Sunset Shimmer faces her last and most difficult challenge on her road to recovery. How will she overcome it?
Coming back from the mental brink has felt like an eternity of a slog for Sunset Shimmer, even though the true passage of time has been just shy of eight months. Nonetheless, she has managed to make new friends, rebuild bridges, regain some assertiveness, and face down most of her proverbial demons. However, Sunset still has one final obstacle, the one she'd been dreading for ten years: Her.
Sunset Shimmer stepped out of the magic mirror into which she had banished herself a decade earlier… Perhaps the correct phrasing for her action would be ‘attempted to walk out of the mirror but promptly tripped over herself, falling down the small platform flat onto her face’.
“Oww,” Sunset groaned as she rubbed her forehead. She felt a bony protrusion. Her horn. She took stock of the rest of her body: hooves, golden fur, and a tail the same dual tone as her mane. Yep, she was back in Equestria and a Unicorn again. Once her brain adjusted to this new/old reality, she slowly rose to examine her surroundings. The magic mirror – that damnable thing that facilitated her fall from grace – was still there on its purple podium. But surrounding it (and her) was a large room she had never seen before.
There did not appear to be any ponies around, guard or otherwise. Lucky. Still, best not to make too much noise.
She carefully, quietly, slowly turned in a tight circle, examining as best she could, which was not much considering the only light in the room was the afterglow from the magic mirror. No worries; she could cast a simple lighting spell and use her horn as a beacon. Hopefully. It had been so long – at least on her end; she could not be sure what the equivalent passage of time in Equestria had been – that Sunset was more than a little concerned about her magic abilities being rusty. Fortunately, she managed to pull off that basic spell without anything going wrong. Lighting accomplished, she continued her observations.
A cursory glance at the walls showed them to be crystalline. Yet she knew this could not be the crystal caverns within Mount Equus; as a filly, she often snuck in there to explore. Those ancient caves had many things, but a ten-foot-tall dormer window wasn’t among them. Clearly the mirror had been moved during Sunset’s time inside it. Or Celestia decided to redecorate Canterlot Royal Palace. No, the first option was far more plausible.
Peering out the window, Sunset expected to see the familiar grounds of the palace with its impeccably manicured hedges and stately fountains. Instead, she saw (as much as one can in near-dark) a dimly-lit stone street flanked by buildings made out of crystal. Obviously this was in the middle of a city rather than on its edge.
This led Sunset to ask aloud the pertinent question: “Where the buck am I?”
As luck would have it, Sunset found a door along the wall perpendicular to the window. She worried that it would groan, as doors can, alerting any guards in the area. However, it moved without a sound, allowing Sunset to continue to escape detection. Well-oiled hinges! She decided then and there that the maintenance staff in charge of upkeep for this unusual building deserved a raise for such diligence and attention to detail.
Sunset poked her head out the door and found herself on the outer ring of a circular hallway. The walls were, of course, crystalline. The floor was marble, but it was so polished it may as well have been glass. To her left, just barely within sight, she could see stairs leading up to something. To her right, somewhat closer, were stairs leading down. The hallway had a few other doors along each side, but none as large as the one in whose threshold she stood.
Her brief look out that window told her she was not on a ground floor, so right would be the proper direction to go in order to leave, but her instinct told her to wait. She returned to the window, taking a closer look below. Sure enough, armoured guards patrolled the street immediately beneath her. However, their armour was of a style Sunset had never seen except perhaps in her history books a lifetime ago. Their coats and armour twinkled under the sparse light from the firefly street-lamps. Clearly they had been hired to guard someone, but it was not Celestia.
As Sunset processed all this new information, she noticed the sky quickly beginning to lighten. The time of day seemed to correspond more or less on either side of the mirror. Fortuitous for her, as day meant the guards might thin out somewhat. Less fortuitous was that just as she prepared to leave, she heard hooves clacking on the floor outside the room, approaching her. They came from the left, upstairs, so chances were they belonged to whoever lived in the building.
Sunset could not trust that her rusty magic would protect her in the event of a skirmish, so her eyes darted around the room searching for a place to hide. Annoyingly, the place was totally bare save for the magic mirror. However, it was set against one of the walls such that anyone coming in through the door could only see its front: that inverted purple horseshoe. Sunset quickly hopped behind the mirror, huddling up against its back to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Because its gate was open, it put out a small measure of heat. This gave Sunset a bit of comfort as she waited for the interloper to go away.
However, whichever pony whose hoofsteps had been so loudly clacking down the hall stopped in front of the mirror room and entered. Sunset shut her eyes and braced herself as the steps came ever closer, stopping a few feet in front of the mirror.
“Good morning,” spoke a female voice in a slightly wistful tone. It sounded extremely familiar to Sunset, but she could not quite put a name or face to it.
The voice continued. “Thought I’d let you know that today’s a big day, for me and for Equestria. I wish you could be here with me to see it. Even if you were never interested in being friends, I still want to believ—”
“Hey!” called a male voice (which sounded significantly less familiar) from the hall, “Aren’t you ready yet? We have to get to the train station!”
“Coming, dear!” the female said as sweetly as she could, but with an undercurrent of irritation. She spoke again, but this time more quietly, to the mirror.
“I don’t know why I keep visiting this mirror every day. You can’t hear me, and I know deep down you’re not coming back. I guess it’s just more wishful thinking that my voice will eventually reach you. I even ‘requisitioned’ this mirror from Celestia’s chamber against her wishes when I moved out, hoping you might… I don’t know. Maybe you’d feel more comfortable and willing to return if you knew you wouldn’t pop out in the middle of Canterlot Palace. Silly, I know. But…” she sighed. “I’m going to keep hoping I’ll see you again. I wish I could talk longer but, like I said, today is busy. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, okay? Goodbye for now… Sunny.”
Sunset, smiling to herself and holding back a tear, waited until all was completely silent before venturing out to explore and learn about this so-called big day…
The doors to the ornate, high-vaulted throne room of Canterlot Palace burst open with nearly enough force to rattle their hinges as Twilight Sparkle, recently declared Princess of Friendship, galloped in along the royal red carpet, past the myriad stained glass windows depicting important events in Equestria’s recent history, towards the raised throne at the other end of the massive hall, a pair of overburdened saddlebags jiggling furiously as if they were holding on for dear life.
On the throne – rebuilt a few moons back to incorporate a moon logo along with its sun – sat Equestria’s eternal (for all intents and purposes) ruler, Princess Celestia. The massive white Alicorn looked especially resplendent this day: her golden regalia had been given a thorough cleaning the previous week and glinted in the multicoloured shafts of sunlight streaming in. Her ethereal mane seemed to have more wave to it than normal, likely because she had switched mane-care products, although she would never admit such a gauche thing, especially not to Twilight.
To Celestia’s right sat a very sleepy Princess Luna, her expression bored as she levitated a bottle of soapy water and a tiny plastic wand with a plastic circle on one end allowing her to blow bubbles, a trick she had learned from a mailmare friend of hers. She yawned as she put down her toy, slowly turning towards the door and the rapidly approaching purple demi-princess. Some minutes earlier, shortly before the dawn, Luna had sighted Twilight flying at top speed towards the castle and felt a duty to warn her elder sister during the shift change, but figured she owed it to both of them to hang around long enough for greetings to be exchanged.
“Well, now. Good morning, Twilight,” said Princess Celestia in her usual unflappable tone.
“Fair morning to thee, Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Luna said in between yawns. “And, now that pleasantries have been extended, I shall retire to my chambers, for I much disdain the day. Come, Tiberius.”
As the Princess of the Night carefully made her way down the throne’s back stairs (built for quick escape in case of an attack), a large fat possum followed her not unlike a puppy. Twilight jumped when she saw the marsupial and remained on her guard until Luna exited through a back door followed by Tiberius and two bat-winged guards, who shut the door behind them.
Princess Celestia stared at Twilight with a serene expression. Over all the years she had been the sovereign’s personal protégée, Twilight was never able to get the hang of reading her mentor’s mood except in extraordinary circumstances. Twilight’s mind briefly flashed back to the multiple occasions where Celestia had almost boasted of the pride she took in being as mercurial as possible – kept ponies on their hooftips, she said.
“I was already informed of your sudden visit,” Celestia continued. “I am, of course, always glad to see my former student, but I must ask what in Equestria prompted you to come here with such haste? Surely there are few possible problems you could have that would require my assistance or tutelage.”
Twilight’s horn glowed its magenta aura as she magically opened her left-flank saddlebag, levitating out a large thick book bound in the finest brown leather. It had no title on the face, nor on the spine; the only indication of its contents was a large blazing sun with its core dual-coloured and twisting around itself similar to the ‘yin-yang’ symbol often seen in the faraway kingdom of Neighppon. The book was pulsating with an occasional dim glow.
Celestia’s carefully cultivated expression dropped immediately, a whirlwind of emotions seeming to cross her face all at once for about thirty seconds.
“That journal…” Celestia said tentatively.
“It’s a message from Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight stated the obvious, hoping not to see her mentor wince at the mention of that name.
“You have told me previously that you converse with my fallen former protégée on occasion,” said Celestia in a distinctly even tone. “Yet never before have you seen fit to return to me this book. Why is this morning any different?”
“Well, uh…” Twilight stammered as she blushed in embarrassment, pawing her hoof on the red velvet carpet. “I, um, c-can’t read it.”
That caused Princess Celestia to raise her eyebrows slightly, about as close to shock as Twilight had ever seen Celestia allow herself to get outside of a Changeling invasion or an irritated Draconequus popping in (literally) to harsh her buzz.
“Cannot read it?” Celestia asked as she overpowered Twilight’s own magic, levitating the journal to herself. She opened the tome to a page Twilight had marked with a piece of lavender silk, gazed at the page for about five seconds, and then stifled a chuckle.
Twilight stared at her, utterly befuddled. “What is it, Princess?”
Celestia set the journal down at her hooves and levelled a wry smile at Twilight. “You never were very proficient in Classical Equestrian, were you? One of your worst subjects, if I recall.”
Twilight looked hurt. “I can read the runes just fine! You know I had to learn them so I could decipher Starswirl The Bearded’s spells. But this?! This is complete gibberish!”
“That is because Starswirl, odd stallion he was, used an extremely esoteric form of ‘language’ for his spells. It bears only the palest resemblance to conversational Classical Equestrian. You, Twilight, were so obsessed with deciphering old spells that you forgot there was an entire world and context from which those runes came. Also, Starswirl spoke Middle Equestrian, not unlike the way my own dear sister and isolated groups like the Tarpanites continue to talk, so his grasp of the ancient tongue was far from perfect,” Celestia explained.
“Okay,” said Twilight, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “So what does the page say?”
Princess Celestia attempted a serious expression, although her eyes failed to conceal her hidden smile. “The first line says, roughly translated, ‘I write this entry expecting and hoping that Twilight will not be able to read it’.”
Twilight’s eyes went wide as her jaw dropped. A purple claw extended from her right-flank saddlebag and closed her mouth.
“B-b-but… I… don’t… why?” Twilight sputtered.
Ignoring her, Celestia looked instead to the saddlebag, her golden aura levitating a thoroughly cramped tiny purple dragon out and placing him gently on the carpet before her.
“Spike, I am glad you are here. It saves me the trouble of summoning you.”
The young dragon looked just as confused as Twilight. “Huh?” he asked the princess.
Celestia looked at both of them sternly. “Twilight, you are to depart for the Crystal Empire immediately. Upon your arrival, you shall inform Princess Cadance that I require her presence here as soon as possible. She is to come alone. No guards or retainers, not even the orange one to which you have taken a fancy. You will stay behind and assist Shining Armor until Cadance returns. Do you understand?”
“Wait. Why can’t I go?” asked Spike. “The Crystal Ponies love me!”
Princess Celestia regained her serene smile. “That as it may be, I have a special task for you, Spike.”
“It’s not cleaning out the palace latrines again, is it?” he inquired, disappointed.
“(Again?) Uh, I mean, let us confirm that that is the case,” Celestia replied as Spike’s head drooped.
“Oh well,” said Twilight in the most flippant tone she could possibly muster. “I guess I’m off to see my big brother and favourite foalsitter! Bye!”
With that, Twilight turned on her hooves and galloped out of the throne room and out of the palace toward the rail terminal on the other side of the Royal Mile, which despite its name was only about three-fifths that length. Celestia and Spike both cocked their heads at Twilight not flying.
“Force of habit?” they both asked each other and no one in unison.
Once the massive white Pegasus guards had shut the massive doors and excused themselves, Spike turned back to Equestria’s diarch.
“Are you seriously gonna make me clean crap?” Spike asked.
Celestia let out a mirthful yet soft laugh. “Of course not! Do you think I am unaware of how Twilight has been treating you these last three years? I figured you could use a respite from her that did not involve consuming large quantities of spirituous liquors with our mutual friend Meyer… and the inevitable property destruction that accompanies it.”
“Well, I guess you’ve got a point there,” said Spike, sheepish.
“Now,” Celestia said as she hurriedly scrawled out a note on one of her magic scrolls, “I need to use you as a conduit to relay a message to Princess Cadance.”
“Wait, what?” Spike asked, confused. “I thought you just asked Twilight to deliver the message.”
Celestia grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I did. But there is no point in Cadance taking days out of her schedule to deal with a matter that should only take a couple of hours. However, I was specifically asked by our mutual acquaintance, Raven Inkwell, to entice Twilight to leave Ponyville for some days. In addition, her presence in Canterlot tends to destabilize my delicate détante between Nobility and Commoners, to say nothing of that Prime Minister who shall remain nameless; I fear what fallout may come the day he and Twilight meet. Anyway, we have, with your assistance, a much faster method of communication and transport.”
Spike glared at Celestia in disbelief. “Princess, I only burp up your scrolls for Twilight. You’re not seriously asking me to do that to Cadance, are you?”
“Of course not,” Celestia said. “But I do need your fire-vector power for this.”
She gestured to a spot behind Spike. He turned around, then jumped back in shock as a six-foot diameter ring of gold fire rose up out of the red carpet.
“What in the?!” asked Spike, at once shocked and confused.
“Please face the flames,” Celestia ordered in as gentle a voice as she could, enveloping Spike in her aura and forcibly turning him around.
Within ten seconds, Spike felt that familiar unpleasant feeling in his gut meaning a scroll was forthcoming. Instinctively, he tried to hold it back as best he could, but inevitably released a hearty belch of green fire. However, before the scroll could materialize as normal, his fire mingled with the gold fire, somehow turning both flames blue as they swirled counterclockwise, then lifted ten feet into the air before condensing into a rapidly spinning orb which then dissipated with a release of air forceful enough it broke the sound barrier and sent Spike tumbling toward the throne.
Though he felt no pain (thick scales) it still took him a moment for his brain to recover from the dizziness so he could stand up. Once he did, he turned to Celestia.
“What in Equestria was that?!?”
“Just a variation of a little trick I use to communicate with Cadance. Surely you did not believe Twilight was the only one with a direct line to me, did you?”
Spike scratched his head for a moment. “Actually, yeah. I kinda did. Sorry.”
Celestia shook her head. “There are four living ponies able to contact me through magical means: Twilight through you, Cadance through the blue flame, my dear sister through… multiple methods, and Sunset Shimmer through this diary.”
“Ah,” Spike said, nodding.
A sudden burst of sound and whoosh of air at Spike’s back caused him to jump forward. Turning around, he saw the hollow column of swirling blue fire rekindle from the carpet. It continued its dance, this time clockwise, quickly becoming faster and faster, a warm wind whipping around the throne room, until it suddenly dissipated without a trace or even any scorch marks. In the centre of the former whirlwind stood a pink Alicorn, somewhat smaller than Luna, with purple wingtips and an expertly coiffed tricolour mane and tail, her cutie mark a blue crystal heart surrounded by gilding.
Once she opened her eyes and found herself face to face with Spike, she immediately beelined for him and wrapped him in a near-crushing embrace, lifting him off the ground.
“Ahchg… hi… Cadance,” said Spike, barely able to breathe.
Princess Cadance put him down, blushing slightly. “Spike, I’m so happy to see you again! It feels like it’s been forever!” she gushed.
“Well. I am glad to see you two are still on good terms,” Celestia said to Cadance in her serious, businesslike tone. “But I am afraid that now you have made it here, his role is ended and he must depart, for we require absolute privacy.”
“Awww,” Cadance and Spike complained together.
“Hey,” Cadance whispered to Spike. “Head over to Joe’s doughnut shop. I’ll join you once I’m out of here. We’ll put it on her tab,” she jerked her head in Celestia’s direction.
“I can hear you,” said Celestia bluntly. “But I will allow it. Now please, Spike, I must speak with Princess Cadance alone.”
Spike shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Fine. I guess I’ll see you all later.”
He began his long slow trudge down the long red carpet out of the throne room. The two guards opened the doors for him, shutting them the second he had crossed the threshold. They then disappeared into the shadows again.
“So, Celestia,” Cadance said, her tone simultaneously curious but grim, “What in this world is so important that you felt you needed to summon me by the blue fire transference spell? Is there another demon from Tartarus coming to depower and/or kill us all? Is my empire facing punitive tariffs for granting asylum to Ponyville's mayor? Did you and Discord finally sc—”
“No, not at all,” Celestia interrupted with a minor hint of mirth in her voice. “The reason I needed you here immediately is because of this.”
She levitated the diary, holding it so the emblazoned cover was two feet from Cadance, whose eyes lit up as she recognized it and an open-mouthed smile of joy involuntarily spread across her face.
“Sunny?!” she asked, her voice completely devoid of any regal bearing, replaced by a girlish excitement. “She finally wrote back??”
Celestia nodded.
Cadance cocked her head, giving Celestia a look of confusion. “That’s great, but it still doesn’t explain what I’m doing here.”
“Because,” Celestia said simply, “Her message is addressed neither to Twilight nor to me. It is addressed to you.”
“I can’t believe Sunny actually wrote back!” Princess Cadance gushed with a level of giddiness more akin to a teenaged mare than the ruler of a satellite principality.
“She has, but…” Princess Celestia trailed off.
“But?”
“A question please, Cadance: How well-versed are you in Classical Equestrian?” asked Celestia with utmost seriousness.
Cadance thought for a moment before answering. “Since the Crystal Empire is literally one thousand twenty-four years displaced from its setting thanks to the first battle against Sombra, the runes are still in regular use there. But I quickly discovered their speech is surprisingly modern and becoming more so by the day as we reintegrate with Equestria. When I asked the Culture Minister about it, he said the Crystal Ponies wish to communicate with their modern-day brethren but prefer using the runes out of a sense of tradition and to subconsciously connect with the world they lost. Also, to differentiate themselves psychologically from Equestria proper,” she explained.
“That is a lovely overview of your subjects and their lives,” said Celestia, “But it does not answer my question.”
“Oh! Sorry,” Cadance said, dipping her head slightly. “So, although I can read the runes themselves fluently, the ancient language itself looks like gobbledygook to me half the time. Even with access to hundreds of texts written in the language, as well as helpful translation guides from the prewar period, I haven’t really had the time or need to study up on it.”
Celestia shook her head, a slight grin barely intruding upon her face. “I thought that might be the case. Sunset Shimmer wrote this in full-on Classical Equestrian. I do not know whether or not she is aware of your lack of proficiency. Nonetheless, it seems I must read the letter aloud to you.”
“Forgive me, Princess,” said Cadance, reverting psychologically back to her days when Celestia was grooming her to assume her place atop the Crystal Empire if it happened to emerge from its time-slip during her lifetime.
“It is okay,” Celestia assured her, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “You are not in trouble. Why would any pony bother holding onto knowledge they no longer need? Except for myself and Luna, that is.”
Cadance attempted to reconcile her feelings of guilt with her lingering excitement over the note from Sunset. Failing that, she figured she would just say what needed to be said. “Would you please read me the note?”
Celestia nodded with a smile. “Sunset’s usage is not perfect either, but I can easily understand what she’s trying to say and translate colloquially.” Levitating the book in front of her and opening it once again to the correct page, she cleared her throat and began…
Dear Caddy,
It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? About ten years. Twilight tells me you run the Crystal Empire – never expected it to come out of the time-slip while we were still alive – and you married her older brother. Congratulations on that, by the way. If you’re still anything like the mare from the next tower over I remember from when I was growing up, you’re probably an amazing leader and every pony loves you. You deserve nothing less.
Okay, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I’ll get to the point. you’re probably wondering why I wrote to you instead of literally any pony else. Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately. Specifically, all the mistakes I made during my years in Canterlot. You saw so much of it first-hoof.
Part of me wants to apologize to you, but I see little point in doing so through a transdimensional letter. Instead, I want to thank you.
I know why you moved Starswirl’s mirror from Canterlot to the Crystal Empire. You thought I might be more likely to not overreact if, once I returned, the first face I saw was a sympathetic one. You weren’t wrong.
In fact, when I crossed the threshold, earlier that day last year, I hid behind the mirror and heard every word you said when you came in before Twilight’s state visit. I’m sorry I did not show myself at the time. I was still too afraid to face you.
I didn’t know until that day how much you valued our relationship, however fraught it was. Even after Princess Celestia rejected me and discovered my replacement, you still believed in me. Even though I spent most of our time together ignoring you or pushing you away or snapping at you, you never stopped trying to be my friend. Even after I left this world, you took possession of the mirror in the faint hope that I might someday return, and we could reconcile and finally have the closeness of true friendship you always wanted us to have. You never gave up on me.
It took me reaching my absolute nadir and then meeting some amazing beings in this world, one in particular, who saw me at my worst and lowest yet were still willing to give me a chance, to allow me the time and opportunity to rebound from my many failures and finally discover myself, that I understood your mood.
However, I’m not like you, Caddy. I’m certainly not like Twilight. I’m imperfect. I committed grievous sins both in Equestria and in this world, and I don’t believe they can ever be washed away, no matter how hard I try. Some scars just don’t heal. Most individuals are not so quick to forgive or forget.
I was wrong. About everything. Especially myself. I thought I would be fine going it alone. It was a disaster. Whether in Equestria or in this bizarre universe, I masked my uncertainty and inferiority within a cover of spikes and false pride.
I let you down. I let Princess Celestia down. I let myself down. No apology of mine deserves acceptance. Without deeds, words are meaningless.
The only thing I can do is move on and try to be my better self that you saw in me, that Princess Celestia must have seen in me when She rescued me from Stalliongrad as a filly. Maybe then I might be worthy enough to request forgiveness.
It’s ironic; I never realized how much I missed Equestria until I made friends here and suddenly felt forced to choose. I hope to return someday soon, even though I’m terrified to do so. I assume I am likely to be arrested, banished, and probably jailed if I come. Still, a grown mare should accept any punishment due her. Before that inevitability, I would want to see you and the Princess one last time, perhaps even meet Princess Luna now that she has returned.
Well, this letter has been more rambling than I expected. Sorry about that. If Princess Celestia happens to learn of this entry, I want her to know one thing:
I’m sorry You wasted Your time on this unworthy filly. It took seventeen years for me to understand what You were trying to teach, but I think I finally get it now. Not only can friendship be literal magic (as I learned the hard, direct way), it also carries a more powerful metaphorical magic that can bring even the most-lost back from the brink and save lives, if she who is astray is willing to open herself up and let others in.
Even though I was a complete and total failure as Your student, there is no amount of gratitude sufficient enough for me to thank You for raising me and attempting to guide me on the right path.
That’s all. Caddy, I would rather Twilight not learn about this entry’s contents, okay? She can be extremely nosy, so the less she knows about my past, the better. This is my fight. I hope someday soon I will be brave enough to face Equestria. And you. And Her.
In Friendship and Harmony, --Sunset Shimmer
PS: Caddy, last time I returned, I got a nice tour of your castle courtesy of your personal guard. Don’t fire him; it’s not his fault I once dated his doppelgänger in this world so I knew how to manipulate him into giving me information.
Princess Celestia lowered the diary.
“That’s it?” asked Cadance.
“That’s it,” Celestia confirmed.
Cadance sighed, sadly. “Oh, Sunny… Sounds like she’s been through a lot. So, Should I write her back? What should I say? Tell her I miss her too and would love to see her and be friends?”
“No,” Princess Celestia said. “I will handle this matter personally.”
“You do remember the reason I ‘requisitioned’ the Magic Mirror in the first place was so you wouldn’t do that, right?” Cadance said, her voice uncharacteristically severe.
Celestia nodded. “Time stops for no mare. All is ever-changing. Scars may never go away, but they can sometimes heal enough and fade enough that they cease to stand out amongst the vast tapestry of ourselves. In extraordinary circumstances, a pony can change far beyond what one expects. We all learn and grow throughout our lives, whether that life be a decade or multiple millennia.”
Cadance glared at the enigmatic princess opposite her. “Why do you always do this?”
“All right, fine,” said Celestia with a wry grin, rolling her eyes. “In plain language: Do not worry; I have got this.”
“I hope so…” Cadance replied, unconvinced.
“Cadance, one thing I learned many years ago is to never underestimate Sunset Shimmer. For worse or, thankfully now, for better, she will always find a way to surprise you and subvert your expectations,” concluded Celestia, a broad smile spreading across her face.
The Equestria Northern Line train pulled into the Crystal Empire’s ornate new Central Terminal. Twilight immediately hopped out of the first-class cabin car she had demanded from the conductor… who was glad to see her gone; so many questions about the technical workings of the train interspersed with comments amounting to ‘are we there yet’ had worn down his sanity. She ran across the platform, paying little to no attention where she was going, when she smacked head-on into an orange Pegasus in royal guard regalia.
“Oh! You’re… Flash Sentry, right?” Twilight asked with a blush.
“Yes, Princess Twilight. I’m glad you remember my name, but I wish you would quit literally running into me. This is about the third or fourth time.”
Eighth, counting your other-world self, Twilight thought.
“Anyway, I’ve been asked to escort you to the palace. Please follow me,” Flash said, his tone strictly business. Twilight frowned as she contrasted the terse stallion before her with the other Flash, whom her suddenly rekindled hormones would never allow her to forget.
One quick carriage ride later, Twilight and Flash arrived at the Crystal Palace in the exact centre of the city. She jumped off the carriage, leaving Flash shaking his head, and galloped at full speed into the main entrance on the north leg, scaling the spiral stairs two at a time until she made it to the floor containing the throne room (much more modest than Celestia’s) and the Grand Balcony. There she found her brother, Shining Armor, waiting for her, his face intentionally as blank as he could make it.
“Hello, big brother,” Twilight said, unnecessarily curtly. “Where’s Cadance? I have a super-important message for her from Princess Celestia!”
“Uh, Twily?” Shining Armor said carefully, “Cadance left for Canterlot yesterday, probably less than an hour after you got on the train here.”
Twilight’s eyes went wide and her pupils shrank as her brain snapped. “Wha-? Buh? Eh?”
Shining Armor sucked air in through his teeth and began to prepare his barrier shield as he scratched his head. “Yeah. Princess Celestia has a direct line to Cadance no one else but them knew about, and she apparently wanted an excuse to get you as far away from everyone as possible for as long as possible.”
Twilight said nothing, although her left eye twitched involuntarily as her horn sparked just as involuntarily and her ears drooped.
“But hey,” Shining Armor said in a vain attempt to salvage the situation. “We’ve already paid for your return ticket to Ponyville! And it’s the scenic route!” He held up the tickets via his aura along with his left forehoof – if he possessed a thumb, he would extend it upwards as he had seen Spike do many times – while sporting a full-toothed smile so big his eyes involuntarily closed.
Crystal Ponies going about their business near the palace turned towards it as they heard a great explosion accompanied by acrid grey smoke pouring out of the balcony threshold for several minutes. Eventually, Shining Armor, completely unharmed, stepped onto the balcony to address his wife’s citizens and inform them that everything was in fact fine. Nothing to worry about save an angry little sister.
Inside, in the middle of a scorched circle on the crystal floor, lay a totally drained (magically and psychologically) Twilight Sparkle, who let out a defeated sigh as she recalled Princess Celestia’s enjoyment of premeditated misdirection.
Sunset Shimmer sat on her sofa at her table, watching her diary intently, as she had for most of the day. Her concentration was barely interrupted by a knock on her door.
“Come in. It’s open,” she said sharply.
The door opened and in came Rarity, simultaneously tired and slightly sweaty from having to walk several blocks on a unusually hot and muggy day, yet also with a bounce in her step, as she carried a thin but sturdy rectangular red box labelled ‘Ferrus Roché’ tied with a white ribbon.
“I have officially completed my last final exam of the school year,” Rarity said with a hint of triumph in her voice. “And… every trick you taught me made that test so much easier. For the first time since at least junior high, I feel like I did truly well.”
“That’s excellent,” Sunset replied without much emotion.
Rarity cocked her head, realizing immediately something was off. “Dear, what are you doing? I mean, obviously you’re staring at your old diary. But… why?”
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.” said Sunset. “I don’t know what I’m expecting.”
“Then… may I please sit next to you?” Rarity asked gently, still clutching the box.
“Go ahead. It’ll be slightly less exciting than watching a brick weather,” Sunset replied. A quick glance to her left prompted her to ask, without emotion, “What’s that?”
“He said… seventeen times on the… No. Today doesn’t feel right,” mumbled Rarity, more to herself than Sunset, her grip on the box loosening.
Sunset shrugged. “Okay,” she said with zero affect.
Rarity seated herself on the sofa to Sunset’s left, pushing her box away to the table’s far side, deliberately out of reach. Her eyes slowly moved from the diary to Sunset’s face and back several times. Sunset, staring intently at the tome, did not notice. Suddenly, the diary vibrated gently, lighting up with a faint purple aura. Sunset practically lunged for it and threw it open to the first blank page, where a message slowly began to appear in exquisitely penned gold runes. Sunset read it silently…
You were forgiven ten years ago, and then again twice more as I learned of your noble actions in that strange world. Never doubt that I am proud of you, even though it seems you are destined to always take the difficult path through life. Stay well, my bright Little Sunshine.
“What does it say?” Rarity asked gently, placing her hands tentatively on Sunset’s shoulders.
Sunset said nothing, simply smiling widely as tears rolled down her face.
