The First Light of Dawn

Chapters

The Pastel Desert
The Celestial City
The Treasures of the Night
The Harsh Light of Morning
The Roof of the World
Appleloosa Blues
Flight
Revelations
Incipient
Corona

The Pastel Desert

The longest day of the year passed over the scrub and sage of the Pastel Desert in much the same way every other day that year had: quietly.

Millions of years before, when the desert was actually an inland sea, an unusual variety of zooplankton had thrived in its shallow waters, absorbing the light of a younger sun and the rich mineral salts leeched from nearby mountains by rain. The high alkali concentration stunted or killed most life, but the tiny plankton adapted and exploded, untroubled by predators or competition. In time the exotic mineral soup changed the simple creatures, painting them in a riot of colors: iron red, cobalt blue, sulfur yellow, copper green and calcium white, to name just a few.

As they died the plankton sank to the bottom of the shallow sea. Countless trillions of plankton lived and died beneath the waters, until the slow tectonic shift of continental plates thrust the land under the sea upwards thousands of feet. Spurned by the rain and loved overmuch by the sun, the sea eventually evaporated, leaving only the stratified skeletons of the plankton to remind anypony that water had ever existed there at all.

Time blended and faded the sharp colors and sharper rocks, leaving a gently rolling landscape of lavender and peach, umber and rose, charcoal and ivory. Short, hardy bushes dotted the rocks, the only visible sign of life for dozens of miles in any direction.

For centuries the desert remained unchanged, except for a thin ribbon of train tracks laid by industrious earth ponies building networks between their towns as they moved west. Neither the sage bushes nor the desert seemed to mind the railroad, though the rattle of passing trains sometimes sent lizards and rodents scurrying for cover.

Which is exactly what they did when the train came roaring down the tracks. It was fast – the rails had barely started to shake when the iron monster was upon them, and just as quickly it was gone.

The train was short, consisting only of an engine and a single passenger car, all pulled at breakneck speed by a team of conductor ponies. They galloped down the tracks lathered in sweat and panting for breath. They ran as though the dawning night behind them was in pursuit.

The roof of the passenger car had been converted to a makeshift balcony and was in use by a pair of ponies. One, an orange filly with a yellow mane and a cowboy hat that somehow stayed attached despite the whipping winds, was leaning on a rickety looking railing at the front of the car, her forelegs draped over the rail as she watched the landscape ahead. The other, a lavender unicorn filly, stood next to a telescope and tripod that had been crudely nailed to the car’s roof, to keep it from bouncing off the train. Her head was buried in a large book floating in the air without any visible means of support, aside from a faint purple glow just now becoming visible as sun began to fall beneath the mountains to the west.

“We’re comin’ round a corner, Sugar!” the orange pony called over her shoulder. “We should be able to see her again in a sec!” Ahead of them the tracks bent around a massive hill that had once been a true mountain, until time and wind reduced it to its current state.

The unicorn pony turned a page, then another, and then flipped through the rest of the book before slamming it shut with a growl. The strain of the day’s events was clear on her face – circled, tired eyes and a frazzled mane above tightly drawn lips. She levitated the book over to a trapdoor in the roof and let it drop into the car below.

The train took the turn without slowing down. The car rocked and began leaning dangerously, but before it could roll off the tracks they rounded the curve and were back on a straightaway. Ahead of them the sun had almost set – only a tiny piece of the orb remained above the mountains. The world around them darkened as twilight took hold.

But then the train passed all the way around the hill, and sunlight found them again.

To the south, miles away and high above the desert floor, something like a shooting star traced its way across the sky, paralleling the tracks as it headed west. It was nearly as bright as the setting sun, its flickering light illuminating the landscape below like noon. Even from the train it was impossible to look at directly for more than an instant. Twilight Sparkle dared a glance, then quickly turned away, blinking her watering eyes to clear the dazzling afterimage.

“Now that’s powerful bright,” Applejack said. She tipped her hat down to shade her eyes like a sensible filly. “Find anything in them thar’ books?”

“No,” Twilight said glumly. “I don’t even know where to start. I have half my library in this car but it would take a week to read through it all, and even then we could miss something important because we didn’t know it was important!”

The lavender pony rested her forehead on the railing. Over the roar of the train she could barely make out a faint rumble, like an unending thunder, coming from the south.

Applejack sighed. “The conductors are gonna need to stop soon,” she said. “You look like you could use a rest yerself.”

Twilight’s head came up with a jerk. “But we just caught up to her! If we stop now she’ll get away!”

“I know, Sug, but we can’t--” she stopped suddenly, her eyes on the sky to the south. Twilight followed her gaze and gasped.

The shooting star was flickering badly. It nearly vanished several times before popping back to full brightness, but just as quickly it began to falter again. The constant rumble of thunder became a series of staccato booms felt in their chests.

“What’s happening?” Applejack asked quietly, her words barely audible above the din.

Twilight stared at the shooting star. “Of course… it’s the sunset,” she said. “The sunset!”

To the west the last sliver of the sun dipped below the mountains, and the shooting star went out.

***

“Stop the train!”

“What?” Applejack stared at her in confusion.

“Tell them to stop! I can’t use the scope if we’re bouncing around like this!” Twilight fumbled with the telescope and tripod, trying to orient it to the south. The shooting star was a barely visible spark descending from the evening sky.

The train lurched as Applejack’s message reached the conductor ponies. When it finally settled she peered through the spyglass’s eyepiece, trying to find the glimmering dot against the emerging night.

“I think she’s landing,” Applejack said. The orange pony stood by Twilight’s side, squinting as she tried to find their target. “Try looking lower.”

“Got her,” Twilight said. Through the scope she found a thin black line that slowly resolved into a smoke trail, like the ones left by the Wonderbolts during their performances. As she followed the trail to its head the smoke slowly turned red, then orange, and finally a brilliant yellow surrounding a tiny, incandescent white nucleus streaking toward the earth. With a quick spin of one of the telescope rings the white spot jumped in magnification, filling the entire eyepiece.

It was like staring at the sun again. As her eye slowly adjusted to the brightness she could barely make out a pair of huge, feathered wings, their tips a dull cherry red that seemed nearly black when they passed in front of the alicorn’s body. The air around it was literally on fire, a halo of flames that gave birth to the trail of smoke.

“Oh no… no no no no no,” she mumbled. Applejack turned to her in concern.

“What? What’s wrong, Twi?”

“She’s not landing,” she said in shock. “She’s falling.”

The alicorn tumbled through the air, wings useless, completely out of control. Twilight pulled her eye away from the telescope in time to see the falling star meet the horizon.

“Princess…” she whispered.

The falling alicorn streaked past a low mountain and slammed into a rock outcropping nearly the size of Canterlot Keep. From the train it looked like the world’s largest firework; a shower of brilliant sparks rose into the air like a blossoming flower, soaring high above the mountain itself, followed by a fountain of yellow lava that sprayed upward and out like a severed artery. The outcropping collapsed a moment later, sending boulders the size of houses rolling for miles down the mountainside. The explosion grew in silence for several seconds before a titanic *CLAP* shook the train and raised clouds of dust from the desert floor around them.

Twilight fell back onto her haunches, her ears ringing from the blast. She watched numbly as a rockslide large enough to devour Ponyville slid down the mountain, accompanied by a river of lava that formed a small, burning lake at its foot.

Applejack managed to stay on her hooves, but couldn’t keep from shaking so hard her teeth chattered. From overhead came the whistle of rocks zooming by, followed by faint thuds as they landed. Some of the falling stones were nearly the size of a wagon, Twilight noted absently.

Neither of them moved. As the sun sank further below the horizon the world grew darker, illuminated only by the flickering orange of the burning mountain. Even as night took hold they could still see clearly by the flames.

Finally Twilight stood. Without a word she hopped down the trap door into the car, and then jumped out the back door onto the tracks. Before Applejack could find her voice, the purple unicorn was already trotting toward the mountain.

“Hey… Hey! Wait for me, Sug!” she yelled. “Gosh darned filly,” she added under her breath, then hopped clean over the railing to the desert floor and took off after her friend.

***

“Slow down, girl! You’re gonna git yerself hurt!”

“I’m fine!” Twilight yelled. She really wasn’t, though; galloping across the desert at night wasn’t the safest or smartest thing to do, and she’d already nearly snapped an ankle on an unseen crevasse. The purple light of her horn wasn’t much help, only lighting the ground a few feet in front of her.

“Just take it easy, it doesn’t matter how fast we git there,” Applejack tried to reassure her.

“She needs our help!”

“You won’t be much help with a broken leg. If she survived that fall she’ll survive the extra minute it takes us to reach ‘er safely.”

The unicorn stumbled and almost fell as Applejack’s words sank it. She spun around to face the other pony, pointing her horn like a weapon.

“How can you say that?!” Tears left wet trails in the dust on her face. “Don’t you care about her?”

Applejack stopped a few feet away. “Of course I do,” she said quietly. “You know I do. I’m just bein’ honest.”

Calm, practical Applejack. Twilight lowered her horn, choking back a sob.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Applejack said. She placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Now come on, let’s do this together.”

Twilight sniffled, and then bobbed her head. Together they turned to the mountain and walked the rest of the way.

***

The fallen alicorn was waiting in a pool of glowing rock perhaps twenty feet across. By approaching from the higher ground on the side of the mountain they could get within a pony length of reaching her before their hooves began to smoke. Applejack retreated with a startled yelp, and grabbed Twilight’s tail in her mouth to pull her back when she didn’t follow.

“I think we’re gonna have to wait, Sug,” she said. Beside her Twilight ground her teeth in frustration.

“But she needs us now!” Twilight hissed. “Look at her!”

Applejack sighed. “Twi, if she can survive in that, she can survive anythin’. And nothin’ we can do will help her.”

The rock around the alicorn simmered as they watched. Occasionally a large bubble would burst with enough force to spray flecks of lava over her wings and head, the only parts of her body not submerged in the liquid stone. The drops ran like water down her feathers and hide, leaving no mark to signify their passage.

Twilight stomped her hoof in frustration. “Princess!” she called, “It’s your faithful student! Can you hear us?”

The alicorn had no response.

“Princess!”

Near the edge of the lava a boulder cracked with a deafening report, half of it slipping into the pool while the rest tumbled down the hillside, starting small brush fires as it rolled.

“Sug, it’s not—"

“Princess! CELESTIA!”

Applejack rested a hoof on the unicorn’s shoulder. “Twilight, enough. She’s either asleep or—"

Twilight batted the hoof away, interrupting the filly. “Or what?!” she demanded.

“Or unconscious,” Applejack finished calmly. “Either way, yellin’ at her ain’t gonna help.”

The unicorn glowered at her for a moment, then seemed to wilt. She sat back on her haunches, head so low it nearly touched the hot earth, and started to sob.

“I’m s-sorry, AJ,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to do. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

Applejack drew her into a tight hug. “It’s okay, we’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Twilight continued to sniffle for a while, until the tears finally ran out. She gave her head an angry shake and stood, stomping the ground again.

“Applejack,” she said. Her voice was as clear and calm as if she were in her library.

“Yeah Sug?”

“How far is Appleloosa?”

The orange filly stood and looked around at the nearest mountains, comparing them to memories of visits to her cousin’s town.

“Hm, maybe 10 miles? Lookin’ for a place to stay?”

She snorted. “No, we need more help. Can you head there with the train and tell them what happened?”

“Sure can. What do ya need us to bring?”

Twilight thought for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know. Everything I guess.”

“Alright, everything it is. You stayin’ here?”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the alicorn. She kicked a loose stone into the lava where it sank without a sound.

“Well, alright then. I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”

Applejack started to turn back to the train when she felt a warm nose nuzzle her shoulder. She smiled, and stopped long enough to give the unicorn a tight hug.

“Thanks AJ,” Twilight said. “Sorry about all that.”

“Aw, it’s nothin’ Sug. It’s been a long day.”

After Applejack left it was a long and lonely night, as well.

***

Three months earlier…

Trixie was an unhappy pony.

She never would have admitted that, least of all to herself, but her powers of self-delusion were starting to wear a bit thin after being chased from yet another town. Apparently this “Winter Wrap-Up” celebration was not a good time to advertise her magnificent magical skills by offering to use her power to melt the snow.

Or teleport the animals out of their burrows.

Or blast the clouds from the sky.

In retrospect, she hadn’t really “offered” to do those things, in the technical sense of the word. She just did them. It was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? That’s how powerful magicians worked.

And was she thanked for her efforts? Did they shower the Great and Powerful Trixie with praise (and bits) for her dazzling display of magical prowess?

No! The ungrateful earth ponies actually booed her! They accused her of ruining the celebration!

Granted, she probably shouldn’t have called them “dirt” ponies, not out loud at least. But that’s what they were – earth, dirt, mud: all the same. They spent their days grubbing in the soil, trying to eke out a living. It was actually very generous of certain talented unicorns – like herself – to stop and try to make their pitiful lives a little more bearable.

They were lucky! Even if they didn’t realize it now, someday they would tell their foals of the time the Great and Powerful Trixie visited their town and blessed them with her magic. They would weep as they recalled how poorly they treated her. “Someday,” they would say to their young, “another magician may deign to visit our pitiful little hovel. Treat her with kindness! Do not repeat our mistakes! Woe! Repent!”

Mud ponies. Dirt ponies.

Anyway, on the open road again. This really was the best life for a pony like her: travelling the world, helping the less fortunate. If it happened to cement her reputation as the greatest magician in all of Equestria, well, she could hardly be held responsible for the hysterical adoration she caused in everypony who met her.

The Great and Powerful Trixie was happy, she decided. There was nothing she wanted to do more right now than walk down this very road, to whatever fortunate town awaited her arrival.

She was a little hungry, maybe, on account of not eating for a few days. But she was happy.

Her legs were a bit sore, from galloping to escape the angry herd in that town whose name she hadn’t bothered to learn. But she was happy.

She was a tad cold, what with all the snow, and her lack of winter clothing.

And her wagon. Mustn’t forget the wagon, lost those many months ago.

Or her books, lost with the wagon, that she had spent so many nights pouring over.

Or her beloved hat and cape, purchased with the first bits she earned from performing on street corners in Canterlot, now gone as well.

She stopped and stomped her hoof. These were not happy thoughts. They were not helping.

She was happy. Happy. The Great and Powerful Trixie had never been happier than she was on that snowy road, stung by a knifing winter wind, in the deepening gloom of twilight.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie,” she announced to no one in particular, “is delighted to be here. Delighted!”

She didn’t need a stage to perform – the world was her stage! She reared up on her back legs, hooves spread wide, imagining the next cheering crowd before her.

“Come one, come all!” she called. “Come and witness the amazing magic of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” A wave of her hoof filled the sky with blue and silver fireworks, their thunderous claps shaking the snow from the branches around her and sending animals fleeing in terror for miles around.

“Watch in awe as the Great and Powerful Trixie performs the most spectacular feats of magic ever witnessed by pony eyes!” She pranced in a circle and the ground beneath her lurched into the air, lifting her up on an earthen pedestal as high as the treetops. A magical spotlight popped into existence, lighting her like a star.

“Behold, as she commands the powers of the arcane!”

She thrust a hoof toward a dark, snow-covered field, her horn glowing with a brilliant silver light. The snow roiled and shook, moving about as though being shaped by an invisible sculptor. It piled higher and higher, quickly taking the form of a massive, white dragon that shambled toward her, puffs of snow and frost falling from its joints with each creaking step. Icy claws grasped her pedestal as it towered over her, its wings blotting out the sky.

And then it bent low, and laid its head at her feet.

She twirled to face a stand of trees. “Gasp, as nature itself worships her!” Beads of sweat collected on her hide despite the freezing cold, and began to trickle in streams down her body. Clenching her teeth, she stared at the trees, her horn flaring like a torch.

Silver sparks appeared around the trees and they began to lean, as though being pressed down by a great weight. Slowly at first, then with greater speed, they bent until their bare crowns touched the ground, bowing to her.

“Quake before her majesty!” she shouted, her showpony’s voice quavering with strain. Wide, shaking eyes stared at the road as her magic filled it with illusions. Dozens, hundreds of ponies cheered for her, stomping their hooves, calling out her name. Flights of spectral pegasi soared in formation overhead, paying tribute to her greatness. Waves of fireworks lit the sky like day.

“Love her! LOVE TRIXIE!” she screamed at the illusions, flecks of froth flying from her lips. The trees began to crack under the strain of her magic, their trunks snapping like twigs. The snow dragon lifted its head and rocked back as she fell to her knees. It flailed at the air, as though fighting an unseen enemy, then slowly disintegrated, forming piles of snow and ice that would take weeks to melt.

The earthen pedestal began to lean slightly, then suddenly slumped, giving up the fight against gravity. It sank into an irregular mound, depositing the shivering, crying pony on the icy road. Around her the illusions flickered and went out.

“Love me…” she whispered, and wondered, not for the first time, where it had all gone wrong.

***

Eventually the cold and wind forced her to her feet. Unable to go back, she went forward.

Hours later the road came to an intersection. Some helpful pony had put up a sign to guide travelers, which she glumly surveyed. Most of the names she didn’t recognize. One, she did.

Canterlot. How long had it been since she started there? Years, at least. She could barely remember the rough streets, the early, clumsy performances.

Going back there would be like admitting defeat. Admitting that the wide, open world was too much for her.

On the other hand, all artists occasionally needed a break. She had done well enough at Canterlot as a filly; imagine what she could accomplish as a powerful magician!

She could make a new name for herself there; she could recover from the past few months. New allies would bankroll her performances. She could be the newest star in Equestria’s greatest city.

Yes, Canterlot. She practiced saying the word, and found she liked it.

Head higher, a bounce in her step, she started down the road to Celestia’s city.

She felt happier already.

The Celestial City

The purple foal had never been more excited in her young life. She bounced in place, trying to see over the heads of the taller ponies in the crowd around her, until finally her father picked her up and placed her on his back.

Ahead of them, at the front of the Solarium, Canterlot’s largest plaza, hundreds of craftsponies had spent the night constructing a special stage, behind which the first light of dawn was beginning to rise in the East. Now there were thousands of ponies crowded into every open space as far as she could see, filling the air with the sound of hooves on marble, the faint hum of conversation, and the rustle of pegasus wings overhead.

The babble of the crowd suddenly grew louder, and faint cheers broke out near the front. Trumpets sounded as a giant white pegasus with a unicorn horn walked onto the stage. The figure towered over the guards and other ponies, making them look like foals beside her.

“I can see her!” she squeaked into her father’s ear, her forelegs wrapped around his neck for balance.

He whickered quietly, amused. “Keep watching, Sparky. It hasn’t started yet.”

On the stage the alicorn princess spent a moment watching the mountains. Then, as the newborn sun’s rays broke over the horizon, she leapt, her massive wings lofting her into the air. With a final beat she hovered in front of a golden crescent sculpture that very nearly matched the mark on her flank, and the full light of the sun behind her washed over the plaza. The longest day of the year had begun.

Every year since, for as long as she lived in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle never missed the Summer Sun celebration.

***

Canterlot hadn’t changed much since Trixie’s last visit. No surprise there; the city was a reflection of its ruler, a millennia-old alicorn princess. Celestia had long ago decided she was happy with the state of Canterlot, and that was good enough for most ponies. If you didn’t like it, well, there was a wide open world you were free to explore.

In truth, there was much to love about Canterlot. Every street was a work of art – carefully laid cobblestones, soft on the hooves, led to wide intersections decorated with fountains and statues. Ornate lampposts pleased the eye during the day, and lit the way at night. Graceful bridges stretched across placid streams, and everywhere there was green. Trees, grass, flowers, gardens; the whole city sometimes seemed more like an elaborate park than a place where ponies actually lived and worked.

Above it all, perched on the side of a mile-high mountain, was Canterlot Keep. Celestia’s castle, the capital of Equestria; a dream wrought from marble and rainbows.

And home to ponies with more money than sense. Trixie’s favorite kind of pony.

The Great and Powerful Trixie moved through the crowds like a fish through water. As she walked she remembered the rhythms of the city, the steps of the artful dodger she had once been. She watched the ponies around her with a practiced eye, gauging the flow of traffic and the open spaces where crowds might form.

Eventually she came to one of Canterlot’s famous plazas, a broad courtyard of pink granite flagstones and sparkling fountains. Ponies relaxed beneath trees and on wrought-iron benches, enjoying one of the first beautiful days of spring. The central fountain was nearly fifty paces across and ringed by a broad marble bench. Families sat on the edge of the fountain, watching their foals splash about in the water.

When she still had her wagon, Trixie had preferred to give set performances, using her grandest spells and tricks in more-or-less the same routine. But before she owned her own stage she had been a master improviser, able to turn any situation extraordinary by her mere presence.

And now it was time to improvise. She hopped up onto the fountain’s edge, spells and routines tumbling through her head. She wanted something impressive but not ostentatious. Canterlot was a poor place for boasting – the city itself was the greatest star, and difficult to compete with.

The key is not to do the impossible, she thought, part of the mantra she always recited before performing. Her horn glowed as she cast the first of many spells. It is to do the impossible, and make it look easy.

She took a step, and walked out onto the water as though it were solid earth. Eyes closed, she paused with her head tilted up and her mane tossed behind her shoulder in an arrogant silver wave.

Her performer’s instinct told her to wait. Wait until the hum of conversation died down as ponies noticed her. Wait until she heard hoofsteps drawing closer. Wait until the crowd began to chatter again.

Water-walking was a difficult skill. Most unicorns, if they bothered to learn it, could only take a few steps before sinking. A magician unicorn might be able to stand on water indefinitely, if they were careful. But she was no mere magician.

The Great and Powerful Trixie began to dance.

She started slowly, cantering in a circle with her eyes still closed, legs crossing as she pirouetted about the water. An excited babble started in the crowd, and a few ponies stomped their hooves in appreciation.

The sounds of approval were like nectar, like delicious wine. She hopped forward three times, then leapt high into the air, hooves extended, before landing perfectly on her forelegs. Someone in the crowd cheered.

The key is not to do the impossible. She darted forward, her hooves skating across the water like ice. She crouched and then jumped again, spinning in the air to land backwards, still gliding over the water in a wide circle that brought her to a slow stop near the crowd.

It is to do the impossible, and make it look easy. Exhaling, she raised a single hoof, and her horn glowed as the performance truly began.

The water in front of her roiled, as though being stirred by an invisible hoof. Faster and faster it spun, until out of the whirl a blob of water the size of a pony appeared, rising to the surface before her. The amorphous form slowly attenuated and drew tighter, assuming a shape as it shrank. She heard shouts from the crowd as she focused her magic, wielding it like a knife.

The crowd was utterly silent when her spell finished. Before them on the water stood two unicorns – one of flesh and blood, the other sculpted entirely from liquid water. Its mane was gently flowing mist, its horn like an icicle, all atop a gracefully arching neck and imperiously tilted head.

If she had stopped there it still would have been a magnificent show, certainly more than anypony ever expected outside a performance hall. But she was the Great and Powerful Trixie; magnificent was just a starting point for her.

She turned her hoof upward, holding it out to the water sculpture. With a fluid grace it raised its leg, gently clasped her hoof with its own, and together they resumed the dance.

The crowd went insane.

Hundreds of ponies had jammed the open space around the fountain. Some, toward the edges, had even climbed into the water to get a closer look. Soon the crowd itself became part of the attraction, as ponies wandering by stopped to see what the cheering was for.

She spun elegantly across the waves, each hoof placed with a precision and grace that would have been at home in Canterlot’s finest balls. The water sculpture mirrored her movements, sometimes close enough to touch, other times far enough away that they seemed to be dancing separately.

The noise around her was deafening. Ponies shouted, cheered and stomped their hooves. She could barely hear herself think.

It was wonderful.

After a few final orbits she came to a stop just feet from the front of the crowd, the water unicorn by her side. With a casual gesture of her hoof she dismissed the magic binding it, and it collapsed back into the pool without a trace. She reared back on her hind feet, hooves spread wide, head tossed back in abandon, as though ready to embrace every pony in the crowd. The cheering somehow grew louder.

She stood that way for a long while, drinking their adoration like a flower drinking sunlight. Small splashes sounded around her, and she realized they were tossing bits into the fountain.

Not a bad start. Not bad at all.

***

Twilight Sparkle was having a good day, and she hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

She had set her alarm extra early the night before. Part of her hadn’t wanted to go to bed at all, and just stay up bouncing around the library in excitement, but that was foalish and she was no longer a foal. She was a sensible mare who knew the importance of getting a good night’s sleep.

So she went to bed. Reluctantly.

Finally the alarm went off. It didn’t wake her – she’d been awake and staring at it for more than twenty minutes, silently willing it to move faster.

She was up and out of the bed so fast she might as well have teleported. The covers hadn’t even landed back on the bed and she was already out of the room, trotting down the stairs to the Library proper.

“Spike! Spiiiike! Wake up Spike!”

There was a muffled crash from upstairs, followed by a thrashing sound, like someone was having a fight with their pillow.

“Get up Spike!” she called again.

“Wha… what? Twilight?” He poked his head over the loft where he slept, eyes bleary with sleep.

“Good morning, sleepy head!”

“Twilight, it’s… the sun’s not even up, Twilight.”

“I know! Do you want some breakfast? I think there’s some jade left.”

The tiny dragon wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his bleary eyes. “What’s got you so excited?” he asked, and wandered over to the pantry to start pulling ingredients for breakfast before Twilight could try to do so herself. He had learned to head that disaster off at the pass.

She hopped in place. “Do you remember last month when Celestia invited us to attend the Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot?”

He nodded. He remembered most of the messages he coughed up as part of their correspondence.

“Well, she said I could bring as many of my friends as I wanted!”

He poured some water into a kettle and breathed on it, quickly heating it to a boil with his flames. He waited for her to continue, but she simply stared at him with the eager smile she used when she wanted people to ask her stuff.

He sighed. “Okay, so why is this morning important?”

She clapped her hooves together. “The Formal Events Etiquette Manual says that you should wait until 60 days before an event before inviting your friends, if they will be attending as your guests.”

He disguised rolling his eyes by turning to grab a bag of dried oats. He measured some into a bowl and poured the steaming water into it, giving the whole mixture a stir with his claw before putting it on the table for her.

“Let me guess. Today is 60 days before the – hey, don’t eat that yet! Let it sit for a minute.”

Twilight looked up from the oatmeal she had been about to stick her muzzle into, chagrined. She hated waiting for her breakfast.

“So, ah, yes, today is 60 days before the Celebration, which means I can start asking people to come!” She paused, then added, “Would you like to come, Spike?”

“You know, just because a book says something doesn’t mean…” he trailed off as she narrowed her eyes. He coughed and continued, “Count me out. The last time I attended that thing, Nightmare Moon tried to take over the world.”

She took a tentative bite of the oatmeal, and then blew on the bowl, trying to cool it off a bit faster. “I guarantee you that won’t happen this year, Spike,” she said, before trying another bite.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other disaster, Twilight.”

“Gee, thanks.” At least the oatmeal was good.

***

The sun was just barely over the horizon as she made it out the door, filling the misty air with a gentle golden glow. She hopped once to settle her saddlebags, then levitated a scroll out of one of her pockets, stretching it open in front of her. On it was the checklist she had prepared last night – mostly errands, but also the names of the six friends she hoped would accompany her. One, Spike’s, had been sadly crossed out.

Checklists were one of Twilight Sparkle’s guilty pleasures. Anything and everything that could be organized into a checklist, was. Checklists turned the chaos of life into neat, ordered rows to be individually ticked off as they were accomplished. For a bookworm who found pony relations sometimes confusing, they were a source of comfort. She couldn’t help but feel smug when using them; more organized and logical than other, non-checklist-using ponies. Sometimes, when no one was watching, she would draw empty boxes with no associated tasks and check them off, just for fun.

She had arranged her friends in the order they were likely to wake up, so she could visit them more efficiently. Applejack, probably already out tending apple trees, was at the top. Rainbow Dash, who wouldn’t leave her cloud before noon, was solidly at the bottom, below the other ponies, shopping and lunch.

Sweet Apple Acres was already in full swing when Twilight arrived. Earth ponies were out in the orchards, pruning branches, planting new trees and making repairs to the irrigation system. Applejack, as Twilight expected, was directing work at the barn with her brother.

The orange earth pony trotted out to meet her, calling out a cheerful greeting. “Howdy Sugar! What brings you ‘round here?”

Twilight gave her a friendly nuzzle. “Good morning AJ,” she said, and then stood back a step and cleared her throat.

“As you may know,” she started her rehearsed invitation, “Princess Celestia will be holding the annual Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot in two months. She has graciously decided to invite me and anypony of my choosing to attend as her special guests in the Palace seating section. I would be honored if you would agree to accompany me to this event.”

“Aw, Sug, I’d love to,” she answered. “But it won’t be like the Gala, will it?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as they both relived the catastrophe that had been the Grand Galloping Gala.

“Er, no,” Twilight finally said. “This will be much less formal. Almost everypony in Canterlot will be there, not just the aristocracy.”

Applejack stomped a hoof in approval. “Well, count me in then. Who else is coming?”

Twilight brought out her checklist and ticked off the box next to Applejack’s name, enjoying a secret thrill as she did. “Just us so far. I’m sure the rest of the girls will too, though.”

***

“…graciously decided to invite me and anypony of my choosing to attend as her special guests in the Palace seating section. I would be honored if you would agree to accompany me to this event.”

Pinkie Pie gasped and clapped her hooves over her mouth as Twilight finished, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Twilight Sparkle, are you asking me to be your DATE?!”

“What? No, Pinkie, as my guest.”

“Well it soooouuunds like you’re looking for a date, silly filly,” Pinkie replied, bouncing in a merry circle around the bemused unicorn.

Twilight turned, trying to track the hyperactive pony. “Don’t be ridiculous. Applejack is coming too, and she didn’t call this a--” she didn’t get to finish her sentence.

“Applejack too?! Oooooohhhh, it’s that kind of date,” she said slyly, giving Twilight a giant stage wink.

Twilight resisted the urge to smack herself in the forehe ad. “It’s not a… oh, nevermind. Can you come?”

“Of course I can!” Pinkie hopped in place, her hooves fluttering wildly. Suddenly she froze in mid-hop, a puzzled look on her face.

“Wait, what day did you say it was?” the pink pony asked.

“The… Summer Sun Celebration? It’s the day of the Summer Sun Celebration, of course.”

Pinkie tilted her head to the side slightly, her hoof rubbing her chin as she thought.

“Hmm…. I thought there was another party that day,” she said.

“Somepony’s birthday?”

Pinkie shook her head, chewing her lip as she thought. “Nope, no birthdays.”

“A wedding?”

Pinkie giggled. “Silly Twilight, I’d never forget a wedding! They’re the BEST parties!”

Twilight sighed. “Well, what was it, then?”

Pinkie knocked her hoof against her head, as though trying to jar the memory loose. “It was some kind of celebration, I think,” she said. “OOH! It had to do with the sun!”

Twilight closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her hooves.

“Was it the Summer Sun Celebration, Pinkie?”

Pinkie shrieked and wrapped her forelegs around the unicorn in a bone-crushing hug. “THAT’S IT! Twilight, you’re a GENIUS!”

Twilight couldn’t breathe. This is how diamonds are formed, she thought. Finally the pink pony released her, and the grey tunnel receded from her vision.

“So, can you come?” she asked a bit weakly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Twilight.” She really did look sorry; the world itself seemed to lose some of its color as she pouted. “But there’s a party here to celebrate the Summer Sun Celebration. If I go with you, who will run the party?”

Part of Twilight wanted to tell Pinkie to forget the party, that it wasn’t important. Fortunately, the part of Twilight that didn’t want to be buried in a shallow grave in the Everfree forest won out.

“Oh, it’s alright Pinkie,” she said, and gave her friend a nuzzle. “We’ll be fine without you, and I’m sure it will be a great party.”

Pinkie beamed at her, and the color came back into the world.

***

Three hours later, Twilight Sparkle was feeling a bit grumpy. She munched on a daisy flower and grass sandwich outside the Hayseed Café and reviewed the checklist resting in front of her.

Applejack’s name had a satisfying check mark next to it, but so far her other friends had been less receptive to her invitation.

Pinkie Pie’s parties obviously took precedence. The town was relying on her to organize the celebration, and knowing Pinkie it would probably rival the festivities in Canterlot.

Rarity had said she would “rather die” than see Prince Blueblood again. Twilight thought that was a bit overdramatic, even for Rarity, but the girls had never gotten the full story from her of what happened on the night of the Gala.

Fluttershy had sounded happy about coming, until Twilight started talking about how exciting the crowds were, and how thousands of ponies would see them up on stage with the princess. It had taken her an hour to talk the shivering pegasus out from under the table.

That just left Rainbow Dash, who should be waking up soon. Twilight finished her sandwich, left a precisely calculated tip, and cantered off to find the blue pegasus pony.

It was a short search. One of the treetop-high clouds near the edge of town had a garish, multi-hued tail hanging over its edge. She trotted as close as she could, and started yelling.

“Daaaaash! Wake up!”

The tail gave a flick and vanished on top of the cloud. Twilight rolled her eyes.

“I know you’re up there, Dash! Come down!”

No response.

“I have important news regarding an upcoming event!” she teased.

Still nothing. She scowled.

“Don’t make me come up there!”

She heard what sounded like a cross between a snort and a giggle come from the cloud.

“Some ponies…” she muttered to herself. Well, fine. She could play that game too. She spun together the cloud-walking spell she had learned for their visit to Cloudsdale, her hooves glowing a light purple for a moment as the magic sank in. She tapped her hooves together to make sure the spell was firmly set, then turned to look up at the cloud, closing her eyes and imagining herself standing atop it.

Her horn flashed, and when she opened her eyes she was on top of what felt like fluffy cotton, next to a startled blue pegasus.

Dash yelped and rolled away, nearly tumbling off the cloud before flapping her wings frantically to recover. She settled back onto the cloud with a dour look for the giggling unicorn.

“You know, Twilight, the reason pegasus ponies can stand on clouds is so we can’t be bothered while we’re sleeping.”

“Good morning to you, too!” She glanced up at the sun. “Or should I say, good afternoon?”

Dash grumbled something just below Twilight’s hearing range. Her mane looked like a bird’s nest that had survived a paint factory explosion.

“So what’s so important that you had to interrupt my nap?” Dash fluffed the cloud with her hooves and then flopped onto her belly.

“As you may know, Princess Celestia will be holding the annual Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot in two months. She has graciously decided to invite me—"

“Boring!”

Twilight frowned, but pressed on. “Ahem. She has graciously decided to invite me and anypony of my choosing to attend as her special guests—"

“Still bored!”

Twilight scowled. “Rainbow Dash, we are being offered a chance to attend an important historic event of immense cultural significance. You should be excited about this opportunity!”

“Uh huh.” Dash rolled onto her side, facing away from the unicorn. “Ask Scootaloo – she loves important historic events of boring significance.”

“Really?” Twilight perked up. “I didn’t know she was so culturally inclined. Maybe this will have something to do with her cutie…” she trailed off as she noticed Dash snickering.

She decided to attack from another angle. “You know, I hear the Wonderbolts will be attending,” she said casually. A blue ear swiveled around to face her.

“They’ll be giving one of their biggest performances of the year,” she continued. “They’ve been working on new routines all winter, I’m told. I’m sure it will be ‘awesome’.”

Dash rolled onto her back, staring up at the higher clouds with feigned nonchalance. “Go on,” she said.

“I bet they’ll even stop to speak with all the guests in the VIP section.” She paused, then struck. “You know, where we’ll be sitting.”

Dash sigh and rose to her hooves. “Fine, fine. But it better be awesome!”

Twilight hopped with a delighted squeal and smothered the pegasus with a hug. “Oh, thank you Dash!”

“Hey, watch the mane!”

Twilight was so happy she forgot to mark her checklist.

The Treasures of the Night

The past few weeks had been extremely kind to Trixie.

Other ponies might have felt lucky in her shoes. They might have wondered what they had done to deserve being showered with bits, or staying in fine inns and eating three hot meals a day. Some of them, the wiser ones, might have started making plans for the future that didn’t rely on blind fortune.

Trixie wasn’t that kind of pony. It was obvious to her what she had done to deserve all those things: be herself. The hardships of her months on the road were an aberration, a series of unfortunate events that in no way reflected on her value as a pony. A monumental wrong was being undone and the universe itself was now a better place.

Still, she reflected, things could be better. Her performances in the streets and parks were pulling in a steady stream of income, but they weren’t generating much respect. Outside Canterlot she was the Great and Powerful Trixie; here she was just another street performer, applauded and soon forgotten as ponies went about their business.

So despite being warm, and fed, and having a place to sleep at night, Trixie came to an unusual conclusion – she decided she wasn’t a happy pony.

Yes, she felt happy most of the time, especially when surrounded by cheering crowds or scooping up the bits they tossed her way, but that wasn’t the same as being happy. The only way she could truly be happy was as the Great and Powerful Trixie.

And that was looking increasingly unlikely, as long as she stayed in Canterlot. The Great and Powerful Trixie required the worship and adoration of her fellow ponies, and worship was a limited resource when you lived in a town with a pair of celestial gods who moved the heavens on a daily basis. They had something of a monopoly on worship.

She mulled over her troubles while enjoying a sumptuous dinner at a cozy upscale bistro in Canterlot’s unicorn district. The Prancing Pony had become something of a hang-out for her, to the point that the cook already had her dinner laid out when she arrived. Lightly toasted oats drizzled with honey were artfully arranged on her plate, garnished with a delightful wood sorrel whose acidity gently offset the sweetness of the grains.

What to do, what to do. She pondered the question between bites, washing down the sumptuous mouthfuls with sips from a mug of warm, spiced cider.

She could leave Canterlot again, but that would mean, well, leaving Canterlot. She wasn’t that unhappy yet. A waiter pony carefully slid the empty plate out from in front of her, replacing it with a slice of frosted carrot cake still warm from the oven.

Halfway through the cake (which was unspeakably delicious) she had a sudden epiphany. Canterlot offered her the physical comforts and riches she deserved, but the ponies here were too blinded by the city itself to recognize her greatness. The ponies in the small towns and villages she visited, despite their quaint and humdrum lives, were in the best position to acknowledge her power and glory (and adore her appropriately). She was like the moon in their night sky, bringing radiance and magic to their darkness.

Oh, cruel fate! she lamented, finishing the last of her cake and licking the few crumbs that had escaped her from the plate. Forced to choose between a life of luxury and the worship she deserved! The dilemma was so painful she felt she should be crying.

She waited for the tears. They stubbornly refused to come.

She was probably just dehydrated from a long day of performing, she decided. After all, she was such a hard worker – probably the most industrious pony in all of Equestria, come to think of it.

The streets were dark when she finally left the bistro, the ornate gas lamps lining the streets just starting to light for the evening. The steady hum of ponies at work began to give way to the sounds of Canterlot’s nightlife – laughter, music and singing, and ponies shouting greetings to friends.

All the walk back to the hotel she pondered her dilemma. Stay and be comfortable but unfulfilled, or abandon Canterlot and go on the road again to be recognized as the Great and Powerful Trixie?

She was still thinking when she came to a particularly wide intersection, filled with fountains and trees and ponies playing with their friends. High above, unblocked by the buildings, loomed the alabaster towers of Canterlot Keep, home to Celestia and seat of her rule.

Perhaps, Trixie thought to herself, There is a third way. She tended to view the world in terms of black and white, and the thought of a third way startled her badly.

There were unicorns up there who had all the things she wanted, she realized. Members of Celestia’s court, rich beyond belief, honored and treated wherever they went.

And what had those aristocrats done to deserve such fortune? Nothing! She fumed at the injustice. She should be up there, as an honored member of the court – no, as the court magician!

She spent a few moments fantasizing about her new life in Celestia’s court. Other ponies were starting to give her odd looks when she finally snapped back to the present. With a blush she continued on her way.

***

Some members of Celestia’s court were lucky – that is, they were born into their positions. The unpopular Prince Blueblood, heir to a long line of unicorn nobility that had been among the first to rally behind Princess Celestia’s rule, was one such individual. His ancestors had done some brave and dangerous things, and generations later he reaped the benefit of Celestia’s gratitude. Barring some unforeseen genealogical discovery, this path to the court wasn’t in the cards for Trixie.

Most members of the court, however, earned their spot. Ministers, officials, officers, recorders and guards – even the servants were chosen for their positions based on merit and experience. This had the effect of creating a well-run and competent government, with Celestia herself mostly performing ceremonial duties, or occasionally making significant decisions that couldn’t be delegated. If the aristocrats sometimes complained that they had no real power, well, no system was perfect.

This second path was also unlikely at the moment. Although she was certainly the most qualified pony for the job of court magician, her recent record was… checkered, she decided delicately. It was unlikely she’d get a hoof in the door with her current resume if she tried applying for any court positions through the normal channels.

Fortunately, there were other ways to insinuate oneself into the halls of power. The princess was a mare of the people – she tried to be away from the court as often as possible, either out in Canterlot or visiting the distant parts of Equestria. When she couldn’t get away from Canterlot the court was often in open session, where any pony with a grievance or petition could appear before her and make their case. It was part of what made her such a popular monarch.

It was also terribly boring, Trixie had been informed. Although the issue of watering rights along the Split Hide River south of Hoofington might be of importance to farmers who trekked all the way to Canterlot to make their case before the princess, a day full of such presentations could be difficult to stomach. Even Celestia, with the literal patience of a god, sometimes grew tired of the proceedings.

Which was where the Great and Powerful Trixie came in.

“Name?” asked a middle-aged unicorn with a white coat, deep blue mane, and an air of utter and complete boredom that must have taken years to perfect. She was seated behind an imposingly large desk in the Hall of Petitioners (more of a room, really), writing down the particulars of everypony who had arrived that day to appear before the princess. Trixie was toward the end of the line, having decided that she had better things to do with her time than wait in a queue all day.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie!” she declared in her most imposing stage voice. The other petitioners turned to her in curiosity and surprise.

“Name,” the clerk repeated. It was not a question this time.

She shrunk slightly, stung. “Ah, Trixie will do, for paperwork purposes.”

The white unicorn squinted at her over the top of rather old-fashioned reading glasses. “That’s your full and true name, dearie?”

“It’s what I’m known as, yes!”

“Did I ask what you were known as?”

Trixie spluttered. She had half a mind to teach this insignificant paper-pusher some respect, but prudence came galloping to the rescue. Realizing this mare held the keys to her meeting with Celestia, she clenched her teeth and forced a smile onto her face.

“’Beatrice’ will do,” she said, politely.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” The clerk’s quill scratched across the paper, levitated by her magic. “Complaint or petition?”

“Trixie has neither a complaint nor a petition!” she said, slipping back into her stage voice. “She has heard that Her Majesty is tired of these simple proceedings, and has come to delight and amaze the court with spectacular feats of magic!”

The clerk raised an eyebrow, the first actual change in facial expression Trixie had seen on her. “Really? Well, that’s different at least,” she said. Her quill made a few more scratches on the parchment. “I might step in to see that. This job does get a bit dull at times.”

Trixie gave her another smile, and then moved to wait in a comfortably stuffed arm chair, mentally reviewing her upcoming routine.

***

One fortunate consequence of being last in line among the petitioners was that Trixie was also the last to appear before the court. She was the closing act of the day, which was exactly how she liked it.

For days she had been preparing a carefully calibrated routine, combining equal parts dance and illusion. It was among the most sophisticated she had ever produced, designed to appeal to the refined tastes of the court, who valued skill and originality over sheer power and flashiness. It would serve as an appropriate introduction for her long-term stay.

The large double-doors leading to the throne room cracked open, and the unicorn clerk she had given her name to poked her head through the door. “Beatrice, you’re up.”

Trixie resisted the urge to correct her name. She hopped to her feet, checked to make sure her hat and cape were sitting correctly, and trotted through the doors.

The Court of the Sun Princess had a tendency to overwhelm ponies the first time they saw it. One of the largest enclosed spaces in Equestria, it had been the center of Celestia’s reign for over a millennium, and the years of authority and power had sunk into the very stones of the floors. Narrow windows, stretching dozens of feet up the stone walls, looked out both sides of the room onto the rising and setting suns and the city a thousand feet below. White marble flagstones, polished until they seemed to shine with their own light, clinked beneath the hooves of hundreds of ponies, crowding on either side of a red carpet that ran the length of the court. Overhead the vaulted ceiling had been decorated with suns and moons, stars and comets, and all the colors of the sky.

The red carpet beneath Trixie’s feet led from the double doors behind her all the way to the far end of the court. To her left and right ponies milled about, waiting for the court to end and the evening’s festivities to begin. She reached the end of the red carpet, knelt on the golden sunburst icon conveniently stitched there, and bowed.

Celestia, Princess of Equestria, Bearer of the Sun, The First Light of Dawn, looked down at the blue unicorn with the gentle smile she nearly always wore. To her side her majordomo, a brown earth pony with a white shield cutie mark, stomped his hoof three times on the floor, calling the room to silence.

“Presenting the unicorn Beatrice!” he announced. His voice rang effortlessly though the massive hall.

“Rise, Trixie,” Celestia said. Her words, though spoken softly, were heard by every pony in the hall. “I understand you are here to entertain us?”

Trixie came to her feet, her heart beating faster as it always did before performing. The lights seemed brighter, every sound seemed sharper – the world itself never felt more alive than when she was standing before an audience.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is honored to appear before her majesty, to entertain the court with feats of spectacular magic!” She imitated Celestia’s voice trick, her words filling the ears of every pony present. She was about to launch into her routine when a tiny, niggling question appeared in her mind. Foolishly, she spoke it aloud.

“Er, if it pleases your majesty… how did you know Trixie’s name?” she asked.

Celestia tilted her head slightly, the gentle smile never leaving her face. “It is my business to know all my subjects,” she said quietly, her words for Trixie alone. “But in your case, I had some help.” A piece of parchment, resting on a stand by the princess’s side, suddenly glowed and floated into the air.

“A dear student of mine wrote to me about you, not so long ago,” she continued. “A blue unicorn with a magic wand cutie mark, who taught her a valuable lesson about friendship.”

The floor seemed to drop out from beneath Trixie. The edges of her vision went grey, and a rushing sound filled her ears. For a moment she saw herself back in Ponyville, cowering before the Ursa Minor, waiting for the claw to fall and swat her like an insect.

“Now then,” Celestia said, rolling the parchment back up and placing it on the stand beside her. “The floor is yours, Trixie.” She gave the unicorn a kind smile.

Everything Trixie had rehearsed fled from her mind. Her routine, the spells, her speech, even her reason for being in the court were all gone in an instant. Long seconds dragged on while hundreds of ponies stared at her.

Most mares wouldn’t have recovered in time, but Trixie wasn’t most mares. She was a Great and Powerful mare, and before the audience could realize how deeply Celestia’s words had cut, her performer’s instinct kicked in.

“Behold!” she cried, rearing onto her back legs. Reflex took over, and her mind defaulted to the standard performance she gave on her stage. It wasn’t as appropriate for the court as the elaborate dance routine she had been rehearsing, but it was better than standing in front of Celestia like a frightened filly. She had done this performance hundreds of times; she could do it in her sleep.

Her horn glowed and every light in the court vanished, replaced by a suffocating darkness broken by a magical spotlight with her at its center. Ponies gasped in surprise, and then crowded forward, eager for a closer view.

“Witness the spectacular magic of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” She spun in place, hooves splayed, as her magic replaced the darkness with a dozen shifting landscapes – a burning desert, a somber forest shrouded in fog, a spectacular mountain crested with snow. The crowd ooh’d and aah’d appropriately.

“Gasp in awe at her power!” Still going through her automatic routine, she waved a hoof over her head, setting off a chain of brilliant blue and silver fireworks that perfectly matched her coat and mane.

At this point Trixie noticed several things simultaneously, all of them bad.

First, she remembered why she had tried to develop a new routine specifically for the court.

Second, she realized the court, despite her magical illusions, was an indoor venue. Fireworks were highly inappropriate for indoor use.

Finally, she was granted a new insight into pony psychology. Although not normally high-strung creatures, ponies could be startled by loud, unexpected noises and explosions.

The fireworks detonated just below the roof of the court, slamming the crowd below with dozens of thunderous claps that shook the walls and knocked many off their hooves. The soaring glass windows on either side of Trixie exploded outwards in a rain of shards that tumbled hundreds of feet down the mountainside. An acrid, burning smoke instantly filled the room, stinging eyes and snouts and generally contributing to the chaos as the entire crowd began screaming and stampeding for the exits.

At the front of the hall, still lit by her silly spotlight, the Great and Powerful Trixie stood frozen with her hoof above her head, a look of shock and horror slowly dawning on her face. Only Celestia seemed unperturbed by the debacle as she gazed up at the scorched ceiling.

Well, Celestia and a small herd of royal guard ponies, who leapt from the wings of the hall and tackled Trixie to the ground.

***

Trixie was, once again, an unhappy pony.

She was no longer in chains, which was an improvement. The guard ponies had quickly concluded the disastrous performance was an accident after she hadn’t been able to stop crying for nearly an hour. They were about to throw her out of the keep when the furious majordomo arrived at the guard station where they were holding her.

A quick accounting of damages to the Court of the Sun Princess was provided to Trixie. Incinerated tapestries, shattered windows, blasted frescoes and smoke damage were all neatly listed on a sheet of parchment. Lacking the means to repay the court, she was turned over to the kitchen staff to work off her debt, or labor for one month, whichever came first.

And so the Great and Powerful Trixie, master magician and performer, found herself washing dishes in the Canterlot Keep kitchen. She wasn’t allowed to use her magic – like a common dirt pony, she used her hooves to scrub and rinse and dry. It was an odd combination of humiliation and irony: she had managed to join the court after all, though not in a position she wanted.

The third night of her new career found Trixie alone in the kitchens. The final meal had long since been served and the guests gone to bed, and the Keep settled into the quiet routines of the evening. She was racking the last of the dishes when she heard a set of quiet hoofbeats behind her.

“Excuse me,” came a soft, almost timid voice. “Are you the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Trixie blushed, refusing to turn around. She hadn’t heard that name in days. An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen, which she finally broke: “Yes, I am Trixie.”

The hoofbeats came closer. “I just wanted to say that was an amazing performance the other night.”

Trixie hated being mocked. She scowled and spun around, ready to give the pony a piece of her mind.

The dark blue unicorn in front of her took a tentative step back, startled by the sudden move. A pair of large wings beat nervously at the air before settling back to her side. Not a unicorn – an alicorn.

Trixie realized she was staring and quickly lowered her head. There were only two alicorns in Equestria, and this clearly wasn’t Celestia. “Princess Luna, forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

“That’s quite alright,” the soft, high voice said. Trixie felt a hoof beneath her chin, tilting her head up. “Please be at ease. I am not my sister.”

The alicorn’s touch was gentle as moonlight. A feeling of deep peace filled Trixie’s troubled soul, and displaced the grievance and shame of the past few days. The world around her seemed softer, its harsh lights dimmed and its sharp edges dulled by the power of the night. Her eyes closed, and for a moment she would not have regretted never opening them again.

Then the hoof was gone, and the cruel world rushed back to fill its place. She opened her eyes to see the inquisitive face of Equestria’s second princess just inches away.

Trixie gulped. “Thank you for your kind words, your majesty.”

“Please, call me Luna.” The alicorn gave her a slight smile, and looked for a moment almost like her sister, despite being her complete opposite. “I was sorry to hear you were arrested after the performance.”

A bit of the bitterness of the past hour returned to Trixie’s heart. “That was hardly a performance,” she said, forcing the words between her clenched teeth. “That was just the opening for a crude, flashy act Trixie gives to peasants. Trixie had an exquisite, breathtaking performance planned for the court!” She sighed. “But she forgot herself, and gave that foolish disaster instead.”

Luna stepped around her, her gaze fixed on the unicorn. “Nevertheless, it was impressive. Celestia told me she hasn’t had that much fun at the court in years.”

Trixie’s head lifted slightly, buoyed by the praise. “Really?”

Luna nodded. “Oh yes. Celestia and I are very powerful, but we lack the control and finesse of the greatest unicorn magicians. We are like hurricanes,” she said as she fixed her large eyes on Trixie, “but you are like a glass-blower. Only one of us creates art.”

Trixie stared at the alicorn, unable to form a reply. Luna giggled at the unicorn’s state, and then cantered toward the exit.

“It was good to meet you, Trixie,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m sure I will see you again.”

***

The Canterlot gardens were scarcely populated at night. A few ponies wandered the paths, nodding to their princess as they passed. Lamps lit the castle grounds, though the light of the full moon was bright enough to see by.

“So what possessed you to want to perform before the court?” Luna asked. They had stopped by one of the many fountains scattered around the gardens. A stone pegasus, mortally wounded by a spear, stretched a hoof to the sky; from its wounds a steady trickle of water flowed into a wide basin. Tiny fish, barely visible in the moonlight, darted through the waters in the pool.

Trixie dipped the tip of her hoof in the water, sending the tiny fish scattering. “I thought if I impressed the princess, she might offer me a position as court magician,” she said. She had long since stopped using the third-person to describe herself around Luna.

The alicorn giggled, the sound filling the garden like silver bells. “Silly unicorn,” she said. “There hasn’t been a court magician in centuries. I’ve been gone for a thousand years and even I know that.”

Trixie scowled at the darkness, and gave her friend a gentle shove with her shoulder. “I wanted to be recognized,” she said. “What good is being a magician if no one cares? If all you do is earn enough bits to survive?”

“There are many ponies who seem happy without being rich or great,” the princess replied. “The world would be a very sad place if only the great and powerful were happy.”

Trixie frowned, dropping her hoof on the edge of the fountain with a loud clop. “Trixie is not most ponies,” she said. She looked up at the night sky, her features softening slightly. “Ever since I got my cutie mark I’ve known I was different. Even as a filly I could perform magic like few other unicorns. But it meant nothing -- it means nothing unless the world recognizes it.”

Luna extended a wing, draping it over the unicorn like a blanket. “And do you still believe that?”

Trixie was silent for a while. Finally she nodded, a stern cast settling on her features. “Yes.”

They were silent a while longer.

“Trixie,” Luna finally said, “being great and being happy are not the same.”

“Yes they are!” she snapped. “The Great and Powerful Trixie was happy! I was happy! Now look at me!” She tore away from the alicorn before she could reply.

“I was adored!” she continued, speaking to the empty night, refusing to look at Luna. “Now I wash dishes, a dozen yards from the center of the court where I should be standing!”

“Trixie…” Luna tried to break in.

“This is not right!” she shouted. Her horn started to glow. “How can they do this to me? To Trixie!”

“Trixie please calm down.”

“Trixie will not calm down!” Flecks of foam flew from her muzzle as she shouted. The glow from her horn brightened as her magic leaked out, escaping her control. “Trixie asks… no, Trixie demands her rightful due!”

The silver light from her horn washed over the garden, overpowering the moon and lanterns. The grass beneath their hooves began to bend in an unseen wind, and the trees rustled overhead. The stone pegasus atop the fountain creaked, then slowly moved, its head turning to stare at the raging unicorn.

“ENOUGH!” Luna shouted. The sudden outburst stunned Trixie, who had never heard Luna raise her voice. The light surrounding her horn went out like a snuffed candle.

She sat down hard, her head bowed. After a long minute she found her voice.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” she said softly. “I just never imagined things ending up like this.” She sniffled.

Luna sighed, and walked over to the unicorn. “Trixie, take it from someone who learned the hard way. It is better to be a good pony than a great pony.” She gave Trixie a friendly nuzzle, and then tugged her to her hooves. “Come on, it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”

Together they walked back to the castle.

***

“Only a few days left in the kitchen. Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”

Trixie sighed. They were out in the garden’s again, Luna’s favorite part of the castle. “I won’t be staying in the kitchen,” she said. “Aside from that, I haven’t given it much thought.”

“You could stay in Canterlot.”

“I probably will, for a while at least.” Luna visibly perked up as Trixie spoke. “Until I decide what to do next.”

Luna nodded, and the two resumed watching the gardens in silence. Eventually Luna spoke.

“Bit for your thoughts?”

“Oh, just wondering how some of this castle was built,” Trixie admitted. “There’s no other place in the world like it. I can’t imagine the magic it took to construct.”

“Oh, we cheated a bit.” Luna said, startling the unicorn. Sometimes Trixie forgot how old her friend was. “It would’ve taken decades to build using just earth pony muscle, or pegasus wings, or unicorn magic. Fortunately we had some lenses to help things along.”

Trixie blinked at the alicorn, completely lost. “Lenses? Like, telescope lenses?”

Luna shook her head. “It’s just a name. Lenses are magical artifacts that can focus a unicorn’s power, making them stronger at certain tasks. Like a lens focuses light, except they can look like almost anything. The magic wand on your cutie mark is a type of lens.”

Trixie stared at her flank in surprise. Wands had long been a part of pony folklore, but she’d never known they were real.

“Do they still exist?”

Luna tilted her head, as if surprised by the question. “I’m honestly not sure. They were rare when I was banished, but I haven’t seen any since my return, except for Celestia’s. I wonder if the secret of their creation was lost.”

Trixie deflated. It was like being given a present for your birthday, and opening it to find a saddle instead of a toy. Then she parsed the rest of Luna’s answer.

“Wait… Celestia’s?”

Luna nodded. “That gold torc she always wears is a lens. I’m not sure what its function is, but it’s definitely the most powerful I’ve ever encountered.”

Their conversation drifted onward, but for the rest of the night Trixie found her mind wandering back to lenses, and the golden torc ever around Celestia’s neck.

The Harsh Light of Morning

Ponyville was not far from Canterlot by most measures. Twilight Sparkle had made the flight in a few hours in a hot air balloon during her first visit to the town. A fast pegasus could fly there in 30 minutes if the winds were good. Even the slowest method of travel – by hoof – took less than half a day if you kept a quick pace.

Twilight knew all this intuitively. She had spent the previous evening meticulously planning for their trip, making checklists, packing supplies, consulting maps and checking with the weather patrol for the day’s forecast. She very easily could have estimated, down to the minute, when they would arrive in Canterlot.

And yet, she pondered, travelling with Rainbow Dash somehow made the trip seem twice as long.

“Ugh, can’t you two walk any faster?” the cyan pegasus said, floating alongside them with her forelegs crossed over her chest. “Celestia’s going to be old by the time we get there.”

Twilight bit back the reply she wanted to give the pegasus. After all, Rainbow Dash was her friend and guest on this trip. Getting snippy wouldn’t help the situation.

“Celestia is already old, Dash,” she said instead. “Today is a travel day. We are exactly on time.”

“You made me get up early for this!”

“Ten in the morning is not early, Dash.” She and Applejack had stopped by Dash’s cloud home on the way out of town, eventually waking her with their combined shouts.

“C’mon Dash, bit of a walk never hurt anypony,” Applejack said. She seemed immune to the pegasus’s complaints. “You can fly around if you want. I doubt Twilight and I will git too far away from ya.”

No sooner said than done. She snapped her wings down with a sharp clap, instantly lifting a dozen feet into the air, and then sped off like an arrow. Moments later she was a tiny blue dot starting a wide turn at the edges of their vision, streaking toward a bank of clouds in the distance.

“Not the type for a leisurely stroll, I reckon,” Applejack said, adjusting her Stetson hat. “You alright, Twi?”

Twilight smiled at her friend. “Just fine, AJ. This is going to be a wonderful trip, even if some ponies are a bit impatient.”

“So what’s it like, the Summer Sun Celebration? Ah’ve only seen the one, and it didn’t end so well.”

The unicorn tossed her head, refusing to be discouraged by thoughts of last year’s debacle. “Normally Nightmare Moon doesn’t escape and attempt to take over Equestria,” she said. “That was, uh, special.”

Applejack chuckled. “It ended fer the best,” she said. “Say, why was it in Ponyville in the first place? I thought it was always held in Canterlot?”

“It used to be, until about 50 years ago. Celestia decided to hold it in difference cities every fourth year. Last year just happened to be Ponyville’s year.”

Applejack gave her a sidelong glance. “Doesn’t that seem a mite convenient?” she asked, her voice filled with doubt. “It just happened to be in Ponyville, which just happened to be next to the Everfree Forest and the Elements of Harmony?”

Twilight shrugged. She’d already given the matter many hours of thought, and short of asking the princess herself there was no way to know how much of last year’s events had been arranged in advance. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect a thousand-year-old sun goddess to make complicated plans.

“Like you said, AJ, it ended for the best.” She let out a sigh, a dreamy smile coming over her face. “Oh, but you have to see it in Canterlot! Imagine thousands of ponies, all gathered to see her raise the sun for the longest day of the year. It’s so beautiful.”

“Welp, as long as we get good seats.”

The two continued down the road in comfortable silence. When they reached the outskirts of Canterlot that evening Rainbow Dash was waiting for them, asleep on a low cloud on the side of the path.

***

Luna was, as usual, waiting for Trixie when the kitchen staff released her for the evening. They exchanged a friendly nuzzle like they were sisters, ignoring the odd looks and whispers from the other ponies.

“So, staying up all night for the celebration?” Luna asked. It was traditional for ponies to stay awake the night before the Summer Sun Celebration, waiting for the dawn of the longest day of the year. Long naps were also a traditional part of the festivities, usually observed a few hours later.

“Only for a few hours,” Trixie answered. “Some of us have jobs, you know.” She gave the princess a friendly jab with her elbow as they walked to add some levity to her words.

Luna pantomimed a grievous injury, clutching her hoof to her side. “Assaulting a member of the royal blood!” she said with mock outrage. “A year’s duty in the kitchens!”

“That’s all? What can I get for five years in the kitchen?”

“Hm…” Luna paused, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “Contemplating hard crime now, are we? Well, not that I would know, but five years sounds like a suitable punishment for despoiling a princess’s virtue.”

Trixie puzzled over that for a moment, and then spluttered. Ahead of her the princess giggled and took off running to the gardens.

When Trixie caught up the last light of evening was fading in the west, filling the gardens with a soft golden glow. The alicorn was sitting and staring at the setting sun with wide eyes as Trixie walked up beside her.

“The problem with long days is short nights,” Luna said quietly. “Before I was banished I could stay up during the day if I wanted to. Now, unless I’m at her side I can barely rise an hour before sunset, or stay awake an hour after sunrise. I am tethered to the night.”

Trixie frowned at the sad tone in her friend’s voice. “That doesn’t seem fair. I see Celestia all the time after the sun sets.”

“She’s older, more powerful,” Luna replied. “She says that as I get used to this new body I’ll be able to do the same, but it might take a few years. Decades, maybe.”

What could a scullery maid say to that? “I’m sorry,” she finally offered, the only words that seemed appropriate.

Luna shrugged, her wings opening and closing silently. “Don’t be. It’s a small price to pay for being free of Nightmare Moon.”

Around them the gentle glow of twilight slowly faded, yellows giving way to reds and blues as the gloom of night embraced the world. Luna inhaled deeply, her eyes wide and shining as the encroaching dusk empowered her. The clock tower in the town below chimed out the time, nine faint rings barely audible in the mountaintop castle.

“Bit for your thoughts?” Trixie asked, in what had become a game for the two.

Luna was silent for a moment before turning to the unicorn with a smile. “Just thinking about tonight. Celestia asked me to host the celebration.”

Trixie blinked. “She asked you to host the Summer Sun Celebration? That seems a bit…” she struggled to find the right word. “Counterintuitive?”

Luna stood and walked forward a few paces, draping her forelegs over a railing that overlooked a lower section of the garden. “Long ago it would have been,” she said. “Before I was banished there was no celebration the night before the longest day of the year. It wasn’t until hundreds of years after I was gone that ponies finally started to celebrate the night.”

Trixie joined her friend at the rail, having to stretch a bit to match the taller pony. Although not yet as large as her sister, Luna had grown substantially in the twelve months since being released by the Elements of Harmony, to the point that only the tallest of stallions looked down on her.

“I think she wants me to feel welcomed,” Luna continued. “That even though this is her day I am still a part of it.”

They were silent for a while. Behind them the usual sounds of the castle in the evening were gradually replaced by music and the hum of conversation as the first guests arrived.

“I think that’s your cue,” Trixie said, turning to listen to the nascent party.

“It is. Feel like accompanying me for a bit?”

“As long as I don’t have to perform any tricks. I’m not sure I could stand another month in the kitchens.”

Luna gave the unicorn a friendly head butt, careful not to use her horn, then giggled and raced to the castle. Trixie followed at a more sedate pace, the first smile of the evening lifting up the corners of her mouth.

***

Luna was in the middle of an animated conversation with her sister when Trixie found her. The indigo alicorn was bouncing with excitement, a foalish grin on her face, while Celestia looked down with the same gentle smile she always seemed to wear.

“…and after midnight we’ll serve the second banquet, right before the Wonderbolts start their performance!” she caught the younger princess saying. Trixie had known about the various feasts being prepared – she had helped make them – but that was the first she’d heard of the Wonderbolts demonstration. She stopped a discrete distance away, not wanting to intrude on the royal conversation.

Luna would have none of it, though. As soon as she spied the unicorn she darted over, grabbing Trixie’s silver mane in her mouth and dragging her back to the sun princess.

“Tia! You remember, Trixie, don’t you?” Luna said. “She gave that wonderful performance last month that everypony’s still talking about.” Next to her Trixie blushed furiously and attempted to sink into the floor.

“I could hardly forget,” Celestia said, turning to face the embarrassed pony. She lowered her head so they were practically eye-to-eye. “I’m sorry we’ve had to keep you in the kitchens for so long, but my majordomo threatened to revolt if we didn’t find some way to recoup the repair costs.” All three glanced up at the freshly painted ceiling.

“Trixie is, ah, that is, I am just happy no one was hurt,” Trixie managed to reply, barely able to keep herself from bolting out the room. “And I’ll be out of the kitchens soon enough anyway.”

“Well, I hope your time with us hasn’t been an entirely negative experience,” she said, giving Luna a brief, sidelong glance.

“Ah, not entirely negative,” Trixie allowed, ducking her head.

Celestia rose back to her full height, covering her mouth with a hoof as she laughed. “So precious,” she said, and then turned to her sister. “Walk with me a moment, Luna?” The two trotted off, chatting quietly and leaving Trixie to digest what had just occurred.

***

“We’re not s’pposed ta be wearin’ a fancy dress for this, are we?” Applejack asked, staring up at the tall gates of Canterlot Keep. The last time the three had passed through had been the Grand Galloping Gala, for which fancy dresses were considered de rigueur.

“No, this is strictly informal,” Twilight Sparkle answered. “The Summer Sun Celebration was started by earth ponies, who live by the turning of the seasons and had reason to be thankful for the arrival of summer. The Gala, of course, was started by unicorns, who have always been more inclined to--" her history lesson was mercifully interrupted by a hyperventilating Rainbow Dash.

“Look! Look! AJ look!” she squealed, half tackling the orange earth pony. “It’s the Wonderbolts! They must be performing tonight!” She pointed with both hooves toward one of the nearby gardens where, sure enough, a trio of costumed pegasus ponies were chatting amiably with guests. The largest, a blue stallion with a winged lightning bolt cutie mark, spied the frantically gesticulating Rainbow Dash and waved.

“Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh! AJ, he waved at me! Soarin waved at me!” She squished her cheeks together with her hooves, eyes wide as dinner plates, looking for all the world like a love-struck filly. Twilight was almost embarrassed just to be seen next to her.

“Ayup, he sure did,” Applejack drawled. “Why doncha go say hello? Don’t let him do any sweet talkin’ tho--" She didn’t get to finish her thought; the rainbow pegasus practically teleported over to her idol in a multi-colored blur.

Applejack sighed. “That one’s gonna git her heart broken, I jus know it.”

“Aw, I think it’s sweet,” Twilight said. “Besides, Soarin seems like a nice enough pony.”

“Mhm, nice an’ clueless. I bet he’s left a trail of cryin’ fillies all over Equestria without even realizin’ it.”

Twilight giggled. “Applejack, I had no idea you were such a cynical and calloused soul! So wise in the ways of the world, and yet so young!” She pawed at the ground, trying desperately not to snort with laughter.

Never one to take offense easily, Applejack stuck her snout in the air. “Ah know trouble when ah see it,” she pronounced.

Twilight recovered her poise, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Rainbow Dash is a big filly, AJ. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Come on, I bet the princess is somewhere inside.”

A princess was indeed inside, though not the one they were expecting. Atop the main staircase just inside the gates, politely greeting ponies as they arrived, was Princess Luna. She spotted the two, excused herself from a small crowd of admirers, and trotted down to meet them.

They each dropped to a knee, lowering their heads in supplication. Luna quickly tugged them to their feet.

“Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, welcome to the Summer Sun pre-Celebration,” she said lightly. “And please, there is no need to bow, especially you. I am not my sister.”

Twilight looked up at the princess. She seemed much taller than when they had last met, almost exactly a year before. Soon, she guessed, Luna would be nearly the same size as Celestia, and equally as powerful.

That was an unsettling thought. She did her best to push it out of her mind, at least for the evening.

“Princess Luna, it’s good to see you again,” Twilight said. “I have to admit I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Well, Celestia asked, and how could I say no to her?” Luna said. “She’s done a lot for me in the past year. This is a small way of repaying her kindness.”

“That’s mighty kind of ya,” Applejack said. “I should bring you to meet Apple Bloom, maybe teach her to listen to her big sister.”

“I can’t promise any magic,” Luna said. “Or can I? No, no, that wouldn’t be ethical. Still, I would love to visit Ponyville again.” She paused, glancing between the two of them. “Speaking of Ponyville, did the rest of the Elements come with you?”

“Rainbow Dash is outside with the Wonderbolts,” Twilight said. “Everyone else had, uh, conflicts with their schedules.” Or conflicts with other ponies, she thought to herself, an image of Rarity viciously trampling Prince Blueblood springing unbidden into her mind.

“That’s fine,” Luna replied. “As long as you all come to the next Grand Galloping Gala!” She didn’t notice the two suddenly going pale beneath their coats.

“Oh, uh, absolutely!” Applejack said, a strained smile on her face.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Twilight added.

Luna smiled and swept them both into a hug, her wings wrapping around to embrace the two. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight. Tia’s inside and I know she’ll be glad to see you again.”

At the mention of her mentor Twilight perked up, straining to see over Luna’s shoulder. Applejack thanked the princess, and together the two ventured into the keep, leaving Luna behind to continue her greetings.

***

Trixie wandered through the party with practiced ease, submersing herself in the growing crowd of ponies. Some recognized her from her disastrous court performance, but rather than ridiculing her like she feared, they seemed either awed or slightly afraid. A few of the braver stallions attempted to strike up conversations with her, but these she deflected with practiced ease. She wasn’t interested in making new friends at the moment.

A small chamber orchestra was set up near the head of the hall, providing some light music to keep the crowd entertained. In front of the orchestra a dance floor had been cleared, but so far no pony was brave enough to put it to use. A serious-looking mare with a charcoal coat and treble clef cutie mark led the ensemble in a slow waltz, deftly wielding a bow across a large contra-bass taller than most ponies.

Still no takers on the dance floor, Trixie noted; perhaps later she would offer a demonstration. She briefly wondered if Luna knew how to dance.

The quiet hum of the party became a louder buzz behind her. Turning, she saw Celestia towering over a small crowd of ponies, engaging them in casual conversations as she circulated around the hall. More ponies flocked toward the princess, orbiting her like planets around a sun.

Trixie moved against the flow, taking up a station near a well-stocked buffet table. She didn’t have anything against Celestia, but she needed some more time to think before confronting that gentle smile and probing gaze again.

Still, she found her gaze occasionally wandering back to the monarch, to her faintly glowing mane, to her white coat tinted with the barest hint of pink, but most of all to the golden torc resting around her neck.

***

“Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student! I’m so glad you and your friend could join us tonight.”

Twilight and Applejack bowed for the second time that evening. Even as Applejack came to her feet Twilight had already bounded forward, pressing herself against the princess’s massive chest. Celestia lowered her head to give her student a friendly nuzzle, and they stood back, both smiling.

The part of Twilight that had never grown up wanted to climb onto Celestia’s back and ride around with her for the rest of the evening, like she had as a filly. Fortunately for all present (but mostly Applejack) she managed to restrain herself, making do with conversation instead.

“Thank you for inviting us, Princess,” she said. “It’s always a pleasure to return to Canterlot.”

“Indeed. Things are always more interesting with you and your friends around. Especially formal occasions.”

Memories of the Gala came flooding back. Twilight stammered while Applejack blushed. Desperate for a new subject, Twilight cast her gaze around the room, eventually settling on the ceiling.

“Say! Aren’t those new frescoes up there?” she asked. “Those look new and completely unrelated to the Gala.”

Celestia peered up at the ceiling, her snout easily twice as high off the floor as the next tallest pony in the room. When she looked back down there was an unusual twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, I thought it was time for some redecorating,” the alicorn said. “In fact, we redid most of the hall about a month ago. I’m very happy with how it turned out.” Her words carried a sense of hidden laughter, though Twilight couldn’t imagine what was so funny about redecorating.

“We saw Luna out front,” Applejack chimed in. “That was very nice of yer majesty to make her the host tonight.”

Celestia’s smile widened as she looked toward the foyer and her sister. “She’s grown so much in the past year. I’m starting to get my sister back, thanks to you two and your friends.” She turned back to the two ponies, and leaned forward to whisper: “Can you two keep a secret?”

They nodded together, confused but willing. Celestia’s massive wings stretched out and wrapped around them, forming a snug, feathery cocoon that sealed off the rest of the party.

“I’m afraid I’ve been meddling a bit,” the princess confided, her eyes hooded with glee and satisfaction. “When you get to be my age, well, it comes naturally.”

Twilight thought back to some of the more exciting incidents of the past year, many of which had Celestia’s stamp on them. The dragon she asked them to evict; the gala she used them to invigorate; the dying phoenix she introduced to an animal lover.

“I had no idea,” Twilight said, diplomatically. Applejack looked like she was about to object until Twilight’s hoof found the side of her leg.

“She’s finally coming out of her shell,” Celestia said, just to them. “Becoming the princess Equestria needs. Little things like this ball, or a new friend I’ve arranged to live here for a while, they’re all bringing back the Luna I knew.”

The white wings retracted, folding into place against the princess’s back. She looked down at the two with her gentle smile again.

“I think I’m going to retire for the evening,” she said. “This is Luna’s night. She should have it all to herself.”

They bowed to her again. “We’ll see you in the morning, princess,” Twilight said, and stepped close for one more nuzzle.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my little pony,” Celestia said. “Now, go enjoy the rest of the evening with your friends.”

***

Rainbow Dash wandered into the main ballroom with a dazed smile on her face. Although the hall was technically a no-flying zone (there were signs posted at the entrance warning pegasus ponies to stay on the ground), she didn’t hesitate for a moment to lift into the air, spying out her friends near the center of the crowd.

“AJ! Twilight!” she cried, zipping up next to them and drawing annoyed mutters from the ponies she bumped into along the way. “Soarin asked me to go flying with him later! Alone!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “See, Twi? This is what I was talkin’ about.”

Even Twilight seemed taken aback. “That’s, um, very nice, Dash.” She paused and glanced at Applejack before turning back to the pegasus. “Do you think that’s really a good idea, though?”

“Well of course! How else am I supposed to show off my signature moves?” She jabbed her hooves at the air, making *whoosh* noises with her breath.

Twilight cringed. Applejack shook her head. Rainbow Dash noticed neither, fantasizing over the upcoming flight. Suddenly she broke out of her reverie, a startled expression on her face.

“Oh, he also asked for some pie!” she said. “See you later!” She took off toward the buffet tables, once again ignoring the no-flying signs.

“This is how it starts,” Applejack said under her breath. Twilight massaged her forehead with a hoof, already imagining the worst.

***

Trixie was still standing next to the buffet when a multi-colored blur came to a sudden stop beside her. She barely held in a startled shriek as she jumped back, bumping into the table and setting its desserts atremble. The blur resolved into a young pegasus mare, apparently oblivious to the near heart attack she had caused.

There was something familiar about the mare, Trixie thought. A garish, uncombed rainbow mane and tail clashed hideously with her cyan coat. Sleek, muscular wings slowly folded back into place as she leaned over the desert table, sniffing at the various pies on display. After a moment she noticed the unicorn staring at her. She opened her mouth to say something – probably a smart remark – then stopped.

“No way… Trixie?” The pegasus jumped back and settled into a fighting stance, her head low, wings spread wide to make her appear larger.

Trixie peered down her snout at the young mare. Something about that mane…

“Rainbow… Rainbow Flash?” she took a guess.

“Dash!” The pegasus stomped a hoof for emphasis. Her voice was rough and scratchy, as though she spent most of her time shouting. “What are you doing here? Let me guess, lied your way past the guards? Told them you were a ‘great and powerful’ magician?” Other ponies in the crowd were turning to stare at them. Conversations trailed off into whispers.

Trixie drew herself up, placed a hoof over her chest and summoned her best stage voice. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has no need to lie, little filly,” she said. “In fact, Trixie is a personal guest of none other than Princess Luna. So if you know what’s good for you—" she was interrupted by a sudden voice behind her.

“Trixie, thank goodness!” The kitchen door behind the buffet was partly open, and an older mare in servant’s garb had stuck her head out. “We need some help setting out the next course. Can you lend a hoof back here?” The head vanished back into the kitchens, the door slowly swinging shut behind it.

Dead silence. Trixie stared at the closed door and then slowly turned back to the pegasus. Rainbow Dash stared at her, confusion and puzzlement slowly fading from her face, replaced by a wide grin.

“Oh… oh this is too good…” the pegasus was starting to shake with suppressed laughter. “The Great and p-Powerful Trixie is here… ha ha… as a servant!” Her forelegs finally buckled and she fell to the floor, rolling onto her back as she laughed uncontrollably. “Bwa hahaha! A servant!” A small crowd was now staring at the spectacle, looking back and forth between Trixie and Rainbow Dash.

Trixie felt her ears and face burning. Unable to form a coherent reply, she did what she always did in the face of ridicule, the one foe she had never been able to defeat. She turned and fled, bursting through the door into the kitchen.

Rainbow Dash eventually recovered and realized the subject of her mirth had vanished. Still giggling, she got back on her hooves and, oblivious to the stares of the crowd, grabbed a particularly delicious looking apple pie with her mouth. For the third time that night she broke the no-flying rule, and soared through the hall back to the moonlit gardens.

***

One hour and a few tears later, Trixie felt ready to return to the party. If nothing else this was Luna’s special night, and she didn’t want to ruin it by acting like a silly filly.

The rainbow pegasus was nowhere to be seen when she stepped back in. Taking that as a hopeful sign, she slipped into the crowd, heading toward the dance floor. The lights overhead had dimmed in an approximation of night, with tiny flickering candles all along the walls playing the role of stars.

Somepony had apparently taken the plunge, and there were now several couples on the dance floor, moving in time with a slow waltz being played by the ensemble. Far more ponies stood on the sidelines watching than actually dancing, but she knew the floor would be crowded with bodies as the night wore on and alcohol loosened inhibitions.

Inhibitions, of course, had never held much sway over Trixie. A brief search discovered a handsome, athletic looking stallion standing by the side of the floor. She slipped up beside him and waited until a new song was about to begin, and then lightly brushed his shoulder with hers before stepping onto the dance floor.

If the stallion was startled he didn’t show it – a heartbeat later he was at her side, his tan coat and blonde mane nicely complementing her own colors (another reason she had chosen him). Without a word she extended a hoof, which he lightly touched to his own, and they began to move.

It was a simple dance, by her standards, She let him lead, stepping lightly through a quick polonaise that reminded her of the earth pony village dances she sometimes attended on the road. Her partner knew the steps well enough, but it was the extra taps and flourishes she added that drew the crowd’s attention. By the time the song finished a small open area had formed around the pair, and a few ponies even clapped their hooves in appreciation.

She exchanged a polite bow with the stallion, and turned to find another partner for the next dance. One quickly presented herself – an older ivory mare who moved with the rare grace and assurance that marked her in Trixie’s mind as a fellow performer. The ensemble struck up a moderate gavotte, and they began.

***

Many dances and partners later, Trixie reluctantly bowed off the dance floor, followed by a round of enthusiastic applause. Several stallions and not a few mares looked disappointed not to have had their chance. She felt refreshed, the incident with the crass pegasus nearly gone from her mind as she walked back to the buffet for a drink.

Shunning the alcoholic drinks, she selected a simple apple cider and turned back to the crowd. Most of the attention was still on the dance floor, but a few ponies were gathered around the foyer and the tall, dark form of Princess Luna.

She should have asked Luna to dance, she realized. Did the princess know how? What would be more enjoyable, partnering with her for a flamboyant routine to set the crowd ablaze; or slowly teaching her how to move, how to set her hooves in time with the music, how to slide her body alongside her partner?

Such thoughts would have continued more or less indefinitely, had not a quiet voice next to her drawled, “Some fancy moves there, partner.” A tall, orange mare with a ridiculously large hat was lounging against the wall. Something about the tone of her voice warned Trixie that this was not a friend.

“Just some simple country dances,” she said to the mare cautiously. “Trixie is capable of much grander performances, to be sure.”

“Ah’ve seen yer performances, Trixie,” the mare said, pushing off the wall and walking toward her. “Thought you mighta learned sumthin’, but ah can see ah was wrong ta expect anythin’ better from you.”

What was this, a reunion? Trixie took a step back, putting some space between her and the orange pony. “What do you know of Trixie?” she demanded.

“Ah know yer a liar,” the pony said, stepping forward. “Ah know all about the ‘Ursa Major’ you s’pposedly defeated. Ah know you travel from town ta town, bilkin’ ponies outta their bits.”

Around them the party rolled unabated. Their conversation was too quiet, too personal to draw more than a passing glance, for all the heat and intensity in the earth pony’s words. Trixie took another step back, her legs shaking as she recognized the mare from the same disastrous town as the rainbow pegasus.

“If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s lyin’,” the earth pony continued. “And yer the queen of dishonesty, Trixie. I never got ta say it before, but yer a fraud, and you should be ashamed.” The mare turned up her head and spun, disappearing back into the crowd.

The orchestra started another song, a low, somber nocturne whose melody was the night itself. Trixie sat back on her haunches, wondering if she would ever escape that damn town.

Quite some time later she found the strength to return to her hooves. There was one pony in the crowd, at least, who didn’t care about her past, who treated her like a friend. Stepping back into the crowd, she went looking for Luna.

***

“Lose your friends?” the princess asked. Luna’s smile was wider than Twilight Sparkle had ever seen on her; apparently the pre-celebration was going well.

“Not as such,” Twilight said. “Applejack went to get something to drink, and Rainbow Dash is, uh, preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied?” Luna tilted her head. Twilight tried to answer, but blushed before she could contrive another euphemism. “Oh, ‘preoccupied.’” The princess giggled, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Doing some research of her own into the magic of friendship?”

Twilight pondered. “Something like that,” she eventually allowed.

The two wandered through the crowds, enjoying the laughter and happiness around them. Luna positively glowed, looking happier than Twilight could ever recall.

“Oh, speaking of friendship, I have someone I want you to meet tomorrow,” the alicorn said. “A very good friend of mine, and someone I think you already know.”

That brought Twilight up short. All her friends lived in Ponyville – she had acquaintances from her years in Canterlot, but aside from Celestia, no one she was close to.

“Who?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m not supposed to tell you yet.” Luna said. “’Tia said it would be a surprise.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “You know, Princess Celestia certainly likes to make things more complicated than they need to be. One of these days somepony’s going to turn the tables on her.”

Luna laughed quietly, drawing curious glances from the ponies around them. “I wish that pony the best of luck. You need to get up pretty early in the morning to outsmart her.”

Their wanderings eventually took them near the dance floor. Luna glanced at it, a small smile on her face.

“Say, do you know how to dance?” she asked the smaller pony.

“I’ve read about dance theory. I’m sure the application of theory into practice is a fairly simple matter of--whoa!” she trailed off as the princess, laughing, dragged her onto the dance floor to the cheers of the crowd.

***

Trixie was an unhappy pony.

She watched them, the princess and the unicorn, from a safe distance. They were deep in conversation with each other, giggling and laughing, and far too preoccupied to notice her staring.

She recognized the purple unicorn instantly. Twilight Sparkle, the third pony from that same damned town where everything fell apart. The one who showed her up, humiliated her, took her life and stomped it into the dirt in front of everyone. Apparently they had put together a special group tour to come and humiliate Trixie.

But the unicorn wasn’t the worst of it. The worst part was seeing Luna with her, laughing and smiling as they stepped onto the dance floor.

She felt something she had never felt before. Hollow, like a giant ice cream scoop had taken out her insides. Detached, like she was viewing the world through some other pony’s eyes. Some inconsiderate soul had wrapped a thin wire around her heart, and with every beat it drew tighter, squeezing the life from her.

Every bit of happiness the last month had blessed her with evaporated. Her dreams of staying in Canterlot vanished like morning mist. Silly, foalish illusions of friendship died within her.

She turned, unnoticed, and walked out of the hall into the dark corridors beyond.

***

The rest of the keep was quiet by comparison. Only a few torches were lit at this time of night, casting isolated pools of light in the dark corridors.

As a kitchen servant she was allowed access to most of the keep. The few guards she encountered simply nodded as she passed, recognizing her from her arrest and subsequent service.

The upper levels were a different story. Although Equestria was a peaceful nation and threats to the royal family were virtually unknown, the guards in the personal quarters would not be so lax as to simply let anypony wander in, particularly at night.

Trixie, of course, was not any pony. She stopped halfway up the stairs to the royal quarters, where no one could sneak up on her, and worked her first spell of the night. Her horn glowed with a brief silver light, then suddenly snuffed out as the night’s darkness covered her like a shroud.

It was a simple trick, one she used on stage to mask her movements. At night, in a dark hallway, it was as good as being invisible.

None of the guards saw an odd shadow sweeping by. The marble beneath her hooves was absolutely silent, thanks to a simple cantrip that dampened sounds. Even the currents of air she stilled with her magic, lest a stray breeze alert the guards to something unusual.

The end of the hallway was taken up by a massive pair of golden double doors, stamped with a stylized sun. Two armored pegasus guards stood alert in front of them, oblivious to her presence even as she strode close enough to touch them. Faint sounds of music and laughter bubbled up from the party far below, the only hint of any waking life in the castle beyond the dark corridor.

Opening the doors would be impossible to mask, even for her, so she didn’t bother. She had been in the room beyond many times as a servant, delivering and collecting dishes, and it took no effort at all to form an image of the room in her mind. Her horn flashed again, invisible behind its spell, and when she opened her eyes she was no longer in the corridor.

Celestia’s personal quarters were surprisingly sparse. The goddess apparently didn’t feel the need to stuff her room with treasures, instead filling it with comfortable furniture, rows of bookcases, and tasteful paintings of scenes and ponies from Equestrian history. The anteroom she found herself in was virtually empty, decorated only with an ornate golden armillary hung from the ceiling -- a collection of concentric rings twisted into a sphere, representing the motion and locations of the heavenly bodies. If she hadn’t looked up to check for traps she would have missed it completely.

She could sense magical alarms tingling, on the verge of tripping and alerting the castle to her intrusion. Reaching out with her magic, she calmed them, muting them like vibrating strings. Although elaborately crafted, the alarm spells were ancient, and had never been designed to stop a true magician from entering.

The bedroom lay beyond a large archway, which was tall enough for the alicorn princess to stride through without having to duck her horn. The room was decorated with soft, dark colors, so unlike the sun and day she epitomized. Midnight blue drapes concealed windows; azure rugs felt soft and luxurious beneath hooves. The only artwork was a small, framed painting of the Princess Luna, so old the colors had faded and the paint cracked like dry earth.

Trixie spent several minutes in silence, going over the room and its contents. The massive bed was shrouded with translucent curtains, hiding its occupant. Next to the bed was her target, a tall wood rack on which hung a large golden torc and a pearlescent crown, both removed from their bearer for the night.

Perched atop the rack was an unwelcome surprise – a large, sleeping phoenix with its head tucked under its wing. She had mistaken the creature for a lantern when she entered, but the bird itself filled the room with a soft, mellow light similar to a candle. There was no way to remove the torc from the rack without lifting it completely over the phoenix as well.

Again, what would have been a challenge for most ponies barely caused Trixie to break a sweat. She levitated the torc delicately away from the pegs it rested on, and lifted it up the length of the rack. The phoenix didn’t even stir as she lifted the torc over it, and then across the room into her waiting mouth. It was larger than she expected, but fortunately folded along several concealed joints, and she was able to fit it into her saddlebag with some difficulty.

The next part was far harder. Walking back into the anteroom, she focused her magic on the golden armillary, insinuating her will into the fabric of its being. The sculpture shuddered and popped as she gave it a few mental twists, and with a final flash it vanished, replaced by a mirror image of Celestia’s torc. She levitated the forgery back into the bedroom, carefully sliding it onto the rack over the sleeping phoenix.

A simple imitation might fool most ponies, but probably not Celestia, and Trixie couldn’t take that chance. Her horn glowed again as she probed at the real torc in her saddlebags, letting it press against her magical senses.

It felt… heavy. Far heavier than it should. Even though she knew its mass and could carry it around without difficulty, it gave the impression of immense weight, of mountains and glaciers and deep, deep oceans.

That was unsettling to the unicorn, but her illusions were up to the task. She laid another spell on the false torc, carefully twisting it to manipulate the impressions of its wearer. When she finished she was certain that it could withstand anything but the deepest inspection by the princess, or another powerful magician.

Her prize firmly in her grasp, she turned to leave the bedroom. She paused for only a moment before teleporting back into the corridor, a single melancholy thought penetrating the fog in her mind.

Forgive me, Luna.

***

Less than an hour later Trixie was on a train heading to Appleloosa, the furthest station she could afford a ticket for. She tried convincing herself that she was elated, thrilled with her theft and the untold power the torc in her saddlebag promised. A lens, Luna had called it, perhaps the last one in all of Equestria.

And it was hers.

She tried to imagine the glory and adulation she would soon win, with the power of the lens augmenting her own magic. Who knew how great she might become? Who knew what heights she could conquer with its aid?

But for some reason her thoughts always returned to a single point, a smiling, laughing face, the only pony who had shown her kindness or friendship.

She did her best to push those thoughts out of her head. It was late and there was no celebration for her to attend in the morning. Better to get some sleep.

Her cabin was empty of other passengers, so her restless dreaming disturbed nopony else.

***

“You know, I haven’t watched Celestia do this in well over a thousand years.”

Twilight Sparkle gave Luna a curious glance. They were standing on the side of a wooden platform, so similar to the one she saw from a distance as a child. At the center of the stage a large, sun-shaped ring rose high into the air, ready to frame the rising sun as Celestia worked her magic.

“But I thought you were banished exactly a thousand years ago? That’s what the legend said,” Twilight responded with some confusion.

Luna nodded, her eyes on the frame above them. “I stopped coming many years before that. It just seemed like Celestia was trying to rub salt into my wounds, to prove how much more the ponies loved the day and summer than the night and winter.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze softening as she remembered events that had been forgotten long before Twilight’s birth. “Did you know I once held a Winter Moon Celebration? To mark the longest night of the year?”

“You mean Winter Solstice Day?” Twilight asked. “We still celebrate that. It’s one of the biggest holidays of the year, especially for foals.” She grinned, remembering the presents her parents hid around their house on solstice day. One time she had taken to telepathically dismantling the walls in her searching. After that her parents just left the presents in a large pile for her to find in the morning.

“No, Celestia started that holiday after I was gone,” Luna said. “There were no presents, no families or parties as part of my Celebration. It was just me, inviting all of ponykind to watch me raise the moon on the coldest, darkest night of the year.” She sighed. “Only one pony showed up.”

“Who?” Twilight asked, though she suspected she knew the answer. She leaned in close, resting a hoof on the princess’s shoulder.

“Celestia, of course.” Luna’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Even though she knew how much I resented her, she still showed up to offer her support.

“It was a terrible winter that year, Twilight, and Canterlot wasn’t like you see today, with these streets and buildings.” She took a breath, and continued. “It was just a large town outside our keep. The streets weren’t lit and nopony went out at night, especially not in such terrible weather.

“But she came,” Luna finished. “She sat in snow nearly up to her neck while I raised the moon. She said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.”

The princess slumped as she recalled the memory, her head hanging below her shoulders and the tip of her horn nearly touching the platform.

“And I hated her for it.” She closed her eyes before any tears could escape. “She showed me more love on that one night than I showed her in an entire year, and I hated her for it.”

Twilight was silent. Around them the Solarium was filling with ponies; already thousands crowded close to the stage, and more streamed into the plaza from the surrounding city.

“I was such a stupid filly, Twilight.” Her words were blunt and even, with no more emotion than if she had remarked on the weather.

Nothing in Twilight’s studies of friendship had prepared her to deal with a melancholy goddess. She looked across the platform to her friends, Applejack and Rainbow Dash, but both were occupied with other, happier conversations.

“Luna,” she finally said, “I haven’t known Celestia as long as you, obviously, but she practically raised me from a filly. I think I know her pretty well. And I can tell you the only time I’ve ever seen her happier than last night at your party was the day we freed you from Nightmare Moon.”

Luna, princess of Equestria and goddess of the moon, sniffled. “Really?” she said.

Twilight nodded. “Uh huh.”

The princess sniffed again, then straightened, a weak smile on her face. “You’re a good friend, Twilight.”

She blushed. “Well, I’m learning.”

***

The rose tint of dawn was coloring the eastern sky when Celestia appeared, striding up onto the platform. She paused long enough to give her sister and Twilight Sparkle a smile, then moved to the center of the stage, just beneath the ornate sun sculpture.

The crowd was silent as Celestia gazed to the east. Although she could technically raise the sun any time she wanted, she never seemed to be in any particular rush to do so. Instead she waited, letting the sun continue on its appointed path.

Finally, as the sky whitened and the clouds began to glow with the sun’s light, she leapt into the air, her massive wings easily lifting her into the empty center of the sun sculpture. Behind her the tip of the sun peaked over the mountains, and the rays of dawn washed over her and into the wildly cheering crowds.

And then the sun princess did something Twilight had never seen. She froze in mid-air with her wings outspread, no longer flapping to keep herself aloft. For a moment she seemed to defy gravity.

But only for a moment. Before Twilight even realized something was wrong the princess plummeted back to the platform without attempting to land properly. Ponies shouted in alarm as the structure shook under their hooves, and several planks buckled and broke beneath the force of Celestia’s crash.

Luna recovered first. “TIA!” she yelled, and darted toward her sister. She pressed against the larger mare, helping her back onto her hooves.

Twilight was at her side next, her eyes wide with alarm. “Princess, are you alright?” The cheers of the crowd were beginning to die off as those ponies not on the platform realized something was happening.

The huge alicorn shook her head, as though trying to clear it. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, stumbling over her words. It was the first time Twilight had ever seen the princess in any sort of distress. “I just felt a little light-headed there for a moment.”

Luna pressed her muzzle against her sister’s neck, then drew back in alarm. “Stars, ‘Tia, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say you were sick?”

Celestia rose to her full height, fluttering her wings to settle her feathers before relaxing them against her body. The crowd began to calm down, some of their initial alarm passing as they saw their princess recover. “I didn’t think I was, beloved sister,” she said. “Something about the sun just felt odd, something I haven’t felt in a long time…” She turned to the east, where the rising sun finally illuminated the platform itself. Celestia stood transfixed, staring at the orb as though she had never seen it before.

Twilight stepped toward her mentor. “Princess, perhaps we should go back inside and…” she trailed off. The air around the princess was beginning to shimmer, like heat rising off of hot cobblestones in the summer.

“’Tia, you’re scaring us,” Luna said, stepping up next to Twilight. Applejack and Rainbow Dash followed behind her, staring at the princess with alarm and confusion.

“No… no, this is wrong,” Celestia said, almost whispering. She stared at the sun until the smell of smoke caught her attention. A glance at her hooves revealed the wood platform beginning to smolder beneath them. She jumped back, her wings fanning out in alarm.

Twilight stumbled back with her friends. The blast of air from Celestia’s wings was like standing before an open oven. Only Luna seemed unaffected.

“What’s wrong?!” she cried, her voice starting to break. “’Tia, what’s happening?” She ignored the burning air and stepped toward her sister. The crowd began to rumble again as those closest to the stage shied away from the heat.

Tiny flames began to lick at the wood under Celestia’s hooves. She danced away but the flames followed, forming a trail of burning hoofprints around her. The air around her began to crackle ominously. After a few alarmed steps she stopped and ignored the fires, instead turning again to the sun as she realized, too late, what was happening.

She was in the middle of a city of nearly a hundred-thousand ponies. In a few minutes all of them were going to die.

There wasn’t enough time to fly away. She tore her eyes from the sun long enough to give her sister a final, aching look, and began to weave the largest spell she had ever attempted, her horn glowing like a second sun.

Twilight saw none of this. The heat pouring from Celestia’s body was like standing next to a blacksmith’s forge. She covered her eyes with her forelegs as the temperature began to spike, and felt the hairs of her coat curling as they started to burn.

There was a final flash, visible even through her clenched eyes, and suddenly the heat was gone. When she looked around, she was no longer in Canterlot.

***

When the glow of her spell faded Celestia was alone on the platform. Every living pony in Canterlot had been wrapped in her magic and sent miles away. She considered teleporting herself out of the city, but quickly discarded the idea. A blind teleport could drop her anywhere, and probably kill anyone or anything she landed next to.

The wood platform was fully engulfed in flames. A column of smoke visible throughout the city was starting to rise from the Solarium. A moment later the stage buckled beneath her hooves and collapsed.

Her thoughts, which had seemed so clear just moments ago, were beginning to unravel. The merciless rays of the sun hammered at her mind.

Teleporting all those ponies away should have been impossible, she thought absently as she kicked her way out of the ruined stage, scattering burning wood for hundreds of feet around. The spell should have taken more power than even she could wield; instead she had hardly noticed the drain.

But at least they were safe, even though she could barely remember their names now, with the sun’s brilliance drowning her thoughts. They had been important to her.

She glanced around the plaza, annoyed by the smoke pouring from the dozens of small fires she had just started. The cobblestones beneath her hooves started to glow a dull, cherry red.

She looked up at her home, the keep perched far above the city on the side of a mountain. Her horn flared, and she was gone.

***

The keep was fortunately empty when Celestia appeared in her throne room with a flash. The same spell that evacuated the city below had reached far enough to remove everyone from the castle as well.

The moment she materialized the tall glass windows lining her throne room, replaced just a month ago, exploded outward as the air in the room superheated and violently attempted to escape. Her huge throne, dozens of feet away, blackened and burst into flames after just a few seconds next to her brilliance.

Tiny rivulets of gold were running down her chest, she realized. Her torc, which should have been able to survive unharmed inside a volcano, was beginning to melt like wax.

She tore it off with a hoof in a sudden rage. It flopped to the crackling floor at her feet with a wet *plop*, already halfway to becoming a puddle. She stomped on it furiously, screaming as the spells around it collapsed and it turned back into a ruined, melted version of her armillary sphere.

Somepony had stolen her torc. Somepony had stolen her torc, not realizing what it was for, and because of their foolishness the world was going to burn.

Fires raged throughout the keep, carried by currents of air that were nearly aflame themselves. Within minutes of her arrival every organic item in the castle was burning.

Dozens of acres of gardens, among the finest in the world, began to ignite. The trees turned into massive torches, their crowns lighting the mountainside for miles around. Carefully manicured topiaries twisted in cruel mockeries of the forms they had been carved to emulate. Above the roaring fires a series of deafening cracks sounded, as tiny pockets of air trapped in the stone sculptures expanded and burst. Thousands of animals screamed or shrieked or remained silent, each according to their natures, as they burned.

There was another flash from within the keep, and every living thing still in the gardens mercifully died.

In her throne room the being that had once called itself Celestia looked around in confusion. Still shaped like an alicorn, it bore only fragments of her personality and thought, all crowded out by the brilliance of the star burning inside her.

The marble beneath her hooves liquefied and flowed away from her in streams. There was no more fire around her, for there was nothing left to burn. The stone columns holding up the roof sagged and finally surrendered the fight; no longer supported, the ceiling attempted to simultaneously collapse and explode.

One thought remained in the tumult of her mind: her torc. It was still out there, she could sense. Far to the west, and moving further away with every passing second.

Below her the marble ceased to melt and instead simply evaporated. Tiny flickers of ghostly light surrounded the few solid objects remaining in the room as their composition broke down into thin tendrils of plasma.

She could still fix this. With the torc, she could again be whole.

She fanned her wings, flapping them to no effect. The superheated air around her was thinner than the void between the stars, and nowhere near dense enough to support her weight.

But that was fine – alicorns had never needed wings to fly. She continued to flap, entirely out of habit, as she rose into the air. Once she was clear of the ruins of the keep she began flying west, slowly picking up speed.

Like the stars’ own spear she lit a burning trail through the skies.

The Roof of the World

Once, when Twilight Sparkle was a young filly, she very nearly fell into a firepit.

Like most foals she went through an adventurous phase, during which she was convinced of her own invulnerability. She jumped off roofs trying to fly like a pegasus. She attempted dangerous spells that would give expert magicians pause, despite barely having any magic in her horn. She explored the streets of Canterlot at night, not comprehending that even in the Celestial City some areas simply weren’t safe.

It was a trying time for her parents, to say the least. Their daughter, normally so quiet and reserved, seemed determined to either make them die of worry or get killed herself.

Her final filly adventure, so to speak, occurred just a few days before the end of summer, a time when families gathered for reunions and feasts. Even unicorn ponies, not normally given to such plebeian activities as ‘cook-outs,’ would gather for outdoor vegetable roasts beneath the fading evening skies to celebrate the approach of autumn. Pumpkins, squash, zucchinis, corn, carrots and apples – so many apples – all would be tossed onto grills and roasted, filling the air with an indescribable mixture of scents. The very act of breathing became a feast for the senses.

On that night her father plucked an apple from the grill with his magic and floated it over to her waiting hooves. Its skin, still a bright golden yellow, had blackened and split from the heat, and from the steaming flesh of the fruit rose a savory caramel scent that begged – no, demanded – to be devoured. And devour it she did.

Because it was a summer feast and because she was a foal, no one scolded her for licking the still-warm apple juices from her hooves. Her father just laughed and promised to get her another apple, once they were done roasting.

That seemed like a long time to wait for such a delicious treat. Too long, in fact. And so the young Twilight Sparkle took it upon herself to fetch another apple.

The grill was a long metal rack suspended over a large pit dug in the sandy earth of the park. The pit was packed with charcoal and embers nearly to the level of the ground, and filled the air above with sparks and low flames. Juices from the fruits and vegetables suspended above would drip down into the pit, instantly vaporizing with a loud hiss that added to the background noise of the party.

Try as she might, Twilight couldn’t quite lift anything from the grill with her magic – she simply wasn’t strong enough yet. Instead she leaned over the edge of the pit and stretched a hoof up to the grill, reaching for a simmering red delicious just out of reach.

An adult, a tan earth pony tending the grill, noticed her efforts. He was about to help by grabbing the apple when the sand beneath her shifted suddenly, dumping her onto her belly with her forelegs and hooves crashing into the embers. Instead of the apple the earth pony grabbed her mane in his teeth and pulled her away from the pit, just as the first wails escaped her lips.

The damage could have been far worse. As it was the hair on her fetlocks was entirely burnt away, and the skin beneath badly blistered. Her soles were tender for weeks, and her parents spent months lathering a special cream on her hooves to keep them from drying out and cracking.

Bed-ridden for more than a week, she turned to books for solace. It was the beginning of a life-long obsession with the written word, and in time she would come to be thankful for the accident and the book-filled days that followed.

***

When Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes, she was no longer in Canterlot.

The last thing she remembered was covering her face with her forelegs. Even through clenched eyelids she could see the shape of her hooves, and as the terrible bright light reached a peak she thought she could see the outlines of bones and blood vessels within them. Then there was a final flash that stole all of her vision, and suddenly the heat was gone.

All around her was darkness, like someone had painted the world with pitch. Slowly she became aware of a tiny point of light just above the horizon; as her eyes adjusted she realized it was the sun.

Around her came the sounds of other ponies in similar distress. Lots of ponies, in fact – her nose picked up the scents of hundreds of terrified mares and stallions, all starting to recover their voices and call out to each other.

The light slowly returned to her eyes, fading splotches of afterimages swirling and shifting and eventually giving way to the sight of mass confusion. A sharp, sickening scent of burnt hair filled her nostrils, and when the world finally came into focus she saw that the tips of her coat had singed into brown curls.

She tried to speak, and found that her mouth was completely dry. All she could manage was an incoherent mumble as her tongue stuck to teeth and lips. She paused for a moment to work up some saliva, and tried again.

“Is… is everyone alright?” she asked, and turned to the nearest pony.

It was Luna, who was still staring into the space where her sister had just been. None of her fur was burned, Twilight noted with some annoyance.

“Twi! What the HAY just happened?” Applejack’s voice came from behind. She turned to her friend, prompting the orange pony to recoil in shock.

“Stars, Twilight! Are you alright?” Applejack asked, her eyes wide as she stared at the unicorn’s blackened coat. Rainbow Dash stumbled to her side, mouth agape as she took in Twilight’s condition.

“I’m fine, Applejack,” she said, managing to keep all but the fainted quaver from her voice. “Trust me, I’ve been burned worse before.” She rubbed her coat with a hoof, knocking off the burnt tips of the hairs and revealing the healthy lavender fur beneath.

“T-tia?” They heard Luna say. The alicorn looked around, stunned, eventually settling on the girls. All around them hundreds of ponies were going through identical stages of shock. The air was filled with confused cries, shouts and sob. A great number apparently thought they were dead and that this was the afterlife.

Applejack recovered first. She stomped over to Luna, dragging Twilight with her by the mane. Rainbow Dash followed the pair, her ears pressed flat against her skull and her wings held tight against her body.

“Luna?” Applejack poked the princess’s shoulder with a hoof. “Luna! C’mon girl, we need you.”

The alicorn stared at the offending hoof, then up at its owner. A sharp focus returned to her eyes, and the stunned filly was gone, replaced by the goddess of the moon.

“She teleported us,” she said. “I don’t know how she did it, but somehow she teleported us… here? Where are we?”

The four looked around, taking in the crowds of ponies around them. They seemed to be in the middle of a large meadow bordered by a mix of tall trees. A well-worn trail beneath their feet, crowded with ponies, cut through the tall grass and led into the forest.

Despite the thousands of ponies crowding the landscape as far as she could see, Twilight instantly recognized the spot. She and Applejack had walked on that very road less than a day earlier.

“This… this is the Whitetail Woods,” she finally said, looking around in confusion. “I think we’re just a few miles from Ponyville, actually.” To the south she could just barely make out the perpetual clouds that covered the Everfree Forest like a shroud. Much further away to the north rose the heights of the Sidesaddle Mountains. The vague shape of Canterlot Keep was visible even at this distance, perched on the side of the nearest peak.

“Why would she do that?” Luna said, following Twilight’s gaze to the north. “Why send us all here?” The towers of Canterlot began to shine as the first light of dawn struck them, filling the air with the dazzling radiance Twilight had always associated with the city.

“Who cares?!” Applejack interjected, stomping her foot. “She almost cooked us back there! Why the hay did she do that?”

“I don’t think she could help it, Applejack,” Twilight said. She took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to remain calm. “She seemed confused and… hurt.” Luna shot her a pained look.

The alicorn opened her mouth to say something when suddenly she froze, her eyes widening in alarm. Twilight stared at her for a moment, and then turned to see what was so important it could silence a royal princess.

High above and far away, Canterlot began to burn.

***

It started with a thin trickle of smoke rising from the side of the mountain. Within moments the smoke expanded, smothering the peak and rising high into the air. Tiny sparks flashed in the windows of the castle, lighting the mountainside and city below like flashbulbs. Despite the distance the flashes left pinpoint afterimages in the eyes of the watching ponies.

The tiny sparks turned into a brilliant flare that drowned out the sun. The keep vanished from view, replaced by a burning ember that filled the sky above with a towering cloud of smoke that soared thousands of feet into the air, dwarfing the mountain range below.

The faint form of the keep was still visible through the aura of flames that consumed the mountainside. As they watched pieces of the structure cracked and fell away, tumbling down the mountain in a shower of wreckage and molten rock.

There was a final flash, blinding even from dozens of miles away. When the sky faded and vision returned, the keep was no more. In its place was a slowly expanding ring of debris lifting into the sky; thousands of red-hot stones, some the size of buildings, traced arrow-straight lines of smoke in the air as they flew away from the shining star perched on the burning mountain.

The star, too brilliant to gaze at for more than a moment, seemed to hover in mid-air just above the cliff. After a moment it began to rise, violently dispersing the column of smoke that rose from the ruined mountain. Higher and higher it flew, shining like a second sun.

Eventually it came to a stop, and started drifting to the west, away from the rising sun.

***

Twilight watched in horror as her home, her entire life, vanished in flames.

The city she was born in lay hidden beneath a pall of smoke. Shortly after the keep exploded a river of lava had poured down the mountainside, crashing through the stone buildings below like they were nothing more than sand. Within moments half the city was in flames.

The Keep itself, where she had spent years with her mentor learning the ways of magic, was simply gone. The gardens, the towers, beautiful libraries, Celestia’s halls and throne room – all destroyed in the blink of an eye. Aside from the debris still soaring through the air, nothing remained of the greatest work of art ever created.

Even the shape of the mountain had changed. Still glowing, still burning, it looked like some errant god had taken a dollop from its side with a giant ice cream scoop. At the back of her mind the academic in her calmly noted that geographic maps of the mountain range would need to be redrawn. Then she remembered that the maps were all stored in the Canterlot library anyway.

The ponies watched in silence as the world they had known came to an end.

After a while – Twilight couldn’t have said how long – they became aware of a quiet keening sound. Luna was doubled over, her horn scraping the ground as she sobbed. Around them dozens of other ponies were going through the same stage of grief as they realized their homes were gone – buried or reduced to ash on the wind. Twilight felt a pang of guilt for her own feelings of loss: at least she still had Ponyville and her friends. Many others had lost everything.

“What… what was that thing?” Rainbow Dash finally asked. The shining star that had risen from the ruins passed behind another mountain range and was gone, leaving only the glow from the fires of Canterlot behind.

“It was her,” Luna said. Her voice nearly broke on the final word. “It was Celestia. I don’t know what she’s doing or what happened, but that was her.”

“But no pony could survive that,” Twilight said, staring up at the still-rising tower of smoke that now blotted out nearly a quarter of the sky. “I know she’s powerful, but—"

“She’s the sun goddess, Twilight,” Luna interrupted, her voice thick with emotion. “Emphasis on the word sun. She could do this.” The princess shivered slightly as the light of morning finally found them in the forest, and she seemed to slump. “Sister…” Twilight heard her whisper.

They were silent for a while longer. Finally Luna forced herself to her feet, and walked unsteadily to the three friends.

“Listen,” she said, slurring the word slightly. “I can’t stay awake during the day without her. You need to follow her for me, until night returns and I can find her.”

“How the hay are we s’posed ta follow that?” Applejack asked. “And what are we s’posed ta do when we catch up ta her?”

Luna’s head started to sink, then jerked back up as she caught herself. “I... I don’t know, Applejack,” she said. “She’s not moving very fast. Stars, commandeer one of the western rail lines. Tell them I said you could take it.”

“I could catch her!” Rainbow Dash shouted. She was already halfway off the ground when Applejack yanked her back to earth, her teeth firmly clenched around the cyan mare’s rainbow tail. Dash gave her a hurt look.

“Tha’s prolly not a good idea, Dash,” she said after spitting out the tail. Twilight was inclined to agree.

So was Luna, apparently. She rested a hoof on the pegasus pony’s shoulder, drawing her closer. “No, Rainbow Dash, I have a special task for you…”

***

Less than ten minutes later Rainbow Dash was in the air, streaking away from Ponyville and her friends. Far to the west the sky still glowed with the light of the departing sun goddess, who was slowly making her way to points unknown.

She wanted to be with her friends. They were running toward the danger while she was running away, which seemed like a terrible thing to do, especially for the Element of Loyalty.

At Luna’s request she was flying at full speed, high above the earth. The thinner air at high altitudes meant less wind resistance, and therefore higher speeds, but also required more energy and endurance from the pegasus to stay aloft.

She flew north, following Luna’s instructions. The Saddleback Mountains grew beneath her from low ridges that surrounded Canterlot into grim, rocky peaks that reached nearly as high as she was. The trees below changed as she flew, from the thick oak and beech forests of Ponyville to stands of identical aspen. Their leaves, dark on top and light on the bottom, seemed to turn the mountainsides into shimmering green blankets as they shook in the wind.

By noon she was further from home than she had ever flown before. The landscape below was alien – a tangle of valleys and ridges and peaks that looked almost like the veins in a leaf. The trees had changed again, into small, stunted pines that clung to the crevasse, their roots digging into the solid rock in search of a desperate solid purchase. Centuries of wind had contorted them into twisted shapes, more horizontal than vertical.

Luna, nearly incoherent with fatigue, hadn’t given her much to go by. Fly north, she had said, until you find the tallest mountain in Equestria – the Roof of the World.

“How will I know which one’s the tallest?” she had asked. For all she knew there would be another, higher mountain just over the horizon. She could spend days inspecting mountains, trying to figure out which one was the tallest.

You’ll know, had been the answer.

Her last words, before collapsing into an unbreakable slumber, hadn’t made any sense at the time. Even Twilight could only guess what she had meant by begging the stars for aid.

Ahead of her, perhaps an hour’s distance, the clouds grew thicker and higher, warning of possible storms. One cloud bank in particular rose high above the mountains, reaching up to the edge of the stratosphere.

As she flew the clouds thinned and dispersed with the advent of evening. All but the tall bank of clouds, which had only grown larger in her eyes.

It was not, she eventually realized, a cloud. It was a mountain unlike any in the world, impossibly high. It made the other mountains around it look like foothills – from a distance the entire mountain range seemed like flat earth, compared to this monster.

She headed for the summit.

***

The roof of the world was far too high to reach on wings. The barren, rocky peak of the tallest mountain on Equestria stretched far above the clouds. It reached so high that even snow was a memory; the few wind-blown flakes that managed to find their way to the summit rapidly sublimated into the dry, thin air.

Rainbow Dash gave up flying more than a thousand feet below the peak, landing instead on a relatively flat outcropping of rock cleaving to the sheer mountainside. Her wings burned from flapping almost as fast as a hummingbird’s in a futile attempt to produce enough lift to keep her up. The rest of the way to the top would have to be on hoof.

Whoever created the roof of the world at least made some allowances for pedestrians – a narrow path had been hewn from the cliff, tracing upward in a broken, irregular slash that seemed wrap all the way around the mountain. The part she could see was wide enough for two ponies to walk side-by-side, if they didn’t mind being friendly with each other. Some kind soul had even left sconces along the edge of the path, though any torches they might have once held had long since burned or rotted away.

Off to the west the disc of the sun was nearly touching the mountains as it set. There was probably less than an hour of light before the stars would start emerging, she figured, and she had to be on top by then.

Piece of cake, she thought, and started cantering up the path at a brisk pace that would have done Applejack proud. Be up there in no time.

Five minutes later that assessment was looking a bit optimistic. She was less than a quarter of the way up and her legs could barely support her weight. The path in front of her swam in and out of focus and the light from the sun seemed to tremor in time with her pulse. A crushing headache was introducing itself to her brain as she tried to decide between throwing up or passing out.

Okay, she thought. Air’s a little thinner than I expected. Deep breaths, Dash, just like at flight school. Young pegasuses were all taught to recognize oxygen deprivation, in case they ended up flying too high before their lungs developed enough to power their wings at altitude. More than one young pegasus had tried flying to the moon their first time in the air, usually with bad results.

The deep breaths worked. She waited another minute just to be sure she wasn’t going to faint, then started back up the path, this time at a much more sedate pace Twilight Sparkle would have appreciated. From time to time a gust of wind forced her to stop and huddle against the rock wall, until she realized the stone was leeching heat from her body faster than the wind could ever hope to. After that she simply rested on her knees and mantled her wings when the wind grew too strong.

By the time she neared the top the winds were blowing constantly and her hooves were numb. Only by staring at the path in front of her could she make sure each leg was planted before lifting the next.

Cold, as far as Rainbow Dash knew, had never directly killed a pegasus – nature had adapted them to the frigid air high above the ground. Ice had claimed more than one pegasus’ life, but only because they had flown from a drenching rain straight into a blizzard without noticing the ice building up on their wings until it was too late.

Still, there was a first time for everything, and it was starting to look to Rainbow Dash like she might be the first pegasus to actually freeze to death. Another record for the blue mare, though not one she was excited to claim.

Instead she climbed. Even as her mane grew stiff with frost, and her wings drooped numbly to drag on the path beside her, she never considered turning around. The thought, quite honestly, never occurred to her.

So it was for the best when, as the last of the sun’s evening rays vanished into twilight, with her last ounce of strength and last breath of air, she crested the last step and reached the highest point in Equestria – the roof of the world.

And promptly collapsed.

* * *

Her first thought upon waking up was that she must have gone to the wrong mountain after all. In fact, she didn’t even seem to be on a mountain of any sort. The rock her face rested on was flat and polished to a mirror-like shine so perfect she could make out the reflections of the stars above.

Stars, she thought, her mind still fuzzy with cold. So pretty. Rarity would love you. I should take some of you back with me…

Her second thought was that it was much too warm to be on top of a mountain. Feeling had returned to her hooves and her left wing, though she seemed to have come to a rest on top of her right wing somehow. Rolling slightly to free it, she got her first look at the sky.

On a normal night ponies could see a few thousand stars from the ground. A pegasus pony, far overhead with dark-adapted eyes, might see ten times that number, and make out the stain of the Milky Way on moonless nights. Only with a telescope like the one in Twilight’s library could a pony hope to see more.

From the roof of the world, Rainbow Dash saw more. Stars like gemstones blazed in the sky, filling the darkness with every color of light. Vast, glowing nebulae banished any hint of the night, and the Milky Way sparkled like a sunlit river overhead.

“The roof of the world is a stepping stone,” Luna had said. “It is the threshold between Equestria and the void. Do not forget you are closer to them when you are there, and further from us.”

Tearing her eyes from the sky she saw that she was still on the mountain. Rather than coming to a normal peak, someone had sheared the mountaintop clean off, leaving a flat, polished plateau perhaps 30 yards wide. At the center of the plateau rested a boulder about the size of a pony. Nothing else interrupted the featureless expanse of the roof.

She trotted closer to the boulder for a better look. It had seen better days; unlike the polished perfection of the plateau it was clearly unworked. Pitted and seared, it looked like a metal ingot fallen from a giant’s forge. Blisters and flakes of rust discolored every inch of its surface, and she thought she could taste the tang of iron on the air around it.

It was also old. Even without touching the boulder she could feel in her bones that it was far more ancient than the forests or the oceans or the mountain it rested upon. It was probably older than the world itself. Maybe as old as the stars, she thought, absently.

“Older than us, even,” a voice sounded from above. The words were tremulous, reedy, as though coming from a great distance. Looking up, Dash saw that one of the stars, Polaris, was shining far brighter than it had just minutes ago.

“Are you a star, then?” she shouted up at the sky. It was a silly question in retrospect, but shouting made her feel confident and she wasn’t known for thinking before opening her mouth.

“Yes, but you knew that. You came looking for us,” the voice drifted back from the heavens. “What do you want, little mortal?” At the word ‘mortal’ the entire sky spun overhead for an instant; only the North Star, still blazing, remained constant.

She gulped. Luna hadn’t given her much to go by, except to ask for help. She decided to be direct.

“I am Rainbow Dash, the fastest pony in all of Equestria!” she shouted. Even when petitioning the stars she couldn’t help but brag. “Princess Luna sent me, to—"

“Luna, you say?” the star cut her off before she could finish. “Sent you to repay her debt, perhaps? So glad she remembered us. Though you don’t look like you’re in a condition to pay anything.”

Another star, a dark incarnadine ruby hanging just above the horizon, flashed with a brief light. Nothing at all, something whispered in Dash’s head, followed by a humorless laugh.

Luna hadn’t mentioned anything about debts. Or payments. Especially payments, come to think of it. Coming here was starting to seem like a bad idea. And was the North Star starting to glow a bit brighter?

She decided to start over. “No, she sent me to ask a favor! We—"

The sky exploded as every star suddenly blazed like a tiny sun. A horrendous cacophony flooded the pony’s mind as thousands of voices shouted for supremacy, blending together in an incomprehensible babble that drove her to her knees with her hooves uselessly pressed over her ears.

“SILENCE!” the North Star screamed into chaos. “ONLY I SPEAK HERE.” The other voices slowly faded away, though overhead the stars still glimmered. With its dominance reestablished the star turned its attention back to the trembling pony.

“No, little mortal,” the star spoke with its distance voice. “We have given enough aid to your princess. Tell Luna to wait another thousand years if she wants our help again.” Overhead the stars began to dim, as though receding from view. The air grew chill and thin again.

“Wait!” she yelled. “You have to help us!” Nothing; the sky continued to dim. Even the North Star was fading back to its normal light.

Think, Dash! They won’t do it for you, and they won’t do it for Luna, who will they do it for? The answer was so obvious it took her a moment to put the words together.

“Celestia!” she screamed at the fading stars. “It’s for Celestia!”

The heavens froze. The North Star, almost gone, began to twinkle and then shine with a tentative light.

“Celestia, you say?” the star replied, its voice still faint. “That is a name we have not heard in many years.”

Ages, one of the other stars whispered in her head. She briefly wondered how long that was for a star.

“What does the fair sun goddess need from us?” Polaris asked, now shining as bright as it had before. “Why does she not come here herself?”

Pride, a high-pitched voice sounded in her mind, almost like the tinkling of a bell. She was always so prideful. Overhead a tiny yellow star sparkled in time with the words.

“No! Celestia is kind and generous and loving!” she shouted up at the sky. “She didn’t come because something happened. There was… there was an accident,” her voice nearly broke on the last word. She sat on her haunches and described everything that had happened at Canterlot, from the Solstice Ceremony to Luna’s parting instruction. By the time she finished her wings were wrapped protectively around her body, and it was all she could do not to cry.

The stars twinkled overhead, apparently discussing the matter amongst themselves. Occasionally words or bits of sentences would press against Rainbow Dash’s mind, but they were as tenuous as the wind and instantly forgotten. Finally the North Star turned its light back to the huddled pony.

“So, Celestia,” it said. “The god who wanted to live as a mortal… impossible, of course. But we gave her the next best thing.”

Better, even, another star intruded in her thoughts. Still a god.

“Yes, quite. You can’t unmake a god, little mortal, but you can take them down a peg, if you have the right tools. You could even make one look like a pony, if you wanted.”

Despite her emotional exhaustion, that sounded a bit too much like an insult for Dash. “What are you talking about? She is a pony. I’ve seen her, I’ve even touched her! And what’s wrong with being a pony?!”

The stars above glimmered as laughter filled her mind.

“We mean no offense, little mortal,” the North Star finally responded, “but she is no more a pony than I am. The Celestia you know is a shell that is starting to crack and fall away.”

Pity, a brown, lightless star whispered, she seemed so happy.

“Soon only the radiance of a god will be left,” the star continued. “I’m not sure what that will result in. Nothing good, probably. Stars shouldn’t fly so close to planets.”

Dangerous, an emerald star whispered, followed by murmurs of assent from the others.

‘Nothing good’ actually seemed like a dramatic understatement, if what she had seen at Canterlot was any indication. “So will you help us or not?” she demanded, her brash attitude starting to resurface.

“You? No, and why should we?” the star replied. “The affairs of mortals mean nothing to us. Celestia, on the other hand… Celestia has done much for us in the past.” The star paused, and conferred again with its company, illuminating the sky with flashes of color.

“We may be able to help Celestia,” it finally said. “Tell me, have you ever seen this?” As the star spoke an image floated into view over the iron boulder at the center of the plateau. A golden necklace, like the Element of Harmony she earned fighting Nightmare Moon, but much larger and heavier.

“Yeah, it’s Celestia’s necklace,” the pony said. “She always wears it.”

“Well, she isn’t now,” the star replied. “If she were this wouldn’t be happening. In fact, let’s see if we can’t…” the other stars flashed again, slowly fading one-by-one until only a single yellow zircon remained lit. “Aha, there it is.”

“What… why does that thing matter?” the pony asked, confused. “If she’s really a god why does she need a piece of jewelry?”

“It’s not jewelry, it’s an energy sink,” the star responded with a distracted voice, as though it was busy with something else. “You must understand, mortal, Celestia was a terribly lonely god. When she found your world and the young races just born upon it, she thought she had found a home.

“But despite the love she felt for your world she could not draw near it, not without causing terrible damage,” the star continued in its absent voice. “She begged us to find a way to live amongst you. The torc you see there was our solution. It dampens her brilliance and allows her to masquerade as a mortal. Indeed, I think she may have forgotten her true nature as time passed.”

Forgotten us, a tiny red star lamented.

“She seems to have mislaid the torc somehow,” the star concluded. “Return it to her and she’ll be restored to her, alas, nearly mortal state.”

Mortal, several of the stars whispered, all with mockery in their voices.

“Awesome!” This was the first good news Rainbow Dash had heard yet. “So, where is it?”

There was no response. The stars glimmered overhead, some brightening, some dimming.

“Hey! I said, where is it?” Patience was not her strong point.

Still no response. The stars continued to confer with each other for what felt like hours while the pony shouted every threat and imprecation she could think of. Finally, the North Star spoke again, its brilliance shining down on her like a spotlight.

“You are a very brash and demanding mortal,” it said. “You come here on Luna’s behalf yet offer no payment for her outstanding debt, and have the audacity to demand another favor?”

Tiny as an insect, a black, hollow star whispered. The others seemed to shy away from its cold words.

“Um, well, that is, I was going to—”

“Be quiet,” the star reprimanded her. “We know what you were going to offer: nothing.”

The pony cringed, trying to find some way out of this mess. She wished for a moment Twilight could have been with her – the lavender unicorn was so much better in these situations.

“But,” the star continued, “we can be generous. We will tell you where Celestia’s torc is, in exchange for one small request.”

That is a lie, a bright sapphire star warned. There is nothing small about his price.

“Uh, well, I was kind of thinking I could go and get the tor… uh, necklace real fast, because I’m the fastest pony in Equestria, then I would come back and pay you,” she said.

“Indeed, just like Luna did.”

Rainbow Dash cringed again. She wondered if anypony had ever actually paid the stars back for their favors.

“No, I don’t think that will work for us,” the star said. “We’ll be needing this payment up front.”

She tried a different tack. “But you are stars! What do I have that you need?!”

“Nothing, I assure you. But that’s not the point. What matters is how much it is worth to you, little mortal. I wonder, what do you value most of all?”

The pony stepped back, suddenly frightened. Unbidden, her wings folded tightly against her back, as though trying to hide.

The North Star pulsed with laughter. “Yes, you see now,” it said, and a pair of invisible hands gripped her wings and pulled them open, stretching them painfully wide and lifting her onto her back legs. A panicky fear began to build in her brain, pushing out everything but the image of her wings being ripped off by a careless god.

“These will do. Give us your wings, little mortal, and we will tell you where the torc may be found.”

She tried to twist free, but whatever held her was stronger than iron. She lashed out with her hooves at the empty air. A gnawing dread clamped around her heart as she struggled. Someone was sobbing, she thought, and only after running out of breath did she realize it was her.

I can’t do this, she thought. I’ll go back and tell the others the stars wouldn’t listen. I’ll blame Luna – tell them the stars demanded she pay back her debt first. It’s true! They won’t blame me, they’ll blame her, no one will blame me, they’ll blame her, they’ll blame her – the words stuck on repeat in her mind. She could already see her friends casting Luna out, blaming her, and thanking Rainbow Dash for trying. Her friends…

Her friends, chasing down an out-of-control god, depending on her.

Her friends, risking their lives, trusting her.

The epiphany was so abrupt she would have collapsed, if her wings weren’t still being held. After a few shaking breaths she jerked her head back up to the sky and the waiting stars.

“You’re wrong!” she shouted. “Take my wings for all I care! I’ll still be the fastest pony in all of Equestria!” The stars overhead froze in place for the first time since her arrival.

“If you think these wings are all I care about, you know nothing!” she screamed. “Nothing, you hear me?! You may be ancient, and powerful, and cruel, but you know NOTHING!

“These wings aren’t the most important thing to me! MY FRIENDS ARE!”

One by one the stars dimmed and went out. The bright nebulae and galaxies faded away, until only four points of light remained: the North Star and three other gems hanging alone in the sky.

The dark ruby to the west sparkled briefly. You see, it whispered, she is loyal after all, and then faded away.

Is that proof enough? the sapphire overhead asked, and then it too vanished.

I am convinced, Polaris, the yellow zircon said as it went out.

Only the pony, the North Star, and the iron boulder remained. The sky, the plateau, and the world around them were empty and black.

The invisible hands holding Dash up suddenly vanished. A reflexive flap of her wings kept her from landing badly, though she still ached from being held for so long.

“Well, it seems you really are the Element of Loyalty,” the diamond star finally said. “Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your friends proves that.

“The torc is in the possession of a pony who calls herself ‘The Great and Powerful’ Trixie,” the star continued, saying the magician’s name with a bit of hesitation, as if not quite sure how seriously to take it. Despite her shock at the revelation, Dash could sympathize. “She is west of Canterlot, near the town you call Appleloosa.”

Overhead the stars were slowly reemerging, but as she normally saw them from the ground. A cold wind blew across the plateau as the magic of the roof faded away with the approach of morning. The North Star was barely brighter than normal when it spoke again.

The sun will rise soon, it whispered, get the torc to Celestia before then, or hide during the daylight. You may be brave and loyal, but she will burn you to a cinder after the dawn.

Dash didn’t need to be told twice. With a running leap she flung herself off the precipice, gaining speed as she fell to the warmer, thicker air below. With a loud crack her wings snapped open to catch the air, and she sped west like a shooting star.

Oh, and one more thing, a faint voice whispered in the back of her mind. Tell Luna to visit sometime, we have so much to talk about.

Much indeed. Dash looked forward to her own chat with the princess.

Appleloosa Blues

The nearest rail station was just a few miles from Ponyville. There had been some discussion of adding a feeder line to connect the town to the rail network, but that would have required building dangerously near the Everfree Forest. Most ponies were content to simply walk.

Twilight Sparkle and Applejack stopped in Ponyville long enough to drop off the comatose Luna and explain, to the best of their knowledge, what had happened in Canterlot. It was a lot for the stunned mayor to absorb.

“The entire population of Canterlot is in the woods?!” she shrieked. She was still dressed in her formal saddle and bow for the local Summer Sun Celebration, which had been interrupted by the explosion in the capital.

“Trust me, it’s better than stayin’ in Canterlot,” Applejack said. She and the mayor had retreated to the town hall with the sleeping princess, while Twilight frantically loaded her library into a borrowed wagon, to the earth pony’s frustration. When Applejack had told her to pack supplies for the trip, she hadn’t meant books.

The older mare took a deep breath. “We don’t have enough food or shelter for even a tenth of those ponies here,” she said, pouring over a stack of papers on her desk. “Fillydelphia’s the closest major city. We can start moving ponies there. The pegasi should be fine; they can fly to Cloudsdale or other cities if they haven’t already.”

“Can’t we just call fer help?”

“Call who for help, Applejack?” the mayor said. “The entire government was in Canterlot. The only figure of authority we have left is Luna, and she won’t wake up.”

They glanced at the sleeping alicorn, who was draped as comfortably as possible over a small couch in the mayor’s office. Aside from breathing, she hadn’t so much as budged in the past two hours.

“I can send fliers to the nearest cities to explain the situation, but until she wakes up we’re going to have to deal with this piecemeal,” she continued. “If you want that train you’d better grab it fast – there’s going to be a lot of ponies looking for a ride soon. Just because Luna said you could take it won’t stop a frightened herd.”

***

“Twilight, that’s enough,” Applejack said. The unicorn had somehow managed to load an entire apple wagon with at least a thousand books, and was going back into the library for more.

“Just a few more, AJ!” she shouted from inside the library. “Do you think I’ll need my telescope?”

“I think we need to go! Stop worrin’ about all this!”

“But—"

“Sugar, I’m leaving in five minutes. She’s already two hours ahead of us an’ we have no idea if the tracks will even take us to where she’s headed.”

“Fine!” There was a loud crash inside the library, as though someone had just dropped a pile of books. Applejack thought she could hear Spike protesting within.

Twilight stomped out, her telescope floating in the air behind her. She gave the library a final look, her eyes tight with worry, then turned to Applejack.

“But what if there’s something in one of these books?” she asked. “We might catch her and not know what to do!”

“Then we’ll improvise,” Applejack answered. “It’s an Apple family specialty.”

Less than an hour later the train pulled away from the station. All but one passenger car had been detached, and the conductor ponies had all the incentive in the world to hurry.

They set several local speed records for the line as they drove west, following the faint glow over the horizon.

***

The gentle hues of the Pastel Desert, illuminated by the high morning sun, filled the train’s cabin when Trixie finally woke.

For a panic-filled moment she forgot where she was. The rocking, rumbling car was so unlike her room in the keep – her small, comfortable room in the keep – that she shot to her hooves, ready to flee or fight. She sucked in a gasp of air, and then coughed as the heat and dust of the desert scratched her lungs. By the time her coughing fit subsided she remembered how she came to be in the train, and simply felt foalish (and relieved that nopony else had seen her frightened display).

Her old acquaintance, regret, joined her in the empty cabin. The harsh light of morning was never Trixie’s friend – all her choices, so wise and meaningful the night before, now seemed distant in their rationale. She felt empty, as she always did after waking in the wrong bed or the wrong town with the consequences of her actions staring her (sometimes literally) in the face.

Outside the desert landscape sped by. She wished it were faster.

She frowned, annoyed by her own maudlin thoughts. It was already daylight, Celestia must be awake, and her illusionary torc had apparently worked. If it hadn’t, flights of pegasus guards would have undoubtedly intercepted the train by now and taken her into custody. She appeared to have gotten away with her theft.

Her theft. The thought washed over her like a cold rain, banishing any lingering hints of sleep. She was not a virtuous pony by any account, even her own, but she had never stolen from another pony before last night. Much less a god. Already her brazen decision, not even 12 hours old, was beginning to seem like a mistake.

And yet… the heavy weight in her saddlebags, worn throughout the night, pulled at her mind like iron filings to a magnet. After a quick, nervous check of the cabin to make sure she was still alone, she opened the flap and gazed at the golden treasure within.

It was still there, waiting for her. The rest of the world – the scent and color of the desert, the rattling of the train – seemed to recede, leaving only the torc. It stared back at her from the depths of the saddlebag. A feeling like leaning over a high cliff, about to fall, briefly intruded in her mind.

It called to her. It wanted to be worn.

But for all the foalish things she had done, Trixie was not a fool. Across Equestria ponies would recognize the torc from the ubiquitous images of Princess Celestia that decorated her realm. While its theft might not be immediately known, there was no telling how long that would last, and at some point wearing the necklace around in broad daylight would be a dangerous invitation to pointed questions or worse.

So she closed the saddlebag, and adjusted its cinches to make sure it fit tight and snug around her body. It would be the height of irony to gamble everything for the lens, and then lose it because her saddlebag wasn’t worn correctly.

Appleloosa lay further ahead, waiting for her slow passenger train. The full light of noon baked the platform when the train finally pulled to a halt, and she and the other few passengers disembarked for the arid, desert town.

***

Appleloosa was… quaint. Smaller than she expected, with only one real street, which itself was a generous term for the long, straight empty space between the two rows of buildings. Apparently they weren’t big on paving stones in the west. Still, the packed dirt was soft on her hooves as she hopped off the platform, and not too hot, either. Real stone would have singed the soles of her hooves after just a few seconds under this sun.

“Pardon me, sir,” she called to a fit-looking earth pony stallion with a yellow coat and soft, tussled orange mane. He looked over in surprise, and then trotted up to her, tipping a wide-rimmed felt cowpony hat respectfully.

“Well howdy ma’am,” he said, his wide green eyes filled with the humor and goodwill that seemed to be the trademark of earth ponies. “Welcome ta Appleloosa!” He paused, giving her horn and cutie mark a quick glance, and spoke again. “It’s mighty nice of ya ta visit us. We don’t get many unicorns out here.”

She cursed inwardly. Of course they didn’t get many unicorns in a frontier town, and she hadn’t even bothered to hide her horn or cutie mark. She may as well have just worn a sign with her name on it. Other earth ponies were beginning to give her curious looks as they passed.

“Yes, well, it is their loss I am sure,” she said. “I don’t suppose you could direct me to an inn or boarding house?”

“Ah can do better’n that!” he said, and reared up in excitement. “Let’s go on the grand tour of our beautiful town! Ah can show you our dancin’ square, our horses drawin’ horse-drawn carriages, our beeeeautiful apple orchards, our—"

Trixie interrupted before he could drag her off to the tour. Visions of being introduced to everypony in the town as the blue-unicorn-with-the-magic-wand-cutie-mark swam in her head; it would be faster to just take the next train back to Canterlot and turn herself in.

“That’s quite alright, good sir,” she said. “But I am very tired from the train ride, and simply desire a place to rest for a few hours.” The earth pony slumped in rejection, and she tempered her next words. “Perhaps you can show me the town tomorrow?”

He perked back up, a smile returning to his face. “Well, I reckon that’ll work too,” he said. “We got the finest hotel in all the West just down the street. It’s right above the saloon – if’n ya tell Big Mike that Braeburn sent ya, ya’ll get a newcomer discount!”

“I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you, kind gentlestallion,” she gave him a demure smile, one well-practiced from years of appealing to the better natures of male ponies. To judge by his enthusiastic smile and slightly besotted expression, she hadn’t lost her touch.

The saloon cum hotel was the largest structure on its side of the street, just opposite the slightly larger town hall with its attached bell. A steady trickle of earth ponies, all wearing the mandatory cowpony hat, wandered through its swinging double doors. She made a mental note to get one of those hats as soon as possible. A wide wooden patio ran the length of the building, on which sat or stood a variety of mares and stallions, either chatting amiably or simply watching traffic pass by.

Inside the saloon an apparently drunk stallion was violently abusing an old honky-tonk piano, torturing both it and the ears of the patrons around him. Strangely no one else seemed to mind the out-of-tune cacophony – a few ponies were even banging their glasses on the table in rough time with the ‘music.’ Hoof marks scratched into the veneer atop the piano hinted at the type of dancing the saloon featured after dark.

The part of Trixie that had grown comfortable in Canterlot, surrounded by high culture and the finer things in life, wanted to turn around and leave. The part of Trixie that had survived months on the road, freezing temperatures and lack of food shoved the other part into a mental box and locked it away for the time being. She let experience take over, and slid through the crowd like a fish through water.

Barely visible in the dim light was the bar itself, a long wooden affair with a polished countertop tended by a small, dapper-looking mare with a cheery yellow mane and a somber expression. She gave Trixie a sidelong glance as the unicorn approached, and continued wiping down the bar.

“I’m looking for Big Mike,” Trixie said.

“That’s me,” the mare answered without pause.

Um. Trixie blinked and actually missed a beat, an unusual occurrence for the skilled showmare. Apparently the barkeep was used to the reaction; she kept wiping the bar, though to Trixie’s eye it was already clean enough to eat from.

She recovered quickly. “Braeburn sent me,” she said. “He said you might have a room to rent for a day or two.”

The yellow mare put the rag below the bar. “Mhm,” she started, “I bet he also said I’d give you a discount if you mentioned his name.” Trixie bit the inside of her cheek.

“Let me guess,” she tried. “Ex-coltfriend?”

Big Mike laughed out loud, a surprisingly musical sound that filled the saloon with transient joy. A few patrons looked up in surprise.

“You’re a perceptive one,” she said, a smile now on her face. “Or just a lucky guesser. Did he also offer to show you the town?” Trixie nodded.

“Figures,” she continued. “Always the first one to greet new fillies. So, what brings a unicorn to these parts?”

“Just passing through,” she said truthfully. “I wanted to get away from Canterlot for a bit. You know how it is.”

The mare chuckled. “I suppose I do. No one comes out here unless they’re getting away from something.” She paused and gave Trixie an appraising look. “Anyway, yeah, we have rooms. I suppose I can even give you a discount, being new to town and all. Just don’t tell Braeburn.”

Trixie smiled. “I’m good at keeping secrets,” she said.

***

The room was small but cheap. Given her dwindling finances, she didn’t care. It was clean and had a soft bed that was calling her name. Although it was only mid-afternoon she was still exhausted from the restless train ride and her preceding adventures in Canterlot.

The door was equipped with an ominously large deadbolt lock, which she dutifully latched. Confident that no one short of Celestia herself could break down the door, she allowed herself to relax for the first time since Luna’s party.

She stripped off the saddlebags and hung them, with their precious contents, on the corner bedpost. It felt like a thousand pound weight had been removed from her soul.

The Great and Powerful Trixie howled in her mind, demanding that she seize the torc and don it now, the sooner to discover its secrets. She was already a powerful unicorn – with the lens to focus her magic, she could be the greatest. So powerful that Celestia herself might hesitate to challenge her. Everything she had ever desired – fame, power, acclaim – waited in the saddlebags, whispering to her of urgent needs and heady promises.

But she resisted that voice. There would be time later for the torc – right now she needed rest, and the bed was simply too soft and inviting to ignore.

As she drifted off to sleep images of grandeur floated through her mind, interspaced with quiet memories of an indigo friend.

***

The sun was leaning toward the horizon when Trixie woke. A faint headache that was her brain’s way of complaining about irregular sleep patterns squeezed the back of her skull in its vice. Tempting as it was to stay slumped atop the soft mattress and pillow, she had wasted enough time already. Time to get up.

She stood and stretched her neck in an unsuccessful attempt to banish the headache. Some food might help, though her finances were growing thin enough that she couldn’t afford to splurge on extra meals. Better to grab some hay and wait until morning for a real meal.

But food could wait. There was something she had been putting off for too long.

Her horn glowed with a soft silver light as she opened her saddlebag, levitating the torc into the air before her. It was such a simple ornament – a large mass of gold with a light filigree tracing, designed to hold a hoof-sized amethyst over the heart of its bearer. Inside the jewel she thought she could see the image of a four-pointed star refracting the dim light of the room.

This was the moment of truth. She took a breath and gently lowered the torc over her head until she felt the metal band come to rest around her neck. The cold shock of its contact provoked a slight flinch, but otherwise nothing. No instant-death traps, at least – not that she thought Celestia would use such things.

She felt… well, a little silly, actually. The torc was so large the tip dragged on the ground. It weighed so much that she nearly toppled forward when the levitation spell vanished, and she had to reset her hooves simply to stay upright. Wearing this thing for more than a few minutes at a time wasn’t going to be comfortable. Maybe she could wear it like a saddle?

She channeled a tiny bit of magic into her horn, just enough to lighten the weight of the torc, when she felt the metal shift.

For a moment she was too stunned to react as the cold metal suddenly warmed. It crawled over her neck like a writhing snake; the edges bit into her skin as they squeezed, and she felt the sharp rim pressing against her windpipe.

The brief paralysis wore off and she let out a shrill scream before her throat closed in panic. She tried to dig her hooves under the torc before it could close too tightly around her neck, but already the metal was fully against her skin. It seemed to flex with her movements, forming no seam for her desperately prying hooves to exploit. Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest.

The edges of her vision started to turn grey. Sometime tomorrow, after she failed to pay her bill, the somber yellow bar mare with the unusual name would find her lying in this room, strangled to death by a murderous magical artifact. She could only hope nopony else would try to wear the accursed thing. A loud buzzing noise filled her ears as her brain began to shut down from a lack of oxygen…

And suddenly everything was still. The torc was unmoving against her breast, and the room was silent except for the gasping of her breath. For a long while she simply lay on the floor, panting, while the sun slowly sank into evening.

Eventually she found the courage to move, reaching a shaking hoof up to gently touch the torc. A quiet *ting* filled the room, but otherwise there was no reaction. It may as well have been a normal, innocent piece of jewelry that didn’t attempt to strangle unsuspecting unicorns.

She stood slowly, her legs trembling as the remaining adrenaline worked its way through her system. There was a mirror on the far wall, she remembered, and she cautiously walked toward it, terrified that every step would set the torc off again. Finally she drew close enough to turn toward the mirror, and beheld herself.

The torc had shrunk to fit her delicate form perfectly. Nearly three-quarters of its mass had simply vanished in the space of a second, a feat that should have been impossible. The heavy golden weight still tugged at her neck, but it no longer threatened to send her toppling over her front hooves.

“It resized itself…” she mused aloud. How considerate of it. She wondered if its makers were sadistic or just clueless as to the trauma their helpful little artifact could cause.

Even in the scratched, tarnished mirror, the torc was a thing of beauty. Granted, anything worn by her was automatically elevated to the level of artwork, but the necklace was sublime on its own merits. For all that it was a simple gold band with a single crystal, it was somehow more elegant and appealing than anything else she had ever worn.

She could have stared at her reflection for hours. She would have stared at her reflection for hours, had not the bell tower across the street chimed out the time; seven loud gongs that heralded the diminishing sun. Outside the streets began to fill as the heat of day began to dissipate, and ponies ventured forth for the evening.

She shook her head to clear it. As much as she admired her own reflection, staring endlessly into a mirror was unusual even for her. Among its other magical abilities it could apparently enthrall observers. Such a delightful little nightmare it was turning out to be.

There was only one ability she cared about, though, and that was making her more powerful. She took another breath, marshaled her thoughts, and focused on levitating her saddlebags. Best to start small, she figured.

Nothing happened.

Literally, nothing happened. Her horn didn’t glow. The saddlebags didn’t glow. They certainly didn’t lift into the air like they were supposed to. She blinked, stunned, and tried again.

Nothing.

A worm of worry began burrowing in the back of her mind. She gritted her teeth and tried again, this time focusing on the bed with enough magical power to send it flying through the roof.

The whisper of the curtains in the wind was the only movement in the room; her rapid breathing the only sound.

She spun in place and cast the first spell that came to mind – a light-dimming cantrip that should have filled the room with darkness. It remained lit. She tried to summon a flame with her horn, but couldn’t produce even a whiff of smoke. Frantic, she jabbed a hoof at the center of the room, attempting to summon a firework that, had it materialized, would have blown half the building’s façade off.

It didn’t.

Don’t panic, she thought, feeling a scream welling up her throat. We just don’t understand how the torc works yet. No need to panic.

She reached up with a hoof to peel off the torc, and yelped in surprise and pain as it caught on the rim. The skin beneath the necklace was stuck to it – not her coat, her actual skin had fused to the solid metal. Pulling at the torc was like trying to pull off her own horn, and just as effective. Desperate, she tried to magic it off, remembering too late that her magic was gone.

Now was actually looking like an excellent time to panic. The scream that had been hiding in her chest escaped, though her throat was so tight that only a shrill squeak e merged.

Oh no no no no no, her mind stuck in a loop as the realization that her magic wasn’t coming back anytime soon crashed into her. She bucked and kicked frantically, her hooves smashing against the walls and floor as she tried to shake the thing off. She even tried to bite it, but her neck wasn’t quite flexible enough to reach the band with her mouth. Nooooo no no no no no no no…

Desperate times called for desperate measures. She slammed herself against the wall, hoping the impact would jar the torc loose. It didn’t. Thoughtlessly, she banged her hoof against the amethyst until it cracked – her hoof, not the crystal. So great was her panic that she was going through her saddlebags for a knife or other sharp object when a sudden loud knock came from the door.

“Hey! It’s Big Mike. Is everypony alright in there?” came a muffled voice from the other side of the thick door.

That broke through the fog in her mind. If there was one thing Trixie could always do, it was maintain appearances.

“Yes!” she cried. “Just fine! Nothing wrong in here!”

There was a pause. “We heard some odd sounds,” said Big Mike. “Can you open the door?”

Stall! “Not just yet,” she said, “I’m…” she trailed off. Sleeping? Eating? Trying to remove a malicious stolen god-artifact? “…getting dressed,” she finished lamely.

There was another pause. “So? Open up.”

Damn dirt ponies! They had no sense of propriety. She gave the room a quick once-over to make sure there was nothing obviously broken or displaced, and then trotted over to the door. Trying to unlatch the bolt with her mouth rather than her magic was a clumsy and distasteful adventure, but she finally managed to flip the cursed thing and pull the door open.

“Sorry about that,” she said to the yellow mare waiting outside the door. Her voice sounded impressively calm in her mind. “Had a little accident with my saddlebags, but everything is alright now!”

Big Mike gave her a dubious look, her teal eyes narrow as she glanced into the room behind the showmare. Finding nothing immediately amiss, she returned her attention to the unicorn.

“I’m not going to regret letting you stay here, am I?” she asked.

Once again her remarkable ability to antagonize ponies wherever she went reared its ugly head. She forced a smile, and spoke in her most reassuring voice. “No, no, you won’t hear another peep out of this room. In fact, I was just about to come down and pay you in advance…” her attempt at mollification stumbled to a clumsy halt as she noticed the mare was no longer paying attention.

The earth pony was staring at the torc with wide, guileless eyes. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if she were about to speak, but no words were forthcoming. From downstairs, ignored by both mares, came the quiet hum of the slowly filling saloon.

Trixie stood still, afraid to break the spell. Big Mike continued her impression of a statue; only the slow rise and fall of her chest gave any hint that she was alive. Trixie got the feeling they would be standing like this for a while, absent any interruptions.

Because she had plans that didn’t involve standing forever in the hallway with this mare, Trixie finally moved. She turned slightly to the side, just enough to angle the amethyst away from the yellow mare’s gaze. Big Mike flinched slightly, then looked sheepishly into Trixie’s eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare,” she said. “That’s a beautiful necklace you have, though. Where did you get it?”

“Family heirloom,” she lied easily, a story instantly assembling itself in her mind. “From my mother’s side. It’s the only piece left of an old fortune, before we fell on hard times.”

The mare nodded slowly, her eyes drifting back to the torc. “Well, be careful wearing it around here. It would be a shame if someone tried to steal it.” She gave Trixie a final, more respectful nod, and returned downstairs to the saloon.

Shameful indeed, she thought.

***

If nothing else, the visit by the bar mare gave Trixie a chance to calm down. The panic she had felt earlier, after trying and failing to remove the torc, still lurked in her mind, but it no longer drove her to foolish lengths.

Still, just because she wasn’t panicking didn’t mean that everything was suddenly fine. The accursed necklace was still bound to her skin and was still blocking her magic, as a quick attempt to levitate her saddlebags revealed. Flummoxed, she lay down on the bed with her hooves tucked under her, and thought.

She still had some magic – simply being alive proved that. History was filled with stories of ponies who, by accident or disease or spell malfunction, had been entirely stripped of magic. It was invariably fatal; something intrinsic to the nature of all ponies required magic to survive. Without it they withered and died in just a few hours, even supposedly non-magical earth ponies.

That didn’t appear to be the case with her, though she would find out for sure in a few hours. No, the torc seemed to block only active spell-casting.

Perhaps it would allow the more subtle arts? She took a deep, calming breath, closed her eyes, and attempted to center herself. When she felt as steady as possible, given the circumstances, she opened her senses to the gentle flows of magic that ran through the world.

Through her still-closed eyes the room gradually resolved as a silver echo of its real form. It lacked the details of reality – the walls were uneven, shifting planes that represented breaks in the free flow of magical energy, rather than actual, physical matter. Through the walls and floor she could see the faint glow of other ponies going about their business.

For years the art had been called Truesight. Later, wiser mages termed it Dreamsight or Silversight, depending on their perspective. There was simply too much dispute over what exactly it revealed. Across the ages, magicians had agreed on only one thing – it was not to be trusted. Unless carefully restrained it showed the viewer what they wanted to see, not what they needed to see.

Hence its common name: Sirensight.

The first thing Trixie noticed was the glowing silver cord emerging from her chest, right where the torc should have been. The lens was absent for some reason in the Sirensight world, though she could still feel its weight around her neck.

The cord pulsed in time with her heartbeat. It rose from her body, weightless, toward the center of the room, where it dipped and vanished into a large stone well. She knew without opening her eyes that the well did not really exist. Like the cord it was simply a metaphor for something she already knew. Sirensight had no ability to reveal new information to the user. It could not, for instance, look into a sealed box, unless the pony using it already knew what was inside. Or what they wanted to be inside.

She stood from the bed with extreme care. Moving while using Sirensight was exceedingly dangerous – it often neglected to show important things like doors, cliffs or traffic. More than one unicorn artist had tried to live entirely through Sirensight; they usually abandoned the experiment after their first major injury.

Still, she was confident she could cross the room safely. With slow, careful steps she walked toward the well. The cord moved with her; it swayed slightly in the air, as though waving in an unseen breeze, but its two ends never left her heart or the well.

She drew close enough to touch the well, and peered over its edge. The cord descended down the hole for what seemed like hundreds of feet before its gentle glow became too dim to see by.

Curious, she attempted a simple spell to summon sparks from her horn. No sparks appeared, but the cord pulsed with a brilliant silver light that flowed down its length into the depths of the well. She tried another, more powerful, spell that resulted in a similar but brighter glow from the cord.

Hm. She opened her eyes and the cord vanished along with the well. The torc was back around her chest, its heavy weight pressing just above her heart. She returned to the bed, lost in thought.

Outside her window the sun touched the horizon. The longest day of the year came to an end.

***

Luna dreamed of the moon.

She could feel it rising as she slumbered. The heavy weight of the sun diminished as the world rotated away from its star. Her namesake called to her; even below the horizon she heard its gentle song. It sang of the night and love and stars. It sang her name, and she woke.

Dozens of ponies in various states of hysteria filled the mayor’s office. Piles of paper were haphazardly collected in any open space that would fit them. Loud voices vied for supremacy as officials, farmers, refugees and townsponies argued over a hundred different problems.

At the center of the storm, behind her desk, sat the mayor of Ponyville. Despite the chaos around her she retained a remarkable poise, and calmly issued orders and verdicts on the issues before her. After spending a year witnessing the pomp and circumstance that surrounded every minor decision in Canterlot, it was refreshing to see such straightforward decision making. Luna only wished the circumstances could have been happier.

The cacophony died as she stood, every pony in the room trailing into silence as they turned to their monarch. Just as suddenly the noise returned tenfold. Finally the mayor shouted the crowd into submission and herded them into the hallway, leaving her alone with the princess.

“Thank Celestia you’re awake,” she said, finally shoving the door shut despite the ponies in its path. “It’s been chaos here ever since you showed up in the woods.”

“How are the others?” Luna asked. “We had most of Canterlot with us.”

“We’re building corrals as fast as we can. By tomorrow we should have enough space for everyone, but quite a few are heading back to Canterlot.”

Luna winced. “Is there anything left to return to?”

The mayor riffled through some papers on her desk, eventually pulling a weather patrol report from a large stack. “About half the city is gone, mostly the parts close to the mountain,” she said. “Fortunately the fires couldn’t spread very far, due to the stone construction. But it’s just not safe to return yet; the mountain is still on fire, and the weather teams say it will be days before they can get close to the keep.”

Luna trotted to the north window. Through it she could see the Saddleback Mountains in the distance. A steady stream of smoke rose from the nearest peak, wider but more diffuse than the one she had seen in the morning.

“And my sister?”

“No word, your majesty. Twilight and Applejack left this morning for Appleloosa, but we haven’t heard anything from them.”

She did some quick math in her head. “They should be almost there by now.”

“Assuming they don’t stop,” the mayor said. “Your majesty, what should we do? I’ve been trying to manage this as best I can, but this is well outside my scope of authority.”

The princess glanced around the room and the hastily organized plans. Outside she heard discussions continuing in the hallway, as ponies attempted to pick up the pieces of the disaster.

“You’re doing very well, mayor,” she finally said. “And I need you to keep doing this. I have to go after her.”

“But… your majesty, I don’t have the authority to do even half of what I’ve been doing! Everypony could ignore me if they wanted to!”

That was an easy fix. Luna trotted over to the door and opened it. The hallway suddenly grew silent.

“Excuse me a moment,” she said. “Until further notice the mayor is acting in my and my sister’s stead. Please serve her as you would serve me.” Before anypony could argue she closed the door, and turned back to the stunned mare.

“There,” she said. “That should suffice for a few days at least, until the aristocrats get back on their hooves. I’d suggest letting them take over recovery efforts in the city once they do, if only to keep them busy.”

“B-but…”

“Just act like you know what you’re doing,” Luna advised. “That’s Celestia’s secret, and it seems to work for her. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m afraid I have some catching up to do.”

Before the mayor could protest further the alicorn walked out onto the balcony and took to the air. She flew toward the setting sun with speed that would have made Rainbow Dash proud.

***

More than 14 hours after leaving Ponyville to chase down their errant princess, Twilight Sparkle finally found a moment to rest.

The dry desert air cooled rapidly following the sunset. Devoid of clouds, the ground radiated its heat into space at a surprising rate. Desert rats, snakes and hares emerged from their daytime burrows to forage. Nighthawks flew overhead, darting and weaving as they caught insects attracted to the light of the fires.

Twilight noticed none of this. She sat near the edge of the molten pool of rock entombing the silent alicorn. For nearly two hours she slowly crept closer and closer to the fallen princess as the ground cooled and grew dark. By the time the moon reached its zenith she could nearly reach Celestia, though the furnace-like heat of the stone around her mentor eventually forced her to retreat.

She attempted to lift the lava away from the princess with her magic, but it was like trying to carry water with a net. The molten rock splashed around briefly as she stirred it, then flowed back into the crater. She briefly considered attempting to teleport the lava away, before pondering all the possible ways that could backfire. Instead she elected to wait. And talk.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, princess,” she said, “but if you can, I want you to know that we’re going to fix this.”

The wind shifted, blowing smoke and cinders from a nearby fire into her face. Coughing, she circled around the glowing pool to a spot of clear air, and resumed her vigil.

“Applejack’s gone for help, and soon we’ll have an entire town of earth ponies aiding us,” she continued. “We’ll get you out of there and back to Canter…”she trailed off. “Yes, back to Canterlot. We’ll fix the castle--” her voice caught, images of the searing fireball that consumed the palace flashing in her head.

“A-and everything will go back to the way it was.” She smiled hopefully at the unmoving goddess. Tears left faint clean runnels in the dirt and ash coating her face.

More time passed, and the circle of solid rock grew tighter around Celestia. Only a thin rim of molten stone still surrounded her when the moon began its descent from the heights of the sky.

Twilight stood and carefully moved forward, testing each step before letting her weight rest on it. Even though it was firm, the stone was brittle and sharp beneath her hooves, closer to pumice than solid rock. She reached out a hoof, and hesitantly touched it to the tip of Celestia’s horn.

It felt cool. Whatever residual heat it held had long since bled away into the night air.

Buoyed, she pressed her hoof against the princess’s forehead. It was warmer, but nowhere near as hot as the rock she was stuck in. If they could get her out of the ground it would be—

The stone beneath her other leg snapped and sank several inches. Bright yellow light shone on her lavender coat as fresh lava seeped up the cracks and washed over the tip of her hoof.

Panic preceded pain. She jerked back reflexively, sending tiny droplets of lava into the air, and shrieked as her chest convulsed involuntarily. A bolt of horrible, numbing agony shot up her leg as the edge of her hoof flickered with flame. Memories of falling into a firepit, forgotten for nearly a decade, flooded her brain before the searing pain dragged her back into the present.

Fortunately, the pain only lasted a moment. The exhaustion that had stalked her for hours pounced, and a brief feeling of light-headedness was the only warning she had before the world tilted around her, and she collapsed.

She was still lying on the warm stone when Applejack returned, less than an hour later.

***

Trixie was not a happy pony.

After her brief experiment with Sirensight she made a mental list of every spell she knew. Most unicorns would have trouble drafting such a list in their heads, but it was an old exercise for Trixie. Just one more way for her to keep score.

She went down the list, attempting every spell in turn. Not a single one worked. She may as well have been an earth pony.

Whatever else the torc was, it was thorough. She tried sticking her hoof under the rim again, and winced as it stretched the skin painfully. Nothing she tried loosened its grip on her chest – if anything, it seemed to dig deeper. Every beat of her heart was echoed in the faint trembling of light reflecting from the amethyst crystal.

She pulled an old serving cloak from her saddlebags – one of a few souvenirs of her time in the kitchens – and draped it over her shoulders. It didn’t completely hide the torc, but concealed enough to not draw too much attention. The last thing she needed was a crowd of enthralled ponies following her around.

The saloon was moderately crowded when she made her way downstairs, filled with a mix of mares and stallions drinking away their earnings and their cares. A different pony was at the piano, though he apparently also confused it with a drum. Big Mike was nowhere to be seen.

She ignored the music and grabbed a bag of oats from the bar, passing a few bits to a large copper stallion with a wheat sprig cutie mark. He thanked her with the annoying smile earth ponies seemed to be born with.

More ponies trickled in as the night wore on. She finished the oats and was working on a mild ale when a loud commotion outside broke through the clamor of the piano. A large crowd appeared to be gathering in the street.

Curious, she got to her hooves and pushed her way outside. Ahead she heard excited shouting, followed by a small stampede as dozens of ponies charged down the street toward the rail station.

“What’s going on?” she asked a stallion leaning on the saloon railing. He seemed a little too old to be involved in the excitement around them.

“Young filly just ran in,” he said, pointing his hoof toward the crowd. “Said Celestia’s just outside of town...”

Whatever else he might have said was lost. Sounds fell away from the world as his words sank in, replaced by a loud ringing noise. A grey tunnel appeared around the edges of her vision.

Celestia. Here.

How did she know? It didn’t matter. Trixie was doomed. She briefly considered going back up to her room and flinging herself out the window, and then discarded the idea. Her room was only on the second floor.

There was no way out of town, no trains scheduled to leave until morning. Half the ponies in Appleloosa knew of the blue unicorn staying at the inn.

“When does she arrive?” she managed to ask. Her voice sounded distant, as though she were listening to someone else talk.

The stallion shrugged. “No clue,” he said. “The filly spoke to the mayor for a bit, and they all ran off to the train station.” He took a sip from a bottle of sarsaparilla. “Ah wonder what she came for.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Trixie said. For once she was being perfectly honest.

Flight

“I told you, I’m fine!”

Applejack gave Twilight Sparkle a dubious look. The lavender pony’s coat was beaded with sweat despite the cool night wind. She gulped down rapid, shallow breaths of air, and even from several feet away Applejack could hear the wheezing in her lungs.

“Sugar, don’ take this wrong, but you look like yer about ta fall over,” Applejack said. She paused, and added, “Again.”

“I was just resting!” Twilight protested. Even to her ears it sounded weak. “I can still help!”

Applejack shook her head. Around them dozens of earth ponies hauled wood beams and tools from the train to a small staging area a few dozen yards from Celestia’s unmoving form. Under the direction of a pair of engineer ponies a large wood gantry was slowly taking shape over the molten crater. Four massive beams set several pony-lengths apart supported a wood scaffold high above the ground. A system of pulleys and ropes hung from the center of the structure, dangling just a few feet above the princess. Other ponies, wearing thick leather aprons and face masks, chipped and dug at the soft stone at the edges of the crater, creating channels for the still-liquid rock hiding beneath the surface to flow away.

In the space of less than an hour the ponies of Appleloosa had set up a makeshift camp and were well on their way to unearthing the fallen alicorn. If Twilight hadn’t spent the past year living in an earth pony town, she would have been stunned by their industriousness. Instead she was merely impressed.

She was also hurting badly. A bare spoonful of lava had washed over the rim of her hoof, but it had been enough to burn the nail-like tissue through to the pulp. A sky blue mare with a stethoscope cutie mark had shaved off the most badly damaged portions, and placed a plaster cast around her fetlock. Tiny black spots speckled her coat where drops of molten stone had splashed and eaten into her skin. The scars would likely be permanent, the mare said.

“You can help by listenin’ to the nurse and gettin’ some rest,” Applejack said. “They’ll have the princess dug out of there in a few hours, tops, an’ then we’ll need you ta figure out what’s wrong with her.”

An amber stallion trotted past the two, a thick coil of rope held in his mouth. He set it next to a pile of other rigging equipment being readied for the eventual hoist, and walked over to the two mares. Like most of the earth ponies around them he had an apple-themed cutie mark. It was hard to tell, given her somewhat delirious mental state, but Twilight thought he looked vaguely familiar.

“Cousin Applejack,” he said, nodding to the mare.

She returned the nod. “Cousin Braeburn. Again, ah can’t say thanks enough for all the help ya’ll are providin’.”

“Well shoot, it was a boring night anyway,” he said. His bright green eyes slid over to Twilight, darting from her haggard expression to the charred pits in her coat, down to her hoof cast, and finally back to Applejack.

“How’s your friend? Anything we can do?” he asked Applejack. Twilight opened her mouth, ready to protest.

“Ah think she’ll be fine, once she gits some rest,” Applejack said before Twilight could speak. “Speakin’ of which, any chance we can git a room in town?”

“You two know I can hear you, right?” Twilight asked. She glared back and forth between the two ponies, of whom only Braeburn had the decency to look abashed. Applejack just rolled her eyes.

“Sug, if you’re not gonna take care of yourself, then other ponies are gonna have to do it for ya,” she said. “We’ve both been goin’ almost two days straight now. If you try helpin’ any more you’re just gonna get hurt again. Then what am I supposed to tell Celestia when she wakes up?”

Twilight blinked. That was perhaps the longest speech Applejack had ever delivered in their year-plus of friendship. She tried to formulate a response, but her tongue refused to cooperate. Her eyes watered – from the harsh fumes rising from the molten stone just yards away, she told herself – and she sat back on her haunches, lowering her head so the two earth ponies would not see her distress.

Applejack sighed and gently nudged the stallion. He took the hint, gave her a friendly nuzzle, and retreated back to the laboring herd surrounding Celestia. Distant voices welcomed his return and shouted new directions as their work continued. Alone again with her friend, Applejack sat next to the unicorn, and watched the recovery effort in silence.

“I just w-want t-to help her,” Twilight said, her voice stumbling as she gulped in air. “I’m u-useless,” she finished with a hiccup that shook her body.

Applejack draped a foreleg over the trembling pony, drawing her closer. In the yellow light of the fires and lanterns brought by the townsponies her orange coat appeared nearly white, almost ghostlike in the darkness. She sat with the unicorn until the hiccups and shivering stopped.

“Sug,” she whispered, her warm breath rustling Twilight’s mane. “No one thinks you’re useless. Yer as strong as Big Mac, as loyal as Rainbow Dash, and smarter than anypony I’ve ever met. But you don’t have ta do everythin’ yerself.”

Twilight was silent for a while. The wind shifted to the west, and a draft of fresh, cool air replaced the harsh sulfur tang of the fires. Above them the gentle moon broke through the pall of smoke for the first time that night, bathing them in a faint silver glow infinitely cooler than the hellish glare of the lava.

“Really?” she finally asked. Her voice was quiet, full of equal parts hope and fear.

“Really,” Applejack replied. She hugged the unicorn tighter.

Around them the camp continued to bustle. More ponies arrived on a second train, bringing with them additional lumber and heavier tools, as well as camp supplies like tents, water and food. Applejack watched with an approving eye as they hopped from the cars and leapt into action.

The weight against her side slowly grew heavier. When she finally dared a glance at her friend, Twilight’s eyes were closed and her mouth open, allowing a slight trail of drool to escape.

Applejack smiled and gently lowered the unicorn to the ground. The lavender pony mumbled something unintelligible before drifting back off to sleep. For the first time since the day began, Twilight knew something like peace.

***

Trixie’s mood had improved somewhat over the past few hours. The numerous empty cider glasses on the bar in front of her may have been responsible.

Big Mike was back, collecting glasses from the empty tables and carrying them into the kitchen. Aside from Trixie she was the only pony left in the saloon.

“Hey,” Trixie called, her voice slurred despite her best attempts to sound sober. “Where’d everypony go?”

The bright yellow mare snagged the last empty glass from a table near the door and carried it with her behind the bar. She dropped it in the sink with its brothers before turning to Trixie.

“Home, I guess,” she said. “Or out to see Celestia. That sounded pretty exciting.” She grabbed a fresh towel with her mouth and dropped it on the bar.

Trixie snorted. Or she tried to, at least – what emerged was more of a choking sound accompanied by a toss of her head that would have appeared elegant, were she on stage and not drunk. Big Mike glanced at her in concern, then returned to wiping down the bar.

“S’not exciting yet,” she mumbled. “Wait ‘til she finds me tomorrow! That’ll be exciting.”

“Oh? She came all the way out here, just for you?”

Trixie nodded. Big Mike just rolled her eyes and returned to her wiping.

Drinking with just hooves and mouth was harder than it looked, Trixie decided. The first cider of the night had been an adventure – subsequent glasses had been met with more success, until she could drink most of one without spilling any down her chin. It was progress. Humiliating progress, to be sure, but still progress.

For the hundredth time that night she tried her magic. The glass of cider on the bar refused to budge. She groaned and laid her head on her crossed hooves.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Big Mike said. She snagged the glass with cruel ease and pulled it behind the bar before Trixie’s flailing hooves could catch it.

“Trixie really needs that drink,” she pleaded. Big Mike was unmoved.

“I’ll pay extra!” She pulled out her last bits and shoved them across the counter. She wouldn’t need them in the morning, after all.

The barmare pushed them back with her snout, and returned to wiping down the polished wood surface. Trixie cursed under her breath.

From outside the faint sound of hoofbeats intruded. More ponies rushing to meet the princess, Trixie figured. After they passed, the stillness of the bar returned, broken only by the steady wiping motion of the cleaning bartender.

“Is it always this empty in here?” Trixie asked. Big Mike shook her head.

“No, we closed two hours ago.”

Oh. That would explain why the chairs were on top of the tables rather than beneath them. Trixie pondered that with muddled thoughts before turning back to the other mare.

“So why are you still serving Trixie?” She had long since given up on hiding her real name. Something as simple as a pseudonym wasn’t going to save her from Celestia, particularly when the evidence of her theft was glued to her chest.

Big Mike shrugged. “You looked like you needed it. Besides, when else am I going to get to see a drunk unicorn?”

“Unicorn!” Trixie cried. Even drunk and about to be stepped on by an angry god she couldn’t help but infuse her words with the melodrama of the stage. “I don’t deserve the name!” Tiny flecks of cider flew from her lips onto the bar, prompting a frown from the other mare.

“Are all unicorns like you?” Big Mike asked. She put down the rag and seemed genuinely interested in the response.

Trixie waved a hoof dismissively. “They should be so lucky!” She stumbled away from the bar and attempted to strike a pose, one leg extended dramatically into the air. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is the greatest and most powerful Trixie!” She paused. That hadn’t sounded right. “Unicorn!” she corrected.

“But you just said you didn’t deserve—"

“I know!” she wailed, and broke down sobbing.

It was long night for Trixie.

***

The landscape below her was a uniform blur as Luna flew west. Individual trees and hills appeared on the horizon and were behind her faster than she could blink. Larger landmarks like rivers spooled out beneath her like spilled thread, visible only as silver reflections of the moon high above.

No normal pegasus could have reached such speeds, though Rainbow Dash might have put in a respectable showing if they were to race. It wouldn’t have been a fair contest, of course; Luna cheated, using her magic to propel her faster than mere wings ever could.

The terrain changed as she flew, slowly shifting from the stately forests surrounding Canterlot to a mix of fields and woods, then to grassy plains broken only by the occasional tree. By the time larger mountains began to appear the endless grasses gave way to the scrub brush of the desert.

The only unchanging element was the scar Celestia carved in the world. A black sear hundreds of yards wide arrowed its way to the west. Tiny fires still burned around the edges, particularly in the grasslands, and filled the air with reeking ash.

Luna banked around the larger towers of smoke, unworried about losing track of her sister. Even if she were blind she could have followed the path of destruction with her nose.

Eventually the scrub gave way to the gentle hues of the Pastel desert. The streaks of color were visible to her eyes even in the monochrome of night – darkness had never been a barrier to her sight. The stars overhead were a thousand searchlights lighting her way.

The rose tint of morning was creeping into the sky behind her when she found the end of the scorched trail on the side of a large mountain, nearly a hundred miles inside the desert. An irregular, broken ring of fire hundreds of feet across circled a brightly lit camp, around which she could barely make out the tiny shapes of ponies working on some sort of scaffolding. At the very center, surrounded by a pool of glowing stone…

Luna’s eyes widened. Her wings doubled their effort, and she fell like a shooting star down to her sister.

***

Twilight Sparkle slept uneasily.

The trials of the day haunted her dreams. She watched in horror, again and again, as Canterlot died in a wash of flames. The stately marble buildings of her home became the city’s pyre, the pall of smoke its funeral shroud. The sun set forever, surrendering the world to a night without moon or stars. Only the loveless, ravenous fires remained.

She stirred in her sleep. Her eyes cracked open for a moment before she fell back into unconsciousness and dreams.

She chased a tiny, floating star through a maze of shattered buildings. Crumbling, derelict ruins rose on either side, squeezing her within narrow streets that twisted and turned without design. The flickering light darted into an alley, and when she followed she found it hovering in a city square not unlike those of Canterlot. As she approached the ruins collapsed into dust, revealing a barren, desert wasteland stretching for miles around.

The dream shifted again, and she stood on a tiny island of stone, surrounded by a field of lava. The molten rock bubbled as it slowly rose, eating away at the island until nothing remained but the ground beneath her hooves. She lifted one hoof, then another, and finally attempted to balance on a single leg. Her outstretched hooves reached for the silent stars as though begging them for aid. The lava rose again and…

A strangled scream escaped her throat as she fully woke. Her hoof throbbed beneath its cast in time with her pulse, like some inconsiderate pony was stomping on it several times a second. Sweat drenched her coat despite the chill of the desert night, and she started to shiver again as the memories of fire and lava fled.

Applejack was at her side a moment later. The orange pony wrapped her arms around Twilight in a gentle hug, and held her until the worst of the shaking passed.

“Easy sug,” she whispered. “Was just a dream.”

Twilight drew a trembling breath. “But it wasn’t,” she said. “Canterlot is gone, Celestia is…” she trailed off, looking at the fallen princess.

“Celestia is fine,” Applejack said, her voice filled with its usual confidence. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

Twilight didn’t answer. It wasn’t polite to call a friend a liar. Still, she didn’t object to the earth pony’s comforting presence beside her. Together they watched as the herd of ponies readied for the difficult job of cracking the stone around Celestia and lifting her from the earth.

“They’re almost ready,” Applejack said. “Once the sun’s up they’ll start usin’ the heavier tools and tackle to get her outta there. With any luck we’ll be in Appleloosa by noon.”

That seemed optimistic to Twilight. She was about to say so when a faint whistling sound filled the desert air, like wind rushing through a mountain gorge.

“Do you hear—" she started to ask.

A dark streak fell from the skies, impacting with a titanic crash that shattered rock and shook the earth for hundreds of yards around. Ponies shouted in alarm and fell to their knees; the wooden gantry swayed ominously, but the ropes and anchors securing it held against the violent quaking. The thin crust of hot stone surrounding Celestia cracked and flowed, the dark rock broken by fissures glowing with an evil yellow light.

“’TIA! SISTER!” a frantic, feminine voice thundered from within the cloud of dust that surrounded the impact site. The crack of hooves against rock and the rumble of tumbling stones followed, and a moment later Luna’s dark form emerged, scrambling toward the molten pit.

The regal princess of the moon was gone. To Twilight’s eyes Luna more closely resembled the Nightmare of old: her wings, fully extended, nearly doubled her size; her horn, wicked and sharp, glinted in the light of the fires. In the darkness she was a monster, a colossal raven fallen from the ancient night.

The impression lasted only a moment. The alicorn half-ran, half-crawled across the broken ground to her sister. She splashed through the lava like it was water, eliciting horrified shouts from the watching ponies.

“’TIA!” She grabbed the white alicorn around the neck and tried to lift her from the stone, but only succeeded in pulling herself deeper. She snarled at the impudent lava and stomped at it with her hooves, sending droplets of the stone flying.

Twilight recovered first. Even as the other ponies scrambled back in fear she ran to the edge of the pit, ignoring the spray of lava.

“Luna!” she shouted. “Luna! Stop!”

The princess spun to face the unicorn, her eyes wide and shining in the baleful light. Her form shimmered in the heat rising from the lava now broken and exposed again to the cool desert air.

“Twilight?” the princess ventured. The thin, superheated air distorted her voice, making it sound childlike to Twilight’s ears.

Twilight nodded. “We’re trying to help her, like you asked.” She raised a hoof and beckoned the princess. “Please come out of there, you’re scaring us.”

Luna looked down, and then around, as if noticing for the first time that she was knee deep in molten stone. She gave her sister a quick glance, but nevertheless turned back to Twilight and slowly waded out of the pool. Droplets of lava ran from her pelt in thin streams as she emerged, or hardened in place and broke off with a faint clatter that reminded Twilight of wind chimes. Although her coat was unmarred by the heat, the metal shoes she wore glowed a bright orange against the dark ground, and only slowly cooled to their normal bluish-silver.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She turned back toward her sister. “I just… forgot myself for a moment. Was she like this since you found her?”

Twilight shook her head. “She was still flying when we caught her. As soon as the sun set she fell. We’ve been trying to get her out ever since.”

Applejack walked up beside her friend. She started to approach the princess, but shied away from the residual heat radiating from Luna’s body.

“We’ll have heavier tools here by mornin’,” she said. Once they’re in place we cin drain the lava and git her hoisted outta there.”

Luna stared at the pony, then turned to survey the camp, noticing for the first time the huge gantry suspended over Celestia’s still form. The other ponies slowly resumed their tasks, occasionally casting wary glances in her direction.

“This is impressive,” she finally said. “Celestia would be very proud of what you two have accomplished.”

Twilight winced. Applejack coughed politely.

“You should thank the town, yer majesty,” she said. “They did most of the work.”

And I did nothing, Twilight thought. She gave the princess a subdued bow, and returned to her silent vigil at the edge of the pool. The sky to the east slowly grew lighter.

***

Celestia’s dreams were troubled.

She did not have nightmares, per se. She could not have nightmares; her absence defined the night, and it held no power over her. But she could know loss, and bereavement, and it was those two hollow emotions that plagued her sleep.

Fragments of memories long buried teased at her mind. Images from before she was a princess, before the stars gifted her with the torc and the new life it brought.

The memories played in her mind, appearing and dissolving before she could fully grasp them. Slowly they began to fade, replaced with the unusual sensation of being trapped in a warm embrace. She was surrounded by some incredibly hot material, which itself brought back memories of the time before.

Finally her thoughts cleared, and she opened her eyes to the dwindling darkness of the desert at dawn.

***

“Twi… twilight?”

The faint sound of her name broke through Twilight Sparkle’s moping. She looked up, expecting to see Applejack or Luna returning to cheer her up, but they were both occupied with the rescue effort. They were helping – actually making a difference. Unlike her.

She turned back to the pool when she heard her name again. From within the pool.

Celestia’s eyes were open but unfocused. Her head twisted slightly in the lava, though the stone had cooled to the point that it was nearly solid at the surface, and held her in place.

“Twilight?” she tried again. Her free wing fluttered weakly as she tried unconsciously to fly out of the entrapping earth.

“Princess?” Twilight said, stunned. “Princess! CELESTIA!” The other ponies turned toward her in alarm.

“Applejack!” She spun in place, looking for her friend. “She’s awake, Applejack! She’s awake!”

Luna beat the earth pony to Twilight’s side by a wide margin. She hesitated only for a moment before stepping onto the thin crust atop the lava, using her wings to support most of her weight as she walked out to her sister. She lowered her head to press against Celestia’s neck and said something, though Twilight was too far to hear her words. After a moment she pulled herself together and straightened, and spoke loud enough for the gathering ponies to hear.

“This trial is over, sister. Just rest and we’ll have you out of there shortly.”

Celestia’s mouth opened, though no sound emerged. Twilight leaned as far forward as she dared over the hot crust.

“It’s okay, take your time,” Luna said, encouragingly. “We’re here to help. We’re all here to help.”

Celestia shook her head slightly. Luna’s brow furrowed.

“We are,” she said, louder. “We’re going to get you back to Canterlot and everything will be fine. Please believe me.”

The white alicorn’s eyes were wide, the whites showing fully around her pinprick pupils. She tried again, and finally managed to speak.

“Run,” she whispered.

Luna stumbled back, her hooves breaking through the thin crust atop the lava. She stared at her sister in shock.

“What? No, we’re here to help!” she said. “We’re going home, sister. Please just wait.”

Twilight looked between the two princesses. Her joyous thoughts had come to a crashing halt. The other ponies murmured in confusion.

“What’d she say?” Applejack asked.

“She said…” Twilight started, then trailed off. She looked at the princess, then the slowly lightening sky to the east. Her thoughts flashed back to 24 hours earlier, during the Summer Sun Celebration, when Celestia attempted to begin the day.

Dawn was less than an hour away.

“Oh no,” she mumbled. Hundreds of ponies pressed closer, trying to get a view of their princess. Luna was shouting at her sister again, trying to make sense of her whispered warning.

“Applejack, we need to get out of here!” She pushed her way to back to the front of the crowd. “Luna! Luna we need to run!”

Luna tossed her an annoyed glance. “Calm down, Twilight, she’s just confused. We’ll keep digging and—"

“No!” Twilight interrupted. “The sun is rising! It’s like Canterlot!”

Luna blinked at her, and turned to her struggling sister. She stared for a moment, then tilted her head to the east and the rising glow of dawn. A moment later she spun back to face Twilight, understanding and panic written on her face.

“How do we—" she started.

“The train,” Twilight blurted. “If we leave everything behind there should be space for everypony. Applejack, can you--”

“On it, sug,” Applejack interrupted her in turn. The nearest ponies were already spreading the word and rushing to the train. There were a few protests from the engineer ponies, but they were quickly overridden as the others reminded them of what happened to Canterlot. Within minutes the entire camp had been abandoned, except for Twilight and the two princesses. A steady trail of ponies led to the train, which was already being emptied of extra cargo and hitched to the conductors.

“Luna, you need to come too,” Twilight said. She edged closer to the molten pit. Faint shimmers of heat were beginning to rise from Celestia’s exposed head and wing. “We don’t have long.”

“I’ll be fine, Twilight.”

“Princess, you saw what happened to Canterlot. We need to leave now.”

“I said I’ll be fine,” Luna growled. She mantled her wings. “I can fly.”

“I know, princess. But how long can you stay awake?”

Luna stared at her sister in silence for a long moment, then at the brightening sky to the east. Finally she sighed.

“Very well. Let’s go.”

Several minutes later they were the last two to reach the train. It was crowded, with just two passenger cars for several dozen ponies, but they made room without complaint. Twilight found Applejack near the rear of the train, where the conductor ponies were settling into their harnesses.

“Why are they behind the train?” she asked. “Do they need to push for some reason?”

Applejack gave her an odd look. “You don’t push trains, sugar,” she said. “They’re gonna pull us east, so we’re outta Celestia’s way if she keeps moving west.”

Twilight thought about that for a moment. It was logical and smart, so it should have been no surprise that the earth ponies would make that decision, but something nagged at her mind.

“Isn’t Appleloosa to the west?” she asked. The ponies around her suddenly grew silent. Applejack went pale beneath her coat.

“Oh hay,” she mumbled. She muscled her way to the edge of the car and shouted down at the conductors. “Braeburn! Change of plans! We’re going west! And step on it!”

***

Trixie woke up, to her mild surprise, on her bed in the saloon.

She had half expected to wake up in a dungeon, or in chains in a paddy wagon heading back to Canterlot. And that was if she was lucky – Celestia might simply decide that swiftness is its own virtue, and rip the torc from her chest in a gory display of justice.

She reached a hoof up to her breast to touch the torc. Still there. She tried her magic. Still not there.

The sky outside her window was dim, though the faint tint of dawn could be seen in the east. Loud voices, the same that had woken her, drifted up from the street. Apparently ponies got to work early in Appleloosa.

She got up and trotted to the window long enough to close the shutters. She was halfway back to her bed when a frantic knocking of hooves came from her door.

She had known this was coming. Ever since last night, when they told her Celestia was near, she knew it was only a matter of time. The knocking repeated.

“I’m coming,” she called. “I give up.” She threw the latch and opened the door, ready to surrender to the guards on the other side.

Big Mike stood alone in the hallway. She gave the showmare an odd look.

“That’s… great,” she said. “But we need to go. The mayor’s ordered an evacuation.”

“Huh?” Trixie replied. It was not her best moment.

“Something went wrong with Celestia. I don’t have all the details but apparently she’s crazy and now we need to get out of here.”

“…huh?”

The small mare sighed. “Look, just grab your stuff and meet me downstairs. The last train leaves in ten minutes.” She turned and trotted down the stairs, muttering something beneath her breath. Trixie only caught the word “unicorns.”

Trixie stood, rooted to the floor, for a full minute. All the possible meanings and implications of Big Mike’s message and the evacuation ran through her head. Another shout from downstairs finally kicked her into motion. She grabbed her saddlebags and cloak, wrapping the latter around her chest and head to hide her torc and horn. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, or even a good one, but with any luck it would keep casual observers from realizing she wasn’t an earth pony.

Big Mike was waiting for her when she reached the stairs, and together they trotted out into the gloom of the desert morning. Only a few ponies were left, readying saddlebags with personal treasures and other belongings for the evacuation. Judging by the piles of household goods in the street, there wasn’t much room in the trains for anything but ponies and what they could carry.

“Come on, they’ll be waiting for us,” Big Mike said. They walked briskly down the empty streets to the last train, a simple affair with five passenger cars, the first four of which were already full. The head of the train was a bustle of activity, all of it centered on an unusually tall pegasus with a horn.

Trixie stumbled as her legs locked up. Big Mike stopped a few paces ahead, looking back at her in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing, just tired,” she lied. The two trotted the rest of the way to the train, while Trixie studiously avoiding looking toward the indigo alicorn directing the evacuation effort. They were given seats in the final car, which was only half full, just minutes before the last ponies in Appleloosa boarded.

The train pulled away from the town with surprising speed. Apparently they were in a hurry. Trixie said so to an older brown stallion standing next to her.

“Ayup,” he responded. “If you’d seen what we did out there with Celestia, you’d be running too.”

“I beg your pardon?” Trixie said. She and Big Mike sidled closer to the stallion. The town receded in the distance behind them, lit from behind by the gentle glow of the rising sun.

He sighed. “Well, I don’t know how much of this is true, but…” he started, and launched into a description of the desert encampment.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Trixie knew true fear.

***

After the other ponies left, Celestia had a few minutes to herself.

On the one hoof, she was glad her sister and Twilight fled so rapidly. Their chances of escape were better if they left right away, rather than lingering out of some false hope that her warning was a mistake. Thousands of years of life as the ruler of Equestria had taught Celestia a certain pragmatism and acceptance of life’s trials, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for hurting her beloved student.

On the other hoof, they had abandoned her rather quickly, and now she was alone. She couldn’t be upset with them – she’d demanded it, after all. It would be rather petty of her to expect somepony to stay and provide her with company, only to be incinerated a few minutes later. But still, it would have been nice to have somepony to talk to.

She realized she wasn’t thinking straight. The rays of the sun, refracted though they were through the atmosphere, were already interfering with her thoughts. She could hear it singing to her from below the horizon, now just minutes from rising. Soon she would be alive again.

The torc called to her. It was close now, just a dozen or so miles away. A few minutes of flying and it would be hers; she could be whole. This nightmare would become a thing of the past.

The sky to the east caught fire as the tip of the sun broke over the mountains. The first light of dawn washed over her like a gentle rain, cleansing away the complex thoughts that bedeviled her mind. Only the torc remained.

She was confused, at first. Solid matter, an anathema to her nature, somehow held her trapped. It liquefied within moments and she stepped out of the burning crater with ease. A new river of lava flowed from the mountainside beneath her like an open wound.

She fanned her wings, stretching them to catch the sun’s light. It filled her with power and life, and set a spark to the star burning within her breast. The princess that her subjects called Celestia vanished, and a god was reborn.

The mountainside ignited as she lifted into the sky. The pitiful, oxygen-based flames quickly suffocated as the air around her superheated to a near vacuum, only to be replaced by hotter fires as the minerals within the rocks began to decompose and react with each other. Within seconds the ground beneath her was a bubbling slag of lava for hundreds of yards around.

She rose above the mountains and paused. A brilliant sphere a dozen feet wide appeared around her; the rarified air literally glowed as it absorbed and reemitted her radiance. She ignored the light (it was hers, after all), and concentrated on the sensation of the missing torc, so close it practically felt beneath her.

It was to the west, she eventually decided. The glowing sphere broke apart and vanished as she moved through the air. A burning contrail followed in her wake.

For the first time in her reign, Celestia came to visit Appleloosa.

***

“Where does this train lead?” Luna asked. Her voice slurred as the weight of the sun pressed against her mind.

“Las Pegasus,” Applejack replied. “It’s a long ride, though. We’ll prolly git there after dark.”

Luna nodded. “Please tell me it’s not due west of here.”

“Nope. It’s quite a bit north of here, actually. As long as Celestia keeps goin’ west, we’ll be fine.”

“What is west of here, anyway?” Twilight asked. She mentally reviewed the library’s maps in her mind, but as far as she could remember there were no major cities or settlements in the direction Celestia was heading.

“More desert, then some mountains, then the ocean,” Braeburn said. He had joined them in the lead car as they pulled away from Appleloosa. “There’s no big cities out there. Or small ones!”

“So where is she going?” Twilight asked. None of the others could answer.

***

Appleloosa was mercifully empty when Celestia arrived.

The wooden buildings didn’t last long enough to greet her. They began to smoke before she got within a mile of the town. The painted facades crisped to a uniform black as they ignited, sending a column of smoke high into the sky before the terrible hurricane of winds surrounding her tore it to shreds.

The once-princess landed on the outskirts of the town near the rail station. The ground crackled beneath her hooves, liquefying and later resolidifying into a curious glassy mineral eventually named “Applelite,” in honor of the town’s memory. The buildings ceased to burn as she approached, and simply turned to ash.

The torc was here somewhere. She could smell its magic, taste the metal bonds that held its matrix together against the furnace in her heart. It had been here just hours ago. The very ground reeked of its presence.

She searched the town, briefly. By that point Appleloosa was a rapidly expanding cloud of gas, and wasn’t able to conceal much from her view. The few metal objects owned by the earth ponies, such as the anvil in the blacksmith’s shop, lasted several minutes longer before eventually evaporating along with every other bit of solid matter in the town.

The torc was gone. She was so close, and yet so far.

The tiny star that was Celestia rose again into the sky, circling the glowing remains of the town. Wider and wider she gyred, her senses extended to listen for the tiny bit of magic that would complete her.

There, to the west. Again to the west. She angled her wings, pointless though they were, and shot through the air in pursuit. It called to her, the torc. It wanted her as much as she wanted it.

Celestia flew to her birthright.

Revelations

The First Light of Dawn

Chapter 8: Revelations

Twilight Sparkle watched in numb silence as Appleloosa died.

In a way it was worse than the destruction of Canterlot. The immolation of Celestia’s city was shocking and unexpected, its horror abated by the chaos and confusion that had gripped them. It had taken hours for the immensity of their loss to sink in.

Not so with Appleloosa. Twilight and the hundred other ponies escaping by train were forewarned, and could do nothing but watch as the town vanished in fire and light. The rising sun behind the town was eclipsed by a mountain of smoke. Even twenty miles away it cast its shadow upon the train.

For hours they watched. The towering black clouds rose impossibly high into the air, eventually flattening and drifting away as they brushed the edge of the stratosphere. The entire world to the east was hidden behind the pall, like an enormous ashen curtain drawn across the land. An acrid reek stung eyes and filled nostrils, and the bright pastel colors of the ponies around her slowly turned sodden and lifeless.

A hellish glow lit the base of the smoke, shining bright as the hidden sun behind it. The living furnace that was Celestia still walked through the streets of Appleloosa, though to what end Twilight could only guess. The blinding light faded as the train pulled further away, and as noon approached the real sun finally broke through the haze high above them.

“You alright, Sug?” came a quiet voice to her side. She turned to see Applejack, her eyes red-rimmed and her orange coat dull and smeared, looking at her with concern.

Was she? Twilight took her time before answering. The shock of watching yet another town vanish in flames was simply the latest crisis they had stumbled through over the past two days. Had it only been 48 hours ago she and her friends were walking to Canterlot for the Summer Sun Celebration? How could the world have changed so quickly?

She took a deep breath, and coughed as the harsh air assaulted her lungs. Unlike the other ponies she still had trouble with the fumes wafting from the distant fires. Applejack politely waited while she recovered.

“I’m fine, Applejack,” she finally croaked. The earth pony looked dubious, but held her tongue.

They spent a quiet moment watching the roiling smoke. Most of the other ponies on the train did the same; all had long since stopped crying openly, and mourned the loss of their homes in silence.

“So what do we do now?” Applejack asked.

“I don’t know. Get to Las Pegasus and wait for Luna to wake up, I suppose. Maybe Rainbow Dash will be back from wherever Luna sent her by then.”

“That’s a lotta flyin’ for one pegasus,” Applejack observed.

Twilight silently agreed. She glanced over at Luna. The alicorn remained asleep. A faint layer of ash smothered her shining coat and feathers.

“If this pattern holds Celestia will collapse when the sun sets,” Twilight said. “We’ll have a full night to figure something out. Luna might even be able to delay the sunrise, though that’s not a good long-term plan…” she trailed off. An excited murmur replaced the silence of the car.

Far to the east, the glow at the base of the smoke was rising into the air. It lit the column from within, like the world’s largest jack-o-lantern. After a moment it broke through, and a tiny spark as bright as the sun emerged into the sky.

It was hard to tell, Twilight thought, but it seemed to be following them.

***

Trixie was a smart pony. It didn’t take her long to put two and two together.

From her seat in the back of the train she had the best view in the house as Appleloosa ceased to exist. Not having seen Canterlot’s destruction, it was shocking and impressive to behold. And quite horrifying.

She had spent less than a full day in the town. She had only been in one building. It should have meant nothing to her, no more than any of the other hamlets or burgs she visited while performing. A one-night stand on a municipal scale. Still it shocked her.

Beside her Big Mike leaned against the railing, her forelegs draped over the side of the car. The mare had watched the unfolding calamity in silence. Even when nothing remained to see but the slowly rising ocean of smoke, she watched. Her eyes remained sharp despite the chemical sting in the wind blowing from the fires.

Trixie wetted her mouth. Just a few moments of breathing the dry desert air was enough to parch her. “Are you…” she trailed off. For some reason her throat closed around the words. She cleared it, and tried again.

“Are you okay?” she asked the bar mare. Big Mike’s lemon yellow coat had faded to old parchment beneath the ash and dust.

“Hm?” She didn’t look away from the smoke. Above them the sun pierced weakly through the smog. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She didn’t sound fine, Trixie thought. She didn’t look fine, for that matter. Nopony on the train did.

She tried again. “So, where does this train go, anyway?”

“Las Pegasus,” Big Mike said quietly. “Never been there.”

Silence stretched between them. The train rocked slightly as a stiff gust of wind pushed at the cars. Trixie took another stab at conversation.

“Is that a pegasus town?” She kicked herself mentally. Is that a pegasus town? Seriously?

“No, just earth ponies. Apparently they liked the name.”

Silence again. Big Mike seemed happy with it, and Trixie reluctantly returned to her own thoughts.

Two nights ago she had stolen Celestia’s torc, the most powerful magical item Luna said she had ever seen. A few hours later, according to the ponies at the dig site, Celestia had gone crazy, burning Canterlot to the ground before flying west. The same direction Trixie had gone. With the torc.

She tried to pry her hooftip under the torc again. A burst of pain radiated from the touch, and she lowered her shaking hoof back to the floor. It was like trying to peel off her horn. A thin crimson line trickled down her coat to paint tiny flowers on the weathered wood floor. She shifted her shawl to conceal the blood.

Presumably there was a magical way to remove the torc, but the only other unicorn on the train, as far as she knew, was Luna, and she couldn’t very well approach the princess with her problem. Not until every other avenue was exhausted.

“No unicorns?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Big Mike turned to look at her.

She was slow to answer. “A few, I suppose. It’s a big town, after all. Almost a city.”

Trixie allowed herself a small smile. “That’s good to hear.”

Behind them the incandescent glow began slowly rising from the ruins of Appleloosa, setting the sky aflame. Her smile faded like the stars before the sun.

***

Rainbow Dash had never been a fan of long-distance flying.

Speed was more her thing, as she frequently reminded her friends. She was the fastest pony in Equestria, but only for as long as it took to impress onlookers. After that she was more of a glider, followed shortly by a napper.

It had taken most of a day to fly from Ponyville to the Roof of the World. The flight back was faster, thanks to the huge altitude boost she got from the mountain, as well as a helpful tailwind that pushed her briskly to the south. The extra speed was helpful, but her body still shook with the strain of flying again after two full days without sleep.

By the end of the first hour her back was sore with the effort of staying aloft. Each flap sent a twinge of pain shooting up the sides of her spine to her neck. The thin air at her height made flying faster, but it also made breathing harder. A faint wheeze built in her chest; her lungs protested their abuse.

In through the nose, out through the mouth, she repeated, mantra-like. Tiny icicles formed around her nostrils.

By the second hour trees began to reappear below, where they clung precariously to the sides of the mountains. Their long, wind-warped branches waved to her in passing. The pain in her back extended lower, tugging at her pelvis.

To distract herself from the growing discomfort she replayed the stars’ advice in her mind. The last thing she wanted to do was find Luna and not remember what exactly they had said.

Trixie has the torc near Las Pegasus, she thought. Some paraphrasing was appropriate, she decided. Get it back and Celestia will be fine. Oh, and stay away when she’s awake. That last part was probably unnecessary, but she had seen her friends attempt crazier things.

By the start of the fourth hour she could no longer keep her forelegs raised to split the air. The wind doubled its assault against her creaking wings. She slowed as much as she dared, and slipped through the turbulence in search of a better tailwind.

An hour later her wings began to burn with fatigue. Her pinions shook furiously as she lost control of the tiny muscles anchoring them. She compensated by folding her wings slightly. It was terrible form and would have earned her a harsh lecture in flight school, but she was too tired to care.

Trixie has the torc near Las Pegasus. Noon arrived. Her head slumped, no longer able to look forward. The ground was more interesting to watch anyway, she rationalized. Below her the lunar landscape of the mountains faded beneath aspen forests. A million green and silver leaves winked at her.

A sparkling river wound through the valleys far below. She was fairly certain a river had been the halfway point between the roof and Ponyville. Unfortunately there were quite a few rivers along her route. She swore to never again make fun of Twilight for her love of maps.

Get it back and Celestia will be fine. The sun slowly slipped to the west, vanishing briefly behind a bank of gauzy clouds. Her wing joints felt like they were filled with glass. Each stroke was an agony. She settled for gliding for long periods of time, taking detours to gain altitude from the updrafts wafting up from the exposed stone of the highest mountains. It was slower, but she couldn’t afford to stop and rest.

A curious hawk, taking a break from its daily hunt, shadowed her flight for a few miles. She only noticed it when its banded body passed under her. Eventually it grew tired and went back to doing whatever it is hawks do.

Stay away when she’s awake. The first farm appeared below her, a vineyard filled with rows of grapes, their leaves wide and thick with the promise of summer. She longed to dive down to them and snatch a few for a snack, but she knew she’d never be able to take off again once she landed. This was a non-stop flight.

Two hours later she felt like she was going to die. Part of her wouldn’t have minded. Her legs dangled numbly from her body. Her vision swam like a fish, and it was all she could do not to crash from sheer exhaustion. Every beat of her wings was a nail driven into her back. She had to synchronize her breathing around her flapping – the stabbing pain made it impossible to inhale.

She cried for a while, until the whipping winds dried all her tears. The ground was only a greenish smudge through her clenched eyes. Trixie has the torc near Las Pegasus…

It was almost a surprise when the outskirts of Ponyville appeared below her. She barely had time to descend into a skidding crash that deposited her in the crowded town square.

The cobblestones, hard as they were, felt like the softest of clouds beneath her. Feeling slowly returned to her legs as pooled blood re-circulated. A million stabbing needles replaced the numbness, but she was too tired to care.

Ponies were shouting, she realized. A small crowd had gathered around her, and somepony was running their hooves over her body, starting at her head and moving down her neck and torso. She opened her eyes long enough to make out a white pony with a red cross for a cutie mark. Some wonderful soul placed a dish filled with water next to her head, and she managed to stick her snout into it. Most of it she spilled, but enough got into her mouth to provide a measure of relief.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened the mayor was sitting next to her. Fluttershy and the white pony from before were talking in the background, though Rainbow Dash was too far away to hear what they said.

“…you hear me?” The mayor’s face was just inches from Dash’s. Her eyes were wide as she took in the pegasus’s condition.

“I’m fine,” she lied. Her words came out as a hoarse whisper, rougher even than her normal scratchy voice. “Where’s Luna?”

The mayor stared at her blankly. Fluttershy and the white pony – Nurse Redheart? – stopped talking and turned to look at her.

“Rainbow Dash,” the mayor said, “Luna left for Appleloosa last night.”

She pondered that for a moment. Was screaming appropriate at a time like this? She decided it was, but twin lances of pain in her sides kept her from drawing a deep enough breath to try. Instead she closed her eyes and sobbed.

But only for a moment. Ignoring the shooting pain in her back, she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her wings splayed out beside her. They barely twitched when she tried moving them.

“Um, I think you should lie back down, Rainbow Dash,” a soft voice said. She looked up to see Fluttershy in front of her. The look on the yellow pegasus’s face was more serious than Dash could ever recall seeing.

“Can’t,” she grunted. After a few false starts she managed to get her rear legs under her. “Gotta get to Luna.”

“Luna’s very far away, Dash,” Fluttershy said. She moved to stay in front of Dash’s awkward, lurching steps. “And I think you need to rest.”

“Not gonna happen.” She ignored the grinding pain in her back and lifted her wings, and flapped with all the strength she could muster.

When she opened her eyes again she was back on the cobblestones. Her back and wings felt like someone had peeled the muscles from her bones. Fluttershy and Redheart were off to the side, directing a pair of earth ponies carrying a stretcher.

“Please,” she croaked as they approached. The earth ponies set the stretcher down next to her. “You don’t understand. I need to get to Luna. I have to tell her what the stars said!”

“Silly Dashie,” came a perky voice from beside her. When she turned Pinkie Pie was seated next to the mayor, who seemed as shocked as the pegasus by the pink pony’s arrival. “Just have Spike send her a message.”

Have Spike… Oh. Ohhhh! That sounded much easier than flying to Appleloosa. The thought was so wonderful she didn’t even complain as they loaded her belly-down onto the stretcher.

The still-burning fires of Canterlot, miles away though they were, filled the sky with streams of smoke and ash. The sunset that evening – a wild tempest of yellows, oranges, reds and purples – was the most beautiful anypony in the town had ever seen.

***

The spark that was Celestia stopped following the Appleloosan refugees some time ago, around the time the tracks angled north toward Las Pegasus. From her vantage point on the train, Twilight Sparkle saw the errant princess pause in her flight, like an uncertain firefly puzzling over which blade of grass to land upon.

Eventually the setting sun made Celestia’s decision for her. She flickered as the sun touched the horizon, and a few minutes later her light went out. A flash like the glint of sunlight on water lit the horizon, followed by a small column of smoke that rose from her new resting place. Even from dozens of miles away the ponies on the train heard the echoing clap of thunder as she crashed to the desert floor.

“It’s just like last night,” Twilight said to Luna, who watched groggily from her seat beside the lavender unicorn. The lesser princess had woken just minutes before her sister plunged to the ground.

“Why d’ya think she stopped followin’ us?” Applejack asked from Twilight’s other side. She had brushed the dusting of ash from her Stetson hat, and ignored the identical layer blemishing her orange coat. Twilight was pretty sure there was some deep insight into earth pony psychology there.

“Who knows,” she said. “Maybe we just both happened to be going west? We were following her the first day, remember?”

“She stopped in Appleloosa,” Luna said. She rose to her feet and spread her wings to catch the light of the rising moon. The layer of dust and ash coating her faded away, leaving only a lustrous indigo magnificence behind. Her mane flowed like a dark corona, speckled with stars. Twilight suddenly felt every speck of dirt ground into her filthy coat.

“She must have wanted something there,” the alicorn continued, oblivious to Twilight’s sidelong glances. “Something she didn’t find.”

The train rocked gently as it rolled across the desert floor. A line of mountains rose in the distance ahead. As the sun’s light fell from the sky another dim glow took its place – the lights of Las Pegasus, now less than an hour away.

Time enough for some answers.

“Princess,” Twilight said, “what happened to Celestia?”

Luna flinched. Her mane drew around her protectively, and several minutes of tight silence passed before she answered.

“I don’t know, Twilight. All my life I’ve known her, and she has never been anything but the princess we always knew. She has certainly never done this.”

Twilight chewed on that for a while. “What do you mean, ‘this’?” she asked.

Luna waved a hoof behind them. “Losing control. Forgetting herself. I don’t know, Twilight, take your pick.” She sighed. “I watch her raise the sun every day, but still it is so easy to forget what she is.”

“What she is? Aren’t you selling yourself short? I watched you walk through lava like it was water back there.”

“Foals’ play,” Luna muttered. “I am not my sister, Twilight. She is beyond me.” The alicorn settled back onto her haunches, her morose gaze locked on the distant pillar of smoke floating above her sister’s repose.

***

“So what’s the plan, sug?”

Twilight Sparkle winced at the question. She’d known it was coming ever since they stepped off the train in Las Pegasus. The mayor had greeted them – well, she had greeted Luna, who was standing next to them, and together they retreated to a local government office to discuss the twin problems of the Appleloosan refugees and the threat posed by Celestia.

While Luna spoke with the mayor and her aides, Applejack and Twilight went in search of food. They found a street vendor outside selling a variety of unhealthy junk food – hay fries, candied carrots, apple cakes and the like. Twilight’s stomach growled embarrassingly loud at the sight of the food, and she was just about to beg the vendor for a meal when Applejack surprised her by pulling a small purse from her mane. They retreated with their treats across the street to a park, still lit for the night and filled with dozens of ponies from Appleloosa.

She took a large bite from her apple fritter the moment she heard Applejack’s question, partly because she was famished, but mostly to buy time to come up with an answer. Unfortunately all she could think about was the delicious taste of molten apples and cinnamon. And a hint of nutmeg.

Applejack waited patiently while she chewed. Seeing that her friend wasn’t going to simply forget the question, Twilight swallowed her mouthful and let out a sigh.

“I have no idea, AJ,” she said. “We don’t know what happened to Celestia, why she’s doing thing, or what could possibly stop her. We have no data. There’s nothing to base any assumptions on.”

“None of yer books said anythin’ about it?”

She shook her head glumly. Books had never failed her before, and the experience was depressing. Even the delicious apple fritter couldn’t cheer her up. She polished it off anyway.

“Unless Luna knows something she’s not telling us, we might have to wait and see what Celestia does,” she said. “Hopefully she won’t go near any more towns in the process.”

Applejack was silent for a while. Her own meal of fried-melon-balls-on-a-stick lay half-finished in her hooves. Twilight tried to look at it suggestively, without making it too obvious that she wanted a bite.

“Do y’think she is?” Applejack finally asked. “Luna, I mean. Hiding somethin’ from us.”

Luna’s morose expression from before filled Twilight’s mind. “I don’t think so,” she said. “She seems as shook-up about this as everypony else.”

They settled back into silence while Applejack finished her fried-melon-balls-on-a-stick, much to Twilight’s chagrin. She was about to suggest going back to the street vendor when a sickly emerald flame materialized in the air before her. The fire swirled in place for a moment before taking the shape of a rolled-up scroll, which dropped to the ground at her feet. The outside of the scroll bore two words in a tiny, neat handwriting that Twilight instantly recognized.

“For Luna,” it read.

***

Luna and the mayor, an older earth pony mare with a rust red coat and quill cutie mark, had just finished meeting with refugees at the train station when Twilight Sparkle found them. The lavender unicorn panted heavily as she galloped through the crowd to the princess. Beads of sweat dotted her coat, standing out starkly in the thin layer of dust that still covered her.

“Princess!” Luna looked up as her name was called. She mumbled an excuse to the mayor and turned toward Twilight.

The unicorn came to a stop, her sides heaving. An elegant scroll, wrapped in a gentle purple glow, bobbed in the air before her. “It’s… it’s… from Spike!” she finally managed to say.

Luna snagged the scroll from the air with her own magic. She noted the address on the outside, and pulled it open to read.

To Her Majesty Princess Luna,

Rainbow Dash has just returned to Ponyville. She claims to have spoken with the stars, who delivered this message:

A unicorn who calls herself “The Great and Powerful Trixie” has stolen Celestia’s necklace. The necklace is more than just jewelry; it is responsible for subduing Celestia’s power. If it can be returned Celestia will once again be safe.

As of this morning Trixie was west of Canterlot, near Appleloosa.

On behalf of Rainbow Dash,

-Spike

The parchment fell from her nerveless magic. It struck the cobblestones and furled back into a loose scroll, and rolled across the ground toward Twilight. The unicorn looked between it and Luna with a concerned gaze.

Trixie… Reading the name was almost a physical assault. A terrible hollow pit opened in her gut, and the murmur of the crowd around her was replaced by a toneless buzz in her ears. Trixie.

The thought of her friend’s crime was shocking, but the realization that followed was worse by far. The numbness faded as anger grew within her heart. She thought of Canterlot, and Appleloosa, and the anger was replaced by a towering rage.

Ponies cried out and scrambled away as she blasted into the air, her wings stirring a gale that tossed them off their hooves. A quick locating spell found Trixie not so far away, though her signature was surprisingly dim, as though she had found some way to magically hide herself.

It mattered not. The windows below her shattered as she effortlessly broke the speed of sound, en route to her target.

***

Las Pegasus was an easy town to get lost in. Trixie did so as soon as the train stopped.

Big Mike tried to get her to stay with the other refugees. They were being offered free food and shelter, courtesy of a royal proclamation from Luna. Trixie politely declined, and escaped into the bustling city as fast as her hooves would carry her.

Las Pegasus was a surprise to the unicorn. She had never travelled out west, and simply assumed that any towns out there were small outposts like Appleloosa, which had exactly fit her stereotypes of the Mild West. Las Pegasus, however, was a full-sized city, nearly as large as Manehattan or Fillydelphia, and unlike those ancient cities, Las Pegasus was gleaming and young. Every building, every street, every pony seemed filled with energy and optimism. It was as far from Canterlot in style as it was in distance.

She finagled a cheap room in a seedy hotel near the merchant’s district. A simple sob story about escaping from Appleloosa convinced the owners to give her the room for a pittance. For once her story was almost completely true.

The room itself was smaller than the one from Appleloosa, but more lavishly furnished. The bed held a real mattress, not just a sack stuffed with hay. Gas lights filled the interior with a warm glow, and the floors were polished wood, rather than sanded planks. It was a step in the right direction, she thought.

Of course, there was still the matter of the torc, stubbornly stuck to her chest. Not to mention the angry sun goddess chasing her relentlessly across half of Equestria. What she needed, she thought as she settled onto the soft bed, was a plan to deal with both. She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and envisioned the plan that would rescue her from this latest predicament.

Absolutely nothing came to mind.

She allowed herself a tiny frown. The expression wore easily on her face, like an old piece of favorite clothing grown soft and loose with time. Had anypony been in the room with her, they would have called it the most relaxed and natural look she had worn in days.

The problem was the torc, obviously. If she could get rid of it, her magic would (presumably) return, and she would be free to return to her life as an itinerant performer. Her future would still be in doubt, depending on whether or not anyone connected her with its theft, but that was something to worry about later. If nothing else she would be in a much better position to flee with her magic than without it. Getting rid of the torc might even solve the second problem, she realized. Celestia might simply be following it, rather than her specifically.

She tried a bit of magic again. As always it failed; the torc absorbed her efforts with mocking silence. It weighed on her neck like a stone.

Finally she came to the only conclusion left – another unicorn would have to help her. There were plenty in the city. They would just need a little convincing.

A bit of the weight on her shoulders lifted away. It wasn’t a great plan, to be sure, but it was a plan, and that was more than she had before. She started grooming her mane and coat as best she could without her magic.

***

Trixie was about to head out the door to find a gullible unicorn stallion when Luna arrived.

There was no grand entrance, no fanfare announcing her royal presence. One moment Trixie was reaching for the doorknob with her mouth, and in the next the temperature of the room dropped fifty degrees.

She paused at the sudden chill, her breath coating the metal knob with beads of condensation that quickly frosted into tiny dots of ice. The gas lamps flickered uncertainly, and for an instant the room was plunged into a hesitant darkness that only reluctantly receded from the glow of the lights. Her coat prickled at the unexpected intrusion of frigid air, which wafted toward her from the closed window across from the door. Tendrils of fog danced along the ceiling as the humid air plunged below its dew point.

Trixie froze in place, her muscles seizing in panic. She stared stupidly at the door for several long seconds, too terrified to turn and confirm what she already knew to be true. Her hasty, ill-conceived plans to find a unicorn and ditch the torc died without a whimper.

“Luna…” she started to say. Her parched mouth stuck on the syllables, and she swallowed several times before continuing. “I’m glad you found me, I was just about too…” she trailed off again as she turned, and beheld the nightmare behind her.

The princess was immense. She filled the room with darkness; her umbra blotted out the light as the moon eclipsed the sun. Her horn, a wicked and shining spire, grazed the high ceiling where she stood, her head and neck tilted imperiously. A bruise-black cloud that sparkled with a million stars flowed from her mane and tail, the only scrap of motion in the room. Only her eyes, bright and shining with barely contained fury, offered a hint that the princess was anything more than a statue.

All of Trixie’s arguments fled; her pleas, about to roll from her tongue, dried up as she drank in the sight before her. Nothing that cared for her excuses shared the small room.

“So it’s true,” Luna whispered. Her words, cold and distant as the moon, echoed in Trixie’s mind.

She unconsciously pulled her shawl tighter around her chest. The bulky metal shape of the torc showed through it like a poorly concealed pregnancy. Her mind raced as she sought an excuse – any excuse – and she forced her best smile onto her face.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since the Celebration,” she said. “I knew you would be able to—"

“Be silent,” Luna interrupted. “Even now, at the very end, you lie to me? Was it only ever lies?”

The alicorn’s horn flared, casting deeper shadows across the room. The shawl wrapped around Trixie’s chest lifted slightly, as though floating in a breeze, and disintegrated in a cloud of glittering dust. The traitorous torc, revealed, gleamed like a jewel in Luna’s presence.

“You foal,” she continued. “You dare to steal from a princess, and flaunt your theft openly? You dare wear that which was made for a god?”

“It was an accident,” Trixie blurted. Her words tumbled out of control. “I didn’t know. Please, Luna, I didn’t—"

“Shut up!” Luna thundered. The room quaked in sympathy as she spoke. “You have no idea the pain and devastation you have caused. Celestia banished me for a thousand years for less than what you have done.”

“I had to!” Trixie quailed. She backed as far from Luna as possible, until her rump pressed against the frosted door. “You said it was the most powerful lens you’d ever seen! I needed it too--”

“ENOUGH!” Luna roared. She moved; in the blink of an eye she was only inches away from Trixie, her horn lowered like a spear. “Remove it now, and I’ll ask Celestia to be merciful for the sake of our former friendship.”

The first tear of the evening ran down Trixie’s face. “I can’t.” Her voice shook with terror. “Please believe me Luna, I can’t! By the stars I wish I could but I can’t. Nothing I’ve done even budges it!”

Luna snarled. An ugly sneer marred her beautiful face. “Then perhaps you aren’t trying hard enough!” Her horn flashed again, and a dark light surrounded the torc.

Trixie’s world vanished in a flood of pain. A sensation like a thousand knives sliding beneath her skin forced anything resembling real thought out of her head. A ragged scream tore from her throat as the agony doubled and redoubled. A terrible tearing sensation split her down the middle.

When her eyes opened she was lying on the floor at Luna’s feet. A fan of blood, slowly crystallizing in the cold air, stained the varnished wood floor beneath her. She trembled as the memory of the pain only slowly receded, leaving an ache that throbbed around her chest. The vile torc still clung to her, the jewel in its center sparkling brighter than she remembered.

“P-please,” she whispered. A thin tendril of drool escaped her quivering lips. “It hurts…”

“Oh, it hurts?” Luna said with sudden softness. She loomed over the fallen unicorn. “At last the Great and Powerful Trixie hurts. To think, I was worried about the hundreds of thousands of ponies your carelessness and avarice have hurt or made homeless, but now I see how little that matters. All that matters to you is your own pain, your own suffering.”

The alicorn’s horn sparkled again, and a scintillating light danced across the torc, followed almost instantly by a blinding flash. When Trixie’s vision returned she was lying several feet further away, in the center of a ring of ash. The floor around her smoked.

Luna narrowed her eyes. “Your thoughtlessness has destroyed two cities so far,” she continued. “And who knows how many more if I don’t stop this madness? It’s either me or her, Trixie; she will pursue you to the ends of the earth. Now give me the torc.”

Despair gripped her. Her pain faded with the realization that she would not be leaving the room alive. “I didn’t mean for this to happen! By Celestia, I didn’t mean—"

“Don’t say that name!” Luna screamed. “My sister was the kindest, wisest pony to ever exist, and you turned her into a monster! History will forget you and remember her as a raving beast! How is that fair? How is that fair?!”

An invisible claw latched onto Trixie’s hindleg, raising her off the ground to dangle like a fish from a line. The world spun around her as the magic dragged her through the air, and then slammed her into the wall with the force of a runaway train. The thin wood-reinforced plaster shattered, and she crashed through the new hole into the next room. She tumbled across the floor like a foal’s rag doll, only stopping when a solid wood credenza blocked her path. For a disorienting moment she forgot where she was or why her body hurt so.

Luna’s frame appeared in the hole. The ragged edges of the broken wall melted as she approached, the pitiful matter dissolving in the face of her terrible will. She stepped into the room with Trixie, and the terrible cold followed her.

“I had a dream,” the princess whispered. She drew closer to the unicorn, who only now began to whimper and stir again. “I had a sister. I had a home. I thought I had a friend.” Her silver-shod hoof crunched the flinders of wood beside Trixie’s head as it descended. No mere sword ever promised so much danger as it.

“But you stole all those things from me,” she continued. Her head lowered until her snout brushed against the weeping unicorn’s mane. “You took what I offered and you spat on it. I trusted you. Celestia help me, I trusted you!”

She raised her head back up, gazing at the ceiling as though seeing through it to the moon high above. A single tear, bright as a diamond against her midnight coat, trickled down her jaw, through the air, to land before Trixie.

“I am responsible for all this,” she said to the ceiling. The anger was gone from her voice, replaced by a sad resignation. “I told you about the torc. I set you on this path, and because of my mistake thousands are suffering again.”

“P-please, Luna…”

“Last time I was too weak. I gave into my petty jealousy, and the whole world suffered for it. I will not make that mistake again.” She looked down at Trixie’s prostrate form, and raised her hoof. “I’m sorry, Trixie.”

Her hoof came down with impossible speed, the silver shoe blurring into a shining streak. It slammed into the amethyst jewel held in the center of the torc, and the room filled with the sun.

***

Trixie woke just moments later. Suffocating smoke filled the room, lit an evil red by the fires that consumed the walls. Her mane curled in the heat as the licking flames advanced toward her. She coughed and stumbled to her hooves.

A draft of cool air grabbed her attention. The outside wall of the room was simply gone; a dark hole faintly filled by the lights of the town outside took its place. She could hear the shouts of ponies in the street below. Ignoring the pain in her body, she stumbled to the edge of the hole. The room was only on the second floor, and it didn’t take her long at all to decide that jumping was a much better course of action than waiting for the burning room to roast her.

And yet… she turned. Barely visible in the smoke was the dark form of the fallen princess, far smaller now than before. The flames danced ominously close to her still shape. Had she seen what Twilight Sparkle had at the camp site – the alicorn wading effortlessly through molten rock – she might have thought twice . Instead it was an easy decision to make.

She stumbled back through the smoke, stepping as best she could around the advancing flames. Unable to use her magic, she grabbed Luna’s mane in her teeth, and slowly, agonizingly dragged the princess across the room to the ragged drop-off. She stepped over her friend, and with her last ounce of strength pushed her off, into the street below.

Trixie balanced precariously on the edge for a moment, too exhausted to leap herself. After a moment the flames caught up with her, and she discovered that she had a bit more strength after all.

The drop to the ground was mercifully short.

Incipient

The First Light of Dawn
Chapter 9: Incipient

Twilight Sparkle was reasonably sure her day could not get any worse.

The blast of air from Luna's abrupt departure knocked her clean off her hooves and sent her skidding across the rough earth for nearly a dozen feet. A cloud of dust exploded from the site of the princess' violent leap into the sky, temporarily blinding ponies and adding to the eruption of chaos. Twilight groaned quietly and tried to stand as the world spun around her. A panicked babble filled the air as the crowd stumbled away from the choking dust. Foals cried for their parents. Stallions and mares called out for their families. Above it all, Twilight could make out a single, familiar voice shouting her name.

“Twilight!” Applejack's ghostly form, almost lost in the dust and the evening darkness, broke through the gloom. Her battered Stetson hat somehow remained in place atop her head. After a moment's search, she noticed Twilight and dashed to her side.

“Land's sake, girl, are you alright?” She bent down to give Twilight a shoulder to lean on. Despite standing nearly as close to Luna as Twilight had, she didn't appear shaken or unsettled. The only concern in her eyes was for Twilight.

“I'm fine, AJ.” It was a white lie. Her side ached from the tumble, and she gratefully accepted Applejack's shoulder as she rose to her hooves. The ground rose and fell beneath her for another moment, like waves beneath a ship, before settling as her senses finally cleared. She took a deep breath, ignored the twinge of pain in her ribs, and turned to face the crowd. A small knot of ponies had formed around the mayor, who was shouting to be heard above the chaos.

“Was anyone hurt?” she asked. Another worry occurred to her. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Takes more than a bit of wind to hurt an Apple.” Applejack made a show of brushing the dust from her chest with a hoof. “The others just got knocked down. You were the only one standing right next to her.”

Right, her. Twilight took a few shaking steps back to where Luna had been standing. “Why would Luna do that? She read that scroll, then just... left? Took off? I didn't even see what happened to her.”

“She went that way.” Applejack pointed a hoof east, toward the rising moon. “Was in a hurry, too. Looked like a shooting star... Twilight, what are you doing?”

Twilight was several steps away by the time of Applejack's question. She stopped long enough to call over her shoulder. “Going after her, of course. Come on.”

Applejack caught up easily. She gave Twilight a sidelong glance as they trotted down the road, doing their best to step around groups of ponies crowding the street. “And how are we supposed to do that? We can't fly, and we don't even know where she went.”

Twilight came to an awkward stop in the middle of the street. The burn on her hoof still ached terribly, a low throbbing pain that swelled in time with her heartbeat. She held it gingerly off the ground as she considered Applejack's point.

“I guess we keep walking until we find something,” she finally said.

“Alright,” Applejack said. Her voice was a slow, easy drawl, as always. “Then what?”

Twilight frowned. She'd hoped Applejack wouldn't force the point, but she really had no idea what to do after finding the princess. They didn't even know why she had fled in such a rage. The realization brought her up short.

“The letter.” She spun to face Applejack, bouncing slightly as she favored her injured hoof. “What happened to it?”

Applejack's eyes widened. “Gosh Twilight, it could've gone anywhere. Heck, Luna blew you over when she left. That little scrap of paper didn't stand a chance.”

Of course it hadn't. Twilight ground her teeth silently, trying not to let her frustration show on her face. Every second that passed, Luna drew further away, and with her any hope of solving this mystery and helping Celestia.

Maybe we don't need to find it. The thought teased her. Maybe her magic could do something useful for once. She closed her eyes and attempted to visualize the scroll, just as it had been before she'd given it to Luna. Simple parchment, like Spike always used, cut neatly along its edges but ragged at the top and bottom, where he would have torn it free from the roll. And he had done something unusual – addressed it.

“Do you remember what Spike wrote on the outside of the scroll?” she asked. Her eyes were still closed, visualizing everything but that final piece.

“That was Spike's writing?” A pause as Applejack thought. “It just said, 'For Luna,' I think.”

Of course. She chastised herself for forgetting so easily. The past few days truly had taken their toll on her, physically and mentally. She rotated the scroll in her mind and imagined Spike's neat, cursive writing. For Luna. Very concise of him.

The image felt stable. She set her wounded hoof back on the ground, ignoring the twinge of pain it sent up her leg. A spell like this required four points of grounding to have any chance of working. When she felt balanced, centered and stable, she let her mind open to the flows of magic weaving their way through the world. Her horn caught the flows like a wire drawing current, and the familiar, blissful warmth of a successful spell filled her body. There was a flash, visible even behind her closed eyes, and she heard something soft fall to the road between them.

She smiled even before her eyes popped open. The scroll – battered, torn and wet – sat on the cobblestones. She lifted it into the air with a thought and carefully unrolled it. Her horn provided more than enough light to read by.

***

Trixie managed to land on a relatively soft piece of burning wreckage.

Under most circumstances, she would have tried to avoid jumping onto a heap of smoking timbers bristling with jagged stumps and splinters of wood as long as her leg. There were very few things that could motivate her to leap from a second-story hotel room. Burning to death in a second-story hotel room, however, was one of those things.

The fall was mercifully short. The blasted remains of the outer wall rushed up to meet her like a joyous foal running to embrace its mother. She didn't even lose consciousness after slamming into the ground.

She staggered out of the pile of debris in a daze. Streaks of blood marred her sky blue pelt, their red trails barely visible beneath the dark soot stains that covered her from head to hoof. Something was wrong with her right foreleg – it buckled when she tried putting weight on it, sending her stumbling to the ground again. The sickening stench of burnt hair followed her away from the fires.

Another part of the building collapsed behind her. She turned to see flames licking at the roof, slowly spreading from the room she had just abandoned. Faint cries of alarm sounded from within, and ponies began to appear on the street, calling for help. So far, none had noticed her.

That suited her just fine. After a brief search she found Luna's unmoving body resting in an indecorous pose against the wall. Her coat was nearly black with ash, and her mane tasted bitter in Trixie's mouth as she grabbed Luna and dragged her away from the fires. Every step was agony, and she nearly passed out after carelessly planting her wounded leg on the ground. Nevertheless, she didn't stop until they were far enough away that the heat of the fires was merely like standing next to an oven, rather than baking inside one.

She spat out Luna's mane and raised her head, then spent the next few moments debating the merits of passing out. Her vision vanished in a gray haze, and a faint, unpleasant buzzing noise filled her ears. The stinging cuts in her pelt and the ache in her leg receded, drifting away like smoke. She teetered, tripped, and fell to the ground beside her friend.

Friend. The word slid through her mind, taking its time passing from one side of her addled brain to the other.More thoughts followed: memories of their time in Canterlot, evenings in the gardens, long discussions about the past and future. They teased her. All gone. She sobbed once, and would have cried, had not the burning air already stolen her tears.

A shout from down the street roused her. Any moment now more ponies would arrive, and they would not let her escape. She choked back another sob and pushed herself onto her hooves.

Beside her, Luna still hadn't moved. She seemed smaller than before, barely larger than any other pony off the street. Her mane and tail hung limp, spread across the dirt. Merely hair. Nothing magical.

Trixie pressed her snout against Luna's side. She felt the beat of Luna's heart: slow, steady and powerful. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed. One of the many heavy weights on Trixie's heart lifted away.

More shouting down the street. Voices calling for help. Trixie stepped around the fires and ran into the darkness.

***

Trixie finally stopped several blocks away, in an alley between two rows of flats, silent and dark with slumber. Bins filled with rubbish, neatly sorted by type and size, lined the clean walls. She snorted loudly at the sight – only earth ponies would bother organizing trash.

Whatever their other merits, the dumpsters gave her a convenient place to hide. She crouched behind the largest one, a huge rectangular bin nearly overflowing with refuse. Leftover vegetables and table scraps, to judge by the smell. She ignored the stench and focused on her breathing, willing herself to calm. In and out. Slow heartbeat. Just like preparing to go on stage to amaze a skeptical crowd.

She strained her ears in the silence. Far away, shouting ponies called for help and directed the fire brigade toward the burning hotel. She imagined them finding Luna. In her mind, they loaded the princess onto a stretcher, and whisked her away to the finest hospital in the city. The best doctors attended to her, and when she woke she was good as new. The insanity of the hotel would be forgotten, and she would forgive Trixie's mistake. They would go back to Canterlot, and everything would be like it was before. She would return to the bustling, sweltering, miserable kitchens and be happy again.

Trixie found she was crying. She wrinkled her snout in disdain, an old familiar sneer settling on her face like a well-worn cloak. Tears were for weak ponies, ponies who were neither great nor powerful. Ponies who did not command the forces of the arcane. Ponies who were not her.

She tugged at the torc with her good hoof. The cursed artifact was as stubborn as always. It pulled her skin with it, and a line of pain shot through her chest straight to her heart. The ugly amethyst set in its center glimmered in the dark alleyway. She could have sworn it was laughing at her.

So, still no magic. She stomped her hoof back to the slick stones, sending a sharp report echoing through the dim alleyway. Some unseen animal scampered away from the sound, filling the darkness with the scratching of claws on rock and the rustle of trash being brushed aside. A moment later, it was gone, and silence returned.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She curled into a ball, hugging her wounded leg to her chest. Oh Celestia, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it. The drip-drop of water trickling down gutters answered her.

Out of habit, she tested her magic again. For perhaps the thousandth time in two days she tried levitating a small object: a tiny stone this time, lying half-lit in the shadows before her. She reached out with her thoughts and gave it a shove.

It moved.

It did’nt move much, to be certain. It barely trembled. Had it been something lighter, like a feather or a piece of paper, she might have assumed it was the wind. But there was no wind in the alleyway, and besides, pebbles didn’t usually flutter in the breeze. She stared at it, her mouth hanging open. When she recovered her wits a moment later, she tried again, reaching out an invisible hoof to cradle the stone and lift it into the air.

It rose. Shakily, slowly, stubbornly, it rose. She stared at it, wide-eyed in wonder. The faint glow of her horn filled the alleyway with a gentle silver light, so fleeting and weak she would have missed it anywhere else. The tiny pebble, dirty and unremarkable except for it tremulous hovering, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The tears she had forced back earlier now flowed freely down her cheeks.

A giddy thrill began building in her chest. She smiled, then beamed at the pebble, her face and eyes alive with delight. Her aches and pains were forgotten in an instant as she began to giggle, followed quickly by wild, relieved laughter. She laughed until her breath failed and she slumped back to the alleyway floor, her chest shaking as she gasped. For the first time in days she knew an emotion other than despair or hopelessness.

The pebble clattered to the ground with a quiet clicking noise. She barely heard it above her heaving sobs, but it grabbed her attention nevertheless. She rolled onto her hooves and pushed herself up with a grunt, ignoring the twinge of pain in her leg. Her head was clearer. The fog of fear and confusion no longer shrouded her thoughts. The old Trixie – cunning and ruthless and wonderful – returned to the fore.

Her magic wasn't back at full strength, she judged. Even as a filly, she'd been stronger. All her strength had barely been enough to lift that tiny pebble. But that wasn't important – like a blind pony suddenly seeing the faintest glimmer of light, the pebble's value was not in what it provided her, but what it represented.

Hope. It fluttered in her chest, like a tiny bird struggling to take flight. All it needed was a chance.

She closed her eyes, letting her mind slowly empty of worries and concerns. Her senses opened to the flow of magic around her, and when she opened her eyes again the shimmering silver world of Sirensight greeted her.

The alleyway was a dark void. An absence, a space between the homes on either side and the kinetic power of the road. Alleys were, by definition, gaps between points of meaning. In Sirensight the alleyway was magnified, a looming chasm that spread around her, seemingly for miles in every direction. Empty, except for her.

Her, and the low stone well that followed the torc. It sat in empty space a dozen yards away. She knew better than to walk toward it – the alleyway's walls were much closer than the well, and she would run into them long before reaching it. Instead she focused her attention, imagining the well drawing closer. As the well was a purely imaginary construct, it obliged.

She took a careful step toward the well, now that it was close enough to touch. As before, a faint silver thread extended from her heart, waving through the air like a line of spidersilk in the breeze. The cord danced before her and descended into the depths of the well. She leaned forward and peered in.

The well was nearly full. Less than a yard beneath the stone rim sat a pool of silver water, placid and unmoving. The silver cord vanished into its depths like a fisherman's line. She blinked in shock, and the well vanished, replaced by the harsh reality of the dark alleyway.

The torc was not bottomless; its capacity to absorb magic was not limitless. She gave it a nervous tap with her hoof. A quiet ring filled the alleyway.

Trixie stood there for a while, lost in thought. Overhead, the silent moon drifted across the stars, keeping steady pace with the melancholy night.

***

The building housing the hotel was fully aflame when Twilight Sparkle and Applejack finally arrived.

They had no way of knowing it was a hotel, by that point. Hundreds of ponies crowded the streets outside, watching the three-story building slowly collapse. A billowing, roiling column of smoke rose from the fire, lit an ugly orange from below by the flames. Showers of sparks danced in the air over their heads, putting the stars to shame with their brilliance.

Most of the crowd's attention was on the fire. The night was filled with a barrage of shouting ponies, calling questions or orders to each other over the roar. Three fire engines had already arrived and were spraying water on the flames, and Twilight could hear the ringing bells of several more on their way.

Off to the side, away from the main crowd, a smaller group of ponies huddled in a circle around a wagon. Some instinct drew Twilight to them, with Applejack in tow. In the light of the fires, the earth pony's orange coat appeared white again, just like back at the digsite, Twilight noticed. Ahead, Twilight could see ponies crowded around a still form lying on the ground. A winged pony, with a flowing blue mane and a coat as dark as night.

“Luna!” Twilight pushed her way between a pair of stallions, ignoring their grunts and dark looks. The sight of the fallen princess stopped her cold.

Luna was a shadow of her former self. Barely larger than Twilight, with a mane and tail composed of normal hair. She looked just as she had when the Elements of Harmony had freed her from Nightmare Moon's influence. Her coat was streaked with soot, though Twilight couldn't see any actual burns. After the way Luna had walked through molten rock at Celestia's first crash site, Twilight wasn't even sure the princess could be burned.

She could be injured, that much was clear. Her eyes were closed and her limbs tangled beneath her body. She didn't respond as a tan earth pony mare with a bandage cutie mark tended to her.

The nurse – at least, Twilight assumed she was a nurse – looked up as Twilight broke through the circle. Her eyes widened as she took in Twilight's battered condition.

“You, unicorn. Were you with her when this happened?” the nurse asked. She stood and walked around Luna, her eyes darting up and down Twilight's body quickly. “Have you been treated yet?”

“Er, no and yes, in that order,” Twilight said. She turned to the burning hotel for a moment, then back to the princess. “What happened? She was with us not too long ago near the train station, then she took off. Is she alright?” She pressed forward. “Is she hurt?”

The nurse gave Twilight a concerned look, her eyes lingering again on the many scrapes and scuffs the unicorn had acquired over the past few days. Whatever she intended to say, however, was lost as Luna stirred.

The princess moaned quietly, and her wings fluttered against her side. Before Twilight could do so much as take a step forward, Luna's eyes shot open. They were filled with a baleful energy, an intense stare darker and deeper by far than the night overhead. The circle of ponies stumbled back; even Twilight could not help but cringe at the sight.

“Where is she?!” Luna screamed. Her voice, mellifluous and feminine and terrible, nearly deafened them. “Where did she go? Where did she go?!” She tried to stand, stumbled, and slowly pushed herself upright. A chilling cold emanated from her in waves, setting Twilight's hair on end. Beneath her, a rime of frost began to grow on the ground.

“L-Luna...” Twilight stammered. Everything else was forgotten as she stared at the princess. Her teeth began to chatter.

“Tell me!” Luna stood, and any illusions Twilight had about her size were dispelled. The alicorn seemed to grow before them, her wings spread wide, as though embracing the very night. Her light blue mane darkened and began to sparkle again. It shimmered, then flowed in an invisible breeze. Even her horn seemed to grow, becoming a spiraling needle jutting from her head like a spear. She snarled at their silence, and then stepped toward Twilight.

She never finished the step. As soon as her hoof left the ground she shrieked in pain and fell back onto her haunches. The imperious, commanding look fled her face, replaced by shock. She cradled her foreleg against her chest, and slowly looked down at the source of her pain.

Her hoof was simply gone. The leg ended in a twisted, seared pulp that oozed dark red blood onto her coat. Her mouth fell open, and she began to tremble. The wicked light vanished from her eyes, replaced by a look Twilight knew all too well – fear and hurt.

“Oh Celestia...” Twilight whispered. Despite all she had suffered, Luna's injury was far worse than anything she had ever seen. “Don't move. We'll help you. We'll, uh...” Twilight trailed of and glanced around at the crowd, completely at a loss.

The nurse, fortunately, was not. She pushed Twilight aside and stepped up to Luna without hesitation, already reaching back to open a canvas satchel draped across her back. She carefully pried Luna's leg away from her chest, making quiet shushing noises, and wrapped a large gauze pad around the stump. The white cotton immediately reddened in spots. The nurse frowned at the wound, then pulled out a rolled bandage and began tightly binding the wound.

Luna stared at her mangled hoof as the nurse worked. Her lips and nose turned a sickly, ashen blue, and for a moment she swayed on her remaining legs. She would have fallen, if Applejack and another earth pony hadn't bustled in and pressed against her side.

“Lower your head,” the nurse said. “Better yet, lie down. You're going to pass out.”

“No,” Luna mumbled. Her face glistened with sweat, and she gulped in air like she had just finished running a marathon. “No, I don't have time for this...” Despite the conviction in her words, her head sank, and a thin strand of drool dripped to the ground. Her ears hung limp against her head, like flags on a windless day.

The nurse sighed. “Have it your way. Try to let her down slowly, would you?” She said the last to Applejack.

Twilight found herself edging closer. She stared at Luna's leg as the nurse worked. The bandage was at neat and precise as one of Rarity's dresses – the nurse spun and wrapped the cloth with her hooves and mouth better than Twilight could have dreamed of doing with her magic. Eventually, the limb was entirely swaddled in cotton from her ankle down. Not even the tiniest drops of blood were able to leak through.

“Will... will she be okay?” Twilight said. She tried to pitch her voice down, so only the nurse would hear.

Luna had better hearing than she realized. Her ears flicked as Twilight spoke, and she managed to raise her head.

A flicker of annoyance passed across the nurse's face. She gave the bandage another once-over, then began running her hooves over the rest of Luna's body, pausing occasionally to check her soles. Looking for more blood, Twilight realized.

“She'll be fine,” the nurse said, louder than she needed.

“But her hoof--”

“She'll be fine.” The nurse shot Twilight an angry stare. “And if you don't mind, you aren't helping.”

Twilight shrunk, stung. The weight of the past two days, of watching, helpless and useless as event spun out of control, rushed back in an instant. Her throat tightened, and hot, stinging tears crowded out her vision.

No. Stop it. Luna needs us right now. Stop being a baby and help her. She sniffed, blinked hard, and raised her head again.

“I'm sorry.” Her voice barely trembled. “What should we do?”

The nurse gave her another, softer glance. “You know her? You're her friend?” When Twilight nodded, she continued. “Then talk to her.”

Right, talk. Twilight was good at talking. She took a deep breath and leaned down, putting her face next to Luna's.

“Luna,” she whispered. “It's me, Twilight. We're going to help you.”

The alicorn drew another shuddering breath. “Trixie.” She stumbled on the word. It was more of a hiss than true speech.

“We know. We read the scroll.” Twilight motioned with her hoof for Applejack to lean closer. “What should we do?”

“Find her.” Luna shook her head slowly, as though trying to clear it. “Find her.”

Right. They knew Trixie better than anyone else in the city. With her magic and Applejack's common sense, they could find her in a heartbeat. A feeling of hopeful confidence crept back into Twilight's chest. “We can do that. Then what?”

“Kill her.”

The warm, hopeful feeling evaporated like a snowflake in a bonfire. She stumbled back, staring at Luna with undisguised shock. Applejack jerked in surprise, nearly falling as her hoof caught on Luna's wing. Even the nurse looked up from her work.

For a brief moment, Twilight hoped she might have simply misheard Luna. The alternative was too horrible to consider. The silence stretched out as she struggled for a response.

“But...” It was the only word that occurred to her. She glanced at Applejack, then back to Luna. She's hurt. She's not thinking straight. It was the only possibility.

“You have to.” Luna pushed herself fully upright, her wings fluttering as she settled them back around her body. The dazed, wounded alicorn closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the princess was back, as cold and imperious as the moon. She stared at Twilight; she stared through Twilight.

“But--” Twilight tried again.

“She is responsible for all of this pain and destruction, Twilight.” Luna rode over her without a hint of hesitation. “I tried to take the torc from her peacefully, and this is what happened.” She lifted her hoof. If the wound still pained her, there was no sign of it on her face.

“But--”

“Stop saying that!” Luna roared. The circle of ponies widened as they retreated, and Twilight found herself standing suddenly alone. “Do you think it pleases us to do this? To kill one of our own subjects? If there were any other way, Twilight, we would take it, but there is not. If you wish to save this city from the same fate as Canterlot, you will help us.”

Twilight sat, dumbfounded. The silence as Luna finished was profound. Distantly, she heard the battle against the burning hotel rate – ponies shouting, bells ringing, fires roaring. It might as well have been a thousand miles away.

Luna stared at her another moment, then nodded. “Good. we know it's unpleasant and feels wrong, Twilight, but sometimes we must do hard things to save the ones we love.” A pained look flashed across her face as she said the last word, but it was gone in an instant. A ghost of an emotion. “Now, she can't have made it very far on hoof--”

“No.”

Luna stopped. The expressionless mask reappeared on her face. “What did you say?”

Twilight stood. “I said no. We're not going to help you kill anypony. We've come this far – there must be some other way to--”

“There is no other way!” Luna hobbled toward Twilight on three legs. Any comic effect from her gait was lost as she loomed over Twilight's tiny form. “Every pony in this town will die if we do not get that torc! You will help us!”

Twilight gulped. Her leg lifted, and she began to take a step back. It took all her will to force it down again and stand her ground. “I said no, Luna. I won't.”

The night itself seemed to darken around them. The light of the fires faded away, sinking into the shadows like water into sand. Luna somehow grew, her mane flowing like a cloud that blotted out everything but the moon and stars overhead. The terrible, killing cold was back. Twilight's breath puffed in front of her, before even that pitiful scrap of light vanished as well. Nothing remained but Luna.

She stared at Twilight. There was nothing warm, or caring, or even mortal in her gaze. Only a judging god, viewing an unworthy subject.

“Very well.” Her voice was ice. Colder than ice – as cold as the lightless reaches beyond the moon and between the stars. Merely hearing her words drew the warmth from Twilight's body, leaving her shivering in the desert night. “I pray you will live to understand the enormity of your error.”

With that, the princess of the night stretched her wings to their fullest extent and lifted into the air. A shadow fell over the assembled crowd, somehow casting the night into further darkness. Within a moment it passed, and then Luna was gone. Overhead, a black shape flitted across the stars, spiraling ever outward from the roiling smoke.

Twilight realized she was shivering. Applejack, the nurse, and all the other ponies were staring at her in disbelief. She swallowed and tried to speak.

“I c-couldn't do it.” She looked around for support. “I would have done anything else. How... how could she ask--”

“Shh, it's alright, sugar.” Applejack stepped up beside her. “You did the right thing. She'll understand, when she calms down.”

“You think she'll...”

“I know she will,” Applejack said. “She's just in a rough spot. Like some other ponies I could mention.”

Very subtle. Twilight frowned and shook her head. “Well, we can't afford to wait for that. We need to find Trixie before she does.”

“Have any ideas?”

Twilight sat in thought for a minute. The circle of ponies slowly broke apart, their attention drawn to the blazing fire behind them. Only the nurse remained, giving Twilight another once-over. She changed the bandage on Twilight's hoof, tsk-ing at the wound, and made Applejack promise to keep it clean. That would have annoyed her, had Twilight been paying any attention.

Finally, she looked up. “Yes. Yes I do.”

***

The night welcomed Luna back into its fold. The chill desert air embraced her, held her aloft effortlessly. Las Pegasus shrank beneath her to a mosaic of lights, a grid of stars that eerily matched her own artistry above. Directly below her, the fire she started in the hotel was lost in the greater blaze of the city, vanished except for a faint smudge where the smoke blotted out the ground.

She noticed none of this. Twilight's rejection – no, her betrayal – oozed through her like the bitterest poison. Twice in this night a pony she trusted had turn against her, though to be fair Trixie's betrayal was days old. Still, both wounds were fresh, and ached far worse than the dull throb in her hoof.

She gave her wounded leg a quick glance. Images flashed before her: Trixie lying on the hotel floor, weeping. The torc, glittering in the darkness. Her hoof, shod in meteoric silver, descending to crush the traitorous unicorn. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind whistle around her.

Trixie was somewhere below. Las Pegasus was large, but not so large that she could hide forever. She was frightened and on the run, and frightened ponies made mistakes.

Luna tilted her wingtips, banking into a widening circle around the burning hotel. She would find Trixie, and this time there would be no underestimating her. No hesitation. No mercy for an imagined friend.

She thought back to the topiary gardens outside the castle. How far away it all seemed now. Just two days ago. A lifetime ago.

If you can't remove the torc from the pony, remove the pony from the torc. If all else failed, she could simply toss Trixie at Celestia's hooves. Nothing would remain but the torc. And memories.

Celestia could have the former. Luna would keep the latter.

***

Less than an hour later, Trixie found herself just blocks away from where she had entered the city – the Las Pegasus freight shipping yard.

Dozens of railways converged on this one point, covering a vast stretch of open land larger than the entire town of Appleloosa. Lines of boxcars sat, unused, in the crisp night air, waiting for the return of the day and the ponies who would drive them out into the world. Some were destined for mining and industrial sites out in the mountains. Others were simple passenger liners, soon to carry ponies to towns across Equestria. A select number would never leave the city at all – they existed only to ferry cargo from inbound trains to smaller stations throughout the city. Together, the network they formed was a marvel of earth pony engineering, more elaborate and sophisticated than any other transportation system in the world.

Trixie just needed to borrow one, small piece of it.

She had not the slightest idea how trains worked. Some, she knew, powered themselves, with steam boilers that might as well have been magic to her mind. More primitive ones were pulled by teams of conductor ponies. She trusted that type more.

Under the circumstances, she wasn't likely to get either version working, particularly without being noticed. For all that the trainyard was unguarded at night (after all, who would think to steal a train?), there were limits to what she could pull off. That was fine, though. She just needed a single car.

The central station was nearly as large as Canterlot keep. It was a simple design, as though someone had taken a barnyard and built it a hundred times too large, with metal girders and glass panes instead of wood beams painted red. A pair of massive doors, one on each end of the structure, led to its cavernous interior. Thousands of ponies could have crowded inside, with room for a hundred pegusi in the air above them.

Trixie paused at the entrance. The far end of the station was hundreds of yards away, across from platforms and kiosks and elevated walkways and signs, dozens of signs, all exclaiming which line led to which train to which destination. To her left and right a dozen rails shot clean through the station. Even for a pony used to incredible things, it was an overwhelming sight.

Far beyond, in the yard outside the station, she spotted her target. A single, lonely, unused passenger car, sitting on the line leading south. She sucked in her breath and trotted into the station.

She was only a few yards in when she stumbled to a halt. Up ahead, she heard noises. Hooves on concrete. Voices. She ducked into the shadows beside a hulking steam engine and waited, her ears straining forward to hear.

“...bigger than I thought it would be.” The voice was feminine, but somehow still rough around the edges, with a slight drawl that reminded Trixie of the farming villages she used to frequent.

The voices drifted away for a moment, lost in the cavernous void. The tick and tock of an enormous clock, located on the central platform, filled the darkness with a mechanical heartbeat. Echoes of the clicking gears bounced back from the distant walls and ceiling, producing a lingering rattle that counted away the spaces between the seconds. She strained to hear the intruders over the sound of the passing time.

Eventually, the voices returned. A new pony spoke, more quietly and refined than the first. “...be here. Do you think we're too late?”

Trixie recognized the voice instantly. How could she not, when those same soft tones had haunted her dreams, all those months on the road? Her mind supplied an image of the pony: a mare, short for her age, with dark purple and pink hair cut straight as a ruler across her forehead. A lavender coat, and a starburst mark on her flank. The picture was as clear and sharp as if she were back in Ponyville, nearly a year before.

Twilight Sparkle. The damn unicorn had followed her from Canterlot. Trixie realized she was grinding her teeth, and forced herself to relax. Getting angry wouldn't solve anything.

They didn't know she was here, though they were obviously hunting for her. She could hide until they moved on, or try to sneak past them. Neither option was palatable – the sun was only a few hours away, and then everything would be too late.

The voices were drawing closer. She took a careless step back, and nearly shrieked when her flank bumped into the wood partition holding up a newspaper kiosk. An instant later, a hundred magazines, newspapers, coffee mugs, booklets, pens, maps and assorted other touristy knick-knacks clattered to the floor in a cheap, tacky avalanche that sent loose papers spilling across the platform.

Trixie stared at the mess in horror. Before she could even think of moving, a bright purple flare burst in the air above her, filling the station with light.

***

Twilight Sparkle was starting to feel desperate.

The train station had seemed like the obvious place to search. Even Applejack had agreed! There was simply no other expeditious way for a unicorn to escape the city before the sun rose and Celestia came looking for the torc.

“It's bigger than I thought it would be,” Applejack said. “These western ponies know how to build a train station, that's for sure.”

Twilight mumbled something non-committal, her mind on other things. She tried to imagine other possible hiding places or escape routes for a desperate unicorn. Did Las Pegasus have hot air balloons? A sewer system?

Finally, she gave voice to her fears. “I was sure she would be here. Do you think we're too late?”

Now that they were here, searching the massive emptiness of the freight station at night, her brilliant insight was looking a lot less brilliant. Aside from their simply being late, it was always possible Trixie had decided to escape on foot. A million possible reasons she was wrong tormented her mind. She was about to confess her desperation to Applejack when a sudden, tremendous clatter broke the silence.

Twilight turned without thinking, her horn flaring as she cast the first spell that came to mind. A bright purple spark leapt from its tip, shot through the darkness like an arrow, and exploded in a brilliant purple firework that lit the cavern like day.

Trixie reeled in the sudden brilliance, a hoof held over her eyes to block out the flare. Her powder blue coat appeared a dark grey in the purple light. She looked, Twilight thought, rather worse for wear. Scraped, bruised, bedraggled, with a mane that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days. Her eyes, even in the shadow of her hoof, were haunted, weighed down with whatever terrors she had carried with her from Canterlot. She looked terrible.

She looks like me. The thought jolted her. Twilight glanced down at her own scuffed, dirty coat. Her mane felt like a bird's nest glued to her head. The fresh white bandage around her hoof was already beginning to curl around the edges.

“You.”

The sudden voice jerked Twilight out of her introspection. Across the platform, Trixie started as well. They both turned to Applejack.

“You,” the earth pony said again. She practically growled the word. Never had Twilight seen her friend so angry.

Applejack took a step forward. The crack of her hoof against the stone floor echoed through the station like thunder. She lowered her head, as though about to charge, and snarled at Trixie.

“I knew you were up to no good!” she shouted. “I shoulda known this was all your fault!”

Trixie cringed. She glanced around, as though looking for an escape route, then turned back to them. The look on her face was wild. Desperate.

“Stay back!” she yelled at them. “You can't stop me!”

Twilight took a step forward. She put a hoof on Applejack's shoulder before the earth pony could do anything rash. “I don't care about you, Trixie. We just want the torc.” She could see it clutched around Trixie's neck. It was exactly the same as it had appeared on Celestia, but somehow smaller, as though Trixie had found a jeweler and gotten it resized. She frowned and filed that mystery away for later.

Trixie's face twisted in a mix of emotions, so tangled Twilight couldn't begin to unscramble them. Rage, desperation, something like hate. Her eyes were wild as she shouted back.

“Don't you think I want to get rid of it?” She pried the tip of her hoof beneath the metal rim and strained, stopping a moment later as a raw shriek burst from her throat. Her head dangled, and a trickle of blood ran down her coat and pattered onto the cement floor. She caught her breath and looked up again, her face wracked with pain. “I can't. Nothing will get it off!”

Twilight gawked, taken aback by the ferocity in her voice and the sudden, shocking appearance of blood. Even Applejack seemed to have forgotten her anger.

“Oh, Celestia,” Twilight mumbled. Louder: “Maybe Luna can--”

It was the wrong thing to suggest. Even as she spoke Luna's name, Twilight realized her mistake. Luna's command, somehow forgotten in the shock of finally discovering Trixie, came floating back. Find her. Kill her.

Trixie must have realized what Luna had in mind. She took a step back and nearly tripped over the spilled newspapers. She recovered her footing, and shot them both a glare.

“No,” she said, still backing away. “No, Twilight Sparkle. You are not going to stop me. Luna is not going to stop me. No one will stop Trixie!”

There's no time for this. Twilight reached out with her magic, extending a magical grip toward Trixie to lift her into the air, just like she had with the Ursa Minor, so many months ago.

At least, that was the intent. As soon as the faint purple glow of her magic reached Trixie, it exploded in a shower of sparks. A sudden backlash jolted her horn, leaving her briefly dazed. It was like someone had set off a firecracker in her brain. The sparks faded away almost instantly, but the amethyst in Trixie's torc seemed to glimmer, as though it had someone stolen their light.

“Twilight!” Applejack looked back and forth between the two unicorns. “What the hay?!”

Twilight reached a shaking hoof up to her horn. Visions of Luna's foot, blasted away and seared almost to the bone, flashed before her eyes. She nearly passed out from relief when her hoof found it safe and whole.

“I'm fine,” she said. Her voice trembled, but grew stronger as she spoke. “I can't touch her, though. You'll have to.”

“Can do.” She turned to Trixie, who was staring at them with another odd expression. Anguish, mixed with her typical haughtiness.

“If you think a dirt pony is going to stop Trixie, you are sadly mistaken,” she said. Her horn flared with a weak silver glow, and the shadows around her seemed to expand. The darkness rose up over her like a shroud, cloaking her with its essence. The silver light faded and vanished in the pitch black space before them.

“Dirt pony!?” Applejack drew herself up and glared at the empty space where Trixie had stood. “You take that back!” She galloped toward the ebbing shadows and jumped onto the spot Trixie had been standing.

Trixie had, of course, moved by that point. Whatever else she was – braggart, coward, or fool – she wasn't enough of an idiot to try and stand down an enraged earth pony. Applejack landed harmlessly, tackling only air, and skidded across the smooth concrete into the pile of newspapers Trixie had knocked over. She was back on her feet in an instant, spinning around to search for any sign of her foe.

Off to the side, near another engine, Twilight saw one of the shadows drift across the moonlit platform. Without thinking, she fired another flare toward it. A brilliant purple firework exploded among the shadows, lighting them like day and exposing Trixie's crouching form.

“Applejack, there!” Her outburst was unnecessary. Applejack was already halfway toward Trixie by the time Twilight spoke. The showmare looked around in a panic, then abruptly vanished in a flash.

Almost instantly, there was an identical flash behind Twilight. She spun around to see Trixie no more than a foot away, so close she could make out each individual cut and scrape marring the blue unicorn's pelt. A large patch of her mane was missing – only a blackened scorch remained along her scalp where flowing, beautiful silver hair had once curled. Twilight opened her mouth to speak, when Trixie did something so intimate, so personal, Twilight was shocked into silence.

The showmare leaned forward and lightly touched her horn to Twilight's own. There was a tiny spark of magic, as of two dissimilar fields equalizing, then Trixie turned and pelted away. Twilight was too shocked to even consider following.

She touched my horn... She touched my horn! Only her parents had ever offered her such a familiar expression of love. She resisted the urge to reach up and try and wipe it clean.

“Gotcha!” Applejack's shout came from almost directly behind her. She turned just in time to absorb the earth pony's full weight as it crashed into her, slamming her to the ground in a bone-crushing tackle. Her breath exploded from her lungs. Stars danced around her head, the brightest points in the dark station. She felt herself lifted up, then dropped back onto the concrete.

“You liar!” Somepony shouted. It sounded like it was coming from a great distance, or as if somepony had stuffed her ears with cotton. She tried to stand in a daze, and felt a tremendous blow to her ribs. She toppled back down and stayed there.

Legs wrapped around her neck and wrenched her head back. She battered at them with her hooves, but they were like steel bars. Her vision, only so recently returned, began to go gray again.

“Applejack,” she tried to wheeze. Barely a gurgle emerged.

“Shut up!” Applejack's voice shouted in her ear. The anger in it was unbearable to hear. “I should give you to Luna! After everything you've done, it's the least you deserve!”

A calm, rational part of Twilight's mind wondered what had gotten into her friend. The greater portion of her mind was filled with gibbering panic as her air supply was slowly choked off. She beat weakly at Applejack's legs, with no effect. She tried some magic – any magic – but her thoughts were too disordered by the pain and shock of the attack. Eventually, it was all she could do to hook her wounded hoof around Applejack's, and try to pry it away. No dice.

“I've got her, Twilight!” Applejack shouted. The weight above Twilight shifted as Applejack peered around. “Twilight! Where'd you go, girl?”

Twilight twitched.

“Stop that,” Applejack snarled. She seemed about to say something else when suddenly she faltered. One of the unforgiving legs unclamped itself from Twilight's neck, and gently touched the fresh bandage around her wounded hoof. “What the hay...”

Twilight tried to speak again. A faint rasp was all that emerged. “Applejack...”

There was a loud gasp, and the other leg around Twilight's neck jerked away. Her head fell back to the concrete floor, bounced, then stayed still. The stars were back, she idly noted. Everything else seemed far away and not so important.

Numb. That was the word she was looking for. Everything was numb. Even her aches and pains were gone. Vanished. Distant relatives who no longer wrote.

“Twilight? Twilight!” Applejack sounded panicked, distraught. Very unlike her. Something must have gotten her upset.

Twilight wondered what could have happened. Faintly she was also aware of a ringing ache in her head, and her throat felt like somepony had shoved a log down it. Again, all very far away.

A pair of hooves cradled her head, lifting it away from the floor. Even that slight motion was too much for her to bear. The station spun around, and an acidic tang filled her mouth. The last thing she remembered was a burning pain in her throat, very real and not at all numb, as she vomited her most recent meal onto the concrete.

Then, mercifully, everything went dark.

Corona

Trixie fled through the shadows of the station as though her life depended on it.

It may have, for all she knew. Luna looked ready to kill her at their last meeting, and that was before Trixie blew up the room and shoved her off a second story balcony. There was only one way Trixie's next meeting with her would end.

So, that meeting had to be avoided, or at least postponed as long as possible. Indefinitely, even.

She was panting when she finally reached the far end of the station and emerged into the light of the diminishing moon. Behind her, she could hear angry shouting, and the end of what sounded like a vicious beating. The idea of hurting another pony, even one as hated as Twilight Sparkle, made her cringe, but she shoved that thought out of her mind. Sparkle was going to turn her over to Luna; she deserved whatever was happening back there.

The moon was just a few hoofspans above the mountainous horizon. Less than two hours remained in the night, she judged. Two more hours for Luna to find her. Two hours until Celestia woke and hunted her down.

For a brief moment, a crushing hopelessness descended upon her. She was hungry, hurt and exhausted, with a pair of gods tag-teaming each other in pursuit. If she stopped moving, they would find her. If she slept, they would find her. Even if she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, they would eventually find her.

This city would be her grave.

She stumbled at the realization, then swore and picked herself back up. The world had always tried to beat her. Every dream, the world had tried to smother. Every hope, it had tried to snuff out. But always it had failed – for every setback she had suffered, there was a comeback. For ever defeat, a rally. In every hopeless situation, rescue.

She came to a stop before a lone passenger car, detached from the rest of its train. Her breath came in ragged heaves, and she could taste something hot and metallic in her lungs with each gasp. But there was no time to rest. Ignoring the web of pains stitched across her body, she climbed into the car.

It was time to see how much her magic had improved.

***

When Twilight Sparkle woke up, the world was shaking.

That was unusual, to say the least. Earthquakes? She rejected the idea – most of Equestria was tectonically stable.

The shaking continued. She ran down the list of other possible causes and came up empty. Not enough data to formulate a hypothesis. She opened her eyes, to see if there were any visual clues.

Applejack's blurry form was just a few inches away. Maybe she knew why it was shaking? Twilight opened her mouth to ask, then promptly retched. A headache that had been hovering at the edges of her consciousness dove in with a vengeance, wrapping its claws around her brain. The sudden assault left her mewling.

At the same time, the analytic part of her brain continued its work. An imaginary sheet of paper appeared before her (much easier to see, now that her eyes were scrunched closed again). 'Headache' appeared at the top, with a tiny check mark next to it. Ditto for 'blurred vision'. Disoriented? Definitely got a check mark.

She tried to remember how she had ended up on the floor. Nothing. 'Faulty memory' appeared on the paper.

Twilight examined the evidence, and quickly reached a conclusion: she was suffering from a severe concussion. A brief flash of joy momentarily chased away the headache. Huzzah for empirical reasoning!

How do you treat concussion, again? She tried to order her scrambled thoughts. The shaking was back, which wasn't helping things. Why hadn't she paid more attention during those first aid classes? What was the mnemonic, again? Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. What? No, that's for sprains, not concussions. Well fine, you come up with a treatment, then! Don't take that tone of voice with--

“Twilight!” Applejack's shouting finally broke through the fog. “Come on, sug, wake up!”

“Buh... wha?” she said.

“Twilight! Oh thank goodness.” The relief in Applejack's voice was palpable. Just hearing it made Twilight feel better. After all, anything good for Applejack was good for Twilight, she reasoned. “C'mon Twi, open your eyes.”

She cracked her eyes open, then blinked. Applejack's face was just inches away. Her breath, hot and apple-scented (of course), washed over Twilight's snout. They stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Twilight broke the silence.

“You can put me down, now,” she said. Applejack's legs were still wrapped around her neck and head, cradling her off the floor.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Applejack carefully set her down. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

Terrible. “Fine,” she said. “Just a bit dizzy... what happened back there?” She slowly rolled onto her side, then every so carefully pushed herself into a seated position. A wave of dizziness briefly swept over her, but she caught her balance before she fell back to the floor. The nausea she had felt slowly receded, like the outgoing tide drawing away from a beach. For some reason, she thought about seaweed.

“Well, uh.” Applejack reached up with one hoof to scratch the back of her neck. “Right as I was about to tackle her, Trixie vanished in a flash. When I got up she was standing here, and you were running away.”

Twilight remembered the touch of Trixie's horn, and the spark of magic that had jumped between them. An illusion spell, apparently. Trixie was a better magician than Twilight had given her credit for. She mused over the thought in silence.

“And then what?” she finally asked.

“Well, I tackled her,” Applejack said. Her head fell, and her ears wilted, drooping limply against her mane. “But it wasn't her, was it? It was you. I was hurtin' you.”

“Don't fret over it. It wasn't your fault.” She carefully lifted a hoof off the ground and set it on Applejack's shoulder. “It was Trixie's fault, and we still need to stop her. Did you see which way she ran?”

Applejack nuzzled the offered hoof, then nodded and rose to her feet. “Sure did. She took off for the trainyard, outside that far door. Do you... do you think you can move?”

Twilight shoved herself onto her hooves. The world swam for a moment, but settled after a few deep breaths. “No choice. We need to stop her. Lead the way.”

Applejack gave her friend a worried look, but nevertheless turned toward the station's far entrance, and the moonlit night beyond. Together, they moved in pursuit.

***

Thousands of feet below, the black of night was beginning to fade away, revealing the soft beige sands of the desert landscape. The countless points of light that were Las Pegasus slowly vanished as dawn began to tint the sky.

To Luna's eyes, the encroaching light made little difference. She could see in absolute darkness. She could see better in absolute darkness. The nascent dawn, with its fingers of pale pink and purple rising up from the horizon, was only a reminder of how little time she had remaining.

Above her, the stars began their daily retreat from the sky. From east to west they slowly faded, just as the lights beneath her vanished. She could hear them; the billion tiny gems sparkled and laughed and danced and sang as their princess gyred in circles above ten thousand sleeping souls. She cried out to the stars for aid, but no response came. Wrong place, wrong time. But then, even if they had heard, they wouldn't have helped. She owed them too much already.

She could no longer sense even the dim presence that was Trixie. Whatever magic had been hiding her before was back, and vastly more effective. She had as much chance of finding the unicorn thief now as she would picking out an individual grain of sand on the beach.

She keened quietly, her frustration overwhelming her already frayed self control. Even at the best of times, Luna was a temperamental princess, not accustomed to keeping her emotions in check. It was the nature of the night to unleash the hidden, the primal, the sensual and the suppressed, and she was nothing if not the embodiment of the night.

And now the night was fleeing, chased away by the inexorable dawn. She felt herself flagging, her wingbeats growing sluggish and tired. The air felt thicker, almost like syrup, and she began to descend. Her moon, full and fat, touched the mountains to the west. She could barely hear its song above the cruel hail of sunlight.

She managed to slow her fall somewhat. Her outspread wings caught the air, and she hit the ground with far less force than Celestia had in the desert. Nevertheless, she punched a wide crater in the dirt of an empty lot on the outskirts of the town, and woke sleeping ponies for blocks around with her crash.

Unable to fly, she walked. Eventually, unable to walk, she crawled.

The sky brightened in the east. The dawn was like a hammer against her mind. With her sister by her side, she could have stayed up all day, drawing on Celestia's power and using it to sustain herself. Now, alone, she had nothing. Without her sister, she was nothing.

Unable to crawl, she dragged herself forward with her front legs. The side of her face scraped against the ground. Her wounded leg, noticeably shorter than the other beneath its bandage, ached abominably. It was the only sensation left.

Ponies were crowding around, babbling, shouting. Urging her to stop. Of course, they didn't know what was coming. They didn't know why she had to find Trixie.

The edge of the sun peaked above the mountains to the east. Its light washed away the rest of her strength, and left only an empty husk, a god weaker than the frailest of ponies.

Unable to drag herself, she wept, until the all-consuming light banished her conscience for the day.

***

Trixie found the wheel brake with only a bit of trial-and-error. Really, it should have been obvious. A giant lever next to the front set of wheels – it even had a small label reading “Push Forward To Release Brake.”

She decided to use test her magic on the brake, rather than using her mouth. It was time to find out how much her magic had recovered... and besides, earth ponies used that thing. With their mouths. She could see the tiny tooth-marks on the handle.

Simultaneously suppressing a shudder and thanking the stars for restoring her magic, she closed her eyes and concentrated, attempting to marshal her power. Back in the alley she had barely been able to lift a pebble, but that was hours ago. Her magic had come easily during the short duel with Twilight, and with any luck it was back to full strength.

Her horn was glowing a beautiful, brilliant silver when she opened her eyes. Delighted, she reached out with the power, grabbed the brake handle, and pushed it forward. It swung easily into position, and she could hear the clanking metal mechanism beneath the train as the system disengaged from the wheels.

And then the handle snapped off with a loud squeal of metal. The shaft, an inch-thick steel rod, broke like a dry branch. The jagged end glowed faintly red before quickly cooling back to a dull silver, lost beneath the glow of her magic.

Trixie stared, wide-eyed, at the handle. She hadn't meant to break it – even on the best of days, she couldn't have broken it, or at least not so easily and quickly. As she realized what she had done, her magic faltered, and the handle dropped to the floor of the car with a loud clatter. Beneath her hooves, the entire car swayed slightly in the breeze, no longer moored by the brakes.

Time was short, but this demanded investigation. She closed her eyes again and took several deep, calming breaths, willing her excited heart to calm its pace. When she felt centered and grounded again, she opened her eyes to the silver world of Sirensight.

The well was just a few inches away. Turbulent water bubbled out of it, flowing down its rough stone sides and onto the floor. Her hooves were submerged nearly to her fetlocks. She could feel the cool, calming water beneath her hooves. The image – and its implications – sent a shock through her, knocking her out of the dream vision with a flinch. The dark of night that replaced it left her blind and blinking furiously.

The torc itself was the first thing she saw, as her eyes slowly adapted. The amethyst crystal within glowed as bright as the moon, casting pale dim shadows on the floor. In the silence that followed she could barely hear a quiet ringing sound.

She tried to grasp the torc with her magic. Nothing. It was like the massive metal necklace wasn't even there; her magic passed through it like air. She could feel the power brushing against her bare chest.

She couldn't remove it. Luna couldn't remove it. There was only one pony who might be able to take it away without killing her.

Trixie closed her eyes and focused. There was a flash of light that filled the car and the trainyard beyond, and when it cleared she stood atop the trolley, her silver mane – what remained of it, anyway – flowing in the gentle pre-dawn breeze.

To the west the moon was nearing the horizon. To the east the dawn was only hours away from its daily birth into the sky. Already the world around her seemed to glow with the faint light of early morning, as each rock and building took on form and detail that had been lost to the darkness. Only the sky, still dark and filled with countless stars, still clung to the night. Trixie looked up at them, for perhaps the last time in her life.

She looked away. The moon and stars were too full of memories, too full of regrets. She blinked at the sudden wetness in her eyes.

Her horn glowed again, echoed by a larger glow around the entire car, and slowly it began to coast along the rails toward the far end of the trainyard. There was no way to change the car's route. She had already chosen her destination.

Slowly at first, then with greater speed, Trixie rode her stolen train car south. Behind her, the lights of Las Pegasus began to fade with the dawn.

***

The trainyard was empty by the time Applejack and a limping Twilight Sparkle emerged from the cavernous station. The sky above them was no longer black, but rather a deep indigo that would have matched Luna's coat beautifully. Twilight frowned at the comparison and shoved it out of her mind. There were more important things to worry about than the color of the night.

“See anything?” she asked Applejack. Her vision was still blurred from the concussion. The stars were dim smudges, and the horizon was no longer a solid line of mountains but rather a vague blur that bled earth and sky together into a single dark, infinite mass. She blinked her eyes rapidly, to no avail.

“Uh, you're not gonna believe this,” Applejack said, “but I think she's stealing a train.”

Twilight did believe it. It was, in fact, one of the possibilities she had expected from Trixie (the other, more mundane possibility being to stow away on a train). Still, it was one thing to expect such a grand and blatant theft, and quite another to be standing in an empty trainyard, wondering how to catch a runaway train.

She could see the train now, a silver glow outside the south gate slowly receding into the distance. Trixie was already a mile away. There was no way they could catch her on hoof.

South, south. Why would Trixie want to head south? There was, literally, nothing to the south of them, now that Appleloosa had been obliterated. Even the rail line Trixie was using ended in Appleloosa's ruins. The only thing of any interest in the desert south of Las Pegasus was Celestia herself, and she would be awake soon. The thought brought her up short.

“Applejack, how far away would you say Celestia is?”

“Ah, I'd say about 20 miles. We made it to Las Pegasus not long after she went down.”

Twilight glanced to the east. Dawn was still over an hour away. Trixie could easily reach Celestia before the sun rose. But why? She sat down, her head aching as she tried to concentrate. What felt like a huge knot was beginning to grow on the back of her skull. Stupid, dense concrete.

“Sug? Whatcha thinking?” Applejack gave her a quick look-over from horn to hooves, the skin around her eyes tight with worry.

“Trixie, I think she's heading to Celestia. She's going to get herself killed.”

Applejack flinched. “That don't seem like something she'd do, Twilight. She must have something up her sleeve.”

Twilight thought back to Luna. The sight of the alicorn's hoof, bloody and seared, stuck in her mind. She shuddered and tried to think of anything else to get the image away. It remained, stubborn, taunting her with its implications. Slowly, reluctantly, she gave voice to them.

“She was able to hurt Luna, somehow,” she said. A cold feeling crept up her limbs. “That should have been impossible. We saw Luna walk through lava like it was water. That torc... necklace... whatever it is, it's somehow giving her incredible strength.”

“So? What's that got to do with Celestia?”

Twilight's mouth went dry. “So, if she can hurt one princess, maybe she can hurt the other? Especially if she's still asleep?”

Applejack frowned, her ears turning to lie flat against her mane. “No, Trixie wouldn't do that. Nopony would do that... It's Celestia, for pete's sake!”

“She stole the torc, Applejack. She let Canterlot and Appleloosa burn. Hurt Luna. She could've ended all this at any time, just by turning herself in. We would have gotten the torc off somehow.”

“And if we hadn't? What if there's now way to remove it besides killing her?”

Twilight was silent for a while. She didn't want to put her next thought into words, but it had to be said. “Then eventually Celestia would catch her, and she would die anyway. Better... better just her than the whole world.” It was the cruelest sentence she had ever spoken. Her breath shook in her chest as the gall, the utter hubris of her words struck home. Who was she, little Twilight Sparkle, to condemn another pony to death? To render such a terrible and final verdict? Was she now a god?

“You... you don't mean that,” Applejack said. She edged away from Twilight, her eyes wide.

But she did. Her vision was clear now, as clear as the thoughts in her mind. Terrible and cruel her decision may have been, it was still correct. Luna was right. Trixie had to be stopped, by any means necessary. Even death was an acceptable tool.

Twilight stood. She gave Applejack a long, silent stare, and noticed for the first time in days just how tired the other mare appeared. She wasn't invincible after all: her coat was just as scuffed and dirty as Twilight's, her eyes just as bagged and bloodshot, her face just as haggard. The old Stetson hat upon her mane was battered and worn, and the expression on her face was confused and shocked by Twilight's easy condemnation.

“We can't let her reach Celestia,” Twilight said. It was easy to say, now that her choice was made. The path lay before her – difficult, yes, but no longer strewn with doubt and ambiguity. They had to stop Trixie by whatever means were necessary. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Applejack looked stricken. She stared at Twilight like she was a stranger, one who had walked up out of the blue and demanded something horrible, something incomprehensible. Slowly she shook her head.

Anger flared in Twilight, but just as quickly it burnt out. Had she not refused Luna's demand, so similar, just hours before? The thought of the wounded alicorn was a weight on her shoulders. I should have helped her.

“Twi, you can't do this.” Applejack licked her lips, glancing around the empty trainyard as though hoping for a rescue. Only the empty moonlit night was there to help her.

Twilight sighed quietly. “I can. I have to.” She stood and walked over to the rail lines Trixie had left upon. Her steps were sure and even, as though her concussion were a distant memory. Every detail – the grain of the rail ties, the glint of moonlight on the polished metal rails, the sharp scent of dust and warm iron – stood out with unnatural clarity. She had never felt more alive than this moment.

She couldn't catch Trixie on her hooves alone. A quick glance around the trainyard found a suitable chariot for her, a lone passenger car detached from its train. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

The glare from her horn outshone Trixie's by an order of magnitude as the car slowly lifted from its tracks and floated across the yard before her. Pausing a moment to orient the car with the tracks, she slowly let it down onto the rails. The ground beneath her groaned at the sudden weight.

It was no strain at all. She didn't even break a sweat. Without looking back, she hopped into the car and trotted to the front. The empty doorway looked out onto the empty desert to their south. Far away, barely visible, she could see the faint silver glow from Trixie's car.

There was a grunt and clap of hooves behind her. She didn't have to look back to see who they belonged to.

“Thank you,” she said.

Applejack mumbled something unintelligible, then spoke louder. “I can't let you do this alone. If there's a way to stop her without hurtin' her, we're doing it.”

“Of course,” Twilight said. It was a lie; she had already decided what to do. If Applejack, the Element of Honesty, could sense her deception, she kept it to herself.

A brilliant purple glow consumed the car. Within moments it was rolling along the tracks, propelled by Twilight's magic. The wind whistled through the open door and set their manes whipping like flags.

Ahead of them, Trixie's car slowly grew larger. To the west, the moon touched the western ridge of mountains. In the east, the glow of the incipient dawn began to light the world.

***

Trixie's target was clear. A trickle of smoke, thin as a rope but stretching miles into the air, marked Celestia's most recent resting place. The upper reaches of the smoke glowed a light pink, as the rays of the rising sun painted it and the sparse clouds alike.

Time was short. A half hour, maybe? Perhaps less. It all depended on how quickly Celestia woke, and whether any sentience remained within her before she turned into a star. Trixie could only hope the princess would be capable of helping her. Capable and willing, she amended.

She was strangely calm. Nothing like the frantic nervousness of Appleloosa bothered her now. The confrontation with Luna had wrung out all the terror of her flight from justice. Whatever happened with Celestia, she would accept it. There was nothing to do but hope.

A slight smile touched her face at that thought. Her, Trixie, so calmly accepting the possibility of death. She doubted her old self, from just days ago, would have recognized this new pony.

Her reverie was broken by a sudden slight tug on the train, as though it had somehow struck a patch of mud on the rails. She frowned and looked down at the car and tracks. Nothing. Just her imagination. She let out a quiet breath and turned back to the scenery before her.

The ground was slowly beginning to brighten. It seemed to glow with its own light, somehow managing to appear brighter than the sky above. Faint colors began to emerge from the uniform gray of the pre-dawn. Rose and beige, lavender and peach. The Pastel Desert reclaimed its namesake as the sun approached the horizon.

There was another tug, stronger than the first. She turned in a slow circle atop the train car, her eyes searching. There was still nothing, just the faint silver glow of her horn's magic, tinged ever so slightly purple in the faint light. Tinged, or...

She looked up sharply. Behind her, perhaps a mile back on the tracks, was another car. Barely through the distance she could make out a pair of ponies standing inside the carriage. A bright purple spark shone at her like a headlight.

So, they hadn't given up after all. For some insane reason they were chasing her, perhaps to their deaths. “Idiots,” she said under her breath. The whipping winds stole her words away.

Idiots, maybe, but powerful idiots. For Twilight to be able to reach Trixie's car from such a distance with her magic was impressive. Memories of an Ursa Minor, floating through the air into a distance forest, flashed in her mind. Twilight was not a normal unicorn.

But now, neither was Trixie. She glanced down at the torc around her neck, then back at Twilight's car. Her eyes closed, and she reached out with her magic to grip the iron rails behind her car. They felt soft in her grip, like clay. She gave them a mental wrench, and they tore as easily as paper. Her momentum pulled them out of the ground and spilled them across the desert like a pair of twisted metal strings.

It occurred to her, moments later, that Twilight might not have any way to stop her car before hitting the mangled tracks. She hadn't wanted to hurt the unicorn and her friend.

Too late. She leaned forward as Twilight's car neared the break. At the last possible second there was a bright flash from the cab. An instant later the car hit the broken line.

For a moment it kept coming. A huge cloud of dust erupted from beneath its wheels, and slowly the entire carriage began to spin sideways. The wheels caught on the wooden ties, and the car tipped over, still moving forward faster than any normal train. Rolling now, it rapidly disintegrated, sending shards of wood and metal flying high into the air. Eventually, only the metal frame remained, tumbling slowly down the tracks until it too was concealed in a massive cloud of dust.

She must have teleported. She had to! Trixie spun again, searching the surrounding desert for the mirroring flash that would signal that Twilight had escaped the car. Nothing could have survived inside it.

There was nothing as far as she could see. She turned back to the ruined carriage, already receding in the distance, when she heard an unexpected sound in the car beneath her. A muffled thump, followed by the hiss of a hushed conversation, barely intelligible over the rushing winds and roar of the train over the tracks.

For a moment she was stunned. Part of her marveled at the feat of magic Twilight had just pulled off – teleporting not just herself but another pony more than a thousand feet, onto a moving target, with only seconds to prepare. Trixie couldn't imagine the amount of sheer magical power such a jump would take.

She didn't have long to ponder it. There was another flash, and a pair of ponies appeared atop the car with her. They both stumbled from the unexpected blast of wind; the smaller one, Twilight, fell to her knees and didn't rise. Apparently all the teleporting wasn't so easy for her after all.

Applejack, unfortunately, had no such issues. She immediately righted herself and stared dead at Trixie. Her hat, absurdly, somehow still perched atop her mane, adding several hooves to her height and making her appear all the more intimidating in the early morning glow. Trixie unconsciously took a step back from the mare and the angry glare on her face.

“Give it up, Trixie,” Twilight said as she slowly came to her hooves. She looked terrible, Trixie thought. Battered and beaten, with one hoof wrapped in a thick bandage. Her eyes, however, were wide and alert.

“I told you, I can't!” Trixie shouted. “What would you have me do, you fool? The sun is almost up!”

Twilight glanced involuntarily to the east. The horizon was a bright red shading to pink in the vault of the sky. If it weren't for the high mountains, the light of dawn would already be upon them.

“We... we can still try something...” she said, weakly. Trixie barely heard her over the rattle of the car.

“Try? Try?!” Trixie spat the words at them. “There's nothing left to try! I have to get to her!” The smoke column of Celestia's fall was close, no more than a mile away. Soon she would have to leave the tracks to reach her.

“I'm sorry, Trixie.” She really did look sorry. Trixie had never seen such an anguished look on anypony's face, outside of a mirror. “But,” she continued, “we can't let you do this. It's too late.” Twilight's horn sparked with a brilliant purple light, and a sudden brisk wind tugged at Trixie's form.

The wind died almost instantly, though. A quiet ring emerged from the torc, and the amethyst stone pulsed with its own light. An unpleasant sensation, like insects crawling across her skin, suddenly invaded Trixie's mind.

Twilight frowned as the glow around her horn faded. “Fine, no magic, then.” She turned to Applejack. “Can you grab her?”

“My pleasure.” The earth pony snorted and lowered her head. She pawed once at the metal roof, then dashed across the train car toward Trixie. In less than an instant she crossed the dozen feet separating them.

Too fast.Trixie barely had time to think. She certainly didn't have time for magic; instead she tossed herself to the side, barely avoiding Applejack's grasping hooves. She landed on her side and rolled nearly to the edge of the car before sliding to a stop. The empty space past the edge of the roof was just inches away as she scrambled back up.

Applejack was already moving again. She spun on one hoof with a grace that Trixie would have found admirable under other circumstances, and dashed toward her again. She feinted with her legs, then suddenly darted forward with her mouth, grasping a hold of Trixie's silver mane.

It hurt! Trixie held back a howl as she was tugged violently back to the center of the roof. She batted at Applejack's head with her hooves, but she might as well have been swatting at stone. The earth pony was unshakable.

Trixie was not a fighter. She had learned long ago that it was better to avoid fights, or to flee from them, than to try and stick up for herself. Trying to fight back just meant getting hurt. But now she was getting hurt, and there was no running away. It was time to fight back.

First, she had to get loose. She dropped her hooves back to the metal roof and concentrated, imagining a razor-sharp filament of magical force. A faint silver thread, barely visible in the dawning light, appeared before her eyes, undulating gently in an unfelt breeze. She concentrated again, and the filament moved, sliding along the back of her head. There was the gentlest of tugs, and she fell away from Applejack, suddenly free.

Applejack stumbled backward, the remains of Trixie's mane in her mouth. She spat out the silver strands, then stared at the unicorn, an astonished look on her face.

Trixie didn't give her time to recover. She focused again, this time on the corrugated metal slats beneath Applejack's feet. They trembled, and with a loud squealing sound broke away from the rest of the train and wrapped around Applejack's legs. The thin metal sheets bit cruelly into her skin and locked her in place.

One down. Trixie turned back to Twilight, who was staring at her from the far side of the car. She didn't seem any, or shocked, or otherwise affected by the fight. If anything, Trixie thought, she looked sad.

Trixie took a deep breath, willing herself to calm. When her heartbeat no longer raced in her ears, she shouted at her foe. “You can't stop me, Twilight. Your magic can't touch me!”

Twilight stared at her for a long moment. Beneath them, the train bounced erratically as it raced over the tracks. The wind felt odd against Trixie's buzzed mane, as though it were clawing directly at her skull. She shook her head in annoyance.

“Maybe not,” Twilight finally said. “But I can stop this train.” She closed her eyes, and a blinding glow spilled out of her horn.

Oh nononono. Ahead of them, in the middle of the tracks, the earth suddenly erupted, sending wooden ties and iron spikes fountaining into the air. The metal rails buckled and leapt from their moorings, spilling across the desert like snakes escaping from their burrow. As the dust cleared, a huge crater emerged, large enough to swallow the car whole. It was just seconds away.

There was another flash, and suddenly Twilight was gone. Trixie was alone on the car as it raced toward destruction. Her heart jumped into her throat, and in a moment of panic she did one of the worst things a unicorn can do.

Her eyes closed, and she teleported in the blind. Not to any particular spot, just anywhere but there.

There was a silver flash atop the car. A moment later it sped off the broken rails into the newborn crater, still surrounded by a cloud of settling dust. A tremendous crash filled the still desert for the second time that morning, and Trixie's ride came to an end.

***

Twilight and Applejack landed a half a mile away from the tracks. Seconds later the muffled crack of the train slamming into the crater reached them. Echoes rolled across the desert for minutes afterward, bouncing off the distant mountains.

Twilight glanced around. No sign of Trixie. Unsure if that was a good or a bad sign, she turned to Applejack. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Applejack was sitting on her haunches, looking more confused than hurt. Angry red lines wrapped around her legs where Trixie had bound her with the metal sheets, but otherwise she seemed fine.

“Er... I think so. Did... did you do that?”

A long silence was her only answer. Twilight looked away, eventually setting her gaze on the faintly visible trail of smoke rising from Celestia's resting spot. It was less than a mile away, and at its base they could faintly see a white shape, slowly growing lighter as the sun rose.

Applejack tried again. “Twilight?”

“We did it,” Twilight responded softly. “The sun will rise in a few minutes. Even if she survived that, there's no way Trixie can reach Celestia before she wakes. Celestia will catch her, and it will all be over.”

It was over, and they had done it. Success. Trixie was going to die. The thought took a moment too sink in. Twilight began to tremble, and her head lowered nearly to the desert floor. The cracked earth blurred as her eyes watered, and the first of many sobs wracked her tiny frame.

Applejack was silent for a while. Eventually Twilight heard a sigh, and the muffled thud of hooves on the desert floor.

“C'mon Twi. What's done is done. We need to get somewhere safe.”

Right, safe. Twilight sniffed loudly and looked up. Celestia was shining now, brighter than the dawn behind them. If they didn't move, she would burn them up.

There were some large rock outcroppings less than a mile away. Applejack was already trotting toward them, pausing ever few seconds to stop and look back at Twilight. With a final, silent sigh, Twilight stood and followed.

***

Trixie was, for the first time in days, incredibly lucky.

Her blind teleport did not put her inside of a mountain, or a thousand feet in the air, or halfway inside of a tree. She did not appear in multiple places in multiple pieces. She did not, like some poor unicorns, simply disappear from the face of the world, never to be seen again. Despite her panic and mere moment to prepare, she managed what could have been called a safe teleport, appearing just a few feet above the desert floor, hundreds of yards from the crashing train.

What she did not do, unfortunately, was compensate for her momentum. Trixie fell the few feet to the desert still traveling as fast as the speeding train. She barely had time to register the oddly-blurred ground beneath her and the whipping winds before she slammed into the earth and tumbled like a rag doll for dozens of feet. A trail of dust rose from the furrow she carved in the earth, and began drifting away with the wind as she came to a stop.

When the dust cleared, she was still alive and conscious. Again, fortunately, no boulders or cacti had been in her path. Even the earth was relatively soft, a mixture of sand and soil that broke her fall and gently slowed her to a stop.

All that said, Trixie did not feel like a lucky pony. She felt terrible. At least one leg was broken above the ankle, half her hide felt like it was missing, and her breath wheezed in her lungs. She coughed weakly and spat out an ugly mixture of phlegm and dirt.

The torc, she noticed, was still as bright and clean as the moment she had found it, sitting upon Celestia's stand. Not a scratch marred its flawless surface. Even the dust seemed to slide away from it, as though it could find no purchase upon the perfect gold.

She had never hated it more than that one moment. The urge to hook her hoof under the gold rim and pull until it tore away was nearly irresistible. Only the memory of terrible pain and blood running down her blue coat forestalled such an attempt.

Instead she levered herself to her hooves. Her broken foreleg wouldn't support her weight, and she cradled it awkwardly against her chest. It hurt, but only distantly, as though her body realized she had more important things to worry about than a mere broken bone.

Important things like Celestia. She hobbled in a clumsy circle, her eyes scanning the horizon for the thin trail of smoke that marked the goddess's slumber. The sky was alarmingly bright, well beyond the pink of early dawn, already shading into the soft blue of morning. Far to the east, behind the high line of mountains, the sun was already lighting the world.

She never saw the smoke. What she did see was a bright glow surrounding a shining white kernel, barely two hundred yards away. The light spilling off of Celestia's coat was already casting long shadows across the desert floor. The princess was lying prone, her wings stretched wide on either side, partially concealed by a layer of smokey, cracked glass that looked almost like tar. As Trixie watched, one of the huge white wings began to rise.

Time was up. Trixie broke into a run, her three good legs pounding at the sand in a desperate, off-tempo gait.

She could feel the sun on her face.

***

Celestia woke slowly. For the second time in two days she regained conscience far from home, in an alien setting, with no idea how she had come there.

“There,” in this case, was a shallow crater partially filled with melted sand, in the middle of a relatively flat portion of the Pastel desert. The gentle hues of the sands were gone from around her – the heat of her crash had fused the grains together and colored them a uniform, ugly gray. Streaks of soot marred her wings and coat, blemishing them with a mottle of grays and blacks. She looked, her muddled mind imagined, something like a zebra.

She could hear the sun calling to her. Its song reached easily through the thin scab of mountains blocking its light, though enough of its rays were refracted by the atmosphere to revitalize her. Even as the heavy cloak of sleep fell from her mind, the power of the sun began to crowd away her thoughts.

It was a contest, one she was bound to lose. In a few minutes the sun would breach the horizon, and the thinking being known as Celestia would be gone again. Only a god, terrible and powerful and single-minded, would remain.

She wanted to weep, but already that emotion was beyond her. She had hoped to see Luna and Twilight again, but instead she woke alone. Alone, perhaps forever, for who would ever chance standing so close to a star? All she could ever offer was a few minutes of disjointed conversation, before incinerating her companions.

The melted glass covering her wings cracked, and she flexed them without thinking. Her legs were still stuck in the solid earth, but she could feel the stone beginning to weaken as the sun rose. Solid matter would soon have no lease on her.

She was about to break free and launch into the air when something unusual happened. Out of the empty desert a battered, wounded pony appeared, running toward her. Upon the pony's chest was the last thing she ever expected to see.

***

“We're out of time!” Twilight's warning was unnecessary. The light behind them was blinding, even facing away from it. The scattered reflections off the sand and rocks around them dug into their eyes like daggers.

She and Applejack ran faster, whipped on by the building heat behind them. The nearest cover, a row of rocky outcroppings, was still thousands of feet ahead. There was no way they would reach it in time.

“There!” Applejack shouted. She veered off course, heading toward a lonely boulder sitting on the flat sands just a hundred feet away. It was barely larger than a pony. Not the best shield against what Twilight knew was coming.

Still, it was better than nothing. Twilight limped after Applejack as fast as she could, and pressed against her friend in the small shadow the boulder provided. It was cramped, and they huddled in each others' arms, their breath and pounding hearts the only sound in the desert. Just inches away the light from Celestia's awakening turning the desert sand an impossible, blinding white.

A hot wind began to blow away from Celestia's resting place. The air kicked up sand and dust, blocking out some of the light. For a few moments it was merely as bright as noon behind their rock, until the hot air became too thin to lift even dust into the air. Together, breathing the burning air, they began to suffocate.

There was no spell to help in this circumstance, for no magician had ever considered it. Twilight improvised, creating a shield around them that did nothing to block the light, but managed to trap and cool enough air for them to breathe. Enough to live another minute or so, Twilight realized calmly. She tried to say something reassuring to Applejack, but the scalding air burned her throat.

The shadow cast by the boulder was brighter than the brightest summer day, but the sand beyond it was like the sun itself. Through her clenched eyes, Twilight saw a sage bush a few feet away turn to ash and drift away. The tip of Applejack's hat, peeking above the boulder, blackened and caught fire. Applejack knocked it away with a hoof; it floated for a moment, then burst into flame and vanished as well.

Their boulder began to pop. Chips of stone, smoking hot, cracked and leapt into the air as its surface heated and expanded. A few fragments of stone landed beside them in the shadow. They glowed.

To the east, the sun broke fully over the mountains, bringing the light of morning to the desert. Neither Twilight nor Applejack noticed.

It was not bright enough to see.

***

Trixie reached the crater just as Celestia stood. She stumbled to an awkward halt, nearly tumbling into the glassy bowl, as the full power and majesty of the god struck her.

Celestia had always been a beautiful pony. Now she was sublime, in every sense of the term. Her mane was a lucent cloud that floated around her like a corona, every color and yet none. The energy pouring from Celestia's body turned everything white. There was only light and shadow, and as the sun rose further the shadows retreated, growing smaller and smaller until the power of the goddess banished them for the day.

Trixie should have been blinded, she realized. Staring at Celestia was like staring at a thousand suns. The thick, smokey glass beneath her hooves began to crack from the heat. Still, Trixie's hooves were unburned, and her eyes traced the outline of Celestia's mane and wings against the black sky behind her.

The torc was humming, loud enough to vibrate the air in her lungs. She could barely hear it above the sound of the shattering glass. Aside from Celestia, the torc was the only object still visible. It looked no different than the first time she had seen it, perched upon Celestia's breast, just over a month ago.

She took a step forward. Her hooves almost skidded on the melting glass. Her coat, which should have burst into flames long ago, barely felt warm. The glass stretched like taffy beneath her, and she slowly slid down the crater toward Celestia. As she drew nearer the torc grew louder, until it nearly screamed in the thin, vanishing air between them.

The sound peaked. For a moment it held, a loud ringing note that drowned out all thoughts, and then it began to die away. The light dug at Trixie's eyes, and the sweat on her coat began to sizzle. Tendrils of smoke rose from the rim of her hooves.

Time was up. The torc, it seemed, had a limit after all. As her coat began to ignite, Trixie stretched out her wounded hoof to touch the goddess, now just feet away.

Her hoof felt something solid and warm, and the pain ceased.

***

The being that was once called Celestia looked down in confusion. She could have sworn another life form had just stood before her. Now there was nothing, nothing except the clarion call of her torc. It had found her at last.

Her horn glowed as she reached out to it. Had any pony been able to survive standing next to her, they would have actually seen the glow – it was the only visible light left. The rest of her radiance had long since risen beyond the pitifully weak energies that mortal eyes could see. What Twilight Sparkle would have called soft x-rays turned the desert around her into an opaque fireball.

The torc had sunk several feet into the molten earth. Her magic grasped it and pulled it out of the liquid rock to hover before her. It was untouched by the heat – its short bath in the lava had done nothing more that clean it for her.

She lowered her horn and touched it against the amethyst crystal. There was a flash, and the torc reappeared around her chest. The star burning in her heart pulsed for another moment, then snuffed out like a candle. The being, now Celestia again, fell into the pool of lava and sank nearly to her chest.

The fireball around her, no longer fed by her furnace, vanished in an instant. For a mile around her, a huge dome of superheated air warred briefly with the colder, denser air of the desert and high atmosphere. The stasis lasted for only a moment before the heat radiated into space.

In equilibrium no longer, the air shock-compressed into a tiny space barely larger than a wagon, centered around Celestia's struggling form. The collapsing front struck her with the force of a bomb, and a minute later the loudest clap of thunder ever heard on Equestria shattered windows in Las Pegasus, twenty miles away.

***

Some months later...

Celestia lowered herself to the floor as the last of the petitioners left her throne room. Much of her former strength had returned, but a long day of listening to complaints still sapped the energy from her. She felt a yawn coming on and managed to suppress it. It wasn't good form to show such weakness in front of her court.

Canterlot was recovering nicely. Outside the large windows of the city hall she could see wood scaffolds in the distance toward the mountain. If she looked hard enough she could see tiny, colorful dots moving across the beams, slowly chipping away at the avalanche of stone and lava that had buried half the city.

Her palace would never be rebuilt, at least not as it had been. A huge portion of the mountain where it once perched was simply gone. There was talk of building a new keep at ground level, more accessible to the common ponies. Others whispered of the ancient Palace of the Sisters in the Everfree Forest, suggesting that it be dismantled stone by stone and carted to Canterlot. Celestia quietly squashed such notions whenever they surfaced – she preferred that palace where it was.

The city hall was not up to the standards of her former grandeur, but to tell the truth she didn't mind. The age of castles was rapidly drawing into the past, as her ponies took more and more of the burdens of rule upon themselves. Someday soon the city hall would be the only government they would need. She looked forward to that day.

But that day was not yet come. Equestria still needed its princess.

Princesses, she corrected herself. Plural. The distinctive clop-clop-clop-ting! of her sister's gait sounded on the polished marble stones. Celestia sighed quietly and turned her head to the throne that had been hastily set up beside hers.

Luna had grown over the summer. She was nearly as tall as Celestia now, and her mane flowed with the same ethereal waves that seemed to defy wind and gravity. Her coat was several shades darker, and in the golden evening light appeared nearly black. She was a far different pony than the bookish filly Celestia remembered.

Not all her changes were for the better: her left foreleg ended just below the ankle. The indigo fur of her coat blended smoothly with a metal foot, painstakingly crafted by the greatest silversmith in Equestria. Clever articulated joints bent the false hoof with each of her steps, and she now walked as naturally as ever. If one didn't look closely, only the metallic ting as it landed gave her false hoof away.

“Good evening, sister.” Celestia leaned over to nuzzle Luna's cheek.

Luna wasn't having it. She shied away gracefully, disdaining her sister's affections. A quiet mutter sprung up among the remaining courtiers. Rumors of tension between the princesses had been rampant since they returned, wounded and defeated, three months ago.

Celestia bit back the rebuke on her tongue. It would do nothing for Luna's mood to be chastised in front of the court, and it would certainly do nothing to dispel the rumors. Instead she put on her usual gentle smile, and acted as though the snub had not occurred. Where physical affections had failed, perhaps conversation could win the field.

“The equinox is in a few days,” she said, turning to look out the west windows at the setting sun. A thin layer of clouds hung just above the burning orb, tinted a brilliant red by its fading light. “I thought we might visit an earth pony town for the Running of the Leaves. Ponyville, perhaps.”

Luna took a seat on cushion set before her throne. She tossed her head absently, as though shaking out her mane, then stared straight ahead. Statues held more emotion in their faces than she.

Celestia waited to see if she would respond. Minutes passed in silence.

“Twilight wrote me a nice letter the other day,” Celestia continued, as though she were engaged in an actual conversation. Normally she would never discuss the contents of Twilight's correspondence so openly, but she didn't think Twilight would mind in this case. “She said her hoof has nearly healed, and she hopes to be able to run in the race.”

If Luna heard her, she gave no sign.

“She asked about you.”

That got a response. Luna's eyes and right ear flicked over to face Celestia.

Now it was Celestia's turn. She waited silently for Luna's curiosity to overcome her ill mood. It wasn't a long wait.

“And? What did you tell her?” Luna asked.

“I haven't answered yet,” Celestia said. She kept her voice low, just for her sister. “But I want to tell her I'm worried about you. Worried that you're slipping away again.”

Luna snorted. “Courteous of you, assuming she cares about my health. She is simply being polite.”

“That's not true. You don't give her enough credit.”

There was another pause. Luna's eyes turned forward again, scanning the idling court with feigned interest.

“I gave her a chance,” she finally said. “When I needed her, she forsook me. When I trusted her, she betrayed me. Whatever friendship she claimed to hold in her heart for me was a weak and insignificant maggot, stepped upon as soon as its purpose was served. You say I don't give her credit? That is not true, sister. No, I don't trouble myself with thinking of her at all.”

And there it was. After three months, it was finally out in the open. Celestia gave her sister a moment to settle before speaking.

“Which unicorn are you speaking of, again?”

Luna spun toward her, all pretense of indifference gone. Her eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously.

“How... how dare you!?” Luna's wings mantled, blocking out the light streaming in from the western wall. “I told you to never speak of her!” Her shrill voice reached a peak, and a dark flash filled the room, robbing every pony's sight. When the light returned an instant later, Luna was gone.

***

It was another week before Luna returned to Canterlot.

Celestia was atop one of the few remaining towers in the city. Originally a guard post, it had lost its purpose as the city slowly grew, leaving it an isolated spire in the center of the wealthy merchant district. Eventually, as the centuries passed, there were no longer any walls for it to guard.

Over the years it had been used for storage, as a small prison, a library, an eccentric mage's house, and finally an observatory to view the stars. Now it was the tallest structure left standing in Canterlot, and Celestia often came to it with the dawn, to view the rising sun. She sat on the circular balcony surrounding the central spire, waiting for the pink sky to lighten into the powder blue of day.

Beside her, a shadow moved the wrong way. She gave it a moment, and sure enough the stark, sable form of her sister resolved beside her.

“Sister,” she said with a tiny nod.

Luna settled onto the balcony. This early in the day, there were no other ponies around. The few merchants wandering the streets far below them never thought to look up.

“Sister,” Luna said. “I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to be. You know that.”

Luna snorted. By the way her ears flicked, however, Celestia knew she was amused rather than offended. “You forgive too easily.”

“It is possible,” Celestia said. She turned back to the rising sun. “But it is a wonderful thing to forgive. It improves us. It makes us better.”

“Hmph. Have you no pride? To forgive so easily means to suffer offense after offense.” Luna cast a glance at the torc around Celestia's neck. Its polished gold was brilliant in the light of the dawn. “You make yourself vulnerable to ponies who lack your sense of moral clarity.”

Celestia looked down at the torc. A shadow briefly touched her calm expression, like a cloud passing across the sun. But just as quickly it was gone, and the serene radiance that was her hallmark returned.

“A point,” she said. “But what is the value of pride, sister? Did pride win you the love and adoration you thought you deserved?”

Luna was silent for a while. Around them the city grew louder as more ponies woke and went about their days. The empty white streets slowly filled with a trickle of pastels.

“No,” she said. “Pride lost me everything. It was love that won me love.”

“Hm,” Celestia replied. They were quiet again as the sun rose.

As the day wore on, a few ponies joined them on the balcony. Sensing, perhaps, that the sisters were sharing a special moment, they kept their distance. The sight of their rulers sitting peacefully together was welcome, and soon enough a small crowd had gathered around the edges of the balcony and in the street below. A few pegasi perched upon the sloped roof above them.

“I regret what I didn't tell her,” Luna said. It was the first sentence either had spoken in several hours.

“Twilight? You can always visit her.”

“Not her,” Luna said. She squinted up at the sun. It had been a long time since she had seen the full light of noon. “Trixie. The last time we saw each other was filled with anger and violence. And now I will never be able to tell her how much she mattered to me. How much I valued her friendship.”

Celestia said nothing.

Luna waited for a response. The silence between them drew out uncomfortably.

“Well? Don't you have some ancient wisdom or soothing proverb to answer that?” she asked.

Celestia shifted her weight. The crowd around them, sensing the tension between them, began to back away.

Luna turned toward her sister. “What? What are you hiding?”

“It's complicated.”

“Complicated?” Luna stomped her silver hoof, rattling the wooden balcony, which abruptly became much less crowded. The pegasi above them took to the air. “What are you keeping from me?”

Celestia sighed. “It was for your own good, Luna. You were too hurt. Unstable. You might have done something unwise.”

Luna opened her mouth, baring her teeth. Then, to Celestia's immense surprise, she sighed as well and sank back to the floor.

“You are right that I was hurt,” she said. “I was, perhaps, not thinking clearly. But if you have some secret hiding in there,” she reached out and poked Celestia's chest with her hoof, “you should tell me.”

Celestia rubbed the spot with her hoof. It didn't hurt, of course, but she was very rarely rebuked in such an effective fashion by her sister. That fact hurt more than anything else.

“Let me answer you with a question,” she said, looking up to meet Luna's gaze. “What would you have done if I had told you, back when we first returned to Canterlot, that Trixie was still alive and in hiding.”

Luna started to speak immediately. Celestia cut her off before she could start.

“Answer me honestly.”

Luna scowled, but closed her mouth. She sat in thought, her eyes narrowed and glancing rapidly around the town below them.

“You want to know what I would have done? I would have hunted her down and killed her. It was the least she deserved for all the pain and suffering she caused. It would have been justice.”

Celestia didn't seem upset by the answer. She simply nodded. “Most ponies would have agreed. What if I had told you the same thing, one month ago?”

Luna shrugged and flicked one of her wingtips absently, as though brushing away a fly. “I would not have cared. I would have put her out of my mind.”

“I see. And if I told you, right now, that she was alive, what would you do?”

Luna sucked in a quick breath of air. “What are you saying, sister? Is she alive?”

“Answer the question. What would you do?”

“No!” Luna shouted and stood. “That's not fair! You can't ask a question like that and call it rhetorical. You can't dangle something like that in front of a pony. It's not fair!”

“You're right. It's not fair. But answer me anyway.”

“Fine!” Luna huffed, her wings spread in agitation. “I would find her and... I don't know. Apologize? Ask her forgiveness? Maybe just thank her for being a friend, before...” she trailed off and sighed. “Before.”

Silence returned as Celestia gave her sister a measuring look. Her smile was gone, replaced by a tiny frown and a crease between her eyes.

Eventually, Luna's patience wore out. “Well? Is she alive, then, or was this just a cruel philosophical exercise?”

“I would never intentionally be cruel to you, Luna. If ever I have hurt you, it was out of love.”

“And Trixie?” Luna shot back. Her words dripped with acid. “When you killed her, was it out of love?”

“I did not kill Trixie,” Celestia said. “You ask if my questions are rhetorical? No, they are not. Trixie was alive when last I saw her.”

That brought Luna up short. A wary look crossed her face. “Explain yourself, sister.”

Now it was Celestia's turn to shrug. “You know how Trixie found me. The torc was protecting her with its last iota of power, but it was about to fail. If I hadn't acted, she would have died.”

“Acted? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I'm a little hazy on the details... I wasn't quite myself, as you know, but I knew she was in danger. So I did to her what I did to you, back in the Solarium.” She glanced over the balcony toward the center of town. Much of the Solarium had already been rebuilt, and new scaffolds stretched into the sky where more buildings were under construction.

“You... you teleported her? Where?!” Luna stood. Her wings fanned out, ready to lift her into the air.

Now Celestia seemed pained. “No, not teleported, not quite. That would have required focus, which I lacked at the time. Instead I sent her away.”

“Away?”

“Yes, away.”

“'Away' is not a place,” Luna said. She seemed to be having trouble keeping her voice under control. “Where is she?”

“She is not in a place. She is between places, if that makes any sense. Banished, much like you were, though not to the moon. Not anywhere. Nowhere.”

“Banished.” Luna stared at her. “You banished her.”

“It was that or incinerate her,” Celestia said. The first hint of anger entered her voice. “I think I made the right choice, considering the circumstances. You are, of course, free to disagree.”

“So, you just... you...” Luna tumbled to a stop, quivering. With a great display of effort she forced her wings back to her side, and when she spoke it was even, flat and dangerous. “Very well, you banished her. If we assume, for the moment, that you did the right thing, how would we get her back?”

“Someone would have to go fetch her.”

“And what would that entail?”

“Quite a bit of danger,” Celestia said. She looked Luna up and down, from mane to false hoof. “Where she is, there is nothing else. It is empty, and she fills it with her own fears and desires. It is her emotions that trap her, and anyone else who enters would find themselves warring against their own fallibility as well. The rescuer might find themselves trapped.”

Luna sat in silence. Hours passed, the sun stretched across the sky, and the world around them went about its business. The crowds in the tower swelled and retreated as the day moved on, and it wasn't until the golden glow of evening began to fill the town that Luna looked back to her sister.

“And how would one go to this place? How would one start this rescue?”

Celestia smiled, but it was a sad thing, touching her mouth but not her eyes. Seeing it, Luna began to understand why she had kept this secret for so long.

“One would simply ask.”