Laughter

The greater our knowledge increases, the more our ignorance unfolds.

~John F. Kennedy

~\\***\***/***//~

"We are gathered here today to once again honour the heroism of these six friends who stood up to the villain Discord and saved Equestria from eternal chaos."

Twilight and her five friends stood before Princess Celestia. They tried their best to look humble, but couldn't help smiling. At the princess's decree, the crowd of ponies assembled in the royal chamber echoed their cheers at the six heroes. Spike was at Celestia's side, joining into the clapping and general revelry of the ceremony.

It was late in the afternoon of what felt like a particularly long day to Twilight Sparkle, and she was glad that it was ending in a manner that she could comprehend. Nearly the entire day beforehand had been a maelstrom of her friendships unravelling at their seams. Them, and all of harmony. The insidious influence of Discord had nearly robbed not just Twilight, but all of Equestria of purpose. She and her friends had ultimately ensured that he'd failed. A more satisfying resolution could not have been asked for.

Celestia pulled back a curtain to reveal to the six ponies a new addition to the chamber decor: a stained glass window that Twilight had previously recalled being just simple rose glass was now adorned with her and her five best friends striking down Discord. The mishmashed monster bore a look of horror upon his face as he was returned to his stone prison.

Twilight could feel a frown tug at her lips. What the window showed had happened only a short few hours ago. But the art felt like a relic, a manuscript of sorts for a legend long past, or even a downright ponytale. It may as well have been there forever, and Twilight felt oddly disconnected from its events.

Twilight shook her head clear. The crowd's cheers helped to rid her of lingering anxiety. Filled with confidence once again, her grin lost all traces of reservation. This was a celebration, for them no less. Why not be a little proud? Her friends all seemed to oblige in the feeling as well, exchanging glances of acknowledgement.

Twilight briefly turned back to Spike, and the two shared an awkward wave. Twilight rolled her eyes at herself.

The new Rainbow Dash.

Twilight giggled as she thought about the jokes soon to be had, and gave a small cough when she felt her throat clogging. Salt and water rimmed her eyes, and Twilight felt a pair of legs belonging to a certain pink pony wrap around her neck. A second blue pair joined, and then a third, fourth, and fifth. A stubby sixth pair was the spilling point for Twilight, and she openly sobbed in the embraces' collective warmth.

They're all here, Twilight thought. All of them. My friends.

~\\***\***/***//~

Twilight couldn't help but feel that the ceremony ended abruptly. A celebration about the return of harmony, a celebrated part of everyday pony life, felt like something that could and should last forever. But Twilight knew as well as anypony else that such a thing could not continue unabated. Equestria didn't simply stop spinning, after all. Her friendship letters could suffice instead. After all, they'd saved her and her friends from Discord's grey. However, Spike had requested a less harsh-on-the-stomach method of transporting the letters next time. Celestia had blushed in embarrassment at the mention of this, offering Spike a sheepish apology for his agonized tract.

Spike hurried to catch up with the group, now making their way towards the train station back to Ponyville. Pinkie Pie was snoring and being carted along by Rarity, who remained rather aloof towards Applejack. Twilight swore she heard mutterings from AJ about it being Rarity’s turn to chauffeur Pinkie Pie around, but the group was otherwise silent. It was evening, Celestia having just begun lowering the sun below the horizon to make way for the night. The Canterlot cityscape was starting to light up as its citizens began to settle comfortably into their respective abodes. Most of them were done their day’s work, but were not yet ready to turn in for the night. Among the brightest of the beacons was the train station at the end of Canterlot's main street. The guiding light beckoned for the group's homecoming, and they began to make their way out the palace gates towards it, Twilight bringing up the rear.

"Twilight?"

Twilight halted in place and looked to see Celestia walking towards her. She turned back around for a moment to wave off her friends, who had also stopped walking. Twilight gave them a smile that said that they should just go on ahead. She would catch up. If Twilight's memory served her correctly, the next train was at least a few minutes away from departure anyway. Her friends took her hint, and walked on Spike now in tow. Their privacy secured, Twilight turned to face Celestia again.

"Yes, Princess?" she asked.

Celestia smiled back down at her. "I need to ask a simple favour of you, Twilight," she said. Twilight opened her mouth, but Celestia continued before she could ask any questions. "It involves what happened today. It's important, but by no means urgent."

Twilight's brow furrowed in confusion. If Celestia's request concerned what had happened that day, how could it not be a matter of urgency? When Twilight and her friends had first been called to Canterlot that morning, they had found the princess anxiously pacing the front hall.

"I need you to bring Discord back to his place at the palace garden," Celestia clarified.

Twilight started as she realised what Celestia was referring to. Discord had been left just lying in the grass within Ponyville. That sounded pretty urgent to her. Celestia seemed to predict this reaction, however, and she smoothed over Twilight's restlessness with an amused giggle.

"I can assure you, Twilight, you have nothing to worry about. You and your friends have ensured that Discord is going to be trapped in his prison for a long time to come. And if he ever does break free again..." Celestia trailed off, clearly troubled at the prospect, but Twilight couldn't help but sense even more behind the princess's hesitation. "Well, it won't be today, or any day soon."

Celestia smiled weakly at Twilight, a few nearly invisible creases beneath her eyes suddenly plain-to-see. They made Twilight strangely agitated, but she waved it away and found her voice. "But... that's it?" Twilight asked. "Just put Discord back?"

Celestia's smile lost its melancholy. "Yes, that's it." She turned to her left. She and Twilight were standing just outside the castle's threshold, and this vantage point provided them with a partial view of the Canterlot Sculpture Garden. Just above the outermost hedge wall of the display ground, the last rays of day shone. The sunset had nearly concluded. The faint glowing trail seemed almost a beacon, as though Discord's petrified self were about to fall straight out of the sky, and back onto his pedestal. "You'll have to forgive me if it sounds like a chore I'm asking of you, but if there's one pony whom I trust to handle this transportation, it's you. Besides, what better way to put your mind at ease?"

Twilight again grew confused, but only for a brief moment. She then beamed, and it wasn't lost on Celestia. Celestia continued, though she was certain Twilight had figured out what she was about to say on her own. "Discord gave you much more trouble today than anypony should have to put up with, I know," Celestia offered sympathetically. "If you handle this yourself, you'll know for certain Discord is back where he belongs. No more wondering."

Twilight strode forward to nuzzle Celestia, and felt the gesture be reciprocated. On these occasions where Celestia displayed clear concern for her, beyond just as far as her responsibilities as a mentor went, Twilight could not hold back her own affection in turn. Of course Celestia was right, and Twilight realised she not only could do this; she wanted to. This whole thing needed a last bit of closure no ceremony could provide.

"You can count on me, Princess." Twilight grinned. "Discord will be back in the morning before the first patrols even set hoof in the garden."

Celestia slowly released Twilight from her embrace and stared back warmly. "I know I can, Twilight." She stared over the horizon of Canterlot to the south. The sun had now fully descended, and the sprawl of the city below now offered more light than the sky its buildings reached towards. Her vision followed the bold line the city's main causeway drew. "Go join your friends now. Before they get a head start on you back to Ponyville."

Twilight realised that the train was due to arrive in a few minutes, and she began to canter towards the station. She hated to run off like this, but circumstances were leaving her no choice in the matter. "Goodbye, Princess!" she called back over her shoulder as she passed through the gateway in the castle's outer wall.

Twilight began to move at a full gallop, and Celestia stared after her, the two holding their eye contact for as long as possible. When Twilight did finally turn back around to face where she was running, she had to skid to a halt to avoid crashing straight into another pony's backside. Twilight recognized the orange earth pony, a brown Stetson upon her head.

"Whoa now, Twilight!" Applejack said. "We ain't hoofin' it back home. You can slow down now." Twilight blushed and took in the group's surroundings. Despite its title, Canterlot's main street was rather short in length, so much so that one always tended to have the castle clear in view on the horizon, and not just due to its size. Canterlot's real scope began to become apparent as its side streets were travelled; the city would start to break off into various boutiques, cafes, and suburban complexes. The arrangement gave the city a wide berth to the east and west of the mountain face it sat upon. The six ponies and one dragon kept to their straight path, mostly deserted save for a few ponies working the night shift, and climbed their way up the few short steps to the train platform.

"So, spill it, Twilight," Rainbow Dash spoke up. The abrasive pegasus had been holding the lead for the group's procession, but now idled in midair as they waited for the train's arrival. "What did the princess want?"

"Oh, nothing really. She just wanted me to take Discord back to the palace garden tomorrow." Before Twilight had even finished talking, she knew that her friends were going to have their own respective realisations at remembering the draconequus, and how he was still currently lying within Ponyville's town limits. This knowledge still didn't prepare her for Dash's reaction.

"What?!" Dash cried, slapping a hoof over her face as she continued to hover. Her wings were in a tizzy, beating the air faster from her sudden anxiety. "How could we have forgotten?! Don't worry! I'm on it!" Before Twilight could offer a word of protest, Dash sped off straight for Ponyville. Her breakneck pace was just short of reaching sonic rainboom levels.

"Let 'er go, Twilight." Applejack waved off the incident. "She'll calm down eventually. But really, that was the whole deal with the princess?"

"Yeah, that's it." Twilight shrugged, feeling surprisingly indifferent about the prospect of transporting an imprisoned deity of chaos tomorrow. She would have thought at least some of her anxiety about Discord would linger on her mind's borders. But it was like Celestia had said: it was little more than a chore, albeit one Twilight wouldn't mind doing.

Twilight frowned. Celestia had even seemed to expect Discord to have been left behind in Ponyville. Had the princess been planning this for her all along?

"Um... do you want us to come with you?" Fluttershy offered quietly. To everypony else present it looked as though she were bracing herself. It was obvious that she did not want to participate in what she had just suggested, but had made the offer nevertheless out of both the kindness of her heart, and the support she desperately wanted to prove to them after the turmoil of the day. Fluttershy could not be happier that her mind was clouded of a clear perception of her cruel actions from earlier; the whole incident seemed like a bad dream. Such knowledge could devastate a pony as fragile as her beyond repair.

"No, it's alright, everypony," Twilight said, pointedly looking at Fluttershy as she did so. The offer Fluttershy had made implored refusal; it made Twilight feel oddly guilty. As she tried to comprehend this reaction it dissipated entirely, dispelled by Fluttershy's clear look of relief. Nopony blamed her. Truth be told, they all looked to Twilight like they were a bit relieved. Besides, if Celestia had planned this explicitly for her, than it was all the better for her friends to not trouble themselves. It only took one pony to move a statue, after all. But now it was Applejack's turn to feel guilty, her face unable to twist a deceptive cover.

"Ah can't say I don't feel a mite unsettled, Twi'. Leaving y'all to do this yerself. Are y'all sure 'bout this now?"

"It's fine AJ," Twilight repeated herself. "Rest your head on this whole thing a bit. All this is, is a one-pony special delivery." Twilight chuckled at her attempted mock title, but Applejack's face seemed to beg an explanation, which would defeat the joke's purpose entirely. Twilight did, at least, hear some unmistakable giggles from the other earth pony in the group. She had thought Pinkie Pie asleep, having tuckered herself out during the ceremony, but there sat the pink pony giggling in her cart. Twilight hoped Pinkie's merriment was as infectious now as it was on other occasions. It seemed as though the group needed it presently.

Applejack merely shook her head. Ah don't get it.

~\\***\***/***//~

The train ride home was fleeting, and conversation between the ponies was limited. Words were abandoned in favour of quiet and the welcome return of mundane, everyday Equestria functionality. Never before had any of the ponies been so glad to be bored.

Applejack in particular was soaking in the quiet of the trip. She leaned back in her plush seat, her hat pulled low over her brow, an always on-hoof strand of hay sticking out of her mouth. She had very nearly fallen asleep, her lips beginning to glisten with gathered saliva. Before the final roots of slumber took hold, a sudden lurch followed by the screech of train wheels jolted her awake.

A commotion outside the train made her suddenly aware of where she was. She and her friends were home. She sighed, and sat up to make her way to the door. As she stepped out into the midnight air, she saw Twilight, Rarity, and Fluttershy standing in a row. All three were idling on the platform, and all of them were facing the same direction. Fluttershy looked apprehensive, whereas Twilight and Rarity both carried similar looks of weary irritation.

Applejack wondered where Pinkie was, the wagon that had been carrying her now empty, but decided first to step forth to join the group's sight-seeing, and perhaps see if her own exasperated sigh had been warranted. Sure enough, she soon saw the source of the racket pitiful in its display, even if it lacked a sizable audience. The less crowd this spectacle had, the better. The full moon of the approaching midnight hid its light behind a few clouds, as if ashamed to draw attention to what was currently transpiring.

Rainbow Dash had both her front hooves hooked around Discord's left horn, and was tugging with all her might. Discord's frozen visage of horror could have been misconstrued as pain to a bystander, and despite Applejack's loathing for the draconequus, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern that Dash was about to break something of his. Heck, maybe Discord had once had two teeth in his mouth?

Standing atop the newly minted statue of chaos stood three familiar fillies, all of them in various states of amusement. Scootaloo in particular was ecstatic, and was trying to prove her use to her speedster idol.

"The other one! Try the other one!" Scootaloo cried at Dash, gesturing to Discord's right antler. "It's got more hoofholds."

“Ya’ already said that hours ago, Scoots,” Apple Bloom interjected. Scootaloo ignored her, and pointed again to direct Rainbow Dash.

Dash mumbled a thanks at the “squirt” and zipped over to try the suggestion. But either there was no traction gained from the new grip, or exhaustion was simply catching up with her. Discord remained locked in place, and Dash seemed about ready to join him in lying upon the suddenly inviting grass. Scootaloo didn't seem to care. Her cutie mark crusades had more than prepared her for disappointments, and Dash’s presence alone seemed to be keeping her entertained. She did, however, let slip a yawn, her stubby wings stretching out before drooping at her sides.

The other crusaders seemed to be running out of steam for the spectacle as well. Apple Bloom had been dictating something to Sweetie Belle, who had been writing down scribbles on a page of note paper. But now they appeared to be wrapping up. The unicorn filly had been able to levitate a pencil to write with, but her weak levels of magic had rendered it necessary to have the notepad itself balanced on Discord's belly. Rarity would have been proud if she weren't so livid.

"Sweetie Belle!" she screeched. "You get back indoors this instant! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" Sweetie Belle opened her mouth to protest, but Rarity was having none of it, giving a glare that would give both Fluttershy and Applejack a run for their money in terms of intimidation.

“You know, I missed you, sis’,” Sweetie Belle whispered meekly. Rarity’s expression softened and she nuzzled her. Applejack heard Rarity whisper back in loving assurance. Just as quickly, though, Rarity pointed a hoof across the lane, and Sweetie Belle took the hint to start walking. They crossed the bridge over the narrow stream in the middle of town, and were soon back inside the Carousel Boutique.

Applejack strode down the platform towards her sister. Apple Bloom saw the older earth pony and rolled her eyes in the I know, I know way only children could pull off. She turned to offer a quick goodbye to Scootaloo.

Applejack began to prod Apple Bloom forward. The filly made sure to grab the notebook that Sweetie Belle had left behind off the top of Discord's stony body before she conceded to the directing. Applejack couldn't help but peer over Apple Bloom's shoulder to spy what exactly her friend had written, but saw only squiggled outlines, gibberish which vaguely resembled words, and what she assumed were equals signs. She squinted in confusion.

"Applejack? What are ya’ll looking at?" Apple Bloom's voice suddenly piped up. “Is it what me and Sweetie were writin’ about? ‘Cause all it is is a buncha stuff about Discord. He’s mighty funny lookin’, and we—”

“I’m askin’ the questions here, missy! What are y'all doing out so late?”

Apple Bloom shrank beneath her sister’s fury. "Big Mac let me stay. You weren't home yet, and he figured we was safe if we stayed near Rainbow Dash."

"Did he now?" Applejack's eyes narrowed, first in scrutiny of any lie Apple Bloom presented, and then for her brother, Big Macintosh. He was going to be bearing the brunt of some nasty words when they got back to the farm. And if Granny Smith found out what he'd allowed (and Applejack would make sure that she did), Applejack's fury was going to be the least of the stallion's problems. “You could have just waited at the farm with the rest of the family, y’know.”

“I wanted to see you first, was all. When you first got offa’ the train,” Apple Bloom mumbled. “Makes it feel all special-like.” The two were outside Ponyville’s limits now, the wooden gate of the Apple family farm drawing near.

Applejack grinned, but hid it before Apple Bloom could see. She was only half done with her. "And?"

Apple Bloom cocked her eyebrow in return. She then looked away and sighed. “And... I’m sorry, okay? I jus’ got a little distracted.” She looked briefly over her shoulder, and Applejack followed her far gaze. It was hard to tell, but it looked as though Rainbow had once again resumed her tugging at Discord. The last little filly, Scootaloo, was apparently gone, though, and Applejack swore she could hear Twilight trying to calm Dash down. At the rate they appeared to be going, the entire town was going to be woken up. Applejack shook her head once again while Apple Bloom giggled. “Can’t say I’d want to keep somepony like that in our garden. The princess keeps some strange company.”

Applejack smiled and ruffled her little sister's mane. It was hard to stay mad at the filly. The two of them arrived at the threshold of Sweet Apple Acres. "Go on now, Apple Bloom. Off to bed. I'll catch up," Applejack ordered. Apple Bloom quickly galloped through and back to the house. Applejack knew she wouldn't have to worry about any further disobedience on Apple Bloom’s part. Big Mac would no doubt be keeping her indoors himself, lest he get in any more trouble.

Applejack's guilt, not to mention paranoia, was getting to her again. She began to hurry back to the street where Discord was. If she couldn't help with moving him tomorrow she could at least help with the whole Rainbow Dash ordeal, couldn't she? However, as she neared the town square, she saw that Discord wasn't there. Only a deep indent in the grass, the blades of it completely flattened.

Her momentary panic was given no time to flourish. On her right side, headed away from the scene, was Twilight, Dash flying close behind. But now the pegasus's wings sputtered like a spent engine, struggling to keep her airborne. The remainder of her energy seemed to be focused on voicing her continued concerns about Discord. Twilight had the draconequus encased in an aura of her magic as she carried him towards her home, Ponyville's library. The tree home's oak branches reached tall towards the navy blue night, and its windows illuminated light outside in sheets of yellowish-white. Twilight stood next to the front door and manipulated Discord through the threshold on his side. Afterwards, she promptly slammed the door shut to deter Rainbow Dash.

"This isn't negotiable, Dash." Twilight's words floated towards Applejack's ears. She sounded haggard in her refusal. "He's going back tomorrow, and we're all going to bed. He'll be back first thing in the morning, I can assure you." Applejack didn't hear an angry retort from Dash. It seemed as though she was just catching the end of this argument. Dash's exhaustion, the door in her path, and the ultimate futility of her task lingered over her. It all furthered compelled her to give up.

"Fine," she conceded. "But... and hear me out!" She sputtered her last words quickly. Twilight had apparently been expecting the argument to continue, mouth opening just a fraction. "Do you really need to keep Discord in your house? Who knows what he could do?"

“He’s a statue, Dash,” Applejack deadpanned. “What the hay is a buncha’ rock gonna do?”

Rainbow Dash turned on her. “So what? That didn’t stop him from coming back the first time, did it?”

“I thought we were done with this, Rainbow,” Twilight huffed.

Dash sighed again. “Look, Twilight. What matters is that Discord is still here. Where he’s not welcome!” She shouted in the direction of the door frame, apparently hoping for the draconequus to somehow hear her. “He belongs back with the princess right now!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “You’re soundin’ like ma’ sister. Talk of strange company and the like.” She was beginning to see why Twilight insisted on keeping Discord indoors. Indoors meant away from nonsense like what Dash was cooking up.

Twilight merely laughed. "Celestia said herself he was harmless like this, and don't you think we would have seen some activity by now if she was wrong? I trust her. You oughta' try it too." Twilight yawned, not willing to argue one more word in her current state. She reopened the library door and trotted past its illuminated frame before Rainbow Dash could think up another point to argue. "Good night, girls," she said, closing the door.

Applejack grinned. She enjoyed the clear sensibility Twilight could display when she needed to, and what she'd said about Discord, straight from Princess Celestia herself, did make sense. She'd argued Dash down quicker than Applejack could ever hope to. Dash now began to float higher, slumped from both her verbal defeat and her sapped energy. Applejack couldn't resist.

"Y'all don't come back now, ya' hear?" she called up. Her taunt was barely acknowledged, and this was actually a greater assurance to her than full-on focus would be. Dash almost looked like her lazy self again, and Applejack once again savoured the typicality the day was ending on. She'd been missing it.

~\\***\***/***//~

Okay, maybe that wasn't the best place to put him.

Twilight was busy trying to calm down a hyperventilating Spike. The baby dragon had nearly fallen down the stairs from shock. He sat on the top step regarding Discord with a mixture of curiosity and continued exasperation.

Discord was leaning against a shelf in the centre of the library. Last night, Twilight had moved aside the library's central table, to make room for a place to leave him. If it had been any other statue placed in the room's centre, somepony could have easily mistaken it for a decorative art piece of the library's. Twilight remarked to herself that replacing the bust of the pony head with a petrified draconequus would not only be ill-advised, but stylistic overkill. It wasn't entirely Twilight's fault Discord was where he was, however. He was merely in the lobby because he wouldn't fit anywhere else. The library's main room was the only place with a tall enough ceiling.

"Why there of all places, Twilight?" Spike panted. "Couldn't he have gone somewhere else?"

Twilight's eyes would have lidded in annoyance had she not suddenly gotten mischievous. "You'd have preferred him in our room while we slept?" she posed, earning a wide-eyed, vigorous head-shake from Spike in return.

Twilight was joking, of course. Discord could never have fit through her bedroom door. She had been lucky he had fit through the library's front entrance in the first place. Besides, Discord might not have been able to do anything, but Twilight still didn't fancy him being in the same room with her and Spike. The paranoia would have overwhelmed the both of them beyond a wink of sleep. Discord's frozen, terrified eyes stared back at Twilight and she caught herself shivering.

Didn’t stop him from coming back the first time, did it?

"You sure you're up to this, Twi'?" Spike asked, catching her brief unease. Twilight's tenseness evaporated against sudden familiarity. If Spike only knew how much he had sounded like Applejack just then.

"I'm fine, Spike,” said Twilight. “Just have things in order again by the time I get back." The central table's contents—books, quills, and figurehead—had all been sent to the side of the library to make room for Discord. Twilight also thought she could spy the beginnings of a layer of dust upon the entire lower level as well. Nothing Spike couldn't handle before she got back from her couple hours trip.

Twilight bid her farewells to Spike and Owlowiscious—though the latter was only awake due to the former's earlier outburst—and set off down Ponyville's main street, Discord in magical tow. Dawn was only just breaking over the horizon, and the roads held the appearance of abandonment that came with the time. For the sake of avoiding a panic, Twilight was grateful.

Twilight reached the train station and boarded the morning engine straight to Canterlot, she and her unwilling companion the only passengers. If his lips were not immovable, Discord might have chuckled at the image of him and Twilight sitting side-by-side in a train car; enemies embarking on a casual sight-see. As it stood, Twilight had to fulfil the task for him, and she chortled at the knowledge her only company was a statue.

~\\***\***/***//~

Twilight's true issues with a panicked populace came about whilst she walked Canterlot's main street. It now possessed a level of activity which would be unprecedented in comparison to last night. Indeed, all the activity seemed to be centralized upon her, or rather her cargo. Twilight actually stopped traffic at certain intervals, the horse-drawn carriages screeching to a halt at the surreality of what they were witnessing.

So much for a simple chore, Twilight inwardly sighed.

In the end, several of Canterlot's city patrol, mostly pegasi, had to break up multiple streets full of commotion. When Twilight stopped and questioned one of them, she supposed she wasn't surprised to learn that the royal guard had been informed of the task Celestia had assigned to her. The princess, in turn, expected them to give her a clear path to the grounds.

The guards dispersed back to their respective posts upon Twilight reaching the castle—the crowds having since given up on their own curious observations—and she walked the marble halls, listening to her hoofsteps. It seemed the castle could always be like this, regardless of the time of day. The marvel of pony architecture was just so large it seemed that it could always offer at least one pocket of isolation; even thoughts seemed to echo back.

The open space of the royal garden was a welcome sight, both for its fresh, open air, and its assurance of a fulfilled promise. The sky overhead carried not one cloud, and the sun was climbing slowly against the blue, still an hour or so from noon. Sculptures spread out before Twilight. A few of the pristine white constructs idled near the outermost wall of the hedge maze. The statue of Victory held its orange flag aloft in solemn triumph. The lack of any sensible breeze today kept the square of fabric still and limp, partially wrapped around the pole's length.

Twilight rounded the foliage corner and there it was: Discord's pedestal. Celestia had remarked earlier to Twilight that when Discord had burst loose, the stone that had previously encased him had literally broken off of his body like some demented egg shell. But the surrounding space around the pedestal was clear of a single pebble; either somepony had cleared the rubble away, or it had simply disappeared, seemingly evaporated. If only it could have taken the draconequus with it.

Twilight trotted her way up to the base of the pillar. Its top was several feet above her, and she magically floated Discord up above her head. Gently, she set one of his feet upon the flat top, and then nudged the rest of him carefully into place. She weakened her hold slightly, testing Discord's balance on the pillar, and when she was certain he would stay in place, she let go entirely. She remembered a binding spell that she’d learned to close up air leaks in the library, and cast it on Discord’s feet so he would stay secured. No longer exerting her magic, Twilight took a deep physical and mental breath, and smiled up at her job well done. It may have been one day since Discord's imprisonment, but he was nevertheless back where he belonged. Better late than never.

Now that Twilight was back to thinking about yesterday, she still found it rather silly of her friends, and especially herself, to forget about Discord entirely. They had flat-out left him at the mercy of some rather irate Ponyvillians whilst they celebrated his downfall. But so much had happened that day that she decided to cut her friends and herself a bit of slack. So much had been done, and so much had been said. By her, her friends, Celestia, and even Discord.

Had been said.

A sudden frown crossed Twilight's lips, and her irises tilted into the upper corners of her eyes, a nervous tendency of heavy thought. Discord's insidious speech blackened her mind. She could almost picture him floating through the stained glass of the palace windows again, mocking her mentor as he went.

"...but you wouldn't know that, would you? Because I don't turn ponies into stone!"

Twilight leaned away from the refurbished pedestal, and took an involuntary step back. Her eyes once again found themselves locked onto Discord's open scream, and his wide maw seemed to beckon his words again.

"Because I don't turn ponies..."

Twilight took another step back, trembling now. Her ears were pinned flat against her head.

"...into stone!"

Twilight's neck snapped to face her right side. Her eyes widened to match Discord's as she beheld the other statues in the garden. All of them were in various states of action. Victory's rather passive, at-attention stance clashed heavily against Friendship's rough-and-tumble assortment of three fillies.

But these two, and all the other statues, all had one thing in common: they seemed alive. Suddenly, very alive. All of their intricacies now seemed far too complex for any sculptor to achieve. Twilight looked at them like she was analyzing a painting that had recently been pointed out as a phony. A fake. But these statues weren't fake. These were too real.

Twilight retraced her steps on the garden path. Her nerves began to sting beneath her skin, and she looked to all her sides for anypony in the garden who may have been watching her. Nopony was in sight, but she still felt the scrutiny of not one, but many sets of eyes. Twilight closed her own as she trotted. It did no good. She was blind, but her ostensible observers weren’t. Twilight bumped into something hard and opened her eyes. She had reached another base and she looked up.

There sat the statue of Grace, an earth pony mare, wrapped in a regal, fur-lined cloak. In her right hoof she held a golden and ebony sceptre, and sat with a content, Twilight dared to say graceful, smile. Twilight found the mare’s eyes, and the prickling scrutiny became tenfold. She quickly trotted away and back up to Discord. For all of the good it did her. As she stared up at the draconequus again, he gave her only the same feeling of gooseflesh.

Watching... watching me? All of them? Twilight’s heart hammered and her eyes inadvertently started to tear up from her apprehension.

Then, just as quickly, all these feelings dropped away. Their ridiculous foundation couldn't keep its base for long, and Twilight found herself speaking her ridiculous troubles from a second ago out loud. A giggle even managed to edge its way through into her speech. "Don't be silly, Twilight. Celestia wouldn't!" Giggling further, Twilight peered just behind Discord to see another pony statue. It was the closest one nearby, and Twilight trotted up to its base. If she was recalling correctly, this particular statue represented Knowledge; a long, grey scroll was rolled up and cradled in an earth pony mare's front hooves as she stood on her hind legs.

Twilight cocked her brow and grinned. "Just use that cockatrice remedy spell you learned. You'll see!" she sighed, and lit up her horn. She personally hated doing something which reminded her of her own experiences in stone, but if it helped put her mind at ease about this garden it was a necessary evil. Twilight's eyes were closed as she surrounded Knowledge with magic, and the last inklings of her previous anxiety were beginning to fade. She lifted her head to the statue's top, and slowly opened her eyes.

Twilight instantly seized up, and brought the full force of her perception to the top of the statue's head. She stared at its ears. Unless she was going mad... yes, she must be. That was the only way, wasn't it?

No, not mad. She was just mistaken. The hedge maze was directly behind the pony statue, and she must be mistaking a stray branch for something else. Something else green. Something like a pony's twitching, green ear tips. That must be it, right? A tuft of a white cloud floated across the sky between the statue's not-twitching green ears. Twilight had propped herself up on the statue's base to cast her spell, and she slipped as she started shaking again.

The unthinkable happened: the little tuft of cloud followed her right out of the clear blue sky, and hung against a green hedge and grey stone backdrop. Twilight righted herself again, but now she was shaking more than ever. The little, fluffy cloud was growing bigger, but now Twilight couldn't deny that it was not a cloud at all. She was looking at a tuft of mane. It hung drooping from the day's lack of wind, and drooped lower still as more stone receded from the statue. Twilight could actually follow it now. A slow peel back to reveal more flesh. The ears were undeniably green now, and were completely free, fluttering madly, agitated. They synced to Twilight's horror like an orchestral conductor.

More white fell against green, but it wasn't hair this time. The white was joined by rose and even a touch of black as the stone retreated from the eyes of the statue. Twilight insisted, in fact begged, herself to keep calling Knowledge that. A statue. It was failing, though, and her empty assurances began to be overwhelmed by a new form of denial, far more simplistic and complex all at once: No.

Knowledge's eyes were completely free. They darted rapidly as the ears continued to twinge.

No.

The eyes and ears persisted. Knowledge's mouth was still frozen into a modest smile, and the gross contrast made the face look like a collage; a whole made out of pieces.

No, No, No!

The stone reached the corners of the lips. They began to try and move, but with the middle section of the mouth still petrified, the effort was, for now, fruitless. For the first time, Twilight noticed that Knowledge's eyes had gone still, locked directly onto her own. She wanted to squeeze either set shut, but seemed just as frozen as the being before her. The mid-section of the statue's lips was finally free, but as much as Twilight wished it, she could hardly call her, Knowledge, a statue anymore.

"WHAT HAVE I DONE!?" A dark teal mare's head adorned with a frosting-white mane screamed at Twilight. The voice was strained with age. Not of Knowledge herself, she being rather young looking, but as though the air itself were old; a breath forever held. It mingled with the high tone to create a veritable shriek out of Knowledge’s query. Twilight could have never answered her.

"EQUESTRIA, HELP ME!" Knowledge implored using all the oxygen she could muster. Her petrified lungs could obviously offer no support in this regard, and her breathlessness strained her voice further into tearful whimpers.

Twilight finally stirred a semblance of movement in herself and called forth her spell again. "S-Stop it!" she stuttered out, finally looking away from the sight of the half-alive pony. Twilight had a fool's hope that her command and her eyes-shut ignorance could dispel the scenario entirely, her desperation primed with enough power to make it so. At her beckoning the stone began to creep again. Twilight's horror had interrupted her remedy spell, and the stone's recession had halted at the base of Knowledge's neck. Now the rock began to reclaim its lost territory.

Knowledge stopped thrashing her neck around as it became frozen again at a slight right-side tilt. Twilight risked cracking one eyelid open to watch, and immediately regretted it. The eyes beheld her one more time in a look she would never forget, the face of a total victim, before Knowledge's head turned away entirely. It looked to be trying to pull itself loose as Twilight's spell reversed itself.

"NOOOO—" Knowledge mimicked Twilight's previous denial until her mouth halted in place once again. Her gritted, granite teeth were visible through her unnaturally frozen lips, giving her a grimace. The morbid caricature was completed as her eyes snapped open and lost their rose-hued irises against the sweeping sea of grey. The white shore of her mane was swept up in the same tide, and her ears halted in their alert, pricked-up state. Knowledge was silent once more, but the effort of a scream covered her face.

Twilight's frame struggled to keep her upright, and she sucked in huge lungfuls of air. Her physical resolve was failing in the face of what had just happened, and the morning's constant magical exertion was catching up to her as well. The lack of remaining strength sent her tumbling backwards into the garden's gravel path. She hardly felt the impact. Her eyes were tiny as she stared straight ahead, sitting on her rump.

Twilight's mouth hung slack as if she were about to say something, but the only syllables that passed her lips were those of continued, desperate breaths. They struggled not just for air, but for comprehension. Twilight's entire being thirsted for some other interpretation against the sudden revelation she had experienced, but none could be conjured. As much as she tried not to, she could see the revealed truth like it was in monochrome.

After nearly a full minute of shocked breaths passed, another sound escaped Twilight's mouth. Again she seemed about to speak, her lips seizing animation once more, though anypony watching would say there would be nopony around to speak to.

But there was somepony around. There were many someponies around, and the one who had put them here... She trusted this mare. Modelled herself after her. She dared to say she even loved her. There had to be some other way to explain all this away. But unfortunately, there was more than just the word of a draconequus as evidence now.

Discord sat comfortably, despite his unfortunate posture, upon his pillar. Twilight had pondered as much as anypony else if he was still inside somewhere. A forcible witness to all around him. Now she had her answer; the former subject of talk and joke now a startling truth. Discord could see her, hear her, and ponder her, along with all his other unwilling company. And what Discord heard was what he supposed he himself might be doing if he wasn't petrified. He left the task up to Twilight below him. From the sounds passing over Twilight's now grinning lips, rising from near silent to a crescendo, she was fulfilling it in spades.

Amidst her petrified company, Twilight was laughing.

Secrecy

View Online

Nothing could have prepared Shining Armor for the sight of Twilight as he rounded the corner. He hardly even recognized her. Her voice and especially her face were all wrong. And what was she doing toppled over like that?

Shining stared, bemused. He couldn't for the life of him comprehend why Twilight was laughing, never mind so forcefully. His confusion gave way to fear, but his uncertainty with the situation and what to do about it held him back. He felt a flicker of shame. He was the captain of the Royal Guard, for Celestia's sake! Yet here he was suddenly terrified of his younger sister, and she didn't even know he was there!

That needed to change, fast. He'd lose any nerve he had left entirely if he hesitated much longer. Twilight herself seemed to be degrading, her previous howling reduced to husky low notes from a lack of air intake. “Twilie?” he called out in concern.

The change was immediate. Twilight's head snapped to face her big brother. She remained lying where she was, her mouth suddenly drawn into a sealed line, silent. Shining's sister didn't look abashed, though, and that only served to alarm him further. If anything she looked... suspicious. Her mute visage scrutinized his own, and only after a few very long moments did Twilight's face open back up, looking suitably bewildered.

“Oh! H-Hi, B-B-B, uh, B-B-” Twilight stammered, as if remembering what she had just been doing in front of somepony else was generally cause for embarrassment. Whatever she was trying to say seemed caught in her mouth, and she continued to fumble with the single consonant. Her breath came in deep, forceful inhales.

“B.B.B.F.F?” Shining picked up the phrasing of Twilight's endearing title to him, and it seemed to do the trick. Twilight's pupils seemed visible once more against their whites, and her breathing quieted. She started to right herself back onto her four hooves, shaking slightly.

“Y-Yeah,” Twilight said. She hadn't lost her stutter. “Thanks.”

“No problem, kid.” Shining smiled and trotted up to Twilight. They embraced, and despite the purple armor Shining wore when on duty, he could feel his little sister's warmth. She relished in his own, her cheek pressed up against his neck. It took her some seconds to pull back.

“So,” Shining started over, eager to keep the more comfortable mood. “Finish putting Discord back?” Shining had been the first to know, after Twilight herself, about Celestia's favour concerning the draconequus. He'd strolled over to the garden in the hopes of getting a quick word with her.

“Oh!” Twilight started slightly, and at first he thought she was going to revert back to her previous state. When she spoke next, however, all she had was a bit of an awkward tone to her speech. He put it down to her breathlessness. “Uh...yeah, ha ha. Right back where he belongs.” She glanced back to peer up at Discord, and Shining raised an eyebrow at Twilight. Her laughter was still fresh in his mind.

“Did I miss something funny?” Shining asked, regretting it instantly. Wasn't he trying to keep Twilight calm? As she turned back to face him, Twilight's reaction was thankfully underwhelming.

“Not really,” she said. “Well, yes. There was, but you kinda' had to be there. Well, I mean, you are here. But, not here now. I mean here then. I mean—”

“Twilie, I knew what you meant,” Shining laughed. If Twilight's train of thought was going to derail, at least it was doing so humorously. It was hardly the worst embarrassment she could suffer. Twilight had really lucked out that he'd had been the only other pony in the garden; her earlier behaviour surely would have attracted a crowd. As Shining looked he did, at least, give a slight chuckle at Discord's face. It sure couldn't be comfortable to have your mouth frozen open like that.

“I... I think I'm gonna head home now,” Twilight said, apparently still feeling a bit awkward. She embraced him once more, even more heartily than the first time, and began to trot off. Shining was about to ask if Twilight was sure about taking her leave, but she kept her head facing ramrod straight ahead of her, negating all possibility of further face-to-face discussion.

“See ya', sis',” Shining called. Twilight didn't answer back. Shining could only stare after her, musing on the oddity of their encounter. It made no sense; she'd hugged him with enough force to bend his armour plating, and yet she was making swift tracks back to Ponyville? He tried to at least be content knowing Twilie still considered him good support whenever she was troubled.

Troubled by what, though? Despite all that she had said, it was obvious to Shining that Twilight hadn't told him everything, and she'd never been the type to suddenly run off without a word. They were far too close for those kinds of secrets, damn the distance they lived nowadays.

A minute or two alone was a must for her, certainly. No good could come of running her down. But Shining resolved to get some answers from her before she was gone.

Caught in an awkward idle, Shining took a second glance at Discord's face, and followed the draconequus's frozen line of sight. It looked to his own back-left. The statue of Knowledge stood tall above the garden path, and the scene was a bit relaxing to Shining before he saw the mare's jarring face.

What kind of carving job was that? Shining made a note to himself to ask Celestia who she had commissioned for the garden decor. Whomever this artist was, they had a grim idea of knowledge, that was for sure. Shining felt he could do with a bit of ignorance in the face of whatever that pony knew. He doubted any connoisseur of fine art would disagree. The thing seemed to be in a bad face contest with Discord.

Shining briefly wondered if this is what Twilie had been laughing about, and then immediately afterwards dismissed the idea; it wasn't funny. Twilight's laughter followed after him, regardless.

Despite its lauded reputation, the sculpture garden had never been Shining's favourite place in the palace. It seemed far too eerie, and the faces on these statues sealed off any chance it had at a calm atmosphere entirely. They took fillies and colts on field trips to this place? Perhaps that was the humorous part of this whole thing.

Shining pictured a filly cowering in fear deep beneath her bed covers, tears swelling at the edges of her eyes. He frowned deeply.

No, not funny at all.

He turned on his heels, eager to leave the garden far behind.

~\\***\***/***//~

To avoid alerting Shining Armor again, Twilight trotted a significant distance away around the maze's corner. Once she was inside the main palace hall again, she broke into a full gallop. She shoved her way past some rather surprised ponies, but her vision was too fuzzy to make out who specifically they were. Their indignant voices following her down the halls had to be the ones to tell her, and even then she could barely identify them.

Twilight's eyes blurred with tears; tears of panic, fear, and betrayal. She had barely scraped through her encounter with her brother sufficiently composed, and knew she couldn't hold together for a second talk with somepony else. So she just had to keep running. She had to get away from the castle.

From her.

“No, no, no, no,” Twilight frantically whispered her denial out loud. Even when spoken, the word was just as powerless against her peril as before. She sprinted on, the front gate coming blearily into view down the hall.

“...and I just don't know what was wrong with her.”

Twilight's hooves caught themselves mid-stride so as not to give her position away. She nearly did that herself anyway, her skidding halt muffled by a red and gold-trimmed carpet adorning the hallway. She leaned into the bottom-left corner of a four-way passage, and listened closely to a conversation which was coming from further down the left hallway. It couldn't be...

“Ah, that's just the way mares are sometimes. She'll come around.”

“You think so?”

It wasn't, she realised. Twilight had worried that who she had heard around the corner had been Shining Armor, talking about her. Her mind was kicked into a brief explosion of morbid creativity, and ignored the obvious logic of the chat with her sibling in the garden a minute ago.

When she heard the second voice, she knew the fear to be false, at least for the time being. To assure herself further, she peered around the corner. She saw two royal guards standing and conversing near the library entrance. The right one had always sounded a fair bit like Shining Armor, and under different circumstances, Twilight might have giggled at her self-deception. As it stood, she took it only as a brief respite.

Her peek around the wall's edge made her visible, and the two spotted her. One seemed about to speak, but Twilight was immediately off on her run again. She left the two guard ponies behind, a fair bit more perplexed than they were earlier.

No more stopping. No more stopping. I need to get out of here.

Twilight bolted out the castle gates, and aimed to make the same trip she had made last night down to the train station. But this time the main street was a fair bit more crowded. She weaved her way past a multitude of ponies as she tried her best to keep a straight path. Her shaking limbs and woeful sensory capabilities, however, eventually sent her tumbling into the streets. She shook violently, her hooves clutched about her head.

“Um... miss?” a male voice called down to her. Twilight looked up and around herself with wild eyes. She was holding up street traffic, and a few of the ponies present seemed to recognise her as the one who had carried Discord a short while ago. A unicorn stallion with a coal grey coat and white mane and tail had stopped in front of her. He was buttoned up in a jet black suit, obviously among the Canterlot's higher class.

“Are you—” the unicorn tried.

“NO!” Twilight shrieked, and got to her hooves to resume her sprint. The crowd, the second Twilight had gathered that day, reacted collectively to her outburst. A few shuffled uncomfortably away, with others still trying their best to move closer and calm the frantic pony down. Those still assembled pressed in on Twilight, and destroyed the last bits of her mental compass. She was making no more progress, forward or otherwise. Realisation rudely struck her, and she lit up her horn to teleport outside the circle of ponies.

Upon the spell's conclusion, and the resistance from the other ponies lifting, Twilight calmed slightly. She stood and waited for her eyes to clear. She had materialized on a mostly empty street, and it took only the briefest look around for her to decide that she had completely lost her bearings and was obviously not on the main path anymore. After several seconds, Twilight pinpointed the castle, indicating north. It lay towards her far back-left, and she realised she must have teleported to Canterlot's west end in her panic.

Twilight didn't think Canterlot had anything that would qualify as a slum. The mountain-nestled capital was too well-maintained for that. However, its west end was certainly not as lavish as the rest of the city. While many of the buildings still had the familiar white colouration of Canterlot brick, they were arranged in such a manner as to indicate a cramped quality. As a filly, Twilight recalled visiting this part of town as little as she could. The narrow spacing of the streets combined with the many back alleys dotting blocks reminded Twilight of an ant farm, dirty and claustrophobic.

Twilight's sight of the castle urged her to keep going, but she didn't recognize the particular street she was standing on. She had never walked it before, and so all she could think to do was continue due south. It would at least give her a path that was directly away from the castle. She resumed her sprint down the narrow alleyways, deviating left every so often to try and regain the main road.

Twilight ran into few ponies as she travelled. The narrow alcoves were not exactly the same as the bustling causeway the main street was. The lack of any crowds made things significantly quieter than before, and even Twilight's panic felt hushed. She kept her fast pace, but her thoughts slowed down to consider just why exactly she felt the need to run. On the one hoof, it felt ridiculous to wonder why. But on the other hoof, was she really in any danger herself?

All she had done, as far as anypony else knew, was put Discord back. Just like Celestia had told her. They couldn't fault her presence in the garden when that was regarded. Twilight briefly pondered her run-in with her brother, but just as quickly discarded it. He couldn't have known a thing about what was going on.

Twilight came to a full-stop just outside one last alleyway. The cliff-face Canterlot sat upon was visible in front of her, safeguarded by a three foot stone outcropping. Twilight closed her eyes and thought slowly.

Nopony knew but her. And it could stay that way, couldn't it? Nopony else had to know. No need to run off, right? Nopony knew but her.

As she faced the mountain edge, a chill breeze wafted up and around Twilight’s neck. It snaked up to her ears like a whisper. “...but you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“Shut up. I do know,” Twilight whispered back. Several ponies in the streets gave Twilight odd looks. Even with her eyes closed, Twilight felt the stares as she did before. They made her feel like she was right back in the garden again. Even the draconequus seemed present once more. All that was missing was—

“HELP ME!”

Twilight immediately snapped her eyes open and shrieked. The ponies who had stopped to stare at her started violently. Twilight didn't notice, her breath becoming laboured once again. She stared straight ahead, not affording to look at anything but the horizon. It didn't last with the noon day sun now directly in her face. Her eyes shut themselves instinctively against the glare, and two identical coloured circles were drawn across the black void from Twilight's eyelids. They stared like a set of rose pupils. Twilight's knees collapsed beneath her, and she began to weep again.

She remained like that for a good few minutes before she heard the sound of approaching hoofsteps. A voice then cautiously asked: “Twilight?”

Twilight violently started and looked up in terror, but the feeling quickly subsided. The voice that had said her name was familiar, but only vaguely. A golden and white blob above her slowly came into focus as her vision cleared. She now recognized the royal guard who stared down at her. He was the one Twilight had talked to a bit earlier as she had carried Discord.

“Do you need some help?” the stallion asked, clearly concerned.

Twilight nodded her head, and finally willed herself to speak. “J-Just get me to the train station, please,” she pleaded, getting to her hooves with the guard's aid.

It was thankfully only a very short walk east to the station, Twilight having made good distance already with her earlier sprint. The guard helped her up the platform, a car just boarding its last few passengers upon it. The guard paid the trip for Twilight out of his own pocket, pulling a couple bits out of a pouch in his armour and giving them to the conductor. Twilight mumbled a thanks, feeling numb.

“Will you be alright, Twilight... or err, Ms. Sparkle?” the guard asked again, hesitant to leave her.

“J-J-Just a bad day,” Twilight fibbed, forcing a limp smile at him. “I'll be okay.”

He looked unconvinced, but all the same nodded and started slowly back down the platform. Twilight left the door, the conductor shutting it behind the two of them, and entered the front-facing car. She slumped into an empty green plush seat, drawing her hind hooves up against her torso to assume a fetal position.

Nopony knows. Nopony knows but me.

The scream reverberated within her skull.

And her.

Twilight sobbed quietly into her front hooves.

~\\***\***/***//~

“You seem... troubled, sister.”

Princess Celestia's eyelids shut tightly over her face and she brought a hoof up to her forehead as though she had a headache. The onset of one could certainly be felt amidst all her heavy thoughts. She lowered her golden shoe away from her face and smiled as reassuringly as she could at her younger sibling. Luna sat next to her at the end of the long dining hall table.

“It's fine, Luna,” she said, but she could tell Luna wasn't buying her words. Celestia continued on before she could press on her own, silently encouraging the matter to be dropped entirely. “It's merely something that has been on my mind lately.”

Instead of deterring her, Celestia seemed to have egged Luna on further. “It concerns Discord, doesn't it?” Luna didn't bother keeping her voice down, and spoke the insidious name as plainly as any mundane statement. It mattered not; the two of them were dining alone that afternoon anyway. In and of itself, it was an unusual occurrence. The two seats in the hall were present so that the princesses could dine together with their subjects, and even during Luna's long absence there had always been two seats at the end of the table rather than one. In the many centuries before Luna's return, Celestia had given many a sidelong glance at the smaller seat on her left; willing her younger sister to appear.

Now Luna stared expectantly, and Celestia could sense her ingrained curiosity had fully bubbled to the surface. She decided any further attempts at downplay would be a losing proposition, and spoke up with the truth. “Not entirely, no.” Luna had remarked to her earlier both her own concerns about Discord's transportation, and the entrusting of it to Twilight Sparkle. She had gladly offered take care of it herself, but Celestia had gently refused, trusting Twilight to get the task done.

Celestia now felt responsible for her own worries in hindsight, but continued speaking regardless. “Captain Shining Armor confided in me some concerns of his about Twilight when he saw her. I suppose those concerns have now become my own.”

Luna sat unfazed, vaguely disappointed. “It is natural for the captain to worry about her, especially considering what errand she was running at the time they met. Is she not, after all, his sister?”

Celestia turned to regard Luna fully. “As much as she is my student. But this wasn't just ordinary concerns one sibling shows to another.” The two shared a knowing look before Celestia moved on. “He felt that there was something genuinely wrong.”

Another look was exchanged, its intensity matched only by its fleetingness, and Luna shook it off as she spoke up. “Wrong how?”

“As he describes, everything. He said he later felt ashamed that he didn't question Twilight further, but regrettably, he couldn't leave his post. He could only hope that she would stay within the vicinity of his patrol.” Celestia looked away. “That was another thing. According to him, she left in quite a hurry. That isn't like Twilight at all.”

Luna had finished clearing her plate by now, scraps of cress being the only remainders upon her dishes. Her curiosity was seemingly as satiated as her stomach, and her next words could have been surmised in an indifferent shrug. “Captain Armor is likely just upset that he couldn't tell Twilight Sparkle about his upcoming wedding. As I understand it, that was part of the reason he wanted to see her today?” It wasn't really a question, and Celestia barely felt her own nod.

“I should have seen her today,” Celestia said quietly to herself. Luna had since stood up and was walking away from the table. She turned back and quirked an eyebrow at Celestia's odd remark. Celestia didn't notice. Her mute state persisted, and she stared blankly across the table at the closed wooden doors to the hall.

She finally snapped out of her trance and regarded Luna, who looked a mere hair's length away from outright shock. She blushed as she realised how she had been acting moments before. “Perhaps I am a bit too upset about this whole thing myself.” Her attempted self-depreciation did not seem to dull Luna's worried stare, and she continued more firmly. “I am fine, Luna. Really.” This second assurance thankfully uncoiled Luna's tense body. She continued to stare, however.

“Are you coming then, sister?” she asked Celestia, who looked back down at her plate. Her own food, a salad arrangement similar to what Luna had been having, was barely half gone, but she didn't really have her appetite anymore. She seemed to shrug as she stood up.

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

The two sisters walked around the table to the door and started down the hallway. After a short distance, Celestia made to excuse herself from Luna's company to handle the rest of the day's royal court. Luna still looked troubled, but conceded nonetheless. The two bid their short farewells, and Celestia promptly reached the throne room doors and opened them. She nodded at each of the two guards and climbed up to the dais. She was thankful that nopony was currently requesting an audience.

As she sat upon her throne, Celestia gazed distractedly out the closest window in the chamber. The lack of light through the stained glass made the ponies depicted upon it look a dark grey, and the inside of Celestia's head rumbled like the many storm clouds now visible in the sky.

~\\***\***/***//~

“So... good trip?” Spike offered awkwardly.

Twilight didn't even acknowledge him, her eyes locked onto her bedroom door on the library's second floor. She started up the stairs, silent and quivering.

What had gotten into her? Spike swore to himself that he would never ask another question again if he could just get this one in particular answered.

A surprised yelp sounded from the middle of the staircase down towards Spike. Quick breaths and a nervous laugh followed after. Twilight had tripped on a step and now continued on, ascending no less shakily than she had started.

Preferably very soon, Spike added.

He admitted to himself that he might not have helped matters. As he had set about cleaning the house as expected of him that morning, Spike ran into the difficulty that the decorative pony figurehead was just too heavy for him to lift back up onto the middle table on his own. He had ended up rolling it across the floor and leaning it against the front door. He then forgot about it and continued on with his work elsewhere.

Spike had never imagined he had just set an accidental booby trap, and late that afternoon when he heard a shriek followed by the sounds of a struggle, he had run down the stairs to find Twilight caught underneath the wood carving. She was flailing her limbs uselessly, the muzzle of the woodwork pressed into her own. The unicorn had apparently completely forgotten about her magic amidst her hysteria, and for a moment, Spike had stared bewildered on the bottom step. Eventually, he, along with a very speedily present Pinkie Pie, helped Twilight. Pinkie credited her “Pinkie Sense” to her sudden arrival before bounding off again, apparently hunting for the source of a doozy.

Twilight's bedroom door did a quick open-and-shut courtesy of her remembered magic, and the speed of the action created a loud enough slam to rattle Owlowiscious off of his perch. After his master’s rocky departure and homecoming waking him up twice before, this third rude awakening seemed to be the little owl’s breaking point. It was fast-approaching evening anyways, and a fourth attempt at slumber would be a pointless endeavour. He settled on the edge of the table, too sluggish to do much flying around. He was at eye level with Spike, and the two shared what could have counted as a sideways glance.

Both Spike and Owlowiscious could hear Twilight frantically pacing in her room. Over the hoofsteps beating out a fast, four-note rhythm, Spike thought he could discern some kind of monologue. He couldn't distinct the words, though, and he made to start up the stairs to press one of his fin-like ears up to the door for a listen. The bottom stair, always a doozy itself, creaked beneath the miniscule weight of even the baby dragon.

The faint voice instantly stopped, and in the ensuing silence, Spike heard the sound of hooves a second time. He swore, now feeling his own kind of paranoia, that Twilight was looking through the wooden door and down the steps straight at him.

Unnerved, he quickly hopped off the rickety step and ran back to the figurehead. It was now lying on its side just within the library's threshold. Spike knew Twilight couldn't truly see him, but he tried to look and feel busy anyways. His head felt a more taxing exertion, racing on his singular thought. Spike could never have understood in that moment that he and Twilight were behaving in harmony.

~\\***\***/***//~

Only when Spike had shuffled his way into the bedroom and into his bed did Twilight realise how long she had been pacing. In those several spent hours, the evening had turned to night, and she crawled beneath her own bed covers to substitute her monologuing with exhausted delirium. The throb of her head ached in tandem with the rest of her body.

The thoughtful hours saw fit to continue, regardless. Pale light shone through the window. The curtains were pulled back to make the moon visible beyond the pane. Staring at no single dot upon the lunar surface, Twilight let her thoughts pour out unabated.

The day past quantified itself in the days ahead. The few quiet hours of Twilight's daily schedule discarded their relaxation time to make room for her to grieve. Her secret would need to become a part of her day. A pain she would only experience whenever she allowed herself to. It was a necessity if she was going to stay quiet and stay sane.

You can't stay quiet, the voice chided again. Look what happened a mere few hours ago. What more proof do you need? This... thing is going to eat you apart.

Twilight made to mentally protest herself, but a loud grumble followed by a muffled snore made her cover a hoof over her mouth. This position continued until she realised she had been thinking, not talking. She flushed in embarrassment before realising nobody could see her either, making her discomfiture equally pointless. Twilight saw the only possible witness to her plight, Spike, was completely submerged into his basket-like bed. His covers were pulled completely over his small frame with only the tip of his tail sticking out. A light, indistinct rumble could be heard, and Twilight imagined Spike must be dreaming.

The fear of what her own dreams may bring was at least part of the reason why she herself was still awake. If Twilight told anypony that was the only reason, however, she would be lying through her teeth.

What then? she posed.

What then, what? the voice answered back with its own question.

I have absolutely no clue what I am going to do now. What good will..., Twilight couldn't bring herself to even think it in full. What good will doing... that do me? None. I can only make things worse for myself.

Twilight Sparkle. I never imagined you to be the selfish one.

Twilight could feel tears brimming again. I'm not selfish! How am I—

Remember how it felt?

Twilight's senses betrayed her as she suddenly felt very cold. Her attempts to brace against the chill, wrapping her blankets around herself in a body cast, failed. The catalyst of the freeze was within her small body, in a duet with her self-hurled accusations.

No. No, I don't remember. I've forgotten.

Is that so? Maybe if you had a hundred years to remember instead—

You don't know that! You don't know how long she's—

Well she's there for a bit longer, thanks to you.

Twilight's weeping became a full on sob. She tried to quiet down, but her unnatural chill took advantage of her nerves to put her in spasms. Her tears shook with her.

You've forgotten, you said?

The cold finally froze Twilight, and she nodded stiffly. She felt ridiculous. Childish.

Maybe you need a reminder.

Twilight remained stiff as she heard rustling. Her bedroom window's curtains were in an awkward dance as wind blew in from outside. Twilight didn't remember leaving the window open. Owlowiscious had seemed too sluggish for much want of outdoor activity.

And yet there sat the window, unhinged from its lock. On any other night, this thought would have confused Twilight. On this night, it terrified her. For a reason inexplicable to even herself, she resolved to keep quiet in her steadily mounting dread. The one lucid sliver of her that was left seemed to be demanding her degradation be quiet out of courtesy for those who were still sleeping.

The thought of Spike made her sit up instantly. She took a full five seconds to turn to face his bed. Dread settled itself over Twilight's judgement, she having since convinced herself of an intruder. But in the moonlight she discerned no silhouette other than the same basket, Spike curled up inside like an orphaned foal.

Amazingly, considering Twilight's sobs and the not-so-gentle breeze blowing indoors, it was only now Spike was giving any hints of his slumber being disturbed. Twilight still couldn't see anything other than his tail, but the concealed frame was now writhing as though in discomfort, and louder muffles than the previous snores were leaking through his covers.

Twilight tossed aside her sheets, ignoring her fatigue. She started towards Spike's covered form in pensive steps. She had clearly woken him up, and maybe a few reassuring words from herself could be enough to lull him back to sleep, this time in plain sight. She had a hopeful theory that seeing him so at peace would have a tranquil effect on herself as well. Directly before the bed now, the long tail revealed itself in a reflexive spasm and nearly whacked Twilight in the face.

Twilight frowned. Maybe it was a strange trick of the light, but she could have sworn the sheen given off by the scales of Spike's tail was an unusual hue, sickly in its spectrum. She felt her heart quickening at the thought of something being wrong with Spike, and magically threw the covers off in a single sweep.

At almost the same time Twilight released her grip upon the blanket, the previously covered figure rose from the bed. Its quick, lithe movement belied what should have been the slow awakening of a sluggish dragon. The shadow that bore down on Twilight was certainly larger than she remembered Spike being. As she looked up towards the head of the full risen figure, she first noticed the small, yet imposing wingspan.

And then upon the craned head atop a skinny, feathered neck, she saw the eyes.

Twilight was once again frozen against her own volition, and a terrifyingly familiar sensation began to play itself across her. Her neck could not turn her head away from the being she beheld, which regarded her maliciously with its tiny red eyes. The creeping feeling began to cross the boundary of her collarbone to lock the rest of her body in place.

Twilight's scream came in at the same time as the cockatrice's bellow before her face was swept over by stone.

~\\***\***/***//~

Although only a mere silhouette amidst the darkness, the head spines gave the sleeping figure in the basket away as Spike. It was the first thing Twilight saw when she awoke, and she found herself immensely grateful. Seeing Spike snoozing soundly in his basket like he belonged had likely kept her from panicking so loudly.

In her position on her side, Twilight's back was to the window, but the black cover of the room told her well enough that it was closed and the curtains drawn over it. As she breathed deeply, she began to remember locking her quarters up shortly before going to bed. The room's air tasted dusty, and she suppressed a cough in her blankets.

When you said you didn't remember, you were lying, weren't you?

Silence.

...Well?

Twilight shifted her bed covers off, and gingerly crossed the wood floor. She opened her door and crossed beyond its threshold. She peeked back into her room as she shut it behind her, her eyes lingering on Spike for as long as they could.

Twilight descended the steps and made a leap over the creaky final one to land knees bent upon the ground floor. She straightened herself out to walk over to the front door, and stopped only to sift through her saddlebags seated on the floor beside it. She contemplated their contents, but in the end decided only to take her coin purse filled with a hoof-full of bits. It wasn't like she needed much else besides train fare.

When Twilight realised she was counting out enough bits for three trips total she shivered, the dream's cold briefly revisiting her.

Before she could change her mind, Twilight hurried out the door.

~\\***\***/***//~

Only after he had heard the muffled close of the front door did Spike dare to leave his bed. He had slept only lightly that evening, his alertness coming back more rapidly than he was used to. He did, though, have a bit of additional aid for his wakeful state. It sat by his bedside in the form of a tiny ball of feathers. He stared back.

“Hoo?”

Twilight had apparently not taken Owlowiscious into account in her sneaking out, and the tiny owl's concern for his owner was apparently enough incentive for him to arouse Spike from sleep as well. Spike would later mark the event off as one of the few times he was ever grateful to be woken up early.

Making his way over to the balcony doors, Spike couldn't help but open them tentatively. He knew Twilight would almost certainly not think to look in his direction, especially with all the library's lights still off, but he had been feeling uneasy enough in the past few hours to desire a bit of caution.

Spike seemed to be in the night's favour at this particular time. The moon, partially concealed by a cloud, provided just enough light for him to see, but all the same kept it dark enough for his stealthy liking. Peering downwards over the balcony railing, Spike spotted Twilight making her way towards what he could only assume was the train station.

A sudden gust of wind passed over Spike's head, and Owlowiscious was out into his element and headed straight in Twilight's direction. His beak was firmly clamped shut, not letting out a single one of his regular hoots. This, along with Owlowiscious's steady, high elevation, smoothed over Spike's reflexive worry that he was headed to speak to Twilight. He seemed directly above her now, and Spike only hoped that the little bird wasn't casting a shadow as he tailed her.

Twilight was now out of sight around a building's edge, but her location was still visible due to Owlowiscious's own position high above her. Spike re-entered the library with a grim sense of determination. He walked over to his lectern and pulled up his stool to be seated. He lit a single candle and laid out a scrap of parchment.

After Spike had finished writing he inhaled a deep breath, and the rolled scrap of paper disappeared in a plume of green flame. The only letter he had ever written to Princess Celestia without any dictation from Twilight was on its way to the princess's royal chambers.

Fear

View Online

The rain gave her a chill she couldn't wrap herself up from. She wished she could at least give the warranted reaction of a shiver, but even that instinct was beyond her capability to respond to.

As still as she was, her thoughts were in a gallop, or at least they were attempting to reach such speeds. When locked in place without physical capability, the pony's stiff body had her mind slowly abandon it. She found herself entrapped in a sort of delirium. Her mental capacity could only return slowly, as could its sharpness, and the slow chug of a pace this possessed was the closest to what she could call a movement of her own choosing. Her isolation threatened to lull her back to sleep again, and she latched on to any thought she could in an effort to stay awake.

The slight tilt of her neck in her newfound posture offered a mixed blessing. Recalling yesterday, she felt a fury that only came about from being teased. She had almost been freed!

The other side of the coin: she finally had a different view of the garden.

The Royal Canterlot Sculpture Garden. She thought that was what a magenta mare from two days ago had called this place. The title briefly knocked her from her timeless stupor, as had the argument of a group of three fillies. She quietly thanked the talkative visitors and their guide. The name Knowledge was disagreeable, however.

My name?

The pony darkly recalled asking herself that question before, but knew not how long ago.

The distress served as a suitable reminder to another recent visitor, one from only yesterday: the purple unicorn. The pony had been spouting off a monologue and woken her up again. A monologue which she realized she had already almost completely forgotten. Admittedly, it truly was a strange thing to wish ponies would talk to themselves more often. And perhaps run more field trips, whatever those were.

The only part of the unicorn's speech she remembered was Celestia. Her own attraction to the remembered name dulled over as she realised it also wasn't hers. So why did she know it?

The thought had been cut short as her visitor cast a spell at the base of her prison, and a wholly alien presence overcame her. Not quite believing what was happening, her hysteria took hold of her voice and implored the unicorn for answers she so desperately craved. Her only truly lucid note came when she realised she was being silenced again.

And then she felt angry. Very angry.

She was no longer been able to see the unicorn in her new field of vision. The lack of sight of the garden path was another drawback of her new position. But she certainly heard the laughter. The unicorn could only be laughing at her, and she quickly drew the conclusion of mockery. When the laughing died down, she could hear talking again, but in her rage she didn't care to listen. She was deaf to all but that laughter. The hooves which clenched the rolled, rocky scroll would have tightened if they could, imagining the unicorn's neck instead in their grasp.

She heard the difference before she felt it. Drops of water ran down her entire body in the downpour, and collected in all her ears' creases. But her hearing now seemed strangely clogged. The water should not have been affecting her like this. Her body was a blunt, unfeeling mass, sensations little more than names to it now.

Her hearing continued dulling, the rainwater giving her aches in her ears. She twitched them to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling.

She would have started if she could. She had twitched her ears.

An odd tingling, somehow familiar, began to work its way lower across her head, and now she truly felt the rain, water soaking into her mane and coat. While she would have liked to relish in her remembrance, her newly freed eyes had locked onto something in particular: a very faint, but visible aura of purple. She blinked clear raindrops to refocus her view. Then even the parts of her that were still solid felt weight and another's movement. A sliver of purple coat entered her vision.

The tingling of the receding stone began to reach her mouth, and she felt and saw a hoof pressed over it. Focusing hard, she closed her eyes. With only her nose to breath by, she took as deep an intake of air as she could. She opened her eyes again.

And then she bit.

~\\***\***/***//~

As she climbed up onto the base, Twilight felt as though she were swimming, or more accurately being swept along. Since waking from her nightmare, the numbness had been her new norm. The walk from home, the milling in her train seat, the sneak into the castle gardens; all of it felt entirely out of her hooves like she were in a river current. But as her hooves scrapped almost painfully across the hard stone, she was snapped into lucidity. Resting her right hoof across Knowledge’s mouth, she could feel the grooves of the mare’s gritted teeth. Twilight thought of Knowledge’s screams, and shivered.

Okay, Twilight. You did this before. You can do it again.

Upon her mane and back Twilight felt the pinpricks of drops of water, not from a river, but the sky. She looked up and finally realised it was raining. Breathing deeply, she began to cast her remedy spell.

She hadn't expected it to be raining. Twilight first cursed the weather ponies for bringing the storm, and then herself for forgetting to check the Canterlot weather schedule. This lasted for all of three seconds before Knowledge's mouth chomped down hard on her right hoof. Twilight bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out, and frantically tried to dislodge her caught limb.

The shift in her grip and Knowledge releasing her own hold happened simultaneously, and the slickness of the pedestal sent Twilight tumbling to the muddy ground below. As she attempted to stand the viscosity of the once smooth gravel path made her hooves skid.

When she was finally on all four of her legs again, Twilight looked to her sides. She spied the guiding beam of a night guard's searchlight around the left corner of the hedge row, and stared apprehensively. The pillar was growing longer and stronger as the pony out of sight walked closer to the edge. Its steady bobbing indicated the rhythm of a trot.

On the train, Twilight had briefly considered talking her way onto the grounds, but it quickly became an unsuitable option. The guards would hardly give her trouble when entering the garden, but her intent to leave with company soured the idea. Their questions would bring in Celestia.

Twilight watched the light get suddenly whisked away to leave only a dim glow around the hedge border; the unseen guard had about-faced. She released a held breath and checked the back face of her right fetlock, worried about any damage Knowledge had caused. For a moment she regarded a tooth-patterned bruise just beginning to surface. Her new limp was a duality, the abuse her side had taken from the fall starting to bother her.

She tried her best to ignore her injuries. In her current state, Knowledge presented an even greater danger to Twilight than biting. If she cried out, the guards patrolling the garden perimeter would certainly come searching. They would be caught, and nothing Twilight did afterwards would matter.

“W-W...W...” Twilight heard, and clenched both her eyes shut. The rest of her frame followed suit, half resigned to the coming scream already. When it didn't sound she looked up.

Knowledge was mouthing something, her face an angry mask. The jutting neck muscles seesawing beneath her skin suggested a force behind her desired words, but no sound escaped her mouth now. Soon the eyes of the mare's enraged face began to slip in focus. They lost their hardness to stare at nowhere in particular past Twilight. The rest of Knowledge's portrait began to relax—or shrivel—as well; her eyebrows unknitted, and her once taut cheeks sagged. It was only from a dry gasp barely audible over the rainfall that Twilight finally understood. Knowledge must have used most of the breath she’d had during their first encounter. Now she was choking, the stone that had inadvertently been preserving her oxygen peeled away.

Glancing further down Twilight saw that her fall had interrupted her spell. It was at a stand-still once again at the bottom of the mare's neck. Her concern for the suffocating pony pushed aside Twilight's panic and she resumed her casting. As Knowledge's torso was freed, she and Twilight both seemed to inhale at the same time from their respective reliefs. Twilight had to cut hers short. She needed to refocus some of her magic to hold Knowledge steady. Besides not wanting her to fall or fold over onto the still petrified portions of her body, Knowledge's fury seemed to have come back with her breath. She had apparently decided to forgo screaming again for a more direct show of rage. With her back legs being the only part of her still frozen, she was stretching her front pair towards Twilight as far as they could reach.

In the split second that followed, Twilight realised too late that this action required Knowledge to have dropped her scroll.

The stoney motif produced a sensible ripple as it struck the ground, and the shock wave opposed all cover provided by the weather. It sounded out over the garden in a distinct THUD. The impact left the scroll cracked into two roughly equal pieces. They sat flush against the platform's base, just shy of Twilight's front hooves.

Twilight looked left. The light was back. It held still for a moment, listening with its guard, before it mimicked the approaching gallop with its movement.

Twilight was out of time.

The spell was tantalizingly close to its conclusion, now hooked around only the bottoms of the mare's rear hooves. Twilight used the scroll's rubble as a makeshift boost and leapt up onto the platform. She once again hooked her right hoof around the mare's mouth and her left around the mare's waist. When Twilight had to take a step back whilst struggling with her, she knew Knowledge had been completely freed.

Twilight stemmed her magic's flow, eager to dispose of the beacon. Another light was rapidly approaching their position. Muffled protests followed two grunts of pain as Twilight leaned back. Both ponies tumbled into the row of boxwood behind the circular base. Twilight actually felt Knowledge's teeth start to close around her injured hoof again before they both froze. For the first time in what Twilight supposed was centuries, Knowledge held still of her own accord. Her teeth were awkwardly bared as her mouth remained in a light press over Twilight's bad fetlock.

Through a break in the bushes, a grey unicorn stallion in dark cobalt armour was visible within five feet of the hedge row, and the distance closed further as he trotted over to inspect the broken scroll and the base. He looked up and stared for a long time until he began to scan his surrounding area. His light moved at a slow, tracking pace across every nearby surface.

Twilight frowned. She didn't want to risk teleporting the two of them without a clear view of her destination. She was bitterly reminded of what had once happened when she had carried herself and Spike simultaneously. The bright burst of magic would also do them no favours. The only solution was to navigate the hedge maze. Twilight very carefully began to inch backwards, trying to disturb as few leaves as possible. Keeping her movements slow and precise left Twilight unprepared for Knowledge biting down again.

It hadn't been intentional. The bite was significantly lighter than before, a product of Knowledge's nerves. Twilight cried out, and Knowledge winced along with her. She scarcely had time to notice Twilight's hoof and spit it out before she got pulled backwards. The guard's beacon blinded her as she fell. As she and Twilight lied upon the grass within the maze's perimeter, the sound of 'Halt!' rang strong over the garden.

Twilight sparked up her horn, not bothering to stand. She knew she was making an estimate, but a couple of magical burns were preferable to facing the guard. As the armoured stallion crashed through the brush, Twilight's last thought before vanishing was a hope that he had not seen her face.

~\\***\***/***//~

The only obstacle faced in tracking the two came when they disappeared in a flash of violet light. Thankfully, a second flash soon appeared within the hedge construct's middle, the two entangled figures forming into a pupil in a circular clearing. She hovered high above as the two ponies untangled themselves.

Following their movement was easy after that, especially considering the supposed guide of the two ponies had apparently no sense of direction. Granted, her companion seemed of not much help. She seemed too busy alternating between being rooted to her place and screaming unintelligibly. Eventually, the first pony took several strides back and her posture indicated her mounting desperation. Commands came in harsh shouts, both from the leader to the follower, and several guards pursuing the two ponies. The resulting meekness of the second pony brought the familiarity of the first one to the forefront. Not that her magic's colour hadn't given her away already. Twilight Sparkle.

Ponies out after dark? The night's restlessness was apparently contagious.

When a small common owl swooped low over the maze, the irony of her previous thought seemed palpable. The owl was evidently tracking the two ponies as well, but seemed to keep his distance all the same. He kept his eyes pointedly fixed upon Twilight and didn't notice the other bird peaked much higher in the sky. She remained hidden from pony and owl alike amidst the moon's bright glow, the pale light defying its storm cover.

Twilight reached the top right corner of the hedge maze, her deadweight companion in line behind. One guard each approached from the west and south sides respectively, but she seemed not to pay any mind. Instead, she scrabbled quickly through a hole to the other side of the green corner. A shallow ledge leading into the castle moat was all that awaited Twilight on the other side, and at first it seemed like she was getting even more desperate. Making ready to swim, even.

When Twilight's horn sparked up once again, her intention was immediately understood. A star burst engulfed each pony and they vanished. Both flying creatures ceased their respective tracking. Neither of them would be able to spot the secondary flash. The teleport spell's anchor was lost in the bright Canterlot cityscape below.

Hiding was pointless now, the quarry surely putting even more distance between themselves and the palace. She abandoned her veil of moonlight to fly down to the owl starting to turn his back to the maze. The even glide of her red and gold primary feathers made her approach near silent, and the owl gave a start when he turned around to regard—not three feet away—his neighbour in the sky.

The little bird seemed to be trying to sink into himself and become even smaller, cowed by the much larger presence's majesty. She merely waited patiently for a response. When none came, she instead offered first pass in a throaty but friendly caw. The owl began to hoot out a long-winded explanation after that.

The owl's nervousness did not deteriorate, but it seemed as though its cause had shifted. He glanced directly below him at the hedge corner where Twilight had once stood. The two pursuing guards from before had coalesced at the spot, and were conversing almost as hurriedly as the owl was now. She paid the owl's story as much due as she could with her ears. Her eyes, meanwhile, stared at the two hopelessly confused guards. When one suddenly looked up and pointed towards the sky to direct the other, both birds decided it was time to leave. The owl had told his story all in one breath anyway, heaving his little chest in effort. He had already seemed exhausted before, apparently having flown a long way.

Ponyville.

He turned to fly away, making not for the mountain valley town as expected, but towards Canterlot below. She hoped that the owl would soon see sense enough to fly home and wait. Surely his master would be back to Ponyville soon. Even before his long-winded tale it was obvious that was who Twilight Sparkle was to him. Why would he have given her such great attention otherwise? But he had also gone on to say that he hadn't recognized the other pony.

Her golden eyes drifted towards an empty pedestal. Few would.

“Philomena?”

It was not her master that said her name, but the voice was almost as familiar. The sky is full of wings tonight.

She turned to regard Princess Luna, now level with her in the night sky, the clouds above just short of scraping distance of the alicorn’s horn. Even with the height, however, Philomena felt much more exposed now that she was out of the moon’s guarding glare. The flames licking at her wingtips stood her out against the black clouds like a tiny sun, and raindrops sizzled into steam from her deep, hovering strokes. The guards below hadn't left, and now grew even more agitated at the princess's arrival. Luna waved a hoof to signal them away, and gave a questioning look to the phoenix before her. A simple flick of the eyes directed the princess towards the pedestal in the garden below. If it weren't for a few shards of granite seated at its bottom, the cylindrical base could have passed as having held nothing at all.

Luna paled. She stared at the scene for a long time before she finally remembered Philomena before her. As gracefully as she could in midair, Luna tilted her head in a nod at the phoenix, signalling her leave.

Philomena watched her fly down and speak a few orders to a couple of other guards. They promptly ran off, searchlights in tow. She then trotted up to the pedestal base and stared, not caring about the rain. To Philomena, her grim curiosity was plain to see.

~\\***\***/***//~

The teleport spell had barely subsided before Twilight was peering over the apartment's edge and to an alleyway below. Her body and mind caught up to each other respectively, and she checked behind her.

Knowledge's teal coat and white mane were soaked and filthy with dirt. She was rocking back and forth, front hooves crossed. She looked nearly catatonic, but she was still there. Knowledge apparently had two states to her attitude, and though this one was still distressing to witness, Twilight easily preferred it over her other one.

Twilight was hesitant to apply a term to Knowledge's other frame of mind. It was too sorrowful to be rage, but too determinate to be anguish. Despite this, it did retain one characteristic the two emotions shared: loudness. As Knowledge had screamed at her within the maze only a minute earlier, Twilight found she could barely discern a word over the combined cacophony of the weather and the pursuing guards. Twilight recalled Knowledge punctuating her indistinct syllables with a pointing hoof as much as her hysteric tone.

Twilight had at first tried to disregard her behaviour and continue forward, but Knowledge had persisted and seemed about ready to abandon Twilight altogether. At that, Twilight's meagre attempt at staying collected had collapsed. She had shouted down Knowledge into frightened submission, ordering her forward. Twilight regretted the need for force, but at least this way Knowledge was thankfully semi-obedient to her commands, and even more thankfully quiet.

But now that they were out of the maze, it seemed Knowledge was again lacking in motivation. Sitting heavily in her place on the rooftop, she let her head drop. Below the edge of the apartment district of Canterlot’s northeastern corner, the main street sat aglow with lamplights. Their glass covers refracted the light of lit wicks and repelled persistent raindrops. Knowledge looked up again, and the wonder in her eyes as their gaze drifted across Canterlot's building tops was dulled by her fear of further verbal lashing. Knowledge avoided looking at Twilight, gazing at no building in particular like a lost child.

Twilight walked over and gave a light nudge with her nose. “Hey.”

No answer. Knowledge continued to hold herself, still pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Knowledge?”

Knowledge responded only with a sharp squint, as though she'd been struck. She began to sob and sink despairingly to the concrete floor on her belly. Twilight caught Knowledge with her neck and hoisted her back up. Her limpness persisted, and Twilight stepped back to grab the sides of the dangling head with both front hooves. She raised its eyes to be level with her own.

“I'm Twilight Sparkle,” she said calmly, but her heart was speeding back up again. They were wasting time. They had wasted enough as it was, and she gave a quick glance past Knowledge's shoulder to the castle behind her. Still dark. “A-And... And I'm sorry about the yelling, and for whatever happened to you... but...” she trailed off, terrified of both further panic from the mare, and from whatever the full extent of her own implication could be.

“Look, right now we need to keep going. They could be—” Twilight cut herself off in horror. A second glance past Knowledge granted her the view of several beams of light. They bounded down the many steps leading up to the castle. “They are looking for us,” she amended, and gave a point. Knowledge finally straightened herself in the form of a double-take, and her face turned back to Twilight to mirror the unicorn's panic.

Knowledge's lips moved, but she seemed too terrified to do more than mouth a single word. Twilight read the breathless syllable as she stared: What. Twilight knew full well what Knowledge was trying to ask, but the earth pony didn't appear so passionate now.

“We can't do this.” Twilight shook her head. “Not now. We need to go. Please.”

Twilight stared at two of the distant white beams. The light bolded the silhouettes of several guards walking in file. They had reached street level and were beginning to fan out. She didn't bother to wait for an answer from Knowledge, and turned to look down the central street. She found her next spell's anchor and lit up her horn.

The two of them promptly rematerialized on the now very familiar station platform, and Twilight thanked her mental clock for remembering the train's departure correctly. The incident in the maze had used up all of the leeway time she’d allotted herself, and the train was just preparing for final sendoff. She glimpsed to her left to see Knowledge. She had adopted an emotional poker face, let down by her pained eyes. Twilight looked behind her again. There were now four beams of light drawing pictures in the air and on the Canterlot main street as the city was combed. Thankfully, they still seemed fairly distant from the platform.

Twilight dragged Knowledge into the train, stopping only briefly to flip the trip's payment of bits to the bewildered supervising conductor. The stallion gave a raised eyebrow at the two drenched mares as they were settled, or in Knowledge's case carried, into their seats, but paid no greater mind.

Twilight was afraid to sit by the right-side window, lest she be seen. Her curiosity eventually won out against her better judgement and she took a peek anyway. The platform was more barren than the two-mare occupied car, and Twilight stared in anticipating fear. When the train began to pull away, Twilight made ready to berate herself for not being more cautious. As quiet as the cabin was she nearly missed the voice as it whispered out one frail word.

“Okay.”

Twilight turned to regard the only other passenger, her stowaway. Knowledge was still in a lockup; her eyes were fixated upon the upholstery of the seat in front of her. Her head gave an almost imperceptible nod. She still seemed shaky, but her voice was marginally steadier the next time she spoke up.

“Okay.”

~\\***\***/***//~

She wanted to ignore it.

She wanted more than anything else in Equestria to ignore it, but she couldn't.

Princess Celestia was in her private quarters, sitting in front of what most ponies would consider a decently sized writing desk for two ponies sitting shoulder to shoulder. She had forgone putting her assorted regalia on for the time being. The extraordinarily early hour of the morning she was accustomed to meant that she had not even left her room yet this day. But even still, the time she could afford was beginning to run short. Beyond her closed balcony door, she could tell the sun was rising higher, defying the continuing rainfall, and she would be expected to be present along with it soon.

Her current dilemma was keeping her inside for quite a few minutes longer than usual, and she cursed her situation's need for haste as much as its need for delicacy. If she stayed locked away for much longer, her little ponies might start to get anxious. She turned her head back down to the varnished redwood of her desk.

Splayed out across the flat surface were the objects of her grief: an unrolled letter, a press-clipping from the day's issue of the Canterlot Daily, and the most recently filed arrest warrant of the Canterlot Royal Guard. The latter item displayed a signature in bold black ink upon its bottom:

By order of

Captain Shining Armor

of the Royal Guard of Her Majesty, Princess Celestia of Equestria

The letter was the first thing Celestia had read that morning, the parchment clutched dutifully in the beak of her phoenix, Philomena. She pried it from the bird's mouth, Philomena apparently having decided that it was worth keeping safe from others. She immediately noticed several things about the scroll before she had even begun to read it.

The letter had been sent a while ago, perhaps last night. It had not blinked into existence while Celestia had been aware of it, and this was immensely confusing. Twilight was a more logical unicorn than to send letters to her in the dead hours of the night. In fact, she recalled telling her to direct nightly letters to her sister from now on. She had hoped that Twilight's friendship reports could impart something onto Luna. In Celestia's private opinion, Luna was shakily adjusting at best to present day Equestria since returning from her thousand year banishment.

Upon unrolling the scroll, Celestia's eyes immediately drifted down to the signature. The message was rather long, and there was a puncture through one of the script's letter's from where Philomena had been clutching the paper in her beak. Even still, Celestia easily managed to figure out the missing letter in the middle of the name—an i—to read the signature as Spike the dragon's. Her suspicions of an unusual message confirmed, Celestia began to read.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I'm worried. Sorry to be so blunt, but I can't handle much more stress over this. Twilight's been acting a little

The inked letters began to look shaky and then ended entirely in a smear. Spike had clearly assembled the letter in a hurry, and he must have cut himself off mid-line. Celestia found the next paragraph and continued reading.

Weird. There's no other way I can say it. I know you asked her to do something about Discord back in Canterlot a couple of days ago, and I decided I'd try to stay out of it. But ever since she got back to Ponyville she's been kinda edgy.

No offense, but edgy might be putting it mildly. She can't seem to do anything but worry about something. The worst part is she won't even tell me what it is. I think Pinkie Pie is starting to get worried too, and she's bound to tell everypony else and get them worked up. Whatever is bugging Twilight, I'm sure we can help. I just wish she'd let us.

Twilight's walking down the street as I'm writing this. I think she might be heading back to Canterlot again. If she comes to you, can you please let us know what's going on? I want the Twilight I know back.

Sincerely and anxiously,

Spike

Celestia ran the letter through her mind again and again, grateful that she did not have to hear Spike's words face to face. It was going to be difficult enough to handle this situation as it was without her resolve being tested further. She glanced down at Captain Armor's warrant. The document called for the arrest of an unknown pony on the grounds of theft of royal property.

Celestia's continued isolation in her room meant that she had yet to see what exactly had been stolen. The warrant withheld that detail, fearing the Canterlot press getting even more agitated over the break-in. Celestia skimmed her eyes over the newspaper clipping. 'ROYAL THEFT!' screamed the Canterlot Daily's front page, the bold header looking naked without an accompanying picture for the article. It too had clearly been very hastily assembled and printed.

Celestia bit her tongue as she connected the warrant, the letter, and the clipping together. She was not so foalish to think that everything could just be a coincidence. Twilight had been at the castle.

If certain details from the press were to be believed, Twilight wasn't alone either. The paper spoke of the guards pursuing two ponies through the Canterlot Sculpture Garden. The warrant, however, had said nothing of the sort, giving mention to only one perpetrator. Celestia remembered the paper saying the two night guards who gave chase—Private Indigo Wind and Private Silent Vigil—had been interviewed. She quickly put two and two together. What a time for a guard to let something slip! But even still...

Two ponies? But Spike's letter mentioned only Twilight. Could she have—

“Sister?”

Celestia turned her head around to regard the voice, keeping her composure in a practiced calm. A navy blue head peered at her through the open door, Luna having managed to crack it open without her hearing.

“Hello, Luna,” Celestia greeted. “I shall be out in a minute or so.”

Luna nodded. “Very well. It pains me to say it, but it appears as though you have attracted quite an audience. They await your word.” She hesitantly ducked her head away and shut the door.

Celestia sighed. Until seeing her sister just now, the only other pony she had spoken to this morning had been a guard; Corporal Torchlight if she remembered correctly. He'd delivered to her Captain Armor's warrant and the press's request for a statement. She didn't know what she could possibly tell them that they didn't already know for themselves. If anything, they were more informed than she was at the moment.

Celestia supposed that she should consider that last thought a blessing, but it instead made her weary. All she was going to do was play back their info to them like a broken record. It made her feel pointless and completely removed from the events unfolding before her. Nopony was requiring her presence.

Just tell them that they know everything already, and you can be done with all this.

Celestia was never good at lying, especially to herself. She knew that whatever was going on wasn't nearly over. She thought of Twilight's almost certain involvement, and stared down again at the three sources of her discomfort.

Off in the corner came an impatient squawk.

Four sources. Philomena had been acting strangely all morning, and Celestia had no doubts that she had taken a peek at the letter herself. Celestia knew even better than the average pony of a phoenix's unworldly wisdom, but it still surprised her to see Philomena harbouring her own dark contemplations on events. Philomena stared pointedly before flicking her eyes in the general direction of the bedroom door.

Celestia sat up and affixed her assorted wear to her body, the golden collar and tiara weighing her head and neck down. Her steps felt clunky and leaden from her shoes.

Quickly, she floated over a sheet of parchment and a quill to write a letter. Her hurry was more out of her desire to keep her word to Luna than anything else, but she also couldn't deny that by now she very much desired to leave her room. The whole chamber reeked of anxiety.

The scroll was rolled and given a very specific stamp of address on its seal. Celestia knew she couldn't stop the letter from arriving through Spike. She could only hope Twilight was still in a lucid enough mind to honour a formality like what had just been placed.

She'd lingered long enough. Celestia opened the doors to her chambers, and began to walk calmly to the waiting conference area established in the castle courtyard. She stopped only once to give one brief order to Shining Armor.

~\\***\***/***//~

The morning sun was just beginning to crest over the eastern mountains by the time the train pulled into Ponyville's station. It was much darker than usual for the time. The bright rays had to push through several layers of storm cloud visible high over the mountainside, the rock formation apparently jealous of the larger storm still brewing over Canterlot. Ponyville itself was relatively cloudless, but doomed to be in a neutral sort of gloom until the sun reached high enough in the distant thunderstorm.

Ponyville sat just as abandoned as the previous night. Everypony was apparently waiting indoors for the unusual autumn chill in the midst of summer to pass. Twilight led Knowledge through the streets, the two of them maintaining their mutual mute state. Nopony stirred in the silence, and the hoofsteps of the two echoed in defiance of the open air.

When they reached the library, Twilight cautiously eased it open and examined the entire main room. Spike was nowhere in sight. Twilight urged Knowledge through the front door and up the stairs to her room. But when Knowledge made to open the bedroom door, Twilight caught a faint sound, and grabbed and pulled her back by the scruff of her neck. She leaned her head against the wood and listened. Spike's muffled sleep-talk came through from the other side.

Twilight cursed herself again. In her rush she had forgotten to find a place where she could sufficiently hide Knowledge. She had gotten lucky on the walk home, but what would happen if Spike saw the other pony and began to ask more questions? Twilight knew that Spike was already inquisitive, and she didn't need more on her plate to explain away. Her little episode yesterday was bad enough as it was.

Twilight heard the sounds of something being moved none too quietly downstairs. She peered over the edge to look below. A teal hoof was busy poking at a globe on the edge of the circular table, and Knowledge's eyes darted rapidly. The clattering maintained a pattern. The hoof would first knock the globe into a spin, the sphere wobbling slightly as if about to topple over. Next, when a new face of carved wood in the shape of a landmass was facing Knowledge, a brief silence would ensue as her eyes narrowed to scrutinize the area. Those same eyes would occasionally widen slightly before shrinking again in multiple brief shocks.

Spike was a heavy sleeper, and in another room no less, but Twilight was still worried about him waking up from Knowledge's current activity. And she still needed to find a better place to hide her. Twilight trotted quietly down the stairs and walked around the table. She was to Knowledge's direct left, the one visible eye ignoring her. It and its companion were still pointedly focused on the globe. Whatever Knowledge was searching for, she was apparently having no luck in finding it. Twilight gave a low, polite cough in an attempt to garner her attention.

No response.

“Knowledge?” Twilight tried in a more direct attempt at her attention. She regrettably got her wish as the two reddish irises of Knowledge suddenly fixated upon her own. In the same snap reaction, Knowledge's hooves removed themselves from the table and globe. Her legs splayed wide trying to keep her shaking body steady, and her face betrayed her rage as she screamed.

“Stop calling me that! That's not my name!”

Twilight didn't think. She immediately picked the livid pony up with her magic, and her head darted in search. Her eyes settled on the basement door, and she hesitated only a second before hearing a thump upstairs. At that she swung the door open and tossed Knowledge inside. Knowledge's continued cries of angry indignation changed into grunts of pain as she audibly tumbled down the stairs. The muffled sounds grew gradually further away. They ceased just as another door was thrown open above Twilight.

“What the hay's going on?” Spike asked worriedly. His eyes stared wide at Twilight despite the dark bags beneath them. Twilight was still slightly stunned, both with Knowledge and herself, and she took a moment before turning to regard Spike.

“A... A bit of an angry visitor, Spike. That's all,” Twilight said slowly, piecing a plausible lie carefully together. “They were yelling, and I had to throw them out the door.” As Spike gazed back, Twilight supposed that the brief scrutiny she experienced from him was inevitable given her behaviour yesterday. But he thankfully seemed to buy her story, mistaking her rigidness for stunned silence on account of a particularly belligerent pony. In a way, he was not mistaken at all.

Spike walked back into the bedroom, grumbling from his body's remembrance of the early hour and its demanded lethargy. “Guess they forgot this was a library,” he mumbled bitterly. Shortly after the door closed again, Twilight heard Spike belch and thought grimly of his morning breath.

Content in the belief that Spike would be asleep again for another few hours, Twilight walked towards the basement. She cautiously shut and locked the door behind her, and observed the scene below.

Knowledge was busy rubbing one of her shoulders. Already it was starting to bruise. Twilight's earlier guilt came back immediately. Knowledge looked up to regard her before hurriedly looking away again, as if expecting further abuse. Twilight wasn't sure if this or the stun from her fall had kept her quiet while she had talked to Spike. When Knowledge gave a quick, nervous glance up from a creak in the ceiling, however, Twilight realised she was afraid for the same reason as her.

Twilight walked briskly down the stairs to Knowledge. For all her speed, when she had finally reached her she was left unprepared as for what to say, and was stuck in an awkward half-lean forward. Her one hoof partially outstretched to try and make physical contact. It lingered in the open air, and Knowledge, seeming so small now, shifted away as though worried about something contagious upon Twilight's hoof. Twilight lowered it away.

“I'm sorry... again,” Twilight began, whispering. It began to feel like a necessity to whisper now. “I didn't know what else to do. Somepony would have seen you, and we would've been caught, and then we...”

Twilight started weeping openly. Her sobs seemed loud to her, and when she looked again she could see Knowledge had glistening eyes as well. They continued to face away from her towards the floor. Fear poured out from them, and inside Twilight saw the same imagination she had been experiencing lately; an inevitable conclusion of doom book-ended its every pictured scenario.

“And...” Twilight continued, her throat threatening to choke. “And I'm sorry, but I don't know your name.”

Knowledge collapsed in a heap, Twilight lacking the urgency and willpower to catch her this time. She felt grotesque even being around her now. The bruises on Knowledge's body stared back like bloodshot eyes. Twilight tried to distract herself by examining the basement.

“Neither do I.”

Twilight fought to keep her composure, and latched onto a new idea. “You can stay down here,” she said. Knowledge—Twilight reminded herself to not to say that again—had turned to face her once more. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but her sadness was temporarily halted from sudden evident confusion. Twilight took advantage of the attention to keep explaining. “Spike never comes down here if I don't want him to. Last time he walked in on me during an experiment I got kinda' angry with him. So now he avoids th— N-No, I didn't mean—”

Twilight cut herself off as Knowledge scrambled across the floor away from her, wobbling too much to truly stand. She quickly realised her accidental implication, Knowledge looking ready to bolt. She spoke up again in a level tone.

“I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant. I'm just a student, and most of my experiments are spell tests on myself. The most I've done to somepony else is give Spike a moustache. Oh, and Rarity a temporary set of wings.” She knew that Knowledge didn't know who she was talking about, but she thought the mention of the harmless magic tricks she'd performed was the important part.

Knowledge visibly uncoiled, and sat looking incredulous. Twilight mused to herself that the expression was probably better suited to her own face. This mare was absolutely incomprehensible!

Knowledge seemed to catch something in Twilight's face anyways. She slightly dipped her head, and her brilliant white mane flowed over to cover one of her eyes in a very Fluttershy-ish gesture. But the resemblance grew slightly less uncanny as she spoke. “My apologies.” Knowledge blushed. “I was merely surprised that you say you can do things of that sort. I've only heard of a few unicorns who have done such feats.”

Twilight blinked. Knowledge's formality flew in the face of her current composure and appearance. Her tears had only now dissipated entirely, and dried mud still sat on her coat in a dull, caked crust. Twilight tried to buy a few seconds of time to formulate a response by examining her own body. Unsurprisingly, she was filthy as well, and she thanked Spike's poor morning vision for not having to explain it away.

“I'm not like most unicorns, I guess,” Twilight said finally, trying to remain modest. “I mean, I did free you.”

Twilight didn't even try to hide her cringe. What else was she stupidly going to remind Knowledge of? But Knowledge didn't violently react as before. Twilight heard a few hoofsteps, and was surprised to see her standing directly in front of her. She leaned in for what looked like what was about to be a nuzzle, but instead she held her placid stance. She briefly looked past Twilight, ponderous, before locking eyes again.

She smiled.

The red-tinted eyes and the relative smallness of the grin should have made the gesture feeble. Instead, it overwhelmed Twilight, and her silence continued as Knowledge spoke up again. “Yes. Thank you.”

Twilight finally loosened, hoping her surprise wasn't so thinly veiled. But her stutter continued to give her away. “Y-You're welcome, I guess.”

Knowledge nodded, but her smile soon disappeared in a frown once again. It was her same look from moments before, and she stared at the floor with a hoof held up to her lips. Twilight could almost picture a deep-noted hum of contemplation.

Twilight gave her throat a cough to bring Knowledge's attention back. Knowledge's head raised in a violent upwards snap as if she had dosed off. “Will you be alright down here for a little while? I just need to sort things out a bit. I need to think.”

Knowledge nodded. “Yes. I need some time myself.” She seemed to read Twilight's mind with her next word. “Alone.”

Twilight nodded back, and turned to walk up the stairs.

“Wait!”

Twilight faced back sternly and brought her hoof up in parallel to her mouth, tapping her lips for emphasis. Knowledge caught the implication and spoke up more quietly. “Could you bring me the globe, please?” Twilight stared confused, but Knowledge could only offer her own stare in return.

“Alright.” Twilight acquiesced. She reached the door and listened against its wood. Twilight briefly worried when she didn't hear Spike's snoring, but decided if the baby dragon was awake he wasn't downstairs either. She would've heard it. She unlatched the door and turned back to Knowledge.

“I'm going to have to lock this again,” she whispered. “Just in case.” Knowledge seemed to understand and nodded, putting a hoof up to her lips. Twilight repeated the gesture subconsciously, then opened the door and peeked through.

Nopony was in sight, and Twilight quickly levitated the globe over to herself and past her down to Knowledge. She passed through the threshold back into the main room. The faint sound of a spinning axis grew inaudible as Twilight closed the door and magicked its lock in place with a light click.

Haste

View Online

“My little ponies.” Celestia projected her voice across the assembled crowd. The main courtyard of the castle was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Several camera flashes, most of them towards the front of the crowd, filled the princess's vision with multiple hues of spots. A straight, horizontal line of gold cut off any further advancement of the furor below. The guards spouted off loud, curt orders to those more riled up to stay back from Celestia's podium.

The bright dot that was the early morning sun was barely peeking beyond the thick, black cover overhead. Given the day's weather and the audience count, half of the city was likely to be sick with a cold in the coming week. Nestled upon a mountainside, with various small rivers and canals in abundance, Canterlot had managed to fall behind in its regular summer quota of rainfall. The makeup storm from last night had continued into the dawn, and was set to persist throughout the rest of the day as well. Though shrunken into themselves and shivering, the ponies below Celestia braved the cold with only the occasional visible cloud of breath from their snouts warming their clammy hooves. They stared hungrily at the princess, and she knew she was entirely unprepared to satisfy their desire for answers.

“As you are all no doubt aware by now, a break-in has occurred in the Canterlot castle grounds,” Celestia continued. Some ponies towards the back of the crowd, those not associated with the press hounding the front rows, began to whisper frantically amongst themselves. Any of their lingering suspicions of a hoax was immediately put to rest.

“Now,” Celestia increased her volume to hush the whispers and focus the crowd on her again. “I will have you know that my guard is already acting in full upon this event. I must also, sadly, have to impose a restriction upon travel to and from the city.” Celestia paused and braced herself, anticipating the coming wave with a deep inhale. “Nopony is to leave Canterlot until this matter is resolved.”

After a collective gasp, nopony in the crowd moved for a few seconds. While the expected uproar did eventually occur, the entire audience was first stunned into silence. The precise moment that the princess's words sunk in could have been documented. The ponies in the front scribbled frantically upon suddenly visible notepads before lifting their heads in tandem to face Celestia again. Those ponies without notes to write whirled upon each other, neighbour upon neighbour asking the same question. Then their voices reached Celestia.

“Why?”

“How come?”

“What for?”

One question stood out from the din of the others. “What was stolen?” Celestia's breath caught. She had feared this question would come. Already Luna and several of her staff knew about the missing statue, and it was difficult enough for her to tolerate them asking questions about it.

“As of this time, I cannot disclose what has been taken.” Celestia spoke curtly, trying to stem any persistence. She remembered Luna during the previous night's dinner, and thought herself a fool. Despite being lost in the crowd, the same voice piped up again with another question.

“But don't you know?”

Celestia scanned the soaked mass of ponies before her. She couldn't pick out who had spoken up, but decided she would have trouble looking them in the eyes anyway. Hundreds stared back at her, and to face one set was to face them all. She settled her vision on the far archway leading out of the courtyard, and spoke up in a tight voice.

“Yes, but until the culprit comes to light—”

“We have on record here from one of your guards that two culprits fled the castle grounds through the gardens last night. Is that correct?” A different pony from before had interrupted her, and this time Celestia was able to look down and spot them. It was not difficult. The pony had attracted every eye in the courtyard. Given he was at the very front, he may have been starting to regret the attention. A guard directly in front of the stallion took a single menacing step forward. No further rebuke for the interruption was necessary.

Celestia's panic threatened to choke her. The whole matter of two ponies apparently having been in the garden was becoming difficult for her to handle. Did she not just take a statue, but also... No. Nopony can break the spell, not even Twilight. Celestia felt weak. She couldn’t even convince herself. She smiled placidly at the press pony, hoping her staring silence hadn't lasted longer than she'd thought. “I'm afraid you may be mistaken, just as that guard was. Only a single perpetrator is to be accounted for in this case.”

Celestia's doubt lingered and she fought to bury it. She fervently hoped that her last statement was right. It was hard enough to imagine Twilight being involved, but if she had actually managed to...

No. Think about her later. Move on.

“As for the previous questions, Canterlot is the first and most obvious home for the pony responsible for this incident. When they have been identified and dealt with, the travel restriction upon Canterlot shall be lifted.”

A cream-coloured mare with a wine-red mane raised her hoof. She was at the far back, obviously unaffiliated with the horde at the front. Upon realising she'd garnered the princess's attention she uncertainly projected her voice, clearly quite timid. “What if they've already left the city?”

Celestia's smile tried its best to make her look untroubled, but the grim prospect eventually dragged her lips down. “That is an unfortunate possibility, but I assure you that it is something I have prepared for accordingly.”

That's enough. You have a pony to speak to.

Celestia began to step down. “Unfortunately, I must end this conference here. I apologise, but please try and understand my own stress in this situation. Please return to your homes or your places of work and carry on with your day. I have much to do if I am to see this ban of travel lifted as soon as possible.”

Doing her best to look at no one, Celestia walked away from the podium back to the castle's side entrance. Noise, of course, followed after her, but she ignored it. Luna was in view, and she made way for her younger sister to walk alongside her as she retreated further down the hallway.

After a short walk, Celestia excused herself from even Luna's company to take a ten minute break alone. She had a second letter to write.

~\\***\***/***//~

“Y'know,” Spike said, sounding rather annoyed. “You oughta' treat those things with more respect. They are library property, after all.”

Twilight ignored him, and continued reading. She didn't trust herself to look Spike, or anypony else for that matter, in the eyes. She wasn't strong enough yet. Her bran muffin floated over the rim of the book's cover and up to her mouth. She chewed it mechanically, her eyes doing a rescan of the page she had finished moments before. She heard Spike groan. He had never liked her habit of reading while eating, despite her insistence that she was always careful. He always complained about it leaving him more to clean up during his chores. 'Un-librarian' like, he'd once called it. Twilight remembered shoving a dictionary in his face after that.

Her current read, Spell Guidance, Vol. I: A Glossary of All Things Magic, shut itself and slid sideways to be automatically replaced by the next book in the left-hoof stack. The closed textbook floated over to join the stack on the right, shuffling into automatic alphabetical alignment like a card in a deck. Twilight's face hid itself behind a fan of new pages.

Out of all of her chosen books, this one was most likely the furthest outside her current fare. The header sat bold in the page corners: The Magical Land of Equestria: A Complete Geography. Near the beginning of the book was a two-page spread of a map encompassing her entire homeland. Twilight's hoof couldn't help but poke at familiar locales, as if her touch would send her to them instantly.

Appleloosa, Cloudsdale... the Everfree Forest.

Twilight pulled her hoof away sharply, looking behind her at the basement door. She had an idea.

“Twilight?” Spike asked nervously. “What are you doing?”

“Oh! Um... Nothing, Spike.” She began to perspire, and she glanced across the room at the burning hearth. “It's sweltering in here, Spike. Can't you put that out?”

“Personally, I think it's rather cozy,” Spike said, glancing up slightly. Twilight rolled her eyes. “Oh, fine.” Spike made for the kitchen and returned a minute later, heaving a metal bucket full of water.

“Well, uh, I just remembered I forgot something down in the basement.” Twilight walked over to the door.

“Do you need any—?”

“No!” Twilight heard Spike jump and spill a bit of the water he was carrying. She turned back apologetically. “I mean, no, Spike. Sorry, it’s just—”

“Whatever. I get the feeling I don't want to know.”

The words hurt Twilight, but she couldn't help but be grateful for the dangled lifeline. You have no idea how right you are, Spike.

“Just knock if you need me,” she said uncertainly.

“Mm-hmm.” Spike poked a bit at the doused tinder and steaming ashes in the hearth.

Twilight clicked open the lock with her magic and stepped through the door. She eased it shut and locked it again before starting down the stairs.

Knowledge sat below, and even from her distance Twilight could see the heavy bags underneath her eyes. She clearly hadn't slept, though apparently not from a lack of trying. Off in one corner of the basement sat what looked like a bird's nest made of white sheets, and directly next to this was a stack of large crates which Twilight previously remembered being covered.

My polygraph equipment? Twilight realised. This idea of hers could work even better than she thought.

She cleared her throat. Knowledge turned around wearily. She'd either heard Twilight enter and ignored her or was simply too tired to be surprised anymore. She still hadn't cleaned herself off, and she now looked even worse than she had before. The bagged skin under her now doubly-red eyes swelled like bruises. Her sagged skin stretched for purchase across her cheekbones as she gave a weak smile.

“Hello.”

“You should get some sleep.”

Knowledge shook her head. “I've tried.” She glanced towards the dusty white sheets. “I haven't been able to lie down for more than a minute.”

Twilight frowned. “No sleep at all? Dreams?” Her second question was an admittedly odd one, and Twilight was afraid of aggravating Knowledge into shouting again, but she did still wonder how well exactly the mare's mind was faring. If she couldn’t even remember her true name then heavy memory loss was almost certainly present.

Knowledge merely shook her head. “Nothing.”

Twilight suddenly thought of something else, and spoke up. “How did you sleep in the garden? When you were... y'know?”

Am I really asking this of her? Twilight thought, shocked at herself. Months ago, after gazing into the eyes of a cockatrice in the Everfree Forest, she had been lucky enough to never find out firsthoof how deep the effects of petrification could go. Now here she was, asking the potentially traumatic question to a clearly broken mare. She was torn between sensitivity and science. The irony of the situation infuriated her, especially since her research into cockatrice-bound ponies had come up dry in her other books. Either none had come forward about their experience, or nopony else had lived to tell the tale.

So... me and her? Are we the only ones? We can't be. The spell...

Twilight saw Knowledge shake briefly, then open her mouth. It hung slack for a moment as she struggled to speak. “I-I didn't.” Twilight shivered, imagining a practical eternity of awareness. There were few outcomes other than madness. Despite her memory, or lack thereof, Knowledge was lucky. Knowledge slouched, and Twilight somehow knew exhaustion played no part. “Or maybe I did, I don't know. I just...”

Twilight walked up and put a hoof on Knowledge's shoulder. “What?”

“What if I'm dreaming now?” she asked.

Twilight cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“If I fall asleep now, I'm afraid I'll wake up back in the garden. What if all this time, I've been dreaming?”

“I could pinch you, if you'd like.”

Despite herself, Knowledge giggled along with Twilight. “No, no, that's quite alright.”

Twilight's good humour died quickly in her throat. “I'd give anything to be dreaming right now, actually. For this to all be—”

“A nightmare?” Knowledge finished for her.

“Y-yes. Sorry,” Twilight said sheepishly.

“It's fine.”

“Okay. Listen,” Twilight started over. “I might have some ideas.” She saw a momentary glint in Knowledge's eyes, and continued quickly. “Sleep first, or at least try. I'll tell you when you wake up.”

“If,” Knowledge stated dryly, shifting into the centre of the doughnut of sheets.

“When,” Twilight insisted, smiling hopefully.

Knowledge curled herself into a tight ball. Her nose pressed itself slightly into the makeshift bedding, not caring about the dust or the occasional discoloured patch in the fabric. Her head faced the far wall, and her left eye held onto Twilight as it eased slowly shut.

“You have her smile,” Knowledge said, her stare beginning to glaze over as sleep claimed her.

“Whose?” Twilight asked.

Knowledge's eye closed entirely. Her voice was faint. “The white pony's.”

“Knowledge...” Twilight slipped up before she sat speechless. The pony below her gave no acknowledgement. Already Knowledge's breath had fallen into a slumber's rhythm. She was like a very young foal. One that could only sleep in the company of a parent.

Twilight walked over to the crates and fumbled around inside. She hoped to herself that Knowledge was a heavy sleeper.

~\\***\***/***//~

Knowledge.

Her legs felt as though they were treading water as they fought for an equal footing. Not one of her hooves could sit at level with any of her others. It wasn't so much that the terrain was uneven, it was more that there was no terrain at all. The air felt cold, but she saw no puff of breath in front of her snout.

Knowledge.

Whatever the voice was, it made her angry. She thought it could at least call her by her proper name of... of...

Canterlot.

She faltered. That wasn't her name either, but it was a name. But not one for her, although this one was at least familiar to her.

Her hometown.

She was lucky that she had no balance to lose, for it surely would have been lost as a floor came rushing up to meet her. She momentarily feared breaking her legs upon landing. But she hadn't fallen, the surface had simply come to rest below. A summer’s warmth now tingled across her coat, broken only by the cold tile underhoof. Stunned, she looked around the room that had miraculously folded around her.

~\\***\***/***//~

“Canterlot,” Twilight whispered softly in the sleeping pony's ear. Knowledge's eye twitched, and she briefly feared her waking up.

When her breathing stayed even, Twilight turned back to the graphed chart. In the otherwise regular pattern of jagged lines there was a brief spike, followed by the lines now beginning to repeat a different, wider arc. Looking at the contraption atop Knowledge's head, which resembled a salad strainer affixed with Hearth's Warming lights, Twilight saw the multicoloured bulbs brighten slightly before returning to their regular, dull glow.

Twilight frowned in realisation. She had already gotten far more response out of the polygraph than when she had tried to discover the root of the infamous “Pinkie Sense”. She thought sourly of the failed experiment, and went back to Knowledge's side.

Her best chance of stirring something within Knowledge's mind rested with this test. Knowledge had already shown a bit of response to voice stimuli. Maybe there was a larger trigger word somewhere. Twilight only hoped that she wouldn't have to set up any more equipment besides the polygraph to find it. A sound-bubble spell had been easy enough to cast around the equipment whilst she had assembled it, but only her finesse had allowed her to slip the sensor on top of Knowledge’s head without her coming to. Besides the risk of Knowledge waking up, Twilight feared knocking even more screws loose in the mare's head. It was only a calculated risk-versus-reward assessment—and maybe an inkling of desperation—that had brought her attempts this far to begin with.

Twilight gave a peek to Knowledge's exposed rear leg. She couldn't believe she had taken this long to actually look at the other pony's cutie mark. Having avoided the mud boots still caked across her legs, a marking of a sundial sat across Knowledge's flank. The unblinking eye of a pony sat as the centrepiece, its indicator drawing a straight stone tear of a line to the south edge. The lack of a visible shadow set the time at a permanent midnight.

Twilight leaned down to whisper again. “Cutie mark.”

~\\***\***/***//~

She should just ignore the voice. It wasn't making any sense. Starting down the long, white chamber, she found she wasn't certain of the time of day. The hall had many windows, but all of them had their curtains drawn, and she didn't feel brave enough to try peeking outside. She remembered being frightened of the outdoors.

Everfree?

The voice again. It now sounded... questioning? She was beginning to believe she was being played for a foal, and she wished whomever this pony was would simply show themselves. She turned around, noticing for the first time the stallion standing dressed in full armour at the very end of the hall. He nodded at her as they made eye contact. She turned around, disappointed. The voice belonged to a mare. She began to wonder what she was even doing here. She thought she must be in a castle, so this must have been Canterlot, right? That would explain the guard, and the high-ceilings above carpeted floors.

A curtain suddenly flew open next to her, making her yelp. It took several moments for her to loosen from the scare, and she reluctantly peered out the pane. A long, evenly cut lawn continued for roughly thirty feet before the grass suddenly got thick, long, and scraggly like a tangled mane. Beyond this sat a thick line of trees about forty feet wide, broken only on its left side by a cobblestone path and continuing unseen around the castle perimeter to the right. She could see daylight, but the trees of this small forest didn't so much reach for the sky as stick from the ground like an outcrop fit for a cave. Darkness pervaded beneath the canopy; a throat of a mouth, leafy jaws above threatening to slam shut. Unnerved, she turned away from the window to continue down the hall. The voice spoke again.

She made it only a few steps before she suddenly found herself forced into a standing position on two hooves. Her lips curled themselves into a light grin in mockery of her terror, and her front legs clutched a long since familiar, but not at all missed weight between them. Her scroll. It grew dark again, the world malleable once more. Her body continued to fail her, standing stock still.

Her vision began to return slowly, blearily. She was in a different room, a featureless mess of colours; green, red, and yellow, a large white splotch just barely visible from behind the wall. She desperately picked for a few faint sounds that tried to force their way through the silence. The voice repeated itself.

Celestia.

~\\***\***/***//~

Twilight squirmed and looked back and forth between Knowledge and the polygraph. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?

She could no longer directly examine the sensor atop Knowledge's head. The lights upon it had grown far too bright, their individual colours lost in a white hot glow. The graph behind Twilight scratched in silent fury, and she was beginning to wish the monotonous pattern from before would return. She thought she could see the paper beneath the needles starting to tear. The evidence of the physical data sat writhing before Twilight.

Knowledge's eyelids were so tightly shut as to look like her eyes had been devoured, only black voids wreathed with the white of bone waiting on the insides. Beneath these her mouth showed a gritted wall of teeth. Air whistled out from between the gaps, her throat and lungs trying desperately to scream. Her teal coat stunk of perspiration.

Twilight lowered the bubble spell around the polygraph machine’s central control box. She grabbed at the wires affixed to the front with her teeth and yanked. The soft whirring of the components and slightly louder drag of the needles stopped immediately. The room dimmed as the lights atop Knowledge's head blinked out. Twilight thought she smelt smoke coming from the blackened ends of the tens of little bulbs.

Knowledge continued to fuss and drew her legs up to her chest, seizing madly. Twilight moved closer to her face just as her eyes shot open. She drew a large breath, and in the same moment Twilight recalled an old spell and cast it. A muffled scream reverberated inside Knowledge's zippered mouth. She then took deep inhales through her nose, barely registering the bind on her lips. Twilight released her spell's hold and trotted closer again.

“A-Are you alright?” she asked hesitantly.

Knowledge turned to look at Twilight, her chest doubling and shrinking in size with her breaths. She didn't speak immediately, and her eyes drifted to the now-fried apparatus that had been occupying her cranium. She brought a hoof up to ruffle her mane, gone whiter from her shock, and stared at Twilight, seething. Twilight looked away.

“Whatever you were doing,” Knowledge snarled, “never do it again.”

Twilight nodded frantically, staring at the floor.

Knowledge winced, stuck out her tongue, and dragged the bottom of a hoof across it. She held it up to her face, a thick red stain on the underside. Twilight looked to her and flinched. “You bit your tongue!” Twilight said, alarmed.

“I-I—”

“I'll be right back!” Twilight leapt up the stairs, barely remembering to keep quiet. After locking the door again, she looked over at the centre table. Owlowiscious sat at the nearest end. His back was to Twilight and he ignored her, pecking at something. Spike was nowhere to be seen, but he must have been in the kitchen, for she soon heard a belch come from the doorway.

Twilight looked out the window above the front door to see the blue of the early afternoon sky. She didn't like this new habit of Owlowiscious's, being awake during the day. The owl's behaviour had potential to become rather unhealthy.

Speak for yourself.

Twilight walked over to the kitchen, passing Spike on his way out. He was holding a feather duster, obviously carrying out his chores. Twilight opened the medicine cabinet and took out cotton balls and bandages.

“Hoo?”

Twilight turned and looked back through the kitchen door to the foyer. Spike was moving scraps of paper around on the table, brushing the feather duster beneath them with his other claw. He had disturbed Owlowiscious's makeshift seat upon a thick tome, and the owl fluttered off to perch at the table's other end. Twilight could now see that Owlowiscious had been pecking at the half-eaten bran muffin she had left behind.

Twilight nearly smacked herself. She hasn't eaten.

Twilight opened the pantry. She had no idea what Knowledge liked, and settled for shuffling the entire box of muffins from Sugarcube Corner off of a shelf. She also began to fill a large pitcher of water in the sink. It was simple food fare, but she doubted Knowledge would be so picky as to refuse.

“Twilight?”

Twilight looked behind her. Spike had walked back into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Uh...” Twilight quickly floated the kitchen sponge beside the sink over to her and sat it next to the items she'd gathered on the counter. “I just need to clean something downstairs, Spike.” She suddenly heard crackling come from the foyer. “Why did you light the fireplace again?”

“I was chilly.” Twilight's eyes slackened. “Hey, it's the truth! The cold blood does it to me, or something like that.” Spike’s eyes narrowed to match Twilight’s. “So, why do you have all that food with you? And why aren't you holding the water in a bucket? And why the hay aren't you asking for my help with the cleaning?” Hole upon hole was being poked in Twilight's shoddy cover. She needed to get the conversation off of her, seeing her chance with the last question.

“Basement, Spike.” Twilight tried to sound chiding. “Remember what happened the last time you came looking for me in the basement? I'm sure Pinkie Pie does.”

“Pinkie's not here now, is she?” Spike asked, doing an involuntary double-take. That mare could be seemingly anywhere if she felt like it. By the time he had turned back around, Twilight was already making her way back to the main room. He rolled his eyes. “So now she's eating while she's cleaning. Great.”

Back in the main room, Twilight stamped out the small flames in the hearth. As an afterthought, she floated the scrap paper out and set it beside her books on the table. Spike wasn't supposed to be burning old papers without checking with her first anyway, no matter any chill he apparently felt. She supposed she could check them over while she worked with Knowledge. Any distraction was welcome by this point.

Twilight looked left and saw Owlowiscious had begun to stare at her. His eyes then moved to the basement door. She gulped, and quickly floated her books and the scrap paper off of the table to carry down with her. The burn of the owl's eyes continued past the threshold even after the door was closed.

~\\***\***/***//~

The majority of the water in the pitcher ended up being used to clean Knowledge's coat. Twilight dug out an old bucket from the basement corner, and left a little less than half in the pitcher for drinking. Taking the kitchen sponge, she wiped mud off of Knowledge, the dirt having gone slick again from her severe perspiration. Knowledge fussed as Twilight cleaned her off, protesting as quietly as she could about being mare-handled. As Twilight finished, she moved to pick up a few cotton balls and wipe up a thin trail of blood that had started down Knowledge's chin.

“She was there,” Knowledge said suddenly. She was struggling to not flub her words, her mouth filled with blood and saliva. A translucent red bead spilled out of her mouth. Twilight's face scrunched up in disgust. But as she wiped Knowledge's chin again, stuffing a couple of cotton balls in the mare's mouth for good measure, she remembered her test from earlier.

“Celestia?” Twilight breathed fearfully. It was pointless to ask. Who else could she have meant? But she saw Knowledge turn to face her, looking puzzled.

“I've heard that name before,” she said. “Is that what the white pony's name is?”

“Y-Yes.”

Knowledge grew leery. “How do you know her?”

“I-I'm… I am... I was her student.” Twilight had hoped to avoid having to tell Knowledge about her association with Celestia altogether, but if she withheld anything now she risked the mare distrusting her and leaving.

“How has she lived for so long?”

“Nopony can say but her and Luna. Alicorns like them are not exactly commonplace.”

“Luna?”

“Her sister.”

“Hmm...”

“Up until now I guess I'd hoped I was wrong about her somehow. Celestia, I mean. Are you sure it was her? Did you actually see her?” Twilight knew she was grasping at straws, but some part of her still refused to buy Discord's little accusation towards Celestia. He didn't exactly have a reputation in Equestria for being trustworthy.

Knowledge kneaded her hooves together, her discomfort clear. “I-I think I did. It was—”

“Think? Think?!” Twilight could barely hold together while uncertain of Celestia by herself, but somehow Knowledge being unsure as well made it a whole lot worse. She took a step forward, becoming angry. “You either saw her or you didn't! So, which was it?”

“I could barely see.” Knowledge's voice lowered to an indignant hiss. “It was so blurry. But I saw somepony. They were tall and white. I suppose it couldn't be anypony else.”

Twilight's eyes grew downcast. She would have begun to cry if Knowledge hadn't spoken up again.

“You're putting a whole lot of stock in just a dream of mine, aren't you?”

“Well, what about you?” Twilight accused. “Aren't you just the slightest bit curious?” Knowledge’s hard stare made Twilight crumple, and she checked her harsh tone. “Sorry. I just hate not knowing things, and this is the worst.”

“Hey, it's just a dream,” Knowledge tried, her voice softening.

Twilight nipped her own hoof. Her bruised fetlock throbbed. “No, it isn't.”

“I don't think she was alone,” Knowledge said quickly, Twilight's despair seemingly frightening her.

“What?”

“I think there was somepony else there. I know I saw something else. I think I heard crying too. Somepony was crying.”

“And?”

“What else?”

“That's it.” Knowledge turned away. “I'm sorry.”

Twilight looked to her books and floated them over. She began to flip through one she'd chosen at random. She sat on her rump, and absentmindedly kicked the box of muffins over to Knowledge with a rear hoof.

“Let's just talk.”

“Talk?” Knowledge sounded confused.

“Yes. About anything else, but the dream.”

To Twilight's surprise, Knowledge visibly perked up. “Gladly. I think I actually have a few questions.”

~\\***\***/***//~

Somepony crying. Twilight didn't think for a second that the thought would leave her mind just by changing the subject. She was correct for not expecting so. It hung over the many questions she found herself answering for Knowledge, just barely checking herself on the few times she nearly asked it.

Who was crying?

The question was useless. If Knowledge barely remembered who Celestia was, what could Twilight possibly hope she could tell her about somepony else? Ultimately, she would be left disappointed.

Besides, she was finding that she enjoyed answering questions herself for a change. Knowledge seemed very interested in the books Twilight had brought down, and she was particularly eager to nose her way through The Magical Land of Equestria: A Complete Geography. She propped it up with one hoof alongside the globe she had been fussing over before. With her other hoof, she directed Twilight with a point.

“Yes, see? I think there is something wrong with your book. Not to mention your globe,” she said excitedly. Her mouth spewed bran crumbs on Twilight's face. She was on her third muffin.

Twilight sat blank and uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”

Knowledge's eyes lidded and she pointed again, first at the middle of Equestria on the globe, then to the nation's centre on the folded out map in the book. “Here! See?” Her hoof idled over the colour printing of the Everfree Forest. “That can't be right. And why is Canterlot up on a mountain top? That's wrong too!”

Twilight was unimpressed. “The Everfree Forest is one of the most dangerous places in all of Equestria. Of course there's nothing right with it! And for that matter, I'm pretty sure I know the name of the town I grew up in.”

“But the forest is so big! Wouldn't the ponies in Canterlot do something about it?”

“Big? It's always been that way, as far as I can tell.”

“Nonsense! Nopony would ever let something like that grow right on their doorstep!”

“Look, what are you talking about?”

“This! This Everfree Forest you're talking about doesn't exist. It just can't! The most trees I've seen around Canterlot is that troublesome patch of shrubbery next to the castle.”

Twilight paused. “Wait, castle?” She brought her hoof forward, hesitated, and then put it down on top of another familiar locale. “Here?” Her hoof poked at a grey smudge in the midst of the Everfree's green; the Ancient Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters.

“Yes!” Knowledge exclaimed. “Right in the valley. Just like I...” she trailed off. “But weren't we just in Canterlot?”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you.” Twilight was becoming annoyed.

“But Canterlot... mountain... forest...”

“Hold on a minute.”

Twilight walked away to snatch up one of her history books. She glanced over the title: A History of Equestria: The Millennium Era. The book was a very recent print, barely a year old. Twilight had the edition more for posterity than anything else, given her responsibilities as the Golden Oak's librarian.

She wasn't against history books, far from it, but the most time she had ever spent with them was during any of her magic studies, and even then she mostly stuck to the Pre-Classical Era. Star Swirl the Bearded and those he commonly associated with were generations away from the first years of this book's coverage.

Despite its little amounts of usage, Twilight still spied a dog-eared page poking out from the flat uniform of the rest of the book. She folded open the section. The page was towards the back, and Twilight smiled, suddenly remembering the few times she had looked through the book. A picture of a crowd bowing at Princess Luna in the town square of Ponyville sat beneath the top page header. Celestia stood at her little sister's side. Twilight shut the book quickly, and closed her eyes.

“Twilight?”

Hearing Knowledge use her name was enough to snap Twilight out of her stupor. She walked back over to sit by Knowledge's side once again and began to flip through the book's index. “Everfree, Everfree, E, E, E... Elements, no... Ah! Here!” She scanned the entry on page three hundred and ninety-four.

Everfree Forest

Lying within almost the exact middle of the nation, the Everfree Forest is a constant enigma in Equestria's history. Only...

Twilight began to skip pages, skimming the various sub-passages before her eyes came to rest on one in particular.

Creation

Perhaps the greatest mystery surrounding the Everfree Forest is the date of its initial inception. No exact date exists, and only the best of estimates from various historians, botanists, and geologists have solidified the beginnings of the forest to be sometime in the early Millennium Era, hence its placement within this volume of Equestria's history.

Because of the obvious danger posed, few attempts have been made to enter the Everfree to discover the potential cause for its unnatural functionality and, by extension, its entire existence in the first place. Due to this, much of the Everfree Forest remains entirely unmapped on all maps of Equestria with only the surrounding borders of the forest acting as guidelines. Only a scant few features, such as the long-since abandoned Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, act as any sort of landmark for cartographers.

Twilight nosed the book over to Knowledge. Knowledge eyed her in concern before turning her eyes to the pages. She stared at the indicated passage for a good five minutes before finally closing the volume to look at its title.

“The Millennium Era?” she asked.

“Detailing the one thousand years of Princess Celestia's singular rule before the return of Princess Luna,” Twilight stated in concise formality.

Knowledge looked like she'd been bucked in the gut. “O-One thousand...”

“What?”

Knowledge shook her head. “In my dream, I was back in that castle.” She once again pointed a hoof at the middle of the Everfree Forest upon the globe. She ignored Twilight skeptically raising her eyebrow. “I know I was there! I saw a forest too. But no bigger than a grove. But... oh, it was so dark. Even in the light of day!”

Twilight grew fidgety, looking anywhere but at the pony in front of her. A dark forest. What else could Knowledge have seen but the Everfree? “The book said the best guesses put the beginning of the forest towards the start of the era. So, that means you're...”

“Nearly one thousand years old.” Knowledge finished for her.

Neither of them moved for a full minute. Knowledge stared dumbly at the closed book in her hooves. She began to tremble.

“Hey,” Twilight tried to soothe Knowledge, but an uncomfortable sting began to creep across her neck, the hairs of it on end. Denial was fast becoming a regular, physical pain. “Maybe it's nothing. Maybe—”

“SHUT UP!” Knowledge whirled and threw the book at Twilight's face. Twilight barely managed to catch it with her magic before it struck her. Its pages hung open in an accordion as it came to rest on top of the pile of scrap paper Twilight had rescued from the fireplace. “You know what it is to me? It's everything! And it's gone! All of it, gone!” Twilight winced. Knowledge began to pace in fury.

Twilight picked the book up off the floor, something poking her hoof as she did so. A scroll, its trim bronzed from the hearth's heat, was hidden underneath. She frowned. The library's scrap paper never consisted of old letters from the princess. But as she looked at the scroll, her nerves turned to ice and she shook.

With the exception of its toasted edges, the scroll was pristine, obviously sent only a short time ago. She knew she hadn't sent any letters to Celestia recently, and Spike had said nothing of letters in return. A red seal hung limply around the paper's outer borders. She floated it up to her face and read the message stamped around the sun and moon border.

For the eyes of Spike the Dragon

She folded open the letter and began to read.

Spike,

As a friend I do not want to ask this of you, but as a ruler I must.

I have not given up the hope that Twilight can be talked to. I am currently busy with an incident here in Canterlot and I must attend to matters here for the time being. That being said, I have sent a few of my guards to collect Twilight and bring her to me. You can expect their arrival within a few hours.

Until they arrive, I need you to keep an eye on Twilight and keep her indoors. Do not ask her questions. That will only risk stirring her up further. The last thing anypony needs is Twilight running off again. Just keep her inside until she is collected. I do this only in the hope that Twilight's behaviour can be dealt with peacefully and accordingly.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

Twilight's blood melted into fire. Knowledge had stopped pacing, her previous rage cooled off, and the two ponies now found their positions swapped. Twilight's eyes went white with gathered magic, and she shook wildly. The unicorn's pupils were shrouded from view, but Knowledge still somehow felt them lock onto her own. She cowered, caught in the glare of two miniature suns.

“Stay. Here.” Twilight told her tightly.

Knowledge could only nod. Twilight promptly vanished.

~\\***\***/***//~

Their forces were stretched thinly today, occupied with a sizable chunk of Canterlot's population that refused to dissipate from the courtyard. The hallway the two sisters walked was guarded sparingly. A single golden-armoured stallion stood at attention as they passed.

When she was certain nopony was in earshot, Luna spoke up. “You lied to them, Tia.” It was said matter-of-factly, entirely without anger.

“Yes,” Celestia said. “I did. But I'm sure you can agree that the rest of Equestria didn't need to know. This whole thing will likely be over before it can matter what specifically was stolen. And the last thing we need is somepony deciding they would like to fetch a pretty bit off of stolen castle property. The item could get stolen twice.”

Luna frowned. “I did not mean what was stolen, sister.” She turned to face Celestia. “What is this about matters outside of the city? Canterlot's entire force is focused on searching their own city for the culprit, correct?”

Celestia hesitated before answering. “Yes.”

“And you have made it explicitly clear with what you said before that you wish for this not to be an Equestria-wide search. With—”

“With as little public knowledge as possible, yes. You and I would both rather not deal with a larger headache than necessary, and the public asking questions and otherwise trying to get involved will needlessly make a mess of things.”

“Why then did you give that one pony's theory any merit? Do you not believe that the criminal is still here in Canterlot? And if you do, why bother indulging the doubts of skeptical ponies? Doing such a thing can only stir up the city even further!”

Celestia looked away and was silent for a few steps. She nodded and faced back again. “I don't believe the culprit is in Canterlot, Luna. I believe that she is in Ponyville.” Luna began to open her mouth, but Celestia was continuing. “And for that matter, I was telling the truth. I have indeed made plans to retrieve her.”

Luna stared, looking completely lost. “Ponyville?”

“Yes. I fear that my student has been making some unannounced visits.”

“Twilight Sparkle?” Luna whispered, afraid the hall's echo would gossip her words to others.

Celestia nodded. “I should explain.” She proceeded to tell Luna of how she had received a letter from Spike, and how she could not shake her fear that it fit suspiciously well with recent events.

Luna remembered yesterday's dinner and pressed further. “And this behaviour that Spike is referring to. You believe it to be the same as what Captain Armor had mentioned?”

“Yes. I would have gone to Twilight already, but I had to see to things here.”

“But, the travel ban...”

“Merely a precaution in case I am wrong about her.” Celestia's eyes shone like window-glass. “But I know I'm right.”

“So, Twilight Sparkle is...” Luna prompted.

“I have ensured that she shall be back here soon. A few hours from now, in fact. When she is within the city again, and if she is involved, we can lift the ban on travel. We can say that the perpetrator has been apprehended and nopony will be the wiser.”

“If it is her, you will have to tell everypony eventually.”

“Yes. But just the thought of...” Celestia wilted. “Ponies love a scandal, Luna. This could ruin her.”

“That does not make what she did, if she did it, right, Tia,” Luna reminded firmly.

“I know.” Celestia grew tearful. “Oh, Twilight, what did you do? Why?”

Luna outstretched a wing. She could not drape her wing over the taller pony, so her deep blue feathers instead crisscrossed with the folded white ones in an attempted embrace. Celestia didn't notice at first, but eventually she faced Luna and the younger spoke. “As much as she is your student, I am your sister. You can speak to me, can't you?”

Celestia looked her over. Her fleeting memories of Nightmare Moon evaporated as she stared into Luna's eyes. She couldn't imagine trusting anypony more, the shadow over the two of them a moon's distance away. “Yes. Yes, I can.”

“Then you can speak to her, and I will be there alongside you. We will figure this out together.”

Celestia nodded gratefully, and the two stopped to find their bearings. The straight path of the hall had become a three-way fork. Celestia turned her head left then right, uncertain. “I believe you are the leader here, Luna. So, where are you taking me?”

“Well, as long as we are waiting for Twilight, I have decided to take the liberty of bringing you to the garden, and showing you which statue was stolen myself. I must admit I have spoken to Privates Vigil and Wind, and they are as confused as I am.”

“Are you certain their words are trustworthy, Luna?” said Celestia, reminding her sister of the Canterlot Daily article from earlier that morning. “Remember that one of them made the mistake that caused this whole 'two ponies' fiasco.” It was like some child's game. The more she said something out loud, the truer it became. Or so she thought. Her doubt was certainly a cheater.

“That is simply it,” said Luna. She again began to lead the way down the right-side passage in the hallway. “I can only imagine two ponies being able to accomplish this theft, let alone manage to escape from Canterlot with their prize.” She looked to Celestia expectantly. “And what is a 'fiasco'?”

“What are you—”

“Caw!”

Celestia jumped and turned her head. A bundle of golden and red feathers descended from above and settled upon her back. Philomena did not return the two princess’ looks, instead leaning slightly sideways to peer past Celestia's head. She fixated upon the end of the hall and the gardens beyond.

“Oh! Philomena!” Luna exclaimed, though in truth she was only mildly surprised. “I imagine she wishes to show you as well, sister.” Luna gave a small grin, but Celestia did not return the gesture as she expected. She stared back, hopelessly confused. Luna realised she was likely getting ahead of herself.

“I should tell you, Celestia, t'was not I who first discovered the statue was missing last night. Philomena was in the gardens, and she showed me herself. A most puzzling theft.” Luna's face tightened into a squint, her head tilted. “Even now I wonder: How could Twilight Sparkle and her friend ever take the train out of Canterlot with something like that?”

“Luna...” Celestia breathed.

Luna thought she sensed reproach in her sister's tone. She quickly spoke up again. “I did not mean to imply certainty in Twilight Sparkle's involvement, Celestia.” She turned to face the older pony. “It is merely that you yourself seem so certain of her...” Luna trailed off. Celestia had only seemed confused before, but now something else was melded with the incomprehension.

Celestia's tone came in ragged. “Luna, tell me. Which one was it? Which statue, I mean?”

Celestia was not afraid. Not yet. Neither she nor Luna believed in fear. It was something wielded and harboured only by their enemies, a product of their own black souls. Something to be exposed rather than instilled.

And only good reason dictated the rare times the sisters felt it themselves.

“Well,” Luna began again. “I believe it was one of the ones nearest to Discord. Knowledge, was it? I think—” She never finished. Celestia took off at a gallop down the remainder of the hallway. The sudden fast pace jolted Philomena off of her white-coated perch, and she caught up with Celestia in flight before deciding to pull ahead entirely. The phoenix disappeared around the right edge of the archway, taking the lead for her master.

“Celestia, wait!” Luna hurried after her. “What's wrong?”

Celestia didn't answer and soon vanished around the corner herself. Luna caught a glimpse of Philomena contrasting harshly against the sky above as she circled. Luna knew precisely where the two were headed. She closed her eyes.

When she reopened them she was standing facing the pedestal from last night. The continued rainfall created a shallow puddle which spread out to flow over all of the prism's edges in tiny rivulets. Luna heard heavy hoofsteps drawing nearer and looked to her left to see Celestia galloping with her neck upturned to the sky. Philomena began to circle lower and Celestia tracked the movement, only acknowledging Luna with the briefest of glances. The phoenix settled into the puddle and the water boiled into steam from her contact. She cawed loudly.

Luna made ready to speak, but chose instead to study Celestia. The older pony's eyes looked up into the air above the stone base then back down again in quick, panicked swivels. “No. Not that one, not that one.”

“C-Celestia?” In her lifetime, Luna had only ever been afraid of her sister twice before: the moment of her banishment, and her return one thousand years later. But this was different. When Luna had been at her most vulnerable that past year, Celestia had not struck her down for good as she'd feared, but instead offered her friendship. The fear had gone, and Luna had since learned to once again take pride from her sister's strength as much as her own. Now, Luna felt no pride, Celestia's sudden frailty contagious.

Celestia now barely looked like she was breathing and Luna thought she heard a whisper pass her lips. She leaned forward straining to hear it.

“Celestia, what is it? Speak to me, please!”

Celestia turned. Her intense eyes froze Luna. “Twilight.”

For her troubles, Luna was blinded by a bright flash of white light. Moments later, she blinked away the intrusive dots in her vision and folded her shielding wing back down.

Celestia was gone.

~\\***\***/***//~

Up until that afternoon, Spike had managed not to panic. Every bit of the situation had called for him to, but he had remained calm in spite of it all. When he had first read the letter from Princess Celestia, he had been determined to see the task through as strongly as he could. For a while he had succeeded, even if he couldn’t resist asking Twilight just a few questions. Twilight had practically done his job for him, what with the basement and all. And even when he grew nervous, a quick thought of the letter calmed his tiny heart. It was as though Celestia herself was right there talking to him.

Now, as the letter he'd thought long burned sat almost right upon his face, Spike could feel himself shaking terribly. But as bad as it was to see it, it was still a much easier sight to bear than Twilight. Facing away from her white hot eyes, Spike tried to calm down again. He'd been in this situation before, hadn't he? He tried to count on one claw all the times he had seen Twilight this furious at him. He held up a single digit and shivered. The slightly bronzed paper pushed towards him again.

“I said what is this, Spike?” Twilight roared. “What is it?!”

Spike's tongue was in knots. He considered running for only a second before chucking the idea away. Even if he could outrun Twilight—and he knew he couldn't—the two of them were currently standing in the second story bedroom, Twilight directly in his path for the door. Just his luck he'd saved this room's cleaning for last. His throat clogged as he tried to breathe, and no amount of coughing could clear it. “I-It's... Well... I wasn't supposed t-to tell you—”

“Why would Celestia send this to you? Why?”

“You tell me!” Spike cried.

“What?” A sliver of unsureness leaked through Twilight's spitting fury.

“I've been worried about you, Twilight.” There was no point hiding it anymore. “Everypony has. You've not been yourself since you came back from Canterlot yesterday. You can't deny it anymore than I can. I...”

“What, Spike?” Twilight at least didn't sound angry anymore, but her stare was still cutting.

“I saw you leaving last night.” He barely whispered it. “For Canterlot. Owlowiscious did too. And I... sent a letter to Celestia.”

Twilight took a step back in shock. “Y-You, what?!” She promptly regained her lost step and took two more forward. Her eyes began to tinge white around their edges again.

“I thought you were going to see her!” Spike said quickly, taking his own steps further away. His back hit the wall. “I just asked her to tell us what was going on with you if you went to her.” The baby dragon slid to his bottom, and drew his knees up to his chest. His eyes stung. “I miss you being... you.”

Twilight pulled completely out of her aggressive stance. She backpedalled towards the bedroom door. “You don't know, do you?”

Spike stared at her and blinked. “I don't know what?”

Whatever he had done instantly relaxed Twilight. He saw a glimpse of her familiar tenderness return to her eyes. Her voice became a plead. “Listen to me, Spike. Celestia, she—”

A muffled knock cut Twilight off. She whipped her head towards the source of the sound, then back to Spike again. She then raised the letter still wrapped in her magic up to her eyes and skimmed the text. As her eyes settled, Spike saw them widen. He stood up, and even dared to step closer to her. He spoke softly. “Twilight, listen. Whatever you've done, whatever you think of Celestia, I know she just wants to—”

A bright burst cut him off as Twilight vanished. Spike finally allowed himself to panic.

Gone... Gone, gone, gone. No, she can't be gone!

Spike seemed to lose control of his already frayed nerves and instinct took over. Entirely removed, he watched his claws fling the bedroom door open and his feet nearly trip as they hurried him down the stairs. His view switched from left to right in quick, nauseating blurs.

A second set of knocks followed. This time a voice accompanied them, cool and collected, but all the same commanding. “Hello? Who is there? We must ask you to open this door!”

Spike charged the front entrance and yanked it open so fast he nearly toppled over backwards. He hung on the open door and beheld two royal guards, both of them pegasi, one with his hoof raised as if about to knock again.

Spike's gasped. “S-She...”

The two walked past him, catching his unease. “Something wrong?” one asked without turning around. He held a hoof up and called. “Miss Sparkle?”

“D-Don't!” Spike hissed frantically. “She found Celestia's letter.”

The two guards were very still. One stiffly pointed to the other, clearly the superior officer. “Search the house. Keep quiet.” The second gave a curt nod, and started up the stairs.

“She won't be up there.” Spike croaked. “Listen, she—”

The floor vibrated, and the muted creak of moving furniture was heard beneath Spike's feet. He rushed to the basement door. He knew it to be locked, but desperately pulled anyways. It held.

“Downstairs!” Spike yelled. The two guards regrouped in front of the door.

“Miss Sparkle,” the lead guard called. “We know you're down there! Open this door, immediately!”

“No!” Twilight's voice was hoarse, and its dim quality through the door made her sound far away.

“Twilight, please!” Spike cried, ignoring the stern stares of the two guards. “Listen to them!” He heard nothing but the sound of frantic hoofsteps. They overlapped into each other like a crowd's.

The higher-ranking of the guards sighed before calling out to Twilight again. “You've left us no choice.” The two ponies backed up to stand side by side and charged the door in a simultaneous ram. It budged slightly. They backed up again, and their second run broke the lock. The metal chimed as it tumbled down the stairs. The echo sustained itself in the empty chamber.

Two long shadows, a smaller third one in-between, were suddenly cast down the stairs. Spike turned to face the centre of the library. When the blinding white light dimmed, Spike was facing Princess Celestia. She was immediately upon the three of them.

“Where is she?” she exclaimed, her eyes bewildering to behold. Angry or fearful, Spike had no idea which.

“S-she,” he stammered, but Celestia was looking past him. The guards had since run down the stairs and begun to search. “She's—”

“Gone,” the second guard immediately called up. He growled like a dog, and walked back up the stairs, his hoofsteps heavy as lead. His eyes narrowed on Spike's. “What happened?” he demanded.

The question caught Spike off guard. “I... don't know what—”

“Spike,” Celestia said calmly, her face anything but. “What happened?”

“S-She... Twilight found the letter.”

“Did Princess Celestia not make it explicitly clear that—”

“Lieutenant,” Celestia hissed, low and cold. The lieutenant backed off, but levelled Spike with an acidic stare. “How, Spike?”

“I wanted to burn the letter, but I needed to keep an eye on Twilight like you said, and I couldn't burn it right in front of her. So I thought I could get rid of it in the fireplace. Inconspicuous. Heh.” The eyes of the guard pony narrowed further. “She must have dug it out when I wasn't looking.”

Celestia sighed. “I see. Lieutenant,” she looked down at the two guards. “You two will remain here in Ponyville. Watch for any sign of Twilight's return. Have Spike notify me immediately if anything is found.” The two saluted and promptly brushed past Spike and filed out the library's front door. Celestia turned to him. “I must ask you to co-operate with them, Spike.

“Princess, Twilight tried to tell me something.”

“Oh?”

“About you. She said I didn't know—”

“Shhh,” Celestia hushed, but her gentle gesture was tinged with a nervous crack in her voice. “Know this, Spike. Everything will be fine.”

Minutes ago, the letter would have been more than sufficient for Spike, but now even Celestia herself standing before the baby dragon couldn't calm him. Spike's terror privileged him even further and he began to cry against the princess's leg. A single, huge wing wrapped him tight.

“Everything will be fine.”

~\\***\***/***//~

“You cannot be serious, Princess.”

Celestia had no difficulty accepting Shining Armor's blunt tone. He had every right to be disbelieving. The most recent events had yet to culminate fully in her own mind as well.

“I apologise, Captain. But everything I have told you is the truth.” She turned to look down the hallway. The front courtyard and rainfall teased her sense of déjà vu. “I am fully prepared to make the announcement myself if you so desire.”

To his credit, Shining Armor didn't try to hide his consideration. He never broke his mile-long glare down the hall, but his eyes shone unsurely. His squint receded and he shook his head. “No, I'll do it. I owe it to myself. And to Twilight.”

Celestia nodded. She followed him down the hall, willing to at least accompany him. The day's second press conference swam before the both of them. Golden armor gleamed its straight guard line across the entire front side of the twice soaked crowd of ponies.

Shining stepped up to the podium on the raised platform. It had not even been disassembled from earlier that morning. Celestia walked up behind and stood on his left. Luna was at the right and she kept flicking her eyes back and forth between the crowd and Celestia. Celestia ignored the burn of her eyes.

Shining hesitated, and Celestia almost stepped in before he finally spoke. “Thank you for your attendance.” He was shaking already. “I cannot stay for long as I have much to see to in the coming hours and days. I am merely here to inform you all of an update in the Royal Guard's recent investigation.

“First and foremost, I will tell all of you that the ban on Canterlot travel has been lifted. You are free to come and go as you please once more.” The audience seemed at once tranquilized, a few even daring to crack small smiles of relief. Celestia cringed. Luna squinted at her.

“This is not to say that the guard will not be continuing its investigation. Quite the contrary; however, you will see their involvement, as well as your own, change. This leads me to my central point.” Shining's hooves dragged lower across the podium, as though he were about to step down from it and walk off. He hoisted himself back up to level and continued. “With all of what I have said in mind, I am here to announce an amendment. Specifically, to the previously issued arrest warrant. It is calling... the guard is now calling for the arrest of one Twilight Sparkle.”

Decisions

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What was going on? It seemed like such a simple question. But after Twilight had reappeared down in the basement, and a few voices that she didn't recognize called for the unicorn by name, Knowledge had begun to have second thoughts about getting her answers. Not that Twilight gave them to her anyways. She'd done little more than move aside a dusty old shelf and throw on a set of old saddlebags from behind them before she grabbed Knowledge by the hoof. The world came and went several times after that in a sickening collision of shapes and colours. There was no time to take any of it in before another burst of white swallowed it and her up again.

When it finally stopped, Knowledge saw that they were at the edge of a sizable forest. The faint chirping of birds might have been pleasant had she not promptly remembered her stomach, doubling over and retching half-digested bran muffin into the grass. Her sickness wasn't helped by a faint smell of smoke. She turned, and she thought she could see a thin, grey trail coming from Twilight's horn. The unicorn was wobbling precariously even as she faced Knowledge again with horror-struck eyes.

“Just... Just go, run!” she gasped. Still no answers.

Knowledge wiped a hoof across her mouth. “But... what—”

“No time, let's just go!”

Knowledge followed the singular instruction and galloped under the trees, her disarray leaving no room for anything but obedience. Though the unicorn's all-too-apparent fear was doing its own wonders for inspiration. After a short while, Knowledge tried to slow down, until she heard Twilight call from behind her.

“We're,” she panted, “we're not... far enough away... yet...” Knowledge picked up her pace, imagining it was Twilight chasing her.

For a few more minutes, they ran like this. When Knowledge risked glancing around again, she saw only trees, the same green colour cut into the shapes of maple, oak, and elm leaves. Somehow she could tell just by looking at the soft textures and colours of the coniferous plants around her that they were not in that so-called Everfree Forest Twilight had brought her attention to earlier, so she counted herself lucky for this small blessing. As she slowed down and tried to catch her breath, a purple blur broke the uniform of her vista, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out in alarm. Twilight had overtaken her and was still running.

It took Twilight a few seconds to realise Knowledge had stopped, and a few more to take a look around for herself and walk back to join her. She wheezed out her mouth, while Knowledge settled for silently breathing through her nose. Twilight levitated a canteen from out of one of her bags, unscrewed the cap, and tipped it back. A faint puff of dust in the eyes greeted her, reminding her of how long it had apparently been since the container was actually filled with anything. Her tired face got a note of bitter frustration to it, and Knowledge could imagine she was restraining herself from chucking the empty container into the dirt. In truth, Knowledge herself was really only winded from their run. The head start at the forest’s edge Twilight had given them meant that they couldn't have been running for more than ten minutes total. Knowledge thanked her earth pony vitality nevertheless.

Curious about her guesswork, Knowledge looked up at the forest canopy. The few visible patches of sky above were beginning to turn bright orange as evening overtook the late afternoon. The day refused to relinquish to the night just yet though, the fading sun's light creating a colourful blanket of the foliage overhead. It was as if the Running of the Leaves had decided to come in summer. Only one set of hooves trotted beneath the treetops, however, frantic, but too weak to shake any of the still healthy green leaves from their branches.

“Spike was.... and Celestia sent those... she was going to...” Twilight sputtered as she paced in a circle. Her breathing amounted to no more than short whiffs as her panic stole what little air exhaustion couldn't. Knowledge sat in place, watching, before noticing something in the corner of her eye. About twenty feet away to her back left was a small path she had missed before. She kept quiet in case anypony was walking their way, though Twilight might just give the two of them away anyways.

Several times, Twilight turned to face Knowledge and looked like she were about to speak, perhaps to insist that they keep running, but she always looked away and resumed her mumbling steps before she even got a single word out. What little vegetation lay upon the forest floor had been shuffled away under her hooves, and a ring-shaped groove was starting to appear in the dirt. It was becoming increasingly likely that the unicorn might just wear herself into the ground—literally—before she finally spoke up, though apparently still to herself. “Where can we go? Where can we go? I don't know what—”

“Twilight?” Knowledge cut in. She'd caught her breath, and though she still had questions, to a bystander she could have appeared almost collected, certainly more so than the unicorn before her. “Are you alright?”

Twilight glanced up, eyes squinted. “Do I look like I'm—” She looked away and shook her head. “No, not your fault. You don't understand.”

“Don't understand what, Twilight?”

“Celestia knows. That's why we had to leave.”

“What? How?” Just more questions.

“Spike, my assistant,” Twilight clarified, as she finally settled into place in the dirt. “He told her. He was supposed to keep me there in the house. The princess would take me away, and probably find you after that.”

Knowledge shivered, Twilight's words fast becoming an eerily plausible image. An image of this Celestia appearing before her to take her back to that horrid garden. She then snorted, feeling suddenly resentful. “Interesting friends you're keeping, Twilight. Selling you out like that. Selling us out.”

Twilight instantly leapt to her hooves and shrieked, “Don't you dare say that!”

Knowledge flinched, remembering the powerful magic the unicorn had displayed earlier, but promptly shouted right back. “Well, why not? It's the truth, isn't it?” Neither pony seemed to care about the noise they were making, and underneath their loud words the rest of the forest had gone deathly quiet.

“No! No, no, no. He...” Twilight looked away. “He didn't understand. He didn't know about you, or even about me. He was just worried. It's—”

“Not his fault? That's the second time you've said that. So, whose fault is it then?”

Twilight didn't look at her. She just sat back down again, mumbling towards the ground.

“Well?” Knowledge huffed, sick of Twilight avoiding her questions. She walked right up to Twilight, grabbed her head and turned it back towards her. “Answer me!”

“It's mine.” Knowledge's impatience evaporated. “I did this. All of this. To you. To Spike. To all of my friends.” At that, Twilight began to cry. “They don't even know. They don't even know what's going on. And now I've just... left. What kind of friend am I?”

Knowledge pulled Twilight closer and let the unicorn lean her head on her shoulder. Knowledge speculated that even in her past she had never been so unprepared to comfort another pony. But when she felt her neck become soaked with tears, and a pair of fore-hooves wrap around her waist, she couldn't imagine doing anything else.

“Twilight, I... I don't know your friends.” Knowledge felt the grip on her waist tighten, and the light tickle of eyelashes pressed further into her neck with the soak of tears. “But I know you. You helped me. You're a good pony.” She pulled Twilight away slightly so she could face her. “Anypony worth being called your friend could see that.”

“But... But I left them. I left them behind.”

Knowledge shook her head. “You didn't leave me.”

Twilight stared and blinked away her tears before nodding her head a quick few times, sniffling loudly. “We should be going,” she said, her voice flat. “It'll be dark soon. I don't know where we can go, but we at least have to go somewhere.”

“Okay.” Knowledge was still lightly gripping Twilight's shoulders, and hesitated before adding, “I meant it, you know. About you.”

“I know. Thanks.” Twilight turned around and looked to her left. She pulled open her saddlebags again and unrolled a map. “We'll stay off of the path, but we'll at least go in the direction it leads in. With any luck we'll eventually come out on the other side.”

“Lead the way, I suppose.”

The two of them continued due west for several hours, not trading a single word. Twice Twilight stopped and stood silently, most likely double-checking their route, before signalling that they should continue. Knowledge did not offer any arguments or alternative suggestions on their path. Twilight had the map, and even without it, Knowledge was hardly the better-suited to choose their direction. She decided to simply keep an eye on the trail running beside them.

“By the way, those things you said back in the library. Where did that come from?” Twilight suddenly asked.

Knowledge looked back in surprise. She ducked just in time underneath a particularly low branch before answering Twilight. “What things?”

“That stuff about Canterlot. The castle, the valley, the forest, or lack thereof, I guess. How did you know all of that?”

Knowledge blinked. Now that Twilight had brought it up, Knowledge finally realised that she had no idea where all the things she had said about Canterlot had been dredged up from. They were just... there. “I don't know. I just knew. As for that Everfree Forest...” She shrugged. “I guess I wanted to be right, because what I said felt right. Like it was... how I remember it.”

From up ahead, she saw Twilight turn and give her a hopeful smile. “Maybe the library did you some good after all. Maybe things... maybe it's all coming back to you now.”

“I don't know if I'd like that,” Knowledge admitted.

Twilight's head tilted. “Why not?”

“Everyone and everything I ever knew is gone, so what does it matter? And that's assuming anything is really coming back at all.”

“But don't you think there's a chance?”

“It just feels like wanting, that's all. A lot of wanting, and no having.”

“Sometimes wanting is enough.”

“Is that so?” Knowledge said, thoroughly unconvinced.

“Let it drive you. Make you the pony who you want to be. It's what I've always done.”

Knowledge didn't have an answer for that, and their mutual silence returned for another hour. Even as it grew darker, Twilight didn't offer any light from her horn to guide their way. She must have thought it too risky, and Knowledge didn't necessarily disagree. But after Knowledge tripped over a particularly large and protruding root, she spoke up. “It's getting too dark.” Looking left, the dirt trail was nearly lost to her eyes, seeming more like an inky river in the blue-black evening shadows.

Twilight turned as though she were about to protest. When she instead gave a start and rubbed her nose, Knowledge looked up. A raindrop slipped through the silhouetted leaves overhead and caught her in the eye. She blinked it away and looked back down to Twilight, who’d changed her mind about arguing.

“I think a big storm is coming anyways. It should hide us from anypony looking, at least.” Their ears perked up at a sudden thunderclap. “Let's get somewhere dry.”

It didn't take long for them to find a cave, albeit a very small one. It was little more than a mound of rock, only just over twice as tall as them, and very shallow. It was near the edge of a clearing, and Twilight almost suggested that they keep searching before the rain started in earnest. The two of them had to sit upright with their backs against the stone wall to be sheltered. Twilight kept peeking fearfully out the entrance up at the sky, mumbling something about weather pegasi, and how she hoped that they would not be spotted.

“At least nothing was living in here, right?” Knowledge tried to lighten the mood. Before they had ducked inside the narrow space, Twilight had briefly checked the cave floor for droppings, finding nothing. She'd insisted on making sure of a lack of animals, murmuring rather sheepishly about a bad experience she'd had with bats.

“Yeah. Fluttershy taught me how to check these caves after the whole Winter Wrap-Up incident. If anypony knows her animals, it's her.”

Twilight shut her eyes, but Knowledge knew there was no way she had fallen asleep so quickly. A light sniffling sound confirmed her suspicions. Twilight tucked her limbs in closer to her chest and shivered. “I'm so lost. I'd know what to do if my friends were here.” She opened her teary eyes and looked up at the sky again. “I want my friends.”

Knowledge shuffled over and pulled Twilight closer. The warm weight on her shoulder returned, familiar to her now. “I'll be your friend.” Twilight made no move to leave the embrace, pushing quietly into her side.

They sat that way for a long time, the sky's nightly blue now a pitch black from the storm clouds. While Twilight breathed into her coat, Knowledge listened to the rain and watched the skyline. If any weather pegasi were still about, then they certainly weren't making themselves known. Most likely they had all retired for the night, and Knowledge could feel the late hour pressing down on her as well. But somehow it didn't feel right falling asleep first. Knowledge certainly had more questions for Twilight—not the least of which concerned that Celestia pony—but the unicorn was clearly in no state to talk about such things at the moment and, truthfully, neither was she.

Knowledge heard an abrupt snort, and looked down at Twilight in surprise. Twilight shifted so that her nose was no longer pressed into Knowledge's fur and was still once more. Her chest rose and fell, breath as light as a breeze. Beneath her shut eyes, the trails of tears in her fur had dried, and her lips had the barest hint of a safe and contented smile.

Twilight's limp form felt heavy, her body having finally caved beneath the day's pressures. Only Knowledge's own eyelids felt heavier, and she propped her head against Twilight's for support. A single spot of dark blue sky was still visible above, with one little star peeking out observantly. It glimmered like a wink just as Knowledge finally eased her eyes shut to rest.

~\\***\***/***//~

Inside her petrified body, Knowledge felt the heat in her fiery heart and pounding mind. But this heat didn't comfort her; it mocked her by burning her terribly. Neither sensation would leave her be, and her stone eyes would have cried if they could.

What is this? Why do I burn? Who—

She seemed to appear suddenly. The white pony: Celestia. She stepped into Knowledge's sight and levelled her with the most terrible of looks. Disappointment, anger, sadness, it was all there, and it made the heat feel even more excruciating. Celestia seemed then to be the sun itself.

Are... are you the one who—

There was no answer, of course. Celestia mercifully shut her eyes for a short while as she began to cast some spell. Knowledge waited in burning agony, and eventually the eyes held her again. She watched in mute horror as Celestia's expression became even angrier. Another spell was cast, but Celestia kept her eyes locked this time, unblinking.

“I know you can hear me.”

Knowledge couldn't think past the pain anymore, and started to plead. I can't move! I can't move! I can't—

“I ask one question.”

It hurts!

“Why?”

Please... I don't deserve this... I don't...

Another voice came then, indignant and sharp. She almost didn't recognize it as her own.

Because it is my right.

Wh-What? What's going—

It was always my right.

Celestia's frown deepened. The fire burned brighter, and Knowledge could not even scream as she crumbled inside a white light.

~\\***\***/***//~

The last dream of the night. Luna made it a point to have her head—and every other dreamer’s head—clear of everything else before she even attempted this.

Celestia was just around the corner from her, and Luna peeked carefully. The older pony stared at the empty pedestal from before, her eyes occasionally drifting towards the other statues. She completely ignored Discord.

Celestia's dreams were never normally like this, and not just in terms of location. The fear the older pony exuded rendered the imagined Canterlot Garden choked with fog, and the humidity would have made it hard to breathe were the ponies inhabiting the waking world. True, there was scarcely a time Luna could remember Celestia without a single worry, regardless of how expertly her sister hid it from everypony else. It was a sad part of their roles as princesses to take care and keep mind of every little happening that concerned Equestria, all so that others may know a peace of mind that they themselves would never even be able to comprehend. But, much like back in the garden that gloomy afternoon, Luna felt there was something missing. The usual prominence of Celestia's assured nature now rendered it impossible to overlook its absence.

“I know you're there.”

Luna cursed to herself, but kept quiet in the faint hope that her charade could be maintained. She was never one for invading dreams in private, so she blamed a certain lack of practice on her part. She usually liked to make herself known to the ponies she visited. There were few things more satisfying to her than being able to soothe away the nightmares of a pony, and then see them face those same fears for themselves the next time they met.

What fear Celestia possessed, however, she not only couldn't rid herself of, but refused to confide to anypony, even Luna. Luna knew all too well that a fear unshared was a fear that would never be overcome. And so, she was tasked to find out for herself what Celestia was so afraid of.

“Don't ignore me, Luna.”

Not tonight, it seems.

Luna stepped out from behind the hedge row, but Celestia didn't look to her, still staring pointedly ahead. As Luna sat down beside her, the mist bent away around them at unnatural angles, as though afraid to make contact. The little bubble of air the two sisters now shared was quiet for a long minute.

Luna saw one last opportunity before her window closed for the night. After all, what could be simpler than talking to one's sibling? “Celestia, you know that you can always—”

“No. Not this,” Celestia stated uncompromisingly. “This was my mistake to make, and mine to correct.”

“Horseapples!” Luna exclaimed. “That excuse may have flown when it was just you here in Canterlot, but not now! We're sisters! We live, we rule, we make mistakes, and we fix them, together!”

“Too many ponies are caught up inside this mess already, Luna. I'd give anything to keep one more out of it, most of all you.”

Luna refused to be patronized. “So, you expect me to simply ignore this matter? Twilight Sparkle is one of my subjects as much as she is one of yours! If you are bound, I am bound. It need not be any more complex than that.”

“She was my student.”

“She still is! And regardless of whatever Twilight has done, why should it affect us? Why should this be your burden to bear alone?”

Celestia turned to face Luna. She took a deep breath before speaking again. Her voice wavered as though she were in physical pain. “A long time ago, Luna, I made the single largest mistake anypony could have ever made. You were the one who bore the brunt of the consequences. The day you came back to me, I swore I would never let anything like that happen again, the same way I swore it the first night without you, and every night after since. I still swear it now.”

Luna's wide eyes were shining with tears even as their dark pupils grew even darker with resentment. The steam of her exhales compounded into the anxious fog around the two of them, the white clouds having pushed in close again. The surrounding garden was now all but lost, the only lucidity remaining to the two sisters being each other.

“Don't you dare,” Luna seethed. “That mistake belonged to the both of us. It's not just yours to selfishly swear away, to seek repentance for. That you would even think to compare what Twilight Sparkle has done to—” She cut herself short in her rage, and gave a derisive snort. “What changed?” she asked in frustration.

“What?”

Despite herself, Luna smiled inwardly. She had caught Celestia off-guard. This was her chance. Whether Celestia told her the truth or not, Luna would have at least one of her questions answered.

Are you hiding something else from me, sister?

“Mere hours ago, you said that you could speak to me. What changed?” When Celestia didn't speak, Luna felt her heart harden. The silence was its own answer. So, this is how it shall be then, Tia? So be it. Her next words were slow and precise. “If you truly believed what you say now, you would call every royal guard back to Canterlot.”

“Luna—”

“Every last one. And then, you would go out and find Twilight Sparkle yourself.”

The air suddenly began to feel very warm. For a moment, Luna saw the sun in Celestia's eyes, chasing the fog around them away. Nothing and nopony could hope to hide from a light so bright. But Celestia merely shut her eyes with a sigh, and turned away again. “You misunderstand me, Luna. What I am embroiled in now also began a long time ago. When I was still alone.” Baffled, Luna said nothing, and allowed Celestia to continue. “If I involve you now, I'll have broken my promise twice.” She shook her head. “I will not let that happen. Not while I still have a chance to stop this on my own.”

“What is this you speak of? What mistake?” But no sooner had Luna finished speaking did she finally realise something. I've been gone a thousand years. I—

Celestia interrupted her thoughts. “Dawn will be soon. I think it's time you left, Luna.”

Luna was too preoccupied to feel angry or indignant. She gave a half-aware nod, and walked off before Celestia could notice her discomfiture. She spread her wings and soared into the featureless black sky. A bright white light appeared before her like one of her many stars, and with it came loud, powerful gusts of wind. She travelled on, and was soon opening her eyes to the sight of her personal bedchambers. She sat up and glanced to her right for the balcony doors.

The rain from the previous day had finally stopped, though apparently only recently. The droplets on the wide glass doors looked like stars to match the midnight blue of the curtains, and it made the night sky look twice as expansive as it normally did.

Darkest before the dawn.

Celestia would expect her to lower the moon in a short while, but Luna made no move to climb from her bed. As she studied every familiar crater and contour along the lunar surface still hanging in the sky, she tried her best to remember another old face. The face of the city she once and still knew.

Luna remembered the old Canterlot castle as assuredly as she knew this one. True, much of the old was now destroyed or dilapidated, but her memories stood with firmer foundation. She remembered the front hall, the Elements of Harmony sitting in their places and lighting the chamber brighter than any brazier. She remembered the intact throne room, the back windows rising high above her and Celestia's seats to greet the night and day skies equally. Even the least trodden hall, the simple, barren, and oh so dark room which held the petrified Discord out of sight of their subjects she recalled with ease. It was what was absent from her memories that made her so fatally still.

In my time, the old Canterlot never had a sculpture garden.

~\\***\***/***//~

Early mornings in Sugarcube Corner were no stranger to Pinkie Pie. It was when the sun was just beginning its slow crawl across the sky that she would rub the sleep from her eyes, hop out of bed, and then prepare for the start of the confection shop's business hours. Typically, the only greetings that she would trade at this hour would be to Mr. And Mrs. Cake, who would mumble their sleep-laced words of acknowledgement back, the both of them too tired to wonder how the pink earth pony could be rejuvenated so quickly after only just awakening.

This morning, however, the shop found itself occupied with several more ponies than usual, not to mention a baby dragon. The six friends had decided to take advantage of the fact that Sugarcube Corner had still another hour before opening time to have a group chat, though Pinkie found herself abnormally sapped of energy, and barely able to participate. Late yesterday, after hearing of Princess Celestia's surprise arrival in town and the disappearance of Twilight Sparkle, she had been wide awake throughout the night. The Cakes had been understandably concerned for her when her greeting to them that morning had not entailed diving headlong into their faces and letting loose a sustained and ear-splitting “Hi!”.

“Pinkie Pie?”

“Whuzzat?!” Pinkie waved her forelegs to keep upright as she started, having nearly fallen asleep again. When she had regained her equilibrium, she noticed that Rarity, sitting at one of the store tables with Applejack, was addressing her. Fluttershy was eyeing her in concern from in front of the store counter, while Rainbow Dash had yet to return from suddenly bolting out the front door again. Shortly beforehoof, the sky-blue pegasus had said something about “getting answers” out of the two royal guards posted at the entrance to the library.

“I said, darling, are you certain the guards didn't tell you anything else yesterday?”

Pinkie huffed and crossed her forelegs. Her annoyance made her temporarily forget her exhaustion. “Hmph, no. I'll tell you, Rarity, those guys have got a lotta' nerve! I was just trying to get my afternoon orders filled out, when they come in and ask me if I've seen Twilight lately. I tell them nope-arooney, and then they ask if I've seen her acting funny, and then I try to tell them about how my doozy from yesterday disappeared. I mean, if Twilight's gone just like my doozy then they must be connected, right? Boy, she sure does have a knack for those, doesn't she? But anyways, do they care about that kind of important stuff? No! They just looked at me like I was crazy! Can you believe that? I—”

“Pinkie Pie!” Applejack loudly cut in. “I think we get the point, sugarcube. But I don't disagree with what yer' sayin' about the nerve on them ponies.” In the silence of the closed shop, the others could hear Applejack grinding her teeth. It was a rare time when Applejack and Rainbow Dash agreed so unanimously on a point, but it had taken every word the other friends had to keep the earth pony from joining the pegasus in confronting the guards. “They think they can jus' strut up to all our homes, ask us questions like that, and not tell us anythin' back? Ponyfeathers, that's what it is!”

“Now, Applejack,” said Rarity, trying to keep Applejack calm. “I'm sure they have their reasons for—”

“Reasons?!” Applejack whirled on her. “I'll say it again. Pony. Feathers. This is Twilight we're talkin' 'bout! We deserve to know what the hay is goin' on!”

“Well, you're not gonna hear it from the guards.” Rainbow Dash had chosen that particular moment to fly back inside the store. “I got nothing. Call me crazy, but those guys are being even quieter than normal.” Applejack regarded her with impatient disdain, but Pinkie Pie wasn't sure if it was directed at Rainbow or her bad news.

“Yeah, crazy.” Everypony heard what sounded like a hiccup, and Rainbow turned to look beside Rarity's chair at Spike. Given the only topic between the friends so far had been Twilight, he wasn't holding together particularly well. “Are you sure he hasn't come up with anything yet? That last one sounded promising.”

Rarity was furious in an instant, and with her right front leg pulled Spike closer to her. “Rainbow Dash, please! Can't you see that Spike is still upset?” Of the five ponies currently present in the shop, Rarity had been the first to hear of the strange news concerning Twilight. As was apparent with all of them, the guards had brought only questions and no answers, the only difference in Rarity's case being that they had also quite literally dragged Spike along with them.

Rarity had, of course, sympathetically allowed Spike to stay at the Carousel Boutique during Twilight's absence. Even so, she had mentioned Sweetie Belle telling her how the baby dragon had been restless enough to be heard through the walls. She'll come back, he'd been saying, according to Sweetie. I know it. I know her. She has to come back. Celestia said everything will be fine.

That last phrase in particular had caught Pinkie's attention, and it had been her who had insisted upon sending another letter to the princess when the guards had proven unhelpful. Spike had hardly been composed enough for much of anything however, and the friends had to write the letter themselves.

Afterwards, Pinkie had managed to talk Rarity into having Spike at least send it. She had known for a while of Spike's deeply secret crush on Rarity, and while she hated exploiting such a thing, Rarity was the only one who could convince the baby dragon to sufficiently pull himself together. “If not for Twilight,” Rarity told him, “for me?” Pinkie recalled that being the only time so far that day that she had seen Spike smile.

Pinkie came back to the present—and the waking world—once again by the loud growl of a particularly frustrated pegasus. That's it. I'm tired of this tired-pants routine. She zipped away from the counter momentarily while Rainbow Dash addressed Rarity.

“We're all upset, Rarity! I just... I mean, I don't know why... Twilight never... arrgh!” Rainbow brought a hoof up to her face. “This whole thing doesn't make any sense. It's making my head hurt.”

“Your head, and Spike's tummy!” Pinkie said, back at her seat and slightly more chipper than before as she breathed over a mug of black coffee. Everypony turned to Pinkie at once, their collective confusion for how the pink pony suddenly had the caffeinated beverage disappearing as her words registered. They turned to Spike just as he belched a wreathe of flames which fast materialised into a rolled parchment. “Whoops! Never mind! Hey, now that I think about it, isn't that—”

“It better be!” said Applejack, who swiped the scroll off of the floor narrowly ahead of Rainbow Dash and opened it. The pegasus burned a hole into the back of the earth pony's head before hovering a few feet off the ground to peek for herself. As they both read, their eyes gradually lost their narrowed anticipation. Rainbow's widened incredulously, while Applejack's looked about ready to incinerate the paper. Instead, it merely dropped from her shaking hooves.

“W-What?” Fluttershy asked. “What did it say?”

Rainbow shook her head as she handed the paper to Fluttershy. Pinkie peeked over to see what all the fuss was about, and her face blanched. Her mug tipped and spilled her coffee all over her lap and she yelped in pain. Rainbow Dash's disbelief led her to almost whisper her words. “We've been form-lettered. I didn't even know the princesses had form letters.”

“This is ridiculous! Does nopony have an answer?!” Applejack cried. Everypony cringed. Spike withdrew further under Rarity's chair with a groan. When he groaned a second time, Pinkie glanced down at him. His cheeks looked green.

“Uh, girls?”

“I'm sure that the princess is just busy trying to find Twilight, Applejack.” Rarity said, ignoring the vicious stare she received in turn. “She must be short of time.”

“Girls?”

“Why not ask us for help, though?” Applejack asked. “Seems like a good use for both of ours times ta' me.”

“Girls!” Pinkie yelled, then pointed. On cue, Spike belched another plume of flame, and confusion took hold of the group. Rarity took the paper this time, the first to recover from the shock of having received two letters from the princesses. Something about this one seemed immediately off to Pinkie, however, and she caught her tail twitching. She eyed the letter carefully. Not a coincidence. Never a coincidence. Rarity opened the letter tentatively and gasped.

“From Princess Luna!” Rarity's exclamation caused the other five friends to gather around her. She read aloud.

Mine dearest subjects, friends of Twilight Sparkle,

We send thee this letter in secret, without Celestia's prior knowledge. It pains us to have to contact thee in this manner, especially regarding this recent turn of events, but let it be known we have little choice.

Rarity paused for a moment, thrown off by the linguistic oddities of the letter, before she continued.

Mine sister is a pony of many secrets, as are we. But we had hoped following our return after a millennium away from Equestria that, at the very least, no more secrets would be kept between Celestia and ourselves. If our suspicions of her are correct, then those hopes were, sadly, in vain.

Do not mistake our intentions, however. We are condemning Celestia of nothing but unneeded secrecy, at least so far. Considering this matter of Twilight Sparkle and her highly dubious crime, the irony is not lost on us.

Everyone, save for Spike, gasped.

“Twilight, a... a criminal? I thought she just ran away!” Fluttershy cried in horror. She hugged herself tightly with her own wings. When her breathing became laboured, she realised that Pinkie Pie had also latched her front legs around her and Rainbow Dash in a sort of terrified group hug. Pinkie looked to Spike, who continued to stare at the letter, looking surprisingly unfazed.

“I talked a bit with Celestia,” he said quietly. “I knew she must have done something wrong.”

Rarity's surprise left her grip on the scroll loose, and suddenly the single sheet of paper was revealed to be two. The new sheet floated down to rest on the floor.

Twitchy tail, thought Pinkie. Never fails. Hey, that rhymed!

Rarity picked this second paper up and held it aloft in front of her with her magic. Another round of gasps followed as the ponies studied it. Pinkie's rhyming smile vanished in an instant, and with it her hope that Luna was telling some kind of joke about Twilight having committed a crime. After all, why would the guards leave out a detail like that? Why would the princess?

The majority of the top half of the poster was dominated by Twilight Sparkle's portrait. What little that was not was emblazoned with bold, black letters spelling out a single, grim word: WANTED. Pinkie had a quick, sad realisation, wishing that Twilight wasn't smiling in her portrait, as though oblivious to the trouble she was in. The Royal Guard must not have been able to find a more suitable picture for the poster.

Why show her smiling? Wherever Twilight is, she's not smiling. I wouldn't be smiling. Why—

“Um... Pinkie Pie, are you okay?”

Pinkie Pie turned to Fluttershy then Rainbow Dash, both still clutched tightly inside her hug. They were both staring at her. “You're crying,” the blue pegasus said, looking just as concerned as the yellow one.

“I'm okay,” Pinkie insisted, though her grip tightened. She refused to regard the smiling photo of her missing friend again, and instead turned to the other unicorn. “Rarity, could we just finish the letter, please?”

Rarity nodded. “Of course, darling.” She cleared her throat to continue where she had left off.

As thou will no doubt be able to tell from what we have enclosed along with this letter, Twilight Sparkle's situation is dire, even more so than what thou may have first thought. Celestia had wanted to keep this situation contained, so to speak, but this has now obviously proven impossible. Regardless, she is still being stubborn with the whole truth of the matter, and if she will not reveal it to us, we have no doubts that her exclusion will include thee as well.

We are left with no other alternative but to request thy audience and aid. Be warned, what we wish to ask is no small undertaking, and it is outside of even our right to demand of anypony. We make this plea not as a ruler, but as a friend, one whom thou have already aided immeasurably not more than a year past. Any one of thee may decline should thou desire it. We are friends, and there is and never will be any room for blame among us.

Come to Canterlot, and meet us in the Canterlot Sculpture Garden midnight tomorrow night. Do not let Celestia know of thy presence within the city. We will elaborate further upon our meeting.

Safest travels and dearest dreams,

Her Majesty, Princess Luna of Equestria

The group was silent in contemplation, but not over Princess Luna's proposition. Pinkie could feel the cloud of mutual agreement that had settled over the entire group in that regard. Another common feeling, one of doubt and unease, was what held the ponies' tongues now. Surprisingly, Fluttershy was the first to give it its voice. “This is terrible, girls. Why... Why wouldn't Princess Celestia want us to know something about Twilight? What could be so bad that she would do,” she shivered at the floating wanted poster, “this? Why wouldn't she think we could help?”

“Don't matter none. Point is, t'aint right,” growled Applejack. She glanced back at Rainbow Dash, who'd since wriggled her way out of Pinkie's grasp. “I reckon you were right, RD. Somepony is keeping quieter than normal.”

Rainbow looked lost. Her friends, or the princess? Her two loyalties pulled at her, and she didn't know which to let win out. “Hey, she probably would have told us about this sooner or later, right? I mean, maybe that's why the guards—”

“I ain't a pony who jus' goes to tell a guard whenever I see ma' friend from on a poster! I'm the one who should be out lookin' for 'em! I thought if anypony else was that kinda' pony, it was you, Rainbow Dash!” Her eyes turned to slits. “Looks like I thought wrong.”

Rainbow seemed to lose all of her colour. It came back in a single hue, coalescing in her eyes in pinpoints of red hot rage. Her jaw clenched and unclenched as her nostrils flared. Applejack almost looked like she was regretting her words. Neither pony said anything as they stared each other down.

“Oh, my,” Fluttershy whispered. Pinkie hugged her tighter.

“Well, I'm not thinking, AJ. My mind is already made up,” Rainbow said tightly. “Not about the princess, but about Twilight. I'm. Going.” She flew right up to Applejack to push her snout against hers. “Try to keep up.”

When Rainbow Dash looked about to fly out the door again, Pinkie opened her mouth to protest, but Fluttershy beat her to the punch. “No, we have to go together!” she cried. “Um... that is, if everypony is going, I mean.”

“Well, I do believe it's unanimous, isn't it?” Rarity posed.

“Darn tootin'!

“Yeah!”

“Oh! Well, of course!”

“Yuppy-duppy!”

“What are we waiting for?”

Rarity should have been overjoyed at the easy voting, but her eyes had a sudden glimmer of pain to them. Pinkie was momentarily confused by this before she realised who had spoken up last. Rarity coaxed Spike away from the table, and turned him to face her directly.

“Spike, a moment please?” she asked.

“Uh, sure. Anything for you, Rarity.” Rarity led him a little ways away, and it was clear that he was the only one in the room who didn't understand what she was doing. But eventually, as she whispered to him, his expression turned to shock and his tears began anew as he shook his head. Rarity gently put a hoof over his mouth before he could argue. She continued to speak, still too quietly for the others to hear, but Spike soon lowered his head to face the floor and gave a barely noticeable nod.

“You can tell her we said hello,” Rarity said, audible once more. Spike gave a clogged chuckle, and wiped his fresh tears away. He nodded again, more firmly this time.

“Just... whatever you're gonna do in Canterlot, do it fast, okay?” he begged Rarity. “I can't take any more ponies leaving.”

Rarity leaned down and planted a kiss upon Spike's forehead. He swooned, and Pinkie Pie savoured having a happy mental image of the baby dragon once more. As long as she had the smiles of her friends in her mind, she needed no further baggage for her travels. On that same note, Rarity had turned to address them all again.

“Pack up, girls. Next stop, Canterlot!”

~\\***\***/***//~

Twilight awoke quickly but calmly. One moment she was dead asleep, and the next she was staring out the cave at the pale yellow of the morning light shining into the clearing. The sky was perfectly clear, but the ground was soaked, a deep puddle having formed just outside the exit to the two ponies' shelter.

The world was slanted slightly to the right, and as Twilight moved to even her head out, she felt something scrape by it. With Twilight's support now removed, Knowledge's own head hung down straight and limp, her breaths slow and silent. Twilight stared, feeling Knowledge's chest rise and fall from their proximity and continued embrace.

Her sleep had been surprisingly dreamless, and even though she was still fully aware of the danger the two of them were in, she felt calm. For the first time in days she could think straight: thoughts, plans, theories, and the potential consequences of all of these things flowed far more smoothly than she had remembered them doing late yesterday. She felt clear, and she gave literacy to the feeling with a deep breath of cool morning air.

When she turned back to face Knowledge, Twilight risked using one of her hooves to lift the earth pony's head so that she could see her face. Knowledge continued to breathe evenly, and it came as quite a surprise to Twilight when she heard what sounded like a gasp. She worriedly looked back out to the clearing, expecting to see somepony looking right at them. But she soon realised the sound had been from right next to her. When she turned back to look at Knowledge's now visible face, she frowned.

Though her eyes were closed, Knowledge's brow was wrinkled and her face had its own frown. Twilight found herself remembering the “experiment” from back in the library, particularly its hectic and terrifying conclusion. But unlike then, there was no attempted screaming, and Knowledge's breath stayed precise. Perhaps too precise. Had her eyes been open, Twilight would have thought Knowledge to be a perfect portrait of great attention and concentration. It was a look she herself had at times, mostly during her lengthy study periods, according to Spike.

For a few minutes more, they sat like this. Finally, almost anticlimactically, Knowledge opened her eyes. It nevertheless had an effect on Twilight, who had to suppress her own quiet gasp. Knowledge was very still for a few moments, the look of concentration on her face now in full bloom inside her rose pupil's, which looked just the slightest bit darker. She looked almost stern, and when her gaze did finally turn to look at Twilight, the unicorn felt as though she were shrinking.

Knowledge eventually blinked, and now looked to share Twilight's same unease. She took a breath, and shivered. “I saw her.” And then, louder. “Really saw her, I mean.”

Twilight looked away. So that's it. She really did know.

“She spoke to me.”

Twilight was instantly paying attention again. She stared wide-eyed as Knowledge continued. “She wasn't making any sense, and I couldn't answer her anyway. I... I was trapped.” The words spoke for themselves to Twilight, and she bit her bottom lip. “The worst part was the pain. I felt like I was on fire. I don't know if she was doing it or not, but it hurt so much. I just wanted it to stop, but it was inside me, like it was a part of me.” Her brow furrowed in thought, and she shook her head. “And then I told her—”

“Wait, wait,” Twilight interrupted, confused. “You said you couldn't talk. But, then how—”

“There was a spell she was using. Maybe she could hear my thoughts.” Twilight shivered, imagining eavesdropping on the mind of a petrified soul. Knowledge's first screams came back to her. “But, what I thought... It was me, but it wasn't. I didn't even know what I was talking about. But, I sounded so...” Knowledge hesitated. “I sounded like I belonged in that garden.”

Even when Twilight gasped, too shocked to tell her not to think that way, Knowledge didn't respond. Her face had gone totally blank.

“Knowledge?” Twilight asked, then immediately winced. “I'm so sorry, I—”

“No, no, it's fine. I may as well get used to it. My mind is made up.” Twilight tilted her head. Knowledge glanced down at her cutie mark, before turning to Twilight again. “I don't want to know who I was anymore.”

Twilight couldn't believe her ears. “But, you can't just stop thinking about it!”

“Sure I can.”

“But... But, we need to figure things out! You can't just give up! You—”

“Who said I was giving up?”

Whatever Twilight was about to say, she instantly lost it. She could only sputter confusedly. “But, didn't you just say that—”

“You told me yesterday that wanting something could be enough, and that I should let my feelings turn me into the pony who I want to be. But, whatever kind of pony I was... I don't like her. I don't want to remember that pony, and I don't want to be that pony. Even if that pony isn't as bad as I think she was, there's no point in me trying to be that way again, is there? What's left for her?” She reached over and put a hoof on Twilight's shoulder. “I don't want to be that pony. I want to be your friend.”

Twilight thought of how angry Knowledge had been back in library. Figuring out that her Canterlot had been long destroyed, and that all of the places and ponies that she knew were irreversibly gone as well, had taken its clear toll at the time. But, now... Knowledge seemed so willing to let it go. Hold onto nothing.

Because there is nothing. She has nothing.

Twilight's head was spinning, but she kept her nausea in check for just a few moments more. “Knowledge... is it alright if...” she asked, and Knowledge gave a small grin and a nod. “Knowledge, even if that's what you want, what will we do? Celestia won't just let us go free. And if we are going to deal with... this, we have to know what it all means. And all that might rest on—”

“Me,” Knowledge said plainly.

“Yeah.”

Twilight couldn't think of what else to say, and when Knowledge stayed silent as well, she stood up, stretched, and walked around the deep puddle at the cave entrance to investigate the rest of the clearing. Her hooves quickly became slick with mud. She frowned, and slung her saddlebags back on.

“Look, whether we do anything or not, we're in no shape to do it right now. We should get out of the forest first. Get our bearings.” Twilight didn't know if Knowledge was listening or not, but it felt good to put the pieces of a plan together out loud. She could disconnect the words from the rest of the noise that was beginning to inhabit her head again. “If we keep heading west, we should reach the forest’s end in a few hours. From there, we can get directions to Los Pegasus. It's the closest city I can remember for miles.”

Knowledge didn't argue. She merely stood up to stretch and walked out to join Twilight. The whole while, she wore a spaced-out, pensive face. Her wistfulness had been abandoned though, and Twilight soon realised that Knowledge was looking towards the clouds on the western horizon expectantly.

“Los Pegasus?” she said, clearly thinking out loud. Even though Knowledge had almost certainly never heard of the place before, Twilight caught onto what she must have been thinking of. The name alone indicated a city in the clouds. “But how will we...”

“Don't worry. We can probably get a balloon ride up to the city.” Knowledge began to open her mouth again, but Twilight anticipated her next question. “And when departure time comes, I've got just the spell for that. Trust me.”

There was a flicker of worry in her eyes, but Knowledge nodded all the same. Twilight looked down at her hooves and frowned. “There's mud everywhere. We need to be careful not to leave tracks.” The two of them turned around and washed off in the puddle. After this, Twilight elected to take a short drink of cleaner rainwater out of a smaller puddle nearby, Knowledge hesitantly following suit. It made them gag, but the excitement of yesterday had left them both completely parched, and Twilight knew that Los Pegasus was at least a day of nonstop travel away. There wasn't any room for them to be squeamish right now. Maybe when they reached the city Twilight could treat them to the unique Los Pegasus style cuisine as a way of apology, an opportunity at that. She herself had never tried the stuff, and what city was better suited to silver linings than a city in the clouds?

They departed without another word, Twilight trying her best to steer them towards rougher and drier areas through the forest; short rock outcroppings and long-dead creek beds. Their hooves became sore after only an hour, but they ignored it and pressed on. Eventually, they began to chat again to distract themselves from their scrapes and bumps.

“Y'know, I may be an earth pony,” Knowledge jokingly complained, making sure to keep her voice low. “But that doesn't necessarily mean I look forward to this kind of rough stuff.”

“No arguments here,” Twilight replied. “But we should savour the solid ground while it lasts.”

Knowledge gave a snort. “Solid ground. Sure, right.”

Twilight grinned. “Afraid of heights?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

The two walked on.

~\\***\***/***//~

It might work, Luna thought frantically. I pray it does not, but it might.

The plan would look deceptively simple on paper: find the spell, go to the garden, cast it, and she would have her answer. But Luna knew that defining the activity in so rudimentary a manner was not only a comfortable lie, it was downright disrespectful. Whatever the situation she found herself in after she cast the spell, it would be far from simple. Anything which had the potential to change her, Celestia, and all of Equestria's ultimate fates deserved more hallowed treatment.

If it didn't work, then she would have to accept that she was being foalish about this place. And then she would have to continue to deal with the matter of her sister's own foalhardiness about Twilight Sparkle, as well as what was truly causing it. If it did work... then they were both even greater foals than she could imagine.

If it works, one of us will lose the other.

Luna almost stopped and turned to leave right there, just at the threshold between the halls and the outdoors, but eventually started walking again. She thought of how easy it had been to find the spell. It had been tucked away among the Pre-Classical Era volumes, not even within the archives reserved for her, Celestia, and the higher staff, but the public library. This soothed her just the slightest bit. It was so simple. The spell had been right there, in easy reach of anypony. Surely if a secret was this poorly hidden, there was no secret at all, right? Then again, a cockatrice remedy spell would not exactly be known for frequent, daily usage.

She was coming around the maze's outer bend. Her eyes looked straight ahead, not turning up or down. She was thankful that Discord's own pedestal was tall enough that she did not have to look at him. Any and all nostalgia she possessed for her past did not include the draconequus.

Any will do, I suppose. She settled for the Statue of Friendship. The three fillies depicted were stacked on top of one another's backs, like some foalish balancing act borne of boredom. Were they truly ponies, they would be the kind of friends who would get little out of a visit to the garden. They would bicker to cover their parents' scolding voices, and their art appreciation would extend only to making faces and having staring contests with all of the other statues.

Luna looked at each of the three smiling granite faces in turn. The noonday sun gave all of their features perfect clarity. She took a single huge breath, and closed her eyes. She cast the spell as she remembered in the book, and she felt the weight of the statues enter her magic's hold. Opening her eyes again, her sight began at the middle and moved outwards. Eventually, she saw the edges of her midnight blue aura. Luna stopped and stared here, where the spell glimmered at its brightest.

A trick of the light. That is all.

Still she stared. And stared. And... nothing was happening. Even after waiting for another minute, nothing changed about Friendship. No new colours were appearing upon the stone, no physical change or movement other than Luna's own shifting magic was perceivable. Everything was as one would expect of a simple stone statue. Luna stopped casting the spell and stood there, thinking. She had gotten exactly what she had wished for. The spell would either work, or it wouldn't. Nothing could be simpler.

But, is it that it simply can't work, or that it won't work?

The first question brought a second, and then even more still. If it was a matter of the spell not working, then why? Was it this way with all of the statues? If not, which ones were the exceptions? How would she be able to tell, especially when up until now, she had been so ignorant of such a potential problem right under her own nose? Was she just going completely mad?

I could search for days, and get no answers, she realised. I've done nothing.

Luna immediately chided herself. Nothing was too strong a word. If Celestia would be of no help, and if her own efforts were to be this fruitless, then there was still one more ace left to be pulled. She looked back up at the statue.

Friendship.

Twilight Sparkle's closest friends. Not only were they the only ponies who could possibly claim to know more about the unicorn than Celestia did, but they were as much heroes of Equestria as Twilight Sparkle was. The newly chosen bearers of the Elements of Harmony, the first mortal ponies in all of history to ever be granted the honour.

The Elements. The thought had only occurred to Luna just then, and for a moment she felt foalish for it. Until one other doubt crept its way back to her: There were six elements, and currently only five ponies between the friends. She and Celestia could hardly serve as substitute bearers either. They were no longer bonded to the elements. It was the very reason why Discord had been able to escape his imprisonment in the first place.

Leaving even that much aside, Twilight Sparkle's friends would hardly be in the mood for such dark speculation on a garden they had hardly visited. They would want their friend back, and Luna had sworn to respect that. It was they who were doing her a favour. She was the one indebted, not them.

Still, namesake alone dictated that the Elements of Harmony were never found far apart, and Luna knew that Celestia had placed enchantments upon all of them since Discord's previous “borrowing”. A worthwhile first step upon the friends' arrival would be to look into the possibility of a tracking spell. The Element of Magic had found its mortal bearer once before, after all.

“Your Majesty!”

Luna turned towards the sudden voice. Galloping down the garden path was a pegasus guard. His wings were folding back into his sides, clearly having just finished flying quite a ways. He stopped a few feet from her and opened his mouth to speak, only to immediately begin to catch his breath instead. Luna waited patiently as he lifted his helmet to wipe his brow, and straightened his stance. Finally, he addressed her.

“I apologise, Princess, but we have a problem. A very big problem.”

“What is it thou speakest of?” Luna said, having converted to using the Royal Canterlot voice. In the back of her thoughts, however, she remembered Celestia telling her that such linguistic traditions were no longer practiced. The guard tried his best to not look taken aback, but his eyes still widened slightly. He swallowed before answering her.

“It's... It's your sister, Your Majesty. Princess Celestia is gone!”

Luna immediately went into denial, refusing to let her distress show on her face. Twice in two days? It simply wasn't possible. Her shock left her voice a few shades quieter than before. “Thou must be mistaken.”

The guard shook his head. “She never arrived to oversee noon court. We assumed she must have simply been running late due to... recent issues, but when her office and bedchambers were investigated, she was nowhere to be found! A city-wide search is underway as we speak, but so far nothing!”

Luna almost didn't hear him. In those few horrible moments, she remembered her “conversation” with Celestia the previous night. She had been too distracted to pay much attention at the time, but Celestia had clearly resented one particular insinuation of hers. Or perhaps, inadvertently, Luna had convinced her of something. Either way, Luna had made her thousand-year mistake a second time. She had doubted her sister's resolve.

For Twilight Sparkle. Celestia has gone for Twilight Sparkle.

Illusions

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Celestia had chosen the form of a pegasus pony. Not that she had to give up her magic, exactly. If necessary, she knew she could always swap appearances again once she was away from any prying eyes in Canterlot. For now, though, the easiest and least conspicuous way out of the city was to fly.

Looking behind her, Celestia could just barely make out dots of white and gold darting quickly around the open windows of Canterlot Castle's highest towers. The Royal Guard was certainly—

No, she couldn't think about that. It was terrible for her to be abandoning Canterlot, the throne, and, most of all, Luna like this, but her student had left her little choice. All Celestia could do now was focus on what needed to be done about Twilight.

Celestia ran through the details of her cover again and again for any flaws.

Never married, no children, on a quick sightsee of Equestria before settling down.

She seemed like somepony completely unremarkable, with thankfully few ties to trace back to Canterlot Castle. For all intents and purposes, she was now the pegasus Mirror Image; somepony unattached, with little bloodline to speak of, still yearning for a youthful thrill and at the cusp of the midpoint that was life. Only one of these traits was a fabrication, after all.

She inspected herself as she flew. The same white coat covered her body, complementing a bubblegum pink mane and tail, but her wings had dramatically shrunken and she'd lost a good several feet in height. This measurement seemed even greater with the absence of her horn. Celestia had heard grim tales of amputation from some of the more gristly of the Pre-Equestria war legends, soldiers telling of how one could still feel the tingles of a limb long hacked off. Celestia could still feel her horn and could remove the illusion spell upon it at any time, as well as cast it again for changes in coat or mane colour and wing-concealing purposes, but she still shivered to imagine her reflection without such a familiar part of her. It wasn't helped that the spell's effect was indefinite until manually dispelled. For the sake of blending in, she was purposefully making herself more vulnerable.

The most important part of her disguise was the cutie mark. The bright sun Celestia was so accustomed to seeing would look very dubious upon her now, and so she'd cast two spells to rectify the problem. First, the same simple illusion spell she had cast on her horn, then a second, slightly more complex illusion over top. No one could truly give cutie marks, certainly no more than anyone could take them away, but spells that relied on the principle of smoke and mirrors had their usages beyond the few Canterlot stage shows that she had attended.

It was really quite ingenious. The spell actually functioned rather similarly to any basic levitation spell, holding something aloft in the air. How it differed was that it created a desired image rather than carried an object and then projected this image wherever appropriate. A picture of a golden hoof-held mirror adorned her flank, the mirror’s outer rim studded with various gems the same colours as her natural mane. Also true to her natural mane was that if one looked closely enough, they would just barely make out the slightest bit of unnatural shimmer to the picture. The illusion was well done, but not seamless, and it was part of the reason Celestia had chosen the gaudy, refracting object to be her disguise's cutie mark in the first place. If anypony should notice the glimmer, there was at least a small hope that it could be passed off as having been part of the cutie mark.

After roughly half an hour of continuous flight, Celestia touched down in Ponyville. The lack of attention upon her told her that her disguise was working like a charm. The continuing quiet of the town, rather than the rapt attention and bows she was used to receiving from everypony else upon her visits, would have been a pleasant change of pace had it not been for circumstances. In fact, the more she listened the more she found it was a bit too quiet for what could be considered ordinary in Ponyville. The only significant source of noise seemed to be around a corner on her left.

As she strolled around the bend and past Sugarcube Corner, she noticed ten or so ponies gathered around a nearby bulletin board. A few excited voices drifted to her ears.

“...do you think she might have...?”

“...do you think she did it?”

“...just crazy!”

When Celestia looked past the heads of the small crowd and saw the poster that was upon the bulletin board, she knew what all the fuss was about. The face of her student smiled at her beneath the bolded wanted header. It was a poor stand-in for her actual presence, and Celestia could feel how much emptier the town seemed without her. And without all of her friends.

The quiet had been telling enough that they had left for Canterlot, Applejack's recognizable twang absent from the calls of the market vendors, and Pinkie Pie's antics not leaking out from the nearby Sugarcube Corner. Luna had made it abundantly clear to Celestia last night that she was not going to leave matters alone, and Twilight's friends had clearly felt the same way. Celestia couldn't blame them, of course, but all the same if she could no longer keep them uninvolved, then she would have to instead prepare for the worst-case scenario. And it involved the one thing that Twilight's friends were almost certainly retrieving in Canterlot.

The Elements.

Since Discord's bypassing of her sealing spell, Celestia had not trusted herself to keep the Elements locked away on her own, even with her newly placed enchantments. The logical solution was to split the keys. Luna could open the chamber doors, but the enchantments belonged to Celestia. All she had to do was wait for Luna to activate them, and she could find Twilight within the hour. But that was only half of the problem solved. Even when she found Twilight, dealing with her company was another matter entirely.

“...you being skeptical, Rose?” a taunting voice carried to Celestia's ears. She turned to look at a pink-coated earth pony mare milling around the bulletin board, apparently gossiping with a friend. “Now I've seen everything.”

“I'm not stupid, Lily!” the other mare, pale-coated with a red mane, retorted angrily. “It doesn't make any sense and you know it.”

“Neither does Twilight just running off,” a green and purple mare cut over both of the other two. It was clear now to Celestia that these ponies near the front of the crowd were what had drawn her ear earlier. The purple mare's ears drooped. “And she's all alone.”

Celestia tuned the ponies out. Twilight was smart, but whatever puzzle she thought she was putting together—and Celestia granted she did have the most crucial piece—was beyond even her ability to control once it was assembled. Frankly, she would have been better off travelling by herself than in the company of such a fiend.

Knowledge. To anypony else, the title would be no more significant than the others in the garden. In some way, it wasn't. Like the others, it was simply a matter of detail. Concealing the true pony behind the stone and stamp of name. But the single word was so much more than a title in Knowledge's case. It was a warning. Knowledge couldn't hurt anypony if she was silent, but free from her prison even her true name became dangerous. It was why Celestia had gone out of her way to ensure that it was forgotten. If that side of Knowledge should resurface...

Celestia walked over to a nearby cafe and sat at one of the outdoor tables. She ordered a sweetened green tea and waited. It was only a matter of time before Luna did her part, and Celestia knew she would feel the tracking enchantment's effects the moment it became active.

Your move, Lulu.

As Celestia sipped distractedly at her tea, she mused on her final problem. Twilight was needed for the Elements to work, and she was hardly going to be looking forward to using her element on Knowledge if she had protected her for this long. She would need to be convinced, and the only thing that could do that was the truth, and that damnable name that came with it.

Celestia needed some way to tell Twilight without needlessly endangering her or anypony else, and that number included Knowledge. Because even if Celestia didn't feel personal responsibility for Knowledge, she still didn't wish for the mare to come to actual harm if it could be helped. The dead couldn't answer for their crimes.

And Knowledge had over nine hundred years to answer for.

~\\***\***/***//~

Los Pegasus had the most polarizing reputation of any of Equestria's major cities. It was fitting, given its two-fold division.

Wealthy tourists came to Los Pegasus almost solely for the city's higher reaches in the clouds, where more than half of the city's earnings were made and spent again at casinos, salt bars, and other pick-your-poison places of entertainment. All of this was topped off with a fantastic view of the Applewood sign on the distant hills to the east. You only needed to be rich enough.

Far below the clouds, however, the underbelly of Los Pegasus was very scattershot in its arrangement. The more modest, and that was being charitable, buildings were erected in the patches of sun that weren't blocked out by the cloud cover overhead. Nevertheless, these same bright spots served to expose just how impoverished the lower city was, as if the sunlight was draining the buildings' colour for usage on the structures up above. It was here that Twilight and Knowledge found themselves wandering.

They were lucky to have found the railroad corner at the Whitetail Woods’ northwest edge. After an hour of waiting, Twilight had teleported the two of them onto the train’s caboose as it went south towards the city. It had cut their travel time in half, but now out in the open during midday, Twilight was beginning to have second thoughts on the decision.

“What are you lookin' at?”

Knowledge gave an “eep!”, while Twilight hurried both herself and her friend away from the rough-worn earth pony they had both glanced at in passing.

“I guess that means 'Welcome to Los Pegasus',” Twilight grumbled once the earth pony was out of earshot.

“Los Pegasus?” Knowledge whispered. “But I thought...”

“It's a pegasus city, yes.” Twilight looked straight up. There was a ferry balloon returning from a trip up to the city now. “At least for the most part.”

It was the biggest drawback to Twilight and Knowledge travelling to Los Pegasus, not that they'd had many other options. While Celestia would hardly be expecting the two to travel to a pegasus city of all places, it also meant that they would be among the city's minority. From what little Twilight had read about Los Pegasus, that minority was mostly composed of criminals who struggled to steal their living in the impoverished lower city. Twilight imagined she at least partially fit that bill by now, but her wry musings soured into a slowly rising panic.

I'm a criminal.

Worse still, she wasn't just some no-name common burglar or shoplifter. She was a former student of one of Equestria's residing ruler's, and was now wanted by the Royal Guard itself. To anypony else, that spelled out a hefty reward for her capture.

Twilight began to hyperventilate, and she tried futilely to keep an eye on every last pony they passed. What if she saw somepony she recognized? What if somepony recognized her? Against Knowledge's protests, she picked up her pace to the ferry balloon's landing platform.

“Hello!” Twilight exclaimed, startling the pony on toll duty. She took a long breath, and tried again. “Uh, sorry. My friend and I just need to get up to the city.”

“Hello, miss,” The stallion kindly offered after recovering from his scare. He was a slightly pudgy, light-orange earth pony with a black mane. He wore a blue vest with a clipboard tucked under one foreleg and a pen behind one ear. “The ferry is coming down as we speak. Departure will be within minutes.”

“Twilight!” Knowledge, having caught up to Twilight, tried to sound indignant, but it came out as more of a plead. “Don't do that again! “I... I can't be alone here. I...” She frowned and scuffed a hoof in the dirt.

Twilight put one leg around Knowledge's neck in apology, and her friend gave a weak smile back. She turned to the stallion, who had folded back some sheets on his clipboard to examine something. “May we board, sir?”

The stallion looked up at her, then behind him. There was a quiet whump from the ferry balloon's landing, and now the door on the wicker basket's side had opened to allow for passengers.

“Just you two? Do you have somepony in your party capable of performing the cloud-walking spell?” the stallion asked.

Twilight nodded and pointed to herself, expecting the query. Non-pegasus tourists going to any cloud city were expected to have some alternative method of getting around the clouds safely. This usually amounted to having a pegasus chauffeur a group around on a solid platform of some kind, but occasionally cloud-walking spells were used. Usually this only happened in groups with several unicorns, given the amount of energy the spell required. For Twilight though, it was a cinch.

“Very good. Then you may board.”

Twilight and Knowledge stepped into the basket and were soon joined by three other ponies, a group of unicorns who were almost certainly travelling together. Twilight's theory was confirmed as the three ponies began to direct their horns towards each other’s hooves, Twilight proceeding to do the same for herself and Knowledge. Knowledge became fidgety, and Twilight soon smirked as she realised her companion, trying her absolute hardest to conceal her own grin, was ticklish.

Twilight looked over and spotted a light green pegasus mare speaking quietly with the boarding stallion and two other similarly blue-vested pegasi. One made a gesture to the basket, then up at the city above. All four ponies soon nodded, and the mare stepped back into the basket. From the scarf and the aviator goggles slipped over her face, Twilight figured this must have been the balloon pilot.

“Okay, everypony,” the pilot addressed them in a thick Los Pegasus accent, “We'll be taking off now. It just seems we have a bit of an incident at the platform up high,” she gestured to the pegasi behind her, “and the boys are going to speed on ahead up top to make sure everything is ay-okay. Provided it's cleared up, we will be on schedule. Alright?” Everypony but Twilight nodded. Something wasn't right. She peeked over the pilot's shoulder, and back down the platform walkway. The boarding stallion was double-checking something beneath the sheets of his clipboard again.

Are they...

“Here we go!” Before Twilight could protest, the pilot set the balloon on course with a tug of the hanging engine cord, the two blue-vested pegasi launching ahead of the group. In a matter of seconds, the balloon was above the highest building in the lower city and was lazily drifting at a slight eastern angle for the clouds. Twilight looked below and figured she had lost her chance to teleport herself and Knowledge safely down to the ground again. She settled into her place, counting the minutes in her head until they reached the city. She took a second glance down to the sparse buildings of the lower city. Down there, the swift pegasi could run them down in an instant.

You're being paranoid, Twilight.

Twilight heard a squeak of terror and flinched, dreadfully wondering if she had been recognized. Daring to look up, she saw Knowledge hugging the closest pony to her, a shift in the basket from a brief gale startling her. The pink and orange-maned unicorn in her grasp pushed her off in irritation. Before Knowledge could trip, Twilight caught her in her own hug.

“Not enjoying the view?” Knowledge looked at her sourly before Twilight added, “Neither am I.” The two sat down and faced the inside of the basket, parallel to the doorway. The unicorn passengers busied themselves with the view below, while the pilot continued to mind their ascent. The pair’s far wall seating gave them at least a few feet of privacy, Twilight keeping her voice low.

“Knowledge?” Something had been nagging at Twilight for their entire trek through the forest, and she wanted to get it off of her chest before she and Knowledge settled too deeply into hiding. Not that she aimed to spend the rest of her life as a fugitive.

“Yes?” Knowledge was rubbing her two front hooves together, and puffed a breath into them. It was getting chillier as the balloon ascended.

“I know you said you didn't want to remember—”

“You're right, I did.”

Twilight flinched, but time was short. She had to keep pressing. “But I don't think that it matters. Like it or not, I think you're going to have to deal with your memories sometime soon.” Twilight was touching many nerves, she knew, but it was better for Knowledge to be angry at her now than later. Twilight didn't hold delusions for a third chance to hide if their cover was blown in the city proper.

Knowledge turned to face Twilight directly. “Define soon.”

“Maybe very soon. Do you even remember what your cutie mark means?”

Knowledge's eyes flicked briefly to the sundial on her side, then back up to Twilight. “No, but... what does that matter?” But Knowledge sounded like she already knew the answer she was going to get. Twilight hated to oblige.

“Well, think about it. Cutie marks signify everypony's destiny. They tell you who you are, who you're meant to be. And every time you look at it you just know it's right. That doesn't exactly sound like something you're allowed to forget.”

Knowledge stared, and Twilight could tell that she was unwillingly putting the pieces together. “You think whatever,” she gestured to her cutie mark, “this means, is what all of what's going on means.”

“Well, not all of it, but if there's any chance that your special talent had something to do with the whole... you know, then it might be worth remembering. It could help us. Both of us.”

Knowledge huffed, and turned away. She mumbled bitterly to the bottom of the basket. “Sure, I'll bet it'll just fix everything.”

“I never said th—”

“You didn't have to.”

“Don't you get it, Knowledge?” Twilight cried, forgetting discretion in her annoyance, though Knowledge ignored her anyways. The pilot's next glance at the both of them lingered longer than the ones before. When Twilight offered her own in return, the pegasus looked away, and pretended to take another glance back up at the city. It was only about thirty feet away now.

She had to calm down. Knowledge needed to know she wasn't just some bargaining chip, something to be used. “I understand why you're angry,” Twilight ignored Knowledge's deepening frown, “I really do, but we've already talked about this. We can't just let Celestia... I need to know what's going on, Knowledge, I admit it. I need to. Figuring out who you are is our only lead, and no matter what you say, I know you're wondering too. That's never going to just go away.”

Knowledge adopted her straight, dark concentration from two mornings ago. This lasted until she winced and brought a hoof to her face like she was trying to force away a headache. “Say we try. We just try. What then? After I know who I was—what I was—what then? Even if it could help us, tell us what Celestia did, how would we prove any of it? Everypony would call us crazy!”

“Then we prove we aren't.”

Knowledge's dark, haunted eyes, nearly overpowering her indignation, told Twilight the mare knew exactly what she was talking about. Knowledge's voice was a hiss, as if she were ignoring an injury. “I'm never going back there, do you hear me? Never.”

“Knowledge, it's all we have right now. We don't even know if—”

“Exactly! You don't know!” She shook her head. “Hay, your spell won't even work on them! It won't—”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

“Your cockatrice-remedy spell! It won't have... it should...” As quickly as it had appeared, Knowledge's bitterness disappeared, and she imitated the confused unicorn next to her. She held a hoof over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Twilight, what am I talking about?”

Twilight could tell that the question wasn't self-depreciation on Knowledge's part. She was genuinely hoping for an answer. “I... I don't know,” Twilight whispered, but the thought occurred to her that what had just happened to Knowledge was eerily familiar to what had happened back in the library. Twilight had somehow hit the trigger for more of the mare's memories again, the talk about cockatrice and remedy spells spilling out of Knowledge's mouth in a rant without her even taking a second to realise that she had no real frame of reference, at least not one she remembered.

And what if it kept happening? Knowledge would remember everything, but hate every moment of it. Twilight watched Knowledge turn away in dejection, the earth pony realising her guide couldn't offer any of the context she was missing. Twilight thought they really needed to hit on something big soon, if only for the sake of Knowledge's sanity.

Twilight, what am I talking about?

Twilight never wanted to hear Knowledge ask her that again. The poor mare undoubtedly thought she was losing her mind.

What if she is?

Twilight frowned. It couldn't be that simple. Those screams she had heard back in the garden upon Knowledge's first awakening; those were the screams of an anguished mind. This... this was something different, and even darker. It came and went with a set pattern, flowing along with Knowledge's memories in a stream. It was as if something was actively forcing her to remember.

Twilight spared Knowledge's sundial cutie mark a second glance. There couldn’t have been an object better suited to the earth pony; something precise and intelligent in function, but wholly outmoded in the modern age and always needing a guide to function correctly.

Wait. A guide. A... sun.

“Celestia,” Twilight whispered.

“What?” Knowledge didn't look at Twilight, but instead stood up, and swung her head in blurs to every side of the balloon. Risking a peek over the basket's edge, she looked up to the clouds and down again towards the distant ground, as if expecting to see the princess flying straight towards them on her huge wings. When her dread was suitably disappointed, she turned back to Twilight, who had been staring at the earth pony, waiting for the chance to properly address her. Twilight’s voice was grave as Knowledge sat back down.

“You and Celestia had to have known each other, Knowledge. It's the only thing that makes sense. But I don't think you just knew her in passing.” Twilight hesitated, readying her spell to cover Knowledge's mouth if need be. “I think you were her student.”

Twilight expected a swift denial, a scream of offense from Knowledge as the mare called her crazy. Knowledge instead shrank further into herself, and whispered the same nonsense she had said earlier under her breath. “Cockatrice-remedy... won't work... can't go back...” With her mind once again shattered, Knowledge was clearly in no state to offer any assertions on the point of Celestia. Her only remaining mental defense was to focus on something easier to think about. The thought of losing her mind was apparently preferable to the thought of being associated with the princess.

Twilight milled on what was spilling out from Knowledge's mouth again. Before the earth pony had said such a thing about magic, let-alone advanced magic, Twilight would have thought her theory about Knowledge and Celestia was completely high concept. Now, the more she thought about it, the more it would explain. Not just Knowledge's fear of the princess and her captivity within the Canterlot Sculpture Garden, but just how the mare knew some of the things she apparently did.

For one thing, it would explain how the mare knew so much about the Old Canterlot Castle's interior. Twilight granted she didn't know how castle procedures had worked nearly one thousand years ago, but if it was anything like nowadays, then only two types of ponies would be allowed to walk the halls that Knowledge apparently had access to in the dream she had described. Knowledge hardly seemed the militant type, so her being a royal guard was out of the question. That left her as, at the very least, a royal servant.

But a student? Perhaps. After all, this wasn't the first time Knowledge had talked about powerful magic. Back when they were still hiding in the library's basement, Knowledge did make some mention about Twilight's magical ability and had related, if very vaguely, to past witnessing of strong spells. Still, there was one thing nagging at Twilight, making her think that maybe she had jumped a bit too far with her theory.

She's not a unicorn.

The thought was without malice, entirely observational. Twilight was far smarter and kinder than to hold ill will towards other types of ponies just for being different. What was Hearth's Warming celebrated for, after all? It was just that the idea of Celestia having a student of magic that couldn't actively manipulate the force was baffling. Then again, everypony and everything did still have magic, be it passive or active, and this was long before the founding of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.

I just don't know.

Twilight shook her head and turned back to Knowledge. The earth pony was still mumbling to herself, but apparently she had moved on from her brooding on Twilight's magic. It didn't matter, whatever she was saying was no more comprehensible to Twilight than the stuff before. Twilight caught a few mentions of the word 'friend' and realised she must be digging up more memories of Old Canterlot now. She was just about to ask Knowledge to speak up, when she heard a door creak open.

The balloon clearing the cloud cover overhead had passed Twilight's notice, and now the fluffy white landing platform sat just a step down from the edge of the basket. They were here: Los Pegasus. She whispered as gently to Knowledge as she could. “Knowledge, we can go now.”

Knowledge's nonsense streak continued. “You don't understand. And the princess would never understand. They...”

“Knowledge.” Twilight called a little louder, and poked the other pony gently with a hoof. When she still didn't get an answer, she turned away to take a second look around her, and it was all that was necessary for her eyes to suddenly widen in horror.

The balloon pilot was standing outside the open gate to the basket, staring apprehensively at the both of them. Appearing in Twilight and Knowledge's path to the exit were the two stallions who had flown on ahead of the balloon. They frowned as sternly as they could at the two mares with their wings flared out, blocking any escape. But Twilight's attention was less on them, and more on the two golden vistas behind them, one beautiful, the other terrifying.

The high towers, both clouded and otherwise, that made up the upper city of Los Pegasus were undoubtedly striking, the afternoon sun free to spread its colour across the wide ranges of white. Twilight's vantage point from the landing platform made the street look like a river of gold. Treading its way up this river was a golden wave, its many dark eyes giving Twilight equal attention.

For as wide as the departure platform was, it wasn't so wide to not be sliced in two by the row of royal guards at its rough middle, slowly getting closer, hooffalls muted by the clouds. Understandably, most were pegasi, with only a few unicorns off at either end of the line, cloud-walking spells no doubt cast upon their hooves.

There was no time to even panic. Completely boxed in, Twilight saw only one option left for the two of them, and she grabbed Knowledge's shaking hoof and lit up her horn. She knew that several disadvantages were working against her and that the spell would tax her far more than usual, but there simply wasn't anything for it. The eyes of the blue-vested stallions widened, and the leftmost one tried to charge forward and tackle Twilight, but he was too late.

Having never been to Los Pegasus before, Twilight had no idea of the city's layout like she did of Ponyville, Canterlot, and their surrounding wilds. Accounting both this and how she lacked a clear line of sight on a destination, Twilight supposed she could forgive herself for teleporting right over the edge of a cloud. The rush of air from her fall lasted for far less time than she expected, however.

Her mind delirious from the taxing spell, the slight burning smell of a stressful teleportation floating through the high air, Twilight only barely acknowledged a death grip upon one of her hooves. Looking up from the ground far below, Twilight saw Knowledge lying flat upon the edge of a cloud. The earth pony was tugging Twilight's hoof with all her might, and when Twilight found she was too shaky to properly orient another teleportation, she instead wrapped her front limbs in her magic and began to pull herself upwards. She eventually collapsed on the cloud next to Knowledge, but when she took a look around from on her belly, she saw that they could not afford themselves much rest.

She and Knowledge were some twenty feet or so on the opposite side of the living barricade of ponies leading to the boarding platform. A few of the armoured ponies in the line had taken off to investigate around the balloon’s basket. Others were checking nearby buildings and gaining vantage points from rooftops. Thankfully, none had happened to look in the two mares’ direction yet, but this would not last with them beginning to draw nervous whispers from the crowd of ponies in the bustling street. They needed to take advantage of the disoriented royal guards fast, and she began to tug Knowledge along with her towards the central street.

Twilight knew they would not blend in perfectly among the wealthy citizens, especially with all of the stares at her near-death experience, but she knew it could at least afford them some cover until they could duck out of sight completely. If there was one thing Twilight could assess quickly about Los Pegasus, it was that its crowds and clouds made it ill-suited for multiple teleports. The next best thing was to stick to the original plan of remaining inconspicuous. It was all for nought though, as the far left pony in the guard line happened to turn his head and, before Twilight could stop herself, she made eye contact.

For a moment, fugitive and royal guard exchanged a sad look with each other. But when Twilight saw the guard mouth her name to his comrades, she turned and began to shove her way through the crowd. Twilight ignored every indignant cry from the ponies around her, hearing only Knowledge's terrified encouragements for her to go faster, and those two awful words cutting over the entirety of the city street.

“Seize her!”

For a moment, Twilight wished she had fallen.

~\\***\***/***//~

While it was only early afternoon, and the outside still had plenty of sunlight to offer, the front hall of Canterlot Castle was shaded and gloomy. Curtains were drawn across every visible window, but be it because of a preference of Princess Luna's, or, far more likely, due to the other recent occurrence at the castle, Rarity was hesitant to step forward and ask why. The princess, caught up in Canterlot's quiet panic, was pacing at the midsection of the front staircase, and still had yet to say a word.

Before, Rarity would have thought that the head of the situation had been reached when Twilight Sparkle was discovered to be a criminal. But then she and the others had departed from the train, and none of the city's usual hustle and bustle had greeted them. The only thing that could rival the quiet of Canterlot Castle was Canterlot itself. Nevertheless, it still didn't take long for the group to catch a few of the panicked whispers among the city folk. Despite Princess Luna's and the Royal Guard's best efforts to dismiss the event as a ridiculous rumour, there was only one word occupying the Canterlot streets: Princess Celestia was gone.

It was an absolute mess. Rarity scanned her friends, then took another glance at Princess Luna's pained face. What could she say to her? How exactly could anypony maintain complete tact when both Twilight and Princess Celestia were missing? Certainly not like Applejack, that was for sure.

“Princess, we…” When Luna didn’t seem to acknowledge her, Applejack grumbled in annoyance. “Why does this keep happenin’?”

“I tried to tell you it was a mistake to run in here early, Applejack. Just look at her!” Rarity did not turn her eyes away from Princess Luna, but she leaned ever so slightly to the cowpony on her left.

“Ah ain't sittin' on my hooves anymore, Rarity,” Applejack whispered fiercely. “Twilight is out there, and the princess here gave us her word ta' help. What more is there to it?”

“Uh, duh? Princess Celestia is gone! Y'know, her sister!” Rainbow Dash was hovering over the rest of the group, pointing at Luna. Unlike the others, she didn't bother to keep her voice down, and she received nasty glares from the guards on either side of the main door. She landed to face Applejack directly. “How'd you be feeling right now if it was your sister?”

Applejack whirled on her. “T'aint the same thing! Celestia—”

“Tread lightly, Applejack. You as well, Rainbow Dash.” However Applejack had planned to continue or Rainbow Dash had intended to retort, both immediately went silent. Princess Luna's words were soft, but that only served to make the quiet hall all the more eerie. It was almost possible to hear the two admonished ponies' necks creak as they slowly faced the princess again. Pinkie Pie had zipped away from her, and was now back beside Fluttershy, fighting with the pegasus for who was hiding behind whom. Luna sighed at the group, hating having to reprimand invited friends, and at such an awful time.

Rarity recovered first, and tried to salvage what was left of the situation. “Princess, we are far ahead of the time you had scheduled for us,” she practiced her own scolding stare on Applejack before continuing, “and we're sorry we barged in on you unannounced when you are dealing with what's happened with Princess Celestia. If you'll accept our apologies, we'll just be on our—”

“Please, don't.” Princess Luna turned to face Rarity, and then began down the rest of the stairs towards the group. “My sister's foalishness is not your doing. And it is actually somewhat fortuitous that your friend Applejack is so hasty, in this case.”

Rainbow Dash stifled a giggle, and Applejack leered at her. “Well ya' did tell me ta' keep up.” Rainbow immediately clamped up, looking crestfallen.

Princess Luna hoof-waved the pair's antics away. “It matters not how it happened. If not for your own hurry, we—I would have called for your audience ahead of time, regardless. With my sister's recent flight, time is now, more than ever, of the essence.”

“Right! So hit me!” Rainbow Dash wasted no time in hopping back into the air and assuming a stance of bravado. Pinkie stopped her game of ring-around-the-Fluttershy to give a salute alongside the blue pegasus. With Fluttershy's front hooves still in Pinkie's grasp, she was, against her will, giving the same salute. Its potential patriotism was undermined by her pitiful whimper. Rarity face-hoofed while Applejack titled her stetson ashamedly over her face.

The briefest of smiles crossed Luna's face before she turned and began to trot away up the staircase.

“Come.”

~\\***\***/***//~

Luna did not visit the Great Hall very often. Nopony did. It was a room reserved for only the most important visits and occasions, and while those could sometimes be in the spirit of festivity, the other memories the hall offered were rather more taxing to the spirit. Luna thought she caught a whisper from Pinkie Pie about what was such a big deal about a “silly statue”. Though Pinkie grew uneasy when her friends whispered reminders about Discord to her.

At that name, Luna looked at each of the stained glass windows, and in her silent grief, resisted her compulsion to obliterate the ones that showed the draconequus. It was childish of her, but Luna had been trying to defer at least some of the blame for all of what was currently happening onto Discord. While she doubted that even Discord would have been able to predict the chain of events that had followed his return to the Canterlot Sculpture Garden, it seemed suitably ridiculous for his chaotic tastes, and it felt better to be angry at him than Celestia.

But Luna knew she couldn't continue to lie to herself. The draconequus had lifted neither a paw nor a claw in these recent events. There was certainly a plan in motion, but it was too direct to be anything but something of her sister's design. Each simple step lead to the next:

Twilight had taken something. Celestia wanted it back. That something was...

A pony? The prospect of such a prisoner was certainly as grim as it was strange, but that was only the start of Luna's confusion. She thought again of her suspicions about the rest of the garden. If they were correct... but then what did Knowledge matter to Celestia over all of the others? Luna did not dismiss the possibility that Twilight had freed Knowledge from stone. It would explain the statements made by the guards earlier. But that just brought her back to the same question as before.

Why didn't my spell work? And why would Twilight's?

This was no good. She was going in circles, and needed a focal point.

Knowledge. Her sister had always been rather on the nose with her bestowed titles.

Luna realised she had been staring at the sealed door at the end of the Great Hall for the past minute or so. She turned around, and the clearly alarmed group of ponies breathed a note of relief in unison. “Forgive me,” Luna offered them. “I was miles away.”

“Um... Princess?” Fluttershy asked.

“Yes, Fluttershy, isn't it?” Luna turned to the pegasus, who withered slightly as her courage began to dry up.

“Yes, Princess. Why are we, um...”

Luna frowned. “Thou art—you are wondering why you are here in this chamber.”

Fluttershy nearly squeaked as Luna completed her line of thought for her. She nodded meekly. “This is where the Elements of Harmony are kept. But, why are we here? How can the Elements help with Twilight, and, um... Princess Celestia?”

“The Elements of Harmony were not named casually, Fluttershy. They are bound to their bearers, as much as the bearers are bound to each other in friendship. If you wish to find Twilight Sparkle, then her element would be your best map to start from. Twilight found her element, and it can find her right back.” Luna turned to frown at the sealed door again. “It is just a matter of whether or not I can attune the enchantments my sister placed on the Elements correctly.”

“Beg pardon, Princess,” Applejack cut in. “But what about that there door in the way? Celestia said las' time we were here that nopony but her could get through.”

No sooner had Applejack finished did everypony remember Discord's initial bypass of the door's sealing spell. Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, but Luna's foresight once again made itself known.

“Discord is a draconequus, Rainbow Dash. It would not be a stretch to say that same rules do not apply.” Rainbow nodded, placated. “That being said, Discord would probably run into difficulty trying to replicate his theft, were he still free.”

“Why?” Pinkie Pie was apparently beginning to feel left out of the discussion, and felt the need to chime in, even if it was with only one word.

“We have my sister to thank for that.” Princess Luna turned away from the confused faces of the group to walk closer towards the sealed door. “As you know, when Discord was defeated, your elements were returned to this hall...”

“And Princess Celestia placed her enchantments and sealed the Elements again, of course,” Rarity finished, her tone giving away that she thought they were just retreading old territory.

Luna gave a patient hum as she leaned her head down and inserted her horn into a small hole in the door's centre. “You are only half correct, Rarity. My sister did place the enchantments,” her horn glowed blue for a brief moment before she slid it back out of the lock, “but she entrusted me to be the one to seal the door again.”

Said door began to hum with life as the sun pattern upon it was spilt in two down the middle with a bright blue glow. Six circular and equally spaced dots, three on each side, resonated with the same energy, and the door pulled apart. Inside the chamber was a short pedestal adorned with a similar sun insignia. Sitting conspicuously on top was a small, gaudy case.

“I don't understand.” Rarity shook her head, too confused by Luna's admission to be enamoured by the protective case's elegance.

“Nor do I,” Luna admitted. It was one of the few remaining things that was giving her pause. If the garden was what she imagined it to be, and if Celestia had a hoof in it, why then would Celestia allow her any access to the Elements of Harmony, let alone give her sole access? The apparent show of trust would be heartwarming to Luna if it did not fly in the face of her sister's current behaviour.

But still, Celestia cared too deeply, for whatever reason, about the stolen statue for there to be nothing to Luna's suspicions. And there was still the matter of the enchantments upon the Elements themselves to consider. Certainly there were some to prevent further tampering by Discord, but that was not the only bit of magic Luna felt upon the Elements as she removed them from their casing and hoofed them over to their appropriate bearers. Any tracking enchantment Celestia had cast would not bend to Luna's will easily.

Luna removed the last element with trepidation. While anypony could feel the power that any of the five necklaces resonated, the crown in the princess's grasp positively hummed. She held it aloft in front of her face, staring at the amethyst starburst on top like it could be intimidated into revealing its secrets. Luna's horn brightened as she pulled at each individual thread of magic wound around the crown, and eventually she felt just the faintest presence of her sister. At that, she began to repeat Twilight Sparkle's name to herself as she concentrated harder and harder on the located enchantment. Her eyes squinted, Luna having to fight to wrest some measure of temporary control over the magic Celestia had placed. The crown itself was an even greater hindrance. The Element of Magic was fiercely uncooperative without its wielder nearby, fighting Luna's foreign magic like a petulant child.

Twilight Sparkle. I need to find Twilight Sparkle.

Luna saw a spark, smelled a whiff of smoke, and heard a collective gasp. She ignored her burning horn, the strain of forcing through both her sister's and the crown's magics threatening to split her skull, and looked to where she had heard the sound. All of Twilight Sparkle's friends had gathered around one of the tall hall windows, and were looking expectantly towards the western horizon, ignoring the sunny glare in their eyes. Luna noted how Rainbow Dash seemed to be pawing around the window’s edges, looking futilely for some way to open it.

“What is it?” Luna asked them. She had her hopes, but wished to hear it from the five's own mouths if the enchantment had worked or not.

Five heads turned to her in one synchronous motion, and their eyes all held the same desperate recognition. Fluttershy spoke first.

“Twilight. I saw her. I felt her. I really did.”

Luna allowed herself a smile, but it fell away as the chorus line of friends now voiced a joint distress. Pinkie Pie spoke this time.

“Hey!” she cried miserably. “Where did she go? Twilight!” Pinkie called as if Twilight could hear her far past the mountainside.

Luna was no stranger to the function of tracking spells. They were quite a useful means of ensuring one never lost a particularly important or sentimental item. Tracking spells on living beings, however, always had stronger pulls. The enchanted individual could feel the emotions—the joys, sorrows, and distresses—of the other, an invisible tether feeding into and connecting the two souls. And unless the spell was cancelled or cut off by some means, the pull never lessened, the rope always losing slack to make the feelings stronger. The five little ponies were looking about themselves in discomfort, longing for Twilight's brief presence to return to their beating hearts.

“It is as I feared.” Luna gazed forlornly at each of the five worn necklaces, then back down to the crown still in her grasp. “My sister's enchantments resist my efforts. The Element of Magic rejects me. Together they are making tracking Twilight Sparkle... difficult.” She looked at each of the five ponies in turn. She floated the crown over to them, and Rarity hesitantly took hold of it in her pale blue magic. Luna remembered the gathering at the windows. “Though I imagine you have at least some direction by now, correct?”

“The west,” Applejack and Rainbow Dash said together.

Luna nodded. “Then that cuts your search in half.” She looked to the descending afternoon sun, then back again. “We have run out of time. Take Twilight Sparkle's element. I... I know it is hardly ideal, but you must see if you can get the tracking enchantment to activate again, however briefly. It is your only hope to narrow your search down further.” She looked pointedly at Rarity, who suddenly looked very unsure of herself. “Rarity, whatever protection the enchantment had has been weakened from strain that much I know. Besides, as a fellow bearer, the Element of Magic might see you as a more worthy confidant. It may prove to be, as you say, generous?”

With a demure giggle, Rarity placed the crown into her saddlebags. “I will try, Princess. We will try. Though I must ask, whatever will you be doing?”

“My place is here, Rarity, now more than ever with my sister's absence.” Luna briefly wondered if this was how her sister felt running Equestria without her. It was indeed much the same thing as before; an uninvited guest driving a wedge between the two of them. “But I will be in touch. You have only to lay your heads to rest, and I will see you. As does Twilight Sparkle.” She saw the hopeful glimmers that appeared in her little ponies' eyes, and felt their morale could stand to be indulged. “If I see her, I will let you know.”

“Thank you, Princess.” Applejack took her hat off, and bowed her head. “That means Equestria to us.”

“You are most welcome. Go now,” Luna insisted with a flick of her head to the chamber doors. “The night watches you all, and brings you to a swift dawn.”

The five departed, galloping out the chamber doors with a call for Rainbow Dash to slow down being thrown along the outer halls. Luna hoped that whatever camaraderie the friends shared would be enough to convince the Element of Magic to allow Rarity access to the tracking enchantment. Luna's magic was not strong enough to fully rework the tracking enchantment to her own bidding. Were it, she would use it to track Celestia down herself whilst the friends saw to Twilight.

Luna hadn't said so, but she too had felt pulls from the element. She had held on just long enough to achieve a tenuous connection before being repelled; for a few moments, she had felt Twilight and Celestia's shared fear of a dozen white lies, a single black spot of guilt sticking it all together. It had been just long enough for Luna to send another oft-used, but rarely exploited, spell through the link to her sister.

I'm sorry, Tia.

~\\***\***/***//~

Where did she go? Where did she—there! Knowledge leapt in-between two ponies sitting on a cloudy bench, ignoring their annoyed voices to listen for Twilight's. She had nearly been separated from the unicorn by the main street's crowd, and she was glad the fountain area in the circular intersection had been clear enough to cut through.

Twilight had stopped and was looking between the northern and eastern exits of the intersection for guards. As Knowledge closed the gap between them, she turned. The unicorn's worried eyes calmed slightly upon meeting Knowledge's before they drifted away and widened. Knowledge turned around, but knew what she would see.

Standing atop the fountain statue of Celestia was a white-coated pegasus guard. Like some oddball albino bird perched on its master's head, his neck gave a jerky swivel as he turned his attention to Twilight. Seeing Twilight's returned stare as his invitation, the guard abandoned his sentry, cawing out his single command as he flew for her and Knowledge. “Halt!”

A winged shadow appeared briefly over Knowledge, before the nauseating sensation of teleportation enveloped her again. When it had ebbed away, she looked back towards the crowded main street to spot the guard twisting his head this way and that inside a circle of very confused bystanders. He froze suddenly and turned, his dark, vulturous eyes finding Knowledge's.

Knowledge felt a tug around her neck as Twilight wrapped it in her magic, and started down the less crowded eastern street. “C'mon!” Twilight yelled at her, the unicorn's eyes doing their best to apologize for her roughness. Twilight maintained the leash between them, Knowledge too afraid of them losing sight of each other again to protest.

“There! There!” the bird guard called to a hunting troupe of two unicorn guards, pointing a directing hoof down at Twilight and Knowledge before charging ahead in his own pursuit. Knowledge braced herself, and, on cue, she disappeared further down the road with Twilight again. As Twilight caught her breath, Knowledge turned to watch for the guards again.

“I-I can't keep this up,” Twilight panted, and pressed a hoof to her forehead. “It hurts too much. I... I don't... I...” Twilight steadied herself, and looked at Knowledge for a long moment. Before Knowledge could question her stare, Twilight walked around the western street corner, dragging Knowledge along with her.

There was a columned bridge leading across a small weather-factory causeway, and Twilight did not hesitate to leap into the liquid rainbows, messing the colours together into an unappealing mustard-yellow. Knowledge looked across the length of the bridge. A white pegasus filly was hanging playfully by her front limbs off the railing of the bridge, and she looked down at the splash of Twilight's dive into the rainbow river. She turned to stare at Knowledge. It lasted only a moment before Knowledge was unwittingly following Twilight headfirst into the causeway by the magical tether on her neck. She broke the surface, spitting, snorting, and wiping the spiciness from her mouth, nose, and eyes. After catching her breath, she paddled clumsily over to Twilight against the ivory wall.

Beneath the narrow bridge, the two ponies hugged close to each other, and held as still as they could to keep the flow of the river of rainbow steady around them. They flinched as the pegasus filly from earlier peeked over the bridge's edge to stare upside-down at the two of them. She opened her little mouth, but Twilight pressed a hoof to her own, while Knowledge mouthed as frantically as possible.

Hide and seek. Hide and seek.

The little filly tilted her head, but nodded all the same. She continued to hang upside-down and stare at the two of them however, and neither Twilight nor Knowledge risked speaking up to tell her off. There was silence for a minute or so, only broken by the double march of metal steps on the bridge above. The two mares held their breath.

One of the guards offhoofedly told the filly to watch her step around the bridge's edge, and the filly sat up to speak in affirmation. She said nothing of Twilight and Knowledge. Apparently, she thought the guards were the appointed seekers, and was worried about ruining the “game”. But when another loud splash suddenly came from below her, she dived onto her belly to look under the bridge again. Her sky-blue eyes widened to match Knowledge's, as the two of them stared at Twilight's suddenly limp form.

“Twilight!” Knowledge couldn't help herself as she screamed, and she only dimly noticed the filly ducking away again and calling for somepony. “Twilight, what is it?” When there was no answer, Knowledge roughly shook her. “Twilight, wake up! Twilight!” Twilight looked as completely at peace as she had only a short two nights ago. Knowledge's shaking left her unsteady, and she felt the deadweight unicorn push her shoulder off kilter from her position against the ivory wall. Her face was promptly splashed into the rainbows again.

Knowledge lost her grip on Twilight and began to flail helplessly as the current pulled her steadily towards the river's drop-off only a short twenty feet away. Twilight floated face-up and content alongside her, her tether severed from her unconsciousness. Her limbs were spread angel-like, as if inadvertently prepared for their funeral dive off the river’s edge. After her second dip into the spicy colours, Knowledge had run out of breath to spare, and her struggles began to weaken, the river churned up into a sickly black ink around her.

As she neared darkness's grasp, Knowledge felt the sensation of air beneath her. She tried hard not to open her eyes and see their end speeding towards them, but could not help herself. It took her a few seconds of staring to realise that the ground and rainbow falls were instead moving further away, and a few more to realise the sensation of hooves hooked beneath her front legs. She held her stomach just long enough to be touched down in the middle of the columned bridge, and retched spicy black ink into the white clouds under her.

When she heard a soft chuff behind her, Knowledge turned to stare frightfully at two pegasus guards, one of them the squawker from before. His dark eyes regarded her for a short moment, before he turned and nodded to his partner. After a nod back, the second guard walked to the opposite wall of the bridge, where two unicorns were keeping watch over Twilight. The soaked mare was still lifeless, slumped upright against the boundary. Detaching two pairs of shackles from a clip on his armor, the pegasus guard began to lock them around each of Twilight's legs. Meanwhile, one of the unicorn's began fastening an odd blue ring with a keyhole around Twilight's horn.

“She almost drowned!” The filly from earlier bounced excitedly at the scene's sidelines. Already Knowledge could see that there were small crowds at either end of the short bridge being held back by even more guards. “The nice lady tried to save her! I saw, I saw!” The second unicorn guard turned and tried to ask the filly if she could see her parents in the crowd.

The bird-guard trotted up to Knowledge. “Are you alright, miss? She didn't hurt you, did she?”

It took Knowledge a few seconds to register what the guard was implying. He thought she'd been a hostage. She couldn't really blame him, what with red lines from the tether still present around her neck. “N-No. I'm fine.” In truth, she could hardly stand, let alone imagine herself walking very far, completely bogged down and stained with rainbows, but she didn't care about any of that for the moment. She hid her miserable face behind her soaked mane.

Failed. We've failed.

No, they couldn't fail! She could still help Twilight! She could—

“We'll be taking her away now, Miss...?”

Knowledge ignored the bid for her name. She couldn't answer it truthfully, anyways. “Could I...” Knowledge hesitated, and considered telling the guard to forget it, but mentally shook her head. She couldn't just abandon her new friend. What exactly could she do without her? “Could I come with you?” At the guard's head tilt, Knowledge clarified. “I know her.”

The bird-guard hesitated, before turning back to his comrades. After finding they could not wake Twilight, they were busying themselves trying to sort out the weight of both her and her new shackles, and load her onto the largest stallion's back. After a few exchanges, the guard turned back to Knowledge. “Very well. We require you for questioning anyways.” He grew thoughtful for a moment. “If you do know her, perhaps you can persuade her to be more cooperative when she wakes up.”

“I... I just want to help her,” Knowledge sighed miserably.

The guard nodded to her, and then to his group behind him. As they passed over on the east side of the bridge and parted through the crowd, a familiar little voice on the left spoke up near Knowledge's knees.

“Is the nice lady's friend okay?” called the filly. She was clutched in a raincloud grey mare's front legs, craning her neck up to the burly stallion carrying Twilight on his back. When the guard ignored her, and the filly saw that Twilight wasn't waking up, she turned to Knowledge, expectant, but rapidly growing fearful.

Knowledge looked at Twilight's face. Her awkward drape over the guard's armoured back looked impossible to sleep through. Blood had rushed to her head and reddened her cheeks, as if in embarrassment from the gathered crowd.

“She'll be fine,” Knowledge's mumbled hollowly, staring at Twilight. Black ink dripped from the unicorn's face like tears.

~\\***\***/***//~

“Stop,” Celestia pleaded, nearly in tears. Her younger doppelganger's smile as she spoke made it worse. “Please, stop.”

In pointless experimentation, Celestia brought one hoof up to try and stifle her younger, albeit larger, clone's words. The only effect was the almost comical image of the doppelganger chewing on a white pegasus pony's hoof. The younger Celestia continued to speak, oblivious, and the older Celestia brought both her hooves back to cover her ears. But she was too late to block the voice out, and she heard that awful name, the light tone making it sound disgustingly delicate. As innocent as could be.

She is not innocent.

Both Celestia and her younger clone were sitting in noon court. The latter was on the throne to the left, in the direction of the sunrise, and speaking towards a high-ranking female guard. The former sat despairing and sidelined on Luna's broken throne, small enough to fit into it for the time being. The high-noon sun streamed through the large window behind them, but only the fake Celestia and her guard cast a shadow. The sun shone straight through the real Celestia to create the shadow of a chipped tooth on the flat slate, as if she was just as immaterial as everything else.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” the guard asked, and at first Celestia thought she was being addressed. She remembered her predicament, and opened her mouth to sigh, but her clone beat her to it.

“I will not lie, Checkered Flag,” the clone addressed the black and white mare, “I am worried about...”

There was more, but Celestia refused to hear it, and blocked her own ears again. It mattered not, as she read Knowledge's real name again on her doppelganger's lips. With every new word said, Celestia's futile wish to wake up grew.

Celestia remembered sitting at the cafe table, her tea consumed, when the tracking enchantment had reached her. It gave her a brief warmth in her chest, and she'd smiled with quiet delight before it darkened and grew cold inside of her. At first, she thought it was merely the full effects of her enchantment taking root. She had certainly begun to feel the stinging fear and despair from Twilight Sparkle, but then it grew too cold to be normal or tolerable.

Celestia's rising panic gave her no time to act on it, as before it could rise, her body went dead. Her head hit the table hard, turning her empty dishes bottoms-up. Before her eyes had been forced shut, she'd felt a needle-like jolt of regret. It was not from Twilight Sparkle. Somepony else had made a brief connection with her. Manipulated that connection to cast a powerful sleep spell on her more vulnerable pegasus pony body.

Luna.

In the past, Luna had used sleep spells to calm the restless at night, and even though she had yet to get back into the full-stride of her work, she would still use such magics to help those in the castle and Canterlot sleep soundly. Celestia had never needed to accept the help. While she was no stranger to such spells, her restless nights were the ones in the past; when Luna was not near, and could offer no aid. Besides, the one Luna had cast upon her now was not like the others; an easy, subtle slide into blissful slumber, so minute and gradual that it could easily be mistaken for simple exhaustion. This one had seized Celestia, and was now intent to drown her. In a form not her own, Celestia unwillingly watched her darkest, abyssal memories be pulled back into the forefront of her mind. And there was no way to escape herself as those memories were stolen by another.

Trapped. I'm trapped.

She couldn't even use her magic. Luna had not been merciful with her spell, and Celestia was stuck in her Mirror Image disguise, unable to cast it off. Would that she could fly away from this madness on her shrunken wings, but she spied a light blue glow over each of the chamber windows and doors. Luna meant to keep her here until the truth had been said.

“Luna!” Celestia looked to the high ceiling and called in dismay. “You don't know what you're doing, Luna! Stop this! Stop this, now!”

There was no answer. Luna was clearly paying mind only to the younger Celestia, and the older reluctantly followed her lead. How far had the conversation been going on for, anyways?

“...has made not one friend, and sent not one report to me in months.” Celestia remembered this discussion with Checkered Flag well. She'd appointed the trusted guardspony as an overseer for her magical students at the time. “All this time spent in the castle, away from her remaining family, is poisoning her. And I'm responsible for allowing it in the first place.

“We thought... I thought I could keep helping her. But I can feel her drifting further away from everypony else every day.” The younger Celestia shook her head. “And that is why I am going to ask her to step down.”

“W-What? But, Your Highness...” Checkered Flag had always been rather frank, even with the princess, but her shock had her slipping into formal speech. “I mean, we're all a little preoccupied right now, aren't we? Surely she only needs a little guidance?”

The younger Celestia's eyes now looked anxious as she looked away from Checkered Flag, levitating her translucent crown off of her head to slowly turn it this way and that way as if she were a fidgety young foal. “Yes, but I am not the one suited to offer it, at least not anymore. It is like you say, Checkered Flag. We are all occupied as we prepare to depart from this place.” She nodded her head to a window on her left side, and Checkered Flag turned to look. Beyond the glow of Luna's force-field, the vaguest outlines of structures were visible on a distant mountainside.

Yes. New Canterlot was under construction. Forgetting Luna's scrutiny for a moment, Celestia recalled how every day for everypony in Old Canterlot, as it had been newly and cynically christened, was an effort. This nine-hundred year old day she was reliving was less than a decade removed from the move to the new Canterlot, and everypony was struggling to maintain either the building effort with hammer and nail, or the push to keep the growing Everfree Forest at bay with axe and saw. Her warding enchantments had only been able to go so far, and through the back window Celestia could spy a few weeping willows edging their roots further up the castle perimeter.

“So, her loyalty is cause for punishment?” Checkered Flag offered dryly.

The younger Celestia replaced her crown, and levelled Checkered Flag with a stern stare. “I am not punishing anypony. This is the right thing, Checkered Flag. Somepony who has experienced such... trauma should not be worrying about studies at the moment.”

“And what of the future?”

“That is up to...”

It was then that the far door to the chamber creaked open a bit, drawing everypony’s attention. Checkered Flag marched angrily over to the door, and made ready to berate whoever had been eavesdropping on the other side. When the door was flung all of the way open, however, her expression changed to one of surprise and then to sadness. It held no candle to the sorrow of the newly revealed visitor.

The mare had apparently been wiping away her tears with her foreleg before moving to use her frosting-white tail instead. The damp patches looked like watered spots of grass in the teal of her coat. The underneaths of her dark rose eyes were equally fertilized as fresh tears spilled from them. Those same eyes beheld the doppelganger in a look of absolute hurt and betrayal. The open display of pain was a bit too much for Celestia, as even she couldn't help but feel pity as she looked upon the mare whom she had once loved, but had grown to hate so much.

“Lodestone,” Celestia winced as her clone implored pityingly, “I didn't know you were—”

The mare known as Lodestone promptly turned and cantered in the opposite direction down the hallway.

The younger Celestia sighed, and turned away from the door. Her gaze fell over Luna's throne, and inadvertently made eye-contact with the elder. Celestia thought the same words now as she did then.

When had things become so complicated?

The younger princess stood up to go after her misunderstanding student, stopping only to give a brief nod and a word to meet again later to Checkered Flag. With a burst of golden light, she disappeared. A faint, but disturbingly familiar wail of despair came from somewhere further outside the hall. Celestia felt the urge to follow, but without her magic all she could do was walk into the spot her clone had been only moments ago. Even Checkered Flag had left the hall to see to her other duties.

But Celestia knew she wasn't alone.

“Lodestone.” Celestia flinched. “Lovely name. Familiar name, Tia?” Celestia didn't know which way to turn, the voice of her younger sister echoing accusingly from all around her.

“Luna, please...”

“No, sister. Enough is enough.” Luna's voice reappeared directly behind Celestia, and when she spun around, Luna was sitting in the throne on the left. Her eyes shone as she gave a sad little smile. “These past couple of days, you have hurt me, Tia. More than you know. I truly thought we were past such things as these secrets.” She looked to the ceiling to take a quick breath. “But I am not innocent either. I can tell I have hurt you in return, bringing you to this place.” Her hoof ran slowly over a patch of tear dots left on the throne's handle. “And I don't want to hurt you or be hurt by you anymore.” She awkwardly patted a hoof to the intact throne next to her, and her smile grew just the slightest bit in invitation. “Sit with me. Talk with me, just like you wanted to.”

Celestia shook her head, and took a step back, her movements weighed down heavily with fear.

Luna's smile faltered. “Celestia... I'm not angry, I swear it.”

When neither pony moved, Luna's disappointed sorrow turned briefly to wondering. She nodded her head to the sealed door behind Celestia. “You knew her. Who is this, Lodestone?”

Celestia said nothing.

“She is the one with Twilight Sparkle, isn't she? Why does she protect her? What is Lodestone to her? To you?”

“To Twilight, she is only a danger. To myself, she was... she is...” Celestia's eyes hardened. She spat her words. “She is nothing to me.”

Luna did not answer, only giving a shake of her head. The meaning was obvious: I don't believe you. “Was it you?”

“Was what me?” Celestia tried feigning.

“Celestia, please. Honesty.”

Celestia sat on the floor, as exhausted as if she hadn't slept in years. Why like this? “No... No, Knowledge... she was never like the others.”

“Others?” Luna's voice was low with horror. “Are... Are all of them...”

Celestia turned away in shame. With one word, she damned herself. “Yes.”

The deed was done, but Celestia only felt the weight upon her grow heavier. How could she feel any other way? This was the exact opposite of how she had wanted to tell Luna, or anypony else the truth. She turned back to face her sister's green eyes.

Monster. Monster. Monster, the eyes screamed over and over again before Luna found her voice again. Despite her previous insistence, she whispered in barely contained disgust. “What in Equestria have you done?”

No, it couldn't happen like this! She hadn't wanted Luna to learn about Knowledge this way, but here was their regained future together, about to be damned on half of a truth! “Luna, it is not what you think.” Her sister's eyes narrowed. It was just as Celestia had feared. She had anticipated this reaction a thousand times before in her mind, and now it was happening before her. Everything was out of her control, but she had to keep trying to get through to Luna anyways. “She... Knowledge was—”

“You keep calling her that.” Luna's voice became disdainful, as if Celestia were hurling insults.

“And so should you. It is better her real name be forgotten, Luna.”

Luna sighed wearily. “So, if you cannot hide what she is, you will instead hide who she is? When will these lies end, sister?” Luna's revulsion and contempt left her for a moment, too tired to maintain the front. Celestia nearly smiled in sympathy. All they both wanted was for this madness to be over.

“They already have, Luna,” Celestia tried to sound sincere, but Luna's unconvinced look remained.

“And what of when you find Lodestone?” Luna continued, paying no mind to Celestia's distress at the name. “What of when you find Twilight Sparkle? Do you mean to imprison the both of them just like—”

“Knowledge was never imprisoned.”

“What?”

This was it. Luna needed to believe her. “It is like I said, Luna. Knowledge was never like the others. Even I could not affect the spell cast over her. All I could do was keep watch over her in the garden.”

“What are you saying, Tia?”

“I'm saying that she's been waiting. Biding her time for another to come along. If Knowledge has her way, then she will never leave Twilight Sparkle.”

“Waiting? You mean to say...”

Celestia nodded, and stepped just a bit closer to the dais. “Luna, she did that to herself.”

Statue Garden

by NodoubtbuodoN

Laughter

Secrecy

Fear

Haste

Decisions

Illusions