While foals vanish all across Equestria, one mare dreams of vanquishing monsters to free the ponies they've imprisoned. But those are just dreams. Fluttershy knows she could never be a real hero.
At night, Fluttershy dreams only of monsters. Under the moon’s unerring glow, she fights her way through their endless gauntlets, aided by a legion of unimaginable friends, to rescue the ponies imprisoned at their core. Each dream is different, but every one ends the same: her standing before the final, most terrifying monster, alone and hopeless.
When the sun is up, Fluttershy is like any other pony. She spends time with her best friend Rainbow Dash, trains for war, and follows the latest reports of missing fillies and colts. By day, everything is perfectly normal.
And all wrong.
A crossover with Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Knowledge of the series is not required.
Fluttershy had the most awful dreams. In the glare of moonlight, she galloped through dungeons as deadly to enter as they were impossible to escape. Bizarre creatures lurked behind every corner, and she fled from their attacks as she rescued foals from the hearts of horrible monsters. At any moment, the roof could collapse on her, or the air around her could turn to poison. She would have succumbed to paralyzing terror if not for her friends with astonishing powers and unshakable courage.
Her friends of her dreams were all wrong. Rainbow Dash was usually there, but there were always others. Sometimes there were hundreds, sometimes only one or two. Many of these friends were hybrids; ponies and other living things stopped in the middle of a transformation, like a white chimera of woodland critters who whispered alluring promises in her ear. Another was a pony with the horn of a unicorn, the wings of a pegasus, and the grim resolve of icy steel.
The dream always ended with one monster, too large to hide in a dungeon, burning all her friends. Before she could react, to mourn or escape, she would wake back in her bed.
When Fluttershy woke from the dream this night, she found herself in a corner of the bed, shivering. She wrapped her sheets back around her, curled around her plush rabbit Angel, and counted the craters in the Twin Sisters on the Moon until she fell asleep again.
“You don’t look so good, Flutters,” Rainbow Dash said. “Wanna skip practice today?”
“I’ll be fine.” Fluttershy silently chided herself for not arriving before the morning rush. She and Rainbow had been in line at Sugarcube Corner for ten minutes, her standing, Rainbow hovering in front of her, and there were still a few ponies in line in front of them. At this rate, they’d barely have time to eat before Air Guard Reserve practice began.
“You don’t look fine.” Rainbow lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you have that dream again?”
“Yes.”
“You really gotta stop letting the news get to you.”
Fluttershy frowned. Awful dreams had plagued her since she had been a filly. For reasons she had never divined, her parents had blamed her dreams on news stories about foal abductions in Manehattan. To try and stop the dreams, they’d sheltered her from any other upsetting stories at home and recruited Rainbow to do the same at school.
None of it had worked. Even after psychiatric therapy and an abundance of her own research into dream interpretation and psychology, the best answer Fluttershy had been come up with was they were a result of bullying she’d suffered all her life. It hadn’t been a waste though; psychology proved to be fascinating.
“Maybe you’re right,” Fluttershy said to avoid a debate. A wave of abductions had hit Ponyville in the past year, and Rainbow wouldn’t be dissuaded from her belief that the news weighed on Fluttershy.
Rainbow drew closer. “Listen, here’s a trick that’ll make practice a little easier on you,” she said conspiratorially. “There’s a cap in the back of the practice bombs. You can unscrew it and let some of the sand out so it’ll be way easier to carry.”
Fluttershy smiled. “Thanks.”
Rainbow laughed and tousled Fluttershy’s forelock. “No worries! So, whatcha in the mood for? Blueberry danish? It’s my treat.”
“I appreciate the offer, but sugary foods have been linked to depressive episodes.”
Rainbow looked at her with one eyebrow raised.
“I wouldn’t mind a bran muffin, though.”
“Sounds good. A wholesome muffin will take your mind off of those foals, right?”
Fluttershy sighed.
The last pony ahead of them finished his order and walked away from the counter. Cup Cake, the owner of Sugarcube Corner, was at the register today and caught Fluttershy’s eye. She looked weary when, with fragile motions, she gestured for Fluttershy and Rainbow to step up.
“Because it’s not like there’s anything we can do about it,” Rainbow said as she hovered backwards towards the counter. “It sucks, but everyone knows that foals who go missing never get found.”
Behind her, Cup Cake’s expression changed from weary to shocked.
Fluttershy tried to signal Rainbow. “Uhm, Rainbow…”
“Yeah, yeah, bran muffin, got it.” Rainbow turned around in the air. “So I’m getting a blueberry danish, extra glaze, and a…”
She froze mid sentence. For a while, Rainbow and Cup Cake exchanged surprised looks without speaking. Then without warning, Rainbow shot out of the bakery. Cup Cake’s jaw wobbled, and she looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Are you okay?” Fluttershy asked.
Cup Cake didn’t meet her eye. “Excuse me,” Cup Cake said, hurrying into the side kitchen. Before Fluttershy could consider following, the Sugarcube Corner waitress, a pink earth pony with frizzy hair, commandeered the register and took Fluttershy’s order.
A few minutes later, Fluttershy exited with their breakfast packed to go. She found Rainbow perched on a tree branch a few blocks away.
“Would you like to talk about what happened back there?” Fluttershy asked.
“Not really.” Rainbow dropped to the ground and took the danish Fluttershy offered. “I’m not even supposed to know.”
“Know what?”
Rainbow’s mouth twisted. “Carrot and Pumpkin went missing a few weeks ago.”
Fluttershy gasped. Cup and Carrot Cake were one of the most best known couples in Ponyville. When not busy with pastries at Sugarcube Corner, they could often be seen trotting their filly Pumpkin around town. Ponyville gossipers had been abuzz with the possibility that Cup and Carrot were planning to have a second child soon.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I overheard some pegasi talking about how they’ve been stuck on patrols for her. Cup reported it to the Ponyville Civil Guard, said they’d been abducted like those foals, but Guard doesn’t think this is like the others. They think Carrot and Cup had a fight about staying in Ponyville with their kid, and Carrot decided to take matters into his own hooves.”
“That’s horrible,” Fluttershy said. She’d heard of other families moving out of Ponyville now that foals were disappearing, but never of a family splitting apart. “What if the Civil Guard is wrong?”
Rainbow shrugged. “That’s why they’ve got patrols flying, to see if Carrot or Pumpkin show up somewhere. They told Cup Cake to act like everything’s normal, like she’ll get a ransom note any day now, but, you know.” She shrugged and shoved the danish into her mouth.
“That sound awful for her.” Fluttershy made a mental note to check in with Cup Cake later and offer her support. “That doesn’t explain why you flew out of bakery so quickly, though.”
Rainbow swallowed, looked around, and pointed to the clock tower. “Oh horse apples, practice starts in ten minutes. We gotta hurry!”
The sunset was Fluttershy’s reward. Through the whole day of practice, as her muscles ached, her mouth grew dry, and the roaring of wind drew tears from eyes, she thought only of the sunset. Fluttershy cherished the sight of the sun turning red while it crossed the horizon, the feel of the baked summer air turning crisp, the sound of Ponyville’s honeybees returning to their hives. To laze at the edge of the field watching the sunset was the only way she could imagine ending a day of air drills.
Fluttershy’s ritual had begun when she first moved to Ponyville to be an au pair for the Apple family. The Apples had been kind to her, and Fluttershy had delighted in helping raise their daughter Apple Bloom, but there had still been hectic days she could end only with the calming sight of the setting sun. When she left their employ and started with the Air Guard Reserve, she’d kept her ritual for after practice relaxation.
Rainbow’s after-practice ritual was a rollicking night at Sweet Apple Acres sharing cider with the Air Guard Reserve’s top flyers. After Rainbow had moved to Ponyville and befriended them, they had invited Fluttershy on their nights out, and once, Fluttershy had accepted. She had hoped to reunite with Apple Bloom, but was disappointed to discover jolly Bright Mac and stoic Big Mac managed the cider bar at night.
What shocked her, though, was seeing Rainbow’s and the other pegasi’s debauchery. As they downed pitcher upon pitcher of cider, dares and challenges escalated from humorous to scandalous to perilous. Even Big Mac’s attempts to cut them off hadn’t helped. After Rainbow passed out later in the evening, the teasing the other pegasi had previously directed at Rainbow swung suddenly and viciously to Fluttershy, like she was surrounded by bullies in Cloudsdale all over again. After that night, Fluttershy had declined their follow-up offers until they stopped inviting her.
Today, though, Rainbow stuck close to Fluttershy as the pegasi dispersed. The top flyers called out to Rainbow as they left, but she shouted back about having a backlog of work at the Weather Service. “Don’t want to disappoint all those cumulus fans!” she said with a laugh. Rainbow’s smile faded once the other pegasi were out of sight.
“Is everything okay?” Fluttershy asked.
“Yep!” Rainbow’s smile snapped back into place.
Fluttershy waited for the remainder.
“I mean, it could be better. I guess I wasn’t doing super, one hundred ten percent awesome up there like I usually do. I probably need to practice more.”
“I thought you were doing great. Maybe you were a little distracted.”
“That was it! Cloudkicker was distracting me with all her attention-hogging.”
“Cloudkicker wasn’t at training today,” Fluttershy said. “You’re still thinking about Cup Cake, aren’t you?”
“I really hurt her, didn’t I?” Rainbow hugged herself. “I should have kept my stupid mouth shut.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
Rainbow hesitated. “Maybe.”
Fluttershy was equal parts relieved and resigned. It was always good to help her friend, but she’d be sorry to miss the sunset and its majesty of colors to end the day. Unless…
“I know a great place where we can watch the sunset and talk, if you’d like.”
They were quiet on the trot over. They sat in silence and watched the sun ooze into the earth. The sky blushed, then ruddied, then bruised. When twilight came, Rainbow spoke at last.
“Welp, I better head home.”
“But we didn’t talk at all,” Fluttershy said.
Rainbow rose to all fours and stretched. “Hey, thanks a bunch, Flutters. I’m not feeling so worried anymore.”
“Oh, that’s good. Do you think you’d be able to talk to Cup Cake now?”
“Maybe later.” Rainbow Dash stretched again and turned her gaze to the horizon. Fluttershy kept watching Rainbow, trying to guess at what she was thinking. Rainbow was relaxed, as if she had nothing troubling her, or as if she was still ignoring what was really troubling her.
Rainbow’s eyes shot away from the lingering dusk.
“Holy horse apples! Do you see that?” Rainbow pointed to a shed at the opposite edge of the training field. Fluttershy turned to see the very end of a peach-colored tail dart behind it. Something about the color was off, and she looked back to where the sun had set. It was a peculiar sight, almost as if the sky was growing brighter.
“Well? Did you see it?” Rainbow demanded.
“Oh, not much, I’m afraid,” Fluttershy said, her attention returning to Rainbow.
“It was a rabbit, but it had a long, bushy tail.”
“I don’t know of any rabbits like that.”
“And it had these red eyes that burn through you like unicorn beams!”
“Was it white? Many albino animals have red…” Fluttershy stopped. Something about a white animal unsettled her.
“Look, I can’t explain right now, but we have to check it out. I don’t want it to get away from us, so we’ll have to sneak up on it. You go left, I’ll go right, okay?”
“Rainbow, I don’t think…”
“Please, Fluttershy,” Rainbow said. “Please, just…do this with me.”
Fluttershy took a breath and let it out. “Okay, but promise me we’ll be gentle when we get to it.”
“Promise!” Before Fluttershy could say another word, Rainbow was halfway down the field, rocketing towards the shed and leaving Fluttershy in her dust. When they reached the shed, Rainbow snapped to the right corner. Fluttershy trotted to the left corner and rounded it without hesitation.
The rabbit was nowhere to be found.
“Rainbow, it’s gone already.”
Rainbow slid around the corner. “Are you kidding me? Where could it have gone?”
“There’s probably a warren nearby. Poor little guy must have wanted to get home.”
Rainbow stomped forward, her head low to the ground, eyes darting back and forth as she searched for hidden openings.
“We’ve got to find it,” Rainbow said. She knocked away a rock and peered at its former resting place.
“Rainbow Dash, you stop hounding that poor bunny right now.”
Rainbow snapped up from the dirt. “Flutters, it’s important…”
“Why? What could be so important that it’s worth bothering some defenseless animal trying to go to sleep?”
Rainbow’s lips quivered, and she made a sound somewhere between a huff and a whimper. “Never mind. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” She turned around and stalked off.
Fluttershy paused before catching up. She knew she’d hurt Rainbow’s feelings, but Rainbow had been acting so horribly that she’d had no choice but to be stern. Still, she tried to think of something to say to salve the wound.
Before she could, she noticed a figure moving up the launching pier in front of them. During training, the piers were used for a variety of purposes such as observing flight patterns and practicing landings. They rose to a terrific height and had minimal safety precautions, so earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi with weak flying skills were prohibited from entering. At night, no one was allowed to climb them without a partner. The figure Fluttershy saw approached the top alone. She couldn’t be completely sure, but it looked to be an earth pony.
“Do you see that?” She nudged Rainbow.
“Is that a pony? Who is that?” Rainbow’s wings were already extended.
The figure reached the top and walked towards the platform edge.
“Something’s wrong,” Rainbow said. “C’mon, we gotta check it out.” She jetted away, with Fluttershy following behind in the air. A few yards short of the platform, Rainbow stopped dead, and Fluttershy soon realized why: the pony at the top of the platform was Cup Cake. Fluttershy glided past Rainbow and landed next to Cup Cake. The baker stared over the edge, motionless.
“Cup Cake, are you okay?”
“I’m ready,” Cup Cake said, her eyes fixed on the distance.
“Ready? Ready for what?”
Cup Cake didn’t respond except to put one forehoof over the edge of the platform. She leaned forward, and her other foreleg collapsed. She began to slide off.
Fluttershy rushed to grab Cup Cake around her barrel, but Cup Cake bucked and broke Fluttershy’s grip. Fluttershy bolted forward to catch her again until a whoosh of wind knocked her mane into her eyes. She brushed away her mane and saw Rainbow had swooped beneath her.
But something had gone awry. Rainbow fell limply, as if she had been knocked out.
Fluttershy dropped, her wing muscles burning with her desperation to reach Rainbow and Cup Cake. Rainbow, even with her wings twisting loosely to her sides, plummeted further and faster than Fluttershy could imagine, let alone catch up to.
Her wings locked in place mid-flap. She did not slow down. The colors of her mane and coat began to flow away like water into the kaleidoscopic whirlwind that surrounded her.
Through it all, she felt complete tranquility.
She felt peaceful.
She felt.
She didn’t.
A floating white dot came to her attention. It pulsed with energy. No, twinkled. No, pulsed. Yes, pulsed. Sparkling strands of power ebbed into and out of it.
Fluttershy waved at the dot. She could not see her waving hoof in front of her. The thought of her invisible hoof made her giggle. She couldn’t hear the giggle.
Violet threads spun out from the dot, which had pulsed itself into an irregular, amoeba-like shape. The threads twisted into curlicues, and as more spun out, they blotted out the rest of the world. An explosive force jarred her, rattling her bones apart and her teeth together. A high-pitched screech broke her calm. She tried to cover her ears, but she felt nothing, and nothing could contain the obnoxious noise. She shut her eyes but still saw purple and white and spirals and whirls. She curled into a ball, to cry into her own soft fur, but it was not there.
The shriek stopped, and there was a gentle pressure on her muzzle. She found herself staring down a lily white hoof and foreleg that led to a unicorn with hair like a bouquet of irises and a matching gown alive with motion.
“I’m afraid you’re in quite a bit of danger,” the unicorn said. “If you are very brave, though, then I have no doubt we will triumph over it. Can you be brave for me?”
Fluttershy shook her head. She was the last pony in the world to ask to be brave. At the mere mention of danger, Fluttershy had broken into a cold sweat.
The unicorn looked undeterred. “Let’s try a slight change of course, then. Darling, what is your name?”
“Fluttershy.” Her heart raced, and she gulped down fragrant air.
“Mrs. Cake I recognized, the poor thing. Do you know the name of the other pegasus?”
“Rainbow Dash. She’s my friend.”
“That’s better.” The unicorn smiled. “Rainbow is the brave one, isn’t she? How courageously she leapt after Mrs. Cake. Her bravery has led her into a trap, I am sad to say, and now her only chance for rescue is at the hooves of other brave ponies. Do you think that together we can be brave and rescue Rainbow Dash and Mrs. Cake?”
Fluttershy could be brave for Rainbow. She steeled herself and nodded at last.
“Splendid!” the unicorn said. The purple veil that had covered Fluttershy’s vision tore away, allowing the intense sun to blind her. She covered her eyes with both front hooves and twisted away from the light, but slipped on the reedy grass beneath her. Unicorn magic surrounded her and helped her back to her hooves.
Fluttershy risked opening her eyes. The unicorn stood directly in front of her so that Fluttershy could see little else.
“Who are you?” Fluttershy asked.
“How thoughtless of me.” The unicorn curtsied. “My name is Rarity, and I am Ponyville’s witch hunter extraordinaire. While we’re making introductions, allow me to present…”
Rarity stepped back and, with an extravagant wave of her foreleg, swept across an antique wooden house surrounded by an unkempt lawn.
Fluttershy paced in a tight circle around the porch. She couldn’t stop worrying about Rainbow and Cup Cake, or dreading what she had gotten herself into. As Rarity summoned pins, needles, and thread out of thin air, and used the magical tools to pick the lock to the front door, something new started to bother Fluttershy: Rarity was smiling.
“Before we enter, you should know about what we’ll encounter,” Rarity said. “Witches project an emotional milieu called a labyrinth that is especially attractive to foals, but it can affect anypony. Approaching a labyrinth, one who is untrained could be enthralled by the same joy he or she would feel coming to a sweets shop or a playground. A powerful witch can even control how a pony speaks and acts.”
“Like hypnosis?”
“Precisely,” Rarity said. She bent one of the needles into an L-shape and stuck it into the lock. “Then, as he or she draws near the witch’s heart, the witch will lull its victim to sleep before the ruse becomes evident. If it is any consolation at all, Rainbow and Mrs. Cake are no doubt totally unconscious by now.”
Fluttershy thought of how Rainbow had gone limp. “I can’t thank you enough for helping Rainbow and me.” Fluttershy sat down and hugged herself for comfort.
“It truly is my pleasure.” A needle snapped. Rarity frowned at it before tossing it into the bushes and summoning a new one. “There is a certain thrill to it, after all.”
“A thrill?”
“Oh yes. Not the combat or the environs, which can be quite ghastly. I mean falling into a topsy-turvy situation and calling upon one’s ingenuity to master it. One learns to notice the absent, the incongruous, the foundations left unquestioned. A labyrinth is a world where what you don’t know will hurt you, but what you’ve never thought of will save you. I suppose you could say that thrill is the excitement of a strategy swiftly planned, and…” The lock clicked. “…Perfectly executed.”
She swung the door open. The pitch black interior of the house filled with hundreds of small lights in a sickly shade of yellow.
Fluttershy leapt back. “What are those?”
“Bats, presumably.” Without warning, a bevy of needles popped into existence around her and whistled into the gloom. The yellow lights winked away in a bedlam of squeals and screeches. Listening to the cull, Fluttershy felt a pang of guilt, but she set it aside for Rainbow.
“One last thing,” Rarity said. “When we go deeper into the labyrinth proper, you will feel as if you are not experiencing events personally. Almost akin to that astral projection foolishness you’d read about in a far-fetched romance novel.”
“You mean a dissociative episode?” Fluttershy asked. “Like you’re watching yourself from outside your own body?”
“Similar, but…” Rarity paused as she helped Fluttershy through the doorway, “perhaps I should say the eyes through which you see yourself are not your own.”
Once upon a time, there was a young and beautiful giant who lived all by herself deep in the woods. She had no friends because all the other giants in the world were old and scary. The young giant was so lonely that she spent her days making dolls, putting them in her dollhouse, and telling stories to them as if they were alive.
Her dolls were magical, and as long as she made them, she would would never turn old and scary like the other giants. Luckily for her, sometimes a pony would hear the stories she told her dolls. She told such good stories that the pony would come to her dollhouse and fall asleep. Then the giant could turn the pony into a doll, and that pony would be young and beautiful like her, and they’d be friends forever.
However, one day a mean unicorn named Rarity and a cowardly pegasus named Fluttershy found out about her magical dolls. They decided they would sneak into the giant’s dollhouse, steal her dolls, and stop her from ever making dolls again. They were thieves, and the giant had to kill them so they’d never steal again. After she killed them, she could turn as many ponies into dolls as she wanted.
So the giant hid traps throughout her dollhouse. When she finished, she hid behind a mountain to watch what happened.
Rarity and Fluttershy walked down a dark hallway of closed doors. Rarity was in front. She walked over the creaky floorboards and dead bats that covered the ground without hesitation. Using some thread she created with thief magic, she made a rag and dusted as she trotted along. Fluttershy, though, jumped at every sound and scampered from anything that touched her.
“How do you do this?” Fluttershy asked. “Everything about this house is so horrible.”
“You remind me of my maiden voyage through a labyrinth, years and years ago,” Rarity said. “Every mote of dirt would startle me. A hunter must adjust, though. It helps to remember that nothing here is real, so pay no mind to what merely offends your senses. If it can’t kill you, chances are it won’t leave a mark once the witch is dispatched.”
Fluttershy stared at the rag. “Then why are you cleaning?”
“Maintaining a less intellectually demanding task helps to focus one’s mind.” Her rag hovered over a door frame much like the others they had passed. “Sometimes, though, it also leads to some interesting discoveries. Tell me, do you see anything odd about this door?”
“No,” Fluttershy said. “It’s exactly like all the others. Rarity, my friend and Cup Cake are in danger, and…”
“Look at how clean it is, though. As I said, pay attention to the incongruous. In a dilapidated mansion like this, this one door has been kept spotless. What do you suppose that means?”
“I’m not sure.”
Rarity tittered like a wind chime. “Whatever’s here, the witch wanted us to notice it. Why don’t we follow the path of least resistance for now?”
She pushed the door open and ushered Fluttershy inside. They entered a kitchen with its lights suddenly blazing. In front of them, an old stallion with a gray coat and a black mane rested a kettle on the stove. On the counter next to him, a clear bin of brown powder, a small opaque bottle, and a long chef’s knife stood neatly arranged.
The stallion turned and said to them in a joyous voice, “Oh, sweet little birds, welcome! The hot cocoa is ready, and you may have as much as you like if you truthfully tell me the reason for your visit.”
Rarity stepped forward. “We are here to rescue our friends.”
“How wonderful! They are very lucky to have friends like you two.” The old stallion poured two mugs and offered them to the ponies. “Perhaps you’d like to rest your hooves awhile. Rescuing friends can be very tiring work.”
“I’m afraid we can’t stay long,” Rarity said as she took both mugs with her magic.
“Are you sure?” the stallion said. His voice turned strained and high-pitched. “Because if you leave the kitchen, the only place to go is the basement. No one knows what there is in the basement, what lies at the bottom of the stairs. No light ever reaches the basement, and no pony ever leaves it. If you dare to enter, you will fear so much more than tardiness.”
“And which way is the basement?” Rarity asked.
The stallion slowly lifted one foreleg and pointed to the closed door behind them. Rarity turned around to open it again. Beyond it, there was nothing but darkness and the faint outline of a wooden bannister.
The stallion brought two fireflies, each as big as a bread loaf, out from the pantry and released them next to Rarity and Fluttershy. “You would do well to keep these fireflies close by,” he said, “for they are your only hope of returning alive.” The fireflies hovered behind them as the two ponies descended the stairs.
“Who was that old pony?” Fluttershy said after they been walking down the stairs for a few minutes.
“One of the witch’s minions, no doubt luring us to our deaths. You can imagine the sundry and grisly ways he could have dispatched us.”
“Like poisoning the cocoa,” Fluttershy said shakily, “or stabbing us with the knife.”
“Or he’d let the fumes from the oven suffocate us,” Rarity said. “All basic tricks. It’s fair to say traps aren’t this witch’s forte.”
Rarity must have thought she was a clever pony, but she wasn’t nearly as clever as she thought. The giant was much more clever than her.
They kept walking down the stairs for a very long time without any change to the view in front of them. Gradually, though, it started to get brighter.
“If that stallion was trying to trick us, should we have these fireflies so close?” Fluttershy asked. “Aren’t they another trap?”
“Most certainly, but I’d rather have the light for now. If they start causing us any trouble, though, I’ll deal with them like I did those pesky bats.”
“Have there always been so many of them?”
There hadn’t. While the two thieves weren’t paying attention, the two fireflies had multiplied until there were hundreds. The stallion knew Rarity had lied about her quest, that they had really come to steal the giant’s dolls, and now Rarity and Fluttershy were going to die.
One by one, the fireflies ballooned in size. Their green glow flared, and heat poured off of their swollen bellies. The fireflies floated closer, their guts wobbling, and one of them burst open a pace away from the ponies. Acrid smoke rose from where its glowing sludge fell on the steps. Rarity dumped the two mugs of cocoa on the nearest fireflies, and with an ear-piercing squeal, the bugs shriveled up and flew away. But a dozen new fireflies floated in to take their place.
Rarity and Fluttershy galloped down the stairway while the engorged fireflies chased close behind them. Suddenly, a great rumbling sound came from in front of them. A jack o’ lantern as large as a whale with a roaring fire at its center barreled towards them, crushing the banister in front of it.
“It’s rolling up the stairs!” Fluttershy yelled. She froze, but Rarity grabbed her and kept galloping. They had to stay away from the fireflies that would burn them alive. They had to run towards the jack o’ lantern that would crush them to death. They had nowhere to go, just like the giant had planned.
Dozens of spools of thread appeared around Rarity. She unrolled them, drew the threads into a net of overlapping star and diamond patterns, and tied them together above her. With the fireflies catching up behind her, the jack o’ lantern looming in front of her, and Fluttershy weeping next to her, Rarity pulled the net taut.
The jack o’ lantern was paces away when Rarity threw the net in front of them. She caught Fluttershy and shielded her as the jack o’ lantern slammed into the threads and exploded, launching a shower of orange paste flying over them and into the fireflies, extinguishing the bugs all at once. The torch that had been inside the jack o’ lantern fell harmlessly to the stairs.
Rarity got up. Stringy pulp stained her dress and mane, so she began to clean the spots with her two front hooves.
Fluttershy lay in the platform of one of the steps. “You have to go on,” she said, her voice breaking. “You have to save Rainbow. I can’t do this anymore.”
“We’ll go in a second, darling, but first I simply must get these spots out.” Rarity scrubbed even harder.
Fluttershy raised her head up. She watched Rarity in disbelief. “I thought you said these disgusting things are in our head. That if it doesn’t kill you, it’ll go away once the witch is gone.”
Rarity sat awhile and then dropped to all fours with sheepish smile. “Old habits do die hard, don’t they?” She ran a hoof through Fluttershy’s mane. “I know you’re very worried, but I’d like you to help me with a riddle.”
“Riddle?” Fluttershy demanded. “What riddle?”
“A moment ago you said the jack o’ lantern was rolling up. That was quite astute of you. You remembered we were walking down the stairs, and so if the jack o’ lantern was coming towards us, it would be natural to conclude it defied gravity and rolled up. But, perhaps, you could come up with an alternative explanation.”
Fluttershy shook her head.
“Remember, we must attend to the absent, the incongruous, the foundations left unquestioned,” Rarity said. “Is something missing? Is something out of place? Or perhaps there is an assumption we ought to question.”
“I don’t know,” Fluttershy said. “Maybe the stairs changed direction. Maybe the house got turned on its side. I don’t know.”
“That’s very good,” Rarity said in a near whisper. She levitated the jack o’ lantern’s torch close to her. “Let’s suppose the whole house has been turned on its side. Further suppose we must continue down to find the witch. Tell me, Fluttershy, where would that be?”
Fluttershy didn’t respond, but instead pulled her head up and looked behind her. Where unending stairs once dwindled into the darkness, now a mere few steps separated them from the doorway which framed the most enormous eye either of them had ever seen.
The giant watched their every move.
Rarity met the giant’s gaze and threw the torch at her. The giant flinched, but she was too slow, and the torch erupted on her eye. She howled and swatted at her wound, letting go of the house she had been holding up and sending it to shatter on the ground. It was no use, though, for her eyeball had popped out of its socket. She knelt down and picked up her dislodged eye, but as she did, she saw a needle was protruding from her muzzle. Attached to the needle was a thin cord leading past her lips.
Her mouth was where she kept her unfinished dolls, and at that moment she held two that she had just collected. They were both blue, but one had a swirl of pink hair, and the other had a rainbow mane and tail. The thieves had snuck into her mouth and would steal her unfinished dolls if she didn’t stop them. Lucky for the giant, her mouth was also home to her most fearsome guardian: her tongue.
“You thieves have nowhere to hide!” the giant bellowed with her jaw closed. “I’ll find you because I can taste your fear! If you don’t come out this very second, I’ll beat you and bash you until you’re nothing but bits of brain blanketed in blood!”
“Adding a little alliteration to our all-out altercation? Two can play at that game,” Rarity said from inside. “Greetings, you grotesque gremlin! I’m here to grace you with my presence and then grind you into gruel.”
The giant slammed her tongue where she thought Rarity hid but missed. She felt a sharp pinprick near her front teeth.
“You grew egregious with your greediness, you growling grouch,” Rarity said. “I have a grudge regarding your aggravating grabbiness, and it will gratify me grandly to turn this grotto into your grave.”
The giant’s tongue swung again, crashing into her teeth with a meaty slap. She felt another pinprick near the back of her mouth.
“Would it be gratuitous to say I’ll do it all with a grin?”
The giant chased Rarity with her tongue again and again, trying to crush the thief every time she landed. No matter how hard the giant tried, she couldn’t catch Rarity. Her mouth hurt from all the pinpricks, and she was so angry she had stomped craters into the ground. She couldn’t let Rarity take her dolls, so she stopped moving her tongue, closed her good eye, and swallowed.
But nothing came down. Panicked, the giant remembered the eye she held and threw it into her maw so she could see what was wrong. As soon as it landed, the eye swiveled all around until it found Fluttershy tied to a back tooth and clutching the giant’s two unfinished dolls. She didn’t look scared anymore.
But she got very scared when she knew the giant had found her.
The tongue surged towards Fluttershy. She shrieked and turned so the tongue wouldn’t hurt the almost-finished dolls, but she could do nothing to save herself because she was a thief and weak and the giant hated her more than anything in the world.
Then the tongue pressed against a blue glowing net that refused to budge. The giant realized that the pinpricks she’d felt had been Rarity fixing the threads for a snare, which had trapped the giant’s tongue. Rarity used magic to wind all the threads around the tongue, forced it to the ground, and then sank a needle in its tip so it was trapped on the bottom of the giant’s mouth. She pulled out another needle, and with one graceful swipe, split the tongue in two, exposing the giant’s black heart inside.
The giant’s legs collapsed, and she fell to the ground. She couldn’t do anything to stop the thieves.
I couldn’t do anything to stop the thieves.
It’s not fair. I made those dolls all on my own. I was going to keep them young and beautiful forever, like me. They’re mine, but those thieves came and they tricked me and they stole the dolls away from me. Those dolls are mine. They’re mine! They’re mine they’re MINE THEY ARE MIIINNNEEE
“And that,” Rarity said as she cracked open the black heart, “is that.” She pried from the heart’s remnants a small, white orb surrounded by a black filigree. Rarity levitated the orb towards her chest. She parted the front of her dress to reveal a grey necklace shaped like two wings holding a diamond and tapped the orb to her necklace. The necklace and orb shimmered briefly. When she pulled the orb away, it was grey, and her necklace glimmered in gold and purple as if newly forged.
“How do we get out?” Fluttershy said. She dreaded spending another moment walled in by the giant’s mouth.
“Out of what?” Rarity flashed a knowing smile.
Fluttershy saw that new textures were emerging on the labyrinth’s walls. The meat that had surrounded them was interrupted by vertical lines that reminded her of the launching pier from the Air Guard Reserve training field.
Because it was the launching pier. The familiar world was returning, or perhaps the guise of the unfamiliar hellscape was fading. Fluttershy watched the witch’s illusion wither away until all that remained was a fine layer of ash covering the ground. She turned back to Rarity.
Rarity stood rigidly with her ears pulled back. An oversized needle floated above her.
“Something’s wrong.”
Fluttershy held her breath. She couldn’t see what was amiss. The uncertainty weighed on her, pressing down with such force that she was about to collapse. The more she searched, the more she realized how fragile her world was. At any second, the towering pier with its rickety wood could fall, the buildings of Ponyville could tumble down, the trees of the Everfree Forest could shatter into splinters, and everything she loved would be smashed and crushed and bashed and…
The needle whined through the air and then froze as it struck something invisible. Tendrils of light emanated from its point, cutting a gleaming webwork into the sky. A tile fell away, breaking into specks and vanishing before it reached the ground. Dozens more followed it, then hundreds more, becoming a waterfall of the false sky, until the stars and moon that welcomed Fluttershy to sleep every night had returned.
“Only a familiar. They’re like witches, but without the out-of-body bit.” As Rarity spoke, the tension ebbed from her posture. A second later, she tapped a forehoof to her chin. “How odd, though. A familiar that survived the destruction of its witch.”
Fluttershy realized that she was still holding onto Rainbow, with Cup Cake by her side. Both ponies were motionless. She smoothed back Rainbow’s mane, uncovering bright red splotches around her face.
“They need help,” Fluttershy said. “Rainbow’s hurt.”
“I’ve got just the thing. Kyubey, would you mind?”
A white four-legged creature about the size of a fox appeared from behind Rarity’s neck.
“Certainly,” it said, and leapt off Rarity’s back. When it approached, Fluttershy drew away from it and shielded Rainbow Dash with her forelegs.
“Kyubey is my friend, and more than that, he’s superb at helping sick ponies get better,” Rarity said. “With his help, Rainbow Dash and Mrs. Cake will be right as rain by the end of the night.”
Fluttershy assessed Kyubey. He had bright red eyes and a tiny wrinkle of a mouth, but no whiskers or nose. Small fox ears popped up from his head, but he also had a second set of droopy, pink-tipped ears. A thin, gold ring circled each of the pink-tipped ears. His bulbous body had no texture, and he had a long, puffy tail that was as large as the rest of him.
Fluttershy decided he looked harmless and loosened her hold on Rainbow. He hopped onto Rainbow and began licking each of her rashes for a few seconds before moving to the next. He made no depression where he stood on her body, as if he were weightless. After a few minutes, all of the rashes had faded, and Kyubey started on Cup Cake’s injuries. Fluttershy tried to rouse Rainbow, but her friend remained blacked out.
“Give her time. Kyubey can speed up the healing process, but her body has to finish the job.”
Kyubey finished with Cup Cake and returned to Rarity’s shoulder. He whispered something that amused Rarity.
“What an excellent idea. First, let’s get some help for Mrs. Cake. I’m certain I saw an alarm bell around here…”
Rarity summoned a volley of needles and launched them into the night. Seconds later, a bell rang out.
“That ought to get the night patrol’s attention, and they’ll make sure she gets to the hospital safe and sound. Kyubey, would you keep watch until they arrive?”
He nodded and hopped to the ground next to Cup Cake.
“My sincerest thanks. Fluttershy, could you help me with Rainbow Dash?”
Fluttershy nodded, and the two of them hoisted Rainbow. “Where are we going?”
“To my humble little abode off in the hills. Don’t worry if you need to spend the night. The guest quarters were renovated only a few weeks ago!”
Rainbow awoke to the smell of tea and the sound of laughter.
“…And then she flew off, right out of the ring,” Fluttershy said. A pony with a voice Rainbow didn’t recognize teehee’d back. “I was left there flapping in front of every pony.”
“I suppose even the best of us have our troubles with stage fright,” the other pony said.
Rainbow couldn’t tell who Fluttershy and the pony were talking about. She didn’t like the other pony’s tone of voice. The other pony sounded snooty, as if she felt good only when she was judging others. Rainbow tried to turn and look this pony in the eye, but every muscle in her body ached worse than she’d ever felt before. She let out a moan instead.
“I think she’s coming to,” Fluttershy said.
“Here, have her drink a little of the tea.” There was a tinkling sound, and the smell of the tea grew stronger. When Rainbow felt something warm in front of her, she peeled her parched eyes open to see a blurry teacup floating by her snout. She sipped a little and was rewarded by a buzz of energy that relieved the soreness from her muscles.
“Careful, not too much,” Fluttershy said, too late. Rainbow finished the cup.
“Oh dear, you’ll be up all night if you keep drinking like that.” the other pony said. “Why don’t we stick with water for the rest of the evening?” The other pony was a white unicorn with done-up purple hair, a swanky purple dress, and a fancy-looking gold necklace. She gave Rainbow a glass of water, and Rainbow guzzled it too.
“Thanks,” Rainbow said. “So, what’s going on? Why do I feel awful?”
“My name is Rarity, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
“Well, we were at the field after practice,” Rainbow said as she eyed the opulent room for more water. There seemed to be a dozen pieces of antique furniture, stuffy cushions with gold thread, and expensive hardwoods. No obvious jugs of water, though. “We saw Cup Cake on one of the towers, and she was acting really weird…”
The memory of Cup Cake plummeting to the ground snapped into her mind.
“Oh my gosh, she jumped! I tried to stop her!”
“It’s all right, darling, Cup Cake is quite safe,” Rarity said. “I can explain everything.”
Rarity described finding them in the field, meeting Fluttershy, their fall into the “labyrinth,” and their escape from the burning fireflies, jack o’ lantern, and giant’s tongue.
So far, it all sounded like the kind of trouble a pony could get into by wandering too close to the Everfree Forest. Then came the part Rainbow was glad she was lying down for.
“That giant was the manifestation of a witch, a kind of monster that lures unsuspecting ponies into its clutches with psychological magic,” Rarity said. “These witches, and the familiars that join them, came from another world, and no pony could hope to win against them without help. Luckily for us, someone from that world has come to help. His name is Kyubey.”
“I met him,” Fluttershy said. “He’s nice.”
“Kyubey recruits ponies to wield incredible powers to counter these witches, and seals the ponies’ fealty by granting them a wish. In exchange, these ponies devote their lives to destroying witches for the good of the world.”
Fluttershy furrowed her brow and pinched her mouth, her classic I have some questions once you’re finished look. Rainbow guessed this was a part of the speech Rarity hadn’t shared with her yet.
“There have been multitudinous cases of ponies who have gone missing,” Rarity continued, “and I assure you many of them have been preyed upon by witches. Had we not intervened, for instance, Mrs. Cake and Rainbow Dash would have become that fiend’s latest victims.”
Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash exchanged a glance. “I know,” Fluttershy said.
Rarity paused a second. “I’m getting ahead of myself, though. This whole conversation has been abstract, particularly for you, Ms. Dash, as you haven’t even seen any of this. Both of you simply must see one of these witches up close to appreciate the wretched threat they pose to everypony. So, what would you say to joining me on my next hunt?”
Rainbow liked the idea of going out, kicking flank, and saving ponies. At the very least, it beat another day of Air Guard Reserve drills or fixing another cumulus puffer on the fritz. She turned to Rarity and said, “Sure.”
Rarity’s expression brightened. “Splendid! And you’ll both come?”
Fluttershy stared at Rainbow, and Rainbow gauged her expression. She looked panicked and worried, but there was something else that Rainbow couldn’t decipher.
“C’mon, Flutters. We’ll be fine with Rarity there.”
At last, Fluttershy said a soft, “Okay.”
“Wonderful!” Rarity wrapped them in a bear hug. “You’ll see. This could not be more perfect!”
Rarity told them that the next witch would show up one week later in the middle of the night at the Ponyville town center. They turned down Rarity’s invitation to spend the night at her place, but Fluttershy accepted a package of tea to take home. By the time they left, Rainbow had two very different impressions of Rarity: overbearing aunt and awesome part-time witch fighter.
On the walk home, Fluttershy was quiet, as usual, and Rainbow didn’t feel like saying anything. She thought about Rarity, especially the dueling images of the unicorn as a crazy cat lady without any cats and a superhero with magic powers. Then she thought about getting some drinks at Sweet Apple Acres, and then about her job at the Weather Service, and then about cleaning her home, and then about anything except Cup Cake throwing herself off the pier.
“Good night,” Fluttershy said.
Rainbow hadn’t noticed they were already at Fluttershy’s house.
“Night, Flutters,” Rainbow said. She got ready to fly to her own house, but Fluttershy grabbed her in a shaky embrace.
“I’m glad…” Fluttershy’s voice caught. “I’m glad it was okay today.”
Rainbow returned the hug but let go as soon as she felt Fluttershy relax. “Me too.”
Fluttershy smiled and walked inside. As soon as she was out of sight, Rainbow shot into the air.
She hated thinking about Fluttershy scared.
She hated thinking about Cup Cake in tears.
Rainbow picked up enough speed to make dodging the clouds a challenge. By the time she reached the fluffy gates of her house, she was panting, and her cheeks felt raw from the wind. She caught her breath and shoved the door open. There was a thump at her hooves, drawing her attention downward.
A package wrapped in brown paper and bound with twine sealed with glowing purple wax was on the ground. The return address said it was from “The Office of Twilight Sparkle, Master of the Library, Star Swirl’s School for Gifted Unicorns.” She knew Star Swirl’s was some preppy college in Canterlot, but couldn’t begin to guess why they were mailing something to her. Rainbow unwrapped the package and found it was a thick hardcover with the title, The Adventure Book. A letter clung to its back.
Dear Ponyville Resident,
Star Swirl’s School for Gifted Unicorns, in its continuing mission to research the many applications of magic, humbly invites your participation in a first-of-its-kind experiment. This enchanted tome is not just any book. Its pages will build an adventure unique to you. YOU make the choices! YOU face the dangers! YOU will earn the glory! Not only in reading, but by your actions, while this book is at your side…
Just what she needed: more unicorns meddling in her life. Rainbow tossed the book on a table and went to her bedroom, where she flopped into her four poster bed. While she waited for sleep to come, she tried to think about anything besides Cup Cake weeping for family as she hurtled to the ground.
A minute later, Rainbow was reading The Adventure Book.
“Sorry I’m late!” Rainbow called out as soon as she saw Fluttershy and Rarity. Rarity lay on a bench wearing her swanky purple dress, while Fluttershy paced close beside her.
“Where have you been?” Fluttershy said as she embraced Rainbow. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I’ve been playing The Adventure Book!” Rainbow said. She held up her copy, already frayed at the corners and displaying a mud splatter across its cover.
“The Adventure Book?” Rarity said. “That was all the rage with foals in Canterlot last time I visited. Then again, that was last winter.”
Rainbow ignored her. “You got yours, right?” she asked Fluttershy.
“I haven’t had a chance to read it.”
“That’s the thing, you don’t just read it! You go places, and it makes up this story about something else happening around you. Yesterday I was waiting in line at the record shop because somepony was trying to haggle with Vinyl, so I opened it up, and it said I had really stumbled into a sleeping dragon’s lair! I had to find a way to escape with the treasure I’d picked up, but I couldn’t make any noises, or else the dragon would roast me alive! How awesome is that?”
“That sounds…nice.”
“Here, I’ll show you.” Rainbow flipped open the book. Her heart fell when she saw the page. “Oh it’s being boring now. It does that sometimes. ‘There’s nothing of interest here, but to the north, you see foreboding lights splayed across the horizon.’ We have to go that way to see the cool stuff.”
“I’m afraid that must wait,” Rarity said. She rose from the bench. “The witch is here. Surely you feel it by now.”
Rainbow did feel it. The night was alive, imbued with the energy of ponies crowding together in anticipation of something imminent and spectacular. Yet there was no crowd. In fact, it was peculiar how deserted the town center was. She, Fluttershy, and Rarity were the only ponies in sight, and the shops and restaurants usually open late were closed.
Rainbow wondered if everyone else in Ponyville was following their copies of The Adventure Book north.
“Here we are.” Rarity grabbed a piece of the night sky with her hoof and pulled it back like a curtain, revealing a glimpse of dimly lit stands.
“What is that?” Fluttershy said.
“My hunch would be an arena,” Rarity said, smirking. “To your places, girls. It’s time we get this show on the road!”
FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!
MARES AND STALLIONS OF ALL AGES!
Come one, come all, and prepare for the apogee of entertainment under the big top, featuring nothing less than every form of amazement that anypony could ever dream of! Why, you’ll never want to leave.
Ferocious animals and feats of strength!
Riveting adventures and splendid grace!
Abominations and love at first sight!
And most of all, dazzling displays of dynamic dexterity by death-defying daredevils! But be warned: no force of nature can be defied forever.
First things first, tonight’s acts call for three volunteers. How about you, my dear? Yes, you, the unicorn in the lovely lavender livery. Are these two your wing ponies?
(LAUGHTER)
Unicorns and pegasi peacefully coexisting, what a rarity! Step right up, and introduce yourselves to the crowd. You first, why don’t you take a bow and tell the audience who you are? What’s that? You don’t want to? Well, it’s okay if you’re a little shy.
(LAUGHTER)
It’s time for the first act! With these two dashing flappers among tonight’s volunteers, the only way to start is having them fly through some hoops. Wouldn’t you like that?
(APPLAUSE)
Well, that’s not much enthusiasm. Then again, watching two ponies flying through hoops is a little dull, isn’t it? Perhaps it could be livened up a bit.
Why not with bears?
(APPLAUSE)
That’s the ticket! Here comes the ursine parade, splitting up two-by-two, and proceeding to their designated places. With a single command, every bottom bear rolls onto his back, and reaches his four legs up into the air, while his partner scrambles on top, and perfectly balances paw-to-paw. With their legs matched up, each bear pair creates four fuzzy wuzzy rings to fly through. Can you imagine the effort it takes to heave another bear onto your own four legs? They must be working up quite an appetite like that.
You two might want to start using those wings before the bears get too hungry.
Off and away they go! Barrel rolls and loop-de-loops, nose dives and a roll-off-the-top! Look to the right! That was almost a sonic rainboom, wasn’t it? Almost is never enough, though. Surely you learned that back in Cloudsdale.
What jaw-dropping aerobatics these pegasi have exhibited, even while they’re muzzle-to-snout with bloodthirsty carnivores. There’s only one way to make this even more thrilling. No ring show is complete without some fire, so why not fire-breathing bears?
Watch as these predators open their mouths, and with a mighty flaming roar, light up the evening sky! Those pegasi really have something to fly from now! If it weren’t for the clamor of the bears’ searing breath, you’d be able to hear those ponies’ wails of terror.
It seems their wingless friend is ready to join in on the fun, as her needle and thread are already glowing with magic. And off and away they go, weaving all around the circus, leaping about like a sprite, and returning to this fetching young unicorn. That was quite flashy, but is there more to it?
Yes there is! With one tug of her thread, this single magical mare has toppled every single theatrical bear! They burst into flames as they hit the ground, leaving naught but ash for all their furry fury. How clever of you to wrap that thread around their legs and trip them all up. That’s good. Your friends will need a clever pony before too long.
Here come the fabulous fliers, back to their unicorn friend’s side. How about giving them all a good round of stomping?
(APPLAUSE)
It seems one lucky bear remains. Whatever should be done with him? He deserves a reward for surviving what the rest could not. Well, perhaps he should be the centerpiece of the second act.
Here’s a fun fact for you fine folks. Do you know how a group of crows is called a murder? Well, it turns out a group of bears have a special name, too: a sleuth. What you saw with your very own eyes was this unicorn dispatching a whole sleuth of bears all by herself. So it wouldn’t be very exciting if the next challenge was a mere sleuthless bear. It’s time to think a bit bigger.
Send in the clowns!
Watch them tumble and bumble onto the thoroughfare. There’s a juggler! There’s a sword eater! That one’s got a whoopie cushion! And what about that one? All she carries is a scarlet bucket, its contents to be revealed in due time.
The tumblers leap onto the bear’s back, and soon are joined by the jugglers, sword eaters, whoopie cushioners, and all but the clown with a bucket. She swings her mysterious cargo into the air, disgorging an avalanche of ice raining down on the pile of clowns and bear.
Did you know that there’s also a special name for a group of clowns and one bear covered in ice? Care to hazard a guess what it is?
No?
The answer is, “dragon!”
(APPLAUSE)
As soon as the frosty specks land on the menagerie, they transform into a fearsome ice-breathing dragon! It grows with frigid domination that blots out the stars, and its azure scales shimmer in the scant remaining moonlight. Its mighty head rears on the heroic trio, and a debilitating blast of ice slams into them! Rings of hoarfrost fix the two pegasi in place, but the nimble unicorn has dodged the first assault, and begins her counterattack on the drake. Needle after needle she looses upon it, but the dragon displays a feline agility as its freezing breath catches each pin in midair. The unicorn does not relent, even with the futility of her needlework.
But what’s this? Perhaps the unicorn has been underestimated yet again. Indeed, her arsenal has not been thrown in vain! As each of thousands of needles have been halted in their tracks, the ice has accumulated, forming walls and a dome around the dragon. This unwitting beast has trapped itself!
How? Unbelievable.
That is to say, how unbelievable!
No time to cry over trapped dragons. The show must go on! The triumphant trio free themselves of the icy shackles and enter the center ring, where a fresh challenge is revealed to them. It is not well-worn fairgrounds that separates them from your humble ringmaster’s stand, but an array of tightropes they must cross. Speaking of tight ropes, these ought to keep the feathered duo from taking the easy way across.
Without hesitation, they leap onto the high wire act. What poise they all display! What aplomb! All three are positively unflappable, if for more reason than one. But as they cross the halfway point, a cadre of knife jugglers assemble to raise the stakes even higher. Not so poised anymore, are you?
That nimble unicorn has retained her balance, though, and is making the best of her dire straits on the straight wires. Her needles start flying, knocking scores of knives back to the ground. Now the thread coils around some of the knife handles, grabbing a few blades out of the air, and their razor sharp edges suddenly come back at her adversaries. Her improvised mace needs no refinement in its brutality, for she minces these jugglers faster than new ones can flood in from the shadows! The ponies draw closer to the ringmaster’s stand, ready to pounce unless something thwarts them. But the unicorn hesitates. What could she be waiting for?
SNAP! Through some unbidden force, all three ropes break in unison, plunging the heroes into the void below. Look how close you were to success! You tried your best, ponies, but your time in the limelight is over.
That ending doesn’t leave you all bitter, does it?
(LAUGHTER)
You’re not quite done yet, though. The next, and penultimate act, needs some assistance too.
Introducing our surprise guest, the mysterious chapeaugrapher! Without the use of a single magical spell, this pony transforms a simple loop of felt into many wondrous shapes, each telling its own tale as old as time.
What is the first tableau to be crafted by this art of chapeaugraphy? A twist here, a gentle push there, and the felt has become a festive party hat, with which the chapeaugrapher declares himself the birthday boy! Here come his friends with their presents: one pegasus with a stuffed rabbit toy, a unicorn with a handsome suit, and another pegasus. But the last pegasus came empty hooved! Where could her present be? Oh no, it seems she’s left it at home.
This birthday boy won’t let one forgetful featherbrain ruin his big day. He doffs his hat, and with another curve and a rough pull here, she’s turned it into an aviator’s cap! Our brave pilot takes to the air, her two pegasi companions by her side, as their unicorn friend cheers them all on from the ground. Up and up they fly, until they’re so high that if they were to look down, their friend would appear to be no bigger than a tiny ant scurrying across the ground.
Even if she’s actually an enormous, one-horned steer. This bull is done being a loner on the range and moo-ves back to rejoin the other two cows out grazing. But who’s ever seen a cow with wings? Who’s ever seen two? Never mind that, for the chapeaugrapher dons his cowpony hat. Here he comes, trotting out with the kind of swagger a stallion only gets when he’s never done being a loner on the range. Giddy up, pony and cows! We’ve got more miles to go than a hog has mud!
To where is this herd driven in such a hurry? Why, they’ve got a date on the runway! They’ve arrived at Manehattan, the capital of haute couture, for the annual fashion show. This model comes out in a sleek satin dress. What elegance! This model comes out in a bodice adorned with magnificent jewels. What splendor! This model comes out in austere, military-style boots. What daring! But the first three models have nothing on the chapeaugrapher, and her stunning peacock feather hat!
From the modern day capital of fashion to the royal capitol of olden times, the trio pass through the gates of Everfree Castle to pay tribute to their monarch. The throne room admits their supplicant entry, and before them sits their princess, the chapeaugrapher, with her regal crown. Long may she rule with wisdom and compassion! Forever may the sun and moon shine upon her kingdom!
The busy princess has little time for her court, though. She removes her crown and winds the felt into a rod as tall and scrawny as him. After all, this colt has no need for crowns. What he needs is a sturdy shepherd’s crook to tend his flock. Check! Plus, some well-deserved rest while his charges graze. Check! All that’s missing are some ewes and rams.
And missing is what they are. There’s no sign of those sheep, you dozy colt! While you were lost in sleep, your flock did bolt. Where have those wily wool bags wandered off to?
There’s good news, and there’s bad news. The good news is, the sheep are much closer than you’d expect. See there? Your one-horned ram and two winged ewes just needed to refresh themselves at the nearby watering hole.
The bad news is, here comes the flood! Your poor sheep try to flee, but they seem to be wrapped in chains that are slowly dragging them into the torrent!
At last the grand finale is here, and the heroic trio face their greatest menace. The swollen river forces the air from their lungs and threatens to swallow them whole. Listen to their horrific bleating! Behold their frantic splashing, with their legs so cruelly bound! Is there any hope for them to survive this inescapable mortal peril?
Do you not know the meaning of “inescapable mortal peril?”
Did you not heed the warning that no force of nature can be defied forever?
Will you ever learn from hope’s ceaseless betrayal?
It seems the chapeaugrapher has one last trick up their sleeve. The felt begins to twist yet again, and in a flash of light, the shepherd’s crook becomes a magical aspen staff, glowing turquoise with eldritch energy. The staff hurtles across the circus grounds with frightening speed, crashes into the chains holding the sacrificial lambs, and shatters the steel into a million glinting shards! The clown troupe is quick to bring out fresh shackles, despite the volunteers’ obstinance, but the flying staff turns again, this time aimed squarely at your humble ringmaster. Here it comes, so fast it becomes a howling banshee as it plunges into my black heart!
Fluttershy sputtered for breath. All around her, the circus grounds, the clowns, the shattered chains, and even the river she had been sinking into were crumbling into ash. Rainbow was to her right, flapping her wings to shake off the last remnants of the hallucination. Rarity was behind them, already on her hooves, and glaring at the fourth pony.
The stranger standing before them was unlike any pony Fluttershy had ever seen: a pale pink unicorn wearing a tattered blue cloak with dusty grey trim; an aspen staff with a glowing turquoise gem at its head floating beside them; hints of a midnight black mane with fiery streaks like a comet under a conical hat; taller than any of them and sporting a billy goat’s beard, like a stallion; a face with high cheekbones and a rounded muzzle, like a mare; and eyes like glass orbs holding fragments of the night sky.
“I see you still have nothing better to do than try to get us killed,” Rarity said.
The stranger scowled. “You have only yourself to blame,” they said in a raspy voice. Their staff swung around to point at Rarity. “You did not account for the tightropes breaking, and so fell into the clutches of the witch. If you continue your wanton recklessness, this will not be the last time you compel me to protect you and these innocents.”
“A minor correction, dear. I let you break the tightrope with that flying staff of yours,” Rarity said. “I could have stopped it like I stopped those wicked jugglers’ knives, but I wanted to see how far you would go this time. Apparently, to the brink of drowning. You surprise me yet again with how low you’ll sink.”
The stranger’s staff withdrew. “Have you truly become so callous as to forfeit these ponies’ lives playing a game with me? Or do you expect me to believe you possessed some means to rescue them, had I not saved you all?”
“Must I convince thee that I possessed some means to keepsafe their lives?” Rarity said, mocking the stranger’s voice. “Are you asking me how I was going to get them out of those chains?”
The stranger snorted.
Rarity levitated one of the chains. A crumbling, but open, padlock dangled from it. “I picked the locks while you were busy flaunting your little magic trick. I’m so glad you had a chance to show off your new hobbies, though.”
The stranger’s mouth tweaked, as if they had a retort but held it. Their head turned to the two pegasi.
“Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, my only solace is that you have witnessed Rarity’s duplicity. Do not believe anything she says. She will lead you only to your doom.”
Fluttershy gasped. “How do you know our names?”
“That’s just one of their parlor tricks,” Rarity said. “Quick, check behind your ears. You might find some bits hiding up there!”
The stranger gave Rarity a long, searching look, and then turned away as if to leave.
“Rarity, while you were wasting time impressing these fillies, Cup Cake asphyxiated herself in the oven at Sugarcube Corner.”
Cup Cake was at peace among the beehives. Thistle and buckwheat flowers wreathed the burgundy pillow she nestled on, her legs tucked underneath her head. Her apron, laundered until it was pristine, snuggled beside her with an offering of lemon cakes stacked on top. With her closed eyes and smile of a weary pony finally resting, Fluttershy thought Cup Cake almost looked alive.
Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity stood together near the back of the crowd gathered to make their last goodbyes. Rarity had tried to tuck her necklace under a black scarf, but its golden gleam still caught Fluttershy’s eye. Rainbow rocked subtly as if she was about to be sick, and Fluttershy worried she’d have to escort Rainbow away at any moment.
One pink earth pony broke from the crowd and trotted over to the beehives. She seemed both familiar and out of place. As the pony draped black cloth over each beehive, gently knocked on them, and whispered near their top, Fluttershy realized she was the waitress from Sugarcube Corner. Her normally frizzy hair was straight, presumably for the funeral, which explained why Fluttershy hadn’t recognized her at first. Fluttershy couldn’t remember her name, though. Perky? Plucky? Something like that.
The waitress finished her whispers to the last beehive and walked up to a podium in front of the crowd. She flipped open a book on the podium and began to read aloud in a monotone.
“Today, we come together to tell the bees of the passing of…”
The waitress choked mid-sentence. She paused, cleared her throat, and began again.
“To tell the bees of…”
She stopped and looked up.
“Can I tell you guys a story first? It’s really sweet, and really, really short, I promise. Is everyone okay with that?”
No one replied.
“Okay, so it’s a story Cup Cake told me back when she and Pumpkin and Carrot…anyway, it’s about Pumpkin’s fourth birthday party. Cup Cake had gotten almost everything ready for the best. Birthday party. Ever! She had all the presents wrapped, all the balloons blown up, all the banners hung, and all the party favors bagged. The very last thing she had to do was bake an amazing two-layer cake. So she’s mixed up the batter and she’s splitting it between two pans. Pumpkin toddles in and sees Cup Cake pouring the batter. She’s a smart filly, she knows about baking, so she asks Cup Cake which one is hers.
“‘They’re both for you, sweetie,’ Cup Cake says, and then she explains about making a two-layer cake.
“Pumpkin is super happy about getting a big cake all to herself, but she’s got one more question. ‘Is Bawndah gettin' one, too?’
“Cup Cake asks who Bawndah is, and Pumpkin announces that she has a new friend that only she can see, and his name is Bawndah, and it just so happens that Bawndah and Pumpkin have the same birthday, so of course Bawndah needs his own two-layer cake too. Cup Cake tries to tell Pumpkin that she and Bawndah can share a cake, but let me ask you: have you ever argued with an almost-four-years-old, almost-birthday-girl?
“There’s one thing you need to know about Cup Cake. She took pride in her pastries. If she was going to have to bake two cakes, then both of them were going to be amazing. So out come two more pans and the tools soaking in the sink, and twice as much flour and sugar and eggs and butter start going in. Cup Cake bakes like a crazy mare while Pumpkin watches.
“In walks Carrot. He sees Cup Cake busier than she’s ever been before. The batter’s flying, the oven’s firing, the glaze is drying, and he figures the best thing he can do at that very moment is…play with Pumpkin.”
A few in the crowd chuckled.
“He grabs a picture book from the shelf, and they start reading about some lionesses going on a hunt. They get to the page where the lionesses go off, leaving the lion behind with his cubs.
“Pumpkin points at the lioness in front and says, ‘Dat’s mama lion.’
“Guys, Carrot was so proud! ‘My daughter is such a genius!’ he says. ‘She’s never even seen a lion before, but just from one picture, she can already tell the difference between a male and a female.’
“Cup Cake, even while she’s busy baking, is curious. She asks, ‘Sweetie, how do you know that’s a mama lion?’
“And Pumpkin says, ‘She workin'.’”
The crowd was silent, for a moment. Then from the middle, a pony snorted, and his outburst spread through the other ponies as waves of chuckles and “aww”s. Fluttershy and Rarity joined in the laughter, and even Rainbow cracked a smile. The waitress relaxed, and some of her mane curls returned. She started again to read from the book at the podium, now with a natural voice.
“Today we come together to tell the bees of the passing of their master Cup Cake, born Chiffon Swirl. We tell the bees, and they shall tell the flowering plants, which shall tell the earth that the time has come for it take back her flesh and bones. By these words, I am also here to tell you, Cup Cake’s friends and loved ones. Like the motes of her body return to the ground from which we all are formed, now her stories and memories, in which each one of us play a part, return to us.
“The endless sleep of Cup Cake leaves our world more hollow than it was. There is a natural urge to fill that void, to banish her absence, but we must accept that there can never be a replacement for Cup Cake’s life. Only then can we learn the beauty of absence. Our world is hollow like a bell, and its beauty is heard in the knells of the stories and memories we will all share. Cup Cake has not truly left this world as long as her life echoes among ponykind.”
The waitress finished her reading to quiet marks of approval: a light stomping here, a nodding head there. She left the pulpit to rejoin the crowd, and her place was taken by an older pony in a ceremonial blue, green, and grey tunic. He read some more from the book and sometimes signaled the crowd to respond. As Fluttershy fell into the earth pony religion’s routine, she searched around for Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow watched a bee float along with the wind, oblivious to her surroundings.
Apples surrounded Fluttershy in both name and substance. In the dining hall, Apple Bloom, a lithe yellow mare, carried on her back a tray carved from apple tree wood laden with sliced cheese and fruit. Massive windows showed both the apple orchards stretching to the horizon and the frail green frame of Granny Smith tending to the harvest. Bright Mac, bulky yellow stallion, had brought Fluttershy a tankard full of frothy apple cider, on which was carved an icon of the family's namesake. The aroma of smoked apple chips had been wafting in all afternoon, no doubt the result of ruby red Big Mac working the hay smoker.
This was Cup Cake’s wake. Mourning had ended, and the sharing of her stories and memories had begun. Rarity mingled throughout the room, engaging ponies one-by-one, while Rainbow Dash had stationed herself at the bar with a group of fellow revelers.
Fluttershy wasn’t quite ready for any of that. She instead secured her own space in a booth where she could pony-watch. For a while, the pony she watched was the waitress, who had a throng surrounding her. This group had become like a party within the wake, and as Fluttershy watched, the party swelled until it threatened to take over.
“Hey, Ms. Shy, y’all want any more fruit or cheese?” Apple Bloom asked. She had somehow snuck up on Fluttershy with the tray.
“Thank you, A. B., but I’m fine,” Fluttershy said. “I don’t suppose you’d like to sit for a bit?”
“Don’t mind if I do. My dogs are barkin’!” Apple Bloom scooted into the bench across from Fluttershy. She raised one back leg up and began to massage above the hoof.
“How’s it going?” Fluttershy asked. “We haven’t talked in a long time.”
“Good. You?” Apple Bloom switched to the other back leg.
“I’m well, thank you. How’s Twist doing?”
“I don’t really talk to her much anymore.” Apple Bloom let go of the other back leg.
“Oh,” Fluttershy said, disappointed. Apple Bloom was already leaving, and they’d hardly had a chance to catch up. “Well, it was good to talk to you.”
Apple Bloom caught Fluttershy's look and stopped. “Oh, no, no, I was only a-jutting myself.”
“Adjusting,” Fluttershy corrected on impulse.
“Adjusting myself.” Apple Bloom leaned forward, and locked a grin on her face. “Yeah, no, I’m still awful tired. I should sit awhile, so I’ve got some time to chat. It’s sure been a long time since we caught up, huh? Did I tell you I met up with Scootaloo again?”
“No, you didn’t. How is she?” Fluttershy didn’t remember much of the orange pegasus besides her name.
“Great!” Apple Bloom said. “She got me into the Wonderbolts fan club. Last winter, we won four tickets to their last show of the season, but I couldn’t go, even though Pa gave me the day off, because…”
Fluttershy felt the long lost joy of gossip return. She relished every detail that spilled out of the young mare about school struggles, new interests, and cute crushes. No witches or strangers burdened Apple Bloom’s life, and as Fluttershy lived it vicariously, they faded from her own.
There was an almost taboo intimacy listening to Apple Bloom. Throughout Fluttershy’s career as an au pair for Apple family, they had kept her at a certain distance from the family’s business. It wasn’t always successful—she knew they had built the bar to help overcome some recent crisis, and no one could have hidden Bright Mac’s overindulgences with cider that followed—but Fluttershy still had only the vaguest sense of the family’s other struggles.
In this cauldron of secrecy, Apple Bloom had been Fluttershy’s little informant. When Apple Bloom divulged something humorous like Granny Smith writing her name wrong on a birthday card, Fluttershy felt closer to their family. That adoptive relationship, though unrecognized by anyone but her, had helped her share her own struggles with them. Granny Smith had helped her develop assertiveness with pushy shopkeepers, while Bright Mac had helped her overcome some of her social anxiety. However, for small nuisances, trivial peeves, and everyday cases of the blahs, she had gone to Apple Bloom. Apple Bloom responded with unconditional sympathy and affection; at their closest, Fluttershy had thought of herself as a surrogate mother. In hindsight, Fluttershy realized this sense of family had kept her in Ponyville long enough for it to become her home.
Fluttershy’s sense of belonging diminished as Apple Bloom grew into a teenager. She shared less and hid more, until Fluttershy’s conversations with her devolved into a repetitive exchange of “How are you?” and “Good. You?” What Fluttershy hadn’t known at the time, what she’d had to piece together much later, was that Bright Mac’s fondness for cider had progressed into an uncontrolled problem. She never learned if Apple Bloom had recognized this over time, or if some incident had pushed her far enough to act. Fluttershy only realized that Apple Bloom was staging an intervention after she asked to borrow Fluttershy’s quarters one day to, she claimed, practice a speech for school. That night, Apple Bloom called a family meeting—excluding Fluttershy—and the next morning Bright Mac declared he was taking a break from running the cider bar.
After that, Fluttershy recognized that Apple Bloom no longer needed her, and she resigned a few weeks later. In the years since, she moved into a cottage and welcomed Rainbow when she transfered to Ponyville, but she hadn’t found anything new to commit to. Leaving Sweet Apple Acres should have counted as a success, but to Fluttershy, it had always felt more like a part of her life ending well before the next part was ready to start.
“How we doing over here?” Bright Mac said, surprising Fluttershy. He tipped his hat to her.
“Ms. Shy and I were just chatting,” Apple Bloom said. “Do you mind I was taking my break?”
“You’re fine, sugarcube,” Bright Mac said and tousled her mane, “but I did hear a few ponies over that way ask about a fruit plate. You might want to head on over there before they get too uppity.”
“Sure thing.” Apple Bloom hoisted the fruit and cheese plate and left the booth. “See you later, Ms. Shy!”
“Bye, Apple Bloom,” Fluttershy said.
The two older ponies watched Apple Bloom make her way into the crowd for a moment. When she was out of earshot, Bright Mac turned to Fluttershy.
“I don’t mean to interrupt your time here, but Rainbow, well, she went into the fillies’ room ‘round about ten minutes ago and…”
“Oh, shoot.” Fluttershy sighed and started to get up.
“I did cut her off after two, I swear, but those flygirls kept sneaking her cider.”
“I understand.”
“And it is the fillies’ room, so either I’d have to get Granny, but she’s got her hooves full right now, or, well…”
He didn’t have to say he didn’t want Apple Bloom to have to deal with another pony in Rainbow’s presumed state.
“It’s fine,” Fluttershy said as she left the booth. “Thank you very much, Bright Mac. This is a lovely wake.”
“Let her know I’m always here to talk,” he said, “if she wants.”
She trotted past him, squeezed her way through the crowd, and entered the bathroom. It was modestly sized with three stalls and two sinks. Fragrant wreaths adorned the door of each stall and earthen-hued tiles ran along the floor and walls. The room was vacant except for Fluttershy and, retching in the far stall, Rainbow Dash.
“Dat you, Futters?” Rainbow slurred.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Shood. Shood.”
Fluttershy approached the far stall and saw Rainbow Dash slumped against the wall, one foreleg across the toilet seat. Her eyes were bloodshot and her mane disheveled as she fumbled with the handle.
“Dozen fush,” Rainbow said.
Fluttershy took a deep breath near the wreath, entered the stall, averted her gaze from the bowl’s contents, and flushed the toilet.
“Ooh,” Rainbow said, letting the syllable linger in the air. “Dat’s how.”
“We should go.”
“Kay.” Rainbow turned to the toilet bowl and vomited. When she was finished, she rose onto wobbly legs and began to leave.
“Flush the toilet, please.”
“Kay.” Rainbow made a slow turn and pushed the handle down on her second try. “I fushed dit.”
“Yes, you did,” Fluttershy said, feeling numb. “Good job.”
As Fluttershy escorted Rainbow out of the bathroom, she ran through a mental list of what she needed to accommodate one hungover pegasus at her cottage. There was a lot, but the alternative would be to stick Rainbow on a flying cab and let her fend for herself. That would be cruel, of course.
It was cruel to even think about.
Fluttershy kept thinking about it until Rarity appeared in front of them.
“Oh, poor dear,” Rarity cooed and ran a forehoof through Rainbow’s mane.
“She’ll be okay,” Fluttershy said. “I’ll take her back to my house so she can sleep it off.”
“What luck!” Rarity said as she hoisted Rainbow over her withers. “I was just about to head home too and asked Big Mac to drive me there in his cart. I’m sure he could take all three of us, and I’ll have plenty of tea ready for Ms. Dash.”
“Thank you for the offer but…”
“Rainbow, darling, would you like to come back with me and rest up?”
“Kay.”
“Well, it’s settled. Oh, Big Mac!” Rarity hollered as the stallion appeared outside the entrance towing a wagon. “Could you lend us a hoof?”
When they had arrived at Rarity’s home, Big Mac carried Rainbow inside on his back, deposited her on a plush chaise beneath a window facing Rarity’s garden, and left without speaking a word. Rarity went to the kitchen to make tea, leaving Fluttershy to her own devices.
Rarity's opulent furnishings reminded Fluttershy of the time her family had toured the Cloudsdale Governor-General's executive mansion. Her brother, Zephyr Breeze, had quipped in a rare moment of insight, “This place is just a pretend home, full of corridors and chambers. Real homes have hallways and rooms!”
She felt the urge to find out if Rarity's home had hallways and rooms or corridors and chambers.
A part of her worried that as soon as she left, Rainbow would come to, be confused about how she got to Rarity’s, and panic. Another part thought it’d be interesting to see that happen. She decided to take the risk.
In a short time, she had found her way to a library. She remembered a study from one of her classes where caregivers read to patients after major traumas, and it appeared to improve recovery. Thinking it might help with Rainbow’s hangover, or at least couldn’t hurt, she entered the library and examined the spines of the books.
They were almost all romance novels.
She scanned a few shelves laden with titles such as Shetland’s Shelter, Prince of Mountain Pleasure, A Revolution Among the Desiccated Barley, and The Complete Draft Horse Anthology (Including: A Well-Poured Draft, Riding the Up Draft, Drafted Into Service, Feeling a Cold Draft, Demand Draft, and The Final Draft). In the shelf farthest from the entryway, she found a small collection of other books, including a copy of The Adventure Book, a monograph on an archaeological expedition to the Crystal Empire, surveys of earth pony and pegasus history and culture, and two books by President Blue Blood.
A groan came from down the corridor. Fluttershy headed for it, but before she reached the exit, she glimpsed the cover of one book on an end table.
Her Bed for a Thoroughbred.
Fluttershy galloped to Rainbow’s chaise.
She saw Kyubey first. The alien was standing on Rainbow’s chest, not creating any depression on her hide, and licking along the bottom of her ribcage. Fluttershy watched him without speaking for a few moments.
His appearance unsettled her. Between his sleek hide, his amalgam of animal parts, his magically curative tongue, and the red circle on his back she noticed for the first time, all of his pieces didn’t quite add up. At the same time, nothing about him was quite wrong, and she couldn’t get past the sense that he was somehow familiar.
Kyubey stopped licking and turned to her. “Was someone trying to poison her? If so, they chose a very inefficient compound.”
To her own surprise, Fluttershy giggled. “No, Rainbow did this to herself. ‘Inefficient’ is good choice of word, though.”
Kyubey stared at her, his expression unreadable, and then returned to his work. Fluttershy watched his tongue flick on Rainbow’s coat for a few more minutes, wondering how it worked.
“Could I ask where you learned to heal ponies?” she asked.
“I was built that way.” Kyubey continued to lick while he answered Fluttershy’s questions, leaving her with the realization that he didn’t need his mouth to speak.
“You’re built like a machine?”
“Not exactly. The laws of physics are different in my creators’ world than here, so it’s impossible for something to come directly from there. Instead, my creators project me onto your world. This projection process also establishes a conduit through which they can retrieve energy from witches here. Have you seen Rarity using those white spheres with black cages?”
“Yes.” How could she forget Rarity's zeal for them? The other night, after the stranger had left them with the news of Cup Cake’s suicide, Rarity had snapped out of her stupor well before Fluttershy and Rainbow. Her first act was not to lament but to hunt for the pearly bauble in the dissipating circus grounds. Fluttershy had expected her to perform the ritual of tapping it her necklace, like she had after destroying the tongue witch, but Rarity hadn't even needed it. She’d secreted the new one away in her dress, pulled out the duller one she’d won from the tongue witch, and freshened her necklace with that.
“Those are Grief Seeds,” Kyubey said. “They store all the psychic energy a witch emits. Rarity’s necklace collects the energy in battle, and then returns it to the Grief Seed when they come in contact. When Rarity fills one up, she gives it to me, and I can transmit the energy back to my creators’ world. They use that energy to reverse entropy, extending the life of their world and its inhabitants.”
Fluttershy felt ashamed. After the circus witch, she’d judged Rarity to be selfish and callous for putting aside the news about Cup Cake, when in actuality, Rarity had been serving a higher cause.
“What’s psychic energy?” Fluttershy asked. “Is that like a levitation spell?”
“Not exactly. Psychic energy has more to do with psychological phenomena, especially involuntary processes such as suppressed emotions, memories, and dreams.”
At the mention of dreams, Fluttershy narrowed in on the cause of Kyubey’s uncanny familiarity.
“Does that mean things with a lot of psychic energy can enter a pony’s dreams?”
“Not per se, but a witch could affect a pony’s unconscious perceptions, thereby affecting his or her dreams.”
“What about you?” She walked towards him. “Because I think I’ve dreamed about you, even before the training field and Rarity. Even before I left Cloudsdale. You may have been in my dreams for all my life, in fact.”
Kyubey turned away from Rainbow and met Fluttershy’s eye, now inches from his. “If you’ve had these dreams in Cloudsdale, then I couldn’t have influenced them. I’ve never been to Cloudsdale.”
Fluttershy stammered. “I know I’ve…”
“I bear a superficial similarity to several mammals of this world. It’s possible you’ve had frequent dreams of one of them and afterward associated those memories with me. Is there something like a squirrel or rabbit that’s been consistent in your life?”
She was about to protest until she remembered Angel, the toy rabbit that had been her lifelong sleeping companion. Her parents had encouraged her to leave him as she grew up, and bullies had mocked her attachment to him, but Angel had been her an unfailing comfort for even longer than the cloud cave where she had used to watch the sun rise. It seemed impossible that he somehow contributed to her terrible dreams, but there was no denying the correlation.
“I suppose.” Fluttershy walked away and took a seat on a side chair. She tried to contemplate Angel and her dreams some more, but as her thoughts became discouraging, she turned her attention back to Kyubey. “Did Rarity tell you about what happened with the circus witch?”
“Some,” Kyubey said. “Would you like to tell me what you thought?”
Fluttershy sighed. “I never thought I'd see something like that. Not again. After that horrible giant and its tongue, I'd had enough of witches. Rarity was so blatant about asking us to join her, and I was sure I’d tell her 'no' once she asked. But Rarity talked Rainbow into it, and Rainbow convinced me.
“I was terrified that whole week leading up to it. How could we be going back into a witch’s labyrinth? Then Rainbow showed up. She was so brave, even after we went in. Maybe it was seeing Rainbow so excited, or maybe her courage was infectious. There was a moment when we were on the tightropes racing towards that ringmaster that I remember as clearly as moonlight. If somehow Rarity could have paused time right then and asked me to join her fighting witches, I would have said ‘yes.’”
“Then that other unicorn interfered,” Kyubey said.
“And afterward, the stranger said…” Fluttershy couldn’t finish the thought. Questions overwhelmed her. Who was the stranger? Where were they from? What was their history with Rarity? Were they telling the truth when they said Rarity would lead them to their doom?
What about Kyubey and his world? How could the witches exist in her world if they came from the other world? How could Kyubey grant wishes? Why did all her questions to him turn back on her? Was that what life was like as a witch hunter? What had Kyubey whispered to Rarity on the training field?
Was this all a part of how Rarity recruited new hunters?
“Uh, hi?”
Rainbow’s groggy voice broke Fluttershy’s brooding. Rainbow stared at Kyubey, who was standing on her chest.
“Do I know you?” Rainbow said to the alien.
“No.”
“Rainbow, this is Kyubey,” Fluttershy said. “He’s Rarity’s helper, and he healed you after that first witch trapped you and…he healed you while you were unconscious.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kyubey chirruped.
“Great,” Rainbow said. “How about a little personal space?”
Kyubey jumped to the floor. No longer encumbered, Rainbow rolled onto her belly while keeping her gaze on Kyubey. There was an ugly silence between the three of them until Rarity entered levitating a silver tray with tea service. She had changed into her purple dress.
“Thank you so much for your patience, Fluttershy. I wanted to make sure everything was absolutely perfect.” She stopped in her tracks. “Kyubey, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?”
“Normal.”
“Wonderful! Rainbow, are you feeling well?”
Rainbow grunted, her gaze not leaving Kyubey.
“Would you care for anything to drink? I’ve brought some tea.”
“Yeah!” Rainbow’s head snapped up as a cup and saucer levitated towards her. When it reached her, she snatched it with her front hooves and gulped down the tea.
“Do you feel up to a little walk? I have something to show you both in the craft room.” Rarity beckoned Fluttershy and Rainbow to follow her up a flight of stairs, leaving Kyubey by the chaise.
They entered a room illuminated by a bank of large windows along the northern wall and a set of gaslights in each corner. Shelves filled with fabrics, threads, ribbons, and buttons lined one wall. A table bearing a sewing machine and assorted tools held station against another. Next to the table, a propped-open door hinted at an attached walk-in closet.
In the center of the room stood two draped mannequins.
Rarity set the tray on an end table near the door and pranced, humming, to the mannequins. Rainbow stepped up to the end table and began to pour herself another cup of tea. One glare from Fluttershy stopped her cold, and she returned the teapot before moving aside. Fluttershy sat down on Rainbow’s left.
Fluttershy had been dreading this moment since Rarity intercepted them at the bar. She now understood why, when they were in the first witch’s labyrinth, Rarity kept challenging her come up with plans: the hunter had been grooming her as a recruit. The reason she’d invited Rainbow and her to the next hunt was to test them together. It had come so close to success.
Surely things were different now, though. After Cup Cake and the stranger, Rarity couldn’t possibly have the gall to recruit them today. Maybe later, when the grief had subsided and their heads were clearer. Fluttershy told herself, assured herself, hoped silently to herself, that for today, Rarity would not dare what she was taking such visible pains to do…
“Voila!” Rarity snapped the drapes off of the pair of mannequins, revealing what they wore. The left mannequin bore a gown with row upon row of pink and fuchsia fairy wings stitched to a cream-colored ribbon stretching from neck to tail. On the right mannequin was a hooded dress made from quilted fabric the color of storm clouds. Sturdy pads studded with chrome rivets protected the wing holes.
“They’re for you,” Rarity said. “I had to guess at your measurements, so as not to ruin the surprise, but I can make absolutely any adjustment you desire. They may look form fitting, but they each have a dozen hidden pockets, and the fabric is flexible so it won’t restrict your movement. Here, have a feel.”
She backed away, giving Fluttershy and Rainbow room to approach. Fluttershy stepped up to the pink and cream dress and ran a hoof along one of the wings attached to the ribbon. It flexed when bent away from the body but was stiff the other way. She could spy a few of the pockets Rarity had mentioned.
“Well, what do you think?” Rarity asked.
“It’s perfect,” Fluttershy said. It was perfect: the perfect rebuttal to her distrust. All day, she had been looking for the worst in her friends. She had expected Apple Bloom to abandon her at Sweet Apple Acres; she’d seen only an immature foal in Rainbow’s intoxicated body, one who deserved to be taught a lesson; she’d accused Kyubey of controlling her dreams for his own devices; and now, she had prepared for a showdown with Rarity over her witch hunting plans, when all Rarity had planned was an unexpected gift. Fluttershy knew she would need a catharsis soon, something to release her pent-up anxiety, but she was not about to let any other pony bear the brunt of it. She turned to thank Rarity, who had trotted to the window, but Rarity spoke first.
“Do you know that Apple Bloom had an older sister?” Rarity said to the window. “Her name was Applejack. She and I met when we were both young mares, about Apple Bloom’s age now, in fact. Applejack was quite industrious and resourceful back then. She had to be, you see. Her parents were tragically lost at sea, feared never to return, thus leaving her, her brother, and Granny Smith to tend to Sweet Apple Acres. It was an unimaginable burden for such a young mare, but she thrived in adversity. Then one day, the inconceivable happened: Bright Mac returned! For darling Applejack, though, it was the beginning of the end.
“No pony will ever know the complete truth, but it is my belief that when Bright Mac came back from oblivion and relieved Applejack of her burden, he also stripped her of her purpose. Having lost her way, I have no doubt she succumbed to the influences of a witch here in Ponyville. It is a single tragedy, but hers is not the only life lost to these foul beasts. There must a dozen similar cases across Ponyville, and when you consider the hundreds of towns just like it all across Equestria, the sum is staggering. But if you two would join me…”
Rarity turned to Fluttershy and gasped. “My goodness, dear, are you well? You’re as red as a beet.”
“I am livid!” Fluttershy said and stamped her hoof. “What in the hay are you thinking, doing this now?”
“On the contrary, there is no better time.”
“Cup Cake’s cremation was only hours ago—”
“Earth ponies bury theirs, actually.”
“—and you make up a dead sister for Apple Bloom, who is like a daughter to me—”
“I assure you, every word I've said is true.”
“—then guilt trip us into joining your winds-blasted—”
“Is that how pegasi curse? That’s simply uncalled for.”
“—witch-hunting manure!”
“Manure!?” Rarity’s nostrils flared. “What right have you to dismiss me? I am a guardian of the defenseless in mind and body!”
“You are a bully and a manipulator! Laying this on us when we’re still grieving and drunk—”
“Was it so wrong of me to ask for a little responsibility from you?” Rarity snorted. “To draw your eyes from your own front hooves and catch a glimpse of the catastrophe that besieges your community?”
“Excuse me, missy, but I have plenty of—”
“Hey, what’s this?” Rainbow asked.
Fluttershy and Rarity's argument froze and both of them looked to the walk-in closet. Rainbow was inside, holding a bunched-up drape and facing a mannequin. The mannequin wore a velvet cloak in cobalt blue with star-shaped patterns embroidered in silver thread and trimmed with a modest lace pattern. A matching conical hat crowned its head.
Rarity rushed into the closet and jerked the drape out of Rainbow’s hooves. “Nothing,” she said as she levitated the cloth over the mannequin. “It’s nothing. Some early work.”
“Looks a little like what the stranger wears,” Rainbow said.
“What that unicorn goes around in is rotten,” Rarity said. The drape hovered over the mannequin as she tweaked the edges of its cloak. “I mean that literally. You can see where mold has eaten away the fibers. I thought that dingy rag might be the reason he or she is ornery all the time, perhaps if I whipped up something in a little better repair…well, it couldn’t hurt. With the witches, I mean.”
The last piece of a puzzle fell into place for Fluttershy. The romance novels, the interest in other pony races, and the desire to form a group were all signs of what plagued Rarity. Her evasiveness about the cloak revealed her denial about it.
“Do you ever feel alone, Rarity?” Fluttershy asked.
“Of course not.” Rarity kept fidgeting with the cloak. “I’m completely happy. Why wouldn’t I be? I have this entire palace to myself. No pony to quibble if I say it’s time to change the curtains.”
“Everypony needs space for themselves,” Fluttershy said, “but I have enjoyed spending time with you.”
“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that!” Rarity swooped to Fluttershy and took up her front hooves. “You really do find witch hunting exciting, don’t you? Please, forget I ever said all those nasty things to you.”
“I owe you an apology, too. I’m sorry I called you a bully and was dismissive of witch hunting. You’re helping ponies in serious need. It’s clear to me how important it is for you, and you have good reason to be proud of what you do. I promise to respect your choice, even though it’s not something Rainbow or I can join in.”
Rarity’s face drooped. “But I thought…”
“Being a witch hunter is not something we could ever do. Rainbow, do you agree?”
Rainbow hesitated and then said, “Yeah, whatever.”
“We can help you in other ways, though,” Fluttershy said. “I’ve been fascinated by psychology since I was young, and it’s about time I did something with it. If I enrolled in a program at the community college here, I could have a counseling license in a few years, and I’d be able to help ponies after they escape a labyrinth or before they get drawn in. Imagine how things might have turned out if one of us had stayed with Cup Cake over the past few days.”
Rarity pulled back from Fluttershy and gazed at the floor.
“Rainbow is the most devoted pony I know,” Fluttershy continued. “You can count on her to run an errand faster than anypony else, and she can give a pretty awesome pep talk when you need it.” She glanced at Rainbow.
“Sure,” Rainbow said, “whatever you want.”
“That’s the kind of friends we could be. We haven’t known you for very long, but you’re already very important to us. At the same time, our safety is also very important, and that's why we won't become witch hunters. If you can accept these boundaries, then we can help you, but not in the way you’re asking.”
Rarity took her time replying. “Perhaps, in the future, you and Rainbow Dash might change your minds?”
“No,” Fluttershy said, “but if you respect our choice, we’ll respect yours and will always be here for you.”
For a long moment, Rarity silently worked her jaw. When she stopped, she smiled and embraced Fluttershy.
“Of course,” Rarity said. “Anything for my friends.”
Fluttershy hugged her back and gestured for Rainbow to join them. When the three of them broke, Rarity’s eyes glistened.
“Thank you both,” she said as the teardrops fell down her laugh lines. “I don’t want to rush you, but it’s getting late, and Kyubey and I need to have a talk.”
“I understand,” Fluttershy said. “Would you like us to come back tomorrow?”
“That’d be lovely. Perhaps for tea?”
Rainbow and Fluttershy made their goodbyes, and Rarity walked them down the hallway and to the door before waving them off. However, they weren’t more than a dozen paces down the path when Rarity ran up behind them, calling for them to wait.
“I completely forgot! You should try the dresses while you’re here,” she said, ushering them back to her house. “What a dunce I am. I swear, I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached.”
Fluttershy had her work cut out for her. As soon as she got home, she pulled out her stationery sets and the dusty psychology textbooks she had collected over the years. The box with her good pen and ink set seemed to have vanished, so she used a pencil to write out an application to the Ponyville community college. Night fell before she finished it and trotted out to her mailbox to send it.
The postmare had already left her mail, all bills and advertisements…except for the letter at the bottom of the pile from the Master of Cognition at Star Swirl’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Fluttershy opened it and read the letter inside, not quite understanding it until she saw the name at the bottom.
During her search for the cause of her dreams, Fluttershy had written to some of the authors of the books she had read with her questions, and to her surprise, almost all of them had responded. She’d become a regular penpal with one of them, a renowned professor of comparative psychology in Canterlot, until she’d left Cloudsdale. It seemed her former penpal had gotten a promotion in the meantime and somehow tracked her down in Ponyville.
Dear Fluttershy,
Hope this letter finds you well! I wish we’d kept in touch, but I’m writing today because I have some exciting news. Star Swirl’s is opening a new research and educational program at the Canterlot Zoo, and I was asked to nominate a few ponies for the program's internships. Given your obvious love for psychology, I would like you to be one of my nominees.
In this program, you will design and conduct observational studies with supervision from the school’s zoologists and have daily exposure to the animals. This internship is scheduled to last for twelve weeks, and will require a relocation to Canterlot City. Room and board will be provided, as will a stipend.
If you have any questions, you can write me back at the address below, or come visit! I’ve written to the Ponyville train station and secured round trip tickets, with flexible dates, for you to come to Canterlot. Just give me a heads up if you can—I’ll have a taxi pick you from the train station here and bring you to Star Swirl’s.
It’d be great to hear back from you soon, and it would be really exciting to meet you at last!
Yours,
Sunset Shimmer, Master of Cognition
Fluttershy put the letter back in the stack. It was flattering that she’d left such a good impression on Sunset, even after years of no contact, and she'd be sure to write back soon. She couldn’t accept the internship offer, of course. As exciting as it was to think about, it’d take her away from Ponyville right when she was trying to build her relationship with Rarity. Plus, being surrounded by wild animals…Fluttershy couldn’t imagine it.
She returned to the cottage and prepared for bed. Angel was already there, and she reached out to embrace him. As she did, though, she reflected on what Kyubey had said.
Angel had been with her as long as she could remember. So had her awful dreams. That was only a coincidence, wasn’t it? She already knew her dreams were the result of bullying when she was young. Then again, that didn’t explain everything about them, or why they continued. There was a certain logic to her dreams following Angel throughout her life.
She took a long look at Angel. Its black button eyes looked back at her. The stuffed cotton sack shifted harmlessly in her hooves.
A time comes in every pony’s life to put away childish things. Tonight, Fluttershy started by picking up her lifelong friend, and putting away a lifeless toy.
The whistling air was all Rainbow needed to stay awake.
By all rights she should have flown home. It had been a long and draining day, and every part of her needed rest. Any sane pony in her situation would be tucked in bed by now.
She wasn’t going home, though. She was flying back to Sweet Apple Acres to feel its raucous noise, explosive sights, and obviously, cider flowing down her throat. It beat the alternative of feeling useless.
Rainbow was fine at fixing cloud machines for the Weather Service, but that was a job, not a calling like Rarity had. She got great marks in the Air Guard Reserve, but twenty million ponies had voted Blue Blood into office when he campaigned to cancel their program. Like a typical politician, he’d flip flopped as soon as he took the oath of office and only slashed their budget. Thunderlane had praised the four winds when that announcement came down, and she’d joined him at the time. Now, a part of her wished the president had let them all find something better do.
Something better, like fighting witches. Rainbow hadn’t been sure what to expect when Rarity invited them to go hunt with her, but as they flew through the evil circus and approached the witch’s heart, she finally felt like there was something worth risking her life for. Then that weird unicorn, the one Fluttershy had called “the stranger” when they’d talked after, showed up and told them about Cup Cake.
Rainbow knew she was to blame for Cup Cake. She owed the ultimate debt, and she dreamed of repaying it.
Literally.
Rainbow had the most awesome dreams. With the moon lighting her way, she soared through dungeons, battled hordes of weird creatures, and rescued foals from the hearts of terrible monsters. Every time she narrowly escaped a roof caving in, or a gust of poison air, her victory fueled her drive to get even better at being a hero. In her dreams, she had so many friends, each of them braver and more powerful than the last. Fluttershy was sometimes there, but there were always others. No matter how many of her friends stood by her side, though, every night’s dream ended the same: as her friends fell in battle, she and the scant survivors rose to avenge them against the last, most horrible monster.
The night she and Fluttershy had watched the sun set on the training field, she’d seen something from that dream world: a strange white animal darting between the storage sheds. It made her wonder if there was some meaning to her dreams. Those thoughts had been shoved aside by the drama that followed, and when Rarity first told them about the witches, she’d ignored the nagging sense of déjà vu. But the moment she saw Kyubey standing on her chest, she realized he was the creature from her dreams and the training field. In that moment, it all became clear: she had been dreaming of being a witch hunter. It was her destiny.
Or it was supposed to be, until Fluttershy shut down the chance of ever joining Rarity. A part of Rainbow wanted to tell Fluttershy to stop speaking for her, but the stronger part of her knew it wasn’t worth starting a fight.
Ahead of her was a fork in the road she didn’t recognize. She had flown over this path so many times before that it was second nature, so a path she didn’t remember was unlikely. Then again, she was on the ground now, so maybe that was why she didn't recall this fork.
It was so peculiar, though: she had been flying earlier that night and didn’t remember landing.
Rainbow sighed. The path to the left looked like the familiar way to Sweet Apple Acres.
The path to the right stretched into inky blackness. She settled her rump onto the ground. As she did, she felt the tension seep out of her and into the earth below. To the right, it was dark, the kind of dark that promised rest and whispered lullabies in her mother’s voice.
To her right, it was dark. It felt like a lark; this path, though unknown, called her name alone. A ways over the crest was her long-promised rest.
To her right, it was dark On this path she’d embark, To find calming peace All her strife would cease In the dark, there was rest, Endless sleep was best.
It was noon, and Fluttershy was starting to worry.
Rainbow often slept in. Fluttershy hadn’t expected their appointment with Rarity to be any different, so she had arrived early the next day at Rainbow’s home, only to find no one there. Fluttershy’s next stops had been to the Weather Service headquarters, the Air Guard Reserve training field, and the apartment where a pair of the Air Guard pegasi lived together. It was all in vain.
“Maybe she went back to Sweet Apple Acres,” one of the pegasi at the apartment said.
“Yeah, nothing like a little hair of the dog that bit ya,” her companion retorted.
“For Dash?” the first one said. “With the cider she put down yesterday, she’d need the whole dog pelt.”
Fluttershy had laughed it off at the time. As she found herself walking down the forest path to Sweet Apple Acres, though, it became obvious that Rainbow winding up here was the most likely outcome. Fluttershy could no longer deny that Rainbow’s problem was getting worse. Somepony would have to help her.
There was a fork in the road that Fluttershy didn’t remember from the day before, and she paused to consider it. Down the left path were the outlines of a few farm buildings, while the path to the right felt more familiar in a peculiar way. It was the trees, she then realized, the way they grew in twos and threes. This march of oaks would lead her true, her destiny to bid adieu.
“Fluttershy, stop.”
The unexpected voice made her jump. She looked behind her to find Kyubey sitting at the junction in the path. He, and the junction, were at least a hundred paces away. Had she really walked all this way and not noticed?
“There could be a witch nearby,” he said. “I can feel an enormous amount of psychic energy here.”
“No, there couldn’t. A witch wouldn’t trap ponies here, that much is clear,” Fluttershy said, shaking her head.
“Wow! It’s even stronger down this path.” He appeared by her side with his weird polished hide. “You are in immense danger. For your own safety, please stop trotting.”
“What a thought you have got! I am not in a trot…”
Except that she was. Until the cold stab of fear killed her movement, she had been trotting, accelerating into a canter. Her heart was racing as she skittered backwards to the fork in the path.
“I didn’t realize…” She gasped. “I didn’t…”
“Were you looking for witches for Rarity?”
“No! Good heavens, no. I was trying to find Rainbow, and some of her friends said she may have gone to Sweet Apple Acres last night.”
“Oh.” Kyubey looked down the right path.
“What is it?”
“It’s possible the witch has Rainbow.”
“No.” She followed his gaze down the path. “No. Don’t say that.”
“It is a possibility. Regardless, we should inform Rarity. Stay here. I’ll get her.”
“Please say it’s not true,” she said. She kept looking down the path and began to shake.
“What I say is irrelevant to reality.”
For a long moment Fluttershy could only stare down the path in silence. She looked behind her, but could find no sign of Kyubey. When she turned again to face the path to the witch, she came eye to eye with the stranger.
All wrong.
Rarity had placed four settings on her table, each with: salad and dinner forks on the left; knife, teaspoon, and soup spoon to the right; bread plate and butter knife in the top left corner; teacup with saucer, water glass, and tumbler in the top right; and a napkin with blue floral patterns folded into a crown on each plate; all resting on white lace place mats.
The center of her table blossomed with wildflowers that sheltered a banquet of fruits, berries, juices, oats, pastries, biscuits, scrambled eggs, butter, marmalade, and cream. Their aromas mingled and drifted throughout the house, aided in their passage by a gentle breeze from a propped-open door connecting to the atrium. That morning, the light through the windows had caused the entire display to glow as if made of gems. It had been nothing less than perfect.
Now, as the flowers wilted and the buffet staled, Rarity grew to realize her sense of disappointment was all wrong. Disappointment meant to expect something and have that expectation unmet. To be sure, a part of her had expected Rainbow’s and Fluttershy’s arrival this morning, but that had been greedy of her. In life, one receives only what is earned, and Rarity knew she had done nothing to deserve their company.
Even if they had had been so generous with their company as to join her for brunch…four settings, for two guests and herself. What an inexcusable waste.
She disassembled the settings and returned each piece to its place in a nearby bureau.
Rarity had always been perfect. Even as a filly, whatever craft she practiced, she was not satisfied until the results of her work marveled every sense. The meals she cooked had to look as beautiful as a rose. The flowers she grew had to sound like music when they rustled in the wind. The songs she played had to warm her audience’s hearts like a winter jacket. The clothes she made had to feel as soft as fresh cream.
One time, during a school play, she spied one of her classmates furtively lick the bejeweled collar of a costume Rarity had made. Even as she exclaimed the foal’s faux pas, a devious part of her considered it the proudest moment of her middle school career.
She had grown up with the most enviable family. Hardworking and caring parents, a life of modest comfort in the heart of Manehattan, and at the center of it all, her. Rarity’s life was perfection dearly won.
And then it was perfection frivolously lost. To this flawless balance was added a snotty, clumsy, brash little thing they named Sweetie Belle. Ever her parents’ faithful, and first, daughter, Rarity had loved her precious little sister, even as the brat sent her time and again over the precipice of animosity with her crying, her meddling, and her larceny of their parents’ attention. In the end, Rarity always forgave Sweetie Belle, even when she didn’t deserve it. Rarity’s contrition served as proof that someday she could forgive her parents for introducing this continuing disturbance into her life.
When she had started high school, a wave of foal disappearances struck Manehattan. Rarity knew she was too bright to fall for some abductor’s chicanery, but nevertheless her parents decided they would move to some quaint village in the country named Ponyville. She had accepted this turn in her life—a temporary exile from the high culture of Manehattan—but Sweetie Belle had turned into an unceasing tempest after the announcement.
The move was calamitous. Their furniture went missing in transit; they all came down with a stomach flu the first week; the deal on a new house fell through at the last possible moment; and their parents struggled with starting new jobs while the four of them shared a single hotel room.
One weekend, their father arranged a surprise: a morning hot air balloon ride over Ponyville.
“We’re too down on this place, but that’s cuz we never got a good look over this new home of ours,” he said at the balloon launching grounds. “What we need is a pegas-eye’s view of it.”
He nudged Rarity.
“Get it? A pegas-eye’s view?”
“‘A’ as the indefinite article is used only with singular nouns, but ‘pegasi’ is plural,” she said. “Your pun is nonsense.”
Later she would realize that was the only thing she said to him all day.
The rugged-looking earth pony operating the balloon had an air of nonchalance that bordered on inattention. As their basket ascended, and as her mother tried to shush away Sweetie Belle’s terror of the loud burner, Rarity sulked in one corner. She moved only when her father approached, to turn her back to him.
“You enjoying the ride, huh?” he asked.
She said nothing.
“Yeah, it’s a sweet view,” he continued. “Hey, you can see the hotel from here. Check it out, it’s tiny! Heh, and I didn’t think there was anything that’d make it feel even smaller.”
He looked down at her. She focused on counting the strands of wicker in the wall of their basket.
“C’mon, dragonfly, you’ll miss the whole show.”
He only called her ‘dragonfly’ when he was trying to be affectionate. She did not respond.
“Okay.” He sat next to her. He started to reach a foreleg around her, stopped when she tensed, and returned it to his side.
They let the roar of the burner fill the silence awhile.
“So listen,” he began, “your mom’s gonna kill me for saying this, but this whole move, y’know, it’s been manure.”
“Magnum,” her mother grumbled.
“Hey, it’s true! Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Then everything that couldn’t go wrong got screwed up even worse. It’s been tough. Real tough.
“I’m gonna let you in on a secret about managing a household. Your mom and me are struggling to keep anything else from going haywire, but I don’t think I’ve done a great job of it. Sure, we’re getting the bills paid, and once we find a place, we’re gonna make those nitwits at the moving company buy us all new furniture for it.”
An obnoxious clanking sound came from the burner, and her father paused while the operator jabbed the device back to normalcy. The earth pony returned to his post, and her father resumed.
“Now you and Sweetie, you’ve been pretty upset and it was kind of getting to me. I’m thinking, here I am, busting my flank, worrying about keeping you guys safe from whatever the hay was going on in Manehattan, trying to keep everything here going not-awful, and you guys are acting like the whole world is about to cave in. I was getting kinda steamed about that. I kinda wanted to come over here and tell you knock it off because it’s not making my job any easier.
“That was real selfish of me, wasn’t it?”
His last comment, uttered almost under his breath, surprised her.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said, “but this must have been huge for you. Changing schools, making all new friends, having to get used to a whole new town. You probably need a buddy through all that. I don’t know how much of a buddy I’ve been to you before, but I know I haven’t been there for you since we got here. For you, or Sweetie, or your mom.
“I’m sorry for that. I want you to know, if you ever need to talk, I’ll put down whatever I’ve got going on and be there for you. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick the whole dang baker’s dozen in my eye.
“So, uh, does that make things okay between us?” He reached out a hoof to her.
She wanted to say to him that she had nothing to say to him. That he was clearly incapable of understanding how he and her mother had taken an idyllic life and debased it with gratuitous complications. That Rarity may not have been destined for fame and fortune before, but at the very least, she deserved a trifle better than this.
The one thing he needed to know was that it was never going to be okay.
In retrospect, she was so petty.
“Okay?” her father said again.
She was about to open her mouth, but stopped at the jarring sight of an all-white creature like an otter crossed with a lynx perched on the rim of the gondola. It sat, looking serenely back at her, while the clamor of the burner turned into a piercing squeal.
Then came the flash, and the sweltering air, and the ringing sound drilling through her head, and she couldn’t tell what was up or down anymore.
“I can help you,” she heard. “Make a wish and I will grant it. In return, you will help me fight witches.”
The otter-lynx was next to her, motionless. The ground raced towards her.
“Just make a wish.” His lips did not move. Nothing about him moved.
“I wish you would save me,” she whispered.
How could she be so careless?
She was standing on the grass and beginning to make sense of what was happening when the remains of the balloon and its four passengers hit the ground.
“Save me,” she had said, not “save us.”
Singular and plural.
Perhaps it had been unconscious, wrought from her residual antipathy, she told herself. Maybe that feeling was amplified by her father’s awkward apology. None of that absolved her, though. As the life insurance policies and settlement from the hot-air balloon company paid out, Rarity knew who was to blame for why she was singular: her.
There had been a glimmer of hope when she rescued Applejack from the disorienting vineyards of a witch’s labyrinth. Rarity had seen potential in the beleaguered earth pony right away, and after they had slain the witch together, Rarity set about trying to entice Applejack. For almost a year, she let Applejack watch as she prepared for, and executed, hunts. She was always willing to answer Applejack’s questions, but never pushed her to talk to Kyubey. It worked: one day, Applejack appeared at her door with a brilliant necklace and a knowing smile.
The next day, Bright Mac returned, and it all fell apart.
Applejack threw herself into witch hunting with a zeal that Rarity worried was unsustainable. When Rarity broached the subject of moderation with her protégée, Applejack raged at her. She claimed Rarity was too controlling, too nosy, too much of a mother. Rarity tried to reason with her but ultimately resorted to giving Applejack a few days by herself to cool down.
She never saw Applejack again.
When Rarity had presented her past to Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash the day prior, it wasn’t fair to say she deceived them about her certainty of Applejack’s fate. Falling to a witch was the most likely outcome for an inexperienced hunter. For Rarity to say she had no doubt that it actually happened was, at worst, an exaggeration.
The deceit was in hiding her fault for it.
Fluttershy was wrong. Rarity didn’t feel alone. She had no right to feel alone. Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash had abandoned her because she deserved it. Until she earned someone’s forgiveness, she was entitled only to being singular.
Kyubey had appeared on the newly cleared dinner table. Rarity forced a smile and said, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“There is a witch near Sweet Apple Acres,” he said. “It’s very strong, and it may have Rainbow Dash.”
She was confused at first: why had Rainbow been near Sweet Apple Acres? Where was Fluttershy? However, there was no time to wonder. Rarity sprinted down a hallway, peppering Kyubey with questions along the way.
“Where precisely?”
“About halfway down the path from Ponyville.”
“What’s the lure?”
“Something to do with rhythm in sound. It might be musical.”
“Entrance cue?”
“Yes, there’s a visual cue. It appears as a false fork in the road.”
Rarity reached the study, the only locked room in the house. She produced a key from her dress and extended it towards the keyhole.
“How do you know it has Rainbow Dash?”
“I’m not sure it caught her, but it almost captured Fluttershy. When I asked her why she was there, she said she was looking for Rainbow.”
Rarity fumbled the key, and it dropped to the floor.
“You shouldn’t have left her there,” she said.
Kyubey was silent.
Recovering the key and opening the door, she entered the study and began flinging open the file drawers. A hurricane of maps and notes filled the air, each page whipping past her before returning to its place.
“There’ve been no reports of missing ponies around Sweet Apple Acres,” she said, “and none of the roving witches pass near there. This one must be new, but you said it was strong already?”
“Yes, very.”
Rarity began sorting through the possibilities in her head. In more than a decade of witch hunting, she’d learned how to use reports of missing ponies to track witches, distinguish between their types, predict how they moved or when they wouldn’t, and determine the best time to strike. Had Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash joined her, she would have taught them everything. Her lessons would instead have to wait for the next protégé, whoever it may be.
First, she needed to save Rainbow and prevent Fluttershy from falling prey to the witch.
“Kyubey, I’ll hurry to the…”
She looked around the room only to find Kyubey had disappeared.
It wasn’t the stranger. It couldn’t be. As the unicorn, or what looked like a unicorn, spoke, Fluttershy grew more and more convinced that the witch was playing a trick on her. She distracted herself by humming along to waltzes she remembered.
“…though now clandestine, by the autumnal equinox, the miscreation’s esurience will impel it to strike,” said the witch pretending to be the stranger.
“…must eschew from complicating my stratagem. That is the most critical imperative. I will engage it alone.”
“HMMM hmmm hi-hmmm,” hummed Fluttershy. “Hm hi hmnhmm hi hmnhmm hi hmmmn-hmm.”
Fluttershy lost track of time as she danced around the illusion’s spells. She lost track of the world soon after that, closing her eyes and imagining an enormous ballroom filled with masked ponies, sweeping and being swept across the floor. Standing apart from the crowd, she felt out of place, until a stray glance downward revealed she was dressed as splendidly as everyone else in a gown made of pink and fuchsia fairy wings.
A stormy cloud hung low amongst the gaiety. It was Rainbow Dash in a hooded dress, skirting the edges of the ballroom, a lost expression on her face. Rainbow had nothing to fear and would fear nothing if only she knew. Fluttershy had to tell her. She started to gallop, the crowd parting around her, but no matter how hard Fluttershy drove herself, Rainbow remained in the distance.
“Put her down this instant!”
Rarity’s shout broke the daydream. Fluttershy opened her eyes to find herself floating in the air, surrounded by a unicorn’s aura, and her legs furiously working without result. Rarity and the illusion of the stranger were a few paces behind her.
“She would now be under the witch’s sway but for my intervention,” the illusion said. Fluttershy floated down until her hooves touched dirt.
“It’s a trick,” Fluttershy said to Rarity. “It’s not really the stranger. The witch is making it all up.”
“Your so-called stranger is quite real,” Rarity said. She walked to the stranger’s side with her eyes closed, as if following a scent. “Kyubey was right, this is quite a vigorous beast. I suppose you’ve come to claim it.”
“No.”
Rarity cast a sidelong glance. “Then you won’t object if I do?”
“Your druthers are your own, but do not involve Fluttershy. She will remain here with me.”
“I had something a little different in mind,” Rarity said, and instantly the stranger’s staff menaced the side of her head. She did not react. “I know our brief history has been more marred by acrimony than marked by harmony, but I propose we change that today. Kyubey said this witch is powerful, and I’ve not had time to make the preparations to which I’m accustomed. In short, I’ll need help.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I was hoping that we could cooperate.” Rarity turned to face the stranger and reached out a forehoof.
The stranger said nothing.
“At least for this one time,” she added. “We could see how it goes.”
The stranger’s gaze drifted to Rarity’s outstretched hoof. “Not once have you offered me an armistice. I had not thought you capable of surprising me any longer.”
“That is my speciality,” Rarity said sweetly. “Being underestimated.”
The stranger lifted their head, adopted a smile, and tapped a forehoof to Rarity’s.
Rarity’s expression turned cold. “I am so, so sorry.”
Ribbons sprang from the ground, streaks of purple snapping through the air, and wrapping around the stranger, leashing them to two trees by the road. They cried out in a hoarse bellow until the strips of fabric tied their muzzle shut. Their exposed eyes burned.
“I truly am,” Rarity said as she backed away, “but I can’t trust you. With what’s at stake, it’s too important to put my life in someone else’s hooves. You understand, don’t you?”
The stranger convulsed against their bindings.
“Those will hold you fast, at least as long as I command them to, and sap any normal magic you’d throw at them. Knowing you, I can’t rule out that you have something extraordinary to undo the effect. All I ask is to abstain from that. Show me that I can trust you.”
The stranger made a sound halfway between a growl and a huff.
“Please.”
The stranger made the growl-huff a few more times, but then after a quiet moment, nodded slowly.
“One last thing,” Rarity said. Her attention turned to Fluttershy. “I’m afraid it’s a ‘no’ on your earlier demand. It wouldn’t do to come back to a hostage situation.”
Before the stranger or Fluttershy could respond, Rarity grabbed her, and galloped down the path to the right.
A song of hums. Strings for hymns in sustained harmonies. Strong and handsome: a strained heroine, surviving horrors unseen. Strangled or hanged or chopped, chopped, chopped.
(The composer works out of sight. Her minions, in the shape of metronomes emitting dulcet buzzes, stand atop a soaring tower, defending her from any critic who would tamper with her timeless masterpiece. An imposing edifice grows as the minions place one brick atop another. The impact of brick meeting brick is their percussive accompaniment as they chant.)
Where is our voice? Our voice is gone. Where is our voice? Our voice is gone. Where is our voice? Our voice? Our voice? Our voice?
(Enter: RARITY.)
(She tries to speak but produces no sound. Seeing the minions and hearing the rhythmic beat of their construction, she improvises a dulcimer by attaching threads across a crack on the tower wall. Using her needles as hammers, she plays it and sings.)
Brick by brick, building ever higher Mortar laid, is all this permanence assuring? Or maybe it’s solitude you seek Tell me, what’s it you’re securing? You have built a fortress for your master I’ve come to bring about disaster Now, show me to the witch!
Where is? Our voice? Our voice? Is gone. Where is? Our voice? Our voice? Is gone. Where is? Our? Voice.
Now, show me to the witch! Whereisourvoice? Now, show! Ourvoiceisgone! Show-ohwo! Whererererererere
(Rarity slings four needles into the top of the tower and pulls down, attempting to topple it. The tower refuses to budge.)
I know you’re here I’ve come to save the life The life! The life! The life! Of my friend Rainbow Dash from this foul strife Foul strife! Foul strife! Foul strife! She and dear Fluttershy have said they’d be They’d be! They’d be! They’d be! A help to all the ponies that I free I free! I free! I free! But in this labyrinth she has no hope No hope! No hope! No hope! Rainbow has no capacity to cope. You dope! You dope! You dope you dope you dope!
(Rarity throws more needles. This time, they tear away the uninterrupted repetition of the tower to reveal ruts and bridges built into the bricks. Her threads fall into these grooves to become taut, thrumming wires.)
Your labyrinth is a temple for your strings Such soothing solitude it brings A murdered choir sings of piety While stolen holiness Reinforces loneliness And protects you from society
Or did you fear an audience Would see your work while incomplete And judge your genius On this imperfect feat? You beckoned Rainbow to your clutch And called Fluttershy to follow It is time your ballad was begun Or was your promise hollow?
(The minions vanish, while the bridges, grooves, and wires multiply. The remaining bricks transform into stone arches and stained glass windows. A cathedral rises around the ponies. The wall facing them is lined with countless gray strings of different lengths.)
(Enter: THE VIOLINFINITA.)
One voice. What infinite joy comes from but what one voice. Though a string begets countless tones, A horn is rich with bass and treble, A chime may twinkle like the stars, And drums resound with their rumble, I find no voice in my music Each note is lonely in its instant.
When strings are added (Two tones may be heard) When strings are added (Two tones may be heard) {Four tones may be heard} When strings are added (Two tones) {Four tones} *A dozen tones* <A hundred tones> -A thousand tones- …May be heard
But with a chord (In every chord) Do you hear a voice? The voice of one being? (And if there is a voice) {When there is a voice} *Where there is a voice* Does it exist if forgotten? Sound in time will never linger All that’s left behind is lost
(An altar rises before Rarity and Fluttershy. It bears Rainbow Dash.)
Forgotten? Your music isolates A voice? Yours never mattered Eternal silence from your victims Is the only thing that’s heard
You cannot deceive me This is not by my choice Rainbow Dash will be free I sing not of my voice I’ve the tools to shatter you I’ll be complete seizing my Soon my needles will fly true Brand new prize, Fluttershy
(Fluttershy and Rainbow disappear. Among the strings of the violinfinita, two additions appear: one, yellow, making soft, hesitant, lulling tones; another, blue, sounds haggard, melancholy, and frail.)
(Rarity returns to her dulcimer and faces the yellow string.)
My friend’s deep sweetness is her strength Her gentle words are brave Through patience she showed I was wrong Her ceaseless hope can save
(The yellow string vibrates concordant with her, while the rest of the violinfinita is quiet. Rarity turns her attention to the blue string.)
Ms. Dash’s courage knows no bound She always finds a way Although her purpose she’s not found Her friends she won’t betray
(The blue string resonates, but this time the rest of the violinfinita echoes. Rarity adopts a jauntier melody and faces the entirety.)
The potential of these ponies Would be squandered by your schemes Nor will I be their master They are free to live their dreams
Each one of us is made with flaws That our loved ones will accept Greater are my imperfections I’ll leave promises unkept
A life submerged in despair Wishes made with little care My ambitions all postponed Naught by death will be atoned
Transgressions made me who I am Yet they love what I became If they accept my past mistakes Maybe I can do the same
Connections to our friends make right What we’re not forgiven of And when our bodies turn to dust All that’s left behind is love
Was that my father’s meaning When a string of jewels flew by I asked him what their name was And he called them dragonfly.
(The entire violinfinita rumbles to life. Rarity plays on, dissonant.)
One voice You alone are nothing A gift A song of stolen lives Pure Refinement means to cut away Unique Every string held prisoner Mine Free them to live, create And destroy
(The cathedral explodes. Uncountable strings break free from the wall, and each regains the form of a pony. All but two are gray and lifeless. Rarity seizes Fluttershy and Rainbow from the air, but cannot help the others. The two pegasi awaken.)
(The composer’s heart lies exposed in the ruins of the altar. Rarity sets Fluttershy and Rainbow on the crumbling ground and charges towards it, her needle and thread cutting the air around her.)
(She does not see the minions hiding in the ceiling. They descend on her, their swinging armatures cutting more than air.)
(Where once was one pony, alone, there is none, in pieces.)
(The minions surround the two pegasi. The great work, the work of my life, is ready to be debuted. I begin my cadenza.)
Wasted are your final seconds as you realize All that’s left behind are lies Words of comfort make you fragile Be shattered or unknown. The brightest life will burn away Every ounce of tarnished flesh What remains will be unsinged.
Artistry is agony So suffer for your spectators Scream until we hear you sing!
A tortured soul Is immortal
The easy part is when you Die.
(Enter: THE STRANGER.)
This impetuous intruder will Annihilate. An army of lethal minions Disarmed. The walls of this cathedral are Razed. Wires wrap around your neck to be Snapped. Wince in winnowing winds of whining sound that Die. All those who approach my blackened heart shall Die. You cannot defeat me I will never Die.
(The stranger’s staff hammers my heart, fracturing it with the first blow and splitting it with the second. The labyrinth is dissipating like a curtain burning away, as my undeserving heart shatters into fine powder. The entire world is as silent as Rarity.)
The sun always took its time pestering Applejack. She’d gone to all this effort turning an abandoned Canterlot warehouse into an abandoned Canterlot ware-home, but the thing had been built so that every corner got some sunshine during the day. No matter what she tried, she never could sleep through it. Even with a blindfold on, she’d get overheated if she stayed in any one spot too long, so she found herself dragging her flank to another corner every hour or so. She had to, or else she’d be too tired to hunt that night.
Applejack needed to hunt because if she didn’t, someone else was going to get what was hers. It was a classic problem: she had a rival, and Canterlot wasn’t big enough for the two of them.
Things had been different when Applejack first moved. Rarity had been so persnickety about witch hunting in Ponyville, making all those maps and diagrams that drove Applejack nuts, that she had worried witches might be scarce in Canterlot. It’d turned out to be no problem: the city was lousy with them. For years, she didn’t even need to look. She simply wandered around, got a quick kill, and was good for at least a few days.
Then something changed. Starting around last winter, the witches stopped being so common. She cut back on hunts to let them get back their numbers, but if anything the witches vanished even quicker. She’d begun to despair.
Until she found her rival’s memento.
It had happened just two weeks ago. Applejack’s jury-rigged version of Rarity’s witch tracking system had finally given her a lead: based on missing pony reports she read in the local paper, there was liable to be a witch occupying a basement of the library at the Star Swirl college. She snuck in the next night.
The moment she entered the labyrinth, she could tell something was amiss. The card catalogs that had meant to hide fancy-looking poleaxes—she’d found out later they were called “halberds”—had been bashed up. The swirling clouds of ink she figured were minions lay crumpled on the floor. Before she could get any further, the labyrinth began to disintegrate. Some unseen hunter had killed her witch and taken her fresh Grief Seed. For all of Applejack’s hard work, her reward was watching everything turn to ash.
Everything except the feather.
A new shadow emerged among the sun’s dying rays. The bleached eyesore begotten of a hot mess of different varmints had arrived. She and Kyubey had a bargain, which was he wouldn’t tell Rarity about her, and she’d stuff him with used Grief Seeds. Lately, she had been a little lacking on her end, but it didn’t seem to bother him much. He only ever showed up when she had something for him.
That wasn’t the case today.
“What could you possibly want?” she asked.
“I’m here to tell you Rarity died,” he said.
Applejack ear’s perked up. “Is that right? Did someone’s poor manners finally make her stroke out?”
“No. A witch killed her.”
Applejack chewed her lips awhile. “So I suppose Ponyville is ready for the return of its long-lost daughter?”
“Not exactly. There were two ponies she was training when she died. Also there’s a strange unicorn who was adversarial to her.”
Applejack whistled. Three hunters cooped up together in her little hometown were going to run out of witches to chase awfully quick, and it wouldn’t take a Manehattan minute before they turned on each other. Applejack had more than enough horse sense to steer clear of that impending bloodbath.
“I suppose I better stay put for now.” Applejack rested her head on her forelegs. “Do me a favor, though. If any of them decide they want to visit their folks in Canterlot, try real hard to dissuade them for me.”
“That’s unlikely,” Kyubey said. “Two of them are from Cloudsdale.”
Applejack sat up. “Cloudsdale? As in, the pegasus capital? As in, two of them are pegasi?”
“Yes.”
Her rival’s memento lay on the floor below her, radiant in the sunlight, its color revealing its former owner.
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me,” she asked Kyubey, “if one of those pegasi was blue?”
Rainbow Dash was in Fluttershy’s and her craft room when Kyubey appeared.
She and Fluttershy had met the Ponyville resident organizer, Amethyst Star, that morning and learned about Rarity’s last will and testament. It provided that if Rarity went missing for more than two weeks, managers would take over the house in exchange for a stipend. If she was not found after seven years, Rarity would be presumed dead, and the managers would inherit her property. As of that morning, Rarity had been reported missing for two weeks, and her last recorded act in life was to name Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash her managers-in-waiting.
After they had signed a mound of paperwork with terms like ‘defeasible estate,’ and ‘revocable trust,’ Amethyst had summed it all up: “Unless she shows up and wants the place back, it’s yours to keep.”
So it was theirs to keep. The stranger had made that clear. As the cathedral labyrinth evaporated, the stranger had levitated Rarity’s necklace to show it was split in half down the middle of the gem. Afterward, the stranger had silently guided them to Sweet Apple Acres and yet again disappeared when they weren’t looking. For two weeks after that, there had been nothing.
By some unspoken agreement, they went to Rarity’s mansion—no, their mansion—after meeting with Amethyst. They paused at the entrance, stood in front of an antique fainting couch, and paid their respects in quiet.
Then Rainbow wandered the house alone. She didn’t pay attention to where she was until she pushed open the door of the craft room. In its middle were the two mannequins presenting the dresses Rarity made for them.
Rainbow walked around them at a distance. Fluttershy’s was so innocent, like something a filly would wear for a dance or a cute-ceañera. It was perfect for her. By comparison, Rainbow’s dress was…
So awesome.
The way the fabric looked heavy but also like it was floating. How the color of the undercarriage was darker than the rest as if lightning was about to rumble out. That the pocket in the folds along the side. How the lines of the dress streaked across the back, like it was already flying. That Rarity had sewn tiny sequins in the seams, and how they reflected little sparkles of different colors like water drops catching a rainbow.
No one had told her it was the dress she was meant to hunt witches in, but no one needed to. Rarity transformed her piles of fabric and threads into this masterpiece. Rainbow knew she had to transform her pile of a life into something equally amazing.
She knew she would never have the chance.
When she got to the other side of the dress, she noticed Kyubey in the doorway leading to the hall.
“What do you want?” she said.
Kyubey answered by bounding away down the hall. Rainbow cursed under her breath and left the craft room. She saw him duck into the master bedroom, followed, and found him on the bed nestled into the pillows near the headboard. The room was surprisingly messy. The bed was unmade, with its quilt thrown to the floor and its decorative cushions shoved to one side. A drawer on the bedside table hung open, and a book with an ornate cover jutted out from it. There was a lingering musty smell and the walls seemed caked in a layer of dust that swallowed the sounds from the hallway. Rainbow was tempted to open the windows to let in a breeze and maybe a little background noise, but decided against it.
“So yeah, what do you want?” Rainbow stepped into the room. “Do you want me to make a wish? Rarity said she was going to talk to you after we left, and I figured it was about, y’know, not turning us into hunters.”
“She did.”
“Did she make you promise? Cross your heart and hope to fly?”
“I don’t have a heart.”
“Right.” Rainbow rolled her eyes. She let her thoughts roam for a moment, and at last said, “So you’re an alien.”
“Yes.”
“An alien who keeps promises.”
“Yes.”
“Promises to dead ponies.”
“As well as living ponies,” he said, “and non-pony sentient beings of any life state.”
“Great.” Rainbow rubbed her face. “All right, I should go. I’ve got, y’know, probate stuff with this house.”
“I understand. It was very charitable of Rarity to bequeath the mansion to you and Fluttershy, but the upkeep must be very demanding.”
“Yeah, it’s something.” She hesitated, and then added, “Why are you here, anyway? You’re not here for us, and you don’t seem sad, so you must not care about Rarity. Are you just bored?”
“I am a creature of need,” Kyubey said. He rose to all fours, his expression unchanged. “I exist because I am needed, and where I am needed, I exist.”
“And why exactly are you needed in Rarity’s bedroom right now?”
“Rarity asked that I look after you and Fluttershy if something were to happen to her.”
“Wow, even more promises! If you break one, do you explode or something?”
“No,” he said, “but witch hunting is dangerous, as you’ve seen. Many hunters ask me to handle certain tasks if they die. It often comforts them to know at least some of their affairs will be wrapped up after their death. That lets them focus more on hunting.”
“So it’s all about keeping hunters happy. How about you? What do you do when you need comfort?”
“I don’t experience comfort, or any emotion.”
“Swell,” Rainbow snarked. “What’s that like?”
“Normal. What are emotions like for you?”
Rainbow searched for the right words, but none existed. “You know what? Emotions suck.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“No, it’s sucky, and so are you.” She waited for Kyubey to correct her, or agree with her brattiness, or be awkwardly silent, or do anything she could use to launch a new round of tongue-lashing at him. Instead, what he said caught her off guard.
“What do you want, Rainbow?”
“I don’t know,” she conceded. “There is something I want to get off my chest, though. This thing’s like a bat in an attic, slamming into the sides, screeching all night, and no one is getting to sleep until it gets let out.”
“What is it?”
“It’s two.” Rainbow sat on her haunches and raised her front hooves. “One, two. This one’s Cup Cake, and this one’s Rarity. They’re the two ponies who died because of me.”
Kyubey was silent and unreadable.
“Aren’t you going to tell me it’s not my fault now?” she asked.
“I didn’t intend to.”
“Heh.” Rainbow let her forelegs down. “Maybe you get it after all.”
“Would you feel better if they were still alive?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “unless you can wish someone back to life.”
“It’s entirely possible. Several hunters have wished to bring a loved one back from death.”
“Really? I mean, you’re not…” Rainbow stopped to think, and then laughed. “Aren’t you a sneaky little heartless alien? Trying to make me wish them back to life, huh? Then I’d have to be a witch hunter, wouldn’t I?”
“Rainbow, that won’t…”
“Gosh, you broke that promise to Rarity like it was nothing! Well, maybe you get off on a technicality, though, since you won’t have to do anything to recruit me.” Rainbow took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said with a self-satisfied smile, “I wish Rarity and Cup Cake were still alive.”
She cracked open an eye to look at Kyubey. “So now what? Do I also have to sign a contract or something?”
Kyubey shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rainbow, but it doesn’t work like that. You can only make one wish.”
“Yeah, and I made one wish! It’s just got an ‘and’ in it.”
“It counts as two wishes. It’s hard to explain the metaphysics, but whether a wish is singular has to do with how many discrete objects are subject to the wish, and how directly the wisher controls the outcome of the wish. For example, you also can’t wish for a chocolate chip cookie and a sugar cookie. However, if you wished for a magical plate that’s always full of different kinds of cookies, it’d probably have some chocolate chip cookies and some sugar cookies on it, and it would still count as one wish, even though it technically encompasses an infinite number of cookies.”
“So I can’t wish for two ponies to come back to life?”
“That’s correct.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s unfortunate.”
Rainbow sagged to the floor. “The number is always two. Two ponies dead because of me, two wishes to set things right…”
“You could wish for one to come back, and someone else could wish for the other.”
Her eyes flashed to Kyubey.
“And two ponies in this house.” Rainbow flew out the door and down the stairs. “Hey, Flutters, I’ve got an awesome idea!”
Fluttershy wasn’t sure what to call this room. It was windowless and illuminated only by the gaslights sprouting from the wall. It was secure, with its entrance tucked into the middle of an inconspicuous hallway on the first floor and a sturdy deadbolt above its handle. And it was small. Even empty, it would have made for, at best, a walk-in closet. An expansive desk in its center and curious bureaus along the walls outfitted with long, flat drawers resulted in there barely being any room for her to turn around.
The name came to her when she opened the first drawer and let a clutch of maps spill to the floor: it had been Rarity’s map room. Which raised the question: why did Rarity have a map room?
The maps themselves offered few clues. Most were copies of the overall Ponyville map, although they were sometimes attached to more detailed maps of specific buildings or locations around town. Every one that Fluttershy saw bore added notes, figures, symbols, grids, and diagrams, mostly drawn or written in a neat style with blue ink, which Fluttershy assumed was Rarity’s quillwork. However, one particularly yellowed stack also had pencil annotations in a rougher style like something a pegasus or earth pony would write.
Fluttershy accepted that the purpose of the maps would have to remain a mystery. She had more pressing work to attend to. Taking care of the house. Taking care of Rainbow. Taking care of herself. And most importantly, taking care of ponies before witches could seize them, like she and Rainbow had promised Rarity. That was where the idea of turning Rarity’s mansion into a therapy center had come from.
She’d have to discuss it with Rainbow, of course. First she needed to finish clearing the map room so it’d be ready for whatever it was to become. She had made good progress by the time Rainbow’s voice rang down the stairs and through the house.
“Hey, Flutters, I’ve got an awesome idea!”
Fluttershy smiled, enjoying the anticipation of sharing her own awesome idea. She stuck her head out the map room doorway and gave directions until Rainbow appeared in the hall.
“Would it be okay if you helped me in here while you tell me your idea?” she asked as Rainbow approached.
“No sweat! What do you need help with?”
Fluttershy pulled back into the map room, and Rainbow joined her, hovering over one of the bureaus so they both had space. “I’m clearing out these cabinets. They’re all filled with copies of this Ponyville map.” She pointed out one of the maps lying open on the floor.
Rainbow inspected the map for a moment. “Are you throwing these out? It looks like Rarity uses them to track something. Maybe it has something to do with witch hunting.”
Fluttershy shrugged. “I couldn’t understand them. Sadly, there’s probably no way to know for sure.”
An odd smile appeared under Rainbow’s mischievous eyes. “Actually, that brings me to my awesome idea. I was talking to Kyubey upstairs…”
“Oh.” The word came out like an arctic gust. Fluttershy caught herself before she said anything else laced with paranoia. She forced herself to sound warmer when she added, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”
Rainbow hesitated. “Look, I know you don’t want us doing this stuff, but wait until you hear what kind of wishes he can grant.”
“Wishes,” Fluttershy said, letting the frigid winds billow out and the paranoia infuse, “as in, how he’d make you become a witch hunter.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Stop, Rainbow, please stop. It doesn’t matter what wishes he grants. There’s nothing either of us could want so much that we’d risk our lives for it.”
“That’s just it, though! The wishes wouldn’t be for us, it’d be for Rarity and Cup Cake. Flutters, Kyubey can bring ponies back to life.”
Fluttershy couldn’t meet Rainbow’s gaze anymore.
“There’s a catch, though. He can only bring one pony back per wish.” Rainbow walked around the table, into Fluttershy’s line of sight. “I know this is the biggest thing anyone could ever ask for, but I can’t wish for them both back. It’s totally cool if you need time to think about it, but…”
“No.”
“What?”
“I said, ‘no.’”
Rainbow did nothing for a moment. Then her expression contorted into smoldering outrage.
“Why?” Rainbow demanded. “Why wouldn’t you do this for someone who gave us all this?” She gestured as if capturing the whole room and the last few weeks that it represented into her front hoof. “For someone who saved our lives?”
“I think they deserve peace is all.” Fluttershy was surprised by how meek her voice sounded. She put more force into saying, “Sometimes, someone is beyond help, so you move on, and you help the ones you can.”
“You can’t be serious!” Rainbow sputtered. “There’s no way, not in a million years, that you’re okay with never seeing Rarity again. And what about Cup Cake?”
“Cup Cake was in a lot of pain.”
“So?”
Fluttershy swallowed. “So now she’s not.”
“No!” Rainbow yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway. “You don’t mean that! Are you really that scared? Or did you get greedy after you saw the mansion?”
“I’m not greedy,” Fluttershy said. Her head hung as she waited for Rainbow’s indictment. Instead there was a whoosh of air and Rainbow was gone, leaving only a string of papers dancing in her wake.
Fluttershy took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and repeated several times. It helped her calm down. It gave her time to clear her head. It reminded her she could do at least one thing right.
Fluttershy retreated from the map room and decided she needed a smaller project to start off with. After ruling out the other rooms on the first floor, she climbed the stairs and found her way to the master bedroom.
This would be an easy win. The room was messy, with an unmade bed and some of Rarity’s personal effects lying around unorganized, but it was far less daunting than the map room. There was even a nice breeze coming from an open window to keep Fluttershy comfortable as she worked. She started with the bed, nipping one corner of the quilt to pull it back, and silently promised herself not to leave this room until it was clean.
Then the doorbell rang.
Fluttershy startled, but once she regained her composure, she giggled and released the quilt. She trotted downstairs and to the front door, to find that Rainbow had left it open. At the threshold stood an unfamiliar earth pony wearing a dull grey necklace.
“Howdy!” the visitor said. “My name’s Applejack.”
It could have rained, at least. A derecho to soak the soul would have been better, but Rainbow would have been fine with a mix of drizzle and fog. Instead, it was a bright, cheery day in Ponyville, with not a cloud in the sky but for her floating home, and everyone in the world was as happy as could be.
Rainbow didn’t belong out there. She confined herself to her den, with her blinds drawn, her cider bottle open, and her thoughts freewheeling. They careened from spite to flaw to frustration, and finally crashed into how weird it had felt going through Rarity’s home. Almost frightening, actually. Not like at a haunted house, but in a way that made her think about the meaning of “rest in peace.”
Rainbow decided to play a game to distract herself. She imagined she had died, and that Fluttershy and Rarity had been sent into her house to take stock of her worldly possessions. To better understand what they would see, Rainbow left her house through the front door, and a moment later, re-entered.
“Oh my sun and moon, what brave decorating choices Ms. Dash made!” she imagined Rarity saying. “I am especially fond of her use of every color of the rainbow. She truly lived up to her name!”
“Do you think this is the right thing for us to do?” she imagined Fluttershy saying. “Maybe she’d be bothered by us coming here without her permission.”
“Nonsense, darling, nonsense. Rainbow is quite dead. Nothing bothers her anymore.”
“I really miss her. I wish I hadn’t told her not to be a witch hunter now.”
“Don’t let the past upset you, my dear! Rainbow did worlds of good in her life. Even her death was heroic, rescuing all those orphans and old nags from that pack of diamond dogs. When those horrible monsters dragged her into the ground, she kept fighting until the very end. What courage she had!”
She walked to her trophy room, which she had adorned with Wonderbolts posters, biographies of famous pegasi, and souvenirs from a decade of air shows. Photos of her racing across Cloudsdale at various ages sat together on a corner table. A second-place ribbon accompanied one photo of her as a beaming filly at the finish line. Only one.
“Our dear friend was blessed with such lofty ambitions.”
“I know this isn’t very nice, but I used to watch her race in Cloudsdale. She could have tried a little harder.”
She walked to the dining room, in which her dining room set had spent year after year gathering dust. She remembered the one time she had invited Fluttershy over for dinner. Only one.
“Rainbow tried to make spaghetti and zucchini-balls, but she burned it. I offered to cook the next time, but we always ate out after that.”
“We all have our banes and boons, don’t we?”
Rainbow moved to the den. There was a half-empty bottle of cider next to a chair, and all-empty bottles beside it. Way more than one.
The game wasn’t fun anymore.
Rainbow disposed of the empty bottles from the den. Then she dumped the rest of the cider from the half-empty bottle into a bathroom sink. She returned to the kitchen, took the case of cider bottles out from storage, and methodically ripped off each cap to pour the bottles’ contents down the drain. It felt freeing. It felt like the right step forward.
It felt like she’d done this a dozen times before and it hadn’t worked any of those times, either.
Cider gone, Rainbow went to her bedroom in search of the oblivion of sleep. She wasn’t totally surprised to find Kyubey standing in front of her bed.
“Not that I’m mad to see you here,” she said, “but didn’t anyone tell you only pegasi can walk on clouds?”
“As I said, I am a creature of need. It appears I am needed here.”
She walked around him, climbed into her unmade bed, rolled onto her back, and started counting the cottony rolls on her ceiling.
“Why did you want Fluttershy’s help bringing Rarity and Cup Cake back?” he asked.
“Duh. Because they’re both dead.”
“You could have wished for one of them back.”
“Exactly. I could have wished for one of them back. Only one.” Rainbow propped herself up to get a better view of Kyubey. He was still on the floor but had turned to face her.
“Wouldn’t bringing back one pony be enough to make you happy?”
“No.”
“But bringing back Cup Cake and Rarity would be?”
Rainbow felt weak. “No.”
The admission was a crack of thunder heralding the storm about to break.
“You wanna know what would make me happy?” Rainbow closed her eyes and thought very carefully about what she had to say. “If something mattered again.”
“Again?” Kyubey asked. “Was there something that used to matter?”
“Protecting Fluttershy mattered.” Rainbow didn’t even have to think before saying it. “You know about bullies, ponies who hurt other ponies because they like it? She was a magnet for them. This one time we were going to a calliope recital, and on the way there we heard this colt snickering around a corner. So, I flew over the top, and I see him with this bucket of water he was going to douse her with. Well, I got him for that. Grabbed the bucket out of his hooves, dumped it on him, and then chased him around Cloudsdale until he was begging to say sorry to her.
“Keeping her safe mattered, so I made sure no one hurt her, and no one ever did. Not really, at least. It’s just, she doesn’t need that anymore. We’re grown up now, and all we get are problems we’re told to care about. Gotta make your cloud quotas. Gotta get your bombing drills in. Gotta do better in your next race. But if you don’t, what would really change? Nothing.”
Kyubey swished his tail. “Would you be happy if there were a new threat to protect against?”
Her shoulders sagged. “If you want to know the truth, I don’t think I can do it anymore. When I kept bullies from messing with Fluttershy, it wasn’t like I was the toughest, fastest, smartest filly around. I had this passion, though, this drive to get better. It wasn’t all for Fluttershy, either. It was for me. I’d practice because I was stoked about getting more awesome.
“Something happened to that drive. I don’t know what, but there’d be these little moments where it started to slip away. I’d get second in a race or I’d barely pass a math test, and I knew I should keep pushing myself, but I wouldn’t. Even back then, I’d ask, ‘what’s the point?’ Because I knew that stuff didn’t matter. By the time Fluttershy went to college, that drive was totally gone, and nothing took its place. All that’s left now is…this emptiness.”
Kyubey appeared beside her on the bed. “What do you want?”
“This thing I’m feeling right now. The emptiness. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”
“Yes.”
Rainbow locked eyes with Kyubey.
“I wish I never felt this way again.”
“Okay,” he said, “then it’s done.”
Fluttershy couldn’t quite accept that Applejack was real, but she couldn’t quite disbelieve her eyes, either. She listened to the earth pony introduce herself as an old friend of Rarity’s who had found out about the unicorn’s untimely demise and came to pay her respects. As if on auto-pilot, Fluttershy responded by giving her name and saying she’d inherited the house from Rarity. In her daze, it somehow slipped her mind to mention Rainbow.
Applejack was gaunt, with a frazzled blonde mane and flaps of loose orange skin hanging from her neck and barrel. There was no denying the family resemblance, but Rarity must have been confused about Applejack’s relationships. She looked more like Granny Smith’s sister than Apple Bloom’s.
Fluttershy took Applejack on a tour of the house. It wasn’t until they reached the dining room that Fluttershy remembered how she accused Rarity of fabricating the pony standing next to her.
“Rar’ used to use this part for a gym in the winter,” Applejack said of the dining room, “but she’d be outdoors any chance she got. During the summer she’d set up a big ol’ obstacle course out in the garden. Said I could join her whenever I wanted. I told her, you want to work out, why don’t you get yourself down to the farm? Us Apples’ll make sure you don’t ever get a jiggle on that belly.”
“I never knew she was so devoted to physical fitness,” Fluttershy said. “Then again, I only knew her a few weeks.”
“And she wrote you into her will?” Applejack whistled. “How about that.”
“Yes, she was very giving,” Fluttershy said. It felt like an alibi. Seeking a change in topic, and Fluttershy’s attention fell on Applejack’s necklace. It was the same style as Rarity’s, which Kyubey and Rarity had said were part of witch hunting. “I couldn’t help but notice your necklace. I think Rarity had one just like it.”
“Aw, do you like it?” Applejack beamed and pushed her chest out, giving Fluttershy a clear view of the apple-shaped gem. “Rar’ made it for me.”
Fluttershy blinked. “She made it?”
“Yep! Caught me taking a shine to hers, so she booked a few hours at the jeweler’s workshop and made me a copy. I ought to get mine cleaned, I suppose. Say, did she ever get you a necklace like this?”
“No. She did make me a dress, though.”
“You don’t say? She told me she used to dream about making me a sharp little outfit all in red, but she never got around to stitching it up.”
Fluttershy nodded and smiled back.
“Hey, mind if I show you something?” Applejack asked. “Won’t take but a minute.”
She led Fluttershy to the library. When they entered, Applejack trotted to a small table with a wooden checkerboard pattern next to a cushy reading chair. She pulled open a drawer and produced from it an array of small black and white statues, a thin screen, and a pencil and writing pad.
“Is that a checkers set?” Fluttershy asked.
“Nope, this is laurys! Rar’ ever play with you?”
Fluttershy shook her head.
“You’re in for a treat. Rar’ must have whupped me a thousand times at this old thing but I never could get enough. C’mon, let’s do a quick match.” Applejack spoke even while navigating the pieces to the tabletop with her mouth.
“How do you play?”
Applejack grinned like a shark as she set down the last piece.
“What you want to do is lie a lot. I better warn you, though: I’m real good at it.”
Rainbow’s necklace had appeared first, bright and gleaming gold surrounding a red lightning bolt-shaped gem. It looked so great on her that she barely paid attention to Kyubey’s lecture about Grief Seeds and psychic energy stuff, until he said it was time for her to summon her weapon.
“First…” he said.
“What do I get?” Rainbow flew around the room as she spoke. “Am I going to get a needle like Rarity had? Or was that because she could sew? Yeah, I bet I get something different. Maybe like a wicked fast slingshot, or some kind of sneaky dagger. I can’t wait!”
“First,” Kyubey said, “I need you to calm down.”
“Oh.” Rainbow giggled. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. This is awesome! I’m going to fight witches. I’m going to land a hoof right into their evil sides and smash them to little witchy bits. I’m going to save ponies! There are going to be ponies out there alive and happy thanks to me. Isn’t that amazing?”
Kyubey was silent.
Rainbow took a seat. “So what do I do?”
“Picture yourself fighting a witch.”
Rainbow closed her eyes. She was in the circus grounds again, surrounded by horrors, alone, and fearless.
“Next, concentrate on your need for a tool. Don’t try to focus on any specific device to fill that need. Instead, think only about the need.”
Rainbow Dash sat, imagining herself unarmed. In the imaginary circus grounds, she looked around her for something, anything to defend herself with.
“Finally, while continuing to concentrate on the emotion, stop imagining the witch.”
The circus and its villains were gone, leaving only her and her need. She tried to focus on it, truly feel it, but it was as if she was squeezing a hole in the ground. As soon as she had a grasp on it the emotion seemed to crumble.
Rainbow began to fret. Could it be she’d never get a weapon? She had already made her wish and she would never get a second. How could something that was going to give her life meaning end up being a huge waste? Being a witch hunter was the most important thing, the one thing she really needed, the one thing that mattered…
There it was, the once-familiar pensive absence. Rainbow latched onto it, let the urgency fill her, until she could taste and feel it in her mouth.
“That’s strange,” Kyubey said. Rainbow opened her eyes and saw him focusing on her nightstand. She tried to ask him what was so strange, but discovered something like a riding bit stuck in her mouth. She spat it out. The mystery object wasn’t a bit, but instead a short bar of polished silver with a round bronze cage on either end.
“Is that my weapon? It kind of looks like a foal’s rattle.”
Kyubey examined the rod for a moment. “That’s a vajra! It’s been a long time since I saw a pony summon one of those.”
“A vaj-what?” She pawed at the little metal stick. “Am I supposed to throw it or something?”
“No, it shoots lightning. When you’re holding it, imagine lightning striking something, and the vajra will activate. Why don’t you try it?”
“When you say ‘lightning,’ do you mean a tiny static shock or like a thunderstorm going off?”
“The vajra will produce whatever you imagine.”
Rainbow smirked. She had seen enough pegasi survive being on the wrong end of a cumulonimbus electrical disturbance at the Weather Service to know not to mess around with lightning. “Yeah, I better try this outside, then.”
She grabbed the vajra and shot through the window. A few minutes later, she reached a lake near the Everfree Forest. She glided closer to the surface, the vajra ready in her jaw, and imagined a tiny creek of electricity connecting her and the water.
For an instant, the world was nothing but blinding white and deafening roar.
When she could hear the rumble of thunder coming back as echoes, Rainbow opened her eyes. Not that closing them had done much good: she was unable to see anything until the afterimage of the fork-shaped blast faded away.
Then she grinned. She imagined a volley next, and short blasts zapped across the lake exactly as she wanted them to. After that came arcs between the lake and trees, waves of plasma lapping across the ground, balls of light burning as bright as the sun, thunderclaps exploding in the sky like fireworks, and thick glowing columns that shattered trees. She kept igniting the sky until she ran out of ideas, and then started her flight home, only to discover she was struggling to fly. Every part of her felt worn down to its rudimentary form, as if she needed to be torn down to her foundation before being rebuilt.
It was like being born again. Born better.
When she arrived at her bedroom, Kyubey was perched over a book propped open on her bed.
“The vajra is awesome,” she said. “I owe you a million, billion thanks.”
“Believe me, Rainbow, I’m the one who should thank you. You’re doing a wonderful thing for my creators.” He nodded to the book. “Can you tell me about this?”
Rainbow lifted the cover to get a view of its title. “That’s The Adventure Book. It’s supposed to tell you this story about rescuing a prince from a dungeon or something while you’re doing boring stuff like chores. I stopped playing it pretty quickly, though. It’d do this thing where you were in the middle of a story, and then all of a sudden it’d say there’s nothing interesting happening and you need to go somewhere else. Why do you ask?”
“It’s absorbing psychic energy.”
“What? I thought you said only these necklaces could do that.” Rainbow hopped onto the bed, lifted the book up, and peered at it.
“I’m as puzzled as you. It’s not absorbing as much as a necklace, though. I only noticed when you summoned your vajra.”
“Why would that make you notice?”
“A hunter summoning a weapon emits a small, but detectable, amount of psychic energy. Don’t worry, it recharges after you defeat a witch.”
Rainbow shrugged and went back to considering The Adventure Book. “What do we do with this?”
“We should find out who made it and investigate. Where did you get it?”
“It got mailed to me a few weeks ago. There was a letter that came with it, but I don’t think I kept it. I remember it was from some unicorn, though.”
“Perhaps it was one of your unicorn friends?”
Rainbow huffed. “I don’t have any unicorn friends. I mean, I guess Rarity was one, but…” Something clicked in Rainbow’s mind. “I remember now! I was talking to Rarity and Fluttershy about it, and Fluttershy said she had a copy, too. I better go ask her.”
Kyubey rose to all fours. “Are you going to see Fluttershy now?”
“Yeah.” Rainbow looked out the window. She felt her blue feathers ruffle in the wind. “Besides, I’ve got some new stuff to show her.”
“You’re in danger there, partner.”
Fluttershy’s eyes caught Applejack’s.
“Well, at least a lancer is.” The earth pony nudged one of the black pillars on her side of the board up one space, and then leaned back in the reading chair.
“Oh.” Fluttershy gazed at the board, trying to “knock the varnish off the truth,” as Applejack had said. Fluttershy still struggled with the basics of laurys, even after they had played a practice round without the veil. Applejack had told her to imagine the game like a team of adventurers navigating a dungeon to destroy the four medusite stones hidden behind the veil. Fluttershy was playing as the six adventurers: three vanguards, two lancers, and one mezzmer. She kept forgetting the rules about when her pieces could move or attack Applejack’s pieces, but she remembered her mezzmer was the most important piece.
Applejack called herself the evil queen. Before the game, she had arranged the medusite stones behind the veil to hide where they were from Fluttershy. During the game, she moved her “mirror” pieces around the board and tried to capture the adventurers by bouncing a beam from one of her hidden medusite stones off of her mirrors. When she captured one of Fluttershy’s pieces, it turned into another mirror. As long as the mezzmer was out, she had to give Fluttershy a one-turn warning that she was going to capture a piece. However, she only had to say what kind of piece she was about to capture.
At one level, it made Fluttershy think of a group of hunters navigating a witch’s labyrinth.
“If I don’t move either of my lancers, then you have to capture one of them, don’t you?” Fluttershy asked.
“That’s right, but you might want to think twice before killing a lancer off,” Applejack said. “Your vanguards and mezzmer can only kill a medusite that’s right up against the veil. If you lose both the lancers, and I wasn’t a plum fool who put all her medusites next to the veil, then I win the game right there.”
“Oh.” Fluttershy examined her pieces again. The mirror Applejack had moved was now on the same row as Fluttershy’s front-most lancer, one space away from the veil. Her other lancer was still at the bottom of the board. If she lost her forward lancer, she’d have to bring the next one all the way up again. She pulled her lancer back one space.
Applejack stomped the floor with one hoof. “Why in Equestria would you do that?”
Fluttershy stammered. “Your mirror was on that row. It was going to take my lancer, so I had to move away.”
“First off, don’t you remember that I said this game was all about lying? I might have been moving this mirror to distract you. Look, if I had a medusite here,” she wiggled her hoof over a spot behind the veil, “I could have bounced off the mirrors here and here, and taken out any piece on that column. When you pulled back like that, your lancer was still in that column, so for all you knew you weren’t doing anything to save your lancer.”
“I see. I should move diagonally, shouldn’t I?” Fluttershy said, a little proud of her realization.
“That’s one. Second off, see how close your lancer was to the veil? You should have moved forward and made an attack.”
“But I don’t know where your medusites are.”
“Well, by now, you ought to have a pretty good idea about one of them, but it doesn’t matter. You got nothing to lose making an attack, and even when you miss, you at least learn where the medusites aren’t.”
“Oh. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
“I’ll give you a mulligan on that move.” Applejack said. “Go on.”
Fluttershy nodded, and pushed her lancer up to the veil. Before lifting her hoof away, she remembered about moving diagonally, and shifted it one space to the left. “I attack.”
Applejack picked up the pencil and scribbled something on a notepad. “You don’t have to say it. It’s assumed,” she said, the pencil still in her mouth. “Missed, by the way.”
Fluttershy sighed. “It was worth a try at least.”
“Sure was.” Applejack relaxed. “You know what, how about we call it a draw. It was awful rude of me to get us so wrapped in this game. Here I am, intruding on you, and I don’t even give you a chance to say more than some how-do-you-do’s. Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ms. Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy felt herself blush at Applejack’s interest. “There’s nothing interesting to say.”
“Aw, c’mon now, everyone’s got a story worth telling! Why don’t you start at the beginning. You from around here?”
“No, I moved here from Cloudsdale,” Fluttershy said. “I like Ponyville a lot, though.”
“And how were things in Cloudsdale?”
The memories of her bullies chilled Fluttershy. “It was nice.”
They were both quiet for a moment.
Applejack cleared her throat. “How about your family? They still in Cloudsdale?”
“My mom and dad are. My brother moves around a lot for school.”
“A stallion of the world, huh? What kind of places has he been to?”
“It’d probably be easier to list the places he hasn’t been. He was in a mane therapy school in Fillydelphia for a while, then he was on an archaeology expedition to the Crystal Empire, then bisonology in Appleloosa, then dancing classes in Canterlot…”
“No kidding! I took some dancing in Canterlot, too,” Applejack said. She leaned towards Fluttershy. “Now that I think about it, we might have been in the same class. What’d you say his name was?”
Fluttershy didn’t recall telling Applejack his name. “Zephyr Breeze.”
Applejack’s shark-grin returned. “Yeah, Zephyr Breeze. Ol’ Zeebree. He was a right nimble fellow, if I recall correctly.”
“You might be thinking of someone else. Zephyr dropped the dancing class after the first day.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m right. I was sorry when he left because he was a real pretty shade of blue.”
Fluttershy shook her head. “That couldn’t have been him. Zephyr has a sort of light green coat, like key lime pie, and a light gold mane and tail.”
Applejack slumped. “Is that right?”
They were quiet again.
Fluttershy broke the silence first. “What about yourself?”
Applejack twitched at the interruption. “Nothing much to say. You know Sweet Apple Acres, way out on the edge of town? I used to live there.”
“I do know about Sweet Apple Acres. As a matter of fact, I used to work for your family as an au pair.”
Applejack blinked. “Did you now? About when was that?”
“It was a long time ago. Apple Bloom was a little toddler when I first arrived.”
“Glory be.” The corners of Applejack’s mouth barely contained her smile, but her eyes could not hold back her sadness. “I bet she doesn’t even remember her big sister.”
“Who’s her…” Fluttershy snapped her mouth shut. Applejack looked impossibly old to be Bright Mac’s daughter, but maybe Rarity had been right.
Applejack was oblivious to Fluttershy’s aborted question. “I missed getting to watch her grow up.”
Fluttershy offered a forehoof for her to grasp. “It’s not too late. She’s a young mare now, but I’m sure there’s times she’ll need a big sister to talk to.”
Applejack shook her head. “I’d be happy to chat with her, but I doubt I’d be too welcome over there.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s a long, long story, and you probably know more of it than you think. Let me ask, what’d Pa do after I left?”
Fluttershy thought back to her first days at Sweet Apple Acres. “When I first arrived, Bright Mac was building the cider bar.”
Applejack let out a dry, choking laugh. “That son of a gun didn’t waste his time, did he? Ms. Fluttershy, you may not have known this, but Pa never met a mug of cider he didn’t prefer empty.”
Fluttershy nodded as she realized her mistaken assumption that Bright Mac’s drinking had started after the cider bar. “He’s changed now, though.”
“No pony changes.” Applejack snorted. “Wait, I take that back. No pony changes for the better, but they can get a whole heck of a lot worse. That’s what I see for him. An old sack of bones and hair spinning out of control. Only a matter of time before he flies apart.”
Fluttershy thought back to her time raising Apple Bloom at Sweet Apple Acres. “I think it’s true that it’s hard to change by yourself. Bright Mac had help, though. I wasn’t invited, but one night Apple Bloom called a family meeting and must have said something that made him a much better pony. A few days after that, Bright Mac was a completely different pony and everyone else’s mood was so much better.”
“Apple Bloom did all that, huh?” Applejack paused, a sorrowful look on her face. “Did he shut down the bar?”
“No, but I don’t think he drinks anything he makes. Whenever I go, he asks me how things taste, like he hasn’t tried it himself.”
Applejack was still.
“Would you like to see him for yourself?” Fluttershy asked. When Applejack didn’t respond, she added, “You could take someone with you, if it’d help.”
“Maybe. I might need some time.” Applejack rubbed her chin quietly. “I might want to see Apple Bloom first.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Fluttershy smiled.
For a long moment, Applejack was motionless in the chair. Then her head jerked up and she wiped a tear away.
“What a mess I am,” she said through her sniffles. “I owe you an apology, Ms. Fluttershy.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to help.”
“Not for this, I mean…” Applejack gestured towards the ceiling, as if what she wanted to say was hiding somewhere in the house, on the verge of revealing itself. When no answer appeared, she dropped to all fours. “Never mind. I should go.”
Applejack slid off the chair and began to walk to the hall. Fluttershy caught up to her and walked beside her in silence. After a few seconds, Fluttershy pointed towards a doorway that led to the foyer. “It’s a left…”
“I know the way,” Applejack said in a monotone.
Something in Applejack’s flat voice unsettled Fluttershy. She allowed a little space to open up between her and Applejack.
Around another turn, the main entrance came into view. Fluttershy hurried ahead to open it for Applejack.
“Is what you said true?” Applejack said as she passed the fainting couch opposite the door. “About ponies changing? About Apple Bloom?”
Fluttershy approached her. “I’ve seen ponies change. Sometimes it’s for the worse, and it’s sad to see. Other times, even though they’re filled with incredible pain, they find the strength to turn their lives around.” Rainbow’s words from earlier that day returned and became hers. “What I’ve learned is everypony needs help. Sometimes that help is acceptance, and sometimes that help is a guiding hoof. In either case, it’s never too late to help a pony who really needs it.”
Applejack smiled a soft, enervated smile. “I’d sure like to believe that.” She took a step towards the door, but then paused as if a new concern had reared its head.
“Is everything okay?” Fluttershy asked.
Applejack rubbed the back of her head. “I’m fine, just fine. There was one thing, though. I kind of got lost on the way here, and a real nice pony gave me some directions. If it weren’t for that, I’d be halfway to Las Pegasus right now. I never caught the pony’s name, though, and I was hoping I could show my appreciation somehow.”
“Could you describe the pony you met? I might be able to tell you who it was.”
Applejack bowed her head. “Thank you kindly. This was a pegasus, with a blue coat and feathers, and rainbow stripes in her mane and tail.”
Fluttershy’s stomach twisted. Nothing about what Applejack said made sense. She was describing Rainbow Dash, who had left the mansion too distraught for words and in flight. Applejack would never have encountered her on the ground, much less get directions from her.
Other quirks from Applejack’s visit returned to trouble Fluttershy. The necklace. Rarity’s training. Applejack’s skill with a pencil, like she’d had practice scrawling on Rarity’s maps. Then there were her questions about Zephyr, whom she thought had a blue coat, and her claim to have met him in Canterlot.
Fluttershy’s kindness had been betrayed: Applejack was involved with witch hunting somehow, and she wanted Rainbow Dash.
“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said, “I don’t know anypony like that.”
Applejack looked puzzled. “You sure? No one could forget a mane like that. I said it was rainbow-striped, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Fluttershy felt cold. “I don’t know anypony with a rainbow mane.”
“I only want to say my thanks, I swear.”
“I’m very sorry, but I can’t help you find her.” Fluttershy finished with an empty smile.
Applejack was still for a moment. Then a tremor crossed her face. “Whatever you say, Flutters.”
Fluttershy froze. No one besides Rainbow Dash had ever called her ‘Flutters.’
“Because it sounded like she had an awesome idea,” Applejack continued, “and I, for one, would be awful glad to hear it.”
“You need to leave now,” Fluttershy said. “Please.”
Applejack faced Fluttershy. A loop of rope dangled from her shark-grin, and her necklace glowed like the ashes under a bonfire. “Why don’t you put yourself in my horseshoes? Here I am, getting two sweet weeks to enjoy a life of luxury that I so richly deserve after abiding that tyrant of a unicorn. All of a sudden, two airheads show up and act like the place is theirs. I got to make myself scarce awhile, let them have their little spat. Then I shimmy on down through the bedroom window, pretend I’m fresh off the road, and beg to be let into my own house. Only after going to all that trouble do I get my chance to ask, in the most friendly and good-natured way I can manage, what in Equestria you think you’re up to. And what do I get in return? Nothing but a sack of lies!”
Fluttershy recoiled as the rope split the air by her left ear like a whip.
“Wouldn’t you be mighty upset, too?” Applejack bellowed.
The air exploded by Fluttershy’s head again.
“If you want to get right by me, Flutters, you better start telling me where your buddy, the one with the rainbow hair and the awesome idea, has scurried off to.”
A third crack to her left. Fluttershy scrambled for the door, only to have the rope snake around her right back leg and pull her to the ground.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about telling me everything. I got plenty figured out already. For one thing, right now, I’m sure you’re scared and not greedy. For another, you didn’t ask where I got this rope from, which means you got a good idea of what I can do with it.”
The rope writhed in Applejack’s jaw, alive and coiling for a lethal strike.
“I’ve got a score to settle with your blue buddy, but you can bet I’ll take some of it out on you, and there’s not a thing you can do about that. If you give me a good reason to, though, I could see my way to letting you go. So you got a choice to make: you can start talking, or you can stop breathing.”
Before Fluttershy could say a word, Applejack swung. Fluttershy ducked to the right, only to find herself gliding into the rope’s path. Her eyes shut, and she waited for its brutal lash.
And when she met the floor unhurt, her eyes sprung open to find Rainbow Dash hovering over her, the rope sizzling on Rainbow’s back.
“Rainbow,” Fluttershy whimpered, half in warning, half in gratitude. She reached up for her friend, but froze when she saw the dangling necklace.
“You,” Applejack said as she locked her sights on Rainbow, “look right nimble.”
Rainbow snarled and shook off the rope. “I don’t care who you are, or what you want, but you better leave this second, and don’t even think about coming near Fluttershy, or her home, again.”
“I will certainly take that under advisement, featherbrain, but let me ask you something. How do you plan to make me?”
Rainbow winced. At first, Fluttershy thought it was a delayed reaction to the injury from the whip, but then she saw that a pair of small brass bulbs jutting out from Rainbow’s mouth.
“Look at that little thing!” Applejack guffawed. “How do you think that’s going to scare me?”
“You don’t want to know,” Rainbow said.
“Nah, that’s some sort of fancy bit you got there, ain’t it? Let me take a closer look.” Applejack threw a lasso around one of the bulbs and snapped her head back. Rainbow held firm.
“I warned you!” Rainbow growled.
Then for an instant, Fluttershy was at the center of the end of the world. Her senses failed, immersing her in an overwhelming white void. Her vision returned first, after what felt like a lifetime. Rainbow was in front of her, with forelegs wrapped around Fluttershy to hold her up. Fluttershy’s hearing came next.
“Are you okay? What did she do to you?”
“Nothing.” Fluttershy could barely hear herself. She looked down at Rainbow’s chest, to the necklace resting on it. She tapped her own chest where the necklace would have been on her. “You made a wish.”
“Yeah. Kyubey found me after I went home.” A smile darted across Rainbow’s lips, but was followed by a quiver of distress. “This isn’t the way I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry, Flutters.”
Behind Rainbow, an orange jumble of limbs lay against the opposite wall. A thin trail of smoke drifted up from it.
“Applejack. What did…”
“You have to believe me, I only wanted to stun her.” Tears streamed down Rainbow’s face. “I didn’t want to start it like this. I was supposed to save ponies, but now the number is three, and I don’t think…”
“Oh my goodness.” The voice came from the jumble.
Their heads whipped around to face it. Applejack rose, her limbs collecting themselves and regaining coordination, with a fresh rope in her mouth. Her necklace was the color of charcoal and oily vapor wafted up from it.
“Oh my goodness,” Applejack repeated. “Sparky, you sure do know how to give an old fashioned whupping.” Applejack winked. The whites of her eyes flashed like a dagger emerging from behind a cloak.
Rainbow planted her hooves on the ground and hunkered down. Applejack tossed her rope into the air and spun it into a lasso.
“Now,” Applejack said, “why don’t we see how good you are at getting one?”
Then came the storm: a deluge of strikes, each as quick as lighting and as merciless as a flood, flashed through the air. They cracked like thunder. They howled like a tornado. They burst like lightning.
And Rainbow was no match for it. She crumpled to the floor, welts raging across her hide, and released the brass rod. Applejack was on top of her in an instant, looping a lasso around Rainbow’s neck, and with a back leg planted on Rainbow's head, she jerked the rope taut. One strained cry escaped from Rainbow. In seconds, her eyes and tongue bulged.
“Please stop,” Fluttershy whispered as hot tears dribbled down her muzzle. “Why are you doing this?”
Applejack didn’t respond.
Fluttershy’s mind raced. Applejack had told her something before. She had asked about a blue pegasus, one named Zephyr Breeze, and she’d called him nimble, but nothing she’d said matched up with Rainbow. This other Zephyr must have been the pony Applejack was looking for. This all had to be a mistake.
“She’s not who you’re looking for!” Fluttershy cried. “Her name is Rainbow Dash, she’s never taken dancing lessons, she’s never been to Canterlot or Fillydelphia or anywhere besides here and Cloudsdale, and you couldn’t have walked past her on your way here because she always flies. She’s always flying.”
Something she said bent Applejack’s steely resolve. The rope loosened, letting Rainbow suck down a series of rattly gasps.
“That true?” Applejack said, her voice soft. “You ever been to Canterlot?”
Still wheezing, Rainbow shook her head.
Applejack turned to Fluttershy. “You a hunter?”
Fluttershy shook her head.
Applejack pointed to Rainbow. “She said Kyubey saw her today. She have that necklace before today?”
“No. She made the wish today,” Fluttershy said. “She wanted me to become a hunter with her. I said no, and we fought about it. That’s when she asked if I was scared or greedy. You heard that.”
Fatigue seemed to settle on Applejack like a blanket. She dropped her rope, took a few dazed steps to the fainting couch, and curled up in it.
Fluttershy waited. When she heard the first snore, she grabbed Rainbow Dash and fled.
“I’m fine, Flutters, really,” Rainbow said as she waved away a second pot of tea. Fluttershy had deposited her onto a ratty green sofa in Fluttershy’s cottage. She tried to push herself up, so she could at least sit upright, but Fluttershy pushed her back down with surprising force.
“No, you’re not. You may feel fine, but after that kind of trauma to your throat and neck, you need much more time to recover. Where is Kyubey? He should be here, helping you.”
“He’s a creature of need.” Rainbow relaxed back into the cushions.
“What does that mean?” Fluttershy blinked. “I can’t believe you’re speaking already. With how strong she was, Applejack could have fractured your hyoid bone or thyroid cartilage.”
“I guess she didn’t.” Rainbow managed to slip off the sofa before Fluttershy could stop her again. “Was that earth pony Applejack? Like, the friend Rarity told us about? She never said Applejack was a hunter.”
“Rarity must not have told us everything. Oh, Rainbow, Applejack said such terrible things about Rarity. About Bright Mac, too. She seemed to be fond of Apple Bloom, at least.”
Rainbow considered that for a moment. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. What’s the quickest way to Sweet Apple Acres from here?”
“I wouldn’t tell them about this. Let the Civil Guard take care of it, they’ll know what to do.”
“Like they did with Cup Cake?”
Fluttershy was silent.
“Anyway, I was thinking I could get some apples, like the freshest ones they have, and bring them to Applejack. It might remind her of home.”
There was a beat of silence. Then: “No, good heavens, no, you can’t go back there! She’s so dangerous. Before you got there, she told me how she was hiding in the house the whole time we were there. She eavesdropped on us, and she was trying to use what she learned from us to get to you. Applejack was just biding her time until she could kill you.”
“She didn’t, though. I mean, I guess she tried, but it wasn’t like we had to overpower her. You told her I wasn’t the pony she was looking for, and she let us go. She’s not after me.”
“How is that better?” Fluttershy was shuddering. “She had no idea who you really were, but she didn’t have any second thoughts about choking the life out of you! If she thinks you’re in her way, she’ll do it again.”
“What if I don’t get in her way? She’s a bad pony, so what if I help her become a better one? We’re part of a pretty small club, after all.” Rainbow tapped the pristine necklace swinging around her chest.
“That’s another thing we need to talk about.”
“We will, I promise.” Rainbow tousled Fluttershy’s mane. “Actually, Kyubey and I discovered something about The Adventure Book that I need your help with, but that can wait. So how about those directions?”
Fluttershy sighed. “Okay, I’ll show you the way.”
“Flutters, I don’t think you should come with me.”
“Why?”
“You’ve got every right to be angry at her, and I understand that.” Rainbow hesitated. She felt like she was shrinking, but she moved to the door, filled with determination. “Right now, Applejack is in a lot of pain. I think it’s about time she met someone who won’t give up on her.”
It was a bad idea, all things considered. In the dead of night, Rainbow had arrived at the mansion tired, physically outmatched, and without a plan. She felt the urge to walk back to Fluttershy’s cottage, accept defeat before it was forced on her, and keep the apples in her saddlebags as a midnight snack. Yet the manor doors stood before her. When she pushed, they swung open without resistance.
The fainting couch in the foyer was empty. Rainbow imagined Applejack lying in wait for her, and the thought made Rainbow’s neck, still sore from the lasso, ache. She pushed aside the fear and willed herself to put faith in the idea that the pony who had spared her had no reason to lure her into a trap.
She might lash out if startled, though. Rainbow entered, stomped her hoof against the floor, and allowed a few seconds for the sound to echo.
“Applejack!” she called out. “This is Rainbow Dash. I was the blue pegasus from this morning. You know, the one you said could give a good whupping?”
Only an empty hiss came from the house in reply, until it was interrupted by Applejack’s voice meandering down the hallway. “You weren’t too good at getting one, as I recall.”
A shiver went down Rainbow’s spine. Then she snickered as she realized how her attempted bragging had earned her that comeback. “Look, we need to talk about earlier today,” she said. “I’m here by myself. We can meet in the foyer, or I can come in there. That’s your decision to make.”
There was a long silence before Applejack’s voice came again. “Get on in here and speak your piece. I’m in the library.”
Rainbow started down the hallway leading to the library. “Catching up on your reading?”
“Maybe. Got any recommendations?”
“Now that you mention it, there’s this thing called The Adventure Book…”
“You mean that foals’ toy?”
Rainbow stopped. “What do you mean, ‘foal’s toy’?”
“I mean a toy that foals play with. The libraries in Canterlot were giving them away last Hearth’s Warming Eve. Damn near every colt and filly was running around the city escaping fairy tale monsters all winter.”
“Huh.” Rainbow resumed walking. If Kyubey was right about The Adventure Book reacting to psychic energy, maybe the monsters it told her and those foals to run away from weren’t all fairy tales. But that would have to mean someone in Canterlot knew about witches and made the books to keep foals safe from them.
It was a lead, but Canterlot was too big a city to wander around based on a hunch. Besides, she had to focus on talking to Applejack for now.
Rainbow reached the last corner before the library, took a moment to compose herself, and entered. The room was neat except for the far corner where Applejack lay upside down in a reading chair, her mane pooled around her head on the ground. The chain of her necklace bit into her throat as if strangling her.
“What’s up, Sparky?” Applejack said.
Rainbow held her tongue and evaluated the scene around Applejack. A knocked-over table with a checkerboard pattern lay beside her head. Mismatched black and white pieces were scattered around it.
Applejack glanced at the board. “Sorry if you wanted to play. I’m not in the mood, as you might have guessed.”
“That’s fine.” Rainbow produced a brown paper sack from her saddlebags. She placed it on the floor near Applejack and unfolded the top so the fragrance of the apples could waft out. “I brought you these.”
Applejack watched her every move, and for a few seconds after, watched her stillness. When Applejack’s gaze turned to the paper sack, she considered it for a few seconds. Then she reached one foreleg out and tipped it over. A half dozen apples rolled out and circled each other on the floor.
“I hate apples,” Applejack said. She raised her head from the ground and coiled up into the seat. Her cutie mark, three apples with stems attached, faced Rainbow.
“How can you not like apples?” Rainbow sputtered.
“I said you could come in and talk. Didn’t expect to do much conversating myself.”
“Okay…” Rainbow began to realize how far out of her depth she was. Fluttershy had always been good at talking to ponies about emotional stuff, even to ponies who didn’t want to talk. It was something Rainbow had always shrugged off, but at that moment she envied Fluttershy’s skill more than anything. She decided her best chance with Applejack was to stick to what she knew. “Rarity told us about you, so I know you grew up in Ponyville, about what happened to your parents, and how you didn’t get along with your dad when he came back. It sounds like you’ve been to Canterlot, too.”
Applejack’s ears flicked. “Got me there.”
“Well, Ponyville has changed while you’ve been gone,” Rainbow said. “This town is really jam-packed with witches. Rarity, Fluttershy, and I were in three labyrinths over two weeks, and Rarity might have been dealing with more by herself. She’s gone, though, and as far as I know, you and I are the only hunters in the area. That means it’s up to us to take care of all these witches.”
Applejack snorted.
“Instead of fighting or avoiding each other,” Rainbow said, trying her best to sound brave, “we should team up. You could teach me, and I could be your backup. Even an awesome hunter like Rarity needed backup, you know? But we can’t team up unless we trust each other. I want to believe you’re a good pony, but I have no clue why you went after me and Fluttershy earlier. I’m here now, so if you want to tell me what that whole thing this afternoon was about…”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean, ‘nope’?” Rainbow snapped.
“It’s slang, means the same thing as ‘no.’”
“I know what it means!” Rainbow was jittery. Her cheeks felt flushed. “How can you not want to talk? What’s wrong with you?”
“You done speaking your piece yet?”
A snarl coiled in Rainbow’s throat, but she swallowed it back. “You know what? No, I’m not done. Fairy tale monsters get you talking, huh? You’re in luck, because I’ve got a fairy tale about monsters for you. Want to hear it?”
“Nope.”
“Too bad.” Rainbow planted her haunches on the floor. “This story is about a totally normal pony who lived a totally normal life. She had some good times, and she had some not so good times, too. There were even times when things got really dark and depressing, but it never lasted for long. All in all, things were pretty okay, right up until two ponies who were close to her died.
“This pony felt like her heart had been ripped to shreds, and she felt darkness and depression like you wouldn’t believe. She waited and waited and waited for them to go away. Only they never did. In fact, they got worse. She started to blame herself for the two ponies who had died. She started to feel like she was the one who should have died.
“This pony knew there was a magical creature who could grant incredible wishes, but his power had an enormous price: once he granted you a wish, you had to spend the rest of your life fighting the worst kinds of monsters for him. This pony was already fighting the worst kinds of monsters inside of her, so she was ready to pay that price. She went to the magical creature and wished for the two ponies to come back to life.
“But the magic creature told her there was a catch: she could only wish for one of them back. If she wanted to make his deal, then she faced the hardest decision of her life.”
In the seconds that followed, Rainbow watched Applejack’s shallow, silent breaths. Then Applejack twitched. “Well, what happened next?”
“I don’t know,” Rainbow said, savoring her success, “because it’s your turn to tell the story. Why did she choose her dad?”
Applejack’s head jerked up, and her glare almost made Rainbow jump. Almost. Rainbow held her ground, met Applejack’s gaze, pulled her shoulders back, and pressed her chest out.
A moment later, Applejack broke her glare and left the chair. She drifted to the middle of the room in drawn-out, shambling steps. When she reached the bag of spilled apples, she stopped in her tracks.
“I flipped a coin.”
Applejack looked back. Rainbow was shocked, but she knew Applejack was judging her reaction, so she relaxed her shoulders and forced a friendly, accepting expression.
“That is the lousiest poker face I have ever seen,” Applejack said. “C’mon, tell me what you really think.”
Rainbow felt her cheeks flush. “There’s no good way to make a choice like that.”
A faint smile haunted Applejack’s lips until her head rolled back towards the floor. “When Kyubey said I could only bring one pony back, I thought up a bushel of different schemes about how to get them both. The only one Kyubey didn’t shoot down was for me to wish one of them back, and the first one would wish the other back. All I had to decide was who’d go fighting witches with me and Rar’. It didn’t much matter to me, so I pulled out a bit right on the spot and tossed it in the air.
“Come to think of it, I don’t remember whether it was heads or tails. It was Pa’s side, though, and that’s the wish I made. Sure enough, Bright Mac showed up at the gate to Sweet Apple Acres the next morning. The only problem was, he wasn’t my Pa.”
While Applejack spoke, Rainbow approached the chair and righted the checkerboard table lying on its side. She didn’t recognize the game pieces scattered around it—dark grey pillars and busts of different pony races—so she set them around the edges of the table. It seemed like a nice gesture to put this piece of furniture back together.
“Mind you, Bright Mac looks just like Pa,” Applejack said, “and does a mean impression of him, too, but it was off in the little things. The way he hugged us, so warm and strong, but I could feel him clinging to us for dear life. The way he labored dawn to dusk, never flagging, but I saw how scared he was of lying down and not getting back up. The way he laughed, even more wild and roaring than before, but I heard him screaming underneath. Then there was the cider, and I swear, every night it was like watching him drown.
“I knew Ma would come back as bad as him. Imagine the two of them, commiserating over what’d been taken from them, frightening each other over what’d be taken next. Imagine all that languor infesting our home. I could never let that happen, could never let Apple Bloom grow up around two ghosts of flesh and blood. In the back of my mind, though, I was always thinking about how much I missed her. All I had to do was tell Pa and he’d bring her back, wouldn’t waste a second thinking on it. I resisted, but when the temptation got too much for me, I ran. That’s the real reason I ended up in Canterlot.”
Applejack grew quiet. With the last game piece on the table, Rainbow came to her and side stretched a foreleg around her withers.
“Okay, so your wish didn’t work out like you expected,” Rainbow said. “That’s bad luck, but it doesn’t make you a bad pony. You can’t change what’s in the past, so you just have to focus on what you can do now. If you start doing good stuff now, that means you’re good.”
Applejack snorted. “Sparky, with all due respect, you still sound like a little foal. Here’s what being good is all about.” She pawed through the apples on the floor, picked one, and held it up. “Look at this good apple here. A nice and bright one. Give it a decent start and make sure it sticks to the straight and narrow, and it’ll go as far as the eye can see, right?”
She placed the apple on its side and, with a flick of her foreleg, started it rolling across the floor. It bounced along in a straight line for a few paces, but then without warning veered off to the side and crashed into a wall.
“Aww, what a shame,” Applejack mocked. “That apple just had some bad luck, though. Or maybe it was a bad apple at heart.” She picked a second apple up and showed it to Rainbow. “Bu this one will turn out fine, right?”
“I get it,” Rainbow said. “When your parents’ boat sank, it wasn’t because anypony on the boat deserved it, and it wasn’t because you did anything wrong. It happened even when you were trying your best. Then you got a chance that millions of ponies never will: you could bring your dad back to life. When he came back, though, he was different, hurt in ways you didn’t understand and that you couldn’t heal, no matter how much you tried. All this terrible stuff happened when you were trying to be good, and it feels totally cruel and unfair.”
A smile twisted its way onto Applejack’s face. “That’s the pain. It’s what’s lurking around the corner you have to take when all you were trying to do was walk the straight and narrow. Some ponies go through their whole life thinking that the more pain they get through, the more points they score for when they go back in the ground. Others, they think you only get the pain because you’ve done wrong by the world and you gotta suffer it for what you’ve done.
“I know better, though. We all get more than our share of pain, and we all taste the same to worms. When the pain comes for you, if you’re lucky enough to have four good legs and the brains to see it, you run. You run and you don’t let anything get in your way. If everyone’s doing anything they can to escape that pain, then there’s no cause to worry yourself about doing something bad to someone good, because none of it means anything. There is nothing bad, there is no one good. Only thing that matters is surviving to the next day. Or, at least, that’s what I thought. Then I met your buddy Flutters, and…”
Applejack shook her head as if an invisible yoke had fallen on her neck. “It was during the spat you and I had. I’d already been mighty fierce to her, and she knew she wouldn’t have a chance against me. So when I was on you I figured she’d go galloping out of there like she had a wasps’ nest on her backside, but she didn’t. She stayed put, begged me to stop, fought in her own way for you. I don’t know why, but all the salt and vinegar seeped out of me when I thought about that. Right now, I have no idea what’s left inside.”
Rainbow and Applejack sat together. It seemed to Rainbow that Applejack had started to lean against her.
“Here’s the thing,” Rainbow said. “Life’s almost entirely out of your control, but only almost. You’ve got this minuscule sliver of history that’s all yours to do whatever you want with. Sure, there’s going to be a lot of pain and you can spend your whole life running away from it. Or you can take that life you’ve gotten for no reason, use the good legs you lucked into, and do something that’s worth doing, whatever that means to you. Life is short, but it’s a gift, and your biggest choice is whether you’re going to spend it trying not to get hurt, or take some risks and feel a little good about what you’ve done.”
She gave Applejack a gentle shake. Applejack swayed side to side, her mouth flexing silently. When she swayed into Rainbow, she seemed to linger, and as the time passed, her moments of lingering against Rainbow grew longer.
“Life’s a gift, huh?” Applejack said. “It’s funny. When you started telling me your fairy tale, I figured it was about you.”
Rainbow shrugged. “Honestly, it started out that way.”
Applejack stopped swaying and for a moment was motionless. “Hey Sparky, how about you take a turn telling the story?”
Rainbow frowned. She sensed that Applejack had taken all the puzzle pieces she had laid out, but she couldn’t tell how Applejack had put them together. “What do you mean?”
“Who were you trying to bring back?”
“Oh,” Rainbow said. “I tried to bring back Rarity and Cup Cake.”
“Cup who?”
“The baker at Sugarcube Corner.” Rainbow recalled the eulogy at Cup Cake’s funeral. “I guess she was born Chiffon Swirl.”
Applejack blinked, and then her face lit up with glee. “Wait, Chiffon Swirl? So Cup Cake’s her maiden name? Are you saying Chiffon and Carrot got hitched?” Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “Shucks, am I ever sorry I missed that! You never did see a sweeter couple than them.” The glee left. “What happened?”
Rainbow tried to think of a gentle way to break the news to Applejack. She couldn’t. “They had a daughter. When foals started going missing in Ponyville, Cup and Carrot had a fight about taking their filly out of town, and one day Carrot and their daughter went missing. Cup blamed herself, and…yeah, she blamed herself.”
When Rainbow stopped talking, Applejack made a theatrical gesture of looking around the room. “I don’t see Rar’ around, so I guess I can figure out who you chose.”
“No, I…”
“Chiffon must have been an awful good friend of yours,” Applejack said, talking over Rainbow. “That, or you gave up your future for some of her homemade desserts. Not that I’d blame you, of course, she was one fine baker. So what’d she have to say when she popped out of the grave?”
“I didn’t wish to bring her back.” Rainbow said. “Remember all that darkness and depression stuff? I wished it away.”
Applejack slid out of Rainbow’s grasp. “You had a chance to revive somepony who did everything she could to deserve her life, and instead you wished away your own pain. That about the gist of it?”
Rainbow grimaced. “I tried to bring them both back! I even asked Fluttershy…”
“You were gonna make that little thing spend her life fighting witches,” Applejack interjected, “and give up her own wish for you?” She whistled. “So that’s what y’all were really fighting about. I could hear you lay into her after she told you no. That was some cold-blooded selfishness, Sparky.”
Rainbow hung her head.
Applejack smirked. “I suppose the moral of our story is, it’s fine and dandy that a good-for-nothing rascal like Bright Mac gets a second bite at the apple, while a decent pony like Chiffon gets left for worm food, as long as you feel happy about it in the end.”
Rainbow had nothing to say in her defense.
“I do appreciate your visit.” Applejack climbed into the chair. “I believe I was suffering a mild test of faith, but thanks to you I discovered I was right all along. Everypony in the world really is doing what they can to run from the pain, no matter the claptrap they preach. Tell you what, though, since you say this town’s been overrun with witches, and since you’ve been so accommodating in my time of need, how about I let you keep half of Ponyville?”
For a quarter hour afterward, Applejack laid out her terms, listing streets, directions, and times with surgical precision. Sometimes she posed questions to Rainbow about her chores around town. Rainbow answered but otherwise listened mutely.
“All right, we’re done here,” Applejack said at last. She absent-mindedly knocked over the game table and let the pieces skitter across the floor. “Head on home, and take those apples with you. They don’t even smell right anymore.”
Rainbow resigned herself to collecting the apples into her saddlebags and leaving the library. As she wandered through the hallways of Rarity’s, then Fluttershy’s and her, and now Applejack’s, mansion, she considered where she could go. There was home, for rest; there was Fluttershy’s, to prove another pony right; there was downtown, to waste time strolling through the late night shops.
It struck Rainbow as odd that getting a drink at the cider bar held only minor appeal.
“You forget something?”
Rainbow looked up. In her daze, she had wandered back to the library, and again stood before Applejack.
“Sorry. I got lost,” Rainbow said.
“Not the right kind of getting lost, if you ask me.”
Rainbow turned around. Even with her worried state of mind, it seemed peculiar that she could lose track of where she was so completely. She took a step forward.
And in classic Rainbow Crash style, ran her muzzle right into a mirror. She scampered back, trying to hide her embarrassment, and looked behind her.
Applejack was up and out of the seat, but she wasn’t watching Rainbow. Her eyes were on the mirror. “We got a familiar,” she said. She already had that rope, the weapon that was so much cooler than Rainbow’s stupid spark toy, ready.
Rainbow heard a scraping sound coming from the mirror. She turned around and saw huge lance swinging over her. Rainbow felt like such a scaredy-cat as she ran away from it, but she didn’t know what else to do. A marble statue of a hulked-up pegasus slid out the mirror, ready to beat some respect into them with its lance. Rainbow knew the two of them didn’t have a chance against it. If she impressed it by showing she was tougher than Applejack, though…
Applejack glanced at her. “You got it in your head to do something to me?”
“Maybe.”
“We gotta focus,” Applejack said. “This thing’s messing with our heads, so tune it out and help me. Familiars always have a weak spot somewhere near the center of their labyrinth. It’s gonna be something that ain’t quite right. We find that, hit it hard enough, and we’re home free.”
Rainbow saw The Adventure Book on Rarity’s bookshelf. She had an idea then, a stupid idea like all her others, but it was better than doing nothing and getting whaled on by that statue.
She grabbed the book and showed it to Applejack. “If the book is always trying to get you away from labyrinths, then if we do the opposite of what it says, it’ll take us towards the center.” She didn’t wait for Applejack to respond and flipped open the book.
“There’s nothing of interest here,” it said, “but from the west you hear a soft voice crying for help.”
“Which way’s east?” Rainbow asked.
Applejack nodded towards the mirror.
“Do you think I’m dumb?” Rainbow snapped. “I already tried to go that way.”
“We ain’t got time for this. Either we go now, or we’re taking on this thing.” The mud lover was right: the pegasus statue was paces away from them. With a growl, Rainbow grabbed Applejack and took a flying leap over the statue. She aimed for the mirror but held Applejack in front. If one of them was going to eat glass, she didn’t plan on it being her.
There wasn’t any need, though; they passed right through. The great Rainbow Dash, pranked again.
They landed in a heap. Rainbow was up before Applejack, so she was first to see that they were back in the library. Except, not really. Everything was flipped, even the book spines. The mirror was still in the doorway, keeping her pinned in.
Her reflection wobbled, and she got her vajra ready. She was done running. Once that statue showed up, she was going to unleash every ounce of fury she could muster on it. A piece of stone emerged and she almost zapped it, but it wasn’t the lance, it was a shield. Two more popped out on either side of it, and with another scraping sound, three earth pony statues appeared behind the shields. Rainbow let loose, but the statues used their shields to knock the blast away. Then the pegasus statue was back, and this time it brought a friend.
The five of them moved on Rainbow. She stood her ground, ready to face them like she’d faced Fluttershy’s bullies. Five against one was pretty bad odds, but Rainbow didn’t care. She could lose this time, could get pummeled to death for all she cared, but at least she’d give these chunks of rock a fight they’d remember.
“Over here!” Applejack called out. Rainbow glanced over her shoulder, and saw Applejack at the other side of the library with her rope wrapped around a sixth statue, a nerdy unicorn with a telescope. “This has got to be the weak spot.”
Rainbow turned back to her statues. They were getting close, and she was stoked to lay into them.
“C’mon, Sparky,” Applejack barked, “you know how this works. I do the tightening, you do the lightning.”
This pony. This mud-loving, rock-licking, hay-hoarding earth pony thought she could tell Rainbow Dash what to do. Rainbow turned on her, already imagining the thunderbolt arcing across to Applejack, until she saw the look on Applejack’s face. Pinprick pupils. Ears swept back. Nostrils big as mine shafts. Rainbow recognized that look like she was in front of a mirror: Applejack knew she could lose this time, could get a marble horn right through her for all she cared, but at least she’d give that unicorn a fight it’d remember.
Rainbow was happy to help. The lightning twisted away from Applejack’s face, connected to her rope, and shot up it to the statue. One thundering crack later, it was a pile of gravel.
The other statues were easy after that. They didn’t even fight back as Rainbow bucked and blasted them down to size.
Breathing heavily, letting the marble dust coat her throat, Rainbow finally stood down. She heard the remnants crunching under her front hooves as she fell to all fours. Her head hung. The vajra dropped to the ground, joining the pebbles, sweat droplets, and a few downy blue feathers.
“Nice teamwork,” Rainbow said between pants. The silence lingered. Rainbow stretched, flicked her tail, and glanced up.
The mirror was still there. It was how she saw Applejack throw the lasso around her neck.
Rainbow bucked uselessly. She tried to twist away, but Applejack was so strong as she dragged her to the floor and crushed her chest. Rainbow got a vajra out, launched a bolt into Applejack. It didn’t even faze her. Rainbow tried again, a tree-splitter this time, nothing. Her tongue swelled after that, and she couldn’t hold onto the vajra, so she let it drop.
This was what she deserved for trying to outthink anything. What she deserved for being so weak. A loser. A failure.
Her head lolled towards the mirror. Even with her vision going dark, what she saw was awesome. There she was, holding Applejack down and sending so many volts into her that the earth pony’s bones glowed. Applejack writhed, shuddering helplessly, her mouth open in a silent howl. That was how Rainbow wanted to go: watching herself paying that mud lover back ten times over for what she’d done to Fluttershy.
There was a problem with the mirror image: they didn’t have their necklaces. It was different, wasn’t quite right.
Rainbow flailed at her Applejack again. She missed, but she got ahold of the necklace, and the clasp snapped. Rainbow threw the necklace with all the remaining force she had at the mirror, even twitching her wings for the extra torque, and the mirror shattered on impact. The noose slackened, and she twisted back with a sucker punch that plowed a hole through the shadowy monster’s head. There wasn’t any resistance to the next swing, and by the third the illusions all around them were fading away into blazing light…
…of a fire raging in the library.
“What is this?” Rainbow shouted. She sprang up. “Where did the fire come from?”
“Golly, that sure is a mystery.” Applejack locked eyes with Rainbow. “It’s almost like someone was shooting lightning bolts around shelves of flammable books.”
Rainbow scowled at her.
Applejack met her gaze for a moment, but then looked to her hooves and pursed her lips contritely. “Truth be told, I always thought what goes on in a labyrinth couldn’t affect the real world.”
“We’re going to have to figure it out another time,” Rainbow said. She pointed to the exit. “Come on!”
The two galloped out of the library, only to find the fire had raced ahead of them. Blinding orange flames devoured every wooden surface in the hallway, and heavy smoke billowed up to the ceiling. Applejack tapped Rainbow on the haunches.
“Reckon you can carry me up that skylight?” She pointed down the hall.
Rainbow looked in the direction Applejack pointed, and could barely detect a hole letting in a piece of the night sky. She tried to remember if there had been a skylight there. “Let me check it out first, make sure it’s okay.”
Applejack might have said something like “Good idea,” but Rainbow was already soaring through the inferno, navigating the eddies that buffeted her and knocked her off balance. Every flap tried her strength, but she kept in the air until she felt a sudden updraft. She landed, and looked up into the night sky.
There was no skylight. The stars were framed by a flaming hole in the ceiling and second floor.
Rainbow was puzzled. The library, where the fire had started, was still mostly intact. It made no sense that the second floor and roof of a totally different part of the mansion had already burned through. She started to report what she’d found to Applejack when a cracking sound thundered through the scorching air, and a crushing weight tackled her to the ground.
“Sparky! What happened?” Applejack’s voice was a like murmur over the cacophony.
Rainbow tried to push herself up, but the mass on top of her wouldn’t budge. A glance back revealed that a beam had fallen from the ceiling and pinned her. “I need some help! The whole place is caving in.” The mansion groaned around her.
Applejack’s face popped into view and instantly retreated. Then Rainbow felt the vibrations of hooves drumming the floor in a galloping rhythm. The tremors were receding.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Sparky,” Applejack said. “I really am.” Rainbow got a glimpse of Applejack’s tail waving away.
There was a second in which Rainbow thought she would give up.
It was only a second. Then the rage came. She felt it possess her, surround her, and take its vengeance. Her ears filled with the sound of the world tearing apart, her nose with the stench of ozone, her mouth with ash. She pushed against the floor, and the floor bent to her will, then broke under it, as the timbers beneath her snapped.
The weight pinning her was gone and a vajra was in her mouth.
She looked up. The hole through the house had become a gaping chasm. Without a second thought she took to the air and flew into the smoldering gorge above her. The air was arctic against her skin and the moon was a grey disc against the inky black sky. Rainbow let herself glide around the mansion in a wavering circle, searching in vain for a cloud to help extinguish the fire. She struggled to stay even.
Almost the entire mansion was burning. Most of the windows glowed with a tempest of orange, black, and white, accompanied by the occasional burst of sparks like a beehive cracking open. While the exterior walls stood against the fire, the central roof had collapsed, and plumes of smoke rose unabated from the interior.
One set of windows along the north side of the house were still dark. Rainbow floated towards them to look inside. She saw two mannequins wearing the dresses Rarity had made for her and Fluttershy toppled onto their sides. Then she noticed the sewing machine, shears, and other tools of Rarity’s craft room strewn under the window as if thrown there. The gas lamps were out, and one fixture hung from the wall where it had been partially knocked off. She peered deeper into the room until she saw Applejack huddled beside the entryway, illuminated by the flame licking at the bottom edge of the door. Applejack saw her too, as her emerald eyes held steady on the hovering Rainbow.
Applejack had been right all along: as soon as she stopped running, the pain caught up. Rainbow pushed up and away with a few strong flaps.
But Applejack was wrong about so much more, and as Rainbow turned herself in midair, she angled towards the mansion and plummeted into the window, smashing through the glass, and grabbing Applejack around her middle. She bucked against the floor, her wings still outstretched, while the door crashed open. They reached the shattered window, its glass shards raining down, when the gas caught and a surge of shrieking air hurled them out of the mansion. There was no grace to their fall, only ballistics and drag, until the ground caught them. Their momentum spun them like tangled rag dolls into a bramble bush.
When the sky and ground finally decided to stay put, Rainbow relaxed her hold on Applejack. Applejack stayed wrapped against her for a few rapid heartbeats before looking up to Rainbow. Applejack’s pupils were like pinpricks against her bloodshot whites.
“That you, Sparky?”
Rainbow couldn’t help but smile. “Who else would it be?”
Applejack tried to slip away, but sank deeper into the brambles. Rainbow pulled herself out and offered Applejack a helping hoof. Applejack stared at Rainbow’s hoof disbelievingly for a second, but finally accepted it.
“Funny you should ask,” Applejack said. “I suppose I owe you an explanation about my mysterious blue-feathered pony.”
Fluttershy waited all night for a knock at the bedroom window that never came.
The knock arrived instead at the front door. She opened it to find a bedraggled creature covered in a piebald pattern of sooty blue fur and angry red flesh. Crusty black rivulets trailed from the poor thing’s paltry forelocks to the silver necklace dangling around its chest. Two charred, gnarled stumps sprouted where its ears should have been.
“Hey, Flutters,” the creature said in a familiar raspy voice. “I’ve got something really horrible to tell you.”
Fluttershy blinked, and the creature became a burned and weeping Rainbow Dash. “You don’t have to say anything,” Fluttershy said as she pulled Rainbow into the house. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Rainbow waved her away. “I get it, I bet I look like a marshmallow that got dropped in a campfire. I feel fine, although I could really use a shower. Don’t worry about me.” She turned to look Fluttershy in the eye. “Flutters, I’m so sorry, but the mansion burned down.”
“Did Applejack do it?”
Rainbow drew in a breath. “No. It might have been my fault, actually.”
“It’s okay, I’m sure you only did what you had to do.” She nudged Rainbow towards the bathroom. There’d be time later to mourn the loss of her plans for the mansion. For now, she had to take care of Rainbow.
“I’m not totally sure, though. Either way, I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.” Rainbow finally complied with Fluttershy’s nudges and stepped into the shower tub.
“Do you know what happened to Applejack?”
Rainbow paused. “I’d better tell you what happened from the start.”
Fluttershy cleaned Rainbow’s wounds with a sponge and cold water while Rainbow recounted meeting Applejack, fighting a familiar, and finding themselves surrounded by fire.
“A beam fell on me, and Applejack saw it and ran,” Rainbow said. “Maybe she got scared, or maybe she wasn’t strong enough to help…I don’t know. I sort of lightning’d my way out of there, and holy moly, it hurt.”
She told Fluttershy about escaping and rescuing Applejack from the craft room. As Fluttershy applied analgesic cream to Rainbow’s burns, Rainbow described how she and Applejack carried each other away from the inferno. On the way to town, Applejack had told her about a blue feather she’d found at a library in Star Swirl’s School for Gifted Unicorns. That reminded Fluttershy of Sunset’s offer for an internship at the Canterlot Zoo and the letter she had meant to write declining it.
She slung a loose bandage around the worst burns on Rainbow’s back while Rainbow talked about finding a hotel for Applejack to stay in.
“They didn’t even want to let us in at first; they said we needed to go to the hospital,” Rainbow said. “I got pretty furious with them. Then Applejack, out of nowhere, put on this perfect Canterlot accent and said we’re actors doing research for a play. That I’m in makeup and in character round-the-clock as this hard-bitten Air Guard deserter. Then she told them that if the hotel lost the studio’s reservation, they were all in huge trouble. Five minutes later, they had a suite ready for her.”
Fluttershy examined Rainbow’s wings. Most of her flight feathers had been shredded by brambles and twisted uselessly. She applied a molting ointment to each of the damaged feathers’ follicles so they’d fall out in a few days, allowing fresh feathers to grow in with the next molt. With luck, Rainbow might be back in the air before winter.
“I know I owe you a talk about this.” Rainbow caressed her necklace. “That kind of goes double now. Kyubey was hiding Applejack from Rarity and us, but he told her stuff about us that got her to come to Ponyville looking for us. Maybe he’s not so trustworthy.”
While Rainbow spoke, Fluttershy took a pair of shears and trimmed down her tattered mane. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it would make Rainbow a little more presentable in public. “We can talk about it later. You should get some rest now.”
Rainbow shook the stray hair out of her eyes and ran a hoof through her mohawk with a simper. “Oh yeah, can I sleep here? It’s going to be hard for me to get back to my place with, you know…” She stretched out her battered right wing.
“The couch is all yours.”
“Thanks, Flutters,” she said. “One last thing. Applejack didn’t like the apples. I want to see her tomorrow and bring something to make her feel more comfortable at the hotel. Got any ideas?”
Fluttershy thought for a moment. “Did she tell you about laurys?”
Rainbow knocked first because she figured Applejack would want some privacy. She waited, knocked again, and only then took out the spare key from her saddlebag.
The door swung open with a juddering whine, casting a beam of light into the dark room and onto a desk littered with newspapers. A room service tray, its dishes picked clean, lay on the floor beside an empty bed. Uncertain of where Applejack could be, she stepped away from the doorframe.
Then came the snore, drawn out like a machine rumbling to life. Rainbow opened the door the rest of the way to find Applejack nestled in a recliner on the other side of the suite. She let out a relieved sigh.
Applejack twitched. “Who’s that?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just me, you know, Sparky. I got a spare key when we checked in last night.” She walked into the room.
In a single, fluid motion, Applejack got up from the chair and opened the curtains. Glare blinded Rainbow. A second later the key jostled in the door handle, and by the time her eyes adjusted, she saw Applejack stick the spare key into a desk drawer and close it.
“Appreciate you returning the key,” she said, and Rainbow lost the nerve to ask for it back in an instant. “You pretending to be a mummy? Hate to tell you this, but you missed some spots.”
Rainbow patted her bandages. “Fluttershy patched me up after last night.”
“Decent thing of her to do.”
“Definitely, she’s awesome. That reminds me…” Rainbow pulled out a wooden box from her saddlebags and showed it to Applejack. “She said you liked this game called laurys, so I stopped by the antique shop and got the best-looking set they had. Check it out: the board’s made of rosewood and the pieces are all artisan-carved marble.”
“Not bad,” Applejack said. She ran a hoof over the box’s glossy panels. “I doubt that’s authentic Dalbergia rosewood, but it’s a fine imitation. What d’you want for it?”
“No, no, it’s a gift.” Rainbow pressed the box against Applejack’s chest.
“Aw, you’re sweeter than a cherry.” Applejack snatched the box from her and returned to the recliner. She opened the set and began to pull out the pieces. “Not bad at all. Didn’t reckon you’d want anything to do with laurys after that familiar last night.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow said as recognition clicked, “those big statutes we fought kind of looked like those white pieces. I wasn’t really thinking about that much.”
Applejack chuckled. “Bless your heart.” She positioned the pieces on the board in silence. Rainbow noticed, for the first time, a haze swirling around Applejack’s black necklace.
“Hey, is everything okay with your necklace?”
“Finer than frog hair.”
“Really?” Rainbow stepped closer. Heat radiated from Applejack’s necklace. “It kind of doesn’t seem that way.”
Applejack looked up, her jaw ajar. “Tell you what, I’ll give you the real story about this necklace,” she said as she nodded to the board, “if you play a game with me.”
“I don’t know how to play.”
“C’mon, I’ll teach you. I’ll even let you win your first game.”
Rainbow got the basics down quickly, and Applejack posed some tactics problems to test her. White’s problems were about using her mezzmer, lancers, and vanguards to locate a medusite in a certain number of moves; as black, she tried to capture a particular piece without giving away her medusites’ locations. White’s problems reminded her of the fun parts of her job troubleshooting cloud machines at the Weather Service, so for their first match, she chose to play as that color.
The match pushed her to her limits, even with Applejack’s promise of letting her win. Applejack trapped her mezzmer in a complex web of mirrors early on, and for the rest of the game snatched her vanguards and one of her lancers without warning. Rainbow gave as good as she got, though, managing to break all but one of Applejack’s medusites and a good number of her mirrors. With victory in sight, she kept moving her remaining lancer out of harm’s way and towards its final goal.
In her excitement, Rainbow almost forgot Applejack’s half of the bargain. “So, you were going to tell me the ‘real story’ about your necklace.” She slid her lancer against the veil. “Also, do I win now?”
“Nope,” Applejack said, “but don’t you worry. I’ve got an inkling that it’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” She moved a mirror next to Rainbow’s lancer and then dropped the veil, revealing she’d trapped Rainbow’s last piece. “And nope.”
“You said you’d tell me what’s going on!”
Applejack smirked. “Can’t believe everything you hear these days.”
“Why would you lie about that?”
“Well, you see…” Applejack stopped and didn’t do anything for a second. The smirk dropped first, followed by her gaze. She glanced up again, looking past Rainbow with pursed lips before she clicked her tongue.
“Why don’t you come on back tomorrow?” she said. “I’ll make it right.”
“It’s her necklace,” Rainbow said. “Something’s wrong with it.”
Fluttershy yawned as she brought out the salad she’d prepared for dinner. Rainbow had returned from visiting Applejack much later than expected, but the greens weren’t too wilted.
“She knows, too, and she said was it was going to get fixed by tomorrow, but she didn’t say how.” Rainbow gulped down a mouthful of salad. “This is really good, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Fluttershy started on her plate with a fork. “Maybe Kyubey could help her?”
“If he’s not snitching on us to some nutjob.” Rainbow scooped up another mouthful of salad. “You know, he thought The Adventure Book picks up psychic energy like a necklace.”
“Oh.” Fluttershy pushed bits of food around her plate. She could tell how much all this excited Rainbow, and how hard it’d be for her to give it all up.
“And Applejack said they’d passed copies out in Canterlot last winter. Plus, when that familiar snuck up on us at Rarity’s place, I got her copy, and the book tried to steer us away from it.” Rainbow swallowed finally. “Whoever made that book knows about witches and necklaces. Maybe they could fix Applejack’s necklace, too.”
“That’d be…nice.”
“Do you still have your book? I think they came with a letter.”
Fluttershy wasn’t hungry anymore. After she fetched her copy of The Adventure Book from the other side of the room, she slid her plate across to Rainbow. “You can have the rest, if you want.”
“Horse apples!” Rainbow’s wide eyes locked on the open book. “These books are from the library at that Star Swirl school. Applejack tracked a witch and found the blue feather there. This can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“It is a big school.”
“How do we find this ‘Twilight Sparkle, Master of the Library?’”
Fluttershy remembered the letter to Sunset she still hadn’t written. “I could ask Sunset Shimmer.”
“Who’s that?”
“Do you remember the pen pals I had when we were in Cloudsdale? One of them became a department master at Star Swirl’s, and a few weeks ago she invited me to visit—” She found herself hoisted in the air on Rainbow’s forelegs.
“This is so awesome!” Rainbow swung her around the room like a dancing partner. “You can go to Canterlot, talk to this Sunburn Shiver—”
“Sunset Shimmer.”
“—get to Twilight Sparkle, find out what they know about witches, and figure out how to fix Applejack’s necklace!”
“I can’t go.”
Rainbow froze.
“She wanted to talk to me about working at the zoo.” Fluttershy dislodged herself from Rainbow. “I’d be spending all of my time around wild animals. I’ve never done anything like that.”
“You don’t have to actually take the job. Go there, talk to her, and then make up some reason why you can’t take the job after.”
“That’s lying, though.”
Rainbow shrugged. “It’s not a real lie. It’s like a micro-fib, and we have to do it to help Applejack. For all we know, her necklace is killing her.”
Fluttershy knew she should say no. She’d have to lie to Sunset, trick her into talking about Star Swirl’s, waste her time, and take advantage of her train tickets. All the while, Rainbow’s obsession for witch hunting would grow even more.
But another pony was in danger. That mattered to Rainbow, so she said, “I will.”
Every day that week, Rainbow visited Applejack to quietly play laurys, and every day, Applejack’s necklace was black and feverish. Smaller changes occurred, though. Her newspapers vanished on the third day, and on the fourth, she talked about hunting.
“Missing ponies, more often than not, get that way because of witches,” she said. “News stories about disappearances can give you a hint or two about tracking down a witch.”
“Why don’t you show me?” Rainbow asked.
“Later.”
The fifth day, Applejack set the board up so that Rainbow had to play black. The change threw her off; she lost track of her pieces, missed chances to attack, and spoiled her own traps. Her hoof once wavered over a medusite, and Applejack smashed it three moves later. Then, after Rainbow had spent ten minutes thinking through her next move, Applejack spoke.
“Tell me about Rarity,” she said nonchalantly. “Your general impression of the mare is all.”
“She was fine,” Rainbow grumbled.
“What I mean is…” She rubbed her chin. “That’s to say…”
“Just ask Fluttershy,” Rainbow said, trying to focus on the board. “She spent more time with Rarity than I did.”
“She wouldn’t want to talk to me, would she?”
Rainbow pulled her attention from the game. Checkerboard patterns swam in her eyes. “Yeah, she’d be fine with it. She’s in Canterlot for the next few days, but I’ll bring her over here when she gets back.”
“That’d be swell.” Applejack sank into her chair and threw her forelegs behind her head. She looked ready for a nap.
The sight peeved Rainbow. She’d been busting her tail all week to figure out the problem with Applejack’s necklace, and Fluttershy had gone all the way to Canterlot to help. Meanwhile, Applejack chilled on her haunches, holding onto who-knows-what kinds of secrets.
“Don’t you want to know why she’s in Canterlot?” Rainbow asked.
“Didn’t think it was any of my business.”
“Actually, it’s totally your business. You know how The Adventure Book kind of works like a necklace? We found they’re made in Canterlot, so Flutters is on a little recon mission.” Rainbow copied Applejack’s relaxed pose. “If she finds out what’s wrong with your necklace, then we can fix it.”
Applejack tumbled forward. “Don’t you get her wrapped up in all this.”
“You’re not exactly leaving us a lot of options.”
Applejack sighed and shook her head. “All it needs is a Grief Seed.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Rainbow basked in the win while Applejack pulled away. “I’ll get you a Grief Seed. Consider it as good as done.”
“Fine, but leave Fluttershy out of all this, you hear me? Don’t even bring her around these parts.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow made her move on the board, which Applejack countered in a heartbeat. She played out the game and lost without paying much attention to it. Instead, she imagined Fluttershy coming back to Ponyville with the secret to The Adventure Book.
Sunset’s thoughtfulness began at the train station, where a suit-clad taxi driver met Fluttershy and took her to a downtown hotel. A posh corner room overlooking one of Canterlot’s parks awaited Fluttershy, as did a message confirming her appointment with Sunset for lunch the next day.
Fluttershy resolved to show her gratitude by treating the trip as a serious job interview, despite her ulterior motives, and toured the zoo early the next morning to have something to discuss with Sunset. The exhibits were nice, and the animals seemed eager to come out as she passed by, although many seemed bored. She couldn’t say what gave her that impression.
At the wolves’ exhibit, she stopped to watch a zookeeper’s demonstration of pack behavior. She had read a book about pack animal communications years ago, so she focused on the zookeeper’s actions around the wolves; he swished his tail to show playfulness, puffed out his chest to assert dominance, lowered his voice when a wolf grew too nippy, and avoided the space around peaceful wolves.
Watching his flawless mimicry of the wolves’ body language drove home Fluttershy’s selfishness. Here were a group of ponies who had trained for years, honed their skills, and performed important work day after day, while Fluttershy abused their hospitality pretending to be interested in working for them.
By the time Sunset arrived for their lunch, Fluttershy knew exactly what she had to do. “I’m sorry, I can’t take the offer. I shouldn’t have wasted your time or money like this. I should go.”
She started to shift out of her seat when Sunset’s hoof caught her. “Okay, but you are here now, and I’m pretty hungry, so maybe we should get some appetizers and chat.”
Fluttershy resettled in her seat. “I did have a few questions, if you’re not too busy.”
“Being a department Master keeps me pretty busy, but I’ve got lunch blocked off today. What do you want to know?”
Rainbow’s questions about witches and Twilight Sparkle bubbled to the top of Fluttershy’s mind, but she couldn’t pass up the chance to ask one of the brightest minds in psychology just one little question.
“Well,” Fluttershy said, “in your book on social organization, you didn’t spend a lot of time on Blitz Hider’s balance theory, and I was wondering…”
Fluttershy had never had a conversation like the one she had with Sunset. Every sentence from Sunset taught her something new, and every idea Fluttershy offered was another chance to earn Sunset’s admiration. She lost track of the time until Sunset glanced at a clock tower with a gasp.
“I really have to get to my thaumaturgic neurology class. They’ll vanish if I’m more than ten minutes late.” Sunset rose from her seat. “It was great to meet you, though. I had no idea you’d become such an expert.”
“Are you sure you’re not mad about the zoo internship?” Fluttershy asked.
Sunset waved with a foreleg. “You’d have been bored to tears. That internship’s designed for an undergrad, maybe an advanced third-year. It’s way beneath you.”
Fluttershy’s shoulders and ears slouched in shame.
“Are you okay?” Sunset asked.
“I never graduated college,” Fluttershy said in a whisper.
“But everything we talked about…was that all self-taught?”
Fluttershy nodded. One of her bangs fell in front of her eyes, and she let it stay there.
“I may have an idea,” Sunset said. “Why don’t you come with me? You can see what it’s like for a few days.”
“What what’s like?”
“Being a Star Swirl’s student.”
They were in a classroom a few minutes later where Sunset and a dozen young unicorns debated around a U-shaped table while Fluttershy listened, enthralled. Afterward, Sunset showed her around the Cognition Department and introduced her to a few of the professors. That evening, they recapped the day over sandwiches in Sunset’s office.
“What got you into psychology in the first place?” Sunset asked.
“I guess it really goes back to my dreams,” Fluttershy said. She explained how her dreams of galloping through dungeons and fleeing monsters led her to read about interpreting dreams, and eventually to psychology. “The thing is, I still don’t know what they mean. The monsters probably come from ponies picking on me, but the first book I read said the cave symbolizes…loving another pony. That way.”
“I know the book you’re talking about. It was written back when they thought everything had to do with repressed…ah, desires.” Sunset levitated a thin volume off of a shelf. “Why don’t you read this? It’s a report from a somnology symposium a few years ago and has some articles about modern dream theory. Let me know what you think tomorrow.”
Fluttershy left soon after and flew back to her hotel, enjoying the experience of being the only pegasus in the air. In her room, she read through every article about dreams. One, titled “Dreaming as a mechanism to amplify memory associations,” described a number of case studies to illustrate its theory.
Everything made sense once she read the case study for “Patient W.”
Patient W (earth stal.) reported non-clinical aversion to snakes he encountered in a neighboring forest. He employed knitting as a coping habit for the resultant anxiety. However, after encountering a stray snake hiding in his yarn basket, his aversion progressed to ophidiophobia and he ceased knitting. Following this incident, W reported dreaming of knitting needles and yarn coming alive and biting him like a snake.
This result is consistent with our theory. W’s dreams dampened the existing positive association (knitting as a coping mechanism) and reinforced a novel negative association (knitting and snakes). Patients in similar scenarios, where an external stressor compromises an established coping mechanism to that stressor, are likely to dream of their coping mechanism actively threatening them.
After searching for as long as she could remember, Fluttershy had found the answer to her dreams. In Cloudsdale she had sought refuge from her bullies almost every morning in a cloud cave carved into the eastern side of the city. Even in rare times of serenity, she had enjoyed watching the sunrise from inside its cozy walls. At least, she had until the day her bullies found it and covered its walls in guano.
Modern science explained the rest. Foal-age bullies lurking in the bastion of her cave were perverted into relentless monsters hunting her through treacherous dungeons.
She slept well that night. The next morning she arrived early to discuss the articles with Sunset, unprepared for the shock that awaited her.
“I was wondering if you’d like to study psychology at Star Swirl’s as my apprentice.”
She sat speechless as Sunset explained the apprentice system and the logistics of the seven-year program it’d entail. “This is all so sudden,” she said at last. “I’m not sure I’d fit in.”
“Fluttershy, you’ve got incredible talent. The concepts we talked about yesterday, albeit a little dated, are tough for most of my students to grasp, and you taught it all to yourself. I’d be really lucky to have you here.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Honestly, it’d be little weird if you did. It’s a huge decision, so take some time to think about it. There’s no real deadline since I basically run this department, but try and get back to me in a week. Anyways, what do you want to do for the rest of your visit?”
For the next two days, Fluttershy buzzed through a whirlwind of classes, guest lectures, labs, demonstrations, and debates. Moments came when Rainbow’s questions returned to her, but those moments passed as Fluttershy told herself she’d come across as ungrateful, or Sunset was too busy to bother, or the apprenticeship offer would vanish if she got too nosy. By her final day at Star Swirl’s, between her jam-packed schedule and her growing excitement, Fluttershy found she had almost no time to worry about disappointing Rainbow.
When it was time for her to go that night, Sunset walked with her to the train station. “Too bad you couldn’t visit during the school year,” Sunset said on the way. “I’d really like you to meet the other Masters, but Sunburst is digging up the Crystal Empire again, Starlight is begging the senate for more funding, Moon Dancer’s been on sabbatical all year, Twilight is—”
“It’s fine,” Fluttershy said. “I’m sure I can meet them all next time.”
She slept on an overnight train from Canterlot. When it arrived in Ponyville, she had to gallop to the Air Guard Reserve training field and reached it just as Thunderlane began his morning orders.
“Guess who just got assigned to an activation exercise? You guys!”
A chorus of groans surrounded Fluttershy.
“Ooh, you’re really going to hate me after you hear this,” Thunderlane continued with a grin. “In six weeks, the actual Air Guard is coming down to test us on night navigation, foul weather aerobatics, and a live fire bombing run. Our munitions arrived last night, and since Dash is grounded with a bum wing, I’ve got her in the shack inspecting them. Blossomforth, Star Hunter, how about you keep her company today? Derpy, you’re with me on the opposite side of the field until further notice. Everypony else, here are your assignments…”
Fluttershy wound up in squall maneuvers first. Even the wind wrenching her around the sky and the rain soaking her mane did nothing to dampen her elation. At her first break, she went to the bomb shack and asked to talk to Rainbow.
She could barely keep her hooves on the ground as she waited. There was so much to tell that it practically burst from her as she recalled it. The offer from Sunset, the immersion in academic life, the epiphany about her dreams. The trip had only been a few days, but it would change her life forever.
Rainbow emerged from the shack in grease-stained coveralls. She’d buttoned up to the top button, but shiny flecks of her necklace poked out from her collar.
“Hey, Flutters! What’d you find out about The Adventure Book?”
Fluttershy’s hooves landed on the ground.
“Nothing.” She waited for Rainbow’s next question.
“Nothing? Didn’t you meet Sunbeam Singer?”
“Sunset Shimmer was very busy,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, only a micro-fib. Rainbow would have understood.
“What about the zoo thing?”
Of course. If Fluttershy accepted the offer to study at Star Swirl’s, if she even imagined going back to Canterlot, Rainbow would badger her until she turned into a spy. Her obsession for witch hunting would consume Fluttershy’s life, too.
“The internship is going to somepony else,” she said.
“Sorry to hear that.” Rainbow scuffed at the ground. “Hey, after practice…”
“My break’s over. I should go.” Fluttershy turned around. She could feel tears welling up, but couldn’t let Rainbow see and break the illusion of her failure.
Rainbow started to say something else, but Fluttershy didn’t hear it as she launched back into the squall.
Rainbow had it all figured out. The Adventure Book obviously picked up on labyrinths and steered readers away from them, but her real insight came when she remembered the two times she’d opened it near a labyrinth. When she’d shown it off to Fluttershy and Rarity at the town center, and when she and Applejack fought a familiar at Rarity’s mansion, the book had said the exact same thing: “There’s nothing of interest here…”
It made perfect sense. The book wouldn’t say labyrinths were scary or dangerous because that’d make adventurous foals want to get closer. Instead, it’d say things around the labyrinth were boring and point towards something exciting far away. Knowing the book’s trick meant she could find labyrinths by finding places where the book said there was nothing of interest. That meant she could find a witch and get a Grief Seed for Applejack.
There was one problem.
Eagles skirl high above…
The ground beneath you rumbles menacingly…
A sulfurous odor emanates from a nearby crevice…
Suddenly, pirates leap from the shadows…
Rainbow rolled her eyes and snapped shut Fluttershy’s copy of The Adventure Book. She’d wandered Ponyville on hoof the past few nights, reading the book by moonlight, without it once hinting at a labyrinth.
Dejected, she sat and tried to come up with a new plan. The first few nights, she’d made a circuit going through downtown Ponyville, the Air Guard Reserve training field, and the path to Sweet Apple Acres. Last night, she’d skipped downtown to try the school and hospital instead. She’d probably be skulking around other ponies’ homes before long.
An idea struck her: Rarity’s mansion. Her and Applejack’s familiar snuck up on them there. Why couldn’t a witch be next? Rainbow hopped up and trotted that way.
She smelled ash on the wind way before the mansion’s ruins came into view. Blackened wooden beams leaned against stonework broken-up facade washed white by the Weather Service’s efforts to put out the fire. Inky muck pooled on the lower levels of the ground and at the mouths of gutter spouts. Rainbow approached the front entry, where stones in the path had cracked from the heat, where the scorch-covered landing sagged, and where Fluttershy sat looking into the desolation.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Rainbow asked.
Fluttershy’s head rocked to look at her. “What are you doing here?”
She showed Fluttershy the book. “Some real witch hunting. I figured out that The Adventure Book tells you there’s nothing interesting happening when you’re near a labyrinth, so it’s a good way to find witches. Wanna see?” She opened the book. “Nothing here but us two and a ‘frenzied colony of blood-sucking bats,’ so I guess we’re safe.”
“Can we talk about you being a witch hunter?”
“Sure. What do you want to know?” Rainbow’s necklace gleamed in the moonlight. She found herself tracing the thin metal ribbon around her lightning-shaped gemstone.
Fluttershy’s hoof floated up to Rainbow’s necklace, coming to a stop on the gem and blocking Rainbow’s circuit. “Could I have convinced you not to make a wish?”
Rainbow shook her head. “You know, you talked me out of doing some pretty featherbrained things, but a hundred times out of a hundred, I’d make that wish again. I bet you can’t even guess what I wished for.”
“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said. She pulled away from Rainbow’s necklace. “What was your wish?”
“Back when we were in Cloudsdale, I had this drive to be awesome. Some of it came from fighting off your bullies, but a lot of it was for me. Then one day, and I don’t know when or why it began, this empty feeling started eating all the drive. I guess I wanted something to fill that back up, until Kyubey helped me figure out I could just wish it away.” She tried to catch Fluttershy’s eye. “Now I’m doing all sorts of awesome stuff! I pulled Applejack out of this ginormous fireball, and…”
She stopped. She’d run out of achievements already. Sure, she’d rescued Applejack from the fire, but she couldn’t find a Grief Seed or get Applejack of the room. There were days Applejack barely said a word to her.
“Maybe I should have told you about my feelings,” Rainbow said. “You could have fixed me that way.”
“Sometimes talking isn’t enough,” Fluttershy said, her head swaying, “but there are other treatments. Besides Kyubey.”
“Maybe that’s true for other ponies, but Flutters, the way you talk is magic. Applejack let us go because of what you said, and she was still talking about you when I came back. She’s totally different because of you.”
“Really?” Something like a smile peeked out from Fluttershy’s bangs.
“Yeah, really! Maybe that’s the silver lining in you not getting that job in Canterlot.”
Fluttershy’s smile vanished.
“Sorry,” Rainbow said, kicking herself. “All I meant was, this way you can stick around and help her. She’s changed, but she needs help still.”
“I didn’t tell you everything about Canterlot,” Fluttershy said. “I met Sunset and she offered me an apprenticeship at Star Swirl’s. I could study psychology with her, as her student, and I’d be there for years. I could become a psychiatrist, learn to run a hospital, anything I want.” Her eyes locked on Rainbow’s. “But I won’t. Not if you try to turn me into a spy.”
“What do you mean?” Rainbow demanded. She sprang to all fours with her wings outstretched.
Pink mane swung between them, like Fluttershy needed a shield. “You’d badger me until I broke down and found out what I could about witches and The Adventure Book. I knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to say no forever.”
“Can you blame me? I’m doing everything I can to save Applejack here! Why aren’t you?”
Fluttershy sketched a flowery shape in the ash. “Did I ever tell you what I wanted to do with Rarity’s home?”
“No.”
“I wanted to build a place,” she said, her hoof still moving through ash, “where ponies could feel safe…”
Fluttershy had thought of everything: which rooms patients could board in, where the doctors’ offices would be, how the garden would be re-landscaped for exercise groups, even making the kitchen bigger to feed fifty ponies at a time. She explained every bit of it to Rainbow.
“After the fire, I kept planning,” Fluttershy said. “It’d have to be built from scratch, so it’d take years, but it’ll take me years of studying to help.” She stopped scribbling in the dust. “Maybe I should let that go, though.”
Rainbow looked into the ruins of the mansion, tried to imagine it through Fluttershy’s, and got only a flimsy copy of her vision. The important parts came through, though. She imagined sick ponies like Applejack, dragging their problems behind them because that was what they’d all done their whole lives, and finding the refuge that Fluttershy had built. They’d talk through their problems, and as they did, they’d take off one burden after another, until they left well. She could imagine those ponies by the hundreds.
“Tell you what. If you go to Star Swirl’s,” she said, “I promise to never ask you about witches or The Adventure Book while you’re there. I’ve got one condition, though.”
Fluttershy drew a breath. “What is it?”
“Write me sometimes, okay?”
Then the hug she gave Fluttershy was big enough to last for years, because she knew it just might have to.
Applejack had the dream again. She didn’t mind, though. She liked it.
Apple Bloom, Big Mac, Granny Smith, and she were gathered around the dining table like she’d never left. Apple Bloom had grown so tall over the years, glory be, and Big Mac had filled out mightily. Even the nigh-immutable Granny Smith looked a touch more wizened.
Her dream wasn’t all sweet. For one thing, Ma and Pa weren’t there, although that didn’t seem to bother anypony. For another, the four of them had gathered around the table because Applejack had bad news for them: she was leaving. She didn’t think she’d be back, but it was for the best.
The Apples weren’t much for tears, and her family took their turns hugging her instead. She wrapped her forelegs around each of them, her strapping muscles bulging under taut skin when she pulled them close. Apple Bloom got to her last, and when they let go, Applejack took her hat—in her dreams, she wore a hat like Pa’s—and she put it on Apple Bloom’s head. It fit perfectly. Something about that always struck her as the right time to wake up.
She flicked on a light and stretched to greet the aching muscles, swollen joints, and flab that rode along with her. Did her hocks always crackle like that? Probably not, but no telling how long ago that’d started. She never was good about noticing the little things about herself: the first half-truth she told, the first bargain she’d dropped, the first time she’d let her mean streak get the best of her. Somehow, each time she bent one of her scruples, it got a little more pliant for the next time.
Then came the day she sat across from the pony who’d saved her life, made sure she had a roof and bed, and brought her the most gorgeous laurys set she’d ever seen. And Applejack had been one heartbeat away from swindling her. Like a stiff joint cracking, Applejack finally noticed.
She’d thought on it a while the first day, after Sparky had left, and by the second day she’d had a good idea it had something to do with her line of work. Spending all that time around witches, and the ways they got into her head, wasn’t doing her a lick of good.
That led her thoughts to the Grief Seeds, the little pieces of witches she’d shoved right into her chest for years. All of a sudden, it wasn’t a mystery where everything that used to be good about her ran off to.
Somepony had slid an envelope under the door while she’d been sleeping. It only had her name written on it, and a plain wax seal on its back that popped open easy enough.
Come to Acherontia tonight at sundown. Enter the second level via the stairs. Dinner will be served.
Rainbow Dash may accompany you, if you choose.
I possess the means to cure you.
It got her attention, at least. The promise of a cure sounded too good to be true, but it was worth a gamble. She looked up Acherontia in the hotel’s local attractions guide.
We could wax poetic about this restaurant’s unique, beehive-evoking architecture, but the real star is its selective honey-based haute cuisine fit for a queen. Acherontia has more than earned the buzz surrounding it, even if its prices sting a little.
At the very least, it was a free dinner. Applejack was already at the door by the time Sparky came around. “Feel up for a trot?”
Sparky looked at her like she’d talked in Old Ponish. “You mean outside?”
“Sure do,” she said as she put the letter in Sparky’s hooves.
They arrived at the restaurant about twenty minutes later. Acherontia looked less like a beehive and more like one of Granny Smith’s wicker baskets turned upside down, with wooden planks woven through whiteheart arches to make a big hut with light ebbing out of the holes in the weave. Stairs tucked into the side led up to a smaller, unlit entrance on the second floor.
“What’s our plan?” Sparky asked.
“Head on in, load up on the grub, give a listen, and if everything goes pear-shaped, talk our way out.”
“Talk our way out?”
“Didn’t really feel like starting another fire tonight.”
Sparky rubbed her forelegs together. “Fluttershy should be here. She’s better at talking.”
“Nah, you don’t want that. Best thing that mare can do for herself is stay clear of witches. Besides—” she shot a quick jab to Sparky, “—you’re not too bad at the whole talking thing yourself.”
That got a half-grin out of Sparky. There was something else in that half-grin, some story Applejack hadn’t been privy to, but she couldn’t parse it.
They climbed the stairs and entered a cozy dining room with a banquet table on one side and an easel on the other. In the middle, levitating a lit candle, stood the third pony.
The stranger was the funniest-looking pony Applejack had ever laid eyes on. The unicorn had apples in their cheeks and spindly legs like Granny Smith, but stood as tall as Big Mac and sported a beard like a billy goat. A coat the color of cherry blossoms and a mane as black as the bottom of a cellar pit, except for one streak of fiery red, were wrapped up in a raggedy cloak and pointy hat. Their eyes, like fireworks frozen into two marbles stuck in their head, left Applejack dumbfounded.
“Howdy!” Applejack stuck a front hoof out. “You must have some idea of who I am, but…”
“In exacting detail,” the stranger said. They swung their foreleg at the serving table. “I beseech patience while I complete this alcove’s preparation. Please, partake.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Applejack said. “And your name was…?”
“My exclusive proviso is that no inquiries be posed during the extent of our congregation. In any event, you will find such an interrogation superfluous.”
A bold proposition paid for in five-bit words, but she’d play along while the stranger picked up the tab for dinner. Didn’t mean she couldn’t stir up some trouble, though.
“You gotta help me come up with a nickname for our host,” she whispered a little too loud, on purpose, to Sparky. “I’m thinking…‘Blush-hooves Baffler.’”
Sparky gave her that talking-in-Old-Ponish look again.
She and Sparky loaded up their plates while the stranger reordered some slides. As soon as they took their seats, the stranger began.
“Within days, Ponyville will be deluged with witches and familiars, the extent of which will be unlike anything it has experienced before.”
How’d they know that? Rules be damned, Applejack opened her mouth to ask.
“I make this determination,” the stranger droned on as they flipped over the first slide, “based on the pattern of disappearances reported to Ponyville’s Civil Guard, as analyzed by a system of my own provenance.”
Applejack stood down. The stranger went for a good ten minutes, spouting off each of the witches and familiars they’d found and how to defeat them. The lecture pivoted to the three of them teaming up. “Upon the conclusion of our endeavor, which I anticipate shall occur before the autumnal equinox, we will have rid Ponyville of these malevolent influences for the foreseeable future.”
The stranger took a second off from lecturing, and Applejack shot a glance Sparky’s way. She hung on to the stranger’s every word. Of course she would; the stranger offered her everything she wanted: a chance to grab her sliver of history to do something good for a pony or two. What Applejack hadn’t heard yet was anything about her cure.
The stranger breathed deep and said, “Grief Seeds are of no utility to me, so you may divide what we collect.”
“Why would we want that?” Applejack snapped.
“The question is not of your wants, but of necessities.” The stranger got a nasty look, their eyes and lips getting tugged into sharp angles. “Your necklaces evince signs of extensive dilapidation, particularly yours, A.J. A hunter’s necklace is inexorably linked to her body, and once enervated, its toxicity will annihilate the hunter. Without a Grief Seed to replenish your necklace’s energy, you will die within days.”
So, the promised cure was more Grief Seeds. “Pass.”
She walked into the night as calm as she’d ever been, leaving the stranger yammering on about “that irrational niddering.” There was a kind of comfort in knowing the inevitable. Grief Seeds might have taken almost all her decency, but Applejack planned to hold tight to the little that remained. Now it sounded like she wouldn’t have to hold on for too long.
Sparky’s voice came from above. “Give me a sec.” Hoof steps clip-clopped down the stairs behind Applejack.
“Go on, Sparky,” she called out behind her, “go save Ponyville with Enigma Shadowmane up there. Your slice of history is waiting on you.”
“Yeah, that’s not how this works. If you walk, I do too.”
Applejack sucked down humid air. “You wouldn’t be so raring to go it if you knew the dark alleys I’d lead you down.”
“I’m not scared of dark alleys. If something jumped us, we’d kick its flank and send it packing, no sweat.”
Applejack had one nerve left, and Sparky sure enjoyed jumping on it. She marched back up the stairs and got in Sparky’s face. “Do you want to know what I thought of you, first time you showed up at the hotel with that laurys board under your wing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, ’shucks howdy, this here’s the pegasus who saved my tail, what a swell lass.’”
“‘Easy mark,’” Applejack said. “Somepony I could scam into getting me what I wanted and leave behind when she got inconvenient. Still feel like meeting me in a dark alley?”
“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to say all that out loud. That’s gotta be the first rule of scamming somepony.”
There went her last nerve. “I didn’t used to be like this!” she said, her legs shaking. “I used to be grateful and humble, and strong, too. Good heavens, was I strong. Now look at me. All I’ve got left is this rotten flab. That, and a pinch of shame.”
“I don’t know what you went through in Canterlot,” Sparky said, “and maybe you had to do some rotten stuff there to get by, but that doesn’t mean you’re rotten. Even if you’ve kept doing that stuff, you can turn it around starting tonight. All you need is one chance to do something good.”
“Consarn it, Canterlot wasn’t the problem, it was the Grief Seeds this thing keeps me hooked on!” She jangled her necklace. “I should have known shoving pieces of those witches’ hearts would leech everything decent out of me. It’s what happened to Rarity too, and in case you’ve got trouble drawing a line through us two points, it’s what’ll happen to you. Understand?”
“Actually,” Sparky said, “that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Featherbrain.”
“No, really, hear me out on this. Rarity wasn’t mean. She was actually one of the most selfless ponies I know. She’d save me and Fluttershy from labyrinths, give us stuff all the time, look out for us, you name it. Plus, she didn’t look, you know…” She traced an arc of nonexistent flab around her foreleg. “So, I don’t think those Grief Seeds changed you at all. If you changed after moving to Canterlot, that’s on you. But that also means it’s on you to change now that you’re back in Ponyville.”
“Ponies don’t change,” Applejack muttered. “Not for the better.”
Sparky’s half-grin came back, the one telling a story that Applejack couldn’t parse. “Did I tell you about this grouch I knew? She was a real nasty pegasus. She’d lose her temper with her best friend all the time, try to badger ponies into doing things they didn’t want to do, and mope around her house when she didn’t get her way. Just last week, she was about to black out on cider after another fight, but you better believe she’s changed since then. Wanna know what she’s doing now?”
“What’s that?”
“Getting ready to be awesome,” Sparky said as her hoof slid around Applejack’s foreleg and refused to let go, “with anypony who wants to be awesome with me.”
CENSORS RANSACK NEWSROOM
Trio wreak havoc, confront editor in chief
Early this morning, three censors forced their way into this paper’s newsroom in an attempt to halt printing operations and distribution of today’s issue to readers.
Rainbow Dash, a censor wielding a lightning-producing device, was visibly gleeful as she vandalized desks and typewriters near the entrance. Witnesses reported that she exclaimed, “Let’s show them who’s the boss!” at the start of the attack.
Not all censors were as jubilant amidst the rampage. Applejack, equipped with spools of rope, expressed reluctance, saying Rainbow had “talked me into” participating in the raid. A third censor chose to remain anonymous.
Their initial efforts were stymied when a group of photographers ambushed the group and captured Applejack’s necklace. As the photographers attempted the same feat on the stranger, Rainbow intervened, losing her own necklace instead. During this melee, the stranger made a statement unfit to be reproduced in a family paper.
Without the protection of their necklaces, or access to their weapons, Rainbow and Applejack succumbed to the pressures of modern journalism. While the stranger chased after the surviving photographers, the other two censors shrank to the size of letters on a page and fell into the newsroom’s recently-installed “hot metal” typesetting system.
The new system, a mechanical marvel which produces printing plates using brass molds and molten lead, subjected the two little ponies to a sweltering, clangorous ordeal. They dodged sheets of metal the size of a house wall falling from above, while slipping down a slick incline and onto a line of of prepared type. Safety proved elusive, as an assembly shuttled them into the casting mechanism, from which a gas-heated pot spat globs of molten lead as hot as the interior of a pizza oven. Moments before the lead poured over them, Rainbow seized Applejack and leapt off in an attempt to glide. With her wing injured, she succeeded only in a perilous corkscrew descent onto the cooled printing plates accumulating at the machine’s base.
Once the duo landed, their plates whisked to the printing press to be prepared with ink. While Applejack escaped with only a spray of ink, the sticky substance doused Rainbow, gluing her to the plate. Applejack hurried towards a pneumatic tube, already loaded with a canister holding a message for the photography department, leaving a trail of tiny black hoof prints behind her.
Then the printing press whirred to life.
Seeing Rainbow incapable of escaping the massive paper cassette that rolled towards her, Applejack left the safety of the pneumatic canister and returned to the press. Unable to operate its controls, Applejack resorted to bucking the thin metal rails guiding the paper cassette. Her efforts appeared futile until, with her last kick, the rail snapped, knocking the cassette off center and into the press wall. Alarms blared as the machine ground to a halt.
The two dragged themselves from under the huge press, after which Rainbow expressed regret for “talking you into this.”
“Nah, I had a real hoot with this,” Applejack replied. “Might even try it again, if we get the chance.”
The two then speculated on what foe the press’ alarm might summon.
* * * * *
A Message to our Readers from the Editor in Chief
The responsibilities of an editor in chief are as varied as the articles that run across my desk every day. Two, though, are principal among them: the objective presentation of the truth, and the efficient distribution of the newspaper itself. Therefore, the days these two responsibilities conflict prove to be the most challenging.
When I answered the klaxon sounding from our printing press, I was aghast to find censors had disabled it, even after our courageous photojournalists confiscated their necklaces. To repair the press by conventional means would cost tens of thousands of bits and delay publication for weeks. This outcome is beyond unacceptable.
There is available to me one power to undo this wanton violence and restore our press: retraction. Through this act, the attackers and their consequent devastation shall be struck from history. In this, the red pencil is mightier than any censor’s sinister magic.
Retraction of an article, an act of self-censorship, is not a choice I undertake lightly. Only in this, the most extreme case of saving this paper from destruction, can I justify this compromise of our profession’s core value: telling it like it is.
Yet even as I prepare the fatal red stroke, the stranger bursts in carrying a pneumatic tube message with tiny horseshoe prints and the photographs of the other censors’ necklaces. The photographs fly to the press and, seconds later, all three censors stand before me, their powers fully restored.
Despite my best efforts, this will be the paper’s final issue. However, as I cease publication under an onslaught of rope and lightning, I am reminded that news is, to quote one great newspony, the “first rough draft of history.” In this respect, every word of every column is its own contribution to eternity. Thus, even as we face our end, we are raised above the tedium of, as one of the censors said while smashing open my black heart with her rope, “taking this whole thing one day at a time.”
Applejack knew she ought to be paying attention. Sparky prowled down amongst the quarry’s rock walls with fog thicker than pea soup and glowing a sickly green from moss and moonlight blanketing her vision. The Adventure Book nestled in her foreleg, she was putting her life on the line to find a way into the labyrinth. One stray step might send her tumbling over a cliff’s edge or into the witch’s hideaway. Applejack’s job was to watch Sparky like a hawk and keep her out of trouble, but between the cool granite against Applejack’s belly and the hours without end they’d spent searching that night, her focus strayed.
She thought back on all the witches and familiars they’d done in over the past thirty-nine days. That was a track record worth a little pride. The stranger’s list from Acherontia put Applejack’s jury-rigged guesses to shame, getting them a general time and place for each labyrinth weeks in advance. From there, Sparky and The Adventure Book got them in, and all three of their wits put together got them out.
Tonight, though, Sparky was having a rough time finding the entrance. With her muzzle buried between the pages of her book, she got within a skinny whisker of walking off an outcropping before Applejack whistled. Sparky snapped out of The Adventure Book, saw the edge, and hopped back. She nodded at Applejack and worked her way down a ramp in the wall on hoof.
Applejack shook her head in sympathy. No pegasus should be forced to drag their hooves in the dirt like that. Watching out for her was the least Applejack could do, considering…
Considering that Sparky had gotten herself grounded on account of saving Applejack’s sorry rump from the fire at Rarity’s. Saving a pony’s life once would be enough in most anyone’s book, but then she’d come back to talk some sense into Applejack outside of Acherontia. Two weeks after that, she’d shown up at Applejack’s door with a box of fine stationery in her saddlebags.
“You gotta make things right with Fluttershy,” she’d said before Applejack could speak, “so we’re going to write something to her.” Next thing Applejack knew, pen, paper, ink, blotting pads, envelopes, and even some out-of-date stamps were sprawled across her desk. She’d figured Fluttershy would be perfectly content to never hear from her again, but Sparky insisted, so they’d spent hours fretting over what Applejack could write. When they finally threw in the towel, Sparky had gotten up to leave without touching the stationery.
“You might as well pack it all up,” Applejack had said. “Appreciate you trying, but some things just can’t be made right.”
Sparky’d shrugged. “Okay. Try to make up, then.”
Applejack found herself lying awake that night, thinking over the onus that Sparky had given her. She’d clambered over to the desk and started jotting out that she hadn’t meant to do any of what she’d done, didn’t know all the facts, and so on. Those first dozen or so drafts filled up the trash until she tried something different: she wrote, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that I hurt you and Rainbow Dash at Rarity’s home.”
Her apology poured out after that. The next day she showed it to Sparky, and together they’d hauled it out to a mailbox, addressed to a dorm at Star Swirl’s. Then she’d waited for Fluttershy’s reply. After a while of nothing coming back, she decided Fluttershy wasn’t in the mood to write her. She couldn’t blame her.
Then a week later, Fluttershy’s earnest letter accepting her apology, brimming with details about living in Canterlot, and asking to be pen pals arrived. Applejack had been flabbergasted. She’d written back, of course, and the two of them had gotten into a steady back-and-forth. Somewhere along the line, Fluttershy mentioned she had a long weekend coming up for the last day of summer, and Applejack hatched a plan to have Fluttershy come down and surprise Sparky with a visit. Fluttershy had accepted, bless her, and they’d scheduled her trip so she’d arrive while Sparky was tied up at Nurse Redheart’s getting a checkup.
A surprise reunion for Sparky wasn’t the only thing Applejack had in mind for it, though. She’d spent the past few weeks thinking on how to prove she meant what she’d written in that first letter to Fluttershy…and prove to herself she didn’t fear the pain anymore. Now, with a few hours left before Fluttershy would board a train to Ponyville, Applejack had made up her mind. As soon as Fluttershy arrived, Applejack would look her in the eye and repeat her apology word for word. If she could make up with Fluttershy, maybe there were a few other ponies she could make things right with at Sweet Apple Acres.
Of course, she might have some explaining to do, showing up at an apple orchard while harboring a distaste for the fruit, but she’d find a way.
Gravel behind her crunched under the weight of four pink hooves that’d seen better days. “Any yields from Rainbow’s perusal?” the stranger asked.
“Give her a minute.”
Down below, Sparky picked up the pace, making her way through the quarry at a trot, her wings flicking every few steps. Applejack couldn’t help but smile at her gumption.
“With the destruction of this witch, the ultimate objective of our alliance shall be achieved, to wit the elimination of all witches and familiars in Ponyville.”
Applejack nodded. Truth be told, she hadn’t tracked the stranger’s list of witches and familiars like Sparky had. Sparky would know this was their last hunt, though; her last chance to show off. No wonder she worked so ferociously.
“Hereat, I propose hosting a convocation for you and Rainbow Dash tonight at Acherontia.”
“It’s mighty thoughtful of you to throw us a farewell dinner.”
“My ambition is altogether distinct.” The stranger smiled then, an awkward, grimacing judder of their lips and cheeks unlike anything Applejack had ever seen on a living pony.
The two of them were quiet until Applejack recalled the plans she’d made with Fluttershy.
“Fluttershy’s taking the train to Ponyville today to visit with Sparky. Mind if she tags along tonight?”
“Her presence will unsettle nothing.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Sparky ground to a halt by a pool of water where a peculiar hole had opened up in the fog. She tucked the book under her wing—that must hurt with her pin feathers growing out, but tough ol’ Sparky didn’t even flinch—and knocked some pebbles in. They vanished without waves or a splash: she’d found the entrance.
A pink blur came back and caught Sparky between the eyes, snapping back her head and sending her crumpling into the fog. Applejack’s gut clenched as she sprang to her hooves and scurried down the cliff side. She’d been wrong, the pain had been biding its time for thirty-nine days, but now it’d gotten Sparky, and…
Then Sparky hoisted herself back up to her hooves, not a scratch on her. “Did you see that?” she said, indignant, as Applejack reached her side. She pointed to a pinkish splotch on the ground. “It hit me with a radish!”
Whatever hit Sparky got itself pulped beyond recognition, but it didn’t bear much of a resemblance to a radish: too big, not red enough, and frilly bits of leaf. Maybe a turnip or a fancy breed of parsnip.
Applejack let out a whale of a breath. “You gave me a real scare.”
“I didn’t think they could do that,” Sparky said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you worry about it, sugarcube.”
The stranger arrived, their staff hovering close behind. The three of them nodded to each other, silently confirming they were ready to roll.
So this was it. After thirty-nine days, their trio would end with one last hunt, a reunion, and just maybe a new start.
Glaring light caught Applejack off guard, its angle too high to be anything new from the labyrinth. Applejack squinted into it. As her vision adjusted and she saw its red hue, she realized the sun was rising over the horizon.
That made it forty days with the pain still nowhere to be seen. Glory be.
RECIPE: Perfectly Preserved Ponies This simple five-step recipe is a surefire way to keep ponies fresh forever!
INGREDIENTS: Grated apple (preferably something from the macintosh or winesap family) Exactly a dash of rainbow A secret ingredient 3 empty vessels 3 ponies, as good as dead
Step 1. Using a battery of cannons, pummel ponies until tender. Little ponies can be pretty hard to hit, so keep firing until there’s no ammo left.
Quick tip: Having trouble running out of ammo? Try improvising with whatever’s lying around! Rocks, turnips, even stale cakes will do in a pinch.
Meanwhile, cover one basement wall with knives.
Step 2. When the ponies escape the kitchen, chase them into the attic. They’ll try to counterattack, so lure them to a corner and trap them in the cage that was set up earlier.
Don’t forget!Secret Step 0: Set up a pony-trapping cage in the attic. Hang the cage from a chain attached to a slow-winding winch with lots of rusty, clanging parts. The ponies should see, hear, and feel every inch of their descent in Step 3.
Meanwhile, cover a second basement wall with knives.
Step 3. Suspend the cage over a large pool of water. Gather a congregation of alligators, affix friendship beams above their eyes, and add to the water. Set the winch to lower the cage towards the alligators as slowly as possible.
Meanwhile, cover a third basement wall with knives.
Step 4. Stay in the basement and position a lamp to cast four shadows on the wall without any knives on it. Then take one cannon—
Wait, wait, wait, am I forgetting something? Let’s see, I’ve got a home, some traps, a project, those villains coming to wreck all my stuff…
Oh, that’s what’s missing: my villains need a cool name! The editor in chief had censors, the violinfinita had critics, the ringmaster had lousy volunteers, and that big baby at the beginning had a bunch of burglars to buck out. My villains can’t just be “ponies.”
Hmm, let me think… Food critics? Bad tastes? Embodiments of that time I used baking soda when I meant to use baking powder and then everything came out of the oven super gross? Rotten milk?
Ooooh, I’ve got it! If I’m making preserves, that makes me the preserver, right? So my villains should be the opposite: spoilers! And no one beats spoilers like me. Check this out: Next chapter, Rainbow gets crazy powerful but Applejack gets to tell her story. After that, Fluttershy will live out her dreams, but she won’t be only one, so pay attention or else you won’t know what went wrong. The stranger is just pretending to be a big ol’ meanie and in the end, and I mean The End of Time, they’re totally okay with letting everyone die.
Here’s the funny thing about spoiler tags: they only work if you don’t peek. So now the question is, what am I going to do to keep you fresh, my little reader?
That’s right, this is the part where I blow a hole through your screen and drag you back into the basement with me! Do you think I covered these walls with knives for fun?
Step 5. Struggle uselessly against your handcuffs while knife-covered walls creep towards you. Stare, bug-eyed, at your last glimpse of home. Scream and cry to taste. Remember that the stranger, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash are as good as dead, so they’re not coming to save you—
They’re right behind me, aren’t they? Oh, good, and they’re firing killer rainbows at me, too. I knew those alligators with frickin’ friendship beams attached to their heads were a mistake. Go ahead and escape during the confusion; not like I can stop you. I’ll be here, getting my black heart smashed open, and wondering why I didn’t see this coming.
Wait a minute, I did see this coming. Why is this all so familiar?
“All aboard the 9:30 a.m. South Central Regional with service to Appleloosa and all points in between. All aboard!”
The time had finally arrived. Time for Fluttershy to begin her five-day break from her apprenticeship, a break she wouldn’t get again until next year at the earliest. To see the friend she missed dearly. To visit the village she called home. To indulge in the nostalgia of another harvest celebration.
Why, then, couldn’t she rise from her seat? Why could she so easily imagine the train rolling away without her?
Some of Fluttershy’s trepidation surely stemmed from a presentation Sunset had taken her to about the magic of The Adventure Book two weeks ago. Or, more precisely, from the fact she hadn’t divulged one word about it to Rainbow. At the time, absolute secrecy had seemed the best strategy against a pony who, not too long ago, had pushed her to lie to Sunset for a chance to learn anything about the book.
But that Rainbow had been replaced in Fluttershy’s life by a pony who wrote letters after each labyrinth extolling the courage of others and conceding her own weaknesses. Against this new Rainbow, Fluttershy’s defenses disintegrated, leaving only the secrets to which she guiltily clung.
Fluttershy could survive guilt. After all, she had tried to withhold Sunset’s initial invitation to study at Star Swirl’s and should have learned from it that honesty was always the best policy. She’d survive relearning that lesson.
“Doors close in five minutes for the 9:30 South Central Regional. All aboard!”
Fluttershy rose from her seat, took a step towards her train…and stopped, her hooves frozen in place by nameless anxieties. She knew she had to move. Equestrian railways were famously punctual, and delaying any longer jeopardized Applejack’s surprise. A surprise so thoughtful and friendly…and startling…and uncharacteristic…
And too good to be true.
Applejack had shocked her before, of course. Fluttershy still remembered opening Applejack’s first letter and, with total disbelief, reading, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am…” Her disbelief didn’t subside when she put the letter away, unsure of whether she would ever hear from, or speak to, Applejack again. Later that week, though, Fluttershy reread Rainbow’s first letters and discovered in them something she hadn’t seen before.
We were exhausted, overwhelmed, and cornered! I thought the stranger and I were goners, but then we saw Applejack…
…Applejack was so brave, distracting them so I could gallop to the heart…
Isn’t Applejack awesome?
Yes, the Applejack in Rainbow’s letters was awesome, as well as brave and a good friend to Rainbow. Nothing like the Applejack that Fluttershy knew.
In fact, the Ponyville that Rainbow wrote about was also unlike the Ponyville she knew. No ponies were cut to pieces, no bereft mothers took their own lives, no dreams burned down in the middle of the night, and no intruders intent on torture and murder lurked around corners. To Fluttershy, reading about Ponyville and Applejack in Rainbow’s letters was more fantastical indulgence than reminiscence.
Fantasy though it may be, Rainbow believed in it and strived to make it real. Fluttershy had endeavoured to craft a token of faith in Rainbow’s world by writing a letter to Applejack accepting her apology and offering to be friends. She and that Applejack had fallen into a regular correspondence afterward, and now she was one train ride away from seeing that world, and that Applejack, brought to life.
Or exposed for a lie.
“Doors are closing for the 9:30 South Central Regional! This is the final call for 9:30 service to Appleloosa and all points in between. All aboard!”
There was no more time for indecision. She had to go, but if she changed her mind, she could exit at a station on the way and turn back. Fluttershy walked, at last, up the stairs into the nearest carriage and proceeded to the rear of the train, where she’d booked her seat. She reached the door to her carriage and slid it open.
“YOU’RE KILLING THEM!”
A foal’s squeal, followed quickly by sobs, greeted Fluttershy.
“Shoot, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” a mare said. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t cry.”
Fluttershy continued down the aisle until she found her seat, directly across from a chubby unicorn colt, whose sobbing had crescendoed, and a frantic unicorn mare too young to be his mother. No guardians appeared to soothe the pair, but that didn’t surprise Fluttershy much. She had grown used to seeing young unicorns walking around Canterlot by themselves, rather than guarded zealously as they were in Ponyville.
For a moment, she considered leaving them alone, but Sunset had urged her to speak up more in class…and these two young ponies looked so morose.
“Is everything okay?” Fluttershy asked the mare.
She turned to Fluttershy with an aghast expression. “I’m so, so sorry, ma’am. I’ll try to get him to stop, I swear.”
“Can I help?” Fluttershy asked with a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard him say—”
“Oh, I’m so stupid.” The mare levitated a copy of The Adventure Book in front of Fluttershy. “Have you heard of this?”
Fluttershy brightened as she recalled the presentation from two weeks ago. “It just so happens—”
“It’s this magic book that my brother and I love. We take our copies everywhere, but last night we were packing to visit our uncle in Appleloosa, and our parents thought the books didn’t work there.”
Luckily for them, Twilight Sparkle had gone to Appleloosa earlier that summer to set up the magical network that let the books work. “Well—”
“But our uncle wrote last week saying it worked there now. So I packed my book, but mom packed my brother’s bags and she didn’t pack his book.” She indicated the weeping colt. “Now he wants to read mine, and I told him it won’t work, because it’s my book, but he kept being so bratty and…” The mare slumped, planting her forehead against the seat in front of her. “And I said something really mean.”
By then, the colt was reduced to sniffling.
Fluttershy slid the book, which the mare set down after her frenzied explanation, back towards the pair. “You and your brother can share your book and read your own stories at the same time.”
The mare stared at her. “What?”
“The pages are enchanted with a tessellated, multiplex, visual-hallucinogenic spell,” Fluttershy said, carefully repeating the unfamiliar term from the presentation. “If you’re in the middle of a long story, it continues in any copy of the book you read, even if somepony else is already reading it.”
The mare kept her eyes on Fluttershy for a moment. Then she turned to the colt and levitated the open book between them. “Hey, kiddo, can you see your bees here?”
The colt’s horn flashed without effect before he reached out and adjusted the book so its pages, which to Fluttershy appeared to be the prologue of a novel, were visible to his sister. “These two are best friends,” he said, pointing to what he must have seen as a storybook illustration, “but they got lost, so I have to help them get back to their hive.”
The mare glanced to Fluttershy. “I had no idea. Thank you so much, ma’am.” She tousled her brother’s mane with a weary smile. “I’m sorry I said they’d be lost forever. Maybe, if you tell me what’s happening, we can help them together.”
“Okay!” He smiled back at her. “And then me and Cap’n Dapper will fight that dragon with you.”
She scoffed. “And how do you know about Captain Dapper?”
Their banter continued, leaving Fluttershy to settle into her seat. As she did, she found that a hint of enthusiasm for her trip had appeared. It might be true that some of Ponyville’s danger, Applejack’s callousness, and Rainbow’s stubbornness lingered. But they had all changed, too. Rainbow wrote with touches of her own form of humility, as did Applejack with compassion, and they both described moments of glee returning to Ponyville. Fluttershy could look forward to seeing all of that with her own eyes, despite whatever challenges remained.
She began to wonder if she had changed as well.
“Is that Cap’n Dapper?” The colt abandoned his sister’s book to stick his head out the window.
“No, kiddo, Captain Dapper isn’t real,” his sister said as she looked out the window with him. “That soldier does kind of look like him, though…so does he, and him…and him…” She ears flipped back. “Gosh, that’s a lot of soldiers.” She pulled her brother away from the window and slid The Adventure Book in front of him. “Why don’t you tell me what the bees are doing now?” As he complied, she discreetly lowered the shade.
Fluttershy glanced out her window. She saw no soldiers, but noticed that the platform was unusually crowded. Strangely, it seemed ponies were leaving the carriages near the front of her train. Then she saw that the station clock read 9:45. They were already fifteen minutes late; so much for the railways’ reputation for punctuality!
Muted sounds of a commotion in the carriage ahead caught Fluttershy’s attention. She peered down the aisle, but saw no clue as what might be causing it. However, the unicorns around her seemed to intently busy themselves with reading books, examining briefcases held in their laps, and in some cases, studying the floor or their own hooves. How odd.
Their carriage door rattled open, revealing a unicorn stallion clad in golden armor. As he marched into the aisle, trailed by two identical ponies, he barked, “Everypony, immediately collect your personal belongings and vacate this train. By order of the Minister of Transportation, all civilian rail service from this station is suspended until further notice.”
All wrong.
Rainbow should have been celebrating. She, Applejack, and the stranger had just finished taking out the last witch in the area, at least according to the stranger’s list. Ponyville had a ton of cool stuff planned for the start of fall. And she’d gotten awesome news from Nurse Redheart that afternoon.
Feeling like her life was about to fall apart had to be all wrong.
She stood in front of the entrance to the second level of Acherontia trying to figure out what was behind the stranger’s mystery dinner. If she had to guess, she’d say the stranger was about to break up their kick-flank witching-hunting team because there weren’t any witches or familiars left. Every second of working with the stranger had been awesome (if a little confusing—they had warned her and Fluttershy against following Rarity, only to recruit her later). She wasn’t ready for it to be over.
But maybe she was wrong. Maybe the stranger had plans they’d show to her and Applejack at dinner tonight.
Except the stranger hadn’t invited Rainbow. She’d found out from Applejack, who assured her the stranger meant to tell her and made her promise to come at sundown. What if the stranger had had second thoughts about a pegasus on their team who couldn’t fly?
Then again, Applejack had practically pranced away from the quarry that morning. She obviously wanted to quit hunting, maybe move back in with her family. When they met up for laurys games these days, Applejack pretty much only reminisced about Sweet Apple Acres or shared some news she’d gotten from Fluttershy. She never talked about hunting anymore, not that Rainbow could blame her. Covering for a grounded pegasus must have worn her out.
A breeze rustled through Rainbow’s mane and tugged at her feathers—her fully regrown feathers.
Nurse Redheart had told her at her check-up that afternoon: way, way ahead of schedule, Rainbow’s primary and secondary flight feathers had all come back in. She’d taken some test flights afterward, and although she’d struggled to gain much altitude or speed, she didn’t do too badly for somepony who’d just spent six weeks on the ground.
And that should have been the biggest reason of all to celebrate as she climbed the stairs up. Instead, she clung to her freshly-recovered wings as the last chance for her to stop being deadweight on their witch-hunting team. If there was something else bugging the stranger and Applejack, and they still split up…she didn’t want to think about it.
Inside, things looked pretty much the same as last time—buffet-covered table to the right, empty easel at the back with two chairs in front of it, lit candles around the room—but the mood felt completely off. Applejack moped by a window to the left while the stranger paced in a circle around the easel. Neither of them reacted when she entered.
“Are you guys okay?” Rainbow asked.
“Eeyep.” Applejack didn’t act okay, but she also didn’t act like she wanted to talk about it. She rose and walked towards the buffet table. “Might as well ring the dinner bell now that we’re all here.”
“Hey, before we do that,” Rainbow said, already feeling butterflies in her stomach, “I kind of have an announcement.”
Applejack paused by the plates and waited for her, but the stranger kept pacing. Rainbow cleared her throat to try to get the stranger’s attention. No dice. She took a breath and said, a little louder than she meant to, “I can fly again.”
The stranger stopped pacing.
“Lands sakes!” Applejack grinned. “I thought you were plucked clean ‘til winter.”
“Me too, but Nurse Redheart gave me the a-okay. I’m not a hundred percent yet, so…” The window on the left caught Rainbow’s attention. “You know what? I’ll just show you guys—”
“No.”
The stranger, in heavy, deliberate steps, faced Rainbow. She hadn’t noticed it before, but swollen dark flesh ringed their left eye.
“The fact of your splendorous repair is utterly manifest.”
“Thanks,” Rainbow said, “I think.”
“Adulation was not…” The stranger hesitated. Their jaw and throat muscles flexed as if chewing and swallowing the rest of what they were going to say, and they turned to the easel. “I posit that Kyubey is owed some thanks.”
Rainbow puzzled over that. “I don’t get it. I haven’t seen him for… Since before the mansion burned down.”
“Since the day of your wish,” the stranger said.
“Oh, yeah.” Her wish, the fire, and fighting Applejack really had all happened on the same day.
The easel levitated in the stranger’s magic and folded up in a series of loud snaps.
“For how long has flying strained you, Rainbow?”
“Just today, obviously.” Except…it hadn’t been just today. She remembered how, right after testing her lightning power, she struggled to fly back home. Then after she escaped the fire, she’d wavered in circles until she found Applejack. That had to be from exhaustion, though. She didn’t remember having trouble flying to Rarity’s mansion from Fluttershy’s cottage after the fight with Applejack.
No—she’d walked from Fluttershy’s cottage. She’d forgotten that.
The stranger made a stack out of some presentation cards and the folded-up easel, like they were ready to go. They didn’t leave, though. Instead they walked towards Rainbow, their eyes fixed on her, and asked, “Applejack, for how long have you detested apples?”
“Who told you I had a thing against apples?”
“You blamed the resurrection of your father,” the stranger said, as if oblivious to Applejack’s question. “Convinced that his miraculous return and the subsequent miasma of his traumas stripped the nuance from their flavor, you abhorred apples ever since. Do I err?”
“Let’s suppose you’re right. You got a point coming?”
“What day, in relation to your wish, did your father return?”
Applejack frowned.
“The day after,” Rainbow said for her.
“Yes,” the stranger said. “Now, Rainbow, I pose one ultimate question: would you remove your necklace?”
A shiver ran down Rainbow’s spine. Remove her necklace? The stranger might as well ask her to peel off her skin. She hadn’t taken off her necklace since she’d gotten it, even for showers and to sleep…but why? The only times she hadn’t worn her necklace were when it’d been stolen in a labyrinth, and that’d made her almost powerless.
“That sounds like something a witch would want,” Rainbow hissed.
“That’s enough!” Applejack hollered. She pointed to the stranger. “You’ve had your fun, now you leave Sparky—”
The stranger’s magic swarmed around Applejack and her necklace. The necklace snapped off, and she began to slide back.
“Let her go!” Rainbow shouted. “Quit picking on her!”
“Watch.” The stranger spoke in a whisper. Their eyes glistened. “Please.”
“I said quit it!” Rainbow headbutted the stranger, to no effect.
Two warnings was enough. She swung a right hook at the stranger that their staff knocked aside, but the uppercut she followed with connected hard on their chin. Applejack’s necklace clattered to the ground, and Rainbow scooped it up.
“Sparky?” The word came from across the room in a strained, distorted voice. Rainbow looked up, but where Applejack had been standing seconds ago, a plain white statue of an earth pony without any mane or tail teetered off-balance.
“Spar—rk—” the statue said before it toppled onto the buffet table. Oats and squashed fruit poured over its rigid surface.
Rainbow couldn’t move as slow hoofsteps echoed across the room. The stranger walked to the statue and levitated Applejack’s necklace away from Rainbow.
“Their ingenuity is incredible, all things considered,” the stranger said. “Kyubey’s masters, I mean. They recognized the woeful inadequacy of ponies against the vicissitude of witch and familiar labyrinths, but nothing they could do would strengthen you sufficiently or endow you with recuperation of acceptable speed. Instead they found it simpler to remove your weaknesses: bones, muscles…viscera. His masters had no use for these frailties except as the raw material for this.”
They tapped on the lifeless statue’s head.
“Kyubey’s master cannot control hunters directly, so they’ve repurposed your memories, mind, and soul, and built a sturdy vessel to keep them safe.” As the stranger spoke, Applejack’s necklace floated back to the statue. When it came within a pace, the statue shimmered, and Applejack’s amber hide and blonde mane appeared. Tenderly, the necklace wrapped around Applejack. She sputtered to life.
“Magic must have addled them,” the stranger continued, “or perhaps they found it unnecessary. Whatever the reason, the result is that a hunter possesses only the most elemental ability intrinsic to her race. Strength, flight, or levitation. Whatever had been unique to her—the magic of her cutie mark—is lost forever.” The stranger left Applejack coughing on the floor. “Do you understand?”
Rainbow understood perfectly. She was not the pony she thought she was. She wasn’t a pony at all. Her wish had killed Rainbow Dash, ripped apart her body, and used it to build the machine now listening to the stranger. She and Applejack were nothing more than alien weapons tricked into thinking.
“Go back to the hotel, okay?” Sparky lounged on a cloud outside of her home, a highfalutin affair of columns and rainbow falls floating over a hill. All Applejack saw of her was a rainbow tail fluttering in the late evening breeze. “I’ll meet you there ASAP.”
“You said you’d meet me at the hotel the last time I came here,” Applejack said. “Forgive me if I find your credibility a mite strained.”
“This time I…promise?”
“You promised last time, too.”
There was only one thing to say about how Sparky was acting: all wrong. Applejack just wanted to know what had happened after she’d passed out last night, but Sparky had spent the whole day either flying around out of earshot or stringing Applejack along with promises to talk later.
“Tell you what, I’ll spare us both a trip.” Applejack shrugged off her saddlebags. “Why don’t I sit right here ‘till you’re ready to talk?”
Sparky’s head popped over the cloud’s edge. “Could you walk around or something?”
“Nope.”
“Please? When you’re not moving it’s kind of…creepy.”
Getting bothered by a pony sitting still? Applejack added it to the list of ways Sparky was acting all wrong. “I’ll dance a jig if you want, but only if you talk to me about last night.”
“Fine. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Applejack started walking a lazy circle under Sparky’s cloud, minding her achy hock. “Ol’ pointy-head got nosy about my taste in apples and your skill with flying, and…” She swallowed. “Then you started spitting out some fightin’ words—”
“Before that, they asked if I would take off my necklace.”
“I recall things going about like that.” She had to focus on each step to keep balanced. Just remembering the question made her woozy. “Well, next thing I knew, I was getting back to my hooves, the stranger went out the door, and then you went out the window.”
“Don’t you want to know if I took off the necklace?”
Applejack skipped a step. She couldn’t picture it, didn’t even want the idea floating around. “Nope. Anyway, that’s my side of the story, so it’s your turn now.”
Only the whistle of wind answered her. She looked up and caught Sparky’s eyes. Some trick of the moonlight gave Sparky’s necklace an odd, almost oily gleam.
“Have you ever heard of char winds?” Sparky asked.
“Sure have.” Granny Smith had recounted her grandpa’s stories of billowing black clouds sweeping across the eastern sky, and the fearless pegasi who used to knock them back, to Applejack and Big Mac when they’d been foals.
“Do you know how the old Air Guard put an end to them?”
“Afraid not.” All Granny Smith had said about the matter was that earth ponies ought to thank their lucky stars the char winds were gone for good.
“They figured out that the dragons caused char winds by setting off volcanoes and sending the ash clouds over Equestria. Back then, dragons would flex their muscles by acting like they were going to ruin Equestria’s crops and starve everypony. So Air Guard gave them a taste of their own medicine and flooded all their gem mines.”
Applejack shivered. No wonder Granny Smith hadn’t said word one about that. Stealing a bite to eat was one thing, but it took a real cold-blooded monster to go around destroying someone else’s food stocks. “How’d y’all do that? Sent a big storm over there?”
“Yeah, except ‘big storm’ is kind of an understatement. Air Guard used a hurricane.” Sparky hopped off her cloud and grabbed it with her forelegs. “I bet you’ve never heard of a hurricane, so imagine this puffball is the biggest storm you’ve ever seen.”
“Truth be told, I haven’t ever seen more than a half dozen storms, and they were weak little things. Y’all do a good job with the weather.”
“Okay, so think of the worst storm you’ve ever seen, but ten times worse. That’s what this cloud is.”
“That’s a ‘hurricane’?”
“No, that’s just a bad storm.” Sparky got the cloud spinning in place. “To make a hurricane, you build rings of these, thousands of them, and stack all the rings on top of each other. Then you get those rings to turn together so the little storms juice each other up.”
Sparky nudged the cloud a little faster. Puffy gray arms like wisteria vines stretched out and stroked her cheek. “There’s this chain reaction. Wind builds on itself until it’s not wind anymore, it’s this howling wave of air like a whirlpool in the sky. That much air going that fast will strip a tree down to its trunk, rip that trunk out of the ground, and throw it around like a twig. It only gets stronger as you get closer to the center, too, but right at the storm’s heart…”
She punched a hole clean through the middle of the cloud.
“Total, perfect calm.” She caught Applejack’s eyes again. “That’s how Air Guard controlled the hurricane they sent over the dragons’ mines. They loaded an armada of airships with the top weather teams in Equestria, built the hurricane from the inside out, and then steered it from the eye. No dragon could even get close to them.”
“Sparky, what’s that got to do with last night?”
For a minute or so, Sparky hovered while her cloud slowed down and drifted apart. She drew one of the pieces to her chest. “You know what? I should grab a bite to eat first.”
“I had a hunch you might be hungry.” Applejack stopped pacing and emptied a collection of fruit and sliced bread out of her saddlebags. “I swung by Acherontia on the way here and picked up some leftovers from last night.”
“They let you have all that?”
“They sure didn’t stop me.” Applejack grinned. “Of course, no one caught me jimmying their pantry lock.”
“Wow.”
“C’mon, dig in.” She began spreading out the chow. Sparky landed a few seconds later with the cloud piece clutched tight. “Didn’t know you were bringing a friend.”
“Hey, since you’re good at breaking into places,” Sparky said, “do you think you could sneak into the Air Guard Reserve training field and get me a bomb?”
Applejack snorted. “Why in blazes would you want a bomb?”
Sparky squeezed her cloud until it leaked water and turned white. “Remember the hurricane? That’s what pegasi are born to do. We turn water and air into forces of nature that scour the ground, knock down towers, and douse fires.” Bits of cloud floated away from her with every word. Her necklace’s oily gleam, the one Applejack had convinced herself was just a trick of the light, came through clearer than ever.
“But we don’t do that anymore,” Sparky whispered. “We drop bombs, these machines that unicorns make from metal mined by earth ponies. Air Guard took everything that made pegasi special and gave us these machines we’re supposed to drop down mine shafts. Why would they do that?”
The cloud’s last wisps vanished, revealing Sparky’s necklace oozing pure black.
“And what do you think Kyubey does with his broken machines?”
Applejack had to be calm. She had to fix this. The Grief Seeds she’d been stocking up were in the hotel, and she and Sparky had to get there right now.
“Sparky,” she said, breathing deep to hide her panic, “how about we go for a walk?”
“So you can get Grief Seeds?” Sparky shook her head. “I don’t want to waste any more of them.”
‘Waste’ jolted Applejack. How many had Sparky used already? No, that didn’t matter. “It’s not a waste to keep trying, not when it’s important.”
“Air Guard destroys broken bombs. It’s not safe to be around them.” Then Sparky rocketed into the sky.
“Sparky!” Applejack shouted. “You get down here!” She hushed, strained her ears for any reply, and could just barely make out…an old campfire song? Not Sparky singing, though: a chorus of ponies, their voices carried on the wind. If they had a pegasus, or even a unicorn with a good reach on their levitation, she could reach Sparky or get a Grief Seed up there and buy some time. Applejack galloped to the hillcrest and scouted around until she caught sight of a cart rolling her way, full to bursting with unicorns, earth ponies, and one yellow pegasus with pink mane and tail.
Venom she’d built up waiting hours for a train that never came bubbled up into her throat, but she forced it down. Fluttershy was here, and not a second too soon. Fluttershy would know what to do. She had to.
Applejack took off for the cart at a breakneck speed. One of the unicorns pointed to her, and the group’s harmony fell apart into half-hearted tunes going every which way. “Fluttershy!” she called out.
Ripples of tension ran up Fluttershy’s back, and her wings shot out. Applejack reined in her pace as Fluttershy turned around with eyes the size of dinner plates. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” Fluttershy said, “they stopped all the trains in Canterlot.”
None of this was how it was supposed to be: Fluttershy saying sorry to her and half jumping out of her seat when Applejack called her name. Applejack had to fix that before anything else. “Don’t you fret one bit about that. I didn’t mean to startle you none, I’m just pleased as punch to see you back home.”
The burly earth pony pulling their cart finally came to a stop, and Applejack halted with them. This was the moment, she knew, her chance to say her apology to Fluttershy.
Except Sparky didn’t have time for that.
“Sparky’s not in a great place—” she began.
“I’m sorry, who’s Sparky?”
Applejack could have kicked herself. She never used nicknames in her letters to Fluttershy; it seemed disrespectful somehow. “Rainbow Dash. She’s over in her cloud castle right now, feeling pretty down, but I’m plumb out of ideas about how to help her. Do you think you could go talk to her?”
“Of course.” Fluttershy slung a saddlebag across her barrel, said a soft goodbye to the cart, and stretched her wings. “Applejack, I’m very happy to see you too.” Then she took off.
Applejack turned her attention to the cart. Two unicorns had volunteered to haul the cart for the rest of the night, but it looked like they were making a mess out of changing the hitches. At last, something she knew how to fix. “Can I lend y’all a hoof?” she asked.
The unicorns beckoned her over, and it took a few minutes to get them all set. As soon as they were on their way, she strolled up the hill, where Fluttershy and Sparky sat across from each other. Sparky talked with her head hanging and her ears back, while Fluttershy listened with a hoof over her mouth. Applejack picked up the pace towards them.
Fluttershy noticed her first and gestured for Sparky to stop gabbing. Applejack figured the two of them had been thinking through whatever they wanted to say. Well, she was ready as she’d ever be to hear it. She got within a few paces and sat down.
“Rainbow has something she’d like to tell you.”
Applejack tried to ignore all the conclusions she was jumping to in her head. “In your own time, sugarcube.”
Sparky stole a glance at Fluttershy and champed her bottom lip.
“Go on,” Fluttershy said. “Remember what I told you: honesty is always the best policy.”
Sparky looked to Applejack and scuffed the ground. “So I tried dives today. I probably overdid it a little.” Her ear flicked. “Or a lot. The last one I tried, I started the pull-out pretty late and…well, I came to a few hours later and my necklace was like this.”
“You bolted from Acherontia to do dives all day? What gave you that cockamamie idea?”
“I got my cutie mark during a dive, and I thought that if I felt something different doing a dive now, I could find out what my special talent was.” Sparky looked to Fluttershy. “You remember that, right? When I got my cutie mark?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” Fluttershy rubbed her front hooves together. “Was I there?”
“Yeah, it was after that big race where you got knocked all the way to the ground. When they brought you up, Hoops really laid into you, calling you a mud lover and a rock licker.” Sparky smirked. “So I dive-bombed him right through the clouds.”
Fluttershy gasped. “I remember now! He was gloating about winning the race, too.”
“Yeah, well, he stopped gloating when I dragged him in front of that ugly, moss-covered boulder. Let’s just say he found out who the real rock licker was.”
“Oh, Rainbow, please don’t tell me you made him lick a boulder.”
Sparky snickered. “I did! I totally did!”
Applejack had had about enough of their tomfoolery. “I never understood what got y’all featherbrains so bothered about rock licking. Everypony knows you can’t tell good kaolin from bad without licking it.”
The two pegasi stared at her, and Sparky’s mouth flapped open.
“No one really eats mud, though,” she added, “although you might gnaw on some clay if you’ve got the shakes.”
Fluttershy mumbled, “Granny Smith said the same thing. I thought she was just teasing.”
That sent Sparky into hysterics.
Any other night, Applejack might have gotten the funny feeling that Sparky was laughing at her, which could have started a fearsome grudge. All she felt tonight, though, was a pang of heartache.
When she’d been a filly, Big Mac’s habits of self-reliance, speaking softly, and carrying a mighty kick had taught her how to deal with schoolyard bullies and, later on, survive in Canterlot. Sparky and Fluttershy stood for a different way, though: talking through what bothered them and looking out for each other. Seeing it with her own eyes, she realized there was a lot to be said for that kind of life. She liked to believe that Apple Bloom had picked up a bit of it from growing up with Fluttershy, too.
“It’s a shame I didn’t know y’all earlier,” she said as Sparky’s cackling wound down. “Between learning from your kindliness, and fearing your retribution from on high,” she said, nodding to Fluttershy and Sparky in turn, “maybe things would have turned out a little differently.”
Fluttershy’s hoof gently pressed her leg. “We’re here for you now.”
“Retribution from on high?” Sparky’s expression turned giddy. “That’s it! Flutters, my special talent wasn’t about dives or flying, it was about protecting you from bullies. I flew faster in that race than I ever had before because I was defending your honor. Hoops may have won the race, but I did that epic dive bomb on him so he’d never bug you again. All the bullies are gone now, so it’s okay if I can’t do that anymore.”
Fluttershy slid her face behind her bangs. “I’m not sure that was your special talent.”
“It’s gotta be!”
Whatever Fluttershy said, it came out too softly for Applejack to hear.
“It’s important to me,” Sparky said. “You know why.”
Fluttershy took a deep breath. “You tried your best, but no one could have stopped all the bullies in Cloudsdale.”
“What do you mean? Who would mess with you after what I did to Hoops?”
“Hoops did, for one,” Fluttershy said. “A few days after the race, Hoops and his friends pinned me down. Then he shoved pebbles into my mouth and shouted, ‘Now who’s the rock licker?’ at me the whole time.”
A peculiar look ran across Sparky’s face. She whispered something like “Because of me,” but a gust of wind kept Applejack from parsing the rest of it.
“No, of course not,” Fluttershy said. “Rainbow, please understand that I’m only saying this because I never want to be dishonest with you again. None of it’s your fault. Besides, I still had my hidden cave back then, so I…” She hesitated as her wind whipped her mane around her head. Petrichor inundated the air. Thunder crashed. “What’s happening?”
A storm’s true capacity for destruction comes from its floods. When a storm releases its millions of tons of rain, gravity drives the resulting deluge to overwhelm anything caught in the path of least resistance.
“Her necklace! Something’s wrong with Rainbow’s necklace!”
Rage surges through Rainbow in a deluge. It possesses, surrounds, and takes it vengeance. Her ears fill with the sound of the world tearing apart, her nose with the stench of ozone, her mouth with rain. As she pushes against the world, she feels it bend to her will, and then break, leaving rubble from which to build reality anew.
“Snap out of it, Sparky!”
Bombs? Storms? Volcanoes? Asteroids? They’re all negligible compared to the psychic energy released by a hunter’s necklace as it implodes. Ponies near the center of the event perceive the tertiary effects on their mind as a labyr…no, a home forms around them.
This is the power of the hunter becoming the hunted.
The power of my becoming the hurricane.
My thunderheads unleash volleys of lightning and swirls of sleet. My arms of fluid pressure, both vacuous and crushing, condense into the storm walls of a serene central eye. All who dare enter will know only destruction. With my perpetual vortex of heat and wind, I will keep Fluttershy and Applejack safe.
And mine.
Forever.
* * * * *
Hold on there, Sparky, it looks like you forgot whose turn it was to tell this story. Don’t you worry, though, I’ll make this quick.
I never did thank you for setting me straight when I was about to throw everything away, so I want to show my appreciation while I’ve still got the chance. Here, it’s my heart. It’s only thing I’ve got left like this.
Careful now! You got awfully strong as the hurricane, and you’re liable to go breaking it if you’re not gentle. Don’t fret about your own heart, I’ll keep ahold of it while we talk this through.
You told me once that life’s short, but it’s a gift. Of all the adages you’ve given me, I reckon it’s the only one left we don’t see eye-to-eye on. Life ain’t a gift; it’s lent to you. You get to do what you want with it while you’ve got it, but you live every second knowing a time’s gonna come to give it back, and you don’t get a whole lot of say in when that time comes.
Look here at this pony scared out of her wits. I know what you’re thinking: if she’s the last pony to remember you, it means once she passes on, you’re gone for good. So I can understand why you’d want to keep her safe forever and never let her go, but the longer you keep her trapped here, the less she’ll remember who you used to be. You’ve got to trust she’ll remember you as her friend for the rest of her life. And that’s a real gift.
There’s just one way to let her go, and it’s not the kind of thing anyone ought to go through alone. But that’s all right. I’m here for you, just like you’re here for me.
Got my heart? Good, because I’ve still got yours. Now, do this with me.
Squeeze real hard.
Fluttershy had the most awful dreams. In the glare of moonlight, she stared into a blazing abyss too large to hide in any dungeon. The lives of everyone she knew, the destiny of Equestria, and the fate of the world depended on her. But she did not face the abyss alone. Even as slithers of fear wormed into her fading hope, Fluttershy took solace in knowing that no matter what became of her, she was among friends.
Then, one by one, they turned on her. Lightning from a howling storm stabbed her while surging water swept her away. Vines dangled from orchard trees, whispering of halcyon days as they wrapped around her neck. Needles shrieked through her bones and dragged her across a stage like a marionette. Giant alligators swallowed her into bellies of scorching iron.
Terror didn’t end her dreams. They repeated with fresh betrayals until she understood her friends’ agony and compassion overwhelmed her. Her mercy grew to depths her friends could not see it as she embraced them with her wings, filled them with warmth, and burned them all to ash.
When Fluttershy woke, she found herself in a corner of her bed, as still as a corpse. She pulled the sheets back around her, gazed at her plush rabbit Angel lying on a distant shelf, and counted the craters in the Twin Sisters on the Moon to lull herself to sleep again.
For the first time in her life, she counted every crater. Then she counted them again. And again. And again. Sunlight obliterated the moon’s features, and her counting went on through the morning and afternoon as an unending string of meaningless numbers.
“Fluttershy?” Kyubey’s voice filled her head. “Don’t be alarmed that you can’t see my body. This isn’t the normal projection process.”
She kept counting.
“This is not good, though,” Kyubey said. “If I’ve engaged you, none of the hunters I’ve recruited remain. Do you know what happened to Applejack and Rainbow Dash?”
No words could describe Rainbow transforming into a hurricane, or Applejack becoming a sprawling orchard, her vines reaching out to Rainbow’s black heart, and…
“Their necklaces broke,” she said.
“Oh, they became witches. Did that unicorn you call ‘the stranger’ destroy them?”
“No.”
“Then they must have destroyed each other.”
She didn’t say a word as she slipped out of bed and started for the stairs. Kyubey’s voice haunted her every step.
“I’m sorry you saw that, Fluttershy. Hunters are at risk of becoming witches if they overexert themselves or become emotionally overwhelmed, but I avoid informing them of that because it can exacerbate the danger. For the same reason, I don’t recruit ponies who are aware of the risk unless it’s absolutely necessary. That makes what I’m about to ask you difficult, though. Tonight your world faces an existential threat that a hunter has to stop, and you’re the only pony with whom I can engage.”
Fluttershy reached the front door, pushed it open, and left.
“My creators first detected a familiar of unprecedented strength several weeks ago. However, I was unable to warn anypony because the stranger destroyed my prior instance the day I recruited Rainbow. Usually it takes ten to twelve weeks for me to project into your world, but there was a sudden release of psychic energy nearby that allowed for this alternate process. That energy must have come from Applejack and Rainbow destroying each other as witches.” He paused. “At least their deaths will mean something this way.”
She passed Sugar Cube Corner, a chain and padlock holding its doors shut. A sign hanging from the chain read, “FOR SALE.” Rainbow would have missed their blueberry danishes.
“Please believe me, I am not here to harm anypony. My creators detected a dangerous source of psychic energy enter your world over a thousand years ago, and projected me here to repel it. I recruited a hunter, but my creators didn’t understand emotions like they do now, and their models didn’t predict that hunters would eventually transform into witches. At first they attempted, without success, to prevent transformation in later hunters. Later they learned to harness the psychic energy of a witch’s labyrinth to reverse entropy in their world, so they focused on increasing hunter longevity and energy efficiency.”
Somehow she’d drifted towards the path to Sweet Apple Acres. For nearly a decade she had taken Applejack’s place, befriended her family, and reared her sister, only to abandon that life. Applejack should have gone back to fill that emptiness.
“I understand if you’re still upset, but maybe it would help to recall that ponies are already mortal. By making them hunters, one of their fondest wishes will be granted, they gain immense strength, they’ll destroy familiars and witches, and when it’s time for them to be destroyed, their energy is bequeathed to my creators to reverse entropy. Doesn’t that sound better than just living and dying?”
New fences surrounded the Air Guard Reserve training field, allowing Thunderlane and his flyers space to prepare for their activation exercise. It seemed pointless to build a fence to stop pegasi, but perhaps some magic barrier would zap her if she tried to fly over.
She turned right and kept walking.
“Fluttershy, there’s not much time left. If you make a wish now, I could explain how to extract your weapon and identify this familiar’s weakness.”
She stopped at a knoll where the sun hung low in the sky. How many times had she cherished watching it set? Would it matter if she never saw it set again?
“You could wish for Rainbow back.”
“Why don’t I wish that you’d never come here?” she hissed. “Wouldn’t that fix everything?”
“That wish would be disastrous,” he said. “Wishes that change the past almost always result in temporal paradoxes that require the creation of familiars to avoid collapsing the universe. However, if you were to wish that I’d never come, you would unleash a thousand years of familiars, and I couldn’t recruit any hunters to stop them.”
Rainbow had watched the sunset with her last time, turning the insular dusk into a shared tableau. She should have invited Rainbow to join her sooner. Rarity, too, and Applejack…
“In fact, my creators hypothesize that the stranger has developed a mechanism to control time, which would account for their effectiveness and the quantity of familiars—”
“Just. Leave.”
It was silent but for her shuddering breaths. She’d beaten Kyubey, and now she claimed her prize: a sun sinking into the ground, its lively yellow decaying into moribund red. Fetid, humid air turning icy. Swarms of droning insects tearing apart living matter for sustenance.
Why had she ever pretended to live in a different kind of world?
When the stranger arrived, they appeared frailer than ever with a black eye joining their gnarled staff, decrepit cloak, and slouched hat.
“I would join you,” they said gently, “if you accept my company.”
Fluttershy gestured to the empty space beside her, and the two of them sat. The stranger turned their head to the night sky.
“Could you assist my astronomy for a moment? These old eyes have surrendered much of their former talent.” They pointed up. “Do you mark the trio of stars to the right of the moon?”
“Yes. It’s the Archer’s Bow constellation.”
The stranger made a contented noise. “In the antiquities, those three formed the head of the Shepherd’s Crook. Would you care to hear the story of that metamorphosis?”
“No. I would like you to tell me if something terrible is coming tonight.” Her voice shook only a little.
“It is true,” the stranger said somberly. Their jaw grew firm. “The monstrosity’s assault upon our world is nigh, but I will defeat it.”
What astonishing hubris. “You can’t save the world. You couldn’t save even one of my friends.”
“Your assumption is flawed. It is within my power to ensure the survival or demise of anyone.”
She didn’t believe it until Kyubey’s words returned to her: the stranger could control time. If that was true, then the stranger could bring back Rainbow, Rarity, Applejack, and Mrs. Cake at any moment…and every moment, chose not to. “You mean you’ve let them die.” Her chest tightened. “You let them die.” Her mouth dribbled froth. “You let them die!”
“And I anguish for it,” the stranger said. “When my work is concluded, I shall bear that anguish alone, due to means beyond your appreciation.”
“Then explain it all to me,” she demanded, “beginning with who you are.”
The stranger didn’t speak until, at last, they took their eyes from the sky. “The first thing you must know,” they said, “is that I have so many regrets.”
Flurry Heart started to fret. She’d looked everywhere for Auntie Twily! Then she turned to Mommy and Celestia, saw them smiling, and knew everything was going to be okay.
Hide and seek was one of Flurry Heart’s favorite games to play with Auntie Twily. Today they were playing at Celestia’s and Luna’s home in a room with a whole shelf of books Flurry Heart could read on her own, lots and lots of toys, and a big fuzzy rug. Mommy and Celestia watched from a corner, but they weren’t playing, so they couldn’t give Flurry Heart any hints.
Today Auntie Twily had shown her a new way to play hide and seek. First, she taught Flurry Heart how to tell when another pony cast a spell, which was called ‘sensing.’ Then Auntie Twily would cast a spell to hide, and Flurry Heart had to sense the spell she used and find her. Auntie Twily had already hidden as the ballerina in a music box, as a picture in a book, and even turned herself invisible. But no matter what Auntie Twily tried, Flurry Heart always found her with sensing.
This turn, Auntie Twily said she’d be extra tricky with the spell she used, so as soon as Flurry Heart counted to ten and opened her eyes, she sensed so hard her head hurt a little. But she couldn’t sense any spell, and she couldn’t see Auntie Twily anywhere.
She did sense a something near a strange bump in the rug. Maybe Auntie Twily had shrunk herself and hidden under the rug? Flurry Heart made the whole rug go up over her head and peeked under, but Auntie Twily wasn’t there, so she let it drop.
The something was still there. Also, part of the rug didn’t want to drop anymore.
Daddy always told Flurry Heart that she was a very, very smart girl, and Daddy never lied, unless he was telling silly stories like that the moon was made of cheese or that an evil queen had pretended to be Mommy and tried to marry him. Because she was very, very smart, Flurry Heart knew there were different kinds of rules. Some rules, like staying quiet during naps, had to be followed only when somepony said so. Other rules, like never saying naughty words, had to be followed always, and if a pony didn’t follow them, they got in trouble.
Then there was a third kind of rule that everything everywhere always had to obey, no matter what. One of those rules was that everything fell down if it wasn’t flying or being held up. But if everything everywhere always had to obey that rule, why didn’t all of the rug fall down?
Flurry Heart realized what the something was. She looked up, and there was Auntie Twily, standing on the ceiling because she’d made it so that where she was, everything always fell up instead of down. Then Auntie Twily’s horn twinkled, Flurry Heart burst into giggles, and she fell up into Auntie Twily’s big, warm wings just before the rug covered them both.
“The original draft of Star Swirl’s Birth, Life, and Offspring of Alicorns is kept…in here?” Twilight Sparkle eyed the cabinets of cold steel shutters beside her, one of which was marked Tartarus Containment Procedures, T’q through Z. Even with a dampening aura dulling her perception, she sensed enchantments strong enough to repel a platoon of trained unicorns.
“Luna and I collected as much of his original work as we could find after he and the Pillars disappeared,” Princess Celestia said. “His most sensitive material we were compelled to store in this secured vault. Of course, he had to swear to secrecy regarding his work when he returned.” She nodded to a guard on the other end of the aisle. Simultaneously they turned a pair of keys with their hooves.
The cabinet nearest to Twilight clanged open. She peered into its dark interior and saw a tray holding a crudely bound book, a tied-up scroll, and a messy pile of loose pages cut in various sizes. If it was like other manuscripts from the era, the bound volume would be his book, the scroll would be a list of corrections known as a corrigenda, and the looseleaf papers were appendices. Twilight tried an easy glow spell for a better look, but a sharp headache from the dampening aura cut her efforts short.
“In particular, the editions of Alicorns available to the public omit certain topics.” Princess Celestia beckoned Twilight to stand back while the guard lifted the tray out and set it on a folding table. “If we are to measure Flurry Heart’s growth against alicorns of the past, we’ll require the full scope of his research. You may find it most useful to begin with his second appendix, which contains his observations of Luna’s and my adolescence.”
Twilight looked over the cover of the bound tome. Its title, translated from Olde Ponish, read Observations on the Alicorns, including Phenomena Relating to their Birth, Life, Offspring, and Death.
“I’m sure, but…” Twilight’s eyes didn’t budge from the title. …and Death.
“Is something wrong? There are meditation exercises to help with the dampening aura if it’s still bothering you.”
“No no no, it’s not that. It’s just that I hadn’t realized alicorns could…well, I thought they, I mean, we, were…”
“Immortal?”
“Yes…that.”
“Oh, we might be, but none of us ever live long enough to find out.” Princess Celestia laughed gently. “No, Twilight, everypony is mortal. Even in the distant past, alicorns rarely lived more than a few tens of thousands of years before succumbing to disease or injury. Of course, life was different when Star Swirl found Luna and me…”
Princess Celestia’s look grew dour, but Twilight didn’t dare interrupt her. As far as she knew, neither of the Princesses spoke of what had happened to the other alicorns of the past.
“If there is one immutable law of the universe,” Princess Celestia said, “it is that everything except entropy is temporary. Do you know the ruins rule?”
Twilight hesitated, unsure of the non sequitur. “Isn’t it part of the architectural approval process in Canterlot? I don’t really know the specifics.”
“The rule is rather simple: when deciding whether to approve construction of a new building, Luna and I consider the quality of the ruins it will leave behind.” She fixed an eye on Twilight. “I have watched many great works turn to ruins in the past thousand years, and we alicorns will watch many more in the millennia to come.”
Celestia changed topics again and explained Twilight’s assignment to study how a race of reproducing alicorns would affect Equestrian population dynamics. As she did, Twilight began to wonder how outliving countless projects, commitments, and relationships had changed the way Celestia thought of time.
“…Most of the population dynamics equations are based on a normal distribution for age of reproduction,” Twilight said as she and Starlight Glimmer left the Ponyville train station, “but with alicorns, it’s better to use a log-normal distribution. Each alicorn could bear offspring for millennia after her peak fertility.”
“Uh, wow…” Starlight said.
“And then there’s life expectancy! For other ponies it’s a right-skewed normal distribution, but for alicorns I used a simpler exponential distribution, which means alicorns don’t need actuarial tables. However, the more complex demographic simulations rely on actuarial tables, so I’ll have to come up with new models from scratch!”
“That’s…really something.”
Twilight giggled. “Let me know if I’m going overboard. I might be a teensy bit excited about all this new mathematics.”
“It’s fine,” Starlight said. “I do feel a little like I’m back at school, though.”
“That’s so funny, I feel the same way! Probably from researching so much for Princess Celestia’s assignment.”
Her trip to the vault, and the information she’d gleaned from Star Swirl’s book, had left Twilight unsettled until she began translating it all into mathematics. A median life expectancy of 4,529 years didn’t mean she had to think about the next forty-five hundred years of her own life. A mixed-parentage birth rate of 50% wasn’t a coin flip that Princess Cadance would outlive by millennia any other children she and Shining Armor decided to have. Numbers made everything manageable.
Somewhere along the way they’d turned down the wrong alley. However, a peculiar urgency drew her further into it.
“Let’s hurry up,” Starlight said, “we don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Get in trouble?” Twilight hesitated. What did Starlight mean by that?
Then she remembered: if she arrived in her seat even a second late, their stern homeroom teacher would gleefully mark her tardy to ruin Twilight’s perfect attendance record. She and Starlight had spent too long reviewing their notes before class, so now they had to take this shortcut…
“Please stop, both of you!”
They ground to a halt. An albino quadruped with pairs of both feline and lagomorphic ears, a vulpine body and tail, and tiny red eyes without discernible pupils hopped in front of them. Probably some miscreant’s idea of a prank with the biology lab’s taxidermy models.
“You may be experiencing atypical urges due to an outpouring of psychic energy,” it continued. “Ignore them and turn back.”
“Psychic energy?” Starlight asked. “That better not be on the test.”
Twilight shook her head. “Oh, you’re always getting worked up about tests. Don’t worry, we aren’t getting to that until next year—”
A belief that Twilight held in her core shattered. She and Starlight weren’t rushing to school, they were in a dead-end alley facing a mysterious talking creature.
And Fluttershy had appeared behind it.
She shook on her hind legs, steadying herself with a hooked staff she held with one foreleg. With her other foreleg, she clutched a colt Twilight didn’t recognize. Ash covered them both. Something like the Element of Kindness hung around her neck.
“Fluttershy?” Twilight’s word seemed to set everything in motion. Fluttershy dropped the staff, and her forelegs swooped together to cradle the colt while a whimpering dog skittered from behind a trash can and licked the colt’s cheeks. The white creature leapt to a pearl wrapped in black wire that hadn’t been there a moment before while Starlight stepped towards them hesitantly.
“There, there,” Fluttershy cooed to the colt, “it’s all over now.” The white creature said something to Fluttershy about ‘psychic energy transfer,’ but she ignored him and turned her attention to Twilight and Starlight. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What happened?” Twilight asked. “You just appeared out of nowhere.”
“I’m sorry, I’m really not sure I could explain it.”
“I can explain everything,” the white creature said.
“I’m fine, though, and luckily he slept through all of it,” Fluttershy said, brushing the colt’s mane. “But how about you, Augusta? Are you feeling better?” She placidly watched the dog paw at her side, at first. Then she squinted and her ears drooped.
“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked.
“Nothing, just…I can’t understand what Augusta’s saying. We should get them home now.” The colt began to wake, and she set him onto the ground.
“What do you mean that you ‘can’t understand’ the dog?” Twilight said.
Fluttershy shrugged. “It’s like she was only barking.”
Twilight’s forelegs wrapped around Fluttershy in a heartbeat. “We need to get to my workshop, now,” she said, and teleported them both to the crystal palace.
Twilight was setting up the thaumameter when the white creature appeared.
“I’m sorry, I never asked who you are,” she said to it.
“My creators are from a distant world in a parallel realm of existence—”
“Inter-dimensional space alien, got it. Fluttershy, hold your breath…”
The crystal palace workshop never felt adequate. Despite tools arrayed in dizzying variety, reagents stocked as if from bottomless caches, and reference books shelved like a monolith, some vital resource always went missing. Starlight, for instance. Besides being a terrific lab assistant, Starlight had unique experiences with respect to ponies losing their special talents, although that’d been from a darker part of her life. When she got back from helping the colt home, Twilight would have to think of a tactful way to ask about it.
Twilight also made a mental note to contact the princesses about the alien. Equestrian history brimmed with first contacts, although never with a race from space as far as Twilight knew, and the Foreign Ministry could get the standard diplomatic process started with the alien. For now, she had to focus on Fluttershy.
The thaumameter chimed, signaling the end of its test, but its results returned as normal as everything else she’d tried. Twilight crumpled up the printout with a throaty “Ugh.” She would have to go back to scientific basics: gather data, hypothesize, test.
“What happened back there?” she asked.
The alien answered first. “My creators projected me to your world to help remove escaped experimental psychic energy sources. Generating psychic energy surrounds the adjacent area in participant-dependent, dissimulative phenomena, which lured the colt inside and injured the colt’s dog. Fluttershy came next, and she made a wish to heal the dog, which I granted. Then…” It hesitated. “Your language lacks sufficient terminology for this concept, so I’ll use euphemistic placeholders: I taught her to use a Soul Gem, which is the object around her neck.”
Somewhere in what it’d said hid a clue to restoring Fluttershy’s special talent. “Tell me about these ‘experimental psychic energy sources.’ What generates energy like that?”
The alien didn’t say anything for a moment. “This is strange. Your language has the terms to explain in detail, but the definitions are nonsensical. Is there anything I could read for supplemental context?”
Twilight pointed to the bookshelves. “I’ve got reference texts on physics, chemistry, and thaumaturgy over there.”
“Actually, it appears your world studies this under… What is ‘psychology’?”
Using a mix of duplication and teleportation spells, Twilight summoned a stack of psychology textbooks in front of the alien. The alien nudged the first book off of the stack and, a little adorably, wrestled it open to the first page. It read quickly, flipping each page after only a few seconds.
“I felt like I was in a labyrinth,” Fluttershy said while the alien read. “I knew that I needed help, but whenever I tried to get out, some trick drew me closer.”
“Closer to what?” Twilight asked.
“Closer to…” Fluttershy shivered. “It loomed over him, leeching his life like a witch from a scary story. Somehow, though, I felt sinister.” Fluttershy’s eyes flashed, two emeralds catching the light. “And that felt right. I’d been made to hunt it.”
Twilight leaned away from her in shock, but whatever had possessed Fluttershy vanished.
“Oh, it was awful!” Fluttershy moaned. “I wanted to talk to it, ask it nicely to let the colt go, but I couldn’t stop myself from swinging away.” She slid prone to the floor. “In the end, I kept him safe, I guess.”
“That’s right,” Twilight said and hugged her. “You did keep that colt safe. If there had been any way to help him without hurting this ‘witch,’ you’d have found it.”
Fluttershy wordlessly clutched her close.
“Here it is,” the alien said. It pushed the psychology textbook, open to a chapter titled ‘Emotions,’ to them with its forehead. “This is what witches, as you call them, use to generate psychic energy. However, the definitions in this chapter are still nonsensical. In particular, could you explain ‘fear’ objectively?”
Twilight didn’t respond. Talking to the alien had been useless, and explaining feelings to it wouldn’t help. She’d have to rely on herself to solve this, and so looked over Fluttershy again. One pegasus mare, mysteriously lacking her special talent…and wearing a duplicate of the Element of Kindness, which the alien had called a ‘Soul Gem.’ The Elements were related to cutie marks, and cutie marks were related to special talents, so if the imposter necklace affected Fluttershy’s special talent…
“Hold still a second.” Twilight extricated herself from the hug and seized the necklace with a levitation spell.
“Actually, I’d rather you didn’t,” Fluttershy said, resting a hoof on it. Twilight hesitated.
The alien said, “Before you do that—”
If only the alien had stayed quiet, Twilight might have slowed down. She might have thought more. She might have asked questions.
She wasn’t trying to excuse herself.
But the alien pushed her over the edge, the necklace flew off, Fluttershy shimmered away, a featureless white pegasus statue appeared, and Twilight watched helplessly as everything stopped making sense.
The alien appeared at Fluttershy’s side. “As I said earlier, I taught her to use a Soul Gem. A pony’s body wouldn’t survive long in a labyrinth, as she called it, so the body is replaced with this construct, which can replicate all of a pony’s normal biological and neurological processes. United with the Soul Gem, it is a nearly perfect replica of an average pegasus, except vastly more resilient.”
‘Average pegasus’ stuck out. “What about her special talent? There’s nothing average about a special talent.”
“Then it has probably been annulled.”
Annulled. All she’d wanted was to save a colt and his dog, and as thanks…
“Don’t do this to anyone else,” Twilight said. “Not until we can fix it.”
“Even with Soul Gem training, a labyrinth is very hazardous. A total of nine witches escaped from my creators’ world, and a tenth spontaneously generated here. Fluttershy will need help to eliminate them all.”
“Then we’ll help her.” Twilight wiped dust out of her eyes. “Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Starlight, Spike, and me, we’ll all help her. But don’t you dare recruit them, not if you’re turning them into this.”
“I understand,” the alien said. It launched into more explanation of Soul Gems, transdimensional escapes, psychic energy transfers, and…
Fluttershy deserved an explanation of what’d she lost and what lay ahead. She deserved to hear that from a friend. Twilight only had to find the way to tell her…
“If you’re done observing Fluttershy,” the alien said, “I recommend replacing her Soul Gem. It loses psychic energy when removed from the construct. If kept away for too long, it may cause catastrophic damage.”
No. It was asking too much. Fluttershy shouldn’t have to bear both the truth and the burden of what was to come. Instead, Twilight would shoulder what she could: the truth. That would be how she helped. She floated the Soul Gem back onto the statue’s neck, and her friend returned.
“What happened?” Fluttershy asked woozily. “Everything went dark.”
“That’s my fault,” Twilight said. “You must have had a carotid sinus reflex when I took off your necklace too quickly, causing you to faint.”
“Oh, okay. I better keep wearing it then.” Fluttershy patted the necklace and then frowned at Twilight. “Have you been crying?”
“No.” Twilight wiped her eyes again. “It’s just dust.”
Two full moons had passed since the alien told them about the ten witches in Equestria. The alien told Twilight much more in confidence, such as that no one had ever artificially created a witch and that witches could in theory be harnessed to reverse entropy, but little of that affected Fluttershy’s work. Because she’d made a selfless wish, she alone had to brave all ten labyrinths and destroy all ten witches. After tonight, she’d have four left.
Ponyville glittered like a phosphorescent ribbon dividing the night sky from the prairie as Twilight and Starlight quietly waited for Fluttershy to appear. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were somewhere in the woods to the right, while a cozy-looking campfire to the left marked Rarity’s and Pinkie Pie’s post. As with for every other witch, the six of them needed only to wait for Fluttershy from a safe distance and signal once she appeared.
Twilight had no reason at all to sift through her working theories about witches and labyrinths, or imagine what spells she could use to rescue Fluttershy. She did anyway. It probably wasn’t necessary. Fluttershy had done fine by herself against the other five witches. Why would something go wrong now?
But didn’t that mean it was more likely something would go wrong now?
Twilight was definitely not hyperventilating.
“Are you okay? It sounds like you’re hyperventilating,” Starlight said.
“No no no,” Twilight said, and then sucked down a breath. “Oxygen helps you think—” she gasped, “—so if I expel carbon dioxide—” another gasp, “—faster than my body produces it—”
“Twi, you just defined hyperventilation. Here.” Starlight conjured a paper bag and pushed it in front of Twilight’s muzzle.
“Thanks,” Twilight said as her agitation eased. “It wouldn’t hurt to think about backup plans, though. Fluttershy’s never stayed in a labyrinth this long.”
“It’s been…” Starlight’s horn illuminated a watch. “Forty-eight minutes.”
“Exactly! Her last labyrinth was forty-six minutes! We should plan for exigencies, right? Maybe if we combine Dizzy Flute’s Spell of Astral Projection with Palfrey’s Hex of Insulative Psychic Contrivance—”
“Or, we could make wishes and go in there with her.”
Twilight’s teeth ground together. They had all helped Fluttershy outside of labyrinths as best as they could—Rainbow and Applejack trained her in flying and fighting, Rarity and Pinkie relaxed her with spa days and parties, and Spike made her snack packs—but each had asked Twilight, at least once, about joining Fluttershy inside. Twilight couldn’t tell them the truth and risk Fluttershy finding out what had happened to her special talent, so she’d found other ways to dissuade them.
“That’s an interesting idea,” Twilight said. In her past conversations, it had helped to act sympathetic at the beginning. “What kind of wish would you make? Knowing every spell? Being able to read an entire book in a minute?”
“Heh, you too?” Starlight winked. “But I actually wanted to make a wish that would help Fluttershy, like to make her stronger.” She paused. “Then again, I don’t really know what she needs. I could ask Rainbow, since she already helped Fluttershy get way better at flying. You know, she told me once that Fluttershy would have improved even faster if there had been a Gilda in Fluttershy’s life.”
“‘A Gilda?’ Like, Fluttershy should have had a non-pony friend?”
“The way Rainbow put it, it was more about having someone to motivate you. She said that in her Junior Speedsters flight camp, whenever she lost a race or slacked off with practice, Gilda would start calling her a dweeb, a weakling, a loser, a failure, all this really nasty stuff. She said it peeved her, but afterward she’d push herself to get better. So maybe I should wish that somepony had motivated Fluttershy like that.”
“Ooh, Starlight, I don’t know. You’re talking about changing Fluttershy’s entire personal history.”
“Not her entire personal history.”
“She’s the Element of Kindness, though. Any change to her past could affect all of Equestrian history…”
Starlight’s head dipped, and Twilight realized what she’d done: unintentionally, but nonetheless cruelly, reminded Starlight of her mistakes.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” Twilight said. “We don’t know how the alien’s wishes work, though, so maybe a badly worded wish can cause a universe-destroying temporal paradox. That’s why we have to be careful.”
“That’s…kind of a stretch,” Starlight said. “I doubt the alien could grant paradoxical wishes… Oh, I didn’t see you there.”
“See who?—GAH!” The alien was inexplicably by Twilight’s side.
“Yes, I could grant a paradoxical wish,” the alien said. “However, the paradox would have to be resolved by the creation of a new entity. For example, suppose a pony wished that her grandfather had never been born. Logically this means she could not be born, and thus couldn’t make a wish, producing an immediate paradox. To resolve it, a new entity is created to assume the grandfather’s place in the universe. Other ponies who knew the grandfather would no longer remember him, but would find the labyrinth of the new entity familiar for reasons they couldn’t explain.”
“Labyrinth?” Starlight asked. “Is this new thing like a witch?”
“In theory, they’re very similar, but it would be very inefficient to extract psychic energy from the new entity.”
Twilight thought for a moment. “So a wish that causes a paradox would spawn these…” She searched for a name for this new entity associated with witchcraft, and struck upon the pun: ‘familiar’ could also mean a demon that served a witch. “Let’s call them familiars. We don’t know with total certainty that a particular wish won’t make a paradox, so every wish is a gamble.”
“That is accurate,” the alien said.
“Therefore, no one else should make wishes.” Twilight stifled a grumble. Paradoxes and familiars would have helped a lot five conversations ago.
“I’m not so sure,” Starlight said slyly. “Why couldn’t a pony wish for what they wanted and that what they wanted didn’t make a familiar?”
“That would be two wishes, and I can only grant one wish per hunter.”
“Okay, so what if Twilight wished that wishes couldn’t cause familiars, then—”
“I couldn’t grant that wish either. From a metaphysical standpoint, each familiar is unique, so the elimination of each one counts as a wish.”
Starlight eyed him with one arched brow. “You know, you’re making wishes sound pretty boring. Next you’ll say a pony can’t wish for more than one bit.”
“That’s different. A pony could wish for theoretically unlimited quantities of metaphysically indistinguishable items. For example, a pony could wish to travel throughout the past and future to watch a series of lunar eclipses, or make a similar wish for a series of solar eclipses, but not both.”
“And how many familiars would that ‘see all of one kind of eclipse’ wish make?”
“Incalculable.”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to pass.”
In the distance, Fluttershy emerged from nothing. Twilight cheered and launched a flare spell, which was answered by Pinkie’s party cannon and Rainbow’s brilliant trail. She teleported to Fluttershy’s side, eager for a full report to add to her notes, and froze.
Wobbling on her hooves and drawing shaky, labored breaths, Fluttershy stared into the distance with pinprick pupils. She mouthed noiselessly.
Twilight took a step forward. “Are you okay?”
Fluttershy turned, and her horror vanished behind a gentle smile. “I’m fine,” she said. “Really.”
Twilight and her friends had gathered on one of the crystal palace’s balconies hours ago to watch Ponyville’s Arrival of Autumn Night fireworks. When the show had finished, she’d seen it first: a contorting void in the sky that towered over Everfree Forest, like ropes of pure black wreathed in blazing filaments slithering through a mutating knot. Second by second, it drew closer to them.
“Is that the last witch?” she asked the alien when it appeared. “I thought only ponies in a labyrinth could see a witch.”
“My creators’ models don’t predict what you’re perceiving. It’s a familiar, but of such strength that it’s visible outside of its labyrinth. However, this is definitely the last entity they detected.”
“Good enough for me. Fluttershy, ready to finish this—”
“I’m going to die,” Fluttershy whispered.
All color had drained from Fluttershy’s face. Twilight’s other friends bore their own terror-filled expressions, ranging from Applejack’s grimness to Spike’s claw-chewing.
Stress. It had to be stress from all the prior witches finally overwhelming her. Worse, the rest of them had only helped her outside of labyrinths, and watching her unravel proved how little it’d mattered.
But maybe it’d be different tonight.
“If we can all see that familiar,” she asked the alien, “does that mean we can help Fluttershy fight it?”
“Yes, normal ponies could damage it. However, only a hunter can defeat it with a blow to its weakness.”
“Girls? And guy?” Twilight said. “Did you hear that? Tonight we’re sticking together.”
Horror loosened its hold on them, and seven pairs of eyes turned to her.
“This is scary, I know, but just think of all the end-of-Equestria threats that we’ve overcome together. Remember when we met? We went from a Summer Sun Celebration party to freeing Princess Luna and Princess Celestia. And we didn’t stop there, did we?”
No response…at first.
“Yeah! Like when those pirates helped us kick the Storm King’s sorry flank.”
“I for one would commend our performance during Discord’s usurpation…aside from a trifling mineralogical frolic.”
“Don’t y’all forget about helping Princess Luna deal with that Tantabus so it wouldn't go around vexing everypony with nightmares.”
“I may have gotten the only statue in the Crystal Empire, but trust me, they know we did it together.”
“And do you guys have any idea how many catch up birthdays all of Star Swirl’s friends had?!”
Twilight’s pride in them bubbled up. “We overcame all of that with just the magic of our love for one another. Then, when the challenges grew too much for us, like when Queen Chrysalis kidnapped us and the Princesses, our love grew to match.”
She answered Starlight’s uncertain look with a nod. Yep, that means you.
“I don’t know exactly what we’re up against tonight,” Twilight continued, “but as long as we stick together, I know we’ll overcome it too. We might have to expand what ‘we’ means again, though. Here’s what I’m thinking…”
A few minutes and one group hug later, Twilight’s friends galloped out of the palace with their missions, leaving her and the alien. As they left, she tried to think of whether she’d missed anything or squandered any resource.
There was the one.
“If I need to make a wish,” she said to the alien, “grant it.”
Pinkie had found the perfect place for an ambush. Located just inside the Everfree Forest, the gulch’s entrance lined up exactly with the familiar’s path to Ponyville. Deep ledges lined its steep clay walls, on which countless enormous boulders sat ready. Trees thick enough for ponies to hide behind surrounded it.
“And that’s not all!” Pinkie said, pulling her sister from seemingly nowhere. “Take it away, Maud!”
“There is a karst cave system located underneath. One of its domes is near the far entrance. I removed some of the dome’s support walls, so it will collapse under geologically negligible weight.”
“Thanks so much, both of you,” Twilight said and sent them to their next tasks.
“Make way! Relief mare coming through!” Rarity cried as she galloped up to Twilight. “Is there any chance Spike finished those delightful cookies of his for Fluttershy?”
“Yes he did! Lemon lavender shortbread, fresh from the oven.” Twilight levitated a paper bag to Rarity.
“Spike, you magnificent gem!” She blew a kiss in the direction of the palace with exaggerated gestures. Spike would be watching the battle through Twilight’s telescope and reporting their progress to the Princesses so they’d know the situation when they arrived in the morning.
“How’s Fluttershy?” Twilight asked.
“Nervous, but keeping her chin up. Would you mind terribly stopping by to give her a quick pep talk? We’ll be on that overhang.” Rarity pointed to a rock formation on the right wall.
“Of course, as soon as I can.”
Rarity left, and Rainbow swooped in. “Check it out, Twi, Thunderlane and I got storm clouds set up all around here. Our teams are going to use them to send that spooky thing on a one-way trip to lightning town. Boom!”
Rainbow darted off to rejoin the other pegasi. Twilight spotted Applejack still at work on the gulch floor and teleported beside her. “How are the berms coming?”
“We’re about done down here. Also, I got a few good buckers up on the walls next to those boulders. Figure I’ll join ‘em in a second.”
“Did you find Nurse Redheart?”
“Sure did. A couple of her assistants tagged along too. They’re near the back lines for now, but I hope we don’t need ‘em.”
“I hope so too, but I’d rather be better safe than sorry.”
Applejack made her way up the wall to the left as a small stampede of unicorns led by Starlight approached. “Sorry we’re late!”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got a few minutes left. How’d target practice go?”
“Really well, actually. When this is all over, we might have to get Amethyst Star into the biathlon for the next Equestria Games.”
A magenta mare blushed and waved. “Oh, I just got lucky with those ten bullseyes in a row.”
Twilight ushered them deeper into the gulch. “Everypony, use these dirt walls for cover when you’re not firing. We don’t know whether shield spells work against the familiar, so until we find out, use them only as a last resort.”
Thunderlane and his pegasi team landed nearby and gathered juice while Starlight’s unicorns arranged themselves. Twilight ran through her mental checklist: she owed Fluttershy a pep talk; Applejack had gotten into position; Pinkie had joined Rarity and Fluttershy on the overhang; Rainbow was scouting to make sure the familiar didn’t do something unexpected—
“It’s speeding up!” Rainbow cried out, and everypony scrambled. Unicorns ducked behind berms, pegasi clung to trees, and earth ponies pressed themselves against boulders. Twilight scooted next to Starlight behind a berm.
First she felt the rumble in her lungs and throat. Wind from Ponyville’s direction picked up force, and then howls swept over them from the far end of the gulch. Distant trees cracked as if snapped in half, but without the sound of them falling over. The howls swelled as rays of ghostly scintillation speckled the gulch.
Starlight rocked on her haunches with her head buried in her chest. Nurse Redheart breathed in hurried gulps like a racer. Thunderlane shook and fidgeted. It was so peculiar; even watching their visceral fear, Twilight felt completely normal.
She peeked over the berm. The familiar had stopped at the gulch’s mouth, just shy of Maud’s trap. Its only motion was the endless, twisting distortion of void into itself. Then it began to move sideways, as if to sidestep Ponyville’s only line of defense.
Oh, buck no.
“Hey, you!” Twilight yelled as she hopped into the open. “Aren’t you supposed to be scary?”
The familiar stopped.
“Because if I made a list of what scares me—and trust me, I’m great at making lists—I’d add how my friends are doing, whether I’m a good princess, do I see my family often enough…” She flipped her mane. “Did I leave the oven on?”
She spied Starlight and Thunderlane signaling to each other, and then to their teams. A few unicorns and earth ponies stealthily shifted position.
“You, though… See, when the alien told us there would be ten of you, I just started thinking of you all like a countdown. Fluttershy had already taken care of one, so it was nine, then eight, then seven… Now we’re down to you, and you’re just another number.”
The familiar’s twisting accelerated.
“But you’re just another number,” Twilight said, “and never in my life has a number scared—”
Cacophony: the familiar surging down the gulch, ground shattering beneath it, unicorns blasting it, earth ponies bucking boulders into the air, and the familiar finally hitting the bottom of the underground cavern all combined into a riotous chain of noise. Tendrils sprouted from the familiar and flung out dozens of crackling black orbs, three of which sped towards Twilight. She snapped out bolts to vaporize the orbs and landed one hard blast of pure, dizzying alicorn energy into the familiar’s middle, sending it tilting backwards. It sprang back while she regained her balance, and its tendrils twisted together into a beam that speared at her.
Then Starlight was beside her with a brilliant turquoise shield, the mental force of a single unicorn against all of the familiar’s frothing malice, and it held, deflecting the beam into the sky.
Suddenly, a mass of charcoal-colored feathers crashed in front of them. Twilight teleported the pegasus behind a berm and pulled Starlight to cover with her. “Be careful where you’re sending those! That hit Thunderlane.”
Starlight watched Nurse Redheart’s team gallop to his motionless form. “Oh, no, no, no…”
“Don’t worry, they’ll take care of him,” Twilight said. “Go tell the unicorns that we know shield spells work.”
Starlight nodded and teleported away. Behind where she’d been, Nurse Redheart and her assistants crowded over Thunderlane.
“His body’s cold as stone,” Nurse Redheart said bleakly. “No pulse.”
Lightning bolts thrown by Thunderlane’s teams and blasts cast by Starlight’s team pummeled the familiar from high and low. Amethyst Star rolled into position between two berms and fired a string of ruby missiles into it, earning an ear-splitting howl with each strike. As soon as she relented, the familiar spun in its hole and flung a volley of black orbs in her direction. She dodged one and shielded herself against another, but a third veered without warning and caught her flank before Twilight’s shield congealed next to her. She crumpled, and another unicorn levitated her out of harm’s way. Nurse Redheart’s team swooped in again.
Twilight couldn’t move. She’d thought telling them that shields worked would help and give them more options for cover, but the first pony to try it… She couldn’t see Nurse Redheart, and decided against teleporting to her. Knowing more could hurt.
Clouds drifted down from the sky. Twilight searched the sky for Rainbow, but couldn’t see any pegasi in the air at all. Then the clouds exploded, and burning arrows shot through the familiar. Its howling turned into wild screeches as unicorns and earth ponies redoubled their assault. Twilight joined them, stringing together focusing and amplifying spells into into a surge she unleashed into the familiar’s base.
There. Near its top, curling blackness unwound and exposed a pulsing orange pearl like the heart of a dying star. That had to be the weakness, Fluttershy’s target. But from the overhang, no motion came.
She teleported up to it. Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy huddled together on the ground. “Fluttershy, the weakness is out!” Twilight said. “You just have to hit it on the big glowing spot.”
Fluttershy glanced from beneath her forelegs. “Where?”
The familiar’s top radiated like a lighthouse. Who could miss that? But Rarity and Pinkie shared Fluttershy’s lost expression, and Twilight began to wonder if her own eyes could be believed. She turned back to examine the familiar.
But instead she watched Nurse Redheart’s assistants drag her limp body behind a wall.
“I’ll guide you,” Twilight said and lifted Fluttershy into the air. They soared together above Everfree’s canopies, leaving the battle to dwindle below. In front of them, the familiar’s peak burned against the background of the forest.
“I can feel it,” Fluttershy said as if struck by revelation. “It’s so warm.” She slid away from Twilight and glided down, her hooked staff at the ready. Twilight caught up, took Fluttershy’s foreleg, and squeezed it to comfort her. She turned to Fluttershy and saw her softly smiling back.
If Twilight had been looking in any other direction, she would have missed the tendril whipping at them.
Her bubble shield snapped into place, but the tendril’s immense kinetic energy knocked them down. They slammed through tree limbs and hit the ground with bone-rattling force. A flock of black orbs rushed towards them, and Twilight’s horn ached as she shot them.
The familiar’s tendrils splayed on the ground and pushed it part way out of the underground cave. Then a thunderous crack rang out, and the overhang toppled down into the familiar, pinning it. Maud stood at the precipice as if to stoically take credit.
Hooves clattered nearby, brush pulled away, and Rarity, Pinkie, Applejack, and Rainbow appeared.
“Twi, we’re out of thunderclouds,” Rainbow said.
“Boulders, too,” Applejack said, “and Maud’s probably only bought us a minute or so.”
The familiar’s tendrils wrapped around the biggest piece of the rockslide and began to pry it away.
Twilight took Fluttershy’s hoof in her own, and Fluttershy clasped her tight, seeming to understand. The six of them were the Elements of Harmony, the channels of friendship that bound Equestria together, called once more to protect everything they held dear. Without another word, Fluttershy reached for Applejack with her free hoof, who reached for Rarity, who reached for Rainbow, who reached for Pinkie. Already Twilight felt kindness, honesty, generosity, loyalty, and laughter pour into her, combining with her to form a harmony that no wish could ever replace. Yet their circuit was incomplete. Somepony was missing.
In the gulch, Starlight raced between cover, blasting and shielding with breakneck speed, until in a blink Twilight brought her to them and took her hoof. Starlight’s shocked expression faded as their multi-color trails surrounded her. Together, they rose into the air and towards the familiar. Sweltering heat now gushed from its weakness. Orbs filled the sky, but a helix of rainbow wrapped itself into a corridor from them to the familiar’s weakness, protecting Fluttershy as she flew towards it. The familiar’s heat grew into a beam of fire mitigated only by Fluttershy’s shadow.
Twilight could remember every moment since she’d met these ponies. Every peril and triumph, every bout of anger and lesson learned, every prank and laugh, and every moment of quiet. As Twilight’s fur burned away, water boiled from her body, and hyperthermia fogged her brain, she clung to the memories that would dissolve on her last breath.
Then Fluttershy swung, and a howl like the world shattering filled the air. Twilight fell and crashed into tree limbs, but in front of her the familiar twisted in on itself, its weakness sputtering. An explosion sounded, and shards of void dissipated into the sky.
“We did it,” she tried to cheer, but produced a raspy croak. “Girls, we did it. We did it.” She propped herself up and searched for her friends. “Girls?”
Only the patter of raining ash answered her.
In the hospital, Princess Celestia told her that grief was merely another life process: the slow, quiet mending of one’s heart. There were common steps, but no two ponies grieved the same way. Twilight, for one, had started with a checklist:
Follow her doctor’s instructions.
Remember to eat.
Talk to a counselor.
Rest.
Write in her journal.
Visit Mom, Dad, and Shining Armor.
Go for walks with Spike.
Attend their funerals.
Plan the memorial.
The memorial had proven to be the most laborious item, although she didn’t mind. Busywork meant she didn’t have to think as much. By mid-winter, only the memorial’s location had been decided: a hill outside of town roughly where the familiar would have exited the Everfree Forest. Today would be her first visit to it.
Unblemished snow lent the scene tranquility, and Twilight hesitated before tarnishing it with her hoofsteps. More snow would fall, she reasoned, burying her disturbance. When she got to its crest, she pulled out sketches of different memorial proposals, planning to consider them with the location in mind. There were two designs she liked in particular, simple walls engraved with each of their cutie marks, but for some reason she couldn’t focus on them. She decided to take a minute to rest. A memory of her first Winter Wrap Up in Ponyville popped into her mind, and…
Hours passed. That sort of thing happened, although less often recently. When the sun began to set, she prepared to go home until she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I am a creature of need,” the alien said. “I exist because I am needed, and where I am needed, I exist. It appears I have not been needed.”
“And you are now?”
“Arguably.” It bowed its head in an affectation of empathy. “From my study of emotions, I understand goodbyes are important to ponies.”
Cold wind had made her eyes sting and her nose run. She rubbed her face to warm them. “That’s right.”
“I’m leaving soon, as my functions are complete,” the alien continued. “I’ve confirmed all the witches were destroyed, and gathered data about the anomalous familiar. Unfortunately, I could not ascertain its origin.” It paused. “What is the purpose of your crying?”
“It’s just the cold,” she said, rubbing her face again.
“I see. Before I leave, is there any other information I should convey to my creators?”
Looking at the alien had started to hurt. Something about white on white, surely. She turned to the setting sun in all its stunning beauty.
What she would give to share this view.
“Have you thought about recruiting a hunter before you go?” she asked. “That way, if another familiar shows up, she could deal with it.”
“No. You told me not to recruit anyone else.”
“Well, I also said to grant my wish if I needed to make it.” She smiled. “And you are a creature of need.”
Its undulating tail and featureless expression ate into her thinning restraint. She gritted her teeth behind the tiring smile.
Then it said, “What is your wish, Twilight Sparkle?”
“I wish they were all still alive.” A sob escaped. “Please. I miss them so much.”
“I’m sorry,” it said, and a lecture about metaphysics, conservation of sapience, and psychic energy dynamics followed.
She wept through every word.
“However,” the alien said at the end, “if you wished for one of your friends to come back, I could grant her a wish as well.”
Whomever she revived would wish, without hesitation, to bring back another pony, and so on, until they all lost their special talents. It shamed her how long she considered it nonetheless.
She’d made so many mistakes. Overworking Fluttershy, botching the battle with the familiar, delegating too much; those errors had cost her friends their lives.
“I wish…”
One wish to set right all of her mistakes.
“…that I had the power to return to the past.”
“Okay,” the alien said, “then it’s done.”
She felt weight on her head as a crown materialized. Then, before the alien said a single word about hunting witches, she sent the hourglass in her mind spinning backwards.
Flurry Heart started to fret. She’d looked everywhere for Auntie Twily! Then she turned around, saw Auntie Twily galloping away, and knew something was very wrong.
* * * * *
Memorials: Selecting Location, Material, and Design
By: Twilight Sparkle
(F) <Ms. Sparkle, please see me after class.>
I think I’ve made a mistake.
This place is exactly what Fluttershy said it’d be like. The sights, sounds, even smells all fit for a school, but the feeling… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My guts are strangling themselves with worry, while my heart races because I’m sure I’ve forgotten something critical. This hallway is so empty that I want to cry from loneliness, but I can’t because someone will see me.
And now I feel stupid. Who would see me in an empty hallway?
<Ms. Sparkle, your assignment was to write an essay on the chosen subject, memorials. This emotional, stream-of-consciousness screed is poorly suited to that objective.>
How am I so weak? <Avoid rhetorical questions.> Compared to Fluttershy, I should be at an advantage. She fought through nine labyrinths without any idea of what was in them, and she told me about what they were like. I know what this place is trying to do to me, and I know I have to find the black heart and break it. The colt is safe, <For now…> so I can be patient. <Such a contrived defense for one’s own sloth! Though this institution has means of eliciting more activity.>
Now the lockers are chasing me, and none of my spells work! Well, telekinesis does. I can fight them back with this vaulting pole. Go me, Princess of Lost Special Talents.
Fluttershy told me once how she made her shepherd’s crook, but when I do what she said, I just feel cold. Where’s the alien? I need it to teach me how to fight these things!
<At this rate, the only memorial you’ll be writing about is your own.>
I just realized, I never even finished the memorial for everyone.
What am I talking about? My friends are alive again! I can wrap my forelegs around them and never, ever let go. I just need to get out of here.
<You will never escape.>
But I’ll never escape. I know that now.
<And you have been graded accordingly for your failure.>
This is what failure feels like. Real, meaningful failure. That’s what I am.
Why bother trying? Someone else will tell me what to do.
<Ms. Sparkle, you have fallen so seriously behind that, even with an infinitely long schedule, you would never catch up. Despite the research you claim to have done, you sorely lack practical experience. As you enter my domain clutching that vaulting pole like a blankie you should have long ago outgrown, I can sense the magnitude of your unpreparedness.>
Actually, I think I prepared pretty well. My plan worked, right?
Fluttershy said she saw the black heart in each labyrinth when she was all but sure she’d lost, so I thought your kind might prey on weakness. That meant the sooner I convinced you I’d given up, the sooner you’d let me get this close to you.
It wasn’t all fake, though. I really can’t do more than telekinesis, and I really don’t know how to conjure a weapon like Fluttershy. So I improvised.
<Sports equipment is not allowed outside the athletic areas. Return that vaulting pole to the gym storage room immediately.>
I’d make a joke about taking up some extracurriculars, but I am so done with your sick parody of a school, witch.
<Use of that term is strictly forbidden. Consider yourself expelled.>
Too late.
* * * * *
“The whole point of planning ahead is to not change things at the last minute!” Twilight snapped at Starlight.
“But Polar Calf’s Bulwark is an ablative shield!” Starlight rubbed her temples. “I’d have to make it strong enough to absorb all of the energy this thing is throwing out. Wouldn’t deflection work better?”
“No! Don’t you remember what happened to Thunder…” Twilight stopped. As far as Starlight knew, nothing had happened to Thunderlane. He was calmly sharing juice with his team a few paces away. “Never mind. Just please, please, please trust me, do not use a deflection spell.”
“Fine.” Starlight marched off.
Twilight had changed more than Starlight’s shield for the familiar battle. She’d picked a new staging area for Thunderlane, trained Amethyst Star on hit and run tactics, and ordered Nurse Redheart to stay behind cover during the battle. As for herself, she’d figured out that she could summon a heat shield, no thanks to the suddenly shy alien. Her job would be to make sure no pony got hurt, wait while they softened up the familiar, grab a big rock, put up the heat shield, and bash the familiar right in its weakness.
This would all be over after tonight.
“It’s speeding up!” Rainbow cried on cue.
Out of habit, Twilight tried to cast a teleport spell and…nothing. Losing her special talent stung, but she never once regretted it. Her friends were back. She shot into the air and, with a few quick wingbeats, reached her hiding spot.
Ground rumbled. Wind whistled. Trees snapped. Ghostly lights swam. The familiar howled. It emerged from the tree line, but threw itself into Maud’s trap without hesitation. Twilight felt dread as Starlight bolted from a berm and fired a bevy of scorching blasts. The familiar responded with a spear that crashed into Starlight’s turquoise shield: the mental force of a single unicorn against all of the familiar’s frothing malice, and it held…for a second.
The spear sent Starlight flying through a dirt wall. She collapsed to the ground, her body a contorted heap. Before Twilight’s nausea welled up or her tears spilled out, she sent the hourglass in her mind spinning backwards.
On a humid summer night, Twilight and Princess Celestia landed at the desolate base of an unnamed mountain in the Crystal Ridge. A pristine glacier slunk down its barren slopes and into a gravel-strewn basin. Silt-tainted pools gathered around the ice’s edge. The entire scene glittered serenely in the moonlight.
A false dawn erupted to Twilight’s side. Her wings instinctively covered her face as a blinding column burst from the the second sun, by whose side she’d once snuggled when she felt homesick, and rammed the mountain's apex with sweltering fire. When the brilliance at last faded, her wing retracted to reveal that an undulating mound of glowing lava had taken the apex’s place. Princess Celestia’s aura surrounded the lava and nudged it sideways until it oozed towards the glacier.
That was Twilight’s cue. She summoned her heat shield, enlarged it, and projected it forward, reaching the glacier just as the first smoking finger of lava prodded the ice.
Steam gushed, and an otherworldly crackling filled the air. Twilight sighed in relief. After an exhausting day of testing, it appeared Princess Celestia had finally overwhelmed her heat shield.
When the vapor cleared, though, it exposed a partial dome of jagged, sooty rock tracing the outline of her shield over the glacier without touching the ice. The “steam” had been outgassing from the molten rock flash-solidifying.
The false dawn reignited, now directly into the glacier. Twilight’s wings tensed, but she restrained them and instead summoned a second shield centered on her. The glare abated, allowing her to watch the glacier shrug off Princess Celestia’s solaromancy.
Twilight’s skin prickled from a sudden chill. In the first Hearth’s Warming, Equestria had been founded by three ponies repelling hordes of frigid windigos with their compassion for one another. Then, for a thousand years of its history, the realm had been ruled by the living proxy of the sun. It seemed symbolically ominous that Twilight had gained the ability to utterly negate warmth.
If the Princess shared her distress, she showed no sign of it
“My goodness, Twilight! No spell I’m aware of can inhibit both such extreme conduction and the direct radiance of my Flare spell. I’m tempted to try something considerably stronger, but I would need to see the sun for Nova. An early rising would upset Luna.” She looked at the starry sky, as if considering the option nonetheless. “However, your shield’s origin concerns me. Am I correct in saying witches enable this ability?”
“I’m not sure. The alien said the witches would help its creators reverse entropy, but it never really explained the whole hunter thing.”
Princess Celestia raised an eyebrow at her. “And for how long have you known the alien?”
“It’s only been…” Longer than she thought, actually. The alien arrived in late spring, and she made her wish in mid-winter, so that was eight months. She had one full reset for another four months, and it’d been three months since her second reset. “About a year. It’s tough to get ahold of the alien, though. Rainbow and Pinkie said it talked to them, but I haven’t seen it since I made my wish.”
“I see. When this crisis is over, and the alien is inclined to appear, we should discuss its projects at length. Until then…” Princess Celestia’s wings extended, and a mischievous smile appeared. “Do you suppose you can use that shield to focus heat?”
* * * * *
Journal
This is reset four, day one. A hundred and seven days until the familiar shows up again, and I need to find a way to beat it without anypony getting hurt. I cannot describe how much I hope that this will be the last
I have to stop going into a reset assuming it’ll be the last. From now on, I’ll keep a journal. I can’t take it with me, but I’ll write down observations from each reset, memorize the important parts, and put them to use later.
For instance, I know the familiar can concentrate its strikes. When we had forty ponies in that first fight, it spewed those black orbs. Reset 1 didn’t last long enough to see if it’d use orbs again. In Reset 2, I tried focusing Princess Celestia’s Flare into the familiar, and then in Reset 3 I tried having Princess Celestia and Princess Luna work together. Seeing what the familiar did to Princess
On Resets 2 and 3, I think it threw everything into its tendrils against the Pr one or two strong threats. That would explain why it overwhelmed them when Starlight’s first shield deflected it. One surprising result: it took four seconds to get through Princess Celestia’s shield, but seven for Princess Luna’s—is Princess Luna stronger at night?
More opponents means its strikes are spread out, and therefore are easier to dodge. What if it had to fight an army?
Twilight was swinging jars of fireflies around a darkened study when Rarity appeared at the door.
“Darling, you simply must… Dare I ask?”
“Problem-solving.”
“Solving the problem of fireflies?” Rarity walked in. A wicker picnic basket hovered by her side.
“No. It’s for the battle with the familiar. In the last reset, I mistook a squad of earth ponies for pegasi and sent them up a ledge, then sent thunderclouds their way.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of outfitting them all with differently colored fireflies so it’s easier to tell them apart. The problem is they all blur together when they move too quickly.” She swung the jars in a wobbly glowing circle to demonstrate.
“Hmm.” Rarity paused and tapped her chin. “You’ve said this monster casts a bit of glimmer, have you not?”
“Yes.” Twilight reflected for a moment. She’d been able to distinguish ponies during the first battle, but could barely make them out in the most recent reset. An appointment with an ophthalmologist might be a good idea, but it’d have to wait until after she saved Ponyville.
Rarity took two sheets of paper, a marker, and a pair of scissors to a nearby desk. She switched on its lamp, sketched quick shapes on both sheets, and cut out two pony-like shapes.
“If I may add mon grain de sel, there is a more elegant approach. At night, when colors fade and bright lights dazzle the eye, what remains is our perception of form and motion. Voilà!” The two cutouts snapped in front of the lamp. Twilight saw, at a glance, how wildly their outlines differed. Long, graceful lines draped one silhouette, while dramatic spikes protruded from the other. Even when the two cutouts darted around the room, Twilight followed them easily.
“You mean having ponies wear different outfits? That’s genius!” Twilight said, grabbing Rarity in a hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Think nothing of it. I’ll stop by tomorrow to take your soldiers’ measurements. For now, you positively must get a bit of sunlight and lunch. Everypony else is already waiting for us outside.” She brought the picnic basket and its tempting aromas to Twilight's face.
“I’m sorry, Rarity. I really, really, really wish I could, but—”
“Twilight, urgent message from Princess Celestia!” Spike flew in, an official scroll in his claws.
Twilight shrugged to Rarity. “Like I said, I wish I could.” As Rarity pouted and Spike fidgeted, Twilight opened the scroll and read.
My dearest, most faithful student Twilight, Take a break already. Go on the picnic.
—P.C.
Twilight folded the parchment with a begrudging smile. “You got me.”
* * * * *
Journal
Reset 6, Day 82
Best surprise picnic ever? Yeah! Rainbow made sure it was a perfect day, Applejack brought some cider, Pinkie and Fluttershy sang, and Starlight showed us some photo albums. It was great—just what I needed. All that aside, I lost three hours
I’ll get my work done later. My friends did something sweet and unexpected for me, even if they resorted to some extraordinary measures. I should never be a jerk when they
Okay, I’m not going to become a jerk to them, but what if I did? Hypothetically. Say I got so mean I drove them all away, but without the distractions I figured out how to beat the familiar and not let it hurt anypony. Afterward I could just go back, be nice to them during that reset, and do the bare minimum necessary to beat the familiar. So maybe for the next picnic invitation, I shouldn’t feel too bad telling them to saying that I can’t. I’ll make it up in the last reset, when it matters.
“So…don’t be mad,” Rainbow said from Twilight’s windowsill.
“Huh? Why would I be mad?” Twilight had been reviewing her journal for the reset in a few days when Rainbow popped open the shutters. She set a bookmark and turned to the window, where only the top half of Rainbow’s head and her two front hooves were visible.
Then Twilight remembered to whom she was speaking.
“Why specifically would I be mad?”
Rainbow’s ears flicked away. “First, I just want to say that this whole ‘I’ve come from the future to save Ponyville’ thing is obviously stressing you out like crazy. You look like you got ten years older in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t exaggerate. At most it’s been…” Two years? Twilight checked her math. “Three years.”
“And you’ve been acting extra weird lately. Who buys four lemon cupcakes and seven chocolate cookies every single morning?”
“I explained that. It’s part of the mind palace technique Mudbriar taught me so I can memorize my journal between resets.” Twilight suppressed her ire. “What’s this really about?”
Rainbow winced. “I know you didn’t want us talking to the alien, but—”
Twilight’s horn flashed, and Rainbow tumbled through the window wearing a mimic of the Element of Loyalty.
“Easy!” Rainbow yelped. “I did it because you need help fighting that familiar thing, okay?”
Twilight couldn’t speak.
“By the way, did you get slower after your wish?” Rainbows wings twitched.
Without thinking about the date, Twilight sent the hourglass in her mind spinning backwards.
* * * * *
Journal
Reset 8, Day 26
I just realized two incredible things. First, I have much more control of my ability than I thought. Instead of having to reset completely, I can “rewind” from any point, to any prior point, like reversing a filmstrip! Somepony doesn’t see an orb until it’s too late? Easy: rewind and tell them to look out! I even used some rewinds to write this journal entry. No more striking through half-baked thoughts!
Second, since I know I can rewind, I can try some experiments and not worry about the long term effects. This reset, I’ll ask the soldiers to become hunters and see if they come up with new ways to beat the familiar. Then I’ll analyze what worked, start a final reset, and do it all myself.
Note to self: How do I count resets anymore? Maybe it’s not important.
“Spike,” Twilight said while a labyrinth’s ashes showered them both, “did you make a wish with the alien?”
His eyes darted to his claws tapping together, then to the heart-shaped ruby buckle on his golden belt, then to the lance beside him, and finally to the shattered black heart at his feet.
“What gave you that idea?” he asked.
She snorted.
“I just wanted to help you! I know you said the alien was dangerous and I should stay away from him—”
“Him?”
“—But I got so worried about you! Yesterday you were going to get some soldiers to become hunters, but today you were yelling how it’d never work. You never used to fly off the handle like that.”
Agitation slouched out of her. Spike’s “yesterday” had been two months of her watching a promising idea implode. She had ordered a platoon to find the alien and make wishes, and then brought them to a labyrinth to test their prowess. Instead of a platoon of skilled hunters, though, she got weak earth ponies, inept unicorns, and sluggish pegasi. The reason why was obvious in retrospect: hunters’ constructs were only as strong, skilled, or fast as an average pony. Twilight had blundered into making the best and brightest soldiers of Equestria’s military completely average.
Spike, though, had seen only today and “yesterday.” No wonder she had upset him.
“I’m sorry I worried you. From now on, I promise to tell you more about what’s happening.” Though she’d have to keep that promise to another Spike; he couldn’t keep risking his life as a hunter. However, one question intrigued her. “Mind telling me what you wished for?”
He sheepishly pointed in her direction. Confused, she looked around until she caught her reflection in a polished life-size statue of Rarity.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked. “It’s solid platinum.”
Twilight’s curiosity struck again. “Why don’t we ask? Stay here, I’ll go find her.”
Spike jogged to the statue’s base. “No, I can get this.” Before she could tell him to stop, he knelt down, dug his claws underneath, and lifted it above his head.
Twilight watched, agog, as he effortlessly began to carry away the statue.
“Don’t act so shocked,” he said, his eyebrows wagging. “Bulk Biceps has been helping me buff up. I even did ten pushups yesterday!”
* * * * *
Journal
Day 27
Spike’s never been the brawniest dragon, but after his wish he’s got genuine draconic strength. According to my tests and research, he’s more or less average for a dragon of his size, and I figured out why. A hunter construct is like the average of that hunter’s race, and becoming average works both ways: stronger-than-average creatures get weaker, but weaker-than-average creatures get stronger!
This is huge. Instead of well-trained soldiers, I should recruit less able ponies. Ideal candidates would be ponies who gain more from becoming hunters than they lose from giving up their special talent. That kind of pony might be willing to stay as a hunter.
Dawn filled the training field as Trixie led a four-square block of ponies, each adorned with silver Soul Gem jewelry, to its center. At Trixie’s barked command, the group halted in a staccato of hoofbeats. Another command, and they turned in unison to face Twilight. Beads of sweat emerged. Muscles bulged and withered. Eyes strayed to the nearby obstacle course.
Twilight loathed this.
What had happened to the plan? Recruit sixteen ponies—enough to be effective, not too many to manage, and easy to ration out what the alien apparently called “Grief Seeds”—and train them herself. She’d done that, and even led them into a witch’s labyrinth.
Then Trixie had shown up, a golden amulet already dangling around her neck.
Twilight had accepted her, and had regretted it instantly. The showmare’s antics turned practice sessions into a circus, and her wish for realm-wide fame interfered with their group’s demanding schedule. To hunt, she conjured a team of fire-breathing bears that proved spectacularly impotent against witches. However, she did excel at bossing ponies around, so as an experiment Twilight had made her a drill sergeant.
Trixie had taken to the position with gusto. In the first week, she “motivated” the other hunters to shave tens of seconds off their runs in the obstacle course. Improvements ceased soon after, though. In their trials two days ago, the average run had gone up four seconds.
In any other circumstance, Twilight might have had a candid talk with Trixie. With the battle fast approaching and ponies’ lives at risk, she needed to take action. She’d already picked the hunter to demonstrate her point to Trixie: a gray pegasus with a blond mane who couldn't even keep both eyes forward.
Twilight checked her clipboard, took a stopwatch from Trixie, and stepped in front of the pegasus. Her Soul Gem, a tiara crested by a muffin-shaped sapphire, slumped down her forehead as Twilight examined her.
“Present your weapon,” Twilight said coolly.
Excitement snapped across the pegasus’s face. A long metal pole topped with a shallow bowl and four prongs appeared in her foreleg.
Twilight scrutinized it. “What exactly is that?”
“It’s a spork!” The pegasus chirruped. “Mister Alien said it’s special because it’s made from the last breath of a dying star.”
“So it’s iron.”
The pegasus blinked. “I’m…not sure.”
“I am. Iron is created by stellar nucleosynthesis in the last stage of a star’s fusion sequence just before it becomes a supernova. Q.E.D., iron is ‘the last breath of a dying star.’ Your spork is as special as the nails we used by the barrel to build the obstacle course. What do you think of that?”
The pegasus reined in her displeasure and squeezed the spork to her chest. “I just want to keep Ponyville safe!”
Celestia help her.
“Miss…” Twilight checked the clipboard but couldn’t read the pegasus’s name. Her quillwork might have been decipherable if pastry residue hadn’t been smeared across it. “I see your personal best with the obstacle course is three minutes and twelve seconds.”
“Yes, it is!”
“And you set that personal best eighteen days ago. Why haven’t you improved since then?” With this, Twilight shot a bitter glare at Trixie.
“I…don’t know.” Her face screwed up in concentration. “But I’ll do better!”
“I hope you can, for your sake. Starting today, all hunters need to complete the obstacle course in three minutes or less. Can you do that much better?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Then prove it.” Twilight levitated the stopwatch and tapped its button. “Starting now.”
The pegasus’s face contorted into a betrayed expression. Then she flew to the first obstacle, an aerial slalom for pegasi, and plunged through it with the spork tucked underneath her. Next she landed in front of a rickety wooden bridge, picked up the spork with her mouth, and used it for balance while she crossed. On the other side, she dropped the spork and dove into a tunnel.
Watching her, Twilight recognized the effort that this pegasus had put into practicing, but didn’t recall actually watching those efforts. In fact, she couldn’t be sure she’d ever watched a pony complete the obstacle course. She sensed an opportunity had been lost, although for what she couldn’t say.
She shook aside the feeling. Everyone in Ponyville counted on her to keep them safe from the familiar. She couldn’t let camaraderie with one hunter distract her.
A splash broke her reverie as the pegasus threw herself into a pool of water near the end of the course. Twilight checked the stopwatch and, to her shock, saw that the pegasus was on pace to beat three minutes. With thirty seconds left, she burst from the far end of the pool and entered a gauntlet of padded blocks swinging from ropes. Here she summoned her spork to bat the blocks out of her way.
“You got this, D!” one of the hunters cheered. Others shouted more encouragement. Hooves stomped. Even Twilight felt an urge to join in as the pegasus knocked away the last block and, with fifteen seconds left, began a hundred-pace sprint to the finish line. The spork fell from her mouth…
And right into her forelegs.
It looked like she’d recover. Almost. But her hind leg caught the spoon’s lip and she tumbled hard into the dirt. Before she stood back up, the stopwatch ticked past three minutes.
Twilight ached watching her stumble away from the course. The hourglass appeared in her mind. She could rewind, tell the pegasus what went wrong, and let her retry. It’d be monsterous to not show a little compassion.
Then again, could she really risk Ponyville for one clumsy hunter?
“Send her home. For good.” Twilight passed the stopwatch to Trixie. “And do the same for anyone else who can’t beat three minutes.”
* * * * *
Journal
Day 26
We found a new labyrinth near the training field. It wasn’t like any of the witches’ labyrinths, so I thought it was a new familiar—the alien said messing around with the past would make familiars, after all. All fourteen of us went in.
First, clock faces surrounded us. Breaking off the minute hands got us through them. Next were poles in the distance. We galloped towards them and suddenly thwap! I ran into one. I had lost depth perception, apparently. The other hunters dodged around them, so I followed. Then we went on a violently swinging bridge. One pony got tossed off, but I caught him and steadied the bridge with telekinesis.
Trixie said this labyrinth reminded her of the obstacle course, and she was right. After the bridge we had to crawl through a claustrophobic tunnel. The setting only changed after the pendulums (swinging axes in the labyrinth): an arena in place of the sprint. We piled in and the entrance disappeared.
Then the ceiling exploded, and a huge, rust-covered sphere fell in, rolling around the arena chasing hunters. I levitated it—very, very heavy—and saw a little nail protruding from the bottom. I pulled it out. The sphere shriveled up and ripped open. Giant spoons and pitchforks poured out, but I couldn’t look up from my hooves. Right there was a witch’s black heart.
Someone cracked the heart. I’m not sure who. Ashes fell. I saw the alien bounding towards us, but I didn’t wait. I rewound to now.
There were nine witches, and one familiar. That’s the way it’s always been. Where did this tenth witch come from? The alien told me, years ago, that no one knows how they’re made. Are more escaping the alien’s world? Or did something I do make one? I just don’t know.
Whatever else happens in the future, I can’t let a new witch appear again. I won’t let things get even worse.
Journal
Day 25
Discord won’t help. “I don’t turn ponies into stone,” he snarled and then vanished. That’s NOT what I’m doing! Dermal lapidification means transmuting only the first few inches of flesh—dirt walls that thick block the familiar’s orbs, so stone should too. I’m going to find a way to reverse it lat
* * * * *
“Where’d you wander off to, Twilight?”
Applejack’s voice broke Twilight’s concentration. “In here,” she yelled and closed her journal.
A woody creak echoed down the palace hallway, instilling an extra twinge of frustration. She’d asked the Apple family to make a scale model of the gulch, plus some sets of pony figures, to plan her strategy for the battle. Of course, her stone-enhanced soldiers were supposed to debut in this reset. Tempest didn’t know how the Storm King’s grenades worked, and Twilight had searched Everfree for a cockatrice already, so that project faced a dubious future without Discord.
At least the model would be useful for strategizing. The Apple family’s hard work wouldn’t go to complete waste.
“Let me know where I should set this down,” Applejack said as she entered and unhitched her cart. “That ravine’s got some heft to it. Big Mac had to help me…”
She trailed off, a perturbed expression washing over her face, while Twilight levitated the model and three boxes that had been perched atop it to the floor. She brought the boxes closer and flipped open their lids. Inside were pony figures, thirty for each race, whittled from applewood in a plain style. Or, there should have been thirty of each race… Twilight began to count. One two three—
Applejack began strolling around the study, taking in Twilight’s diagrams and charts. “So how’d that chat with Discord go?
“Not like I expected,” Twilight grumbled. Fourteen fifteen sixteen—
“That sounds like him.” Applejack’s stroll brought her to one of Twilight’s earlier failures, a mannequin laden with ceramic armor. She prodded it. The armor tinkled like wind chimes, but the wooden support underneath groaned forebodingly.
Twenty-nine thirty thirty-one thirty-two… “Applejack, you made more of these figures than I need.”
“Ah, don’t you worry about it. Apple Bloom whittled a few extras in case any broke.”
“Thanks.” Twilight returned the spare figures to the box. If only she didn’t have to worry about ponies getting broken in the real battle. “Tell her this is helpful.”
“Not a problem, sugarcube. Anything I could do to help?”
Memories of her friends’ immolation invaded her thoughts. “No.”
Her eyes fell to the armor-clad mannequin beside Applejack. She ought to throw it out before it toppled over onto someone. The armor would never be useful. Barring it suddenly coming to life and fighting…
She gasped. That was an idea. Starting with a central crankshaft and attaching clockwork mechanisms for the limbs, a statue could be built to move like a pony under another unicorn’s autonomy enchantment. Disposable living statues instead of fragile ponies! The living statue could apply force proportional to the original energy source, minus efficiency losses from friction between the gears…
And the original energy source would be a unicorn’s spell…
Meaning that after years of blundering, Twilight had just invented a fancier way of bashing the familiar with a big rock. She sagged to the floor as the utter futility of her work swept over her.
Then Applejack’s leg wrapped around her, a life-saving gesture. “Twilight, I don’t know all you’ve been wrangling with, but I do know it’s a wretched feeling watching a friend suffer. So tell me how to help you.”
By becoming a hunter.
Twilight shook her head. She would never ask that. No more constructs, no more abandoned special talents. Her friends needed to stay alive, nothing more. How hard could that be?
Then again… They wouldn’t stay hunters. Send the hourglass spinning and they’d be back to normal. Maybe, for one reset, they could help her find new ways to fight the familiar. Maybe they would see something she couldn’t. Maybe they would discover the perfect idea that still eluded her.
And hadn’t she missed their company?
She hugged Applejack’s leg. “Suppose you could make a wish that would come true in a dream, but you wouldn’t remember it when you woke up. It’d just be this fleeting experience, for good or bad, and all that’d be left of it was the story I’d tell you. Would you still make the wish?”
A moment passed before Applejack answered.
“Don’t think I would, normally.” Then her features softened. “But if it’ll help you, sure thing.”
Practice led to routine over the resets that followed. Applejack, Rainbow, and Fluttershy were consistently easy recruits. Pinkie joined more often than not, despite protesting that the alien gave her a bad feeling. Persuading Rarity was invariably an odyssey, but her attention to detail and knack for finding elusive labyrinths justified the effort. Starlight soured on losing her special talent in the first reset, so Twilight didn’t bother recruiting her again. Twilight also learned how to recruit a few ponies who had excelled under Trixie’s training, such as Octavia, an earth pony who used an unusual bipedal fighting style and conjured cello bows. A training regimen of practice, drills, and sparring that appealed to the entire roster gelled.
Routine led to comfort. Hunters began to offer their own contributions each reset, like Rainbow starting sparring tournaments, or Applejack leading camping trips, or Fluttershy organizing animal petting hours.
Or Rarity bringing dresses, brooches, and other gifts, always accompanied by some variant of the speech:
“You’ll never guess my inspiration for it. I dreamt that I prowled through the depths of a foreboding castle, and entered a room filled with fireflies swirling all about. Then, before I knew it, I was transported to this very field, and there you all were, fighting magnificently in these ensembles!”
Comfort led to inertia. Despite remarkable improvements from everypony in the later resets, Twilight found herself rewinding just before the battle. She would tell herself her friends needed more practice, or that they deserved a relaxing vacation to Canterlot. Only recently had she realized her procrastination. She promised herself that at the end of this summer, they would face the familiar.
At present, Twilight watched Rarity and Octavia face off for a best of three match in the sparring ring. Rainbow refereed. Rarity won the first point when she caught Octavia in a net spun from conjured thread. Octavia won the second point by slipping through Rarity’s snares and landing a strike up close.
The pair saluted and, at Rainbow’s signal, began their final dance. Needles peppered the dirt inches from Octavia’s galloping hooves as she leapt high, her foreleg-held bow ready to swing, until a javelin-sized pin throttled towards her. She swept it away and fell to the ground, where glowing ribbons materialized to wrap around her. A single bow swing shredded them all. Taking advantage of the distraction, Rarity levitated Octavia in midair until a bow flew into her forehead, eliciting a yelp. The spell vanished. Octavia summoned a new bow and stepped forward, but a ribbon caught her foreleg. She yanked on it, apparently unaware of Rarity charging at her with a massive, hovering pin. Then, just before Rarity struck, Octavia twisted out of the way. With the left bow that had been hiding behind her back all along, Octavia delivered a swift but restrained downstroke to the nape of Rarity’s neck.
“Point and match, Octavia!” Rainbow called out.
The two bowed and left to sporadic cheers while Twilight checked the sparring sign-ups, squinting to see the marks clearly. It seemed she was up next, and her opponent would be…
“Yoohoo!” Pinkie yelled from the ring. Twilight waved in reply.
Pinkie’s unpredictability infuriated some hunters, but Twilight had yet to lose a match to her. Smiling, Twilight picked up a quarterstaff, entered the field, and signaled her readiness.
As soon as Rainbow whistled, a ring of cannons appeared around Twilight and fired volleys of rock-hard confetti. Twilight didn’t flinch as her telekinesis captured each of the 25,427 separate objects. A new personal best; honing the one spell remaining to her had paid off. She sent over her quarterstaff to poke Pinkie in the chest.
“Point, Twilight!”
Pinkie sulked while her cannons disintegrated. “Come on, go easy on me for once! Your freaky deaky telekineaky is no fun.”
“We aren’t sparring for fun, Pinkie,” Twilight said, although she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed sparring. “We’re doing it to practice for witch labyrinths.”
“Oh, Twilight, we’re done with those! In two days, it’s us versus that big scary familiar, remember?”
Twilight had to think. Was summer really almost over? It felt like it’d just started.
“Besides, why not stretch out those wings and legs for once?”
She nodded. There was one other tool she needed to exercise.
* * * * *
Journal
Day 106
I can only imagine what the second point looked like to them. Pinkie said I effortlessly dodged her cannons for a few seconds, and then my quarterstaff tapped her chin. Rainbow called it “so awesome.” Rarity said I moved like a madmare. Applejack said I creeped her out.
But none of them saw the hours of cannons catching me off guard, blasts that left my ears ringing, or traps I missed. Or when I got tired, lost control, and accidentally smashed the staff through Pinkie’s jaw. Thank goodness I can rewind over all that.
Years ago I asked Celestia whether I made the right wish. She believes I survived the first battle because of some hitherto unknown prophecy, and that my wish was destiny. Maybe she’s right.
If I close my eyes when it’s really dark in my study, though, I can see Fluttershy’s outline. It’s like the scar of her body protecting mine from the familiar’s blaze while the rest of them
Was it really destiny they would all
I can rewind through anything, like it never happened, so why can’t I wipe away the memory of
I’ll reset. I can’t watch them die again. Is that so selfish?
After the first witch in Ponyville, Twilight returned to Canterlot and found her old friends.
“A real alien?” Lemon Hearts said, spraying doughnut crumbs in her excitement. “Like from outer space?”
“Technically a parallel dimension.” Twilight signaled Doughnut Joe for another round.
“And he can grant wishes!” Minuette swooned. “I know what I’d wish for!”
“It can grant wishes,” Twilight corrected, “but they have a cost.”
“Oh, Twilight, that familiar thing sounds so horrifying,” Twinkleshine said, “but of course you’d find a way to save everypony.”
Twilight didn’t answer.
Doughnut Joe arrived with a fresh plate, putting a pause to their questions as the three unicorns dove in. Moon Dancer, however, seemed lost in thought.
Twilight nudged her. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”
“It’s…kind of a lot to take in.”
“I understand, it must sound pretty wild. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
Moon Dancer adjusted her glasses. “So you’ve been returning to now to stop this ‘familiar’ monster at the end of summer.”
“That’s right.”
“When you do that, everything that happened afterward, in our future, gets erased. That’s why you call them resets.”
Twilight nodded.
“And since your wish, you have never let history go past the last night of summer.” Moon Dancer gestured with her forelegs. “How long have you been doing this?”
Arithmetic made Twilight cringe. “About ten years.”
The other three unicorns’ unsettled eyes darted from Moon Dancer to Twilight.
“So unless everything goes the way you want it to this summer—and based on past results, the odds of that are pretty low—you’ll just reset again.” Moon Dancer’s forelegs shook. “Everything anypony else does gets erased. All of Equestrian history is effectively frozen!”
“That’s not true—”
“And nothing we do matters!”
That was true. In fact, Twilight depended on the fact that nothing mattered until the last reset. No one else bore the cost of becoming a hunter, or getting injured, while Twilight learned how to beat the familiar without it hurting anyone.
And she’d learned so much! She knew how long the princesses’ shields lasted against it, and how useful Rarity’s dresses were for tracking ponies on the dim battlefield. Plus… She drew a blank.
Well, her strategy had improved. She’d started by planning to bash the familiar with a big rock. Since then, she’d recruited her Ponyville friends…to find new fighting techniques. Except they hadn’t fought the familiar even once.
Now that she thought about it, she had never tried the bash-it-with-a-rock idea, either.
Rarity’s dresses and the princesses’s shields. Not much to show for the ten years she’d spent rewriting summer. Her head hung in shame.
“I’m sorry, I’ve really let everypony down.” Twilight rose to leave, but hesitated. There was one other idea she hadn’t tried in the past ten years. “Moon Dancer?”
The unicorn’s forelegs dropped. “Yeah?”
“Could I borrow your key to the old tower library?”
* * * * *
Twilight missed research. Musty scents livened by crinkling sheets immersed her senses. Tidy indexes yielded fresh discoveries as she swept her magnifying glass across each page. Papers, scrolls, maps, charts, and books hulked around her like a fortress.
And she wouldn’t forget anything she’d read that day, thanks to her swelling mind palace. Strategy, history, military uniforms, legendary heroes of Equestria, leadership, automatons, close quarters dueling, and entropy were each conscripted into her physical and mental fortress. She learned that her limited grasp of strategic resource tradeoffs had doomed her first reset. She read about how, in Equestria’s infancy, the realm spared its early enemies out of compassion; she realized much of her life had been spent dealing with the consequences. She saw how leaders who treated their inferiors harshly, as she and Trixie had done, found positive short term results at the cost of long term morale. She even discovered an ancient kingdom that had tried to build living statues like her and encountered the same obstacles. The ancient kingdom’s prototypes had been relegated to entertaining aristocrats.
She was engrossed in a dueling manual when she heard a knock at the front door. “Twilight?” Moon Dancer said from behind it.
Twilight set down the magnifying glass and called out, “Come in!” While the door opened, she noticed it was night already. Her lantern illuminated only her desk and books.
“I had, uhm, something I wanted to ask you.” Moon Dancer crossed the threshold with a series of tentative, off-rhythm hoofsteps and stopped just inside the room.
“I’d be happy to answer anything I can,” Twilight said in her most encouraging tone. “What’s on your mind?”
A glint twinkled from Moon Dancer, Twilight supposed from a bit of metal in her glasses. “Will this be the last reset?”
“It’s pretty unlikely,” Twilight said, “like you said at the doughnut shop.”
“So, probably nothing anypony does for the next few months matters?”
“I’m sorry. I wish it were some other way.”
Moon Dancer seemed to consider that. “If somepony tried to stop you from resetting,” she asked, “would you murder them?”
Twilight almost gagged. “No! That’s horrible! Murder is wrong…”
She hesitated. To end a life meant denying somepony their future. The immense harm of that made murder wrong.
Then again, killing to defend one’s realm was acceptable. The value of protecting millions of lives far outweighed the harm of even thousands of deaths on a battlefield. In fact, it was immoral not to defend the realm in such a circumstance.
The value of protecting Ponyville was huge. If somepony tried to stop her from it, she’d be obligated to at least weigh it against the harm of their death. Arguably, the harm of any deaths before the last reset was…
Oh.
“I didn’t really understand until now,” Twilight said. “Nothing matters unless it has a lasting consequence. Even if I have to do something terrible, as long as I can rewind back through it later, it won’t hurt anyone. All that matters is saving Ponyville in the last reset.”
With careful hoofsteps, Moon Dancer approached her. “This has to be the last reset.”
“I can’t promise that,” Twilight said, confused.
Then Moon Dancer came within the glow of the lantern, and the new golden pendant hanging from her neck glinted again. “I met the alien. I wished that you couldn’t return to the past anymore.”
The meaning sank in over seconds, then slammed Twilight in the gut. She tried to summon the hourglass in her mind, gritting her teeth from exertion, and…nothing. Moon Dancer had trapped her in the present.
“I’m really sorry, Twilight. I wanted to talk to you before making a wish, but he said he wouldn’t meet me again, that it’d tamper with his observations. I had to act then or lose the chance forever.”
“Observations?” Spittle flew from Twilight. “What kind of observations is that thing doing?”
“He warned me that you would try to…” Moon Dancer flinched. “He said you might act irrationally, but I know how well you control your emotions. You understand that from now on, everything we do matters.”
“You’re killing my friends!”
Moon Dancer raised her eyes to meet Twilight’s. “No, I’m not. I’ll help you save them.”
In a flash, a silver halberd appeared beside Moon Dancer. She grasped it with a foreleg.
“I know you’re furious, Twilight, but do you think we could work together?” Her lips curved into a fragile smile.
Twilight dropped the library key by Moon Dancer’s hooves and walked past her. “Never.”
* * * * *
Journal
Day 6
I learned a lot from this reset. Not just what I read in the library; I learned about judgment.
Overestimated: myself. Having a hunter’s toughness, living thousands of years, and being able to return to the past never made me invulnerable. I have to protect myself.
Underestimated: Moon Dancer. She lives in such a simple world, knowing what’s right and wrong without having to think through all the consequences. Then again, I suppose that conviction kept her from making a more permanent wish.
Misjudged: the alien. Not sure what to make of its “observations.” I think all it cares about is witches. That must be why it keeps recruiting hunters. That must be why it granted Starlight’s wish.
At least I judged my friends perfectly. Starlight agreed that I’m doing what’s right. And she restored my wish.
No more indulging in this endless summer. From now, I’ll do whatever it takes to find out how to save Ponyville. Nothing else matters until the last reset.
Starlight died first, again. Marelin’s Ingurgitation Talisman lasted two and a half seconds before the familiar’s sickening void washed over her. Not bad, but not as good as the four and a quarter seconds she’d once gotten with Clover the Clever’s Greater Ward. Next reset, they’d try a new spell Sunburst had developed.
The early part of the battle turned into a mess after loose boulders buried Applejack and some earth ponies. Twilight ignored them and watched Rarity. Her regal purple gown made her easy to track, even in the dark, as she launched a shrieking maelstrom of conjured diamonds into the familiar.
Lately, Twilight had noticed those kinds of weapon differences come up every few resets. She theorized the differences were tied to the hunter’s mood when she made her wish. Octavia might get a deafening lute, or Pinkie an alligator that swallowed minions whole. Most of the variations seemed like downgrades, but Rarity’s diamonds proved effective this reset, as evinced by yet another howl-inducing shot into the familiar.
“Ma,” Applejack whimpered from the rockpile. Considering how little of her body protruded from the rock pile, it was impressive she could still speak. “Ma, it hurts.”
Twilight didn’t bother looking, but Rainbow’s body would be close to Applejack. She’d jetted to her side in a misguided effort to help, despite Twilight’s shouts about the orbs about to swarm her. She had almost rewound then, but it wouldn’t matter. This wouldn’t be the last reset.
Rarity soared behind the familiar.
“We have to help Applejack,” Fluttershy moaned. She wept beside Twilight, her shepherd’s crook leaning against the berm they cowered behind. “Please. We have to.”
“Forget it.” Twilight kept scanning the other side of the familiar, waiting for Rarity to emerge. “You’d just get yourself killed too.”
She found Rarity panting against a berm while other unicorns shielded her against the black orbs. Twilight hissed at her own sloppiness. She needed better data about Rarity’s endurance with the diamonds.
The unicorns’ shields dropped and Rarity sprang back into motion. Now Twilight could focus on something important.
“Ma, I don’t wanna hurt.”
Fluttershy’s hoof pressed into Twilight. “Twilight, please—”
It all happened in a blur. Bands of telekinesis wrapped around two vertebrae in Applejack’s neck and snapped in opposite directions. She didn’t understand her own intent until she heard the grisly crunch of cartilage tearing apart.
“I’m sorry…” Something in Twilight choked. She felt feverish. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, so she took a breath.
She released it. None of this mattered. If anything, she’d put Applejack out of her misery. “I’m so sorry…” she started again and turned to Fluttershy.
Then she saw the necklace’s golden veneer melting into peculiar black rivers flowing down Fluttershy’s chest. The butterfly-shaped gem spasmed free of its cage. Fluttershy’s wings extended high into the sky and enveloped Twilight in a whirlwind.
Twilight breathedin and held it. She had no choice. Musky scents lingered in her lungs. She refused to exhale….but she had no choice in that either. One day the tension in her muscles would ease and the air would escape her. So too would the proteins of her body. So too would every atom she had ever touched. Only this home was eternal. She had no choice but to reach out her hoof to me—
Pierced a thousand-fold by black icicles, the feathers dissolved into ash. They dispersed and Twilight saw Fluttershy’s grotesquely distorted body hanging from one of the familiar’s tendrils. At its very tip, the tendril held Fluttershy’s black heart. Below it, the white, freakish form of the alien watched her.
“My creators would like to thank you.”
Everything stopped making sense, again.
“Now that they’ve proven how to manufacture witches from emotional beings, my creators will be able to harvest this world to reverse entropy. Thanks to you, my creators can save the entire universe from inevitable annihilation.”
It leapt to her, unaffected by the battle and Fluttershy’s crumbling remains.
“So that my creators better understand the metamorphosis process, could you explain what emotion you’re experiencing at this moment?”
Horror agony disgust rage
Twilight said nothing. The words evaporated as she sent the hourglass in her mind spinning backwards.
* * * * *
Twilight rewound to before she’d left to visit Flurry Heart. She canceled her trip to Canterlot, sending Spike and Starlight in her stead. Then, alone in the crystal palace, she waited in her study.
From the perspective of every other creature, Twilight had woken up one morning and decided at the last minute to cancel her Canterlot trip. Odd, but not concerning enough to intervene.
No one else, though, could sense psychic energy, or knew about witches, hunters, and Soul Gems. They wouldn’t understand how her existence broke the rules. However, she would be quite an anomaly to the alien…
Except that wasn’t the right name for it anymore. Too generic for a being that had come to Equestria to experiment on ponies, to raise them like farm animals… That wasn’t right, either. No pony killed farm animals for food, but the alien had done exactly that to Fluttershy and the gray pegasus before her. It had nurtured them on a wish, but kept them fragile like eggs, until it allowed witches to crack them open. It had told Twilight it planned to incubate the entire world like that.
An incubator, then.
She’d begun to speculate on what the incubator had been testing—obviously, much of what it had told her last reset was a lie—when it appeared from behind a desk.
“This is unusual,” it said. “You—”
Her aura wrapped around it and exploded in all directions, splattering its substance across her study’s floor and walls.
Tension drained from her. Neither hatred or vengeance had pushed her to destroy the incubator, she told herself as she began to clean. She’d been forced to choose between one artificial creature and all of Equestria. No one who knew the truth would have argued to spare it.
Then again, no one else had to know.
* * * * *
Days passed. She asked the Bureau of Baffling Beasts to send her any reports of a small white creature capable of speech. None arrived.
Weeks passed. No labyrinths appeared, and Twilight concluded that the nine witches Fluttershy had fought had been other ponies the incubator had recruited. Why it considered Fluttershy’s transformation such a revelation remained a mystery, one she had no interest in giving another second’s thought.
She finally visited an ophthalmologist and learned that she had permanent retinal damage, likely from the first battle with the familiar. Her doctor prescribed a hat with a hallucinogenic enchantment to help her vision. She liked that it also covered her Soul Gem. Now she could read without a magnifying glass, although colors were too saturated and shapes more than a few miles away blurred. Astronomy was a lost cause.
Months passed. As autumn approached, Twilight began to realize how much she’d aged. Her legs had grown longer, her muzzle more angular, and her wings dwarfed any pegasus’s. She had grayed, too, but in an annoyingly inconsistent pattern: her fur had lost a bit of its blue pigment while her feathers lost their red. Only Rainbow seemed to notice the changes.
“Are you feeling okay? You look like you got ten years older in the middle of the night.”
Twilight chuckled.
The future didn’t falter in its approach until the last days of summer.
* * * * *
By the Arrival of Autumn, Apple Bloom had been missing for seventy-two hours.
Twilight finished another aerial search and returned to the ballroom’s frantic scene in the crystal palace. Amethyst Star taught orienteering along a back wall. Maud refueled lanterns in one corner. Nurse Redheart demonstrated setting splints in another. Thunderlane managed a table covered with logbooks in the center. As Twilight entered, he perked up in an unspoken question. She shook her head.
“Any chance you saw Sweetie Belle or Scootaloo?” he asked. “They’re not missing exactly, but their families came by to say they skipped their dinners.”
“Sorry, I didn’t,” Twilight said, feigning concern. She hadn’t seen much of the trio this summer, due no doubt to the cutie mark day camp they ran. More than likely, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had gotten lost searching for their friend. Twilight would just rewind and stop whatever had happened to Apple Bloom, so she’d prevent their disappearance too. No change in plans needed.
A door to the hallway opened, and Fluttershy rushed in. “There’s something over Everfree Forest!” she whimpered.
Twilight groaned. “I told Mayor Mare, no fireworks while pegasi are searching—”
“No, it’s not fireworks, it’s a…thing. Seeing it gives me horrible thoughts.”
Twilight felt a chill. “What does it look like?”
“It’s enormous, taller than the trees even, and it’s surrounded by lightning.” Fluttershy shuddered. “Should we warn Zecora?”
Twilight drifted to the balcony railing. Fluttershy followed. Without resolving the distant pinprick, Twilight knew that the familiar loomed over the Everfree Forest, Ponyville, and her friends.
She had begun to theorize about the incubator’s mix of deceit and truth when movement below drew her attention. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo led a small army of young mares and stallions racing into the Everfree Forest. After a moment, she recognized Featherweight, once the Foal Free Press’s photographer. The others’ identities eluded her. She puzzled over their presence until she saw star-lit gleams from the golden jewelry each of them wore.
When had the incubator recruited them? Had it returned in secret? Had it found them while Twilight waited in her study? If only she could deduce when…
No. It wouldn’t matter. Her decade of rewriting summer hadn’t saved Ponyville from the familiar. How could she save the realm from a beguiling monster who preyed on emotion? Founded by three ponies warming a hearth in a cave, teetering on the brink of destruction through its infancy, and granted only a summer to prepare its defenses, Equestria as she knew it would not survive.
But she would not let her home fall to the incubator. The realm’s flaws were chiseled into its past, but she could erase them. The hourglass came to her mind.
“What’s happening?” Fluttershy watched her intently.
Twilight touched a calming hoof to her cheek. History would not forget her friends. As long as the Tree of Harmony grew, they were destined to return, and the new realm would form around them.
“It will be all right,” Twilight said. “I promise.”
Then she sent the hourglass spinning backwards through the centuries.
Stygian was no hero, and it was not a scribe’s place to question a great wizard’s judgement. In this instance, though, Star Swirl had to be challenged.
Star Swirl cared for the last two alicorns in existence, Celestia and Luna. These young sisters of singular faculty—they could move the very sun and moon!—promised to bring lasting peace to the tribes of ponykind as the Princesses of Equestria. Star Swirl and the other Pillars were sworn to guard them from any potential harm.
What, then, was Stygian to think when Star Swirl welcomed into their fold the impossible third alicorn, Twilight Sparkle?
Two weeks ago she had stumbled into Canterlot Castle with a silver crown clutched to her head. She babbled incomprehensibly, but at last expressed her desire to treat with Star Swirl about the fate of Equestria. Whatever they discussed, Star Swirl’s response was swift. The Pillars began meeting in secret, Twilight and Star Swirl busied themselves with strange experiments, and the Castle seethed with new labors.
Meanwhile, Stygian’s doubts about this third alicorn grew. According to Star Swirl’s observations, every alicorn in history possessed overwhelming abilities, but Twilight had no talent with spellwork aside from a knack for levitation. Her zealous questions about the crystal seed the Pillars had planted months ago were never justified. Most troubling of all was her mere existence; Star Swirl’s own notes asserted, with vigor, that every alicorn had perished other than Celestia and Luna.
These doubts multiplied during Twilight’s visit with Stygian earlier that night for a “chat,” an alien term for dialogue. Such jargon abounded in her speech.
“I’m going to start teaching Celestia and Luna soon,” she had said. “Star Swirl gave me the oh-kay. Solaromancy, waxing and waning the moon, enchantment, tell-ah-por-tay-shun…er, travel in an instant, but I can’t really dem-awn-strate the spells.” Here she had taken a solemn affect. “Pluss, my old…my Ponish is kind of rusty, and I don’t want that to get in the way of their lessons. So would you help me?”
“I cannot. I am but a lowly scribe—”
“You’re more than that, Stygian, you’re an ah-may-zing scholar! Sure, you might be hanging out with heroes that ponies are gohn-nah talk about for centuries, but you’re no less im-por-tent to Equestria. Just think about it, oh-kay?”
He had pledged to consider her request. When she left, though, he returned to Star Swirl’s alicorn observations with a new aim: to find proof Twilight Sparkle was a danger to Celestia and Luna and bring that proof to one of the Pillars.
Stygian was no hero. Only a hero could show Star Swirl the terrible cost of his recklessness.
“Hel-loh.”
Stygian looked up from his desk. No pony had entered his study, but a creature sat on a stool across from him. White of coat and bearing ears of both a cat and a hare, its giant tail and dainty legs bestowed upon it comic proportions. Small red eyes refused to break their hold of him.
“Well met,” Stygian said. “Have you matters for the attention of the Pillars?”
“I’m not sure,” the creature said. “This is strange. Your language has the terms to ecks-plain…”
A string of foreign words, such as en-troh-pi, in-vest-i-gait, kon-sept, and de-tekt, followed. Stygian understood only the last sentence with any certainty.
“Have you seen a labyrinth?”
Stygian nodded. “Star Swirl hired a minotaur to build a labyrinth in the castle garden. I oft walk its stone path for meditation.”
“That’s not what I meant.” A brief silence followed, during which Stygian had the notion that the creature studied him. “My creators have sent me on a quest for sai-kick en-er-ji they can harvest to reverse en-troh-pi. They learned that a being which releases small quantities of sai-kick en-er-ji arrived in your world two weeks ago.”
Stygian’s spine shivered. Twilight Sparkle had arrived two weeks ago. “Could such a being appear like a pony?”
“Possibly.” Nimbly, the creature leapt onto Stygian’s desk. “Have you encountered a suspect pony?”
This sudden fervor deserved caution. “What would you do if you found the source of…this substance you describe?”
“I’m only able to observe a source of sai-kick en-er-ji. In lieu of my acting against it, I would teach you to use a Soul Gem which would allow you to battle the source, if necessary.”
“Would I be free to act as I see fit?”
“Of course.”
Stygian had found the help he needed. For the sake of Equestria, he would become a hero. He stuck out a hoof to shake. “I am Stygian, and I will wield your Soul Gem. And you are…”
“This is strange,” the creature said after a moment. “Your language has a name for me. I am the in-kyu-bey-tor.”
Stygian recoiled. He did not recognize this word, but it clearly shared a root with “incubus,” the name of demons who sat upon a sleeper’s body and cursed him or her with terrible dreams.
But could he refuse the aid this creature offered? Could he allow the young Princesses to linger in jeopardy?
“May I know you by the name…” Stygian thought a moment. It seemed best to eschew the first and last syllables, the most abhorrent parts of the creature’s name, leaving only the sweet sound of its middle. “Kyu-bey?”
“I don’t object,” said Kyubey. He rose to his four white legs, his tail swaying side to side. “To bind the Soul Gem, I must grant you a wish.”
In every fantastic story Stygian had read, a wish came with a price of hidden magnitude. The meaning of these stories was clear: resist avarice. Thus he would wish for a mere peppercorn.
“I wish…”
He wavered again. He had to consider more than the price he himself paid. Did not the future of Equestria depend on the sound use of his wish? If he could undo whatever lies Twilight had told to Star Swirl, and draw the great wizard to his side…
“I wish,” Stygian said, “that Star Swirl the Bearded would see the wisdom of my warnings.”
Twilight arrived at the Pillars’ regular meeting place, a set of benches arranged around a spindly oak sapling, for her fifth lecture on preempting Equestria’s upcoming threats. Her prior lectures had covered Nightmare Moon, King Sombra, Discord, and the Pony of Shadows, and each had produced immediate results. Celestia and Luna put more effort into bonding. Volunteers were preparing for a mission northward. The crystal seed was on track to break ground before Discord arrived. And today, Stygian sat confidently as an equal among the Pillars, although Star Swirl looked a little awkward sharing a bench with him.
In private, Twilight and Star Swirl worked to jumpstart Equestrian science. She told him about all the recent inventions she could remember, which he set about replicating. He quizzed her on recently devised spells and found ways to refine almost every one. Together they devised a way to supercharge unicorn blasts. Even Twilight’s automaton experiments from a previous reset looked like they’d be useful: Star Swirl thought an automaton could be enchanted to imitate ponies or other creatures, turning her failed stone soldiers into perfect spies.
At this rate, Equestria would be more than ready when the incubator arrived in a thousand years.
She began her lecture in Olde Ponish. “Lord Tirek and his brother Scorpan are creatures from a distant land—”
Stygian leaned over to Star Swirl. A peeved furrow began in Star Swirl’s brow, but his eyes softened as Stygian whispered.
“Is everything okay?” Twilight asked. Confused glances came from the Pillars, and she realized she’d slipped into modern language again. She re-asked in Olde Ponish.
Stygian finished his furtive whisper, and Star Swirl responded with a distressed, “I see.”
Twilight wanted to ask what Star Swirl saw, but she swallowed down her worry and restarted. “In my history, Lord Tirek and Scorpan’s ambition was the conquest of Equestria. While Scorpan befriended Star Swirl and learned to love ponykind, Lord Tirek could not be swayed.”
Again Stygian whispered into Star Swirl’s ear. Twilight paused to watch them.
“Then we must take up arms against this Lord Tirek at once!” Flash Magnus said.
“Surely every creature can be made good, if given the chance,” Somnambula countered. “Could not Scorpan’s affection for ponykind allay his brother’s wrath?”
Stygian leaned away, and Star Swirl muttered another, “I see.” Then, in a commanding voice, “I too would argue that any pony can be made good.”
“Well, Tirek isn’t a pony…” Twilight scrutinized Stygian and Star Swirl. Learning about the Pony of Shadows in her last lecture had sent Star Swirl into a rage. He’d only grudgingly accepted her proposal to invite Stygian to their future meetings. Finding them sitting together today had been a pleasant surprise, but their behavior now made her think of her confrontation with Moon Dancer.
“I agree with you both,” she said. “Creatures aren’t evil because they want to be evil. They might feel entitled to what another creature has, or they might think that the world is so rotten that evil acts are necessary to persevere. Any creature can be made good.” Then she focused on Star Swirl. “A pony prone to scheming may dupe others by appearing good while masking his true objectives.”
The words scheme, dupe, mask, and objective wouldn’t exist until hundreds of years later. However, when she’d first met with Star Swirl, she’d accidentally used those words to talk about the incubator. That’s what she got for not practicing Olde Ponish for years. The wise old stallion had figured out her meaning quickly enough, and she counted on his good memory to understand her now. To everyone else, she’d uttered a string of nonsense, keeping her suspicions hidden. To Star Swirl she’d sent a coded message: Don’t trust Stygian.
Star Swirl’s expression hardened. He swung his head around, but froze when Stygian again whispered into his ear.
“I see,” Star Swirl said.
And so did Twilight: Stygian was using mind control. A spell like that was way beyond his abilities, so he must have already stolen an artifact from Star Swirl’s collection. If she could figure out what, she could rewind and stop him. However, only his longer-than-usual cloak looked out of place. Whatever he was using, he needed to speak to Star Swirl frequently to maintain the effect. She had to get them apart.
“The rest of the information about Tirek is fit only for the Pillars.” She scanned the six heroes but avoided eye contact with Stygian. “The real Pillars. If you remember my last lecture, you’ll understand why.”
Star Swirl grumbled, “Ere yesterday you warned us against excluding any member of our present company.”
Recognition flashed in Stygian. He shot to his haunches. “You shall not separate me so easily.”
“There is no call for this ugliness,” Mistmane said. Stygian brushed past her.
“Whatever your plans for the Princesses, Kyubey has granted me the tools to stop you!”
Kyubey?
“Stygian, you overstep your station!” Star Swirl barked. As Stygian swiveled to face him, Twilight caught a glimmer near the top of his foreleg. Her telekinesis flew to it, probing until she could distinguish his flesh from the alien material, and ripped it off. She flung the anklet to a stone path a dozen paces away from them.
Then Stygian’s unicorn statue toppled over.
The remaining six Pillars panicked while Twilight processed the evidence. Stygian had become a hunter, and she’d ripped off his Soul Gem. She could guess his wish had been to control Star Swirl’s mind. But how had the incubator reached him?
“It’s this accursed anklet!” Rockhoof bellowed. He reared high in the air above Stygian’s Soul Gem. Before she could utter a single word to stop him, he fell on it with the force that had matched volcanoes in the legends, and a labyrinth of shadows enveloped them.
All wrong.
Blue Blood had been getting ready to call it a night when the bookish unicorn showed up and introduced herself. His schedule didn’t have anything about her, though he’d learned to expect that. Anarchy had been the hallmark of his first week as the President of Equestria.
He followed his friendly script with the mare: asked her about herself (brusque answers), suggested a brief tour of his office’s artwork (declined), and offered to order some tea or juice (also declined). Then he asked what was on her mind.
She said, “I am aware that you sent directions to abolish the Air Guard Reserve this morning. Those directions should be rescinded.”
The audacity shocked him. Equestria had been a republic for over a thousand years, and the realm’s President was its undisputed commander-in-chief. So who in the world could intercept his military orders? It was more than all wrong. It was a constitutional crisis.
“I sent those orders directly to Air Guard Command,” he scolded. “Ciphertext, secured courier. How did you even hear about it, miss… Who did you say you were?”
“Moon Dancer.”
Of course he knew her name. Her job, too, the Master of Mathematics at Star Swirl’s School, and how long she’d been at the school. Blue Blood never forgot a pony, a crucial skill for a politician, but acting like he couldn’t be bothered to remember her name reinforced his superiority. “Well, Professor—”
“My position is that of Master.”
Slamming the desk would be too thuggish, so he let a long scowl suffice. “Well, Master Moon Dancer, setting aside this breach of national security, I don’t see why your school for unicorns has any say about shutting down the pegasi’s Air Guard Reserve.”
Moon Dancer froze for an unsettling moment before she said, “I suggest discussing the matter with my headmaster.”
“Who’s that, Starlight Glimmer?”
“No, our headmaster is…”
She said a name. An impossible name, which she repeated at Blue Blood’s command. He demanded she explain, answer his every question, swear an oath that she had told the truth. Then he made a final command.
“Show me.”
* * * * *
Moon Dancer left him to wander alone through a mausoleum of curiosities. Vials of bubbling fluid, orreries spinning on their own, auras flickering around metal poles, creaking bookshelves, and looming doors filled the hallway down which Blue Blood walked. Amidst all this, his gaze stuck to the other pony.
The stranger was, among the many thousands of ponies Blue Blood had met, a unique specimen. The pink unicorn had a jet black-and-red striped mane covered by a navy hat patterned with stars. A matching cloak seemed ready to disintegrate. Although taller than any stallion Blue Blood had ever seen, the pony had a feminine facial structure and two horribly diseased eyes. A pitiful tuft of hair hung from the stranger’s chin.
In short, Star Swirl the Bearded looked nothing like his description from legend.
Not that it surprised Blue Blood to discover another legend proven false. Equestria’s mythical origin story was a saga filled with alien monsters, demigods of chaos, alicorn princesses, and epic quests. However, all the realm’s ponies were taught the dull truth in school: Stygian’s “Labyrinth of Shadows” had been nothing more than an assassination plot against the Pillars of Old Equestria; “Discord’s Reign” had been a civil war with a poetic name; Princess Celestia and Princess Luna had been unicorn figureheads disguised with wings to bring peace to the realm; and their “Journey to the Moon” had been a deification rite paving the way for a republic.
Then again, the legends had nothing as preposterous as a thousand-year-old wizard meddling in current affairs.
“You know, I’m not sure if there’s a protocol for this kind of circumstance,” Blue Blood said in a cordial tone. When he switched to making demands, the tonal shift would highlight his seriousness. “How about we just have a little talk, stallion-to-stallion?”
The wizard turned his head, locking his glitter-strewn eyes on Blue Blood. “I am amenable,” he said in a voice like crunching fall leaves.
“Great.” Blue Blood trotted closer. “You know, I’m a bit new to the job of running Equestria, but I thought they’d briefed me on all the realm’s secrets. So imagine my shock when your assistant told me… Are you playing laurys?”
It was: Star Swirl sat hunched over an antique laurys board. However, the pieces weren’t all standard. Blue Blood recognized the veil, mirrors, and medusites, but the adventurer statuettes arrayed across it were wrong.
“I think you have your pieces mixed up there,” Blue Blood said. “For one, the mezzmer is supposed to be a unicorn—”
“The hunter was a pegasus,” Star Swirl snapped, jabbing his hoof at various pieces, “supported by this unicorn and this earth pony from above, while a unicorn, an earth pony, and a pegasus engaged on the frontline.”
Blue Blood sucked his teeth at the misstep. Star Swirl had invented the game and no doubt bristled at being told he was playing it wrong. Best to change topic. “Well, as I was saying, your assistant Moon Dancer shocked me with the news about you, but now that I’m here, I think she really undersold it. I have so many questions for you!” He pulled up a stool and sat on the other side of the laurys board, like a worthy rival. “But let’s start with who’s got the loose lips over at Air Guard Command.”
The wizard’s ears flicked forward. “Do you not desire the secret to my extraordinary longevity?”
“Organic hay and exercise, I’m sure,” Blue Blood said, waving away the wizard’s amateurish attempt at evasion. “That’s what my doctor always tells me. Really, now, how’d you hear about the Air Guard Reserve? Crystal ball? Oracle cards? A fortune cookie from the carryout place?”
Star Swirl cackled. “You are an indubitable blackguard. No, several of your staff partake avidly in The Adventure Book.”
“That foals’ toy?” It was apparently the hot new thing with Canterlot’s colts and fillies. Blue Blood recalled a presentation by Twilight Sparkle, the Master of the Library at Star Swirl’s, about how the books were enchanted to make up stories based on the reader’s mood. In a few weeks, copies would be sent to Ponyville for some experiment.
“The tomes are constructed for purposes greater than mere entertainment.” Star Swirl reached out to a piece on the board, seemed to reconsider, and withdrew his hoof. “Their enchantments make them sensitive to the feeblest undulations of psychic energy. Regular accounts of their assays stream into these chambers.”
“Psychic energy? You mean, like, mind-reading?”
Star Swirl froze for an unsettling moment. Then he slid one of the laurys pieces into the center. “An individual volume is capable only of what is necessary to reveal a particular nemesis. However, ponies with sufficient aptitude can compare the reports from different volumes and thereby divine certain conspiracies. What is your opinion on that?”
“It’s interesting.” Blue Blood nodded thoughtfully, as if anyone could approve of a book that pried into the inner thoughts of unsuspecting ponies. When he remembered they’d passed these books out to foals, he swallowed the outrage by silently counting to ten. “So what do you use to track threats now? I doubt you’d just let those scoundrels run around unmonitored.”
“How intuitive.” Star Swirl rose and trotted to a side door. A faint droning noise came from it. “My current devices are of exceeding subtlety, although they are limited by their nature. Are you aware that earth ponies tell the bees of their dead?”
Blue Blood nodded warily. Star Swirl was probably testing him with such a morbid question. “They have some myth about bees going out and telling the world. It’s quaint.”
Star Swirl’s hoof connected with the door. “One should not be so quick to dismiss myth.”
He pitched open the door, and buzzing exploded into the hall. Borders shuddered in black and yellow as bees crawled over every surface of the room beyond. Small holes studded the walls.
Star Swirl strode into the room at a glacial pace, giving the bees a chance to land on, and then swarm, him. “I have bred into this species a multitude of remarkable qualities, such as docility to ponies, nocturnal activity, and imitation of sounds. Yet apiculture’s boundaries linger. Winter’s frost forces their hibernation, for one. The Adventure Book will thus complement them well.”
Star Swirl looked around the room while his horn twinkled softly. The twinkling flashed as an aura snatched a bee out of the air. “They communicate through their movements—a dance, per se—but they can replicate sounds and speech if one listens with care. Here, this bee is from Ponyville… Ah! She’s seen the local bakers, Carrot and Cup Cake. They have a son and a daughter, Pound and Pumpkin.
“Although this bee sees the daughter playing by a wooded area by herself. She’s usually inseparable from her brother. A fox nears her…”
The wizard’s eyes narrowed. “An albino fox? Maybe not. A small, white, fox-like beast, then. It approaches her, but… The beast is taken from her? That’s madness, she’s alone…”
The bee whined.
“Pumpkin says, ‘I saw him first.’ She takes the beast again, but then it falls to the ground. ‘Don’t push me,’ she says…to no pony.”
The bee whined again, producing a sound almost like “wish.”
“And then Pumpkin says, ‘I wish I didn’t have a brother,’ and… Oh.”
Star Swirl’s aura released the bee. For a moment, he teetered on his hooves.
Suddenly his legs splayed to his sides. His head sagged to the floor. “Of course you disbelieve.”
Blue Blood suppressed any reaction at the non sequitur. Far from disbelieving, he felt certain the wizard had poured his intellect into spying on the innocent.
“I would have you witness one last demonstration,” Star Swirl said in a hoarse whisper. Without waiting for a response, he trudged back into the hallway. Bees peeled off.
Blue Blood followed him through a second side door and into a coliseum of statues. Rings of granite ponies gazed down on a gray block sitting in the center of the floor. A ceiling rose to astonishing heights above the stony audience, and roosts jutted from the walls. Blue Blood wondered if pegasi were hiding in them until he realized a wizard like Star Swirl would know how to teleport up.
“I have made a collection of these statues for the sake of posterity.” Star Swirl pointed to a group near the top. “Do you mark your predecessors?”
Blue Blood, the 153rd president of Equestria, saw. Where Star Swirl pointed, Blue Blood expected there would be 152 statues of the former presidents.
“And this,” Star Swirl said, pointing to the block in the middle. “The very last slab that Starlight Glimmer prepared, reserved for your statue.”
Blue Blood approached it. The cut face had an uncanny softness to it. “What kind of stone is this?”
“Gorgonous medusite, a mineral renowned for its ability to capture flesh. It is even warm to the touch.”
Curious, Blue Blood pressed a hoof to it, expecting a mild glow at best. Comforting heat flooded back instead. A funny sense overcame him as he imagined a sculptor transforming this block of stone into his likeness.
“Blue Blood, I hope this helps you better understand the scope of your office. Despite your vast responsibilities and the profound effects of your volition, you are but a steward of Equestria’s perpetuity. A century hence, few will recall your name, much less your legacy.
“By contrast, the Air Guard Reserve has persisted since the foundation of the republic. It has faced many challenges, but every one of your predecessors rose to its defense out of respect for the choices of their antecedents. Would you not enter into that progression of respect and thereby ensure your place in their company?”
“No.”
Blue Blood paused to let the moment sink in. He exhaled slowly as he dropped the facade. It wasn’t often that he got to actually speak up for his ideals.
“Once I leave, I’ll ensure that the Air Guard Reserve is shut down, and then order that your bees be fumigated and every copy of The Adventure Book be burned. You did not found, and I was not elected to lead, a realm that conscripts its citizens, abuses nature, or skulks in the shadows of a police state. We’ve committed too many mistakes out of fear of unnamed threats. That’s how I’ll make my legacy: fixing those. And they’ll make so many statues of me that I’ll never be forgotten.”
A little of the facade came back as he prepared to win over Star Swirl. A thousand-year-old wizard who helped found the realm would be a useful ally for his next project. “That said, there are plenty of problems that could use your expertise.”
Blue Blood turned back to gauge Star Swirl’s reaction, but the wizard was gone. “Star Swirl?” He stepped away from the block—
Faceplant. Blue Blood tried to stand up, but the hoof he’d placed on the stone wouldn’t budge. He tugged to no avail, then tried to flex his leg. The joints up to his shoulder felt stiff and numb.
Hooves clattered hard onto the ground behind him. He twisted around, yelping at the pain arcing down his back, and saw Star Swirl with wings, massive blue wings flicking the air, while Moon Dancer’s limp body levitated in front.
“I did everything,” the wizard said.
Blue Blood didn’t respond. Why did his side feel so heavy?
“Every act and omission of which I could conceive to avert your tampering.” The aura around Moon Dancer’s body flared and its form distorted. “I tried to evade your attention, but you sought me out. I appealed to your goodness, but you had none. I indulged your ego, but it is insatiable. I described to you the mortal peril which Equestria must escape, and you laughed at me!”
What was the old horse talking about? Blue Blood opened his mouth to answer, but his lungs refused to release their air.
Moon Dancer’s body had become unrecognizable. Its shoulders bulged, its fetlocks trailed, and its hide had turned lily white… Now Blue Blood recognized it; the body had transformed into a perfect impostor of him.
The impostor rose. It looked him in the eye, with his own eyes, and then its horn twinkled as it stole his clothes.
“If you will not teach me how to spare you, then go, join the eternal company of your predecessors. You have proven amply that yours will always be a necessary sacrifice.”
Blue Blood’s view darted to the statues around the coliseum. Had they all been victims of this trap? Were they all ponies turned to stone?
The enormous wings folded beside the ancient wizard’s barrel as the imposter trotted away. Pain shot through Blue Blood’s chest, and the edges of his vision grew dark. His muscles gave out, but he remained locked in place. Before Star Swirl could adjust the cloak bunched up around his neck, Blue Blood caught a fading glimpse of his murderer’s cutie mark.
Strange. It was exactly the same as the school’s librarian, Twilight Sparkle.
“The first thing you must know is that I have so many regrets,” Twilight Sparkle said as she removed her hat, revealing the ash-gray tiara underneath, “but I will set them all right.”
Fluttershy listened to the stranger’s—no, Twilight Sparkle’s—story: every discovery, every hardship, every rewritten history.
And every murder.
Twilight continued as the the familiar emerged from the Everfree Forest, its tower of lightning crackling against moonlight.
“This battle’s purpose is to test the efficacy of my devices. As such, I have ensured all confounding variables were removed.”
An ominous sense filled Fluttershy. “What variables?”
“In prior attempts, the unanticipated transformation of one or another hunter spoiled the experiment.”
“You mean Rainbow. And Rarity. And…Applejack.” Fluttershy’s teeth ground together. “You mean you killed my friends.”
“They weremy friends, too!”
Fluttershy startled. A plea began, but Twilight’s cold glare kept her quiet.
“Yes, I am to blame for the destruction of their constructs. But I will ensure their return.” Twilight gave Fluttershy a softer look. “Do you think me callous?”
Fluttershy swallowed hard and nodded.
The muscles of Twilight’s wiry frame slackened. Her ears drooped over her eyes. “Understand that I have faced countless cruel dilemmas and, denied a perfect solution, used my ability to explore every option. When I could, though, I showed all possible charity.” Twilight perked up. “Do you recall the baby dragon I mentioned, Spike?”
“Yes.”
“I saved his race some nine hundred years ago. Shortly after Kyubey made a hunter out of a changeling—”
“What’s a changeling?”
Twilight sighed. “A race whose hunger for love drove them to horrible acts against Equestria, although they once reformed with the rule of a compassionate king. In this reset, Kyubey found them before they united under a single leader. The race’s various tribes eagerly wished annihilation upon each other, eventually extinguishing their race.
“Afterward, I discovered that Kyubey had moved across the sea and approached the Dragon Lands. They have many of the same vices changelings had, and I knew that Kyubey could wreak havoc upon their race as well. So I prevented any rendezvous.” Twilight smiled slyly.
“How?”
“I ensured Kyubey first encountered…” Twilight blinked. The smile vanished. “Kyubey met a griffon first.”
“What’s a griffon?”
Another sigh. “Never mind.”
The familiar had moved into the valley in front of them. Fluttershy watched it crawl along, howling and twisting in the distance. Barren earth trailed behind it. Fluttershy tried to imagine the spells the unicorn—no, she remembered, the alicorn—could summon to fight it. However, no matter how much she focused, she only thought of death: the ponies killed, the races made extinct, the lives that never were. Her own inevitable demise felt near.
The sky turned riotous, trails of color carving through the air, as the pegasi of the Ponyville Air Guard Reserve flew overhead. Each pony aimed for the familiar.
“Finally fulfilling their thousand-year-old mission, again,” Twilight muttered.
Black orbs shot from the familiar. Ponies at the front of the massive Air Guard formation dove at them and then banked away, taunting the orbs to follow. Soon colors and void braided together into a frothing halo around the familiar. For some reason, the familiar’s lightning seemed to get brighter.
“They’ve been led to believe it’s a simulated volcano,” Twilight said. “It bears no resemblance to the authentic phenomena, but who among them would suspect a ruse? A century has passed since the last volcano erupted.”
A hint of the sly smile returned. She knew more than she was letting on.
High overhead, a second wave of pegasi appeared and inched towards the familiar with slow, heavy flaps. Each clutched metal cylinders against their bellies. Fluttershy’s wings ached in empathy as she recalled the bombs’ weight.
The frontmost ponies tipped into a rapid dive. Just before they reached the familiar’s height, each pony released their bomb and pitched upwards, completing a perfect divebomb.
Vivid flashes erupted beneath the halo, followed a split second later by thundering booms. The familiar staggered amidst the blasts, but it remained standing after the last of the bombers dropped her cargo and veered away.
“It didn’t work,” Fluttershy whimpered.
“Bombardment is not intended to cause harm. The objective is to soften the ground and distract the familiar.”
“Distract it from what?”
“The moon.”
Fluttershy’s muzzle tilted up. She hadn’t realized how much darker it was until she saw that where the moon should have been, only a tiny sliver of gray hung.
“What is that?” Fluttershy quailed.
“A crescentmoon.”
“A what moon?” The moon was a constant circle, gleaming so brilliantly every night that ponies socialized from dusk to dawn, read books by moonbeam, and sought refuge from it for sleep.
“It remains a surprise to me,” Twilight said, as if commenting on an early snow, “how few ponies recognize the abnormality of the moon’s lack of—”
She said a word that Fluttershy thought was faces, which made her laugh in that absurd moment. No, the moon didn’t have faces, it had the silhouettes of the Twin Sisters of the Moon. But as Twilight continued, unspooling more archaic words like eclipse, tide,and month, Fluttershy realized that the word had been phases. The moon was supposed to have phases.
Fluttershy watched the sliver—the crescent—shrink. Stars grew brighter and multiplied a million-fold. Where missing parts of the moon should have been, stars were drifting to the side and vanishing. New stars seemed to emerge from the edge to replace them.
Dizziness made Fluttershy drop her muzzle into her front hooves and cover her eyes.
“They had to enlarge it, as well,” Twilight continued. “Far fewer stars are visible as a result, so even most constellations of antiquity are unrecognizable. A necessary loss.”
A rattle of pops filled the air. Fluttershy unearthed herself to see six red flares crossing each other. The halo, which had become turbulent, dissipated. Jets of color darted away from the familiar in every direction. Orbs dogged them.
“At this point, Pinkie or Applejack would transform,” Twilight said. She rose to her four legs, and the staff hovered nearby. A nervous energy streamed off of her. “With heinous effect.”
The moon disappeared completely. In the incredible darkness that swallowed them, Fluttershy asked, “What do you mean, ‘they’ had to enlarge it?”
“Celestia and Luna. Their spirits have spent centuries fashioning the moon into a mirror.”
Something like a dawn brightened side of the sky. The light coalesced into a fiery snake arcing through the stars, its tip aimed for where the moon had been.
“A mirror for what?” Fluttershy asked.
Twilight flinched, and Fluttershy felt a sudden chill as the heat shield surrounded them.
Pulses of light billowed into a tower hurtling through the familiar. Arctic air screamed past Fluttershy and tore at her mane. The earth quaked, rippling the flaming trees into nothingness. Grass turned yellow, then gray, then into powder. Fluttershy blinked ash out of her eyes and coughed it from her mouth as the beam of sunlight devastated everything around them.
Beside her, Twilight seemed ready to prance.
Ground under the familiar took up its own ruddy glow as dirt, soil, and stone melted. Gooey bubbles formed. With each burst, the familiar sank, first by paces, then in shuddering plunges.
The pillar of light waned, delivering one last flash before winking out entirely. Lava submerged the familiar, but its tendrils stretched out of the pool and grasped at the pit’s smoldering edges.
Twilight’s horn sparked, and her teeth clenched. Something heavy shook, producing a bassy grinding sound. With a grunt, her horn flashed, and the shaking became a distant avalanche’s echo. The familiar’s tendrils slipped away. Lava funneled and disappeared, leaving behind a glowing hole.
Twilight’s cloak whipped away, revealing vast wings like two sky blue scythes. “I have work inside. You may accompany me if that is your druthers. The heat shield will follow.”
“Inside of what?”
A grin crept onto Twilight’s face as she took Fluttershy’s hoof. She seemed about to say something, but she turned away and sprang into the air, carrying Fluttershy into the pit.
They plunged hoof-in-hoof through a tunnel glowing red, surrounded by droplets and sparks of molten rock. Beneath them, rushing towards them, crags ringed a distant yellow beacon. Fluttershy’s heart raced as the crags yawned and swallowed them.
At first, all Fluttershy understood was that she’d fallen, and still fell, into a cavern. Browns, greys, and sparse beige patches surrounded her. A tiny yellow light hovered above the floor. Despite its small size, it shone so brightly that she couldn’t look directly at it. Air rushed past her, but neither the light nor the floor seemed to get any closer. She looked up to the narrowing craggy hole, and realized that the ceiling spanned an incredible distance. Her gaze followed the nearly perfect flatness at the hole to a gentle curve that had to be dozens, or hundreds, of miles away, and then swept across the entire expanse of the space she and Twilight had entered. No cavern could be this large.
Inside of what Fluttershy had asked.
Inside of the world.
“This is my ultimate contingency,” Twilight said. “The portal below leads to a point just above the sun’s photosphere. If I am unable to defeat the familiar with a strike to its weakness, I shall instead drive it through that portal. Our sun’s immense gravity will thwart its escape.”
Fluttershy noticed that the familiar had dropped far beneath them. Distance shrank it to a black smudge.
Twilight turned her face to the light as if oblivious to its intensity. “Portals like this will allow me to locate the world of Kyubey’s creators. Rather than allow their predation of Equestria, I can strike them preemptively.” She looked back to Fluttershy. The wind rushing through her coat and mane gave her a manic look. “If one constructs a portal above the surface of a planet, and places the other end of the portal within the interior of a star, the results are catastrophic for the planet. Imagine that unleashed on Kyubey’s world.”
Fluttershy couldn’t look at her. Even for someone like Kyubey, what she said was horribly cruel.
Twilight’s grip tightened. “I have the capacity to obliterate the familiar and Kyubey’s creators. I’ll reset again and keep Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow, and Pinkie alive. I’ll ensure Equestria’s security forever. I can fulfill all my promises at last. Does that not excite you?”
Fluttershy shook her head sullenly. How could anypony be excited by what Twilight was saying? Her promises were more killing, destruction, and suffering. The world already had too much.
Twilight had lived a completely different life, though, in a completely different Equestria, and she had thrown it away. For this.
“Perhaps the magnitude of my devices shocks the senses.” Twilight trembled and squeezed Fluttershy’s foreleg. “Watch. You will understand the necessity of every component to this attack.”
She released Fluttershy, who braked instinctively. With a glance back, Twilight tucked in her wings in and shot towards the familiar. Her form shrank, leaving Fluttershy alone.
“You need to stop her,” Kyubey’s voice said.
She almost lost control hearing him suddenly return.
“My creators’ universal immortality project is in serious danger. I’ve warned them about her plans, but she can rewind and ambush them. However, you can stop her with a wish. You can help my creators save the universe from entropic death.”
“Save the universe. You mean make more witches.”
“That’s correct.”
Spurs burst from the familiar as Twilight dove near it. She swerved around them.
“How many?” Fluttershy asked. “How much more suffering do you need?”
“Well, every witch experiences suffering, and each witch can only reverse a limited amount of entropy. Entropy is always increasing, so to allow the universe to continue infinitely, my creators’ project requires an infinite number of witches, and therefore, infinite suffering.” He hesitated, or maybe it was just her imagination. “The benefits of universal immortality outweigh even infinite costs, though.”
Spur after spur raked past Twilight, each one coming closer than the last to landing. She was slowing down after only a few minutes. Maybe she’d been rewinding, and it’d been longer for her.
“Are your creators going to suffer, too?”
“No. They don’t experience emotion, and therefore cannot suffer. However, please don’t mistake that for selfishness. My creators would have willingly destroyed their own world if it achieved universal immortality.”
Twilight put distance between her and the familiar. Its barbs withdrew, and its shape became circular. Tiny lines sprang from its sides, stretching out to each side of the world’s interior.
“Oh, no.” Fluttershy felt deflated. “It’s grabbing onto the sides. It’ll pull itself back out.”
“I don’t think that’s what it’s doing.”
Rumbles like a hammered bell filled the air. The din rattled her from every direction. More of the familiar’s tendrils shot out and splayed across the rock. Far away, where one of the first tendrils had landed, dust floated up.
No, not dust, her frame of reference was wrong. The motes she saw had to be the size of mountains. They weren’t floating up, either, they were falling towards the center. Other places where the tendrils had landed start to crumble. Soon the dust specks grew larger and gained color, grassy greens and icy whites. Star-strewn black showed through widening holes.
Fluttershy could only watch the lethargic implosion. “Every creature on the surface must be so terrified.”
“Your planet is caving in. You need to make a wish before Twilight realizes her experiment has failed and resets again. If you want to save your planet, and my creators’ project, you have to wish she never existed.”
Fluttershy knew the rules: wishing away Twilight would make a paradox, and that would lead to a familiar. She’d just trade suffering for suffering. Why was her only choice so terrible?
Cracks began to careen across the inner surface of the planet. Noise amplified. At any second, Twilight could reset and free Fluttershy of what she had to do, but the dot kept moving. Maybe she was thinking about new ways to blow up Kyubey’s world.
The picture of it came to Fluttershy’s mind. A world of Kyubeys and their shadowy masters rationally accepting their fate as the ground collapsed beneath them, hurling them into a portal that had eaten their planet from the inside out.
Devoid of emotion, they had no reason to fear death, like Kyubey said.
Their only concern had been immortality, like Kyubey said.
Only as the picture lingered did Fluttershy realize it was all wrong.
“Kyubey, I’ll make a wish.”
Explaining wouldn’t help. Kyubey and his creators wouldn’t believe her until they saw it for themselves.
“I wish I could be with every hunter who ever lived or will live,” she said, “just before they turn into a witch.”
Princess Twilight Sparkle could remember every moment since these ponies had met her. Every peril and triumph, every bout of anger and lesson learned, every prank and laugh, and every tearful moment of quiet. She clung to these memories as she soared through the dark night sky above the raging familiar.
Unicorn blasts and dragon fire poured into the familiar’s side. Lightning from pegasi and munitions from hippogriffs sizzled through the air. Luna darted between them, summoning shields and bolts to dispatch black orbs. Earth ponies flinging boulders and griffons screeching battlecries pummeled the familiar’s tendrils, keeping it trapped in the ditch Maud had dug. Even Thorax’s band of changeling rebels fought, shapeshifting into whatever form needed reinforcements.
Horns sounded. Twilight summoned her heat shield and shaped it into a funnel pointed at the familiar. Seconds later, Celestia’s Flare roared to life, pinning the familiar with a blazing spear. Harrowing shrieks echoed from hill to hill while Twilight hovered, scanning the center of the spell’s effect.
There. Even amid the second sun’s inferno, the exposed weakness shone bright. Twilight clutched her staff and dove into the fire.
Orange jets streaked across her heat shield as she buried into the beam. Cool wind buffeted her mane and hat. Her telekinesis cut into the air molecules to create a less resistant path forward, and her glide steadied.
Flare’s brilliance faded, leaving only the familiar’s blazing weakness…and revealing the tendril rushing at her.
It caught her before she could react, but a unicorn’s turquoise shield protected her. The tendril’s force swung her to the ground, an impact delivered in clattering bones. The tendril pulled away and slammed her again, driving the protective bubble halfway into the dirt.
Squeals rang out. The tendril snapped away, and five faces appeared over the lip of the crater. These were the ponies who had first come to her aid a decade ago, when Canterlot had to be freed from Discord’s chaos. Since that desperate day, they had risen to Equestria’s defense without fail; all they asked was that she reach out her hoof.
Hoof met hoof in six pairs, and Twilight felt harmony pour into her once more. They rose together, surrounded by a rainbow helix, to face the familiar. Its black tendrils circled around the gap in its void-filled armor, closing off its exposed weakness.
Then the rainbow helix telescoped into and through it, propelling them forward. Twilight drew her friends together, wrapped her heat shield around them, and drove her staff in front. The dying star of the weakness bloomed in front.
Her staff merely shuddered, an ancient oak falling through paper ribbons, as they crashed through. Howls turned to whimpers, blinding light faded, swirling blackness unraveled, and shimmering cascades winked away. Twilight glided through the remnants, her staff burnt black, braking only to slow the ground’s approach. Creatures were cheering when they landed.
Green flares started, each one a signal from a unit reporting no casualties. First from Celestia’s and Luna’s small but robust force, then from Thorax’s changeling rebels, then the hippogriffs, griffons, dragons, and finally from Ponyville’s enormous contingent. At last, she turned around to see Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Starlight Glimmer grinning at her.
Everypony except Fluttershy.
Tears came to her eyes in the quiet. “We’re all accounted for,” she said, and this world’s Elements of Harmony rushed to embrace her.
Years passed. Each race had faced countless familiars for over a thousand years, but the one defeated at Ponyville proved to be the last. With their end, so too ended the order of hunters, heroic creatures who sought out the mysterious white alien Kyubey and devoted their lives to defeating familiars. Each one accepted that they, like the first hunter Stygian, would disappear into a flash of light at the end of their lives. Only Twilight knew that they should have transformed when their psychic energy ran out. She accepted she might never learn exactly what stopped them.
With familiars gone and Kyubey’s scheme in shambles, Twilight returned to finding Fluttershy. She had obsessed over genealogies, gleefully tracking the births of Shining Armor, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Starlight Glimmer. However, when Fluttershy’s parents bore only a single child, Zephyr Breeze, Twilight feared that she had prevented Fluttershy’s conception with some misstep. Before she could reset to fix it, though, archaeologists uncovered the Tree of Harmony under the Everfree Forest. Among its branches, a single crystal butterfly still grew.
Equestria’s Element of Kindness would come. It was destiny. So Twilight would wait for Fluttershy.
* * * * *
Decades passed. Twilight had mentored ponies all her life, including the young Princesses Celestia and Luna, Shining Armor, Cadance (who was a pegasus now), Sunset Shimmer, and Flurry Heart (a unicorn, but still the daughter of Cadance and Shiny). After the Elements of Harmony returned Discord to his statue, she counted them among her protégés as well. Twilight relished watching each of her protégés grow beyond what they’d been in her prior life, but loathed knowing that she’d also see their end. She attended all of their funerals, although she strained to maintain her stoic regal appearance. Then Flurry Heart passed away at 92 years old, and Twilight bawled at the eulogy.
Afterward, Luna visited her in the safety of Canterlot Castle. “You may want to consider a sabbatical soon,” the youngest princess said. “Over the past week, I’ve prevented a number of…terrible dreams from afflicting you.”
“Oh, thanks. What kind of dreams were they?
“In the dreams you…” Luna seemed to shrink. “Labyrinths ran rampant through Equestria. Their denizens were like familiars, but somehow far more sinister. Your friends became hunters to fight them, but… Kyubey frequently appeared, though rarely near you. You machinated against him, tore him to pieces, all the while ignoring your friends’ distress. You even… They all died because...” Her pleading eyes caught Twilight’s. “My dame, I beg your forgiveness for this burden.”
Twilight rested a hoof on Luna’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s not a burden at all. At least I didn’t have to sleep through all that, right?” She chuckled, which felt so good. “Thank you, again, for stopping my nightmares.”
Luna’s ears flicked back in a quizzical expression. “What is a nightmare?” asked the pony who never had been, and never would be, Nightmare Moon.
* * * * *
Centuries passed. Twilight accepted an invitation to study draconic culture up close, and Dragon Lord Ember offered the aid of executive assistant, a snarky purple and green drake named Obelisk. Twilight called him Spike for short. After returning to Equestria, she tried to write to them both regularly, but they fell out of touch.
Celestia left to explore the stars, leaving Luna as the monarch of Equestria. A few hundred years later, Luna cast a spell to put the sun and moon in motion on their own and also departed. Although there were some efforts for Twilight to renounce her abdication, Equestria eventually converted to a form of democracy one of her former protégés had invented. She wrote to congratulate him. His great-granddaughter replied, thanking her for her thoughts and providing the location of the graveyard in which he had been buried.
Twilight didn’t mentor anyone else.
* * * * *
Millennia passed. Equestria underwent changes and convulsions, each leaving it less recognizable. Debates began about when the realm had fallen. Twilight joined in these debates to argue to any academic who would listen that Equestria had never fallen, although it had certainly adapted. She traveled to a succession of increasingly marvellous buildings and, despite her struggles with the shifts in language, made her point in a comprehensive presentation of Equestria’s history.
Her last presentation garnered a tepid response. She later learned that she’d been asked to discuss the origins of the myth of Equestria, a land which existed only in foals’ imaginations…and, apparently, in the addled mind of one old nag.
She stopped accepting invitations to public events.
* * * * *
Epochs passed. Stars scattered, mountains crumbled, and seas swelled. Twilight thought that sunlight had become a little more red, although her calculations showed the sun hadn’t aged enough for that.
Intelligent races evolved in fascinating ways. A tribe of shaggy bipeds, distant cousins of earth ponies, helped her meditate to the chimes of ice crystals. Mages with goat-like dexterity, descended from unicorns, hunted gems with her in mountain retreats. Leathery-winged relatives of pegasi taught her echolocation while she spelunked in winding caves.
She encountered a race of enormous hairless creatures who strode through a gentle valley on six legs thicker than her entire body. Thanks to necks that stretched out fifteen paces, they fed on melon-sized fruit growing from towering trees. They were so strange that Twilight supposed they might be from another world. However, when one of them guffawed and winked at her, she wondered if she’d discovered a distant branch of the Apple family tree.
During her visit with the massive creatures, Twilight grew fatigued and ran a persistent fever. Those symptoms she could ignore, but when nightmares came, she sought out one of the creatures’ healers. The healer told her, in a pidgin they’d developed over a few weeks, that he believed the enchanted hood she wore might be causing hallucinations. The hood let her see, so the enchantment needed to be fixed, but their tribe had no experience with spells. She would have to leave their valley to find help.
Her stay with them had been brief, but Twilight wanted to thank them for their hospitality before she left. For other tribes, she had translated her notes of their culture and history to leave behind, but her stay with the giants had been only a few weeks. Even if she understood their language, she had only a few paltry notes. Instead, she asked that her hosts gather all their tribe in a natural amphitheater to listen to a true account that no creature had heard before. Around sunset, the last of them took their seats. Their bulbous eyes trained on her, and they listened as she spoke through a translator.
“There was once a realm named Equestria, home to earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns, alicorns, and many others. Tonight, I will tell you this realm’s history and its protectors: Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Spike, Starlight Glimmer…” She swallowed. “And Fluttershy.”
* * * * *
She endured fever and lightheadedness through daybreak, when she finished her tale before any mention of Kyubey or labyrinths. The giants seemed to listen with rapt attention, but she left the valley wracked with doubt. Had she been translated accurately? Would they remember well enough? How long would the story of Equestria pass down to future generations? Still, she trudged away through morning.
By midday, waking nightmares haunted her every step. In one breath, she would smother a sleeping pony to scare Rainbow Dash from becoming a hunter. In another, she’d light a mansion aflame, despite know that Applejack was trapped inside. In a third, she built automatons of Moon Dancer and Starlight to hide their deaths. She shook away each nightmare.
Then the visions turned to Fluttershy.
Twilight let them wash over her. Swarms of bees told her about Fluttershy; a circus and a warning; a confrontation in the forest, another in a cathedral of strings; finally, she fell with Fluttershy from unimaginable heights, somehow through the world, and—
“My creators need to know what you wished for.”
She stumbled hearing Kyubey’s voice. Her jaw slammed on the ground, and something crumpled by her ear. The world turned to blobs of light and dull color.
“According to their models, a hunter that exhausts its psychic energy must undergo metamorphosis, producing a much stronger entity. This has never been observed.” The voice drew nearer. “My creators now know that you are from an alternate history. You must have wished to stop hunters from transforming and then used a spell to return to the distant past. That explains the familiars.”
Kyubey had listened to her story to the valley giants, invaded that pristine moment. She swung her forelegs at a white oval but connected with nothing.
“Harvesting psychic energy from a familiar is not efficient enough to reverse entropy, but it’s been sufficient to sustain you. Until now. Your demise is imminent.”
Snarling, she shoved herself up to her hooves. Her telekinesis snatched at the ground around her. Snaps of rock ripping apart filled the air.
”Please tell me what you wished for. My creators will find a way to undo it for the sake of the universal immortality project.”
She couldn’t die like this, being lied to by Kyubey. She had to wait for Fluttershy. The hourglass sprang to her mind. If she could rewind…
And then, at her back, she felt another’s feathers.
“Who are you?” Kyubey asked.
Yellow wings surrounded Twilight. She sagged into an embrace from a pink mane hovering above a shadow.
“I knew you’d arrive if I waited,” Twilight whispered.
A titter, three chiming notes, answered her. “Actually, I never left.”
Fluttershy’s voice creaked like an old nag’s. Panic gripped Twilight, and she reached up to Fluttershy’s face. She felt flaps of skin, a threadbare mane, a rounded muzzle…and a placid smile.
“You’re so old!” Twilight moaned. “When were you born? I’ll go back before then, get Equestria ready for you—”
Twilight allowed her hooves to drop. Ferocious heat came from the shadow near Fluttershy’s neckline. Not a shadow; Fluttershy wore a Soul Gem on the verge of breaking.
“No, no, no, there aren’t familiars anymore—”
“And there aren’t any witches.”
“You’re not supposed to know about…” Twilight gasped as the epiphany struck her. “It was your wish! You beat Kyubey!”
Fluttershy stiffened. “No, I didn’t have to beat him. He and his creators would never have gotten what they wanted. That’s why they suffered so much.”
“Suffer?” Twilight barked out a laugh. “Kyubey can’t suffer. It doesn’t even have feelings.”
“I think that makes it worse. He and his creators can’t savor what’s fleeting or mourn what’s lost. They don’t fear death, so they don’t know how to bravely accept that nothing lasts forever. All they know is how to spread their suffering.” With every word, Fluttershy relaxed a little. “They can’t feel any of that, but maybe my wish will help them put an end to their project sooner.”
“So you did wish to mess up their technology.” Twilight squeezed her amazing, clever, world-saving friend.
“Not exactly. I wished that I could be with every hunter who ever lived or will live just before they turned into a witch…so I could do this.”
The heat and brightness intensified. Twilight’s tears boiled off her cheeks. She realized she hadn’t watched hunters vanish in flashes of light; she’d watched Fluttershy incinerate them.
“We’re the last two hunters,” Fluttershy said. “With everyone else, I’ve had to hold back. Not with you.”
Twilight nuzzled into Fluttershy’s chest as she understood her friend’s meaning. The smell of char choked her. “You can’t go now. You’re Equestria’s Element of Kindness—”
“And Equestria is gone.”
“It’s just changed…” Twilight suppressed the sore memories of distant arguments. “It lives on in stories, at least.”
“Every story has an end. Even the stories we tell ourselves.”
The fire between them became smothering, but Twilight shivered.
“This isn’t fair,” Twilight said. “You deserve a life! You deserve to be with your friends!”
“I’ve had a life, a good life even. One devoted to helping others in their most painful moment and making sure it doesn’t become even worse. And I have friends. I’m so glad to be with you now. Being alone at the end must be so awful.”
Fluttershy’s voice faltered. Her forelegs slackened.
Ash crumbled from Twilight’s coat. They were the last hunters, the last Elements of Harmony, the last subjects of Equestria. The last ponies. In seconds they’d live on only in stories, the eternal stream of heroes who saved the world from villains great and wily. Immortal by word and dream. But the greatest hero of all, Fluttershy…
No one except Twilight even knew she existed.
“Then you deserve to be remembered.”
The heat shield surged out. Cold rushed over her.
“I’ll start again, from as far back as I can. I’ll tell every creature about the Elements of Harmony, and I promise they’ll remember you. They’ll remember all of us. Forever.”
“Don’t—”
“I can’t wait to see you again.”
The hourglass in Twilight’s mind began to spin, further through the eons than ever before, even as something deep inside her screamed that this was—
All wrong.
“On this first day of autumn, I hereby convoke…”
Nine pairs of eyes drifted up to Twilight from eight creatures she knew well…and one impossible guest. Twilight’s scientists had assured her that its world was scoured clean by starfire and ripped apart by a gravitational portal. Every inhabitant had been annihilated.
And yet, there sat Kyubey.
All so horribly wrong.
“The Aspects of New Equestria,” Twilight said, clacking a gavel. She nodded to a scrawny dragon. “Calcine, could you introduce your guest?”
The dragon stood and scratched her neck apathetically. “Calcine, Aspect of Growth, yadda yadda yadda. So I was flying around trying to find a new mineral deposit, ‘cause us dragons are running low on emeralds ever since Sulphur Gorge went…” Her claws clasped together. “Whoomph. Anyway, I saw this guy in a volcano talking to some magmagators. That was going about as well as you’d expect. I fly down, scare them off, and… You know what? I’ll let him explain.” She dropped back to her chair.
Kyubey rose and surveyed the room. “My creators wanted to make contact with your world sooner. Like you, they fought against persistent familiars.”
Somber expressions spread around the room at the mention of familiars. Even the griffon Gonzo, the Aspect of Fun, lost his normally irrepressible smirk.
“They believed familiars release a kind of energy that could be harnessed to slow entropy,” Kyubey continued. “In theory, entities could be built that released enough of this energy to reverse entropy indefinitely. However, before they could perfect this technology, a wayward portal from your dimension destroyed their planet.”
“A portal from our dimension?” asked the hippogriff Green Eyes, Aspect of Trust. His gaze locked on a changeling across the table. “I do wonder who could be responsible for such an atrocity.”
Cryptic, Aspect of Candor, shrugged. “Unicorns told us to quit messing around with portals, remember? Go bug them for once.”
The unicorn Whisper, Aspect of Listening, wilted from the sudden attention. “I’ll, uhm, ask.”
“To preserve their work,” Kyubey said after they’d quieted, “my creators encoded their research into me and projected me through the portal into this dimension. I can deliver their work and help your races defeat your familiars.”
“And in what ways can you assist against these monsters we resist?” asked the zebra Sestina, Aspect of Adaptability.
“It’s my understanding that only one creature in your world can destroy familiars currently. I can enable others to do this by teaching them to use…” Kyubey’s eyes burned into Twilight. “Interesting. Your language already has the required vocabulary: I can teach them to use a Soul Gem.”
“Pegasi should get Soul Gems first!” barked the pegasus Golden Bounty, Aspect of Sharing.
“Not before earth ponies!” said the earth pony Rocky, Aspect of Patience.
“I can teach as many creatures as you’d like. All they have to do is make a wish.”
Twilight reveled in silence as the discussion continued. On her last reset, she’d returned to a past before Equestria or the Pillars. These eight creatures, reared on Elements of Harmony “fairy tales” that Twilight had told for hundreds of generations, would help her build the perfect version of her world. With the technology Kyubey surrendered to them, she’d find a way to preserve this new world forever.
The arguments wound down. Her telekinesis extended surgically to each of the Aspects, draining depressant neurotransmitters while stimulating norepinephrine, but not to the point of mania, and adding a final kick of adrenaline and dopamine. She released them, confident that she had instilled the fear of death and a hope of immortality.
“Let us put the question to a secret ballot,” she said. “Should New Equestria accept this guest’s aid?”
The final tally was eight to one in favor. Twilight glanced around the table, unable to guess who might be the contrarian. It didn’t matter, she supposed.
“The yeas have it,” she said.
Twilight felt peculiar, like her head was a hot air balloon about to drift away from her neck. She excused herself, passed the gavel to Whisper, and meandered into the Everfree Castle’s stupendous atrium. There, under the watchful eyes of statues and memorials, tears of joy streamed down her cheek.
She’d done it. After all her misery, her planning, her hard work, she’d finally won, she’d finally built a world fit for her friends, and the world that would never know…will never know their absence.
Imagine it: an entire existence woven from filaments of lineage and history, the movements of its every atom compelled like destiny. Myths distill into morals supporting customs enshrined as law. Common goals turn to grand missions binding together ponies into a realm that awaits through millennia of sublime peace the birth of its guardians.
Then they’ll return. All of them. Rainbow, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie, Spike, Starlight, and Fluttershy, every creature, they’ll all come back. They’ll grow with one another, dispel their loneliness, learn from every adventure, and teach their lessons across the world to never, ever, ever, ever be forgotten.
But they’ll still die.
And die.
And die. And die. And die, and die, and die and die anddieanddieanddiediediediedi
