Black whispers from the core of a great, long-forgotten diamond caress Spike's mind with promises of the one thing he desires most of all: Rarity.
Blackness whispers within the core of the great diamond, forgotten by those old enough to remember. For centuries, it cried out from within its earthen tomb, too faint for any to hear. With the fall of Lord Tirek, the magic he had stolen surges across Equestria.
The diamond thrums, resonating with the untold energy. Its voice caresses Spike's unsuspecting mind, begging him to seek out the artifact and allow it to transform his deepest desire into reality.
Breath escaped Spike's throat in a strained whoosh as he set an industrial-size wooden crate on the floor in front of him. The resulting thud echoed throughout the cavernous oval-shaped, four-story room made of purple and pink crystal, save for the green stained glass windows and teal bookshelves lining most of the walls. He stood in the room’s centre and flexed his tiny, aching arms.
Twilight Sparkle, sat at a small round table in the centre of the would-be library. She looked up from a lengthy scroll that Spike strongly suspected was a checklist. “Are you sure you don't need help with those?”
Spike suppressed a wince. “I'll be fine.” The box was taller than him, and he had to dig his claws into it to reach high enough to pry the lid off. He hoisted himself to the top, and rows of book spines met his eyes. “Hoboy, this is gonna be fun...”
“I know. I'm so excited!” Twilight said, taking flight and hovering above him. “I'll always miss Golden Oak, but this new library will be second only to the archives in Canterlot and the Crystal Empire.”
The crate Spike stood on held a few hundred books, but the shelves before him looked like they could hold dozens of crates’ worth. “Do we really need to shelve the entire library before anything else? Couldn't we at least set up the kitchen first? Or the fridge?”
Twilight swooped back to her scroll and skimmed the first few lines. “When Tirek blew up Golden Oak, Ponyville was left without its library. Ponyville can't not have a library!”
“And we can't not have food.”
Twilight's stomach rumbled in agreement. “Well... there's always the Hayburger.”
“Speak for yourself. They don't serve gemstones.”
Magenta magic pulled the books from the crate, sending Spike somersaulting off it. His rump hit the ground with a thud, and the books landed in three neat stacks, too gently to make a sound.
“Hey! Could you not throw me off the crate next time?”
“Sorry.” Twilight magicked six more stacks from the crate, setting them next to the other three, and then replaced the lid. “Complaining about food won't make this shelving go any faster. We can grab a bite to eat after we get through this crate. How does that sound?”
“The Hayburger still doesn't serve gemstones.” Spike grabbed the book atop the closest stack.
“We'll set up the kitchen as soon as we're done with the library,” Twilight said. “I promise. Our friends haven't gotten a proper look at the castle yet, and once they can browse the library and have a nice snack from the kitchen, I'll be able to invite them over!”
“Well, thank Celestia she set up her own bed before we started this,” Spike muttered under his breath.
“Okay,” Twilight said, glancing at the book in Spike's hands, “tier two, shelf three.”
Tier two meant the second set of shelves from the top. This, of course, was several times Spike's height. He sighed and folded his arms, giving Twilight a bemused frown.
A pink tinge appeared on her cheeks. “Maybe we should also buy a ladder while we get lunch.”
Spike grumbled and dragged his feet toward the third section of shelves. At least climbing would require his arms to lift substantially less weight than the book crate he had just hauled.
Just before he could reach the shelves, his body went rigid as if petrified. The book fell from his claws with a thump. If Twilight had said anything, Spike did not hear. He could feel nothing, nor control his body; it was as if an invisible blast of magic had lanced through his temple, overloading his brain. For a moment, all he saw was a beautiful white mare, with her blue and purple mane in elegant curls giving him a broad, half-lidded smile.
“I... I have to go,” Spike finally said. The book lay at his feet, open halfway and forgotten. He turned and marched like an automaton toward the door.
“Well, okay, I suppose we could take a break now. Where are you—” Twilight had to step out of the way, and he seemed willing to walk right through her.
“I'll be back sometime later.” A listless monotone had replaced Spike's usual perky voice.
“Spike, what's wrong?”
“Need some fresh air,” he said without looking back. Finding words was a challenge; something called not just to him, but his entire consciousness like a mental magnet. A tiny part of him wondered if the stress of Tirek nearly destroying his friends, his home being blown to cinders, and the monumental task of not just having to settle into a new house, but an entire castle, had just hit him all at once.
Whether it was that that had called to him, be it his own mind or something else, it made him think of not just Rarity, but her melting in his arms. He opened the library door and set off toward his promised land, pausing only to grab a brown haversack from the pile of assorted luggage in the castle's vast entrance hall.
* * *
A short while later, Spike arrived at his destination. He stood not at the entrance to the Carousel Boutique, but in the middle of the badlands, above the home of the Diamond Dogs. As he had approached this particular patch of the arid landscape, he noticed numerous holes created by the locals—he even recognized the one they had ponynapped Rarity in—but this patch of wasteland looked conspicuously undisturbed.
Spike paused and surveyed the land around him. The calling grew stronger. Rarity appeared before him again, cradling something he could not see. She set it down, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips. She leaned toward him, drawing closer. Spike's arms reached forward to embrace her neck...
They closed around thin air, and Rarity vanished in a puff of disillusionment. He sighed and gazed at his empty palms. “What am I doing here?”
He kept his hands open in front of him like they cradled something precious. And large. Realization snapped into place in his mind. A gem lay buried somewhere beneath him, a gem whose value Equestria had not seen in hundreds of years. A gem somehow undiscovered by the Diamond Dogs. Rarity, the personification of beauty and glamour, would be just as enthralled as he if she laid eyes on it.
Spike dove toward the earth, claws churning. If his arms were stiff or sore from lifting the crates of Twilight's books, it did not impede him as he gouged a sizable hole in the span of a few minutes.
As he dug, gems flew past his head, glinting in the sunlight amidst the soil. Spike paid them no mind; compared to the gem calling to him, they were no more valuable than the dirt they lay in. Any hunger Spike had felt earlier disappeared, and the gems did not remind him he had not yet eaten that day.
Clink. He looked up. The hole looked like a crater, and he had dug as deep as he could, for he could not break through solid bedrock. “If it isn't in this hole, then I'll just dig another.”
Sweat dampened the otherwise dry soil as Spike clambered out. As was usually the case with the badlands, especially in the summer, the pegasi allowed almost no clouds to block the sun. It made the air scorching and heavy. Spike realized just how hot it was, now that he had paused his mindless digging.
When he regained the surface, he took several paces, wiped his forehead, and took several deep breaths. “This ain't gonna dig itself.” And he was off again, tearing at the earth by the chunk. I should be tired by now, he reflected, but the only thing his exertions drained were his free thoughts. Any fatigue, doubt, or pain he might have felt poured out of his body along with his sweat.
Before long, he had bottomed out once again, coming up against bedrock. Dirt caked his scales. He could not think anymore. Longing for the gem and the gift it promised were the only things on his mind, leaving room for nothing else. All he could do was continue to dig. The holes blurred together in his vision. The angle of the sun shining into his eyes was his only concept of the passage of time. No matter how furiously he dug, the result was the same. Spike climbed from his latest dig site and staggered as if intoxicated. What was once an untouched section of land now resembled the aftermath of a meteor shower.
Sensations hit him all at once: His arms were jelly from overuse; his skull split from dehydration; his claws felt chipped down to nothing; and his legs and back burned from so much bending over. He fell on his tail, his vision growing hazy.
The ground rumbled.
Pebbles danced around Spike. “Huh? What's going—?” Thunder roared in the cloudless sky. I must be going nuts, Spike thought. The earth shook again and fissured in front of him. A beam of jet black energy shot from the crack like steam from a geyser. The beam stretched into the sky, forming a pillar that drew Spike's gaze as high as it would go.
And then it vanished. An object glinted in the sunlight. Spike's eyes locked onto it as it began to fall to earth. He could not make out what it was other than a black speck—a blot of ink against the sky's blue canvas. It hurtled toward him, but he did not move. It looked like a small comet, something that was once big and mighty, reduced to a pebble from entry into the atmosphere.
Spike's hands extended. The object landed in his palms with a soft plop. His jaw fell open, his pupils dilated. In his hands, he held the biggest diamond he had ever seen. It was the size of his head, and had more facets than he cared to count, each cut to perfection with craftsmanship worthy of the Crystal Empire.
But most remarkable of all, this diamond was jet-black. It radiated a bizarre anti-light, the same light that had erupted from the ground moments ago. Spike knew he had found what he sought. He gazed into it like a crystal ball. An even deeper blackness swirled at its core.
“This... this is unreal,” said Spike.
Oh, I am very real, Spike the dragon.
Spike's head snapped up. “Huh? What? Who's there?”
Do not be afraid, my dear Spike. I am your friend. I have waited a long time for you. The feminine voice must have come from the diamond, but Spike heard it from somewhere in the back of his mind. Its tones were laden with honey so sweet Spike could taste it. Yet beneath the soft overtones, sharp, confident annunciation gave the words power. Although he could not see the speaker, he knew her voice could only belong to a young mare, not beautiful in the way Rarity was, but more regal and perhaps mysterious.
“Help me with... her?” He raised the diamond to his lips and whispered the last word into it. As he did so, it emitted subtle wisps of blackness that curled into his nostrils and mouth, unnoticed.
But of course. She is as beautiful as the stone from which I was hewn. A worthy prize for someone as noble and brave as you.
Spike's head gave a mechanical nod. The air around him was still, and a heavy silence had fallen on the badlands.
You have waited long enough. Now your lifetime of servitude has come to an end. The diamond filled Spike's vision until he could see nothing else. Anything—and anypony—you desire will be yours...
* * *
The diamond thrummed within the haversack clutched in Spike's trembling claws. They did not tremble with nerves, but anticipation, excitement. He stood in front of the entrance to the Carousel Boutique. The sun had almost set, and it was surely past closing, but he knew Rarity would still be hard at work.
If his stroll through Ponyville had been eventful, he did not notice. He had only paused to take a quick dip in the fountain at the centre of town. Spike only needed to devote the tiniest fraction of his consciousness to a task as menial as walking; instead of the town's worn cobblestones, its outdated tacky houses, its bumbling citizens, he saw Rarity, the embodiment of beauty itself.
Rarity, the diamond buried within the heap of grimy, worthless rocks—the lone platinum ingot among countless bars of fool's gold. She was a prize unattainable by even Equestrian royalty, but Spike lacked the slightest doubt. When he walked, he felt like a disembodied observer watching himself automatically performing the act while he entertained himself with the thoughts of how exactly he would court Rarity.
Would he take her on a grand, sweeping tour of the Equestrian countryside, or would they enjoy an urban getaway in only the most upscale of resorts in Manehattan, Phillydelphia, and Vanhoover? Spike's face locked itself into a haughty grin. His steady hand closed around the Boutique's doorknob with a confident grip, and he let himself in without bothering to knock.
Rarity sat amidst a sewing machine and bolts of fabrics, hard at work on some dress or other. She was too absorbed in the intricacies of her latest design to notice his arrival. Spike squared his shoulders and straightened his back. He put on his most stoic expression and cleared his throat.
Rarity's head snapped up. “Spike?”
“Why hello there, fair Lady Rarity,” he said. “You look positively ravishing today—like always.” A part of Spike knew these words were not his own, but he did not care; the diamond had promised him Rarity, and he could do nothing but trust it. How could it be wrong?
Rarity moved her head back slightly, and her mouth opened a little. A pink tinge gathered in her cheeks. “Spike?” she repeated after taking a moment to collect herself. “Are you feeling all right? You... don't seem like yourself.”
Spike grinned inwardly. “I haven't been myself since we met. On that day, I was incomplete—incomplete without you, a crown without jewels.”
Rarity covered her mouth with a forehoof, but it was not to conceal laughter. Her defences were lowered. Spike knew the time to strike was now. “Allow me to give you something no one else ever has: a gift worthy of somepony as radiant as you.” He knelt and presented the haversack to Rarity.
She cocked her head and stared at it. “W-what's in the bag?”
Like a molting spider, the sack fell open without Spike's help. The diamond filled the room with its eerie anti-light. It thrummed in his open palms. The strange non-illumination danced over Rarity and Spike's features. A wisp of the blackness at its core drifted from one of its facets and curled around Rarity's head. Unnoticed by her, tufts of the fume seeped into her ears and nostrils.
“Why, Spike... this is—this is—”
The two stared at the diamond as if it were the spark of all life itself that Spike cradled in his palms.
“The greatest gem in all of Equestria,” said Spike.
Rarity inhaled sharply. “Not even Canterlot's finest jewelers could fathom such perfection.” She leaned so close, her muzzle almost touched it. Her eyes shot wide open. “These cuts are simply exquisite, and there is not so much as the tiniest of nicks out of place. And the colour! I didn't know diamonds could be as black as this. Spike, darling, this is incredible!”
“It may not be as incredible as you, but it's the closest thing I could find.” Spike laid the sweetness on thick, just like the diamond had done when it spoke to him.
“And it's...?”
“All yours.”
Rarity pried her eyes away from the diamond to gaze into Spike's. “Oh, darling, this must be worth an absolute fortune, if you can even put a price on something like this. How can I possibly accept such a gift?”
“To me, you're more valuable than any diamond ever could be—even this one.”
“Oh, Spikey-wikey!”
Before Spike knew it, Rarity was on top of him, planting kisses everywhere she could find. His head felt hotter than it had in the blistering sun. His arms had wrapped themselves around Rarity, his hands caressing her. He had not heard the diamond clatter to the floor when it left his grasp.
Spike floated in a blissful, dizzy haze. His most wild daydreams did nothing to prepare him for this. Finally, after two agonizing years, Rarity, his ultimate prize, was finally in his possession. As she kissed and nuzzled him, he knew how right it felt. The feelings Spike had felt and been dying to express since he had met her had now smitten her. She, the most beautiful mare in Equestria, was rightfully his.
A giddy smile played across Rarity's muzzle. She paused her affections to catch her breath. “Oh, Spike, most wonderful of dragons! This diamond—” The diamond had somehow ended up atop a pile of silk on a table several feet away. “—will be the centrepiece in a design the likes of which Equestria has never seen. I shall be the greatest fashionista to have ever lived! Celebrities—no—nobles—will line up, begging to be the first to have a personalized dress crafted by moi!”
Spike ran a finger through the curls of Rarity's mane. “For you, there's no doubt it'll happen. It's destiny.”
“Mmm,” Rarity purred. “Say, it's quite late. Were you digging all day?”
Spike nodded.
“You poor dear! You must be famished.” Rarity eased herself off him and stood. She offered him a forehoof. He delicately took it and climbed back to his feet. “You ought to have dinner and spend the night.”
Spike pretended to consider it for a few seconds. “Well, I think that should wait until tomorrow. See, Twilight's in the middle of moving into the castle, and—”
“Oh.” Rarity stared at Spike's feet, half-squinting. Her lips trembled. “I understand. Knowing her, she wants to be moved in as fast as possible and has each day planned down to the minute. It must be so hard for the both of you after what happened to Golden Oak.”
Spike tucked a hand under her muzzle and gently eased her head up until she looked him in the eye again. Her ears still drooped. “It's a change, but I think she'll like it more in her castle in the end. The library's huge. Very huge. Spike-break-your-back-climbing-fifty-feet-to-the-highest-bookshelf huge. It'll probably be a year before we're done stocking it.”
“I see,” Rarity said. “If you ever need help, I'd be happy to.”
A sly grin quirked Spike's face. “How about this? Come tomorrow at around lunch time. We can go on that date, and you can rescue me from Twilight. This way, I can do some work so she doesn't get too upset.” And, Spike thought, this will only make her want me more. I bet she kisses better after she's been squirming for awhile.
Rarity giggled. “Lunch it is. Edward and I will be counting down the minutes.”
“Edward?”
Light-blue magic whisked the diamond to Rarity's cheek. She nuzzled it. “Why, this lovely diamond, of course.”
Spike scratched the back of his head. “Uh, I think that diamond is a she.”
“What makes you say that?” She caressed and patted the diamond's smooth top. Her hoof made a satisfying clacking sound against the broad facet.
“You'll see what I mean.”
They said their goodbyes, and Rarity gave Spike a final kiss on the cheek. He half-strutted, half-floated out the Carousel Boutique's door. When it shut behind him, he wondered what he would dream about every night now that his greatest one had just come true.
Twilight paced around her new library. Three empty book crates were stacked in the corner. She kept telling herself not to worry about Spike, that he needed some time to deal with the stress of losing his old home and moving into a new one. Deep in the rhythm of consulting her checklist, finding the referenced book, and placing it on its corresponding shelf—sometimes by magic, sometimes manually for exercise—Twilight had for a while found it easy to put Spike at the back of her mind. But now that it was almost dark, she could not wait any longer.
“Maybe it's worse than I thought,” she said to the empty room. “Thought, thought, thought,” her echo said. Twilight flinched. She had not realized how empty the castle could feel without her friends.
Twilight ruffled her feathers and looked toward the door. Spike might be in a worse way than she thought, and she had to check on him. Her hooves clopped on the crystal floor as she cantered toward the door, already forming a mental checklist of the most obvious places to look for him.
Before she could reach it, the door flew open, and Spike strutted in. Twilight immediately knew he was not the same dragon who had left the castle that afternoon. Something about how he walked seemed off. His gait radiated an arrogance that reminded her of Trixie or Sunset Shimmer.
Considering his size, the way Spike swaggered about—all that was missing was a diamond-tipped golden cane—swaying his arms and body this way and that would have been comical if it had not been so sincere. “Sorry, Twilight,” he said with palpable sarcasm. “I'd have been back earlier, but I hadn't eaten all day, so I stopped at the Hayburger.”
Twilight arched an eyebrow. “But I thought you didn't like the Hayburger.”
“Eh, what can I say? I needed some junk food to celebrate.”
If Spike was not so sure of himself, Twilight would have been sure he had come unhinged. “Celebrate what? I thought you needed fresh air.”
Spike shrugged. “Well, I had to say something to get out of this stuffy castle and the slave labour you call stocking shelves. Why make me climb when you can just use magic? Honestly.”
Numbness crept into Twilight's legs. Spike's words were the last things she expected to hear. “What in Equestria are you talking about? We're a team, and this is a big job. I did a lot of the work by myself because you walked out on me, and I only operated at about thirty-five percent efficiency without your help. We're a team, Spike. Magic or not, I need you. Now snap out of this... this... whatever this is!”
Spike leaned against a table and gave an exaggerated yawn, batting at his open mouth. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Nice ladder, by the way. It's about as useless as I am around here, considering you've got wings and all.”
“Look, I know times have been hard recently,” Twilight said in the calmest tone she could manage. She sat beside him. “I can understand if you're feeling frustrated. To be honest, I'm making getting this library up and running such a high priority because it's all I can do to not feel too horrible about what happened to Golden Oak. I feel like it's my fault; Tirek was attacking me, after all. If I didn't teleport where I did, the library might be still standing. The least I can do is this.” She gestured at the sparsely shelved walls.
“Yeah, well you do that.” Spike stretched and made his way to the bedchambers. “Meanwhile, I've got a date tomorrow afternoon. That's all that matters now.”
“A date?” In a flash of magenta, Twilight disappeared and rematerialized in front of Spike with a magical pop! “With who?”
Spike laughed. “Why, with—”
The door behind them burst open.
“Rarity?” Twilight said.
With a snort, Rarity galloped into the library and skidded to a halt at the nearest table. She wore saddlebags, and dozens of hairs stuck out of her mane at odd angles.
“There's my lady! Couldn't wait till tomorrow, huh?” Spike bounded forward, his arms outstretched.
Rarity narrowed her eyes at him. “Explain. Now!”
Twilight’s confusion grew as she watched Spike come to a full stop. “Okay, enough. Can somepony please tell me what's going on?”
“That's what I'm asking him!” Rarity pointed an accusing forehoof at Spike.
Spike looked like a marionette, his body slouched over and arms dangling at his sides. “So, uh, I guess the date's off?”
“What do you think?” Rarity opened her saddlebags and pulled a huge object from them. It gleamed black.
Twilight's jaw fell open when she realized it was a diamond. She sensed incredible energy pouring off it, silently reverberating around the room. Rarity shied away from it as she placed it on the centre of the table, then took a few steps back. Twilight noticed how much dimmer the room had become, except around the diamond. The light it gave off was black, yet it somehow lit the area around it like an oil lamp while plunging the rest of the room into darkness. It tugged at Twilight's mind magnetically.
“Spike,” Twilight said, turning to him. As dark as the room had become, the situation had grown much clearer. She regarded him sternly. “Did your absence this afternoon have anything to do with this?”
Spike nodded. He glanced at the diamond, then winced and closed his eyes. “It... it was in my head, Twilight.”
Twilight looked at the diamond, and then at Spike. “Rarity?”
“Mine, too. Twilight... I'm afraid.”
Magic gathered in Twilight's horn. She stared at the diamond with hard, focused eyes, and projected a magenta bubble around the three of them. “We should be safe under here. Spike, what happened?”
“I don't know,” he said, shuffling his feet. He did not meet Twilight's gaze. “I was working this morning, and then I suddenly had to find it. I knew if I did, Rarity would fall in love with me.”
Rarity sat beside Spike and shivered. “When he showed me that diamond, I don't know what came over me. It was like something else was controlling me, making me feel things I didn't feel—sorry, Spike, dearest. But when he left me alone with it, I heard a voice in my head.”
“It promised you what you wanted most, didn't it?” Spike said glumly.
“How did you know?”
A long sigh shuddered from Spike's throat. “Because it promised me your heart.”
Rarity embraced him and patted his head.
“So, it talked to you?” Twilight said, unable to remain tactful. A talking gem. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.” She put more power into her protective barrier.
“It had such a beautiful voice,” Spike said. “A voice like that could never be wrong about anything.”
“Oh, yes it can.” A gruff tone underscored Rarity's voice. “It showed me a vision. I was Equestria's greatest fashionista, just like I've always dreamed, but it came at a terrible price. I'd stolen designs, lied to the press and my friends, snuck into other boutiques. My heart was as black and wretched as that diamond. The worst part is, I was in love with that vision until I'd realized who I’d hurt to achieve my dreams. And it felt so absolute—like a prophecy.”
Twilight studied Rarity's face. She looked sick. Twilight glanced at the diamond. It thrummed innocently on the table, its anti-light washing over the magenta barrier. “So, not only can it show visions to others, but it has a mind of its own, and it can talk. A sapient, mind-reading gem...”
“It can fly, too,” Spike said. “I never told you how I found it.”
An apple-sized lump formed in Twilight's throat.
Spike closed his eyes, covered his mouth with his palms, and exhaled into them. “I was digging all day in the badlands. I knew kinda where it was, but not exactly. I kept trying, but I never found it—it found me. It came out of the ground—blew a hole right through it. Then it just came to me.”
“Stand back,” Twilight said, “I'm lowering the shield.”
Spike threw his arms in front of her. “Don't!”
“I need to run some tests.”
Rarity's ears flattened. “'Run some tests?' I have a prognosis for you: It's evil. Get rid of it. Now.”
“Ooh, ooh, I'll just bury it!” Spike made a pitiful show of trying to flex in front of Rarity, but the unicorn's eyes were glued to Twilight.
“I have to measure the extent of its power.” Twilight flared her wings. “How did it know about Spike's crush on Rarity?”
“Oh, please, I think all of Equestria knows that,” Rarity said.
Spike stared at his feet and grumbled something.
“And how did it know about your fashionista aspirations?”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Everypony knows that, too.”
“Yes, but how did the diamond know?” Twilight could not keep the irritation from her voice. “It has some form of telepathy. Also, how did Spike not get freed from its influence until you snapped him out of it, but you realized something was wrong without anypony's help?”
“Point taken.”
The barrier flickered and disappeared. Twilight advanced until she stood at the table, staring down her muzzle at the diamond. No feminine whispers or grand visions probed her mind. She ran through her mental index of spells. Concentration hardened her expression. She needed something that could probe it but not damage it. She decided on a spell that worked somewhat like magical sonar.
She took a deep breath and fired a narrow beam of energy at the diamond. She concentrated on her horn, using it like an antenna, waiting to listen for the ping.
Nothing happened.
Twilight shook herself. She tried the spell again, this time turning her attention to the diamond itself. The beam dissolved when it drew within an inch of the diamond, unable to make contact. Twilight rubbed her muzzle.
Rarity approached as close as she dared. “Well?”
“I don't understand,” said Twilight. “It looks like it can negate magic, too. Or, at least—” She levitated the diamond, and found she had no trouble doing so. She placed it back down. “—some magic. Or the magic it chooses to.”
“Hey, Twilight?” Spike's voice was a good distance behind her. She turned and found him standing almost against the shelves, his right arm raised. “Would knowing where the diamond came from help?”
“I think so. If it's from Tartarus or something, that'd at least help my research. But how would we figure that out?”
“Rarity can, I think,” Spike said. “Her magic lets her find gems, right? What if she can find out where gems come from?”
Twilight turned to Rarity, whose eyes had focused on the diamond. “Can it be done?”
“I think so.” Rarity's horn shimmered. “It should be close enough to my normal magic to work.” A wave of light-blue rippled from her horn, washing away the darkness in its path. It enveloped the diamond.
For a moment, the library's lighting returned to normal. Dark lightning crackled along the diamond's surface. In a flash of black, Rarity's magic shot back from the diamond in a shock wave. Breath caught in Twilight's throat as she projected her own magic, generating a magenta dome from her horn.
“Aah!” Rarity leapt toward Twilight and clung to her.
The blast hit the shield, and electricity played across its surface. Seconds passed before the dark magic faded, and Twilight lowered the barrier. The diamond’s blackness once again filled the room.
“Well... I don't think that worked,” Rarity said, her voice giddy. She let go of Twilight and planted her hooves on the ground, staring at it to steady herself.
“I think you two should get some rest,” Twilight said.
“What about you?” Rarity asked.
Spike darted to Twilight's side. “Yeah, we can't just leave you alone with this thing.”
Twilight could not help but give Spike a fond smile. “I know it doesn't seem smart, but this diamond is dangerous. How dangerous, I don't know. I may need to run some more aggressive tests, and we've seen how it responds to prying magic. I was lucky to get that shield up in time. I think I can handle myself if I'm alone and it does that again. Try not to worry about it.”
Spike and Rarity exchanged glances, then retired upstairs, leaving Twilight alone with the diamond. She narrowed her eyes at it and silently cursed, for most of her books were still packed away. Proper research was more or less impossible. It was time for hooves-on testing, and this time, she did not have anypony but herself to worry about. Magic crackled at the tip of her horn. She gathered enough power to make her horn shine like a beacon against the blackness. After observing the diamond's resilience, she knew this blast would not make a dent in it, but may be strong enough to penetrate its defenses. She prepared to fire.
Put that thing away. You're impressing nopony. The words sliced into Twilight's consciousness like a white-hot dagger.
She gasped. Her grip on the magic slipped, and her gathered energy exploded like a magenta firework. The blast sent her tumbling head over hooves until she landed on her rump a dozen feet from the diamond's table. She rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the headache that had just appeared.
The voice was as beautiful as Spike had described. Each syllable radiated power. And now that Twilight was aware of the diamond's capabilities, she heard the voice's underlying deadliness. “You. What do you want? Who are you? What are you?”
Ah, Princess Twilight Sparkle, it said within Twilight's mind. We are alone at last. I have longed to meet you for quite some time. You are a remarkable pony—once a unicorn prodigy, and now an alicorn princess.
Twilight stood and bared her teeth at the diamond, her wings flared. “You didn't answer my question.”
I am a diamond.
Twilight sighed and rolled her eyes.
My purpose is simple. I can sense what anypony—or dragon—wants most of all. That one thing they desire above all else. I can show them the fullest extent of their potential. The diamond remained unmoving on the table, but it gave a sinister thrum. The darkness it radiated grew thicker, forcing Twilight to approach it in order to see it. Your potential is greatest of all, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Did you think your ascension has come to an end already? Hardly.
“What do you mean?” Twilight tried her best to sound guarded, but her curiosity bent her tone.
Friendship is but a fraction of your true kingdom. Ponyville? A mere hamlet. Your crown is minute compared to the other crowns in Equestria. They can be yours, too. You need only reach out and take them.
Twilight's eyes widened as fog swirled within the diamond. It surged forward and enveloped her, blotting out all remaining light.
* * *
Twilight blinked and coughed. Then she screamed. She no longer stood in her castle library; she sat in the throne of Canterlot Castle. Her head felt heavy. It took her a moment to realize something weighed it down. She reached up to grab the object. She nearly screamed again. Her hooves wore the gilded regalia of Princess Celestia, and in them, she clutched what was unmistakably Celestia's bejeweled tiara.
She looked to her left and right. The seat Twilight rested upon stood alone in the vast throne room.
“Your Highness.”
Twilight nearly leapt out of her coat. Celestia, seemingly having appeared from nowhere, kneeled before her. She dropped the tiara. “P-P-Princess Celestia! I can explain!”
Celestia chuckled and gave her that same warm smile Twilight had seen so often over the years. Her sunburst-golden magic encircled the tiara and placed it on Twilight's head. It still felt too heavy for her neck. “There is nothing to explain, Twilight. You have finally done it. After all these centuries of searching, after so many tests, my work is finished. The burden now rests on you, Twilight Sparkle, to take up the mantle that is your birthright. I, Celestia, hereby abdicate—effective immediately.”
Abdicate. The word sounded absurd coming from Celestia's mouth. Twilight's mind churned. Could this truly be her destiny? Was this really Princess Celestia's end game? On one hoof, Celestia had never hinted at any plans for Twilight; she had merely taught her the values of friendship and how to hone her magical abilities. Yet, on the other hoof, Twilight's transformation into an alicorn had come as no surprise to Celestia, as if she had planned for it to happen.
The most rational part of Twilight's mind reminded her this was a vision conjured by the diamond and not reality. It felt plausible, but wrong at the same time. “I don't understand, Princess Celestia—” She insisted on emphasizing Celestia's honourarium. “—there's only one throne here. What about my friends?”
Celestia rose to her full, impressive height. Even from her perch on the throne, Twilight felt miniscule compared to her. Celestia's expression remained neutral as she said, “They've gone and fulfilled their greatest dreams and now live happy, revered lives throughout Equestria. Ever since you six filled the diary's pages, you realized the truth: That diary—and Ponyville—were two of many stepping stones across the river of destiny. You had not reached the far bank, Twilight Sparkle. You had to continue, and continue you did. You studied harder than you ever had before. Meanwhile, your friends went their separate ways to make their dreams reach fruition.”
“No... this is wrong... all wrong...” Twilight shook her head. “I can't rule Equestria. I'm the princess of Friendship, of Ponyville. I rule alongside my friends, not over them.”
“Surely you did not think you would be so close forever?” Celestia shook her head. “Eventually, your callings had you drift apart. Think of them as ruling their own provinces of this kingdom—your kingdom.”
Celestia's words struck Twilight hard enough to make her forget the difference between the real and unreal. “But—but—”
Celestia's eyes flashed a vibrant shade of teal. “Once you discovered your true purpose, you pursued it. This truth compelled you to do nothing less than consume all knowledge until the day you were ready. Today.”
A numbness in Twilight's chest crept its way through the rest of her. “There's no reason for us to have separated like that!”
“You gave them reason enough, my former student.” Celestia's voice was no longer solely her own. It bore the fierceness of another. “You abandoned your friends to achieve your ends, but what does it matter? The experiences you shared and the lessons you learned are still within you and your friends; they are none the worse for wear. In fact, they are the happiest they have ever been, and you are no different. Your dedication has earned you the thing you have desired for most of your life.”
The throne room shimmered around them as Celestia walked away with long, determined strides. “Remember, knowledge is power, and you now have more than enough to rule in my stead for as long as you wish. Equestria is in your hooves now, and your hooves alone. Perhaps you can visit your friends soon, when you have a break from our new royal duties, or perhaps they will attend your coronation ceremony. The subjects will love that, and you get all the free cake you can eat. Hah!”
Twilight slumped in her throne. She was alone. This fact hit her like a slap across the face. She had never aspired to rule. The diamond was mistaken. She was being shown not her desire, but what the diamond thought it was. Yet it was all so plausible, so real. Was the diamond really right? Could it see something she could not? “No,” she said, sitting upright. “No. No!”
She loosed an anguished scream, and the black fog returned, consuming the world around her.
* * *
A panting Twilight opened her eyes. She lay flat on her back. The blackness from the diamond filled the room with its smothering smog. Spike and Rarity's aghast faces looked down at her through the haze.
Spike knelt and shook her. “Twilight! Twilight! Are you okay?”
What the diamond had showed her still gnawed at her heart. She said nothing.
Rarity batted his arms away. “Of course she's not okay! Why else would she have screamed? That horrid, wretched diamond made you see things, didn't it, Twilight?”
“You heard me all the way from the bedchambers?” Twilight propped herself up with her forelegs. Her stomach felt woozy. “Once you two left, I was about to probe the diamond again, but it talked to me.” As she spoke, she had to fight the bile creeping up her throat.
You don't need them. You have only had a taste of the greatness that awaits you.
Twilight shook her head, resisting the urge to punch herself in the temple to silence the diamond. In a flash of magenta, she shoved it back inside the saddlebags Rarity brought. “Did anypony else hear that?”
Spike and Rarity shook their heads.
“Did it speak to you just now?” Rarity asked.
Twilight frowned. “So it is telepathic.”
Rarity helped Twilight back to her hooves. “What did it show you?”
“I...” The idea of abandoning her friends to rule Equestria alone made Twilight dizzy. She clutched the table. “I don't want to talk about it. This is far beyond anything I've ever heard of, even compared to some of the stuff I've read about Starswirl the Bearded. Maybe not as powerful as some of his spells, but this...” She eyed the saddlebags and shuddered.
Rarity used her magic to whisk several books from the shelves and stack them under Twilight, who gratefully plunked down on the makeshift chair. “A diamond that speaks and makes others see things. Is it possessed?”
“I don't know.” Twilight rested her muzzle in her forehooves. “It can float, talk, and brainwash ponies by showing them what they want to see. All I know is it's beyond any of us—and likely full of dark magic.”
Spike hopped up on the table and sat beside Twilight, his arms folded. “Oh, like the black energy coming off it wasn't a clue?”
“It tricked you, didn't it?” Twilight quipped. “Whatever this is, I think only Princess Celestia can help us.” She sat up. “Rarity, get the others. We're going to face this as a team. Whatever it is, we can overcome it together. And Spike, please send Princess Celestia a letter informing her of our arrival—we're going to Canterlot.”
Twilight Sparkle and her six closest friends stood in Canterlot Castle's grand entrance hall. It was nearly midnight. A pair of bat ponies clad in the crescent moon-emblemed armour of Princess Luna's entourage flanked the wide flight of stairs.
Her friends were bleary-eyed from the sudden summons and train in the middle of the night. Part of her was glad they were too tired to pry too much; she had spent most of the ride brooding in a corner, trying not to think about the gem in the saddlebags she wore or the vivid portent it had shown her.
A trumpet sounded from within, and Princess Celestia, a quartet of her royal guard detail at her side, emerged from the door to the stairs' left. She descended to the steps, nodding at her guards to halt. She stopped in front of Twilight and lowered her head respectfully. “Twilight, what brings you to Canterlot at such a late hour, and so soon after defeating Tirek? Surely you have not yet settled into your new home yet, have you?”
The seven visitors bowed. Twilight was the first to stand. Looking at Celestia made the guilt she had felt from her vision return, constricting her throat. Speaking was a challenge. “I wish this were a casual visit, Princess, but we have a serious problem.”
A stern, regal look replaced Celestia's ever-pleasant smile. “What is it, Twilight?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“It doesn't help she didn't say a word the entire trip over here,” Rainbow Dash said. She flew circles over the group. “I was woken from my super-important rest with, 'Twilight needs you. It's urgent!' and nothing else, not even during the train ride here.”
Twilight regretted keeping to herself on the journey to the castle, but she could not bring herself to tell them what she saw. “No. This is bad.”
“Well? What in the hay is it?” Applejack asked.
“Stand back.” Twilight waited until her friends complied before magicking open her saddlebags and extracting the diamond. It did not glow as it had earlier that evening. But its black aura was still visible, even under Twilight's magic grasp. She floated the diamond between her and Celestia. “Spike found this today.”
Celestia's eyes widened ever so slightly, barely enough for Twilight to notice. “What is that?”
“I don't know exactly, but it's dangerous.”
“'Dangerous'?” Rarity looked as if a firecracker had just gone off in her stomach. “'Dangerous' hardly begins to describe it. It's vile. It's wretched. It's—”
Twilight put the diamond back in the bag.
“Come with me.” The ponies exchanged glances as Celestia turned and strode back up the stairs. Her guards began to follow, but she dismissed them with a wave of her forehoof. Twilight and the others had to trot to keep up with her long strides as she led them to Canterlot Tower.
As they moved through a long corridor, Rainbow zoomed overhead and rolled her eyes at Twilight. “We're all scared of some lame diamond now? Seriously? Come on! We just beat a demon who stole all the magic in Equestria and sent him back to the middle of Tartarus. Talk about a downgrade.”
Twilight narrowed her eyes. “Rainbow, that 'lame diamond' showed me a possible future, I think. It was horrible, but so real at the same time.”
“Me, too,” said Rarity. “I had everything I wanted, but... I was a monster.”
“It gave me my wildest dream,” Spike said, his voice hollow. “Then it took it away.”
Celestia came to a stop in front of a pair of familiar double doors. She opened them and ushered the ponies and Spike inside. Celestia remained silent as she walked to the centre of the room. Moonlight streamed through the stained glass windows, painting the tiles with their vibrant colours. She sat in the middle of the room, and the others formed a semicircle around her.
Celestia regarded them with hard eyes. “Twilight, you said you do not understand the nature of this diamond?”
Twilight shook her head. Celestia's magic wrapped itself around the saddlebags. “Be careful!”
“Do not worry,” Celestia said. She levitated the diamond from the bags and set it on the floor between them. Its aura pulsed around everyone except her—even in the darkness of night, she radiated light the diamond could not penetrate. Her eyes made slight movements from side to side, as if the diamond contained some kind of tiny, invisible text.
Her horn shimmered, and she lowered it until its tip tapped the diamond. A shrill tone rang through the room. Celestia raised her head and regarded the artifact through disbelieving eyes. “Unbelievable. After all these years...”
Pinkie hopped up and down. “Ooh, what? You remembered to send the Sultan of Saddle Arabia some of Canterlot's best tea?”
Celestia blinked and frowned for a moment. “I... remind me again after this matter has been dealt with. I hope he won't be too upset about it.”
From the corner of her eye, Twilight noticed Spike staring at the diamond as if in a trance. She gently pushed him back and wrapped a wing around him like a feathery blanket.
“Yes, the diamond.” Celestia magicked the diamond into the air beside her head. “As you have already deduced, this diamond is enchanted. Like you, I do not know the specifics of the spell upon it. Even I have never seen magic quite like this.”
Twilight's face fell, her ears sagging.
“But I do know of the spell's origin. This is the work of Daybreak Aurora.”
“Who?” said everypony else at once.
“Many centuries ago, Daybreak Aurora was my apprentice, much like you, Twilight, and Sunset Shimmer before you.” Celestia set the diamond back down.
Twilight sat up and stared with rapt attention. “What happened to her?”
“She was a magical genius.” Memory's glaze unfocused Celestia's eyes. “My first apprentice. When I first met her as a filly, I knew she had enormous potential, and her powers grew at an astounding rate. To this day, I have yet to witness her prowess matched by anypony I have taken under my wing.”
Rainbow tossed her head and snorted. “Wait just a minute! Are you saying she was more powerful than even Twilight? That's a joke, right?”
Lines marred Celestia's grave face. For a second, she looked every bit as old as she was. “I am afraid so. That diamond is a testament to her power, is it not? In becoming an alicorn, Twilight reached heights nopony before her managed to, but Daybreak and Twilight were separated by one crucial difference. Twilight's thirst for knowledge was for just that—knowledge. Daybreak was just as studious, but her aims were different. She sought raw power. There was no magical challenge too great for her, no spell to complex for her to master. I knew she could go far, but I was both right and wrong.”
“Judgin' by the state of that there diamond, she went bad,” Applejack said, pointing a forehoof at it.
“Not immediately.” Celestia's gaze followed Applejack's hoof. “At first, her eyes were always bright and joyful, full of wonder. She was amazed with what she had learned on a given day, but when it became clear to her that she had surpassed those around her, arrogance began festering within her heart. It was then that I realized we could not continue her apprenticeship. I only wish I had the wherewithal to intervene sooner. I was naive then; I could not bring myself to accept that a filly so talented, innocent, and pure could become such a monster...”
* * *
I stood in this very room all those years ago. Daybreak Aurora was across from me. She radiated arrogance and confidence. She was tall and proud. Even centuries later, I still vividly remember what she looked like. Her most prominent feature was her piercing teal eyes; her coat was orange like the sunrise, and her mane and tail were elegantly styled cascades of light blues; and her cutie mark was a rising sun partially obscured by clouds.
She gave me a half-bow that had become her custom for some months. How long, I now wonder, had she been feigning respect? “Why have you summoned me, Princess?” she asked. “My project isn't finished yet. I know you're eager to see it, but you can't rush the greatest spell Equestria has ever witnessed.”
The way Daybreak spoke made it sound like she truly believed what she was saying. I shook my head. What I was forced to say would hurt both of us. “I am sorry, but our lessons must come to an end.”
Her eyes sparked. She was always an emotive mare, but her eyes were her most expressive feature. They allowed me to see past her facade. “What do you mean? I've graduated?” she asked.
“No.” I saw her bravado evaporate in an instant. “Something has been going on for some months, but I did not want to believe it. You have changed, Daybreak, and not for the better. You have grown strong, but I'm afraid you have lost the way. I have tried to set you on the right path, but you continue to gallop toward the same place Nightmare Moon did.”
Daybreak opened and closed her mouth several times before she could find words, something I had not witnessed since I had first met her. She finally managed to simply say, “What?”
“In your reckless pursuit of your ambitions, you have disregarded my countless warnings.” She appeared to shrink under my words. “You have allowed your aspirations to own you. You seek power for power's sake, and nothing else is important to you anymore.”
It did not take Daybreak long to rear up, gritting her teeth at me. “How dare you do this to me? Me, the pony destined to surpass Starswirl as the greatest spellshaper who ever lived!” Malice—or was it insanity?—glinted in her eyes. “I know the purpose of this apprenticeship. I am to be your successor. You hoofpicked me to take your place on Equestria's throne one day. It is mine by right!”
For the first time, I uttered a lesson which I have had to repeat far too often. “I have never implied the reason for our studies is to groom you as my heir. That is what you have chosen it to mean, and that is one of many reasons we cannot continue.”
Daybreak rudely tossed her head. There was no point for her to mask her disrespect for me anymore. “Do you think I'm blind? Of course that's why you're training me. It's as obvious as the sun in the sky. Why else would you raise a filly with the most magical potential in the kingdom like a daughter?”
I shook my head, finally understanding how deluded she had become. “Only the pure of heart and mind can rule, Daybreak. You are not blossoming into the princess you fancy yourself as—you are withering into a tyrant queen. Equestria under your hoof would soon resemble the Sombra-era Crystal Empire.”
Saying these words felt like removing a splinter. “You have forgotten the first lesson I taught you when I took you under my wing. Our gifts do not shape us; our actions do. Since princesshood is your obsession now, then know this: A true princess is never above her subjects. She watches over and nurtures them. The best way to judge a pony's character is to observe not how she treats her superiors, but those under her, and the manner in which you have treated the citizens of Canterlot as of late, when you thought I wasn't looking, has been most un-princess-like.”
It was done. I sighed not with relief, but with disappointment. “I am afraid we must part ways now, Daybreak. Accommodations shall be made for you within the magic district of Canterlot. I'm sure a unicorn of your talents will have little trouble finding employ.” I looked away. I could not hide my feelings any longer, but I could not let her see the anguish on my face. “Farewell.”
“'Farewell...'” Daybreak said. “'Farewell'? 'Farewell'?” I could only imagine how livid she must have looked. “You take everything from me, and all you can say is 'farewell'? I am on the brink of developing a spell the likes of which ponykind has never seen. The power I will wield will change the face of Equestria forever—a far greater gift than your meager contribution of raising the sun and moon—something the unicorns did before your rule in the first place. You're jealous of me. You're afraid that you will be forgotten.”
I faced her again just in time to see a tremendous surge of bright yellow magic surrounding her horn. “Daybreak, what are you doing?”
“If you wish to deny me the throne, then I shall take it by force!” Scorching fury and gleeful insanity twisted her face as she continued to summon her power. “Behold, Celestia, the very power you have come to fear, for I am Daybreak Aurora, the greatest sorceress in the history of ponykind!”
Daybreak's attack came so fast, I hardly had time to react. She pulled her head back, then tossed it forward like a catapult, hurling her gathered magic directly at me. It surrounded me, and I projected magic of my own to hold her assault at bay. The attack was so intense, I felt in the middle of a cyclone, its deadly winds whipping around me, the whistling filling my ears.
All I could see was the bright yellow and golden glow of our magics. Through the arcane torrent, I heard innumerable panes of glass shatter. I felt the strain on my magic as I held her back. She was not entirely exaggerating when she boasted of her power. I reached into my reserves of strength and stymied her attack.
But I held back. I knew if I went full force, I would destroy her. “Daybreak, stop this, please!” I yelled through clenched teeth. “I don't want to fight you!”
The roar of our clashing magics almost drowned out her response. “So you are afraid.”
“Then you leave me no choice,” I muttered. “Please... forgive me.” I focused my power into a cone and pushed it toward Daybreak, drilling through her unfocused swathe of magic. I did everything I could to use only enough power to penetrate her attack and disable her, but... I heard a piercing scream. Before I could withdraw my riposte, there was a great flash.
Daybreak was gone.
* * *
Twilight, Spike, and the others gawked as Celestia finished her tale. Twilight now understood why Celestia had never mentioned Daybreak before. The way Celestia's head hung low told Twilight everything.
“So that's it?” Rainbow stood on her hind legs and made a sweeping motion with her forelegs. “Poof! Gone?”
Celestia swallowed hard and nodded. “Without a trace.” Twilight could not believe it, but she saw her trembling ever so slightly.
Applejack stared gape-mouthed at her. “You... blew her up?”
Celestia shook. “I still haven't forgiven myself. I-I didn't mean to. If I had used any less force—”
Twilight leapt forward and nuzzled her. “You would have died. I've known you since I was a filly, and the Princess Celestia I know has never used magic other than to help ponies. You did everything you could to avoid what happened. You can't let this eat away at you.”
Celestia wrapped her forelegs around Twilight and held her tightly. “Perhaps you are right. As powerful as Daybreak was, I still have a hard time believing the force I used could have done that to her.”
“So... this gem?” Fluttershy gawked at the diamond with terrified and fascinated eyes.
Applejack winced as a small black spark flew off the diamond. “That's the spell Daybreak was talkin' about, ain't it?”
“It must be,” Celestia said. “A wonder it has not been found until now. This diamond was once a gift from the Crystal Empire, given to Luna and I during our coronation. It was their most precious jewel, white and pure. One day—while Daybreak was alive—it vanished from the Canterlot treasury, and the culprit was never caught. Like Daybreak, it has been poisoned by darkness. This is her legacy.”
“Okay, so we've confirmed the diamond's evil. Again,” said Rainbow. She looked ready to stomp on it, but she made no move. “What are we supposed to do with it?”
Celestia stood and flared her enormous wings. “It must be destroyed. We do not know the full extent of its power. It can poison the minds of others, but that feels too simple for Daybreak, especially for something she touted as a spell that would change Equestria.”
Applejack stood and cracked her neck. “Say no more. Anypony got a hammer?”
“Oh, come now, Applejack,” Rarity said. “Diamonds may not be that hard, relatively speaking, but it will most certainly take more than a simple hammer to break it.”
“It's just an expression.” Applejack closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.
“Regardless, we cannot make a rash decision.” Celestia magicked the diamond aloft. “While we could no doubt destroy it here and now, the extent of Daybreak's enchantments remains unknown. Remember, she said her spell was unfinished. It would be foolish to break it and unleash potentially volatile magic in the heart of Canterlot.” She strode toward the vault that once housed the Elements of Harmony. “You must all be very tired. It is late, and we should get some rest so we can tackle this problem tomorrow with fresh minds.”
“Tired? Speak for yourself, Princess—” A drawn-out yawn cut Rainbow off.
Celestia chuckled. “Accommodations will be made for you in the castle.”
The seven visitors bowed to Celestia and made their way toward the hall’s door. All except for Twilight. “Go on ahead, everypony. I'll catch up,” she said. Now that the emergency planning session was over, the vision the diamond had shown her bubbled with guilt in her mind. “Princess?”
“Yes?”
“Is what Daybreak said true?” Her ears drooped. She struggled to keep her voice audible. “That the whole point of these apprenticeships is to find an heir?” The words caught in her throat, but she forced them out. “The vision the diamond showed me... It was me, sitting on the throne of Canterlot, wearing your crown.”
Twilight started to choke, her neck muscles clenching from the thought. Her eyes burned. “If the diamond is supposed to show us our deepest desires...” She blinked away tears. “I'm sorry, Princess! I swear I'm not like her. I don't want to replace you!”
Celestia set the diamond down and wrapped a wing around Twilight, pulling her close. “Twilight Sparkle, you are nothing like Daybreak Aurora. What you said tells me the diamond shows you what it thinks you want most.”
Twilight snuggled against her former mentor and looked up at her through bleary eyes. “Well, I suppose I did break free from that vision on my own. If it was truly right, I may have not wanted to wake up.”
“Exactly.” Celestia beamed down at her. “As for your station... As I said, your destiny remains uncertain. Do not look too far ahead. I daresay your current mantle will be quite the hooffull for some time. Now, it is time to join your friends and go to sleep.”
Twilight stood and wiped her eyes. “What about the diamond?”
“I shall personally seal it within Canterlot Tower.”
“Right. Good night, Princess Celestia.” Twilight set off for the castle's guest quarters at a trot.
* * *
Amidst night’s stillness, a black miasma seeped through the cracks of Canterlot Tower's enchanted door. The smoke wrapped itself around the magical door’s panels and squeezed with an ethereal fist. The door shattered, scattering fragments all over the tile floor.
The diamond, surrounded by deadly black light, floated out into the deserted hall.
* * *
Spike lay curled up in a basket, with a blanket draped over him. He was at the foot of a luxurious four-poster bed in a royal guest bedroom. Twilight slept, but Spike could not calm the sea of thoughts in his head. Was the diamond trying to manipulate everypony into achieving its—Daybreak's—ends?
He shuddered, remembering how completely he had been brainwashed. The diamond did not even have to resort to harnessing terrible powers such as the metamorphosis of Queen Chrysalis or the raw, titanic magics of Lord Tirek. It scared him because it was more like a catalyst—a stone that tricked those it touched into pursuing their greatest desire at any cost.
When Spike was under its spell, it was not the diamond's energy that fueled him, but his own. The worst part was he did not want the spell to be broken. But at the same time, he had seen what it had done to Twilight. His rational judgment told him there was no way the diamond could be anything but evil. He clutched his heart. Regardless of what he thought, it still felt like Rarity had stomped on it when she stormed into the library.
It hurts, doesn't it?
Spike bolted upright, his limbs rigid.
Once again, poor, inferior Spike gets the short end of the stick.
He opened his eyes and slowly turned his head, knowing what he would find. The diamond floated not a foot away from him. He tried to scream, but his voice would not obey.
You're tired of it all, aren't you?
“Tired? Tired of what?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
Don't act like you don't know. Being second-class. You are Princess Twilight's servant, nothing more—a dragon stolen from its lands and family as an egg and forced into a life of servitude in Equestria. Ponies—especially Rarity—trample all over you.
“No... it's not true!” Spike's hands had become shaking fists. “Twilight and I are a team. I'm her number one assistant.”
Please, do you honestly believe that? She can get anything she wants with a simple spell or wave of her hoof. You are merely her favourite serf, because you are so sickeningly submissive.
Spike looked over his shoulder at Twilight's unaware, sleeping face. “Twilight's my friend...”
Dark, misty tendrils extended from the diamond and encircled his head. And what about your beloved Rarity? If you had a bit for every time she spurned your affection, you could buy the Carousel Boutique. I know how your heart cries for her. I know how much you desire her.
Spike nodded mechanically despite himself.
Mares cannot resist confidence and power.
“They can't?”
Neither of which you possess.
Spike slumped and stared at the ground. “Oh. Right.”
But I can help.
“Yeah, look how much you helped the last time.”
I know of a way that will make Rarity unable to resist you ever again. She—no—all of Equestria—will be your oyster, waiting to be consumed.
“How?”
Therein lies the hint: Consume me.
“What?”
Dragons eat gems, do they not? Consume me, and all of your wishes will be fulfilled...
Spike stared at the diamond and started to salivate. Those facets, those perfect cuts, those flawless edges. He could not imagine how delicious it would be. “I haven't eaten a good diamond in years.”
Go ahead. Take a bite. You will not regret it. That I promise...
Spike, lips trembling, reached out and clutched the diamond. He opened his mouth, bringing it close. His body moved of its own accord. His stomach growled and rumbled with anticipation. He extended his tongue and licked one of the facets. Pleasure rippled through his taste buds.
A loud snort came from behind him. Then a scream. “Spike, no!”
In one quick motion, Spike shoved the diamond into his mouth and bit down. The diamond shattered into myriad splinters that surged down his throat. He convulsed, tilting his head upward. His mouth opened, and a jet of black fume belched from it. All feeling fled his limbs as they shook and rattled about.
Spike roared. An invisible shock wave of the diamond's negative energy shot out in all directions, hitting the walls and rebounding into the centre of the room, forming a cyclone around him. All the room's furniture, bed and all, flew off the ground, whirled around him, and smashed into smithereens against the walls, floor, and ceiling.
A burning sensation filled him, as if he had swallowed a litre of molten lava. The feeling surged up, searing his brain. He roared again as his eyes rolled madly in their sockets. The heat within him grew hotter and hotter until he felt like he would explode.
Then, like a pewter snuff upon a flaming candle, the fire within him fizzled out, replaced by nothingness. He collapsed onto his back. Through his failing vision, he saw Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie rushing into the room before everything went black.
Twilight opened her eyes. Light spilling through the open door gave a dim view of the debris and blankets piled on top of her. She pushed herself up and charged toward Spike through the pile of wreckage. “Spike! Spike! Speak to me!” She knelt beside him while her friends looked on from the doorway in silent horror.
Spike climbed to his feet, standing with a hunched posture. He slowly straightened and opened his eyes. Twilight stared into them, and a vibrant teal glare met her gaze. Cold terror pierced her heart. “Spike?”
The dragon smirked. Black mist seeped from between its scales like water through gills. It thickened and grasped every inch of the dragon. It reminded Twilight of a Spike-shaped blot of ink on parchment. The dragon's limbs and torso stretched like clay shaped by invisible hands. Twilight found herself looking up at the dragon that was once Spike. It now stood at about Princess Luna's height.
The dragon's limbs tensed up, and several spikes protruded outward through the scales of its shoulders, arms, legs, and tail, issuing a series of sounds like swords rasping upon stone. It shuddered and lowered its head. A slender horn the length of its forearm grew from its head, slowly jutting forward and ending in a needle tip.
The creature tossed its head back and roared in an unmistakably feminine voice. The mist that had enveloped it blew away in all directions in a gust. Twilight threw a foreleg in front of her eyes to shield herself from the buffeting fume. When her mane and feathers stopped blowing around in the wind, she lowered her leg. Caution slowed her movements.
Black and yellow surges of electricity played across the draconic monstrosity's form. Twilight realized the spikes covering its limbs were not spikes at all, but small unicorn horns—dynamos for the electrical magic surging across its body. Not only was Spike's body now thin and feminine, but the purple scales were now sunrise orange, the light-green belly scales pink, and the green spines a cascade of light blues.
Disbelief froze Twilight in place. She knew the implications what she saw, but could not process them.
The dragon lifted its arms and stared into its open palms, experimentally moving its clawed digits. A wicked sneer twisted its face. “It... it worked.”
Twilight recognized that voice.
“Incredible,” the dragon continued. “I am truly the greatest spellweaver Equestria has ever seen.”
Twilight flared her wings and squared her legs. “What did you do to Spike?”
The dragon placed her hands on her hips and looked down at Twilight. “I put him to good use. He is the tool I need to finish what I started hundreds of years ago. Now scurry back to your piteous hamlet and hide—you will serve the new order far better with your heads still attached to their necks.”
Strings of magic shot from horn to horn and coiled along the dragon's body, where they gathered in a crackling ball at the tip of her horn. She spun on her heels, and five tendrils snaked through the air. Each wrapped itself around one of Twilight's friends, picked them up, and flung them against the bedchamber's walls. The rest of the magic surged along the dragon's sleek form, levitating her off the ground. She loosed a manic laugh and hovered forward, turning the corner and taking off down the hallway.
Twilight rushed to her friends and helped them back on their hooves. “Is everypony okay?”
Rarity rubbed the back of her head and winced. “Mostly. But... what just happened to Spike?”
A slack-jawed Applejack stared out the door. “No, it can't be... It can't be what I think it is.”
Rainbow zoomed overhead, her motions jittery and erratic. “Come on! After him, uh, her! Uh, wherever it went.”
Bending her legs, Twilight flattened her ears and took off at full gallop. “Hurry, everypony. She's going for the throne room!” She did not have to guess where the dragon had gone; a clear trail of scorch marks were burned along the castle's tile floor.
Twilight gave a grim smile as she heard four sets of hooves clopping along behind her. She knew not how powerful this dragon-unicorn amalgamation was, but she knew there was no chance it was as powerful as Tirek. If she and her friends could save Equestria from the likes of him, this creature stood no chance.
“Poor Spike!” Fluttershy's words came between laboured breaths. “What happened to him?”
“He ate the diamond,” Twilight said without looking back.
Pinkie made a gagging noise. “Oh, no! That'll give him a wicked-bad tummy ache.”
“Pinkie!” Twilight gritted her teeth. “Judging from what happened... no... It's just not possible. Come on! Hurry!” Dread formed a weight at the bottom of her stomach. The only logical reason for the nature of Spike's transformation was too improbable to believe.
They made one final turn and charged through the throne room's open double doors. The abomination stood in the centre with her arms spread wide, her many horns aglow. Magic sparks shot off her like embers from a bonfire.
She turned and faced the ponies. “So, you chose to disregard my warning. Funny. I didn't think you were anypony's martyrs.”
Twilight bared her teeth and pawed at the ground. “What have you done with Spike?”
“Is that all you can say? I already told you—he was a tool, the last instrumental piece in the greatest magical experiment this kingdom has seen.” The horns on her shoulders fired sparks of magic into the air, exploding in black and yellow bursts. “You fools! The diamond was never enchanted.”
“So it is true,” Twilight said with a shudder.
“What kind of foul nightmare magic is this?” Rarity's voice shook.
Rainbow landed, catlike, on Twilight's left. “But Princess Celestia said—”
“The diamond bore not just simple magic, but a soul—my soul,” the dragon said. “I am Daybreak Aurora, the most powerful sorceress in Equestria. And now, after being without a body for centuries, I live once more thanks to my Spirit Stone.”
Applejack advanced to Twilight's right side. She growled at Daybreak. “Princess Celestia said yer spell wasn't finished.”
Daybreak regarded her with a sour expression. “She was correct. Even someone as mighty as me is capable of making an error. When I dueled Celestia for the throne of Canterlot, I was unprepared. I knew it was only a matter of time before she would expel me out of fear of being surpassed, but I did not expect it to come so swiftly. I again underestimated her strength. Of course, I could not brook defeat, so I cast my spell on the diamond I had stolen a year before our conflict.”
Daybreak spat on the ground. “I knew it would destroy my body in the process—a handy consequence, as it allowed me to fake my own death. I can only guess how depressed Celestia felt.” She allowed herself a chuckle. “But I digress. The spell did not work as I intended. It left my soul in a feeble state. And so I had to lie in wait.
“Fortune finally struck. When you battled Lord Tirek and forced him to give up the power he had stolen, Equestria was bathed in an incredible surge of power.”
Twilight's blood froze as she began to piece Daybreak's words together.
“I fed off that power, taking only a tiny bit of each pony's magic for my own. It was an easy task, given how wild and loose the magic was, and the amount I absorbed from each pony was miniscule enough to be undetected. I was restored. At last, I could make my move.”
“You tricked Spike.” Twilight ground out each word. The cold fear in her veins boiled into rage.
“Necessary collateral damage.” Daybreak waved a dismissive hand. “Directly merging myself with a dragon—delightfully powerful beings that they are—has produced a much better result than simply transferring my spirit into some unicorn. As pathetic as Spike was, he was still a dragon, and that mighty blood flows through my veins. You can't imagine the power I now wield.”
“A few days ago, I was entrusted with all the alicorn magic in Equestria,” Twilight said. “I'd say I've got a pretty good idea.”
“Come now, Twilight, there's no need to be snide.” Daybreak narrowed her eyes. “What matters is you no longer have that power.”
“Um, Daybreak?” Fluttershy said from behind Twilight, Applejack, and Rainbow. “Can you give us Spike back, please?”
Magic flared around Daybreak. “That's Queen Aurora to you, peasant.”
Rainbow raised her hackles. “Enough! I say we finish what Princess Celestia started.”
Daybreak cocked her head and blinked at her. “You seek to challenge me? My my, you are bold.”
“'Bold' is my middle name!” Rainbow reared up and flexed her forelegs.
Pinkie snickered. “Really? I thought you said it was 'Danger.'”
“I have a bunch of middle names.”
Twilight blocked the doubt and fear creeping into her mind. She reached within her reserves of power and lit her horn. The heat from her sparking magic warmed her head as she took methodical steps forward. “Release Spike. Now.”
Daybreak's eyes became teal slits. “Or else what? I've seen inside you, Twilight Sparkle. I know your powers are nothing compared to mine.”
Twilight flared her wings. “You underestimated Princess Celestia, and now you've underestimated us. You were expelled because you don't learn from your mistakes.” Her nostrils expelled a puff of steam. “Everypony, together!”
Twilight and her friends charged forward. Daybreak squared her shoulders and balled her hands into fists. Wiry muscles corded in her limbs as she flexed her arms and flicked her tail. Daybreak’s many horns shot plumes of magic into the air. Her body was awash in black and yellow flame. She bent her knees and leapt backward, soaring dozens of feet into the air.
Daybreak thrust her left palm forward. A jet of magic arced toward Twilight. She sidestepped, feeling it sizzle past her head. The blast smashed into the tile behind her, blowing it apart. Daybreak drifted toward the ground some distance away, the burning magic turning her fall into a graceful glide. She shoved her right palm forward and pulled her left back, sending another blast toward Twilight and her friends.
Twilight harnessed her magic and teleported out of the fireball's path. She yelled, “Everypony, watch out!” when she saw Daybreak begin to rapidly hurl them. With a hard beat of her wings, she took off. Her heart smashed against her ribcage as the barrage splintered tiles all around her friends—and one headed directly for Fluttershy. Bracing herself, Twilight teleported again. She appeared in the fireball's path and pushed everything she had into a magical barrier.
The attack sledged into her shield and exploded in a shower of sparks. Twilight's horn felt like it rang from the impact. But she dug in her hooves and held her ground, even when Fluttershy crashed into her. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Fluttershy mumbled something about being fine, and Twilight exhaled. Ahead, she saw Applejack and Rainbow pressing forward while Rarity and Pinkie focused on avoiding the oncoming attacks. A rattled Twilight began regathering her magic while Applejack and Rainbow reached Daybreak.
Applejack rolled forward, then spun on her forehooves to aim a kick with both hind legs. In a blur, Daybreak crouched and leapt off the ground, allowing Applejack to pass under her. Rainbow rushed forward and threw a punch, the momentum of flight adding a great deal of power. Daybreak raised her forearm. Magic coalesced into a small shield in front of it, and Rainbow's attack bounced off, sending her somersaulting toward the ground.
Twilight again pushed her magic forward, but this time, she had no plans of defending. A boulder-sized sphere of magenta flew from her horn, rolling through the air toward Daybreak, who lowered her head and pointed her long horn at it. Twilight's spell connected and bathed the room in a blinding glow.
Twilight covered her eyes until the blast subsided. Her jaw fell open. Daybreak's eyes glowed pure white. Magic coiled around her in thick cables. Twilight could not understand it—she had held nothing back when she unleashed that shot, but Daybreak floated in the air without as much as a scuff on her scales.
“Enough of this,” Daybreak said. Excess magic radiated from her like heat waves in a desert. She thrust her fists forward, and magic rippled forth in a wave that swept up Twilight and her friends and hurled them against the throne room's back wall. They landed in a heap. As Twilight rubbed her head and tried to stand, Daybreak touched down and strutted forward. Her eyes reverted to their sharp teal colour. “You see? Even with your vaunted ‘magic of friendship,’ your powers are nothing compared to mine.”
“But not ours,” said a stern, familiar voice from the doorway.
Twilight staggered to her hooves and looked toward it. Celestia and Luna stood there. Gone was any semblance of regal nobility; their faces bore withering grimaces that made Twilight feel afraid, despite their being directed at Daybreak. Their ears were flat, their nostrils flared, and their strides that were those of the warhorses of old.
“P-Princess Celestia!” Twilight's words tumbled clumsily from her mouth. “It's Daybreak, she's—”
“I understand,” Celestia said as she advanced. “Stand back, all of you. My sister and I will put an end to this.”
Twilight wanted to caution Celestia not to hurt Spike, but remembered how sincere and pained her expression was when she thought she had killed Daybreak, even hundreds of years later.
Pure white magic gathered around Luna's horn. “Daybreak Aurora.” Her voice boomed with enough force to rattle the stained glass windows. “We will drive your foul essence from Spike's body.”
Daybreak's body horns ignited, once more bathing her in flaming magic. “You will try.”
Twilight stood back, her friends huddling around her. She had heard tales of Celestia and Luna bringing their powers to bear, but had never truly witnessed it. Having harnessed the royal family's alicorn magic just days ago, part of her was eager to see it used by its rightful wielders.
Sunburst magic swirled around Celestia. The royal sisters, surrounded by bright gold and white, advanced at a measured pace. Through the light, Twilight saw Daybreak's eyes studying their movements. As arrogant as she was, it seemed Daybreak still had respect for at least Celestia's power.
With no warning, Celestia and Luna unleashed their magic toward Daybreak in tandem. Massive twin beams burst from their horns, ripping through the air. Surging magic whitened Daybreak's eyes as she thrust her palms forward. Energy poured from her horns into her hands.
The Princesses' attacks slammed into Daybreak with a booming crash of thunder. In the overpowering wash of white and gold, Daybreak burned like a black and yellow flame.
Celestia gritted her teeth and took laboured steps forward, her horn and head shuddering from the effort of maintaining such a powerful spell. “Push harder, sister!”
Twilight's eyes remained fixated upon the deadly clash.
Daybreak roared. Black blades of magic cleaved through Celestia and Luna's attacks, heading straight for their horns. The Princesses flew into the air, and the beams dissipated. Bathed in the fire of her magic, Daybreak hurtled toward them. The sisters banked left and right.
Daybreak zoomed between them and came to a stop. She heaved a deep breath and belched a torrent of green flame. The Princesses tucked their wings against their bodies and plummeted toward the ground. The fire plumed forth just inches above them.
Forked lightning issued from Daybreak's horn, striking them in the chests. Their dive became an uncontrolled drop. Twilight could not watch any longer. She galloped forward, lowering her head and charging toward the descending Daybreak.
“Haven't you learned your lesson yet?” Daybreak said as she spun around in midair. She flicked her right hand in a semicircular arc.
A crescent of green flame erupted from the floor. Twilight yelled and dug her hooves into the ground, beating her wings to prevent herself from smashing into them.
“Come on, Twilight!” Rainbow beckoned her with a forehoof and soared into the air. But the flames rose until they licked the ceiling, filling the room with their deadly green glow. She banked off and searched for an opening, but found none.
Twilight could only stare into the fire and guess what was happening a few feet in front of her. Her ears perked up when she heard Celestia say, “Sister, strike as one!” The sound of magic tore through the air, overpowering the flames' crackle.
A peal of laughter—Daybreak's—met her ears. The thunderclap of immense magics clashing filled the air. Daybreak gave a draconic roar, and a surge of her yellow magic blotted out all else in Twilight's eyes. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as the heat from the green fire and the warring magics washed over her. Two screams wrenched Twilight's gut. The pain they carried was palpable enough to make her nerves burn.
All became still and quiet.
Twilight cracked an eye open. Her chest felt like it had been struck with a sledgehammer. Celestia and Luna were at the foot of the stairs leading to the throne. A massive block of yellow crystal encased each monarch, leaving only their faces exposed.
“E-everypony!” Celestia said, her voice strained. “Run!”
But Twilight could not run. The thought could not enter her mind. She had to help them. Daybreak's tail swished as she approached the throne, ascending the steps. Twilight looked behind her. Her friends wore expressions of shock, fear, and despair, but she could see the same unshakable drive to save Equestria's rightful rulers that forbade her from fleeing. She advanced with determined strides.
“I said run!”
Twilight did not heed her former mentor's plea.
Daybreak sat on Celestia's throne, lounging on its red velvet cushions. “For once, she is giving advice worth listening to,” she said, leaning forward. “Come now, what's with all the long faces? This is a joyous occasion.”
“Let them go.” The force in Twilight's voice startled even her.
“And give up my new decorations? Oh, please. I have only just begun remodeling. Stand back. I'm sure Rarity will appreciate this.” Daybreak stood and fired a narrow beam of magic at the ceiling.
A yellow glow spread across it until it covered the entire throne room. Images of Daybreak’s original body replaced all the designs in the stained glass windows, each one in an equally different, but equally grandiose, if not arrogant, pose. The tapestries bearing Celestia and Luna's sigils now flew Daybreak's cutie mark as their coat of arms. Pillars turned orange, and the walls transformed into a cascade of blues.
“I think it looks hideous,” Rarity said.
“For somepony as obsessed with beauty as you, I thought you'd have better taste,” Daybreak said. She gave a mock gasp. “I'd almost forgotten. With the pair of nags who had the gall to call themselves royalty out of the way, I am now the Queen of Equestria. You six attacked me. That's attempted regicide. Normally, the punishment is death, but I have something else that's far more fitting.”
Twilight lunged forward, but Daybreak extended her right palm. A low hum met Twilight's ears. Her limbs froze. Eyes darting, she looked to her hooves, afraid she and her friends would be imprisoned in yellow crystal. A black circle had appeared beneath them.
“I-I can't move!” Applejack yelled from behind her.
Dark tendrils of smoke drifted from the circle.
“Me neither!” Rainbow said, stuck a dozen feet in the air.
The smoke rose above them.
“T-Twilight?” Fear shook Pinkie's voice. “What's going on?”
In a choking crash, the black tendrils pulled at Twilight and her friends. In seconds, the five ponies she held most dear disappeared into the maw-like void beneath her. Then she felt it. The smoke latched onto her like straining steel cords that cut into her limbs and back. Her muscles would not obey her as she threw all of her mental energy against the darkness.
Her hind legs vanished beneath the ground. In seconds, her torso joined them. Then, her forelegs. With only her head remaining, she looked into Celestia's tear-stained face. “I'm sorry,” Twilight said with the last of her strength.
In one final, painful tug, her head joined the rest of her body in darkness.
Daybreak Aurora lounged on Celestia's former throne, wearing a broad, pompous grin. She looked to her right. “Magnificent, isn't it? I think this decor suits my new kingdom perfectly. Don't you, Celestia?”
“Twilight,” Celestia choked between sobs. “What have you done with her?”
“No harm has come to them.” Daybreak rose and strutted toward the entrapped Celestia without so much as glancing at Luna on the throne's opposite side. “They have merely become pieces in a little game I'm playing.”
Celestia gave the most burning glare she could, but her bloodshot eyes betrayed her exhaustion. “And what game is that?”
Daybreak took several steps forward, making sure her frame was in full view of Celestia. She puffed out her chest. “Energy. Power. It is what I have sought my whole life. My affinity for magic surpassed not only those around me, but those who came before and after me as well. It was my destiny, my purpose.”
She paced in front of her captives. “And when you realized I would surpass you, you were afraid of what destiny would bring.” Daybreak leaned close to Celestia and licked her lips with her forked tongue. “Welcome to the future. You have tried to stop it, but you were only temporarily successful. Nopony can stop it now. You expelled me under the guise of being blinded by my own desire. That brings us to my little game.”
She turned and blew a ring of green flame. It slowly billowed forth until it formed an archway a dozen feet before them. With a snap of Daybreak's fingers, a scene filled the flaming arch like an enormous looking glass. Within, Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Rarity stood in one of Canterlot's old dungeons that had not seen use in several centuries. They were all in a stupor, standing in place with their eyes closed and drooling mouths hanging open.
“Twilight!” Celestia yelled.
“Soon,” Daybreak said, “you will see those you lauded as the saviours of Equestria—even your precious teacher's pet—are not above the flaws you damned me for. They will spend the rest of their natural lives languishing in a world I have fabricated from their own dreams. And you will watch them all slowly wither away. Perhaps then you will appreciate the extent of your mistake.”
Celestia's expression grew earnest. “Spike, I know you're still in there somewhere. You have to fight this. Daybreak is going to tear Equestria apart, and you're the only one who can—”
A loud thwack resonated in the room. A bright red mark blemished Celestia's face where Daybreak had struck her. “Silence! Your words are wasted. It's like your endless, insufferable lectures. It is a wonder that I survived my fillyhood after the countless occasions you nearly bored me to death.” She raised a finger and shot a small bolt of magic that scorched the tip of Celestia's snout, eliciting a small yelp.
“Don't you dare lay another claw on my sister!” Luna said.
Daybreak's eyes narrowed, and her tail swished as she approached Luna. “Oh, of course. Where are my manners? I believe we have never properly met.” She cupped Luna's muzzle in her hand and stroked it as she would a dog's. Luna bared her teeth and snarled. “You were oddly never around when I lived in my pony form. Where were you, again? Ah, that's right. You were you sister's favourite moon decoration, much like you are my favourite throne room decoration... no, you are only my second-favourite, behind your dear sister. Just like the old days.”
“Free me and say that again.” The venom in Luna's voice was potent enough to wither flowers, but all Daybreak did was chuckle.
“What's the point? Even combined, your powers are no match for mine.” Daybreak's draconic eyes glittered with malice. “What chance could you possibly have alone?”
Luna spat at Daybreak, barely missing her. “Try me.”
Daybreak tutted and waggled her finger. “Such insolence, Luna. I suppose you have a penchant for picking fights with those whose powers far surpass your own. I thought you'd have learned your lesson while trapped in the moon for a thousand years. Perhaps you needed a thousand more.”
Luna closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. A feeble white glow surrounded her horn, but the crystal did not so much as crack.
“How adorable,” Daybreak said. “Your new accommodations are made from my magic. Short of me allowing you to go free, it would take a force stronger than me to break them—which, thanks to my new body, simply isn't possible. You can try to break it until you're blue in the face—oh.” She threw her head back and laughed, her voice booming off the walls.
“You will not prevail, Daybreak. You will never prevail,” Celestia said.
“Oh?” Daybreak rounded on her. “It looks to me like I already have.”
“Surely you are aware of the events of the last two years. Thanks to the efforts of Twilight Sparkle and her friends, Equestria has survived far worse than the likes of you.” Celestia's voice bore the strength of tempered steel. “Holding us here will upset the natural order. If the moon remains in the sky for too long without the sun to keep the world in balance, your kingdom will become nothing more than a frozen wasteland, devoid of all life. Then who will you oppress? Your victory tonight is as empty as your heart.”
Daybreak gave her a slow, mocking clap. “Oh, bravo, Celestia. I see that even in your situation, you not only remain quite the orator, but are capable of bluffing with a straight face. That's right—I call your bluff. You think either the unicorns have forgotten how to manipulate the celestial bodies, or would be unwilling to do it with you as my prisoner. Once again, you underestimate the extent of the magic I command. For somepony as supposedly wise as you, that is a surprising lapse in judgment.”
Daybreak raised her right hand into the air and balled it into a fist. Magic radiated from her horns like slow-rising steam, and her eyes glowed white. She pulled her hand down. Its descent was slow, and it shook as if it tugged an immense weight. As her fist lowered, the moon sank behind the horizon, plunging the throne room into total darkness, save for the glow of Daybreak's magic and the flaming oval outline of the magic looking glass.
Daybreak sneered at the horror-stricken Celestia as she opened her left palm and pushed it toward the ceiling. Is it reached neck-height, warm, orange fingers of sunlight poked into the room. “As you can see,” she said, the magic around her fading, “it's... daybreak.”
Celestia finally managed to say, “But how?”
“Dragons are mighty creatures,” Daybreak said. She folded her arms. “Even a wingless whelp such as Spike is dragonkin. But the dragons have one weakness: they possess no magic. Truth be told, I could not predict what would happen when I merged my essence with his body. But, with him as my vessel—my conduit—the results speak for themselves.”
“You're an abomination.”
Daybreak zapped Celestia's snout again. “I am beautiful!” she bellowed. “Now...” Her voice returned to its measured arrogance as she strutted toward the flaming magical glass and gestured at the six ponies within. “I think it's time you see the world through their eyes.” She snapped her fingers.
What Celestia saw made the blood freeze in her veins.
* * *
Wind whistled through dozens of decrepit windows, their grimy glass panes rattling within rotten wooden frames in thick stony slits. The frigid gusts curled around countless bookshelves carved from rock and stirred the hairs on Twilight Sparkle's mane. She sat huddled in a pile of blankets, muzzle buried in a foot-thick tome whose yellowed pages spoke of ancient unicorn history, fables, traditions, and customs from the Vanhoover region three thousand years prior to the city's founding. Apart from the foggy white light bleeding through the windows, an ornate lantern in the shape of a unicorn horn illuminated her surroundings, the flames' light flickering between the spirals.
She sat in the middle of a library whose name time had long forgotten. It was an ageless place beyond her wildest fantasies. Hidden within a mountain deep in the Frozen North, it had taken Twilight years to locate. But after consuming all the knowledge in the Canterlot Archives, she had to have more. This repository of pre-Celestia lore would sate her hunger for decades to come.
Twilight sat nestled between two bookshelves that stood forty feet tall and stretched for hundreds of yards. They were curved and meticulously carved from the stone that comprised the entire structure. Rows upon rows of these shelves formed rings with periodical gaps that allowed both easy access from one ring to another, and paths toward the rectangular windows at the room's edge. A round table with stalagmite-like chairs sat in the centre next to a tight spiral staircase that spanned the library's dozens of floors.
The structure itself was hewn from an uncharted mountaintop. Twilight's provisions had run out shortly after her arrival, but she found the topmost floor—the custodian's quarters—contained a pantry that always seemed to replenish itself with fresh food whenever she opened it on an empty stomach, and a water basin and sink with levers that pumped fresh glacial water.
The days were no longer days to Twilight. Her only perception of time was the closing of one book and the opening of another. She had to sleep several times before she made it more than a few pages through the first book she eased open; the language was antiquated and rife with words that had long fallen out of use or had their meaning or spelling changed entirely.
She occasionally hummed to herself over the wind's constant howl. Now that she had grown used to the language, it had a sort of music to it that contemporary speech lacked. The unread portion of her current book only came up to her fetlocks. She grinned. It would be easy to finish this book and perhaps start on the next before she had to retire for sleep.
A sharp crack tore through the air, as if the stone floor itself had split open in front of her. She yelped and sprang to her hooves. Between the shelves ahead, a gash-like tear had appeared in reality itself. The starry blackness of space lay between its jagged edges. Without warning, it stretched open like a sideways gaping maw. Before Twilight could react, it surged forward and swallowed her whole. In a flash, her surroundings vanished.
Twilight floated in a void with only what looked like distant stars providing illumination. She was weightless, a sailless ship drifting in a still ocean. It's like I'm in space, she thought. But how can I breathe if that's the case? Her mind could produce no logical explanation.
Another jagged tear appeared in front of her, but this one made no sound. It morphed and shifted into the form of an alicorn. In a flash of light, the black outline took the shape of Princess Luna. She wore a baleful expression.
Twilight blinked and shook her head. “W-what? How?”
“What is the meaning of this, Princess Twilight Sparkle? Luna's voice boomed. The lack of walls to provide an echo befitting such a loud and commanding voice left an eerie feeling.
“I'm studying.” The lack of conviction in Twilight's voice took her by surprise.
“At the expense of what?”
She did not understand what Luna meant, so she shrugged.
Luna shook her head in palpable disgust. “The Princess of Friendship spends her time rotting within an abandoned library, obliviously passing the time whilst Equestria burns.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Don't you? Your royal title implies you would surround yourself with other ponies. Tell me—how many visitors has this library had, the two of us aside, in the last thousand years?”
Twilight stared past Luna. Something about her words struck a chord, but which chord, she did not know.
“Then you truly are lost,” Luna continued. “Daybreak Aurora was correct. You are no better than she.”
Daybreak Aurora... Somehow, the name sounded familiar, though she could not place it. “I... I don't understand.”
“Then allow me to show you what has become of the world while you were encapsulated in your little bubble of books and endless research.” Luna closed her eyes, and the void shimmered.
Twilight still felt no gravity, but her surroundings had changed. She floated above a procession of ponies, all burdened with massive saddlebags, marching toward Canterlot Castle. It would have looked like an army had it not been for the lack of uniforms or weapons and the presence of fillies and colts among the mares and stallions. Ahead, flanking the approach to the mountainside trail leading to the capitol, two statues towered some three hundred feet high.
They cast intimidating shadows on the approaching ponies. They depicted the same creature standing tall with one hand clenched into a fist by its belly and the other with an open palm facing the approaching ponies as if to ward off would-be attackers. The creature, which almost resembled a dragon, had long, slender limbs that suggested femininity. Several spikes protruded from each, and its head inexplicably had what looked like a unicorn horn.
The land around the castle, which Twilight remembered as lush green plains of grass, checkered wheat fields, and winding rivers, was now nothing more than a brown, lifeless stretch of terrain that could only be described as a desolation. She looked to the statues again. “That... that's Daybreak Aurora, isn't it?” she found herself saying.
“Indeed,” Luna said, floating beside her. “After she usurped the throne, she transformed our once beautiful kingdom into... this. My sister and I could only watch, and you had long since disappeared into the Canterlot Archives to pursue what you called 'a higher education.'”
Guilt made Twilight want to stare at the ground, but she could not tear her eyes from the statues or the ponies marching toward the castle like drones. “What are they doing?”
“Observing custom. Gone are the Summer Sun Celebration and Nightmare Night. Now, the only day of jubilation—if you are deluded enough to call it that—is known as The Light of Dawn.”
“The Light of Dawn?”
“Hardly a fitting name. It marks the anniversary of Daybreak's ascension to the throne. On this day, all her subjects are to bring gifts worthy of her splendour.” Disgust curled Luna's words. “Anypony who dares not attend, or brings a gift she deems unworthy, faces a life sentence of slave labour. Those statues serve as a reminder of that.”
Twilight retched and would have vomited, had she eaten in the past eight hours. The shock sent her memories tumbling back into her mind. They flickered in her eyes in an accelerated slideshow: Spike leaving the library; Rarity storming in with the diamond; her earnest journey to Canterlot; Celestia's tale of Daybreak Aurora; Spike eating the diamond; Daybreak possessing his body and using it to conquer Equestria. “I... I have to do something!”
Luna disappeared and reappeared in front of her. She wore a grim smile. “Only you have the power to save yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“None of this is real. It is an illusion fashioned by Daybreak herself. You and your friends' minds are trapped within it. As long as you are content with your situations—a twisted paradise of your greatest desires taken to their most extreme ends—you will remain imprisoned by your own yearnings forever. You must reject it.”
Twilight felt her throat constrict. Give up the lost library? The books were so captivating, she could not fathom the idea. But the state of the land and the statues—and the knowledge of how they had been built—formed an anvil around her neck. She closed her eyes. The library had brought her so much simple joy, for it was a fountain of knowledge from which she could drink forever, but what was once pure, cool water turned to bile on her tongue when she considered the price of her paradise.
“I'm ready, but... how did you get here?” Twilight could not believe it had taken her this long to ask that question.
Luna's grin became mischievous. “You have made the same mistake Daybreak Aurora did: underestimating me. Because I was banished during her lifetime, she thinks me weak. She never did learn of my dreamwalking powers. Presently, Daybreak thinks I am attempting to escape my crystal prison, whereas in reality I have entered her illusion and put my own special touch on it. To Daybreak, you are still in that library. When you awaken, you will be able to re-enter this world like I have by tapping your horn against your friends' heads and listening.”
“Where are they? In this world, I mean.”
“I do not know,” Luna said. “And I cannot simply shatter the illusion myself. It would alert Daybreak, and she would recreate the illusion and make sure I could not interfere again. I must focus my power on keeping her thinking that there is nothing irregular occurring in this world. Therefore, the task of locating them and convincing them to leave falls to you, Twilight Sparkle. They are your friends, and you know them best.”
Determination filled Twilight with renewed strength. “I am the Princess of Friendship. It's the only way out of here, and the only way for us to challenge Daybreak, since brute force won't work. I won't let her win, Princess Luna.”
Luna drifted backward and nodded. “No, you will not.” With that, she phased out of sight in a blur of bent reality.
Twilight closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She concentrated as hard as she could. “All the knowledge in Equestria isn't worth abandoning my friends for. Nothing is.” Her voice grew louder with each word she spoke. “I don't want it. I don't want any of it!” she screamed.
The sound of a thousand shattering panes of glass tore into her ears. Her head spun, and she felt like a barrel caught in a massive whirlpool. Her side hit something cold and hard. Vertigo slammed into her brain.
She cracked her eyes open, and things finally began to stop spinning. She lay on her side in the middle of a dank dungeon made of stone. Judging from the moss, decay, and stench, it had not seen use in many, many years. The only way out was a barred steel door to her left. A pair of torches illuminated the dreary room. Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie, and Rainbow stood in various spots in front of her, unmoving. They all wore the same listless expression. Their eyes were closed, and their jaws slack.
Twilight stood. Where was Applejack? A quiet sob from behind answered her silent question. She spun around and saw her friend huddled in a corner, face buried in her Stetson. Twilight approached, her hooves making an echoing clack with each step.
“Applejack? You're awake? But how?”
Her friend continued sobbing as if she were not there.
Twilight knelt beside her. She placed a forehoof on her shoulder and gave a gentle nudge. “Applejack? Hey, it's me, Twilight. Are you awake?”
Applejack tilted her hat up just enough for their eyes to meet, and then lowered it again. Her eyes were red.
“What's wrong? Surely you were in Daybreak's dream world. What did you see?” Twilight did her best to soften her voice with hushed sincerity. Applejack quivered beneath her touch. Twilight could not stop herself from shuddering. “Applejack, please, speak to me. I'm here. Whatever nightmare she put you through is over. It's really me.”
Applejack let her hat drop to the floor. She gave Twilight a blank stare with puffy eyes. “I...” her voice came choked and feeble. “I saw my parents.”
Twilight leaned forward and wrapped Applejack in a tight embrace. She felt her friend nuzzle her chest and silently sob into it. As much as it hurt to see her like this, Twilight was proud of Applejack. She alone had resisted Daybreak's temptation without help.
Twilight patted her friend on the back. In comforting Applejack she too began to recover from her illusory ordeal. She already found herself pining for the fantasy library Daybreak had conjured for her, but it was just that—a fantasy.
After several long minutes with no sounds aside from the faint crackling of torches, Applejack's subdued weeping, and her own breathing filling the room, Twilight pulled back. “Listen, Applejack, I have to go now.”
“Go?”
“Yes.” Twilight looked to the four others behind her. “They're all trapped within Daybreak's illusion like we were. I need to save them.”
Applejack swallowed several times and wiped her eyes. “How do you mean? When I woke up, I shook 'em, includin' you, and nopony budged.”
“The only way out is to reject the temptation Daybreak created,” Twilight said. “Princess Luna showed me the world that Daybreak created there—and will create here—if I let myself do nothing but study. You were the only one who was wise enough to lose her illusion on her own.”
Applejack propped herself against the wall and stared at Twilight with trembling lips.
Twilight gave her the broadest smile she could manage. “You were incredible.”
“Thanks, Twi.” Applejack took a long, shuddering breath. “Do ya need my help? I can come with you... even if it means sayin' goodbye a third time...”
Twilight forced herself to stand and resist the urge to hug Applejack again. She had to be strong. “No. Even if I could bring you with me, I don't want you to have to go through that again. I'm only able to enter the illusion again because Princess Luna will mask what I'll be doing. More ponies in there who aren't under Daybreak's influence will only increase the risk of us getting caught, and if that happens...”
Applejack clutched her hat like a pillow. “I understand. I'll be waitin' for you.”
Magic thrummed in Twilight's horn. As she approached Pinkie Pie, she mentally ran through Luna's instructions: tap and listen. Nervousness slowed her progress, but she lowered her horn and brought it to Pinkie's temple. Immediately, a current of strange magic touched her mind. The suddenness of it made her gasp, but she remained still.
Twilight took a deep breath and shut her eyes. She felt herself standing upon the bank of a river. Arcane magic flowed up and down through its bends. Without being able to see where it streamed to, she knew the lakes between it were consciousnesses—her friends. She dove in.
Her body, weightless as the air, rushed through the ethereal slipstream. Or, Twilight thought, I've left my body behind. It felt like being caught in a wind tunnel or a rush of cool water, but she did not feel her hair being blown about, nor did she feel wet. The sensation stopped without warning. Her hooves touched cobblestone, and she opened her eyes.
Twilight stood outside a two-story house whose architecture resembled Ponyville’s, though a quick glance around told her she was in a town she had never seen before. Coloured light pulsed from the windows, each flash moving down the spectrum in a gradient.
Her body felt odd, like it was not all there. She looked at herself, and she appeared normal, but she felt lighter. Curious, she bent her legs and jumped, only going a couple of feet into the air before gravity took over. With weightlessness no longer a possibility, she continued to wonder what this odd feeling was.
Unfamiliar dexterity sparked in her mind, almost as if she had another limb she could control just like her legs and wings. Yet her body was as normal for her as it had ever been. Wait a second, she thought, I'm dreamwalking! When she thought of the way Luna had been able to disappear and reappear at will, she imagined herself at the approach to Canterlot.
In an instant, she stood beside the road. It was dusk, and the marching ponies had set up camp for the night. None seemed to notice her. She realized she was invisible to them, and would remain so until she decided to appear. Experimentally, she willed herself to float. Her form appeared high above the ponies, exactly where she imagined it. She felt gaseous as she drifted above them.
A thought tugged hard at her mind. If she wanted, she could teleport back to that library and read just one more book. A book or two couldn't hurt, could it? At the least, she could finish the book she had her snout buried in when Luna appeared to her. But one look at the setting sun reminded her of the monstrous Daybreak statues, their twin sneers taunting her.
With a flex of her new powers, she materialized in front of the building where she had first arrived. She tried to knock on the door, but her hoof phased through it. I'm incorporeal, she thought. This must be how Luna can move through ponies' dreams before she appears to them.
Twilight stepped through the door. She stood in the middle of a chaotic living room. The tables, chairs, and couches lay in a haphazard heap against the walls. The largest couch was propped upright on the stairs, forming a makeshift barricade. The doors leading to the kitchen had a gigantic padlock and chains fastened to the knobs. Strobe lights taped to the ceiling flashed the colours Twilight had seen through the windows.
In the centre of it all, Pinkie, who wore a jester's cap and clown nose, cartwheeled about, her movements fueled by manic energy. Fillies, colts, mares, and stallions of all descriptions lay scattered about the floor, some on discarded sofa cushions. Had their chests not been rising and falling with the slowness of sleep, the room would have looked like a twisted murder scene littered with streamers, balloons, and confetti.
Twilight willed herself to materialize. The semi-weightlessness vanished. Pinkie stopped mid-cartwheel, falling flat on her face.
She hopped up and laughed at herself. “Twilight? How'd you do that? Neat party trick!”
“Party? Pinkie, everypony's sleeping.”
Pinkie swiveled her head round the room. “Oh, I guess these wimpy ponies are overloaded already. Psssh, I've only been here for ten hours.”
Twilight gawped at her. The ponies around them looked exhausted enough to sleep for a week. “Ten hours? What in the hay is this? Where is this?”
“How do you not know where we are?” Pinkie covered her mouth with her hooves and snickered. “This is Hoofington, silly. I've been traveling around Equestria, throwing the greatest party ever! It's the greatest because it never ends.” She pointed to the wall behind Twilight. “I call it the Mandatory Fun party.”
Twilight's eyes followed Pinkie's forehoof. Next to the front door—padlocked similarly to the one opposite it—she saw two posters. One was a Wonderbolts poster that depicted Rainbow Dash performing a Sonic Rainboom, and the other was of a grim-looking Pinkie clad in her jester's cap. She stood superimposed over an army of marching ponies wearing party hats. The words “MANDATORY FUN” were emblazoned on the bottom.
Twilight clapped her forehead with a hoof. Did her library fantasy look this absurd to Luna? She heaved a deep breath and turned around. “Pinkie, there's something I have to tell you,” she said.
Pinkie bounced up and down, but remained in place. “Ooh, what is it. Twilight?”
“This isn't real. None of it is. You're trapped in an illusion created by Daybreak Aurora.”
Pinkie froze in place. Then she clutched her belly and fell on the floor, overcome with side-shattering laughter. “Wow! That's hilarious.”
“I'm serious.”
At this, Pinkie laughed even harder.
“Pinkie, please.” The hardness vanished from Twilight's voice. A low, earnest tone took its place. “You've got to listen to me. Look around you. These ponies are passed out. You've barred the doors, for pony's sake. Where are your friends? Where are our friends?”
Pinkie stood and leaned close to Twilight. A grim frown tugged at her features. “You're trying to poop my party. Nopony poops the Mandatory Fun party!” She grabbed Twilight's head and shoved it into the poster. In tiny print, the words “Absolutely NO pooping of parties!” were written in the bottom-left corner. “See?”
Twilight wriggled free of her friend's grasp and stood by the door. “Come on. You have to break free! Daybreak created the illusions based around each of our greatest desires. The only way out is to realize what's going on and reject them.”
“And what was yours? Some big, stuffy library all to yourself?” Pinkie sat and folded her forelegs. “I've decided you're too boring for this party. You've put everypony to sleep. Look! You should go somewhere just as boring as you are, like the Crystal Empire.”
“Why would I want to go north?”
“Who said anything about north?” Pinkie chuckled. “I'm talking about Ponyville!”
Twilight's mind reeled. “Ponyville?” She wondered what Pinkie meant. No matter how crazy what she said sounded, there was always an underlying truth to it, even if it was not readily apparent. “Pinkie, what do you mean?”
Pinkie reached into her cap and produced a large iron key. She inserted it into the padlock and turned. With a clunk, the lock released, and the chains clattered to the ground. “You'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to move the party to the other side of Hoofington.”
Humming to herself, Pinkie bounced about the room and produced a massive trunk from behind one of the couches. She began packing her paraphernalia inside it at a frightening speed. Twilight debated doing what Luna had done for her and showing Pinkie the approach to Canterlot, but she realized it would do little good; in fact, it would likely encourage Pinkie to party even harder.
Panic set in. Pinkie seemed beyond convincing. Luna made it look so easy. Only now did Twilight fully appreciate how out of her element she was. There had to be a way—just had to. But she could not see it. She thought back to Pinkie's words. They made no sense, but then perhaps they did. Perhaps the solution to freeing Pinkie lay somewhere in Ponyville.
She had to try. With dreamwalking, she could move about this illusory Equestria at will. Twilight closed her eyes and imagined herself in the middle of Ponyville. The clattering of Pinkie bustling about faded. Silence met Twilight's ears. Worried she had miscalculated her target destination, she looked around.
For a moment, her heart stopped.
She stood in Ponyville, but not the Ponyville she remembered. All around her, structures sat encased in light-blue crystal. Only a few buildings remained intact. It took her a minute to figure out she was in the middle of Ponyville's high street, a place normally bustling with life; but now, thanks to the mysterious crystals, it had all the livelihood of a cemetery. It had become daytime during her seemingly instantaneous travel between Hoofington and here. She surmised the passage of time somehow bent upon her necessity.
As she observed her surroundings more closely, she grew more horrified. Crystal formations populated the streets. Within those formations, ponies stood frozen in various poses. A mother and filly were handing bits to a stallion selling saddlebags; several colts were in the middle of kicking a ball around; a mare held a flower sandwich to her muzzle, preparing to take a bite; and there were many more.
They all had one feature in common: expressions of pure, utter terror. Who could have done this? Twilight wondered. She flew above the buildings and searched for the pony responsible. Her first instinct was Daybreak, but Daybreak's magic crystals were yellow. It also made no sense for Daybreak to do this to Ponyville in an imaginary world constructed to trap Twilight and her friends.
Twilight could see only a few structures in the entire town that had not succumbed to the crystals. Her eyes scanned them. “No... it can't be,” she said.
The Carousel Boutique remained among the free buildings. Twilight headed toward it. Dozens of ponies were arranged on the lawn like a diorama of crystallized garden gnomes. The display sickened her. She had to remind herself over and over that none of this was real, and those were not real ponies suffering.
Her hooves touched down on the Boutique's doormat. Even the air around her felt still and dead. She did not want to believe it, but the ponies around her and the colour of the crystals—the same as Rarity's magic—led her to believe it could not be anypony else. Gulping, she opened the door and stepped inside.
Rarity, wearing a flowing, diamond-studded blue dress, sat in the middle of what was once her shop. The floor had been cleared completely, except for one crystal formation in the centre. Inside it, Sweetie Belle and Opalescence were caught in mid-run. Rarity stared admiringly at it like she would at a stallion in the centrefold of a Cosmarepolitan magazine.
Twilight approached until she stood next to her. She cleared her throat.
Rarity's head snapped up. “Twilight? What—?”
“What is the meaning of this, Rarity? Was this your doing?” More anger than Twilight wanted slipped into her voice. She silently berated herself as Rarity flinched. She needed to help Rarity save herself, not be terrified of her.
“Was what my doing?” Rarity said. “You mean this?” She gestured at her petrified sister and cat. “Oh, why, yes. This is the culmination of my life's work, darling. I have created true beauty!”
Twilight could not decide if this or Pinkie's Mandatory Fun party was weirder. “Explain.” The sickening display around her forced her to resort to simple, curt commands to keep her temper in check.
“Normally, I wouldn't reveal the secret of my genius to anypony, but since I haven't seen you in so long...” The eagerness permeating her body language made her look like she wanted to tell all of Equestria. “So, I was designing my dresses as usual, such as the piece I'm wearing, but I thought, 'How could I take it a step further?' I knew I could do better. And then it came to me one night in a dream.”
Rarity chuckled. “I know it sounds cliche, but it's the truth. My destiny, my true destiny, was to create true beauty. I knew what I had to do. I would seek ponies and buildings out and wait until they were at their most beautiful. You see, my dresses made others more beautiful, but if I used a crystallization spell on a pony when he or she was in his or her most beautiful moment, I could capture that beauty forever. Fashions change, dresses are damaged and need repair, and one must have an ensemble of clothes in order to maintain fabulosity. But this...”
Twilight had heard enough. She brought her hoof down. “This is cruel!”
Rarity's ears twitched. “Cruel? Come, dear, this is the greatest gift of all. Ponyville is now the most spectacular town in all of Equestria. These ponies are part of something positively gorgeous.”
“You froze Sweetie Belle. Your own sister.”
“What of it?” Rarity ran a forehoof along the crystal above Sweetie's head. “She was the first I performed the spell on. Of course, she didn't appreciate my vision at first, but one must start somewhere. I'm sure she'd understand now that my work is done.”
“You've frozen ponies in crystal. How is that beautiful?” Twilight's chest heaved. She flared her wings and pressed her ears against her head. “Don't you see it? It's all around you. You've put beauty above all else, even your own family. You're not the Element of Generosity anymore. You're doing evil’s work.”
Rarity sprang to her hooves and bared her teeth at Twilight. “Evil? How dare you! You come into my home, and you have the gall to insult my life's greatest work.”
“All this,” Twilight said, waving a hoof at Sweetie Belle and the door behind her, “is a trap constructed by Daybreak Aurora. She's turned your ambitions against you—warped them into... this. Is this what you really want?”
Rarity frowned. “Daybreak Aurora? Who might that be?”
“The tyrant who sits on Equestria's throne while you're imprisoned here,” Twilight said. “Give it up. Free your sister, and come with me. If these crystals are really a reflection of who you truly are and the extent of your ambitions... you are no better than she.”
“That's enough.” An unsettling calm filled Rarity's words. “There's only one way I'm getting through to you.” Her horn crackled, sparks shooting from its tip. “In your case, understanding of the perfection I have created will only come through... experiencing it!”
Before Twilight could react, Rarity fired a burst of magic. It struck Twilight square in the chest. Immediately, she felt a rigid sensation creeping through her body. She looked down. Solid blue crystal began to sprout from her chest and spread, rippling atop her coat in an invisible wave. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—she could use to stop the spell.
She found nothing.
Twilight closed her eyes and did the only thing she could think of: reach out with her new-found dreamwalking magic. She—crystals still growing on her—and Rarity appeared in the Canterlot throne room. Daybreak lounged on the throne, while Celestia and Luna remained trapped in yellow crystal prisons.
Rarity looked at them, then at Twilight. “I don't understand. What is this?”
“Reality,” Twilight grunted. Feeling fled her limbs, and talking was difficult. She could not free herself with her magic or even her dreamwalking abilities. If she became completely frozen, what would happen? Would she remain trapped in this world forever?
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the Princesses,” Twilight said. The crystal began to creep up her neck. “Daybreak usurped the throne by doing this to them—what you're doing to me right now.”
Rarity paused. Her expression resembled that of somepony who had just heard a massive pane of glass shatter right beside her. “But it's different. What this... whatever it is... did to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna is monstrous. She trapped them in horrid yellow crystal for personal gain, whereas my cause is noble. I did it to preserve beauty!”
The encroaching crystal reached Twilight's jaw. “Is it so different?” She tried to say more, but the crystal sealed her muzzle shut. Her vision clouded over as she was almost completely sealed in Rarity's magic. The hazy vision of Daybreak's throne room gave way to the Carousel Boutique once more.
She vaguely saw Rarity, panic-stricken, pawing at her and shooting another beam of magic. If she said anything, Twilight could not hear it. A sharp crack split her eardrums. Another louder crack followed it, and Twilight found herself sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a million tiny crystalline splinters.
Rarity stood over her, a forehoof extended. “Twilight, are you all right?”
Coughing, Twilight accepted her friend's hoof and groggily stood back up. “I... I think so. Wait.” A smile blossomed across her muzzle. “You reversed the spell!”
“I had to.”
The crystal that had once encapsulated Twilight evaporated into a magical haze.
“I don't understand it. I was so absorbed in what I wanted, I couldn't see what I was really doing. It wasn't until I saw someone else doing it that I realized.”
Twilight hugged her. “I was trapped here, too, and so was Applejack. Pinkie, Rainbow, and Fluttershy are still here, somewhere.”
“Mmm... and where is here, exactly?”
Twilight stepped back and explained the dream-world. “... and so, the only way out is by letting go, giving up the temptation Daybreak gave you.”
“Oh, is that all?” Rarity said with a laugh. “Now that I'm not drunk from the poison she gave me, so to speak, that's easy. So you say that once I release Sweetie Belle, I'll leave this world?”
“I think so,” Twilight said.
Magic gleamed around Rarity's horn. “Before I leave, I think I can help you.” She launched her magic at the crystalized Sweetie Belle in a hair-thick cutting beam. It traced along the crystal with a surgeon's precision. “Fluttershy is in her cottage, I think. She's surrounded it with thick metal bars and won't allow anypony inside.” Sweetie's crystal prison issued a sharp crack.
“Thank you, Rarity.” Twilight watched with fascination as Rarity finished her spell. The crystal began to fracture. In a few seconds, it would shatter, just like her prison did. “I'll see you on the other side. I'll probably look a bit silly when you wake up, but don't worry. Just... please, try to comfort Applejack. She needs a friend right now.”
Confusion crossed Rarity's face. “All right. I'll keep that in mind.”
The crystal shattered, and Sweetie and Opal tumbled free. Rarity scooped up their prone forms. Immediately, they blurred like pencil sketches swiped by an eraser. “Oh, and the centre of town will—”
Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and Opalescence winked out of existence, leaving Twilight alone in the Boutique. Wondering what Rarity was trying to say, Twilight instantaneously traversed the length of Ponyville and appeared at the front door of Fluttershy's cottage.
Thick steel bars surrounded it. They were too close together to stick a hoof between. A pony-sized door on the path to the cottage served as the only exit, and it had not one, but three keyholes.
Twilight tentatively raised a forehoof and rapped on the door.
“Who's there?” Gone was the softness in Fluttershy's voice. It sounded harsh, almost gravelly.
“It's me—Twilight.” The harshness of the challenge had left her rattled.
“Are you clean?” Her voice was louder than before. Twilight guessed Fluttershy stood next to the door. She had no idea why she was acting this way, or why she had surrounded her cottage with bars that looked like they could withstand an avalanche.
“Of course I am,” Twilight said with an eye roll. “What kind of question is that?”
“How can I be sure?”
“Fluttershy, just let me in.”
“I can't put the animals in danger,” Fluttershy grunted with the ferocity of a mother bear. “You won't lay a hoof on them, understand?”
“Okay, okay!”
The door creaked open, and Twilight could not have prepared herself for what it revealed.
The sight that met Twilight's eyes could only be described as an animal internment camp. Locked cages of varying size covered the walls, most of the floorspace, and even the ceiling. Each contained exactly one animal, each with heavy, hope-drained expressions. Although the cages’ sizes varied according to the animal they contained, they were arranged in such a way that they occupied every inch of available space. Twilight's inner organizer could not help but appreciate the perfect efficiency.
The locks were welded shut.
Fluttershy glared at her with leery eyes. “It's feeding time in eighteen minutes, so make it quick. At that time, you're gonna have to get out of here so you don't contaminate the food.”
The coldness in Fluttershy's voice cut into Twilight's hide, eliciting a shiver. “What's gotten into you? What have you done to them?”
“The animals are safe now,” Fluttershy said. “From you, the weather, monsters, and everypony and everything.” She ignored the sad wheeze of a cough from the bear locked in the huge cage in the back right corner. “How often have poor little mice been chased out of restaurants with brooms, or cute bunnies been accidentally stepped on, or bears stubbing their widdle toesies on tree roots?”
“Not often, actually.”
“Shush!” Fluttershy puffed herself up and tried to loom over Twilight. “You don't know animals like I do. Now, no harm will come to them ever again.”
Several debilitated coughs from the caged animals challenged her statement.
“They don't sound very unharmed.” Twilight tried to look past her, but Fluttershy craned her neck to move her head in the way of Twilight's gaze.
“That's why I can't have anypony in here. I've been working myself half to death trying to take care of them.”
Twilight now noticed the black bags under Fluttershy's eyes and the wrinkles creasing her face. She tried to make herself sound as diplomatic as possible. “Well, maybe they're so sick because of their horrible living conditions.”
She immediately knew her mistake when Fluttershy's right eye twitched several times and she launched into a tirade about how Twilight was a horrible pony for even suggesting the animals were in anything but the best, most kind and caring hooves.
Rather than paying too much attention, Twilight began to plan her next move. A part of her felt stupid for arguing about conditions for animals who did not even exist, but she knew she had to convince Fluttershy to become disillusioned with this world at face value, and simply telling her the truth outright would accomplish nothing.
In a bizarre sort of way, Fluttershy's actions made sense. Much like her friends—and Twilight herself—this twisted pseudo-reality Daybreak had fashioned consisted of scenarios where their desires had been taken to their most extreme ends. In Fluttershy's case, it was her kindness toward the animals. How better could she express kindness than to create a paradise for them where there was absolutely no chance of harm befalling them?
Twilight tried to think of how she could go about showing Fluttershy how wrong she was and the consequences of her actions. But nothing came to mind; the animals' sickness was her only idea, and there was no way Fluttershy would let her get close enough for a more thorough inspection.
Doubt struck her. As with Pinkie, she was stumped. She reminded herself it was only a stroke of luck that allowed her to show Rarity the truth.
“Understand?” Fluttershy cut into her thoughts. She wore a grim, righteous smirk.
“Animals are meant to roam free,” Twilight said. She wished she had more time to form a strong response. “Look at what you're doing to them. It's not right, not natural. Can't you see? I don't think they're happy.”
A puff of steam hissed from Fluttershy's flared nostrils. “They don't know what's good for them. You sound just like every other pony who tried to tell me the same thing. That's why I built those bars, but I guess you just couldn't take the hint.”
Twilight backpedalled. “Can we please talk about this? Outside, if you'd prefer. I promise I won't lay a hoof on your animals.”
“I think we've talked enough.”
Panic churned Twilight's mind. She forced herself to think. Fluttershy had always needed a little balancing out, especially when she and Twilight had first met. Without Angel Bunny, who Twilight guessed was also locked away somewhere, nothing kept her grounded. While Angel could not speak, he never shied away from reminding her when she lost focus on the bigger picture.
Angel.
“Fluttershy, wait,” Twilight said. “When's the last time you've spoken to Angel?”
“Angel?” The word gave Fluttershy pause. “A week, I think. He's fine—I left him plenty of carrots and water, more than enough for him to live on. Why?”
Twilight's chest fluttered as she prepared her last, desperate gambit. “He's usually a pretty big help, isn't he? Maybe he could assist you in taking care of the animals, or at least give you some advice. You look pretty worn out.”
Fluttershy regarded her through wary eyes and rubbed her muzzle with a forehoof. “There's no way I'd let him out and catch what the others have, but... maybe you're right.” She turned and shut the door in Twilight's face.
Twilight heard a series of tumblers thunking as Fluttershy spent a good thirty seconds locking the door. She gave the cottage's door a determined stare. Even though she knew Angel would likely be of little help—if he disapproved of Fluttershy's actions, he would have already expressed it to her—but this was her best chance. She had only been left alone with her thoughts for about a minute before a piercing shriek split the air.
Galloping hooves thumping down stairs and clopping on hardwood floor met her ears. The locks on the door's other side rattled as frantic hooves fumbled them. Finally, the door flew open. Chest heaving, Fluttershy glared at Twilight with accusing eyes. “What. Have. You. Done. With. Angel?”
“I don't—”
Fluttershy smashed a hoof into the ground. “Don't you lie to me, Twilight Sparkle! You're behind this. You're why my Angel is gone!”
Twilight blanched. “He's gone? I had nothing to do with it.”
“Prove it.”
“I only just got here.” Twilight wanted to comfort her friend, but she did not dare take a step forward for fear of further drawing her ire. “I'm just as surprised as you are. Look, I can help you find him, if you want. What was his cage like?”
“T-there was a hole... at the bottom.” Fluttershy's fury melted into grief on the turn of a bit. “He must've dug his way out. Oh, Twilight, I'm so worried!” On shaky hooves, she sank to her belly and stared at the ground.
Twilight knelt beside her. “See? It sounds like he escaped on his own. If I abducted him, then there'd be no hole, right? I'd have just taken him out of the cage with magic.”
Fluttershy did not look up. “Where could he have gone?”
Angel had never struck Twilight as the type of animal who would put up with being caged. With Fluttershy keeping all the animals under such strict lockdown, it only followed that Angel would attempt to escape. The sickness among the animals served as the perfect smokescreen. But where did he go?
Twilight knew Angel always loved Fluttershy, so it was unlikely he would have gone far. However, a small rabbit could find myriad hiding places, even if he kept close to the cottage. Twilight imagined a map of the surrounding area. The Everfree Forest would likely be too dangerous and uncomfortable for Angel.
A horrible thought struck her. The most logical first place for Angel to hide would be Ponyville. Her analysis made her remember Rarity's departure from this world. She had been trying to tell her something, but could not finish before the illusion lost its grasp on her mind.
The centre of town...
“Fluttershy, I think I know where Angel is,” Twilight said, her tone grim. Without waiting for a response, she teleported outside the bars.
Fluttershy scrabbled to her hooves and rushed toward the gate. “Twilight? What do you know?” She unlocked the door as fast as she could.
When it opened, Twilight took off for the centre of town at a canter with Fluttershy in tow. Throughout the trip, Fluttershy bombarded her with questions about where they were going, what happened to the town, and how Twilight could possibly think it was a good idea to let the animals go free when Ponyville was in such a state.
Twilight let her keep talking and half-hoped her theory was wrong. She had to continuously remind herself the animals and ponies in this world were not real, and any harm that befell them was not permanent. The only ones who mattered here were her friends. She came to a halt beside the fountain at Ponyville's heart. Like almost everything else there, it had been crystallized by Rarity. Apart from that, there was nothing remarkable about it. She glanced downward and noticed a small crystalline formation by her forehooves. Inside it was—
“Angel!” Fluttershy bowled Twilight over and clutched the crystal lump attached to the well. “Angel! Angel! Angel!” Her body quaked as she sobbed into the hard, unyielding prison. Angel, his face frozen in fear, crouched mid-hop in the opposite direction of Fluttershy's cottage.
“Everything will be okay,” Twilight said, wrapping her friend in a tight embrace.
“N-n-no, it won't!”
“Fluttershy, I know it looks bad, but I know how to save Angel.”
“Y-you do?” Fluttershy trembled a little less and looked into Twilight's eyes. “You have a spell?”
“No.” Twilight allowed an authoritative firmness to creep into her voice. “Only you have that power.” When Fluttershy gave a quizzical look, she collected her thoughts. This would have to be phrased perfectly. “There's a reason Angel tried to escape, isn't there?”
“He didn't know what was good for him.” She choked back a sob. “I tried to protect him from something like this, but he didn't listen. He dug a hole and ran.”
“He ran because you've become too protective. Look at what you've become,” Twilight said. “You can't see it, but you're hurting the animals more than helping them. Angel knew you'd lost it. The animals are your friends, and you help them when they're in trouble. You locked them up like criminals. Yes, they might hurt themselves in the wild, or even get killed by larger predators, but that's nature. You can't interfere with nature like that.”
Fluttershy had gone silent. Understanding had begun to write itself on her face.
“There is a way to save Angel,” Twilight continued. “You must let go.” She told Fluttershy of the true nature of this world, and her friend's expression shifted as she spoke. Understanding gave way to confusion; confusion twisted into shock; and shock boiled into fury. Twilight helped Fluttershy to her hooves. “So, you see, everypony has to give up the fantasy Daybreak is offering them.”
“This is a nightmare!” Fluttershy pawed the ground and flared her wings. “No fantasy of mine involves making innocent animals suffer. The way she built it made it all seem like it made sense. Animals came to me if they were hurt, so if I never let them leave, they couldn't get hurt. Nothing could happen to them under my watch.”
Twilight nodded. “It all makes sense until we take a step back and look at what's really going on.”
“So Angel isn't hurt?”
“He's safe and sound. The sooner we're all free of this spell, the sooner we can defeat Daybreak, get Spike back, and see Angel again.”
Fluttershy folded her wings and exhaled the stress and tension from her body. “I'll never let Daybreak turn me into a jailer.” With that, Fluttershy vanished.
Angel had disappeared from inside the crystal.
Twilight sat and allowed herself a breather. Two down, two to go, she thought. She still had no idea how to convince Pinkie, which left only Rainbow to confront. The image of the poster she had seen in Hoofington popped into her mind: a flier for the Wonderbolts featuring Rainbow front and centre. Twilight could not help but laugh. After the shocks of Rarity and Fluttershy's scenarios, Rainbow's promised to be the most predictable.
Twilight called upon her dreamwalking magic and transported herself to the Cloudsdale Colosseum, the place Rainbow had won the Best Young Fliers Competition. She appeared in the middle of the Colosseum's bleachers. An eerie silence hung in the air; the colosseum’s seats, which were filled to capacity with cheering pegasi on the day of the competition, were deserted.
The surrounding skies were equally vacant, with the exception of Rainbow, who lounged on a cloud chair and sipped a mug of cider. A pair of aviators covered her eyes, and she wore a Wonderbolts flight suit adorned with a gleaming gold badge.
The cloud chair floated amidst an intricate-looking obstacle course built primarily of clouds. Among the clouds, there were several narrow metal rings. Twilight suspected those rings were meant to be set on fire. It resembled the course Rainbow had flown through in the Best Young Fliers, but a great deal larger and more elaborate.
“Hey, how'd you get past security—Twilight?” Rainbow looked surprised, but she did not move from her chair or put her cider down. “It's been so long! Have you finally come to see yours truly perform?”
Suppressing an eye roll, Twilight flew over. “You're sort of right, Rainbow. I've come to see you, but not for the reason you think. Where are the other Wonderbolts?”
Rainbow spat out a mouthful of cider and pounded an arm of her chair as she guffawed. “Other Wonderbolts? Geeze, you have been out of it, haven't you? I thought everypony in Equestria knew what happened. Ever since I made the team, I kept outperforming everypony. Not just by a little bit, but by a lot. They just couldn't compare to my awesomeness. I'm a one-pony show now, and that's all there is to it.”
Twilight had no idea how to begin to approach this one. Using her experiences with the others as a guide, she knew the Rainbow would only snap out of it if she realized she was not as awesome as she thought, but convincing her of that looked impossible. Twilight knew she had no hope of out-flying her, and if she used magic, Rainbow would brush it off as cheating. She also knew she had to wait until the right moment, as she had with Fluttershy, to tell Rainbow what was really going on.
“Rainbow, these seats are all empty,” Twilight said lamely.
“Duh.” Twilight could not see it, but she felt Rainbow rolling her eyes behind her aviators. “That's because the show isn't for another few hours. I'm just relaxing before warmups. Now, if you'll excuse me...”
A weird smile crossed Twilight's muzzle. She had the beginnings of a plan. What she had in mind was a long shot, she knew, but if it worked... “Well, I actually came here to tell you about an opportunity for a show.”
Rainbow's ears perked up at this. “A show?”
“Yeah, a show. Have you ever been to Hoofington?”
* * *
Later that evening, Twilight stood outside the building that housed the Mandatory Fun party. She was still impressed with herself over how easy it had been to convince Rainbow to perform here. All she had to do was mention an after-party Rainbow would never forget, and she was sold.
She knew Rainbow would arrive shortly, so she did not have long to execute the next stage of her plan. Without bothering to try the door, Twilight used her dreamwalking magic to phase through it and appear in the middle of the “party.” Pinkie was still the only one doing anything; all of her captive guests looked just as dead as before.
Just like the last time, Pinkie froze and turned to Twilight. This time, however, she was not pleased to see her. “What did I tell you about party pooping?”
Twilight backed off and raised her forehooves defensively. “I'm not here to poop anything. In fact, I'm bringing some entertainment.”
Pinkie gave a bemused snort. “I'm all the entertainment ponies need.”
“A little show. I notice at least somepony here is a Wonderbolts fan.” Twilight indicated the Rainbow Dash poster.
“Well, duh, everypony's almost as big a Wonderbolts fan as they are fans of my parties.”
Twilight looked at the half-comatose ponies littered about the room. “Yeah, they're fans, all right. Well, the Wonderbolts are going to perform just for you.”
“Really?” Pinkie leapt into the air, but came crashing down mid-leap. She stood and narrowed her eyes. “Wait, what's the catch? Wonderbolts tickets are wicked expensive.”
Twilight shot her a mischievous grin. “A party she'll never forget.”
If Pinkie smiled any wider, her face would have broken. “Okay, I forgive you for trying to poop Mandatory Fun. This is gonna be the best party ever!” She bounced up and down as if her legs had been replaced with springs. “When's she arriving?”
An intense burst of multicoloured light blasted through the windows, painting the room with its cascade.
“Right about now,” Twilight said.
Pinkie loosed a rambunctious war cry and hurtled toward the door. In a flurry of pink hooves, the padlock and chains clattered to the floor. She spun round. “Everypony, quick! The show's gonna start!” She darted out the door.
Twilight followed. High in the sky, with the setting sun as a spotlight, Rainbow Dash zoomed about in a cerulean blur. Twilight and Pinkie watched as Rainbow performed a glorified version of her practice routine, a routine they had both seen countless times. She did loop-de-loops, corkscrews, and dives where she pulled up at the last second before hitting the ground.
To an audience of two.
Even when Rainbow took sharp turns around the buildings, nopony in Hoofington paid her any mind. Twilight watched Pinkie's face more than she did Rainbow's tricks. Restlessness took excitement's place on Pinkie's features, and Twilight could not have been more delighted.
After what felt far too long, the show ended, and Rainbow touched down. She gave an exaggerated bow. “So, what'd you think? And where is everypony else?”
Pinkie rolled her eyes. “That was the show? Talk about boring. Everypony was too busy enjoying themselves at my party.”
“Boring?” Rainbow looked as if she had been punched square in the snout. “How could you call that boring? That's just not possible. I'm pretty sure there's something in the dictionary about how ‘boring’ can't be used to describe anything I do.”
“No, there isn't,” Twilight muttered.
Rainbow rounded on her and flared her wings. “What was that?”
“Never mind.”
“I said it was boring! B-o-r-i-n-g!” Pinkie stuck her head between Twilight and Rainbow. “I've wanted to see the Wonderbolts for such a long time, but I was busy with parties. I'm glad I didn't have to until now. With just you, it's like watching you practice back in Ponyville. It's okay, but nothing like we'd expect to see in an actual Wonderbolts performance.”
Rainbow went bug-eyed, and her expression froze in stunned surprise, like a fuse had shorted out in her brain. Twilight was tempted to check her ears to see if there was any smoke curling out.
Pinkie wrapped a foreleg around Rainbow and steered her inside the party house. “Twilight did promise you a great afterparty, right? Well, you've come to the best party in Equestria!”
Rainbow said nothing, but allowed herself to be dragged into the house. What she saw made her say, “Is this a joke?”
Pinkie cocked an eyebrow at her. “Um, what do you mean? I haven't told you any jokes yet. That reminds me! An earth pony, a unicorn, and a changeling walk into a barn—”
“No!” Furious rosy tints blemished Rainbow's cheeks. “I mean this! This looks less fun than studying ancient Unicornian politics with Twilight.”
“Hey!” Twilight's ears flattened. “That's a fascinating subject.”
“It's as boring as watching paint dry.”
Pinkie raised a forehoof. “I did that once!”
Rainbow gave her a wry grin. “Unicornian politics are about that boring, aren't they?”
“Yep!”
Twilight threw up her hooves. “I give up.”
Rainbow and Pinkie laughed.
Pinkie pricked her ears. “That sound...”
“What, laughter?” Rainbow asked.
A heavy pause filled the air. All mirth left Pinkie's face. She looked hollow. “Yeah. Genuine laughter. I... I haven't heard it in so long.”
“And what you said...” Rainbow sat and stared at the floor. “I've heard that before, too, but I thought that was just other pegasi being jealous of my awesomeness. But you'd never lie to me about something like this. We were prankster partners in crime. What have I done?”
“What have I done?” Pinkie surveyed the room as if she was looking at it for the first time. “I didn't bring the fun—I sucked it right out of everypony.”
“Finally,” Twilight said, heaving a deep sigh. “It's about time you two snapped out of it.” She explained the situation to them. “... so you see, you two have to give this up in order for us to wake up and join the others in the fight against Daybreak.”
“I remember now,” Rainbow said. Rage shook her limbs. “I remember what she did to the Princesses—and to us.”
Pinkie said nothing, but marched over to the Mandatory Fun poster. She removed it from the wall and tore it in half in one swift, solemn motion.
Pinkie Pie winked out of existence before the poster’s drifting remnants hit the ground.
Rainbow turned to Twilight. “Why didn't you tell me earlier?”
“Because it wouldn't have worked. You needed something stronger to make you see what you'd become.”
Shame dragged Rainbow's gaze to her Wonderbolts Captain's pin. “I don't deserve to wear this, not after what I’ve done. They're called the Wonderbolts after all, not the Wonderbolt. They're a team, just like us.”
When Rainbow removed the pin, not only did she vanish, but the whole world distorted. Twilight beamed as her surroundings became a churning mess of colour, like a dozen buckets of paint in a gigantic mixer. She took a deep breath and let go of her connection to the illusory world.
All became blackness, and she shut her eyes. When she opened them, the stone dungeon came into focus. Her friends surrounded her, all with grim, determined expressions. “We did it,” she said.
They nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.
Twilight stepped forward, and magic flared to life around her horn. Magenta light wrapped around the barred door, and she yanked it from the wall. It landed with a clatter against the stone floor.
“It's time for a rematch with Daybreak,” Rainbow said as she zoomed above her friends' heads. “This time, she's not gonna beat us.”
“After what horrid things she had us do, she simply must be stopped,” Rarity said.
Fluttershy marched toward the door. “And she made us enjoy it, too.”
Pinkie joined her. Gone was the bounce in her stride. “We're getting Spike back.”
“Come on, Twi.” Applejack gave Twilight's shoulder a reassuring pat. “Daybreak tried to, well, break us. She failed. That says a lot about us, and a lot about how wrong she is.”
Twilight teleported to the door's threshold. She turned to face her friends. “We know we can't beat Daybreak in a fight. She's too powerful, and she knows it. But we do have one weapon she can't stop: our friendship. We've proven we won't fall to our own desires like she did, and together, we will find a way to overcome her.”
She turned and charged up the dark hallway that led out the dungeons and toward the throne room. “Hold on, Spike! We're coming for you.”
Daybreak Aurora lounged on Celestia’s throne with a golden goblet in her hand. She occasionally glanced at the magic looking glass, where Twilight and her friends lived their false fantasies. Raising the goblet to her mouth, she took a sip and smacked her lips as she watched them fall further and further into selfish ambition.
A full complement of unicorn servitors staffed the throne room. They levitated trays bearing fruit, cake, cheese, and Canterlot's finest red wines. Daybreak gestured to one with her goblet. “You there! Your Queen requires another drink.”
The servitor scurried up to the throne, uncorked the bottle, and refilled Daybreak's goblet. He stared with nervous fear at it, not daring to overfill it by as much as a drop. As soon as this was done, he scampered back into the crowd of his fellow stewards.
Daybreak closed her eyes and took another long sip. “More food.”
A second servitor emerged. The tray beside him held plates with slices of a fluffy white cake glazed with white cream and rainbow frosting. “Cloud cake, Your Majesty?”
Daybreak scowled. “I grow weary of cloud cake.” She gave her belly an undignified rub. “Though I do have the strangest craving for gems... Rubies, in particular.”
“Rubies,” the servitor said. “It shall be done, my Queen.” He turned smartly and trotted toward the throne room's entrance.
Daybreak drained her goblet again in one gulp, tossed it at the servitors, and stood. She stalked down the stairs and strutted in front of Celestia. “It's good to be the Queen. An entire gaggle of serfs at my command, endless rivers of priceless wine, and all of the kingdom's most delectable delicacies. I wondered why it looked like your flank had put on so many pounds since we last met, but now I understand.”
With a sharp laugh, Daybreak looked back. The fiery lens that displayed her illusion showed Rarity, a manic grin distorting her features, crystallizing one of Ponyville's few remaining free structures—and a terrified family of four huddling inside it. “And the best part is... this spell has allowed me to do something that was thought impossible: I have conquered death. Even if the eons eventually wear this dragon's body into a decrepit state, I can always transfer my soul to a fresh vessel. The sun will never set on my kingdom.”
Celestia made a point of not looking at Daybreak or her illusory display. “A ruler's purpose is not to make life better for herself, but for her subjects. Your reign will not last forever, and when your false kingdom comes tumbling down around you, your former subjects will only remember you as a tyrant and hold celebrations on the anniversary of your downfall.”
A sickening crack filled the throne room. Daybreak withdrew the fist she had slugged Celestia's muzzle with. She smirked at the red blemish her blow had left. “It would behove you to choose your words more carefully when addressing your Queen—a generous ruler whose good graces are the only thing standing between you and a guillotine.”
Celestia glared at Daybreak with silent defiance.
“You know...” Daybreak opened and closed her fist. “I could transport you to the dungeons, next to your prized mules. Since you appear disinterested in my little show, perhaps you'd prefer to languish with them as they wear vacant expressions and rot away.”
She licked her lips and walked away, making a point of slapping Celestia in the face with her tail. “At least your sister has the right idea, if you can believe that. She's been quiet since our little chat.” She came to a stop in front of Luna. “Oh, how precious. Her horn is still glowing. She's been trying to break free all this time. I almost do not wish to disturb the sleeping nag, but enough is enough. Luna! Oh, Luna! Wake up!” She snapped her fingers in front of Luna's face.
“Daybreak, stop it!” Celestia said.
Daybreak sneered at her, then turned to Luna and puckered her lips like she was about to kiss her. Instead, she blew a small plume of flame that licked Luna's muzzle.
Luna awoke with a yelp, and her horn stopped glowing. “You swine! If I ever get my hooves on you, I'll—”
Daybreak tutted and clamped Luna's muzzle shut. “Such disrespect. Do you not care about Princess Twilight Sparkle and her lackeys? You've missed such wonderful drama. Or, perhaps, you secretly relish the thought of the ponies who laid Nightmare Moon low being put in their places.”
“The only one about to be put in her place is you,” Celestia said.
“What?” Daybreak turned to face her. In the corner of her eye, she saw not an illusion in her fiery looking glass, but an empty dungeon. She stared at it for a moment. And then she loosed a bellow, cancelling the spell in a burst of flame that filled the room with green smoke that made the servitors cough. “Luna...” she muttered, then spun around and towered over Luna. “You.”
Luna wore a deadly grimace. “For somepony who claims to be as great as you, you are quite easily misled. You should not underestimate those you seek to subjugate, ‘my Queen.’”
Daybreak's fists shook. “It is of no consequence. If I can drown them in an illusion once, I can do it again. And this time, you will not interfere. They cannot hide from me forever. I will find them and make them suffer for their defiance!”
Luna gave a mocking laugh. “Who said anything about hiding?”
In a burst of magenta, the throne room's doors exploded.
* * *
Twilight and the others encountered no resistance as they charged through the halls of Canterlot Castle. The guards they passed cheered and lowered their spears as they approached. After ten minutes of galloping, they arrived at their destination. Two royal guards flanked the throne room's doors.
“Princess Twilight?” one guard hissed. “What are you doing here? Queen Aurora—I mean Daybreak said you were—”
“There's no time to explain,” Twilight said as she ignited her horn. “Call this a liberation.”
The guards dropped their spears with a pair of clatters, and fled down the hall. Twilight unleashed her magic at the doors. They exploded in a shower of splinters, and smoke billowed forth into the room. The six rushed forward until they stood in the centre of the throne room. As the smoke cleared, dozens of panicked servitors, sensing an impending battle, fled through the ruined doors.
Twilight, her wings flared, stood tall and defiant. “Daybreak Aurora, your reign ends here!”
With squared shoulders, Daybreak stood at the foot of the throne's stairs. Her eyes glinted dangerously. “I must commend you, Twilight Sparkle. You experienced firsthoof how immeasurably weak your magic is when you attempted to match your powers with mine. You witnessed those whom you address as royalty, whose magic is potent enough to bring armies to their knees, fall before me like arid underbrush before a firestorm. Your mind was prepared to spend the rest of its natural life inside the lost archive I fashioned for it.”
She made a sweeping, exaggerated gesture with her right hand. “And yet, here you stand, a brave, brave heroine—the saviour of Equestria, ready to vanquish yet another foe.” A sharp peal of laughter rang off the throne room's walls. “I cannot fathom the courage you must possess. Or, more likely, you are burdened with the stupidity of a thousand mules.”
Twilight did not so much as flinch. “We are not afraid of you. You broke into our minds and tried to seduce us with too much of what we want most. You wanted us to make the same mistakes you did, and for what? Petty revenge? You fought us, Princess Luna, and Princess Celestia, and you won—and you still felt the need to torture us like that just for the sake of proving a stupid point. You're pathetic.”
Electric crackles of magic sparked between Daybreak's horns. “Pathetic, am I? As somepony as supposedly learned as you, you must surely comprehend the concept of being hopelessly outmatched. You and I both know you do not have even a minute chance of victory against me. Perhaps my illusions have caused you to become unhinged. After all, repeating the same action and hoping for a different outcome is insanity.”
A proud smile spread across Twilight's muzzle. “You're right about one thing, Daybreak: I can't beat you with pure magic power. But I have a power even stronger than yours, a power you've never had—the power of friendship.”
Daybreak doubled over with laughter. “And for the briefest of moments, I actually thought you had a trick up your sleeve. You're still harping about the power of friendship. Didn't you try that the last time? Need I remind you where that got you?”
Twilight looked back at her five best friends, then at Daybreak. “It got us right here.”
“Only because she—” Daybreak pointed at Luna. “—helped you escape.”
Despite the danger of the situation, Twilight laughed. The obvious fury contorting Daybreak's features only made her want to laugh harder. “You really don't understand, do you? Princess Luna and I are friends. All she did was know what to tell me and what to show me for me to understand what I had to do. From there, we all helped each other break free. There was no powerful magic involved. Our friendship protected us from your temptations, and our friendship will protect Spike from you.”
Twilight's friends advanced until they stood beside her.
“All Twilight had to do was show me what you did to our rightful rulers,” Rarity said.
“You had me ruin the Wonderbolts and put the ponies I've looked up to since I was a filly out of a job,” Rainbow said. “Not cool.”
“A party's only a party if everypony's having fun.” The usual bouncy cheer had fled Pinkie's voice. “I'll never forget that.”
“If anything,” Fluttershy said, “what you did only reminded us of what's really important. If you're with those you love, you'll never lose your way. You should have tried being nicer, Daybreak. Maybe then, you'd have made some friends.”
“I don't have to see no more to know that this is only the beginnin'. I'll do whatever it takes to protect Equestria from varmints like you.” Applejack removed her Stetson and held it to her chest with respect. “Even if it means sayin' goodbye all over again...”
Daybreak surveyed them through narrowed eyes. “Here I stand, the lion before the lambs,” she said. Her larger horn began to crackle. “And they do not fear. But they should fear!”
An idea flashed in Twilight's mind. There was a procedure for performing a simple separation spell, something she had learned early in her studies. It could be used to sort through piles of objects or part two things that had been glued together without damaging them. She made a few minor alterations to the spell in her head, and summoned her power. Her horn gleamed magenta.
“So, it's a fight you want?” Daybreak turned her back on Twilight. She raised her fists, and black and yellow magic surged around them. Her hands opened, and the magic rushed for Celestia and Luna. The crystals encasing them grew. They screamed, but only for a moment—their prisons squelched their voices and froze their faces in fear. Daybreak faced Twilight again. “That is the fate that awaits you. You will be alive, but unable to act.”
Daybreak loosed a feral, draconic roar and fired a lance of magic at Twilight. The projectile had only traveled halfway before Twilight teleported in a magenta flash.
She appeared right behind Daybreak, separation spell at the ready. Twilight fired and hit the tyrant-Queen square in the back.
“Gah!” Daybreak clutched at where the spell had landed and sank to her knees. She collapsed facedown with a grunt.
The six ponies stared in shocked silence.
Rainbow was the first to speak. “Twilight, you did it!”
Saying nothing, Twilight took cautious steps forward until she looked at Daybreak. Her eyes were closed. “Strange... the spell should be working by now. I don't—”
A clawed hand shot up and gripped Twilight's foreleg tight enough to make her yelp in pain. Daybreak stood, and Twilight dangled by her leg. “An elementary separation spell. Clever. A pity I'm beyond such primitive techniques.” She leapt high and slammed Twilight into the hard tiles beneath her.
Pain exploded through Twilight's back, and her breath fled her in a violent whoosh! With watery eyes, she glared at Daybreak and fired a blast of magic into her face. Daybreak grunted and stepped backward. Twilight knew she did not have long, and she teleported back among her friends and forced herself to stand.
Daybreak's chest heaved. Her horns projected magic in an aura, and she soared into the air. She belched an immense jet of green flame that singed the air around it.
“Look out!” Rainbow yelled. Revving her wings, she bolted into the air, spread her forelegs, and swooped down on her friends too fast for Twilight to see, gathering them in a frantic half-carry, half-tackle.
Everything happened all at once. With her body aching all over and her magic momentarily exhausted, Twilight lay prone on the ground as the dragon fire hissed toward her and her friends. The next thing she knew, she was in a pile of bodies rolling across the floor. As she and her friends crashed into the left wall, Daybreak's attack burned a crescent moon-shaped trench in the tile. Acrid smoke drifted into the air.
Whiteness filled Daybreak's eyes as she floated above the heap of ponies. Black and yellow energy gathered in her palms. There was a tremendous flash, and Twilight did not have to see to know what had just happened. A hard, cold, and unforgiving substance had rooted her hooves in place, and it now climbed her legs at a rapid pace.
When her vision cleared, malignant yellow crystal greeted her. Yells of fear filled the air as the crystalline substance began to encase the others. Twilight did not scream as Daybreak let her magic subside and touched down gracefully at the foot of the throne. Her brain flew through every spell she knew, searching desperately for something—anything that might help her.
Nothing came to mind.
The encroaching crystal reached their necks. Daybreak, arms folded, strutted toward them. She wore a mad look of triumph. “And so the coup ends. Just like that. This time, there will be no escape for you or Celestia. You will all be on display to serve as an eternal reminder of what happens to those who dare challenge my rule.”
An icicle of panic pierced Twilight's heart as the crystal crawled up her face. She could not move. Air no longer reached her lungs. Her magic was not strong enough to dent the crystal. Her yellowed vision began to swim. She could not save herself. She could not save her friends.
But, she realized, perhaps they were not the ones who needed saving...
With the last of her power, she reached out to the only one who could still oppose Daybreak.
* * *
Twilight Sparkle and her friends floated in a place existence itself did not seem to inhabit. Only absolute, endless blackness surrounded them. No air nor gravity nor sound nor scents nor light could reach them. Somehow, Twilight's lungs did not cry for air, and she could see her friends, as if their bodies themselves were light sources, though if they provided any illumination, it was impossible to tell.
In the distance, a familiar green and purple figure floated lifelessly, a derelict ship adrift in the middle of the sea, its sails long torn from their masts.
“Spike!” Twilight yelled. “Spike!” She flailed her legs and wings, but could not tread the nothingness she floated in.
“Twi... where are we?” Applejack said.
“Wait a minute,” Rarity said, “if we're here, and Spike's here, then...”
“Are we dreamwalking?” Pinkie asked. “Did you do the thing you did to talk to us in Daybreak's illusion?”
Twilight looked to her awestruck friends. “I think so. But I don't know how.”
“Spikey-wikey is right there!” Rarity said. “He clearly can't hear us. How do we wake him up?”
“I have an idea.” Twilight tried to call upon dreamwalking magic and make her friends appear next to Spike. Without as much as a flash, it worked.
Rarity hugged him tightly. “Spike! Spike! Wake up!”
“Don't hurt him!” Fluttershy tried to pry her off, but lacked the strength with nothing to dig her hind hooves into.
“Get back,” Twilight said. “I know what I have to do. Everypony, hold onto me.”
Rarity complied and placed a forehoof on Twilight's shoulder. Rainbow, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie followed suit. Twilight closed her eyes and tapped her horn on Spike's temple.
The same ethereal rush she had felt when she tapped into her friends' illusion carried her into the depths of Spike's mind. When she opened her eyes, she found herself and her friends standing on an invisible platform. It felt solid enough, but it looked like they stood on air. Around them, a maelstrom of memory churned like a thousand film reels in a blender.
Spike, who stood before them, gave Twilight a listless stare. “What do you want?”
“We've come for you, Spike,” Twilight said.
“So what? Not like you care.”
Fluttershy stepped forward. “You have no idea what we've been through to get here.”
“She's right,” said Applejack. “All of us had to give up somethin' we wanted.”
Rainbow gave the back of her head a sheepish scratch. “Actually, it was pretty awful.”
“But at the time, we didn't think so,” Twilight said sharply. “When we were in that moment, it was our greatest desire come true—and we rejected it. All of us.”
Spike folded his arms. “So what? I'm nothing to you—just a servant you can kick around. I guess you miss having me to step on. What's the matter? Can't feel high and mighty without me?”
Tears filled Twilight's eyes. Seeing Spike this way brought pressure crushing down on her chest. “You've forgotten, haven't you? Do you know where you are?”
“A better place. A place without oppressors.”
“No!” said Twilight. “Your mind and body have been stolen. Daybreak Aurora—the one who promised you everything—took it all away instead. You remember that, don't you? This little corner of your mind is all you have left.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Rarity rushed forward and threw herself around Spike's legs. “Spike, please! Come back to us.”
Spike gave her a savage kick. “It's you. A word from one of Twilight's moldy old books describes you perfectly: succubus. All you've done is lead me on and never give back what I've given you.”
Rarity quivered at Twilight's hooves, tears streaming down her face. “I-I-I do value you! Remember the Inspiration Manifestation spell?” she choked. “‘Only when true words are spoken will you be finally set free.’ I practically destroyed Ponyville.”
As she spoke, the swirling images around them stilled and solidified into a vision of gold roads and crystal buildings. “It was you who set me free,” Rarity said, forcing herself to stand. “When you told me the truth—” A ghostly shade of herself appeared in the landscape below. Green magic fled from her eyes and into the book from where it came. “—I was released. I truly value you and your friendship, Spike. Otherwise, what you said on that day wouldn't have worked.”
Spike stared at the scene. He staggered backward and rubbed his head. “What... what are you doing?”
Pinkie hopped forward. “Remember the time you had us charge after the Diamond Dogs to rescue her?” The landscape around them swirled into the badlands. Twilight, with Spike on her back, led the charge as she, Applejack, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow galloped toward the Dogs' lair. “Well, maybe not the best example, but you were ready to give anything to save her.”
“So what?” Spike shook, but did not look away. “I was foolish.”
“Hey, why are you lying to yourself?” Rainbow circled over him. The land again shifted, revealing the forest where Spike, Rarity, Rainbow, and Twilight confronted the three adolescent dragons. “You turned them down because you realized you liked living with us—ponies—better.”
Spike sank to his knees and clutched his head. “Stop it! Get out of my head!”
“Spike,” Twilight said, resting a forehoof on his shoulder. “You love us, and we love you. If it weren't for you...” Forest gave way to cityscape. Spike clutched the Crystal Heart and charged through King Sombra's bleak, withered Empire, prepared to sacrifice anything to return the Heart to its rightful place. “All would have been lost. Not just for us, but for an entire people. Perhaps all of Equestria as well.” Glimpses of the statue of Spike and the Crystal Heart window in Canterlot flashed in the vision.
Spike covered his eyes and began to sob. Their surroundings faded into blackness. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. W-what have I done? This—it's all my fault. If I didn't eat that diamond—”
The six surrounded him and embraced him. “Spike, don't let it eat at you,” Twilight said. “Daybreak tricked you, and she tricked all of us, too. But we rose above it. You can rise above it.” She waited until he lowered his hands, and she gave him the most loving, sincere look she could. “Only you can save us. Nopony can save Equestria, but a dragon can. What are you going to do?”
“I won't let her win.” Spike rose to his full diminutive stature. The ponies took a step back. “I won't let her win. I won't let her win!” He loosed a mighty roar so loud it shook the surrounding abyss.
Twilight and the others staggered as the surface beneath them trembled. A sharp crack! split the air, followed by another and another. Spike's roar pealed on, until another, mightier crack! drowned it out.
Whiteness exploded in Twilight's vision, and she felt herself reeling. Her head throbbed like it had just been dealt a hammer blow. Finally, a resounding shatter pounded her eardrums.
Twilight opened her eyes. She and her friends lay groggily on the Canterlot throne room floor, yellow splinters of their prison strewn about around them.
Daybreak stood over them, shock contorting her face. “Impossible! How did you—? No matter.” Magic crackled around her horns. “If freezing you wasn't enough, then I'll have to resort to something more extreme. Just as well. Your friendship sickens me, and this world will be better off without its blight.”
But Daybreak lurched. Her cheeks bulged, and she covered her mouth. The power around her horn fizzled as if she had to concentrate on not retching. She gave a hard swallow. “Wait... what have you done?”
Twilight and the others stood. She held her head high and proud. “Showed a certain special someone the magic of friendship.”
Horror stretched Daybreak's eyes wide. “No... No! He is mine. He belongs to me!” Her chest puffed out, as if she had just swallowed a beach ball. She staggered backward, clutching at it and pounding it with a fist. The lump forced its way up her throat. Her cheeks expanded again, and she fell backward onto on her rump.
Daybreak writhed and grasped her mouth. Yellow fumes jetted between her fingers. Her limbs shook in a violent seizure as her cheeks expanded wider and wider. With a thunderous belch, more of the fume escaped Daybreak Aurora's throat in a strained whoosh.
The rancid yellow smoke billowing forth took the shape of a unicorn.
Pure terror covered the smoke-unicorn's face. It pawed at Daybreak's mouth, but another violent belch sent it soaring toward one of the throne room's windows. A shrill scream that came from everywhere at once rang off the walls. In a blinding flash punctuated by the shattering of glass, the fume was gone.
When Twilight's vision cleared, she beheld not the dragon-unicorn abomination of Daybreak Aurora, but—
“Spike!” Twilight bounded toward him and scooped him up in her hooves and hugged him fiercely. She hardly noticed her friends forming a close circle around her. All the anguish, fear, doubt, and guilt that had been an anvil around her neck evaporated in the warmth of their embrace.
Spike hugged her back.
“You did it, Spike! You saved us all,” Twilight said, her voice giddy.
“Indeed you did.”
Twilight looked in the new voice's direction. Princess Celestia, wearing a broad smile, strode toward them with Luna at her side. “You may be the smallest among us,” Celestia said, “but within you, unmatched tenacity resides. Through an admirable display of fortitude, not just from you—but friends who truly cherish you—you have vanquished a foe beyond any of us and spared Equestria from her flame.”
Twilight glowed with pride, and Spike's cheeks glowed with embarrassment.
“Having seen the world Daybreak forced you all to contend with,” Luna said, “you standing before us is a feat worthy of Equestria's finest ballads.”
“That may well be,” said Twilight, failing to suppress a chuckle. “But after what I had to do to help everypony find their way back... remember to never let me try to do your job again.”
Celestia chuckled and pointed her horn skyward. “Now, I think it's time to set things right.” She closed her eyes, and a beam of golden light shot from her horn, enveloping the throne room. Every surface shimmered and spangled as her magic played across it.
When the light faded, everything had been returned to the way it was before Daybreak’s coup, with one exception. The window that Daybreak's gaseous form had shattered was not only repaired, but bore the image of Spike, standing in the middle of a heart and shooting a great plume of yellow flame into the sky. Below him, Twilight and her friends knelt, their hooves stretched toward his feet.
“For... for me?” Spike said over the chorus of “oohs” from his friends.
Celestia nodded. “Indeed.”
“Hey, Spike.” Rainbow gave him a playful nudge. “If you ever feel down again, remember that you've got two stained glass windows in your honour. I'd like to see anyone who's worthless get even one.”
Spike beamed at her. “You're right. I kind of did save Equestria this time, didn't I? I had help, of course, but it was me who got rid of Daybreak.” He turned to Rarity. “So, since I'm the decorated hero of the day... how about that date?”
Rarity covered her mouth with a forehoof and gave a charitable giggle. “Oh, Spike...” She gave him a serious look. “I do think we should have dinner together. Tonight.”
Gleeful awe began to cross Spike's face.
“All of us friends,” Rarity continued.
Spike's face fell.
“Spike,” Rarity said, her tone apologetic, “if there’s one thing all of us can take away from this ordeal, it is that nobody—even heroes—can have everything in the world.”
A glum Spike stared at her for several moments before he closed his eyes and nodded. When he opened them again, his expression changed.
He wore a smile.
“You’re right.” He turned to Twilight. “Do you think we could go to the Hayburger?”
Twilight chuckled and ruffled his spines. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“A wonderful idea,” Celestia said. “I will join you. Being imprisoned gave me quite an appetite, and I think we could all use a treat.”
Luna frowned. “What, pray tell, is this Hayburger?”
Spike failed to suppress a chuckle. “Let’s just say it’s one of Twilight’s guilty pleasures. I think you’ll like it.”
“Good thing Daybreak didn’t put her in there instead of that musty library,” Pinkie said. “We’d have never gotten her back!”
Everyone burst out laughing, their merriment ringing throughout a throne room filled with bright, radiant sunlight, and not so much as a wisp of miasmatic fog lingered to taint the new, clear morning.
