Sunset in the Otherworld

Chapters

At the Crossroads of Fate
To Every Thing There is a Season
The Golden King
The Death Stones
Gates in the Mind
At the End of the Two Worlds
The Light Side of the Moon

At the Crossroads of Fate

Everything beneath the horizon was black. Stars twinkled overhead. There was no moon.

Under a fluttering hood, Sunset tramped onwards. The breeze whispered beneath her cloak and through her twitching ears. Sores throbbed in her hooves. Her lips felt like stone; she’d gone so long without speech…

A poor little lamb, she thought, that’s lost its way.

One spark ran along her horn; a magical flame hovered inches before her. Shifting the spell, she stretched the flickering spark into a searching beam that cut through the shadows. Stone slabs. She scanned either side. Churned-up mud, which left deep shadows where ridges caught the light.

Somewhere close by, a wolf howled into the void. She stopped. Her ears swivelled.

Nothing but the wash of the wind over the unseen treetops. She carried on.

Sunset glanced up at the stars, shivering. Not that the emptiness bothered her: back home, twelve hours of this darkness was just a good time to retreat indoors and “catch forty winks”, as they said in the country. Yet she felt like she’d tramped for years, without food, without water, rest, help – and still nothing in the sky had changed.

How am I not dead yet?

Up ahead, the beam caught the bifurcating pathway just before it rose up and caught the signpost. Further up, one arrow pointed left. At the top, another arrow pointed right.

Sighing, she came to a halt and stared up at both arrows. Neither had any writing on them.

“OK, I’m here,” she said with a shrug. “Now what?”

Mist billowed from a distant peak, its tendrils silver under the light of the Milky Way.

“Don’t mess me about!” she called. “I’ve been through too much to let you stop me now. A promise is a promise.”

For a moment, she swore a shadow flashed past overhead. Stars vanished behind it. Hastily, she aimed her light –

A pale owl, hooting at the sudden illumination, drifted silently across and vanished into the row of pines on her left.

Don’t be jumpy, Sunset. All the same, she switched her horn off. It can’t follow you all this way. It’d have to know which direction you went. Perhaps it lost your trail. Relax. Relax.

As though on cue, creaking wood tickled her ear. Sunset held her breath and waited. First, the creak was a suggestion, as though a distant and ancient mill had caught a gust. Next, the creak grew louder, becoming a rattle as of cogs and contraptions. Hoofsteps clattered under the noise. When she thought it was almost on top of her, the rattle of the carriage and the tread of the horses stopped.

One… two… She lit up her horn.

Behind the signpost, the two pathways ran parallel like a tuning fork. The carriage gleamed silver where she caught it except for its wheels, which were dark as coal and gave not so much as a sheen when lit. Her beam travelled to the driver’s seat.

No one was there. Strangely, both of the horses pulling the carriage remained utterly quiet. Her beam travelled down to their faces.

To where their faces should’ve been.

Do not panic. Do not panic. Anything can happen here. You can’t back out now.

Two piebald stumps twisted as though looking up. The headless horses shook themselves down.

A crash: Sunset swung the beam past them, and saw that the carriage door was open. One sapphire shoe extended before the midnight leg came out, but the rest of the figure was lost to a white robe. Black rope curled around its neck as though the figure had thrown on a monochrome curtain with tassels. Above it, the dark hood could not conceal a lock of hair like midnight sky, nor could it conceal the icicle of a horn.

Sunset stood where she was, refusing to shiver, though the breeze ran claws of frost under her flapping cloak.

The figure turned to face her. At once, she saw the other side of the robe was dark where it should’ve been white, the other side of the rope white where it should’ve been dark, and half the hood as brilliant as an angel’s halo.

Sunset waited until the stranger towered over her. An obsidian crown bound the starlit mane above a glare like two full moons.

“We received your invitation,” intoned the stranger. Sunset’s bones quivered and her ears shrank under the echoes; this was not a voice that dealt in half-measures. “Most unusual. Ponies in the real world rarely manage to cross over – and reach this far – into Our other domain.”

The stranger seemed to give this some thought.

“Or rather they do. All the time. Just not with a return ticket.”

Without taking her eyes off those glaring moons, Sunset reached into the folds of her cloak and threw cold metal. A moment later, two discs chinked on the path between them.

The stranger’s gaze flicked downwards. “Ah. So We see.”

“I know how it works,” said Sunset hastily; their staring contest was making her eyes water. “Everything has to be kept in balance. There’s always a choice.”

“Not necessarily a pleasant one.”

“I know.” Sunset tried to ignore the growing tears under her lids. I can’t show weakness. Anything she does could be a test. I have to weather the storm, whatever it takes.

“Do you, now? Then you know the magnitude of what you ask. However, We are nothing if not custodians of ancient tradition. Very well. We shall grant you passage to your heart’s desire… After you have met Our challenge.”

Despite herself, Sunset groaned. Immediately, she bit her lip, but too late: the shining eyes narrowed.

“It’s nothing.” Sunset took a step backwards before she remembered she wasn’t meant to show weakness; she stopped on the fourth step. “Please. I’ve done enough. Please don't challenge me again.”

Rumbles stampeded across the sky. Accompanied by a jangle of their reins, the headless horses reared and flailed their forelimbs in midair.

“Such impudence!” The stranger raised her head to its fullest extent while, from the horizons all around, clouds oozed together and swallowed the stars. “Do you forget your place so easily, Sunset the Runaway? Do you forget that you are in the presence of the Ultimate Reality? Of the Falling Ebb and the Rising Flow? Of Fearful Life and Painless Death? Of the Darkest Shadows and the Holiest Light? There are no negotiations, no appeals, and no escape! You will answer my challenge, or you will turn back now!”

Lightning ripped the sky in two. In that flash, the robe, the crown, the sapphire shoe and the midnight body briefly vanished, revealing…

Space without time. Time without space. Empty matter and a vacuum full to the brim. Something there and not there simultaneously. Sunset’s eyes stabbed with pain; she stumbled backwards, clutching at her tightly shut lids.

The last of the rumbling thunder sank into the sullen depths.

Why did I agree to this? Did I really think I had a chance?

Two discs chinked like coins. Sunset opened her eyes and relit her horn in time to see the stranger’s hoof tuck something under its robe. Whatever Sunset had just seen was only a glimpse of the creature’s true form. A mere glimpse.

“I’m not a runaway,” said Sunset, but she kept her voice polite. There was no question of getting another glimpse of that… thing.

“We can hardly call you a ‘confidential transfer’, now can We?” With a wave of the figure’s hoof, the clouds slid back like curtains. Stars twinkled once more. “No matter. Perhaps your time in Our world will have shown you what it means to come to the Crossroads of Fate.”

Sunset took a deep breath. While I still can, she added privately.

“You know why I’m here,” she said. “Why do you need to hear it again?”

Sunset noticed for the first time that the figure was levitating a red apple behind her – behind its – hooded head. Her gasp became a sigh.

“AJ,” she said quietly.

“We don’t need to hear it again.” Whereas the headless horses shuffled and shivered in their harnesses, the stranger was a statue of marble and obsidian… which glared down upon its subject. “You need to rehearse it. Now, proceed from the beginning…”

To Every Thing There is a Season

The eye of the moon was upon her, but only an eyelash of light peeked out from under a lid of closing darkness. Sunset Shimmer smiled back and leaned against the trunk of the Oak Apple Tree, munching greedily. A fleck of juice tickled her chin. Her notebook and pen levitated beside her.

Beyond the grey grass of her favourite hill, silver fields whispered in the wind while waves of gleaming light washed over them. Thanks to even this limited moonlight, she clearly saw the farmer ponies holding sickles in their mouths and hacking at the night corn.

Looks like a rich harvest this cycle, she thought, sighing with contentment. The Bumper Charm worked like… well, a charm. I could do a lot of good for this place, given another year.

Briefly, Sunset levitated the organizer. Pages flashed by until she landed on the current part of the calendar section. “Cycle 13” was written on the bottom. In the table, almost half of all the squares were crossed out.

“Hey!” she called out. “Golden Harvest! You might want to pick up the pace! Blackout’s only a few hours away!”

A distant orange face shouted something back, but Sunset barely heard the tone, never mind the words. She chuckled. Probably saying “It’d go a lot faster if you got off your croup for once!” Ha. Bless her.

Sunset set her gaze higher, past the stone walls of the country road – and the one cart of silver hay bales trundling past – to the white dots scattered across the next hill. Overlooking the farmlands for miles around, the rich red barn was an apple on a silver cushion.

Serenity Hill, she thought, and her head sank back with a contented sigh.

All the white dots surged to one side; a black one shot out of the barn after them. Even over this distance, the dog’s barks rang long and loud.

And that’ll be Winona the wonderdog. Sunset rolled her eyes. Guess that’s my cue. If they’re corralling the sheep, then I’m not gonna be the one caught staying out again.

“I suppose it’s off home for me,” she muttered.

Leaves drifted down onto her muzzle. Frowning, she looked up.

What felt like a sack of flour thumped over her face.

“Gotcha!” cried a voice.

A splash of confusion settled. Grimly, Sunset levitated the “sack” off her face and held it up for inspection.

“For goodness’ sake, Apple Bloom,” she said. “Don’t do that! You almost hit my horn that time.”

“Ah galloped… all the way…” Apple Bloom paused to suck another breath for a run of words. “Ah wanted… to get a high view… but Ah couldn’t see ya… then Ah heard you say somethin’… and Granny Smith always says the quickest way is the best way.”

“What do you want?” Sunset wished her mind didn’t boil so much, but the filly’s bursting speeches could scorch the joy out of the most indulgent adult smiles.

“Granny Smith wants you… she says it’s urgent… but she ain’t tellin’ me what… it is. Ah reckon you shouldn’t… dilly-dally.”

Sunset glanced at the thinning strip of light on the black disc overhead. “Oh, all right. So long as it’s quick.”

Pointedly, she overlooked Apple Bloom’s clapping hooves while she charged up her horn. Idyllic as it was out here, Sunset preferred not to get sore hooves. Besides, a foal’s delight was always a nice thing.

They flashed.

When Sunset stood up and looked behind her, she glanced over the silver fields to the distant grey hill. A lone Oak Apple Tree stretched out its limbs as though to embrace the stars.

“Ah love teleportin’! Do it again! Do it again!”

“Maybe later, Apple Bloom. Business first.”

Up close, the barn’s red paint peeled slightly at the bottom of the boards making up its side. Shamefully, part of her mind turned its nose up at the sight. Even after all these years, I still can’t shake the influence…

When they walked round to the square entrance, Big McIntosh the stallion stood as sentry beside the white doorframe. His horse collar was splattered with mud and things Sunset preferred not to identify. At once, she noticed how tense he looked; a stallion with as many muscles as Big McIntosh could pack a lot of strain into one body.

She hesitated.

“Ah got her, Ah got her!” Apple Bloom skipped blithely between the pair of them. From afar, Winona’s bark answered her explosive voice. “So what’s it this time? Levitatin’ a fallen tree? Trackin’ a lost ewe with magic? Oo! Oo! Are we gettin’ fireworks for Oak Apple Time!?”

But Big McIntosh’s ears hung low on his head. His gaze didn’t follow the squiggling trajectory of his little sister at all.

Something’s seriously wrong. “Big Mac” usually smiles when he sees me.

“Uh,” he said in his rumbling voice. His gaze was out beyond the fields, as though contemplating the metallic sheen of the hills on the horizon.

A flicker of pity ran through Sunset’s chest. He clearly didn’t want to reveal anything before Apple Bloom.

“What is it?” she said.

“Granny Smith’s inside.” Big McIntosh coughed into his hoof. “She, uh, wanted you to join us. Ah… Ah gotta talk with Apple Bloom for a minute.”

Sunset got the hint. She nodded – he bowed his head in solemn acknowledgement – and then went in.

Even through her growing disquiet, a part of Sunset Shimmer relaxed once she stepped into the Apple residence. True, the rooms were basically giant crates; neither the round rug on the floor nor the little artworks framed on the walls could distract from the boards crisscrossing and boxing them in. But as soon as she saw it, her nose was rich with the scents of baking apples, her mouth almost drooled for the ghosts of a hundred pies and pastries, and her skin and her heart swelled under the familiar warmth.

Good memories stirred inside her like honey… before the unease blackened the lot like tar.

“Granny?” she called out. So bare were parts of the room that the boards reverberated with her voice. “It’s Sunset! Where are you!?”

“Up here, Sport!” called a voice upstairs.

Sunset’s unease dwindled to a mere few drops. If Granny Smith was that chipper, then perhaps it wasn’t so serious after all –

“Ah’m in Applejack’s room. Yer better come up fast.”

And just like that, her mind was polluted again. Granny’s tone was less chipper this time.

Behind her, she could hear the mumble of Big McIntosh stumbling his way through a speech. Suspicion banished the faint memory of smells, of meals, of even the warmth that suddenly deserted her in a chill of fears. She’d seen the signs once or twice before. Country ponies around here only acted like this when –

Sunset took the stairs two at a time. Sheer muscle memory guided her across the landing and right into the bedroom door with the red apple painted on. She hit it so hard it slammed against the wall.

“AJ!” she said at once.

Unlike downstairs, this room didn’t even bother with fancy-schmancy decorations. There was a rope coiled on a nail. There was a saddle and a muddy plough set aside in the corner, with a tin of eye-watering oil still open and a stool waiting for its worker. Another calendar boasted “THIRTEENTH CYCLE”, and each cell was thick with scrawled words for birthtimes and shearing times and pasture rotation notes and health checkups and neighbours’ wedding anniversaries. This was the room of someone who resented sleep when she could be working or mingling, and who had been dragged by reality into a compromise.

Granny Smith stood by the bed – little more than hay bales with a blanket and a pillow – and when she turned around, her eyes were shining.

“Ah don’t think she’s got much time,” she said in an eerily calm voice. Dimly, Sunset remembered that Granny had attended any number of bedsides in any number of houses; ponies sent runners to her. “You're the only wizard 'round these parts. Ah jus' hope we ain't too late callin' yer.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Sunset leaped to her side and looked down.

And there was Applejack.

It’s strange, Sunset thought, as though she were looking down at the farmers from her comfy and toil-free hilltop, but you’d never guess she was sick at all. She looks like she did when we first met: lying on her back with her head propped up; hind legs crossed – except her right one was kicking when we met – front legs folded easily behind her straw hair; the easy-going smile…

No. Sunset blinked out the treacherous memory. Applejack wasn’t smiling. With just this one difference in the expression, a contemplative stare into the distance became one of quiet dread. For the first time, Sunset noticed the stench of sweat under the eye-watering smell of oil.

A spasm struck; Applejack’s stance broke entirely, thrusting her limbs out and clenching her face.

“What is it!?” A flash of green caught Sunset’s eye: a neckerchief, hastily wrapped around Applejack’s left pastern.

“Cherry Berry found her face-down on the road near Gravity Woods,” said Granny Smith. “Just be careful. Don’t touch nothin’.”

Casting her an odd look, Sunset summoned a bout of magic and unwrapped the neckerchief. When it zipped aside, the shock cut out her spell and let the fabric flutter to the floor.

Grunting, Applejack forced a smile onto her muzzle. “It’s… nothin’,” she said at once. “Hurt like heck… a while ago… but… but Ah think Ah… Ah can hold it at bay…”

“Oh, Applejack!” Granny Smith placed a forelimb over Sunset’s withers – which Sunset realized were shaking – “Whut did Ah tell you? ‘Tell no tales and tell no lies –’”

“‘Fibbers… don’t get… Granny’s pies.’” Never stable, Applejack’s twitching smile collapsed. “Ah know… Granny. Sunset? Be honest… Is it as bad… as it looks?”

Applejack’s pastern was a black ring. Tiny sparkles ran along its length like stars, even when she forced it to stay still for inspection.

Sunset could feel the blood draining out of her face. From over the years, cold voices and indifferent printed words loomed in her mind’s eye. They told of the wild spots of the world where the walls of reality were thin. They told of eldritch forces just waiting for a chance to push through, even if only for a second. They told of fools, who’d rushed in or stumbled in or let themselves be talked into poking a head through cautiously. And they told of the stalking, the pouncing, and the mark of the damned.

No spells came to mind. Nothing could be done.

Through a blurring gaze, Sunset looked into that stupid, reckless, selfish face. How could she do this to me, after all we’ve been through?

“Why?” was all Sunset could manage. Her body was trying to strangle itself; she could feel the heat of its grip, tightening around her neck and mouth as though to cut off all life utterly.

Applejack went limp, both forelegs falling along her sides, her crossed hind limbs spreading apart. “Had to. Some of the… little foals… went in Gravity Woods… double-dare, Ah reckon. Ah tried shoutin’ at ‘em… then somethin’ broke through… Ah had to… Ah had to do somethin’! Ah got ‘em… Ah got ‘em out too! Ah saved ‘em! Ah had to!”

“Now, now.” Granny Smith shushed her gently. “Take it steady.”

Sunset looked into the farmer’s wide eyes. Pain and fear trembled within, but she could still see a glimmer of pride.

“Least Ah –” Applejack gritted her teeth against another spasm “– Ah got… to see you again…”

“Don’t talk like that!” Sunset fought to keep the anger from spilling out. How could this happen? It can’t be really happening! Why wasn’t she quicker, or stronger? “There must be a way. I just have to figure out what it is.”

A cough. “Now who’s… bein’ stubborn?”

From downstairs came a wail, followed by thundering hooves up the stairs. Behind Sunset, the door burst open.

“Applejack!?” Apple Bloom’s voice shot through her like a lance. “Applejack!? Big Mac said… He jus’ told me…”

Big McIntosh’s whisper eased over them. “Ah tried to break it to her gentle. Sorry, Granny.”

Apple Bloom moved so fast she knocked Sunset’s forearm. A creaking of the floorboards and a sigh along Sunset’s poll told her Big McIntosh was craning his neck to see; hastily, she stepped aside for him.

Sunset didn’t dare look at any of the others.

After a while, she realized Applejack was too still.

Sunset felt like an intruder. Apple Bloom’s squeaks were all that escaped her attempts to suppress her own sobbing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Big McIntosh turn away. A rasping breath stabbed the silence.

Trying to justify her place among the family – the family that had welcomed her to the land of fields and trees, invited her round for meals at the long table, never forgotten her birthtimes or let her skip out on any holy nights or festivals – Sunset reached forwards and gently closed Applejack’s eyes. For a moment, she saw Applejack lost in thought; she always closed her eyes for the really big conundrums.

A flash of darkness.

Sunset backed away hurriedly.

Her horn was tingling. Yet the room was as it was before. Applejack lay on the bed. On either side, she still felt the reassuring presence of Granny Smith and Big McIntosh. She could even hear, though slightly muffled, the squeaks of Apple Bloom.

She looked around. No one was there. Just her and Applejack.

However, when she turned back to the body, a shadow came through the wall as though it was a mist.

Black as the darkest patches of the sky. Glittering as though studded with stars. Shaped like a towering pony – legs trailing tufts of horse feathers, mane long and flowing, wings and horn making it look all the more towering – but all made from the same seamless matter.

It stared without eyes. Very gradually, it inclined its head downwards, past Sunset’s gape and down her limbs to cross the floorboards and meet Applejack’s face.

And, for a moment, the ghost of Applejack sat bolt upright, gasping as though she’d broken through the surface of a lake.

A flash of light.

The family’s sniffs and twisted breaths returned. When she checked, Applejack was still lying on the bed.

Hope fluttered in Sunset’s chest. More words crossed the distance, but this time their indifference met her kick coming the other way. Her time at the university – once a curse – was now shedding its skin to reveal the blessing curled up inside.

“I know what to do,” she breathed. “I know what to do!”

Ignoring the puzzled grunts around her, she spun on her hooves and galloped through the doorway, down the stairs, and across the entrance hall. I know where she’s gone. What that curse is. I know how to follow her.

Hang on, AJ. You saved me once before. Now it’s my turn.

Within her study, Sunset poured more vials into the cauldron.

Apart from the fire in the grate, the room could have been sculpted from pitch. What the flames illuminated lay scattered on the boards beneath her. Herbals and other books gaped at her with words of wisdom. Empty vials rolled or wobbled – she was too impatient to stack them on the desk – and scrunched-up packets flickered with gold.

She only stopped once to stare at a corner of the room. Her banjo was propped up against it.

Frankly, she hadn’t liked the instrument. Compared with her old guitar, it sounded goofier, less edgy, somehow fundamentally irritating. She’d mastered it all the same.

Engraved words shone around the rim: “Unity is Strength!”

It was signed “AJ.”

To her alarm, the door creaked open. Flames crackled on. Sunset didn’t dare move.

Granny Smith poked her head in, exposing her turtle-like neck. Gently, she asked, “You holdin’ up fine, Sport? Looked to me like you left in a bit of a flap, tell yer the truth.”

“I think I know how to get AJ back,” Sunset said in a rush.

No reaction. A bit disconcerting.

“See. The answers are all here.” She tapped her hoof on one of the open pages. “Say what you like about the University of Diana, but they know what they’re talking about. AJ’s not gone. She’s just… on her way.”

Granny shook her head sadly and came in. “Sounds like ‘gone’ to me, Sport.”

“According to Phantasm’s Conjecture,” Sunset added hotly, “cursed souls have to cross the other side before they meet their maker.”

“Don’tcha mean ‘cross over to the other side'?”

“No! That’s just the first part! Normally, there’s no way to go after them, but Imago Scope’s research on the ponies of the east covered shamanistic practices of spirit communication. And if Spitting Mirror’s theories are right about the boundaries between the real world and the other side, then a loosening of reality should be enough to allow a soul to follow –”

“Hold it, hold it!” Granny Smith’s eyes spun in their sockets. “Good gravy, girl! Ah never known a mare to use as many high-falutin’ speeches as you. Now look. Ah know you an’ AJ were… close, an’ this has been a shock for all of us –”

“I’m not raving!” Sunset pointed to the bubbling cauldron. “I know how to get to AJ! Please, just trust me. I’ve studied magic up to the highest level.”

“Ah thought you din’t finish yer post-grad?” In some ways, Granny Smith had a memory like a sabre.

“Well… no, but… I was studying ahead in any case.”

Granny Smith stared into the cauldron for a while, and despite the mounds of theories and piles of calculations all insisting the idea was sound, Sunset nevertheless felt very small. Even Big McIntosh would shuffle and mumble guiltily around Granny Smith. She wore her years like a crown.

Then Granny moved to the curtains and threw them back. Half-swallowed by the hills on the horizon, the black moon had only a dot of white left.

“New moon in a minute,” she muttered. “Right at moondown, too. After twelve hours of night. And before twelve hours of blackout. Well now, that’s downright spooky right there. Ma and Pa always said the borders were weaker ‘round this time. Din’t make a lick o’ sense to me when Ah firs’ heard it.” Her glare focused on Sunset. “This ain’t false hope, is it, Sport?”

If we were at the university, you wouldn’t dare talk to me like that.

Sunset swallowed. “N-No, Granny. I’m sure it’ll work. I promise.”

“Where are ya goin’ exactly?”

“To the one place where the walls of reality can be stretched. That’s where AJ is. The dream world.”

For a whole minute, Granny’s stare bore into her face, through her senses and muscles to the quivering, shivering mind hiding behind it. Sunset felt the burning effort of a stare that had been judging guilty kids since before she was even born.

Cold certainty lurked in Sunset’s head.

Then Granny’s face softened. “All right, then. If anyone can do it, then Ah guess a wizard like you sure as heck can. Ah don’t know what these modern-type ponies say in that there university you go on about all the time, but there’s a lot of stories about the dream world around these parts. It’s not as weird as you might think. Point of fact, it’s just our world, but on the other side. Like two sides of a coin.”

“These stories… Nice stories, are they?”

“What do you think?” Granny sighed. “No one can force yer. Ah sure as heck wouldn’t blame yer for backing out –”

“I’m going.” There was no argument. It wasn’t even conceivable.

Sunset levitated a spare vial and dunked it into the cauldron. Outside, the dot was shrinking rapidly.

“You’ve all been kinder to me than I deserve.” She glanced at the purple liquid oozing against the glass. “It’s the least I can do.”

Two twinkles winked at her from Granny’s eyes.

“Ah bet that ain’t the only reason, Sport.” More seriously, the old mare added, “Ah’ll have to move yer to the barn, mind. Ah can’t stay here an’ watch you an’ mah kin at the same time.”

Sunset shrugged. “I can’t delay any longer. Wish me luck.”

Before she could tip the liquid down her throat, however, she felt a hoof rest on her shoulder. Granny Smith’s smile was wide.

In a voice shaking as much as her jowls, Granny croaked, “Thank you, Sunset. To think… you were so alone when we firs’ met, Ah thought you was an orphan or a stray. Arrogant li’l so-and-so you was, too. An’ look at yer now. Whatever happens, Ah want you to know we won’t ever forget this. Take care of yourself, yer hear?”

Sunset glanced out the window. If there was a dot, it was invisibly small now. “I will.”

And she drank the Draught of Living Death.

A flash of darkness. A flash of light. Both at the same time.

The Golden King

“Up and at ‘em, Sunset! It’s Oak Apple Time!”

Sunset grimaced, raised her head from the pillow, and got another one hard in the face. She emerged spluttering into a storm of feathers.

“H-Hey!” She spat out one or two tufts. “What’s the big idea?”

Applejack leaped past the empty grate and seized one of her hooves. “Ah told yer, din’t Ah? When you make a promise, you ain’t backin’ out. Come on, it’ll do your lungs a world of good.”

Oh, that irritating little country mouse! Why doesn’t she let me do my own thing? “All right, all right. I’m coming. Stop pulling my leg. Ow! You’ve got muscles like a bull!”

Bursting through the door, Applejack bent down to pick up a discarded bough. Up ahead, the caravan of ponies followed the lane, all swinging their branches and singing off-key and dancing like foals.

“You have to be kidding me.” Sunset spun on the threshold. “I’m going back to bed –”

“Sunset.” Applejack was a wall with a raised eyebrow. “You promised me.”

I wish she didn’t do that. I know at least two dozen spells that would end with me sleeping again and her wandering off in a daze. Funny how a common earth pony can twist my leg so much.

Sighing, Sunset gave in to the inevitable. All the same, she refused to take a bough when a passing Big McIntosh offered her his. To her surprise, he was prancing with the best of them, as light on his dinner-plate hooves as Apple Bloom with her twig.

The lane led past the green humps on her right. Longingly, she stared at them until they fell behind and her neck almost twisted. When she turned back, the village of Great Wishful sat contentedly in the valley, its central spire ringing with bells.

“Beauty, ain’t it?” Applejack elbowed her side.

Despite herself, Sunset nodded. No denying that.

They passed the cottages and waved at the crowds on either side – Sunset somewhat reluctantly – before the crossroads met them and they gathered, still singing, still dancing, at the portal of the village temple.

As one – Sunset winced at the violence – they thrashed the ground with their boughs. The world chanted around her.

“FRESH FROM GRAVITY WOOD! FRESH FROM GRAVITY! UNITY IS STRENGTH!”

“Unity is Strength!” Applejack bellowed, and whooped. To Sunset’s shock, there were tears down the workhorse’s normally calm face.

“I don’t get it. What’s the point of all this?” Sunset winced as an overexcited Granny almost kicked her in the shins. “Just a silly ritual –”

“Ain’t it obvious!?” Applejack gestured to Granny, to Big Mac, to Apple Bloom, and finally to the crowd.

Sunset groaned and cast her gaze back the way she’d come, to the full moon and its usual nightly moonrise. Full shine. Full power. Is this what moonlight does to ponies? Drives them insane?

“Obvious?” she muttered under her breath, resigned to the shouting and the dancing and the tolling of the bell –

Sunset blinked as the memory evaporated.

Her study was as she left it. Granny was no longer there. The fire had died in the grate. She checked the window. Blackout: nothing but stars. No moon.

Great, her mind groaned. It didn’t work. Granny must have left while I was in that weird daze.

I owe her an apology.

Rubbing her face with a hoof, she passed the embers in the grate – knocking vials aside as she went – and pushed her way through the door. Without the moonlight, everything was black below the stars. Irritably, she fired a spell into the air. Yellow glows splattered over the stone walls.

Same old country lane. Empty of ponies.

Serenity Hill was just past Great Wishful. Feeling lower than the earth she scuffed underfoot, Sunset followed the familiar lane.

What would AJ do? Come on, Sunset. Use that oversized brain of yours and do some good for once… What went wrong?

Soon, the yellow lost the struggle against darkness. She fired up another flare.

The humps on her right flared gold.

Ha. I remember Professor Chess talking about those. Golden kings and hidden treasures. It’s a fascinating myth. Even AJ admitted they were just –

Laughter met her ears. Instincts leaped to her horn. She aimed.

A figure leaped out into the lane, shaking with laughter. “A myth!? A myth!? Maybe in your world, Sunny-Me-Gal, but not here! Ho ho ho!”

Sunset stared. The figure was pony-shaped, true. Admittedly, it wore a crown and a robe, but in shape the king was nothing particularly remarkable.

No. What was remarkable was that he was solid gold.

And he’d just said –

“In my world?” she asked.

The golden king boomed with mirth. It was a laugh Big Mac would have envied.

“Lost in more ways than one, I see! But come, Sunny-Me-Gal! What kind of a king would I be if I did not invite a fair maiden to a feast? Ho ho ho!”

And with that, he leaped across the stone wall and phased right through the nearest green hump.

Sunset’s brain skipped a second before reality poured back in.

This definitely didn’t happen in her world. Glancing about, she hopped over.

Hm. Still looks like a solid hump to me. But if I’m really in the other world, then maybe, just maybe, I’m not hallucinating out of grief. I really hope so.

Under the fading yellow of her flare, she shrugged and stepped forwards.

And phased through.

What struck her was the gold. Golden vaulted rooftop, golden mirror reflecting the golden columns, golden portraits of golden monarchs, golden thrones along the long golden table, golden plates, and golden mounds of apples, carrots, celery, potatoes, parsnips, sprouts, cabbages, breads of all shapes and sizes, scattered with golden sauces and golden flasks and golden pitchers…

“Welcome, welcome!” The Golden King – the capitals demanded it now – flourished with a whip of his robe. “Welcome to the World Cider! Eat, drink, and be merry!”

Sunset’s mouth began drooling, but five years of hammered mythology rose up in her mind. Suspicion yanked her back. She raised a leg to flee.

Is he clean?

Her academic memory goggled at her. Clean!? This is the Golden King! If there’s a mythical figure you can trust, it’s him.

She smiled and stepped forwards.

“Those who come into our realm without payment must enjoy the World Cider!” The Golden King pulled up a chair for her. “If you cannot pay with money, then you must pay with grace and humility! Enjoy our bountiful hospitality! You’ll need it for the journey ahead!”

Sunset knew the myths all too well. She almost tipped the chair in her haste. Greedily, she picked up a bowl of steaming soup –

Floating in the centre was a red apple.

She looked on either side. All the other chairs were empty. Just like the university cafeteria. She always used to sit alone.

Concern crossed the King's face overhead. “Why, Sunny-Me-Gal. Whatever’s the matter?”

The emptiness suddenly outweighed the gold. This isn’t real. None of this is real. I have to remember that.

That emptiness was all she had left. “I think I understand what she meant now. It’s obvious.”

Not unkindly, the King ruffled her mane. “I know, lassie. The dirt irritates you at first, and then you see the gold inside. But you really should eat up. I fear this is about as nice as it’s going to get.”

“Thank you.” That was all she could say. When she looked back into the bowl, the apple was still there.

Adrift.

Alone.

On an impulse, she added, “How long have I got?”

The Golden King took his place at the head of the table. “As long as you need. The sun shines upon you here, Sunny-Me-Gal. Enjoy the warmth and the light.”

But there’s no warmth. Even the gold doesn’t shine. The sun doesn’t exist. Not even here. It’s not even a myth. It’s just… a silly speculation.

So Sunset ate, and she drank. She couldn’t be merry.

The Death Stones

A while later, Sunset phased through the golden wall to the dark world outside. Only the stars hinted at the possibility of hope.

“All fed?” She turned to see the Golden King stick his head through the slope of the hump; for a moment, he resembled a ridiculous tortoise. “All watered, I trust?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.” Sunset peered out across the silhouettes of lumps stretching into the distance. “So now what?”

“Here.”

A golden limb stuck out. She saw a stick of hazel wood balanced on the flat of the hoof.

“See the notch in the middle, Sunny-Me-Gal? A lot of things out there will challenge you to pay. Lucky you met me first, eh? But you look after this, and they’ll know you hold the golden rights. As for your friend –”

“What!? What about my friend!?”

The king wiped his brow. Under his breath, he hissed, “Go to the place of death. Find the stones of blood. Enter the well of despair.”

Skewing her lips doubtfully, Sunset nevertheless levitated the stick. “Uh, thanks.”

To her discomfort, he glanced about as though trying to spot spies lurking in the gloom. His leg beckoned her closer.

“Take any gold you can find out there,” he whispered, voice trembling with urgency. “Do not stop. Do not fear. And beware the living shadow!”

Beyond his shining body, shadow was all she could see. “What do you mean?”

And then something screeched in the air. It was a screech that hissed at the face and clawed at the ears and scrabbled, however fiercely, however desperately, to rip out the cowering instincts deep in the spine.

Even the echoes left tatters in the blackout.

The king swallowed. “Best of luck, my fair maiden. May the moon’s life help you on your noble quest.”

With a final frightened glance about him, he was gone. His afterimage faded in her sight.

Around her, the humps stretched for miles around. Sunset waited for a hint. Crickets thrummed their stick legs. Rattlers hissed as they slithered. Unseen wings cracked like whips.

The place of death? Not daring to send up a flare, Sunset raised her head and demanded her legs march on.

Hours passed. Gradually, the tedium of marching softened her mind. Vague faces, blurry lines, and forgotten whispers began pouring through…

“Ah still don’t see it,” said Applejack testily. “It ain’t no calendar.”

“Look, it’s really simple.” Sunset scurried to keep up; she hated going uphill, and besides, Applejack could be quite the speed-walker. “There are thirteen cycles of the moon in a year. Each cycle is split into two seasons: the waxing season, and the waning season. The two seasons are split into fourteen nights each, and each of those nights consists of a night-time and a blackout-time of twelve hours apiece! Which means…?”

Applejack looked panicky. “Uh… it means… uh…”

Oh, for goodness’ sake! She can run across the hills without so much as a pant, but chuck numbers at her and she’s gasping.

“Well, look at the stones!”

Both of them stopped. Sunset gestured to the peak of the hill, overlooking the city of green humps.

“Those stones must weigh sixty tons apiece, but look at how precisely they’re arranged! Two stones, balancing a third to make a full night. Fourteen trilithons make up a season, and if you use the stones twice, once for each season, you get –”

“A lot of big stones.” Applejack thumped her temple. “And a headache.”

For the first time in a long time, homesickness settled like snow on Sunset’s shoulders. Her knees trembled with the energy leaking out of them.

Professor Chess would have gotten it at once. What am I doing wrong? It’s not AJ’s fault; she was… just… brought up differently. Classes don’t bleat or wander off or get Lime’s Disease.

Towering blocks shadowed her. If she squinted and tilted her head, she could imagine they were the old university towers too. Shining like ivory under the midnight moon.

To her shame, Applejack’s forelimb pressed onto her withers. “You din’t regret everythin’. Did you, Sunset?”

Darn you, AJ. Sometimes, I really do wonder if you can read minds. “Of course I did! They shoved so much promise down my throat, making me jump through hoops and telling me I wasn’t acting ‘courtly’ enough! It wasn’t a university! It was a prison with bait! I’m glad I left! I’m… glad.”

“Ah was glad to leave home too.” When Sunset looked round, Applejack had no smile on her face during her inspection of the great standing stones above. “Ah told Granny Smith, Ah said, ‘This ain’t life! This is jus’ chasin’ after sheep, every night and every blackout. There’s gotta be more than this.’ An’ Ah was right. There was more, out there in the big cities of the world.”

Sunset gaped. Normally, Applejack said as little as possible about her time out in the big wide world. At least, whenever they were in company. Even when they found a room to be alone in or a field to sneak off to, Sunset never brought it up in case Applejack stiffened and clammed up.

“I…” Sunset stared up at the half moon. “I… suppose some of my classmates weren’t… too bad.”

“Ah made a lot of friends out there. Cities ain’t so bad, for them as likes ‘em. Different strokes for different folks, Ah guess.”

“But I’m never going back. Not for all the night corn on the planet.”

“Still, Ah made my choice to come back. 'Cause when they’re family, an’ gave me life… Ah mean, who loved me an’ raised me, an’ then… were passin' on… both of 'em, Ah mean…”

This time, Sunset saw the careful blankness in Applejack’s face.

Eventually, Applejack said, in an equally careful voice, “Family is family. That’s all there is to it.”

“You’re lucky,” said Sunset to the great standing stones. “At least you still have family.”

Applejack’s grip on her withers tightened. Despite herself, Sunset raised a leg to wipe her own muzzle.

“You have family,” said Applejack in her ear. “You know you’re always welcome to visit whenever you want.”

Until moondown darkened the world, they never looked away from the circle of the Death Stones –

Another screech lunged at the air, howling like a dying prehistoric beast, and then faded into the blackout. Memories shattered and scurried about her in frightened shoals before turning into wisps that died.

Sunset stopped marching. Going uphill always made her legs ache.

Hunched against the rising band of the Milky Way, the Death Stones made a black head; the gaps between the stones became eye sockets of midnight blue, irises twinkling.

Something else twinkled where the black head’s teeth would be. Sunset scurried forwards. Ears cocked for the slightest sounds, she lit up her horn. Merely an ember at the tip. So long as she was quick, it wouldn’t attract attention.

Two gold discs glinted on the silver grass.

Her hazel wood still floated beside her, and now it was joined by these two strange, coin-shaped things. They couldn’t be coins, though. Each one was big enough to cover an eye.

Dream world currency? She twirled one over. Embossed on this side, the long face, rounded eyes, crown like the miniature spires of a city, and flanking pair of angelic wings suggested a smile and serenity. Engraved on the other side…

True, the figure was technically pony-shaped. But no eyes looked out, no mouth smiled up, no features but the bare minimum of outline. Golden dust scintillated under the magic glow.

An inscription ran along the rim on both sides, but its letters were also the same on both sides. Old Avalonian. I know this.

“‘Balance mvst alwaye be kept!’
The shadow lavghed; the moonlight wept.”

And on the grass under the discs, a single note. She recognized the mouthwriting, though it was sprawling with some urgent haste.

“Leap of faith. Pay discs. From: AJ.”

AJ!? You’re here!?

Sunset spun round.

At the bottom of the hill, a lone patch of sky aimed its muzzle at her. It was pony shaped. It had no features.

The creature froze, a tiger suddenly spotted by an antelope.

You again… she thought.

Sunset tried to teleport when the screech burst outwards and slapped right into her face. For a moment she stood there, blinking.

She tried again. Nothing happened.

…oh no.

Sunset bolted as soon as the screech slashed at her ears. She had no idea where she was going; vague suggestions of weight pressed in on all sides, and then she looked back to see –

Darkness. No creature was there.

Then its screech echoed around the stones. She spun round. Death Stones surrounded her like solemn priests. She could almost hear the primeval chanting of some long-forgotten druids, demanding the moon rise, demanding the moon glow, demanding the crops grow with lunar energy –

She yelped; she’d been so busy backing away that she hadn’t noticed the hole behind her.

Her hoof stepped back from the brink as a loose stone tumbled down, instantly visible against the red glow that ended with a bloodlike brilliance at the bottom of the hole. Chanting voices echoed from the deep, passing straight through the air and appearing inside her head.

Moon, rise! Moon, glow! Crops, grow with energy! Moon, rise! Moon, glow! Crops, grow with energy!

Yet the sky remained starlit. Nothing more.

She went to gallop back out the circle of stones and almost ran into the creature.

“NO!” she yelled, scrabbling and backing away.

It stared at her without eyes. It gasped without lungs, for a bloodlust felt without emotion. Its nonexistent mind worked out strategies and tactics. She could almost feel the contradictions like friction burning before her, fighting against the insistent demands of reality. And all the while, this living piece of the night stalked closer.

Sunset didn’t want to know what it had in mind. The friction alone was like a chainsaw closing in.

She turned. The red hole glowed, chanted, cried out for the moon. And suddenly, among the chants, she thought she heard Applejack’s voice.

The screech lunged at her.

She took a leap of faith.

Gates in the Mind

Big Mac’s red coat cruised ahead. Apple Bloom’s became a blur of yellow as she scampered about his legs.

Once more, Sunset couldn’t imagine how they were brother and sister. The one yipped and yapped like a puppy, whereas the other was striding like a champion sheepdog.

And yet, as she ventured under the shade of Gravity Woods beside them – feeling like some kind of adopted stray with potential for training – she caught the same warmth from each. Apple Bloom’s speech let it out in spurts and sparks, while Big Mac’s small smile allowed a peek into the forge, but in both cases it was the same living fire.

“Here we are! Here we are!” Apple Bloom tripped and rolled along her flanks, but was back up without so much as a break. “Show ‘er, Big Mac! Show ‘er what we do!”

All three of them came to a halt. They’d descended a slope to a fork at the bottom, and the embankment loomed like the bow of a boat. On either side, the pathway vanished into darkness.

“Don’t even think about it,” rumbled Big Mac.

“I was just looking.” Sunset never got over the fact that Big Mac was a head taller than her. At times, she wondered if all her magic combined couldn’t put a dent in him. “What’s down there?”

“Trouble,” he said gruffly.

At the crossroads, the embankment gaped. Beyond the protruding roots of the tree, something growled.

Sunset edged closer to Big Mac. “Is it… dangerous?”

“Oh, yes,” said Apple Bloom gleefully. “One time, it sneezed at me, and my bow caught fire, an’ Applejack had to get me out tout de suite. I didn’t go back for ten cycles.” She giggled. “It was the best!”

Sunset was now right behind Big Mac.

He shook his head at the skewed priorities of his sister, and then dumped his saddlebags. Over his broad back, Sunset couldn’t see what he was doing, but liquid poured and things clinked.

When he stepped aside, a bowl of milk lay on the dirt.

Big Mac nodded to Apple Bloom, who gambolled over to the hole and – Sunset’s heart leaped into her mouth – stuck her head right in.

“Mister Dragon!” The echoes came back with another growl. “Mister Dragon! We got your treat! Don’t gobble us up or nothin’!”

A demonic voice echoed: “I was sleeping!”

“A dragon!? Apple Bloom!” hissed Sunset. “Shush! Don’t you know what you’re doing!? Even Common Lunar Dragons are the nastiest, most dangerous, evillest…”

The demonic yawn shot up a few octaves as the dragon… waddled out.

“…tiniest, chubbiest-cheeked, purplest little…” Sunset stared it down. “Things?”

And both Apple Bloom and the little dragon burst out laughing.

Sunset bit the retort back while they rolled on the floor, clutched their sides, and slapped hoof and tiny talons together with joy. Beside them, Big Mac rolled his eyes.

“You tricked me!” Sunset tried not to let her voice shoot up. “You said we were going to stop it eating sheep. He eats sheep?”

“Hey, milk! Neat!” The dragon leaped upon the platter and poured the lot down his throat, glugging in his haste. When he’d finished, he added, “Did you bring any cookies?”

“Ah got ‘em!” Apple Bloom emptied her saddle bag onto the ground. Both she and the dragon reached down.

“His name’s Spike,” said Big Mac while crunching ensued. “We found him out here all alone one Oak Apple Time. O’ course, normally we don’t trust strange critters in these woods.”

“But…” Sunset was still struggling against the embarrassment. “Isn’t he… a dragon?”

Big Mac gave her a long, searching look. It had flint in it.

“Folks in need is folks in need,” he said eventually, as though concluding a philosophical treatise.

Sunset had the decency to look away.

She looked back. As was his wont, Big Mac stared up the path they’d taken, at the descending white crescent of the moon. “He helps out too, mindin’ the woods and keepin’ the worst things away. Pays to be friends with a dragon, even a li’l one.”

“But… that’s a bit cold, isn’t it? It sounds like you’d let him starve if he wasn’t of any use to you.”

The fury in Big Mac’s glare could have melted glaciers. “Ah don’t know what it was like where you come from, but that kind of thinkin’ ain’t welcome round here. Understand?”

She might have been in university. “Yes, Big McIntosh.”

When she met his gaze again, the glare was gone. “Folks help each other. Tides go in an’ out. Ponies are born and ponies die. Moon turns light, then dark, then light again. Things work both ways, Miss Shimmer. It don’t have to be ‘cold’, though.”

“That sounds like Janus’ Gate.” At his quizzical stare, she added; “It’s a hypothetical dichotomy. You see, Janus was the symbol of two faces to the ancient pegasi. And his gate held back both sides of every facet of reality –”

“All gates do that,” said Big Mac suddenly. “It’s the gates in the mind you gotta be careful of.”

Sunset gaped. No matter how many cycles she’d spent with the Apples, there was something… deep about Big Mac. She had the feeling most of him – considerable though his body alone was – must be several miles away. Several miles across, in fact. Even her classmates would have goggled at how quickly he seemed to absorb things around him.

“Sunset,” he said, and below him the laughter of the dragon and his sister seemed suddenly far away, “don’t trust every dichotomy that ponies throw at you. Sometimes, the world really ain’t as black-and-white as they think.”

The red mist faded away. Sunset woke up.

Starry sky. Darkness below the horizon.

She stood up. A hooded cloak flapped about her. She didn’t remember putting it on.

“Where am I!?”

In a place beneath reality. Beyond the heart of the dream world. On the border between life and death.

The commanding voice brooked no argument from her: no spluttering incoherence, no shocked exclamations, not even the feeling of shock. It forced her body not to waste time on such useless reactions.

Sunset lit up her horn. The stone slabs lead one way. She looked behind her.

Blackness.

She looked down. She stood on a precipice. Hastily, she backed away from it.

“What do I do now?” she said. “How do I find you?”

Meet Us at the Crossroads of Fate. There will be a price. You must be ready to face it.

Follow the Path. Find the Crossroads. Your reckoning awaits.

Groaning, wishing she were fully dead, Sunset walked.

No moon shone down. Time had no meaning. Yet on she walked, perhaps for endless years.

At the End of the Two Worlds

And now she was back. Surrounded by darkness. Listening to the headless horses shuffling. Watched by those two glaring moons.

The stranger nodded. “A most diverting tale, and a most disturbing one indeed. Perhaps now you appreciate the first law in this world: all things must be earned. Bought. Exchanged.”

One sapphire shoe reached into the folds of the black-and-white robe; Sunset glanced down at the flash of gold.

“Two sun discs,” said the stranger, and a smile tugged at her lips. “The farmer Big McIntosh was wrong. Everything has two faces.”

“Hmmm.” Sunset cast her beam about the scarred trunks on either side. Suspicion leaked into her mind. “Is this Gravity Woods?”

So Applejack was attacked from here…

“What you describe as ‘Gravity Woods’ is merely a suggestion in your world of something greater in this one. The true magnificence you see around you.”

Magnificence. Bile rose in Sunset’s throat. “You know what happened. Then you know why I’m here.”

“Your beloved was struck by the living shadow. That creature never ceases to police the divide. It was… overzealous.” A strangely tender sigh. “We… apologize.”

Sunset glowered up at her. For the first time, the stranger’s face had less of an edge, less tension. Further back, the red apple floated in midair.

It disintegrated.

“Nevertheless.” The stranger shook herself down. “To business. You have spent almost two whole seasons – twenty-eight nights – in the dream world and beyond. Now the moment is ripe for you to pluck your fruit. Know only that your beloved’s fate rests in your hooves. Behold!”

Robe fluttering, sapphire shoe streaking across majestically, the stranger gestured to the signpost. Sunset cast her beam upon it. Two arrows, pointing down two paths.

Sunset frowned. What does she mean?

“What’s the difference?” she asked.

Both headless horses straightened up as her beam fell upon them. On either side, the black wheels of the carriage straddled each path. The whole scene was symmetrical, save for the right arrow being higher than the left.

For the first time, the stranger’s voice lowered from its usual rolling intonations; she sounded almost mortal. “What do you mean? Your choice is… clear…”

“Look! The arrows are blank! And the paths are right next to each other. Your carriage is on both of them!”

After casting Sunset a suspicious look, the stranger peered at the signpost, then at the carriage. “Nonsense! We see two arrows, both silver. One red apple points left; three apples point right. Our carriage floats over the gulf between them.”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to cast her a suspicious look. Yet she didn’t really think the stranger was lying; certainty encased those sombre tones as firmly as earth around a coffin.

Wait… Is this the dream world? Or is it something else by now? If we’re on the edge, then are the boundaries weakest here? If so, then it’s a matter of what you make of it –

Big Mac’s memory spoke: “Don’t trust every dichotomy that ponies throw at you. Sometimes, the world really ain’t as black-and-white as they think.”

As firmly as she dared, Sunset closed her eyes. “Not everything has two faces.”

“We beg your pardon?” She heard the rustle of cloth. “Is this a misguided jest?”

“Not everything has two faces. Sometimes it’s many…”

She opened her eyes. She stepped forwards.

The bifurcated pathway snapped apart; four, eight, dozens, hundreds, millions, an infinity of branching paths, all wrapping around each other until her head threatened to split trying to find them. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, stranger colours besides –

Too many. Sunset’s eyes burned and closed more tightly again. “Sometimes, it’s one.”

“What are you DOING!?” The stranger’s voice roared from all angles.

“Sometimes, it’s one! The only one that matters!”

This time, she opened her eyes to one post. To one arrow at its peak. Pointing downwards. Where the infinite carriages and horses had been, a red pit opened up.

A village’s chanting voices rose out of the depths: “UNITY IS STRENGTH! UNITY IS STRENGTH!”

Among them cried the voice she’d been dreading to lose forever: “Unity is Strength!”

Her ear twitched. Gold shone from her smile. Warmth gladdened her heart. Dismissing the stranger’s commanding roar, she braced her legs and threw herself into the eye of the red sun.

Falling from the red glow, the dot became a disc became an island. White fangs ran around one half of the circumference; a dot stood opposite. Sunset clenched her eyes against the impact.

Barely a thump went up her legs. She looked.

Her ears drooped. Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped.

The University of Diana stood before her, exactly as she remembered it. Marble columns and steps dared her to step forth. Carved faces of the great alumni sneered down at her. Arched windows looked past her as though she were an insect, and she knew if she turned around, the great clock tower of Old Sleipnir would stand like an alabaster guard ready to evict her.

Ivory towers surrounded her.

It’s an illusion. It has to be. A good one. Nonetheless, she shrank where she stood. The laughter of students haunted her. The clipped tones of tutors hammered like woodpeckers into her skull. No matter what she did, there was always someone better, someone utterly uninterested in her –

She even heard someone shouting from afar, mockingly calling her name.

No. Not mockingly. Both ears twitched.

Applejack’s tone reached her first, and then the words, and when she spun around she was tackled in a sweaty hug that knocked her onto her haunches.

“Sunset! You would not believe what Ah had to go through to get this far!” Applejack broke off, eyes green as sap, her chest heaving with effort. “Ah was at these chalk cliffs overlookin’ this black sea, an’ this ferry mare told me Ah had to pay to cross. Ah had the discs an’ everythin’ – Granny musta left some by my body – but Ah knew you were comin’, so Ah said no. Ah walked away, an’ Ah musta walked for nights, but Ah got to this temple with two towers, an’ some gold king fella kept comin’ in fixin’ things like a unicorn, only he weren’t, an’ then he sent me to the Death Stones, an’ told me to leave that note, only the living shadow tried to eat me, an’ then Ah jumped down a hole to wait for yer, an’… well… here Ah am!”

Sunset didn’t move.

No… it can’t be that simple. This has to be a trick…

“Now what?” she breathed.

Applejack’s rosy-cheeked smile sagged. “Sunset. Ah’m real. That university’s an illusion, but Ah’m me. Look.”

She held up her leg. The black ring sparkled.

“Listen to me. Professor Chess: she’s like Gravity Woods. She’s –”

Then the world wiped across. Applejack was wiped out of existence.

Shock threw Sunset forwards, but thin air met her hooves. Only Old Sleipnir stood coldly over her.

Hoofsteps clicked on marble.

“Ah!” said a familiar voice; it lashed her mind, whipped it into shape. “Sunset Shimmer! My disgraced ex-student.”

She’s not real. She’s not real. None of this is real. Oh, Granny: what have I done?

Powerlessly, Sunset turned to look into the cold, blue, dead eyes of Professor Chess. It was the only colour about her; white coat, white suit, even a pale watch on an equally opalescent chain.

“I assure you I am real,” Professor Chess said, her ice-cube teeth biting the words into respectable pieces. “This university is just a reflection of your memories. But I run deeper than mere memory…”

Old torments clustered about Sunset. Demands to keep to the rules, to stop running in the corridors, to never speak out, to be a good filly… Professor Chess could reduce other tutors to trembling jelly.

“As does your crime.” Nostrils like skull sockets sniffed. “Runaway. Ingrate. Breaching the careful divide between our ivory towers and the little ponies of the countryside. From the beginning, you have created imbalances in the natural order with your stubborn spirit. Even now, you refuse to accept the status quo. That ridiculous stunt with the crossroads… You must respect the duality of the seasons.”

You tyrant! I did what you were too afraid to do! I believe that there’s more to life, just like AJ does! I don’t believe in creating two imaginary sides and then pitting them against each other. The likes of Big Mac and Granny Smith are smarter than you!

But she said nothing. The old fear squeezed her heart, held her hostage to it, kept her low to the ground.

Professor Chess’s snowy, bleached corpse sniffed. “Now you have threatened the stability of reality itself. That’s quite an achievement, Miss Shimmer. I hope you’re proud. You must leave this world. Now!”

Proud?

“Proud!?” she yelled through sheer panic. “Proud!? I’m proud I’m not a dead fish like you!”

Over glasses like frost framed by snow, Professor Chess peered at her. “Excuse me, young lady?”

Apple family stubbornness burned through her, raising her up on its flames. “I made my own fate! Those ‘little ponies of the countryside’ showed me what real achievement is! Warmth! Light! Friendship! No degree will ever match that. Certainly not one from a close-minded tyrant like you!”

The tyrant goggled at her. Gold shone in those glasses.

Sunset turned around.

Rising over the spike of Old Sleipnir, the sun dawned.

“No,” breathed Professor Chess. “Impossible! It’s… mere speculation…”

“So’s thinkin’ everythin’ comes in twos.” Gold wiped past; Applejack stood where she’d vanished, and stepped up beside Sunset.

Professor Chess reeked of sweat. “You must leave!”

“Big Mac tol’ me once that ponies only see in black-and-white when fightin’.” Applejack’s voice rang loud and clear. “Ah fight with my kin all the time. ‘Tain’t pretty. ‘Tain’t nice.”

“Then they are your opponents!”

“But we never lose sight of who we really are. We’re all part of the same family, but we’re all individuals too. Only some folk don’t see that.” She took a deep breath. “So who’re you fightin’, Professor?”

Professor Chess’s face creased with worry. The novelty shocked Sunset into life.

“You don’t have to be this way,” she said gently. “We can help you see –”

The professor’s face… evaporated.

Sunset gasped.

Pale mist faded away, revealing the stranger, black-and-white robe flapping without wind, mouth twisting with effort. Two sapphire shoes rose to hold the head as though afraid it would shatter.

“No!” boomed the stranger, half-commanding, half-mortal. “Everything has two faces. Two sides… balance…”

Applejack stepped closer. “Please. We wanna help you.”

“You must leave! Now!” The stranger shuddered under the strain. “I – We – wish We could believe you… but… I am bound by obligation… Cosmic ledgers must be balanced… I manifested at the university… Maintained order… Kept everyone safe…”

Sunset ducked just as the world flashed with lightning. She didn’t need Applejack’s yelp of pain to know what the stranger had briefly revealed. One glimpse had been enough.

The screech ripped the air.

Applejack held her close and squeezed. Through her own chest, she felt the heartbeat.

Finally, she looked to see the living shadow circling overhead, wings sparkling, legs splayed, winds whipping about its body. Far behind, the sun oozed below the horizon and eased out of existence, leaving only the biting chill and the darkness.

Old Sleipnir cracked. Bricks spiralled out. The clock wrenched itself out of place, and the whole spire shattered and streamed into the shadow's whirlwind. Buildings crashed; pieces of marble flowed into the growing funnel.

The stranger sighed. “Alas… perhaps in another universe, it could have worked… but not here.”

Sunset rounded on her, chafing against Applejack’s grip. “You have to fight it! You must!”

“The living shadow cannot be persuaded. It is my second side. Duality is the Ultimate Reality. It forces me and it forces that mindless monster. I fear you have upset too much by coming here, Sunset. To tamper with fate is to strike at the foundations of the world.”

Applejack’s face was streaked with tears. “So… all this was jus’ for nothin’?”

Around them, the island began to shatter. The living shadow moved so fast that it became one ring, streaked with shooting stars. Chunks of rock vanished within while still more spiralled upwards.

“There is one loophole,” said the stranger.

Both Applejack and Sunset broke apart to face her, legs tensed.

“To restore balance, We need only one soul to stay forevermore. One must return, one must remain.”

They stared at her. Both inside and outside, Sunset’s world was crumbling away. All those nights, all those aches and pains and fears and uncertainties… for this?

“Ah’ll stay,” said Applejack at once.

“What? No! I’ll stay. Where’s that sun? I could summon the sun again, if only I knew how to do it… We make our own fate… d-don’t we?”

“Ah was dumb enough to get myself into this mess. You shouldn’t have to suffer ‘cause o’ my slow reflexes.”

“I’d suffer it all a thousand times, if it meant getting you home! AJ, you’ve got something to go back to. Family, friends, a real life. I’m just a runaway who messed up, remember?”

“Forget it. Ah ain’t budgin’. Ah can’t complain; Ah’ve had a good life. You deserve your own now. You’ve got something to go back to, if you jus’ stop pretendin’ to be a martyr for a change an’ actually live!”

A disc thumped between them. They looked up. Framed by the rising chunks of the university, the stranger lowered her sapphire shoe.

“The universe cannot wait for you two!” She gestured to the golden disc. “One side is Sunset’s. The other is Applejack’s. Choose your side.”

Screeching, howling winds savaged the world around them. The ring became a cylinder, enclosing them all. Even the shooting stars vanished into the swirling void.

Sunset looked into Applejack’s eyes. For a fleeting moment, part of her wanted to gallop away, to leap into the maelstrom. End the universe. One without AJ in it was worse than nothing, because then she’d live knowing what she’d done…

Applejack picked up the disc. Caught in the encroaching winds, her tail flailed and her hat trembled on her ponytail. She inclined her hoof, showing the side with the embossed smile.

“Ah pick this side,” she said. “You OK with that, Sunset?”

Sunset didn’t speak. If she opened her mouth, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the twisting pain trying to wrench itself out of her soul. She didn’t want Applejack to see her that way.

Applejack flipped the disc.

It twirled in the air, strangely fiery with nothing but the tunnel of oblivion behind it.

I’m sorry, AJ.

Sunset’s horn flickered.

The disc flickered in response.

Applejack cried out as the gold hit the ground. Golden dust scintillated under Sunset’s magical glow before it faded, revealing the figure that was technically pony-shaped.

“YOU! You cheated!”

Sunset couldn’t hold it in anymore; tears burned her eyes. “I made my own fate.”

Beside them, the stranger’s robe flapped and two wings cast shadows over the pair. “So be it. We exchange soul for soul.”

“NO!” Applejack leaped for Sunset, forelimbs wide for the embrace, but kept on rising. She flailed and thrashed and finally went limp, drifting up by yards.

The screech sank to a low, confused growl. Around them, the whirlwind slowed; shooting stars returned.

Sunset threw the hazel wood after her. She opened her mouth to shout one last message.

A flash of darkness. A flash of light. Both at the same time.

Applejack was gone.

Too much to bear, the twisting, writhing pain brought Sunset to her knees. What was left of the world blurred in her vision.

Silence was broken; the stranger’s hoofsteps approached. Silence returned.

“Why?” Sunset whispered through a voice thick with unshed tears. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Why? It doesn’t have to be this… this cold.”

Gentle feathers rested upon her withers. The stranger’s touch was ice.

“I know,” said the mortal voice. “Come see me again in fourteen nights.”

The ice faded away. There was a sense of space being emptied. When Sunset looked up and wiped her eyes, the stars were twinkling again.

The Light Side of the Moon

Sunset lowered her gaze from the stars to the silver shimmer of the fields. Only from above the treetops of Gravity Woods could she see through to the other side.

Many dots crisscrossed the fields. She knew they were planting seeds. At this time of cycle, the moon would boost their strength.

Near her face, a sapphire shoe pointed. “That’s her.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. See: she approaches the Woods already. With the moon so strong, she can sense your presence.”

“And we’ll really be able to meet?”

“Briefly. But if you’re exchanging places, then you must hurry. Tell her quickly. Spare no details. So long as one soul is kept on this side, the universe will be balanced. And next season, perhaps she will return to you…”

“Fourteen nights of life…”

Sunset saw the full moonrise, and even on this side felt the moonbeams reach in, cleansing her heart. White lights picked out Applejack, who went from fallen bough to fallen bough, looking for one fit for this cycle’s Oak Apple Time.

“I’ll do it,” she said. There was no argument. It wasn’t even conceivable.

As she descended, floating towards the forked path with the dragon’s hole, she saw Applejack gripping the hazel wood between her teeth.

Did she know? Did she dare to guess?

Sunset landed before the hole. She met Applejack’s gaze, and all doubt vanished at once. Strong forelimbs seized her around the neck. There was no hesitation.

Both of them looked up to catch a glimpse of Luna’s smile.