> Magica Ex Dolori
>  by Posh
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1. Performative Grief
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Here. I got one for you, too."

Twilight's voice pulled Sunset Shimmer's attention away from the sparking facade of Crystal Prep. The school's glass panels reflected the hundreds of flickering candles held by the student body down below. Twilight held a candle in each hand, both pristine and unlit, and offered one to Sunset.

Muttering her thanks, Sunset accepted it, and drew out a lighter. She lit hers first, then Twilight touched her candlewick to the flame, crowning it with a tiny orange bulb that gently swayed in the breeze.

The two of them were largely alone on the central walkway leading up to the front entrance. Most of the visitors were gathered on the two lawns framing the walkway. That gave Sunset a clear view of the easel set up in front of the school's entrance, where a blown-up photo of a young girl in a Crystal Prep uniform stared back at them. 

The girl's gaze wandered behind thick-rimmed glasses, drifting left of center. Her smile was shaky; the messy bun pulling back her hair made her head seem unnaturally wide, and highlighted how disproportionately bushy her brows were. Sunset tilted her head, hoping that a different angle would make the girl seem more comfortable in her own skin. It didn't work. 

"They could have picked a more flattering picture for the memorial," she remarked.

"Chances are, it was the best one they could find. Moondancer didn't photograph well." Twilight sidled closer to Sunset, their shoulders almost nudging together. "Thank you for coming out here with me."

"Of course. I couldn't let you face all this alone." Sunset glanced around at the throngs of students – the lawns were rapidly running out of space, even as more students, parents, and faculty kept trickling in off the street. "Although, maybe 'alone' isn't the best word to use."

"Moondancer once told me that she didn't think anyone would notice if she just up and died one day. Guess she was wrong." Twilight regarded the students coolly. "It's funny, though. I don't think I ever saw any of these kids spending any time with her."

"Nothing brings a community together like tragedy."

"I suppose. It's good that they're here – visible shows of support and solidarity might discourage copycats among the student body." Twilight's thumbnail scratched a shallow divot down her candle. "So many suicides in town lately... it's awful to think that Moondancer's whole life'll just be reduced to just one more point of data."

Sunset put an arm around Twilight's shoulder. "You sound like you cared a lot about her."

"We... We studied together, now and then, and we partnered for labs regularly, but we never spent time together outside of class. I barely knew her, if we're being honest. I don't suppose a lot of people did." Twilight sniffed. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be here right now, would we?"

Sunset didn't think she could say anything meaningful to that. She hugged Twilight close, and hoped that said enough.

She glanced around the campus, picking out familiar faces and trying to match them with half-remembered names. When Twilight told her about this event – this vigil for an old schoolmate of hers – Sunset had immediately volunteered to go with her, to be there for her closest friend while she grieved. She didn't regret signing up, but with no other connection to the deceased or the student body, it wasn't long before she started feeling awkward.

The one person Sunset did know was Principal Cadance, and even then, only because she was marrying Twilight's brother... or were they already married? It probably said something that Sunset didn't know. 

Cadance had spent the whole gathering so far moving from person to person, group to group, talking quietly with parents and faculty and offering condolences, and didn't have much time to spare for Sunset and Twilight. Just a moment of pleasantries and a hug before she moved on. Even so, Sunset was struck by just how tired she looked when they talked. She still tried to carry herself with poise, but wrinkles covered her clothes, her hair stuck out at odd angles, and her eyes hung baggy and bruised.

Sunset nudged Twilight. "You know Cadance a lot better than I do. Did she seem kinda... out of it before?" 

"She was. Is. Shiny says she cried all night after she got the call from Moondancer's mom. All this was her idea. It's more than Cinch would have done." Twilight managed a weak smile as she glanced back at Cadance – she was standing by the curb, embracing an older woman with the same red hair and bushy eyebrows as the girl in the portrait. "Who's that she's with?"

Sunset squinted. "Moondancer’s mom, I assume."

"No, I know that. There's someone else, too. See?"

Twilight was right; there was someone else with them, a tangle of green hair barely visible behind the two embracing women. Moondancer's mother parted with Cadance and headed for the campus parking lot, leaving Cadance alone with the third person: a gangly teenager in too-baggy clothing, self-consciously hugging herself. Cadance said something to her, and patted her shoulder gently before moving off; she stiffened at the sudden touch.

"Wallflower Blush?" said Sunset. "What's she doing here?"

Twilight shrugged. "I won't say she's the last person I expected to see here, but she'd certainly make the list."

"She must've known Moondancer somehow. Was Wallflower ever a student here?"

"Don't think so. Although, don't take my word for it – I didn't know a lot of people when I was here."

Wallflower made no move to join the crowds gathered on either side of the walkway, and never approached the school. She stayed where she was at the end of the walkway, her hands nervously fumbling with a candle, turning it over and passing it back and forth. Her head drooped, and her eyes found her shoes, feet shuffling awkwardly in place.

"Looks a bit out of sorts, doesn't she?" said Sunset. "Guess she doesn't know anyone here, either."

"She knows us. She knows you, at least." 

Sunset drummed her fingers on the candlestick. "We should go talk to her."

"You should go talk to her." Quietly, Twilight added, "You're a little friendlier with her than I am. She might not want to open up with me around."

"You sure?" Sunset glanced back at the portrait of Moondancer, frowning. "I don't want to ditch you."

"It'll be alright. I'll do some rounds, maybe catch up with Cadance. Come find me when you can, okay?"

"Okay. If you're alright with it." Sunset squeezed Twilight one more time before moving toward Wallflower. The other girl didn't look up as Sunset drew closer; her footsteps and rapidly looming shadow never seemed to register.

When she was right in front of her, Sunset reached into her vest pocket and drew out her lighter, flicking it on and flashing a smile. "Need a light?"

Wallflower jumped at the sound of her voice. Her head snapped up; her eyes darted between Sunset's face, candle, and lighter, bouncing rapidly between the latter two.

"Uh... which one should I...?"

"Hm? Oh. Guess the lighter was redundant, huh?" Sunset flicked off the lighter and stowed it away, and held the tip of her candle to Wallflower's, passing the flame between them. "I'm surprised Cadance didn't do this for you."

"She probably assumed I had matches on me. You know, because teenager? Or she just forgot." Wallflower stared into her flame. "I'm not allowed to carry matches anymore."

"Twilight's wasn't lit, either, for what it's worth." Sunset glanced over her shoulder; Twilight was still standing where they'd parted, watching Sunset and Wallflower from the corner of her eye. "I'm here with her, by the way. Moral support, I guess."

"...That's right. She went to Crystal Prep. I was wondering why you'd show up to something like this. Guess it makes sense if you're supporting your friend." Wallflower looked at Twilight, biting her lip. "I'm sorry for dragging you away from her."

"You're not dragging me away from anyone. I wanted to come talk to you, Wallflower." Maybe Twilight had been wrong – maybe Sunset going to Wallflower alone sent the wrong message. "How did you know Moondancer? Was she an old classmate?"

Wallflower's lips stretched thin, and she shook her head.

"Just a friend from outside school?"

Wallflower nodded, nervously wringing her hands around her candlestick. She lowered her chin again.

Sunset felt a quick, nervous patter in her heart – the silent treatment probably wasn't a good sign. "Well... However you know her, I'm really sorry for your loss."

Wallflower mumbled something in monotone. Her fingers trembled around her candle; it suddenly slipped from her grasp and split in two against the pavement.

Concerned, Sunset took a step closer to Wallflower. The girl's breaths seemed to be growing quicker, shallower. The bagginess of her sweater made it hard for Sunset to tell, but it seemed like her shoulders were shaking.

"What the hell am I even doing here?" she whimpered in a wet, raggedy voice.

Sunset licked her thumb and knelt down, pinching the fallen candlewick to put out the fire. Then, rising, she leaned toward Wallflower and lowered her voice.

"Do you want to go?"

Wallflower's breath caught, and she shakily nodded. She pivoted on her heel to her left and shuffled away, as quickly as one could whilst shuffling. 

Biting her thumb, Sunset looked back at Twilight and met her gaze. She pointed at herself and jerked her neck toward the quickly retreating Wallflower.

Twilight, understanding, nodded.

With a sigh, Sunset followed Wallflower, skipping a few steps to catch up. "You know, when I asked, I was implying that I'd go with you. You don't mind, do you?"

"What?" Her voice made Wallflower pause in her tracks, and regard her with a startled expression. "You don't have to— I mean, won't Twilight—?"

"She's fine with it, I promise. And besides, I want to walk with you." Sunset said, maintaining a low, soothing tone. "Is that okay?"

"I... I guess." She continued down the sidewalk, her gait a little more steady than before. "My place is pretty far from here. Don't feel obligated to go the whole way with me."

"Then I'll go as far as I can, at least," said Sunset, falling into step beside her. "Just don't hold it against me if I get distracted by something shiny and wander off."

Wallflower scoffed and rolled her eyes, and pulled a curtain of hair down to hide her smile.

The longer they walked, the longer their shadows grew, the sun plunging deeper toward the horizon. Sunset cradled her candle in her hands, letting the heat from its tiny flame kiss her skin as the evening air grew chillier. Wallflower's steps straightened, gaining confidence, the more distance she put between herself and Crystal Prep. Still, for the most part, they were silent, and a distance of several blocks passed before Sunset chanced to say anything.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm not crying, and I'm not about to cry. I think that's a net positive." Wallflower shrugged limply. "Mostly, I just feel dumb for freaking out like that in public like some stupid kid. Thought I was getting better with crowds."

"Maybe it was because they were strangers?"

"It was because of a lot of things," said Wallflower, sticking her hands in her pockets. "But... yeah. A little."

"I get that." Sunset used her thumb to wipe a droplet of wax running down the candlestick. "The whole time I was there with Twilight, it was hard not to feel out of place. Don't really know anyone there besides the Shadowbolts."

"You didn't know Moondancer?" Wallflower's voice was characteristically flat, but there was a hint of an edge to it.

Sunset shook her head. "Twilight did, a little, I guess. I was just there to support her. That's... part of why I felt so out of place, if I'm being honest. Showing up to a memorial for someone I didn't even know. It felt... unauthentic."

Wallflower scoffed. "At least you're honest about it. That's more than I can say for the rest of them."

"What do you mean? The rest of who?"

"Everyone else who was there. Or, most of everyone, anyway." 

Her comment struck a nerve with Sunset; she wondered if Twilight was one of the exceptions. "People were grieving, Wallflower."

"Are you sure? Maybe I'm wrong. I didn't mingle as much as you did, so, you tell me." Wallflower stopped and pivoted on the ball of her foot to face Sunset. "Did you see anybody who looks like they were torn up about what happened? Did you hear any crying? Or see anyone shed a single tear?"

Sunset's reply died on her lips as she thought back to the memorial, and couldn't summon a single example of anybody showing signs of mourning – save Twilight and Cadance, of course, and Moondancer's mother, too. But from what she saw, there was no crying, there were no comforting embraces among the student body. Just quiet chatting, in pairs or in groups, and a lot of stoic faculty staring at Moondancer's portrait.

"Didn't think so." Wallflower scoffed and tucked a knot of hair behind her ear. "I was halfway hoping you had, too."

"Not... not everyone grieves the same way," Sunset said weakly.

"Right, I know that. But what was going on there wasn't grief. It was guilt – the kind people feel when they don't care about someone dying, and have just enough decency to be ashamed." Wallflower looked away, her arms circling around her midsection. "That stupid vigil wasn't for Moondancer. It was for them – to feel better about themselves for not caring while she—"

Her voice broke, and she turned away, shaking with quiet, choked sobs. Overhead, the street lamps flickered on, bathing the girls in pale yellow fluorescence.

Sunset reached for Wallflower, resting a hand on her shoulder. She felt Wallflower stiffen beneath her touch before relaxing. Wallflower took a deep, tremulous breath, and let it out slowly. 

"...It's not like I'm any better than them, you know," Wallflower said softly. "I only heard she died 'cuz my mom was watching the news – some talking head going on about all the suicides mentioned Moondancer's name in passing." 

She paused to wipe her eyes on her sleeve. "Six seconds on local public access, and a phony candlelight vigil. Moondancer deserved better. Better friends, too – much better than me."

"You can't blame yourself for not being someone's lifeline,” Sunset said. "Especially not when you're already going through it, yourself." 

"I still could have helped her. Or maybe we could've helped each other. We'll never know now." Wallflower scoffed. "I just had to try making friends offline... for all the good that's done me."

"'Offline?'"

Wallflower shrugged Sunset's hand off her shoulder, not unkindly, and continued down the road. She moved quickly; she wasn't waiting for Sunset. Maybe this was where she expected Sunset to ditch her.

Instead, Sunset hurried to catch up, falling in behind her again. Wallflower briefly turned her head toward Sunset before setting her eyes on the way ahead again.

Sunset followed Wallflower deeper into the city, recognizing where their path was taking them. They were heading downtown, if by a different route than she was used to. 

Her senses drank in the familiar sounds and smells: the acrid odors of fried meat and gasoline, the rumbling motors and screeching tires. Pinkie worked at a diner not far from where they were, and Sunset's own apartment was a few blocks away. Did Wallflower live downtown, too? The beating heart of the city must've been hell to someone who hated crowds.

Then again, she also hated being noticed, and there was no better place to blend in than downtown.

They cut through an older neighborhood: a few blocks of old tenements and shuttered businesses between two patches of urban renewal. By then, an evening fog had settled over the city – thin at first, like tepid broth, but gradually thickening as it crept in from the sea. It transformed the street lamps into hazy beacons, waystations guiding them home.

Wallflower led Sunset to a bench illuminated by pale orange lamp light. A girl in a green trenchcoat sat there, idly swiping through her phone, her shoulder-length blonde curls afire in the street lamp's glow. Sensing their arrival, she scooted to the far side of the bench without looking, probably assuming they were there to catch the bus.

She wouldn't have been wrong. Wallflower paused at the bench, chewing her lip for a moment, before abruptly sitting down. "My place isn't much farther, but I'm tired and my feet hurt, so I'm gonna catch this bus. I'm sorry for dragging you all the way out here."

"You didn't drag me anywhere – I live around here, myself, actually." Sunset glanced left and right, up and down the street. "Hope you won't be waiting long."

Wallflower's tangled locks bounced as she shrugged. "I'd look up the schedule on my phone, but this neighborhood's a dead zone."

"I know what you mean. Texts are one thing, but internet’s a no-go for me out here, too." Although poor signal wasn't stopping the girl on the bench from using her phone, if the speed at which she was swiping right was any great indicator. She had a pair of earbuds in, so Sunset leaned forward and raised her voice. 

"'Scuse me – can I bug you for a second?"

The girl plucked out one of the earbuds and looked up tiredly, her blue eyes half-lidded. They widened as soon as she glimpsed Sunset, her mouth drooping open slightly. 

Sunset smiled politely. "Didn't mean to scare you, sorry. I just wanted to ask if you knew when the bus was coming." She linked her hands behind her back, waiting for a response.

The girl's jaw worked up and down, slowly, as she looked Sunset from head to toe.

A self-conscious blush warmed Sunset's cheeks. She chuckled disarmingly to hide her discomfort, and pulled her vest closed. "It's okay if you don't. No pressure."

The girl's mouth curled into a frown, and her eyes narrowed. "No, I don't."

"Okay, well..." Sunset pursed her lips. "Your phone has a connection, right? You mind looking up the Canterville MTS site? I'd do it myself, but the signal's crap. And my friend really needs to catch this bus."

She gestured at Wallflower. Wallflower jerked her hand up and waved frantically from the wrist without moving the rest of her arm.

The girl spared her a momentary glance before getting up from the bench, and tucked her phone and earbuds into a coat pocket. "Can't. Signal's crap."

"Wasn't too crappy to go cruising a second ago, was it?" Sunset huffed as the girl turned to walk away. "Where're you going? Won't you miss the bus?"

"Maybe. Then again, maybe I'll get where I'm going faster if I don't bother waiting." She looked at Sunset from over her shoulder. "You girls really ought to keep moving. This is a bad neighborhood."

Without another word, the girl walked away down the street, vanishing amid the fog.

Sunset watched her leave, raising her thumb to her mouth and biting down gently. "Strange girl. Kind of a bitch."

"Cute though," Wallflower chirped. She squirmed a bit on the bench. "You know, um... this neighborhood isn't really all that bad, but I've never hung out here this late at night. I could, uh... use some company. At least until the bus gets here. If you don't have anywhere else to be...?"

Sunset smirked. She took the now-vacant spot on the bench, folding her legs. "Are you cold? I could let you borrow my vest, if you'd like. It's warmer than it looks. Probably would suit you, too."

"I outgrew my black leather phase a long time ago, but thanks." Wallflower squirmed again. She drew in a long breath, which she exhaled slowly. "We met online, y'know."

"Hmm?" Sunset pointed at her chest. "We met in ninth grade English, I thought."

"Me and Moondancer, you dodo. We met on the Internet." She glanced at Sunset from the corner of her eye. "You were curious."

Sunset ah'd – she hadn't expected Wallflower to open up again. "There's a local meet-up app for teenagers, right? What's it called, uh... Canterville Commons? You meet her through that?"

"The one used exclusively by skeevy weirdos? No, we were... we were both members of the same anime forum. Far safer. " Wallflower fidgeted. "I'm being sarcastic, if you were wondering. It was a forum for some show about schoolgirls in puffy skirts fighting monsters; sites like that always attract skeevy weirdos. She was the least weird and skeevy person there, including myself."

"Puffy skirts and monsters? Isn't that, like, ninety percent of all anime though?"

"That's a misconception. As a medium, anime offers a great deal of stylistic diversity. What's commonly known as the magical girl genre—" Wallflower stopped abruptly and buried her reddened cheeks in her hands. "Crap. I haven't geeked out like that since tenth grade."

Sunset snickered – for a moment there, she almost sounded like Twilight, with that pseudo-lecturing, pedantic tone. "Was it easy for you and Moondancer to hit it off?"

"A couple of shut-in anime nerds? Oh yeah. We went from talking on the forum to talking one-on-one lickity-split. Turned out we had a lot in common besides just being otaku. For a friendless loser like me, she was all I could've hoped for and more."

"Didn't we have an anime club at school for a while? Whatever happened to it?"

"Shut down," said Wallflower, pouting. "Nobody ever joined, and the meditation club needed a room, so it was natural to axe it."

"Well, why didn't you join? If you were trying to make friends with shared interests, that might've been a good way."

"Yeah. It would've." Wallflower looked flatly at Sunset. "That's what I thought when I founded it."

"Oh." Sunset cringed and flopped back on the bench. "So that was just a heaping helping of salt in the wound, wasn't it?"

"No salt here," said Wallflower. “I'm over it, Sunset, it's whatever. The point is, neither of us had any offline friends to talk anime with – or offline friends at all, really. We went through a lot of the same stuff, related pretty hard to each other."

"Did you ever meet up with her?"

"We talked about hanging out, but something always got in the way. She'd have to study, or I'd have cramps, or we'd both have cramps..." Wallflower sighed. "The truth is, I think we were just making excuses – that it was social anxiety getting the better of us. 'Cuz there's no way things could ever be as easy IRL as they were online, right?"

"You'd be surprised." Sunset scooted closer to Wallflower on the bench – as close as she dared without making her anxious. "Princess Twilight and I almost never see each other. But then we do, and everything feels completely natural. Like no time has passed at all."

"Well, good for you," said Wallflower, her voice frosty. "Moondancer and I aren't ever going to have that. We both knew it'd never happen, and we were right. It never did."

"I didn't mean to... I mean, I wasn't trying to..." Sunset trailed off, balling up her hands and resting them on her knees, and wondering just how she expected Wallflower to take her comment.

Miss Sensitivity strikes again.

"...You know what's ironic?" Wallflower gathered her legs onto the bench and hugged them against her chest. "After the Memory Stone thing, I started trying to branch out more – talking to people, maybe making new friends. The less time I spent glued to my phone, or my computer, the less time I had to talk to Moondancer. Right when she needed someone the most, apparently."

There was a note of guilt in her voice that sounded too familiar to Sunset. "That's not a road you wanna go down."

"I'm already at the end of it. Like I said – I'm no better than the phonies at that vigil. Moondancer killed herself, and I did absolutely nothing to stop her." Wallflower's laugh was thick with snot and unshed tears. "And it's not like making friends has worked out for me, either, so what was the point of trying? She died alone, and now, I'm more alone than ever."

"That's not true," said Sunset. "You have me, don't you? And my friends, too – you know that we can be there for you."

"I have you, Sunset. Your friends don't know me." 

"They didn't know me, either, once. Or, no. They did, and they hated me." For good reason, she added, silently. "But they took a chance on me for Princess Twilight's sake, and now, we're everything to each other."

Wallflower laughed bitterly. "Aren't you lucky."

"Luckier than I can say. I don't mind sharing some of that luck with you." She gave Wallflower a half-smile. "Just keep an open mind about it. That's all I'm asking. Okay?"

"I'll... maybe. I guess." Wallflower looked sidelong at Sunset. "I'm sorry for being so short with you tonight."

Sunset extended her hand in a silent invitation. Wallflower reached across the bench, slowly, and met Sunset's hand with her own. Her fingers closed around Sunset's.

Time passed; seconds stretched into minutes. The street was silent and still. Few pedestrians were out and about, and only a handful of cars sped past in the night. Wallflower seemed to doze, her neck slumping over until her cheek touched her shoulder, and a thin trail of drool collected on the fabric of her sweater. 

Sunset glanced at the candle – she'd been carrying it for so long now that she'd practically forgotten it was there. Wallflower's grip around her hand had slackened as she nodded off, so Sunset gently drew it away, and cupped it around the candle's tip, and blew on the flame to extinguish it.

Then, sighing, she flopped back against the backrest. She was beginning to wonder if Wallflower had been mistaken about this bench being a stop, when she heard the distant sound of a diesel engine chugging down the street toward them.

Sunset gently shook Wallflower awake. "Hey. I think your bus is here."

"Nyum?" Wallflower lifted her head and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Rolling her shoulders, she leaned forward, and glimpsed a pair of headlights cutting their way through the fog. "Took its sweet time. Sorry you had to wait so long."

"I'm gonna start charging you ten cents every time you say you're sorry. Double that if it's something you're not responsible for." Sunset stood, stretching her limbs and cracking her back, and offered Wallflower her hand again; Wallflower looked away from it, rising on her own. "You got bus fare, I take it?"

"Yeah." Wallflower fumbled in her pockets as the bus ground to a stop in front of the bench, hydraulics hissing as it knelt. "Thank you for everything – walking with me, waiting with me."

"Anytime, Wallflower. I mean that, really."

The bus's doors folded open, and Wallflower planted her foot on the first step. She didn't notice the woman coming off the bus at the same time as she was boarding. The woman bumped into her, without stopping, shoulder-checking Wallflower out of the way.

Sunset reacted quickly, dropping her candle and catching Wallflower under the arms before she could collapse to the pavement. To the woman, she snapped, "Exit from the back, dumbass. And say you're sorry when you..."

She trailed off when she realized who she was speaking to. 

"...Principal Cadance?"

Cadance had looked exhausted at the vigil; coming off the bus now, she looked dead on her feet. Her eyes were vacant and unfocused, her face a placid mask, and the briefcase in her right hand trembled so much that her arm didn't seem up to the task of carrying it. She stepped off the bus with slow, deliberate motions, and stood on the curb, her pose a little too rigid.

"What are you doing out here this late?" said Sunset. "And why're you taking the bus?"

Cadance said nothing to Sunset. With a dazed look in her eyes, and a dumb smile on her face, she glanced from left to right. There was something on her neck, a violet mark that Sunset was certain hadn't been there at the vigil: A five-pointed star, its rays outlined in turquoise.

Her gaze passed briefly over Sunset and Wallflower, but her eyes never focused on them. And when she'd finished surveying the street, she turned on her heel, and started down the sidewalk with that same too-straight gait.

Sunset gently pushed Wallflower back to her feet, and watched Cadance vanish in the fog. "Something's very wrong here."

"I mean, I'm used to getting bowled over by people who don't see me," said Wallflower, brushing herself off. "So, that part isn't out of the ordinary. But the way she's acting... and did you see that mark on her neck?"

"Yeah. I'm starting to think that, maybe..." She drew Wallflower closer, lowering her voice. "Maybe there's some kind of Equestrian—"

"Ladies," a stern voice snapped from inside the bus. The driver, a middle-aged woman, glared down at them through a scratched-up pair of too-small glasses. "Shit or get off the pot; I got ten more stops before the end of the line."

"Sorry, ma'am!" Sunset called back, forcing an apologetic grin. She looked at Wallflower. "You get going. I'm gonna follow Cadance and keep an eye on her."

Wallflower's eyes widened. "What do you— all by yourself?!"

"I mean, I'll call for back-up if I need it, but otherwise, yeah. By myself."

Wallflower hesitated, and shook her head. "No way, Sunset. I'm coming with you."

"That won't be necessary," Sunset said quickly, anticipating Wallflower's insistence. "Thank you for offering, but I'll be fine."

"Even if your friends never show up?" 

"Even if they don't. I can handle myself, Wallflower. And I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were on that bus, on your way home, safe and sound."

Wallflower bit her lip, glancing up at the door. Then she stepped away from the bus. "I wasn't there for Moondancer when she needed me. I can't leave you alone now."

Sunset pressed her hand to her temple, sighing. "Come on. I know how you feel, but I don't like getting people wrapped up with Equestrian magic if I can help it – especially not when they've already been through the wringer once. It'd be better for the both of us if you turned around, got on that bus, and—"

The bus doors folded closed; the hydraulics whistled and whined, and the bus pulled away from the curb. Its engine growled as it drove down the street, disappearing in the night with its rear lights glowing like a pair of red-hot coals.

"Well, that kinda settles things, doesn't it?" Wallflower muttered.

Sunset's teeth ground together, and she drew in a slow breath to calm herself. She bent to pick up the candle – it was still in one piece, if visibly cracked down its length. Visibility was poor enough without losing her most viable light source, and anyway, littering was irresponsible.

"Just stay close to me," said Sunset. "Keep your head down. And if I say to run, you run. Got it?"

Wallflower pointed a dinky pair of finger-guns at Sunset, which Sunset guessed was supposed to be an affirmation.

In the fog, Cadance had already become little more than a vague black blob. Sunset walked quickly to close the distance; Wallflower's steps were slower and plodding. With Cadance still moving as though in a trance, and on heels no less, it didn't take them long to catch up.

Sunset darted ahead to walk beside her, matching her speed, and craning her neck to get a look at her face – her eyes were still glazed over, set dead ahead. 

"What's going on, Principal Cadance?" she said. "Are you feeling alright?"

Cadance's feet scraped the pavement as she pulled to a sudden stop beside an alley. Wallflower collided with her from behind with a yelp, but Cadance hardly seemed to register the impact. Slowly, she swiveled her head toward Sunset, eyes focusing for the first time.

"Why... Sunset Shimmer." Cadance slurred her words as she spoke, her answer dribbling out in a long, syrupy ooze. "How lovely it is to see you. It's been so long."

"We talked, like, an hour ago," said Sunset. "Does anyone know that you're out here? Can I call someone for you? Twilight, or Shining Armor?"

"I'm sorry, Sunset Shimmer, but I just don't have time to talk right now. Will you excuse me?"

Cadance stepped around Sunset, who caught her tightly by the wrist and planted her feet.

"Alright, fine," she growled. "If you don't want to talk, then we'll do this the hard way."

The geode tucked beneath her shirt flashed, and Sunset—





—found herself in a sea of black, dark and deep. There was no light, yet Cadance was somehow brilliantly lit, no part of her body casting a shadow. She knelt with her back to Sunset, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In the distance floated a window that caught no reflection.

Sunset tried to lift her arm, and almost fell forward on her face; her hand had become a hoof. That was new. She’d always been human when entering someone else’s mind.

Shaking her head – first time for everything – Sunset extended her foreleg, fighting to remember how to balance on equine legs. 

She rested her hoof on Cadance's shoulder, and tried to say her name. She made no sound, yet Cadance reacted. Her sobs abruptly stopped, and her body straightened. She looked over her shoulder at Sunset.

Sunset screamed silence into the void, backpedaling and collapsing on her haunches. Her own face – her human face – was stretched taut across Cadance's skull. 

Cadance leered with Sunset's lips, and—





—Sunset lost her grip and collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. Crying her name, Wallflower dropped down beside her, scrabbling closer on her hands and knees.

Oblivious, Cadance wandered into the alley. She vanished in a mire of fog and shadow, footsteps echoing against the brick walls.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Wallflower's hands hovered around Sunset's shoulders, as though she were unsure of whether or not she had permission to touch her.

Sunset patted her arm, drawing an eep from Wallflower, and climbed back to her feet. Her breath had started to even out, but her heart still hammered in her chest. "I'm fine. She just startled me, that's all."

"You can see people's thoughts, and memories, and stuff, right?" Wallflower crept closer to Sunset again. "What did you get from her?"

Sunset shut her eyes, and saw her own face leering back at her...

Immediately, she cupped her forehead and shook the image away. "Enough to convince me that we can't leave her alone."

"So we're going in after her?" Wallflower's voice quavered.

Sunset drew out her cell phone and thumbed out a quick message. "I'm going in after her. You'll stay out here, with my phone, waiting for Twilight to call." 

Wallflower balked. "What am I, your secretary?"

"No," said Sunset, "you're my back-up. I just texted Twilight, but I'm not sure how long she'll take to get back to me, and I gotta go after Cadance now. I need to know that there's someone out here who can talk to her if things go south. And if I take too long, or it sounds like things are getting funny in there, blow up her phone until she answers, and tell her where we are. Wait for her, or whoever shows up, but whatever you do, don't come in after me. Okay?" 

"I told you, I don't wanna—

"Abandon or ditch me, I know. You wanna be there for me." She shook the phone for emphasis. "This is how you're gonna do it."

Wallflower grimaced – or tried for a grimace; it looked more like a scrunchy pout. But she nodded, and took the phone from Sunset, stuffing it in her pocket. "Don't get your guts eaten, okay?"

Sunset suppressed a shudder – did Wallflower absolutely have to phrase it that way? "I will try my absolute best."

She took a moment to relight the candle, and followed Cadance into the alley.

A few steps in, and Sunset already felt like she'd been swallowed by darkness. The alley stretched on endlessly; no light shined from the windows on either side of her, nor did the street lamps reach this far. Even with the candle, Sunset felt like she was walking in place.

The only indicator she had of her progress was the clack of Cadance's heels echoing off the alley's walls. Her pace sounded like it was slowing; the break between steps grew longer after every one, until finally, Sunset stopped hearing them altogether.

"Principal Cadance?" Sunset spoke quietly, but the name still echoed through the alley as if shouted. 

She extended her arm, holding the candle further in front of her, and picked her steps carefully. Cadance's outline came into view and sharpened the closer she drew to it. Her shoulders were sagging as though she bore some great weight, her head tilted down just so. 

To her left was a window, criss-crossed with cracks and cobwebs. The candle's tiny flame glinted off its foggy glass.

Sunset licked her lips. "Please answer me, Cadance. Do you need help?" 

Help, help, help... The word echoed, as if the alley were throwing it back in her face. 

Cadance didn't answer right away, and when she did, it was without turning to look at Sunset. 

"I don't deserve help." Cadance's voice was placid, tranquil. "After all, I couldn't even save my own student from herself."

Chills rippled down Sunset's spine. "Moondancer wasn't your fault."

"Of course she was. So I have this coming."

Cadance swung her briefcase across her body, through the window to her left, shattering the glass and ripping her arm free before Sunset could even process that she'd moved at all. Her arm was a bloody mess from the elbow down, her sleeves reduced to shredded strips of fabric. 

She dropped the briefcase through the window and pulled out a jagged shard of glass, about the length of a butcher's knife, from the frame.

Tilting her head to the left, Cadance pressed the shard against the base of her neck.

"Cadance, don't!"

Sunset dropped the candle and lunged, catching Cadance by the wrist and elbow and wrenching her hand back. She was strong – unexpectedly so – but Sunset had leverage on her side, and managed to keep her arm pinned while she stripped the shard from her hand. 

Cadance responded by throwing her weight back against Sunset. Knocked off balance, Sunset fell, pulling Cadance on top of her chest and painfully forcing the air from her lungs. She felt dazed and numb but had enough sense to loop her left arm around Cadance's, pulling her down when she tried to rise. 

The candle was still alive, flickering, and with its light, Sunset could see Cadance's hand scrabbling for the shard of glass. Her fingertips brushed against it, drawing it closer.

Then someone new kicked the shard away. It flew down the length of the alley, and landed somewhere in the darkness with an almost comical ping. 

Cadance's arm remained outstretched for a moment longer, her fingers grasping for nothing. Then, abruptly, she went limp, her full weight dropping onto Sunset again, once more crushing the air from her lungs.

She heard a strained grunt coming from her right. Cadance's weight lifted, and she rolled off of Sunset, flopping face-down onto the candle, and extinguishing what was left of its flame. Sunset immediately sucked down grateful gulps of breath, pressing a hand to her chest to feel her heartbeat.

"Sunset, are you okay?" Wallflower's voice squealed. "Say something, please!"

"I'm fine," Sunset wheezed. Her chest and stomach ached in protest as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. "Thought I told you to wait for Twilight to call."

"But I heard the glass break, and it sounded like there was a fight, and I..." Wet fingers, slippery with perspiration, gripped Sunset's arm, helping to guide her to her feet. "I dropped your phone, too. Sweaty hands – it just slipped out. Please don't be mad."

"About my phone, or about you coming in after me?"

"Both? Either? I don't know, I... I was just scared." Wallflower scraped her feet against the ground. "What happened? Why did she attack you?"

"She didn't." Sunset glanced away from Cadance's unconscious body. "She tried to stab herself with that piece of glass you kicked away. Said it was what she deserved for Moondancer. I just happened to get in her way."

"...So all this was because Moondancer...?" Wallflower trailed off, her words lost in a staggered whisper. 

Sunset nodded. "I don't think it's a coincidence that it's happening so soon after Moondancer, or that there’s been a string of suicides in Canterville. There has to be some kind of magic causing this. The mark on Cadance's neck, her strange behavior, and all the deaths around town – I think they're all connected some..."

She stopped when she heard whimpering from Wallflower – whimpering that threatened to become hyperventilating.

Strike three for Miss Sensitivity.

"...I'm sorry, Wallflower. I shouldn't... I mean, this isn't the time or place for me to talk about this." Sunset lowered her voice, speaking as soothingly as she could. "I know you've been through a lot lately, especially tonight. But Cadance needs medical attention, and that means I'm gonna need a little more help from you."

Part of her worried that the request would just push Wallflower further toward a breakdown. But after a few more moments of wet, heavy breathing, her sobs flattened out.

She sniffled, and whispered, "What can I do?"

"Just help me get her out of the alley. We'll call an ambulance, and then I'll take you home." Sunset knelt and took Cadance's arm, sticky with blood, slinging it over her shoulder. "Can you do that? Will you help me out for a little while longer?"

Wallflower took one last, deep breath, and let it out in a prolonged shudder. She stepped over Cadance and knelt; Sunset felt Wallflower take the other arm, and smiled with relief.

"Thanks. I'm glad that I went with you tonight – glad that we were here for Cadance when she needed someone."

"...Me too.” Wallflower was smiling – Sunset could hear it in her voice, even if she couldn't see it. "This is without a doubt the least useless I've felt in forever. I can see why you've done the hero shtick for so long. Just feels good to help someone else for a change.”

"Not sure we're feeling quite the same thing right now. We'll have to compare notes later." Sunset laughed softly. "Alright, enough talk. Let's get her out of here. You ready? One, two..."

A glint from the broken window caught her eye, and Sunset paused before she could reach three. Something inside the window was glowing, a pulsing yellow light that chased back the darkness and burned off the fog. 

The hairs on Sunset's arms stood up as a feeling swept over her – women's intuition, or Equestrian magic, or latent herd animal instinct. Something about the broken window had changed. To her, now, it seemed like the snarling maw of a hungry predator, the jagged shards in the pane like worn, yellowed fangs. 

It may have been an illusion. She didn't think it was – she felt like prey.

"Sunset?" Fear spiked in Wallflower's voice. "Tell me you see that too."

"Yeah," Sunset snapped. "Get Cadance up. We need to go, now."

They rose with Cadance's weight on their shoulders, just as the light from inside the window suddenly exploded outward. The yellow glow reached every inch of the alley, and every surface it touched seemed to warp. 

Swirls of shifting color wriggled across the alley's walls and split into grinning window panes, lined with rows of jagged shards. Even the sky overhead was an expanse of yellow light, criss-crossed with stairways to nowhere.

Sunset looked at Wallflower – she was pale, trembling, and on the verge of tears. Neither of them said a word. They simply ran, hauling Cadance behind them.

Sunset ignored the windows opening on the walls on either side of the alley, keeping her gaze set on the alley's distant exit. They kept a quick pace, but it felt sluggish to Sunset – not fast enough. Cadance was too heavy for her to run at full speed, and Wallflower wouldn't have been able to match her at a sprint.

"Something's after us, isn't it?" Wallflower was gasping out questions in between labored breaths. "Something magical, like... like the sirens, or the Memory Stone. Right, Sunset?"

"Your guess," Sunset panted, "is as good as mine."

"What do you mean? You're an expert in stuff like this, right?"

"This is—"

A thunderous crack interrupted her – the ground was splitting open. 

Sunset skidded to a halt, pulling hard on Wallflower to make sure they stopped together, just as a fissure opened in the ground between them and the alley's exit. The buildings that formed the alley walls were upended by great, thorny cables, like roots, rising from the ground underneath them and drawn to some distant point high above.

Sunset and Wallflower, with Cadance between them, were left alone on a delta-shaped piece of land, formed from the alley's floor and the foundations from the buildings that had been on either side of them. Untethered to land, their island floated adrift in a yellow sky that stretched endlessly in all directions. 

Other islands floated in the distance, linked by a network of rusted fire escapes joined together at impossible angles. High above, the roots that knocked away the alley's buildings met in a coiled, thorny knot, an asymmetrical sphere. More roots splayed out on all sides of the knot like maypole ribbons, extending into the expanse.

Sunset gulped. "Like I was saying. This is all new to me."

"You don't know what that is?" Panic swelled Wallflower's voice, and her feet scraped against the ground. "Well... Well, what are we gonna do? We gotta run away, right?"

Run away to where, exactly? Sunset thought, glancing back. There was a fire escape hanging off the edge of their island – where it came from, she had no earthly idea – but there was no telling if it went anywhere. Even if it was a way out, it was too narrow to accommodate the three of them while they carried Cadance.

The bottom of the knot swelled and churned. Three long, thorny vines uncoiled from the rest of the mass, each tapering into a sharp-edged, ebony-black point. They dangled freely for a moment before a jolt ran through them, and they leveled themselves at Sunset and Wallflower, coiling back like serpents poised to strike.

Sunset removed Cadance's arm from her shoulder, and pushed the unconscious woman into Wallflower's grip. "Could you carry her on your own?"

"Carry? No. But I could drag her." Wallflower sagged under the added burden. "What are you doing?"

Stepped in front of the other two women, flexing her fingers and cracking her neck. "You said you wanted to run. The only place to go is down those stairs. Take Cadance, and go. If you manage to get out, then find Twilight and the others, and tell them what happened here."

"I— but— what about you?" Wallflower spluttered. "What, are you gonna fight that thing?"

Calling what's about to happen a fight is probably too generous. "Just long enough to buy you a head start. I'll be right behind you."

"Like hell, Sunset, I know what suicide looks like!"

One of the vines suddenly lunged, closing the distance and stabbing downward toward Sunset. Sunset jerked back, and the vine's tip stabbed into the ground; she raised her foot and stomped down on it, pinning it as it writhed to wrench itself free.

The other two circled around, flanking Sunset. She had just enough time to shove Wallflower back before one of them encircled her wrist; another caught her around the leg, freeing the vine that she'd trapped under her foot. 

Sunset bit back a cry as thorns sank into her arm and her leg. The vine she'd pinned rose up and shot toward her face, but she managed to snag it in midair with her free hand, just below the shard at its tip.

"We're out of time, Wallflower!" Sunset growled through her teeth, straining to hold the vine back as it pushed toward her. "I told you to run! Now run!"

"And I told you I wasn't gonna abandon you!"

The vines holding her arm and her leg squeezed tighter, sinking their thorns deeper into her skin. Her grip around the first vine slackened, and it edged closer toward her chest, its tip level with her eyes.

A sound like a whip cracking against leather cut through the air. 

The vine in Sunset's hand suddenly snapped halfway up its length; it stiffened briefly before going limp. The whiplash sounds came twice more, and the other two vines broke the same way. They uncurled from Sunset's limbs, the thorns pulling free from her skin as the vines fell in a tangled heap. Freed from their grip, Sunset dropped gracelessly to the ground. Shallow gouges lined her arm and leg.

Overhead, the knot of vines trembled and shook, and the severed halves of its vines flailed madly in the air. Tremors ran down the length of its roots as a high, scratchy whine, like a razor drawn across a violin's strings, echoed through the expanse.

Wallflower knelt and edged closer to Sunset, hefting Cadance to keep her close. "Did... did you do that?"

Sunset shook her head, a little too breathless to say anything.

The distant sound of footsteps on metal drew their attention. Something was coming up the fire escape. 

Sunset immediately stood and dropped into a half-remembered krav maga pose that she hadn't practiced in months. The pain in her arm and leg made it difficult to maintain; whatever was coming, Sunset hoped it wouldn't notice her trembling.

"I tried to warn you, didn't I?" a familiar voice called out. "I said that this was a bad neighborhood."

The tension in Sunset's stance ebbed as a figure rose to the top of the staircase.

The bitch from the bus stop?

She'd traded her overcoat for a hooded green capelet, clasped with a green gem in the shape of a harp. She wore a vest and boots of brown leather, tightly cinched and lined with thin, red patterns, and a red skirt trimmed with pale, pink lace. Her arms were bare and corded with muscle, her hands in fingerless gloves. Her blonde hair, which had hung freely before, was neatly tied back.

Sunset blinked. Either she'd changed clothes, or this was just what she was wearing under the coat.

The girl looked at Sunset, eyes narrowing as she traced her from head to toe, the same way that she had at the bus stop. Then a wry look crossed her face; she cocked her hip and planted a hand on it.

"Lemme guess. She offered you candy?"

Sunset flushed, her face screwing up. She wanted to retort, but the roots whined again, and she cringed, hard.

The girl at the stairs, unbothered, waited for the droning to cease before responding. "Good to see you, too, Briar Rose. Just hang out for a second; I'll be right with you." Crossing toward Sunset and Wallflower, and addressing them, she added, "'Hang out,' get it? Or did that go over your head?"

She's spitting puns? Really? Sunset exchanged a look with Wallflower – or tried to, anyway. Wallflower couldn't take her eyes off the new girl.

...Oh, yeah. Wallflower thinks she's cute.

"That was you, right?" Sunset said to the girl, indicating the vines with a nod. "I mean, I assume it was you. The timing would be pretty convenient, otherwise."

"How observant."

"I'm trying to thank you, y'know. The least you could do is be courteous about it." She offered her hand. "I'm Sunset Shimmer. This is Wallflower Blush."

The girl stopped within reach of Sunset and looked down at her hand as if it were coated in bodily fluids. Which it wasn't – Sunset had made sure to offer her the clean one. Then, looking up, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, at the fire escape. 

"If you wanna get out of here, just take those down as far as they go. Try not to follow any more strangers down alleyways once you're gone."

Smoldering, Sunset withdrew her hand and gestured at Cadance. "There's no way we'd make it down the stairs carrying her. I'm not sure either of us is strong enough to manage it solo."

"So leave the dead weight here," said the girl, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Problem solved."

Sunset's hands clenched into fists. "Watch it. That's my best friend's sister-in-law."

The girl tilted her head. "But what's she to you?"

With a popping sound that silenced Sunset before she could summon another retort, a fresh vine uncoiled from the knot in the sky, and lunged toward the girls. 

Cursing, the girl shouldered past Sunset. The gem clasping her hood glowed green, and in a flash of that same light, a crossbow materialized in her hand. She leveled and fired it in one smooth motion, severing the vine's point and sending it falling to the ground. It impaled at Sunset's feet.

"Pushy, aren't you?" the girl murmured. To Sunset, she said, "Do what you want. Just don't get in the way."

Sunset watched as more vines uncoiled from the knot – what the girl had called “Briar Rose” – by the dozen. "Are you gonna give me your name at least?"

The girl tossed her crossbow away; it dissolved into motes of green light the moment it left her hand.

"You can call me Lorelai."

Then she leaped – flew, really – toward one of the many floating fire escapes, pursued by the mass of vines. The gem on her hood glowed, and another crossbow materialized in her arms – not handheld, but at least as long as she was tall. 

Pivoting in midair, she aimed at one of the roots stretching into the infinite void, and fired. 

With a gush of green juice, the vine snapped, one half falling, the other dangling limply from the mass's center. Briar Rose rocked back and forth, still suspended by its other roots, and whined again. Its vines shifted angles, and shot toward Lorelai's fire escape.

Lorelai leaped before they got anywhere near her. She landed on a floating patch of alley walkway, a new crossbow in her arms, and sent a bolt through another root. Pursued again, she dropped the spent crossbow; a new pair of miniatures appeared in her hands, and she fired twice, severing two of the encroaching vines before finding a new firing position.

One after another, Lorelai severed Briar Rose's roots. Each time, a new tangle of vines chased her away, but any that got close met a swift death by crossbow. Each root severed sent shivers through Briar Rose and made it sag a little bit more, dragged down by its own immense bulk.

"Sunset," said Wallflower softly. "That girl... is she, y'know... like you and your friends?"

"I hate to repeat myself, Wallflower, but your guess is as good as mine." Sunset bit into her knuckle nervously, distorting her words as she replied. "She’s definitely got powers you can’t find in this world. It’s magic – I guess."

"What else would you call it?"

"I don't know. The only magic I know is Equestrian. And I don't think that's Equestrian magic." Sunset's jaw clenched, digging her teeth deeper into her skin. "No, it can’t be. None of this should be possible."

Wallflower snorted. "You mean like a stone that can erase people's memories? Or music that can hypnotize a whole school into acting like zombies?"

"Like I said, that's Equestrian magic," said Sunset, her eyes scanning the sky for any trace of Lorelai – she'd lost track of her while talking to Wallflower. "Magic that came from enchanted artifacts, or everyday objects that got possessed and turned into totems. Hell, even the Dazzlings needed their gemstones to do what they did; humans can't use magic without something to act as a conduit."

A crossbow bolt the size of a sedan slammed into Briar Rose's central mass from above. The knot swayed and jerked, but the remaining cables managed to hold it aloft. Lorelai fell from some unseen point high above, caught the handrail of an upside-down fire escape, and fired a handheld crossbow through a vine before dropping out of sight again.

Moments later, another root snapped. The knot lurched, pulled down to one side, as a worrisome groan echoed through the expanse.

"But she's not following that rule," Sunset finished. "And what's more... that's not Equestrian magic she's using."

And I don't I like what that implies.

By now, Briar Rose hung by only three roots. Stretched taut to support its weight, they snapped, one by one. Sunset watched the knot plummet toward the island where she and Wallflower waited, its vines and roots trailing like the tail of a comet. 

The ground shuddered and shook when Briar Rose impacted, its limbs draping over the edges of the island and hanging over the abyss. Green liquid squirted from the stumps that had once been vines, forming a miniature lake within the impact crater. 

Any optimism Sunset felt was quashed when something burst from the top of the mass: a cluster of thin vines that knitted together and coalesced into something resembling a human body. A woman – or the upper half of one – formed entirely of vines. 

Leaning her head back, she emitted a high, warbling wail. A dozen more vines sprouted from the crater lake, writhing and twitching with anticipation.

"You girls still down there?" called Lorelai, voice echoing from high above. Craning her head back, Sunset could see her – a wiry shape atop a distant platform. "Because I'm about to finish this, and you're in the splash zone, so... don't say I didn't warn you."

She dived toward the island, jerking aside to dodge as Briar Rose's vines streaked toward her. By then, she was close enough to ground level that Sunset could see her face – her gaze was fixed upon her target.

She noticed the vines circling back around too late. 

The vines quickly snatched Lorelai from her arms down to her feet, and held her tightly in the air. They squeezed, and Lorelai cried out, the sound quickly turning to a pained, breathless gasp. 

The other three vines hovered beside her head, their points poised.

"Lorelai!" Wallflower cried. "Sunset, we have to do something!"

Sunset didn't need to be told. Getting out of there alive hinged on Lorelai surviving; if she died, the rest of them would probably follow suit. 

...And it was the right thing to do, she supposed.

Looking down, Sunset saw the spearpoint tip of the vine that Lorelai had severed. Briar Rose's head was held back, its arms raised and fingers outstretched. The vines not holding Lorelai swayed gently, like cobras in a trance, dancing in front of her face in mockery. Nothing else in the void seemed to register.

Sunset took a breath and let it out slowly. "I'm going to try something. It's probably gonna go badly. Be ready to run if it does."

"Sunset—"

"Do not argue this time."

Sunset plucked the spearhead from the ground and held it like a knife. Its edge bit into her skin, and she felt the sticky sensation of blood collecting in her palm. She embraced the pain – the adrenaline would be good for what she was about to do.

Unfettered by Cadance, without Wallflower's plodding holding her back, Sunset bolted across the island toward Briar Rose. She squeezed between the vines protruding from its base, relishing the way their thorns clawed her skin, and clambered up the mass, taking what handholds and footholds she could, until she was at its top.

Briar Rose finally tore her attention away from Lorelai and swiveled her body toward Sunset. 

Sunset cried out, and thrust the knife into Briar Rose's chest. The vines holding Lorelai, then went limp, collapsing and piling on the ground. 

A fleeting feeling of victory passed over Sunset, before Briar Rose grabbed her throat and crushed her windpipe, shrieking. 

Sunset sputtered and stabbed twice more, each blow landing with less strength than the last. The pain in her hand grew increasingly distant, and the edges of her vision dotted with spots. They expanded, and met, and merged into a vast, inky darkness. 

In that expanding black void, she again saw her own face across Cadance's, leering.

Then Briar Rose lost its grip on Sunset and fell over the side of the knot, twitching spasmodically with a crossbow bolt through its head. Coughing, Sunset looked up, her vision returning. 

Lorelai stood at the top of the mass with a crossbow cradled in her arms. She stared at Sunset, her jaw working thoughtfully.

Sunset rubbed her throat and glared back at Lorelai. 

Bet you're glad I stayed in the splash zone now.

Briar Rose began to melt, dissolving into frothy green fluid and further filling the crater pool. The blade in Sunset's hand did likewise, stinging her open cut; she clenched her hand tightly and tried not to let the pain show on her face. 

All around them, the air seemed to shimmer and distort like a mirage. The yellow void, with its islands and fire escapes, vanished, and the world darkened again into the familiar alley, completely undamaged by the battle with Briar Rose.

The only signs that anything had happened were the still-stinging cuts on Sunset's arm and leg, and the open wound on her hand.

"Wallflower." Sunset's throat felt like a pincushion. "Are you there? Are you and Cadance okay?"

She heard shuffling footsteps, shoes scraping against the pavement, drawing closer. A tiny, timid voice answered from the darkness, stammering between shallow gasps. "Yeah, I'm... I mean, we... we're both— uh— "

She couldn't articulate the thought amid her shallow, rapid breaths. Crouching, Sunset reached out in the nearly pitch-darkness, found Wallflower, and rested her hand on her shoulder.

She felt Wallflower's hand grip her own, her breathing slowing to normal.

A flash of brilliant green lit the alley. Sunset saw Wallflower's face, streaked with dirt and trails from silently shed tears, and she swiveled toward the source of the light. 

The light was coming from Lorelai, her every inch alight, before it receded into her upraised palm, into an egg-shaped gem, banded in gold. The light still radiated from the gem, painting the alley in an eerie glow. 

"I was wrong to talk down to you," she said, staring impassively down at Sunset Shimmer. She was back in her street clothes, her blonde ringlets hanging freely over her shoulders. "You've got courage. An astonishing lack of common sense... but courage."

Sunset tried to rasp a sarcastic rejoinder, but it caught in her throat. She ended up coughing, instead.

Wallflower spoke up. "Thank you. For helping us, I mean. You didn't have to, but you did, and... I mean, I'm sure Sunset feels the same way. Right?"

Sunset shot Wallflower a look. It didn't register – she was staring at Lorelai with that same awestruck look.

"And, uh, all that stuff that you did?" Wallflower continued. "I mean, the shooting, and the acrobatics, and the, the... lamp-thingy you're doing right now? It was incredible. Like something out of—" 

"Anime?"

Wallflower shrank back, casting her gaze at the floor and mumbling.

"Thought so. You look the type. No offense." Lorelei closed her hand over the gem. Light escaped from the gaps between her fingers in thin, pale beams. "You don't need to thank me for saving you. It's just what a Puella Magi does."

Wallflower's nose wrinkled, a vacant expression crossing her face.

"...No Latin, huh?" For an instant, Lorelai’s eyes flicked toward Sunset. "In English, it means—"

"'Magical Girl,'" Sunset finished, fighting through the urge to cough. "At least, I assume that's what you were going for. I’m just translating; the literal is nothing like that.” 

She relished the look of surprise that flew across Lorelai's face. "Well, well. You got guts and brains, I see."

"I take it that means I was on the money," said Sunset. Savior or no, this girl had been rubbing her the wrong way since they'd met, but patronizing Wallflower was a step too far. Besides, Lorelai wasn't even the most magical girl in this alley. "You don’t mind the artistic liberty?"

The corners of Lorelai's lips curled up in a smile as thin as a razor – and as inviting as one, too. 

"Not at all. I couldn't have put it better myself."
> 2. Blow Out the Candles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Officer Peacemaker finished scribbling on his notepad, and looped his pencil behind an ear. The red pulse of the ambulance's strobe lights highlighted the deep lines on his face.

"So," he said, "that's everything, then?" 

Sunset folded her arms and nodded, resisting the urge to scratch at the bandages wrapped around her cuts. She glanced down the sidewalk, where Officer Peacemaker's partner quietly grilled Wallflower Blush. Wallflower seemed anxious, shockingly, but she was talking – actually talking to the police officer.

Peacemaker coughed, catching Sunset's attention again. "Nothing you want to add? Details you've remembered that slipped your mind before?"

Sunset blinked. "Like what?"

Officer Peacemaker raised an eyebrow. "You tell me."

Sunset bit back an acerbic retort, breathing deep and letting the air out slowly. "It's like I said. We were waiting for the bus. Principal Cadance got off acting funny, and went into the alley. We followed, she snapped and tried to hurt herself, and we stopped her."

"Which doesn't explain the cuts on your arm and leg."

Sunset allowed herself one quick scratch. "There was a lot of glass. She broke a window, remember?"

"The ones on your hand? Your palm and your fingers?"

"She was trying to cut herself with a big chunk of glass. I had to wrestle it away from her, and I cut my hand on the edge—"

"Yes, I know. She has injuries corresponding to yours. Except yours are deeper." Peacemaker narrowed his eyes. "What were you trying to do, exactly, that gave you worse cuts than hers, in the same locations, to boot?"

Sunset smiled thinly. "I don't know what you're trying to accuse me of—"

"Sunset, please. We all know your days of lifting menthols from the bodega are well and truly behind you. Hell, there've been four suicides in this neighborhood over the last two weeks, and there would've been a fifth if it weren't for you. Way I see it, you're a hero." Peacemaker cast a quick look toward the ambulance, then leaned toward Sunset, lowering his voice. 

"But to be blunt, your story doesn't add up. And Miss Cadenza's memory lapse means I can't take her as a credible witness. If I'm missing something, or if there's something you're not telling me..." He dropped his voice even lower. "If she did something else that you didn't mention..."

Sunset tried to clench her hands. The bandages around her right got in the way, the cuts itching worse under their wrappings. "She didn't attack me, if that's what you're suggesting." 

Officer Peacemaker's gaze bored into Sunset. "That bruise around your neck tells a different story."

Her breathing hitched. Unconsciously, her left hand drifted to the purple ring marking the spot where Briar Rose's hands had tried to crush the life from her.

"You played dumb to the paramedics," Peacemaker continued, "but that doesn't mean they didn't notice. Doesn't mean they didn't tell me about it." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Sunset, monotone.

Peacemaker gave a long, deep sigh. "Maybe you think you're being noble, trying to protect someone – whether it's Cadance, or if there was another person in the alley with you, I don't know. But if you are, then the right thing to do is—"

"I've answered your questions as clearly as I possibly can." Sunset braced her knuckles on her hips. "I don't have anything else to add, and I don't want to change my story."

Peacemaker's jaw worked in a slow circle, his teeth grinding audibly. His voice dropped even lower, to a murmur. "Is this one of those problems?"

For a fleeting instant, and not for the first time, the geode around Sunset's neck felt like an albatross. 

"Just tell me if I'm free to go or not," she said firmly.

She heard footsteps from behind, then – Peacemaker's partner coming to join them. A look passed between the two officers; his partner shook her head.

"...We have all we need for now," said Officer Peacemaker, "and we won't keep you any longer. Thanks for your cooperation. It's a pleasure as always."

Sunset kept her eyes on them until they were back in their squad car and on the road. 

Wallflower waited until they were gone before shuffling over, biting her lip, and indicating the ambulance with a glance. Understanding her meaning, Sunset nodded.

"Did it go okay?" she said to Wallflower as they walked toward the ambulance.

Wallflower nodded. "I stuck to the script. I think she knew I was holding something back, but she just said to call her if I 'remembered' anything."

"That's oddly generous for a cop," said Sunset. "It sounds like she went easy on you."

"I've talked to Officer Killjoy before." Wallflower's next step dragged against the concrete. "She was nice to me then, too."

The girls found Cadance lying on a gurney, quietly talking with the paramedics. They'd removed her suit jacket and cut away her shirt sleeve, wrapping her right arm from the hand to the elbow in gauze and bandages. Seeing Sunset and Wallflower approach, she said something to the paramedics, and they cleared out of the ambulance, moving a respectful distance away.

"Did you come to see me off?" said Cadance. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "They're taking me to the hospital after this. Called my fiance, and everything. Funny – so this is how it feels to get tattled on."

"I should apologize, then,” said Sunset, laughing politely. “I tattled on you to Twilight when I saw you go into the alley." 

Although she hadn't heard back from her, yet. Unusual, but it wasn't impossible that Twilight was simply busy. It was a school night, after all. 

"But apart from that,” Sunset continued, “how do you feel?"

"Oh, marvelous. I've been made a southpaw against my will." Making a face, Cadance flopped her mummified arm once. "Fortunately, I'm ambidextrous, but I enjoy having options, you know?"

Sunset smiled thinly at Cadance’s humor. The woman was probably holding on by a thread. And that was a problem in itself, but in the here and now, Sunset needed information if she and the girls were going to stop what happened to her from happening to anyone else.

She wanted to wait before pressing her with questions. But the sooner she could get the answers she needed, the better.

Cautiously, Sunset said, "Do you remember anything about what happened tonight?"

Cadance’s smile, already forced, wore a little at the edges, and her gaze drifted far away. 

"I remember all of it," she whispered. "Leaving the school, getting on the bus, talking to you... what I said to you in the alley... but I don't remember why, or what I was thinking when I..." 

Sunset took a breath. "I used my powers on you, just for a second. Do you remember that, too?"

"I... I'm sorry, but I just... don’t." Cadance broke off, cupping her face with her uninjured hand. "God, I actually tried to... to..."

"It's okay," Wallflower whispered. "It's over now. You're safe."

Sunset looked at her, mildly surprised that she'd spoken up. Wallflower looked back.

Ease up, she mouthed.

She was right, and Sunset knew it. Maybe the answers could wait after all.

Cadance took a moment to steady herself, breathing slowly and deeply, before lowering her hands and plastering that fake smile back on her face. "I'm glad that you came to say goodbye, you know. I wanted to thank you – both of you – for showing up tonight."

Sunset shook her head. "We were just in the right place at the right time."

"That wasn't what I was referring to, Sunset. I wanted to thank you for..." Cadance's smile wavered. "For showing up at the vigil."

"...Ah." Sunset drew her lips together. "It was the least I could do. And I mean, I was only there because Twilight—"

"The least you could have done was not show up at all for her." Her smile broke completely, and Cadance pressed her hand against her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. "No one ever did."

Biting her thumb, Sunset glanced at the paramedics – they were diligently looking away. Wondering if she was going to get in trouble for this, she climbed into the ambulance, crouching low. Then she placed her hand on Cadance's back, rubbing softly.

To her surprise, the older woman turned into her embrace, burying her face in Sunset's neck and clinging to her shoulders.

"I couldn't save Moondancer," she whispered. Her tears, warm and wet, tickled Sunset's skin. "But you saved me, and I'll always remember that."

Sunset wrapped her arms around Cadance, and held her in return.

After a moment, Cadance broke away with one final squeeze. Sniffling, she straightened out her shirt, trying to give herself a semblance of poise. "Thank you, once more, both of you. I hope we can meet again under happier circumstances."

"Me too, Principal Cadance." Sunset climbed out of the ambulance, accepting Wallflower's hand to guide her down.

Cadance piped up one more time. "And Wallflower?"

Wallflower stiffened, and quirked her head at Cadance.

"Seeing you again was a lovely surprise." The smile Cadance gave her wasn't forced this time. "Don't forget what I said before, okay?"

Swallowing, Wallflower nodded, and mumbled in acknowledgement. Then she awkwardly shuffled back, behind Sunset.

At that, the paramedics approached, gently urging Sunset and Wallflower out of the way. Cadance waved one last time as they closed up the ambulance. Then they boarded, and a moment later, the ambulance revved to life and pulled away.

Sunset returned Cadance's wave, and didn't stop waving until the ambulance had vanished in the fog. "I didn't know you met Cadance before," she said to Wallflower.

"Yeah, at the Friendship Games. She visited the garden a couple times." Wallflower hugged herself tightly. "When I saw her at the vigil, I didn't think she'd remember, but she came right over to talk to me. She asked how the gardening club was doing, and she said... 'Canterlot High wouldn't be half as pretty and peaceful without you.'"

"She really is one of the good ones, isn't she?" Sunset stuck her hands in her vest pockets. "We should make some time to see her. She'll be held at the hospital for twenty-four hours. "

"Forty-eight." Wallflower's voice was a whisper, faint as the wind. She looked at Sunset from the corner of her eyes, but glanced away as soon as she met Sunset's gaze, pulling a curtain of hair over her face like a hood.

Biting her lip, Sunset looped an arm around Wallflower's shoulders, and held her loosely.

"Finally. I thought they'd never leave."

Sunset released Wallflower and spun, memories of Briar Rose fresh in her mind. It was only Lorelai, leaned back comfortably on the bus stop bench, legs crossed.

Sunset didn't relax. "Where'd you come from?"

"I never left – I was just staying out of sight until the cops and paramedics took off," said Lorelai. "The lady's okay, right?"

"The 'dead weight' is just fine," Sunset said acidly. "Thank you for asking."

"C'mon, don't make me sound heartless. I wouldn't have let anything bad happen to her." She gave Sunset an easy smile. "Anyway, I appreciate you not mentioning me to the police. The authorities and I don't have the most positive relationship. I assume you can relate."

The menthols. Sunset flushed, remembering Peacemaker's remark. You shoplift once, try smoking once, and you never live it down...

"Whatever," Sunset muttered. "Not like I did it for you. Cops complicate things, that's all."

"Heh. Somebody's a bad girl.” Lorelai rose from the bench and approached Sunset, her hands in her coat pockets, her eyes tracing along Sunset's bandages. "Well, since you kept your mouth shut..."

She withdrew her hand from her pocket, her fist clenched. Then she opened it, palm-up, to reveal the egg-shaped gem that had lit the alley before.

Sunset looked suspiciously at it. "What are you—"

"Boop."

A light sprang from the gem, washing over Sunset. She recoiled, a warm tingling sensation spreading down her arm and her leg, over her palm, and her neck. Gradually, it faded – and with it, the itches that'd been plaguing her.

Lorelai flexed her fingers, one after the other, clenching them into a fist. The gem vanished in a flash of light, and the ring materialized around her finger, set with a stone that shone, albeit faintly, with the same green light. 

She grinned, fanning her fingers back out. "Beats bandages and aspirin, huh?"

Sunset turned her hand over, slowly, running her fingers over the bandages. "What did you do...?"

Instead of answering, Lorelai reached for her hand before she could protest, and took it with both of her own. Her fingers deftly undid the bandages, letting them fall to the ground. The skin beneath was pristine. There were no scars, not a shred of evidence that the cuts had ever even been there.

"Impressed yet?" Lorelai said. She traced her thumb along Sunset's palm, where the cut had been, the stroke like a line of fire on Sunset's skin.

Red-faced, Sunset yanked her hand away and took a step back, holding her hand self-consciously. Ignoring Lorelai's chuckle, she looked down at herself, flexing her fingers experimentally. No pain. That ring, that gemstone, the light it gave off, healed her wounds completely.

She used that thing in the alley, too, Sunset thought, glancing at the ring. Doesn't look Equestrian, though.

"Thank you," said Sunset, her voice somewhat stiff and awkward.

"Don’t mention it." Lorelai flicked her gaze away from Sunset. "Anyway, that's actually not why I stuck around. Not entirely."

Sunset tilted her head quizzically. 

"...I was actually wondering if you knew anywhere good to eat around here." With one hand, she tugged on a springy coil of blonde hair, pulling it straight and letting it bounce back into a ringlet. "Since you saved my bacon back in that labyrinth, I figure that it's only fair to treat you to some in return."

"'Labyrinth?'" Sunset echoed.

"No, bacon. Treat you to some bacon." Muttering, Lorelai added, "Keep up, would you?"

"No, I was asking what you meant by—" Sunset smacked her forehead. "Whatever. Look, I can point you to a good diner, but you don't owe me anything, so. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Yeah, well, I feel like I do. And I'd rather not be indebted to you." She looped the ringlet of hair around her finger, looking directly into Sunset's eyes. "Besides which, there's one or two things I'd like to ask you about, and I'm sure I'm not the only one with questions, so... c'mon, lemme feed you already."

Sunset fumed, but knew that Lorelai had a point. Things had been strange around town recently. Up until Cadance's episode, she didn't have any reason to suspect a malign, magical influence behind it, but Briar Rose and Lorelai changed all of that. 

It wasn't something she admitted to herself gladly, but she was caught flat-footed. She wanted... needed to know more about the situation, about this girl, and about what she represented. Cadance was too traumatized to answer any questions, which made Lorelai her only reliable source of information by default.

Even still, Sunset was on the fence about spending more time with this girl. Then her stomach growled audibly, drawing a sheepish laugh from Wallflower, and a knowing smirk from Lorelai. 

Blushing, Sunset looked at Wallflower.

"You got time for brinner?"





Pinkie Pie’s skates squealed as she skidded to a halt beside the booth, somehow managing to avoid upsetting any of the platters balanced on her hands and head.

"Get it while it's hot," she proclaimed, bowing her head. The platter resting on her skull dropped, fully upright and without spilling, in front of Lorelai. "Corned beef hash and eggs for the stunning young blonde."

Lorelai undid the belt and buttons holding her coat closed, unfolded a paper napkin over her lap, and smiled thinly at Pinkie Pie. "I'm not paying for this if I find hair in it."

"If you find hair in it, I'll pay you." Pinkie dropped a second platter in front of Sunset. "Garden State Garden Omelette for Sunny Bunny."

"You don't gotta call me that, Pinkie," Sunset said, her cheery sing-song belied by her vexed grin.

"And a big ol' heap of spaghetti and meatballs for Miss Wallflower Blush," Pinkie finished, ignoring Sunset. She dropped a bowl in front of Wallflower, produced a pair of breadsticks from somewhere, and stuck them in a V-shape in the middle of the noodles.

Wallflower leered at the breadsticks, but didn't question them. She muttered her thanks and dug a fork in, twirling a bunch of noodles around the prongs.

Cupping her hands in front of her skirt, Pinkie said, "Get'cha anything else?"

"No, thank you, Pinkie," said Sunset. "We're good."

"I'll have a little more coffee," said Lorelai, smoothing out the napkin on her lap. "If that's okay."

Sunset responded with a flat stare that Lorelai never looked up to see. Maybe Lorelai wanted coffee; maybe she just liked contradicting Sunset. Maybe both. Either way, she was irksome.

"Comin' up, miss!" Pinkie zipped closer to Sunset, leaning in to stage-whisper at her. "I like this one. Nothin' against old Flashie, but she's a cut above."

"Wha— Pinkie!" Sunset straightened, her face going crimson. "You've got the wrong idea, okay? We're just having brinner. That's all."

"Sure about that?" Pinkie leaned back, clicking her heels together. "Might wanna make sure she knows, Sunset. She can't take her eyes off'a you."

Giggling, she zipped away, singing to herself. "Coinky-dink, coinky-dinky-doo-wah..."

Sunset looked at Lorelai, her face still uncomfortably warm. The other girl was calm and poised, her elbows braced on the table, her hands folded in front of her mouth. Blue eyes tracked Pinkie as she skated away.

"She’s certainly a character, isn't she?" Lorelai murmured.

"And a half," Sunset groaned. She dug into her omelette, slicing off a cheesy hunk of egg and mushroom with the side of her fork, and spearing it. Eyeing Wallflower's meal, she said, "That isn't brinner. I specifically asked if you wanted brinner."

"I didn't want brinner; I wanted spaghetti and meatballs. What even is brinner?"

Sunset raised an eyebrow. "It's breakfast for dinner. You go to a diner after dark, you order brinner. How have you never had brinner?"

"Maybe because I'm not a weirdo who hangs out in diners after dark." Wallflower pouted, and added, "'Sides, not like I got anyone to go with."

"If you want to be pedantic, 'Sunny Bunny,'" Lorelai interjected. "I specifically offered you bacon, and you ordered the one omelette on the menu with zero bacon." She snapped her fingers and pointed at Wallflower. "You, I didn't invite at all, so don't expect me to pay for your food."

"And that's the last time you're going to talk to her that way," Sunset snapped, clenching her fist. "Saving our lives doesn't give you the right to patronize us." 

Her vehemence seemed to pierce Lorelai's smugness. She froze, and stared back at Sunset, an icy smile on her face. Wallflower just stared at her, emitting a weak, rattling noise in the back of her throat. 

Before anything else could happen, Pinkie Pie rolled back over to their table. In one hand was a coffee pot; Lorelai raised her mug without looking, and Pinkie dutifully filled it. In her other hand was a milkshake, piled high with whipped cream and topped with a cherry. She slid that toward Wallflower Blush.

"On the house," said Pinkie. Her smile softened. "This looks like a 'free milkshake' kind of night for you."

Then she disappeared again before Wallflower could stammer out a reply.

Pinkie's interruption seemed to give Lorelai enough room to recover from Sunset's tongue-lashing. Raising the mug to her lips, she drew in a breath of hot steam, closing her eyes to savor the smell of her drink. "It was a joke. Lighten up, okay?"

"It wasn't funny." Reigning herself in, Sunset continued, in a voice that nevertheless still simmered with anger. "You wanted to talk. So get to the point, already."

Lorelai took a long, deep sip of the coffee. Finishing, she sighed with satisfaction, set the cup on the table, and opened her eyes.

"I guess I'll go first." A stern look swept over her face, all business, no levity. "Most people who wander into a labyrinth never come out again. The ones who do tend to be more than a little shaken up by the experience. Not to say you weren't, but you handled it surprisingly well. Almost like the situation didn't surprise you all that much." 

She paused, narrowing her eyes. 

"Was that the first witch you've encountered?"

Sunset's fingers clenched. She stuffed another bite of omelette into her mouth to stall, chewing slowly. Magic may have been an open secret at Canterlot High, but few people knew how it really worked, let alone that it was Equestrian in origin. She wasn't going to just start gabbing about it with anyone who asked. 

Especially not Lorelai, who she didn’t know, didn't trust, and certainly didn't like. She'd have to tiptoe through this conversation. 

But for that to work, she'd need to keep Wallflower on the same page.

Wallflower had disengaged since Lorelai posed her question. Her hands were on her lap and her lips around her straw as she slurped her free milkshake. As inconspicuous as she could, Sunset draped a single finger over one of Wallflower's hands. Then, concentrating on her magic, she cleared her mind of everything, except a single thought. 

Follow my lead, and don't say a word about Equestria.

Wallflower's eyes shot open. She choked mid-sip, sputtered, and flailed reflexively, partially upending her spaghetti, and spilling a meatball and a knot of spaghetti onto the table. 

Lorelai recoiled, hastily lifting up her plate as Wallflower shot flecks and droplets of milkshake toward her booth. "Is she alright?"

"It's just brain freeze; she's fine." She grabbed a spare napkin and mopped up the spillage, mindful of the glare that Wallflower was sending her way.

"'Brain freeze,' huh?" she rasped. She righted her bowl, jammed her fork into one of her remaining meatballs, and bit a hunk out of it, chewing angrily.

Sunset mouthed sorry, before wadding up the soiled paper and tossing it aside on the table. Then she returned her attention to Lorelai.

"To answer your question, that wasn't the first encounter either of us has had with the supernatural. With magic, specifically."

Lorelai worked her jaw, thoughtfully. "So, it's all old hat to you?"

"In a way." Sunset hesitated as she thought about her answer. "It's an open secret that there's magic in this city. My friends and I have been dealing with it for a while now."

"Dealing with it how?" said Lorelai.

"Containing it, mostly. Fighting it, if necessary. Hugging it, sometimes. " Sunset looked pointedly at Wallflower. "It's very situational."

"Are you putting me on? You'd better not be putting me on."

Sunset took a long drink of water, smacking her lips.

"...Hmph." Lorelai shook her head and glared at Wallflower. "Don't tell me you're in on this."

Wallflower looked up, a mouthful of spaghetti dangling from her lips, and mumbled something.

"You don't need to know the specifics," said Sunset. "And I'm definitely not naming any names. But I'm used to dealing with magical problems. Up until tonight, I thought I'd seen just about all there was to see, but your 'labyrinth,' and your 'witch,' and everything that happened to Cadance..."

Lorelai stayed silent for a long moment, taking a delicate bite of her beef hash, chewing thoughtfully, and swallowing. "So, she was your first witch, then?"

Sunset paused to nibble on her omelette, chewing over her response. The vaguer she could be, the better; if Lorelai hadn't caught on that her magic and Sunset's weren't the same, then Sunset wasn't about to clue her in.

"I've never encountered anything like that before," she said, finally. "Anything like you, either, for that matter." 

"Guess you have a lot to learn." A smirk oozed across Lorelai's face. "Want me to fill in the blanks for you?"

"If you'd be so kind." Sunset leveled her fork at Lorelai. "Start by explaining whatever the hell a Magnum P.I. is."

"'Puella Magi.'" Lorelai's grin tightened. She tapped her chin with her index finger. "How can I put this...?" 

With an ah, she reached for the pepper shaker at the end of the table, and held it up to the light. "This is a witch." She gave the shaker a little wave.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. "That is pepper."

"It is a metaphor. And it is a witch." Lorelai sighed theatrically, dangling the shaker between her fingertips. "A witch is an entity that's born from human misery. They exist in pocket dimensions known as 'labyrinths.' From within their labyrinths, they inflict curses on people." 

She sprinkled out a helping of pepper on the table, creating a little pile of black grains between herself, Wallflower, and Sunset.

"These curses stoke people's negative thoughts, feelings, and impulses. People act on them. Their actions cause more misery, which the witch feeds on in turn, all to grow more powerful." 

"Come to think of it, I’ve seen something like that before. Not quite in the same form, though." Sunset found herself picturing Briar Rose with Adagio Dazzle’s face, and shuddered. "Cadance said she deserved to die before she broke the window. Is that what witches do? Curse people to make them kill themselves, feed on the misery that causes?"

"Oh, suicide's just one of many fruits that a curse can bear. Beatings, domestic abuse, homicide... hell, plain, simple road rage. You name it. Thing is, most people can't perceive witches directly, so they don't know where the impulses and emotions that drive those acts come from. A witch who goes unnoticed, and unfought, is free to spread curses, and reap more misery from a population."

Sunset gnawed the edge of her thumbnail. "So, the suicides in town lately – Cadance's attempt, and all the others – that was Briar Rose's doing?"

"Not just hers," said Lorelai, shaking her head. "Where there's one witch, you're bound to find lots more. This little wave of suicides is a collaborative effort – a bunch of witches, all on the prowl."

She set the pepper shaker down on the table. Wallflower quickly reached across the table, grabbed it, shook some out on her spaghetti, and mixed it together.

"Needed seasoning," she muttered.

Caught off guard, Sunset stared at Wallflower for a moment. Then she shook her head. "So, witches curse people, and feed on their misery. And you Paella Mages, your job is to stop them? What does that make you, exactly?"

Lorelai's eyelid twitched. She took the salt shaker in hand and sprinkled a helping of salt on the table, beside the pile of pepper.

"So, physics time. For every action, there must be an equal and opposite—" 

"Thanks, but I know all that already."

"Rude." Lorelai set the salt shaker down and waved her hand dismissively. "Witches exist to spread misery and grief. Puella Magi... or 'magical girls,' if you prefer... live to fight them; through fighting them, we spread hope. We are the universe's equal, and opposite, reaction to witches' existence." 

Using her butter knife, she drew the salt and pepper into two long, parallel lines.

"In short, we save people, and we make the world a better place. It's generally pretty thankless, but it's not without its perks—"

"My friend, Moondancer. You didn't save her. Didn't make the world a better place for her." 

Wallflower's interruption, the sheer, seething bitterness in it, froze Sunset. Lorelai's face drained of color, and she stared, blankly, across the table.

Sunset rested her hand on Wallflower's shoulder, cursing herself silently. She'd been so focused on Cadance that she'd all but forgotten about Moondancer. 

"Her friend took her own life not long ago," said Sunset to Lorelai, and let the implication hang between them. If Cadance's grief was a meal to a witch, then Moondancer – socially isolated and depressed as she was – would've been a banquet.

She didn't know what response to expect. A sarcastic comment. A condescending quip. Something that would make Sunset snap, reach across the table, and shake Lorelai, crossbow magic be damned.

Instead, Lorelai set down the salt shaker and slumped against her backrest. A great weight seemed to settle on her shoulders, and she sighed, hard. 

"When I heard about the suicides in this city, I knew it had to be witches. And since there was nobody cleaning up after them, I came as quick as I could.” Lorelai sounded older, and more tired, than she looked. "I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough to save your friend."

Wallflower squeezed her eyes shut and let out a breath. She nodded shakily, and picked up her fork, digging listlessly through her spaghetti.

The three girls settled into an awkward, silent lull, focusing on their meals, and little else. Sunset had enough room for a few more bites of omelette, but the discussion had sapped her appetite, and she pushed her brinner away half-finished.  Resting her chin on her palm, Sunset turned her head and looked out the window. The fog had thinned out, creating a beautifully tranquil Sunday night. Traffic and pedestrians passed intermittently, citizens caught up in the steady cadence of big city night life.

She wondered if anyone out there would meet another of Lorelai's witches tonight.

"Weird-lookin' cat."

Wallflower's voice shook Sunset from her reverie. She blinked, and peered more closely out the window. "Cat? Where?"

"Out there, across the street." Sunset felt Wallflower's chin hovering above her shoulder; Sunset had to shift aside to make room for her. "Come to think of it, it's more like a rabbit, or fox, or something."

Sunset squinted. "Sure you're not just seeing things?"

"It's there, trust me." Wallflower pulled back, settling into the booth again. "Or... it was there. I think it ran off."

"Hmm." In the dining room's reflection cast on the window, Sunset caught a glimpse of Lorelai's face. She was ashen, even given her normal pallor.

Turning to face her, Sunset said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just..." Lorelai shook her head and dug her hand into her coat pocket. "I gotta take off."

"Thought you wanted to talk?" said Sunset, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're done already."

"I've got a life outside of you. Got a city full of witches to scour." She rose from the table, pulled a wad of money out of her pocket and tossed it onto the table. "You thinking of going after them, too?"

Sunset's heart skipped. "If they're behind the suicides in town, then yes, of course. Handling magical problems is sort of what I do."

"Word of advice: Don't bother." One by one, Lorelai fastened the buttons on her coat. "This isn't the kind of problem you can hug away."

"Thanks for the concern," Sunset fired back as Lorelai turned to leave. "But, with all due respect, mind your own business."

"You should take your own advice. Witches are my business." Lorelai paused, and tilted her head, angling it back in an unsettling manner. "You've got guts, I won't deny it. But you're out of your depth."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"And you have no idea what you're dealing with. Make no mistake, you saved me tonight, and I'm grateful. But from here on out, leave the witches to a professional." Lorelai straightened, swept a hand through her hair, and popped her collar. "Tell your friends."

Without another word, she made for the exit, and headed out into the night.

A sharp whistle startled Sunset, and made Wallflower yelp. It was only Pinkie; she'd wheeled herself up to the table as Lorelai left.

"Y'know what, I take it back," Pinkie said. "You can do better than her, Sunset."

Wallflower leaned across the table and picked up the cash that Lorelai left behind, fanning it out with awe. "Pinkie, there's like, fifty bucks here."

"Huh." Pinkie blinked. "Well, shoot, never mind. Now I kinda wanna date her."





Wallflower's apartment wasn't far from the diner, so Sunset elected to walk her the rest of the way. They circumvented the street where they'd encountered Briar Rose; it added a few more minutes to the trip, but better safe than sorry. Eventually, they arrived at her neck of the woods – a block of low-rent housing that many of Canterville's blue collars called home. Not the ritziest part of town, but not a bad neighborhood at all. Sunset felt safer here than she did waiting for that bus.

She felt a tug on her wrist as they emerged onto Wallflower's street. "What's up?" she said.

"Open your hand?" said Wallflower.

Sunset did as she was asked, and Wallflower dumped a few dimes into her palm.

"For all the 'sorries,' earlier. You said you would start charging." Her lips twitched in an almost imperceptible smile.

"Thanks for reminding me," Sunset said, laughing a little. "You holding up okay? I know it's been kind of a busy night."

"'Busy' doesn't cover half of it. I found out you have telepathy tonight, and it wasn’t even nearly the weirdest part." Wallflower quirked her head at Sunset. "Speaking of, isn't your thing just reading memories?"

"Memories, thoughts, visiting mental landscapes. Holding conversations, although that part's kinda new." Sunset rubbed the back of her head. "Mostly, I use it to gossip with Twilight during class."

"Is that why I always see you two holding hands in physics?"

"We do not 'hold hands.'" Sunset blushed; she coughed, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, sorry for not really easing you into it. I needed to make sure we were on the same page about Lorelai, and I figured texting would've been too conspicuous."

"There's whipped cream on my nose hairs, Sunset."

Sunset cringed. "Yeah, uh... I guess the subtle approach kinda backfired." 

"'Kinda,' she says. Sunset Shimmer – master of understatement." Wallflower brushed her bangs out of her face, and shrugged. "I guess I'm okay, overall. Tonight was just a lot to take in."

"Yeah, I hear you. You think you've seen it all. Then a vine-monster sucks you into the staircase dimension and tries to strangle you." Sunset chuckled. "Least I know what I'm up against now. Tomorrow, I'll fill the rest of the girls in. I'm sure we can figure out a way to put a stop to all of this."

Biting her lip, Wallflower laced her fingers together behind her back. "About what Lorelai said, though, just before she left... You really think this is something you can handle?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" 

"You almost died tonight, Sunset," said Wallflower, quietly. "You almost died twice."

"Well, I'm still here, and that thing isn't." She spoke a little more sharply than she intended, and she softened her voice. "Look, I'll admit that I was kinda caught flat-footed tonight. I wasn't ready for a fight, and I didn't have any back-up—"

"Don't rub it in." 

Sunset stopped in her tracks, Wallflower's bitterness again catching her off guard. She took the other girl's sleeve as she passed ahead, drawing her to a stop. "Hey. That's not what I—"

"I know what you meant. It still sucks to hear." Wallflower pulled her arm away and hugged herself. "You know, when you said you were gonna fight that thing off and give me and Cadance time to get away? That really sucked to hear. And when I saw Briar Rose choke you... I think you can see where I'm going with this."

"I didn't realize it was that hard for you." Sunset caught herself raising her hand to touch her neck. Immediately, she balled up her fists and held them stiffly at her side. "I'm sorry."

Mustering her courage, Wallflower looked at Sunset. "That thing, or something like it, made Moondancer kill herself. And just tonight, it almost killed you. I could've lost my only two friends in the world, within just a couple of days of each other, and what did I do about it?"

"The only thing you could do, Wallflower," Sunset said, softly.

"That part sucks most of all." Wallflower tugged on her hair. "If there are more witches out there, then you and your friends are gonna do everything you can to stop them. I know that. And if stopping them means no more Moondancers and Cadances, then I'm all for it. But I can't stand you putting yourself in danger while I just sit on the sidelines and hope for the best."

"I have to, though. I don't have a choice."

"Sure you do," said Wallflower softly.

"I don't. If I have the power to make a difference for people, then I have a responsibility to use it, no matter the danger." Sunset raised her arms and let them fall, limply, against her side. "After all the bad I've done in my life... it's only fair, you know?"

Wallflower's breath caught, and she turned to regard Sunset in silence, eyes misty.

Before things could get any more somber, Sunset took a deep breath, reached for Wallflower's shoulders, and squeezed gently. 

"How about this: If and when I go up against another witch, I promise I won't do it alone. The girls'll be with me, and they'll protect me – and I'll protect them too. As long as we're together, nothing's gonna take us down. So don't be scared, okay?"

Wallflower bit the inside of her cheek, not answering immediately. "I wanna believe you, I do. It's just... I don't want to keep losing people." 

"I understand. But you gotta have faith in me.” Smirking, she added, "I'm literally a magical unicorn-lady. Are you really gonna disagree with me?"

Wallflower snorted. She rolled her shoulders, shaking Sunset's hands off of them, and pointed to an apartment building halfway up the street. "That's my place. Guess we made it."

She took off ahead of Sunset, who stared after her for a moment before following.

Wallflower lingered at the entrance for a moment, peeking shyly at Sunset from behind her bangs. "Hey, um... maybe it's dumb of me to ask, after everything you did for me tonight, but I could use a favor."

"Anything, Wallflower."

"I talked to Moondancer's mom earlier. She knew who I was – I guess Moondancer had told her about me." Wallflower rubbed her arm anxiously. "She invited me over to her house, tomorrow, after school. I'm not sure if I really have it in me to do that alone, and she said I could bring someone with me, if I wanted. So, I was thinking..."

She looked at Sunset shyly.

"Maybe you could be my emotional support unicorn-lady?"

Sunset chuckled. "Sure, alright. I'll catch up with you after class."

Wallflower sighed. Then she lunged toward Sunset in a quick, awkward hug.

"Thank you. And thanks for everything tonight," said Wallflower. She pulled away, smiling enigmatically. "This was the best birthday I've had in years."

She was gone before Sunset could ask if she was kidding or not. 

Sticking her hands in her pockets, Sunset stared up at the building for a moment, before turning to trudge home.

"What a girl," she mused, shaking her head.





It was dark in the apartment when Wallflower got inside, but she could hear the TV from the living room. Mom was home, which probably meant she was sleeping. Quiet as she could, Wallflower slipped out of her shoes and tiptoed into the living room. 

As expected, Mom was passed out on the couch, dressed in a rumpled blue vest and grey slacks. There was an open glass bottle and a paper bag on the coffee table in front of her. It was unusual for her to be home so early – Mom was out late most of the time, even on weekends. It must've still been bright when she got home, too, if she just flopped on the couch and fell asleep before turning on any lights. She hadn't even grabbed the throw blanket draped over the backrest.

At least she'd remembered to take off her nametag, if not the rest of her uniform. The little piece of plastic sat on the coffee table in front of her, the name "Kudzu" just barely visible in the TV's glow.

Wallflower reached for the bag; it was faintly warm, and rolled up at the top. Unraveling it, she was immediately hit with the strong, cloying scent of Chinese take-out, a smell that would've made her mouth water if she hadn't already stuffed herself with spaghetti and milkshake. Inside were four big paper cartons, packed to the brim and still sealed. Mom hadn't touched them yet. Wallflower's heart sank as she realized that Mom was probably waiting until she got home, so they could eat together.

Wallflower picked up the bag and took it into the kitchen, leaving the half-finished cola where it was. It was one of those Mexican sodas that came in the glass bottle; there was no getting the cap back on. Mom would have to drink it flat when she woke up.

When she opened the fridge, she found something that hadn't been in there that morning – a cheap, store-bought cake, a wheel of white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. On the top, the number eighteen was written in frosting, surrounded by thick dollops of red, blue, and yellow, shaped like balloons.

Wallflower squeezed her eyes shut, and willed herself not to sob. She packed their uneaten dinner – take-out was always better the next day, anyhow – and returned to the living room to wrap the throw-blanket around Mom.

Mom smacked her lips, but didn't stir.

Wallflower whispered a word of thanks and headed to her room, opening and shutting the door as gingerly as she could. She moved toward her bed, sank back on her mattress, and let her eyes flutter shut.

"Wallflower Blush?"

The voice cut through the stillness in the room like a knife, and Wallflower bolted to her feet.

"Who's there?!" she stammered. "Where are you? What do you—"

"Please, calm down, Wallflower Blush. There's no reason to panic."

Wallflower scrambled for the door, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. "My mom is in the other room. You stay where you are, or I'll scream, and she'll call the police!"

"That won't be necessary." The voice was gentle and soft, placating. "I mean you no harm, Wallflower. I promise."

From the window, a four-legged shape materialized, some alien amalgam of a fox and a cat, with long ears and a bushy white tail, and appendages she didn't recognize growing out of its head. It arced through the air and landed on the bed, enveloped in a gentle, pinkish aura that painted the room in warm hues. 

With beady red eyes, it stared at Wallflower.

Wallflower stopped trying to find the light – the room was bright enough that she really didn't need to. "I recognize you. You were outside the diner tonight."

The creature's mouth didn't move when it talked; its voice filled the room all the same. "I apologize for frightening you. Such was not my intention. Having watched you for as long as I have, I really should have known better."

"Watched me?" Wallflower pressed her hand against her chest, and felt her heart hammering. "Why? Just who... or what... are you? And what do you want from me?"

"I'm called Kyubey. I've come only to talk with you – nothing more." 

"You're like a cat-fox thingy; how the hell are you even able to talk?" 

"Do you ever wonder why you're capable of speech, or do you just accept what evolution has given you?" Kyubey sighed. "It doesn't matter, either way. I'm here to congratulate you on the outcome of tonight's events."

Wallflower's eyes narrowed. "You're talking about what happened with that thing, aren't you?" 

"Indeed," said Kyubey. "I'm sure you have questions. I'd be more than happy to answer them. That's one of my many duties, after all."

"And what duties are those?" 

"Chief among them? To make you an offer. You survived a trip into a labyrinth. That's a feat few humans can boast of. It makes you special."

Wallflower thought back to the fight in the labyrinth, the memory of Sunset driving the blade through Briar Rose's chest... while she cowered in the background, struggling underneath Cadance's weight.

"I didn't do anything, let alone anything special. Just waited for Sunset and Lorelai to save me."

"'Lorelai...?'" Kyubey tilted his head. "Ah, I see. At any rate, that's not true. When one is confronted with a hopeless situation, surviving at all can be an achievement. You know that quite well, don't you?" 

Something about the way he said that made Wallflower's stomach lurch, as if she'd been socked in the gut. She hugged herself tightly. "You're pretty easily impressed, aren't you?"

"If I were, I'd be speaking to your friend, not to you. Your worth is nowhere near as obvious and prosaic as hers." Kyubey hopped off the bed and padded closer to Wallflower, pausing with a few feet between them. "I know you struggle to see it, Wallflower Blush. But make no mistake, deep within you is the potential to be more than what you are – to make a difference in a way that none of your peers could. Not even Sunset Shimmer."

Wallflower's breath caught. She sank to the ground with her back against the wall. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you, too, can become a Magical Girl." Kyubey's eyes glowed, piercing Wallflower to the core.

"All you need to do is make a contract with me.”
> 3. Blooming in Moonlight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wallflower Blush sat with her back against the bedroom door, hugging her knees against her chest. Kyubey's pinkish aura pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm; the shadows around the room lengthened and shrank as his light brightened and dimmed rhythmically.

Kyubey hadn't moved from Wallflower's bed since he started speaking, or taken his eyes off her, or even blinked. It felt like hours before he wrapped up, though it was probably more a matter of minutes.

"Do you understand the contract as I’ve explained it?" he said, after pausing long enough to let Wallflower process his lecture.

Which, thank goodness for that, because there was a lot to process.

"I make a wish," said Wallflower, rolling her jaw thoughtfully. "Any wish I want. And you give me whatever it is I ask for, just like that."

"Well, not quite 'just like that,'" Kyubey replied. "In exchange, you become a magical girl, with all the burdens and duties that entails."

"Right, you don't need to remind me about that part." After all those years of watching shojo anime, admiring girls with fluttery fuku skirts and heart-shaped staves, being told that they were real and she could be one of them was a little hard to forget. All she had to do was make a wish.

She’d come up with something to wish for in seconds. Lately, there was only one thing in the world she wanted.

"Are there any rules about what a person can, and can't, wish for? Anything that's impossible to do?"

"It depends on who is making the wish, as much as the nature of the wish itself," said Kyubey. "What you wish for is entirely up to you. There are no rules or restrictions placed on what you may, or may not, request."

"Even the laws of physics? Nature?" With her fingertip, Wallflower idly drew a little circle in the shaggy carpet of her bedroom. "Could I... could I wish for someone to come back from the dead?"

Kyubey didn't say anything for a moment. In his silence, Wallflower could sense his rejection. 

"Were that to be your wish," he said, slowly, at last. "I wouldn't be able to grant it."

A rotten feeling spread in her chest, and she dug her fingertip into the carpet, up to the first knuckle. "So there are rules. Limits."

"You can think of it that way, if you'd like. But I was speaking literally. I wouldn't be able to grant that wish for you." With a quick stretch, Kyubey hopped off the bed and padded closer to Wallflower, stopping in the middle of the room.

"You see, a magical girl's potential is equivalent to the weight of her karmic destiny. A greater destiny allows for a greater wish, as well as a more powerful magical girl. For one with a truly powerful destiny, resurrecting the dead through a wish is possible. In your case, though, it isn't."

"Then the problem's with me." Wallflower scoffed and looked away. "I'm just not good enough." 

"I wouldn't think of it that way," said Kyubey. "Your own potential is well above average, particularly among your peers. But some girls are outliers by normal standards, destined to work miracles with their powers. To spark revolution, or change the course of human history."

Wallflower screwed up her face. "In other words, I'm special, just... not that special?"

"Don't be discouraged. Your magical potential is still exceptional enough that there are virtually unlimited possibilities for your wish. It's why I've sought you out, specifically." Kyubey tilted his head. "Do you have something in mind?"

Wallflower didn’t answer. She sank the rest of her fingers into the carpet, losing them in the shaggy surface.

"Wallflower?" Kyubey chirped.

"Don't be pushy," Wallflower growled. "You tell a girl she can have anything – literally anything – that she wants, and you think she's just gonna come up with something in a couple of minutes?"

She neglected to say that she had come up with something already.

Sorry, Moondancer. 

"Of course not. There's no rush." Kyubey's tail swished lazily through the air. "I simply thought you might like to discuss any additional possibilities you've thought of. It is my duty to answer your questions about the different avenues that your wish could take."

“‘Your duty.’ I don’t even know what that means.” Brushing her hand off on her jeans – a lot more dust in the carpet than she thought – she stood, and started to pace. "You grant wishes, and you make magical girls. Why?"

"Simple. I face an existential threat, as do you. I can't fight witches, myself, but I can harness the power of wishes to create magical girls, and they can do what I cannot. All life, myself included, benefits from their work. You might think of our relationship as symbiotic."

"Why's it have to be girls? Why aren't there magical women? Magical boys?"

"It doesn't have to be, necessarily," said Kyubey. "But female juveniles have greater magical potential than others of your species. Perhaps because, at this stage in your growth, your desires, aspirations, and capacity for hope reach a peak. The energy behind such emotions fuels your abilities as a magical girl."

Wallflower paused and crossed her arms. "You don't know for sure? You seem to know plenty of other stuff."

"The universe is full of mysteries, Wallflower Blush, and even I don’t know all the answers." Kyubey bowed his head, almost humbly. "I know enough to carry out my duty. No more, and no less."

“There’s that word again. ‘Duty.’” Wallflower caught herself chewing her lip, and stopped before she gave herself her third canker sore of the month. "Duty to who?"

"My work helps preserve the universe's karmic equilibrium – the delicate balance between hope and despair, personified by magical girls and witches. You could think of me as an arbiter of that balance."

"And who made you the 'arbiter of hope and despair?'" said Wallflower, punctuating the question with air-quotes. "God? The universe?"

"If I asked who made you human," Kyubey replied, "would you be able to answer?"

Wallflower smacked her forehead. Talking to an actual cat about this would have been more productive.

"Perhaps I should explain myself differently," said Kyubey. He raised his paw to his mouth and licked it, then swept it across his cheeks and chin. Somehow, he kept talking through the motion. "I preserve a cosmic balance between opposites, for the sake of all life in the universe. My existence is necessary, so I exist."

His choice of words jarred something in Wallflower's memory. Lorelai, with the salt and pepper, drawing two piles into parallel lines... "equal and opposite reactions," she called them.

"This balance you're talking about... you create magical girls to help maintain it, right?"

Kyubey closed his eyes and swept his paw over his ears and... the things coming out of his ears. "That sounds accurate." 

Wallflower said, "Where do witches come from?"

Pausing his bath, Kyubey shook his head, whipping his ears and not-ears back and forth. A pair of golden rings hovered around his not-ears, and they jingled with the motion. "If magical girls are born from wishes, then witches are born from curses. They are grief and despair made manifest—"

"I know all of that; Lorelai explained it. But how does it happen?" Wallflower gestured with her hands, her palms vertical and parallel. "You make magical girls. Is there an Evil Kyubey somewhere turning little girls into witches?"

"There is no such entity as you describe," said Kyubey. "And while there are similarities between witches and magical girls, they are not born through the same process."

"So it's, what, spontaneous for witches? A person feels really really bad, and then poof, a witch appears?" Wallflower clapped for emphasis.

"Simplistically put, but accurate," replied Kyubey. "Just as some have more potential as magical girls than others, some humans are especially susceptible to grief and despair. Over time, that energy coalesces, and manifests as a life form. In that sense, it's not wrong to say that humans create witches."

"Humans create witches, but you create magical girls. I'm not sure that adds up." Wallflower ran a hand through her hair, gripping a fistful tightly. "Lorelai said that magical girls and witches were 'equal and opposite' equivalents. She made it sound like there was a direct relationship between them."

The tip of Kyubey's ear flicked. "Did she?"

"Yeah. She did. That's Newton's Third Law, right?" She mentally patted herself on the back for remembering that on the spot. "So, if you create magical girls, and witches are connected to them by that 'karmic balance' you were talking about... do you get an equal number of witches for every magical girl you make?"

"No," said Kyubey. "Every magical girl does not have a witch counterpart. You're correct that they have elements in common, but they are still more different than they are similar. To put it another way, both plants and humans require sunlight, but you would not say they are the same."

"Then how are they equal and opposite? How are they related? How can something be so similar, and so different at the same time?!" She almost yanked a fistful of hair out right then. "You talk like this is all so simple. I make a wish, get magic powers, kick ass and take names, and spread hope... somehow. But half of what you're saying makes no sense, and the half that does has all these... implications!"

She finished with a growl and turned her back on Kyubey, dropping to her knees and pulling, hard, on her hair.

Dammit. Wallflower pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart thudded, her breaths grew faster, more shallow. Not now. Not in front of the bunny-cat.

There came a gentle rap on her door, then, and a muffled voice from the other side. "Wally? Sweetie, is everything okay in there?"

Wallflower stiffened and wiped at her eyes. She wasn't crying; she was just used to the motion.

"Yeah, Mom. Did I wake you?"

"Don't worry about it." Mom's voice was thick with sleep, syrupy. "Are you on the phone with someone?"

"Uh... yeah, with my friend Sunset." Wallflower said it a little too quickly, and wondered if Mom caught the lie. "I'm sorry. I'll quiet down, I promise."

"As long as you're having fun, I don't mind." She heard a rustling on the other side of the door. "The Szechuan Beef is all yours, if you're hungry later."

"Thanks, Mom." Wallflower hesitated, and added, "Love you."

"Love you too, baby." Mom stopped for a long yawn. "Happy eighteenth."

The floorboards creaked as Mom moved away. Wally sighed – she was sure she would've broken down if Mom hadn't distracted her. Her heartbeat slowed, and her breathing evened to normal.

With a deep breath, she straightened her back.

"I don't know much about karma, or magic," said Wallflower, quietly, yet firmly. "And I definitely don't know that much about physics. But I do know that nothing comes without a price. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. I won't accept what you're offering unless I know what I'll lose."

"You've studied the Law of Equivalent Exchange as well, I see," said Kyubey, quietly. 

"Sure. Let's let's go with that."

Wallflower heard Kyubey approach her, padding across the carpet. "If I've given you the wrong impression about my duties, or my intentions, then I apologize. I work to preserve life, and everything I do is in service of that goal. I’m not here simply to mislead you." 

Kyubey waited for her to say something, or to just turn around. When she didn't, he sighed.

"Perhaps I can’t answer all of your questions to your satisfaction. But I can tell you this much: your city has become a locus for witches in this region. Lorelai will not be here forever, and without a magical girl to stand against them, there will only be more victims." He paused, and pointedly added, "Your friend Moondancer won’t be the last casualty."

Wallflower's heart seized all over again. She stared at Kyubey from over her shoulder, the tears she'd fought back before springing to her eyes at the mention of her friend's name.

Yet Kyubey sat still and expressionless as ever. 

"I did say that I'd been watching you for a long time," he said, sensing her confusion. "Didn't I?"

"How long is... 'a long time?'" Wallflower whispered.

"Long enough to know that her passing has affected you. Long enough to know that you'd save others from her fate, if you only had the power – and the will to use it selflessly."

Unlike last time, Wallflower thought. Does he know about the Memory Stone?

Kyubey's aura brightened, casting long shadows across the room. Wallflower shielded her eyes; she wanted to look away, but Kyubey's gaze commanded her attention – held it. 

"There are many, many would-be victims in this city who need a champion, and that champion could be you," said Kyubey. "But in taking up that mantle, you would sacrifice your future, like all magical girls before you, and bind yourself to the karmic fate of the universe. You'd accept a duty that cannot be shirked, a burden you can never lay down."

He stared at her, silently, a moment longer, as his aura receded into a soft, gentle glow. Then he turned, and hopped onto the window sill.

"That is the price that you pay for your wish. It's up to you to decide whether that price is worth the reward." Kyubey looked down at her from his perch; his aura faded altogether, and his body with it. "You don't need to know right away, Wallflower. Sleep on it, and we'll meet again tomorrow. Until then, farewell."

Then he was gone, and the room went dark, silent, and empty again.

Wallflower didn't dare to move for a long, long while. It felt like hours before she crawled into bed, not even bothering to change her clothes. Over the covers, she hugged her pillow, and closed her eyes tightly.

In the dark, she saw Moondancer's face. It stayed there until she slipped away into a deep, dreamless sleep.





The cemetery sat in the middle of a vast, level valley, surrounded by blue skies and rolling green hills. A lone tree jutted high overhead, its bare branches casting spindly shadows like skeletal fingers on the plane.

Behind Sunset stood a mixed congregation of mourners, humans and ponies. Most were familiar enough, but only discernible by their colors; no matter how she tried to look at them, she couldn't see their faces. 

Among them was Cadance, slumped over tiredly, standing beside Princess Twilight. One hand idly stroked the alicorn's mane. Behind them was a unicorn that might have been Starlight Glimmer, but a veil of black silk suddenly descended from nothing and shrouded "Starlight's" face before Sunset could be sure.

To her left stood Wallflower Blush, who had something cupped between her hands. She smiled down at Sunset, and lowered her hands so she could see what was in them: A mound of dirt, and five pebbles. Opening her hands, she let them fall, her smile shifting into a mischievous grin.

Sunset caught them in a glimmering red aura, and cradled them close. Turning from Wallflower, she trotted toward the lone gravestone in the cemetery. The mourners followed at a distance.

The headstone was a polished pane of glass, a mirror that cast no reflection, overlooking an open grave. Behind the mirror was the face of a pale girl with glasses, smiling uncomfortably, glancing away. Flies swarmed on the mirror's surface, living blemishes upon the girl's face.

Lorelai waited at the edge of the grave, her hands in her coat pockets. She narrowed her eyes as Sunset slowed, and jerked her head toward the grave. 

Sunset ignored her, and leaned forward, peered down at the coffin deep below. She looked up, and saw the girl on the headstone looking back, the smile on her face plaintive, pleading. 

A hard shove on her hindquarters drove Sunset forward. She shot a glare over her shoulder at Lorelai – now wearing her magical girl garb – before turning back to the grave. 

Swallowing, she floated the six pebbles onto the headstone, laying them out in a line. Then she flung the dirt onto the casket, and the hole filled completely. The branches' shadows clawed their way forward; Sunset felt a chill as they fell over her, and stretched past to grip the grave and headstone.

Then the grave burst open in a cloud of dust; the mirror surface of the gravestone shattered, scattering flies and glass in all directions, and Moondancer slumped forward from the vacant frame like a rag doll. 

Vines shot from the grave and encircled Sunset’s front hooves; one caught her horn and snapped it at the base. They pulled, pulled hard, and Sunset couldn't move, couldn't so much as twitch her hooves. 

A shape grew out of the grave – a head, with mottled green skin. She took it to be Briar Rose, until the dirt and flesh sloughed away from her face, and Sunset Shimmer stared back at herself, grinning wide, teeth flashing, eyes hollow and dead.

The shadows of the branches wrapped around her throat, and squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed the life from her— 





Sunset panicked when she tried to sit and found her limbs refusing to cooperate, but with a mighty effort, she managed to roll onto her stomach, sucking down a deep gasp of air. The pillow was damp and cold on her face, and sticky sweat glued her pajamas to her body.

She patted her forehead to check for a horn, and immediately felt ridiculous for doing so.

Sighing, Sunset groped around on the side table for her phone. Finding it, she tapped its screen, and groaned. Six AM; her alarm wouldn't go off for another hour. 

She also had fifteen missed messages. All of them were from Twilight.

Sunset had texted Twilight twice last night, once to warn her about Cadance, and once to give her the all-clear. Since then, Twilight had replied with fifteen increasingly frantic apologies and desperate pleas for an explanation, between four AM, and now. 

The most recent message simply read, "Please, talk to me." Received at five-fifty. And if Sunset knew Twilight, she was probably staring at her phone right at that moment, too.

Guess I wasn't the only one who had trouble sleeping.

Sunset thumbed out a quick reply – "It's a long story, I'll tell you at school" – dropped her phone on the mattress, and fell back onto her pillow. The sticky, icky sensation of cold, sweaty fabric made her wince, so she shoved the pillow off the bed. Then, pulling the covers over her head, and feeling more tired than she had when she'd fallen asleep, Sunset shut her eyes.

Her phone buzzed, and the tinny sound of "Dance Magic" filled the bedroom. Groggily, Sunset reached for the phone, and answered without opening her eyes. 

"'Sup?"

"I will literally hyperventilate to death before the first bell unless you tell me what happened last—"

"Fine, fine. Geez." Sunset slapped her face and groaned.

She was not prepared to face the day.





Twilight tried, and failed, to stifle her yawn. Perhaps triggered by hers, or perhaps just because it was 7:55 AM, at least three other students that Sunset could see sympathy-yawned with her.

Smirking at her, Sunset said, "Long night?"

Twilight lifted her glasses off her nose and rubbed her baggy eyes. "Don't get me started." 

"I spent my morning telling you about my crazy night instead of showering," said Sunset, sipping from her second energy drink of the morning. "The least you could do is tell me about yours."

"You didn't shower?" Twilight wrinkled her nose. "Is that why you smell like urban decay and BO?"

"Excuse you, I do not have BO," Sunset snapped. But she gave herself a tentative sniff, anyway, and recoiled. "'Urban decay,' though, I'll grant you."

"See? Ugh, it's like you dabbed garbage-water behind your ears when you woke up." Twilight made a gagging sound. "Anyway, to make a long story short, I ran into the Shadowbolts at the vigil, and got drafted into an impromptu wake at Soursweet's house. We were up until four AM playing party games and drinking."

Sunset narrowly avoided choking. "You, drinking?"

"Come on, this is me we're talking about," said Twilight. "It was all virgin daiquiris and Shirley Temples, stuff like that. They're just as square as I am. Arguably moreso.”

"Good." Sunset took another sip, fighting back a yawn of her own. One energy drink hadn't been enough, and she was starting to wonder if this second one would even make a difference. "Because you know my position on underage drinking."

"Uh, 'do as I say, not as I do?'"

"One time, I shoplifted wine coolers from the bodega," Sunset huffed. "And that was before you met me, anyway."

"Which tells you just how infamous the incident was." Twilight giggled. "Incidentally, and speaking of, Soursweet's real name? 'Midori Sour.' But you didn't hear that from me."

"Gosh, it sounds like you had a blast. Wish I could've joined in." Sunset drained the last of her drink, crushed the can, and tossed it under her desk. "But I was too busy getting sucked into hell, assaulted by vine-tacles, and negged by a dumb blonde. Shame you missed out on all my fun."

"I told you, my phone died – that last OS update makes my battery drain twice as fast. I didn't even realize why I wasn't getting notifications until I got home. By the time I'd charged up, you were already asleep." Twilight tapped her fingers together. "I wish I'd been there for you."

Sunset sighed – that came out way angrier than she intended. "Don't feel bad, Twi. I'm not angry, and I never was. It's just, after what happened last night, I..." 

A sudden itch sprouted in her palm, a line of prickling needles where she'd gripped the blade she stabbed into Briar Rose's chest. It'd been coming and going all morning – not quite pain, but the feeling that she should have been in pain. It was all she could do to not scratch herself raw.

Which she started doing, compulsively, and had to stop after drawing a confused stare from Twilight. Flushing, Sunset forced herself to yawn – not that hard, under the circumstances – and changed the subject. 

"Have you heard from anyone yet? About Cadance?"

"From Shiny, Mom, and Dad. In that order. They're all taking the week off to be with her." Twilight whipped out her phone, scrolled through her messages, and turned the screen towards Sunset. 

She'd pulled up a picture of Cadance in a hospital gown, sitting up in bed. Her hands were cupped in the shape of a heart, though a lopsided one, owing to the bandages wrapped around her right. Her face looked as tired as it did last night, but the smile she wore seemed real.

Sunset pressed her thumb against the picture. "She looks a lot better."

"I'll take your word for it. Shiny is beside himself, though. I don't know what he would have done if he'd lost her."

Twilight shut the phone off and looked away, briefly lifting her glasses to rub her eyes.

"Tired, sorry. Not crying. I promise." She replaced the glasses on her nose and looked at Sunset. "So, this Lorelai girl... what she said about magic. What do you make of that?"

Sunset hid a sad smile behind her hand. Twilight was as transparent about changing the subject as her. "I don't quite know yet, honestly. Actually, I wanted to ask you—"

"Happy Monday, everyone!"

Miss Cheerilee's voice rang out louder than the bell as she strolled into the room, a thermos in her hand, and her care-worn copy of the class textbook under her arm. Her face shone with the endless potential of a new day, and all its myriad possibilities.

At least someone liked Mondays.

Miss Cheerilee had a lectern at the front of the room beside her desk, which she often stood behind during readings or discussions. She planted her textbook down, flipped it open, and beamed at her class.

"I know that we normally begin the morning with a quick-write, but since we left our discussion last Friday on something of a cliffhanger, I figure that we should revisit Act II before we tackle the rest of the play. You all remember where we left off, then, don't you?"

A chorus of silence replied.

"I thought not." Miss Cheerilee chuckled. "That's okay. Flip open to 230, the end of Faustus, Act II, and review the last scene. Refamiliarize yourself with your notes as necessary. Take a few minutes to read quietly, then chat with a classmate. We'll come back together at, oh, ten past the hour."

She clapped her hands, and the class broke into pairs and singles. Books cracked and desks scraped against tiling as twenty-five students poured over half-remembered or utterly unread passages. 

Sunset, personally, appreciated the reprieve, not that she necessarily needed to study last week's reading. Hell, she could probably write a thesis on Faustus.

...The first two acts, anyway. 

Flipping to the start of Act III, she immediately began speed-reading. Maybe she could get far enough in that she could fake it if Miss Cheerilee called on her.

A subtle, throat-clearing cough drew Sunset’s attention to Twilight, who leered at her from the corner of her eye. Her book was open and propped up, and her hand sat on the edge of the desk closest to Sunset.

"I have to read, Twilight," Sunset hissed. "I put it off all weekend, until Sunday, and then I spent Sunday comforting you, Wallflower, and Cadance. In that order. Before getting the life choked out of—"

"Quiet while we're reading, please!" Miss Cheerilee sang, casting a knowing look at Sunset from behind her lectern.

Sunset blushed and wagged her fingers at Miss Cheerilee in an embarrassed wave. Then she looked down at her book again, trying to concentrate.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Twilight's fingernails clicked insistently against the surface of her desk. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Biting her lip, Sunset looked between Twilight and Miss Cheerilee. The teacher's nose was in her book, her thermos at her lips. She glanced up for a moment; their eyes met, and Cheerilee smiled at her.

Sunset returned the expression with a fake, loopy grin, until Miss Cheerilee looked away again.

Then, gripping her desk, she edged her hand over to Twilight's, lacing their fingers together. She rested her cheek in her other hand and pretended to read. Then she breathed, in and out, pushing away her stray thoughts and worries, and clearing her mind. 

The geode burned hot against her skin as she touched her mind to Twilight's. 

She could never find the words to describe how it felt to join her thoughts to someone else's. It was intimate, and somehow, more personal than simply parsing memories. Each person she communicated with this way had their own unique sensation, too. Wallflower felt like gripping a live wire. Cadance felt cold... at least, with Briar Rose sharing her headspace.

Twilight was the opposite. Twilight felt warm and cozy and comforting, like wrapping up in a blanket and curling up in front of a fire.

"Fancy seeing you here." 

Twilight's words echoed in Sunset's mind. Behind her glasses, she narrowed her bloodshot eyes, rested her chin in her hands, and smirked.

Cozy, yet obnoxious. The duality of Twi.

"You're gonna let me get the reading from your memories while we're doing this, right?" Sunset groused.

"And sully my good name?" Twilight heaved the kind of sigh one expected from a long-suffering academic, not a seventeen year old girl. "Academic dishonesty policy might not cover mind-reading powers explicitly, but the spirit of the law applies, if not the letter."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Bet Princess Twilight isn't this much of a goody-two-shoes."

"You're right. 'Goody-four-shoes' would be more apt." Twilight waggled her eyebrows. "So, you were saying?"

Sunset looked down at her book, feigning reading. "I'm pretty sure whatever Lorelai was using wasn't Equestrian magic. Until last night, I assumed this world had no native magic users. But you studied magic before the Friendship Games. What do you think?"

"I'll remind you, it was before and after. You filled out the dossier I wrote for you, Sunset, you should know this."

"I guess I repressed the memory. My little overachiever." Sunset sucked her teeth. "You're sure you never saw anything indicating there were magic users in this world before Equestrian magic crossed over?"

The smug look on Twilight's face dissolved. She looked down at her phone, tapping and swiping rapidly through her photos.

"Before the games, no. But afterward, I researched various branches of folklore and mythology, to compare our own legends with what you told me, and with what was coming in from Equestria. I wanted to confirm that what's happened here at Canterlot High really is the first time magic's been used in this world. If nothing else, I thought I could find something in our own history to help me understand Equestrian magic better."

"Phone pictures? You can't just beam the memories of them into my head?" Sunset thought, with a worried glance at Cheerilee. "We're trying to be discreet here, Twi."

"I don't remember them precisely, Sunset. Although I appreciate you assuming I have an eidetic memory." The corners of Twilight's lips pulled down. "Unfortunately, all that folklore and mythology turned out to be just that – pure superstition. Nothing remotely helpful, and nothing to prove, or disprove, that magic use is an exclusively Equestrian phenomenon." 

Twilight tapped one picture on her camera roll, and turned the phone toward Sunset.

"But, like you, I'm starting to rethink that conclusion."

On the screen was a scan of a woodcut, depicting a young girl in silhouette. Small and slim, in a long dress and pigtails, she held a longsword over her head. Twilight swiped to the next picture: a page of an old manuscript, in some language that Sunset wasn't remotely qualified to read.

She raised an eyebrow at Twilight. "Care to explain what I'm looking at?"

"A tenth century account of the clash between a warrior – a young girl – and a demon plaguing a village in Eastern Europe, on the Feast of Saint Walpurga. The girl was said to perform inhuman feats, and was more skilled with her sword than any of the village men." Twilight hummed, out loud. "Naturally, they condemned her as a witch, and burned her at the stake."

Sunset scoffed. "How heartwarming."

"Yes, literally. But when she wouldn’t burn, the townsfolk took it as a sign that she wasn’t a witch, but an angel. So, they cut her free, and she became an object of... lesser worship, let's say."

Sunset cupped her chin, nibbling on her thumb. "It certainly sounds similar to what I saw last night. At least on the surface."

"The similarities are more than skin-deep." Twilight's fingertip traced a line of text on the phone. "The monk who transcribed the village's account wrote that the demon spread 'malice and grief' through the countryside, and unleashed the 'wicked natures' of men throughout the region. And in addition to having inhuman strength and agility, the girl used 'divine light' to heal a woman who'd slashed her own throat open. I think that's what made the villagers try to burn her, in fact."

"That's gratitude for you. The light, though. Lorelai had some kind of stone that she used to transform, the same way you and I do. Used it to heal me, too. Flashed a big green light." 

"Perhaps those stones are a common element to all magical girls, analogous to our geodes," thought Twilight, tapping her chin. "Green light, you said? Maybe she's really Daisy Buchanan."

"That doesn't even make sense. Just because we're in English class doesn't mean you can make literary allusions all willy-nilly." A thought struck Sunset, a gnawing curiosity she couldn't quite explain. "That source doesn't say what happened to the girl, by any chance, does it?"

Twilight shrugged. "Vanished without a trace, not long after they tried to burn her. But there are similar accounts of warriors with abilities like hers, fighting monsters like the one from the story – from a lot of cultures, in a lot of different regions. Not all of them are as wholesome."

Twilight started swiping again, and a string of photos passed Sunset's gaze. A painting of a geisha with a flaming fan in front of her face. A stone relief of a girl in a feather headdress raising a macana over a jaguar. A tile mosaic of a girl in laurels that flowed past her shoulders, like long braids, nocking an arrow at a seven-headed monster.

The album ended on a close-up portrait of a woman's face: upside-down and featureless, except for a pair of red, grinning lips, and a blue harlequin's cap.

"I know I asked what you made of Lorelai, and her magic," Twilight thought, with a stern, serious expression on her face. "But... we're kind of thinking the same thing now, aren't we?"

Sunset let the picture sink in – it was haunting, especially that grin, that awful red grin – before sinking back in her desk. 

"You know that I was a unicorn in Equestria. And unicorns are naturally attuned to magic. It's hard to explain what that feels like, exactly, but the best way I can describe it is as this ambient pulse. Like a heartbeat, or a super chill bass line, that you always hear, always feel. But when I first arrived here..." 

"...You didn't feel any of that," Twilight supplied. "What about now, though? Do you feel it when you use your geode, or when you pony up?

"I mean, yeah, but it isn't the same. It's distant, somehow. Weaker. Like I'm not connected to it directly. And it's only when I pony up, or use my geode. Otherwise..."

A hint of the itch on her palm returned,. Her discomfort must've shown; Twilight gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"I thought it was impossible for humans to use to magic without some kind of conduit or totem," Sunset continued. "Like the Memory Stone, or Princess Twilight's crown. And I thought it was only possible to use Equestrian magic, to boot. So, I just assumed that meant nobody ever used magic in this world before she and I came, and I left it at that. Never followed up on it. Never did my homework, like you."

Twilight smiled faintly. "Chronic overachiever. That's me."

"If I had... maybe I would've seen what you saw. Maybe I would've rethought my grand machinations. Then again, maybe I would've doubled down, like an idiot." Sunset scoffed. "I was never as diabolical as I thought I was."

"Yes, I know. Rainbow told me about the doctored photos of Princess Twilight. And the bodega."

"Please, stop bringing up the bodega." Sunset sighed. "So, magic use in this dimension predates Princess Twilight and I by... heaven only knows how long. A couple hundred years, at least, or maybe a couple thousand. I don't know. Don't know how to handle it, either. Do you?"

"Search me. All the information I have on this comes from stuff that I initially dismissed as superstition. As concrete info goes, it's little better than hearsay, which makes this magic an unknown variable." Twilight picked up a pen and idly started clicking it. "We're going to need more information if we want to confront the problem. You'll either have to get it out of Lorelai..."

"...Or we'll have to learn through hands-on research," Sunset finished. The unease that'd been building in her stomach finally tugged into a tightly wound knot of anxiety. "Which should be educational, provided it doesn't kill us."

Twilight turned Sunset's hand over and stroked her thumb along her palm, unknowingly tracing the spot where Briar Rose's blade had cut into her hand.

"Hands-on research is how I found all of you." Her touch was a salve, soft and cool, so unlike the warmth of her presence in Sunset’s mind, yet soothing all the same. "Don't knock it." 

A sharp cough made both of them look up. 

Miss Cheerilee towered over their desks, her arms folded. The rest of the class, except for those brave enough to nap, had stopped their reading to stare.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind my two most academically decorated students about certain class policies regarding distractions. Such as, for instance..." She looked pointedly at the girls' interlocked hands, and cleared her throat. "Cell phones?"

Faces red, Sunset and Twilight broke their grip; that delicious, comforting warmth vanished immediately from Sunset's consciousness as stifled snickers and whispers filled the classroom.

"Sorry, Miss Cheerilee," said Sunset. "I swear, we were only using our phones to look up... um... primary sources."

"Yeah!" Twilight blurted, navigating her camera roll. She pulled up the manuscript and proudly showed it to Miss Cheerilee. "See? German!”

"Like Faust," Sunset added. She and Twilight beamed at Miss Cheerilee with identically lopsided grins.

"That's Romanian." Miss Cheerilee raised an eyebrow. "And Christopher Marlowe was English."

Their grins shattered, and Sunset looked, downcast, at her desk. "Yeah, but Dr. Faustus wasn't."

"He wasn't Romanian, either," Twilight whispered.





Wallflower Blush squinted at the jasmine plant. With careful precision, she snipped six inches down the stem, and carried her cutting across her garden to the planter full of damp sand she'd prepared. The telltale sounds and smells of CHS lunchtime drifted into the garden: fried food and laughter, and the occasional unintelligible shout.

It wasn't her garden, of course, not really. Legally, it was school property, and thus, city property. But people visited so seldomly that she'd grown to think of it as hers – her garden, her plants, her own sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of high school life, as safe and secure as her own bedroom. Moreso, maybe; she wasn't allowed to keep plants in her room.

Today, Wallflower wasn't alone. The creature calling itself Kyubey had smuggled himself into school, via her backpack – not that he needed to be sneaky, since nobody else could see or communicate with him. For all intents and purposes, he was invisible, which Wallflower found pretty relatable.

Must've just been a cat thing.

Right now, he sat beside the planter, nibbling at the petals of a low-hanging flower. A handful of other plants in the immediate area showed signs of being noshed: holes chewed out of leaves and petals, and little teeth marks dotting the stems of larger plants.

Kneeling beside the planter, Wallflower scowled at him. "I really wish you'd stop eating all my flowers."

Kyubey pulled away from the plant he was sampling, and turned an unblinking red gaze on Wallflower.

Wallflower’s heart went cold. "It's just a figure of speech, okay?"

"Of course. I understood intuitively that you didn't intend to waste your wish on something so trivial." Kyubey flicked his tail. "Although the possibility that you were serious did occur to me."

"Sad thing is, I can't even tell if you're pranking me right now," Wallflower muttered as she prepared the cutting for the planter.

"I don't possess what you humans refer to as a 'sense of humor,' and 'pranking' is an entirely foreign concept to me. So, to avoid misunderstandings, you should consider your phrasing more carefully in the future."

"Yeah, yeah, message received. It's straight talk only from here on out."

Kyubey watched her work silently, with what seemed like interest. It was hard to say. He didn't take his eyes off of her, or even blink, and she didn't know how to read his expression. She'd gotten used to the staring, at least; it was still creepy, but it didn't creep her out as much as it had last night. Maybe because he wasn't glowing right now.

His ears twitched, with a strange, rubbery squeak, and he twisted his body halfway around to look down the path leading into the garden. "We have a visitor."

Wallflower frowned, half-disbelieving. She'd gotten so used to the isolation in the garden that she forgot other people occasionally liked to visit. But when she stopped to listen, she heard feet crunching in the grass, sending a spike of worry through her. Hoping it was Sunset, she rose, dusted off her hands on her jeans, and laced them together.

The sight of her visitor, when she finally appeared, didn't put her at ease – though it did make her tummy flutter. It was Lorelai, wrapped tight in her trench coat. She stopped at the garden's entrance when she noticed Kyubey, her jaw clenching visibly.

"This is certainly a surprise," said Kyubey. "Have you come to discuss the contract with Wallflower Blush?"

Lorelai stuck her hands in her pockets and glared at Kyubey. "Scram," she growled through her teeth.

If Kyubey noticed the venom in her voice, his lazy demeanor didn’t betray it. He gave a languorous, very feline stretch, and bounded down the garden path, pausing beside the magical girl.

"I trust that you'll advise her appropriately on this matter, Lorelai."

Then, with a quick bow to Wallflower, Kyubey hopped away. Lorelai didn't take her eyes off of him until he was well and truly out of sight, her gaze sharp enough to cut solid rock.

"You don't much care for Kyubey," said Wallflower. "Do you?"

"Let's just say his charm wears off after a while." Lorelai finally broke her line of sight with Kyubey, and looked around the garden. "Nice place you got here."

Wallflower nodded in thanks. "How did you find me? I mean, here? I mean, how did you find me here—?"

"'Canterlot High wouldn't be half as pretty and peaceful without you.' The lady's words, right? You mentioned a garden club, too." Lorelai shrugged. "More than enough info to track you down."

"Ah. I, uh..." Wallflower chuckled nervously, taking a fistful of hair. "Didn't realize you were listening that closely."

Lorelai didn't reply immediately. She stared, silently and intensely, at Wallflower – almost as intensely as Kyubey had. 

"He’s made you an offer,” she said. "You gonna take it?"

The question caught Wallflower off guard, though she supposed she should have seen it coming. "I... I don't know just yet. Can I trust him? What he's telling me about witches, and magical girls?"

Another long moment of silence passed before Lorelai answered. "Nothing he's saying is wrong. If that helps." 

It did... a little. "Do you think I should do it?"

"What I think shouldn't matter." Lorelai stepped closer, glancing briefly at the planter and the fresh cutting. "I'm not here to give you advice about what you should, or shouldn't do. I don't really care one way or the other, to be blunt."

The comment stung Wallflower. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I wasn't entirely honest last night about what I’m doing in your city." A breeze whispered through the grass, ruffling Lorelai's blonde ringlets. "I've been tracking a witch for a long time now. A powerful witch – one that makes Briar Rose look like a Chia pet. Followed it from one end of the country to the other, but I've never been able to put it down for good."

"And now you've followed it here... is that what you're saying?" Wallflower's arms wrapped around her midsection. "Is it behind all the suicides? Moondancer, and everyone else?"

"Dunno. Could've been – or it could've been something else. I don't think it's shown up yet, for what that's worth. But when it does, it'll be my job to take it out before it starts to feed. Or – worse – before it wises up, and starts hunting me." 

Lorelai pulled her hands out of her pockets to straighten her coat. 

"Now, currently, I'm the only magical girl in town, so it's my fight by default – nobody else's. But if you accept Kyubey's contract, and make that wish? It’ll be your problem, too."

Wallflower swallowed, hard. "Are you saying I... shouldn't do it?"

"Didn't you listen?" Lorelai said curtly. "I don't care if you do or you don't. This is professional courtesy, nothing more. You deserve to know what you'd be getting into."

Lorelai turned, and started back down the path out of the garden.

A thought burbled to the surface of Wallflower's mind. Mustering her courage, she blurted, "Couldn't we work together?"

Lorelai stopped in her tracks, and regarded Wallflower coldly over her shoulder.

"If I took the contract, I mean." Wallflower shrank back. "'Cuz, like, I'd need someone to show me the ropes, y'know? And the more of us there are, the easier it'd be to take down this mega-witch. So... couldn't we work together?"

"I don't do sidekicks, kid, and I don't have time to babysit you either," said Lorelai. "You taking that contract wouldn't make us friends. It'd make us competitors."

Her words were frosty, matching the frigid look in her eye. Whatever courage made Wallflower speak up shriveled instantly.

Something in Lorelai's gaze seemed to thaw, but she just scoffed and turned away again. "Make your choice, and live without regrets. That's all you can do. And if you don't take Kyubey's offer? Make sure your little friend stays well away from this fight." 

Then she left, and Wallflower was alone again, with only the wind and her plants for company, as the rest of the school enjoyed their lunch break together.





The rest of the school day passed at a crawl for Sunset Shimmer, and the lack of sleep didn’t help. By the time classes let out, all she wanted was to get home, flop down in bed, and pass out for fourteen hours.

But that would mean breaking her word to Wallflower, and the girl deserved better than that. So she bit the bullet, guzzled another energy drink, checked the Internet to find out just how badly she was harming her metabolism by downing so many in the same day – not as badly as she worried – and met up with Wallflower in the courtyard after class. 

Moondancer's home was closer to CHS than it was to Crystal Prep, and well within walking distance, according to the address in Sunset's map app. Wallflower asked her to navigate, since her hands were occupied by the planter she carried. 

Wallflower seemed a little on edge, too. Occasionally, she'd glance quickly to the side, or roll her shoulder, like she had a loose thread on her sweater, or a bug tickling her that she couldn't swat.

She tried to get Wallflower to open up about her nerves, but her attempts went nowhere. Sunset quit trying after a while – if Wallflower wanted to open up, it'd have to be on her own terms.

Eventually, Wallflower proved her right. 

"I have a question for you, Sunset. Kind of a stupid, random one." 

"Hey, there are no stupid questions," said Sunset. "I should know; I'm a scientist. Got a lab coat, and everything."

"I'm not sure that follows, but as long as it makes you happy." Wallflower took a breath. "Let's say you had one wish. You could wish for anything – anything that you wanted in the world. What would it be?"

Sunset raised an eyebrow. "You weren't kidding. That is pretty random." 

"It's just something I've been thinking about lately, that's all," said Wallflower quickly. "You don't really have to—" 

"No no, I don't mind." Sunset pursed her lips, contemplating silently. "Can I wish for unlimited wishes, or is that off the table?"

Wallflower started to respond, but paused with her mouth hanging open. Frowning, she shot a look over her shoulder, then turned back at Sunset, shaking her head.

"You can't blame a girl for asking," Sunset chuckled. "Is anything else off limits, or can it really be anything I want?"

"Um, I guess you... can't bring back the dead?" said Wallflower. "Other than that, anything's fair game."

Odd exception, Sunset thought. But she didn't want to challenge Wallflower, so she kept her criticism to herself, and wracked her brain for a good answer.

Materially speaking, she felt pretty satisfied. She had a cozy life, a comfy home, a job that was... passable. Before, she only wanted power, for power's sake, but that stopped being part of her identity when Twilight and her friends came into her life.

Now, she had everything that she really needed. Friends who loved her, and a place in the world. What else could she ask for?

She felt a weight settle in her stomach as the obvious answer came upon her.

"...I suppose there's only one thing I'd want," said Sunset. She cast her gaze down at the ground, watching her feet move against the sidewalk. "To fix all the grief I caused people, back when I was bad. Take it all back. Or, better yet, change things so that none of it ever happened."

"That's really what you'd wish for?" A hint of skepticism skewed Wallflower's voice.

Sunset laughed. "Is that dumb?"

"Not at all. It's really sweet, I think. Very you." Wallflower shrugged. "I just didn't realize you felt that way. Maybe I could have—"

"Things turned out the way they did for a reason. I'm okay with it, I promise. So don't do that to yourself." Sunset nudged Wallflower with her elbow. "What would you wish for? I told you mine; it's only fair."

Wallflower shifted the planter and freed her hand enough to rub the spot where Sunset's elbow tapped her. "I dunno, exactly. You know my track record with fantastical magical miracle powers better than anyone. I'm really not sure I could be trusted in a wish-for-anything situation. Even if I wasn't gonna use it to hurt someone else, I don't think I could ever be as selfless as you."

Sunset smiled broadly. "Wallflower, come on. That was forever ago. Or... uh... a while ago, at least."

Wallflower gave her a flat, pouty look.

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the most convincing way I could've phrased that," Sunset chuckled, rubbing her head sheepishly. "I'll put it to you this way: If you could do it all over again, would you do things the same way as before?”

Immediately, and vigorously, Wallflower shook her head, flinging her hair wildly around.

"And why not?" Sunset pressed.

"Because, it... would be wrong? Like, duh?" Wallflower frowned. "Then again, right and wrong didn't stop me before, did it?"

"But it'd stop you now. Because something in you is different from before." Sunset laced her fingers together behind her head. "I have more than a little experience in this arena. Trust me – you don't have it in you to hurt anyone anymore."

"Are you sure I can trust your opinion? I mean..." Wallflower eyed Sunset quickly, head to toe. "You're not even wearing your lab coat."

"A true scientist wears her lab coat in her heart, Wallflower."

She got a giggle from Wallflower. But the girl followed with a sigh. "It's not just a matter of wanting to hurt people, versus wanting to help them. Truth is, I'm not sure I trust myself to wish for something that'd actually be helpful to anyone but me."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to do something to help yourself, though."

"Anything I want, and I use it for my own gain? C'mon, you can see how bad that is," said Wallflower bitterly. "As far as I'm concerned, having a wish like that and not using it to help other people is just as bad as using it to hurt someone."

Sunset narrowed her eyes. "This is all still hypothetical, right?"

Because it was getting oddly deep for a game of what-ifs.

"I... yeah, of course it is," Wallflower stammered. "I'd tell you if something was up. I promise."

"...Hm." Sunset chewed on that for a moment. Then she bounded ahead, in front of Wallflower, and turned to face her. She backpedaled as she spoke, maintaining their pace. 

"If you have the means to help other people," said Sunset, "then there's nothing wrong with helping yourself, while you're at it. And if helping yourself means that you can help other people, too, then so much the better. Right?"

"I guess?" Wallflower shrugged. "But that still seems wrong to me. Selfish."

Sunset sighed. She stopped moving, and held out her arms to stop Wallflower before they collided.

"You'd want to put other people's needs ahead of your own. But what you want – what you need – matters just as much." She gripped Wallflower's shoulders, squeezing gently. "It's okay to help yourself before you help someone else. Friendship is magic, and all that, but you gotta be a friend to yourself, too."

Wallflower looked away, shrugging limply.

Bowing her head, Sunset released a small sigh, sympathy tinged with exasperation. She was smiling when she looked back up.

"I'll tell you what," she said. "If you wind up with a wish like that before the end of the day, and you still can't decide what to do with it, just use it on me. You could, say, give me an encyclopedic knowledge of the works of Christopher Marlowe."

"Oddly specific," Wallflower muttered. With her head still turned away, she flicked her gaze toward Sunset. "You reading that in Cheerilee's?"

"Well, the rest of the class is, at least."

A smirk tugged at Wallflower's lips. Straightening, she tossed her neck back to clear her bangs out of her face. "Okay. Fine. The contract is sealed."

Then she broke into a fit of snorty giggles.

Sunset joined her in relief – relief that this wounded girl could still laugh.





Moondancer's mother greeted them at the door. Her exhaustion showed in the lines on her face; she was plainly still grieving, yet she still invited them inside her darkened home, and accepted Sunset's condolences warmly.

Wallflower's present brought a tired smile to her face, and tears sprang into her eyes when she unwrapped the plastic covering from the planter. "Jasmine."

"It's from my garden. Uh, the garden. At Canterlot High. The one that I keep. For the gardening club." Wallflower cringed, and took a sharp breath. "Moondancer said you liked plants, too, and I thought, um, it would be a good gift." 

"Because it's my name?" Moondancer's mother said wryly.

"I, um, didn't actually know that," Wallflower mumbled, wringing her hands. "I meant because it's a flower that blooms—"

"In moonlight, yes," the older woman finished. She led the girls into the sitting room, stroking the planter as she walked. "My husband wanted to name my daughter Jasmine. And her older sister, too, before her. Like me, and my mother. I talked him out of it both times. Two generations of Jasmines was enough; I wanted something unique." 

There was a coffee table in the middle of the sitting room. Jasmine set the planter down and cupped her hand around its rim, kneeling. 

"It's good to have people in the house again," she said. "People to talk to, I mean. I haven't had a lot of company since..."

She trailed off. 

Wanting to spare Wallflower the burden of breaking the silence, Sunset spoke up. "It must be lonely without her around to talk to."

"Not much has changed on that front, actually," said Jasmine. "My first daughter moved across the country after my husband passed. After that, Moondancer and I hardly ever saw one another. She mostly stayed in her room, chatting, or reading, or pacing around – I swear, I heard her upstairs, just the other night. I always left her to her own devices."

She let out a sad, bitter laugh.

"I should have reached out."

"You did, though," said Wallflower. Her voice was timid, fragile, and threatened to break. "She knew, and she... she wished that you could've been closer, too. Just, after her dad, and with Morning Roast so far away... it was hard."

"It was hard for me, too," Jasmine whispered back. "We should've been there for each other. All three of us."

Jasmine stayed by the plant for another long moment, before rising. She wiped her face on her wrist, and took a deep breath.

"I have a... a curious request for you both. Tell me if it's too strange, and I'll understand." Jasmine turned to regard Sunset and Wallflower. "My daughter's room... nobody's been in since the day she passed, not even me. It's like a time capsule, you see, of her final days. Somebody needs to open it up." 

She smiled wanly. 

"You were her friend, Wallflower. It ought to be you."

Wallflower waited so long to respond that Sunset expected her to decline. But, finally, she gave a short, jerky nod.

Jasmine led the girls to the stairs, where portraits were hung along the wall. Sunset regarded them as they climbed. A photograph of a baby Moondancer, unrecognizable except for her prominent, if wispy, eyebrows. A family portrait of Moondancer and her mother, and a school-aged girl with freckles and braces. A solo photo of the same older girl, in a Crystal Prep uniform. 

And beside that, a younger Moondancer in the same uniform. She wore a barrette in her hair, a shy smile on her face, and a pair of glasses over her eyes – eyes that looked directly at the camera.

Jasmine noticed Sunset admiring Moondancer's portrait, and chuckled. "I really wish they'd used that one for the memorial."

They stopped at a closed door down the second floor hallway, a door painted with a crescent moon in flaking, purple paint. 

"Her father did that when she was a baby," said Jasmine, eying the crescent moon. "The older she got, the more she hated it – said it made her room look like an outhouse."

"She didn't hate it," said Wallflower. "She thought it was hilarious."

"No one did understand her sense of humor. Except you, I suppose." Jasmine shook her head. "My daughter never had anyone over at the house, much less in her room. She had no friends at school, and her classmates – she used to say that if she had one wish, it'd be for all the people who ignored her at school to show up at her funeral."

"Well, a candlelight vigil isn't quite a funeral," said Sunset, noticing Wallflower's fidget from the cornet of her eye. "But... same spirit, I suppose."

"Yes. I was thinking that, myself, just last night." Jasmine traced the faded moon with her fingertips. "Losing one's child is a sort of pain that nobody should ever have to face – and I hope neither of you ever experience it. But seeing all those candles last night, all those people remembering my daughter... and seeing you two here, now, knowing that Moondancer was noticed, and loved, after all... it helps."

She gave the crescent moon one final, tender stroke with her fingertips, and let her hand slip away, back to her side. "I'll go find a spot in the greenhouse for the flower. The two of you, take all the time that you need – I'll meet you downstairs when you're finished."

"Yeah, of course," said Sunset. "Thank you for inviting us."

"And for sharing this with us," Wallflower added. "It means a lot. To me."

Jasmine smiled at them again, tiredly, but genuinely. "And it means more to me than you know that you came."

She descended the stairs, leaving Sunset and Wallflower alone.

Wallflower took the doorknob in hand. She held it loosely, with fingers that trembled at first. Then she gripped, turned, and pushed the door open, in a burst of vehement energy.

She didn't enter the room, though – didn't even peek. 

"You first," she said.

Part of Sunset wanted to refuse. Something about setting foot in a dead person's bedroom, especially so soon after they passed, felt intrusive, improper. But if Wallflower needed this, then the last thing Sunset wanted to do was let her down.

She nudged past Wallflower, and into Moondancer's room.

The first thing that struck her was how fresh the air smelled. Jasmine said that nobody had been inside Moondancer's room since the day she died, and Sunset had expected it to be stifling and stale. The window was open, and the curtains – velvety bolts of purple – fluttered with the gentle breeze coming in from outside. It must've been airing out all weekend.

The next thing that struck Sunset was how well-kept everything was. Moondancer's room was spartan: dresser, shelf, desk, bed, and little in the way of decoration. Only her choice in color scheme afforded the room a sense of personality. Everything was shades of purple, not just the curtains, but the walls, the carpet, the bedding, even the furniture.

Being in the middle of that barren room, and seeing that starkness for herself, felt eerie. This room really was a time capsule of Moondancer' last days: cold, sterile, and empty.

All the better for something like Briar Rose to fill with grief.

The carpet crunched softly as Wallflower edged into the room behind Sunset. She looked around pensively, her eyes lingering on the open window behind the computer desk.

"What's on your mind?" said Sunset.

"It's so neat in here – so tidy." She crossed toward Moondancer's desk, where a laptop lay, folded up. "Me and Moondancer video chatted a couple of times, and the room behind her was always a little messy. Socks on the floor, clothes hanging out of the dresser – stuff like that."

Sunset looked down at her feet – there were tracks from a vacuum cleaner in the carpet. "The last thing she did before she died was... clean her room?"

"That's more common than you'd think with suicides," Wallflower said. She stepped away front the desk, toward the bed. There was a pair of shoes by the bedframe, and something folded up on the duvet, a plaid pattern whose purple tones blended so well with the bedding that Sunset had overlooked it. A Crystal Prep uniform: shirt, vest, and skirt.

"I know that it's common," Sunset said, nibbling on the end of her thumbnail. "It's just... if she stopped to clean up, put things in order, doesn't that suggest that what she did was premeditated?"

Wallflower looked at her quizzically. "I guess, but... suicides usually are, y'know?"

"Cadance's wasn't. She didn't know why she tried to kill herself, remember? It was like she was acting on impulse – and that impulse came from Briar Rose. I don't think that's how it worked with Moondancer." She looked at the Crystal Prep uniform, a cold, creepy feeling crawling down her back. "Did you hear anything about her leaving a note?"

Wallflower didn't answer right away – she was staring at the corner of Moondancer's bed, as if in a trance. 

Sunset snapped her fingers, twice. "You with me?"

Blinking, Wallflower shook her head. "Uh, it— there's nothing saying that witches couldn't work that way, too, right? I mean, if they eat pain and suffering, then... feeding into it and drawing out the process... gets them their meal over a longer period of time. And bigger returns, too. Y'know?"

"I... yeah, you got a point." Sunset folded her arms – Wallflower's speech was slow and halting, like she was choosing her words carefully. "That was pretty astute."

Wallflower gave an exaggerated shrug, and turned to sit on the bed. She folded her hands on her lap, her fingers playing against one another nervously.

"It’s not so weird that she didn't leave a note, either," she added. "Statistically, most people don't."

"I know that, too," Sunset said quietly. She sat beside Wallflower – sitting on a dead girl's bed felt wrong, just like being in her room at all, but comforting Wallflower took priority. "Do you need to talk anything out, Wallflower? Being in here can't be easy for you."

"No. Yes. Maybe?" Wallflower looked around, sniffling. "I can't stop thinking about all the times I talked to her – all those late-night chats and conversations. Her lying back on this bed while we told each other about what we were going through at home, swapped stories..." 

She raised her hands and let them fall back on her thighs, in a helpless, dismissive gesture.

"Everything she went through, I went through, too," Wallflower added. "Not one hundred percent the same way, but close to it. I see her room like this, and I think..."

Her hand reached out for the folded skirt beside her on the bed. Fingertips brushed gently over the fabric.

"There, but for the grace of God, goes Wallflower Blush."

Sunset's eyes widened in comprehension. "You think it could've been you that the witch went after, instead of Moondancer."

"Yeah. Or it could have gone after us both – we both would've been buffets to a monster that eats sadness. No rule saying it had to stop at one. So why didn't it?"

"Luck, I guess. Or maybe it just overlooked you."

"Maybe. Or maybe it was something else." Wallflower smoothed out her jeans and rose, stepping slowly to the center of the room. "Things got better for me, after a while, in a way they didn't for her. Maybe that made all the difference. If I'd never found that thing... never used it, never made up with you... would they be burying me and Moondancer together?"

Sunset stood and moved behind Wallflower. "I know you feel guilty about her death—"

"That's just it – I don't feel guilty anymore. It's the witch's fault she's dead, not mine. I know that now." Wallflower shrugged Sunset's hand off and turned to face her. "But there are a lot of girls out there, just like Moondancer, and just like me, who won't be safe as long as those witches are around."

Sunset tilted Wallflower's chin up to look her in the eye. "And as long as I'm breathing, I'll do everything I can to protect them."

"I believe you. I just wish that I could protect them, too." Wallflower hugged herself and pulled back from Sunset, casting a glance out the window. "Do you, um... do you think I could have a minute to myself in here?"

"Sure. Of course." Sunset stepped around her, heading for the door. "I'll be downstairs – you take all the time that you need."

She’d made it halfway down the hall when Wallflower's voice called her back. "Sunset?" 

Sunset turned – Wallflower's head stuck out of the doorframe.

"What Moondancer's mom said, about people remembering..." Wallflower bit her lip. "If it was me, do you think they'd remember me the same way?"

Sunset's hand went to the geode around her neck; it felt cool, and hard, in her grasp. 

"I know I would."





Wallflower stayed in the doorway long after Sunset had left. She didn't need to turn around to know Kyubey was staring at her; he hadn't taken his eyes off her once. Even now, she could feel his gaze, like a pair of red-hot coals burning her to the bone.

"You've made up your mind," he said.

"Yeah. I have." She looked at Kyubey. "But not here. I don't wanna do it here."

"Nor do I." Kyubey's tail curled around the front of his paws, its tip twitching. "It's best we wait until we're certain we’re alone."

Wallflower nodded, and stared out the opened window. A breeze ruffled the curtains. They swayed, like hands, waving to her, beckoning her.
> 4. O Brave New World
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dearest Sunset Shimmer,

I don't know how to begin this correspondence, exactly. I suppose the best way is with my deepest and most sincere condolences.

I've always found the interconnected nature of our realities surreal. The fact that there are mirror versions of my closest friends in the world – so alike, yet so different from the girls I've known all these years – throws me for a loop to this day. I'll be thinking about how Rainbow Dash loves pineapple on pizza, and I'll have to stop and ask myself which Rainbow Dash I'm thinking of. Maybe both?

But this is the first time I've heard of a friend's counterpart passing away. I don't know how close your Twilight was with Moondancer, but please, tell her how sorry I am for her loss.

As for your question... unfortunately, I don't have any kind of specific answer for you, besides "no." But I've thought about it for some time, and I do have a theory.

We both know that the human world operates under a set of natural and physical laws which are either identical to ours, or so close that the differences are immaterial. Either way, we know that magic exists, even if it can't be observed, much less harnessed. 

The difference between our worlds, though, is that humans have no physiological mechanism for using magic. It may as well not be there at all, for what good it does them. 

At least, that’s what we thought — until you encountered one of these so-called ‘magical girls.’

It’s possible, I suppose, that some small percentage of humans throughout history have been born with the ability to use magic, and that they’re a completely natural phenomena. 

But if that were true, why would there be no concrete, researched evidence of their existence? Why wouldn’t they be a known factor? 

Something must have happened to these girls that lets them access magic – some artificial process, some act of outside intervention – where others of their species cannot. Something that specifically encourages them to hide their powers.

If they're not natural, then that raises the question of whether or not these witches are natural. 

Which then begs the same question: if neither exists naturally, then where do they come from? 

I suspect there's something we're both missing here that would bring all of this into focus. As much as I'd love to help you all discover that missing link, my duties to Equestria take precedence over everything else. I'm afraid there isn't much I can do besides cheer you on.

All I ask is that you be cautious going forward. It isn't that I don't have faith in you, or the girls, but, well... I don't know. Maybe hearing about Moondancer just has me thinking about what it'd be if I lost someone I was close to. 

I'm supposed to visit Canterlot this weekend; I should look up the Moondancer who lives there while I'm in town. I know it's silly, but I kind of want to reassure myself that she's still there.

Give my love to the girls.

Your faithful friend,
Princess Twilight Sparkle





"And that's all she wrote," said Sunset, shutting the journal and setting it down on the table. 

She ran her hand down the front cover, tracing her fingertips along the edges of the glossy, embossed sigil on its front. She counted each point of Twilight's star, and each ray of her own sun. It was a little ritual she'd started not long after getting the replacement journal – something she did after every message sent, and every message read.

Sunset liked to think that, back home, Princess Twilight did the same.

The diner was uncharacteristically quiet for a Tuesday afternoon – ironically, quieter than on Sunday, when she’d visited with Wallflower and Lorelai, and it wasn't anywhere near as full. It was a shame Wallflower Blush couldn't join them. She would've enjoyed the more subdued atmosphere. Sunset wanted to invite her, but she'd missed school that day, and hadn't responded to any messages since last night. 

Probably just processing what had happened, Sunset figured. The last few days had been rough, and the visit to Moondancer's house took a lot out of her.

The girls who were present – Fluttershy, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight – each reacted in their own way. 

Twilight – the human Twilight – stared out the window the whole time, her melancholy expression reflected in the glass. Fluttershy, across the table, had her hands at her mouth, gripping a napkin with which she occasionally dabbed her eyes. Applejack kept a hard, stoic gaze, her elbows braced on the table. Rainbow Dash had the tip of a straw in her mouth, its other end at the bottom of a cookies and cream milkshake.

Fluttershy was the first to speak, after wadding up her napkin, and daintily setting it on the table. 

"I told you she'd mention us."

"Yeah, yeah," Rainbow grumbled. She pulled a fistful of crumpled bills from her pocket, and deposited them in front of Fluttershy, then chomped on the straw with a pronounced harrumph.

Sunset's jaw dropped. "You bet money on whether or not Princess Twilight would talk about you?"

"Seemed like a safe bet," muttered Rainbow Dash. "Not like she ever comes to visit anymore."

"Missin' the point like a broken pencil, sugarcube." Applejack narrowed her eyes at Fluttershy. "Y'know, that one, I expect this sort'a thing from – no offense, Rainbow."

"None taken."

"But you? Usin' Princess Twilight for a bet?"

"It wasn't much of a bet. I have faith in Princess Twilight, and I value her friendship." Fluttershy picked up Rainbow's money, trying to unwrap and smooth it out on the table. "If Rainbow wants to donate to Angel's new enclosure fund, I'm not going to stop her."

"Ah," said Sunset. "You meant that you value her friendship in a literal sense."

Fluttershy giggled and took a drink from the glass of water in front of her. "I know you were writing Princess Twilight about this magical girl situation. But if it's not too personal, what did you ask her, exactly?"

"Nothing personal at all – essentially, the same thing I asked this one here," said Sunset, elbowing the girl on her right. "Basically, if she’d ever seen evidence of magical girls or witches in this world. Present company excepted, I mean."

"I always kinda assumed magic was just somethin' that you and Twilight brought over yourselves," said Applejack. "Not like we ever saw anythin' magical before you two gals waltzed through the statue."

"If you're referring to Equestrian magic, that's been around way longer than Princess Twilight and I." Sunset steepled her fingers. "We know that Starswirl the Bearded banished the Sirens here over a thousand years ago. And he, and other Equestrian mages, used to dump waste energy from magic spells or experiments into this reality, too."

"What, you mean like nuclear runoff?" said Applejack. "Y'all bury it here, and the radiation does wacky shenanigans? Mutates things, or possesses 'em, stuff like that?"

"Ooh!" Rainbow Dash pointed her straw at Sunset, ignoring the drip of milkshake from its tip onto the table. "Like Godzilla! Right?"

Sunset blinked. "I... yeah? A little simple, but yeah. That’s pretty astute, Rainbow Dash. I didn't know you were a fan."

"We used to binge kaiju films together in middle school," said Fluttershy. She mopped up the spillage from the straw, and dabbed its tip. "Rainbow loves Gamera."

Then she picked up her spoon and dipped it into the milkshake, scooping out a fat gob of cream.

"Cleaning fee," she explained, sliding the spoon into her mouth.

Rainbow replied with a scowl. "Thanks for the help, Fluttershy. Hope you get brain freeze."

Fluttershy dipped her spoon back into the shake and pulled out a chunk of cookie. "Plus tax." Then she chomped on it, and beamed at Rainbow.

Watching them, Sunset couldn't help smirking. "Still, it's not that Equestria gave this place magic. It's always been here – there just hasn't been anybody capable of using it until recently. Even then, the only magic we've ever tapped into is Equestrian. Native magic users – people capable of harnessing this world's native magic, the same way ponies back home do – always seemed impossible to me."

"'Til you ran into that Lorelai girl," said Applejack. "Sure she ain't just using Equestrian magic?"

"I'd stake my life on it. And anyway..." Sunset looked at Twilight. "Actually, do you want to take this one?"

Twilight didn't respond.

Frowning, Sunset elbowed her. "Earth to Twilight. You following along?"

Without looking, or even reacting to Sunset's elbow, Twilight adjusted her glasses and answered. "There are accounts of girls with abilities and stories matching Lorelai's that date back centuries. Some are much, much older. Sunset and I did the math, and the oldest ones we could find predate Starswirl the Bearded."

Sunset spread her arms and looked at Applejack. "There you have it."

Rainbow took a long drink from her shake before pulling away and peering at Twilight. "You okay, egghead? You seem a little distracted right now. Like you're not all the way here, y'know?"

"I'm paying attention," said Twilight, with a touch of defensiveness creeping into her tone. "I answered the question, didn't I?"

Rainbow held up her hands in surrender and returned to her milkshake.

A twinge of concern pinched Sunset – Twilight's mood had been sour since the journal came out of Sunset's backpack, and it hadn't been so long since Moondancer's passing. 

She almost reached for Twilight’s hand to peek inside that eggy head of hers, but the bell at the restaurant's door chimed first, drawing her attention. In stormed Rarity, striding toward their booth with great, sweeping steps, her stilettos click-clacking against the tile.

"Sunset, darling, could I trouble you to scooch in a bit?" Rarity plopped down without waiting for a response, forcing Sunset to hastily squish herself against Twilight. "Much obliged, thank you."

"Thought you had work 'til eight, Rares," said Applejack, folding her arms. "Somethin' happen?"

"Yes and no, Applejack. Really, it comes down to a mistake on my part. When I shared my schedule, I assumed I was gainfully employed, when, as it turns out, I was actually fired this morning!" She let out a shrieking laugh. "Isn't that hysterical?"

"Um... in an ironic way, you mean?" said Fluttershy. "Because if you were laid off, that wouldn't be funny at all. Just sad. Very, very sad."

"Yes, Fluttershy. It is very, very sad." Rarity cleared her throat. "Pinkie Pie?"

Despite Pinkie not being in the dining room, and despite Rarity not raising her voice to call her, Pinkie appeared promptly, a towel draped over her arm. "Madame?"

"Could I put in for a grief special?"

Pinkie sucked a breath through her teeth. "What're we talkin' here – category nine, ten?"

"Make it a twelve. It's one of those days, I'm afraid."

Pinkie whistled, awed. "Chocolate fudge cookie dough milkshake, with double whipped cream? Must've been a doozie. I'll see what I can do, but heads up – the kitchen staff’s been moving awfully slow today. I had to make Rainbow's shake myself, y'know."

"And a damn good job you did of it, too," Rainbow crowed. "Kept the hair out of it, and everything."

"I am the only employee at this diner who's never gotten their hair in someone's food; I don't know why people are always singling me out," Pinkie grumped. "Anyway. I'll go talk to Greasy Spoon, and see if he can't pick up the pace. Hope he doesn't take it personally – he's so sensitive about his cooking."

Watching her go, Applejack's lips curled into a grimace. "Y'think what she said about the hair's true? Because I'm startin' to reconsider orderin' nachos."

"They'll never finish making 'em, anyway," Rainbow scoffed. "Service here is never good, but it's like, extra bad today. Why do we keep coming here?"

"We're putting Pinkie Pie through college," Fluttershy whispered.

"And holdin' it over her head, right. Thanks." Rainbow glanced at the still-pouting Rarity, sighed, and slid her half-finished milkshake across the table toward her. "Here. Somethin' to tide you over until you get yours."

Sunset waited until Rarity had a bit of sugar in her system before prying. "The boutique seriously laid you off? But you're, like, the best thing about that place."

"I'm well aware, darling. As far as I know, it wasn't due to any flaws in my work." Rarity swirled the straw around in the milkshake, as if stirring a lump of sugar into some tea. "It seems someone broke in late last night, and made off with five hundred dollars' worth of merchandise, and another five hundred in cash. The manager needed a scapegoat, ergo..."

Applejack raised an eyebrow. "Someone knocked in a window and went through the register, and Hemline put the blame on you?"

"That's just it. There isn't actually any sign of forced entry – no broken windows, no indication that the locks were tampered with. In fact..." Rarity took another bite, frowning around her spoon. "The door was already unlocked when Miss Hemline opened up this morning."

"Maybe the culprit had a key to the place," said Sunset, stroking her chin. "That, or whoever closed up last night forgot to lock the door. Who was the last person out the door?”

“Well, I was, but I hardly see how that...”

Rarity trailed off as the girls all gave her the same one-eyebrow-raised look.

She bristled, her face flushing. "Oh, don't even."

Fluttershy coughed. "Rarity, isn't it possible that you forgot to––"

"Not remotely!" snapped Rarity. "I triple-checked when I left – even doubled back after I was halfway home to quadruple-check. I locked the door, I tell you. But did Miss Hemline care what I had to say? No! She just piled her sins and failures upon my shoulders, and cast me into the desert to starve!"

Rarity flung her arms into the air with a long-suffering groan, slumped her shoulders, and slid down the vinyl backrest of the booth, pouting. 

"That sucks, Rarity," said Sunset, rubbing her back. "But, hey – you love doing the detective shtick, right? Maybe you could catch the real criminal, and get your job back."

"And we could all chip in and help out!" Fluttershy added, nodding.

"I'm afraid that all my femme-fataliest hats are still in the boutique. And one does not attempt to crack a case without appropriate headwear. But thank you for trying to cheer me up." Rarity took a deep breath, let it out, and adjusted her hair. "Speaking of businesses and closure mishaps, has anyone noticed that the 'Open' sign on the door is flipped to ‘Closed?'"

"Uh... it is?" said Sunset. She turned around and looked toward the door, squinting. "Huh. Well. How about that? It said 'Open' when we got here."

"So, you saw a sign sayin' 'closed,'" Applejack said to Rarity, "and you just walked on in anyway?"

"Well, yes, because there were people here, so I assumed there was a mistake. From the outside, the place looks perfectly lively." Rarity glanced around the dining room. "Inside's a different story, though. It's rather quiet."

"And it's only gotten quieter since we've been in here," Fluttershy added. She leaned across the table, beckoning Applejack and Rainbow Dash closer. "Have you noticed that nobody besides us... really seems to be talking?"

Now that she mentioned it, Sunset realized that she hadn't. She'd been so engrossed in her conversation with the girls that she hadn't been paying attention to the rest of the diners. But they weren't talking, or eating, or even moving, just staring into space with the same dazed, tranquil expression. 

And it wasn't just the patrons who were acting strangely. The other servers, the cashier, the soda jerk behind the bar... they all just stood, or sat, empty smiles plastered on their faces.

It hadn't been that quiet when they walked in. Customers had been chatting and laughing, and Sunset was pretty sure that Pinkie had wrapped up a musical number right before she took their drink orders. 

You could hear a pin drop now, though, she thought.

She turned around and looked into the glazed-over eyes of the person sitting behind them. A needling sensation crept up her palm as she remembered the last person she saw with an expression like that on her face. She stood, casting a worried look toward the kitchen.

"Something's very wrong."

"No kidding," said Rainbow Dash. "No nachos and Rarity gets fired all on the same— ow! AJ, what the hell?"

Applejack rubbed the hand she'd just used to swat Rainbow Dash's head, and looked up at Sunset. "Think it's like what happened to Cadance?"

"I don't feel any Equestrian magic here," Sunset muttered, as the other girls rose from the booth. "Besides what's coming off of us, I mean. So, I'm gonna say, yeah, we got a witch on our hands."

Twilight sidled up to her. "If that's the case, then what're we supposed to do? There's twenty people here, and only six of us. If they try to hurt themselves all at once—"

"Twi, you're gonna find that stopping these people from stabbing themselves in the neck is the easiest part about this whole mess." Sunset felt phantom fingers wrapping around her windpipe, and patted the geode under her shirt for reassurance. "Anybody seen Pinkie?"

"She said she was going to the kitchen, didn't she?" said Fluttershy. "But she hasn't come out yet. Could she be in danger?"

"We're all in danger." Sunset gave her geode a squeeze. "We should link up with her. If this is a witch, then things are gonna get weird in a hurry, and I don't want us getting separated. C'mon."

The people in the diner, customers and staff alike, watched the girls as they passed through the dining room, heads swiveling to keep tracking them, their bodies stock-still. Sunset looked at a pair of at a table as she passed: the happy couple of Celery Stalk and his girlfriend, Bubblegum... Something. 

At least, she assumed they were happy. The grotesque, contorted grins on their faces were hard to read. They turned their heads to meet her gaze, watching her retreat to the kitchen, and revealing the marks on their necks. 

An explosion, like a firework, with five trails in mauve and magenta.

Sunset shook her head and double-timed it to the kitchen. Pausing at the door, she glanced back at her friends, who'd clustered close together.

She held a finger against her lips, nudged the door open, and tiptoed through.

As soon as she saw Pinkie’s body, and smelled the acrid stench of inside, she abandoned all pretense of stealth, and burst through.

Greasy Spoon, the balding, red-haired cook, stood in front of the stove. His arms dangled at his sides, one hand curled around a wooden mallet, an identical mark to the happy couple's on his neck. Behind him, Pinkie sprawled out on her side, moaning, on the floor. 

The noise of her entrance drew Greasy Spoon's attention. He turned his head, slowly, and leered at Sunset, the air between them shimmering and wavering.

With his free hand, he reached for the ignition on the stove – the stove that was steadily leaking flammable gas into the room.

A rush of wind blew past Sunset as Rainbow Dash charged ahead. She slammed into Greasy Spoon with enough force to catapult him against the far wall. He slammed into it, and collapsed to the ground, silent, and unmoving.

Rainbow turned her attention to Pinkie, cursing under her breath and kneeling beside her, while Sunset darted over to the stove and switched off the gas. 

"Talk to me," said Rainbow. She rolled Pinkie onto her back, and cupped a hand around the mess of candy floss that she called hair. "Are you okay?"

"...Are you with HR? I have an incident to report." Pinkie's eyes fluttered open. "That guy can not take criticism."

Rainbow broke into a relieved laugh as the other girls filed into the kitchen, surrounding Pinkie. Sunset gently nudged between Rarity and Fluttershy and knelt, putting a hand on Pinkie's shoulder.

"What happened to you?"

"I came in to ask Greasy Spoon about the nachos, and he clocked me in the noggin with a mallet. Not much more to it than that." Pinkie rapped her skull with her knuckles. "Luckily, all this poof's shock-absorbant, but it still stung, lemme tell you."

"Well, how about that, Rainbow?" said Rarity, folding her arms. "Sounds to me like you owe Pinkie an apology for that wisecrack about her hair."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry I ever doubted you, Pinkie." 

With Rainbow's help, Sunset guided Pinkie back to her feet. Surprisingly, between her head injury and her roller skates, Pinkie somehow maintained her balance. She dusted off her dress, fluffed her hair, and planted her hands on her hips, neither fussed nor mussed.

Then she looked past Sunset, and her pose immediately wilted, her face blanking as she pointed at the doorway. "Uh, girls?"

Sunset turned, and blanched.

One of the servers – her name tag said "Tip Top" – stood in the kitchen's entrance, her knuckles white around a serving tray, the doorway swinging behind her. She grinned disconcertingly at Sunset.

"Sunset Shimmer," she said in a chilling, customer service drone. "Thank you for joining us again."

"Again...?" Sunset patted her chest, the feel of the geode under her shirt once more providing some reassurance. "Have we met before?" 

"Sunset," Applejack hissed, "should we really be talkin' to—?"

An ear-splitting rumble, like rolling thunder, silenced Applejack. The noise made Sunset clench her teeth, scraping them together painfully. 

Tip Top didn't react to it at all. She rolled away from the door, farther into the kitchen, allowing another ghoulishly grinning waitress – Sugarsocks – to enter behind her. 

"Your time with Briar Rose ended so quickly," said Sugarsocks, as Celery Stalk stepped in after her. "She hardly got to know you."

"We hope you'll show us—" Celery Stalk began.

"More courtesy than you showed her," the trio finished together.

A line of fire traced up Sunset's palm. She clenched her fist and took a step toward Tip Top. "And why do you want to 'get to know' me?"

A chorus of laughs, a dozen strong, echoed in the kitchen, echoed from the dining room. The door swung open, and more people filed in, a dozen other faces for whom Sunset had no names.

"You wished it, didn't you?" said Celery Stalk. "You called out for friendship, and we've answered."

"Would you really deny us?" said Bubblegum. "You'd only be denying yourself."

Sunset's anger flared. "Whatever you are, don't pretend you know a thing about me."

"We're not pretending," said Tip Top, as another low, warning rumble rolled through the kitchen. "We know exactly who Sunset Shimmer is. Her heart's desire is plain, and bright, as the harsh light of day."

"We just don't know what she is," added Celery Stalk. 

"Is she merely the reflection in the mirror?" said Sugarsocks. "Or is she the mirror, itself?"

"The girl who shatters hearts, like glass?" said Tip Top. "Or the girl who mends and makes them whole?"

"The girl who breaks our chains and sets us free?" a gruff, male voice added – Greasy Spoon was standing again, still gripping his mallet. "Or binds us together permanently?"

A hot wind blasted through the kitchen, full-force into Sunset's face. She shielded herself with her arms, squinting.

Tip Top and the others behind her kept right on grinning.

"We really don't know the answer, ourselves," said Tip Top, her hair and clothes tossing about. "Do you?"

"Because we'd like to hear it from you," the voices said, in unison.

A hand caught Sunset's wrist from behind and pulled her back toward the girls. Wrenching her hand free, Sunset whirled – it was only Twilight, holding her glasses against her face in her other hand. Behind her, the girls clumped close to Rarity, who shielded them from the wind with a wall of magical diamond.

"Indoor wind and hive-mind slam poetry do not good times foretell," Twilight said, as Rarity's shield opened to allow her and Sunset in. "Especially not poetry addressed to you, by name."

Tip Top tittered, and rolled closer; the line of people behind her spread out in a semicircle. 

"You don't need to be afraid, Sunset Shimmer," said Tip Top, as the patrons and servers tightened their formation. "We want nothing more than your friendship. We want to understand you—"

"As you want to understand us," said Greasy Spoon, his mallet raised. "But if you won't tell us what we want to know—"

"Then we'll have to read it in your ashes," said Sugarsocks. "When ours and yours intermingle, as we rise into the heavens."

"Like a phoenix," sang the chorus, together. "Burning bright."

Another wind burst shot through the kitchen, conjuring a chaotic maelstrom of pots and pans, dirty dishwater and filthy rags, and fryer oil and half-cooked food. Sunset braced herself against it, but another ring of diamonds appeared, encircling the girls and forming a refuge, with the stove behind them.

With a grunt, Rarity shot the barrier outward, shoving Tip Top and the others away. Briefly staggered, they quickly recovered and flung themselves against Rarity's shield, hammering with their fists and feet. Tip Top wielded her serving tray like a bludgeon, and from the other side, Greasy Spoon pounded the shield with his mallet.

All the while, the windstorm buffeted them with debris – hot oil, cold water, every appliance not nailed down.

"I can hold this for a while, but it won’t last," Rarity called over the din. She had one hand around her geode, the other thrust forward. "We need a long-term solution, darling!"

"Wish I could," Sunset replied. "But I've only dealt with one of these things before. I figured we'd have time to come up with a plan before we ran into another – this caught me off guard."

"Right there with ya, sister," said Pinkie. She cast a curious look at the wall where Greasy Spoon hammered away, the head of his mallet splintering more with every strike. "But you're still more of an expert than anyone else here. If anyone's gonna have a clue, it's you."

"I..." Sunset set her teeth. She still gripped her geode – she'd kept her hand on it the entire time without realizing. Squeezing hard, she transformed, the tingly, Sunset Shimmery sensation of magic sweeping over her, from head to toe.

Her equine ears twitched – she could hear it, that familiar hum. Distant, muted, it left her aching for more, but the rhythmic, magical pulse comforted her like nothing else could.

"First thing's first," she said. "We gotta snap them out of this somehow."

"How're we gonna do that?" said Rainbow Dash. The other six geodes chimed, and flashed, painting the room in a spectrum of Equestrian magic. "There's like a million of them, and seven of us. Not saying we couldn't take them, but—" 

"These are innocent people, Rainbow!" Fluttershy chided. "We're trying to stop them from getting hurt!"

A frying pan winged Tip Top in the head.

"...Any worse than they already are," Fluttershy amended.

"We don't need to hurt them," said Sunset. "We just need to break their possession. And if their magic runs on similar rules to ours, then maybe we can disrupt whatever's influencing them by combining our powers."

That still left the witch itself, but they could punt that problem for now.

Pinkie clapped her hands, grinning. "We gonna give 'em the Sunny-Sirens-Twiley-Juniper-Gloriosa-Wallflower-Valencia special?"

"Uh... sure." Sunset cringed – she was pretty sure Twilight did, too.

The girls formed a line along the perimeter of Rarity's wall, staring down the crowd pushing against them, and linked hands, forming a chain. Fluttershy took one of Sunset's; Twilight took the other. 

"Hey, Sunset?"

Sunset turned to regard Twilight, and saw her smiling – and shining brighter than she had in days.

"Look what we're doing. Hands-on research."

Sunset chuckled, despite herself, and squeezed her hand. 

Then she shut her eyes, and shut out the world – everything but her friends' hands in hers, and the distant pulse of ambient magic. By her side, six more pulses, like heartbeats, in time with hers.

Sunset opened her eyes, and let the world back in.

A jet of red light shot upward from her geode, meeting six beams from her friends. They coalesced into an iridescent, shifting sphere of light. Arcane ripples and currents of energy swirled within the barrier, and tongues of magic lapped up and down Sunset's skin, each pass leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

The wind lashed harder against the shield. Angry black thunderheads now roiled overhead, shrouding the ceiling lights and casting the room in darkness. Thunder cracked again, echoing in the enclosed space.

Sunset gripped her friends' hands tighter, and prayed that lightning didn't strike and ignite the gas.

The girls’ sphere burst into a blinding shockwave of light and color that forced Sunset to close her eyes and turn her head away. 

Still, deep inside, she felt the warm, comforting, familiar pulse of Equestrian magic.

When the light faded, Sunset opened her eyes, and saw her attackers scattered around the kitchen, unconscious. The wind had died down, and Rarity, no longer worried about an errant pan dinging anyone in the head, dropped her shield. Sighing, she pulled her hand free from Applejack's, and fanned herself.

"I always feel like I need a cigarette after we do that," she breathed. "I don't even smoke."

"Maybe you could bum one off of Sunset," said Rainbow with a smirk, pulling her hand free. "You have been to the bodega recently, haven't you?

"Make your jokes." Sunset slumped over – she might've fallen, but Twilight held her other hand. "I'm too relieved to care." 

Their victory was short-lived. The clouds still billowed above them, thick and black, and though the wind had died, the room still felt like a sauna. All around them, the air shimmered, distorted like a mirage.

Twilight gripped her hand tighter. "We're not out of the woods yet, are we?"

"What are you talking about, Twilight?" said Pinkie, oblivious. She planted her hands on her hips and widened her legs in a triumphant stance. "The Sunny-Sirens-Twiley-Juniper-Gloriosa-Wallflower-Valencia Special works every flippin' time."

But a sharp thunderclap made Pinkie leap. 

The clouds suddenly descended and swept through the kitchen with the hiss of escaping air, trapping the girls in a prison of fog. They cried out and clung together.

Through the clouds, Sunset could see the familiar world melting away. The walls, the counters, and all the familiar trappings of the kitchen melted into sludgy puddles, drawn into two rushing rivers, with Sunset and her friends on an isthmus in between. The tiled floor warped into a swirling mess of black and purple and sprouted thin tufts of bluish grass.

Structures rose from the rivers, two lanes of stone-carved, polished buildings, framing a central meadow. Rows of towering obelisks and stone cherubs, carved tombs and mausoleums with burnished, black doors, all facing toward the meadow, and stretching past the horizon.

A cemetery. This witch dwelt in a cemetery. And scattered through the cemetery were the unconscious victims from the diner. Instinct commanded Sunset to rush toward them. She almost did, but Twilight, still holding her hand, pulled her back. 

"Hold on a minute." She released Sunset, and gazed warily down the cemetery garden. "They're too exposed – I think it might be a trap."

Pinkie laughed nervously. "I take it back – I don't think the Sunny-Sirens-Twiley-Juniper-Gloriosa-Wallflower-Valencia Special did the trick, after all."

"Yeah, well, it kept us from getting our heads bashed in, at least," Sunset muttered, giving Pinkie a look. "We really should workshop that name, by the way."

She glanced around at the garden, wary. There should’ve been a witch – so where the hell was it?

As if on cue, a pedestal rose from the ground at the far end of the meadow, with a statue of a woman in a flowing, hooded robe. Her arms were spread, and she held two staves: One, a rod of Asclepius, the other, a crescent-bladed glaive. Her face, barely visible under the hood, was blank, save for two hollow eyes and a wide, toothless grin.

A deep-voiced, full-throated chuckle echoed from all around them.

Headstones burst from the ground behind each of the unconscious victims, throwing clumps of purple-and-black dirt into the air. Neat, rectangular lines appeared beneath the bodies, drawing them into the ground.

An overwhelming sense of deja vu swept over Sunset. She sucked down a sharp breath – whether or not it was a trap, she couldn't leave those people to their fate. 

"Spread out!" she snapped, yanking her hand free from Twilight's. "Keep 'em above ground, whatever it takes!"

Then she bolted for the graves, the other girls' feet pounding the grass behind her. A blue streak shot ahead of the pack, angling toward the most distant headstone.

Tip Top, sinking fast, was the closest to Sunset. Desperate, she dove the last few feet and scrambled on hands and legs to close what distance remained. The earth had swallowed most of Tip Top by then; only her head and shoulders were still above ground.

Grabbing her underarms, Sunset arched her back and pulled, fighting against gravity and suction and Tip Top's own weight. Nearby, Applejack gripped Celery Stalk by the collar, and slowly worked him free of the ground. Clearly the witch didn't count on any of them possessing super strength.

Pinkie and Fluttershy had someone between them; Rarity had one person, solo. Rainbow was too far away to see, nor was Twilight in Sunset's field of vision, but she made her presence known. Violet auras surrounded the bodies that the rest of her friends couldn't get to, preventing them from sinking, even if she couldn't pull them free.

She heard a frustrated, country-fried groan from Applejack. Growing impatient with her slow progress, Applejack leveled the headstone behind Celery Stalk with a kick. The stone shattered from the force of impact; the rectangular plot vanished, and Celery Stalk popped free, into Applejack's arms.

Applejack took a step back to brace herself, a nonplussed expression coming over her. Then she shook her head, and threw him over her shoulder.

"Girls!" she cried. "If you smash the tombstones—"

"We don't all have super strength, AJ!" groaned Sunset. 

Another chuckle rang out – a laugh that mocked their discovery, a laugh that made Sunset's skin crawl. The doors to the tombs and mausoleums flung open, and jets of fire burst from within, searing blue flames that trapped the girls on every side.

And there's the trap.

A latticework of diamond barriers appeared to hold the flames at bay. Flames licked and lapped at the shields, which glowed from stress and friction. 

Sunset chanced a quick look at Rarity. Sweat beaded and ran down her forehead and reddened cheeks, and though her arms were spread wide and steady, her legs shook, threatening to buckle. In casting the shield, she'd abandoned Greasy Spoon, but an aura surrounded him before he could vanish into his grave. With so many bodies in her grasp, Twilight's magic began to slip, and it wasn't long before Greasy Spoon sank again.

Then Rarity's legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees, though she still held her arms wide. Applejack called her name and bounded toward her, with Celery Stalk slung over her shoulder. The barrier holding back the flames flickered and wavered.

Sunset's muscles burned, and her grip on Tip Top weakened. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, and put every ounce of strength she had left into holding Tip Top up, vowing to fight to her dying moment. 

Then came a sudden crashing sound, like rock pummeling through rock. The force pulling back on Tip Top vanished, and Sunset collapsed backward, dragging Tip Top on top of her – she tensed her muscles at the last second, and resisted having the wind knocked out of her. 

When Sunset opened her eyes, she found Tip Top’s gravestone shattered. The flames from the tombs had died, and in the distance, the statue's mask had flipped – from a sick grin to a melancholy frown.

Did Applejack do that? she wondered. 

But no – Applejack still stood with Rarity, letting her lean on the shoulder that didn't have Celery Stalk slung over it. She smashed Greasy Spoon's headstone with her foot, and stooped to pick him up.

Rarity's shields glowed and brightened, solidifying again into walls of impenetrable diamond.

"Lo and behold!" a voice cried out – a girlish voice struggling to sound deep, macho, and heroic. "Just when all hope seemed lost, and the warriors of light and magic despaired in the face of oblivion, a new heroine appeared in the monster's lair, and tossed down the gauntlet of defiance!"

Sunset's eyes widened. She gently laid Tip Top on the ground, and stood. In the open expanse of the labyrinth, she couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, and she whipped her head around looking for a source.

"Sunset!" Pinkie cried. She stood some distance away, holding one of Bubblegum's arms – Fluttershy had the other. She briefly dropped it to point at an obelisk overlooking the labyrinth, then grabbed Bubblegum with a flustered yelp as she started sinking into the grave.

Sunset looked where Pinkie indicated – at a girl with a ratty nest of hair spilling down from a bowler hat, standing on tiptoe, at the obelisk's peak. The labyrinth was too dim, and the obelisk too far away, for Sunset to discern anything else about her.

But that head of hair, and that tryhard voice, were more than enough to give away her identity.

She heard footsteps stealing up behind her, and heavy, bookwormish breathing.

"Hey," Twilight panted, adjusting her glasses. She leaned against Sunset, craning her neck back to stare at the obelisk. "Isn't that...?"

Sunset shook her head – not in denial, but for want of anything to say.

The girl on the obelisk forced a triumphant, yet awkward, laugh. 

"'Who is this stranger,' they ask themselves, 'to think herself the monster's match? Is she bold, or is she mad? But a true hero is both – and it is this bold madwoman who you now face, evil fiend!"

She thrust her finger, like a sword, at nothing in particular. 

"You will not harm these innocent people, nor these brave souls who stand up to you. For they fall under the protection of the fearless Puella Magi, Wallfl—" 

The hollow pits of the statue's eyes flashed, and it swiveled on its pedestal toward the obelisk. Spotlights lanced from its sockets, bathing Wallflower Blush in cyan light.

Wallflower's pupils shrunk, like a deer staring down an oncoming car. She didn't move. 

Maybe she was unflappable; maybe she was just too scared to budge.

Wallflower wore a double-breasted black jacket, buttoned tight and hugging her figure, and a matching, ruffled skirt that hung just above her knees. Sunset saw a pattern embroidered on the jacket and skirt, but was too far away to discern it. Underneath that were black leggings, ending in a pair of flat-soled boots, and wound around her neck was a crimson scarf, its tails tucked down the front of her coat.

Very much unlike her usual frayed jeans, muddy sneakers, and drab sweaters. 

The statue thrust its arm with the glaive forward, leveling its point at Wallflower's chest.

Wallflower finally turned her head to look at the statue, trembling. "Uh... is it too much to ask that you let me finish my speech? I kinda ad-libbed it, but I think I was doing good..."

The statue’s eyes flashed, and crescent-shaped cuts criss-crossed the obelisk. 

Wallflower leaped away as the obelisk crumbled into neatly sliced, angular chunks. She arced through the air gracefully, landed beside Sunset and Twilight, and fell forward, hitting the ground with a pained groan. But she quickly jumped to her feet, brushing herself off.

Now closer, Sunset could tell what the patterns on her outfit were: vines and leaves, embroidered along the jacket's collar and cuffs, and running along the skirt's hem. A red band encircled the hat, above the brim, with a bright sunflower tucked into it.

Noticing Sunset's gaze, Wallflower pinched the brim of her hat, and tipped it.

“M'lady," she drawled. Noticing Twilight, she winked, and amended, "M’ladies."

Then she spun, doffed her hat, and flung it toward Sugarsocks's gravestone. The hat cracked through the stone, and Sugarsocks popped free; Twilight caught her in a levitation field, gently pulling her over. 

The hat circled around and raced back like a boomerang, on a collision course with Twilight's face. Sunset grabbed Twilight around the shoulders and dove, pulling her down to the dirt. 

Wallflower grabbed for the hat and missed; she chased after it with her arms flailing, and snagged it out of the air. 

"Sorry," she said, turning back to Sunset. "I guess I should hold off on throwing this thing until I've got the hang of catching it. It's all pretty new to me."

"What's pretty new?" Sunset demanded, disentangling herself from Twilight. "Wallflower, what the hell is all of this? What did you do?"

"Remember how I said I wished that I could help?" Wallflower grinned, twirled her hat, and planted it back on her head. "Well, it turns out that wishes come true. Don'tcha love it?"

A cold feeling spread through Sunset's veins as Twilight's voice whispered in her mind.

Something must have happened to these girls that lets them access magic... where others of their species cannot.

"Wallflower," Sunset growled, narrowing her eyes. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Wallflower blinked, her grin shrinking. Her mouth opened, and she started to stammer out an answer.

But a shrill, keening screech filled the labyrinth, silencing her. The statue's eyes flashed again, and a storm of crescent slashes streaked toward Wallflower.

With a clumsy roll, Wallflower evaded, and scrambled to her feet. A look of intense focus crossed her face as she glared at the statue – but there was a glint of good humor in her eyes, too.

"I'll tell you later, Sunset," she said. "Just sit back for now – I'm about to get up close and personal with this thing!"

She sprinted – loped, more like – toward the statue. Fast as she was, she ran with big, awkward steps of her legs and short, jerky pumps of her arms. The witch-statue struck again and again, slashing the air and the earth, but Wallflower slid and rolled aside from every strike.

Her last roll brought her to Bubblegum's grave, where Pinkie and Fluttershy still struggled to keep the girl from sinking. Wallflower didn't seem to notice any of them as the statue sent another storm of slashes toward her. She paused long enough to doff her hat and smash the headstone to rubble, then she rolled aside, just ahead of the witch's attack.

Fluttershy and Pinkie yelped – but a blue blur and a rainbow contrail swept them up and vanished. 

Rainbow appeared beside Sunset and Twilight, Pinkie and Fluttershy slung under her arms, and Bubblegum across her shoulders. She dropped her friends to the ground, and fell back onto her butt, gasping for breath. 

"Either I'm not as fit as I thought," she panted, "or the three of you need to cut some weight."

"Like I said, we don't all have super strength." Sunset offered Fluttershy and Pinkie her hands, pulling them up. "Are you two okay?"

"No thanks to Wallflower – we almost got julienned 'cuz of her!" grumbled Pinkie Pie, dusting herself off. "And don't shame me, Dashie – I work in a diner, for heck's sake."

Fluttershy unslung Bubblegum from Rainbow's shoulders and rested her on the ground. "She's one of them isn't she? Wallflower, I mean."

Sunset followed her gaze, gnawing her bottom lip anxiously. "Yeah. She's one of them."

A magical girl. Like Lorelai.

Her eyes followed Wallflower as she loped and rolled, obliterating every headstone in the cemetery. Twilight's levitation pulled the freed victims through the air, creating a procession of unconscious bodies floating through the air, borne away from the thick of the fighting.

Applejack and Rarity made their way toward the group, Rarity stumbling as she maintained her shields. Every now and again, Wallflower would dodge an attack that still put a victim at risk, and Rarity would toss up a new wall of diamond to deflect the attack. 

Each time, her shield held, but Rarity looked increasingly fatigued after every one.

When no headstones remained, and Wallflower stood alone in a field of rubble, she let loose a triumphant belly laugh.

"Are we in Salem right now?" Wallflower pointed at the statue, grinning. "'Cuz I'm goin' witch-hunting!"

Her one-liner sent a wave of disgust over Sunset. 

Oh, Wallflower.

A trail of crescent slashes streaked toward Wallflower. She bound over them, landed, and leaped again, sailing toward the statue with her hat held high, poised to deliver the killing blow.

"Haaaaaaaa...!"

The statue thrust its Rod of Asclepius forward, and a cyan aura snagged Wallflower out of the air. Her battle cry morphed into a frightened yelp as the statue pulled her close, holding her mere feet away.

The chortling filled the air again as Wallflower hung, helpless in the witch's grasp.

Sunset called out her name, and tensed, coiling her legs to sprint – not sure what the hell to do, but positive that she had to do something.

Then the glaive's blade snapped off, blasted away by a crossbow bolt. It spun through the air, impaling at the pedestal's base.

"Let her go, Miranda!" 

Lorelai stood on a mausoleum, far to Sunset's right, a crossbow in her arms. She tossed her spent weapon away, and a pair of miniature replacements appeared in her hands, in a flash of green. 

"We do this fair," she shouted, "or we don't do it at all!"

The moment balanced on the edge of a knife. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Wisps of fog drifted through the meadow, passing between the rubble of the headstones, obscuring the bodies caught in Twilight's levitation field – only the purple glow of her aura, tracing their outlines, gave away their positions.

The statue's face flipped again – from tragedy, to comedy.

Wallflower suddenly flew toward Lorelai, wailing and flailing as she went. In the same moment, the Rod of Asclepius glowed turquoise, and the pieces of the broken glaive reformed.

Lorelai tossed her crossbows away and caught Wallflower, as the statue bathed Sunset in a pair of cyan spotlights. The glaive thrust forward, and a storm of slashes ripped across the meadow, straight toward Sunset – and her friends, behind her. 

Twilight flung the unconscious bodies out of the line of fire, losing them amid the thickening fog, and lunged for Sunset, calling out her name.

Then cables of light – thin, wiry strands – appeared in front of Sunset. The crescent slashes struck them; the cables shook and vibrated, absorbing the attacks. 

Sunset stumbled backward out of reflex and looked up. They weren't cables – they were the strings of a giant, glowing green harp, plucked with every cut. Sparks, like musical notes, danced off the strings, playing a melody that Sunset couldn't recognize.

Twilight knelt beside Sunset, and they watched the display together as a hot wind swept through the cemetery, whipping the fog into a whirling, cloudy soup.

Gradually, the music faded, as the witch's attack ceased. The wisps of fog drifted away, and the air again shimmered, warping and swirling, until the labyrinth vanished, and Sunset once more found herself in the diner's kitchen. 

She exchanged a look with Twilight.

"I'm okay," Twilight said. Looking behind herself, she added, "Is everyone alright? Anyone hurt?"

"I mean, my coworkers won't be pulling any shifts anytime soon, but I think we're all in one piece. Hope we get hazard pay for this – especially Tip Top. Sheesh." Pinkie glanced between the unconscious bodies littering the floor, then at the exhausted Rarity. "You want a glass of water, or something?"

"I'd like to get out of this gas-filled kitchen before I asphyxiate," Rarity huffed. "That is what I want."

"I'll get'cha a glass of water." Pinkie stood, crossing over to the kitchen sink. "What happened back there, anyway? I don't think we beat the monster."

"No, we didn't," Sunset said. She bit down on her knuckle. "It must've run off – didn't care for its chances once Lorelai showed up."

Which meant it felt perfectly confident taking us on without her. Even with Wallflower around. 

She bit harder into her knuckle until it stung.

What the hell did you do to get that kind of magic, Wallflower?

Fluttershy counted the unconscious bodies littering the floor, lips moving silently, before frowning. "Sunset, we're missing a lot of people. Most of the victims, in fact."

Twilight nodded. "Yeah, we got Bubblegum, Celery Stalk, and, uh... I don't know the others' names."

"Sugarsocks, Greasy Spoon, and Tip Top," said Pinkie, handing Rarity her glass of water. "That's only five out of twenty. You think the witch took off with the rest of them?"

"Were that the case, I'd be worried for Wallflower," Rarity added, between sips. "And that other girl, too – the one who came in at the end."

Lorelai. Sunset thought about the harp that took the witch's last strike – Lorelai had a clasp on her cape just like it.

Was that her? Did she save us?

"Don't be sorry, be better!" 

That voice – Lorelai's voice – came from the dining room, muffled by the kitchen door. Sunset stood and bolted through.

The unconscious bodies of the witch's victims littered the room, some flat on the floor, others laid out on booths. The tiles were painted with uneaten meals and spilled drinks, tables and chairs were knocked over and upside-down, and hairline fractures and shatter-spots spiderwebbed out on the windows.

And, somehow, parts of the labyrinth had come with them – little bits of incongruous stonework and rubble, and pieces of broken headstones poking through the ground. The register had fused with the bottom half of an obelisk, its cash drawer protruding from a surface of polished granite.

In the middle of that scene stood Lorelai, her arms folded, glaring at Wallflower as she cringed away, hat in hand. Both looked at Sunset as she entered.

Sunset glanced between the two girls, her friends trailing behind her. "What the hell's going on here? What did I walk in on?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," said Lorelai. Her eyes narrowed as she counted the girls filing into the dining room, watching as Fluttershy rushed toward the unconscious bodies on the floor. "So, these are the friends you talked about? They certainly don't look like—" 

She froze as she turned her gaze toward the kitchen entrance again, her eyes widening. "Wait a minute, you?"

"Hiya!" Pinkie sang, bounding in front of Sunset. "Sure is a good thing you came in when you did – you're just the tip that keeps on tipping, aren't you?"

Lorelai's eyes sank shut, and she rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "I wouldn't have had to if someone here had taken my advice. Or, failing that, if someone else had done the job correctly."

Wallflower cringed. "I said I was sorry."

"And I said—"

"Watch how you talk to her," said Sunset, with a sharp glare at Lorelai. "Just because you saved our butts today—"

"Again," Lorelai interjected. "Which – and I hate to harp on this point – wouldn't have been necessary if you'd listened to me the other night, and not stuck your collective noses where they didn't belong."

"That thing had our friend!" said Rainbow, gesturing to Pinkie, who nodded emphatically. 

"An' it was gonna flash-fry all'a these poor souls," Applejack continued. "What d'you think, we were jus' gonna turn tail, an' let it have its way?"

"If you were smart, that's exactly what you would have done," said Lorelai, with a pointed look at Sunset. "Guess it's not just you who's lacking in the common sense department, huh?"

A voice that Sunset tried very, very hard not to listen to anymore compelled her to feed Lorelai her own teeth.

"Girls, please – can we try to get along?" 

Fluttershy's voice froze Sunset before she could do anything she'd later regret. She knelt beside Greasy Spoon, two fingers against his neck, and looking pleadingly, between all the conscious girls in the room. 

"Right now, these people need medical attention, and that monster needs to be stopped before it can hurt anyone else," she said. "That's what all of us want, right? Why don't we set our differences aside, and work together?"

Lorelai snorted. "You want to call an ambulance, then be my guest. But none of you have any business going after that witch, and what happened here today proved it. So, all the best to you, but please – stay the hell out of the way from here on out." 

Lorelai maneuvered to the door, stepping over rubble and unconscious bodies alike. The door was stuck when she pushed it, so she gave it a harder, more vigorous shove, jarring it open and snapping off the bell.

She stood in the opened doorway, looking back at Wallflower, who still stood in the center of the room, wringing her hat.

"You coming, Newbie?"

Wallflower blinked and looked up at Lorelai. 

Me? she mouthed.

"Uh, yeah. You're the lone exception to my 'stay the hell out of the way' rule. Being a magical girl and all." She swept her arm toward the door.

Sunset stepped in front of Wallflower and folded her arms, glaring at Lorelai. "You don't have to go with her if you don't want to," she said, without turning.

"I mean..." Wallflower edged out from behind Sunset and stood to the side, looking between her and Lorelai. "Uh..."

Lorelai regarded her calmly for a moment. Then she spoke in a soft voice, with no trace of sarcasm or whimsy. 

"No regrets. Remember?"

Wallflower's pupils shrank. She squeezed her hat one last time.

Then she un-bunched the hat – it sprang back into shape quickly – and pulled it back onto her head, trudging toward the door.

Sunset did a double-take, and lunged for her, catching her by the hand and freezing her in her tracks. 

"Just wait a minute, okay?" she said, harried. "You don't—"

"Yes, I do. I really do." With a baleful smile, Wallflower pulled her arm free from Sunset. "I'm a magical girl now. This is part of the deal."

"What deal? Deal with who? With her?" Sunset balled her hands into fists and looked past Wallflower, to Lorelai. "This girl shows up completely out of nowhere, and you turn into a superhero, and now you have some kind of deal that you can't get out of? If someone's making you do something you don't want to do, then—"

"But I want to do this, Sunset!" 

She didn't say it loudly, nor with much oomph in her voice. But there was a sliver of iron backing her words, conviction that Sunset had never heard from her before.

Normally, Sunset would be proud. Now, she felt like she’d been stabbed.

"I have to do it," said Wallflower. "And I want to do it, too. It's my choice. Nobody's making me do anything. And it's..." 

She stiffened, eyes falling to Sunset’s feet. 

"It's not something you can help with."

Sunset tried to take her hand again, but Wallflower had already run out, leaving Sunset with her arm half-raised.

Lorelai watched Wallflower leave, nodding. She stepped outside without another word, or so much as a glance at Sunset and the girls. Wallflower lingered in the doorway a moment longer, and looked back at Sunset, and her friends, with clear eyes.

"You saved me from myself once. Please, let me return the favor."

Then she let the door slam shut. 

Jarred by the impact, the fallen bell jumped, giving one last sad chime in farewell.
> 5. Venari Strigas
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wallflower’s bargain bin shoes squeaked with every step. She sounded like a character in a cutesy preschool cartoon as she trudged after Lorelai, whose sharp heels clacked confidently against the pavement.

She'd never cared about accessorizing before. But since becoming a magical girl, she wondered if she should put more effort into her appearance. Maybe she could dress more like Lorelai, who'd added a long, snow-white scarf to her ensemble since the last time they saw one another. 

Or maybe she could just wear lots of fancy jewelry. She was already halfway there. In its passive state, her soul gem took the form of a stylish silver band, engraved with runes she couldn't read and set with a green stone. Why not get a matching pair of earrings, or a necklace?

As if I could afford something like that, she thought, slumping. But maybe I can find something nice at the thrift store.

Their pursuit of the witch from the diner, Miranda, took them away from the beating heart of downtown, and into the same shady neighborhood where she and Sunset had encountered Briar Rose. Lorelai said little, silently guiding Wallflower through the city with her soul gem in her hand, following the trail of magic residue that the witch left behind.

Wallflower wasn't sure what, if anything, to read into her silence. Indifference, maybe, or anger. But she appreciated her company, regardless. 

After yesterday's talk in the garden, she expected Lorelai to follow up on her promise and compete with her, rather than cooperate. Something must have made her reverse her stance, and whatever it was, Wallflower wouldn't second-guess it. She needed all the help she could get.

The battle at the diner proved that much.

"Hey," she said, as Lorelai led her down a familiar, decaying street. "You mind if I ask you something?"

"Is it about my shoes? I noticed you eyeballing them. They're out of your price range." Lorelai glanced over her shoulder at Wallflower. "I assume, anyway."

Wallflower blinked at the non-sequitur. “That's nice to know, I guess, but I was actually gonna ask something else. Since we're kinda sorta, um, working together, I was thinking that—"

Lorelai froze, mid-step; and pivoted toward Wallflower suddenly. Her scarf's tails whipped through the air as she whirled.

"Quick reminder, in case you forgot." Lorelai's sharp blue gaze bored into Wallflower, frigid and intense. "I don't do partners. I don't do sidekicks. And we're not 'working together.' The only reason I'm out here with you is because you couldn't seal the deal back there, and I want to make sure you don't screw up again."

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder.

"Any questions you have, I'll try to answer 'em, but don't take it as anything more than professional courtesy. We clear, Fluffy?"

...'Fluffy?'

Not wanting to question it, and unable to speak around the lump that just formed in her throat anyway, Wallflower nodded.

"Good. Now." Lorelai cocked her hip and rested her hand on it. "What do you want to know?"

Swallowing the lump, Wallflower toyed with the soul gem around her finger.

"You mentioned that you were after some mega-uber-witch... was that her, back in the diner?"

"You haven't run into the big one yet. Be grateful for that." Lorelai scoffed. "The one in the diner, Miranda, was barely a witch compared to her. She evolved from a familiar."

She resumed her march down the sidewalk. Wallflower stumbled trying to keep up with her, wondering how Lorelai could move so quickly in heels.

"Kyubey told me about familiars," Wallflower said, once she'd caught up. "Witches keep them as pets, right?"

"More like minions," Lorelai replied. "Sometimes they take off on their own, and evolve into witches themselves, complete with their own familiars. That’s what happened with Miranda – those graves you smashed were her familiars." 

"He said that could happen, too," said Wallflower. "If I didn't smash those graves, would they have turned into witches someday?"

"Maybe. Familiars need to take a lot of victims before they evolve into fully-fledged witches. Miranda probably ate four, five people’s worth of grief before she fattened up into one."

Wallflower wondered if Moondancer had been among that number. "Is that where all witches come from? Kyubey didn't say."

Lorelai didn't answer immediately – Wallflower noticed her hands clenching, just before she shoved them into her pocket. 

"What matters is, that's where Miranda came from. Briar Rose, too." Her words sounded strained; she was speaking through her teeth. "Among others. We're liable to run into them before long." 

"How many others?" Wallflower blinked, and behind her eyelids, saw Sunset Shimmer, her arms and legs snared by thorn-covered vines. "Is there another Briar Rose out there? Another Miranda?"

"There will be, sooner or later. There can only be one at a time, see. One familiar becomes Briar Rose, one becomes Miranda, and so forth. But no – Briar Rose is dead for the time being." Lorelai looked back at Wallflower, eyes narrowed. "The number of them isn't where the danger comes from. These witches are especially dangerous because the witch that made them is unusual."

Wallflower drew to a halt beside the yawning mouth of an alley, not so different from the one where they'd met Briar Rose. "Is that the one you're after?"

To her mild surprise, Lorelai slowed down and stopped a few paces away. Wallflower half-expected her to just keep walking without bothering to wait.

She nodded, once.

Wallflower decided to press her luck. "What's so unusual about her? What makes her familiars so dangerous?"

"A lot of things. They're exceptionally strong, and their witch forms reincarnate. But beyond that..." Lorelai turned, facing Wallflower in profile. "Witches are like fishermen. They cast a line, and wait to reel someone in. This witch fishes with a net, though. Gets victims by the dozen. And instead of just feeding on them, she'll use them as anchors."

This got nautical in a hurry. "What do you mean?"

"With enough people under her control, she can bring her labyrinth into this world, merge her dimension with ours, and tear them both up at once. And once the connection's broken – whether 'cuz she flees, dies, or finishes off her victims – she'll leave behind pieces of that labyrinth."

“Like at the diner.” Wallflower thought about all those unconscious bodies among the rubble Miranda left behind, and shuddered. 

A few more minutes, and that place really would have been a cemetery.

"Honestly though," said Lorelai, shrugging. "That wasn't as bad as it could have been. I've seen these witches devastate communities, whole neighborhoods. If they all worked together, they could turn this city inside-out – kill every last thing here, or just smash it into a crater. Worst Miranda did was litter, when you get right down to it."

"But like you said, these witches are unique. Exceptions, not the rule." Beads of sweat gathered on Wallflower's upper lip, and she licked them off anxiously. "Most of the time, witches just hide in labyrinths and hunt people one by one. Uberwitch is as bad as they come, right?"

A calm voice from the alley answered. "As powerful as this witch and her offspring may be, there are others still deadlier. And one in particular, whose destructive potential far outstrips all witches, combined."

Wallflower swiveled toward the alley's entrance – she didn't miss the way that Lorelai pulled her fists out of her pockets. 

Kyubey padded out of the shadows, his paws squeaking like Wallflower's shoes. He bounded toward Wallflower and scampered up her leg, making her yelp.

"Fortunately, I doubt you'll ever encounter that one," he continued, standing on her shoulder. "Only a handful of magical girls throughout history have. Were it to appear, and you met it as you are now, you would most likely die."

Wallflower scowled and flicked Kyubey where his nose should have been, making him twitch his ears. "Thanks."

"I meant no offense. Under current circumstances, you have a small chance. You both do." He cast a wide-eyed look at Lorelai. "I see you've formed an alliance after all."

"Don't get cute." Lorelai folded her arms. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Carrying out my duty." Kyubey blinked at her. "I'm responsible for advising all magical girls."

"We didn't ask," Lorelai growled. "And we don't need your help."

"Perhaps you don't. But Wallflower Blush does. On that, I believe we both agree." Kyubey cocked his head, jingling with the motion. "Do you object?"

A tremor seemed to run through Lorelai – Wallflower swore she saw her soul gem flicker, once. She worked her jaw in a long, slow circle, and turned around. 

"We stand around flapping our gums much longer, the trail will get cold, and this'll all be for nothing." Lorelai popped the collar on her coat and stepped briskly down the sidewalk.

Taking that as approval – at least, it wasn't disapproval – Wallflower followed after her, Kyubey perching on her shoulder like a pirate's parrot.

"She doesn't seem to like you that much," she whispered to Kyubey. "Why is that?"

"I don't entirely understand, myself. Humans are difficult—"

"Pick up the pace, Fluffy!" Lorelai snapped.

Meeping, Wallflower hurried after Lorelai, falling in step close behind her. Yet Kyubey's voice continued to speak with her, echoing in her mind.

"As a species, humans' actions and stated motives often don't match up. Why would Lorelai dismiss the possibility of a partnership with you, only to arrive mid-battle, rescue you from the witch, and then insist on tracking down that witch together? Is that not the definition of a partnership?"

Wallflower watched Lorelai carefully for signs of reaction. Kyubey must have been communicating to her, and her, alone, because she didn't so much as prick up her ears.

"I don't know what she's after, either," she thought back to Kyubey. “But I'm not gonna complain. I'm obviously not ready to do this job on my own.”

"You're being unfair to yourself. Your efforts in that fight were commendable."

"You saw what happened?" Wallflower's cheeks heated – of course he did. "I didn't do anything ‘commendable.' Just made an idiot of myself until Lorelai showed up."

"You saved the witch's victims, though. What higher duty does a magical girl have than protecting the helpless?"

Wallflower shrugged, taking care not to knock Kyubey off her shoulder. "Looking cute in a skirt?" 

"I'm sure you'll look back on your first battle much more fondly, someday." Kyubey paused. "There are some facts which Lorelai overlooked. You weren't present for the witch's initial efforts at feeding on the people gathered, but its first attack was, somehow, repelled."

"Repelled?"

"Yes. An outside force disrupted its hold on the victims. And a small number of people present in the diner never fell under the witch's control, either – the group of seven who the witch drew into its labyrinth, whom you rescued."

Wallflower could sense the curiosity underpinning Kyubey's words. He wanted to know what she knew. She pictured the scene as she'd found it: the bodies slipping into their gravestones, and Sunset, and her friends, frantically trying to pull them out. They must've been resistant to the witch's mind control – must've used their magic to break their hold on the diners, the same way they'd broken Wallflower’s Memory Stone.

The question of how much Kyubey knew about that again rose in her mind. If he was in the diner before Wallflower got there, and the girls used their powers on the witch's victims, then he would have seen it happen. But here he was, speaking and acting as if he hadn't – something just broke the witch's possession. Maybe he couldn't perceive, or understand, the kind of magic Sunset used.

Or maybe he was just playing dumb.

Wallflower wanted to say something about it, and almost did. But then she remembered the other night in the diner, and Sunset's voice in her head, warning her not to tell Lorelai about Equestria. If Kyubey didn't know about it, then she didn't want to tip him off. Not yet, anyway. Not when she wasn't sure she could fully trust him.

She wondered if Kyubey could read her mind, the same way that he heard her thoughts telepathically. She hoped – for Sunset's sake – that he couldn't. But he wouldn't be asking her if he could just pick through her mind, and get the answers he needed. 

...Right?

"Your guess is as good as mine," she thought.

Kyubey's purring slowed to a stop, and Wallflower felt the familiar skin-crawling sensation of his eyes on her. 

"...That's unfortunate," he said. "But no matter. Together, I'm sure we'll solve this mystery."

That seemed to settle the question. Still, Wallflower felt uneasy.

In the short time she'd known Kyubey, she'd never heard him speak with emotion. He said everything with the same cool, diplomatic inflection – the same hollow words in the same hollow voice.

And even though that hadn't changed... something in the way he talked now made her skin crawl, the same way it did when he stared at her, too hard, for too long.





In the hour after the witch's attack, a host of city workers, electrical engineers, and paramedics swarmed the diner. 

Sunset watched from the curb across the street, likening them to ants on a picnic blanket. She doubted Pinkie – or any of her coworkers – would still have a job in the morning.

They really should get hazard pay, thought Sunset, hugging her knees to her chest.

The others hadn't stayed to watch with her; they went home one by one after speaking with the paramedics. Sunset felt an obligation to remain, though, and stayed long after the first responders left. She'd told the girls it was just to put her mind at ease – she wanted to make sure that witch didn't come back. 

The truth was a little messier than that. Far more personal. And not the sort of thing she expected her friends to understand, as loving and well-meaning as they were.

She felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder, and, blinking, looked up. Twilight had come back, wearing a cardigan and a sad little smile, two paper cups in her hands. 

"Artisinal hot cocoa?" said Twilight, holding one out. "It's from Roasty Toaster's."

"I was unaware that hot cocoa could be artisanal." Sunset accepted the cup and lifted the cap, drawing in a rich, chocolatey breath. "What's in this?"

"Well, they took some chocolate powder and poured milk into it, stirred it up real nice, and topped it off with whipped cream. They say it's gonna take the world by storm."

Sunset glowered at her from behind her cup. The sour expression vanished as soon as she took her first rich, bold taste of the cocoa. "Hot damn."

"See? Urban renewal has its upsides."

"'Til I get urban-renewed right out of my apartment, and some pig tears it down to build a gastropub. But hey, maybe they'll let me rent the attic for two thousand dollars a month." 

She was forcing the bitterness, and she knew it. How could she be bitter when the cocoa was so sweet? 

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Sunset said, changing the subject.

"I implanted a chip in your sternum back at Camp Everfree. In addition to acting as a GPS tracker, it feeds me a constant stream of info about your bodily functions. Your blood sugar's low right now." 

"Great. As if I needed another thing to keep me up at night."

"I always wanted to be the reason a girl stayed up late." Twilight unbuttoned her cardigan and settled beside Sunset on the curb. "What'cha thinking about?"

"Buncha stuff." Sunset sipped, relishing every drop. "You know, this is the second time since Sunday night that I've watched paramedics wheel away people I know."

Twilight whistled. "Hope that doesn't become a trend."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it does. The way our lives tend to go... maybe this'll be the new normal." Sunset swirled her tongue around in her mouth, licking up every bit of chocolate that she could. "This is really tasty, Twi."

"Glad you enjoy it." Twilight let a moment pass in silence, broken only by the slurpy sounds of two girls sipping from paper cups. 

Eventually, she set her cup down and took off her glasses – they'd fogged up with steam, and she wiped them off on the front of her shirt. She cleared her throat with a dainty little cough.

"It probably goes without saying," she said. "But I didn't just come out here because I thought your blood needed sweetening." 

Sunset balanced her cup between her thighs and folded her hands over her lap, her thumbs playing against one another.

Twilight continued, with some hesitation in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Paramedics talked to me, gave me a clean bill of health."

Twilight frowned. "You know, the 'aloof tough girl' act doesn't fool me. It never has." 

Her hand joined both of Sunset's on her lap.

"It's one thing if you don't want to talk about it. Just say the word, and I won't pry. But, please, don't dodge the question. And don't deflect." Her thumb stroked Sunset's knuckles, coaxing her hand open so she could clasp it in her own. "I mean, c'mon, I bought you hot cocoa. I deserve better than that."

Sunset laughed and scoffed simultaneously. She lowered her head to watch Twilight's thumb as it stroked, gently, rhythmically, across her own. Squeezing once, she pulled away and stood, her cup in hand.

"There's something I didn't tell you the other day," she said. "About what happened the night I ran into Cadance. Something I haven't told anyone about – not Wallflower, not even Princess Twilight."

Sunset looked up at the diner, glimpsed her distant reflection in its window, and promptly averted her eyes.

"Just before things got really bad, I tried going inside Cadance's mind. Reading her thoughts. And I saw... me." A chill ran through Sunset. "Or, no. That's not accurate. I saw Cadance, but she had my face on. Stretched over hers, like a mask."

Twilight took a silent moment to process what she said. "I assume that's not a regular occurrence when you use your powers."

"No. First time it's ever happened. I didn't understand what it meant, didn't really want to think about it, to be honest. But now I can't get it out of my head. Can't stop asking myself what it meant. Or if I'd have seen the same thing if I used my powers on Tip-Top today. Or if..."

She trailed off, prompting Twilight to prod. "If what?"

"...Running into Briar Rose, when and where and how I did? Before today, I wrote that off as a coincidence. Now, though? First witch I run into happens to be someone I just talked to? Someone I'm meeting in an isolated part of the city, without my friends to back me up?"

She heard Twilight sip, and smack her lips. "You think Cadance was bait."

"Yeah. And whatever the vision meant, I can't say, exactly. But I know this much." Sunset turned toward Twilight. "Those two witches were willing to kill people by the dozen just to get me. And if there really are more witches out there, then they're gonna keep coming after me, and a lot more people are gonna get caught in the crossfire." 

"I guess your friend Lorelai was wrong. This is your problem, after all." Twilight hummed thoughtfully. "Or, rather, it's our problem."

Sunset hesitated. She drained the rest of her cocoa, then crushed the cup in her fist and tossed it in the gutter. "I think you had it right the first time. Maybe this one should just be my problem."

"What do you mean?" Reproach crept into Twilight's voice. "You shouldn't litter, y'know."

"Glad you have your priorities in order Twi," Sunset muttered, shaking her head. "Look, I've gone over what happened today, over and over again. What almost happened, to me, to you, to the girls. To Tip-Top, and Celery, and... and Cadance, the other night, too. And Wallflower could've—"

She fell silent as she recalled what did end up happening to Wallflower.

She's as deep in this as I am now. Isn't she?

Twilight's gaze softened behind her still-foggy lenses. "None of that is your fault, Sunset."

"That's not where I'm going with this," said Sunset, holding up her hands. "I know I'm not responsible for anybody getting hurt, and all those people would probably be dead if we weren't around to save them. But they also wouldn't have been in harm's way without me, either. If there are more witches out there, and they all want a piece of me too, then anybody close to me is gonna be in danger."

Twilight absorbed that in silence, nodding thoughtfully. Then she stood, walked over to Sunset.

"Have you noticed that tends to happen a lot?" she said. "I mean, for goodness sake, this isn't even the first time someone's had a vendetta against you. We're pretty well used to danger by now. I think the girls would agree."

"This is different, Twi," Sunset retorted. "This isn't a case of magic possession, or of someone picking up a cursed artifact and going mad with power. We're flying blind, facing off against something I don't know the first thing about fighting, something that's come close to offing me twice now, and caused a lot of collateral damage. And I..."

She trailed off, and glanced away, gripping one of her arms self-consciously. 

Twilight leaned into her line of sight, blinking. "And you...?"

"...I don't know what to do about it." Ashamed, Sunset met Twilight's gaze. "I just know that I don't want anyone else getting hurt on my account."

Twilight's lips twitched. She bent to pick Sunset's crumpled, discarded cocoa off the ground. Straightening, she examined the two cups in her hands.

"You really shouldn't litter, you know," she murmured. Her gaze flicked toward Sunset; her lips twitched into a smile. "If our positions were reversed, and I wanted you to stay out of my problem because I didn't want you getting hurt on my account... I'm pretty sure you'd ignore me, and do as you pleased."

"Probably. That's how it's worked out in the past." Sunset thought about Camp Everfree, about the Friendship Games, and reached across her body to grip her arm. "And maybe I shouldn't—"

Twilight cut her off with a finger to her lips. Firmly, yet sweetly, she spoke.

"I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't insisted on sharing my burdens. That's what friendship's all about. That's what you taught me." She pulled away from Sunset's lips, letting her hand dangle at her side. "I know this is tough, and I know you're shaken up right now."

"I'd describe myself as stirred, not shaken—"

"I can, and will, throw this cup at your head," said Twilight sternly. "There's no way we're going to let you give yourself to the wolves. If these witches want you, they gotta go through us. And if they try to hurt anyone else, we'll stop them together."

"...We know we can do that much, at least, yeah," said Sunset. "Disrupt the witches' possession, keep the victims safe. And then..." 

...And then what? she thought bitterly, when she realized she didn't know where to go from there. Babysit them until Wallflower and Lorelai show up to save the day?

The thought brought on a wave of bitterness, and she shook her head, clearing it from her thoughts. "We'll figure something out. You're right about one thing, though." 

"I'm right about a lot of things."

"One thing in particular, then," amended Sunset, rolling her eyes. "We stand the best chance of getting through this by working together. I'm sorry if I tried to push you away. I just... I don't want you guys getting hurt on account of—"

Twilight tossed Sunset's discarded cup at Sunset's head. 

Sunset blinked from the impact, and glared at Twilight. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes. And from here on out, I will do it every time you try to push me away. Consider this fair warning." Twilight picked the cup off the ground again, wiggling it in the air with a simper. "You don't live too far from here, right? Why don't I walk you home?"

Sunset brushed a curl of hair out of her face, turning away so that Twilight couldn't see her crack up. Deep down, she'd been hoping Twilight – and all the girls, too – would insist on staying with her.

Maybe that was selfish of her. Maybe she'd regret it. For now, though, it was a ray of hope to cap off a very, very bad afternoon.

"Actually, I got something I wanna do first," she said to Twilight. "Why don't you tag along?"

Twilight crooked her arm for Sunset, and giggled as Sunset slid hers through. "Where are we going?"

Sunset patted her hand. "I've got a friend I wanna check up on."





Slack-jawed and dumb, Wallflower gazed at where Lorelai's soul gem had led them: the sprawling, fruit-scented, child-infested, calliope-scored and widely adored amusement park known far and wide as Hick's Cherry Ranch – and, locally, as just "Hick's."

"You've got to be kidding me," she said to Lorelai. "This is where that witch went to hide?"

"Possibly. Then again, maybe it just passed through on its way someplace else." Lorelai closed her hand around her soul gem; rays of light peeked through the gaps in her fist as the green stone transformed into a ring around her finger. "Either way, the trail leads here. We'll have to get inside and search the grounds if we wanna know whether it ends here, too."

"You're actually serious, aren't you?" Wallflower raised an eyebrow. "I know I'm new to this and all, but this doesn't exactly scream 'witch's lair' to me."

"And that greasy spoon diner does?" said Lorelai. "I don't get why this is so hard for you to wrap your head around."

"Yeah, but that's at least close to the neighborhood where all those suicides..." Wallflower trailed off as something in her head clicked. "...Wait. Come to think of it."

Lorelai's expression softened. "What's up?"

"Something I overheard at school the other day." Wallflower massaged her temples as she tried to recall more concrete info. "A rumor about people at Hick's going missing, workers turning up dead. Something the park was trying to hush up." 

Lorelai and Kyubey looked at one another – and for once, there wasn't abject disgust in Lorelai's gaze. "A rumor, huh?" 

"I know, I know. Stupid thing to bring up." Giving up on recalling anything, Wallflower sighed, and slumped. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You'd be surprised how often we rely on rumors in our line of work." She paused, and added, "You remember that, okay?"

Wallflower nodded, in something of a daze – she'd expected Lorelai to chew her out. "Still, though. Kind of surreal that we're looking in a theme park for a man-eating grief-monster."

She felt a fuzzy, warm sensation against her cheek as Kyubey bonked her with his head. "Your confusion is natural. Witches generally select abandoned or secluded environments as their territory, and prefer areas where people are prone to conflict, or negative emotions. It's also rare for witches to hunt during daylight hours."

"They mostly come at night," said Lorelai, falsetto. "Mostly."

Slowly, Wallflower and Kyubey swiveled their heads to look at her. 

Lorelai stared back, her expression fading, a long silence broken only by the distant noises from the park.

"...In any event," Kyubey continued, ignoring Lorelai's flush of chagrin. "These witches are far from typical. We should expect the unexpected from them."

"Telling me how to do my job now," Lorelai muttered. She shouldered past Wallflower and strode toward the ticket stands. "Let's go, Fluffy."

Is she mad that I didn't get it? Wallflower thought.

The ticket lines were mercifully short, and within minutes of queuing up, Lorelai and Wallflower were eye-to-eye with a ticket-taker wearing the ghoulish mask of a grinning woman, her eyes half-lidded and her face spotted with freckles shaped like cherries.

It was supposed to be Hickory Switch, the park's friendly mascot. It just looked like a skin-eating, cherry-themed serial killer. Wallflower shuddered as the ticket-taker looked at her, silent and expectant.

Wallflower gulped, suddenly recalling a recurring nightmare she had about that face, gnashing its teeth and drawing closer and closer to her bed while she lay paralyzed from head to toe, unable to breathe or speak or scream.

Lorelai slammed a fifty dollar bill onto the counter.

"Gimme two tickets and keep the change," she said brusquely. "Buy yourself something pretty. Maybe a face lift."

The worker passed two paper slips through the hole at the bottom of the service window, along with two folded maps of the park. 

"They make us wear these," said a woman's tired voice. "Enjoy your visit to—"

"Have you heard of anyone disappearing around here lately?" Wallflower blurted.

Before the worker could respond, or react in any way, Lorelai forced out an insincere laugh and hooked her arm around Wallflower's neck. She muscled Kyubey off Wallflower's shoulder in the process, and he fell to the ground with a rubbery squeak.

"Crazy cousin Fluffy," she chuckled, noogying gently. "Blood sugar runs low, and she asks silly questions. Let's go shove a cherry pie up your pie-hole before you say anything else." 

Noogying her again, harder this time, Lorelai flashed a toothy grin to the still-staring park employee. She dragged Wallflower toward the turnstiles, only releasing her when they were a safe distance away from the ticket counter.

"What was that all about?" Wallflower whined.

"We're supposed to keep a low profile when we're out hunting – that means we generally don't advertise that we're out hunting." Lorelai dropped her voice to a hiss. "You're new at this, so I won't hold it against you. But, from now on, be subtle. Got it?"

Rubbing her neck, Wallflower nodded, as Kyubey climbed up her leg and mounted her shoulder again. "What's subtle about a headlock, huh?"

Lorelai just gave her a flat look, eerily reminiscent of Hick's, and handed Wallflower a ticket and a brochure. Wallflower stuffed both into her back pocket, and followed Lorelai toward the turnstiles leading into the park.

One summer, when Wallflower was ten, her father bought the family monthly passes to Hick's, intending to use them every weekend. At the time, Wallflower felt ecstatic at the possibilities, a feeling which only grew when she passed beneath the park's threshold for the first time.

Clinging to her parents' hands – her mother on her left, her father on her right – she'd marveled at the fruity kingdom stretching out before her. At ten, she was already too cynical to truly believe that she'd entered a world of make-believe, and left her cares behind. But part of her had clung on to the tatters of that fantasy, gripped it tightly throughout the day.

She wished she could recapture that feeling now. Instead, she only felt a slow, roiling anxiety as she counted down the seconds to her next confrontation with a witch.

Attendance was characteristically sparse for a Tuesday afternoon – she knew that much from listening to classmates gab about their day trips. The park hosted a thin crowd, mostly teenagers with annual passes who either just got out of class, or never went to class to begin with. Come evening, though, the park would be bustling, with people packing together like sardines, pressed so close that they could hardly breathe.

Just thinking about it made Wallflower feel claustrophobic.

A green flash in the corner of her eye drew her attention – Lorelai had drawn out her soul gem, cradling it in her palm with a pensive expression on her face. Wallflower did a cursory check to make sure nobody saw – they didn't seem to be paying attention – and drew closer to Lorelai.

"Where to now?" she said, her voice hushed.

"Not sure. Now that we're inside, I can definitely say that there's a witch here, but I'm having trouble picking up her trail." She closed her hand around her gem, sighing. "Dammit."

"It's camouflaging itself," said Kyubey, twitching his ears. "Diminishing and masking its own magic signature."

"I was about to say that, Mister Narrator," Lorelai scoffed. "But thanks."

"So she's incognito, huh?" Wallflower cupped her chin. "Is that normal? Do all witches have a stealth mode?"

"Generally, no," said Lorelai. "Certain members of this family do, but I've never known Miranda to. If this is her, then who knows what other tricks she has up her sleeve?"

"'If?'" The sharp, pointed emphasis Wallflower placed on the word made Lorelai stiffen. "You mean you don't know?"

"I mean... it probably is." Lorelai curled a strand of hair around her finger, glancing away. "It's tough to tell with these witches. They all come from the same family tree, and their signatures are all pretty much the same. I don't always know who I'm dealing with until we're face-to-face."

Wallflower folded her arms. "Briar Rose didn't have a face."

"Miranda has two, if you want to be pedantic. What difference does it make?" She gave the curl a tug before letting it bounce back into shape. "If we can't follow her trail, then we don't have any choice but to search the whole area. Our soul gems should react once we get close to the labyrinth."

Wallflower nodded – her ring started flashing when she got close to the one in the diner, which had been her second sign that something was wrong. Her first was that the sign in the window of a 24-hour diner said 'CLOSED.' "Any idea where we should start looking?" 

Kyubey hummed. "A witch operating in populous territory will usually seek out an isolated, unassuming space to establish its labyrinth. In a crowded area such as this, we would be best served looking someplace that people tend to avoid."

"And that might be...?"

"Hell if I know," said Lorelai. She'd been staring at Kyubey while he spoke, but now turned her attention to Wallflower. "You're from around here, and I'm not. You must know this place pretty well, right?"

"I've been here once, with my parents. I really can't tell you much. But, um..." Wallflower cupped her hands and pushed her index fingers together timidly. "There's this urban exploration channel I'm subscribed to – you know, guys sneaking into abandoned places, giving little walking tours? They talk a little about the place's history, show you all kinds of neat secrets—"

"Get to the point."

Wallflower eeped. "The other day, they did a show on the Magnus Amphitheater. It used to be the concert venue for the park, until it shut down earlier this year. It's still there – just fenced off from the rest of the park, totally deserted."

"'Totally deserted,' you say." Lorelai's jaw worked thoughtfully. "As good a place to start as any. You know the way?"

"No... but, uh... I got this to help." Wallflower reached for the map in her pocket, tugged it out, and unfolded it. She scanned the pages, frowning slightly as Kyubey nudged under her chin to get a closer look. 

She checked the map's directory first, but the amphitheater wasn't listed – the park must've struck it from promotional materials after it closed down. There were enough landmarks in the video that she could make an educated guess about its location, however. 

Sure enough, right at the spot on the map where she'd expect it to be was a wide, irregularly shaped blob of blank space, enclosed by a dotted line, with the words "COMING SOON" printed inside.

"Paydirt," Wallflower mumbled.

She traced her finger along the map, trying to find the best route there, until finally, she lifted her head, and stared out at Canterville's second tallest roller coaster: a sheer, vertical pillar of tracks and rails, visible from miles out. 

Wallflower swallowed. "Okay, yeah. I think I can get us there."

Turning halfway, Lorelai swept her arm with a mock bow. "Lead on, then." 

Wallflower's heart did a little jump. Blushing, she took the lead, Lorelai's heels clacking on the pavement as she followed.

"This place looked pretty big from the outside," Lorelai remarked. "How far do we have to go?"

"You see the Flying Golem over there?" said Wallflower, pointing. "It was in the background of the video, right at the start. By the look of things, the amphitheater was pretty close to it." 

"Making us schlep all the way out there, after schlepping all the way here? Miranda's really making us work for our grief seed." Lorelai looked warily at Kyubey, who was grooming himself on Wallflower's shoulder. "The cat explained grief seeds, I assume."

"He did, yeah." Wallflower reached over and ticked the top of Kyubey's head, and he nuzzled against her finger in response. "Witches drop them when they die, and we use them to clean off our soul gems after a fight."

"And I recycle used seeds to prevent overuse, which could lead to the birth of additional witches," Kyubey added. He pressed his cheek hard against Wallflower, and pulled away. "It's a highly efficient, mutually beneficial arrangement – a system with virtually no wasted energy."

"It's nice to know that witch-hunting is eco-friendly." Wallflower bit her lip. "Seems like there's something wasted, though. If seeds are so scarce, and we always end up giving them to Kyubey, then the amount of grief seeds in the world should always be stagnant. Or, worse, trending down." 

"More or less," said Lorelai. "Puellae magi come to blows over grief seeds all the time. And in situations where two or more do collaborate to take down a witch, things tend to fall apart when it comes time to decide who gets the reward." 

Lorelai watched, with detached interest, as a cherry-shaped balloon that had gotten away from its owner drifted lazily through the air. 

"Alliances are fragile, at best," Lorelai said, after some contemplation. "We're better off as competitors, like I said."

Wallflower nodded. We all need grief seeds, she thought. But there just aren't enough to go around. The wind rustled her map, and she shook it once to straighten it. 

"It seems like there's untapped potential there," she said. "I'm kind of surprised there isn't more of a market surrounding these things."

Lorelai scoffed. "Who's gonna buy 'em?" 

"I dunno, there must be somebody. We kill monsters, get their seeds, sell them to a collector – like, I dunno, Beyond the Boundary."

"What the hell are you—?" Lorelai shook her head, refocusing. "Humans can't even see grief seeds, Fluffy. They only have value to magical girls."

"And myself," Kyubey interjected.

"And they're so valuable that we'd lose more than we gain no matter what we traded 'em for," she finished, ignoring Kyubey. "They're not just valuable because they're scarce. We only have one basic need, and that's grief seeds."

The path forked, then: an intersection marked by a grinning statue of an anthropomorphized giraffe in coveralls, wearing a nametag that said "Cherrypicker," crossing his arms to point in opposite directions. Far behind him, the Flying Golem loomed. Wallflower stopped to quickly scan the map, to figure out which way to take. Lips moving silently, she read through it, glancing up at Lorelai. 

She again eyed Lorelai's shoes and scarf, frowning. 

"Nobody pays us," she said. "But you're always dressed like you're on a runway, and you dropped fifty bucks on our tickets like it was nothing. Doesn’t add up."

"You got me, kid. I lied because I didn't want you finding out about my buyer and undercutting me." Lorelai flicked a curl over her shoulder. "Truth is, I sell my grief seeds to this old man in a room full of Chinese lamps. He says he'll be rich someday." 

"That's... oddly specific. And probably not true." Wallflower raised an eyebrow. "You keep saying things I don't understand. It's kind of annoying."

"What, but I'm supposed to know what the hell 'Behind the Bedroom’ is? How do you think I feel?"

“It's 'Beyond the Boundary.' You don't gotta be mean about it." Wallflower pulled the map up to her face, hiding her pout. "Fuyukai desu."

"What was that?"

"I said, 'left at the giraffe."

They took a shortcut through Cherrybud Meadow, an area of small-scale attractions built with younger kids in mind. She had vivid memories of it from her last visit – despite being ostensibly too old for it, Cherrybud catered more to Wallflower's sensibilities than anything else in the park.

It surprised her how well she remembered the area, after she'd spent so many years trying actively to forget that trip. Occasionally, they'd pass something that she recognized, and the sight would send fleeting memories of her previous visit rushing through her – feelings, sensations, half-remembered verbal exchanges.

Even more surprising? They weren't bad memories. She found herself welcoming them.

There was the bathroom where her father had gone to wash off the cherries jubilee she'd spilled all over his shirt. There was the ring toss game where her mom won that big, plush snail after Wallflower insisted she wouldn't leave the park without it. There was the cart where Wallflower ate her first churro – drizzled in cherry syrup – and afterward felt like she'd touched the face of God.

It was enough to make her wish that there'd been more than one trip. But whatever her father had intended when he bought those passes, they never had a second day at Hick's.

Their path ended abruptly at a chain-link fence, covered in a canvas tarp and planted smack in the middle of the walkway. The wall curved, closing off a wide space. 

The park's management had tried to make it blend with the rest of Hick's theme, decorating the tarp with the same creepy mascots as the rest of the park, but it was obviously a recent, and temporary, addition.

Wallflower looked down at her map, only for a fleeting shadow to pass overhead. Blinking, she looked up, and felt her heart skip.

Not far away, the Flying Golem towered, casting its considerable shadow toward the entrance of the park like the needle of a compass. Thrilled screams and shrieks echoed down to them from the cars at the top, filling Wallflower's heart with a stinging, nostalgic yearning.

"This looks like the place," said Lorelai as another train rumbled down the track. "I think there's a gate just a little down the way. We should probably—"

Kyubey interrupted her by bounding off of Wallflower's shoulder and scampering up the fence. Pausing at the top, he looked down at Wallflower, shook his head, and hopped over to the other side.

"...I mean, we could do it that way, too," said Lorelai, folding her arms. "But seeing as we're not invisible, we might be a tiny bit conspicuous."

Wallflower folded the map and slid it into her back pocket again. She smiled wanly up at the Flying Golem, shielding her eyes against the afternoon sun's rays.

She heard Lorelai's heels click on the pavement as she drew a little closer. "Something wrong?"

"Not exactly wrong, just..." A car passed overhead, throwing a fleeting, cool blanket of shadow over her. "I really wanted to ride that thing the last time I was here. But I couldn't."

Lorelai gave a disinterested grunt. "Too short?"

"No, I was tall enough. Just barely." Wallflower tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Mom and Dad just had other plans, that's all."

Well. Mom had one plan, and Dad had another, and while they were arguing over whose plan was best, Wallflower had slipped free from her mother’s hand...

She shook her head, and shook the memory away. 

"You know, we'll probably have some time after we're done with that witch. And we got these tickets." Wallflower lifted a finger for emphasis. "What do you say? Take a ride with me?"

The corners of Lorelai's lips twitched; her eyes briefly narrowed. "I'll pass, kid."

"Why not?" Wallflower wilted, her finger shriveling back into her hand. "Is there some rule in the contract that says we're not allowed to have fun?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not fun I'm opposed to. Roller coasters just aren't my idea of fun, that's all."

"Scared of them?"

"There's not a thing on this earth that scares me," Lorelai said. "But you stay in this line of work for long enough, and a lot of things lose their luster. Roller coasters among them. You'll see what I mean, sooner or later. And by the way, a word of advice..."

Lorelai paused, flipped the tail of her scarf from one shoulder to the other.

"A trip like this is supposed to be for business, not pleasure. Any magical girl worth her salt knows that. If you ever want to be good at this, you'll learn that lesson, and take it to heart."

She turned, her heels tap-tapping as she strode toward the wall's doorway.

"Why do you care?"

Lorelai froze. She turned around to look at Wallflower, probably as surprised as Wallflower herself that she'd said anything.

"What?" she said.

Wallflower’s gut clenched – but she didn’t look away.

"You said you didn't care whether or not I became a magical girl. You said you don't do partners, or sidekicks, and that we were competitors, not friends. You could probably knock out this witch on your own and take the grief seed for yourself. Instead, you're tagging along with me, answering questions, giving me advice," said Wallflower. "Why? Why do you care?"

Lorelai wound a curl of hair around her finger, looking away. "I don't. I just can't have some amateur puella magi running around half-cocked, making a mess and giving us all a bad name. If I wanna look good, I gotta make you look good. That's all."

She glanced, silently, at Wallflower. Then, with a cough, she spun around, and briskly headed away.

Wallflower stayed where she was a moment longer, watching her retreat. She cast one last, longing look up to the Flying Golem.

Smiling to herself, she hurried to catch up with Lorelai.





The fence's gate had a sign posted to it, featuring Hickory Switch riding on a bucking cartoon donkey, with a word bubble proclaiming the area beyond off-limits, and advising guests to "get their kicks elsewhere." 

It was the most whimsical "No Trespassing" sign Wallflower had ever seen.

Lorelai looked down at the latch – it had a padlock clamped over it. "You don't suppose this is the only way inside, do you?"

Wallflower shrugged. "The video I saw started with the guys already inside the arena."

"Hmm." Lorelai frowned, then reached for the lock. "Keep an eye out, would you?"

"Why? What're you gonna do?" When she didn't get an answer, Wallflower chuckled nervously. "You're not gonna break the door down, are you? Because we might as well have just jumped over if you were gonna do that."

Ignoring her, Lorelai ran her thumb over the keyhole. A green light shone from the opening, and vanished in the same instant. With a pointed look at Wallflower, Lorelai pulled the lock free, lifted the latch, and cracked the gate open.

"Hurry up and get inside," she said with a jerk of her neck.

Confused, and feeling a bit silly, Wallflower ducked under Lorelai's arm and slipped through. Lorelai glanced around the area before following, pulling the gate shut behind herself.

Magnus Amphitheater was a throwback to ancient Greece, despite its name being Latin: all molded stucco facades, cracked enough to reveal hard concrete underneath. Along the wall, behind grimey glass panes, were posters advertising the different acts that'd played at Hick's in happier times. Songbird Serenade, Sapphire Shores, B.B.B.F.F...

The final show had been the Rainbooms. Their poster hung right at the amphitheater entrance. Sunset grinned confidently from behind the glass pane, flanked by her friends in matching ouftits – Twilight was missing, so it must have been before the Friendship Games.

The marquee above the ticket booth still advertised them too, albeit with a few missing letters.

"Ah, yes, the Inboos." Wallflower muttered, elbowing Lorelai. "I have all their albums at home."

Lorelai didn't react – to the joke, or the elbow.

Kyubey awaited them at the ticket counter, grooming himself between two cracking columns that framed the service window. 

"You'll be pleased to know that there are no humans in this immediate area," he said. "What's more, Wallflower guessed correctly. There is a witch's labyrinth here."

Wallflower couldn't suppress her smile – a hunch of hers turning out to be right was a rare and precious occurrence. Already, she felt the shame of her previous screw-up melting away. 

If this was what confidence felt like, she could definitely get used to it.

Lorelai stared intently at the Rainbooms' poster, her face a blank, expressionless mask.

"...I get it now. 'Inboos.' Kinda funny, I guess." 

She stepped past the amphitheater entrance, and headed down the path to the stage. Wallflower paused to let Kyubey scamper up her leg and perch on her shoulder before following.

The deeper they descended into the amphitheater, the greater the contrast between it and the rest of the park became. Glass bottles and empty snack wrappers littered the aisles, and little mounds of cigarette butts and ash collected on the concrete benches. Someone had been sneaking in here besides herself and Lorelai – kids, probably.

That, or the park employees had turned it into some kind of unofficial smoking area. Maybe that was how the witch got its victims.

Lorelai paused in front of the sad-looking stage – there was nothing left but a raised platform and a few sad-looking lights still drooping limply from the overhang. She drew out her soul gem, and a shape materialized on the stage: a floating ring of glyphs that Wallflower couldn't read, with five gently flickering flames, splayed out like flower petals.

"That's the entrance to the labyrinth, right?" Wallflower tilted her head quizzically. "It looks different from the one at the diner."

"That's because this isn't her." Lorelai's face was blank as she regarded the symbol. "It's from the same family, though, no doubt about that. I must've gotten Miranda's signature mixed up with this one's."

Wallflower blinked. "So... this isn't the same witch we fought before?"

"It's not even a witch – not yet, anyway. It's a familiar." Lorelai swore under her breath. "Of course. It wasn't camouflaging itself; it just wasn't strong enough to hone in on. Stupid mistake."

"But an easy mistake to make, given these witches' unusual properties." Kyubey twitched his ears, and looked at Lorelai. "I sense a fully formed labyrinth beyond this barrier. This familiar has been feeding regularly, if not quite enough to complete its evolution."

"So the rumors were true." Wallflower folded her arms smugly. "And you thought I was crazy for asking."

Lorelai just gave her a flat, unamused look. Then she turned, stuck her hands back into her coat pockets, and started back up the path, heels scraping against the worn pavement. 

"What are you—?" Wallflower's posture faltered as she watched Lorelai retreat. "Where do you think you're going?"

"You heard the cat. That thing hasn't fed enough to become a full-fledged witch yet. You're not gonna get a grief seed from it." She sucked her teeth. "Zero for two today. What a waste of an afternoon."

That disdain, that complete non-reaction to the familiar's presence... Wallflower felt like she was talking to a stranger. "We tracked down a familiar, we cornered it, and we have a chance to nip it in the bud before it becomes a witch. I don't see how any of that—"

"Tip from an old pro, kid. You want it to become a witch before you kill it." 

Her words slapped Wallflower across the face. "What?"

Lorelai turned, silhouetted against the sun.

"You fight a witch, you expend magic. The witch drops a grief seed, you replenish your magic. You don't get a grief seed, you got no way to fix yourself up after the fight. You following?”

She pulled one hand from her pocket and swept it through her golden curls, then rested it on a hip. Sunlight glinted off the metal band around her finger.

"Trust me," she added. "I know what's behind that barrier. It's not worth fighting that one just to walk away empty-handed, even if she hasn't gone witch yet."

"That point may become moot shortly," Kyubey interjected, before Wallflower could respond to Lorelai. "This familiar is very close to becoming a fully-formed witch – perhaps only one victim away. And there is somebody inside that labyrinth."

A cold shot of adrenaline spread from Wallflower's heart, through her veins. She stared at Lorelai, searching, pleading.

Lorelai's eyes flicked between the barrier, and Wallflower's face. Her hand slipped off of her hip, dangled at her side. Her lips twitched, forming words she didn't speak.

She said nothing. She did nothing. Maybe she was just undecided, mulling it over. But if she had to think about it at all, with someone's life on the line, then that told Wallflower everything she needed to know about her.

Wallflower turned her back on Lorelai. Facing the glyph on the stage, she raised her hand, and took a deep breath. The ring around her finger glowed with pale green light. It swallowed her, cocooned her in warmth, seeped into her every pore, stoked her insides until she blazed with it.

An instant later, the light vanished – but not that feeling of warmth, intoxicating as it was. Straightening her jacket, she swiveled toward Lorelai.

"I'm gonna kill that familiar, and save whoever's in there," she said. "Are you coming, or not?"

She still saw the indecision on Lorelai's face. This time, though, she found her voice.

"Kid, listen to me—"

"Wrong answer. And I'm not a kid."

Kyubey bounded up her leg, up to her shoulder, nestling down comfortably – Wallflower didn't miss the disdainful way that Lorelai watched his movement. She hopped onto the stage, a six-foot vertical leap; her knees shook when she landed.

The barrier jiggled like gelatin when Wallflower touched it, cold, wobbly, and wiggly. She pressed, harder, and her arm sank through the barrier; that same wriggling sensation climbed up past her wrist and elbow, pulling her in.

Lorelai called out to her as the barrier drew her inside. Wallflower didn't look back, and instead, stared, deeper and harder, into the witch's barrier. A phantasmagoric pattern of lights filled her vision, bright spots and blotchy shapes dancing in and out of sequence. 

Wallflower squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

"You're entering the labyrinth alone," said Kyubey, his voice serene in her mind. "Are you frightened?"

"It doesn't matter," thought Wallflower back. 

She pictured Moondancer's portrait on the easel as she opened her eyes to take in the labyrinth. 

"You don't need to be brave to do the right thing."
> 6. Wally's Wild Ride
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beyond the barrier, a pastel pink landscape unfolded. 

Pink fuzzy grass stretched as far as Wallflower could see, met at the horizon by pink fuzzy sky. Faint notes of erratic calliope music, with neither harmony nor melody, drifted toward her from someplace unseen. 

She shivered, unnerved by the discordant sound, and bent to inspect the ground. It looks like cotton candy, she thought. 

Something compelled her to taste it – probably the same voice that told her to eat Play-Doh when she was five. So, she plucked out a tuft and held it to her mouth, tapping it with the tip of her tongue.

Her eyes widened at the sugary-sweet taste. She began ripping up fistfuls of the stuff and shoving them into her mouth, scarfing down wads of cotton candy grass with gusto. Once satisfied, she stood, brushing sugar-dust off her skirt and stockings.

Oh, to be eleven years old again...

The labyrinth continued materializing before her eyes. Amusement park rides, carousels, and tilt-a-whirls shimmered into existence, suspended in the air at impossible angles. In front of Wallflower floated a Ferris wheel, big enough to hit the clouds.

The rides all seemed arranged around a centerpiece, though: a towering, conical roller coaster, soaring up through the clouds and beyond. Arranged in tiers, and sagging like a lopsided layer cake, the coaster's superstructure enclosed a rail that dipped and looped, jackknifed and corkscrewed, and threaded multiple times in and out of the clouds. 

A piercing squeal echoed from the coaster as a lone train plunged down from the cloud cover. It rattled its way through a sheer drop, curved around, and returned to the sky. All through that drop, all through that curve, the scream continued. The train's passenger – or passengers – enjoyed a thrill ride with no beginning, and no end. An eternity of adrenaline.

Salivating, Wallflower looked at Kyubey. "You know, if I didn't have a job to do—"

The ground beneath her foot bulged and Wallflower stumbled backward, yelping in alarm. The motion dislodged Kyubey, and he fell, landing on a blue balloon that poked through the cotton candy grass. 

Dozens more balloons, hundreds more, all rose from the ground, flying toward the Ferris wheel, and popping once they hit the cloud cover. Each balloon had boxes tied to the ends of their strings, which rained to the ground when their respective balloons burst.

The balloon beneath Kyubey rose. Legs dangling, he stared unblinkingly at Wallflower as he lifted off. 

Wallflower hopped up and caught the balloon's string. To her mild surprise, it lifted her too, until she flung her hat through the balloon to pop it. She dropped back to the ground, throwing up a cloud of sugar-dust on impact.

Both Kyubey and the hat, fell into her arms. The former scampered back to her shoulder; the latter, she plopped back on her head. She held her shoulder and windmilled her arm experimentally. The coat's stitching limited her range of motion; even the act of throwing her hat was harder than it should have been.

"You couldn't have given me a better weapon?" she growled.

"I had nothing to do with that," said Kyubey. "Both your outfit and your weapon reflect your personality and your soul."

"In that case, couldn't I have given me a better weapon?" 

She tried to stretch her arms over her head; the stitching on her sleeves held her back. Sighing, she dropped them limply to her sides, and looked up at the roller coaster.

"Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, but I think what I'm looking for is gonna be up there. The witch, the victim, or both."

"That would be consistent with this witch's previously established patterns of behavior," Kyubey replied. "Bear in mind, though, it's not a witch yet. 'Pseudo-witch' may be a more accurate term. Or simply 'familiar.'

"Mm. I'll work on that." Wallflower found herself playing with the hem of her skirt – she seldom wore skirts, but this one felt pleasantly breezy. "I gotta get up there, and catch it somehow, right?" 

"Correct. Although, I wouldn't advise that you scale the structure from where we're standing. It's a long climb, and you'd be vulnerable during the ascent. Approaching from the top would be a more viable strategy."

Wallflower eyed the Ferris wheel. Its benches passed through the cloud cover on one side, and descended from the other – save a layer of pink dust, no worse for wear. 

A plan took root in her mind. 

"I think I know how to do that," she said to Kyubey. "You should find someplace that's out of the way."

"That was fast." Kyubey twitched his ears. "Are you certain your idea will work?"

"Well, it's a plan that I came up with, so. No." 

A balloon drifted past Wallflower, and she reached out to grab its string, letting it pull her off the ground.

"Pray for me, okay?" she thought to Kyubey, as she rose toward the Ferris wheel. 

"There is no meaning in such things," Kyubey replied. 

"It's just an expression, Kyubey. The least you could do is humor me."

Kyubey remained silent for a moment. "Good hunting," he finally said.

Wallflower never considered herself afraid of heights, but that didn't mean she loved this weightless feeling in the pit of her stomach, the sensation that she ought to be falling. It only got worse the higher she went.

When her balloon reached the wheel, Wallflower released the string and dropped onto the nearest bench. It shook upon her landing, rocking dangerously back and forth. Wallflower squealed and gripped the bench's sides until it slowed, and then dared to look up at the cloud cover, which only grew closer as the wheel spun.

Her now-abandoned balloon continued to rise until it hit the clouds and popped. The box at the end of the string dropped to the ground, vanishing among the candy grass.

The bench passed through the cotton candy clouds, and a sugary scent overpowered her, clogging her nose and tickling every bit exposed skin. She held her breath until she felt open air again, let it out in a heaving sigh, and opened her eyes.

The calliope music rang louder up here, its maddeningly tuneless song winding through Wallflower's mind. The top half of the roller coaster protruded from the ground, surrounded by striped tents and checkered game stands: ring tosses, shooting galleries, a high-striker where a line of children – spindly bodies with bulbous heads – struggled to hoist a hammer twice Wallflower's size. More stick figures bustled between the attractions, with long ribbons of tickets trailing behind them. 

Are those familiars? Wallflower thought. She tried to count them all, but quickly gave up – the effort made her stomach turn. There's an army of them.

The tilt-a-whirls and carousels were up here too, but like the wheel, they were all empty. The only one with any riders was the roller coaster, which rushed past with the same rapturous scream as before.

Eyeballing it, the simplest way for Wallflower to get over there would just be to scale the superstructure. But with so many familiars between her and the coaster, she didn't love her odds of reaching it unscathed. There didn't seem to be any balloons on this level to carry her over, either.

I could always jump it, she thought, peeking over the edge of the bench. I'm pretty athletic now. Relatively speaking.

Wallflower coiled her legs, and set the coaster in her sights. She waited until the wheel had brought the bench to its apex, then sprang, her hand stretched out as far as the stitching on her outfit would allow.

I'm flying. A cautious smile broke out on her face. I'm flying! She felt light and free, sailing through the air, drawing closer and closer to the coaster, even as gravity sought to snare and drag her down. This is a miracle. An absolute miracle! 

Her smile split into an exhilarated grin; no thrill ride could ever compare to this. 

I'm flying through the air, and I'm gonna...!

Gravity's tugging grew more insistent, pulling harder. She shrugged it off – the coaster was close, so close she could practically reach out and touch it. 

I'm gonna... I'm gonna...

Wallflower looked down, and found herself hurtling towards the roof of some carnival game.

No, no, nononononono. Her grin vanished, and panic set in. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap...

Wallflower pulled her hat down over her face and screamed into it.

"...Crapcrapcrapcrapcraaaaaaaa—!"

She shattered the roof on impact and landed face-first in a pile of cotton candy. Covering her face with the hat kept it out of her eyes and nose, but there was no blocking out the smell.

Not that it was a bad smell. Just, it was everywhere. Again.

With a mighty yank, Wallflower plucked her head from the ground. Gasping for breath, she set the hat back onto her face, rested on her knees, and opened her eyes.

She sat face-to-face with a bull's eye. A whole row of them, in fact, each one poked with tiny holes. Still kneeling, she turned around, and found a line of stick-children. Armed with wooden rifles, they stood at attention like toy soldiers on parade. 

"Um..." Wallflower stood, brushed herself off, cupped her hands politely, and cleared her throat. "Hello." 

All at once, the familiars shouldered their weapons, and set Wallflower in their sights.

Wallflower smiled shakily. "Those don't fire real bullets, do they?"

One of the guns cracked. The bullet hit her hat, knocking it off her head. 

Wallflower blinked.

Then, yelping, she hit the dirt as a hail of bullets tore into the gallery behind her. The familiars kept firing after the first volley, shredding the already pummeled targets.

Wallflower spotted her hat not far away – undamaged, as far as she could tell. She quickly snagged it and pulled it over her head, pressing her body as low to the ground as she could.

They've gotta run out of ammo sometime, she thought. Any minute now, they'll have to stop, and I can counterattack.

But the gunfire didn't let up. Volley after volley whizzed overhead, and smoke from the rifles choked the gallery. The din of the firing line and the click-clack of levers cycling drowned out even the persistent, eerie calliope.

I'm not safe here, thought Wallflower, pulling the brim of her hat low over her face. I have to get up, have to fight back, have to do something. But if I try to go anywhere, those bullets... 

Shaking, she squeezed her eyes shut.

God, what the hell was I thinking, coming in here by myself? Fearless magical girl, my ass!

Kyubey's voice rang out in her mind. "Wallflower! You need to get up, quickly!"

"Oh, do I? Do I really?" Wallflower snapped. "Because the twenty-six gun salute going on behind me totally didn't clue me in!"

"You don't understand. Another familiar is on its way – and this one is different. You need to hurry and regroup!"

"Regroup where?!"

Kyubey didn't get a chance to respond – something smashed through the gallery wall. Wallflower shielded her face as splinters and expended bullets, buried in the wall behind the targets, pelted her.

The gunfire cut off. Blinking, Wallflower lifted her head to peek. 

Five stick-children, standing on each other's heads, greeted her; ten hands gripped the shaft of the hammer from the high-striker she'd spotted from the Ferris wheel. Together, they lifted it again, stumbling backward before aiming the hammer straight at Wallflower’s skull.

Wallflower saw the opening she needed, and rolled to one side as the hammer landed on the empty ground. 

Rising to her knees, Wallflower doffed her hat and hurled it at the column of familiars, watching triumphantly as it smacked against one of the children's squishy, featureless heads. The tower swayed, bulged inward elastically, then spat the hat back toward Wallflower before she could react. 

The brim smacked her in the forehead and knocked her onto her rear.

So that's how getting hit by this thing feels, Wallflower thought as white spots and stars danced in her vision. I almost feel bad for all those tombstones now.

Something gripped her ankle. She shook her head to clear the concussion cobwebs, and managed to grab her hat as the children lifted her the air, dangling her upside-down.

At her side, the sharpshooters readied their rifles.

"Let me go," Wallflower hissed through gritted teeth. Holding her hat by the brim, she swung at the closest target: the middle head of the stick-tower. Again, it rebounded with a comically cartoonish boing.

Stupid, useless hat...!

"Let me go!" she shouted. She swung again and again, each strike punctuated by the same panicked command.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go!"

The last blow rebounded so far that her shoulder almost dislocated. She let out a strangled cry, and let her arm go limp.

But just then, her soul gem shined with a piercing green light. The brim of her hat shifted in shape, allowing her to grip it tightly and comfortably. She didn't think about it, didn't even register it. She only closed her hand tightly around the brim and swung at the tower, shrieking.

"I said, let me go!"

The head she struck popped like a zit, thick fluid bursting everywhere, even spattering Wallflower. The tower collapsed and Wallflower fell, landing on the ground and sputtering. The column broke into its components: stick-child familiars that disintegrated as they hit the ground.

A gunstock hurtled toward her face, and Wallflower swung her hat to meet it. She cut through the weapon, straight through to the familiar holding it, and he popped and deflated just like the tower. Emboldened, she stood, and swung wildly at each of the familiars, cutting each down in turn.

Panting, alone, and surrounded by disintegrating corpses, Wallflower fought to organize her thoughts. She started by looking down at her hat.

Her eyes widened. "Oh..."

She held a wreath of green, metal leaves, honed to a razor's edge, shingled over one another in a perfect circle with one section left bare as a grip. Wallflower clenched her fingers against the grip experimentally; they sank perfectly into it, as though the weapon were molded for her alone. 

"...Did I do this?"

"You're still not safe, Wallflower." Though calm, a note of urgency underscored Kyubey's voice. "Your target has noticed you."

The  thundering sound of wheels barreling down a track drew Wallflower's attention back to the coaster. A train rumbled past Wallflower on a section of track that skimmed just above the ground. 

The train slowed as it passed, letting Wallflower get a good glimpse of it. The three cars at the rear of the train overflowed with piles of colorful rockets, all jumbled together haphazardly. And two riders sat near the front.

One was a dark-haired young woman, probably no older than Wallflower, slumped over unconscious. 

Seated ahead of her was something else – something inhuman, and vastly different from both witches Wallflower had encountered. All she could see was a smooth, featureless head, crowned with a pair of tall cat ears, and pinkish goo floating behind a transparent layer of skin.

The head swiveled to regard Wallflower, the goo behind its skin sloshing like a lava lamp. 

Wallflower, gulping, stared back.

Slowly, the train built up speed again, curving around for another circuit around the track. As it headed away, dozens of rockets in the back sparked to life, whistling and whining as they zipped in all directions. Some flew over the theme park and exploded in the air, clouding the sky with starbursts of pink and blue.

The rest shot toward the tents and games surrounding the coaster. Toward Wallflower. 

Wallflower leaped away as a rocket exploded a foot in front of her. More exploded among the tents and game stands; the pseudo-witch fired indiscriminately, blowing away crowds of its own familiars, turning its labyrinth into a no-man's-land.

Yet the familiars continued to mill about, oblivious to the chaos and destruction surrounding them, even as they died by the dozen.

The roller coaster, she thought. I have to get up there – have to kill the monster, rescue the hostage. 

Her heart hammered; her breathing came in ragged gasps. 

But... I...

She cried out in frustration. It was the shooting gallery all over again: Instinct commanded that Wallflower run and regroup, but there didn't seem to be anywhere she could go, anywhere that wasn't under constant bombardment.

Another cluster of rockets blasted a hole in the ground in front of her. Wallflower shrieked and dropped to her knees, clutching the blade-wreath to her chest, as she teetered on the edge of the hole.

I can't do this. I can't do this. This is just like last time, except nobody's here to bail me out! 

Her cries became a hysterical, hyena-like chitter. 

Sunset was right. I didn't know what I was getting into!

Something exploded against her back, throwing her forward, through the hole. She tumbled, end over end; a flock of balloons floated past her, not a one in arm's reach.

Caught in freefall, her thoughts went to Moondancer. She shut her eyes, and pictured her face as she plunged the hundreds of feet toward the ground below.

I'm sorry I can't keep my promise. I'm sorry I can't avenge you. Wallflower smiled bitterly. Some magical girl I turned out to be.

With a suddenness that made her heart plunge into her stomach and her head snap back, Wallflower jerked to a stop. The velvety fabric around her throat tightened and squeezed so hard that she felt like her head would pop clean off. 

Despite the strangulation, she could breathe. And that seemed to indicate that she was alive. 

Opening her eyes, she saw why: Her scarf had snagged on something. She couldn't see from her limited vantage – the pose she was in kept her from looking anywhere but straight up, through the hole she'd fallen through – but something in the air had saved her life.

She pressed her free hand against her chest, feeling her heart thrumming through her layers of clothing. A grateful, giddy smile spread across her face. "I'm not— gah!"

Her scarf unraveled like a spool of cloth, and Wallflower continued her plunge to the ground below. Reaching up, she snagged the scarf one-handed, and slid a few more feet before her momentum died. She swayed, suspended by the neck, her palm burning like she'd held it against a hot stove. 

But she was alive – after thinking, for sure, that her number had come up.

Something tugged on her scarf, hoisting her upward and bouncing her in a way that made the discomfort around her neck that much worse. In short, jerky bursts, she rose in the air, until her gaze met a pair of smugly narrowed blue eyes, shining in the shadow of a green hood.

Lorelai chuckled. "Good fishing today."

Wallflower grimaced, and made a displeased warble in the back of her constricted throat.

Lorelai stood upright on the buttstock of a massive, floating crossbow, her capelet fluttering in a breeze that Wallflower couldn't feel – maybe it was just something Lorelai's magic did. Piled on the crossbow was an impossibly long length of scarf, all trailing back to Wallflower's neck. 

Distantly, Wallflower wondered how she'd kept all that tucked away down her coat. Or maybe lengthening was just something the scarf did on its own.

Or maybe I made it happen...

With no grace or ceremony, Lorelai dropped Wallflower beside her on the crossbow, and tossed the bit of scarf she held back onto her lap. Wallflower tried to say something, and immediately doubled over, coughing uncontrollably. She almost slipped and fell off the edge of the crossbow, but Lorelai grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her to safety.

"If you didn't have fun falling to your death the first time, then I doubt you'll enjoy it the second." She released Wallflower, and tilted her head thoughtfully, her hood slipping down a little with the motion. "Maybe I should've given this thing safety rails..."

Wallflower rubbed her throat, and felt her soul gem clasped at her collar. Without the scarf covering it up, it shone brightly: A green blossom with a golden center, and a pair of vine-like ties dangling down.

This is too pretty to cover up all the time.

"Aren't you..." Wallflower's sentence died amidst another coughing fit. She gave herself a few moments to catch her breath before trying again. "Aren't you wasting your precious time by helping me?"

"No, I..." Lorelai's smug gaze softened. "Look, I know that I came across as—"

"Frigid? Callous?" Wallflower grabbed her scarf and staggered to her feet. Her voice gained strength, venom creeping into her words. "A goddamn sociopath?"

"That's not fair, Fluffy."

Raising her hand, Lorelai snapped her fingers. The crossbow glowed with a faint green aura, and rose toward the cloud cover. What holes the pseudo-witch had blasted through it had already closed, and once more, an unbroken blanket of pink blocked out the labyrinth's sky.

"I have my reasons for thinking that way," she continued, lowering her hood. "And I suppose it's my fault for not explaining them well enough. But regardless of whether or not we get a grief seed, I shouldn't have let you pick this fight alone."

Wallflower briefly watched the ground recede before looking back at Lorelai. She wore a remorseful expression, and she sounded apologetic, even if there wasn't an apology in her words.

"Well, you kept me from going kersplat just now, and I'm grateful." Wallflower directed her attention toward the slowly approaching cloud cover, and tightened her grip around the wreath. "But I want to finish this myself, my way."

"Far be it for me to get between you and a learning experience, but you might change your mind later on. Don't say I didn't warn you." Lorelai paused, glancing down at Wallflower's weapon. "So, the chakram. That's new."

"Chalk zone? What?" Wallflower looked down at the wreath, and mentally smacked herself – she knew that word; how did she forget it? "Yeah, it used to be my hat, until I complained about it being useless. Go figure."

"Hm. You bitch about your toys, and you get better toys." Lorelai chuckled. "I thought I'd seen everything in this line of work, but a soul gem that acts like an overindulgent mommy is a first."

"It makes a great deal of sense, if you think about it," Kyubey chimed in. "A magical girl's garb and weapon both reflect her soul. For your garb to be your weapon is entirely appropriate, and not out of the ordinary."

Wallflower had grown so used to Kyubey's voice in her head that she didn't realize immediately that she'd actually heard him speak out loud. She looked over her shoulder, and found him perched on the back of the crossbow's massive arrow, where the feathered end met the bowstring.

They passed through the bottom of the cloud layer, and Wallflower closed her eyes so as not to get candy in them.

"Never seen a magical girl with a skillset quite like yours before," Lorelai remarked as they emerged from the clouds. "I guess if you can turn your headgear into, uh, hurtgear, then you must be capable of all kinds of crazy tricks. Maybe you can make spikes come out of your shoes and kickbox witches to death. Literal stilettos."

"That— I—" Wallflower looked down at her legs, toying with her skirt's hem. "Do you think so?"

"No, that's dumb. Don't actually try that." Lorelai shrugged. "Get creative. S'all I'm saying."

By then, the crossbow had risen to the top of the Ferris wheel. Lorelai snapped her fingers again, and it slowed to a stop, hovering over the amusement park below.

In the distance, the coaster rumbled down the track, the pseudo-witch's carefree cries echoing through the expanse. 

“Here we go again,” Wallflower said, feet feeling like lead. “Maybe this time a rocket will just blow me to bits.”

"Oh, buck up," Lorelai said. "Think of your first run as a dress rehearsal. You worked out the kinks, and got a sense for how to do things right the second time. Pop quiz: What've you learned?"

"Don't get cornered?" The distant crack of a firing line made Wallflower jump. "And, uh... don't try to cross the labyrinth on foot." 

"Because?"

"The familiars... um, they don't like people hanging around there?"

"They do not." Lorelai nodded. "Any exceptions to that rule?"

Wallflower stared at it, the gears in her own mind turning like the slow, steady motion of...

"...They didn't attack me when I was on the Ferris wheel. And... there weren't any of them on there. Or on any of the other rides. Or the roller coaster." 

A subtle smile curled Lorelai's lips. "All that in mind, what do you think this one cares about? Besides feeding, I mean – they all care about that."

Wallflower pursed her lips in thought and watched the coaster plunge down a sharp incline. A shrill, piercing screech carried through the distance toward them.

"...It doesn't care that we're here. None of them do, as long as we stay out of their way." She looked at Lorelai again. "Seems like all it's after is a good time."

"And she only cares about you, and I, insofar as we interfere with her fun. If we weren't here, she'd just keep chasing after it. Harder, faster, never stopping. Witches are all different from one another; they all have their own natures. Jack-Jack? She just wants to have fun." 

Lifting her arms languorously, Lorelai clapped, three times, in succession. 

"Poor performance, but at least you learned something. I'll give you a five out of ten."

Wallflower didn't know how to respond – she was half-certain she was being mocked. "Sorry, did you say its name was—"

"Jack-Jack, yes." Lorelai narrowed her eyes. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Just sounds odd up against the others. You got Briar Rose, and Miranda, and now..." Wallflower flapped her arms against her sides. "Jack-Jack." 

A flush sneaked up Lorelai's neck, its edges brushing against her cheeks. She looked like she was about to say something cutting, but she just scoffed and looked away. "Whatever."

Wallflower blinked – that was a surprisingly weak retort from this girl, mumbled and sulky. "Okay, back on topic. If I get onto the coaster, will the familiars bother me?"

"No. The rides are for Jack-Jack – the familiars know that, so they avoid 'em." Lorelai looked at Wallflower, still a bit sullen, and nodded. "Like you said."

Wallflower's face felt hot – that sounded suspiciously like respect – and looked out at the roller coaster. "I need to get over there. I tried jumping earlier, and I couldn't quite make it, so... is there any chance you could give me a lift? Float this thing over, let me off?"

"Only if you're giving up on doing the job yourself. In which case, rather than fly you over there, I'd just tie you around an arrow with your scarf, shoot you over, and hope for the best." A hint of playfulness curled Lorleai's lips, and crept into her voice. "I will give you fifty dollars if you can tell me what movie that's from."

Staring blankly, Wallflower shook her head.

"No?" Lorelai sighed. "I'll keep the fifty bucks and buy you a subscription to the Criterion Collection."

"Or you could buy yourself a ticket to join us in the 21st century, Grandma." She gazed out at the roller coaster, biting her lip. "If you're not going to give me a ride, then how am I...?"

Trailing off, Wallflower looked at the scarf in her hand. The rest of its stupendous length still lay upon the crossbow's stock, where Lorelai had piled it in a great, coiled heap. 

"Get creative," huh?

She undid the buttons on her coat, sighing with relief at just how far she could articulate her limbs now. Then she focused, channeling some of her magic into the section in her hand. Then she shook it out, sending a ripple shooting through the fabric's length. Immediately, the scarf retracted from the length of a garden hose to the length of... well, a scarf.

Wallflower whistled – or tried to, anyway. It came out as just a dry whisper. Blushing, she leveled a gaze at the roller coaster as the Jack-Jack's train barreled into view.

"I have an idea." She drew her hand back, keeping her focus on the scarf. Then, grunting, she cracked it forward, toward the coaster.

The scarf elongated as it flew forward, stretching across the distance that Wallflower had earlier failed to jump. Its other end met the train as it passed, looping tightly and securely around the safety bar on the rear car's backrest.

"I... did it?" Wallflower blinked – once, twice – in disbelief. Then she burst into bubbly giggles, hopping giddily in place. "Holy heck, I can't believe that actually worked!"

"I'm a bit surprised, myself. Pleasantly so." Lorelai watched the scarf as it pulled tight, and taut. "So, uh... what now?" 

Wallflower finished her bouncing, and looked at Lorelai. "Well, I gotta get over there, so either I swing across, or I make like a tape measure and re—"

Her sentence ended in a shriek as the scarf, indeed, made like a tape measure.

"—TRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACT!" 

The momentum of the train and the force of her retracting scarf flung Wallflower forward with speed that put her earlier leap of faith to shame. The sudden, jerky motion jarred the chakram from her hand, and it fell, landing somewhere among the tents and game stands.

Of course, she needed both hands to hold the scarf, so losing her weapon was a blessing in disguise. She held on for dear life as she whipped through the air, and screamed her terror, her exhilaration, to the wind.

This was flying.

The scarf pulled her well into the coaster's superstructure before it stopped retracting, leaving her dangling some twenty feet behind the train, a living streamer. Now inside, Wallflower could see that the full structure extended through both cloud layers, clear down to the bottom of the labyrinth, a checkered grid of black and white. Beside her ran a parallel track – Wallflower wondered why a roller coaster that only ever had one or two riders would need more than one track.

She could see the victim three cars ahead, black hair splayed and whipping about as her head bobbed and swung, unrestrained. Either she was going to fall to her death, crack her head on something, or die of plain old whiplash. Would the Jack-Jack stop the ride? Would it notice?

The coaster swerved right along an angled section of track, whipping Wallflower to the left, before dropping down a steep incline and plunging her into freefall. The track then corkscrewed around and swirled Wallflower in a circle. Fighting a wave of nausea, Wallflower shut her eyes, and focused on compelling the scarf to retract all the way. She managed to pull a few feet closer, but she still trailed Jack-Jack by at least two Wallflower-lengths – maybe as little as a Wally and a half. 

I'm gonna need to work on mastering this thing, she thought, gritting her teeth. If I make it out of this alive, anyway.

Something socked Wallflower in the gut and knocked the wind out of her as the coaster leveled out. She heard the crack of wood breaking — when she opened her eyes, she found the train dragging her through the coaster’s wooden tracks. Despite the force of impact, she felt little pain. Were her clothes absorbing the damage, or was she just that resilient? 

Shunting the question aside, Wallflower managed to swing her legs forward just as the train ascended again. This time, she splayed her legs and planted her feet on either rail, sparks flying from her soles.

Far ahead, at the front of the train, Jack-Jack's ears perked, its free-floating pink gobs sloshing behind its transparent skin. It swiveled its head to look back at Wallflower, then thumped its arm twice against the backrest. A salvo of rockets burst from the train cars, exploding around Wallflower. She ducked under one and weaved away from another; a rocket exploded in front of her right foot, and she immediately bounced so that both feet ground against the left rail. 

Another fat, red-tipped rocket sputtered to life and streaked toward her, just as she leaned into a steep turn. But before it could get far, a crossbow bolt ripped through it – a one-in-a-million shot – and it exploded with a shower of sparks that peppered Wallflower as she passed through them. 

On the parallel track, Lorelai barreled into view, riding a wheeled ballista the size of a surfboard. Glowing with the green aura of her magic, it kept pace admirably with the runaway roller coaster. Kyubey perched at the crossbow's front like a figurehead, calm and placid even with the tip of a giant bolt pointed directly at his back.

"How're you holding up?" Lorelai shouted.

Wallflower wondered why she didn't just think the question to her, through Kyubey. "I dropped my chalk zone!"

"So make another one!" 

Wallflower ducked under a low overhang, and locked eyes with Lorelai. "What do you mean, 'make another one?'" 

Lorelai pressed her hand to her soul gem, and a small crossbow materialized in her grip. Immediately she discarded it, and it melted into motes of green light, siphoned back into her soul gem. She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I know how to do that yet!" Wallflower cried. And she didn't dare take her hand off her scarf long enough to try it, anyway.

"Your magic has responded thus far to a sense of need, rather than a conscious thought," said Kyubey in her head – Lorelai's, too, if her disgusted scowl was any indicator. "In layman's terms, you're thinking too hard. You'd have more success if you simply acted rather than—"

A sharp kick from Lorelai shut him up and sent him tumbling off the crossbow's edge. Wallflower called his name as she watched him vanish into the checkered abyss below, his vacant, wide-eyed expression never leaving.

"Why did you do that?" she cried to Lorelai.

"He’s fine. Believe me, if punting him into a hole was enough to get rid of Kyubey, I would've done it a long time ago," snapped Lorelai, shifting her weight right to bear with an upcoming turn. "Look, enough wax-on-wax-off crap. You want me to tag in?"

"I said I'd finish this on my own!" The coaster curved around and slowed as it reached a steep, vertical climb. Wallflower dug her heels into the rail, the metal's piercing squeal raking against her eardrums. "I just need to get this thing to stop!"

The ballista slowed, keeping pace with the train. Sighing, Lorelai took a seat, facing Wallflower and dangling her legs off the edge of the weapon.

"Alright." She rested her elbows on her thighs, and propped up her face in her palms. "How're you gonna do that?"

How, indeed? Digging her heels into the rails hadn’t helped at all — maybe she needed something more secure. 

Wallflower hopped to her right, landing on the edge of the nearest railroad tie. Digging the soles of her feet against it, she coiled her legs and pushed, pitting all of her strength and weight against the train's power. 

The scarf tightened; the train began to slow, even as the strain of holding it back compressed Wallflower's body, pressed her knees against her chest, clenching her up into a little ball.

This wasn't going to work.

Then she felt a warm body behind her, and arms encircling her from behind. Lorelai's gloved hands joined hers on the scarf.

"Pull." Lorelai's breath puffed against Wallflower's ear as she spoke; her biceps bulged in Wallflower's peripheral vision, cables of muscle tensing visibly.

Buhbubbuh, thought Wallflower. Were all puellae magi that ripped? Was she that ripped?

She pulled, though, and though the runaway train strained against them, they dragged it to a stop. Jack-Jack chittered something, and a volley of fireworks streaked toward the girls in retaliation. Wallflower braced herself, but a light flashed from behind, and a glowing harp appeared in front of her. The rockets exploded against its strings; each blast plucked and strummed the harp, forming a melodic counterpoint to the labyrinth's chaotic calliope.

Wallflower, transfixed by this colorful symphony, felt her heart pitter-patter. Were it not for the threat of imminent death, it may have been the most romantic moment of her life.

And, hell, even then.

The girls' efforts kept the train in place, but didn't accomplish much else. Jack-Jack continued to rain rockets upon them, and though Lorelai's harp-shield continued to soak up punishment, it flickered with every impact. 

"I don't know what you had planned, or if you had a plan at all," Lorelai said in Wallflower's ear. "But if we keep this up, then we'll run out of magic long before Jack-Jack."

Lorelai was right. The two of them, together, could hold the train back for only so long; even now, Wallflower could feel the pull on her scarf growing stronger, building strength and momentum and gradually overpowering them. The veins in Lorelai's arms bulged, and even the wood beneath their feet started to splinter and crack from the strain of their tug-of-war. This stalemate would only break when the two of them did. Hell, the only thing that didn't seem close to breaking was the scarf.

But just as Wallflower was about to swallow her pride and ask Lorelai to just shoot the damn thing, a thought struck her. She looked between the train, the scarf, and the board beneath her feet. 

If the wood can wear and tear... can the metal, too?

"All this thing wants to do is have fun, right?" said Wallflower through her teeth. "If we left it alone, would the train just keep going?"

"As far as I know, yeah."

"And it's been trying to go faster and harder, too. Would it just keep doing that?"

"'Til that chick dies of an aneurysm, or falls out, or something, yeah."

Wallflower bit her lip, hesitating. "In that case, I think I have an idea. You see all those supports holding up the track? I need you to—" 

A sudden, sharp tug interrupted Wallflower, and she heaved back in response, the strain evident in her voice. 

"—Take your end of the scarf, and wind it around as many of them as you can. The joints, the beams – just, all of it."

"This thing's stretchy, Fluffy, but I don't know if it's quite that stretchy."

"Kyubey said not to think about that. Hopefully it'll be enough." Wallflower chuckled nervously. "And, uh, do me a favor, don't let go of that until I say so. I'm pretty sure I'd get sling-shotted into the horizon."

"That'd be a sight," said Lorelai dryly. "Alright, lemme see what I can do."

The comforting warmth behind Wallflower vanished, as did the bulging arms in her peripheral vision. A disappointing, but necessary, loss.

Lorelai moved quickly, diving up and down the metal supports like a jungle gym, and leaping the vast distances between sections of track with an ease that left Wallflower jealous. The scarf lengthened and kept lengthening as Lorelai weaved it around the roller coaster. 

“Hey!” she cried after a moment, from somewhere far below. “This good enough?”

Wallflower looked down and saw a criss-crossing tangle of intersecting lines between the struts and supports, a hellish cat's cradle woven from her scarf. She again tried to whistle, and, again, failed.

"I think that'll work, yeah," she thought, hoping Kyubey was still close enough for telepathy to work.

"Awesome!" called Lorelai. "What now?"

"You just dug this thing's grave. As soon as we let go, she'll do us a favor and hop inside. But first..." She licked the salty sweat off her upper lip. "The lady on the train – I need you to get her out of here."

"What, the witch-food?"

"That's a person," Wallflower snapped. "And I told you, she comes before everything else. Now, will you do it, or not?"

Lorelai didn't answer right away. Wallflower imagined her sighing, disgruntled. "What about you?" she said eventually.

"You get the girl, and I'll finish Jack-Jack," Wallflower thought. "And before you say anything, no – we're not trading places." 

"I wasn't gonna ask. If your plan is what I think it is, then I wouldn't want to be standing where you are when this thing comes down. You gonna be okay?"

"You know, I'm not sure, exactly." Lightly, she added, "If I die, I'll owe you brinner."

Another pause, longer this time. "I'll need to drop the shield if I'm gonna have enough magic to get back up there, and get to safety. That's at least five seconds where you'll be vulnerable."

"Just give me a head's up before you go." Wallflower paused. "You know, telepathy would be easier than yelling."

"Shutting the hell up is easier than both! Takes zero effort, in fact!" A ripple ran through the scarf's length – Lorelai giving it a shake. "I'm about to let go of this thing. Count down from three, okay?"

"Got it." Wallflower smiled, knowing Lorelai couldn't see. "Thank you for doing this."

"I'm just in this for the brinner! Not sure how you'll make good on that offer if you're dead, though." Her laugh, faint as it was, echoed up to Wallflower. "Start counting down."

Wallflower squared her jaw, tensed her legs, and tightened her grip on the scarf, silently counting down.

Three. Two.

She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. 

No more Moondancers.

The harp-shield vanished, Lorelai dropped the scarf, and Wallflower's whole body lurched against the wooden cross-board. With all of her strength, Wallflower pulled back, and somehow avoided being sling-shotted into the horizon.

Sweat-matted bangs blocked her vision, so Wallflower gave her head a toss, clearing her eyes just enough to spot Lorelai sprinting up the rail like a tightrope. Jack-Jack launched a volley of rockets toward her, but she skidded underneath them; aided by magic, she grinded up the incline, a trail of green sparks flying from the soles of her boots. Once she got close enough, she stopped, pivoted, and leaped onto the train with the victim.

She hesitated, and Wallflower wondered if she would end things right then and there, the way she wanted to. But, finally, Lorelai gathered the lady up bridal-style and leaped away, trailed by rockets.

Wallflower watched them recede into the distance, until they vanished completely. Jack-Jack moved to the edge of its car and leaned over, trying to spot them. 

It seemed to have forgotten Wallflower entirely.

Now or never.

She let go of the scarf and fell backward off the track, watching grimly at the chaos unfolding above.

Jack-Jack had never stopped pulling back on the scarf, always upping the ante with more speed, more strength. No longer restrained, it rocketed upward like an artillery shell, propelled by all the force the train could muster. Jack-Jack, still leaning out of its seat, was sent flying, and plummeted to the grid tiles far below.

The train continued without Jack-Jack, launching with enough force to break free of the track, and shoot into the horizon.

It dragged half the superstructure with it.

A horrible shriek of rending metal and splitting wood filled the air, the sound of dozens of support struts snapping and bolts popping out of their sockets and wooden boards splitting into pieces. It formed a tangled knot of metal that catapulted forward, ripping its way up the track's incline.

Without its supports, the rest of the track wavered and wiggled, and then fell apart like a crashing wave.

Wallflower landed on a balloon, barely big enough to balance one foot on. More balloons rose from the tiles below, funneled up through the disintegrating column of the roller coaster.

A shadow fell over her, growing darker and looming larger. She leaped down to the second balloon, just in time for a jagged chunk of metal to tear through the first.

Wreckage from the coaster rained from above, a storm of twisted steel. Wallflower leapfrogged from balloon to balloon, making her way toward the rapidly growing debris field far below, and praying that nothing bigger than a lug nut hit her on the head.

Kyubey was waiting for her at the bottom of the labyrinth, seated on top of a mount of junk. He stared up at Wallflower, unblinking and blissfully serene.

Lorelai was right. He's pretty hard to get rid of, isn't he?

She jumped the remaining distance and landed in front of Kyubey, her foot narrowly missing a jagged, dagger-shaped piece of rail. Wincing, she said, "Say I make it out of here. Will I need a tetanus shot?"

"Is that an attempt at humor? Or are you asking earnestly? In either case, the answer is no." Kyubey flicked his tail. "That was a bold strategy. Very creative."

"It's only bold and creative if it pays off." Wallflower looked around the carnage of the debris field, straining to spot any sign of Jack-Jack. A glint of light off its shiny skin, a flash of color from the goo swirling in its skull...

Something long and soft fell over her head, blinding her behind a red, velvety veil. 

"Oh." Wallflower pulled the scarf off of her face. "I wondered where this got off to." 

The knots and loops had come undone at some point, leaving behind a single, absurdly long bolt of cloth. A green glow surrounded the scarf and it retracted into a far more manageable length – a practically scarf-sized scarf.

"It's fortunate that your scarf has returned to you," said Kyubey. "You'll need it."

A nearby pile of metal and wood exploded like a volcano, sending debris in all directions. Wallflower threw herself in front of Kyubey, shielding him with her body as a fusillade of rockets exploded against her. She grunted with every impact, staggering, dropping to her knees.

Still, despite the force of every blast, she found herself unscathed. Her clothes singed, and her face sizzled where sparks caught her, but the pain barely registered. 

What was I even afraid of up there? she thought. Maybe I would've fallen if it hit me while I was hanging from the train... but damn, I'm a lot more resilient than I thought.

That didn't mean the rockets weren't incredibly irritating, though.

She peered through the haze that the fireworks created, and saw Jack-Jack atop the severed front half of the train's engine, no worse for wear. The rest of its body was just as round and pudgy as its head: stumpy arms and legs, and a tail like a cat's raised over its head. More gobs of sludge, blue, green, and yellow, floated behind its transparent skin as it flung rockets from a rapidly vanishing pile at its feet. 

The bombardment ceased as Jack-Jack finally ran out. It groped vainly for an unspent rocket, staring at Wallflower with its featureless face. 

Wallflower, her clothes still smoking, dug her feet in, gripped her scarf, and pulled it taut.

Jack-Jack responded by turning, hopping off the engine, and bolting as fast as its pudgy little legs could carry it.

"No you don't!" Wallflower snapped, cracking the scarf toward Jack-Jack. She lassoed the monster tightly around its bubbly torso, and Jack-Jack contorted like a water balloon. All of its fluid rushed to its head and legs, making them bulge and swell grotesquely.

With a flick of her wrist, Wallflower reeled Jack-Jack in. It bounced and thumped against debris, huffing and chirping in pain with every impact, until it finally stopped rolling at Wallflower's feet.

It turned its head to regard her, twitching its tail and chittering softly. Wallflower got the distinct feeling it was asking for mercy.

Wallflower had none. She was angry, angry at the lives this thing had taken, angry at the hail of rockets it pelted her with, angry at everything it'd put her through. And the sight of its pathetic begging only made her angrier. 

Curling her lips in disgust, she pulled on the scarf, tightening it around Jack-Jack's body; she planted her heel on Jack-Jack's head and pushed, feeling the skin contort beneath her foot.

Jack-Jack squirmed harder, impotent and helpless. Its chittering dried up into a thin, choked sound – a sob that pierced Wallflower, and sent a cold feeling through her chest. Her eyes widened, and she stopped pulling, easing her foot off Jack-Jack's head.

What is this...? 

She pressed her hand to her chest, felt her heart hammering. 

Do I actually feel sorry for this thing?

She glared down at Jack-Jack, bound and helpless at her feet. 

"All those people you killed, all those lives you ruined so that you could stuff your face on their misery... and here I am, pitying you. You brought this on yourself, and yet I'm pitying you." 

Tears burned her eyes. She wiped them with her sleeve, laughing bitterly.

What would Sunset say, if she could see me now?

A shadow fell over Wallflower, then; she looked up to see a silhouetted shape plunging down. A wave of magically conjured wind cleared the debris from a spot beside Wallflower, and Lorelai landed, crouching to absorb the fall. She had something in her hand: a familiar ring of green-tinted metal.

"Found your chakram," she said, straightening her skirt as she stood. "You can have it back if you promise to stop calling it a chalk zone."

She offered the weapon to Wallflower, who took it in hand, resolving on that spot to refer to it as 'Chalk Zone' thenceforth. 

"I told you to get the girl out of here," she said. She paused to clear her throat, hoping she didn't sound like she'd been crying. "What happened?"

"Uh, I got the girl out of here. It only took like, a second." Lorelai cocked her hip, smirking. "You thought I wasn't coming back?"

She certainly hadn't expected it from someone who'd earlier said that rescuing the girl at all would be a waste of time and energy. "Would you blame me, after what the way you talked before?"

"Y'know what? Fair enough." Frowning, Lorelai glanced down at Jack-Jack and conjured a large crossbow with a flick of her wrist, resting the weapon's length on her forearm. "You shouldn't let this thing dangle on the hook for too long, y'know."

Wallflower flexed her fingers against Chalk Zone's grip. She looked down at the weapon, watching the pink light glint off its blades. In its reflection, from somewhere behind her, she saw a pair of beady red lights – Kyubey's eyes, staring holes into her back.

Swallowing, she nodded, and raised her weapon over Jack-Jack's head. The familiar flailed more intensely, squirming in vain against the scarf.

"No regrets," Lorelai murmured.

Closing her eyes, Wallflower swung her weapon down. 

She didn't see it happen, but she felt Jack-Jack's head pop like a zit, felt the gobs of goo evacuate its body, flecking her skin and her clothes. She opened her eyes and watched, morbidly fascinated, as the empty sack of skin deflated.

Dazed, Wallflower gave the scarf a tug; it unraveled, and retracted back into her hand. Chalk Zone's blades dripped with colorful gore. She saw her face in the reflection, spotted with gobs of Jack-Jack.

The air shifted and wiggled around them, the same way it had when Briar Rose died, when Miranda ran away. The amusement park and rides and debris faded away.

Wallflower didn't see it happen. She couldn't take her eyes off her reflection.

When she finally looked up, the labyrinth had vanished, and they were back on the stage in the abandoned amphitheater. The sky still shone blue overhead, tinged with the first hints of sunset orange. Distant screams and cheers echoed through the air from the Flying Golem, loaded with thrill-seekers and adrenaline junkies.

Somehow, the prospect of riding it wasn't appealing anymore.

She felt a strong hand grip her shoulder. "Are you okay?" said Lorelai.

Wallflower sniffed. She re-buttoned herself and wrapped her scarf back around her neck, fumbling to stuff it down her coat without dropping Chalk Zone.

"Just a little tired." Her voice was choked with emotions she couldn't quite put a name to. "Where's the lady?"

"Front row, center," said Lorelai. "Literal spittin' distance."

Wallflower looked and saw her laid out on the marble bench, ramrod-straight with her hands folded over her breast. Her dark hair splayed out beneath her head; her face showed no emotion, no sign of life. 

A chill spidered down Wallflower’s back. 

“I know her," she whispered. "That's the bus driver. The one Sunset and I met the other night."

"Workin' two crummy jobs in a city like this?" Lorelai whistled. "Yeah, that'll make you witch food, alright." 

Wallflower ignored the remark and dug her hand under her scarf to grip her soul gem. "Is she—?"

"She's just unconscious. She'll wake up, and this'll all seem like a bad dream."

In a flash of green, Lorelai shifted back to street clothes. She stepped closer to the would-be victim and regarded her with a pensive stare. 

"Lucky her," she added. She wrapped a curl of hair tightly around a finger.

A gentle breeze whispered past, ruffling the edges of Wallflower's coat and skirt. "Are you okay?"

"Just thinking, that's all." She let her curl bounce back into shape and stuck her hand in her pocket. A moment later, she pulled something out: a small, black bead, tipped with a spike and crowned with an emblem not so different from the one on Jack-Jack's barrier.

Wallflower peered closely at it. "Is that...?"

"A grief seed." Lorelai balanced the spike against her fingertip and the seed spun slowly. "I have a few spares – just didn't want to use any up here." 

She drew her other hand out of her pocket and pulled out her soul gem, its green glow clouded with muddy darkness. When she tapped the seed against the gem, that darkness vanished, and the grief seed darkened considerably.

Lorelai looked at the grief seed for a moment, then tossed it to Wallflower, who flailed to catch it with her free hand.

"Should be good for one more use," said Lorelai.

Wallflower held the seed in her hand, felt it thrumming beneath its smooth, glassy surface. She tapped it against her soul gem, hidden again behind her scarf, and watched the seed darken even more. 

All the fatigue left her body. She handed the seed back to Lorelai, who tossed it over her shoulder without looking. 

Kyubey leaped up, seemingly from nowhere, and intercepted the seed with his ear-appendages. A hole opened within the red circle on his back, and he tossed the seed inside, sighing.

Huh. So that's how he gets rid of them.

Shaking her head, she looked at Lorelai. "Thanks."

"You earned it." Lorelai turned to face Wallflower, a melancholy half-smile on her face. "How's it feel, getting your first kill?"

The word made Wallflower cringe. She clenched her hands and pulled her arms tight against her body, shrinking away from Lorelai and shutting her eyes. 

"I..." She squeezed her eyes closed, her breathing starting to pick up. "I..."

Strong hands gripped her arms, and Wallflower froze. Opening her eyes, she looked up to find Lorelai standing close. 

"The first one's always a doozy, I know. But witches aren't worth your tears. You saved someone's life today – be proud of that. Okay?"

Wallflower swallowed, hard, as her brief moment of panic faded. She dabbed her sleeve against her eyes again – she had started to cry again, hadn't she? – and nodded.

A wide, genuine smile spread across Lorelai's face. 

"Atta girl."

The warmth in her voice sent a familiar, fluttery feeling through Wallflower's tummy.

She's pretty when she smiles.

Squeezing one last time, Lorelai stepped away from Wallflower, her smile shifting into a wry smirk. "I hope you're not thinking of wearing that for the rest of the day."

"Hm?" Wallflower looked down at her magical girl outfit, and chuckled. "Oh, right."

She shut her eyes. A tingling sensation ran down her body; she saw a flash of light through her eyelids, and when she looked down, her magical girl outfit was gone. She was again as she was before: dressed in plain, unassuming, frumpy clothes.

A quick pat of her cheeks confirmed that the bits of Jack-Jack were gone, too. Inwardly, she sighed, relieved.

"Now what?" said Wallflower. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling smaller in her street clothes. Lorelai may have been teasing, but all things considered, she wished she could have stayed in her magical girl form.

Lorelai shrugged. "We get the hell out of here before we get busted for trespassing. Which, honestly, wouldn't be a major inconvenience, but it's not something I want to deal with after a fight."

Biting her lip, Wallflower glanced at the unconscious woman. "Shouldn't we...?"

"Nah." Lorelai tossed her head, sending her curls flying, then hopped off the edge of the stage, into the pit below. "C'mon, let's get out of here. I promised you a cherry turnover, remember?"

Wallflower frowned – she recalled a pie, and not a promise, per se, but she wasn't about to turn down free food. So, with a lingering look at the would-be victim, she followed Lorelai back up the path out of the amphitheater.
 
Her gaze landed on the Rainbooms' poster at the box office, on Sunset's smiling face.

See, Sunset? Wallflower thought. I can save people, too.





They found a concession stand in Cherrybud Meadow, the same one where Wallflower tried her first churro as a little girl. She almost ordered one now, but felt guilty getting anything besides a turnover, and settled for that while Lorelai bought a cherry slushie. For some reason, she shelled out extra for a souvenir mug: a barrel of moonshine, with Hickory Switch's face on the side, superimposed over a trio of Xs. A straw shaped like the twin barrels of a shotgun poked from the lid, which made Wallflower wonder what self-respecting hayseed would store guns and liquor in the same place.

I'm probably thinking too hard about it, she thought as Lorelai paid for their treats.

The cashier, who wore no mask – probably to avoid frightening children in Cherrybud Meadow – took Lorelei’s money with a smile. "Would you like to donate fifty cents to Hick's Heroes today? All proceeds go toward finding a cure for leukemia."

Lorelai sipped from her straws, and looked at the cashier with half-lidded eyes. "You're supposed to ask me that before I pay, not after," she said.

She strode away, never seeing the cashier's face fall.

Wallflower did a double-take, looking between the retreating Lorelai, the crestfallen employee, and Kyubey, who'd once more found a place on her shoulder. She fumbled in her pocket for a fistful of crumpled money – she had at least six bucks on her – and dropped it all on the counter, mumbling an apology. Then she hurried to catch up with Lorelai, who'd found a nearby bench to sit on. 

Lorelai looked up coolly at Wallflower, gently pulling and pushing her straw in and out of the cup.

"That donation stuff's a scam, y'know," she said. "They just use it as a tax write-off. You're better off keeping your money."

"They can write off whatever they want, as long as it goes where they say it's going," she countered, plopping down beside her. Kyubey hopped from her shoulder, onto her lap.

Lorelai scoffed, but made no rebuttal. She pulled the shotgun-straw from the novelty cup, and watched red ice drip onto the lid. "This is pretty tasteless," she remarked

Wallflower scratched a few grains of sugar off the turnover's surface. Kyubey caught them in his mouth. "The straw?"

"That too." She stuck the barrels back into the mug, and drew in another sip, watching Wallflower tuck into the turnover. "You handled yourself pretty well back there, you know."

"I dun fink sho," said Wallflower through a mouthful of pastry. She swallowed before continuing. "Maybe at the end, yeah, but the first few minutes were pretty touch and go. I mean, you only showed up when I fell, right? You missed me almost turning into a human pinata."

"No, I saw that. I saw most of it, actually; I came in almost right after you."

"You— what?" Wallflower looked down at Kyubey. "Did you notice her? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Lorelai asked me not to," Kyubey chirped. "She said she wanted to—"

Wallflower silenced him with a flick to the face, making him sniff and blink. She took a big bite of her turnover and turned away. Her mouth was too full for her to harrumph, but she hoped she got the message across.

Lorelai sighed and nudged Wallflower's shoulder, making her stiffen. 

"I wanted to see what you'd do when you weren't putting on a show. And when you're not acting like a goddamn cartoon character, you're pretty good. You learn fast, you're a quick thinker... you got a lot of potential."

Mollified, though still a bit ashamed – Lorelai was there for all of Wallflower's fumblings and pitfalls, after all – Wallflower swallowed, and said, "I didn't know you cared."

"Yeah, you did. You saw right through me." Lorelai crossed her knees, straightening her back primly. "I will admit to feeling a slight sense of responsibility where you're concerned. You happy?"

Wallflower shrugged, and tucked a thick clump of hair behind her ear. "So, that stuff before, about not wanting to waste time fighting Jack-Jack, not caring about what happened to the people it captured... that was, what, a test of character?"

Lorelai kept her face expressionless. "You can think of it that way."

That wasn't the answer Wallflower was hoping to hear. Her disappointment must have shown on her face, because Lorelai immediately sighed, and sagged in her seat.

"Look... if it makes you feel any better, I probably would have—"

Wallflower bolted from her seat, accidentally throwing Kyubey off her lap. "Probably?"

"Lower your voice," Lorelai hissed, glancing around quickly – Wallflower's sudden yell had drawn a couple of stares. She took Wallflower by the wrist and pulled her, gently, back toward the bench.

Wallflower settled back down on the bench, smouldering.

After checking to ensure that nobody was still looking, Lorelai continued in a softer tone. "Finding out that Jack-Jack already lured someone inside changed the situation. I would have gone in, okay? I just needed a second to think about it, that's all."

"Think about what? Why the indecision? We're—" Wallflower's voice was starting to climb again; she paused to collect herself before continuing in a softer tone. "We're magical girls, Lorelai. We're supposed to protect people, save them from witches. If someone's life is on the line, then we shouldn't have to think about it."

"Sometimes," said Lorelai evenly. "Then again, sometimes, you have to." 

"What does that mean?"

Lorelai ran her fingertips down the shotgun's barrels, wiping droplets of condensation off the plastic, and rubbing them into her palm. She stared down the barrels, into the cup, for a long time.

"I've been doing this job for years now. I've learned a lot of lessons the hard way. One of the hardest is that, quite frankly, you can't save everybody."

"But that woman—"

"Quick thought experiment, Fluffy. Assume I hadn't followed you into the labyrinth, and you were still able to kill Jack-Jack alone." Lorelai flicked her gaze toward Wallflower. "If I hadn't been there afterward to spot you a grief seed, what would you have done?" 

Wallflower tried to stammer a response. She mustered a few weakly croaked syllables, and let the sentence hang unfinished.

Lorelai went back to playing with the straw, not looking up at Wallflower.

"You might still have saved that woman's life, and that's all well and good. But if you ran into a real witch, with another life on the line? Maybe more than one? Without a grief seed, when your magic's running on fumes?"

"That'll happen sooner or later anyway," said Wallflower. "As long as I can save whoever's in danger, what does it matter?"

"Thinking like that will get you killed. Sooner, not later." 

Lorelai pulled the gun barrels from the cup, and leveled them at Wallflower, who recoiled as though they were real, and not novelty plastic. A bit of red mush dripped from the tip onto the bench.

Kyubey immediately darted over to lap up the spillage.

"You wanna save lives," said Lorelai. "I get that. But you won't save anybody by wasting all of your magic hunting small-fries with no reward. You let 'em get away, sometimes, and you make it up somewhere else – save more lives down the line. End of the day, it's still a net win for us." 

She pushed the straws back into the cup, swirling its contents around. 

"Sometimes, you just gotta do the math, and figure out if it's really worth it. And, sometimes, it isn't."

It wasn't as if Wallflower couldn't follow Lorelai's logic. It made sense, really.

Even so...

"I get what you're saying," said Wallflower, as Kyubey brushed against her ankles. She dropped the turnover to the ground, and he immediately went at it, nibbling ferociously. "But if you'd had your way, that girl would have died back there. It doesn't matter how many people you and I saved after that. She'd be dead. You can't just—"

Her voice broke. She stopped, sniffling, and clamped her mouth over her hand.

It can't ever be a numbers game.

Wallflower wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"I can't walk away from someone if I know that I can save them. No matter what it does to me, or what I stand to lose." Her thoughts went back to Moondancer's portrait on the easel, and the candles in the yard at that stupid, phony vigil... 

...And Cadance, with the glass shard at her throat. 

"Even if it kills me," she said, her voice firm again. "I'll never let someone else die."

Something in Lorelai's face shifted. Her eyes widened a bit, her lips tugging upward in another smirk.

Then she broke into a fit of giggles – she had dimples when she laughed – and bowed her head.

Wallflower shifted uncomfortably, looking around. "People are starting to stare again..."

"I... I'm sorry, Fluffy. I'm not laughing at you, I swear." Lorelai brushed her hair back, now smiling fully, like she had as the labyrinth collapsed. "You reminded me of someone just now, that's all."

Wallflower felt her cheeks burn. "A good someone?"

A heartbeat passed before Lorelai answered, softly.

"Yeah. A good someone."

Wallflower scratched her cheek, suddenly remembering that she had hands, and no idea what to do with them. She felt Kyubey scamper up her leg, back onto her shoulder, and watched Lorelai's expression sour again.

Lorelai stood abruptly, tossed her novelty cup into a nearby trash can, and beckoned Wallflower with a jerk of her head. Wallflower rose, and together, they retraced their steps toward the park entrance.

"Okay, another lesson," said Lorelai as they went. "Magical girls are a suspicious, territorial lot. You don't poach marks, and you don't go hunting on another girl's turf in the first place. If you do, and they're okay with it, then you damn well better follow their rules."

Wallflower frowned. "There are a lot more angles to this witch-hunting stuff than I thought there'd be."

"Aren't you glad I'm here to explain 'em?" Lorelai swept a hand through her curls. "But my point is, this is your city, which means I gotta play by your rules. If you say I gotta stop to save everyone in danger, not just pick fights that we know will get me a grief seed, then that's how I'm gonna do things. As long as I'm here, and as long as we're working together."

Wallflower felt a smile creep onto her face. She hurried to fall in step beside Lorelai, instead of just trailing after her. "Working together?"

"For now, anyway. Like I said, I feel responsible for you." Lorelai winked at her. "Just don't make a habit out of hunting just familiars. In all seriousness, it's pretty draining. Martyrdom is an expensive hobby."

"You have extra seeds, right?"

"Spares, yes, but I'm not full of 'em. What am I, a pumpkin?"

They wound their way through the park, passing familiar sights and landmarks, until they reached the park gates again. A grinning Hickory Switch cut-out waited beside the exit, bidding them to come back sometime soon.

Wallflower doubted she would. Lorelai was right – amusement parks just didn't have the same allure anymore. 

Once they were outside, Lorelai took a long, deep breath of fresh air, and let it out, smiling. "Y'know, against all odds, I actually had a good time today. Maybe you were right back there – today wasn't a waste after all."

"I mean..." Wallflower fidgeted. "Miranda's still out there, isn't she?"

"She is. But she won't be a threat again tonight. She spent a lot of magic trying to kill you, and ran off before she could finish her meal – she doesn't have it in her for a second hunt." Lorelai stuck her hands in her pockets and drew herself up. "So, what do we do now? Night's still young."

"Maybe for you." Wallflower squinted up at the sun, now angling steeply toward the horizon. "I gotta get home."

"Why? You got something to do in the morning?"

"Well, school, for one." Wallflower chuckled. "Kinda blew it off today."

Lorelai scoffed. "Blow it off tomorrow, too." 

The thought was certainly in the back of Wallflower's mind. Still...

"...I really shouldn't," she sighed. "I've got homework from as far back as Friday. I was so focused on Moondancer this weekend that it didn't seem that important."

She cast a glance back at Hick's, and at the towering Golem in the distance. 

It still doesn't, honestly.

When she looked back at Lorelai, she saw a deliberative expression on her face.

"Nah, screw that," she said. "You're crashing with me tonight. Tomorrow, I'm buying you breakfast, and then we're going shopping."

"Sh— shopping?" Wallflower's eyes widened. "I can't just— shopping? Tomorrow? Shopping tomorrow?"

Lorelai's lips twisted. "Mm, you're right. If you're gonna be staying over, then we're gonna need to pick you up a change of clothes first. So, shopping first, then—"

"I didn't say I was gonna sleep with you!" Wallflower blurted. Cringing, she amended, "I mean, spend the night with you. I mean—"

"It's just a sleepover, Fluffy," said Lorelai, trying, and failing, to keep amusement out of her voice. "You've never had a slumber party before?"

"Um..." Wallflower fidgeted. "Kinda... not really, no."

"Oh." That seemed to take Lorelai aback; she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Parents won't let you?"

"No, I just – I mean, Mom won't mind." She'd probably be relieved, if anything, that Wallflower could both get an invite to a sleepover, and overcome her anxiety enough to take it. "Still..."

"Look, I don't blame you for wanting to stay in school," said Lorelai. "Hell, if my high school was as nice as yours, I might've kept going." 

She paused while Wallflower giggled.

"But," she continued, "if these witches go hunting during the day, then you're a lot more useful to the world when you're not cooped up in a classroom. We're still gonna be on the clock tomorrow, so we might as well enjoy ourselves a bit before then."

Wallflower thought about the books and binders and notebooks in her backpack, weighing her down day in and day out, and the pile of homework waiting for her in her room...

And then, she shook her head, and shoved it all out of her mind.

"Okay, sure," she said, smiling. She'd text her mom later with a heads-up – she'd be pulling a late shift tonight, so Wallflower doubted she'd see her anyway, but it was the courteous thing to do.

Lorelai grinned, making Wallflower's heart patter. "Dinner and shopping first?"

As appealing as that sounded, there was something else Wallflower had to take care of, first – a bit of unfinished business that her conversation with Lorelai had reminded her of. She took out her phone and thumbed an address into her map app,

"Dinner and shopping second," she said. "I need to check up on... on a friend."





Cadance's hospital room had a westerly view, facing out toward the heart of downtown. Amber rays of evening sunlight washed through the window, peeking from between buildings, and painting the room in golden tones.

Wallflower Blush stood in the open doorway, a vase of carnations in her arms, at war with herself. She wanted to come inside – and, at the same time, she wanted to slink away and hide.

Sunset and Twilight sat in chairs at the foot of her bed, both holding bundles of get-well-soon balloons. They conversed with Cadance in that gently patronizing, well-meaning way that people spoke to hospital patients, too softly for Wallflower to hear.

Wallflower almost left before being noticed, but Sunset chanced to look at the doorway, mid-sentence. Whatever thought she was voicing cut off abruptly, as her face went blank from surprise. Then Twilight looked, too, and Cadance...

"Wallflower Blush?" Fatigue, and two days without so much as brushing her hair, wore plainly on Cadance, but she still radiated warmth and beauty as much as she had at the Friendship Games. "Please, come in!" 

Wallflower glanced at Lorelai, who leaned against the wall beside the door, arms folded.

Lorelai shrugged.

Biting her lip, Wallflower edged inside, her hands trembling around the vase. "I, uh... I brought you some carnations. As, um, a get-well-soon gift. I remember you said you liked them, once. When we talked at the Friendship Games."

"They're my very most favorite flower in the world, in fact! I'm amazed you remembered." Cadance beamed at her. "I'm also amazed that nobody else thought to bring me any, including my fiance, and my sister-in-law-to-be."

Twilight chuckled, blushing. "I thought Shiny would bring you some."

"He said the same about you. Funny how that works." Cadance thumbed the button on the bed's console to raise the mattress, and beckoned Wallflower closer. "Are these from your garden at school?"

"Uh, no. From the, um." Wallflower glanced briefly at Sunset, met her eyes, immediately regretted doing so. "From the gift shop. Sorry. I meant to bring you some from my garden, but—"

"That's alright. These are beautiful, too." She gestured to the bedside table. "Right here, okay?"

Wallflower set the vase down, nudging the corded phone out of the way to make room. With nothing to busy her hands anymore, she wrung them together and tried not to stare at the bandage on Cadance's neck. 

"I wasn't sure you'd still be here, but the front desk said, um, that they weren't... I mean, that you... uh... the secretary didn't know why you weren't—"

"Receptionist," Sunset muttered.

Cadance gave Sunset a look, then smiled knowingly at Wallflower. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you. They want to get me a consult from an OBGYN before they discharge me."

"A... a gynecologist?" Wallflower blinked. “Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine. I'm just pregnant, is all." She laughed. "What a way to find out, huh?"

"I get to be an auntie," Twilight sang, under her breath.

Cadance shot her a quick, loving look.

"I was actually hoping I'd see you, soon, so that I could tell you," she said to Wallflower. "Because I need to thank you and Sunset again. If you hadn't been in the right place at the right time..." 

She stroked her belly, smiling down tenderly.

"...I would have died without ever learning about this little blessing." 

Wallflower thought about the woman on the bench in the amphitheater. She met Sunset's gaze again, and this time, it was Sunset who looked away.

To the ring on Wallflower's finger. Her eyes narrowed.

Wallflower folded her other hand over the ring, gripping tightly.

A frown came over Cadance's face, and she leaned forward in bed, looking toward the door. "Is there someone else outside? Did you bring a friend? She can come in, too, you know."

Wallflower looked, and saw Lorelai peeking her head into the doorway. Icy blue eyes flicked between all the faces in the room before settling on Sunset Shimmer. 

Part of Wallflower had hoped that she could reconcile Sunset and Lorelai. That the two of them could be friends. That they could all be friends, and all work together. Then she saw the way the two girls glared at each other, the way Sunset's fists clenched on her thighs, her knuckles bone-white. She remembered the way Sunset looked at her ring, the disapproval in her eyes.

And she realized how stupid she was for thinking that way.
> Interlude - Pasta al Forno
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You ever think about how dangerous restaurants are?” Lorelai asked, spinning a butter knife between her fingers. “They sit you down in a dark room at a table lined with sharp objects, then leave you to starve. I could leap across this table and stab you right now, y’know? And who could blame me? I’m not the one who brought the weapon.”

Wallflower stared. “I’m not starving,” she said through a half-eaten breadstick.

“Well,” Lorelai muttered, “I guess there are benefits to bringing granola bars to a witch fight.”

Not that Lorelai would know. She had a strict policy about keeping meals and witches separate — nothing could ruin a good filet mignon more than worrying about getting your throat slashed. And Lorelai hadn’t heard of this Olive Garden® restaurant before, but Wallflower swore it was the best Italian joint in town.

But they’d been sitting in that dimly lit dining room for half-an-hour, with naught to show for it but room temperature water and an empty breadstick basket.

Lorelai drummed her fingers on the table. “Great service here. How many Michelin stars does this place have again?”

“I dunno, I didn’t check Yelp.” Wallflower looked around at the families that filled the tables surrounding them, smiling and laughing and scarfing down fettuccine. “It’s pretty busy tonight though. I’m surprised we got in without a reservation — this place is, like, super fancy!”

“Yeah?” Loreai said, eyes frozen on a nearby man’s tomato sauce-stained Spider-Man t-shirt. “Doesn’t really look that way to me.”

“C’mon, you can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

“Nice cliche.” Lorelai slid her gaze over to Wallflower. “But in our line of work, it pays to strike first, ask questions later.”

“Okay, edgy… Edgy McEdgerson.” Wallflower paused for a moment then asked, “By the way, what if I started calling you ‘Canon?’”

“Excuse me?”

“I figure it’s like this,” Wallflower said, spreading her hands over an invisible schematic diagram in front of her. “Your name is Lorelai. I keep wanting to shorten it to ‘Lore.’ And when I think of lore, I think of video games and stuff, y’know? And stuff that’s in a game’s lore is part of the canon.”

Lorelai stared.

Wallflower smiled back. “Also you shoot crossbows, which are sorta like cannons, but not.”

“No.” Lorelai shook her head. “Definitely not. No.”

“Aw, why not?” Wallflower said, putting on puppy-dog eyes. “It’s such a cool name! And you’re always calling me Fluffy.”

“If you call me that I’m going to shoot you.”

Groaning, Wallflower slumped back in her chair. “Fine… But I’m keeping you listed as ‘Canon’ in my phone.”

Before Lorelai could leap across the table and strangle her, a man appeared from the linguini-scented air. “Hello ladies,” he chirped, pouring out more water for them. “Ready to order?”

“Finally.” Lorelai snapped her water-ringed menu up. “Okay, question: I see here you’ve got a ‘Five Cheese Ziti al Forno,’ but the actual cheeses you use aren’t listed anywhere. I assume it’s got parmesan, mozzarella — what are the rest? Pecorino? Taleggio? Fontina d'Aosta?”

The waiter — his nametag read ‘Paper Plate’ in smudged black marker — took a long breath, smile faltering for just a moment. “You know, I’m not quite sure!” he eventually said with a grin. “I’d have to ask the chef, but you know, I bet you’re on the right track there.”

Lorelai snorted. “Right. Well I’m not ready to wait on you for another hour, so why don’t you put me down for the asiago tortelloni alfredo,” she said, pinching her fingers in the air for emphasis. 

The waiter reached for her menu, but before he could take it Lorelai pointed down at her order again and smirked. “By the way, I think this should be tortellini, not ‘tortelloni.’ Tell your copywriter she’s welcome.”

Paper Plate just grit his teeth, nodded, and turned to Wallflower. “And you, miss?”

“Chicken scampi, please.” Wallflower handed her menu to him. “Thank you!”

“And anything to drink?”

“I’d love a glass of pineapple juice,” Wallflower said. “You’ve still got pineapple juice, right?”

Lorelai scoffed. “Really? This is a fine Italian eatery, not a Hawaiian barbeque.”

“I know that!” Wallflower said. “Pineapple juice goes great with everything!”

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai turned to their waiter. “What white wine pairs best with my order, do you think?”

“Asiago tortelloni alfredo, chicken scampi, pineapple juice,” Paper Plate recited, scribbling into a small notebook. “Got it. I’ll be back with your drinks in a jiff!”

He walked away, disappearing back into the lasagna-scented air and leaving Lorelai with her mouth hanging open — but she quickly shut her yap and took a drink of water.

Must be grabbing a bottle of the chef’s choice.

“How do you know so many cheeses?” Wallflower asked. “I never pegged you for a dairy queen.”

“No one pegs me,” Lorelai snapped. She picked up her knife and started flipping it between her fingers again. “My uncle owned a villa in the mountains near Rome. My parents would take me there in the summers when I was younger.”

“Really? That’s hella cool.”

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. “Hella?”

“Hella,” Wallflower said with a sagely nod. “What’d you do there?”

“I ate cheese. A lot of it.” Lorelai smiled. “The town my uncle lived in had more cows than people. You couldn’t walk a block without smelling them — or hearing them. Do you know what sound a cow makes?”

Wallflower blinked. “Is this a trick question?”

“Sort of,” Lorelai said. “They don’t moo. They scream. They scream and scream and scream all through the night, and you can’t ever block out the noise.”

“Oh jeez.” Wallflower frowned. “You think they figured out why they were there? Like, they knew they were gonna get eaten?”

“No. Cows are really stupid.”

Wallflower’s frown morphed into a glower. “You’re no fun.”

“You think that cows begging not to get chopped up into hamburger meat is fun?” Lorelai asked, throwing a hand to her heart. “My god. What kind of psycho are you?”

“What? No, no,” Wallflower said, eyes going wide. “That’s not what I meant!”

With a tsk tsk, Lorelai leaned across the table and stole all of Wallflower’s silverware. “Remind me never to trust you with a knife again! You might hurt somebody.”

Wallflower pouted. “Could I at least get my spoon ba—”

“The point here is,” Lorelai said, jabbing Wallflower’s spoon at her, “I know a lot about Italy, and Italian food, and Italian cheeses. More than most people. So when I point out a typo on the menu, they should listen! I know what I’m talking about! Right?”

“Right.”

“Right,” Lorelai repeated. “You ever been to Italy?”

Wallflower shook her head. “I’ve never even been out of the country.”

“No wonder you ordered pineapple juice.” Lorelai grinned. “If you could visit any country, right now, where would you go?”

Wallflower’s face lit up. “I’ve always wanted to go to—”

“Don’t say Japan.”

Silence.

It took a good ten seconds for Wallflower to continue with, “Well, France looks nice. And England. But honestly? I think if I could go anywhere — aside from Japan — I’d go to Canada.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, definitely!” Wallflower said, nodding. “I just think, like — it’s so cool, isn’t it? It’s kinda like our country, but not really. Everything is just slightly different. They’ve got different money, and different units of measurement, and different milk, but we speak the same language! And everyone’s super nice, too!”

“Uh-huh.” Lorelai chuckled. “C’mon, that’s not a real answer. I could take you to Canada.”

“You — you could?” Wallflower said.

“Of course I could. It’s, what, five hours away by car? We’d need to get you a passport probably, and you gotta promise not to talk to the locals like they’re aliens, but we could definitely do it.”

“Oh.” Wallflower’s mouth hung open, and she seemed to shrink into her chair. “That’s. That’s cool! Yeah. Maybe in the summer?”

“Sure.” Lorelai checked out her manicure. “Assuming you don’t get strangled or sliced in half or lobotomized first.”

“Right.” Wallflower crossed her arms and looked away. “Yeah.”

Their waiter reappeared from the ravioli-scented air, carrying a tray with two glasses and two plates of steaming Italian cuisine. “Hello again, ladies!”

Wallflower perked up in her seat, snatching her silverware back faster than Lorelai could react. 

Paper Plate laid their food and drinks out before them and disappeared again before Lorelai could ask him if he’d inquired about the five cheeses.

“Bon appétit!” Wallflower cheered.

“Buon appetito,” Lorelai said. She stared down at her pasta, which oozed molten cheese over chunks of scorched grilled chicken. Her stomach said to dig in, but her brain — her incredibly large, experienced, and wrinkled brain — held her back. “They made this really quick. It’s been, like, ten minutes.”

“Yeah, that’s why this place is so great!” Wallflower said through a mouthful of chicken. “You got the big portions, and they cook really quick, and it’s not even that expensive. If only we’d brought Kyubey along — I bet he loves Italian food.”

“Of course he does. That’s why I threw him in the dumpster out back before we came in,” Lorelai said. She looked back down at her food. “But nothing in life is cheap, quick, and high-quality. Something’s wrong here.”

Wallflower took a long swig of pineapple juice, then let out a pleasure-filled sigh. “Speak for yourself.”

Regarding her plate like a yet unawares witch, Lorelai picked up her fork and poked at the pasta. When it didn’t fight back, she speared a tortellini shell and slice of chicken, then brought it to her mouth.

Her lips closed around it and her brain screamed: Wrong.

Lorelai grabbed her napkin and gagged the faux-Italian mush into it. “Holy shit!” she said, punctuating her words with another spit. “What is this?”

Wallflower didn’t stop eating. “Uh?” she said, pasta falling out of her mouth.

“That may have been the blandest — no, the saltiest? I can’t tell!” Lorelai snatched up her glass of wine and chugged it, only to double over in pain again. “Christ! Is this grape juice? This is stale grape juice!”

The tastes on her tongue were a paradox, an impossibility. Chicken and pasta so bland that Lorelai couldn’t be sure they really existed. But asiago cheese so salty that she felt her arteries constricting in horror. And the wine — it brought back repressed memories of being forced to drink cheap champagne at her great aunt’s Kentucky Derby parties.

“Auntie,” she murmured, gripping the table hard enough to make the wood groan. “I’ll see you in hell.”

Wallflower managed to swallow and not choke. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.” Lorelai took a deep breath. “You said that this was the best Italian restaurant in the city. Were you lying to me?”

“Of course not!” Wallflower said. “I love Olive Garden®! When I’m here, I’m family.”

“Then something is seriously wrong.” Lorelai stood up. “And I think I know why.”

“Um. Why?”

Lorelai pulled out her Soul Gem. “There’s a Witch in the kitchen. Let’s go rip its head off.”

“What?”

Lorelai stormed off, a crossbow appearing in her arms. 

Wallflower jumped out of her seat, tripped on the carpet, face-planted into a small child’s plate of macaroni and cheese, then jumped up again and sprinted after her partner. “Lorelai, no!”





Ten minutes later, Lorelai and Wallflower stood on a roof overlooking the now-evacuated Olive Garden®. Police sirens filled the air — evidently, cops responded fast to calls about teenage girls shooting crossbow bolts at Italian chefs.

Lorelai growled. “I had the shot lined up. I could have taken it out.”

“I’m telling you, the chef wasn’t a Witch!” Wallflower said, panting from exhaustion. “I’m pretty sure he goes to my church!”

“Uh-huh.” Lorelai stuck her hands in her pockets. “Well, that’s dinner ruined. Thanks for the suggestion, Fluffy.”

“You’re welcome. Unless you’re being sarcastic. Then sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now what am I supposed to eat?”

“Well it’s not much, but…” Wallflower reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a granola bar, then handed it to Lorelai. 

Lorelai stared for a moment, but accepted the offer. She tore off the wrapper and took a bite — chocolate chips and almonds.

Turning to hide her smile, Lorelai said, “Thanks, Fluffy. Now let’s go.” She sprinted away, leaping from roof to roof in the direction of her hotel.

Cheeks flushed — definitely from the cold, absolutely — Wallflower ran after her. “Right behind you, Canon!”

Wallflower screamed as a crossbow bolt whizzed inches away from her head.
> 7. Hollandaise and Runaways
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dense walls of thick trees enclosed a carpet of grass rising past Sunset's fetlocks. Overhead, a canopy of leaves choked the sunlight, with only thin, golden rays peeking through to dapple the ground.

It had been too long since someone had tended this garden.

At its center Wallflower Blush sat on her knees, hands buried wrist-deep in the dirt. Streaks and smudges of soil covered her clothes, and clumps of earth knotted up her matted hair. 

Yet she wore a carefree grin and hummed a tuneless song. The surface beneath her bulged and shifted as she worked her fingers in the earth.

Sunset tried to talk, to tell her that she’d miss the funeral if she worked for much longer, but when her lips moved, no sound came.

Wallflower seemed to hear her anyway. She looked up, a perplexed look creasing her dirt-caked face. 

Then, with a shrug and a smile, she returned to her business. 

Sunset muttered to herself and shook her head, trotting away. 

Her hooves whispered through the grass as she looked left and right at the crumbling stonework all around her. Rows of headstones sagged against one another like a child's crooked teeth, walling off wind-worn statues and sepulchers.

A light in the corner of her eye drew her attention. Turning, Sunset saw a tomb topped with a statue of a rearing horse. Though strangled by moss and vines, its surface caught a faint glint of the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Sunset glanced back at Wallflower, but the girl had dug herself deep into the dirt, and only her scalp was visible now. She'd never hear Sunset, not even if she screamed her throat bloody.

Ignoring her inhibitions, Sunset turned back to the pedestal, and knelt down in front of it. Her hooves scraped at the moss, at the vines clinging to the surface.

The moss didn't clear, and the vines didn't break.

Sunset dug harder at the stubborn overgrowth. The plants started to give, falling away in clumps and knots. Yet no matter how much she cleared, there always seemed to be more.

Her efforts were enough to pull away a sliver of the mossy covering – enough to bare a narrow patch of the white, glassy surface. Madly, she dug again, pushed her hooves harder, flared her horn— 

Fingers ending in dirt-encrusted, well-chewed nails closed around Sunset's hoof. She looked up into the face of Wallflower Blush. Her eyes were hidden beneath the brim of her hat; her mouth was twisted into a melancholy smile.

With the other hand, Wallflower raised a finger to her lips. The light peeking through the trees shifted and darkened from vivid gold to deep red, painting Wallflower's face with razor strokes.

Sunset raised her head to look at the sky and—





—Fluttered her eyelids open, sucking down breath after desperate breath of stale downtown apartment air. She sat up and pressed a hand to her clammy forehead, the covers slipping down to her waist.

Just a dream. 

Sunset massaged her temples with her thumb and index finger. 

Just another Wallflower dream.

She looked around her too-small loft, drawing comfort from the familiar surroundings: The posters and furniture and strewn-about clothes, some of which were even clean. Opposite her bed, Ray stared at her from his tank, his slender form just barely visible in the dim light. 

"It's all good, pal," Sunset murmured to him, flopping back against her sweaty pillow. "Don't worry about me."

She pulled the covers over her head, shut her eyes, and tried not to picture Wallflower's face in the darkness.





Wallflower emerged from the suite's master bedroom like a cat, yawning and stretching and practically purring. The rubber soles of her slippers pap-papped against the hardwood floor as she flopped her way to the living area, ensconced in the cottony embrace of her bathrobe.

It'll be hard to go back to my jammie-jams after this.

They'd spent the prior evening as Lorelai promised: A shopping trip at the mall, followed by dinner at a trendy steakhouse where appetizers alone were fifteen dollars. It culminated in a night spent in a luxury penthouse at the top floor of a high-rise hotel downtown. The bags from their trip cluttered the chairs and couches in the spacious sitting room, where Lorelai sipped coffee while channel-surfing on a fifty-two inch flatscreen.

Kyubey was there, too, dozing in a sunbeam beside a window. His presence surprised Wallflower; he'd taken his leave of the girls after they left Hick's Cherry Ranch, and stayed away through their visit to Cadance.

He seems to come and go when it pleases him, thought Wallflower. Maybe he didn't come to the hospital with us because he didn't see a point if we weren't gonna be hunting witches.

Lorelai looked up from the TV at Wallflower's entrance, and shifted her body on the recliner to face her. "You sleep okay?"

"When I was five, I got into some cough medicine, and passed out for twenty-five hours. That's just my second-deepest sleep now." Wallflower pulled the collar of her robe up to her cheeks, and nuzzled against the downy material, cooing with delight. "And I don't even gotta get my stomach pumped or anything."

Lorelai laughed, set her coffee down, muted the TV, and stood. She'd dressed for the day while Wallflower slept in; her white turtleneck and blue jeans were both recent purchases. A plain outfit, but the price tag it came with made those fifteen dollar appetizers look like dollar menu hamburgers. 

"Well, it’s only eleven in the morning," she said, glancing at a nearby wall clock. "If you wanna squeeze in a visit to poison control for old time's sake, we got plenty of—" 

"I slept in until eleven?" Wallflower yelped, as much out of surprise as panic. She should have been in school hours ago, yet here she was in a bathrobe and slippers talking about getting messed up on codeine!

Lorelai snapped her fingers, twice. 

"Hooky, remember? Nobody would blame you for staying in bed 'til noon if you wanted." She paused, and cupped her chin thoughtfully. "Although you'd be missing out on a pretty awesome brunch spread."

She gestured toward the suite's adjacent dining area, where a couple of lidded silver platters and two flutes of orange juice awaited.

How did I miss that? 

"You ordered me room service? Nobody's ever ordered me room service before." Wallflower pap-papped to the table. "Then again, I've never stayed in a luxury hotel before, either, so."

Lorelai joined Wallflower, lightly knocking her shoulder with a fist – and this time, Wallflower didn't jump at the sudden touch, though her heart did pitter. 

"Y'mean to say, nobody's ordered you room service yet," said Lorelai. "These are both for me."

Then she took a seat, unfolded a napkin over her lap, and took a sip of juice. She raised an eyebrow at Wallflower, who remained standing awkwardly over the table.

"That was a joke. Sit down and eat."

Wallflower scrambled to take a seat, self-consciously smoothing out her robe. She lifted the lid off her tray, revealing a plate of eggs and bacon on English muffins, smothered in thick, yellow sauce and topped with cayenne pepper. On the side of the plate was a wedge of cantaloupe, garnished with parsley.

"This is..." She took a breath, her mouth watering instantly. "Eggs benedict, right?"

"A personal favorite. I almost ordered it the other night at the diner, but I wasn't sure about their hollandaise." Lorelai cut a wedge of egg with the side of her fork. "I hope it's okay that I ordered without asking what you were in the mood for, but you were sleeping and I wanted to surprise you."

She wanted to surprise me? 

Wallflower's heart pattered as she reached for her slice of cantaloupe. "I've never tried this before. Benedict, I mean – I've had cantaloupe lots of times. I mean, who hasn’t had cantaloupe before? Can you imagine?" 

Stop babbling stop babbling stop babbling stop babbling stop—

"Eat de canchalope lasht," Lorelai mumbled around a mouthful of food. 

Wallflower cringed. "'Kay. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just, eat the cantaloupe last, trust me." Lorelai dabbed her face with her napkin. "Any reason you've never tried this before?"

"Well, I mean, I see it on menus all the time, and I know what it looks like. It just... never occurred to me to order it. Maybe I'm just not big on breakfast foods, I dunno. I turned down brinner, remember?" Wallflower drummed her fingers on the table and took a breath. "I’ll try it, though." 

Deathly afraid of staining her bathrobe with hollandaise, she started rolling up her baggy sleeves, then decided there was nothing there Lorelai needed to see, and hastily unrolled them again. Throwing caution to the wind, she picked up her own knife and fork and sawed off a bite, mopping up as much hollandaise with it as she could.

Delicately, she raised it to her mouth, and took a tentative nibble. The rich, complex flavors exploded on her tongue; eyes going wide, she shoved the entire forkful past her lips with gusto.

Lorelai smirked behind her glass of juice. "I assume it gets a passing grade?"

"How the hell have I never eaten this before? I mean, the eggs are good, but the sauce..." Wallflower scooped some hollandaise up with her fork and licked it off like ice cream. "Any chance I can just, like, get a big bowl of it?"

"I'll ask for extra hollandaise on the side next time." Lorelai’s tiny smile became an ear-to-ear grin. "This has been a night of firsts for you, hasn't it?"

Wallflower counted off with her fingers. "First slumber party, first room service, first eggs benedict... I'm probably missing a few things, but yeah. Lotta firsts." She popped a second bite into her mouth.

Lorelai opened her mouth to say something, but paused. Instead, she raised her flute of juice to her mouth, chuckling. 

Wallflower quirked her head. "What's so funny?" she said around a partial mouthful.

"Nothing. Thought of a joke, thought better of making it."

It was tempting to ask for more of an explanation, but Wallflower decided to let it pass.
 
The benedict was delicious, but rich, and a little salty – her mouth felt phlegmy and dry after just a few bites. She decided to wet her whistle with a swig of juice.

She choked almost immediately, grabbed a spare napkin, and held it against her mouth as she sputtered and coughed up whatever disgusting substance had been in her glass. This juice wasn't just carbonated; it was... sour, of all things, like it'd fermented in the bottle!

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "I know it's not great, but I didn't know it was that bad."

"How old is this juice?" Wallflower rasped.

"That's... not OJ, Fluffy. I mean, it's not just OJ." Another quiet laugh bubbled out of Lorelai. "So, a yes on eggs benedict, and a no on mimosa."

Wallflower's eyes bulged. She picked up her glass and peered closely at it, counting the bubbles that prickled and popped at the surface. "That's orange juice mixed with wine, right?"

"Well, champagne. Which is a type of wine. Although I doubt there's real champagne in these." 

Wallflower gagged. Why would you ruin perfectly good orange juice with champagne?

"How did you even manage to order that stuff? You can't be any older than me." Wallflower set the flute down and pushed it away, gently, with her fingertips. "Did they forget to card you?" 

"Elliot Ness over here. Not that I expect you to get that." Lorelai dabbed her chin – pointlessly, as it was immaculate – and rose from the table. "Would you prefer plain OJ? I bought some when I moved into this place. Hope you don't mind pulp."

"I happen to love pulp." Wallflower turned in her seat to watch Lorelai and call after her as she walked to the kitchenette. "And that reference doesn't really work. Elliot Ness was trying to enforce prohibition laws for everyone, not just minors."

"You might be taking the joke just a little too seriously." Lorelai returned with a small glass and a big bottle of juice. "Why do you get that reference when everything else I say flies over your head?"

"I got a Four on the A.P. history test."

"And you watched The Untouchables to study for it?"

"No, it's not just a— y'know what, never mind." Wallflower eyed the grinning, dreadlocked woman on the bottle's label as Lorelai filled her glass. "'Tree Hugger Organic Solutions?' This stuff isn’t cheap."

"Worth shelling out for, though."

"I know, it's just..." Wallflower stroked the collar of her robe with her thumb. "How do you afford this stuff? The room service, the luxury suite, that steakhouse from last night—"

"Not worth shelling out for, by contrast." 

"You're missing the point." Wallflower sighed. "You always dodge the question whenever I ask."

Lorelai laughed gently – a little sadly – and settled back in her seat.

"It's enough to say that this job does, in fact, pay. All it takes is an enterprising spirit."

She speared a bit of benedict and shoved it into her mouth.

"Anyway," Lorelai continued, once she'd swallowed. "You should probably start eating. We got a day ahead of us."

Realizing she wouldn't get any more answers from Lorelai, Wallflower just nodded, and continued with her meal. "What're we gonna do today?"

"The same thing we do every day, Fluffy. We're gonna venari some strigas."

Wallflower stared.

"...Hunt some witches." Lorelai rolled her eyes. "I thought they taught Latin at your schooI."

"As an elective. I took botany instead." Wallflower scraped some hollandaise over her eggs. "Do you think today will be as busy as yesterday?"

"Tough to know for sure. I mean, even normal hunts can be pretty uneven. Some days are busier than others." Lorelai paused for another quick bite. "Best guess is we'll run into familiars, at least – stragglers from Jack-Jack and Briar Rose's broods, maybe from some of the others' too. Bringin' home the bacon for their witches."

"Familiars hunt for their witches?" Wallflower frowned. "I thought they just guarded labyrinths. At least, that's how you and Kyubey made it sound."

Lorelai's lips twitched at the mention of Kyubey. "That's another thing that sets this little family of witches apart. Most of the time, if you find a familiar outside of its witch's labyrinth, it's struck out on its own. But these ones... how can I put this...?" 

Lorelai tapped her chin, ah-ing softly when inspiration hit her. She reached for some sugar packets in the center of the table, and deftly arranged them into a three-tiered pyramid.

"You know how the witch I'm after has a whole brood of witches underneath it? Well, those witches send out familiars to hunt on their behalf." She lightly tapped the pyramid's lowest row. "The familiars kick the energy they gather back up to their witches..."

Lorelai tapped the middle level.

"...Who kick up a portion of what they get to the big mama. The more familiars are out there, feeding, the more energy gets passed up the chain, and the stronger the mama gets." She tapped the pyramid's peak with a flourish. "It's not often that I run into one of the witches out feeding personally, like I have these last few days."

"Why's that?"

Lorelai's eyes flashed. "Why do you think?"

Wallflower felt a little nervous flutter in her stomach – having cut class for the day, she hadn't expected a quiz. "Well, um... I guess... if the witches already have someone going out to get them food, then there's no real reason for them to go hunting on their own."

Lorelai tented her fingers and rested her chin over them. "Explain why."

"It's, uh... risky? They risk exposing themselves to magical girls, and getting killed. So the familiars – they're not just there to bring home the bacon, they're, like. A buffer. Between them and people like us."

"Right you are. On all counts." A hint of a smile played at the edges of Lorelai's mouth, which somehow made Wallflower both more and less nervous. "It took me months of observation and guesswork to figure all of that out, but you nailed it in, like, half a minute."

"Well, I had you to connect the dots," Wallflower muttered. Bashfully, she looked down at her breakfast, and sawed off another hunk of yolky bread. "So I guess it makes sense for us to go after the familiars and the, uh... sub-witches?"

"Pseudo-witches," Kyubey corrected through a yawn.

Sudawiches? An idea for a decongestant hoagie popped into Wallflower's mind, but she shook it away, and focused on sopping up as much hollandaise with her bite of muffin as she could. The sauce squish-squashed audibly against the plate as Lorelai watched her.

Her gaze made Wallflower squirm. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Thinking, that's all." Lorelai paused as Wallflower raised her bite to her mouth. "Makes sense why?"

Wallflower blinked, and set her fork down on the plate. "Well, the familiars and sudafed-witches are a buffer between us and the big witch, right? And they're responsible for feeding the big one, too. There's probably a limit on how fast witches can make new familiars, and it takes time for familiars to turn into witches on their own. 

"So, the more small-fry we kill, the more the witches have to risk exposing themselves – to feed themselves, and the big one. We kill them, and then the big one has to come out of hiding herself. At which point..."

Wallflower finished by lifting her fork and finally, finally, taking that sopping wet bite of benedict. As she chewed, she watched Lorelai’s expression shift. Her eyes unfocused, her brow furrowed, and her hands collapsed together in front of her mouth.

"...You're right." The veteran's words were muffled against her hands.

"Wewl, yah. Dat wash da pan, wight?" Wallflower washed her bite down with some juice before continuing. "I mean, it's not like we were just gonna wander around the city and hope we ran into it randomly, right?"

Lorelai glanced out the window. She tugged on one of her ringlets, her cheeks tinting pink. 

Slowly, Wallflower lowered her fork to her plate as the realization dawned on her. "That... that was exactly what we were gonna do, wasn't it?"

"I mean..." Lorelai pulled the curl taut. "When you say it like that—"

"Wait a minute, you didn't even care about hunting familiars until I came along." Wallflower failed to stifle a snorty chuckle. "You were totally lost without me, weren't you?"

Lorelai's face flushed; her gaze sharpened into a glare. "Don't get smug." 

Her words, and the sharp look in her eyes, discouraged further laughter. Wallflower mumbled an apology and withdrew, staring down at her food.

She didn't even sound mad, she thought, poking her soggy bread with her fork. She looked up, and saw Lorelai placidly sipping her mimosa, her eyes closed. Her face had gone beet-red at Wallflower's laughter, but returned to normal as the moment of tension passed. 

I just can't keep up with banter, I guess.

"You do have a point, though. Might... might just work." Lorelai's eyes went half-lidded as she swirled her drink around in her glass. "You're a lot sharper than you let on."

Wallflower looked back down at her food. "You don't have to make me feel better. All I did was—"

"All you did was hatch a winning strategy. For the second time in twenty-four hours, you came up with a plan that I never would have." Lorelai’s gaze was intense, yet somehow, strangely soft. "Someone as talented as you shouldn't be so down on herself all the time."

Abashed, Wallflower could only shrug."It's kind of hard not to be down on myself, if I'm being honest. I've never really been good at... well... anything, really."

Lorelai spoke through another sip of mimosa, her words distorted by the glass. "Besides plants, you mean? Gardening?"

"Anything useful, I mean. Important." Gardening wasn't important; gardening was a stupid, needlessly expensive hobby that nobody else but her cared about. What did that say about Wallflower that the only thing she could get excited about, the only thing she was good at, was something so useless?

"I've never been athletic, and I've never gotten very good grades. I'm not strong. I'm not smart. I don't stand out in a crowd. I'd never in a million years think that I..." 

Trailing off, Wallflower picked up her fork and drew it through the hollandaise, carving four shallow lines in the sallow yellow goo.

"...I look at someone like my friend, Sunset Shimmer. She's talented, beautiful... the most special person I've ever met. She helps people – she saves people – and she's really, really good at it, too. If you asked me who I thought would make a perfect magical girl—"

"There’s no such thing as a perfect magical girl, Fluffy, so pump the brakes on the self-hate train," Lorelai interrupted. "Besides, your ‘perfect’ friend would be six feet under – literally – in a labyrinth if it weren't for you. You, and that power you don't think you deserve."

"I didn't say I don't deserve it. I know I did good yesterday – I know I still can. But Sunset is..." She scraped her fork by accident against her plate; it screeched, making her wince. "Maybe there isn't such a thing as a perfect magical girl, but she'd be closer to it than me. I don't know why Kyubey would pick some useless grass-stain over someone like her."

"Because you can do things that she never could."

Kyubey’s voice. Wallflower heard him pad across the carpet, and felt him skitter up her leg, onto her lap. 

"Do you remember the night we met?" Kyubey's eyes burned as he met Wallflower's gaze with her own. "I told you that Sunset Shimmer's worth was 'obvious and prosaic.' That's because, as a magical girl candidate, your life held worth that she cannot hope to match."

Wallflower got a faceful of Kyubey's tail as he hopped off her lap, and onto the table. Spitting out a few strands of hair, she said, "So I had more potential than she did? Is that what you're saying?"

"Not quite. Sunset Shimmer has no magical potential whatsoever."

A suspicious frown wormed across Lorelai's face. "That's not possible. Anything with a soul has some magical potential. You told me that yourself."

"I'm pleased that you remember, Lorelai."

Lorelai flushed at Kyubey's use of her name. "Then, what, this chick doesn't have a soul?"

Kyubey didn't answer right away. He padded around Wallflower's plate to stand in the middle of the table, nudging the centerpiece vase aside.

"I couldn't tell you one way or another whether Sunset Shimmer has a soul. If she does, I'm incapable of perceiving it the way that I can yours."

"You can't tell if she has a soul?" Bothered by the vase being off-center, Wallflower leaned over to nudge it back into place. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I do not know. The mere existence of magical girls defies the established laws of the universe, and distortions in reality are not uncommon when they are created. Even so, I've never encountered anything quite like Sunset Shimmer."

There wasn't room in the middle of the table for both Kyubey and the vase. Wallflower gave up trying to force it and flopped back into her seat, huffing. "Meaning what?"

"Perhaps a metaphor would be helpful." Kyubey trotted to the edge of the table and peered down at the floor. "The carpet beneath our feet is woven from countless tiny threads: singular fibers that come together to create a whole that is greater than them individually. Yet they are so numerous and minuscule that to identify each would take powers of perception far beyond human capacity to do so. You can only perceive it as the sum of its parts."

Wallflower exchanged a look with Lorelai – she seemed suspicious, guarded. "Okay, I think I'm following."

"Imagine fate in similar terms: As a tapestry woven from countless trillions of threads. Each ensouled life on this planet is one thread in that tapestry. Unlike you humans, I don't merely see the sum of those parts: I can see the parts themselves. Each fiber, each thread, each human life, whether or not they're fated to become magical girls. Every single one..."

Kyubey shook out his head and looked at Wallflower, his ears jingling with the motion.

"Except for Sunset Shimmer."

Hearing that came as less of a shock to Wallflower than Kyubey probably expected. She sucked in a gasp which she hoped didn't come across as too fake, which almost certainly did, and chugged down the rest of her orange juice to stall. When something finally came to mind, she slammed her glass back on the table.

"Oh boy, that's super weird!"

Nailed it, Wally.

Kyubey showed no reaction to her shenanigans. "As I said, irregularities and distortions are common when a magical girl is created. However, if your friend is the result of such a distortion, she is certainly unique. She is visibly human, has sapience and physical substance, yet she has no destiny, and I can't even verify if she has a soul. Nor can I say with certainty what distortion birthed her in the first place. It's quite perplexing."

Kyubey lifted a hind leg to scratch behind his ear. "So, you see, what I said to you before was true. At best, Sunset Shimmer is a curiosity worth studying. But as a magical girl, your life has inherent worth that she cannot ever match. I hope you find that thought reassuring."

In a strange way – in a way that made Wallflower feel just the tiniest bit guilty – it was. She smiled blandly, muttered some thanks, and dug around idly on her plate as she digested Kyubey's words.

She couldn't speak with authority on the subject of souls and fates and magic, but she knew a thing or two about Sunset, and about what made her unique. If where Sunset came from worked on the same rules Kyubey described...

Maybe you can't be part of more than one universe’s fate-carpet. Maybe that's why Kyubey can't work with her the way he does with me and Lorelai. Then again, maybe they're nothing alike – different worlds, different systems – and that's why Kyubey can't do anything with her.

Wallflower wrinkled her nose. She supposed she’d never know.

Also, "fate-carpet?" Gotta come up with a better term than that. Destiny rug, maybe?

"Hey Lorelai," she said, "what do you think of—?"

"You never told me that." 

Wallflower fell silent, frozen by the venom in Lorelai's voice. The veteran magical girl was glaring at Kyubey now, her fork in one hand, her knife in the other. 

Kyubey met her vehemence with a characteristically vacuous look. "Should I have?"

For an instant, Wallflower thought for sure that Lorelai was about to put her butterknife through Kyubey's eye. Instead, she dropped both pieces of silverware and drained her mimosa in one long gulp, before reaching across the table for Wallflower's still-full, untouched flute.

Wallflower watched with concern as Lorelai chased mimosa with mimosa. "Are... you okay?"

Lorelai set the glass on the table, wiped her mouth on a spare napkin, and nodded. Then she pushed away, and stood. "If you'll excuse me."

"Uh...?" Wallflower raised an eyebrow, watching as she made her way to the coat rack. "Where are you going?"

"I have to return some video tapes."

Wallflower blinked. "What?"

"Probably best that you don't get that one." Lorelai threw on her overcoat and deftly fastened the buttons. "I have some errands to run today before we get hunting. Stuff I’ve put off that needs doing."

"Stuff like?"

A real smile from Lorelai could make butterflies dance in Wallflower's tummy. The one she plastered on her face now was repellent, curling at its edges like cheap, aging wallpaper. 

"Nothing you need to worry about." She opened the door and stepped through it. "Make yourself at home while I'm gone – I shouldn't be long, but if you get hungry again, go ahead and order whatever you want. Put it on the room tab."

"Lorelai—" 

The door threw up a gust of wind when Lorelai slammed it, tousling Wallflower's hair, and the sudden clap of wood against wood made her jump. An eerie stillness settled over the room, a silence broken only by the pip-pap-squish of Kyubey's paw dipping into Lorelai's unfinished breakfast.

"She's rather volatile, isn't she?" Kyubey lifted his paw, now smothered with hollandaise, and daintily licked it off his pearly pink toe-beans. "Perhaps I should go after her, and keep an eye on her."

"Perhaps," Wallflower squeaked. Not that she wanted to be alone in this room – alone with her thoughts – but Lorelai's behavior had her worried. And besides, Kyubey wasn't exactly the best company, himself.

Still, a thought occurred to her, a question she needed answered before he left. 

"That thing about Sunset Shimmer – why didn't you say anything before?"

"It wasn't immediately relevant."

"But at the diner, Sunset was one of the people who the witch couldn't possess. She and her friends. And she was also attacked by witches twice." 

As she recalled, Briar Rose went after Sunset over everyone else once she had them in her labyrinth, even over Cadance, her original target. And Miranda... it couldn't be coincidence that she targeted Sunset just days after Briar Rose.

"Do you think... do you think that's related to what you just told us?"

"Absent any concrete data, I can't say for sure. But it's safe to assume." A smudge of hollandaise discolored his chin; he brushed it with his paw. "She and her friends were also the source of the energy which initially repelled the witch's influence, which lends some credence to that assumption."

She pursed her lips. "You knew that already?"

"Of course. I witnessed the battle personally, remember? And I arrived on the scene long before you did."

"Then you should have said so." Wallflower set her silverware down and straightened in her chair. "Sunset's been in danger twice. If you know why – if you know anything about it, even if it's just guesswork – then you can't just keep it from me, whether or not you think it's 'immediately relevant.' Especially if there's so much weird stuff going on with her."

"But didn't you withhold information, too?" said Kyubey. "Your behavior indicates that you possessed knowledge on Sunset Shimmer which you chose not to disclose. It would seem you, too, understand the principle of withholding information until immediately relevant."

Kyubey finished his hollandaise and gave Lorelai's cantaloupe a quick try. He didn't like it, spitting out his tiny bite and diving off the table, making for the door. 

"You should know that I have not lied to you, nor will I. Any question you may ask, my answer will be honest." He paused at the door, and flicked his tail. "It would be helpful if you would extend me the same courtesy."

And like a mist in morning sunlight, he dissolved, and vanished.

Alone with her thoughts, Wallflower slumped down in her chair. Maybe he had a point – she could have said something sooner. It was only loyalty to Sunset that kept her from speaking up.

But Kyubey... he gave me this power in the first place, didn't he? And I lied to him – by omission, sure, and for a good reason, but I still lied. 

Her eyes widened as she realized she was falling into the same patterns of thought her old therapist had worked so hard to help her break.

"...Get it together, Wally." Her voice echoed off the yawning windows looking out over the city. "Who do you trust more – him, or you?"

Well, neither, really... but she distrusted herself less than she did Kyubey. If she had to work with him to fulfill her duty, to prevent another loss like Moondancer's, she would. She could do that without trusting him.

She just hoped she could come around to trusting herself.





The conversation around the lunch table trailed off as Sunset made her way over. She ignored it – ignored the skin-crawling feeling of her friends' eyes on her as she set her tray down and slid into place between Twilight and Rainbow Dash. The other girls seemed talkative, and looked fresh-faced and well-rested.

I guess I'm the only one having the dreams.

"Before anyone asks, no. I do not want you to share your lunches with me." Sunset frowned at her 'sandwich,' which was the school's generous term for their emergency meal of American cheese on a Hawaiian roll. "This is my own fault for forgetting my purse at home."

She hadn’t taken single bite, though, before her tray was piled high with bits and pieces of the girls' lunches: Apple slices, half a cupcake, a lump of avocado and rice from Rarity's homemade poke bowl... Sunset wanted to be annoyed at the girls for refusing to do as they were told, but couldn't work up the nerve. 

Instead, nodding her gratitude, she picked up her fork and stabbed it into a tangy hunk of soy-soaked rice and avocado. 

Sunset let the familiar ambiance of the cafeteria wash over her as she tucked into her food. Normally, she drew comfort in the sameness of the school day. That ambiance, the indecipherable chatter of mealtime conversation, the feet squeaking and clacking on the hard tile floors as people came and went, didn’t put her mind at ease today.

Lots of people. Lots of voices. She cast a searching look across the room. None of 'em Wallflower's.

"Looking for someone in particular, Sunset?" Fluttershy said, with just a hint of a knowing lilt.

Sunset huffed, and turned back to the table. "That obvious, huh?"

"It’s obvious to anyone with workin’ eyes," said Rainbow. "Plus, we were at the diner with you when everything went down, so we got the inside scoop on what's kickin' around inside your brain."

Rarity nodded her agreement. "You may have noticed, Sunset, that most everyone from CHS involved in yesterday's incident is absent from school today – present company excluded, of course. Celery Stalk’s out, Alizeran Bubblegum too... It's not so unusual that Wallflower is gone as well."

Alizeran...? Oh, that chick. That’s her name?

"Not to mention, she skipped yesterday without saying anything, too," Rainbow added. "Maybe she took the whole week off to grieve for her friend. What do you call it, 'beavermint?'"

"'Bereavement,'" Pinkie Pie chirped. “That’s a reach even for you, Dashie.”

She tossed an extra mini-cupcake, produced from nowhere in particular, onto Sunset's tray. 

"Besides,” she added, “just 'cuz we don't see her around doesn't mean she isn't around. She kinda blends in with the scenery. Makes her easy to miss."

"What a thing to say, Pinkie," Applejack groaned. Pinkie shrugged.

Rarity clicked her lacquered chopsticks together. "You're not wrong, per se, Pinkie." She ignored Applejack’s glare. "But Sunset is clearly looking for reassurance here. Comments like that are far from reassuring."
 
Applejack grumbled something under her breath before looking at Sunset, bracing an arm on the tabletop. "You saw her more recently than any of us. She look alright to you at the hospital?"

Sunset bit her lip and looked at Twilight, who took it as a cue to answer Applejack's question herself.

"She certainly didn't seem any worse for wear. If she and Lorelai did get into another fight before we met up again, then they probably came out on top."

Of course, anything could've happened after they left the hospital. Then again, maybe nothing happened, and Wallflower just stayed home to relax after spending her week grieving her friend and fighting magical evil. Not knowing was the hardest part – not just about Wallflower's current whereabouts, but about everything to do with her new... occupation? Calling? 

How did one classify a Pancetta Maggie, anyway, Sunset wondered? Add that to the list of questions that kept cropping up around this strange new world. Seemed like every time Sunset came into contact with it, she emerged with more of those than answers.

She shook her head – she needed to focus on the here and now. "How do things seem around school today? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Besides all the absences?" said Fluttershy. "Nothing comes to mind. Miss Harshwhinney's class has a substitute today, but I guess that's not so unusual, considering how much of last semester she missed."

Rarity's eyes brightened. "Ah, I have something: Sweetie Belle says that Diamond Tiara's broken out – the whole right side of her face is caked in concealer."

Sunset raised an eyebrow at her. "And that's relevant... how?"

"You asked if anything out of the ordinary was going on." Rarity stirred her bowl with her chopsticks. "Her skin's normally so clear." 

With a groan, Sunset pressed her hand to her forehead. "Okay, besides sophomore gossip and Miss Harshwhinny abusing tenure, is there anything out of the ordinary going on? Anything we should be looking into?"

The girls murmured in the negative, a downcast harmony of "hmhs," “nopes,” and "nuh-uhs."

In reply, Sunset let out puffy, disappointed sigh, and rested her chin on the lunch tray. "Never thought I'd be disappointed that we were having a slow school day."

She couldn't help feeling guilty for complaining. With so much going on, a quiet, peaceful day at CHS should've been welcome. Still, they didn't have many leads to chase when it came to pursuing witches – or any leads, really. Twilight was steadily sifting through her old magic research, but neither she nor Sunset had much hope that she'd find anything worth investigating, anything that'd help them understand this magical girl business.

In a somewhat uncharacteristic moment of empathy, Rainbow patted Sunset's shoulder, squeezing once. "I feel ya, SunShim. I'm pretty wound up after yesterday, too – wish we could do something besides sit on our hands and wait."

Pinkie sighed, and plopped her face into her hands, squishing her cheeks. "Too bad Wallflower's out today – or, y'know, invisible, whichever. We could probably get a lot of helpful info from her."

"Yeah, and if she doesn't wanna talk, there's always that Lorelai chick. Bet she could give us something we could work with." Rainbow chuckled. "Say the word, Sunset – I'll track her down and wring her like a sweaty towel."

"I'd like to see you try, Fruit Loops."

Sunset's eyes shot open; she bolted from her seat, failing to register whatever expletive Rainbow hissed under her breath in shock. 

Lorelai stood at the end of the table closest to Rainbow, the subject of many a confused stare and whisper from the other students in the cafeteria. If she noticed, however, she didn't care – she only had eyes for Sunset, flicking her gaze up and down to size her up.

"Hi," she said. "We need to talk."

Sunset looked toward the cafeteria door before answering, half-hoping to see a tuft of bushy green hair lingering at the entrance. "Where's Wallflower?"

Lorelai didn't answer right away. With how blank she kept her expression, Sunset wasn't even sure she'd heard her. When she finally spoke, it was with a flat, all-business affect in her voice.

"She had steak for dinner, just came out of a meat coma. Call her and ask if you don't believe me."

"I'll do that," Sunset lied. She felt a spike of jealousy –  no matter how many times she asked for it, Wallflower never gave Sunset her contact info. What, did she have to buy Wallflower steak, too? "What do you want to talk about?"

"Not here." Lorelai glanced at the girls still seated at the table. "We talk one-on-one, or we don't talk at all."

"Then you don't talk at all," Rainbow Dash rasped. "We go where she goes."

The girls rose, lining up alongside Sunset. Rainbow, perhaps making up for being caught off guard, placed a protective hand on Sunset’s shoulder.

Lorelai's lips twitched into a bemused smirk. "Does she at least make you wait by the door when she goes to the bathroom? Or do you—"

"Okay, time out." Sunset shrugged away from Rainbow and turned to face her friends, forming a T with her hands. "I appreciate the solidarity, girls, but people are staring."

Her interruption sent the standoff into a tense lull, giving Sunset some space to consider her options. She didn't particularly want to talk to Lorelai, whether or not she had the girls at her back. Still, Rainbow and Pinkie had been right before – they needed information, and here stood someone who could give that to them. 

And she was a little bit curious herself. If this wasn't about Wallflower, then why would Lorelai seek her out?

Maybe she wants to share intel. Or she's just here to warn me off again. Or... she wants to pick a fight.

Only one way to find out.

Sunset spun back around to face Lorelai. "It's hard to find privacy around here at lunch time. Most rooms are either locked up tight, or have people coming in and out, and open spaces like the football field are guaranteed to be packed. Only place we could really be alone is on the roof."

Lorelai opened her mouth to reply, probably with something snooty. She paused, though, her eyes drifting up in thought. 

"Y'know what, that'll do," she said. "Lead the way." 

Sunset started to trudge toward the door, only stopping when she felt an insistent hand catch her by the elbow. Turning, she locked eyes with Twilight, whose eyebrows knitted together with concern.

Recognizing the look, Sunset focused, and slipped into the familiar, intimate embrace of their mental connection. 

"This girl... she's giving me a weird vibe right now." Twilight's worried expression deepened. "Are you sure about this?"

"Honestly? No. But we're flying blind right now. If there's even a chance she has something useful to say, then I gotta hear her out."

Sunset took her hand and guided it off her arm, though she held her fingers tightly, and maintained their connection a moment longer. 

"If I'm not back in ten minutes..."

Twilight replied with the tiniest of nods, and pulled her hand free from Sunset's. "We'll wrap your lunch for you. Keep it fresh."

Sunset's stomach growled in reply. 

Well, now I gotta make it back.





The rooftop door was a heavy, cumbersome block of metal at the top of a dark, drafty stairwell. Above the push bar hung a crooked, rust-spotted sign. 


ROOF ACCESS 


NO STUDENT ADMITTANCE


In her halcyon days of edge, Sunset had etched a response into the metal:


blow me


Suppressing a groan, she undid the latch holding it shut, shoved the door open, and stood aside, letting a thick sunbeam wash into the stairwell.

Lorelai squinted, but still kept a slitted gaze on Sunset as she climbed the rest of the way.

Sunset followed after, wincing as she stepped into open air. Today wasn't particularly hot, but the sun was almost at its zenith, and the concrete roof offered no protection from its rays. The metal door behind her made matters worse; standing close to it made her back prickle with sweat.

She stayed where she was, though. This meeting made her uneasy, and she wasn't confident that her fighting skills, rusty as they were, would be of much use against someone who could pull crossbows out of her boobs. If things went sour, she wanted clear access to the exit.

Curiously, Lorelai seemed no less comfortable in her overcoat and jeans than she'd been in the alley on the night she'd met. She stood as still as a statue in the middle of the roof, swathed in the wiggly, wavy currents of the heat haze.

"I was just telling Fluffy, your school's way nicer than the one I used to go to." A hot wind rushed past, ruffling her golden curls. "You ask me, though, it's a little too easy for people who don't belong here to get inside."

...'Fluffy?'

Sunset shook her head. "For the record, visitors are supposed to sign in at the office and get a name tag."

"Yeah, 'cuz people sneaking into schools always follow proper sign-in protocol." Lorelai snickered. "I was thinking, like, a metal detector, or something."

"How about an electric fence and guard towers, while we're at it?"

"See, now you're talking." Lorelai drew a hand from her pocket to tuck a ringlet behind her ear. "You're makin’ me nostalgic, Bacon Bits."

Was she being facetious? Now that she thought about it, Princess Celestia’s school had armed guards around every corner.

Wait, 'Bacon Bits?!' 

"Whatever." Sunset wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Brass tacks. What do you want?"

"You in a hurry?" Lorelai wound a curl around her fingertip. "Got somewhere to be?"

"AP Physics. I'd prefer not to go on an empty stomach." The heat was a not-inconsiderable factor, too.

"I'll get to the point, then." Lorelai released the curl she'd been playing with, tucked her hand back in her pocket, and angled her body to face Sunset in profile. A breeze rushed past, rustling her coattails and hair.

"Are you really Sunset Shimmer?"

Well, that was an unusual opening serve. "Are you really Lorelai?"

An unfriendly, unsettling smirk broke Lorelai's stoic facade. "Guess I'm getting ahead of myself. Lemme me start over." 

She pivoted to face Sunset in full, the smirk falling away. 

"There's a lot about you that I can't wrap my head around. You can use magic without a soul gem. You've got your own little gang of off-brand puellae magi. And I don't know what the hell you all use your powers for, because this is the one city on Earth that doesn't seem to have a witch problem."

"Didn't have a problem, you mean," Sunset countered. "Not until recently."

"That doesn't make sense either. Cities are full of people, people are full of grief, and no matter what city you're in, anywhere in the world, you'll always find people just dying to share their grief. This town ought to be an all-you-can-eat buffet for witches." 

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. 

"So why ain't it?"

Sunset said, with a blasé shrug, "Maybe Canterville's just different."

The laughter Lorelai replied with was as thick and sour as curdled milk, and delivered without a smile. 

"It's pretty here, I'll give you that much. Prosperous. All wallpaper, though. Peel it back, just a little bit, and you’ll find nothin’ but rot underneath."

"You come up with that on your own? You're a real poet." Sunset noticed her foot tapping, her heel bouncing rapidly against the floor, and forced herself to stop. "Please tell me you're getting to the point."

"You have, just, no patience. Do you?" Lorelai's glare sharpened. "Fine. Brass tacks, like you said."

She took a step toward Sunset.

"When you get right down to it, this city's a stinking, pus-filled zit, waiting to be popped and squeezed. Like any city, really."

Another step. Sunset's right foot scraped backward.

"But it's the only city, anywhere, that witches avoid. What's it got that nowhere else has? Nothing you can't find anywhere else – nothing except for you."

A third step. Sunset's hand hovered over the door's handle, its hot metal testing her endurance.

"I don't know who you are, or why you can use magic without a soul gem. But I know that you don't belong; I've known since the second I laid eyes on you. And whatever's going on in this town... I think it's connected to you somehow." 

A final step, and then she stopped. She drew her hands from her pockets, baring that strange gemstone in her left palm. Sunset found her gaze drawn to the green glow at its core. It seemed duller than it had that night in the alley – murky at its edges, cloudy at the center. 

"I'll ask you again," said Lorelai, softly. "Are you really Sunset Shimmer?"

Sunset's mind raced, searching for an explanation for this. She came up with two. First, that Wallflower outed her as an Equestrian expat, which was a betrayal she could never see Wallflower committing. The other, and the far less likely of the two, was that Lorelai was simply perceptive enough to pick up on Sunset's true nature.

Whatever the case, she was saying this all wrong. Why would she care who Sunset was, when all of her questions amounted to asking what she was?

It didn't matter – Sunset had no reason to answer her, and no further reason to entertain this line of thought. 

She wrenched the door open. 

Before she could leave, a green light flashed and a shadow fell upon her; Lorelai’s gloved hand slammed the door shut, denting the metal where she struck it. 

Sunset pressed her back against the door, gritting her teeth. Lorelai, now transformed, loomed like an iceberg in the night, her hood casting a long shadow over her face. Her arm, rippling with muscle, tensed as she held the door shut.

Despite her pain, and her precarious situation, Sunset mustered a warning. "Get the hell away from me."

"Answer my questions first." A pungent, sickly sweet tang hung on Lorelai's breath. "You can't be a witch, and you can't be a familiar, 'cuz witches have souls, and familiars are too dumb to do anything but eat, and crave, and eat some more. But you, you walk, and you talk, and you screw around with your friends, and you... I don’t know who, or what, that makes you!"

"You know my friends are gonna come looking for me, right?" Sunset tried to keep her voice gruff, but couldn't keep a stammer from creeping into her words. "They'll probably be here any minute now, in fact. So why don't you—"

"Why would something like you even be here?" Lorelai titled her head back, rolling her eyes away thoughtfully. "I figured I could use you to bait her out, but... but what if...?"

She trailed off, and the moment balanced on a blade. Then something sparked in her eyes, and she regarded Sunset with a grim, malicious smile.

"...Oh, he is a clever little kitty-cat, isn't he? You're bait, alright – but not for a witch."

Lorelai conjured a crossbow from the murky gem at her chest, and shoved it under Sunset's chin. The bolt loaded in the weapon pierced her, drawing a thin trickle of blood that welled up around its tip, and ran down her neck. 

"Stop it. Whatever you think's going on, this isn't..." Sunset's chest heaved; she blinked, and saw Briar Rose's blade dancing in front of her face. "You don't want to—"

"And what do I want, huh? What do you think I want?!" Lorelai dug the weapon harder into Sunset's neck. "I could save myself so much trouble by putting you down right here."

What would you tell Wallflower?

Sunset wanted to say that out loud, wanted to spit it right in Lorelai's face. The bolt digging into her throat dissuaded her from talking back, though. A few ounces of pressure on that trigger finger, and she'd be another sign pinned to the door. And if Lorelai had come this far, then she probably didn't give a flying feather what she'd tell Wallflower.

There was only one way out of here, then. She swallowed, sending a stinging jolt through her throat. 

"You want answers. That's why you came here, isn't it?" 

Sunset lifted her hand slowly, uncurled a trembling finger, and tapped it against the end of the crossbow.

"I'll tell you what you wanna know, but first... this is gonna have to move."

Lorelai didn't say anything, or change her expression. Eventually, though, she pulled her weapon away, and took three small steps backward. The crossbow stayed level with Sunset's throat.

With some breathing room now, Sunset peeled herself off of the hot, metal door. She felt a fleeting sense of relief – fleeting, because she'd be in danger as long as she and Lorelai were alone together. All she could do now was buy time. And the only way to do that was to give Lorelai what she wanted. 

She didn't dare try to lie – one wrong move and Lorelai could lose patience, and pin her to the door.

I'll have to be careful, and not give too much away.

"What I'm about to say might sound crazy. But it's true – all true. I promise." Sunset waited for a response that never came. "This... this world that you and I are standing in. It isn't... I mean, there are others out there, too. Other worlds – parallel realities."

She paused again, watching for any reaction – a smirk, a roll of her eyes, or any other minuscule sign of skepticism. Or boredom. She couldn't discount the possibility that Lorelai would kill or maim her out of boredom.

But Lorelai just stared at her, still as a statue. Then, quietly, she spoke. 

"Like Sliders."

"Yeah, like—" Sunset cocked her head. "What?"

"Never mind." Lorelai gestured with her crossbow, urging Sunset on. "You're from an alternate universe. That's what you're trying to say?"

"'Parallel reality' is the preferred nomenclature." Sunset caught a hint of Sparkle-esque pedantry in her tone, and wondered which of the two she got it from. "Does this mean you believe me?"

"It means I'm gonna let you keep talking. What are you doing here?"

Sunset licked her lips. "Physics, Trig, A.P. English. Latin, as an elective. And I sling sushi to make ends meet." 

Lorelai's fingers flexed on her crossbow.

Despite the heat, Sunset shivered. A second droplet of blood tickled her skin as it traveled down her throat; she wiped it with her thumb, then pressed against the still-open wound to staunch the bleeding.

Maybe I shouldn't push my luck too far.

"Look, I'm being serious. I go to school, I hold a part-time job, I screw around with my friends – if I had my way, that's all I'd be doing. But..." The pressure from her thumb distorted Sunset's voice, made it rasp a touch more than usual. "I told you the other night, I deal with magical problems. I didn’t tell you the whole story, though. I left out where that magic came from."

"Lemme guess. The same place you're from?"

"Yeah. An... accident... made magic from my world leak into this one. Into this city, specifically. My friends and I do our best to contain it, and minimize the trouble that it causes."

Hopefully, Lorelai wouldn't notice the holes in her story. Who knew what she'd do if she found out about Twilight's experiment at the Friendship Games? Or the Dazzlings?

I mean, Adagio sucks, but it's not like I want her dead...

The oozy smile that crept over Lorelai's face made Sunset downright indignant. "So what's your angle, then – what do you get out of it? Don't tell me you play puella magi out of the goodness of your heart."

"I do it because I have to, and because I want to," Sunset snapped. "And I don't care what you believe."

"You precious little martyr." Lorelai gave an ugly little laugh to match her ugly little smile. "What about your friends? Are they sliders, too?"

"I still don't know what that means," Sunset said curtly. "If you're asking whether they come from the same world as me, then no. They're exactly what they seem to be." 

"Not exactly what they seem to be." Lorelai's smile melted back into a scowl. "There's something different about them too, isn't there? Or they wouldn't be able to use magic – your world's magic."

"They... that's..." Sunset trailed off, fumbling. "That's not something that I know for sure, myself. I think it has something to do with their counterparts."

"'Counterparts?'" 

Sunset nodded shakily. "The versions of themselves that exist in my world – they can use magic naturally. Somehow, the connection between our worlds lets my friends do the same. For all I know, the other me can, too."

Lorelai's scowl seemed to soften, and her grip around her weapon eased. "The other... you?"

"Yeah – the Sunset who lives in this world. There are counterparts for everyone, as far as I can tell. Two Sunsets, two Wallflowers..." Sunset spread her arms and let them fall, lightly, against her sides. "If I went back home and looked around long enough, I'd probably find another Lorelai."

A shudder ran through Lorelai’s body, and she clenched her jaws together, tightly, until they trembled. For a moment, Sunset thought for sure she was about to pull the trigger.

Instead, she huffed a sardonic, almost silent, laugh. She lowered her weapon and turned away, her hood slipping further over her face as she bowed her head, pressing her hand to her face. Her shoulders shook with laughter, a dry, staccato sound, like a death rattle.

Sunset almost wished she were still waving her crossbow around.

With a shimmer and a chiming sound, Lorelai's outfit and weapon dissolved into motes of green, leaving her in street clothes. The gemstone rested in her palm, glowing dimly; a cool sensation swept down Sunset's throat, and the sting of her open wound vanished. A quick tap confirmed that she wasn't bleeding anymore.

Maybe I should thank her. Then again, she was the one who cut me in the first place.

Lorelai tucked her hands back into her pockets. She looked sidelong at Sunset, her face expressionless. "One last question. Say that I believe you, and you are what you say you are. That still doesn't tell me what you're doing here." 

"I already told you—"

"Why you came in the first place, I mean. What brought you here. You said that an 'accident' dumped magic from your world into this one. Did you come here by accident, too?"

"...No." Guardedly, and perhaps unnecessarily, she added, "I came here on purpose."

"Then you must've had a reason to come. Something here that you wanted. Or something there that you were trying to get away from." Lorelai paused for a breath. "If I had to guess, I'd say the latter."

Sunset flushed. "You're making a lot of assumptions."

"But I'm right, aren't I? Nobody leaves home without a reason. Nobody would go as far as you did without a reason." 

Lorelai's too-nice shoes scraped on the concrete as she turned to face Sunset. 

"So, my little runaway. What are you running from?"

Sunset tried to spit something sarcastic, to tell Lorelai where she could stick her question. But her rebuttal stuck in her throat. The question hung between them, heavy as the heat radiating off the rooftop's every surface.

"I..."

A heavy thud on the door made Sunset jump, swallowing whatever she was about to say. She turned as the door thudded a second time. Applejack stumbled forward with her shoulder lowered; Sunset caught her before momentum carried her to the floor.

Applejack looked up, smiling crookedly. "Ten minutes, right?" She pushed away from Sunset and stood on her own as the girls swarmed onto the roof, their footfalls like hailstones exploding on the concrete. 

"Did you really have to do that, AJ?" Rainbow Dash said, eying the broken lock on the door. 

Applejack said, blithely, "I wanted to make an entrance."

It should've been unlocked, though, Sunset thought. I left it open, and there's no way to lock it from the outside.

Twilight was among the last to arrive, panting and sweating from the climb. Her eyes found Sunset's neck, and the patch of red on her skin.

"Is that blood?" she gasped. "Are you hurt?"

Rainbow's eyes widened. She tore her gaze away from the broken lock, and threw herself between Sunset and Lorelai, tensed for a fight. "If you did anything to her, I swear—"

Lorelai's voice snapped like a bowstring. "She's fine. We just wrapped up a pleasant little powwow. Kept it real friendly."

"The blood on her neck and the dent in the door claim otherwise," Rarity retorted. She had her hand at her chest, clutching her geode through her shirt. "Perhaps you should be on your way, darling."

"Perhaps you should see a voice coach, dah-ling. Your accent's phonier than your boots." 

Rarity, incensed, sputtered for a reply; Lorelai rolled her eyes and turned away. 

"Well, whatever; I should get going anyway. Later, 'Inboos.'"

She popped her collar and headed toward the edge of the roof in a long, brisk stride.

From behind, Fluttershy coughed. "Um... She knows she can't get down that way, right?"

We can't. She probably can.

"Wait." Sunset lunged after Lorelai. Rainbow Dash threw an arm up to block her, but Sunset ducked underneath and shoved Rainbow behind her. "I said wait!"

"Sorry, Bits, but break time's over. You got class, and I got places to be. Besides, if I know Fluffy, she's probably racked up quite the tab on my—"

"You said you were using me as bait!"

Sunset hoped her roar would make Lorelai stop in her tracks. Instead, she continued until she reached the edge of the roof, where she paused, and waited.

More quietly, and less intensely, Sunset continued. "You were using me as bait for 'her.' You meant one of the witches – one of the witches that’s after me."

A breeze ruffled Lorelai's curls. 

"...It's just one witch, actually. Just one that matters, anyway."

"What do they want with me?"

"Same thing they all want, I suppose. Cannus Cannum Edit." Lorelai tucked a lock behind her ear. "It's a dog-eat-dog world. Kill or be killed."

"You're not making sense. What are you—?"

"Y'know, if today's taught me one thing, it's that I don't have all the answers. If I did, I'd..." Lorelai tilted her head and chuckled. "Well, I still wouldn't tell you, but at least I'd know."

Sunset tried to stammer a reply, and managed to say nothing. Her face felt hot; her eyes stung and burned. 

"Where the hell do you get off?" Her voice shook – with anger, with shame at her own helplessness. "You think you can just – just strut off the roof like the last few minutes didn't happen? Like you didn't pin me against a wall and wave a damn crossbow in my face?!"

"Pretty much."

"Like hell. I don't believe you when you say you don't have any answers. You're telling me what you know, one way or the other." Sunset grabbed her own geode through her shirt. "And you're not leaving until you do."

At that, Lorelai turned, her horrible, smug little smile plastered again on her face – as though it had never left. There was something in her eyes, though, that gave Sunset pause, made her relax her grip on her geode.

Or, more precisely... there was nothing in her eyes. Her grin, her smarmy grin, came nowhere near reaching them.

"Watch me."

With a bounce in her step so light it could almost be called dainty, Lorelai hopped backward, and over the edge.

The girls all gasped, and cried out, and absurdly, Sunset did too, rushing forward. Stupid to worry – Lorelai wouldn't just throw herself off a roof unless she knew she could survive the fall. 

Sure enough, when Sunset looked over the edge, she saw Lorelai standing on the front steps, gazing back up with the same emptiness in her eyes. A small crowd of students, gathered on the steps and the lawn, gawped at her, no doubt shocked by the sudden appearance of this overdressed girl who fell from the sky.

Lorelai gave a mocking two-fingered salute, and turned away, sauntering down the stairs and toward the street, never once looking toward any of the people staring after her.
> 8. The Pros and Cons of Giving a Damn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

An overpowering reek of salt and dead fish wafted from the ankle-deep tidepools that Wallflower Blush slogged through. Even mouth-breathing didn't help; she could taste the rot on her tongue.

Having to lug another girl by the arm behind her didn’t help. Wallflower had a hard enough time moving her own weight on most days. Still, she had nobody but herself to blame for sticking around to help her. 

If only Lorelai had stayed behind, too.

Wallflower and Lorelai found the girl near the labyrinth’s entrance, unconscious and floating in a scummy tide pool. The labyrinth had opened in the playground of a downtown elementary school, but the girl looked too old to be a student there, though it was difficult to tell in the dark.

Lorelai didn’t argue when Wallflower said she wanted to look after the girl, but then immediately ditched her, rushing toward the witch's sanctum with speed that put Wallflower to shame. 

She’d been like that all day, ever since she’d gotten back from “returning some tapes” (whatever that meant), cutting down familiars and half-grown witches with barely a moment's rest. Wallflower could hardly keep up, but Lorelai refused to slow down, even as their soul gems grew murkier and their supply of Grief Seeds dwindled. 

Something had happened to her, Wallflower knew, but she wasn't brave enough to ask what.

The girl slipped a bit in Wallflower's grip. She cinched her arm around the girl's waist, grabbed hold of the arm draped over her shoulders, and hefted her up again.

"How much farther, Kyubey?" she thought.

The cat-thing's voice echoed in her head. "You are no longer heading toward the exit, I'm afraid. The labyrinth's layout has shifted – you are only heading deeper inside."

"What, again?" Wallflower's next step became a stomp of frustration, splashing herself and her charge with icky, witchy water. "When did that happen? Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"It happened just now, and I just did. Something has triggered a change in the environment."

"Lemme guess. The icecaps?" Wallflower rolled her eyes, catching a faint glow of light in the corner of her vision. "If only I'd wished for an end to global warming."

"Climate change is irrelevant in a witch's labyrinth," said Kyubey. "Rather, it is because Lorelai has engaged the witch."

The glow she noticed brightened, and Wallflower turned toward it. Her eyes widened; her face blanched.

Where there had once been nothing but a stark black void, a tower now rose, crowned with a glass lantern that shone, golden. A lighthouse – the only beacon in this cold, dead witch's realm.

It didn’t hold Wallflower’s attention for long. Water sloshed behind her, and she craned her neck around to see a shape rising from the tide pool. Light glittered off the barnacle-encrusted shell of some crustacean, its body draped in the tattered remnants of a naval uniform. The crab-like familiar pointed one of its arms, capped with a pair of cutlass-like scissors, directly at Wallflower.

From all around her, more familiars rose. Crabs and lobsters, anemones and mollusks, all wearing the same raggedy uniforms, all brandishing weapons from whatever limbs or orifices they had. Dozens, hundreds of cudgels and swords and flintlock pistols, all leveled at Wallflower.

It's Jack-Jack's labyrinth all over again.

Wallflower gulped, hoisted the unconscious girl for good measure, and moved. She fought the filthy water around her for every step and every inch, churning her legs and working her way towards the lighthouse. There was nowhere else to go. 

A rocky outcrop erupted from the water in front of her. Gritting her teeth, Wallflower slung the girl over her shoulders in a fireman's carry. With one hand free, she scrambled up the outcropping. She felt dull, scraping sensations against her legs where her skin dragged against barnacle-covered crags – no pain, just a rough, sandpapery feeling, like a cat's tongue. 

She made it to the top of the outcrop and dropped down the other side into a new pool of stinking water – and face-to-face with a crabby familiar. 

Wallflower grabbed her hat; it shimmered in her hand and transformed into Chalk Zone. She swung in time to parry a thrust from a rusty scissor-cutlass, and swung again to sever the claw below the wrist. Then, lifting her leg higher than she ever thought she could, she brought it down hard on the familiar's shell, thrusting the monster below the water.

Wallflower springboarded off the familiar's back, landed behind it, and spun. Her stomp left cracks and fissures in its shell, and as it rose to come after her again, she swung Chalk Zone down. The shell shattered, and the wreath of blades sank deep into the familiar's flesh. It twitched, jerked, and finally slumped over.

Wallflower could see more familiars cresting the ledge she'd just scaled. She sprinted forward again, sloshing and slogging through the pools, every step bringing her closer to the lighthouse in the labyrinth's heart – to the witch, to Lorelai, to some semblance of higher ground.

Before long, the lighthouse door loomed in front of her: A towering thing of splintered wood, banded with steel and haphazardly riveted with seashells and sand dollars. A sign arched over the door's entrance, seven runes whose meaning Wallflower couldn't begin to guess.

Planting her weight on her back foot, she lashed out with her front. 

"Wally KICK!"

The doors flung inward with a wet and woody thud. The light inside forced Wallflower to squint, but the clickity-clacks of crab legs on rock told her she didn't have time to let her eyes adjust. She ducked through the doors, kicked them closed behind her, swapped out Chalk Zone for her scarf, and lashed it around the door's rusty handles.

At once, the scarf knotted into a neat, tight little bow. From the other side of the door came more thuds and ominous, angry scratches – blades carving into the wood. 

The door didn't budge. The scarf didn't give. Smirking to herself, Wallflower took a step away from the door. She turned to take stock of her new surroundings.

Befitting a labyrinth, the lighthouse's interior defied logic – narrow from the outside, but cavernous on the inside. A spiral staircase circled the walls toward a brilliant golden light at the top – a sun in a glass dome. Stuck in the wall opposite Wallflower was the front end of a wooden sailing ship. Its broken bowsprit jutted upward, casting a shadow that swallowed Wallflower in darkness.

The witch lay in the hull's shadow too: A giant seabird, pinned on its back, skewered with bolts and arrows beyond count. Blood trickled from its wounds, and around its neck was a noose.

Lorelai stood on its chest, and held the other end of the rope. Cords of muscle in her arms rippled and bulged as she pulled it taut, tightening the noose around the witch's neck. The shadow from the boat hid her body, but the glow from her soul gem lit her face, and her eyes caught its sickly glow. 

The witch flailed its wounded wings in vain. Its dying cries of protest came out as high, strangled squawks; each one seemed to make Lorelai pull harder, tighten the noose even more. 

Lorelai made no expression. Even as the witch flailed its wings and tried to lift its head, and Lorelai ground her heel into its neck. Even when the rope broke, and Lorelai dropped to her knees to let her bare hands finish what the noose started. Even as the witch's movements slowed and its feeble squawks slackened and its body dissolved, skin and flesh and bone and all. Even as the labyrinth melted around them and they were once again in that decrepit schoolyard and Lorelai was left crouched over nothing, her fists clenched around nothing.

Even then, victorious, no emotion crept across her face. She held a Grief Seed in her trembling left hand.

No, Wallflower realized, swallowing back the sudden, nauseous lurch her stomach gave. Lorelai wasn’t holding it. The seed's spike was thrust through her palm.

Wallflower pulled the unconscious girl closer, some stupid, naive part of her seeking comfort in the one-sided embrace.

It took too long for her to breathe again and say, "Your hand..."

A tremor ran through Lorelai. She blinked and flexed her fingers. 

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Lorelai pulled the Grief Seed from her palm without so much as a wince. With a green flash, her magical girl outfit vanished and her street clothes reappeared. Then, standing, she thrust her hands into her coat pockets and trudged across the blacktop. She paused a foot away from Wallflower. 

"You gonna carry that around all day?"

"Huh? Oh, uh..." Wallflower reversed her transformation, hoping the flash of light hid her self-conscious blush. Back in her street clothes, she knelt and laid the girl across her lap.

Now that she could see her clearly, she realized that she knew this girl. A dark purple bruise, splotched here and there with make-up, discolored the right side of her face, but even so, Wallflower recognized her. She was a tenth grader at CHS, wasn't she? What was her name...?

Something metallic in her hair caught the fading sunlight – a silver barrette shaped like a little crown. Rhinestones capped the crown's points, substitutes for priceless gems.

A memory jolted through Wallflower's mind. She'd seen this charm at a PTA meeting, years ago, during a brief period where her mother had time for such things. A jowly woman had screamed at the vice principal in the angry tones of a woman with too much time, wealth, and ego for her own good. This girl was with her, shrinking with every trivial complaint. Wallflower clearly recalled her humiliated expression... and the same barrette in her hair.

"Check it out, Mom," she'd said, tugging on Kudzu's sleeve. "That girl's got diamonds in her hair."

"Wrap it up, Fluffy! It's time to go!"

The command brought Wallflower back to the present, where Lorelai had already walked to the playground's rusty, chain-link gate.

"We can't just leave her here," she said, without looking up from Diamond Tiara. "This isn't like the amusement park – this is a locked playground, at night. Who knows how long it'll be before someone finds her?"

"That's not our problem."

Wallflower gaped at Lorelai, who stood facing away with her hands still in her pockets. A breeze tousled her golden curls, but she otherwise stood as still as solid ice. 

Kyubey sat at her heel, looking up at her. He swiveled his head towards Wallflower when he realized she was staring.

"She's right," he said. "You've made good progress tonight. You can't afford to lose momentum now."

If Lorelai was at all uncomfortable sharing an opinion with Kyubey, she didn't let it show. That only unnerved Wallflower more.

"Give us a minute, will you?" said Wallflower to Kyubey.

Kyubey gave a shallow bow, and trotted away into a shadow. Of course, Wallflower had no doubt that he'd be able to hear everything said or unsaid between her and Lorelai. But talking this through would be easier without those beady red eyes burning holes in her.

When she was sure they were 'alone,' Wallflower eased Diamond Tiara to the ground, and stood up. 

"Didn't you say that you'd do things my way?" She hated the tremor that crept into her voice, the nerves that underwrote her words. "You gave me your word that you'd put people first."

Lorelai half-turned toward Wallflower, her eyes narrowed. "And did I fight you when you said you wanted to stay with the girl?"

Wallflower fumbled her words before shouting, "You left me all alone with her! That's not much better!"

"The witch needed to die. That's the whole reason we're out here – that's our job."

"We don't just fight witches for the sake of it. We do it to save lives – to help people!" Wallflower spread her arms wide. "Isn't that what it means to be a magical girl?"

Lorelai responded with an ugly sneer, and a bitter, lifeless chuckle. 

Wallflower's courage – what little she'd plucked – shriveled. Tears blurred the edges of her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, willed herself not to break down.

I thought we were past this.

A faint groan from the body at her feet made Wallflower's eyes shoot open again. Diamond Tiara was stirring, one hand numbly pawing at her forehead. 

Looking back at Lorelai – Wallflower half-expected her to have vanished – she saw that her sneer had melted into a scowl. She fixed an icy glare on Diamond Tiara, then shot a look toward Wallflower, arching an eyebrow. Telepathy or no, Wallflower felt like she could read her thoughts.

"You gonna do something?"

Wallflower crouched beside Diamond Tiara. She reached toward the younger girl, then froze when she realized she wasn't quite sure what to do. Cup her head? Massage her shoulders? Check her pulse, or... something?

Rather than hover-hand aimlessly, she balled up her hands and pulled her arms closer against her chest. "Are you okay?" she squeaked.

Diamond Tiara gurgled something in reply. She eased her head off the ground, rubbing her brow harder. As she rose, she hissed with pain, and Wallflower frantically half-reached toward her again. 

"Don't try to move too much!" She edged her arm behind Diamond Tiara's shoulders and helped her to a sitting position. "You were out cold for a while – are you okay?"

She cursed herself silently for asking that stupid question again.

Diamond Tiara, though, gave a coherent reply this time. "My head... Did I hit my head? Feels like I'm swimming..."

Wallflower's soul gem glinted faintly in the dim light. Could she heal her, the way Lorelai did for Sunset the night they met?

I shouldn't try that without purifying my soul gem first.

She cast a searching look toward Lorelai. Her face was stony, but Wallflower could see her hand moving in her coat pocket, toying with the Grief Seed she'd pulled from the witch.

And I can't do that without Diamond Tiara noticing.

"I know you." 

Diamond Tiara's voice, though tinged with pain, seemed a little more coherent this time. The younger girl studied her, eyes traveling up and down Wallflower's figure. It made Wallflower a bit self-conscious – with her dowdy clothes and mussed-up hair, Wallflower doubted she looked much like a savior. If only she'd stayed transformed a little longer. 

"I know you," Diamond Tiara repeated, more firmly. "You're that... that chick from the garden club. Whaleblubber... Butt."

A snicker from Lorelai made Wallflower's cheeks burn. She pouted, puffing up her cheeks like a blowfish, before exhaling in a rumbly-lipped sigh. 

"Yup. That's me. Whaleblubber Butt. Of the garden club."

"And who's she?" said Diamond, nodding towards Lorelai. She shrugged off Wallflower's arm. "Where are we? What are we doing here?"

Wallflower pulled her hands back and rested them on her knees. "She's, uh, a friend. We were just passing by when we saw you."

"Just passing by? What's that mean?" Anxiety simmered beneath Diamond words. "Were you looking for me?"

"No. No, I swear, we were just—" Wallflower looked helplessly at Lorelai. "We just wanted to see if you were okay, that's all."

"Did you call anyone? Did you call the cops?" Diamond's breathing picked up; her chest started heaving, and the simmering anxiety made her words shake. "Did you call the cops?!"

"I didn't! I—"

"Don't call the cops. Don't call the cops." She grabbed Wallflower by the sweater, her knuckles white around the fabric. "They'll take me home, and I can't go home, I can't go home, I can't go home..." 

She released Wallflower, and clutched one hand against her chest. Her other hand went to her face, rubbing and kneading the bruise on her cheek.

"I can't go home I can't go home Ican'tgohomeIcan'tgohomeIcan't... I can't..."

Wallflower felt sick – she didn't need Sunset to read Diamond's mind. To know what waited for her at home. If witches spread curses, and fed on despair, then Diamond Tiara must've been a banquet to this one.

"Nobody is going to make you go home." Wallflower's too-soft voice was smothered beneath Diamond Tiara's panicked mantra. "I didn't call the cops, and I'm not gonna make you go anywhere you don't wanna."

She reached toward Diamond Tiara's shoulder. The younger girl, noticing, cringed away, leaving Wallflower's hand hanging in the air.

Hissing through her teeth, Wallflower pulled her arm back. God, what was she thinking? How many times had she been in Diamond Tiara's position? And when did touching her ever help?

She was out of her element. That was the problem. How funny that this – not the deadly rollercoaster, not the gun-toting lobsters, but helping someone through a panic attack – made her freeze up.

Lorelai was no help. Hell, she wanted to walk away before Diamond even woke up. Now she acted like neither of them were there: Back turned, collar popped, hood up.

I’m amazed she stuck around at all.

That realization hurt even more than her rejection.

And that means... I'm all that Diamond Tiara's got. 

But that's not nothing. Right?

She dug deep for every half-remembered therapist appointment and mental health exercise she could. Then, she looked at the hyperventilating girl, whose mantra had devolved into a sustained, raggedy gasp.

Wallflower forced herself to smile bravely.

"Whoever hurt you won't get you again. You're safe now." 

Her smile wavered, and threatened to break. She refused to let it. 

"You're safe now," she repeated, "and you're going to be okay. Just..."

Wallflower lifted her hand, keeping it close to herself so as not to startle Diamond Tiara again. She inhaled slowly, counting to five off her fingers in time with her breath. Then, counting back down, she released her breath, folding her fingers back into her fist.

By then, Diamond was looking at her. Her gaze flicked between Wallflower's face, and the hand she was using to count.

"Just breathe with me," said Wallflower. "That's all you have to do right now. Just breathe with me."

She inhaled again, and Diamond inhaled with her. She exhaled, and Diamond Tiara exhaled with her. Their eyes stayed locked as they breathed, as the shadows lengthened and the sun vanished and only a pale smear of daytime sky stretched overhead.

Eventually, the school's nighttime lights flickered to life, painting the yard in their sallow glow. Diamond Tiara still shook like a beaten dog, but her breath came steadily, evenly, in time with Wallflower's.

By then, Wallflower's smile didn't feel so fragile anymore.

She let out one last breath. Instead of drawing in another with Diamond Tiara, she spoke.

"You don't want to call the cops, and you don't want to go home. Is there anywhere else that you can go? Anyone else you can call?"

Diamond's gaze flicked away from Wallflower's, and moved rapidly from side-to-side. Her uncertainty made Wallflower's confidence waver again – what would she do if the answer was no? She doubted Lorelai would let her stay at the hotel. Maybe her own apartment?

Not like Mom would be around to object.

The point became moot when Diamond Tiara looked up again.

"I could call someone," she mumbled. "Only I lost my phone, and..."

Wallflower frowned. Whether Diamond lost her phone in the labyrinth, or somewhere else in the concrete jungle of Canterville, it was as good as gone. 

"You can borrow my phone. We'll try to find yours later." 

"That's not what I mean." Diamond shook her head. "It's gone, okay?"

"Um... if you say so." Not understanding, but not willing to press her further, Wallflower dusted her palms on her knees, and stood. "Either way, we're gonna have to go someplace with reception. Can you move?"

She offered a hand to Diamond Tiara. After a moment's hesitation, Diamond took it, and let Wallflower pull her to her feet.

"Your friend," she said, with a look past Wallflower.

Wallflower craned her neck around to look over her shoulder.

There was nothing – no one – there. Just the two of them, bathed in orange, surrounded by weed-choked blacktop.

Wallflower's heart sank. She sniffed, and squeezed her eyes shut to stifle her tears again.

Then, hand-in-hand with Diamond Tiara, she left the empty schoolyard behind.







Their walk took them away from the rotting heart of Canterville, and into the warmer, friendlier avenues uptown. Shuttered storefronts and decaying apartments, slathered with years of graffiti, gave way to trendy eateries and glossy apartments. 

Diamond Tiara's condition improved the longer they walked. She pulled her hand free from Wallflower's after a few blocks, and opened up about her ordeal after a couple more. Naturally, she remembered nothing about the witch, nor could she say exactly how she ended up at the old schoolyard. Everything after she left school that day was fuzzy.

She remembered why she was downtown in the first place, though.

"You were gonna hop on a bus?" said Wallflower. "Just any bus?"

"I wanted to get away," Diamond muttered. "Didn't really care where I ended up, as long as it was somewhere nobody knew me."

She didn't want anyone recognizing her wherever she wound up. She didn't want anyone to send her home. Wallflower could understand that much without her saying so.

She stroked her soul gem with her thumb.

"You know, they wouldn't have let you on a bus," said Wallflower. "An unaccompanied minor with no ID... they would've flagged you as a runaway and called the police."

"I had cash. Just about all my money. I could've paid them to keep quiet." She scoffed. "Mom really thought I'd need to steal her credit card when I had a year's allowance under my bed."

Wallflower looked at Diamond Tiara. "You stole your mom's—"

Diamond Tiara stopped in her tracks and glared at Wallflower, rage twisting her face into a snarl. "I didn't steal anything!"

The fury in her voice caught Wallflower off guard. Placatingly, she raised her hands, fingers spread, and tried to stammer out an apology. 

"I'm... I didn't—"

"And even if I did," Diamond continued, her hand cupping her cheek, "that's no reason to—"

Her voice broke before she could finish her thought, and the outburst ended as quickly as it had started. Anger still smoldered on her face, but the rest of her body shook. Abruptly, she turned away from Wallflower, throwing her gaze across the street.

Stupid, Wally, thought Wallflower, amid that choking silence. Stupid. 

Here she thought she was doing well, but all it took was one slip of the tongue, one dumb question, to push Diamond Tiara back to the brink. What would Lorelai say?

They stood in silence for a few long moments – Wallflower watching the evening traffic, and Diamond staring past it, at a clean-looking storefront. Above its door was a backlit sign with a steaming coffee cup, drawn in thin, wispy strokes.

"You still okay with me using your phone?" said Diamond, softly. Without looking, she held out a hand towards Wallflower. 

Wallflower dug her phone from her pocket. After checking that she had reception, she unlocked it, and handed it to Diamond Tiara. 

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Diamond muttered. She took the phone and started dialing, her thumb picking and pecking at the keyboard. "You're just trying to help me."

"It's alright. I'm sorry, too." A bit relieved, Wallflower crept closer, peering over Diamond's shoulder at the phone. She'd only punched in an area code and the first four digits. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah... just that I'm not used to, um... dialing this number. Or calling any number, really." Her finger hovered over the keypad. "Who does that anymore?”

Wally does, thought Wallflower glumly. Or she would, if she had anyone to call.

"Would it be easier to just try 911?"

"That won't help," Diamond muttered. She stabbed in another digit, then another, a bit more certainly. "They never help."

You don't know until you try, Wallflower almost said. She immediately realized what a stupid sentiment that would be. How else would Diamond Tiara know that they never helped?

"She's Spoiled Rich," Diamond continued. "And I'm just her brat daughter. Nobody takes my word over hers. Not Daddy. Not the cops."

"I did," said Wallflower. "I do."

Diamond hesitated before hitting the last digit. "I hope you're not the only one."

Then she lifted the phone to her face. A few tense seconds of waiting passed as the phone rang.

"Hey. It's me." She paused – Wallflower could hear indistinct chatter from the phone. "Yeah, sorry. Mine got taken. I'm borrowing, um... someone's." 

Wallflower almost took that personally – she was just 'someone,' huh? – before remembering that Diamond didn't actually know her name. A tiny voice in the back of her head urged her to take it personally anyway.

Diamond kept talking, a quiver creeping into her voice. "Listen, um... you know that... that thing we talked about at school today?"

Her voice broke.

"I think I'm ready to try."

There was a pause, then a flurry of muffled audio from the phone.

"Roasty Toasters. On Market." The strain in Diamond's voice relaxed. "See you soon."

She ended the call. Her arm dropped to her side, limp. Turning, she handed Wallflower the phone, though she didn't raise her head.

"Someone's gonna pick me up. It'll be a couple minutes – I'm gonna wait inside there."

"You want me to wait with you?" Wallflower said, sticking her phone back into her pocket.

"I'll be okay," said Diamond, with a slight shake of her head. She fidgeted, toes scraping uncomfortably against the sidewalk. "I'm, um... I'm not really good at gratitude, so..."

She reached inside her windbreaker, retrieved a wet, crumply wad, and held it out toward Wallflower. With a frown, Diamond smoothed it out with her thumb until it regained some of its shape.

A hundred dollars? 

Wallflower stammered. "I don't— I can't—" 

"I know it's not a lot, but it's all I have left," said Diamond. "Everything else was in my purse, and I don't know where that went." 

"That's not what I mean!" said Wallflower, frantically waving her hands. "I can't take your money!"

"Please. You earned it." She shook her hand, insistent. "Please."

Wallflower tried to refuse again, but the words died on her lips. Instead, her eyes lingered on the money. She could do a lot with a hundred dollars. And Diamond Tiara seemed like she really wanted her to have it – it would be rude to refuse. Maybe even unethical.

Any more unethical, she thought, her fingers inches away from the money, than taking money from an abused, teenage runaway?

Ashamed that she'd even consider it, Wallflower wrapped her hand around Diamond's. She pushed the younger girl's fingers closed. 

For the first time since they'd stopped on this sidewalk, Diamond Tiara looked into Wallflower's eyes. Some emotion played on her face – she seemed confused, maybe even a little offended.

I should say something, Wallflower thought. Something pithy – something wise.

But she'd done nothing but misspeak tonight, and she didn't want to make things worse again. So, she just smiled, and gave Diamond's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing.

Diamond re-pocketed the soggy money. She kept her eyes on Wallflower, her jaw working.

"There's a hair salon around the corner," she finally declared. "The Mane Thing. Ask for Zephyr – he should be working today – and tell him I sent you. Don't even think about saying no." 

By the same principle – and feeling a little insulted, truth be told – Wallflower wanted to decline. But Diamond Tiara's tone brooked no refusal, and her expression seemed tense, so she just nodded.

That made Diamond relax. She turned and stepped toward the curb; the traffic had lulled enough for her to jaywalk safely. She looked back at Wallflower one final time.

"...No offense. Just. You'd look cute with short hair."

She was gone before Wallflower could gather herself enough to reply, scrambling across the street as only a young girl who needed to flee from a bold and embarrassing compliment could.

Wallflower, her face suddenly and unaccountably hot, watched Diamond enter the coffee shop and take a seat by the front window. From her vantage, Wallflower had a clear view of the girl. No one approached her, and no one reacted to her presence; she sat in that clean, well-lighted place, injured and tousled and unnoticed, and waited.

Wallflower hugged herself tightly, and resolved to wait with her.

"I don't see it, personally. Long hair suits you better."

The voice made Wallflower jump. She turned towards its source and found, with a mixture of relief and irritation, Lorelai.

"Plus I wouldn't be able to call you 'Fluffy' anymore if you cut it," Lorelai added. She regarded Wallflower with a guarded smile. "What would you be then? Fuzzy? Stubbly?"

I could still be Fluffy, thought Wallflower. Then she realized how dumb it would be to get hung up on a nickname from someone who'd ditched her earlier.

"Wasn't sure I'd see you again," she grumbled. "When you took off, I didn't think you'd come back."

"You still need to purify your soul gem, don't you? Besides, I wanted to see how you played that out." 

Lorelai held up her left hand, the Grief Seed between two fingers. The spike had gone clean through her palm and out the other end, but there wasn't so much as a scar. 

Healing magic really was miraculous. She made a note of that as she took the seed from Lorelai.

"Is that what you meant this morning by 'an enterprising spirit?" Wallflower magicked her Soul Gem out from its ring, and held the Grief Seed against it. "You save people, and then you bill them?"

"Not really. It's just common sense. Someone offers to pay you for your work, you don't think twice about it." Lorelai sighed. "If it happens again, just take the money. Trust me."

Maybe it was the relief and energy that came from purifying her Soul Gem, or maybe she just felt confident after helping Diamond Tiara. Either way, something in Wallflower boiled over.

"Being a magical girl isn't 'work' to me. I don't save people for a reward; I do it because there's nobody else who can." She glared at Lorelai. "Maybe you signed up just to get paid, but I—"

"Don't make assumptions." Lorelai's voice was quiet and placid, but her narrow-eyed glare froze Wallflower into silence.

Stupid. 

What was the point of standing up to someone if you let yourself get knocked down right away? 

Stupid, stupid coward.

Lorelai stared at Diamond Tiara through the Roasty Toasters window. She reached up and wound a curl around her finger.

"Saving people from witches is something only we can do. Where we can do it, in the line of duty, we should. And you’re right, no one but us could've helped her tonight." 

She gave a curt nod towards the coffee shop, where a barista swung by Diamond Tiara's table and left a steaming mug that Wallflower didn't think she ordered.

"But," Lorelai continued. "Once the witch died, and the labyrinth collapsed, she stopped being our problem. We didn't – you didn't owe her anything else."

"She was still in trouble," protested Wallflower. "She still needed me."

"Really." Lorelai's voice sharpened. "Only you could've walked her here? Only you could've loaned her a cell phone?" 

Wallflower opened her mouth, a dozen protests on her tongue. But in her head, each sounded more pathetic than the last. She mumbled something, trailed off, and looked away, ashamed.

"That's what I thought." The edge in Lorelai's voice softened, though she still sounded stern. "You're not her family. You're not her social worker. You're a puella magi with a job to do, and you can't do that if you're screwing around with her. There are witches out there, right now, hunting, hurting, killing people. They need you. Not her."

"She didn't have anyone else," Wallflower finally managed. "There was nobody there who could've helped her. Who could've stayed with her until she woke up, gotten her away from that part of town, and made sure she was safe. Her mom, the cops—"

"Yeah, I know. I overheard everything. And what I'm saying is that it had nothing to do with you. You can’t save every sad little girl with mommy issues that crosses your path. The sooner you get that through your cute little head, the better off you'll be." 

Lorelai's words washed over Wallflower like the stinking tide of the dead witch's labyrinth. She felt a weight descend through her stomach, a weight that threatened to drag her down.

She refused to let it. She was sick of this one-sided exchange, of her own flaccid protests and falling silent after Lorelai's stone-cold ripostes. Plucking her courage, she glared at Lorelai, ready to push back.

But when she saw Lorelai, silent and statuesque, gazing across the street at nothing, she found no words.

"You think I don't know how I sound? Telling you not to give a damn about anyone? It's for your own good. I mean..." Lorelai laughed, sadly. "I wasn't always alone, you know."

"What're you trying to say?" Wallflower frowned. "You had friends? You did?"

"Let's call 'em mentors. Not that the label really matters. No, what does matter is that they..." 

The headlights of a rapidly approaching car washed over Lorelai's face. Wallflower caught a good look at her face; her eyes were red, and the make-up around them smudged and uneven.

Lorelai noticed Wallflower staring, and quickly looked away.

"...Left me. Pretty much all at once."

The car sped past, tousling Lorelai's curls and coattails, almost bowling Wallflower over in its wake.

"I'm not looking for pity, Fluffy," said Lorelai, once the car was out of sight. "I'm trying to make a point. Girls like us can't rely on anyone, can't get attached to anyone. You just set yourself up to get hurt down the line when they're gone. 'Cuz they're always gone, in the end. They leave you, or..."

She trailed off. Wallflower tried to digest her words, but they only made her feel sick.

'Don't get attached to me. I'm just gonna leave you in the end.'

She sounded like she meant what she said. But if she didn't want Wallflower getting attached to her, then why bother teaming up in the first place? They'd been in each other's company for almost two days, nonstop. Sure, they spent a lot of that time hunting and fighting, but not all of it.

"You're full of shit," blurted Wallflower, without thinking. 

Once upon a time, the shock on Lorelai's face would've made Wallflower wilt and babble apologies. Instead, she doubled down. 

"Yeah, I said it." Wallflower planted her hands on her hips. "You take me shopping, you buy me dinner, you let me stay in your fancy hotel, complete with room service and a bathrobe?" Wallflower laughed. "Nobody has ever done that for me! Not my parents, or Sunset, but you? I know you for less than a week, and you—"

Wallflower stopped abruptly. She'd grown, she realized, but not so much that she could rattle off an impassioned speech without stumbling. Her rhetorical prowess hadn't impressed Diamond Tiara, and she doubted it would win over Lorelai. 

Rather than risk making things worse, Wallflower clammed up, expecting Lorelai to say something. 

Instead, Lorelai looked at the pavement. Something flickered across her face, some hint of emotion that Wallflower hadn't seen on her before. For the first time, Lorelai looked… vulnerable.

Maybe I overdid it.

"Look, I'm sorry for losing my temper," said Wallflower. "I didn't mean to. It's just... You're trying to teach me how to be as hard and cold as you, but if that were true, why are we standing here right now? Why have we done anything that we did together these last couple days? Nobody just... does that stuff for someone they don't care about." 

She gave a wide, sweatery shrug, and let her arms drop limply against her sides.

"Who's attached to who?"

Lorelai stared at the pavement in silence as cars rolled by on the street, their rumbling motors and crunching tires and too-heavy bass scoring whatever thoughts ran through her head. She shook her head and pursed her lips, and finally spoke without looking up.

"You're right. When you lay it all out like that, it doesn't make much sense. Go head on home. I'll handle the rest of tonight's patrol myself."

Wallflower chuckled, sweat beading on her forehead. "Hey, c'mon. Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" said Lorelai flatly. "I'm gonna be checking out of the hotel tonight, too. Place is not worth what I'm paying to stay there." 

"I wasn't trying to— All I meant was that—"

"Don't sweat it. It's nothing you said – was gonna get out of there anyway." A smile crept onto Lorelai's face, and found its way into her voice. "I had fun these last couple of days. I hope you did too." 

The reflex Wallflower felt with Diamond Tiara, to reach out and comfort her, took hold. But Lorelai gave a half-hearted salute, slid her hands back into her pockets, and turned around. Then, without another word, she started down the sidewalk, and into the night.

Wallflower's heart hammered in her chest. Tears sprang in her eyes, and she messily wiped at them with one frayed and baggy sleeve. She never wanted to make Lorelai leave. 

She just wanted her to realize that she didn't really want to be alone.

She knew how it felt when people abandoned you. Her father, her relatives, what few friends she had as a kid – none of them stayed around her for long. Her mom was distant – not abusive, like Diamond's, but there was no closing the distance that'd grown between them. Even her friendship with Moondancer fizzled after a while. She took to isolation easily, welcomed the invisibility it brought her, wrapped herself up in it so tight that she convinced herself she liked it, and forgot how to be any other way.

It wasn't until Sunset Shimmer came into her life that she remembered what it meant to love and be loved. All she wanted to do now was share that lesson with Lorelai.

But instead, she drove Lorelai away. And if she tried to make it right now, she'd just make things worse.

With a wet sigh, she buried her regrets. Her eyes wandered around the street, finally alighting on the front window at Roasty Toasters, where Diamond Tiara still waited. She had her hands around the mug that the barista brought her, and her gaze lowered to stare into it.

Are you gonna end up alone tonight, too, Diamond?

She almost crossed the street to sit with her. But before she could take a step, a shiny gray sedan screeched to a stop outside the coffee shop, its rear end jutting diagonally into the lane. A convertible, traveling too close behind for comfort, braked and swerved to maneuver around, narrowly missing a rear-end collision.  

The convertible's driver blared his horn as he passed, shouting something unintelligible. 

The gray car's driver neither noticed, nor cared, nor bothered to straighten out. 

A girl leaped out of the sedan's side door, and ran inside the coffee shop, hastily pulling on a jacket. Her long, silver braid trailed behind her like a comet's tail. She must've said something when she got inside, because Diamond Tiara looked up from her drink, and immediately stood.

Before Diamond could say anything, the new girl caught her in a tight embrace. Diamond clutched the girl like a life preserver, and buried her face in her neck. Her shoulders shook, and the rest of her body shuddered, while the newcomer stroked the back of her head gently. 

Despite herself, Wallflower smiled. Tears still streamed down her face, but she wiped them away again, and scrubbed her cheeks with her sleeve for good measure. Diamond wouldn't be alone tonight. Her friend came through after all.

And it wouldn't have happened without me. 

Pride swelled inside of her. A reflexive shame grew alongside it – this wasn't her moment, and who was she to take credit for it? But Wallflower ignored the feeling, and let her pride grow.

Seeing them together stirred something in Wallflower, and she turned to look down the path that Lorelai had taken. She was a block away, now – still visible, but not for much longer.

Wallflower took a stutter-step forward, and then another. Soon she was running, flying, down the pavement.

You're wrong, she thought, sprinting down the sidewalk. It's not enough to save people from witches, You gotta be there for them – show them that someone cares.

That's true for everyone. Especially girls like us.

"Lorelai," she called. "Lorelai!"

Her cries were enough to stop Lorelai, for a moment. Then, when she was close enough, she lunged and seized her elbow with both hands.

"Doyouwannahavedinneratmyplace?!"

Lorelai half-turned towards Wallflower, nonplussed. She looked down at her elbow, then at Wallflower.

"What?"

Wallflower panted – magical girl stamina or no, that little sprint left her breathless. "Do... you... wanna come over... tomyplace... for..."

She lost her breath again, and sagged, wheezing. "Just one... just gimme a..."

With her eyes on her feet, and her vision blurry at that, Wallflower couldn't see the look on Lorelai's face. If her voice was anything to go by, though, her expression must've been incredulous.

"You want me to come over to your place for dinner?"

"Uh... uhhhhh, yep, uh-huh... thanks for..."

Wallflower caught her breath enough to straighten out, and look Lorelai in the eye.

Yup. Incredulous.

She let out one last gust of air to stabilize herself. "I'm pretty good with some stuff, you know. Mostly Italian. Pasta. I'm no Olive Garden®, but I could whip—"

"Are you kidding me? I just got through telling you to—" Lorelai's expression hardened into a scowl. "Did you hear a word of what I said?"

Wallflower cringed when Lorelai raised her voice. But then she glared right back.

"I heard all of it. Every word." She gripped Lorelai's arm more firmly, and set her jaw. "Now, do you wanna come over, or not?"

Lorelai blinked, recoiling a bit. Through the coat, Wallflower could feel her shaking.

Then, a quiet little scoff escaped her. A chuckle followed, her lips quirking up with it. Gently, she pulled her arm free from Wallflower's grip, and used that hand to cup her forehead, her laughter ending with a sigh.

She held that pose for a long, tense moment. Then, without looking up, she answered.

"Alright."

Wallflower relaxed her jaw, releasing a heavy breath with it – holding that pose was starting to hurt. "You'll come over? Have dinner with me?"

"If you're offering. And as long as I don't have to bring anything."

"No! No, of course not!" Grinning with relief, Wallflower grabbed Lorelai's other hand, and started backpedaling. "I mean, I have all the ingredients I'd need to make—"

"Hold your horses. It's gonna have to wait a bit." Lorelai pulled herself free from Wallflower a second time, smirking as Wallflower's momentum made her stumble backward. "I still gotta finish this patrol. Shouldn't be more than an hour. I'll meet you at your place when I'm done."

"But... you don't know where I live. How will you find me?"

With an enigmatic smile Lorelai flashed the soul gem on her finger.

"Oh, right. Magic." Wallflower nodded. "So you'll finish patrolling, and then I can feed you?"

"Then you will feed me." 

"You promise?"

Lorelai's smile widened, and Wallflower's heart fluttered. "Wouldn't miss it."

With that, Lorelai resumed her walk into the night – with, it seemed to Wallflower, a bounce in her step that hadn't been there before.

Wallflower watched her until she was out of sight, then turned around, and headed back the way she'd come. Before long, she was in front of Roasty Toasters again. A glance across the street confirmed that Diamond Tiara, and the shiny sedan, were gone.

Wallflower smiled again. She still almost couldn't believe it – she'd saved Diamond Tiara. She did that. Pathetic, useless, invisible Wally saved that little girl's life. And it was different from the lady she rescued the day before, too. She didn't do it by playing the part of a shoujo heroine, or by giving some rousing, life-changing speech.

If I've learned anything, it's that I'm really not the best talker.

No, she'd saved Diamond Tiara by being there for her. By doing something to show that she cared, she gave Diamond hope that things could be better.

Maybe that was what it really meant to be a magical girl.

Maybe she could prove Lorelai wrong – by saving her the same way.

And maybe… Wallflower thought, wrapping a tufty green lock around her finger. Maybe I would look cute with short hair.