as she was, and how quickly she seemed to be accepting it.
But then, Sunset thought with a twinge of guilt. She’s a child. I could tell her any old story and she’d probably eventually believe it.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Aria asked. Another stab of regret bit into Sunset’s stomach as she heard the faintly accusatory, even hurt tone in Aria’s voice. “You said those people died.”
“In a way, they have,” Sunset said, not quite meeting Aria’s eye. “You aren’t those girls anymore. Who you were is gone. It just didn’t seem important to tell you—“ she stopped herself. If she was going to be honest, she had to give the entire truth. “The reason I didn’t tell you was because I thought that if you knew who you had been, and who I am, you wouldn’t ever trust me. You wouldn’t come to me willingly, and I wouldn’t be able to help you. I was worried that you might get hurt out on your own, without any help.”
Sunset waited for Aria to become angry, or dejected, or some other horrible emotion, but Aria’s next response was rather unexpected.
“You can’t tell them,” she said in a low voice.
Sunset looked instinctively at Twilight. The princess seemed the most caught-off-guard.
“Can’t tell...?” Twilight inquired.
“Adagio,” Aria clarified with a frown. “You can’t let her know this. Not now. And Sonata can’t keep secrets. Don’t tell either of them.”
“But why?” Twilight asked, flabberghasted.
“Adagio doesn’t trust people,” Aria said. She turned to Sunset, and gave her a very serious look. “You take care of us, and don’t ask us to do anything for you. If you try to keep the red stones away from us, then I trust you, and Sonata likes you, but Adagio doesn’t trust. Not anyone.”
“I didn’t think she would,” Sunset said, sighing internally.
“Well surely she trusts you,” Twilight said to Aria.
Aria shook her head. “She trusts us in a way, as her friends; we three have been together as long as I can remember. But we’ve never had much reason to trust anyone else. Adagio takes betrayal real bad.”
Whilst Pinkie interpreted some of this for Twilight’s better understanding, for Aria had slipped back into Greek in her preoccupation, Sunset considered Aria’s words. The teenage Adagio had been unpersuadable, possessive, and domineering. She was not quite so overpowering now as she had been, but a strong intolerance for breaches of trust meant that Sunset had to tread carefully. And she couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, she was already treading a thin line.
“Don’t you think that if I told them both now, they might not just take it as you have?” Sunset asked Aria.
Aria shook her head vigorously. “You can’t let her know about those stones!” she hissed. “She mustn’t have them!”
“She can’t use them like you three did before,” Pinkie pointed out. “What with the energy sucking and the mind controlling.”
“True. Functionally, they’re broken and useless for their previous purpose,” Twilight pointed out. “I know of no way that they can ever be repaired.”
“But possibly,” Sunset said anxiously, “if she saw the memories of her past self... honestly, I don’t know what might happen.”
“It would not be good,” Aria said firmly.
Sunset, Twilight, and Pinkie all looked between each other.
“Well, I suppose you know her best,” Twilight said in a resigned sort of voice.
“Did you come up with any ways of navigating the memories, by the way?” Sunset asked, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
Twilight did not exactly reply to this. She smiled a somewhat self-satisfied smile. “Oh yes,” she said, suppressed mirth bubbling into her voice. She reached down the front of her shirt, and tugged out the head of a necklace, holding it dangling from a fine, silver chain. Sunset and Pinkie both leaned forward, Aria peering out from under their chests. A dark blue amulet of some shining smooth stone bordered with a silvery metal that seemed to glitter with star-shine dangled from the chain, in the shape of what was unmistakably a crescent moon.
“Pretty,” Pinkie said, ruining the moment a little.
“Compliments of Princess Luna,” Twilight said, bouncing a little on the chair in the manner of an Iron Man fangirl in the presence of Robert Downey Jr.
“Oh, nuh uh!” Sunset said excitedly. “Don’t tell me—“
“It totally is!” Twilight squeed.
“Princess Luna, at least by all I’ve read, had the power to enter dreams,” Sunset explained to Pinkie and Aria, who were both looking puzzled. “She could traverse the dreamscape and even enter the pony’s memories and subconscious mind. And she had near total control of whatever happened there, even delve into the memories of those she visited. She could navigate memories.”
“Exactly, and this little gem,” Twilight said, shaking the pendant a little, “should let us do just that.”
“You think it’ll work here?” Sunset asked, raising an eyebrow. “In the human world.”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Both your journal and my crown worked here.”
“True,” Sunset conceded. “So how do we use it?”
“That’s the downside,” Twilight said, her excitement levelling off. “Apparently, it takes practise.
“Ah.” Sunset said, her shoulders slumping a little. “Well then...”
“Yeah,” Twilight muttered.
After a short pause, Sunset made yet another difficult decision. Twilight was her friend after all; of all the people Sunset could show her most painful memories to, she was surely one of them.
“You can use my memories,” Sunset said. She tried to put as careless a tone to her voice as possible, and as indifferent an expression on her face as she could manage, but she suspected that she either hadn’t done a very good job, or Twilight could simply sense her disapprobation.
“Thank you, Sunset,” she said earnestly. “We’ll have this solved in no time.”
After an hour or so of her, Twilight, and Pinkie studying the shards, Sunset confessed that she needed to go shopping.
“That’s fine,” Twilight said amicably. “Would you like me to go whilst you’re out?”
“No, no,” Sunset said, waving down the offer. “Please, feel free to stay as long as you like. If you need any help just call us, okay?” She mimed a phone to her ear with her thumb and little finger.
As she, Pinkie, and the kids all entered the nearest local supermarket, Sunset checked her bank account on her phone.
“Can we get these?” Sonata asked suddenly. Sunset looked down, and saw Sonata holding up a box of chocolate animal crackers. “Please?”
“If you want,” Sunset told her. “But that’s all the sweets you’re getting, okay? I can’t afford any more. You two can go pick something as well,” she said to Aria and Adagio. “And pick something the same size!” she called after them, as Adagio shoved Aria aside in her eagerness to snatch what she wanted. “Could you watch them while they pick out what they want?” Sunset asked Pinkie.
“Oh I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Pinkie giggled. “We’ll be able to see them from the fruit and veg section.
“I guess,” Sunset said, rather reluctantly. She found herself indeed keeping an eye on the kids as she and Pinkie ran through the fruit. Out of respect to Applejack, they never bought store apples, but Pinkie did retrieve a hand basket in order to stock up on bananas.
“We have to use up the whip cream soon,” Pinkie explained after stocking up 5 bunches.
Sunset decided not to inquire into that scenario, and glanced over to the kids again. She experienced a momentary and very mild heart attack when for a moment it seemed that Adagio wasn’t there, until she noticed a mane of orange hair over the top of the little sweets rack that Aria and Sonata were perusing.
“Momma-Sunset,” Pinkie snickered.
“Har-har,” Sunset returned sardonically. “Even if they weren’t my responsibility, it’d still be a stupid thing to let three six year olds go off on their own.”
“Of course, of course,” Pinkie said, her smile as wide as her shoulders.
Sunset forced herself not to sigh; it wasn’t worth fuelling Pinkie’s gaiety. “I’m trying not to make anything too complicated for dinner,” she said, swiftly changing the subject. “Sonata and Adagio are picky eaters. How does mashed potatoes, mixed veg, and popcorn chicken sound?”
“Like a farm at the movies,” Pinkie replied vaguely, inspecting the passion fruit.
Sunset was about to ask Pinkie to be serious, when Aria and Sonata returned. Sunset looked down and frowned. “Where’s Adagio?” she asked.
Sonata blinked and looked around. “Um...” she said, looking back.
Sunset looked at the rack of sweets where she’d seen the orange hair, and to her horror, saw a young boy with curly orange hair trip out to follow his nearby parent by the magazines. Sunset’s mouth fell open.
“Where is she?” she asked, fighting to stop the spread of the rapidly advancing panic surging upwards out of her gut. It had only been a few minutes since they’d been examining the sweets; Adagio couldn’t be far away.
“Front desk,” Pinkie said quickly, possibly noting the colour draining from Sunset’s face. “We can ask them to call her on the inter—“ she was cut off by the distinct and forceful utterances of Ancient Greek dialect, emanating several shelves away. Before Pinkie could utter so much as a syllable, Sunset had moved with the rapidity of a dream.
In front of the line of tills stood a woman in business-dress, holding onto Adagio’s wrist and talking sternly to a young man behind the counter of the customer service station. Ignoring Pinkie’s tentative warnings, Sunset made a beeline for this woman and without so much as beginning to consider the consequences, slapped her hand from Adagio’s wrist.
The woman jumped and turned around to find Sunset glaring at her with an intensity set to make the walking dead reconsider whether rising from the grave was all it was cracked up to be. The woman gave a short machine-gun cough and attempted to reassert her managerial authority.
“Who are you?” she asked, matching Sunset’s blazing look with a steely cold one.
“That’s none of your business,” Sunset snapped, stepping in front of Adagio. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The woman drew herself up a little. “This girl is a known thief in this store, and a suspected runaway child. I was about to call the police.” She glanced at the young man behind the desk. He was looking curiously at the development, evidently waiting to see how things went before acting himself. “I ask you again; who are you?”
“I’m,” Sunset began. She hesitated for a split second. “I’m her cousin,” she lied, shepherding Adagio further out of the woman’s line of sight as Pinkie and her other two children caught up. The woman’s eyes roved over them all.
“Your cousin,” she repeated sceptically.
Sunset’s insides burned a little fiercer. “Come on,” she said. “We’re going.”
“Excuse me,” the woman said loudly. “I think not. Are you responsible for these children?”
“Lady, I don’t care what problem you have with my cousins,” Sunset retorted, feeling blood pulsing in her ears. “If I see you touching any of them again, you lose the hand that does it.”
So saying, she strode away holding Adagio’s hand, leaving the woman red in the face and looking entirely astonished.
“Um... Sunset?” Pinkie ventured when they were back in the fruit and veg area.
“Are you alright?” Sunset asked, lowering down to Adagio’s level and looking her over.
Adagio didn’t respond. She let Sunset look her over, watching her closely as though trying to decide something. Sunset waited for Adagio to answer her question, but when the girl continued to say nothing, Sunset gently took the arm that the woman had been holding, and inspected it for any signs of bruising or redness.
“Hey, err, Sunset?” Pinkie said again. “Not trying to criticise how you handled that or anything, but I think that might have been the store manager.”
“So?” Sunset said coldly. “I don’t care if it was Principal Celestia; she had no right to do that.”
Sunset noted her three children giving her somewhat startled looks. She covered her lingering anger with a slightly tight smile. Now that it was over, she herself was a little surprised by the primal sort of rage that had bubbled up inside her, and began to wonder herself if maybe she’d overreacted.
“Well, I think maybe just a little,” Pinkie said reluctantly when Sunset ran this concern by her. “I mean, they did used to steal things. They probably did rob this place at some point. And I’m not sure how else she was supposed to stop Adagio running away.”
Sunset was considering for a moment there that Pinkie had some fairly cogent points, up until she was reminded of the grip on Adagio’s wrist. Once again she found herself becoming automatically defensive, and had to bite her tongue to stop herself saying something cutting. Possibly Pinkie could sense what Sunset was holding back, for she pressed the point no further.
“Maybe I did overreact,” Sunset muttered from in between her teeth. “Still...”
She had no rational argument to give, or any point other than her gut reaction. She forced a deep sigh in an effort to calm herself, and suggested that they continue shopping. But the full ramifications of Sunset’s actions weren’t felt until they paid and reached the exit. There, the young man from customer service, nervously pushing back his short mane of bright green hair, passed Sunset a yellow sheet of paper.
“We’ve been banned from the store,” Sunset said conversationally to her three children. “On the grounds that I threatened the manager with violence, and that the three of you are known shoplifters.”
“Shop lift-ers?” Sonata said, confused.
“Thieves,” Pinkie said.
“Oh,” Sonata said, nodding her comprehension. “Right.”
Pinkie narrowed her eyes. “You... know that’s a bad thing, right?”
“Oh well,” Sunset said, not much concerned. “There’s more than one supermarket in town.”
“That’s hardly the point, is it?” Pinkie asked nervously.
Sunset shrugged. “Maybe I was wrong to flip out like that,” she said nonchalantly. “But that doesn’t make what she did right.”
Pinkie didn’t pursue the subject, and remained relatively quiet all the way back to Sunset’s apartment. What Sunset didn’t know, absorbed as she was in the dregs of her anger, was that the main reason for this was because Pinkie was giving Adagio a curious look, who in turn was watching Sunset closely from behind.
“Um... did something happen?” Twilight asked as she opened the door.
Sunset sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Furrowed brow, distant expression, and overall air of preoccupation usually means that you’re thinking hard about something, and usually something has to happen to provoke said thinking.” Twilight grinned. “Trust me, I get that a lot.”
Sunset smiled a little too. “Well... had a run in at the supermarket.”
“What kind of run in?”
Sunset proceeded to explain what happened, although she was interrupted a few times by Pinkie. To Sunset’s irritation and bemusement, Pinkie seemed to remember things differently than she did. The way Pinkie told it, the manager didn’t seem to have done so badly during the encounter, whilst Sunset had been rather unreasonable.
“Whose side are you on?” Sunset snapped, giving Pinkie a burning look.
Pinkie leaned away, shrugging. “I’m just tellin’ it how it was!” she said quickly.
“Sunset,” Twilight interceded, placing a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “I’m sure that the manager was at fault in how she apprehended Adagio, but by all the two of you have told me, I think that you yourself could have handled the situation better.”
Sunset felt her throat tighten with indignation. With a patience born of her guilt-laden post-villainess lifestyle, she stopped herself from retorting; she really had no desire to fight with Twilight or Pinkie over this. Yet at the same time...
“I’m going for a walk,” she muttered curtly, storming out of the door.
“Walk? But you just came—“ Twilight said, before Sunset slammed the door. “...back,” she finished. She and Pinkie looked at each other, with identical looks of unease.
Sunset walked quickly. She had no particular destination or even any idea of one. She just needed to walk, to burn off some of the frustration in her guts and brain. Walking seemed to do the trick. The brisk breeze of the sunny spring day rushed against her face, throwing her hair out behind her as though they were real flickering flames. Before long, she came to the park again, and thought that she’d take a turn around the ponds before heading back; surely she’d be all worked off by then.
The thing was, she couldn’t even explain to herself why she was so angry, or why it was lasting for so long. Just the thought of that woman holding Adagio...
An image flashed across her mind; a brief snippet like a movie projector on the fritz, of Adagio sitting in the darkness, her face expressionless and her eyes blank. Her hand was extended in front of her, and a large hand connected to no one was grasping her wrist as though to pull her into the dark.
Sunset shivered and shook off this disturbing thought.
To her surprise, as she strode through the twin thickets of trees lining the middle path to the largest of the ponds, she felt a tug on the back of her coat, and she turned around to find Adagio standing behind her with a rather severe look on her face.
“Adagio?” Sunset blurted. “What are you doing out here?”
Adagio didn’t reply for a short time. She stared up at Sunset with a strange mixture of wariness and curiosity on her face. Sunset rather felt like a dangerous but fascinating animal that Adagio wanted to pet, but was afraid of being bitten.
“Don’t think that you own me,” she said finally, in a defiant voice.
The statement was so out of the blue, so at odds with anything Sunset had expected, that all she could do was stare.
“Um... what?” she croaked.
“I said you don’t own me,” Adagio said louder. Sunset was very glad to be alone in and amongst a veritable wall of trees; someone might be led to think this a sinister conversation if overheard.
“What in the world makes you think—“ Sunset began, getting down onto her haunches with her elbows on her knees.
Adagio’s eyes narrowed. “You took me back from that woman. I’m not yours to take! We live with you; that’s all!”
“Adagio, I don’t own you, I care for you,” Sunset explained, unable to help one corner of her mouth twitching. The notion was so ridiculous that it seemed somewhat amusing to her. “Those are very different things. I don’t expect anything from you.”
Adagio looked unconvinced. “Then why did you get so angry?” she challenged.
“Because I thought she was hurting you,” Sunset said, unable to keep a little laugh from her voice. “The way you were shouting, I thought she was going to break your arm.”
Adagio blanched and looked away. After muttering darkly for a few moments, she met Sunset’s eyes again. “Why would you care?” she asked in a petulant mutter, evidently struggling for things to say.
“Because I care about you,” Sunset said, slowly and clearly.
These words had a remarkable effect. Adagio’s angry expression froze, and her eyes wobbled slightly in her head. After a few moments she swallowed, and it looked difficult.
“No you don’t,” she said quietly, looking away again.
“I do,” Sunset said as solemnly as she could. “Of course I do.”
“Why would you?” Adagio snapped. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything,” Sunset replied. Then she amended “All I want is for you to trust me. Trust me that I do care—“
“Liar!” Adagio bellowed, angry tears glistening in her eyes. “You’re a liar! You want something, and I’ll never let you do it!”
“Calm down—“ Sunset reached out, but Adagio flinched away from her.
“You’re a liar!” Adagio shouted again. “I’ll never trust you! Never ever, ever!”
And with that, she spun around and ran away back towards the road.
Under any other circumstances, Sunset would have felt impelled to go after her. But two things combined to stop her. The first was that the outburst had rendered Sunset’s limbs feeling numbly like they had turned to jelly, as though her bones had dissolved out of her. And the second thing was that in some sensible corner of Sunset’s mind, she knew that there was absolutely nothing that she could do, nothing that she could say, that would change Adagio’s mind.
The boundaries in Sunset’s mind were set, the lines drawn, and the goals now written in stone. Admittedly, for a while after Adagio’s little declaration of eternal mistrust, Sunset had been suitably distressed. It seemed to her that her world had suddenly become a complicated web made out of knots forged by the many instances of given and betrayed trusts all around her. Her trust in her friends, in Principals Celestia and Luna, and those that they, Aria, and Sonata had in her, contrasted starkly with the refusal of trust by Adagio, the betrayal by Chrysalis, and worst of all, the betrayal Sunset was committing.
“I wouldn’t call it a betrayal,” Twilight said, twisting her fingers.
Sunset exhaled. “What would you call it then?”
Twilight hesitated. “Um… necessary omission?”
“So, not so much betrayal, more like, lying.”
“I didn’t say that,” Twilight said quickly.
“You didn’t have to,” Sunset sighed. “I suppose it’s just the price for helping them. To make sure they’re safe, I just have to betray their trust, the one thing that I most want from them. Seems like a fair exchange, right?”
Twilight didn’t say anything for a moment or two, but then leaned over and pulled Sunset into a hug. Sunset hadn’t been expecting the hug, but she felt too heavy and full of tingling doubt to be properly surprised.
“You’re doing a good thing, for good reasons,” Twilight whispered.
“But I’m lying to them in order to do it,” Sunset countered.
“Only two of them,” Twilight said in false humour, pulling out of the hug with her hands on Sunset’s shoulders. “Look, I know I told you that I didn’t agree with you not telling them, but I think that Aria might be right in this. If Adagio has some interest in the pendants, she might do herself harm with them. Real harm. There’s no shame in keeping from someone a thing that might hurt them.”
It didn’t matter what anyone said, however; Sunset continued to feel heavy and unsatisfied with the path she had set herself. It wasn’t just that she was disappointed in herself for the course of action she knew was the only option available. Adagio’s declaration weighed her down with equal force, if not more. It hurt her more than she liked to admit, in a tender spot still stinging from her time as evil-queen-bitch extraordinaire. Trust had always been an issue.
Shoving these feelings into their box deep down in her stomach, she drew a vitalizing breath and turned to Twilight with a more confident smile.
“Shall we get on with it then?”
Twilight tentatively agreed.
The device that Princess Luna had given Twilight was a fairly complicated piece of magical machinery. Most simple spells merely require an exertion of will for direction, and a font of magic for the will to act upon. In the case of more complex spells, multiple individual lines of will must converge in a specific way, rather like trying to concentrate on several thoughts at once in a particular order, or trying to remember detailed memories in the precise chronological order. It was a difficult prospect for most.
The icon that Luna had given them was a TP imaging template, a charm imbued with an imprint of a magical user’s abilities. Technically speaking, the charm could have been used to move the moon, control weather, and all of the other abilities that Princess Luna was capable of, but these abilities would have been pale imitations of what the real Luna could have done. In order to boost its operational power, Luna had sacrificed a complete imprint of her TP in order to create a more concentrated form of her dreamscaping ability.
“It’s really quite ingenious,” Twilight had said once she’d finished explaining all of this. “The level of concentration involved, and the sheer magical knowledge to do such a thing; I’d only ever expect it of a Princess.” She beamed for a moment or two, and then suddenly looked rather abashed. “Well, I didn’t mean… I don’t think I could do it, it’s just…”
Sunset halted her stammering by giving a brief laugh. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Twilight,” she said, grinning. “You could totally do something like this. You’re much better than me at using it.”
“That’s not true,” Twilight said, frowning. “I think that you’ve just had bad luck with the memories you select.”
“Perhaps,” Sunset said, not really bothered with arguing the point. She looked down, and took a breath. “Here we go.”
Holding up the charm in her right hand over her left palm. In her open left hand sat a scattering of red shards, and several strands of orange hair. Sunset closed her fist, and shut her eyes. She began to concentrate.
As before, the sensation of an entire world rushing around her without her actually moving at all surged by. She opened her eyes, and did not breath; there was no need here. For the past few weeks she had grown accustomed to the tried and true feeling of her rushing surroundings as she was propelled to her destination.
Unlike the shadowy surroundings that had flown passed her whenever she had been cast into the swirl of memory, Princess Luna’s charm did a far better job of organizing everything, like a desktop on a computer. Perhaps conforming to her preference, or maybe that of Princess Luna’s, Sunset stood in a corridor the colour of a summer evening, bathed in purples, oranges, and gold, as though the solid surroundings were translucent, showing the brilliance of open sky beyond. When the corridor ceased moving very abruptly, the doors solidified into sharper focus.
Sunset looked around. As always, the corridor resembled something out of the Addams Family, with stairs, doors, walls, and even the lighting branching off around her as though gravity no longer applied. She looked at the doors that she could see, and recognised several at once; they led nowhere useful. The strange or unfamiliar ones she was tempted to search, but knew from experience now that it was probably futile. The shards were a shattered reflection of what had once been a mind; distorted and fragmented. Complicated as minds were, a broken one had to have more twists and turns in it than any other, and so therefore Sunset surmised, would be more difficult to penetrate.
By the same token however, by the limited material Sunset had read on magic relating to the mind, a living mind was more adaptable. It could sense the presence of the invader, and try to act against them. Sunset didn’t know what memories stored in a magical medium might do, but she doubted that the broken pendants could put up much of a fight, if any. In this she was quite wrong, although she did not know it.
With these things in mind, Sunset made her way into what she judged to be the deeper areas. She found it rather amusing now to walk off one floor onto a wall, and feel whatever strange sense of gravity held sway in this realm hold her to it. She ignored doors of all sorts; big ones, small ones, grand ones, simple ones, interesting ones, dull ones, colourful ones, dark ones. She pressed towards one of the shadowy areas where the evening sky beyond turned liquid and dark like spilled ink, wanting to discover the doors that lay in those places, where she thought the more painful, personal memories might be buried away.
On a hunch, she tried a thin door made of warped wood. From the outside the gaps in the planks were black as the night, but when the door was opened, the corridor flooded with a flickering, orange light.
The room that she stepped into had an unpleasant sweetness in the air, like perfume covering up something stale and rank. A wall sconce gave off the fiery radiance enveloping the room. A single piece of furniture surrounded by dark stone walls sat in the middle of the room, a small person with large, dishevelled hair sitting on its edge with her head bowed. Sunset neither needed nor wanted to see this memory. Adagio’s bare back and the red marks on her upper arms and waist told Sunset all that she would ever wish to know. It nauseated Sunset to realise that she was losing track of how many memories like this she’d come across. Just as she was about to leave, a man entered the room, drying his hair with a cloth.
Sunset’s hand clenched around the charm. As always whenever she felt the tell-tale doubt in her mind, she knew that the memory wasn’t quite as it appeared. The two figures in the room flickered, changing like a blinking light-bulb into very different forms. Adagio’s thin, human body vanished, replaced by an equally starved looking filly, lying broodingly on the edge of the bed. The man shrank and broadened, his athletic bipedal form changing into a four-legged creature with brown hair and curling horns. A ram.
“Another excellent session,” he said casually. Anyone listening to him might have thought he’d done nothing more than play a card game, or visit a club meeting. From a pile of rags on the floor that Sunset took to be clothes, the ram took a small purse of coins and laid it gently on the bed next to Adagio. Sunset bit her lip as she watched the ram nuzzle Adagio’s mane, the little filly shuddering at his touch.
With a sound of disgust, Sunset forced herself to turn away, and slammed the door behind her.
“It’s the right guy,” Sunset muttered to herself. “Brown hair, well built, green eyes.” This description, along with a distinctive looking blue cloak, had been given to her by Aria, who had described the man with whom Adagio had left with before returning with the pendants. Sunset had come across numerous memories of him representing years of encounters, mostly either like the memory she had just witnessed, or visiting the hovel where Adagio and the other two had lived. It was perhaps lucky that she couldn’t interact with the memories, since every time she saw him she was visited by a vicious desire to snap his neck.
But he was long dead, and quite beyond her reach.
The next door caught Sunset’s eye because it was very tall and square, like the entrance to a temple or ancient government building. Pulling it open, she found herself dazzled by the bright light of a glorious sunny day.
“Come on! We don’t have all day!”
Sunset blinked, and found herself in a semi-busy marketplace, or some form of city centre. A great square surrounded by pillars hosted a labyrinth of stalls crowded with customers and loud salespeople declaring their wares. After looking around for a moment or two, Sunset found Adagio, Aria, and Sonata, half-hidden behind one of the pillars. Sonata looked worried, and carried a brown leather bag, whilst Adagio seemed to be up to something mischievous; she had a look on her face like she was about to enact a long-planned-out scheme.
“But Adagio, if I don’t get this delivered soon—“
“Then go!” Adagio snapped. “Fine. But you don’t get any of the cakes when we’re done.”
“That’s not fair!” Sonata wailed. “I love cake!”
“Good to see some things never change,” Sunset couldn’t help muttering. She side-stepped an elderly woman shuffling passed her, even though the woman would have just phased through her.
“We do all the work, and you still get some of the prize?” Aria asked scathingly. “Now that’s unfair.”
Adagio folded her arms and looked coldly imperious. Sonata seemed to quake beneath the glare.
“We completely understand if you don’t want to be punished,” Adagio said, turning away from Sonata. She let out a little sigh and went on in a bored tone. “It’s not like we needed you for this anyway.”
Sonata turned bright red. “Fine!” she hissed. “I’ll help. But I get an extra cake.”
“Fatty,” Aria sneered.
Sonata patted her thin middle in response and looked defiant. “You’re just jealous that you can’t make the sloshy noise after you drink water.”
Aria rolled her eyes. “Who’d ever be jealous of something stupid like that?”
Sure that the girls wouldn’t go far for the moment, Sunset took the opportunity to look around more closely. At the principal entrance to the market was the milling crowd that was par for the course in ancient cities, but opposite this was a tall, warehouse-shaped building held up by decorative pillars, and emblazoned by intricate looking designs. The pediment above the main entrance was decorated by classical men and women stretching their bodies in unusual ways towards the centre, where a shining something blazed out in all directions. The memory altered again, and the figures in the pediment flickered to pony-form for an instant before flickering back to human.
Just as Sunset was about to look back at the kids, she noticed the people coming out of the temple; several tall men and women all wearing the same blue cloaks. Each cloak bore an intricately designed image of the shining something on the pediment, although since they were much closer, Sunset saw that the something was simply a geometric shape; a heptagon surrounded and connected to a larger heptagon.
The sacred shape, Sunset remembered. Thought to embody the principal elements of the world.
This symbol, as Sunset knew, was the emblem of the Lotus Society. She had never seen it used for some reason in all of the accounts about them, but small descriptions and references to it had been discovered. Old ruins thought to be their libraries and centres for gatherings were old and crumbling, and so the symbol had never actually been seen by living ponies, although Sunset had read that some authorities believed that some of them had been intentionally defaced.
Sunset’s surroundings suddenly began to change. The Lotus members vanished, and distant parts of the landscape did too. Sunset turned to see the girls hurrying off around the plaza. If she remained and was caught outside the memory’s border, she’d find herself back in the corridor, and so she stepped quickly after them.
As the memory progressed, Sunset found herself wondering why it was buried so deeply; there was nothing startling, odd, or violent going on, nothing but an ordinary day. The three of them slipped amongst the buyers and sellers, evidently heading for some destination on one edge of the market, and then Sunset saw it. A tall, narrow stall covered by a faded blue awning stood boxed between a vegetable stand and a stall selling pear-shaped jars. Perhaps owing to its narrow dimensions, the stall’s wares were piled high to the make-shift ceiling. Even Sunset, who knew full well that she couldn’t interact with her surroundings, found her mouth beginning to water at the sight of cakes stacked as tall as the proprietor. That is, until she got close enough to see the insects buzzing around them. A large and imposing woman sat to one side idly swatting the flies away.
In watching the stall, Sunset had narrowly missed where the three girls had disappeared to, and jumped a little as she found Sonata rushing over through the crowd without the other two in sight. Sunset saw the genius of the entire plan as it unfolded, like in some sort of movie. Whilst Sonata pretended to give the vendor a message from her satchel, which turned out to be just a blank piece of parchment or reed paper, the other two appeared on the awning, straddling the wooden planks holding it in place, and plucked five or seven cakes from the top tiers. As Aria made to move back down the side of the stall however, one of the cakes broke in half, and fell squarely onto the vendor’s head.
The man didn’t follow himself, but his bad-tempered wife who’d been swatting the flies broke into a sprint after them, brandishing the thin stick she’d been using and shouting after them. The girls seemed to lose the woman after having knocked over two elderly people, leapt over and destroyed a fruit stall, sent an official looking person in an important looking hat into a public pond, and crashed into the three Lotus members who were speaking to some of the crowd.
Sunset scowled as she recognised Adagio’s patron, the Ram. He beamed as he saw Adagio stumbling away from him with the cakes in her arms. His companions, two venerable looking people with an aura of learning tinged with abstraction, regarded them with austere curiosity.
“This is the girl of whom you spoke?” the other man inquired, squinting at Adagio.
The Ram readily agreed. Taking Adagio’s free hand, he pulled her closer. The older man and woman peered at her probingly. Sunset didn’t understand why Adagio didn’t try to pull away; she’d reacted far worse for far less whilst living with her. A closed expression came over Adagio’s face, and her gaze remained fixed on the stone floor.
“Hm,” the older woman said, bending down slightly. With strong fingers she took firm but careful hold of Adagio’s chin to lift up her face. “Yes,” she said quietly, running her hands across Adagio’s features. “Yes, you have an intelligent girl here. A great deal of versatility and creativeness. A fine choice.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the Ram murmured, in what Sunset scathingly considered to be a sycophantic tone.
The older two seemed to have no more to say, and ignoring Aria and Sonata as though they weren’t there, inclined their heads before departing. The Ram was grinning widely, as though he could barely contain a secret excitement. He knelt down to Adagio and took hold of her shoulders.
“They approve!” he hissed. “It shalln’t be long, and then everything will be alright. I’ll take you away from that woman’s house.”
Adagio said nothing to this, but if the Ram had looked closer into her face, he might have seen the tightness there. As he prepared to leave as well, Adagio seemed to force herself to speak.
“Can they come as well?” she blurted.
The Ram turned, and seemed to notice the other two for the first time. He eyed them with a little frown, and then flicked his eyes back to Adagio.
“Perhaps,” he said, his mouth twisting into what might have been meant for a smile.
When he departed, a loud voice shouted “Come ‘ere, you little robbers!”, and the cake seller’s angry wife came bulldozing her way through the crowd. The memory began to fade as the three of them set off again, with people, sound, and details everywhere beginning to vanish. Sunset stood there, awaiting her return outside of the door, wondering to herself.
What did that mean? she thought, referring to Adagio’s question. Why would Adagio want the Ram to take her away from place they lived? Why not just run away?
Sunset’s spine tingled slightly, as she suddenly became aware that her surroundings weren’t re-solidifying into the three-dimensional labyrinth. She stared around into the dark with an unaccountable feeling of nakedness and vulnerability.
“Who are you?”
Sunset’s heart skipped a beat. She swung around, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. She felt her eyes begin to sting, and a seemingly loud ringing in her ears from the deafening silence. And then she nearly fainted as a monstrous yellow face blazed out of the blackness.
“I rem... ber you!” the face roared, and then blinked out of existence.
Sunset found herself breathing hard, forgetting that she didn’t actually have to breath in the dreamscape.
“Am I in the memories still?” she asked aloud, trying to control her panic. “I still have Luna’s—“
“You can’t win!” the face shouted, reappearing in front of her. “I’ll beat you! You thin...ou can out-sing me? I’ll rip you to—“
Sunset stumbled backwards as the face vanished again.
What’s going on? What—
“Sunset!”
“Ah!”
Sunset leapt back and fell out of her chair.
It took her a few moments to get her bearings, but after looking frantically around for a few moments, she found that she was back in her room. Luna’s charm lay on the floor next to her, and the shards were scattered around it, along with the strands of Adagio’s hair.
“Are you alright?” Twilight asked.
Sunset looked up at her, breathing hard. Twilight’s face was pale, her eyes wide.
“I... I’m fine, I—“ she stopped herself.
“You were muttering to yourself, and shaking and sweating. I thought you were having some kind of seizure.”
Sunset just stared at her for a few moments. She felt as though she were still in the dreamscape, as though she weren’t actually in her body. Experimentally, she reached a hand towards the fallen charm, and picked it up with trembling fingers. She ran her thumb over the smooth stone and metal.
“No,” Sunset whispered eventually. “No, I mean...” she paused. “I think... I think that these might not be as dead as we thought.”
When Sunset had explained what she’d seen, Twilight buried her face in her hands and groaned aloud.
“Is there anything that can go wrong that hasn’t?” she demanded.
“I got deeper than before,” Sunset said. She chewed at her thumb nail and stared at the floor, but she wasn’t really seeing the floor. “The head... sea-horse thing... whatever. It didn’t seem like it could hold its form. Like a film with half the reel burned away.”
Twilight thought for a moment. “Perhaps it was just another memory? Maybe damaged by the pendant breaking?”
“It could have been,” Sunset said doubtfully. “It was more like... no. No, it saw me, responded to me. It was like I triggered something. Maybe I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to, and it awakened some part of the stone still alive.”
“Well,” Twilight said slowly, gingerly holding a shard up to eye level. “That is what these things are meant to do, I suppose. But I didn’t think after taking this much damage it could...” Her sentence tailed off. “Well what do we do, then?” she asked after a short pause.
“We keep going,” Sunset said firmly. “I know we’re getting close to seeing what happened. What happened to the three of them, how they got the pendants. I just know it’ll explain what’s happened to them.”
“Sunset,” Twilight said, in a tone that made Sunset look up at her, startled. “I think that we’ve done enough for today.”
“What?” Sunset gasped.
“I think we should call it a day,” Twilight said, evidently trying to sound cheerful. “I mean, as you said we’ve done so much, and...” she paused. “Maybe we should take some time to think about—“
“Take some time?” Sunset asked, incredulous. “We don’t know that we have time. The whole point of this is to find out if they’re in any danger from the effects of the apotheostones. What if they continue to get younger, or—“
“Sunset, please stop shouting!” Twilight interrupted, glancing at the door.
Sunset stopped, and then swallowed. She hadn’t noticed how dry her mouth had gone.
“Sunset, I know you’re concerned for them,” Twilight began in a more soothing tone. She laid a hand tentatively on Sunset’s bandaged one. “It’s just that I think that you might be letting your emotions get the better of you.”
“What are you talking about?” Sunset asked, giving her head an impatient shake. “I just want to—“
“Sunset, you’re pale, shaking, and sweating. You’ve just had a frightening experience after witnessing what I can only assume to be some very troubling scenes. And you want to dive straight back into all of that without any plan of action?”
Twilight let her words hang in the air for a little while. Sunset had no reply, and through a lack of anything to say, was forced to consider that she had a point. Even though she knew what she was doing was right, she couldn’t pretend that it was the smartest way to go about it; she was jumping headlong into it. And how well had anything she’d ever done spontaneously in her life gone? It almost always came back to bite her.
“Alright,” she said. “We’ll leave it till tomorrow. But we at least need to talk about how to do it before then.”
Twilight readily agreed, breathing a discreet sigh of relief. As she made her way to the door however, Sunset heard a crash behind it. Opening it, she found Aria half lying, half sitting on the floor, rubbing her bandaged arm and gritting her teeth.
“Are you alright?” Sunset asked, holding out her hand. “What happened?”
Her cheeks glowing, Aria glanced irritably at a set of pencils on the floor near to the door. Sunset understood in an instant. Once she’d waved Twilight off and closed the door, she gestured discreetly for Aria to come into the bedroom with her. For a moment, she thought she caught Adagio directing a sideways look at them, but when she got a good look, Adagio seemed to be engrossed in playing a shooter game on Sunset’s laptop.
“I don’t have any shooter games,” Sunset muttered. She made an impatient noise. I’ll have to lock my laptop if she’s downloading things.
Whilst these thoughts occupied her, Aria sat sulking on the bed, still rubbing her arm. Sunset looked at her, and then shot a look at her own bandaged hands. What a pair we are she thought with a smile.
“Aria,” she began quietly. “What were you doing behind the door?”
Aria said nothing, but didn’t look at Sunset.
“Aria,” Sunset said warningly. “You said yourself that we can’t let Adagio know about the pendants.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what you’re doing?” Aria hissed. “Even if I can’t see it, why can’t you tell me?”
“I will eventually.” Sunset looked sadly at the girl as she folded her arms as tightly as she dared and looked moodily away. She sat down next to her and bumped her shoulder. “I promise that I will tell you, once we’re sure nothing is wrong. Come on, I already feel bad about lying to Adagio and Sonata, I can’t have you mad at me too.”
Aria’s lip quivered at this, and she bumped Sunset back.
“Fine,” she said.
“So no more listening at the door?” Sunset asked, eyeing Aria askance. Aria made a proper show of promising, but Sunset made a mental note to keep an eye out anyway. “Okay then, go get ready for dinner. We’re having pizza today.”
As grown-up as her children generally acted, they were still children. Not an hour after eating, all three of them were seated on the couch with Sunset, snoozing as the one show they all agreed was good rolled its ending credits. Lifting Sonata gently off her lap, and laying her down on the arm rest, Sunset stood up as carefully as she could, trying not to disturb any of them. Looking down at them, she felt a warmth in her chest at the sight of their small sleeping bodies.
She was doing it for them. Whatever scruples that she had with what she was doing, she reminded herself that she was doing it for them.
In her room, she shut the curtains. There was no real reason for doing this, for no one could see into her room this high up. Sitting at her desk, she picked up the charm, and the little bag of shards. She had no plan, other than simply confronting the entity inside the broken pendant. If possible, she’d negotiate with it, and if not, she’d get out and await Twilight’s discussion of the problem. But she had to try.
She held up the charm, and prepared to hold it over the shards and hair, when the door creaked. She looked quickly towards the door, and saw a shadow disappear from the other side. Standing up quickly, she set down what she had and rushed to the door. She walked slowly out, and stood over the sofa. Aria lay with her eyes closed, her breathing slow and heavy. Sonata was still splayed over the chair arm, drooling all over it. Adagio was nestled in the corner of the cushions, her arms folded and her hair dishevelled.
Sunset narrowed her eyes. She watched Aria closely for a few moments, expecting to see her flinch, open an eye, or give an unconvincing yawn. She did none of these things.
Sunset scratched her chin a little. She found herself... disconcerted.
It’s probably not safe to do it alone, she thought. Not if Aria is still trying to sneak peeks.
After a little deliberation, she thought also that it might also be dangerous to leave the shards and charm in the apartment. She hadn’t considered that telling Aria to wait might cause her to take matters into her own hands.
With this disturbing thought in mind, Sunset made her decision; she put on her coat, locked the shards and charm in the blue box that Rarity had given her, and set off into the evening streets. Within a few minutes of diligent walking, she reached Rarity’s shop, and ignoring the closed sign on the entrance, knocked upon the door. There was no reply, as Sunset supposed was to be expected. Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text, and within seconds received one back.
“Darling?” Rarity asked curiously after unlocking the door. “Dear, what’s all this?” She wasn’t looking at the box, but Sunset’s face. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Sunset replied. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just...” Rarity trailed off, and then shook her head. “Nothing. I suppose you want to see Twilight about something?”
“No,” Sunset said, holding up the box. “Nothing like that. I just wondered if you wouldn’t mind holding onto this for me.”
“Rarity?” called a male voice. “Who’s at the door?”
Rarity sighed the sigh of a person whose patience all but ran out a long time ago.
“Just a visitor, father!” she called over her shoulder. “You can put your rifle down!”
“How did she know I was—“ the male voice said, much quieter.
“Dear, you never put the thing down,” said a bored sounding female voice.
A certain amount of incomprehensible grumbling followed this, and then a thud from the floor above as something heavy was set upon the floor. Rarity meanwhile took the blue box Sunset was holding, frowning slightly.
“It’s the pendant shards and Princess Luna’s charm,” Sunset explained. “I don’t think it’s safe to leave them in my apartment right now.”
“Why?” Rarity asked, surprised. “I told you, Sunset, I highly doubt that anyone could get into this box. Even with tools.”
“I know,” Sunset said uneasily. “Don’t think I don’t trust your judgement, it’s just that I...” She paused. “I’d just feel better if you held onto it for tonight.”
Rarity nodded, a troubled look in her eyes. “Of course,” she said quietly. “Twilight can just bring it back with her tomorrow.” She smiled reassuringly, and Sunset bid her goodnight.
On the way home, Sunset felt as though a significant worry had been lifted from her, which surprised her; she hadn’t consciously considered the issue of Aria’s interference as being of any significant concern to her. Feeling the lightness of her heart however gave her to wonder if it had indeed been a heavier weight on her mind than she’d thought.
She stopped at a minimart to pick up some small groceries she remembered that she needed, and proceeded home with the expectation of turning in early. The small dream began to crack however when she reached the vestibule to her apartment.
“Oh,” said Old Jim, upon looking up from his magazine.
Sunset looked at him. “Something wrong?”
“No, it’s jest...” he shook his head and swiped his screen. “It’s probably nothing.”
“If there’s a problem, I’d like to help,” Sunset prompted.
“It’s probably just my eyes acting up again,” Old Jim said breezily. “I thought one of them girls of yours was with you.”
“One of my girls?” Sunset asked, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“One of ‘em came runnin’ out a little after you left yourself.”
Sunset’s heart did a back-flip. “What!?” she gasped. “Which—Who—When did—“
She broke for the stairs, Old Jim blinking rapidly at the barrage of questions. He leaned around the corner after her and called “S-Should I call...” he let his sentence tail off.
Sunset mounted the stairs three at a time and almost skidded to a halt in front of her door, and hammered on it. When it didn’t instantly open up, she reached for her keys and fumbled them from her pocket. Before she could match it to the lock however, Sonata opened the door.
“You’re here!” Sunset exclaimed, taking Sonata by the shoulders. She looked around. “What the—“ she did a double-take at Aria, who for some reason was on the floor, and then looked properly at Sonata. Her eyes were puffy, red, and brimming with tears. “What’s wrong? What—“ she looked around again. “Where’s Adagio?”
Sonata gave an enormous sniff and began to cry loudly.
It took a minute or two to get Sonata to calm down, during which time Sunset attempted to be kind to her whilst simultaneously trying to see what was wrong with Aria. She too seemed emotionally compromised, squeezing her lips together and holding back tears. With a creased forehead, she used anger to cover how upset she really was.
“What happened?” Sunset asked. “Where’s Adagio? What—“ Sunset looked around again. She’d been so focused on the kids that she hadn’t immediately noticed that the room had been trashed. It was usually quite messy from the kids’ antics, but this level of desolation was beyond their usual antics. “My laptop!” she cried, hurrying over with Sonata on her arm.
With the enormous crack in the screen, and its position on the floor, it looked very much as though someone had swept it roughly aside onto the floor. She tapped a few keys and tried the power button, but the thing was clearly broken beyond repair.
She set Sonata down, and in between her shaking sobs, Sonata began to explain. “I-It was when you left. She went in your room and s-started looking for something.”
Sunset’s insides squirmed a little at this, and she looked quickly at Aria. It wasn’t Aria I saw.
“She made Sonata tell,” Aria gasped. “She made Sonata tell her everything.”
Sunset stared uncomprehendingly at her. “Sonata? But how does Sonata know anything about it?” She saw Aria’s face clearly for the first time since returning; it was creased into a look of pain, and she was clutching her arm. “Sweet Celestia, you’re bleeding!” Before Aria could protest, Sunset had her arm in her hands. “Sonata, get me the first aid box from the bathroom. Quickly!”
“You don’t have time for that!” Aria hissed as Sonata panicked her way towards the bathroom, and Sunset began undressing the bandage around her arm.
“What did you mean when you said Adagio made Sonata tell her everything? What could Sonata have told her?”
“Sonata’s been spying,” Aria growled, as the girl in question handed Sunset the first aid kit. Sonata blushed furiously and tried to hold back a fresh wave of sobs. “Adagio told Sonata she needed to make up for starting the fire, so she made her spy on you to find out what was happening.”
“Oh,” Sunset said, feeling a lurch in her stomach at the sight of Aria’s arm. “How did this happen?”
“A-Aria t-told me not to tell,” Sonata moaned.
“Adagio got really mad when we wouldn’t tell her anything,” Aria said between winces.
“S-She got really s-scary,” Sonata went on, shuddering a little.
“So when she finished looking everywhere she grabbed my arm so Sonata would start talking.”
“Wait, Adagio did this to you?” Sunset demanded, feeling nauseous. When Aria gave a curt nod, Sunset honestly couldn’t believe her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t imagine Adagio hurting Aria; in their childish fights she’d done the same thing, but she’d never done something so coldly methodical as to torture information out of someone.
“I-It’s like it was before,” Sonata sobbed. “When she found the red stones before, she was scary then too.”
“It’s not like then!” Aria snapped as Sunset cleaned her arm and re-bandaged it. “I know you can’t tell, Sonata, but she’s scared. She’s always scared, like she’d ever admit it. I so want to punch her in the face!”
“Perhaps later,” Sunset said hastily, checking the tightness on the bandage. “Does that feel okay?” When Aria gave another brief nod, she stood up. “Where did Adagio go?”
“You know she’s after the stones, right?” Aria asked, flexing her arm. “She knows that we used to be older and everything.”
“I understand that,” Sunset replied urgently. “Aria, if she’s capable of hurting you like this as she is now, I don’t want to think what she’ll do if she sees what’s in those fragments. Please tell me where she’s gone.”
“She followed after you.”
“You said she left after searching here,” Sunset said, frowning. “How could she know where I—“ she stopped. “Of course. You’re all much cleverer than I think sometimes.”
“She guessed who you got that blue box from,” Aria explained. “And she knows it’s where that purple-haired witch-girl is staying.”
“Witch girl?” Sunset asked, confused. “You mean Twilight? She figured—“ she stopped herself again. Getting up, she picked Aria off the floor and set her on the sofa. Then she heaved Sonata onto the cushion next to her, trying to get her to stop crying.
“W-What are y-y-you going to d-do?” Sonata sobbed, wiping her eyes with her palm.
“What I should have done from the start,” Sunset said heavily. “First I’m going to get Adagio and bring her back, and then I’m going to tell you guys everything. I thought I was protecting you from the danger of being curious about the pendants when I didn’t know enough about them myself, but I can see that all I’ve done is push you away. Especially Adagio. I’m sorry, Aria,” she said with a small laugh. “I think we made the wrong call.”
Aria shuffled a little. “Maybe,” she muttered, not looking up.
“You two stay here,” Sunset said, standing up. “I’ll be back soon.”
“But I—“ Sonata began, going to stand up.
“No,” Sunset interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. Either of you. It’s mine. Please wait here, and don’t leave the room.”
Without waiting for either of them to respond, Sunset opened the door and exited the room, closing the door a little sharply before speeding off down the hall.
Sonata stared at the door a while, and then looked at Aria. Aria looked back at her, but said nothing. With her good hand, she swung out arbitrarily at the coffee table, and let out an angry sigh.
Sunset had been utterly stupid. That’s what she told herself all the way there as she ran full pelt out of the front doors. She was a complete and total idiot, missing every obvious sign and underestimating her children at every instance. She ran down the street without regard for the few pedestrians she sped by, cut off a ford focus at the intersection which honked its horn at her, and swung around the corner to the street where Rarity’s family boutique stood proudly on the three-way intersection ahead.
She should have taken a clue from their resourcefulness, from the unusually maturity Aria had shown, and from Adagio’s suspicious nature, that her attempts to keep what she was doing from them when they were so close at hand was laughably naive. Of course they were going to find out; even Sonata had been curious enough to apparently listen in, and had been able to tell Adagio enough for her to see through Sunset’s petty deceptions.
She skidded to a stop at the door and gave it a shake: locked. She looked around for any sign of Adagio having tried to get in, or for a sign of the girl herself: nothing.
Sunset pulled out her phone and tried to call Rarity. The line buzzed for a few moments, and then Sunset impatiently ended the call. It was passed ten at night; the house was probably asleep.
In desperation, she circled the building.
“Adagio!” she hissed. Looking up, she saw a pair of small legs pulling themselves suddenly into a second-storey window above her. Sunset cursed and called Rarity again.
“Hello, darling,” said Rarity’s voice.
“Rarity!” Sunset gabbled. “Come down and open the—“
“I’m not at the phone right now,” Rarity continued cheerfully.
Sunset ended the call again, swearing louder than before.
“Adagio!” she called in her loudest whisper. “Get back down here, now!”
As might be expected, nothing happened.
Biting her lip and practically hopping on the spot, Sunset glanced at the huge dumpster that Adagio had used to boost herself up. It’d certainly hold her weight, and in keeping with Rarity’s disdain for all things filthy, looked as though it had been sprayed down recently. Hoisting herself up, she peered in through the window. “Adagio!” she called again in her loud whisper.
The room was dark, the brightest part being illuminated by the greyish half-light trickling in from the open crack in the doorway in front of the window. Sunset climbed in as quietly as she could, and saw a moving patch of darkness on the other end of the room. Closing the door quietly she flicked on the light to find herself in what was unmistakably a tailor’s work-room. Adagio, her bright orange hair flying, spun around, the bag of red shards in her hand. Sunset’s eyes flickered over the open box; she supposed that Rarity or Twilight had opened it.
Adagio regarded her with the same look of disgust she’d worn when she and the others had stolen the bag of pastries, so many weeks ago.
“Adagio, please let me—“
“You lied to me,” Adagio said in a low, fierce voice. Perhaps it was second nature to her as a thief, but her voice didn’t rise at all, but remained low and hissing. “You kept these from me, you didn’t tell me who I was. You lied to me!”
“Adagio, you don’t understand,” Sunset said hastily, aware even as she said it of how vapid and clichéd it sounded.
“Sonata told me!” Adagio said angrily, stomping her foot. “She told me who we used to be! You told Aria and didn’t tell us!”
“I know,” Sunset whispered, taking a step forward. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you eventually. I just wanted to—“
“Shut up!” Adagio snapped, backing away from her. With a large shelf behind her she couldn’t go very far. “You expect me to believe anything you say?”
“No, I don’t,” Sunset replied, carefully edging forward some more. “I just ask that you listen to me for a moment.”
Adagio snorted, and set her hands to open the bag.
“Adagio, don’t!” Sunset gasped, leaping forward. Adagio tried to pull away, but with her back to the shelf behind her, Sunset managed to seize hold of part of the bag. She pulled. The bag tore open, scattering the shards glistening across the lavender carpet. Adagio fell back against the shelf, causing it to shake. The blue jewellery box fell with a muffled crash to the floor, sending Luna’s charm skidding away.
Sunset bent quickly down, hoping to take the fragments before Adagio could recover, but it was mostly on instinct. Her conscious mind told her what was going to happen, but it was too late to stop her actions now. No sooner had her hand touched the floor, then Adagio let out a cry of anger and scrabbled to snatch up the shards herself.
The world went black.
“I remember you,” said the snarling voice again.
Sunset opened her eyes. There again was the dragonish head, glaring at her. It flickered, its form disappearing and reappearing. It bore its sharp teeth, as though it intended to devour her, but then stopped. Its eyes focused onto something beside her. Sunset looked around, feeling no particular fear but the pangs of her recent scuffle. Adagio stood there, small and fragile looking. She stared at the dragon-head with wide eyes, and then screamed.
The head didn’t seem to be paying attention to the high-pitched ululation, but gazed down at her. It was hard to tell through its monstrous features, but Sunset thought she detected confusion in the dragon’s expression. Perhaps even unease.
“I... remember you...” the dragon breathed wistfully. “I remember...” It paused, as though trying to think what to say. And then it was gone. Just like that. The blackness all around changed. Adagio’s scream stopped abruptly like a microphone being cut off, to be replaced by new sounds. New smells and sights. New feelings.
Sunset was being dragged down a dark corridor. She knew it was a corridor because of the echoing effect all around of the quick footsteps and the reverberations of the voices all around. She was surrounded by a group of robed people, all hurrying along at a quick pace, two of them holding Sunset by the upper arms, dragging her along. She was breathing quickly, an unaccountable panic surging through her. Something was happening that she was terribly afraid of. Then two large doors opened in front of her, and her vision was momentarily scorched by the light of a thousand points of light.
Her ears were assaulted by what sounded like the rustle and chatter of a multitude of insects, until it died down and she understood what it actually was. Whispers.
Her eyes opened without her volition, and if she could have, she would have gasped. She was in a large, rectangular room held up by robust and ornate pillars set into two rows. Against the two side walls and the far wall were raised stone benches, although in places there stood several wooden chairs. Every one of these seats, from end to end, was full of people, all of whom wore dark blue cloaks with golden lace creating the seven-sided pattern.
Sunset’s head swivelled from side to side, and she felt the need to cry bubbling up inside of her.
“And now, for the proof beyond doubt!” said a loud voice. The proportions of the chamber made it so that the man’s voice rang out distinctly throughout every corner of the room, and with a surge of mingled recognition and dislike that was entirely her own, Sunset recognised the Ram. He stood at the centre of the stone-flagged floor in the middle of the room, where every seated person could see him.
The people holding Sunset pushed her firmly forward so that she was also standing in the middle of the floor. About fifty pairs of eyes were focused upon her; some looked curious, other wary. Several were whispering to each other in low voices, their eyes narrowed.
“This is to be the test subject?” asked an incredulous voice.
Sunset’s eyes swivelled to the source of the sound. What looked like the oldest man in the room, with a beard that touched the floor and a frame so bent with age that he seemed to resemble an upper-case S, stepped forward, tapping his stick on the stone floor as he moved from the benches. “This is to be what we lay our hopes upon?”
“You have an objection, Pen Stroke?” the Ram asked in the flinty tone of an impatient person trying to be polite.
“You know damn well I do,” the old man snapped. For a split second, Sunset saw him as he really was; a spindly sheep, weighed down with age and the weight of his blue cloak, but then resumed being the walking S, jabbing his stick upon the floor and scowling.
“Then let the chamber hear why you would interrupt this great experiment.”
“You all know my reasons!” old Pen Stroke said creakily to the room at large. He glared around, waving his stick to emphasise his words. “Not all among us trust this method. It is too dangerous to trifle with.”
Instant uproar. A number of people in the crowd began haranguing the old man, whilst still others seemed to be trying to voice their support. Sunset felt the child’s fear inside her growing, but her own mind was focused entirely on the debate.
After a few moments, the Ram raised his hands, and the babble began to quieten.
“Hear me, dear friends,” he said suavely. “Our more sceptical members are right to be cautious.” He gave the old man a sanctimonious little nod. “But is the purpose of this demonstration not to quash those reservations?”
“What of the jewel?” a woman demanded, standing up. “We do not yet have enough of them to preserve all of our senior membership. We cannot be flippant in our usage of them.”
“Fear not,” the Ram announced. “The jewel is easily removed from their hosts. Prior experiments have shown the effects of the jewels over the course of years on lesser creatures. Our order has spent centuries developing this technique for eventual use, and now our generation shall be the first to reap the rewards. Our age old promise to the world will finally be a reality!”
A rousing chorus of cheering erupted at this, although not from everyone. Pen Stroke didn’t seem terribly swayed by it. He tapped his stick impatiently and looked beadily around.
“Enoch’s report on the potential for the apotheostones to—“ he got no farther than that.
“Enoch is a traitor!” one person cried.
“He abandoned our cause in its hour of direst need!” shouted another.
“Honourable members!” the Ram cried. “Please, brothers and sisters, let us have order!”
The crowd began to die back down, but one who was still standing took the opportunity to say “We have come so close to fulfilling our promise of bringing about enlightenment to the world! We can’t afford squeamishness now.”
“Joint Season is correct!” announced another, standing up as well. “We stand on at the precipice of the abyss where dwell the answers to questions untold. Shall we be those who when our forefathers devoted their lives for us to reach this point now turn away from fear of the unknown?”
“It is merely an experiment after all,” the Ram added in a patronising tone, spreading his arms in a gesture of goodwill.
This seemed to change the general mood of the room to a more positive state. Pen Stroke seemed to inflate with dissatisfaction, his face going red. He glared at the Ram, who gave him a victorious grin. With a huff, the old man sat down again upon his wooden chair, leaning forward on his stick.
“Be there no more objections?” the Ram inquired of the chamber, in the confident tone of one who knew the answer before asking the question. Silence. “Very well then.”
The Ram turned to face Sunset for the first time. With a gesture, the robed figures released Sunset’s arms. She felt a real need to run away grip her, but at the same time some internal control asserted itself to root her to the spot. The Ram held out his hand, and Sunset’s rose tentatively to meet it. Small, covered in grime and dust, a lighter yellow than her usual skin tone. Adagio’s hand.
“From the surrounding towns, several of our trusted members, myself amongst them, have selected this child as possessing a greater than average intellect and strength of mind, to be the first sentient being upon which we witness the birth of a glorious new age!”
A smattering of applause met this speech, but it couldn’t have been plainer to Sunset that the audience was too interested in the prospective event to pay too much attention to what was being said. Perhaps sensing this, the Ram smiled, and waved over the people in robes. They stepped forward, and took manacles from the nearby pillars. Sunset’s placement in the centre of the hall had not been a matter of caprice; they shackled her wrists, but the chains were long enough that her arms were not suspended. Nonetheless she felt her mouth wrench itself open and start to protest.
“Shh, quiet now,” the Ram said sweetly. “Everything is going to be fine. It’s merely a precaution, alright? You’re going to be alright.”
Being in essence the same person as her, Sunset could sense that the past Adagio had not found this reassurance the least bit comforting. Nevertheless, she made an effort to quieten herself.
“Do not fear,” the Ram breathed. “Soon we’ll be together forever. Soon we shall be immortal.”
He stood up again, eagerness all over his face. He gestured for another figure to step forward. Sunset noticed that the entire room watched this person avidly. Robed in the same dark blue garb as everyone else, the person emerging from the shadows held a large cushion before them. Once they’d reached the Ram, they knelt, and offered the cushion up to him. With delicate fingers, the Ram lifted whatever was upon it up into the air.
If Sunset could have made a sound, she might have gasped. The siren’s pendant, gleaming in the light of many candles, shone like frozen blood over the Ram’s head. And on the cushion, Sunset could just about see, two more of them...
“Behold the future of our order!” he cried. “And of the world!”
He turned, every eye upon him, and walked slowly towards Adagio. Sunset felt Adagio’s stomach churning, felt her wrists pulling at the restraints. Either the Ram didn’t notice her terror or didn’t care, but he lifted the gem up, and then lowered it by its black strap over Adagio’s trembling head. With ostentatious care, he lowered it to rest dead centre over her sternum, and stood straight again. With a flourish, he reached inside of his robe and produced a short, broad knife with an ornate handle.
At this point, Sunset’s own mind began to jump ahead, as though she realised suddenly what was about to happen. She barely registered Adagio’s renewed struggling and crying, or the strange sense of pain occurring to her as the knife pierced Adagio’s chest; a strange sensation to feel the pain of someone else.
Blood trickled down from the shallow wound, and ran like red water over the pendant.
A dead silence filled the room. The pendant glowed, bathing the entire room in a scarlet glow. The faces all around looked ghastly and ancient, as though they were aging to bone before Sunset’s eyes. And then the light dimmed back, and everything... everything changed.
Sunset could feel it. Like the feeling one gets when one is sure someone is standing behind them, Sunset had up until now felt the younger Adagio’s mind like a presence. But now that presence was gone. In its place was something... larger. Something that was Adagio, but also was not. For the first time, Sunset herself felt real fear for what she was sharing this memory with.
Her perception of the room had altered as well. Perhaps influenced by Adagio’s child perception, everyone around her had seemed so big and incomprehensible only a moment ago. Whilst she could see no physical change, it seemed to Sunset that they were all so much smaller than before. Tiny even. Insignificant. And then the rage came. A terrible, bubbling anger, then tempered down, restrained by the new presence within Adagio.
“Success!” the Ram boomed, after peering into Sunset’s eyes. Sunset felt herself staring steadily back at him, her face expressionless. The chamber erupted into cheering. The people all around stood, clapped, whooped, and even hugged each other. “The bonding has been a success!” the Ram said again. ”With this final proof of the efficacy of the technique, finally we—“
“Where am I?” Sunset heard her own mouth say.
The room went quiet. It was most disconcerting; the voice had not shouted, or even raised itself. It had been barely above a whisper, and yet it carried so clearly through the cacophony of noise that everyone in the room had apparently heard it. The Ram looked curiously back at her, a slight frown on his face.
“I am chained,” Adagio said, as though only just noticing.
The Ram paused, looking quickly around before saying “Yes. An unfortunate but necessary precaution. We shall free you—“
“It was quite needless,” Adagio said, still in the quite voice. “Oh, to be alive.”
The murmur of whispers began again, as the Ram, looking concerned now, looked between Adagio and the room at large.
“Adagio?” he asked. “It is you, Adagio?”
“Oh yes,” Adagio replied, her lips pulling back in a smile.
The Ram nodded uncertainly. “Are you in any pain? Is there a discomfort you feel?”
“Yes,” she said, if possible in an even lower voice. “Yes I am in pain. A great deal of pain.”
“Should a child be speaking like that?” a voice hissed to its neighbour.
“Very odd for a young girl,” concurred another.
The Ram was starting to look decidedly unsettled. He cleared his throat. “If you are in pain, then we shall of course release you and tend to whatever it is that ails you.”
“Do not concern yourself,” Adagio said, her smile widening. “It’s something that I need to attend to myself.”
Sunset felt her head, which had been bowed since the Ram had drawn Adagio’s blood, raise itself so that she was looking at the ceiling. She opened her mouth wide, and let out a long, unbearably sad note. It rose and fell perfectly, filling the entire room with its reverberations. And then Sunset’s heart skipped a beat.
All around her, she saw a faint, greenish mist that had not been there before. It floated on the air like fog, ebbing and flowing as it poured into the room like noxious gas. Then Sunset saw it; it was coming from the people all around, oozing out of them as they all stared entranced.
“W-What is this?” Pen Stroke asked, standing up and gaping at Adagio. “What’s going on? What have you done?” He turned to the Ram, who was looking just as dumbstruck.
“I... I don’t...” he stammered.
“You have caused me pain,” Adagio said, as her note came to an end. “No. Stay.”
Sunset couldn’t see it happen, but she heard the great doors behind her boom shut, and a rattling as though of something large on the other side being set into place. The occupants of the room began to panic.
“Who ordered them to shut the doors?” someone yelled.
“They’ve locked us in!” another cried hysterically, hammering upon the thick wood.
“Who... what are you?” the Ram gasped, his voice trembling. His eyes widened in terror, staring at something above Sunset, something that was making a low, rumbling, growl.
“I’m Adagio Dazzle,” Adagio chuckled, a terrible joy surging through her as a muscular, golden tail snapped the chains holding her in place. “Adore me.”
The Ram backed up quickly, but with a piteous cry cut off mid-shriek, rows of sharp teeth descended upon him.
Sunset wanted desperately to look away, but Adagio was watching the gruesome spectacle with an almost hungry delight. After a few moments, the enormous golden creature turned, maw dripping and bloody, its eyes fixed upon the screaming and cowering people pressed against the door.
Adagio laughed, a high, spine-chilling laugh, and everything went black.
The most disconcerting thing about coming back to herself was the cruel laughter still ringing in her ears. After a second or two however, she realised that whilst it was the same voice, it wasn’t laughing. It was screaming. The scream was so prolonged and high pitched that at first Sunset didn’t recognise it for what it was.
Sunset blinked hard, and her dimly lit surroundings came back into focus.
“Adagio!” she blurted.
In the next few moments, several things happened all at once. Sunset dropped to her knees in front of Adagio, trying to calm her down. The girl’s palms were bleeding where she’d apparently gripped the fragments hard enough to pierce her, but now her hands were clutching at her face.
“Adagio, it’s okay, it wasn’t real!” Sunset promised, trying as gently as she could to pry away Adagio’s hands, blood running down her pale cheeks.
“Sweetie Belle!?” a loud male voice boomed.
Sunset’s head turned to the door as an enormous boot kicked it open. Dazzled slightly by the brighter light of the hallway beyond, all Sunset could make out was a tall, bulky silhouette in the light, holding something long and shining.
In that moment, it was beyond conscious thought; Sunset knew what was about to happen, as though it were an old movie she’d watched a hundred times. She saw the figure jump in surprise at Adagio’s renewed shrieking, saw the thing in its hands rise.
Sunset’s arms leapt up a split second before any conscious command for them to do so could possibly have been made, and closed tightly around Adagio’s shoulders.
An intolerably loud sound erupted in Sunset’s ears. It seemed to fill the air around her, it seemed to fill the entire world, reverberating back upon her just as it seemed it was going to abate.
The next thing Sunset was properly conscious of was being on her back. Blurry faces swam in and out of sight above her. She thought to see Twilight’s face, wide eyed as though something horrible had happened. Then came Adagio’s, streaks of dark red across her cheeks like war paint.
That makes no sense, Sunset thought vaguely. This is a weird dream.
Oddest of all was Rarity. Sunset honestly thought there must be something deeply psychologically wrong with herself, since her dream Rarity for some reason looked like the creature from the black lagoon. Only with hair curlers, and green mud on her face rather than brown.
She decided that she didn’t really care much about it. It was a dream after all. She closed her eyes, and dreamt no more.
Sunset awoke to the smell of lemon scent and chlorine. She had a vague impression of having memories about what had happened to her recently, but they were so insubstantial that she doubted they were real. Something about lying in a bed with faceless people moving around her, and bright lights glaring down upon her like malevolent stars. If her better judgement hadn’t been there to set her straight, she might have thought that she’d been abducted by aliens.
A strange, rasping sound came from somewhere very nearby. So nearby, it seemed to be all around her. And then she realised that she had a plastic breathing mask over her mouth. She tried to reach a hand up to remove it, but the moment she moved her arm a surge of dull pain shot up her side. She groaned.
“Oh, you’re conscious,” said a voice close by.
“Ugh...?” was all Sunset could muster in response.
By-and-by, Sunset’s vision solidified into a picture of a greyish white room full of clinical looking decorations in blues and greens. A large purple chair sat in a corner under a tall chrome lamp, and the windows had white blinds across them. The person who’d spoken came closer, and it was by this woman standing over her that Sunset came to understanding that she was lying on something. The woman took hold of her arm and felt her pulse, checking the machine beeping quietly next to the bed.
“Do you feel any stiffness? Are you in any pain?”
“I don’t... I guess so.”
“Stiff or pain?”
“Both,” Sunset grunted. “Can I have something to drink? I’m really thirsty.”
The woman, who Sunset could now see to be a nurse in a pale lavender uniform, clicked a button on the bed to make Sunset’s upper body rise up.
“Don’t try to move too much,” the nurse ordered. “You’ve only been here a few days. If you try to exert yourself too much you could pull out your stitches.”
“Stitches?” Sunset asked, puzzled.
The nurse raised an eyebrow. “You’re in hospital, dear,” she said more kindly. “You’ve been shot. You might not remember everything about the whole ordeal. Just lay back and let it come slowly.”
She helped Sunset sip water from a glass through a straw. Sunset’s memory was slow coming, as though her brain had shut down and it was now so full of rust, dust, and grit, that it was having a hard time starting up again. An uncertain picture of a dimly lit room popped up in her head, along with some fuzzy people moving around in it. Then she remembered the chamber. She remembered the people inside, and the terrible fate that had befallen them. Everything surged back in a confusing stream of incoherent pictures.
Sunset spluttered on the straw, water erupting from her mouth. The nurse jumped back a little, surprised.
“Adagio!” Sunset exclaimed. “W-Where’s Adagio? How did I get here? What—“
“Dear, you need to calm down!” the nurse said in a firm yet soothing tone, trying to hold Sunset’s shoulders down.
“No!” Sunset cried. “No, I have to get her back! She went... she went to—“
“Please calm down!” the nurse barked. “If you don’t I will be forced to strap you to the bed! You’re not in any condition to be moving!”
“But I can’t stay here! I need to get Adagio back!”
“I don’t know who Adagio is, dear,” the nurse said testily, “but you have visitors if you’d like to see them.”
The nurse seemed to realise that this was the right thing to say. Her grip on Sunset’s shoulders lessened a little as Sunset ceased struggling.
“Visitors?” Sunset asked, puzzled. “Wait, what am I doing here?”
“I told you, dear,” the nurse said, patiently. “You’ve been shot. Entered through the lower back and tore through your abdominal cavity. Your blood loss was substantial, so you’ll probably be feeling very weak for a while.”
Sunset barely heard her. Around the corner of the sliding door popped a mane of bubbly pink hair.
“Ha-ha!” Pinkie cried. “Hey, Sunset’s awake!”
The nurse spluttered in disapproval as three people rushed into the room and leapt to the bedside. Sunset tried for a smile as Pinkie, Twilight, and Rarity all gazed down at her, though she wasn’t sure it came off well.
“How you doing?” Pinkie asked in her typical cheerful manner.
“I’ve been better,” Sunset chuckled. Or at least, her voice shook like it might have been a chuckle, although Sunset didn’t remember a chuckle hurting quite so much.
“Darling,” Rarity gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, Sunset, I’m so sorry!”
Sunset had kind of expected this. “Don’t be, Rarity,” she said, attempting a kind, breezy sort of voice which, again, didn’t quite come off as she hoped it would. “It was an accident.”
“If I’d just picked up my phone,” Rarity hiccupped. “You called me to open the door, I heard the voice mail! This might never have happened.”
“Rarity,” Twilight whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder
“It’s okay, Twilight,” Sunset muttered. “Rarity, I don’t really remember what happened so well, so hey, don’t worry about it.”
Rarity sniffled in a particular way that might have been meant for a laugh.
“No, seriously,” Sunset said. “I really don’t remember everything that happened. I kind of got this big surge of memories from the pendant fragments, so that’s mostly what I remember. I do vaguely remember being in your house and a loud bang sound.”
“Oh.” Twilight raised her eyebrows. “Oh, well, um... it’s kind of complicated,” she said, side-glancing at Rarity.
“It’s alright,” Rarity said, making an effort to compose herself. “She needs to know.”
“Rarity’s dad shot you in the back thinking you were breaking into his house. He’s in jail now,” Pinkie said in her usual rapid, machine-gun voice.
Rarity burst into tears. As Twilight tried to stem the tide of the fashionista’s running mascara, Pinkie took on an unexpectedly more serious expression.
“We thought you’d die,” she said quietly. “And after all that time trying to teach you Greek.”
Sunset gave a few hacking coughs. “No offense, Pinkie, but it kind of hurts to laugh.”
“Your next batch of pain killers is due soon,” the nurse said reassuringly. “I’ll be right back.”
Once she’d left, and Rarity was calm enough, Sunset spoke up again.
“What happened afterwards?” she asked. “Where’re the kids? If I’ve been in her for days—“
“Oh don’t worry,” Twilight interrupted, smiling. “Applejack’s family took them in for a while.” She frowned slightly, as though puzzled. “For some reason Apple Bloom didn’t seem entirely happy about it.”
“Oh, well,” Sunset said, blushing a little as she remembered the events in the park. “Kids will be kids.”
“So all we have to do is wait for you to get better,” Pinkie trilled with robust cheerfulness. “Need a kidney? Some intestines? A liver? I’m pretty sure I have three of those or something, so I can spare one if you need it.”
“Pinkie, seriously,” Sunset said, grinning. “It hurts to laugh.”
Just at that moment, Rarity’s phone rang. She excused herself to take it.
“A surge of memories from the pendants shards,” Twilight said, sounding intrigued. “I guessed you’d been trying to get them from Adagio. What happened?”
Sunset gave the short version of what she’d seen, and the events leading up to them. Twilight’s face became a mask of conflicting emotions; Sunset could well sympathise. She knew that Twilight’s academic interest was vying against her more natural feelings of empathy for Sunset, and for what had happened to Adagio.
“Well,” she said after a few moments. “One of history’s great mysteries solved. No one ever did know what happened to the Lotus Society. Now we do.”
“Slaughtered by angry child-immortal hybrid,” Pinkie said, nodding matter-of-factly.
“Quite,” Twilight said quickly. “But revenge though... unless the siren whose heart the pendant was forged from had some grievance with the society, that implies to me that... well, um...”
“That Adagio took revenge on them,” Sunset finished with a sigh. “You’re right. She did.”
Pinkie and Twilight looked at each other uncomfortably.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Sunset continued hastily, feeling an unaccountable need to defend Adagio. “She felt wronged by the one who’d gotten her into the whole thing, but she didn’t want to kill him. Not until after he put the pendant on her. After that, it was like... it was like all of her worst traits multiplied a hundred fold. The anger and pain, and the persona she put on to hide it all just became everything, with this... thing, this weight in her mind urging me to control everything.”
“Me?” Twilight asked, frowning.
Sunset blinked. “Oh, I mean her. Urging her to control everything.” She pursed her lips. “Sorry. It was kind of a first-person perspective thing.” She paused as an awkward silence set between them. “Do you think AJ could bring the kids around to see me? I kind of need to talk to... to them.” She’d been going to say to Adagio, but she thought better of it.
“Oh sure,” Pinkie beamed. “I know Sonata’s been really, really worried. And Aria asked about you a few times too. I can call AJ up and ask if you like.”
Sunset hesitated, as she had been about to ask if Adagio had asked about her too, when Rarity came dashing back into the room, a distinctly panicked look on her face.
“Rarity?” Twilight asked, looking quite surprised at the ashen complexion of Rarity’s usually perfect, opalescent face. For a few moments Rarity seemed unable to do anything but mouth wordlessly, looking between Sunset, Twilight, and Pinkie, as though unsure which of them to speak to.
“That’s an awesome impression of a fish, Rarity,” Pinkie commented, rubbing her chin and turning her head to get a better angle on Rarity’s expression.
This nonsensical remark seemed to jog Rarity into speaking. She swallowed.
“I just... Applejack called me. She said... she said...” She directed a guilty look at Sunset and then looked quickly away again.
Before Sunset or anybody else was able to ask anything else, the nurse returned looking most confused, and a little uncertain. Behind her stepped a young woman in official dress, carrying a sheaf of papers under her arm. Sunset was immediately reminded of the store manager from the supermarket she’d been banned from. More disconcerting than this, a policeman in full uniform walked behind this woman, and stood with his arms folded by the door to the room.
The woman who’d arrived with the nurse gave the room a quick survey, taking in Twilight, Pinkie, Rarity, and the nurse, before finally looking at Sunset.
“Sunset Shimmer?” she asked. She had no particular accent, and spoke in a tone as crisp and official as her wardrobe.
“Yes?” Sunset replied as audibly as she could. She didn’t know who the woman could be; possibly some hospital official come to tell her how much she owed for hospital bills. The thought made her stomach churn. But why was there a policeman with her?
The woman’s lips thinned a little. She took the papers from under her arm, and pulled out two, the first of which she kept one eye on as she spoke. “I’m from social services. I’ve come to inform you that the three children under your care have been taken into protective custody.”
A short silence followed this, broken only by the electrical hum of wiring all around, and the beeps of the machine by Sunset’s bed. The beeping escalated a fraction. Apparently taking advantage of the lack of response, the woman continued.
“I’ve also been asked to inform you that as of this moment, you are being treated as a suspect in the misappropriation of wards of the state, and a potential accessory to three counts of the unlawful placement of a child to an unsuitable individual.” She paused and looked up from the paper she had been reading. “Until such a time—“
“Unlawful placement?” Rarity exclaimed.
“You’ve taken the girls?” Twilight asked, aghast.
“Unsuitable individual?” Pinkie demanded, as though she thought the woman was crazy. “There’s no one more suitable!”
The woman seemed to pretend not to hear Pinkie’s objection. “Yes, we have appropriated the children. They were illegally given into Ms. Shimmer’s care. A formal inquiry into how that occurred is being carried out by my department, and a separate police investigation has been opened into Ms. Shimmer’s part in it.”
“You think Sunset—“ Pinkie growled, but seemed incapable of saying more.
“Ms. Shimmer is a seventeen year old. That is well below the legal age for adoption or foster care.” She turned to Sunset, who could find nothing to say. “Until the investigation has determined your guilt in the matter, you’ll be placed under guard in this hospital. When you are well enough to leave, you shall be escorted into custody for formal questioning.”
“She will not be arrested until formal charges have been levied against her. The police however consider that her being culpable in the matter warrants guarding her within this hospital until the situation can be clarified. She is therefore being treated as a suspect.”
“You took them away,” Sunset whispered, perhaps too quietly for anyone to hear her.
Sunset paid no attention to whatever was said after this. After a short while of her friends protesting, the woman left, as did the nurse after leaving a small plastic cup with several pills in it on Sunset’s side table.
“S-Sunset?” Twilight asked tentatively.
Sunset didn’t respond. Nothing around her seemed real. Even herself tucked within the bed sheets seemed to be almost a dream, floating meaninglessly awash in Sunset’s collapsing world.
“I think we might need to give her a moment of privacy,” Rarity whispered to the other two.
“But shouldn’t we... We can’t leave her like...” Pinkie said uncertainly.
“Trust me, darling,” Rarity said thickly. “We’ll be outside if she needs us, but I really think she’ll need a moment to herself.”
The three of them walked out of the room, all with pained expressions. Pinkie stopped at the door and looked back, biting her trembling lip.
At this point Sunset had no capacity to care if anyone saw her, but no sooner had her friends shut the door behind them, the tears began to fall. They fell silently, staining the sheets and pillow, leaving the whiteness grey and toneless.
“I know I’ve said it already,” Rainbow sighed. “But this sucks. Royally.”
Her friends concurred broodingly. Fluttershy, looking out of the window, stretched out a finger to the glass in the direction of an indigo bunting, but she didn’t really seem to be paying the bird much attention.
“The worst part is that I’m not even sure there’s anything that we can do,” Rarity said, chewing her index finger.
“How’s your dad doing?” Applejack asked.
Rarity’s lips tightened. “He’s not acclimatising well to house arrest,” she said heavily. “Nor to having almost murdered a child by accident. Nor to having shot Sunset in the back.”
“Well if he ever wants his guns back, Big Mac’s willing to sell ‘em to him. Ah think he only bought ‘em ta hold onto them for ‘im.”
“I know,” Rarity said, her teary eyes fixed on the floor. “Thanks, Applejack.”
“Sure thing, sugarcube,” Applejack said, smiling as she put a hand on Rarity’s shoulder.
“So what are we going to do about Sunset?” Rainbow asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy the hospital,” she went on sardonically, “but she’s been crying for an entire week now. She barely speaks to us anymore.”
“Well ya’ll can’t exactly blame her, Rainbow,” Applejack said, spreading her arms. “Ah mean, ah knew we was doin’ something not exactly legal here,” she went on in a more discreet tone, “but t’ain’t fair that she’s havin’ ta deal with the consequences alone.”
“Quite,” Rarity agreed. “She could go to prison over this. Or, a detention centre I suppose, since she’s underage.”
“Whichever,” Rainbow said impatiently. “It’s all totally unfair. We only tried to do the right thing.”
“That’s no excuse when breaking the law,” Twilight said darkly. “That’s a reality you have to get used when you’re a princess.”
There was a pause, after which Rainbow scoffed impatiently. “We can’t leave her to this! How can we call ourselves her friends if we leave her to go to prison?”
“That’s not what’s bothering her,” Pinkie said, quietly.
Everyone looked at her, a little disconcerted. Perhaps it was the unusually contemplative tone, or the serious expression on her face, or perhaps just the fact that Pinkie was capable of lowering the volume of her voice that did it, but whatever it was about her, her friends seemed to find the situation even more serious than they did before.
“What do you mean, Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked, nervously.
“She’s not crying because she’s in trouble. They took away her children.” She looked around at them, giving each of them significant looks. “How can you not get that?”
Several of them looked uneasily between themselves.
“I knew that she was close to them,” Rarity admitted. “I mean, she took a bullet for one of them.”
“Her children, like her children children?” Rainbow asked, gesturing with her hands. “As in, her actual kids?”
“Like, the apple of her tree?” Applejack added.
“Like, her daughters, yes,” Pinkie said, scowling a little. “How can you guys not understand that?”
“Pinkie, there’s no need to be confrontational about it,” Fluttershy muttered, looking at though she was speaking against her better judgement.
Pinkie seemed to bite her tongue, and said nothing.
“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about this as well,” Rarity said to Pinkie, cautiously.
“It’s just that I’ve seen the way she is when she’s with them,” Pinkie said with a sigh. “I know it has only been a few months, but she’s really bonded with them.”
“It’s not unheard of,” Twilight put in. “She’s fairly new to friendship and forming closeness with other people. Ponies can be very susceptible to new feelings like that.”
“So, we have a double problem then,” Rainbow said, flinging her arms into the air. “No problem, right? We got this. We work it out.”
“Or we make it even worse,” Applejack added.
“Thanks, AJ,” Rainbow said with a tight smile. “I was getting a little too optimistic there.”
“So what are we going to do about it?” Rarity put in before they could start arguing. “Anyone have any ideas?”
A short pause followed, after which Twilight spoke up.
“I have an idea,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it for the past week. You might say that I’ve thought of little else.”
They all stared at her, waiting for her to go on.
“Well?” Applejack prompted after another pause.
Twilight hesitated, and looked furtively between her friends. The tension seemed to grow between them all.
“You’re... you’re not going to like my idea,” Twilight said, her mouth scrunching up like she’d swallowed a lemon.
Most people who are forced to lie hour after hour in a hospital bed for a week typically get bored. They become restless, irritable, and long to escape their involuntary confinement. The only thing about Sunset’s bedridden state that could be called good would be that she wasn’t afflicted by any such sense of paralyzing boredom. Her mind was far too saturated by the compound failures of the last week.
Like a teenager who’d joyfully bought their first car without reference to advice, inspection, or reputable internet services, she had stridden blindly forward into motherhood with no real plan, no experience, and not a single clue. She hadn’t even comprehended that it was taking on the role of being a parent until the responsibility had already been pressing down upon her. She hadn’t recognised the maturity or resourcefulness of her children, and had treated them like normal ignorant kids in her secretive pursuit to help them by keeping their past from them.
Sunset had had the entire week to brood on these uncomfortable facts; a week full of people visiting her and trying to cheer her up. Sunset unfortunately was one of those uncomfortable breeds of people who finds both solitude and companionship equally desirable and equally displeasing when in a susceptible mood. When people visited, she wished them away, and when they were away, she wished for their company.
Apart from her friends, who kept her up to date (usually just to make conversation) on what had happened since she’d been shot. She’d learnt that Rarity’s father had turned himself in to the authorities, and had not pressed charges against Sunset or Adagio for breaking and entering. In addition, since Sunset wasn’t pressing charges for having been shot, and because of all of the peculiarities in the law to do with placement, circumstance, and testimony, what had had to be done with Rarity’s father had apparently become a rather convoluted issue. Eventually, he’d been placed under house arrest until a formal decision could be made.
The most surprising visit she received during this time was from principal Celestia. As she had predicted, a certain amount of blame and suspicion came to rest on Celestia and Luna, with their involvement in the illicit placement of the children into Sunset’s care being investigated.
“No, Chrysalis hasn’t been so much as suspected so far as I’m aware,” Celestia said heavily when Sunset inquired. “No doubt she has people she can turn to. Favours she can call in. I honestly doubt she’ll be affected by any of this. She’s adept at camouflaging herself when there’s danger.”
Sunset thought it a little strange that Celestia’s tone had a subtle inflection to it. One might be forgiven for thinking that Celestia was impressed.
“I am more grieved for you, Sunset Shimmer,” she said gravely. “I had hoped to shield you from the ferocity of the law should it come to this. But as circumstances have occurred, they got to you before I had a chance to intervene.” She gave Sunset a tender look, possibly noting the look on Sunset’s face.
Sunset fully expected her to say something in regards to working a way out of the situation, telling her not to worry or some such guff as that. She was surprised therefore when Celestia sat down on the stool next to the bed, and ran a hand through Sunset’s hair.
“You miss them, don’t you?” she sighed.
Sunset’s heart jumped. Before she had any chance to stop it, before she even understood it was happening, she was crying again. Celestia said nothing more, but remained where she was, holding Sunset’s hand and running a hand through her hair. Short of a hug, which Sunset knew Celestia must have figured would be impossible in Sunset’s condition, it was the most comforting – and motherly – thing Celestia could do to comfort her. It struck Sunset in that moment that Celestia might have a stronger understanding of what she was feeling than she previously thought.
With all of this time to think – to do little but think – Sunset had come to only one conclusion; she had to get her children back. The only problem was that she had no idea how to do it. Once she got out of hospital, she’d be arrested, or as good as, and Aria, Sonata, and Adagio had already been carted off to an orphanage on the other side of town. Even if she got out of trouble herself, she’d not be permitted to have her children back for at least a few years, if ever. And if she was convicted...
Sunset lay in a beam of pale light, which bleached the colour out of her already slightly faded hair. When the sliding door opened she barely made an effort to look up, but when she saw every single one of her friends filing passed the cop on duty and looking, in their own ways, distressed, a sense of lively curiosity spurred her to a little energy.
“What’s up?” she asked when no one said anything.
“The doctor asked us to tell you that you’ll be discharged on Thursday,” Twilight said. “They think you’ll be well enough to heal at home after that.”
Sunset nodded once. “Three days,” she said wistfully. “Oh joy.”
Before Sunset could sink further into gloom, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie, who were standing at the back of the group, burst into a fairly audible conversation. Under cover of this, Twilight leaned suddenly forward.
“So we’re getting you out of here tonight,” she said in hushed tones.
“Excuse me?” Sunset asked, not sure she’d heard correctly.
“Tonight,” Rarity repeated. “We coming back tonight and breaking you out of here.”
Sunset stared at them. “O-kay...” she said slowly. “And um... then what?”
Twilight, Rarity, and Fluttershy all looked over their shoulders. The policeman was paying no attention to them.
“Well really, that depends on you,” Twilight said quickly. She looked furtively at Rarity and Fluttershy, and then pressed on. “If you stay here, you run the risk of going to prison. We can’t convince a court in a non-magical world of the necessity of our actions; they won’t believe us or at best won’t understand. One way or another you need to leave.”
“Okay,” Sunset said again, still feeling as though she wasn’t getting the entire picture. “I need to go and see the kids first though.”
“Yes,” Rarity agreed. “We’re planning that out as well. To go and get the kids at the same time.”
“I need to talk to them first,” Sunset said.
Twilight and Rarity frowned. “Talk to them?”Rarity asked cautiously.
“Sunset, we might not have time for that. The police will be looking for you as soon as you go. You’ll be a fugitive.”
“I’ve messed up everything from the start,” Sunset said, her voice becoming hard. “It’ll only take a moment. I just need to say something to them first.”
Twilight eyed her sidelong, as though she was trying to decide something. Sunset stared right back; it was the one thing she’d been able to decide on this past week. She knew what she wanted to say and do should she see them again. Then, it was up to them. She was done making the same mistakes.
“Just, um... just a concern here. What if they, err, don’t want to come?” Fluttershy asked tentatively.
Sunset paused and swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “Then I’ll leave them alone.” She paused for a moment, and then suddenly let out a short chuckle. “You know, sometimes it’s so easy to forget who they used to be.”
“We’re your friends,” Twilight said with an earnest smile. “Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you.”
Sunset paused. “Twilight? Could you do me a favour?”
“Could you bring them, and my magic journal with us tonight, please?”
“Sure,” Twilight said uncertainly. “Um... can I ask why you’re asking about the shards?”
“It’s not really all of the shards I’ll need,” Sunset said, absently rubbing the area around her wound. “Just the one of them.”
Twilight and company did not at first inform Sunset of how they would break Sunset out of the hospital. It shouldn’t have been too difficult; there was only one guard by Sunset’s door, and the usual security in the building. The place had a few night staff, but was otherwise deserted.
The first clue to a hint of a rescue operation came when Sunset heard a tapping on her window. With the blinds shut, she couldn’t see what was doing it, and so after about the fourth tap, she shifted out of bed and went to open the blinds. Her middle stung with pain, which made her walk across the room slow and painful. Reaching for the blind’s cord she gave it a jerky tug, and then nearly leapt out of her skin.
Several things almost made Sunset cry out; first was the lancing pain shooting through her gut as she instinctively tried to step back from the window. The second was her surprise, which sent warning triggers like claxon bells ringing through her brain, at the sight beyond the window.
The thing waved at her.
“P-Pinkie?” Sunset managed to whisper, opening the window as quietly as she could. “What in the world are you doing out there?”
Pinkie, who was wearing the all-black attire of jumper, combat boots, and black mask usually worn by spec-ops teams, was dangling from a harness attached to Celestia-knew-what. A little pink cloud of hair stuck out from the mask, hovering eerily over Pinkie’s bright blue eyes. With all of the grace of a pile of bricks, Pinkie manoeuvred her way through the open window, and undoing the harness, dropped like said pile of bricks onto the floor with a loud thump. Sunset’s heart pounded loudly against her ribs as she glanced at the doorway, expecting the cop to come bursting in. But nothing happened.
“Hi the—“ Pinkie began loudly, but Sunset clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Not so loud!” she hissed, looking again towards the door. Then she blinked. The policeman was gone. “Where did...?” Pinkie said something muffled by Sunset’s hand. “Sorry, what?”
“I said we initiated a distraction,” Pinkie explained, beaming.
“In the form of what?” Sunset asked cautiously.
“Rainbow Dash throwing paper balls at him,” Pinkie replied cheerfully.
Sunset opened her mouth to protest the blatantly obvious problems with such a plan, when she stopped and grinned.
“You almost had me there,” she chuckled, wincing a little at the pain in her gut.
“Had you where?” Pinkie asked, evidently puzzled. “The paper ball thing was my idea.”
The sliding door opened, and in stepped the rest of her friends with the notable exception of Rainbow Dash.
“Come on, ya’ll,” Applejack said, who was in the lead. “Ah don’t think Rainbow will be able to keep that guy distracted for too—“ She stopped. “Pinkie, how did... where’d ya get those clothes?”
“Thrift store.”
Applejack simply stared, then gave her head a shake. “O-Okay, but, what are ya doin’?”
“Rescuing Sunset,” Pinkie answered, as though this should be obvious.
“And what do you think we were doing?” Applejack inquired, gesturing at the rest of their friends.
“Rescuing Sunset,” Pinkie guessed.
“Right,” Applejack nodded. “So it don’t make no sense for two of us to be rescuing her, does it?”
“Applejack,” Pinkie scoffed. “There’s five of us. Six if you count Rainbow Dash.”
“No, I mean it don’t make sense to have two separate plans.”
“We don’t have two separate plans,” Pinkie said, looking puzzled.
“Then what are ya doin’ coming through the window?”
“Duh,” Pinkie said, exasperated. “It’s a rescue mission. How come you guys didn’t come through the window?”
Applejack looked about ready to burst from indignation and impatience.
“Girls,” Sunset interrupted with forced good humour. “Abbott and Costello would be proud, but as I understand it we have very little time here, and my pain meds havn’t quite kicked in yet, so if we could get to going?”
“I think we have less time than we imagined, darlings,” Rarity said uneasily. “I think I hear footsteps.”
“Did Rainbow really get the guard to chase her by throwing paper—“ Sunset began to ask, but then noticed two or three scrunched up balls on the floor as they exited her room. “I literally can’t believe that worked.”
“She may have employed a few choice insults as well,” Twilight said through her teeth as they snuck down the hall.
“If there’s anything our dear Rainbow Dash is good at...” Rarity commented disdainfully.
They managed to move through the hospital mostly undisturbed, but Sunset’s injury had not healed sufficiently enough to allow her to walk unaided. As they descended the stairs to the second floor, she nearly collapsed as she seized hold of the railing.
“I got you,” Pinkie said quickly, hoisting Sunset up. “Are you okay?”
“It just hurts to walk,” Sunset groaned, taking shallow breaths. “I just need something to take the weight off.”
“I think there should be crutches somewhere,” Fluttershy suggested. “Would that help at all?”
The crutches did help a lot, but Sunset knew from the outset that the night was simply not meant to be easy and painless. Of the seven of them, only Applejack and Rarity had a learner’s permit, and only Applejack actually had a vehicle that she could freely use. Unfortunately, said vehicle was a large landrover. The only consolation was that she hadn’t brought the farm’s flatbed truck, but that still didn’t make the journey any easier to bear.
“Can’t you drive a little more carefully, Applejack?” Rarity hissed. She peered over her shoulder at Sunset, but also clutched at her arm rests as though she were on a roller-coaster.
“Ahm drivin’ as careful as a momma cat around sleepin’ kittens,” Applejack growled back. “T’ain’t mah fault Big Mac don’t know when ta fix the axel proper.”
“Are you okay, Sunset?” Twilight asked, holding her hand in the backseat.
“Need a cushion?” Pinkie inquired hastily. “Maybe some whipped cream? Is the car interior too drab?”
“Hey!” Applejack snapped.
“I’ve got some confetti bombs I can set off if you like,” Pinkie continued, ignoring Applejack.
“Whipped cream?” Sunset asked, genuinely glad of a distraction from the stabbing pains in her gut. “And what confetti bombs?”
Pinkie produced a can of whipped cream seemingly from nowhere. “I carry some everywhere,” she said cheerfully. “I told you I had too much as home. My confetti bombs are everywhere. I set them up ahead of time. I’m pretty sure there’s one or two in here somewhere.”
“There better not be!” Applejack barked.
“Toss some here, Pinkie,” Rainbow said from the mid seat. “I tell ya, that guy must have chased me twice around the hospital.”
“Who was that other person running after you?” Rarity inquired. “The one who was barking.”
“No idea,” Rainbow coughed, snorting with laughter as she held out her hand for Pinkie to throw the whipped cream. “She just kind of appeared out of this side room and almost pulled my mask off. It was crazy!”
Pinkie under-armed the whipped cream can, which missed Rainbow’s outstretched hand. A loud “PFFFT!” sound accompanied by a whistle and a bell erupted inside of the vehicle, followed by a shower of confetti.
Applejack looked quickly over her shoulder and gave Pinkie the evil-eye.
“Heh, knew there was at least one,” Pinkie chuckled, grinning innocently.
“Girls,” Sunset said into the sudden silence. “Twilight’s idea.” She paused. “I suppose you all... talked it over?”
“We did,” Rarity said uncomfortably from the passenger’s seat. “We don’t like it,” she said hurriedly. “But... it’s just...” She swallowed.
“I know,” Sunset said quietly. “If it all goes that way, or if something happens tonight, I just want you guys to know I’m grateful and everything.”
“Don’t ya’ll go talkin’ like that,” Applejack said with mock-sternness, turning a corner. “We don’t need no last words here.”
“We’ll still see each other,” Fluttershy peeped hopefully from the second middle seat.
“I hope so,” Sunset whispered. “You guys mean so much to me.”
An awkward silence followed this pronouncement. Pinkie gave a loud sniff and wiped her watery eyes, and even Rainbow Dash had to bite her lip and look determinately out of the window into the night.
“Hey, I think we’re here,” Applejack said heartily into the quiet.
As opposed to the usually dank, frightening, and/or bleak impressions one usually has of orphanages, the Canterlot Local Orphanage was in many ways far more pleasant in bearing. Its exterior was of bright red bricks and yellow stone, and a large sign above its door cheerfully proclaimed its name in colourful but sober font. With Fluttershy agreeing, and even seeming glad, to stay and watch the car, the rest of them moved as quickly and quietly as possibly could to the front gate. The front gate, however, was locked.
“Tch!” Rainbow Dash scoffed. “It’s just bolted from the inside.”
“Give me a boost,” Rainbow said, gesturing at the wall.
“Watch out for CCTV,” Rarity warned, cupping her hands to her mouth.
Within moments Rainbow hopped the wall and unlocked the gate.
“Now here comes the hard part,” Twilight began as they pressed into the shadows of the front door. “We don’t know where the three of them are, but it’s likely they’ll be in bed at this point. Which probably means—“
“Excuse me, Twilight,” Sunset interrupted as politely as she could. “But if I know my children, they’ll not be with the other children.”
Twilight blinked. “Why do you say that?”
“Because they’ll have been in trouble. And because of that, they’ll be separated from the other children, probably in some detention area.” She rubbed the dull ache in her abdomen and gave a tight smile. “Call it parental intuition.”
“Bad news,” Rainbow reported, trying the door. “This is locked too, and no wall to jump.”
“Try the back door?” Applejack suggested.
Moving around the building, Sunset using the singular crutch she’d taken from the hospital, they found an open side-door with a light on within. A short distance away, a young man in overalls with headphones in his ears was carrying cardboard boxes inside from a red truck, singing under his breath and mincing his way back and forth apparently to the tune of whatever he was listening to.
“Do you think there’s anyone inside other than him?” Pinkie wondered aloud in a stage whisper.
“I’d think so,” Twilight said thoughtfully. “There has to be someone on site to make sure the children are okay.”
“Hopefully they’re all asleep or something,” Rainbow added, trying to be more positive.
“Ah doubt they all are,” Applejack said darkly.
They moved in tandem through the door as the young man shuffled his way back out, performing a little spin with his eyes closed.
“Flash, ahhh!” he breathed as they all passed stealthily through the door behind him. “Saviour of the universe!”
“Well that was eas— Mmph!” Pinkie said cheerfully before Rarity slapped a hand to her mouth.
“Kitchen,” Twilight summarised. She gestured for them to move on, and they came out into a narrow vestibule with a window and a door ajar on one wall. “Ah, this is what we’re looking for.”
“I thought we were looking for Sunset’s kids,” Rainbow said, evidently puzzled.
“Yes, but hopefully in here we’ll find that out,” Twilight said, stepping into the room.
Sunset panted a little as she gimped into the room, and sat down heavily in one of the spinning chairs. She could feel the effects of her pain meds kicking in properly now; along with the general dullness in her torso and abdomen, she felt a fuzziness in her head. For the past week this feeling had been her constant companion during the night hours, guiding her through pain to the bliss of sleep. Now she wished it were gone; she needed her wits about her tonight.
The office was small and couldn’t fit all of them in, so Pinkie found herself stuck outside to peer through the little window in the wall. With her balaclava on she looked like a cartoon burglar peering through the window of a house belonging to a child with an unnatural capacity for engineering traps out of household appliances.
Whilst Sunset got her breath back, Twilight scanned the wall, and said “Ah-ha!”
“What is it?” Pinkie asked, pressing her nose against the glass.
“The layout of the building,” Twilight said triumphantly, running her finger down a birds-eye depiction of the orphanage. “Kitchen and main office, so we’re here...” she muttered, squinting at the room-layout. “The bedrooms are all upstairs.”
“And if you’re right, sugarcube,” Applejack said, leaning over Sunset’s shoulder, “the kids’ll be... here.”
Everyone gathered around to look at a smallish square at the rear of a long hall opposite the stairs labelled
Detention Room
“Sounds like them,” Rainbow said, grinning.
“Ahh!” cried a voice from outside. Instinctively they all looked towards the window, except Pinkie, who stood outside of the window staring in surprise to her left. Before any of them could react, Pinkie disappeared. A few seconds later, the sounds of struggling and quickly stifled inarticulate cries was cut off as they all heard a door quickly opened.
Twilight peered carefully out of the door, and then let out a sound of disbelief which prompted everyone else to look out.
“Hey, help me close this door!” Pinkie hissed, leaning her shoulders against what was obviously a side-cupboard.
“Oh this ain’t good,” Applejack said hoarsely, turning pale.
“Pinkie!” Twilight hissed like an angry goose.
“Don’t worry, she didn’t see my face,” Pinkie grinned, tugging at her mask. The door suddenly gave an enormous jump, nearly throwing Pinkie off it. A large woman in a pale pink nightgown appeared from inside the cupboard, her eyes and mouth covered in a pair of rags evidently taken from the cleaning supplies she was displacing. Her hands were tied by a length of grey plastic cable.
Rainbow Dash and Applejack leapt forward and forced the cupboard closed. Apparently the cupboard was quite a tight fit, since the best the woman seemed able to do was let out muffled cries and press feebly against the door.
“Well this is just great!” Rainbow Dash snarled. “If anyone finds her before we’re gone, we’re dead!”
“No one’s going to find us,” Twilight whispered loudly. “We just need to get upstairs, get the kids, and leave. Sure the police will be summoned and everything, but I doubt any of you guys will get in any trouble as long as your alibi holds up.”
“What alibi is that?” Sunset asked interestedly.
“We’re camping,” Rainbow Dash replied, watching the door closely. “In one of Fluttershy’s nature retreat spots.”
“If all goes well, I’ll be the only one held responsible for their disappearance,” Sunset said grimly.
“Can you two watch that door?” Twilight asked as she, Sunset, and Pinkie all made their way to the front entrance and the main stairway.
“Yeah,” Applejack said, looking uneasy. “We got it. Arr-Dee, you stay by the kitchen and watch that delivery boy don’t come this way.”
“On it boss!” Rainbow saluted, sneaking her way back down the corridor.
The trip to the detention room went as smoothly as might be expected. Pinkie tip-toed ahead, darting from wall to wall and pressing herself into the shadows in the highly exaggerated manner of a child playing spy. Twilight helped Sunset up the stairs as Sunset tried not to make too much noise with her crutch. Passing a door that was ajar, they saw that it was labelled Cheery Rose – Chief Supervisor.
They shuffled quietly up the corridor, hearing the low sounds of snoring, muttering, and the occasional whisper from within as the children inside sat up talking to each other. No sound permeated from downstairs.
“All clear,” Pinkie said in a stage whisper, dropping upside down between Twilight and Sunset. She clapped her hands to both of their mouths as they both went to scream, and then gave them knowing looks before landing lightly on the floor. “They’re in there,” she whispered, pointing dramatically to the door ahead.
“Were you... in there?” Twilight asked uncertainly.
“Duh,” Pinkie whispered, stalking forward. She pressed against the wall next to the door, and made a series of complicated hand-signals. Twilight and Sunset looked at each other, Sunset finding it especially hard to follow what was happening.
“What does that mean?” Twilight asked.
Pinkie rolled her eyes, thought for a second, and then pointed at the two of them.
“Us?” Twilight inquired.
Pinkie nodded, and then mimed for them to walk, and then pointed at the door.
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Twilight snapped as quietly as she could, grinding the words out.
“It’s not my fault you don’t know the elegant art of signalling!” Pinkie whispered boodingly.
Sunset was in too much pain for this. She struggled forward, and opened the door.
As might be expected, the detention room wasn’t quite as homey as the rest of the building. Whereas everywhere else there had been colourful wallpaper and children’s art projects interspersed with the odd notice emblazoned with charming clip art of flowers and teddy bears, this room was a pale spring green with only a bed, a wooden chair, and a cupboard in it. No decorations adorned the walls, and the only thing on the ceiling was a hanging electric light with a plain lampshade in the foulest orange colour imaginable. Sunset had once seen some kind of slime growing on a dead tree that had been the exact same colour as that shade, and she made a point of scooting around it to get to the bed.
On the bed, which was made for a single adult, lay squeezed her three children. A lump rose in Sunset’s throat as she looked down on them again, but she fought it down; she needed to be calm now. A little before she had quite finished seating herself, Adagio moved. It became clear to Sunset that she had only been feigning sleep.
“If you’re here to tell me I can go back, then don’t. I don’t want to—“
Sunset had to stop herself smiling quite so widely at the dear expression on Adagio’s face. Wide awake, her features were arranged into her classic look of petulant disapproval as she turned to look at the chair. Then the expression froze, and turned to blank astonishment.
“Hello,” Sunset said quietly. “Not who you were expecting?”
Pinkie and Twilight chuckled quietly, but Adagio simply stared; she didn’t seem able to speak, and after a little while Sunset became a little concerned. True, the last time they’d seen each other Adagio had been haranguing her for lying and keeping the truth from her, and Sunset had not expected Adagio to forget her anger, but Sunset had dared to hope that maybe after a week or so, Adagio might have had time to cool down a little. Now she thought that maybe she had been too optimistic.
Well just look what’s happened she thought morosely. Taken away by strangers to some unknown place. Story of her life...
Sunset opened her mouth with the intention of apologising, or explaining, or perhaps apologising and then explaining, or the other way around. She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought that she ought to say something.
Before she could force her tongue to articulate anything at all, Adagio made a sudden movement. Before Sunset quite knew what was happening, thin arms closed around her neck. Then apparently horrified at what she’d done, Adagio pulled suddenly back and pushed herself roughly back onto the bed.
Sunset, nonplussed and rubbing at her wound a little, looked towards Pinkie and Twilight for help. Twilight raised her eyebrows and shrugged, whilst Pinkie looked encouraged and gave her the thumbs up. Adagio sat on the bed, staring determinately at the sheets with her face glowing pink. And then Sonata sat up, rubbing her eyes. Apparently disturbed from her slumber by Adagio’s sudden movements, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, blinked a few times, and in the midst of a shuddering yawn, she spotted Twilight and Pinkie. Then she looked left.
It was fortunate that Aria too seemed to have been feigning sleep. Apparently curious about what Adagio was doing, she rose and spotted the visitors too, and was just in time to slap a hand across Sonata’s mouth as the latter inflated her lungs to let out a joyous cry.
“Shut up!” she hissed at Sonata. “The supervisor might hear!”
“Yeah, she won’t,” Pinkie said, hiding a smirk behind her hand.
“Hello, Aria. Sonata.” Sunset smiled at them.
Sonata let out a muffled flurry of words.
“Be quiet!” Aria hissed. She waited for Sonata to nod, and then let go.
“You came!” Sonata whispered ecstatically. “See, I told you she’d come to get us!”
“I thought you’d died,” Adagio said, half sulkily, half trembling. Sunset found it hard to tell whether Adagio was relieved or disappointed.
Sunset’s lips pursed. “Almost, I suppose you could say.” She looked each of her children over.
“Why are you here?” Adagio asked spasmodically.
“It’s obvious,” Sonata whispered, removing Aria’s hand. “I told you she’d come back for us!”
“You have come to take us home, haven’t you?” Aria asked quietly, looking as usual cautiously stern.
Sunset let a slightly wry smile crease her mouth. “We can’t go back home,” she said heavily. “Things can’t be like they were.”
“Why not?” Sonata asked, looking scared. “You... you still like us, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Sunset said with a sad smile. “But things have changed. We can’t live where we used to. And things won’t be the same anymore.”
“Why have you come?” Adagio repeated. “I don’t... know who you are. I don’t know why you do anything you do. Everything you do is covered in lies!” She paused and seemed to make an effort to be quiet again. “What has changed?”
“Almost everything has changed,” Sunset said.
“Sunset, if you need to talk to them, now might not be a good time,” Twilight said, nervously looking over her shoulder to the door.
“I know, Twilight,” Sunset said, not looking away from her children. “But I can’t just take them with me. I can’t treat them like little children.” She moved a little on her chair so that she could lean forward with minimal irritation of her wound. “Adagio is right. All three of you know that I’ve lied to you, kept things from you. I believed it was for the best, honestly I thought that I was doing the best for you. But it was that kind of thinking that was wrong. I look at you and I see three children, and I forget who you actually are. I wanted you to trust me, but I didn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth.”
“I took the three of you in because I knew you before. I felt guilty that I hadn’t done anything to help you then, and when I saw that you’d turned into children, I was afraid that something horrible would happen because of something I did. I thought that if I took you in, and later if I studied the pendants, that I’d be able to find out if you were in any more danger.” Sunset paused and squeezed her bandaged fingers. “When I did that, so as not to make anyone suspicious of where you’d come from, I... well, I adopted you.”
“Adopted?” Aria asked, frowning.
“It means that, lawfully speaking, I became your parent. I wasn’t supposed to, you see, it’s against the—“
“That means you’re our mom!” Sonata exploded.
“So another thing you didn’t tell us,” Adagio said scathingly, as Aria tackled Sonata into silence. “Mom.”
“Yes,” Sunset said quietly. “Although that was... that was because of a different reason. It...” she sighed. “Just none of it went to plan. Before I knew what was going on, I found that I cared about you. I didn’t want to just make sure you were okay and then send you away, I found that I liked having you around me.” She cringed a little at how controlled and fake this was all sounding. She needed to stay on topic, or the vagueness in her brain was going to make her incomprehensible.
Adagio “hmph”d, but with less energy than usual. “Like you can expect me to believe anything you say,” she said thickly.
“She saved you,” Sonata said resentfully, frowning at Adagio.
Adagio blushed. “She only needed to because Aria was running around behind my back!” she snapped. “Keeping things from me and—“
“I was trying to keep you away from those stones!” Aria hissed waspishly. “You don’t know what you were like with—“
Sunset let out a breath and raised her hands. “Girls, stop,” she said firmly.
Rather to her surprise, all three of them stopped arguing. Even Adagio returned to a moody silence.
“None of you are at fault here. If I’d seen you all for who you really were, if I’d taken into account how mature you all are, perhaps none of this would have happened. But it has. I’ve broken the law, and so now if I stay here, I’ll probably be taken away, and I’ll never see you again.”
All three of them reacted with their varying degrees of dismay. Sonata predictably looked the most devastated, her eyes widening and brimming with tears. Aria’s expression tightened and she looked pale. Even Adagio looked up from her resentful brooding to gave Sunset a surprised look.
“Then... then I want to be taken away too!” Sonata said thickly.
Sunset smiled, feeling her chest warm up. “No, Sonata, I’m not going to be taken away. At least, not if I can help it.”
“You might just be if we don’t—“ Pinkie finished her sentence with some complicated hand gestures towards the door and a significant look.
“I know,” Sunset assured her. Turning back to her children she continued “I have to leave here. I can’t come back. I’ve come to ask if you want to come with me.”
Sonata didn’t bother to answer. She leapt out of the bed, threw her clothes off immediately, and rushed to pull on her colourful green tunic. Adagio didn’t move, but Aria gave Sunset a serious sort of look.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To where I once used to live,” Sunset answered. “To where you three used to live long ago. We’re going to Equestria.”
Adagio gave an unhappy little snort. “Something else you’ve been keeping from us,” she commented acidly.
Sunset pursed her lips. “I didn’t keep that one from you. It just sort of didn’t come up. I didn’t have any plans to go back there, and...” she gave her head a little shake. She knew how weak her words were sounding. She had to get to the point. “I’m inviting you to come there with me.”
“You’ll still be our mommy, right?” Sonata said, pulling nervously at her fingers.
“If you want me to be, yes,” Sunset smiled. “Or you can live with someone else. You’ll be able to choose.”
“But we have to live with someone of course,” Adagio muttered, her lip curling.
“Equestria can be just as dangerous as this world,” Sunset said with a sigh. “Sometimes, even more so. But I promise that I’ll not force you to go anywhere you don’t want to.”
Adagio let out a contemptuous sound that made Sonata scowl.
“Why are you being so mean to her, Adagio?” she demanded, in the closest thing to a serious tone Sunset had ever heard her use. “She saved you, she saved all of us and gave us a home and looked after us.”
“Sonata, don’t,” Aria said warningly, her eyes on Adagio.
“No!” Sonata snapped. “She’s always like this, but Sunset doesn’t deserve it. She’s nice to us and—“
“Shut your stupid mouth!” Adagio bellowed.
Pinkie, who’d been alerted by Sonata’s rising voice, managed to close the door just in time. Sunset and Twilight watched her with wide eyes as Pinkie listened to the wall for signs of alerted occupants from the other rooms.
“Adagio, please keep your voice down!” Twilight pleaded in a loud whisper.
“You think she’s so wonderful and nice,” Adagio sobbed, angry tears forming in her eyes. “But she lied. They always lie! They always want something, and they take everything!”
“What are you—“ Twilight began to ask, looking pale, but Sunset held up a hand. She knew full well what Adagio was talking about.
“If you want to go be her plaything, then you go!” Adagio snarled at Sonata. “I’m sick of it! I’m never going with her, or any of them! I hate them! I hate everyone!”
“But... but why...?” Sonata whimpered, shrinking before Adagio’s rage.
“Sonata, just stop,” Aria said quietly. “You don’t get it.”
“What?” Sonata demanded. “What don’t I get?”
“Don’t talk like you know,” Adagio sneered at Aria, wiping her tears away with clenched fists.
“None of us know what it was like, Adagio” Sunset interceded quickly. “But she knows what was going on. I know what happened to you. And I’m sorry that anyone treated you like that.”
Adagio gritted her teeth and gave Sunset such a venomous look that made Twilight and Pinkie Pie recoil.
“Don’t talk like you know anything,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “What has ever happened to you that was so bad? You have these idiots who like you,” she said, pointing to Twilight and Pinkie. “You know nothing. You have a perfect life but still want to steal from me, and then want me to just come live with you like you could actually be my mom.” Her eyes burned with a determination beyond her years, and she said in a poisonous hiss “I’d rather starve on the streets than go with you.”
With that, she turned resolutely away, her face set in the blackest scowl.
For a moment there was silence. Sonata knelt on the bed, staring at Adagio with slightly wobbling eyes. Even Aria kept her sight downcast, her expression tight. Twilight and Pinkie were watching Sunset, evidently both trying to think of something to say.
Sunset took a deep, trembling breath. What Adagio said had hurt, hurt deeper than almost anything Sunset had felt before. Almost.
It hurt mainly because of the parts that were true. She had stolen from Adagio, betrayed her trust without even realising that was what she was doing, committing the one heinous crime that Adagio seemed incapable of forgiving. And with a past like the one Adagio had, Sunset couldn’t blame her. Not one bit.
“Twilight,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Pass me the shards, please.”
“W-What?” Twilight asked, caught off-guard.
“You have the shards, don’t you? Like I asked.” Sunset asked.
“The... shards?” Twilight repeated. “O-Oh, yes!” She fumbled in her bag for a moment, and then plucked out the little plastic bag of pendant fragments. Holding them, Sunset gazed for a second at the dried blood streaking the interior of the bag. Then she spotted the particular shard she was looking for, distinct in its shape from the rest, and plucked it out carefully with her bandaged fingers so that no skin touched it.
“You’re right, Adagio,” Sunset said wearily. “I did steal from you. I looked at your memories without asking, without even telling you. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I still do to a degree, but I can see that I was wrong. And even though I saw what happened to you, even felt what you were feeling sometimes, I don’t know what you went through. I can’t possibly understand. It’s only fair then that you get to see my worst memory.”
A short silence followed this, broken by Pinkie Pie.
“Wait,” she said quickly. “Sunset, are you going—“ she stopped herself at the look on Sunset’s face.
Sunset’s declaration had been enough to cajole Adagio into consenting to turn around and look at what Sunset was offering her. Sunset held out the shard, still coated in her dried blood to Adagio. Adagio glared at her.
“I don’t want to look at that,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice.
“It’s not your memory,” Sunset assured her. “It’s mine. From a point in my life when I realised that I had nothing.” She paused. “Absolutely nothing. I was alone and pathetic, and for the first time in my life, I knew it.”
Adagio eyed the shard warily. Apparently on an impulse, Pinkie tore a piece of the black clothing she was wearing, and placed it in Adagio’s open hand for Sunset to lay the shard on. For a long moment Adagio stared down at it, clearly uncertain.
“I can’t take back what I did,” Sunset said.
“You think this makes up for it?” Adagio interrupted, the petulance in her voice perhaps a little less than before.
“Adagio, I hope you’ll understand me when I tell you that this isn’t about making us even,” Sunset said solemnly. Adagio blinked. Taking advantage of her silence, Sunset went on. “There’s no making things even between us. I betrayed your trust; nothing I say or give you can make up for that. You hold there the most vulnerable moment in my life. You can do whatever you want with it.”
Sonata stared down at the shard in Adagio’s hand, shining a little in the starlight filtering through the window. Her expression was one of mingled curiosity and fear. Sunset sighed with satisfaction; if Sonata understood the implications here, then—
“Whatever I want,” Adagio said quietly. She looked at Sunset with that familiar look of calculating cynicism. “How do I know this is what you say it is?”
“You’re welcome to look at it,” Sunset prompted. “It’s yours now.”
“Although I wouldn’t if I were you,” Pinkie muttered, unusually cowed.
Adagio paused. “You look at it,” she said suddenly, holding it out to Sonata. Sonata leaned away.
“I don’t wanna!” she gabbled quickly, shooting a nervous look at the shard.
Aria said something fiercely in Ancient Greek that made Sunset and Pinkie blush a little. “Just look at it yourself, Adagio,” she snapped. “You’re such a whiny baby.”
Adagio blanched. “Whiny—“ she began angrily.
“Baby!” Aria jeered scathingly. “If you don’t believe her, then look at it yourself instead of trying to make Sonata do it. What makes you think you can trust what Sonata tells you, anyway?”
“Hey!” Sonata puffed indignantly.
“Yeah, maybe she lied,” Aria went on. “But I don’t remember beardy the creeper taking a bullet for you.”
Adagio glared at Aria for a few seconds, visibly trembling with emotion at this mention of the Ram. Aria stared grimly back. With an impatient snort, Adagio turned away from her.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But this better not be another lie,” she said quickly, directing a look of dire warning at Sunset.
Sunset didn’t reply, but held Adagio’s gaze, determined to give the girl no reason to think that she was lying. At the same time, she felt a little guilty about the nature of the power she’d given Adagio over her. She knew that Adagio didn’t like, or was even afraid of, looking at the memories in the shards, and Sunset couldn’t blame her. A part of Sunset had hoped that Adagio would simply accept what she said, but she knew that wouldn’t happen. Adagio was too smart and too suspicious to simply believe her.
“If this isn’t good,” Adagio said, her hand hovering over the shard.
“Oh just do it already,” Aria groaned, rolling her eyes.
“Or don’t,” Pinkie put in, grimacing.
Adagio scowled, and lowered a single, bare finger, to the blood-encrusted fragment.
Sunset watched Adagio’s expression closely. The memories instantaneously transferred; she knew from her experiments with Twilight. The face was where you saw the initial, gut reaction. To her surprise, Adagio’s expression didn’t change at all. Maybe Sunset’s memory wasn’t the most traumatic experience, but it was at least an eye-opener. Apparently all it made Adagio was thoughtful. She frowned as though confused about something.
“And I can do anything I want with this?” she said, as though continuing a conversation they were just having.
Adagio still didn’t seem entirely convinced, rather to Sunset’s dismay. She looked at everyone in the room in turn, as though trying to catch one of them out, expecting someone to say that it was all a joke, or a trap. When no one did, she fixed her gaze upon the bed sheets, and said in a voice just a bit louder than a whisper
“Fine, I’ll go.” Then she glared up at Sunset and added. “But don’t think this means everything’s okay. I still don’t trust you.”
Explanations with mere words could not adequately convey Sunset’s feelings as they moved as quietly as they could through the hallway to the stairs. Not the least because of the extraordinary buoyancy she was feeling, which she wasn’t sure whether to put down to her elation over getting her children back, or the wooziness of her medication. It had all gone as closely as it could to how she had hoped it would. She didn’t expect instant forgiveness.
“Revitalisation potions will work better than those pills,” Twilight assured her.
They snuck out and to the end of the hallway, Sunset wondering if all the noise they’d been making was just par for the course in this place, since none of the children seemed to have found it suspicious enough to emerge from their rooms and investigate. Things were going so well that Sunset wasn’t really even surprised when Applejack came running up the stairs three at a time.
“We got trouble,” she whispered urgently. “That delivery boy spotted Rainbow stealin’ a pack of cookies from the kitchen.”
“I was not stealing them!” Rainbow said hoarsely, bringing up the rear. “I couldn’t catch him before he drove off. If he called the police, they could be here any minute!”
“So we got to go. Now!” Applejack summarised.
The only thing that stopped Sunset cursing audibly at how slow she was moving was the heady sense of discombobulation in her own brain. She attempted it a few times under her breath, but only managed to make one or two inarticulate grunts that made Twilight ask her what was wrong.
“Can we... you know, door?” she asked doggedly, trying desperately to formulate a sentence through the mist gathering in her mind.
“Yeah we can!” Rainbow announced. Raising a forefinger and thumb in a deliberate fashion, she undid a little catch and turned a small, golden lock on the main double doors. Rarity couldn’t help giving a slight smile of satisfaction for this demure and precise action, which instantly turned to shock and outrage when Rainbow leant back, and kicked the double-doors open like a hero from an action movie.
Rainbow’s grin faltered at the look on Rarity’s face. “What?” she asked defensively.
“Whaaat?” Rainbow demanded as they moved as quickly as they could towards the gate, but Rarity refused to answer.
“Just get in!” Applejack barked, jumping the hood and starting up the car. “If that delivery boy did call the cops, we got minutes before they come after us like fruits bats on an orchard.”
“Oh,” Fluttershy peeped, looking alarmed. “There was a—“
“Give Sunset some space, for goodness sake!” Rarity cried, barring Pinkie’s way.
“Um, I just thought I should tell you all—“ Fluttershy began again.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be at the school in no time,” Pinkie said optimistically. “Ouch! I sat on some of my equipment.”
“But, I think it’s important—“ Fluttershy said, her voice growing higher.
“What equipment?” Rainbow asked, seating herself in one of the middle seats.
“You know,” Pinkie said, reaching her hands into her pockets. “Wire-cutters, aerosol, smoke bombs, trip-wire.” So saying, she produced each item before replacing them in her seemingly bottomless pockets. “And a length of rope,” she finished, lifting her black sweater to show a length of rope crossed over her shoulders, and bright blue and yellow undergarments. Apparently on instinct, Rarity’s hands flew up to cover Aria and Sonata’s eyes.
“A police car went by and I think they might still be close!” Fluttershy announced loudly. She opened her eyes to find the entire car looking at her in amazement. “I-I...” Fluttershy stammered. “Sorry.”
“You only saw it once, right?” Applejack asked after a short pause.
“Yes,” Fluttershy answered meekly.
“And how long ago was it?”
“Umm...”
WEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOO – WEOWEOWEOWEO!!
“Dagnabit!” Applejack swore. With a screech of tires and a thud as Applejack’s boot stomped the pedal to the floor, the rover sped down the street with a great roar of the engine.
“Applejack!” Rarity cried in alarm. “Necessity may be that we need to go fast, but for heaven’s sake, think of the children!”
With no seats left available, Pinkie, Rainbow, and Sonata hadn’t been able to sit. Rainbow’s arm shot out to catch Sonata as inertial forces sped her towards the back seat.
“I got her,” Rainbow assured. “Floor it!”
“No! Don’t floor it!” Rarity shrieked.
“Shat up!” Applejack bellowed, taking a sharp turning at a traffic light. “Shut up, sit down, and let me do the drivin’!” She gave them all a single fierce look over her shoulder that effectively silenced everyone.
After several more hairpin turns however, Sunset didn’t think her stomach could take much more. Nauseous from the medication, she gurgled a little and pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Got a sick bag in your pocket too?” she asked Pinkie, trying to chuckle.
“Yes,” Pinkie said seriously, holding one out.
“I was kidding...” Sunset said, frowning a little.
“Good thinking, Pinkie,” Rarity said thickly, seizing the bag.
“It’s not like I want to be breaking the law here,” Applejack grumbled as they tore down the main street towards the school.
“Go, go!” Rainbow cried, looking through the back window at the red and blue glow behind them. “They’re catching up!”
“I really don’t feel good...” Sunset groaned.
“We’re almost there,” Twilight said, grasping her hand. “I can whip up a healing potion like that.” She attempted to snap her fingers, but merely managed to clumsily rub her middle finger and thumb together. “I think I’ve even got a few lying around in my lab. And the hospital is just—” She continued a steady stream of reassurance that, whilst Sunset was grateful for, Sunset couldn’t focus enough to listen to.
“Sunset?” Adagio said suddenly.
“Yeah?” Sunset replied, looking at the girl.
Adagio sat in the seat next to Sunset, her eyes downcast. She was fingering the shard inside its torn cloth wrapping in an absent sort of way, her expression unusually thoughtful.
“In this...” she began, starting to hold up the shard. Then she seemed to second guess herself and lowered it again. “Do you feel... lonely?”
Sunset was genuinely surprised at the question.
“Oh geez!” Rainbow blurted, as red and blue lights lit up the night sky behind them. “Turn, Ay-Jay! Turn!”
Applejack spun the wheel and they tore into a smaller side-street.
“No, no, no!” Pinkie cried. “This’ll take us over to the industrial sector! We need to turn right!”
“We need to double around, lose the cops!” Rainbow countered.
“We’re breaking the law!” Rarity sobbed, tears ruining her mascara.
“Oh my...” Fluttershy squeaked from the passenger seat.
“No, I’m not lonely,” Sunset answered Adagio, over Rarity’s hysterical crying and Rainbow and Pinkie’s argument.
“Girls! Let Applejack concentrate!” Twilight ordered commandingly.
“But she’s doin’ it wrong!” Rainbow cried in outrage.
Applejack swore the loudest yet, skidding to a halt on a street corner. Sunset felt a lance of pain shoot through her despite her medication and let out a low groan of agony.
“We’re getting to that portal,” Applejack snarled. “We’re getting there, and if any single one of you makes one more noise about mah drivin’, I’m gonna take mah bass and stick it right up your...“ She paused, red-faced, at the looks everyone was giving her.
“Wait, look there!” Twilight said suddenly, pointing ahead.
They all let out gasps and other sounds of irritation. Ahead was the school, its dark silhouette painted against the inky blue night sky. What should have been a solid black and grey facade was tinged by the alternating red and blue of a nearby light steadily flashing somewhere nearby. No siren sounded, and the light did not move away.
“They’re camping the school,” Rainbow said in a hushed voice. “They must know we’re going there!”
“How would they know that?” Rarity asked, hiccupping herself back to her normal voice.
“Nah, the road around the school’s a big intersection,” Applejack said speculatively. “Ah reckon they’re watchin’ all the main roads around here. That’s probably where that one that was followin’ us was goin’.”
“You felt lonely back then,” Adagio prompted.
“I did,” Sunset nodded, smiling a little. “All the time. I just didn’t realise it till then, you know? Until I had friends.”
“And these idio—“ Adagio stopped herself. “Your friends... make you happy?”
“Very much,” Sunset replied.
“And you’re leaving them behind so that we can go live with you?”
Sunset paused here. In short, yes; Adagio was right. Sunset had weighed her choices from the outset, even if she hadn’t realised it, and chosen her children over her friends. She still loved her friends, and it hurt deeply to leave them behind, but...
“I made the choice to take care of you. I knew that, maybe, there would be consequences for it. But it was the right thing to do.” She smiled as earnestly as she could. “I’d never have been able to live with myself knowing I hadn’t tried to help you.”
Adagio stared at her as though none of this made any sense to her. Looking speculative for a moment or two, her eyes slid out and then back into focus. She gave Sunset a haughty look and folded her arms, just like she always did.
“Well don’t worry about it,” she said aloofly, looking out of the window. “I’m going to cause you so much trouble you won’t have time to feel lonely again.”
Sunset started to laugh, but she stopped quickly as she felt the dulled lancing pains in her abdomen.
“Oh,” Adagio said, looking furtively at Sunset’s middle. “I suppose I never did thank you for stopping me getting shot.” She looked up at Sunset, and then down again. She shuffled a little and licked her lips. Sunset stared to see her looking so awkward. “Thanks,” she finally said, forcing the word syllable by syllable through her pressed lips.
“That looked painful,” Aria sneered over the back of her seat, Sonata snickering beside her.
“So does this!” Adagio roared, aiming a badly-judged back-hand at Aria’s face. Aria ducked, letting Adagio’s fingers swipe into Sonata’s open mouth. Whilst Sonata burst into a fit of high-pitched whining, Adagio reached over the chair trying to reach Aria.
“Just let them work it out,” Sunset said weakly, feeling tired.
“Okay, fine!” Rainbow yelled, throwing her arms up. “What do we do then? We can’t just stay on this corner forever. It doesn’t matter that they can’t see us if Sunset and the kids don’t get...” She cleared her throat. “If they don’t get to the thing, you know.”
Sunset looked suddenly at Rainbow, but the athlete avoided her eye. She hesitated.
“Are you guys okay?” she asked.
This question brought about a determined round of not-answering.
“We get that what ya’ll are doin’ is right, sugarcube,” Applejack said eventually. “It’s just...” She scratched her head and looked around as though asking someone mutely to help her.
“What Applejack means is that we support your decision,” Rarity said quickly. “But... we’re still going to miss you.” She tugged awkwardly at her fingers. “We might never see you again.”
“We’ll still visit sometimes,” Twilight assured, trying to inject some positive thought into the occasion. “Once the heat has died down a little.”
This seemed to cheer everyone up a little bit. Whilst none of them could be said to be happy about it, they did manage to give each other reassured smiles.
“Well, there’s only one thing for it,” Pinkie said with a dramatic sigh. “Sunset and the kids will just have to run for it. None of you guys can be seen without our alibi going out the window.”
“Maybe, darling,” Rarity said giving Pinkie a raised eyebrow. “But Sunset can’t run. She can barely even walk. No offense, dear.”
“None taken,” Sunset groaned, clutching her middle.
Pinkie Pie sighed hugely, and everyone in the vehicle instinctively braced themselves for a hard slap of Pinkie-logic.
“Well duh,” she began, sounding as exasperated as a scientist trying to explain why the theory of gravity is still just a theory. “Obviously I’m going to go with her and act as a distraction.”
“Obviously,” Rainbow Dash mumbled sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“The pink one is coming to live with us?” Adagio asked warily.
“Of course not!” Pinkie chuckled, patting Adagio’s head. “It’s just that I have the mask and dark clothes so no one can recognise me. I’m just going to make sure you get to the magic statue so you can go live in pony-land with your mom.” She paused. “Come to think of it, won’t you be arrested there too?” she asked Sunset.
“No, I sorted that out with Princess Celestia ages ago,” Twilight said, waving an airy hand. “I wrote ahead to my friends to find you four a house too.” Humble though Twilight was, she didn’t seem able to stop herself pausing for someone to recognise her forward-thinking generosity. Unfortunately the first person to speak was Adagio, who whispered in Sunset’s ear whilst glaring suspiciously at Pinkie.
“The pink one disturbs me.”
Final good-byes were not something Sunset ever felt comfortable with. Outside of Applejack’s land rover in the shadow of a tall office block, everyone gave her one last light hug, to Twilight, and each of her three children. Sonata hugged everyone back with great enthusiasm, and even Aria at least put on a pretend smile and hugged everyone back. Adagio received the hugs in huffy fashion, and possibly recognising this, Rainbow and Applejack instead clapped her on the back.
“Don’t forget to write, guys,” Sunset said, grinning, as Twilight passed her the journal.
“You’re giving us your magic book?” Pinkie asked in wonderment, as she ran a hand over the embossed cutie mark on the cover.
“Well yeah,” Sunset said with a twisted sort of smile. “I don’t think Equestria has much mobile reception.”
“Fair point,” Pinkie sniffed. “Rarity, catch.”
“What?” Rarity asked, and then shrieked as the heavy book sailed through the air at her. “Pinkie Pie! Be more careful!” she cried in a hoarse whisper. “What if that had hit my face? Or chipped one of my nails?”
“Oh, yes, whatever would we do?” Applejack asked, just loud enough for Rainbow to hear her. Rainbow tried to hold in a snort, but it shot out her nose.
Sunset watched her friends, potentially for the last time. She was glad to see them as they were, as they had always been. She didn’t want to remember them looking unhappy at her leaving, or any of the other sad emotions associated with her going away.
“We’ll see you guys soon I hope,” Sunset said to them all.
“Yeah. I’m sure the heat will die down soon enough,” Rainbow said blithely. “They must have better things to do than chase you four around.”
“I think what Rainbow means to say is that they’re very busy people,” Fluttershy put in, sensing the implied insult.
“We’ll keep you abreast of everything,” Rarity said with a watery smile, giving the book a shake. “Keep in touch, won’t you?”
Assuring Rarity the longest possible messages back daily, Sunset chivvied her children ahead of her, Pinkie pulling her balaclava down and edging unnecessarily across the wall like a ninja, with Twilight bringing up the rear.
Sunset felt her friend’s eyes on her, but she did not look back. Ahead of them the siren lights were still flashing, illuminating the black faces of the buildings with colourful light. If there was a policeman, they would need Pinkie to prevent them from halting their escape; they’d have to walk dead set into the middle of the street, in perfect view of anyone watching.
Sunset’s pace had already slowed to a near crawl, leaning on the crutch. Either the meds were wearing off, or working better than ever before. Her head was all but swimming, and the dull general ache in her body had grown like a parasite sapping her strength. Twilight helped her along, whispering caution and encouragement, and her children all watched her with varying degrees of concern.
Pinkie let out a gasp that made Sunset and Twilight jump. “The car is empty!” she exclaimed in the loudest stage whisper. “How perfect is that?”
“It’s next to a bakery,” Twilight reported, peering around the corner.
“Like in the movies!” Pinkie squealed.
“So much for the attentiveness of the men and women in blue,” Sunset muttered to herself. “Let’s go before they come out.”
They made it across the street and to the edge of the school grounds. Just as they crossed the limit, Sunset’s wound sent a wave of nausea through her as the dull ache shattered a layer of numbness and revealed the hidden stabbing pain beneath. Twilight gasped and bent down with Sunset as the latter fell to one knee.
“What’s wrong?” Sonata asked, both hands held up in front of her in a worried gesture.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Sunset said automatically without thinking. The pain was intensely distracting. “I just... could you guys give me a boost?”
Twilight and Pinkie pulled her up under her arms and hoisted her upright. Just to be helpful, Sonata uncertainly picked up the fallen crutch and hovered around looking worriedly into Sunset’s face.
“Twilight, does Sunset look pale to you?” Pinkie asked through her mask.
“Pale?” Twilight frowned.
“You know: less colour, whiter, face losing blood.”
Twilight reached back and pulled Sunset’s T-shirt up. She didn’t say anything, which made Sunset ask what was wrong.
“Nothing getting to Equestria faster won’t fix,” Twilight said in a false-cheery voice.
“Whoa...” Aria said, her face a curious mix of terror and wonder as she peered at whatever Twilight had seen.
“Come on, we’re almost there,” Twilight said desperately. “Pinkie, help me! The Ponyville hospital isn’t that far from—“
“Hey!” called a new voice.
Sunset’s heart leapt in her chest. She heard Twilight swear quietly as a beam of light flashed across them, blinding Sunset’s vision.
“What are you kids doing out this late?” asked the voice. “And... and what in the world are you wearing?”
“What?” Pinkie asked innocently, sidestepping in front of Sunset. “I’m Black Bart. Have you never been to a fancy dress party?”
Peering over Twilight and Pinkie’s shoulders, Sunset saw a policeman holding up a torch at them. He scowled.
“Black Bart the stagecoach robber?” said the evidently well-read officer. “You look nothing like him.”
“It’s a modern interpretation,” Pinkie said in mock-exasperation.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” the policeman said menacingly. “What are you doing on these grounds? It’s the middle of the night.”
“We’re just...“ Twilight said, apparently automatically. She seemed distracted by the policeman raising the torch to get a better look at Sunset. His brows narrowed.
“Hey, aren’t you—“ he began.
He got no further. Before Pinkie could so much as squeak “Hey!” Adagio thrust her hand into her pocket, and pulled something out. Raising her hand up high, she brought it sailing down through the air. The next thing Sunset knew, she was surrounded by a thick layer of purple smoke that billowed around them all like escaping gas. Coughing, she saw Twilight’s dark form near her step back and fall over with a scream.
“What the—!“ the policeman exclaimed, turning his torch this way and that. “Oof!” he grunted.
“You’ll never catch me, copper!” Pinkie cried through the cloud.
“How dare— Get back here!” the officer shouted.
Sunset trudged forward. Pinkie was trying to lead the policeman away, and they had to take advantage of this chance. She took a step forward and nearly tripped over Twilight, who was picking herself up. Too late Sunset stopped herself letting out a sound of uncertainty as she tried to maintain her balance. She heard a swishing sound, and suddenly felt a heavy blow strike her shoulder. She felt herself collapse over Twilight onto the grass and tasted blood in her mouth.
“Don’t you hit my mommy!” Sunset heard Sonata cry shrilly.
The policeman didn’t quite say “What the—“ but it was a close run thing. Sunset vaguely heard the sound of sandaled feet rush past her, and then the wild yell of someone being bitten in an unguarded area. A second small figure rushed by in the thinning smoke, whilst a third leaned down next to her.
“Come on,” Adagio whispered. “Where are we going?”
“It’s this way,” Twilight hissed back. “Into the side of that statue.”
“What?” Adagio asked, blankly.
“Just help me get Sunset there, I’ll show you,” Twilight muttered quickly. “Sunset, are you—“
Sunset felt her lungs seize up, and she coughed wetly into her sleeve. “Well that’s... not good,” Sunset rasped, seeing dark stains blurring in front of her.
“Aria, Sonata, come on!” Adagio cried.
“Hey! Stop ignoring me!” Pinkie voice cried out.
“Are you all crazy?” the policeman cried in frustration. “Who actually has smoke bombs?”
“How do you... know what a smoke bomb is?” Sunset asked Adagio as she and Twilight half dragged her to the statue.
“The games I downloaded on your laptop,” Adagio replied succinctly. “Noobs never use them properly.”
Sunset tried to laugh, but it cost too much. The cloud of smoke had more-or-less dispersed; the policeman was now between a fleeing Pinkie Pie, and the statue, being taunted by Pinkie and still pummelled by Aria and Sonata.
“Aria, Sonata...” Sunset called.
“Try not to talk so much,” Twilight begged her, hauling her towards the statue’s base. “Your wound is open, you’re bleeding!”
Adagio called out in Greek. “You two get your butts over her!”
Leaving the policeman unsure who to follow, Aria sprinted over, followed closely by Sonata who spat out a wad of blue material from the policeman’s sleeve.
“Just follow me,” Twilight instructed them, pressing her hand to the stone. The surface rippled, and Twilight’s hand sank in. “Come on!” she cried, giving Sonata a shove between the shoulder blades.
“Hey, stop!” the officer barked, deciding to go for them. “What are you doing?”
Sonata tripped into the portal, letting out a cry that was swiftly cut off as she sank out of the human world. With a determined look on her face, Aria leapt after her, and before the shocked policeman could exclaim in wonder, Twilight, Sunset, and Adagio disappeared with her.
For a moment, the officer considered trying to follow them. Picking up his fallen truncheon, he looked back at his car, and considered. On tap, he decided it wasn’t worth it, and made the short trek back to his cruiser.
“Marge would never forgive me,” he muttered, as thoughts of getting lost in between dimensions floated through his head.
On the other side of said between-dimensions, Sunset landed on all-fours to find Sonata flat on her face on what looked like a crystal floor, and Aria wobbling around as though unsure of how to work her limbs. Sonata’s dusky blue foal body still seemed to be instinctually trying to use only it back legs to walk, since she was progressively moving forward with her face sliding against the floor, her front legs dragging behind her.
“Wow!” Sonata cried out of the corner of her mouth. “Thing is, I kind of remember being a pony. ”
“I know what you mean,” Aria said, managing to stand up straight. She planted her short pink legs like a heroic statue, her tongue sticking out with effort. “I can remember things better, and...” she paused. “We were ponies then. And that woman who we stole the cakes from was a sheep.”
“She totally was,” Sonata said reminiscently, hitting a table leg. “And the old priest guy was a goat. You’re cute as a pony, Aria.”
“Shut up.”
“Spike!” Twilight cried. “Spike!”
The shout echoed loudly through the crystalline room, echoing down what sounded like miles of endless corridors beyond.
“We’re not in a labyrinth are we?” Adagio asked, just now realising that she had Sunset partially on her back rather than on her shoulder as she had done before entering the portal. “What is this place?”
“This is Equestria,” Sunset managed. “We’re in... Twilight’s...” She stopped, feeling her breaths coming less frequently. It was becoming harder to... to...
Sunset belatedly felt the impact of something hard and cold like a pane of glass slam into her. Her blurring vision informed her that she was on the floor, and that it wasn’t it that had hit her, but her that had hit it.
“Sunset!” Twilight’s voice cried. Odd, it sounded to Sunset as though she had cork stuck in her ears.
“N-No!” shrieked another voice close at hand. “Make her better!”
“Spike!”
Sunset stopped listening. It seemed to her like just a mess of inarticulate noise, and she found that she really didn’t care enough to listen to it anymore. Instead, she found it far more agreeable to settle into the closing darkness. Maybe she’d sleep it off. But she couldn’t help thinking, as this feeling like relief swept over her, that she was leaving something unfinished.
Twenty Years Later
“She won’t come,” Aria said blithely from between her teeth, setting down the tray of drinks. “She never does. I don’t know why you hold out hope every year.”
“She has to come,” Sonata said, scowling. “She doesn’t have any excuses this time.”
“And I thought that you knew her,” Aria sighed, handing her mother a glass of lemonade.
“Thank you, Aria,” Sunset said. Levitating the glass and taking a sip of it, she smiled at her children. “Come now, she’s a busy pony. She has a lot of responsibilities to live up to.”
“Yeah, but not now,” Sonata objected. “She’s off work for the next week!”
“She’ll use the time to cosy up to ponies she knows,” Aria said in a disgusted tone, flopping down on the sofa next to Sonata. “She needs to. Occupational hazard of politics. Especially in a big town like Baltimare. It’s frankly a testament to how ruthless and evil she is that she’s kept her position as long as she has.”
“I do wish you children would get along better,” Sunset said with a dramatic sigh. “You do your mother such pain to hear you say such things about each other.”
“We visit you all the time,” Sonata said sulkily. “Or I do anyway.”
“Shut up, Sonata,” Aria snapped. “You know I have to travel a lot.”
“How come you never interview me, Aria?” Sonata asked suddenly. “You go all over Equestria asking ponies I’ve never heard of stuff no one cares about—“
“As soon as you do anything remotely interesting, Sonata, I’ll be sure to cover it. Until then, I think I’ll stick to actual news.”
“Thank you for the new extrapolator, Aria” Sunset said quickly before Sonata started puffing up like a balloon. “It’s just what I wanted. My old one can’t tell the difference between transparency and holistic transcendence anymore.”
“You hint at things a little too well,” Aria said with a sly smile.
Sunset drank a little lemonade to stop her children seeing the smile on her own face. “And thank you for that—“
“Perfectly useless,” Aria muttered.
“—book of recipes, Sonata,” Sunset finished, levitating the book in question. The cover, which was a bright pink, had a goofy picture of Sonata in a chef’s hat raising both of her hooves whilst food and ingredients literally exploded around her, as though someone had taken a picture of Sonata in the midst of the mother of all food fights.
“All my favourite recipes,” Sonata grinned. “I’ll come over and make some of them since you’re always so busy at the school.”
“Teaching idiots must be tiring,” Aria agreed.
“Aria,” Sunset said warningly. “Be nice.”
“Fine, fine,” Aria said hastily, recognising the danger signs. “Teaching criminally inept—“
“You’re not too young for me to put you over my leg, young filly,” Sunset interrupted.
Sonata laughed. Aria merely smirked at the knowing smile on her mother’s face.
A loud knock at the door interrupted Sonata’s laughing. All rather surprised, they turned to look at the door, unsure if they’d actually heard something.
“Come in, the door is unlocked,” Sunset called after a brief pause.
The door clicked, and swung open. The white facades of the Canterlot buildings beyond reflected the harsh light of day a hundred times, and at first none of them could see who it was that stood there. Then a cold, familiar voice said
“So, what have you two been saying about me?”
Adagio’s smugness couldn’t have been more pronounced. The slightly narrowed eyes behind her square spectacles, the slightly upturned corner of the mouth, and the slightly upturned position of her head made Sonata blush, and Aria roll her eyes as an excuse to look away.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, her purple jabot swinging a little at her neck as the golden mayoral pin affixed to it flashed in the light. “It’s good to see you two numbskulls again, too,” she said with the merest inflection of a laugh.
“See, I told you she was coming,” Sonata said to Aria, as Adagio passed them by.
“How’s this for a title to an article?” Aria asked of no one in particular, raising a hoof to trace imaginary words in the air. “Worst Chef in Equestria: Sonata Dusk. I like it. It’s snappy. I just have to find a story to match.”
“You better not!” Sonata cried, hopping up on the couch seat.
Sunset smiled warmly at her eldest daughter. Adagio looked back at her with an unfathomable twinkle in her eye, and then smiled too.
“Welcome home, Adagio,” Sunset said.
“Happy Birthday, mom,” Adagio replied, pulling a present out of her saddlebag.
