> Room
>  by AstralMouse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Bed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

My dream melted away, and the meaningless words spoken by faceless ponies became distant memories as the feelings of my sleep mask and heavy comforter grounded me in reality. I sighed, smiling as I enjoyed a final few seconds of beauty rest, then lifted my mask off and opened my eyes.

My first and brief impression was that I had simply woken up early, and it was still dark. But my smile died quickly as I realized that was not the case.

"What?" I said, as if asking the room itself what I was seeing.

I could see my bed, well lit just as it was every morning, with a rounded spot of sunlight falling on one corner from my window.

I could not see my window.

I could see my floor, the softest non-cloud material available, in a deep blue that perfectly complemented the faded purple walls.

I could not see the walls.

Instead, the floor stretched away, disappearing into a black horizon in all directions. Several blinks of my heavy eyelids did nothing to change it. My ponnequins, my sewing table, my bookshelf, my area rug, the walls and ceiling, the windows, the door, none of it was anywhere to be seen.

Convinced I was still dreaming, I used my magic to pinch myself, only for it to hurt like one would expect.

"What?" I said again.

I pushed my comforter down and sat up, using my magic to grab blindly at the glass of water on my nightstand, only to feel nothing there. A glance confirmed that my nightstand was also missing.

I decided to take a moment to collect my thoughts and try to make sense of my situation.

If this wasn't a dream, it could only be some kind of powerful magic. Discord playing a prank, perhaps? That seemed likely, even if his sense of humor was a tad less dark than this. Or perhaps I was trapped in some kind of magic device, like a book or relic? Held in suspension? I recalled how vivid my nightmares were when I had been cocooned by the changelings. Maybe the Tantabus was responsible? I could certainly see it coming after the ones responsible for defeating it before.

Whatever the cause, my first concern was for my sister.

"Sweetie Belle?" I called out into the void, only to notice just how odd my voice sounded. It was like the vast emptiness swallowed it up and left nothing but the vibrations in my own head, silent now but still echoing through my mind.

Silent.

I noticed the silence then, as the phantom sounds of my voice faded to leave a terrifying nothingness. I strained to hear anything. Birds chirping, ponies passing, wind rustling the leaves, Opalescence mewling for breakfast, anything.

What I heard was the muffled thump-thump of my own heart and the faint straining of my clenched jaw.

I realized I was holding my breath, and I let it out in a rush of air that drowned out the other sounds. After a few breaths, however, I could still hear my heart in between each one.

"Hahaha, ahhhhh," I said to temporarily cover it up again, turning the sigh into a cheery hum.

The longer I spent covering the awful silence with my own voice, the more I relaxed. Equestria and I had been through worse, and I was sure that, whatever this was, my friends would come for me. Or, even if they were experiencing the same thing, there was a long list of very capable creatures we knew who could help us.

My heart drummed in my ears. I resumed humming.

Well, I certainly couldn't just wait without trying to solve the mystery myself. The silence alone would drive me mad if I sat still.

I decided to investigate the spot of sunlight on my bed's corner first. Where was it coming from? Still on my bed, I crawled to it and stuck a hoof out over it. Oddly, my hoof made a shadow but didn't get any brighter itself. Stranger still, I could feel the warmth of sunlight where it was landing. I decided to lie on my back and stick my face in it.

When my eyes entered the light, I immediately had the urge to shut them, despite seeing nothing but blackness above. I slowly opened them to slits, squinting hard to look for the source, but could not see anything. When I pulled my head out, I rubbed my eyes and saw spots dancing in my vision, lingering even after opening them again.

Sitting up in bed now, I looked down at the spot of sunshine and grimaced.

I decided to check the floor next, stepping carefully down onto the familiar carpet. It felt totally normal. Experimental stomps made the hollow thud one would expect from floorboards beneath it, too.

And walking a full circle around my bed revealed nothing helpful.

I stared into the distance. With no frame of reference but uniformly black sky and blue floor, it was impossible to tell just how far away I was seeing. Everything seemed to be evenly lit, too. Everything except the sunlight on my bed, that is.

I was afraid to leave my bed behind, but I wanted to walk out and see how far away the horizon was. Given the odd nature of magic, it could have all been some kind of illusion. Because of this, my first steps were slow, swinging a hoof out in a wide arc in front of me to check for invisible furniture or walls. I stopped when I was definitely beyond where my walls would have been and switched to a cautious trot.

Regularly looking back, I watched my bed shrink. And shrink. And shrink. Being a large four-poster bed, it stood out on the horizon. But, lacking any kind of frame of reference made the distant object look like doll furniture. I figured I had probably gone the equivalent of halfway across Ponyville.

Still, everything around me was endless carpet.

It was time to turn back.

Long distances can be deceptive, and the walk back felt longer with the bed constantly in view. I kept thinking that it should have been getting bigger, but it wasn't. Not at first, anyway, and the illusion persisted long enough to make me question whether it was getting closer at all. It reminded me of seeing a distant pony in dim light, either walking towards you or away from you, but you can’t tell which. I did eventually make it back, much to my relief.

Part of me hoped to find something had changed about the bed, but it was still just as I had left it.

"Okay, bed," I said, "give me a clue. What's going on? Where's my bedroom? Where's my sister? Where are my friends? Where's Opalescence?"

I continued asking questions to keep the silence at bay as I stripped off the linens and slid the mattress onto the floor. The box spring revealed nothing new. The pile of sheets, my pillows, and my red comforter all lay separately and neatly folded; they were ordinary and unhelpful. My mattress taunted me with its lack of clues.

With frustration building, I removed the box spring from the frame, uncovering the floor beneath my bed.

Something was off, this time. Something was missing.

The patch of sunlight! It wasn't there.

I quickly replaced the box spring, and saw the light hitting it as I did. Then I moved it, and where a bright spot should have appeared on the floor, it was simply swallowed up. Passing my hoof across it, I could feel where it was.

"Okay, sun. Just you and me. Show me where you're coming from."

I tossed a sheet on the floor and slowly levitated it up and along the sunbeam, watching it closely.

"Of course!" I said.

It was coming from the direction of where my window would be. And my window, being about head height… yes! As I moved away from my bed, holding up the sheet, I could follow the sunlight by keeping it level.

With nothing better to go on, I located my sleeping mask and tore the elastic band off. "Sorry, mask, but I need this," I told it.

It was difficult without scissors, but not impossible to tear off a square from my sheets. I'd worked without tools during fashion emergencies before, after all. I held the sheet up to my face, happy that I could see through the thin fabric well enough, and standing in the sunlight brightened it up just as I'd hoped it would.

I stripped a sharp splinter of wood from my bed's frame and removed thick threads from my comforter, using them to sew the bit of sheet to the elastic band, making a new mask. It wasn't pretty. In fact, it was downright ugly... but it would be useful. Applejack would be proud.

I tried it on, and it worked like a charm. The light was a bit harsh on my eyes, so I gathered a second sheet to try it with two layers. That made it impossible to see, but the brightness was manageable, so I sewed it along the top where it could be folded up just in case.

Taking the mask off, I spared a glance at my bed. Even in its ruined state, it promised safety. Familiarity. But, with a goal in mind now, it also promised complacency. I had to investigate the sunlight. If I found my window, perhaps I could get outside and escape this place. My bed, however, was going to do nothing for me except be a nice place to sleep.

I nodded, and, with new conviction, put the mask over my face after locating the sunbeam.

From there, it was as simple as walking while keeping the sunlight in my face.

Simple.

I hadn't considered that simple would not be easy.
> Window
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first, walking blind was scary, but it wasn't long before I gained enough confidence to keep the mask on for extended periods. Walking on soft carpet was easy, once I got past my fear of bumping into furniture. As long as I kept the cloth over my eyes bright, I had to be going the right way, and I knew roughly how far away any obstacles would become visible.

Every so often, I stopped to pull my mask up and look around. It took what felt like hours before my bed disappeared completely into the darkness behind me. It had shrunk to a barely-visible bump, amazing me that I could still see it. Once I couldn't, though, part of me wanted to panic and gallop back to it. Being alone in a sea of carpet with nothing of note in any direction was unnerving to say the least.

With nothing in view, it felt strangely claustrophobic. But instead of being unable to move, there was the illusion that moving just didn't matter. Too much empty space without things to actually walk to. Surrounded by walls of distance that constrained me just about as effectively as wooden boards or cob.

The thing that helped the most in keeping me going forward was having a forward to go to. My window just had to be out there.

My only companions now were my mask, the sunlight, and the soft sound of my hooves on carpet. Sometimes I hummed, several times I sang, and often I walked in silent thought, wondering how my sister and my friends were doing. And Opalescence. Hopefully, somepony had fed her by now in my absence.

The thought of food brought a strange realization. Despite walking briskly for what must have been several hours, I didn't feel hungry. While I was no stranger to skipping breakfast for work, I expected to at least crave something. Two pieces of toast, one with apple jam and one with a thin slice of chocolate melted onto it, sounded divine, but only for its familiarity. My tummy wasn't rumbling in the slightest.

I stopped to pull my mask up and look around.

Still nothing.

So, maybe this magic place made food unnecessary. Maybe time itself was suspended. After all, if the sunlight was coming from my window, surely the sun would have moved up by now? But the beam was still in the same place.

Well, if that was the case, then Opal would be fine. And maybe by the time I escaped, nopony would even have noticed I was gone?

This was a worrying thought in its own way, however, as it also meant my friends couldn't save me if they were frozen outside of a time bubble or whatever.

I had long given up on Discord being the cause. Well, intentionally, anyway. During my walk, I had called out his name, even threatening him by saying Fluttershy would not be happy if he kept it up. And if he was listening, he surely would have done something then.

The Tantabus was near the top of my list of suspects now, since this all seemed like it could easily be some kind of nightmare crossed with reality. And time in dreams did get rather distorted.

As my wandering thoughts dwindled and I found myself lacking a distraction, I began counting my steps. I frequently lost count, and started over multiple times, but it kept me focused more on walking and less on the eerie silence and vast unseen space around me.

More hours passed, and I filled the time by recalling fond memories of my friends. Saving Equestria, helping them, them helping me, mistakes we made and learned from, and more adventure than a Daring Do novel. Well, on occasion, there were literal Daring Do adventures, too.

Walking as I was, wearing a blindfold that ironically helped me see, I felt like Somnambula, holding onto a kind of hope that my mask made visible to me. I developed a new appreciation for her and her element of hope. Following a beam of light was much like crossing a narrow bridge, just without the dangerous pit of bubbling ooze on either side. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I let my imagination get the best of me and pretended to be crossing the bridge from her story, only to lose my balance and step off the path to catch myself.

Whoops! Into the ooze! I thought.

With a giggle, I lifted up the blindfold to look around.

I squinted at what I saw, or at least what I thought I saw. Ahead of me, the horizon and sky had the very faintest purple tinge. I wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light being in my eyes for so long or what, but looking back revealed the usual blackness. The difference was too faint to be sure of, however, even to my discerning eye.

I decided to take it as a good sign and put my mask back down, pressing onward.

Less patient now, I stopped to look more frequently, and sure enough, the faint purple slowly began to dominate the horizon in front of me as it grew more visible. I didn't know what exactly it was, but anything new was welcome at this point.

It wasn't long before I could see a dot of brightness on the horizon, directly in front of me. I picked up my pace, cantering confidently toward the light that was surely coming from that point. It had to be my window. I still wore the blindfold just in case, as I really did not want to lose my sunbeam, but regular looks saw the dot getting bigger and the purple getting purpler.

Before reaching my window, a realization hit me. The purple that was covering so much of the sky was my bedroom wall! It was the right shade of purple, just darkened by distance. Of course. If my window was there, then it had to be in my wall. I laughed and finally continued with my face uncovered, galloping.

The dot grew, and I slowed to a swift trot as I got a little winded, but I could finally make out my curtains, a dark purple that reminded me of amethyst. Then, I could see the shape of my window. It was a tall oval that would light my real room perfectly while matching the theme of the boutique itself from the outside.

It sure looked out of place with my wall stretching infinitely upwards into blackness. Normally, it was framed by decorated pillars that made arches around it and other features in my room, but those were nowhere to be seen.

And then I actually reached it, running a hoof across its white-painted wooden grille as I gazed out. The sun outside was just above the horizon, and the trees were such a refreshing sight to see. But they seemed… off somehow.

Well, it was no matter. I unlocked the latch with my magic and swung the window inward.

The sight confused me, and my heart dropped.

It was just the wall.

"What?" I said. "No, no, no. This can't be right." I touched it with a hoof, only to find the wall as solid as it looked.

I closed the window, and through the glass, there was still a view of the outside. Ponyville. Streets and sun and sky and clouds and houses and shops and… trees.

Trees that weren't moving.

Sure, not every day could be a windy one, but the one closest to me was almost close enough to jump to. Its leaves were as still as a rock. I watched them intently, concentrating, daring them to move, waiting for the slightest shimmer of a leaf swaying. But, there was nothing. Still as a photograph.

I tried opening the window again, only to be met with the wall once more. Desperate, I closed it and pressed my face to the glass.

"Help! Somepony help me!" I cried, banging on it. "Twilight! Starlight! Discord! Anypony!"

The glass was fogged up, and I sank to the floor, panting and wanting to cry.

Before letting my emotions get the best of me, however, I huffed and stood back up. I had found a clue with my bed. Maybe there was something here, too. My eyes scanned the outside, checking every inch that I could see from the window.

I did eventually notice something. It was difficult to spot, but the very same tree I had been watching for movement had a squirrel among its upper branches, hiding between the leaves. It was, of course, still as a statue.

I sighed.

It all looked so real. And for all I knew, it was. The time bubble theory seemed much more likely. And if that was the case, I'd have to find my own way out.

But first, more experimenting.

First, I took down the curtains, rod and all. I winced as I hefted the metal rod in my magic and thrust one end of it into the bottom middle glass pane, shattering it. What it revealed was exactly what I feared. The wall was clearly visible where the pane had been, and the bits of glass still stuck inside had lost their magic window-to-the-outside properties. Now it was nothing but a hazard and a disappointment.

Gritting my teeth, I took a deep, calming breath. My window seemed to be in the same direction from my bed as it was in my real bedroom, just with a much longer walk between them. That meant that if I went directly away from the window, I'd eventually end up by my door.

No, no, no. That was a terrible idea. At least when I came to the window, I had help. Without a way to be sure of my direction, I could end up walking in circles out there and not even know it.

It would definitely be better to follow one wall around.

My legs were aching, though, so, first thing was first: a nap.
> Wall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I couldn't sleep.

Maybe it was the uncomfortable floor, maybe it was the thought that just above me, my window was lying to me. Maybe it was the creeping worry that, somewhere in the vast emptiness, somepony was out there. Something evil that would chase me down and eat me if it saw me? Somepony who could rescue me, but had to find me first? Sweetie Belle or Opal, just as scared and confused as me? All of them were terrifying in their own way. As lonely as I felt, perhaps being alone was for the best. I wouldn't wish this on anypony else, after all.

While I couldn't keep track of time very well, it felt like I had rested for an hour. It didn't really matter, though, since the real measure for how long I needed was simply how my legs and hooves felt. And, feeling good enough to continue, I stood up.

I decided not to bring anything from the window with me, having no easy way to carry it. The blindfold, however, I kept around my neck, as it had already proven useful.

The walls stretched away endlessly on either side of the window, and I realized I wasn't actually certain which way would be faster. Going right, and keeping the wall on my left, seemed a little bit better as I visualized my bedroom. And there was no sense in sitting around being too indecisive.

So, I began my long walk.

The first thoughts I had now were about just how big this place was. I was no Twilight Sparkle when it came to math, but I knew my way around a measuring tape. I tried to mentally calculate about how far I had walked from my bed to my window, estimating the actual size of my room to be…

I really didn't know.

Big. It was big. More than a full day to walk from one side to the other. Not that I could measure days anyway, or even be sure of just how many hours I had walked already.

How long had I been awake?

Would I be able to sleep on the floor?

What if it got cold?

I certainly wasn't going back to my bed.

I spent some of my time using my magic to play with my mane. As a filly, one of my favorite things to do with my mane and tail was to pull the curls straight and let them bounce back into place. It was a terrible habit, but I had long since gotten over it. Doing it again, however, rekindled some of my childlike glee.

I found myself giggling and feeling like a silly filly. It was a good thing that nopony was around to see it.

When the novelty of that wore off, I did other things that younger me enjoyed. I played imaginary hopscotch, practiced my prancing, did some silly spins and dance moves, and pretended I was missing two limbs, having to walk using only my back right and front left legs. I also sang some songs I still remembered after all these years.

All in all, it was a nice way to spend maybe an hour.

I couldn't see my window anymore. Being near the wall, it was no surprise that it vanished quickly, but being back to awful sameness gave the illusion that I wasn't making progress.

Curious, I stopped to try ripping the wallpaper with my magic. With some difficulty, it did tear, revealing the plaster behind it.

I resumed walking, happy to see the visible scar disappear behind me.

While I wasn't completely under the illusion that I wasn't making progress, actually seeing it put my mind at ease again. Traveling here was beginning to feel like walking on a treadmill, so it did help to have some proof that I was really moving.

There was a long period of time, then, where nothing notable happened, and I was content to hum to myself while occasionally ripping my wallpaper. Sometimes, I leaned against the wall and walked along it, dragging my horn across its surface, probably looking like a lunatic.

I have no idea now how long it was before I spotted another landmark.

It was one of the pillars that rose up to support arches over my window and sewing station, and just along the walls in general. In the distance, it was just a tall white line. The arch part was either not there, or too high up to see. Likely the latter.

More notably, however, it was also where my wall angled to the right, and seeing more faint purple beyond the pillar was heartening. Progress. I was going to make it to my door.

As I got closer, I could make out the white and purple diamond pattern on the pillar itself.

I passed by it without stopping. It had nothing for me, but the slight right turn felt reassuring.

Strangely, my corkboard that should be covering this wall was missing. It was where I would normally pin up drawings of dress designs or lists of materials. It was custom made to fit in the arch behind my shelf and sewing table, nailed to the wall.

Well, it was no matter. Hopefully. I was still sure I was going the right way.

I had a spring in my step for a bit, but as the pillar disappeared and the sameness returned, I once again needed to keep my mind occupied.

Thinking of my sewing station brought a new idea. I began designing dresses in my mind, mentally sketching them on paper and putting together rough drafts on my ponnequins. I'm sure my hooves and legs ached, but I successfully ignored the pain and pushed onward.

And once again, time was lost to me as I walked in silent, imaginative thought.

I did come up with some stellar ideas that made me wish I had my sketch paper or a notepad. But, such is the life of an artist. Some great ideas are doomed to be forgotten because of circumstances.

I didn't despair, though; I took it as a challenge. I was just going to keep coming up with better and better designs until I found one that was unforgettable!

Well, needless to say, I did. Through sheer power of will, I designed a dress that would shake the very foundations of Canterlot fashion! It would bring high society to its knees! It would change Equestria forever! The Princesses would make me Chief Royal Fashionista! It would…

Well, okay, maybe it wasn't that grand, but it was definitely one of my best works.

And even without a sketch, I could see it all so clearly in my mind's eye that I could never forget it.

I can hardly believe what happened next, myself, but I swear it's true. Just as I had finished putting the final touches on my dress, I saw my brown, arch-shaped corkboard, with yesterday's designs still pinned up.

I galloped to it, laughing hysterically and crying tears of joy. There it was. Pins and papers and… oh no. My materials were all stored on my shelf, which was somewhere behind me. Since it wasn't part of the wall, it must have been somewhere out in the carpet sea, too far away to see.

Fine, I thought, I'm not going to forget this dress anyway.

I took some pins and stuck them through the blindfold's elastic in a way that wouldn't let them poke me.

It might not have been the best use of my time to be drawing dresses anyway.

And so, it was back to the endless march.

I eventually came upon one of my smaller windows, revealing a bit more of Ponyville, still disturbingly unmoving. It was especially disorienting seeing some of the same view I had seen so long ago. It felt like I had walked halfway to Canterlot, only for my window to show a difference of maybe ten steps. I repeated the experiments from the last window, with the same effects. More certain than ever of my goal, I left the broken glass and eerie daylight behind without looking back.

There is little to say about the long walk to my door. I passed several more pillars, but my walls were otherwise barren. There were many times that I stopped and cried softly, wishing it could be over. I told myself I was only resting, but my legs were often fine.

My hooves became tired of the carpet, like getting sick of hay fries after eating them every day for a month. I missed the crunch of hard-packed dirt roads, the clop-clop of stone and wood, the cold wetness of grass.

I missed the smell of the outdoors, the chill of wind through my mane, the sounds of nature and busy ponies. The stagnant, odorless air of the room was driving me mad.

I missed my bathtub. Warm, soapy water soaking into my coat and mane.

I missed the spa. Massages and hooficures and steam rooms.

I missed my friends. My family.

Sweetie Belle. I wanted to hug her and never let go.

If I had to guess, I'd say it took a full two days of walking after the corkboard. Maybe more, maybe less. I never slept, despite trying several times while resting. I can only assume that sleep is impossible here, because I at times certainly could have fallen asleep on colder, harder surfaces than my carpeted floor. The actual feeling of sleepiness just kind of came and went, though, instead of getting more intense as it should normally.

Through it all, the only thing keeping me going was knowing I would reach my door. Without that, I wouldn't have survived. I would have lost my mind for sure.

I knew, with absolute certainty, that my door would be the answer. I couldn't afford to doubt it. I needed it. I'd have my way out, and I could see the ponies I love. I could make my perfect dress.

But now, here I am, and I don't know what to think.

Next to the door, I found a small table with a quill and a note on top of this journal.

What really caught my eye at first was that the table is not mine. Everything else I’ve seen in this room is my own furniture and decorations, but this table is different. Just part of the magic, I suppose.

Anyway, you've no doubt read the note by now, so you know as much as I do.

This is a curse. Where it started or how it was passed to me, I don't know, but it happens every morning when I wake up. I always wake up… here. And every morning, it gets bigger. But my memory of it is completely erased each time, the moment I walk out the door, and I go back to reality feeling perfectly well rested.

This journal started out lighthearted, as each Rarity woke up in a room not much bigger than the real thing. The fifth one said she felt like a mouse with mouse-sized furniture, and she couldn't imagine why this was a curse. She called it cute. I almost want to slap her for that.

The ones just before me had it rough, judging by their entries. Perhaps I was lucky. I decided to write my full experience down for you as proof that we… or, I can get through this. I have to. The alternative is too horrible for the Element of Generosity to even consider.

I… We. We must remain strong.

Because, as you may know, the only way to be rid of the curse is to pass it to somepony else by signing the paper.

And I beg you: Tell your story in the journal and walk out the door. Please do not sign the note.
> Door
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"If you're reading this, I'm sorry I did this to you," I say aloud, finishing the longest journal entry so far. "Signed, Number Forty."

Below her signature, she drew her dress. It's shaded and colored in both ink and her own blood, probably obtained with a few pokes from the pins she found at the corkboard. I can't deny that it's a beautiful design. It's a real shame that it can never leave this horrible place. It's doomed to be forgotten, just like her, and just like me.

Looking again at the signature, I note that it only took forty days for the room to get that big. That is, if all the other Raritys even wrote in the journal. I'm sure some of them rushed headlong through the door without even stopping to read the note.

I turn the page to read the next Rarity’s entry. It simply says I can't do this, and I see my own name signed all over the page, like I was practicing or hyping myself up for signing the note.

As for the note itself, there is indeed an X with a line next to it. On the line is a single, shakily-drawn 'R' smudged by what must have been tears. Seems she couldn't go through with it.

After that, from Forty-two, a confident Yes, I can do this. This page is full of drawings of dresses, in multiple colors that imply she somehow found the supply shelf. Each one is just as beautiful and creative as Forty's. The next few pages have more designs that a distant part of me weeps for, knowing they will stay here forever.

And after that, the next page is blank. Seems I’m Forty-three, then.

I take off my saddlebags, sewn from bed sheets and full of various things I've found or made.

Forty was the only one to write such a full account. And what a fool she was, ending on such a positive note. Surely, she should have known how terrible the next forty days would be? And after that? A year? A lifetime? Trying to imagine my own experiences but tenfold leaves my head spinning. A hundredfold? More? How much bigger could this place get? My own, now, feels larger than Equestria.

She didn't know how good she had it. How lucky she was to have a direct line to the wall.

How much smaller the room was for her.

I spent days at the bed, scouting and preparing, before I left. And when I did, after blindly walking for several days more, I found the bed again.

She was so lucky. I didn't get the sunbeam.

The time I spent wandering the empty wasteland is impossible to be sure of, but it had to have been months. Maybe a year. My memory of it is such a blur. Of counting steps, of mentally designing dresses, of giving names and stories to individual strands of my own mane until I was half bald and surely ugly as sin.

The tears I shed and the hopelessness I suffered in that place were not something I can endure again.

By the time I found the wall, I had already been hallucinating things on the horizon. Ponies, buildings, colors and lights. It took me longer than it should have to realize that this time, it was real.

Forty never had that problem.

She didn't spend an eternity lost, and a second eternity following the wall. She never dug into it, only to find more layers of plaster and boards. She never spent a week digging, and digging, and digging, until her hooves were raw and her horn was a lightning rod of pain, for a meager few meters of tunnel that led nowhere. She never found the floor beneath the floor, or the floor beneath that one, endlessly recurring just like the wall. She never tried starting a fire that quickly spread and filled the air with awful, choking fumes. She never found out, the hard way, that I'm immortal here. Or how torturously painful fire can be.

What would have happened if I was buried in my tunnel? Trapped for eternity? I already know I can't die here from asphyxiation or burns. But what about old age? The thought makes me shiver.

Or, if not that, waiting an eternity for the curse's magic to run out?

Would I eventually die in the real world if I could never escape this one? Life outside of here must go on somehow. Would it eventually just, poof, disappear, taking me with it?

I can't take that chance.

I just couldn't do that to my friends or my sister.

Forty-one may have struggled to sign her name, but I'm all out of tears to shed. I'm not just doing this for me, but for Sweetie Belle. She needs her sister.

Besides, whoever gets the curse will have it easy at first. Surely, they'll pass it on before it gets this bad. Yeah. They won't put it off for as long as I have, over some silly devotion to an element of harmony. It might even be fun for a while like it was for me. And they get to feel more well rested. If anything, I'm doing them a favor.

“For you, Sweetie Belle,” I say.

I pick up the quill, ignoring the journal, and in a swift motion, I sign my name on the note.

"Well," I say as I finish. There's a mix of dread and relief swirling through my head. Despite my attempts to rationalize my choice, it weighs on me. "That's that, then."

The note fades away.

The journal does, too.

My bedroom door opens, showing me a hallway that I hardly even recognize.

I find myself stepping toward it, unable to stop. I want so badly to forget. I want to never see this place again.

I want to be my old self again.

I want to see other ponies.

I want to get away from the pain, the loneliness, the horrible silence...

...I want pancakes.

Sweetie Belle's door is closed, meaning she's still asleep. I rub the last bit of sleep from my eyes and head down to the kitchen. Using my magic, I mix up the batter, humming cheerfully. The smell of breakfast cooking never fails to wake her up.

And, sure enough, just as the first few are done, she shows up, yawning.

"Good morning, Sweetie," I say. "Pancakes?"

"Yeah!" she says, scurrying over to retrieve her favorite blueberry syrup.

"How'd you sleep?" I ask, loading a plate with three golden-brown pancakes.

"Fine. Actually, even better than usual," she says cheerily.

I laugh. "Maybe my natural talent for good beauty sleep is rubbing off on you."

"Froffly," she says with a mouthful of pancake.

I smile. Thinking on it, I realize I actually didn't sleep quite as well as I have been for the last couple months or so. Well, maybe I really did pass on the restful sleep bug to her.

I flip my own pancakes over and giggle at the playful thought.

If so, that's good. Sweetie Belle really deserves it.