Monochrome

by A Man Called Horse

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Spike, Zecora, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6
Length: 41400

Equestria is a colorful land. Then one day, it isn't.

In the wake of her coronation, Twilight Sparkle worries that the tides of life and responsibility are pulling her away from her friends.

All in all, it's not the ideal time for a mysterious force to suck all the colors from Ponyville.

Published 2014-07-07 18:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-14 00:00:41 UTC

0

Twilight Sparkle couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night for stargazing.

Mostly because she already had. Being a princess wasn’t without its benefits.

So, thanks to a few pulled strings at the Ponyville Weather Office, there wasn’t a cloud in sight, leaving the stars to shine with vivid clarity in the inky blackness overhead. The air was mild, without a breath of wind to disrupt the silence that blanketed the sleeping village—or worse: to compete with the giggles and conversations to come.

This night is going to be perfect, she thought with a barely suppressed whinny.

She lay on folded legs at the center of a checkered picnic blanket. From this vantage point, atop a small hill at the south edge of town, all of Ponyville lay spread out before her. Its streets were dark but for the occasional firefly streetlamp, far too faint for light pollution to be a concern.

Her thoughts drifted back to her foalhood, to the frustration of all those nights in which the countless lights of Canterlot had thwarted her attempts to view the stars. She’d often envied the astronomers of ancient times, living before civilization, in its insatiable quest for more and better light, had driven the stars away. How ironic it had always been to her that their progress as a species should only serve to put them farther from the heavens. But now, Canterlot was little more than a shimmering smudge on its mountainside perch, powerless in its distance the obscure the tapestry above her.

By contrast, the Everfree Forest, visible over her shoulder as a dark mass in the distance, seemed to swallow all available light like a cavernous maw in the earth’s surface.

Perhaps an untenable alternative, she decided with an amused snort. I’m sure I’d have an amazing view of the stars just before I was eaten or mauled.

And between the two: Ponyville. The golden mean in her astronomical dialectic. And, she supposed, the golden mean in her very existence.

She only hoped that was still the case.

As it happened, the lack of wind did nothing to compete with sighs, either.

She caught herself, shaking that melancholic train of thought from her mind. Tonight was about putting those fears behind her, and reassuring herself that, whatever changes may come, some things could stay the same.

Her wings gave an agitated twitch.

To her relief, she was interrupted from her thoughts by the pitter-latter of tiny feet on the grass nearby, punctuated at intervals by a metallic squeak. She looked to her left, smiling at the sight of her number one assistant’s approach. She found the squeaking’s source in the little, tarp-covered red wagon Spike pulled behind him, which he drew to a stop at the blanket’s edge.

“Gee,” he said flatly, gesturing to the otherwise unoccupied hilltop. “It’s a good thing you came early to save us a spot.” A cricket chose that moment to make its presence known.

Twilight merely rolled her eyes. Yes, she had hoped that more of the townsponies would’ve taken an interest in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but in the end, there were only five other ponies—plus one dragon—she truly wanted to share the evening with.

“There’s no need to be snarky, Spike,” she said primly. “The girls will be here soon, and we’ll all have a great time! I’d just assumed they’d… be here by now, I guess…”

Spike pulled the tarp aside, revealing a veritable mountain of snacks and beverages prepared for the evening’s festivities, and busied himself with setting the foodstuffs on the blanket in a makeshift buffet. “When are they supposed to get here anyway?” he asked while he worked.

“I told them nine o’clock.” She fished into her nearby saddlebag with her magic and retrieved her combination compass-watch-astrolabe. “And it’s… nine-seventeen. Huh.” She panned her gaze across the surrounding fields, searching for some sign of her friends but finding neither hide nor hair of them. “I hope they’re alright.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Spike said, carrying the last platter to its place. “Something probably just slowed them down, is all. Something pink and frizzy, I bet.” With a chuckle, he set the platter down and stepped back to admire his work. “Well, that’s everything.”

Twilight abandoned her search for a moment, looking over the spread. Her expression brightened into a warm smile. “Wow! Everything looks great, Spike!”

“Eh, don’t mention it.” He grabbed a quarter of cucumber and watercress sandwich and devoured it in one bite, chewing noisily as he sat down by Twilight’s side.

Twilight grabbed a sandwich of her own in her magic and took a dainty bite, resuming her lookout for her friends as she chewed. “They’d better hurry,” she said after swallowing. “They wouldn’t want to miss something like this. The Haizum-Shabdiz meteor shower only happens every five-hundred and eighty-five years.” She finished her sandwich and looked up to the stars, her gaze drawn to the spaces between them. “And, well… I’ve just really been looking forward to spending some time with them…”

Spike flopped onto his back and folded his arms behind his head. “I know the meteor shower is super rare and all, but why is it so important to you that they be here? I mean, yeah, they’re our friends, but you see them all the time!”

“Not lately, I don’t,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “Ever since the day of my coronation, it feels like I barely see them at all. And I don’t think the six of us have all been together even once since then.”

“Twilight, that was just a few weeks ago. They’re probably busy with work and other responsibilities and stuff. Goodness knows you’ve had a lot going on. It doesn’t mean they’re not your friends anymore, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well, I know that, but still… I’d just like to see them, okay?”

Her gaze drifted toward the peaceful village. “I hope I wasn’t too pushy when I invited them. I tried to make it seem like a casual thing. I didn’t want to seem like I was going around issuing orders or anything just because I’m a princess now.”

“You’re overthinking things, Twi,” Spike yawned.

Twilight gave a snort, but didn’t respond. With searching, vulnerable eyes, she continued her vigil, barely paying attention to the starscape above them. No matter how hard she tried, a single, nagging thought ate away at the back of her mind:

What if they didn’t want to come?

“Ooh, Twilight! Look!”

Her ears perked up, face christened with a smile. “What? Do you see them?” she asked, turning to look at Spike, then stopping as she noticed he was pointing upwards. Following his claw, she looked to the sky, and felt both awe and disappointment wash over her.

The sky over Ponyville came positively alive as point after point of light streaked across it like a volley of starlight arrows. If she listened closely, she could hear the faint hiss and sizzle of the meteorites burning away in the atmosphere. The spectacle temporarily distracted her from her niggling thoughts, and she watched with her mouth agape. It was nearly hypnotic. The world around her seemed to fade away as she stared into the starfall, and something deep in her mind, like a whisper at the edge of hearing, tugged at her consciousness. For an instant, she swore she saw something, a dark shape moving against the stars overhead, but when she blinked, it was gone.

“Twilight? Are you okay?”

She gave a start, looking aside to Spike, who returned her gaze with wide, worried eyes. She realized she was trembling, and that her horn was glowing and giving off tiny sparks, almost humming with magical resonance.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, Spike.” She gave him a reassuring smile, then looked upwards again. “It must be the meteor shower. I’ve read about this. Every time our planet passes through the Haizum-Shabdiz cloud, there’s a surge of ambient magic. Nopony knows for sure, because they’ve never been able to study one up close, but it seems that the meteors themselves have magical properties of some kind. The cloud is basically one vast mana conductor array. It’s nothing to worry about, though.”

Seemingly satisfied with her explanation, Spike resumed his stargazing, though Twilight did catch him cutting his eyes in her direction from time to time as her horn gave off small pops like a bug zapper.

Twilight took a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on the energy passing through her, careful to keep her wits about her lest she zone out again. Perhaps it was her extensive magical training, or perhaps it was some heightened sensitivity granted to her as an alicorn, but Twilight almost felt as though she could reach out and touch the magic, feel its texture, even taste it. There was something… foreign to it, a frequency utterly unfamiliar to her. Her mind reeled at the prospect of discovering new, extra-terrestrial magic. If ponies could learn to tap that energy, who knew what might be possible?

Before she could stop herself, her mind recalled the first time she had come across new, unfamiliar magic. Instantly, the world reasserted its presence in the form of a weight in her chest. She opened her eyes and made another sweeping search for her friends.

Nothing. Still.

She felt a clawed hand rest on her shoulder. Meeting Spike’s eyes, she found them filled with understanding and sympathy. She nodded in response to his unspoken question and extended a wing, gently wrapping it around the tiny dragon, hugging him close to her side as stars fell from the sky.

* * * *

The shower blazed away for some two hours before finally going into a lull. During that time, Twilight had maintained her lookout for her friends, but her searches had become less frequent, more resigned. Spike had fallen asleep some time ago, the novelty of the shower long since worn off, leaving Twilight alone with her thoughts.

Why didn’t they come? she asked herself, looking towards Ponyville.

She remembered a night not so long ago, when another, slightly less impressive meteor shower had adorned the skies over Ponyville—the same night she had met Owlowiscious. All her friends, and some townsponies for that matter, had come then. Why would tonight be any different?

A familiar, nagging possibility presented itself. She looked over her shoulder, at the feathery limbs folded tight to her sides.

Except, things are different now, aren’t they?

It wasn’t a thought she was proud of. Her friends had been incredibly supportive of her before, during, and after the coronation. But she had seen so little of them recently. She couldn’t stop the feeling, like a freefall, that all their lives were changing. Wasn’t that what life was about? Change? Her time in Ponyville had been the happiest of her life, but what if her future lay down a different path? What if they were all destined to drift apart with time? Would Rainbow Dash be able to stay in Ponyville if she realized her dream of becoming a full-time Wonderbolt? And what of Rarity’s fashion career? Ponyville was many things, but a trend center it was not.

And Twilight? Well, she was a princess now. Celestia was still easing her into her new role, but sooner or later there would be responsibilities, like a fishhook in her mouth, pulling her away from this town and her friends and into the dry air of Bigger & Better Things.

But at least she was willing to put up a fight, and do something to keep their bond alive. That’s what tonight had really been about, not some stupid falling rocks. And not a one of her pony friends had even shown up.

So there she was, alone with Spike. As if she’d never left Canterlot at all.

She slowly got to her hooves. Lifting Spike in her magic, she set him on her back between her wings, then levitated her saddlebag and the blanket and the mostly uneaten food. With a sigh, she silently made her way into town, following the siren song of her bed.

Soon enough, the lights of the library went out, and Ponyville was left to the darkness.

* * * *

Twilight flapped her wings, soaring through a dark, empty space. Stars shone around her in every direction, but they seemed dead somehow—not twinkling, but bleeding their light into the hungry universe. She caught movement ahead of her, a round shadow moving through the void, blotting out the stars as it passed.

She came to a stop, hovering, and squinted at the dark object

Starting like a sub-bass hum beyond the range of hearing and rising to a fur-raising scream, a shrill note blasted from the object. Twilight’s body seized as a wave of coldness passed through her. Gripped by an animal terror, she turned and beat her wings in desperation. Try as she might, however, there was no escape. The object was pulling her in.

With tear-filled eyes, she looked over her shoulder. The scream rose to a fever pitch, unbearable, until Twilight felt her body might tear apart.

Then, without warning, the object tore apart instead, exploding in a massive flash, and Twilight was bombarded with its fiery debris.

* * * *

Twilight woke with a gasp and bolted upright in her bed, heart thundering in her chest and coat drenched in sweat. It took her a moment to realize where she was, but as she got her bearings, she gave a shaky sigh of relief. Massaging her aching head, she examined her bedroom. It was still night, the light of a crescent moon too faint to provide much illumination. However, something was amiss.

“Spike?” she whispered.

She was answered by a snore, and rolled her eyes.

She sat there for a moment—listening, feeling—her cuckoo clock ticking away the seconds. Finally, with an uneasy shrug, she lay back down.

It’s nothing, she thought as she closed her eyes. Just a dream.

As she drifted off, she paid no mind to the faint, shrill whistle in the back of her mind.

Author's Note

1

As soon as Rainbow Dash opened her groggy eyes, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. This was mostly due to an errant beam of bright morning sunlight that found its way across millions of miles of space, through her bedroom window, and directly into her eyes, triggering several small explosions in her brain. Hissing through her teeth, she slammed her eyelids shut again and rolled away from the offending light, wriggling deeper into her Wonderbolts sheets and doing her best to slip back into unconsciousness.

The damage was done, however. She was awake. Terribly, excruciatingly awake.

Through the aching, syrupy mess of her mind, she tried to reconstruct the events of the previous evening. She remembered going to that new bar on Maple Lane with one of her coworkers. She remembered having a few drinks—maybe more than a few. The rest was a blur.

A mild thrill of panic washed over her. Without opening her eyes, she reached out with a hoof and probed the bed around her, finding it empty other than herself. Perking her ears, she listened for any sound of stirring in her cloud home—the sound of water running in the bathroom, the rattle of pots and pans in the kitchen—but only silence presented itself. She let out a sigh of relief, then promptly wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of her own stale breath.

Ugh, what was I thinking? she mentally whined, curling into a fuzzy blue ball under the sheets. Sweet Celestia, work’s gonna suuuuuck…

She smacked her lips, suddenly aware of just how dry her mouth was. With a hoarse groan, she kicked off her sheets, sat up, and rolled out of bed, her sensitive eyes still clamped firmly shut. She teetered briefly, but quickly regained her balance and began dragging her hooves in the direction of her bathroom. She knew her bedroom well enough, and had enough of her kind’s inborn sense of direction, to stumble blindly towards her bathroom without mishap, grumbling as she went about lifestyle choices and cursing the pony who discovered alcohol.

As soon as she felt the denser cloud tiles of her bathroom beneath her hooves, she hung a sharp left and found her way to the sink, giving the wall a solid kick to activate the faucet and sticking her lips directly into the flow. She drank deeply of the condensed cloud water, gulping mouthfuls of it down her dry, scratchy throat. Once she had her fill, she collected some of the cool water in the soles of her hooves and splashed it in her face.

Feeling more like a living pony again, Rainbow shut off the tap and stood up straight, then slowly opened her eyes.

This time, the action was met not with regret, but with confusion, for the bewildering sight that Rainbow was confronted with in the mirror made her freeze on the spot.

It wasn’t the veiny puffiness of her reflection’s eyes that made her body go rigid. Nor was it the bags under those eyes, or the frazzled state of her mane. It wasn’t even the chaotic disarray of her bathroom, visible behind her in the mirror. She had been expecting all of these things already. What she hadn’t been expecting—what caused her sluggish, hung-over train of thought to leap from its tracks—was the fact that every inch of the mirror’s surface reflected in varying shades of black and white.

Rainbow Dash stood stock still for a moment and simply stared at her reflection, the expression on her face shifting like a glacier’s descent through a valley. She could barely even comprehend the colorless creature looking back at her. The radiant spectrum of her mane, her sky-blue coat and ruby-like eyes—all of it: gray.

“What the hay?” she whispered.

Narrowing her eyes, she slowly reached with her hoof to poke at the seemingly defective mirror, then froze at the limb came within her line of sight and she realized, through the clearing fog of her mind, that the mirror wasn’t the problem at all. She tried rubbing her eyes and giving her head a good shake, but these, too, failed to remedy the situation.

She turned slowly, fearfully, and took in the sight of her bathroom. The blue towel hanging from its hook on the wall? Gray. The orange bottle of shampoo on the rim of her bathtub? Gray. Her green and gold toothbrush sitting in a cup by the sink? Of course, gray.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times in a feeble attempt to utter a comprehensible thought, confusion melting away into something else as the reality of the situation pressed down on her like a weight.

A sudden surge of adrenaline freed her of her paralysis, and she galloped from the bathroom, past the formerly blue bed in which she had woken in blissful ignorance, and skidded to a halt at her window, looking out at a world she only marginally recognized. Everything, from the thatched rooftops of Ponyville to the patchwork quilt of cropland surrounding it, from the dark expanse of the Everfree Forest in the south to the gleaming spires of Canterlot in the north, was the same dull hue, all laid out under a dreary, cloudless sky.

She tried not to hyperventilate. Really, she did. She closed her eyes and sank to the floor, placing her head between her front hooves and taking long, deep breaths.

Okay, Rainbow, she thought. This is all… just a d-dream, or something. Yeah! That has to be it. I’m not colorblind. I, of all ponies, can’t be colorblind. I’ll just open my eyes and wake up. Okay… one, two, three… Go!

She peeked one eye open, and instantly her hope was dashed against the rocks. With a heavy breath, she hung her head, her grayscale mane covering her eyes and veiling that lifeless world from her sight.

She felt a tiny nudge against her foreleg. She raised her head and looked, finding a little gray tortoise looking at her with a concerned, anxious expression. She sniffled and scooped him up in her forelegs, nuzzling his shell with her cheek.

“Oh, Tank… What’s going on? Was it all that drinking I did last night? I’ve heard them say too much alcohol can make you go blind, but not color blind! Celestia as my witness, if everything can just go back to normal, I’ll never touch another drop!” She looked at Tank’s face as he slowly fidgeted in her grip. “H-hey, don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get this fixed… somehow. Everything’ll be back to normal before I—… er, before you know it. Just try to be brave for me, okay?”

Tank gave her a slow, slow blink.

“That’s the spirit!” she said, attempting a smile.

After another moment spent soaking up Tank’s love, Rainbow set the tortoise down and stood, turning to look out the window at the drab lengths of Ponyville.

“I oughta go to the hospital and get this checked out,” she muttered idly.

However, she found her eyes drawn to Twilight’s library, rising high above the neighboring houses. She bit her lip. The idea of visiting her friend was appealing—comforting—but, for reasons she couldn’t quite pin down, she found herself hesitant. Something poked at her mind, like a word at the tip of her tongue, or a memory slipping through her hooves like water. With a snort, she shrugged the feeling off and made up her mind.

“Y’know what? I think I’ll go see Twilight instead. I bet she’ll know what to do!” She leaned down and touched her nose to Tank’s. “You stay here, and try not to worry too much, alright? We’ll beat this…”

Turning to the window, she extended her wings and gave them a strong flap, propelling herself out the window and into the skies over Ponyville. She tore through the air like a silver bullet, eyes on the library and the salvation she hoped to find within, swallowing down the last unchewed bit of reluctance.

She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she was oblivious to the town below—oblivious to the nervous energy coursing down its streets, and to the mare standing on one street…

* * * *

… watching Rainbow Dash fly by overhead. At least, she assumed it was Rainbow Dash, judging by the gray stripes left in her wake as she darted across the sky.

Minuette shrugged, resuming her scrutiny of the street and the tense, confused, colorless ponies walking down it. She leaned against the front of her practice, a cup of coffee levitating beside her, her expression one of vaguely amused indifference.

Make no mistake, she was just as confounded as everypony else by the sudden lack of color in their colorful little town. But having lived in Ponyville for the better part of her life, she’d learned to expect this sort of thing from time to time. The fact that her fellow Ponyvilleans were always so caught off guard actually worried her more than the colorlessness did.

She was interrupted from her musing by the sound of flapping to her left. Turning to see, she found a familiar mailmare rounding the bend. She smiled at the sight, taking some small comfort in the mailmare’s unchanged gray coat.

“Good morning, Minuette!” the bubbly mare chirped as she landed with a wobble.

“Morning, Miss Hooves,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Crazy weather we’re having, huh?” Derpy asked as she began to fish around in her mailbag.

The dentist looked up to the gray sky. “I guess that’s one word for it.”

“Sorry if I’m a little late,” Derpy said, finally pulling a small bundle of mail out of her bag and passing it to Minuette. “I ordered a blueberry muffin at Sugarcube Corner, and it took Pinkie Pie almost ten minutes figure out which ones were which. Maybe I should’ve asked for a grayberry muffin.” She giggled at her own joke.

“Mm-hmm.” Minuette rifled through her mail with her once-blue magic. Junk mostly; a few payments mixed in.

“Well, I ought to be going. I’m behind as it is. Have a nice day, Minuette!”

“Take it easy,” she replied, levitating the mail into her practice and onto the receptionist's desk before pouring more coffee down her gullet.

Derpy’s voice echoed from a few houses down. “Oh hey, Big Macintosh! Nice apples!”

Minuette gave a lewd smirk and said under her breath: “I’m quite fond of his apples, myself.” She craned her neck to see, then widened her eyes.

Even without his red coat, Big Macintosh was easily recognizable by his massive frame, which was presently burdened with the largest single concentration of apples that Minuette had ever lain eyes on. Behind him, he pulled a train of three wagons, each loaded to the brim with the historically red fruit. Furthermore, he wore baskets of apples on either side of his body, like a pair of saddlebags, as well as two more baskets stacked up on his back.

“Whoa…” Minuette croaked. “That’s quite a load you have there.”

“Eeyup,” the strained stallion stammered, sweat running down his face in rivulets. “Just yesterday, we got an order of apples for some festival up in Canterlot, and we were up all night harvestin’ for it. Now I gotta lug it to yon train station.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Eenope. But thank ye all the same, Miss Minuette.”

She watched as one of the wagons’ wheels got stuck in a gap between cobblestones, and discreetly used her magic to help get it loose. “Where’s Applejack?” she asked.

“She went to see Tw—… um, Princess Twilight. About the sitchation.” He indicated their surroundings with his nose.

“I see. Well, you be careful. If you got a hernia, I won’t be able to help you.”

With a polite nod, he continued on his way, tugging his load behind him. She watched until his rippling, muscular hindquarters disappeared from view. She coughed awkwardly. On any other day, a blush might have been visible on her cheeks.

“There you are!” called a relieved voice.

“Hmm?” She turned, finding Bon Bon trotting in her direction with a relieved smile on her face and visible tension in her posture.

“I’ve been looking all over Ponyville for you,” Bon Bon said as she approached. “I couldn’t bear being in my shop a moment longer—all my beautiful candy looking like that.”

Ah, yes. Bon Bon’s candy. Quite the controversial topic between Minuette’s inner dentist and businessmare. It might not be in keeping with the spirit of her hippocratic oath, but she had Bon Bon’s candy to thank for that pool she put in last summer.

Of course, that still left the matter of why, exactly, Bon Bon had apparently been looking for her. She opened her mouth to ask, only to be interrupted by the distressed candymaker.

“I’m starting to get a little freaked out by this whole thing. The ponies around town have been calling it ‘The Graying’. Kind of dramatic, if you asked me, but it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you right now.”

With me? Minuette thought with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Without fanfare, Bon Bon leaned forward and planted a comfort-seeking kiss directly on Minuette’s lips.

Minuette froze, every hair on her body standing on end. Her heterosexuality, instantly alerted, conjured in her mind images of Big Mac’s rear end, but the rest of her mind, derailed as it was by the mare on her lips, accepted the images like a cave might accept an echo.

Bon Bon pulled out of the kiss with a smile, then stopped and squinted. “Lyra, did you change your mane? Something seems… different. And not just because it’s gray.”

Minuette, still petrified, mumbled something.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Minuette mustered all her strength and managed to form the words. “I’m not Lyra.”

Bon Bon just stared at her for a moment, then craned her neck to the side to get a better look at the other mare’s cutie mark, which, she was surprised to see, was an hourglass, and not a lyre. Wanting for further input, she raised her eyes, looking at the sign hanging from the shop that bore the likeness of a comical set of teeth and a toothbrush.

“Oh dear…” Unfortunately, the lack of color did little to hide Bon Bon’s blush.

Minuette, finally regaining her fine motor skills, averted her eyes from the awkwardness before her, only to spot an entirely new strata of awkwardness standing just down the street. Minuette winced, and Bon Bon followed her gaze.

There stood Lyra, mouth hanging open and eyes filled with hurt. With a sudden movement, Lyra turned and bolted down the street.

Bon Bon was hot on her heels in an instant. “Wait, Lyra! Please! I thought she was you!”

Minuette watched as the two mares disappeared around the bend. With a groan and the beginnings of a headache, she turned and walked into her practice.

“Yeah, I think that’s enough Ponyville for today.”

The door closed with finality.

* * * *

Twilight had had just about enough of Ponyville, herself.

She mentally went through her long list of grievances. The fact that none of her friends had shown up for the meteor shower last night was definitely one of them, as was her restless night’s sleep.

Then there was the whole business with the color—or lack thereof, rather. Hadn’t that been a lovely surprise to wake up to? And naturally, half of Ponyville had flocked to her doorstep, hoping for some kind of explanation. She had eventually put Spike on turn-ponies-away-and-offer-them-platitudes duty. Even worse was the fact that she didn’t have an explanation. She was just as stumped as everypony else. But she couldn’t very well tell them that, could she? She was Twilight Sparkle. Fixing things was what she did. It was what princesses did.

The most recent item of her mental checklist was the four chattering voices behind her. Despite her very clear instructions to Spike, she supposed she couldn’t blame him for letting them in. They were her friends, after all. Friends who had wasted no time at all in blessing her with their company when it was in their interests to do so.

Her ear gave an irritated flick, and she hunched lower in her seat as if the posture might deflect the distracting voices. Not that it mattered, really. The book in front of her was a pretense, an accomplice in the act of appearing useful. She hadn’t really had the time or the wherewithal to do any real research yet. But at the moment, looking busy was the most desirable option in a room full of alternatives.

“What I don’t understand is how somethin’ like this is even possible!” Applejack’s voice drawled behind her. “I don’t pretend to know much about magic, but even I know this don’t make a lick o’ sense! If’n it was somethin’ like… oh, I dunno, Discord, maybe I could wrap my head around it. Are you absolutely sure it wasn’t him, sugarcube?”

Fluttershy’s timid voice rose in response. “I don’t think so. He’s not even in town right now.” Her tone became slightly critical. “Besides, Applejack, he’s changed. We can’t just blame him every time something strange happens.”

“I don’t think Applejack meant anything by it, darling. And I agree: Somehow, this doesn’t seem like Discord’s… style, as t’were. But Applejack raises a good point. Even as a unicorn, I’m positively flummoxed! I couldn’t believe my eyes as I walked through the boutique this morning. It was simply dreadful! All my dresses, struck down in their prime!”

“You and me both, sister,” Pinkie added, albeit in a more subdued tone than one would normally expect from the priorly pink party pony. “The bakery didn’t even feel like Sugarcube Corner anymore. It was more like ‘Dreary, Dull, Who Would Even Want To Buy A Cupcake Here?’ Corner.”

Twilight felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on. She added it to the list.

With a sigh, she snapped the book shut, just loudly enough to get their attention and return some semblance of peace to the library. She could feel their eyes on her back, and without a word she levitated the book back to its proper place on the shelf.

“Didn’t find nothin’, I reckon?”

“You reckon right. I have no idea what’s causing this.”

They watched as she trotted back to her writing desk and began using her telekinesis to straighten it, nudging everything into parallels and right angles. Not that it was necessary; she’d already organized it after writing her letter that morning. Still, it gave her something to do.

“Are you alright, darling?” Rarity asked, taking a step forward. “You seem a little… preoccupied.”

Twilight suspect that wasn’t the first word that had come to mind.

“Well, I’m sorry if I seem ‘preoccupied’, Rarity, but maybe you can understand my situation. I’m just as stumped by all of this as you are. And that bothers me, because I know I’m letting everypony down. That’s why you came here, right? You needed my help?”

Rarity’s ears folded back. “Twilight, I…”

A sudden commotion drew everypony’s attention to Pinkie Pie, whose tail was twitching like a thing possessed. Pinkie looked at the spasming appendage, then said, “Uh-oh.”

Everypony looked to the ceiling in alarm, but none of them saw anything that might fall. For a tense moment, they waited.

They nearly jumped out of their skins when one of the windows shattered and a disheveled Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt in their midst.

Pinkie looked at Rainbow, then at her tail, and said, “Ohhhhhhh.”

The pegasus shook fragments of glass from her mane. “Twilight! It’s awful! You gotta—” She paused briefly, noticing that all of their friends were present and raising an eyebrow. “Why is everypony here?” she asked. She shook her head. “Never mind! You’ve gotta help me, Twilight!” she wailed. “I’ve gone colorblind!”

“Um, Rainbow…” Fluttershy tried to cut in. “None of us can—”

But Rainbow was oblivious. “I kinda, sorta went to a bar last night,” she said, falling to her haunches and clutching her head between trembling hooves. She sniffled, then continued in a shaky voice. “And I might’ve gotten a teeeeensy bit carried away…”

“Dear, if you’ll just calm down…”

“Oh, how could I have been so stupid?! Stupid stupid stupid!”

“Rainbow!” Applejack grabbed the hysterical pegasus by her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Get ahold of yourself! It ain’t just you, alright?!”

Rainbow instantly fell silent, meeting Applejack’s eyes. “What.”

“It’s true, Dashie,” Pinkie spoke up. “All the colors just packed up and left.”

“It’s… not just me?” Rainbow appeared to puzzle this over for a moment. “Okay. Cool.” She pulled free of Applejack, swept a hoof through her mane, and gave her wings a flick, as if it might erase her previous behavior from the record. “So what’s the plan, then?”

All five them turned to Twilight, who had been watching the proceedings in silence.

She didn’t say anything, however. Instead, she just stared at Rainbow with an unreadable expression. “So.” Her voice small. “You went drinking last night?”

With a squeak, the door to the kitchen swung open and Spike waddled through, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. “Here you go, Twi. Maybe this’ll nip that headache in the bud.”

She finally averted her dull eyes from Rainbow, turning to Spike with the first, albeit faint, smile any of them had seen on her all morning.

“Thanks, Spike,” she said, levitating the cup and taking a small sip.

Spike cut his eyes in the others’ direction, biting his lip.

Rainbow, however, merely tapped her hoof against the floor. Then, with furrowed eyebrows: “Um, Twilight? Aren’t you gonna do something? Like, try some kind of spell, or write a letter to Princess Celestia, or… something?”

“I already wrote her a letter,” Twilight replied without looking away from her coffee. “She hasn’t written me back yet.”

“Oh.” Rainbow tongued the inside of her cheek, examining the numerous bookshelves lining the walls. “Have you tried reading up on it? Because, I gotta admit, this whole no-color thing is kinda freaking me out a little, and you don’t seem to be in much of a hurry to figure it out. There’s gotta be—mmmfff!”

Applejack turned away from where she had stuffed her hoof into Rainbow’s mouth and winced in Twilight’s direction. “I think what Twenty Shades of Gray here is tryin’ to say is: We’re feelin’ mighty useless, sugarcube. You sure there ain’t somethin’ we,”—she shot the muffled pegasus a glare—“can do to help?”

“Yes, Twilight,” Rarity said, stepping forward. “All of us are just sitting on our hooves when we could be doing something. Just tell us what to do, and we’ll do it.”

“I don’t know!” Twilight said, more forcefully than she intended.

The others recoiled slightly. Twilight saw it, and her posture slumped. Her headache seemed to kick up a notch.

“I-I’m sorry, girls…” Quieter this time. “I’m just… I haven’t had much of a chance to look into this yet. But I will.” She turned away from them and approached a shelf, looking at the books. “I’m a princess now. It’s my responsibility to see to things like this. The five of you don’t have to worry about it, okay? You can count on me.”

“But darling, surely there’s something we can do to he—”

“No.” The library became still as a tomb. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

The other five exchanged confused, almost wounded looks.

“And who knows?” Twilight continued, her breath struggling not to catch in her throat. “Maybe Celestia will have some answers.”

As if on cue, a thunderous belch issued from Spike’s mouth, filling the library with green light. They all looked in time to see a scroll bearing the royal seal fall to the floor. In the awkward silence that followed, Twilight lifted the scroll in her magic.

“See?” she said with as much cheer as she could muster. “Now we’ll finally start to get somewhere, right girls?”

The others nodded, not quite meeting her eyes.

She cleared her throat, opened the scroll, and began to read:

“My dear Princess Twilight,”

Twilight stopped reading, biting her lip. She raised the scroll a little, like a shield, took a deep breath, and continued.

“I must confess, I have no idea what to tell you. I realize that this probably isn’t what you want to hear. However, everything in Canterlot is precisely as it should be—colors and all. And, even as I write this, I sit on one of the upper balconies, looking out onto the valleys to the south, and there Ponyville sits, bright and colorful as ever.

“Please don’t think I doubt you, Twilight. If you say that all the colors in Ponyville have vanished, then of course I believe you. And as it happens, yours isn’t the only report I’ve received from that area. Whatever this phenomenon is, it appears to be localized, which, of course, raises an entirely different set of questions.

“Rest assured, I have already assigned a team of palace scribes to scour the archives for anything even remotely resembling this situation, and I plan to meet with a few of the professors at my school to gather their input as well.

“I suggest you do some research of your own, regardless. We both know you can do the research of a half-dozen scribes single-hoofedly. As mysterious and unexpected as this phenomenon is, I’m certain the citizens of Ponyville can count on you to find a solution.

“And speaking of your fellow Ponyvilleans, I’m sure they’re confused and concerned. If you could, please read the follow portion to them.”

* * * *

“My little ponies.”

The monochromatic crowd of ponies hushed instantly, looking to the front steps of town hall where Twilight addressed them with flared wings. Mayor Mare stood by her side, and the other element bearers lined up in a row behind them.

Even though Twilight was the one standing in the spotlight, Rainbow felt oddly self-conscious in front of all those ponies. What must they think, seeing her in this state? Were they staring at her? Laughing, at the most colorful pony in town being reduced to just another face in the crowd? Rainbow knew they were silly thoughts, and tried to shake them out of her mind, instead focusing her attention on Twilight’s voice as she continued reading from the scroll.

“I realize how strange this situation must be for you. But from what Princess Twilight tells me, there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger involved. Measures are being taken to ascertain the cause of the phenomenon, and it will be reversed as soon as possible. Should the situation be ongoing, I will even come to Ponyville myself when I am able. In the meantime, I advise you to remain calm and go about your normal, day-to-day activities.

“I expect that, in no time at all, Ponyville will again be the colorful town we’ve all come to know and love.

“Yours truly, Princess Celestia.”

The gathered townsponies began to murmur amongst themselves. Seemingly satisfied, they began to disperse—some to their homes or businesses, others into little, chattering groups clumped here and there around the edges of the square. Rainbow watched it all for a moment, then cut her eyes in Twilight’s direction, noticing as her friend’s posture gave the tiniest of slumps. Her new wings folded—slowly, as if with conscious thought—to her sides.

Twilight turned to face them, wearing the same smile she’d used for the crowds.

“I g-guess that’s it, huh?” she said, tucking Celestia’s scroll under her wing.

Fluttershy stepped towards her. “I really think you made them all feel better, Twilight.”

“What now, ya think?” Applejack asked.

“Now…” Twilight looked in the direction of her library, visible even from several blocks away. “Now, I suppose I hit the books. With all the goings-on this morning, not to mention waiting for Princess Celestia’s reply, I barely even scratched the surface. There has to be something useful in one of those books.”

“I know you told us you’d handle it,” Rarity asked, “but are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”

Twilight took a moment before responding. “No, I’m sure. The fewer distractions I have, the better. But thank you. If I need your help, I’ll find you.”

Pinkie leaned forward slightly on her hooves. “I’ll check up on you later, okay? I’ll bring you a snack, or something.”

“Thanks, Pinkie…”

Rainbow opened her mouth to say something, but bit the words off as Twilight started trotting away. She looked to the others, at a loss for what to do.

Spotting Spike following in Twilight’s heels, Rarity perked and called, “Oh, Spike! Would you be a dear and assist me for a moment?”

The dragon stopped, looking back and forth between the unicorn and the former unicorn and biting his lip. “What with?” he asked.

“Uhhhh…” Rarity sweated lightly. “Why, w-with some gems, of course! Yes! Without the benefit of color, I’m having a devil of a time telling them apart. Might you be willing to lend your draconian expertise?”

Spike looked to Twilight uncertainly.

Twilight merely looked over her shoulder, giving Spike a hopeless smile, and said, “Go ahead, Spike. Sounds like quite a pickle.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the library.”

She gave a nod and continued on at a brisk canter.

Spike watched her for a moment, then made his way to the other five, fidgeting impatiently. “Okay, where are those gems?”

Rarity’s ears drooped. “Sincerest apologies for the ruse, darling. I merely wanted to ask about Twilight.”

“Oh.” He slumped. “Well, alright. What about her?”

“Is she feeling alright?” Fluttershy asked.

“She’s been actin’ a mite… distant, if’n you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh…” Spike looked over his shoulder even though Twilight was long gone. “I think she just has her feelings a little hurt about last night.”

“Last night?” Dash said quietly, wading through her still hung-over mind to recall her hazy memories of the previous night. Once again, she had the feeling she was forgetting something.

Spike looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “You know? The meteor shower.” He took a step away. “Well, if that’s all, I gotta help Twilight with her research. See you guys around.”

They watched as he jogged away, none of them moving.

“Oh heavens,” Rarity said, raising a hoof to her mouth. “She must be upset that I didn’t show up. I’d intended to go, of course, but poor Sweetie Belle took sick yesterday, and I stayed up late tending to her. I only left her alone this morning because of this ‘Graying’ nonsense. I assumed my absence last night would be negligible, since all of you would be there.” She looked to Applejack for confirmation, then stopped short as the farmer’s eyes widened. “Applejack?”

Applejack removed her stetson. “Well… As a matter o’ fact, I didn’t go neither. We had a sudden order due this morning, and Macky and I stayed up last harvestin’ for it. Just like you, Rarity, I didn’t figure it’d make much difference if lil’ old me missed out.”

“Oh, dear.” Rarity turned to Pinkie. “What about you, darling. Did you go?”

“Nuh-uh.” Her mane deflated slightly before their eyes. “The Cakes had a family emergency last night, and I had to babysit the twins. I couldn’t just leave them there alone.”

“And I was busy taking care of my animals,” Fluttershy spoke up quietly, hiding a little behind her mane. “The poor dears were so spooked all day yesterday, and I was worried about them…”

All four them turned to Rainbow.

She gulped. “I just… forgot…”

They all stood there under the weight of an awkward silence.

“I don’t believe it,” Applejack said. “Not a one of us showed up.”

“And poor Twilight was looking forward to that meteor shower for so long…”

“I feel simply awful…”

The others continued to talk amongst themselves, but by now Rainbow was off in her own little world. How could she have forgotten? Twilight had been yapping about that meteor shower for weeks. Maybe even months. And she’d meant to go! But she’d had to work overtime yesterday, and then Cloudchaser had invited her out for drinks, and it just… slipped her mind.

Suddenly, that look in Twilight’s eyes made a lot more sense. Rainbow tried not to imagine her sitting there alone—well, not alone; Spike had been there—waiting for them to show up.

Rainbow froze suddenly, something in the distance catching her attention. There, the midst of a drove of ponies across the square, a familiar face towered above all the others. White plumage caught the gray light; a frowning beak. Their eyes locked across the distance, and Rainbow felt herself struggling to breathe, her mouth opening and closing in a futile attempt to put what she was seeing into words, a single velar plosive teetering at the edge of her tongue. All she could manage was a thought:

What is she doing here?

“Don’t you think so, darling?”

Rainbow jumped, whipping her head toward her friends. “Um, w-what?”

“Don’t’ you think we should do something to make it up to Twilight?”

“O-oh… yeah, totally…” she replied. She cast a glance back across the square, but the spectre was nowhere to be seen.

“Might wanna give her some space for now, though,” Applejack suggested. “Especially with the Grayin’ and all…”

“Yeah. Besides, you heard what she said.” Pinkie cleared her throat and gave an uncanny impersonation of Twilight’s voice. “’The fewer distractions, the better.’”

“You’re probably right,” Rarity said. “For now, we do as Princess Celestia said and simply try to go on with our routines. But let’s agree to all get together and think of something, shall we?”

With nods and farewells, they went their separate ways, leaving Rainbow standing alone on the cobblestones. She stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where she’d seen the avian apparition, as if expecting it to reappear. When it didn’t, she shook it loose from her mind and took to the sky.

They’re right, she thought, beating her wings furiously. We’ve got to make it up to Twilight somehow. I’m Rainbow Dash, after all. And I don’t leave my friends hanging.

She wrestled with the urge to look over her shoulder one more time.

Usually.

* * * *

Deep in the Everfree Forest, a patch of bushes began to rustle and sway, then parted, allowing a striped form to trot through.

“What is this? Is this the place?” Zecora said.

She froze on the spot, looking out at the scene before her with her mouth hung open. It was a clearing—a polite word for it. For a hundred yards or more, every bit of foliage had been forced to the earth, the remaining leaves blackened. Mighty trees lay tilted to the side, all away from the same location at the center of the devastation. The clearing was utterly silent, devoid of singing birds or buzzing insects.

On trembling hooves, Zecora took a step forward and squinted towards the center, spotting an indentation in the ground. Though she couldn’t see what lay within, her coat stood on end, and she found herself stepping backwards without even meaning to.

Setting her jaw, Zecora turned and retreated into the underbrush from whence she came, this time steering to the left, towards Ponyville.

“I must alert the others, face to face!”

Author's Note

2

The front door of the library opened and Twilight stepped inside, gazing at the lifeless lengths of her home. Once upon a time, those shelves had been filled with books of every color imaginable. But not anymore. A shaft of silvery sunlight came in through one of the upper windows, falling on the horsehead statue on the center table like a somber spotlight.

Never before had the library seemed like a lonely place to her.

She made her way to one of the bookshelves, lifting a random book in the smudgy caress of her magic and opening it. Seeing the black typeface on the white pages, she gave a small smile, taking some comfort in the fact that some things remained unchanged. With a sigh, she returned the book to its place.

Enough distractions. She had work to do.

She was already in the process of gathering a few books to begin her research when the door opened again and Spike jogged in, panting for breath.

“H-hey, Twi. I’m… here…”

“And just in time, too.” She set the last book down on top of the stack on her desk. “It’s time to do some research—see if we can figure this thing out.”

“Sounds great.”

She trotted to her reading desk, moving a pillow to the floor and taking a seat. “So, what did the girls want to talk to you about?”

Spike, currently on his way to her side to assist her, froze in mid-step. “W-what do you mean?”

“You know, when Rarity called you over?”

“Well… heh, you heard her. She just needed help… uh, identifying some—”

“I’m not stupid, Spike.” She selected one of the thicker books, set it on the table in front of her, and opened it, beginning to peruse it even as she continued speaking. “That was obviously just an excuse. Rarity’s not as good of an actress as she thinks she is. And neither are you.”

Spike opened his mouth to respond, then stopped briefly to ponder her wording before shrugging it off and saying, “Fine. They’d just noticed you were acting funny this morning and wanted to ask me what was wrong.”

“And they couldn’t just ask me themselves?”

“Well, Twi… to be fair, you haven’t been giving off a very approachable vibe today.”

She looked over her shoulder and glowered at him. “What do you mean? I’m very approachable!”

A bead of sweat ran down Spike’s brow. “Well, of course you are, Twilight. Heheh. It’s just… I dunno, a matter of perception, I guess. One can seem moody, even when one isn’t—”

“Moody?!” This time, she turned her whole body to face him.

Spike took a step back. “Well… yeah! You know, like that!”

Twilight squinted at him, then deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Spike. I guess I have been feeling kind of… ugh… ‘moody’. With everything last night, and all the craziness this morning, and this darn headache I’ve got going on…” She sighed. “Yeah, like I said: Sorry…”

“It’s okay, Twi,” he said, walking up to her and placing a clawed hand on her shoulder. “I know all this has been kinda stressful.”

“That’s no excuse, though.” She reached a foreleg around him and gave him a hug. “So… what did you tell them, anyway?”

“Who, the girls?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, you know… Just about how you were bummed that none of them came to the meteor shower, and—”

“Wait…” she whispered. Her eyes widened slowly. “The meteor shower?”

“Yeah. And Twi? I think they felt really ba—”

“The meteor shower! Of course!”

Twilight pulled away from Spike, slamming the book she’d been reading shut and moving the whole stack of books to the side before galloping off to one of the side rooms.

“’Of course’ what? Twilight, what’s going on?” he asked, running after her.

“Why didn’t I think of it before?” She raised up on her hind legs, propping herself up against one of the shelves—Spike recognized it as the astronomy section—and began rifling through the books with her magic.

“Think of what?!”

“The Haizum-Shabdiz meteor shower!”

“Uh… what about it?”

She selected a few books and brought them back to her reading desk. “Well, think about it! A cloud of magic-conducting meteors, known for causing a spike in the planet’s ambient magic when we pass through it. Then, the very next day, a mysterious, almost certainly magical phenomenon just pops up out of nowhere? It can’t be a coincidence!”

“But what if it is? Didn’t you say the meteor shower was harmless?”

“Well, so far as I know. But who’s to say?” She sat down again and opened the first book. “Maybe something like this happened the previous times our planet passed through. If nothing else, this is the first lead I’ve had all morning!”

“Well, I hate to be a downer, but wouldn’t you have read about it if something like this had happened before? I’m sure you studied the Hijinks-Whatsis cloud beforehand, right?”

Twilight sighed, turning away from the book with lowered ears. “Well, a little bit. Nothing too in-depth, though. Nothing beyond what you might read in a high school astronomy textbook.”

Spike raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“What?” she said defensively. “I was mostly looking forward to spending time with…” She trailed off, her eyes turning downward. “My friends…”

Spike winced. “H-hey, it’s okay, Twilight. You’re right! It probably has something to do with the meteors. Reading up on them seems like a good bet.”

Twilight huffed through her nostrils. “I hope it’s that easy. Though, even if the meteor shower caused it, that still leaves the problem of fixing it.”

“Well, we’ll climb that mountain when we get to it.”

“Thanks, Spike.” She smiled at him warmly. “I know I can always count on you.”

He sensed a second part to that sentence hanging somewhere in the air, but let it slide, watching as Twilight began poring through the astronomy texts.

“Do you need anything, Twi?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say no to another cup of coffee.”

He gave a tiny salute. “Coming right up!”

Twilight chuckled as he jogged off to the kitchen, then refocused her attention on the words in front of her, quickly losing herself to the winding roads of history and knowledge.

* * * *

Rainbow Dash hovered high above the ground. A small breeze blew through her grayscale mane as she looked off in the direction of Ponyville. From here, she could see the tip of Carousel Boutique, its gray flag flapping. There, Sugarcube Corner stood, never looking less like her crazy friend’s home.

It hardly looks like the same town, Rainbow thought.

Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, to the tallest tree in town, feeling a knot form in her gut as she thought of the lonely unic—… alicorn within.

A part of her wanted to dart off to that tree and talk to Twilight—apologize, something. But she wondered how welcome that would be right now. No, Applejack was probably right. Better give her some space so she could focus on the Graying. Besides, Rainbow had a job to do. Rainbow Dash might be lazy sometimes, but she was no slacker.

“Um, Rainbow? Are you gonna do your thing, or what?”

“Hmm?” Rainbow looked down, spotting Golden Harvest staring at her from the midst of her carrot patch.

“You’ve just been staring at Ponyville for, like… five minutes. You wanna get the rain going, please?”

“Oh. Sure thing…”

With a half-hearted kick, Rainbow activated the tiny cloud that Golden Harvest had requested from the Weather Commission, and a gentle trickle of rainwater fell on the carrots below.

“And that’ll be enough for two hours?”

“Should be.”

“Alright. Thanks, Rainbow!”

With a final, lethargic wave to Golden Harvest, Rainbow did an about-face and flapped towards the weather office at a leisurely rate, watching the town passing below her.

Even Rainbow had to admit that she wasn’t at the top of her game this morning. Whether it was the Graying, the situation with Twilight, or the remnants of her hangover—or even some chimeric amalgamation of the three—she couldn’t even begin to guess. She’d only done a few weather jobs so far, and already her mind was wandering all over the place. The dominant feeling was something like boredom, an infuriating brand of antsiness that supplied nothing to be antsy for. She couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of the wind through her wings.

Before she knew it, she was at the Weather Office. She set down and entered the cloudstone building, approaching the assignments desk.

“Hey, Wind Whistler,” she said, tapping a hoof against the floor in muffled thwumps. “I finished the Golden Harvest order. Whatcha got for me now?”

“That’s actually it, boss,” the mare replied with a shrug. “We’re all caught up.”

Rainbow blinked at her. “What, already?”

“What can I say? It’s Tuesday. You know how slow it is early in the week. And who knows? Maybe the Graying’s got a lot of ponies laying low.”

“Oh, come on! It’s just… colors…” Her words temporarily trailed off, but with an agitated twitch of her wings, she continued, “I know there’s gotta be something to do. Lay it on me!”

“There’s nothing, honest! A couple of easy jobs this afternoon, but that’s it!”

Rainbow’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, what am I supposed to do all day, huh?”

“Calm down, Cap’n,” interrupted a deeper voice from off to the side. Thunderlane approached her and came to a stop. “It’s not Wind Whistler’s fault it’s a slow day. And besides: Since when have you complained about less work?”

“The hay is that supposed to mean?!”

Thunderlane sighed. “Nothing, Rainbow. Just… maybe you should take the rest of the day off. If you don’t mind me saying so, you’ve seemed a bit distracted this morning.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I do mind.”

Wind Whistler spoke up from the sidelines. “I’ve, um, noticed it too.”

Rainbow ground her teeth, staring at them both. “So, what am I supposed to do, huh? Just sit around, being useless, while you guys do all the work?”

“No one’s accusing you of being useless, Rainbow,” Thunderlane said. “Heck, you do as much work around here as the rest of us put together! But with how slow it is around here today, you’d be more useful somewhere else. Go out, do some of that stunt flying you love so much. Or maybe spend some time with your friends. We’ll take it from here, alright?”

She glared at him. “I don’t take orders from you, you know?”

“No. You don’t. And woe betide anyone who tries to boss you around.” He put a hoof on her shoulder. “Just think of this as a suggestion from a friend, and professional advice from your vice captain.”

Rainbow stared at him for a small moment, then turned away with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll get out of your manes. See you guys tomorrow.”

She made her way outside, barely hearing Wind Whistler say, “What’s up with her?” before the doors swung closed. With a snort, she walked to the edge of the cloud and looked out at Ponyville. A whole day at her disposal. She never thought such a prospect would make her so uncomfortable. She turned away from the almost unrecognizable town and looked to the skies. Maybe Thunderlane was right. Maybe some stunt flying would clear her head.

She extended her wings, bent her knees, took a deep, deep breath, and launched herself into the air with a mighty flap.

She flew straight upwards like a rocket, then banked sharply backward, the centrifugal force pulling her hooves to the heavens as the world wheeled behind her back. The sun shone through a patch of cirrus high above, the color like amplified moonlight. Still in her upside-down position, she went into a series of barrel rolls before pulling out as sharply as she could, the moisture in the air shepherded into long contrails by her wingtips. She spun and dipped and twisted and zip-zoomed through the sky, all her years of training willing the laws of physics themselves into a tame, whimpering beast, like a river channeled into rapids by the unyielding earth.

It took her five whole minutes before she got bored of it. By then, she wasn’t even smiling anymore. She spotted a lone cloud and made for it, setting her hooves onto the cloud with uncharacteristic gentleness. She sat on her haunches, looking upwards as she reined in her breathing. The sky, always the color of her coat, like she was made for it, had never seemed so empty to her before. Almost like a corpse.

She lay down, folding her legs beneath her and resting her chin on her forehooves. Unable to bear looking at that sky anymore, she lowered her gaze to the earth. It was just as colorless, of course, but at least it had form and shape. It had something to fill it.

Her attention was drawn by a familiar expanse of fruit trees off to the west of town. A memory of the scent of apples filled her mind, and the ghost of a smile graced her lips.

* * * *

Twilight drained the last of her coffee and set the mug on the edge of her reading desk, never taking her eyes off the book in front of her. The library was silent but for the rustle of paper and ticking of a clock and the distant rummagings of Spike in the kitchen. Twilight turned the page and continued to read:

“Although accounts of spectacular meteor showers date back several thousand years, and have been preserved in histories and mythologies around the globe, the first formal study of the meteor shower we know today was performed by the Saddle Arabian astronomers, Haizum and Shabdiz (after whom it was later named), more than a hundred years before the rebellion of Nightmare Moon. Speculation that the meteor shower contributed to Princess Luna’s descent remain unconfirmed.”

Twilight felt a chill run up her spine.

“As Saddle Arabians do not possess horns, Haizum and Shabdiz made no mention of a magical surge during the shower. They did refer, however, in one of the footnotes to their study, to various testimonials made by their fellow Saddle Arabians. These included strange dreams and vivid hallucinations.

“Similar incidents were recorded during the second scientifically documented occurrence of the shower more than five hundred years ago. The most notable case was that of the painter, Crooked Hoof, whose triptych, Starsong Across the Winter Seas, purportedly inspired by his hallucinations during the shower, is regarded as a precursor to surrealist art.

“Also worthy of mention is a study performed at that time by Setting Carol—a professor at Princess Celestia’s school—whose very large array of crystal arconometers detected during the shower not only unusual magical frequencies, but apparent patterns in those frequencies. Due to the fleeting nature of the shower, his findings could not be verified by his peers.

“Much remains to be discovered about the Haizum-Shabdiz meteor shower, but already scientists are anticipating its next occurrence, which is projected to take place during the one-thousandth and third year of Princess Celestia’s reign.”

Having finished the entry on the shower, Twilight closed the book and stretched her limbs. Memories of her dream the night before flashed through her mind, all the pieces wanting so badly to click together. Still, something didn’t quite add up. She was missing something, she just knew it.

“Find anything useful?” Spike asked as he exited the kitchen.

“Well… yes and no. There’s certainly a lot of precedent for strange and mysterious events being tied to the shower, but nothing definite.”

“And nothing about it making everything black and white?”

“Not a word.” She stood up and returned the book to its proper place. “For all I know, it could have nothing at all to do with the shower.”

“Really? Huh…” He ran his eyes over the rows and rows of books, then sighed. “Too bad there aren’t more records from that time. It’d be great to have a first-hand account.”

Twilight pondered his words, and perked her ears. She turned to Spike with a wide smile. “Spike, you’re a genius!”

“I-I am?”

“There may not be much in the way of records, but we have the best resource of all right at the ends of our hooves! Er… and claws, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Princess Celestia!”

“I—… What?”

“Well, think about it! She and Luna were both alive back then. Maybe one of them remembers something weird from previous showers. One of the books I just read even mentioned there being rumors about Luna having some connection to the shower.”

She galloped to her writing desk and began scribbling a letter with her magic.

“Well, that does seem like a pretty good idea, but… don’t you think Princess Celestia would’ve remembered something already, if anything like this had happened before?”

“Well, that’s the thing! It might not have been something exactly like this. The shower might not even have the same effects every time. I’m sure anything the Princess can tell us would be—… Oh, darn it!”

“What? What is it?”

Twilight lifted her ink well and peered into it with one eye. “Just ran out of ink. Could you fetch me another, please?”

With a nod, he ran over to the ink cubby, threw open the doors, then froze. “Um…”

“Wait,” Twilight droned. “Don’t tell me. We’re out of ink.”

Spike looked at her, biting his lip, and gave her a second, feebler nod.

Twilight simply massaged her temple with a hoof, sighing through her nostrils.

“You want me to go get some more?”

“I'd appreciate it,” she said with a smile. “I guess I can use this time to make another pass through the astronomy section—make sure I didn’t miss anything. Thanks, Spike.”

“Sure thing, Twi.” He took a moment to look her over with a worried expression, then turned and stepped out into the dreary brightness of Ponyville.

As the door clicked shut, Twilight trotted back to her writing desk, eyeing her unfinished letter with furrowing eyebrows. Her wings ruffled at her sides.

* * * *

A hoof raised an apple into the path of a sunbeam, but even then it appeared dark and dull. A pair of eyes scrutinized the fruit from under the brim of a stetson. Its wearer grunted, then brought the apple to her mouth and gave it a bite. The satisfying crunch, the smell, the juicy texture—all of them familiar, comforting. However…

“It just ain’t the same, somehow,” Applejack muttered, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Hmm?” came a reply from the other side of the tree. Rainbow’s head poked around, watching as Applejack chewed the bite slowly, critically, and finally swallowed. “What’s not the same?” Rainbow asked.

“The apple. It just don’t taste right.”

“Is something wrong with it?”

“Well, no… Not really, leastwise.” With a sigh, Applejack rolled the fruit away, watching as it came to a stop with the white gash in its dark skin facing her like the photo-negative of an eyeball. “It’s silly. I know it’s the same as always, except for the color. I reckon it’s all in my head.”

She slouched more deeply against the tree and tilted her hat back, allowing her an unimpeded view of the orchards as they stretched, row after row, into the colorless distance.

“The whole farm just seems… wrong, like this,” she continued. “This was the first mornin’ in as long as I can remember that I actually dreaded gettin’ to work. Dreaded it, Rainbow! I know it’s just one little thing that’s different, but… I guess I never really considered how much I counted on the green of the leaves and the blue of the sky and the red of the apples.

“I was born on this here land—grew up on it. My whole family’s worked it for generations. It’s where… where Ma and Pa started their own little family. And they entrusted it to me. Everything they worked for, loved for, depends on me keepin’ it goin’. But now? Lookin’ at it like this?” She sniffled quietly and pulled her hat down over her eyes. “It barely even feels like my home anymore. And all because of some hoodoo with the colors! Oh, what would my folks think of me now, seein’ me like this? They’d be so disappointed in me…”

Rainbow fidgeted slightly. “You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself, AJ. I’m sure they’d understand. I think this Graying thing has been messing with all of our heads.”

Wiping her eyes dry, Applejack asked, “You really think so, Dash?”

“I know so! I’ve been going through the same sort of thing. You know how much I love flying, right?”

Applejack chuckled. “Yeah, I reckon I do.”

“Well, this morning I just couldn’t get into it for the life of me. The sky was so empty. Lifeless. That thrill I feel whenever I’m soaring through the sky just… wasn’t there.”

“Aw shoot, darlin’.” Applejack winced. “I’ve been so busy feelin’ sorry for myself that I didn’t even think other ponies might be goin’ through the same sorta thing. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be sorry, AJ,” Rainbow replied.

“And I can see how a colorful pony like you might take it especially hard.”

“It’s been weird, alright…”

“Heck, I barely recognized ya when you flew up to me earlier.”

Rainbow’s shoulders sagged. A silence draped itself over the orchard, broken only by the wind in the leaves. Rainbow looked up to the branches overhead, her gaze searching.

“Hey AJ? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can, sugarcube.”

Rainbow took a deep breath, crossing her forehooves over her chest in a foalish gesture. “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Applejack sat up now, taking her turn to lean around the tree trunk. “Now, what in the world makes you ask a dumb question like that all th’ sudden?”

“I dunno.” Rainbow picked up an apple of her own and took a bite. It tasted fine to her. “I was just thinking about Twilight.”

Applejack nodded, returning to her position on the other side of the tree. “About missin’ the meteor shower, y’mean?”

“Y-yeah.” Rainbow set the apple down, not having much of an appetite. “Loyalty’s supposed to be my thing, you know? I always talk big about how I ‘never leave my friends hanging’, but… then I did.”

“Well, Rainbow, to be fair, none of us showed up.”

“But at least the rest of you had a reason not to show up! I was just out getting hammered with some mare from work. And the thing is, I’d have rather spent the night with a friend like Twilight. How could I have just forgotten like that? It’s so lame…”

Applejack folded her forelegs behind her head as she considered Rainbow’s words. Finally: “But… that don’t make you a bad friend, does it? Even best friends make mistakes sometimes. And while Twilight might have her feelin’s hurt, it’s not like she’s gonna stop bein’ your friend over all this. She’ll forgive an honest mistake like this.”

Rainbow listened to her as she gazed into the nearby trees. Then, she froze. For the briefest instant, she could have sworn that a griffon-like face stepped into view between two trees, meeting Rainbow’s eyes across the distance with what might have been a smile, and then disappeared from view again. Rainbow swallowed deeply, trying not to tremble. “Well…” she whispered. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

“What was that, Rainbow?”

Rainbow stood suddenly. “You know, I ought to get going,” she said, stretching her wings out. “I know you’ve got a lot of work to do around here, and I’ve taken up enough of you time.”

Applejack stood as well, walking around to look at Rainbow’s face. However, Rainbow wouldn’t meet her eyes.

With a sigh, Applejack turned and panned her vision across the orchard. “Yeah, I reckon I should get a few more rows done before day’s end, even if my heart ain’t exactly in it.” She gave Rainbow one last sullen look over her shoulder. “Sorry I couldn’t be o’ more help…”

“It’s fine, AJ. It’s not you. I’ve just gotten myself in a funk, is all. It’ll pass, I’m sure of it.” She looked at the sky. “It’ll all pass.”

“I sure hope so. For the sake of all our sanity.”

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah. I’ll catch you around.”

“Take it easy, RD.”

Rainbow coiled her legs and launched into the air, headed towards Ponyville. Applejack watched her until she disappeared from view, then turned toward the orchards with a sullen breath and dragged her hooves to the next row.

* * * *

The streets of Ponyville were a theater of unease. Spike wandered through the midst of it, taking in his surroundings as he made his way to the ink shop. Where once ponies would stand and chat under the awnings of town hall, now ponies walked meekly, barely meeting each other’s eyes, their smiles cautious. Where once the flower stands stood in bursts of color and fragrance, there now stood empty stalls and signs reading ‘closed’. No laugher, no singing, no cheer at all in the heart of the village.

Spike observed all this dejectedly, kicking a pebble along the cobblestones as he walked. At one point, he passed an outdoor café where two familiar mares sat in heated discussion.

“For the last time, Lyra, it didn’t mean anything! It was an honest mistake! You have to admit that, colors aside, she does look a lot like you!”

Her unicorn companion merely levitated another forkful of salad into her mouth and chewed, eyes closed, nose tilted upwards in indignation.

“So, what? You just aren’t going to speak to me?” Bon Bon asked, incredulous.

Lyra washed the bite down with a sip of hay smoothie.

“You know what? Fine! I’ll just go! But know this: If I do kiss somepony else later on, this time in might not be an accident!”

Lyra’s eyes opened, followed by her mouth, watching her marefriend storm off and around a corner. She bit her lip briefly, face tinged with uncertainly. Then, indignation renewed, she gave a snort and returned to her lunch.

Spike tried not to watch the scene, hurrying his pace to put it behind him. “Sheesh,” she said under his breath. “What’s with everypony today? Who’d have thought that turning everything gray would get under our skin so much? If Twilight doesn’t find a way to fix it, the whole town might just grump itself to death.”

“Hey, Spike!”

He turned his head at the call, finding two fillies galloping in his direction across the square. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo came to a stop with smiles.

“Hey, you two!” Spike asked, then raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Miss Cheerilee sent everypony home early,” Scootaloo explained.

“Yeah, none of us could stay focused on our studies anyway. Includin’ Miss Cheerilee,” Apple Bloom said with a giggle.

“Oh. Well, I guess I can see that. Like a snow day, or something.” He looked back and forth between them. “And what about Sweetie Belle?”

“She’s been sick,” answered Scootaloo with a frown. “We just went by Carousel Boutique to see her, but Rarity was afraid we might catch her bug, so…”

“What about you, Spike?” Apple Bloom asked. “What’re you up to?”

“Just making an ink run. Speaking of which, I’d better get a move on. Just between the three of us, Twilight may be on the verge of a breakthrough.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Scootaloo’s wings buzzed happily.

“You wanna meet up later, maybe?”

“I don’t know,” Spike said. “I’d like to, especially since you’re down one crusader. But Twilight might need me. It just depends on how things go.”

“Well, alright. Good luck with that, Spike!”

“Yeah, this whole day has been just… weird,” Scootaloo said, as if she had a funny taste in her mouth. “And I think it’s getting weirder by the minute.”

“We’ll do what we can.”

They departed with a wave, and Spike continued on his way.

He soon came to his destination, a small shop with a sign over the door bearing the likeness of an octopus watering a flowerbed. He entered the shop, then reemerged some minutes later carrying a sack filled with several fresh ink wells.

He was nearly half-way back to the library when he spotted a commotion down the street. Several ponies, seemingly startled, were moving to the side, as if clearing the way for a parade. Soon enough, Spike saw why. There, rounding a corner, was a pony seemingly untouched by the lack of color. Or, perhaps ‘pony’ wasn’t the proper term, considering all the stripes.

Zecora, clearly winded, limped into view as if she had come a great distance at a great speed. With a grin, Spike ran up to her.

“Hey there, Zecora!” he said. Now that he was closer, he saw that she wasn’t as unaffected by the Graying as he’d thought; her normally blue, cheerful eyes were only cheerful now, and barely that.

“Ah, just the dragon I’d hope to see!” she said, her sweat-covered face lighting up. “Tell me: Is Princess Twilight at her tree?”

“Yeah, she’s at the library trying to figure out the Graying. Is that why you’re here? Because… no offense, but she’s pretty busy with that at the moment.”

“Oh, I assure you, this is no social call. I bear news that’s relevant to all. Whatever it is, this mysterious force, I do believe I’ve found its source!”

“Really?! Well, come on then!” He turned and started running toward the library. “Twilight always puts a lot of stock in what you have to say. And the sooner we can fix this,” gesturing to the subdued ponies around them, “the better.”

Zecora ran up behind Spike and, using her nose, flipped him up and onto her back. He held on for dear life as she darted down the gray streets of Ponyville.

3

Rainbow Dash rubbed her bleary eyes with a hoof as she passed through the skies. She glanced up at the sun. A little after noon, by her estimation. About time for lunch, though she still didn’t feel much like eating. Perhaps that half of an apple she’d chewed on back at Applejack’s would tide her over, though Rainbow suspected that something other than food was taking space in her stomach at the moment—something heavy, indigestible. And there was no getting around the fact that she was bored, the glacial crawl of the day already wearing her patience thin. If the Graying didn’t kill her, then ennui might.

As she approached Ponyville, she spotted the library towering several blocks away, and with a subconscious tilt of her wings she banked to the right and skirted the edge of town. Ponyville’s suburbs—if they warranted such a title—seemed a virtual vacuum of activity. She was pretty sure she could count the number of ponies she saw out and about on her hooves and still have enough left over to play hop-scotch.

The dark presence of the Everfree rose before her, but she followed the edge of town, never allowing herself, through sheer instinct, to pass beyond the forest’s border. Just ahead, a familiar cottage came into view, and Rainbow smiled at the little garden and burbling stream and assorted feeders that lay strewn about the property. As she passed into its airspace, she entertained the idea of swooping down to give Fluttershy a visit. She finally decided against it.

She’s probably busy, she thought with a cold stare to the horizon. Celestia knows I kept Applejack from her work long enough.

But as she prepared to double her speed and make her way into town, a sound cut through the rush of passing air. Rainbow stopped and perked an ear. From the cottage, a cacophony of screeches, squeaks, hoots, barks, yips, and other assorted animal sounds issued—a symphony of distress from the normally peaceful home.

“What in the…?”

Rainbow went into a dive and swooped toward the cottage.

* * * *

Twilight was interrupted from her reading by the sound of the library door opening.

“Twilight, I’m back!”

“Hey, Spike,” she said without looking up.

“Look who I—”

“I really appreciate you getting that ink for me, but I’ve been thinking. I’m not sure about sending that letter to the Princess. At least not yet.”

“That’s fine, Twi, bu—”

“I’ll keep that as plan B. But I’d like to try my own hoof at figuring this out. Princess Celestia showed a lot of faith in me by making me a princess, and I’d hate to run back to her like a helpless little filly every time there’s a problem.”

“Twilight?”

“But it is a good thing you got the ink, because I just found an interesting essay about that Crooked Hoof fellow. You know, the artist? Apparently he—”

“Twilight!”

Twilight gave a start, turning to look at her assistant and only then noticing that somepony else—or somezebra else, rather—was there as well.

“Oh, Zecora!” She grinned sheepishly, standing up to face them. “I'm sorry. I was kind of off in my own little world, there.”

“There is nothing to forgive, dear Twilight,” Zecora smiled sweatily. “Though, I’d like a word with you, if I might.”

“Oh, certainly. Is it about the Graying? Because, if so, I want you to know that I’ve been looking into it.” She adopted the same awkward smile she’d grown accustomed to wearing whilst performing her princessly duties. “Everything will be back to normal as soon as possible, so—”

“I come not to be consoled, but to assist,” Zecora interrupted with as much grace as she could. “In the hopes that this problem may desist. I believe I’ve made a discovery that may aid in the color’s recovery!”

Twilight’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh.” Then, she smiled eagerly, leaving forward on her hooves. “What is it? Anything you have to tell me would be helpful.”

Zecora looked across the library, then turned imploring eyes to her host. “Do you mind if we sit, so that I may rest a bit?”

“Oh! By all means,” Twilight said, indicating a couple of floor cushions in one of the reading areas. “Would you like some tea?” she asked as they took a seat.

“Very grateful I’d be,” Zecora said, wincing as she sat.

Twilight gave Spike a meaningful look, and with a nod the dragon ran off to the kitchen. She turned back to Zecora, waiting as patiently as she could while the zebra massaged her hooves and caught her breath. Finally: “So, what can you tell me? Do you have a clue of some kind?”

Zecora nodded. “My tale begins last night, which I spent observing the Dreaming Lights.”

“The… Dreaming Lights?”

“Forgive me. That is the name in zebra astrology for the shower you call the Haizum-Shabdiz. Many legends speak of this shower, so I stayed up late to observe its power. And indeed, I detected a magical force, but went to sleep thinking it had run its course.” Her eyes drifted to the side, into the distance, as if looking through the walls. “Then late last night, I woke with a start, with a feeling of dread in my heart. In the distance I heard a thunderous crash, and saw through the window a bright, fiery flash.”

Twilight leaned forward, eyes wide as she listened. Spike came in as Zecora continued speaking, carrying a tea service.

“In the morning, all the colors were gone, and I went out to find what was wrong. I assumed the two events were likely connected, and found it was much as I’d suspected. Deep in the forest, I found a ruined site, and there, I believe, is what took color from our sight.”

“What is it? Do you know?”

Zecora regretfully shook her head. “I’m afraid I did not tarry. I’ll admit, I was feeling quite wary. I ran to Ponyville as quick as I could, assuming you’d know better than I would.”

Twilight mulled all of this over, eyes searching to the side. “Hmm… I wonder…” She looked back at Zecora, her expression all business. “Can you take me there?”

Zecora gave a nod without hesitation.

“Alright.” Twilight stood, rejuvenated, downing her tea in one shot. “Thank you so much for coming here, Zecora. Just let me grab a few things, and we can get going. You just rest up and finish your tea while we pack.”

Twilight grabbed a saddlebag in her magic and began stuffing various items into it—a few books, a roll of parchment, a quill or two, one of the new bottles of ink, and other such items. Spike, for his part, was far more practical, packing food and water and a few blankets. Once his knapsack was packed, he ran to Twilight’s side.

“Want me to get the others?” he asked.

Twilight froze, staring straight ahead.

Spike gave her a moment, then prompted: “Well?”

“No.”

Spike’s expression morphed into something slightly confused.

Twilight raised her eyes, looking out a window to the gray sky outside. “There’s no need, really. I’m sure they have other things going on, and I wouldn’t want to just swoop in and whisk them away. Besides, it’s not like this is some saving-the-world kind of deal. The Graying may be weird, but it’s not exactly a threat.”

Spike watched her closely. “Are you sure, Twilight? You heard them this morning. They said they’d be glad to help however they can.”

“Yes, I remember what they said, Spike. But I think you, Zecora, and I can figure this out. The six of us don’t have to get together every time something needs to be done.”

Spike’s ear fins drooped, but he gave a small nod nonetheless.

Twilight buckled her saddlebag and levitated it onto her back, struggling to find a comfortable fit with her new wings. She turned to Zecora, who had watched the whole exchange with some uncertainty.

“You ready to go?” she asked the zebra.

Draining the last of her tea from the cup, Zecora stood and nodded.

The trio made their way out the door, Twilight using her magic to turn off all the lights. She closed and locked the door behind them, then hung from the door a sign reading:

“Closed. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

* * * *

Rainbow Dash didn’t quite know what to do with herself. All around her, animals of every kind imaginable milled about, filling Fluttershy’s cottage with noise and motion like a living sea of agitation. A possum scurried under her seat, and a bat occasionally buzzed her ear. Worst of all was the squirrel, sitting on the table in front of her, staring at her with its black, beady eyes.

Fluttershy, working at the kitchen counter, seemed oblivious to the mayhem, with the sole exception of the strands of hair sticking out from her disheveled mane.

“It was awfully nice of the weather team to give you the rest of the day off,” the timid pegasus said through a crumbling artifice of cheer.

“Uh-huh.” Rainbow tried to ignore the squirrel, fidgeting in her seat. But it just sat there—unmoving, unblinking.

“Well, here you go,” Fluttershy said, turning from the counter and setting a plate with a single sandwich in front of Rainbow before taking her seat at the other side of the table. “Are you sure you don’t want something else?”

“This’ll be plenty. Thanks, Flutters.” She picked up the sandwich and opened wide to take a bite. She noticed the squirrel out of the corner of her eye, and stopped. “Uh, could you get that thing to quit staring at me? It’s starting to freak me out.”

Fluttershy gave the squirrel a reproachful look. “Now, it’s not polite to stare, Nuthaniel. Run along, and let our guest eat her lunch in peace.”

The squirrel continued to stare for a moment, then started to walk away on its hind legs, never taking its eyes off Rainbow even as it stepped out of the room and out of view. Rainbow shuddered as if from a cold breeze, then sighed with relief and returned to her lunch.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a bite and continuing to talk as she chewed. “Seems like you have your hooves full here. What’s wrong with all the critters?”

“Oh, I wish I knew…” She extended a hoof, allowing a small bird to perch on it. She gave it a small nuzzle, but it flew away in a hurry. “They all seem so nervous.”

“You think the Graying is scaring them?”

“I wouldn’t think so. For one thing, not all animals can see color. Besides, they started acting like this yesterday, before the Graying even started. That’s why I didn’t go to the meteor shower.”

“Oh, right…” Rainbow swallowed her mouthful and set the rest of the sandwich down. “The meteor shower…”

Fluttershy smiled weakly. “Have you been feeling as guilty as I have?”

“Probably more. It's not like I have any animals to be worried about, after all.”

Fluttershy shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Do you, um… Have you had any ideas of how we could make it up to Twilight?”

“Not really…”

Fluttershy watched as Rainbow poked at the remains of her sandwich with an idle hoof. She bit her lip, searching for something to say. Finally, she settled for the first thing that came to mind:

“Are you feeling alright, Rainbow? You don’t seem yourself.”

Rainbow met her eyes. “What gave it away?” she asked, raising a hoof to flick at her colorless mane.

Fluttershy’s ears drooped.

“I’m just…” Rainbow began, then sighed. “It feels wrong, you know? I feel wrong. Like I’m really not myself, somehow. Not looking like this, anyway. And yeah, I know, ‘they’re just colors’, but… they’re a part of who I am! I’m Rainbow Dash. But now, it’s like a whole part of me’s been erased. Now, it’s like I’m just ‘Dash’.” She lay her chin on the table. “And I don’t feel like dashing around much, either.”

Without a word, Fluttershy got up, walked around the table, and gave Rainbow a hug, her voice muffled by Rainbow’s chest as she spoke.

“Please don’t say that, Rainbow. You’re more than your colors, I promise. I’m friends with a pony, not a set of pigments. I became friends with a pony who’s strong and brave and loyal, a pony who brings out the best in everyone!” She pulled away to look at Rainbow’s face, but the other pegasus wouldn’t meet her eyes. She continued, regardless: “Do you remember how we met? At flight camp, when you stood up for me against those bullies?”

Rainbow nodded, and Fluttershy thought she caught the beginnings of a smirk on her lips.

“I looked up to you so much. For the longest time, I wished that I could be more like you. So assertive and in-control. I can understand you being unsettled by this whole situation—I am, too—but please don’t let it bring you down, Rainbow Dash. Something this superficial could never change the fact that you’re a great pony. A great friend.”

Rainbow listened to her words, but something inside her resisted them. She caught something out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head a little to look. A large shadow moved across Fluttershy’s garden, cast by some winged thing flying somewhere above them.

“I don’t feel like such a great friend…” She hated how quiet her voice was. Like Fluttershy’s, except stripped of all warmth and vitality.

“Rainbow…” Fluttershy put a hoof on her shoulder. “Please, stop it. Why are you being so hard on yourself? Do you think Twilight would want that?”

“Well,” a coldness dancing across her eyes, “maybe what Twilight wants isn’t what I deserve.”

Fluttershy’s mouth opened and closed, only managing to say, “R-Rainbow, I…”

Rainbow stood suddenly, walking toward the door. “I appreciate you trying to make me feeling better, Fluttershy. Really, it’s sweet of you.” She put a hoof on the knob and opened the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Thanks again for the lunch.”

“You don’t have to go.” Fluttershy took a step toward her. “Please stay.”

Rainbow turned to her, haloed by gray sunlight. “Thanks for the offer, but I gotta run. My schedule’s packed as it is.” Her smile was a pitiful facsimile of confidence.

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, then stood still, her hoof still on the knob as she looked at the ground.

Inside the cottage, Fluttershy sniffled, turning her gaze to Rainbow’s unfinished sandwich. A crashing sound from her living room made her jump, and she galloped to investigate, barely noticing the squirrel that continued to stare at the back door.

* * * *

Twilight, Spike, and Zecora slowly made their way across the grass, the edge of the Everfree Forest standing like a living wall before them. They paused and stared into the trees, the grayness somehow making the woods seem darker, less inviting.

Twilight raised a hoof and rubbed the base of her horn, the morning’s headache giving another twinge. “Well, I guess this is it,” she muttered.

“G-great…” Spike said, clinching his claws more tightly around the straps of his knapsack.

They all made to continue walking, but then froze as the quiet of the field was gradually interrupted. A faint noise grew in frantic, primal crescendo, starting as white noise but soon enough distinguishing itself as a veritable army of terrified voices.

“What’s that sound?” Spike asked, taking an instinctual step back.

As if in answer to his question, countless shapes came into view above the treetops. In a great storm of panic, flock after flock of birds passed over the edge of the Forest and over their heads, more than they could count, all of them heading in a single direction: Away. They nearly blotted out the sun in their multitudes, and the three travelers watched with mouths agape. It took some minutes for the wave of birds to pass, and then silence returned to the edge of the woods.

“What was that all about?” Twilight breathed.

“They seemed scared.”

“I saw much like it on my way to town,” Zecora spoke up. “Creatures fleeing or hunkered down. I’ve witnessed such all morning, and fear that it may be a warning.”

“Of what?!” Spike asked, looking into the forest with wide eyes.

“Whatever’s caused the Graying, I assume,” Twilight said.

“Indeed. Creatures of the woods can often sense things to which more sapient ones are dense. In my time living in the Everfree, I’ve learned to defer to those wiser than we.”

“So…” Spike pointed behind them with a thumb. “Can we follow them, then?”

Twilight gave him a flat look, and he smiled sheepishly.

“I don’t feel any better about this than you do, Spike, but if we’re gonna get things back to normal, going into those woods is our best bet. If the animals are scared, it’s only a sign that something unnatural is going on in there… unnatural even by Everfree standards.”

“Great. So super, extra-unnatural, then? That’s comforting.”

“Please, my friends, we must make haste,” Zecora implored, stepping forward. “We have miles to go and no time to waste.”

With one final glance amongst themselves, Twilight and Spike followed her lead, drawing near to the edge of the dark forest.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get there, Zecora?” Twilight asked.

The zebra looked to the sun’s position in the sky. “It is still early afternoon.” She tongued the inside of her cheek, apparently running a few numbers in her head. “We should arrive before the rise of moon.”

“So, wait, let me get this straight…” Spike bit his lip. “We’re going into the already-creepy forest, after it’s gotten so creepy that all the creepy things that live there want to pack up and leave, and we’re going to be there at night?!”

Twilight swallowed and said, “Seems that way…”

“Do not fear, my little friend, I know these woods from end to end. Through them I will lead you true; only the solution is up to the two of you.”

Spike wasn’t convinced. “Can’t you just teleport us there, Twilight?”

She shook her head. “Not without knowing the exact location, or having an image in my mind. Otherwise, I might teleport us into a tree trunk or something. I do have a map.” She turned to Zecora. “If I showed it to you, could you find the exact location?”

“I fear I could only give a guess,” Zecora admitted with drooping ears. “But it might only put us in a bigger mess.”

Spike visibly slumped. “Oh…”

Zecora turned and stepped without fear past the threshold of the trees. With a stiffening of his upper lip, Spike moved to go in after her. But Twilight…

Twilight came to a stop and looked back. There Ponyville lay, her home of the past three years now spread gray across the landscape. Almost like gravestones, she noticed with a shudder. Her mind briefly drifted to five particular ponies scattered throughout that town, and she felt a yearning in her heart for them to be there with her, to give her the strength to do what needed to be done, as they’d done so many times before.

Something in her chest tightened, like a string being pulled taut.

No. She was a princess now. It was her duty to protect the citizens of Equestria. She was the one other ponies turned to now, not the other way around.

Besides, she thought, they have lives of their own. Sooner or later, I’ll have to learn to… do things by myself…

“Uh, Twilight? You okay?”

Twilight gave a start, turning to find Spike standing just past the edge of the trees, watching her with a concerned expression. Twilight took a deep breath, brought a hoof to her chest, and expelled all of it—her doubts, her fears, the niggling voice telling her to turn around and run. She had a job to do. A duty to perform. Turning away from Ponyville, she gave Spike a nod, took a step, and entered the Everfree Forest.

4

Like a slinking cat, Rainbow set her hooves on the cobblestone streets of Ponyville, just off the town square. She ran her gaze across the surrounding area, finding it quiet and largely unoccupied. What ponies there were moved quickly, without speaking and without wasting time with distractions. And none of them paid Rainbow any mind at all. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that last bit. As much as she felt down in the dumps and wanted to fly under the radar, to be outright ignored, as if she were just any other pony, wasn’t something she was used to.

She blew a lock of gray hair away from her eyes and set out at a trot.

She walked down Maple Avenue, away from the square, barely noticing as the buildings became more thinly spaced and residential. At an intersection, she glanced to the left before she could stop herself. A distinctive tree rose high into the air a few blocks away, its gray leaves flashing in the breeze like fish scales. She averted her eyes almost instantly.

Her aimless stroll took her to Ponyville Park, looking like an old photograph in the afternoon sun. Ponies were even scarcer here, but that suited Rainbow just fine.

As Rainbow crossed over a small bridge and rounded a bend in the trail, she passed by a park bench inhabited by two mares. They sat on opposite ends of the bench, as far apart as they could without falling off, with their faces turned away from one another.

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you two. What’s up?”

Bon Bon’s expression instantly became an exaggerated smile. “Why hello, Rainbow Dash! Nice day, isn’t it?”

Rainbow looked right, left, and back at Bon Bon, her expression flat. “Yeah. It’s lovely…”

“Just figured I’d get some sunshine,” Bon Bon continued. “Alone.”

Lyra snorted. “Rainbow Dash, could you please inform somepony that I’m the one doing the ignoring here, not her?”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Guys, I don—”

“And could you tell her that she’s behaving like a foal?” Bon Bon stated sweetly.

“Yeah? Could you tell Bon Bon that she’s a two-timing shrew?!”

“And could you tell Lyra that it was a simple misunderstanding and she knows it?!”

Rainbow watched them with wide eyes as they went back to giving each other the silent treatment. She began to back away slowly. “Ooooo-kay. I’d better get going. Have fun doing… whatever it is you’re doing. Bye!”

In a grayish blur, she was gone, darting around a bend in the path and behind some bushes.

“Sheesh!” she said once she was clear. “What’s up with them?”

That unpleasantness behind her, Rainbow continued on, shortly coming upon an unoccupied bench. She climbed onto it, stretched, and curled into a fuzzy ball. Deep breath in, and deep breath out. Closing her eyes, she perked her ears, listening to the sounds of the park—of which, it turned out, there were surprisingly few. Aside from the whisper of wind-blown foliage and the glugging of a nearby fountain, it was oddly quiet. She noted a distinct lack of birdsong.

Before she was aware of it, she was drifting off, the world around her falling away little by little. In the quiet of the park, she heard a very, very faint ringing in her ears, but she paid it no mind. She was vaguely aware of sleep as it wound its tentacles around her and began to pull her, like a ship, into the deeps.

“Rainbow Dash?”

Halfway into her startled yelp, Rainbow stifled it with her hooves. Her eyes darted open and to the side, finding Scootaloo standing there with a wince on her face. With a creak and a thunk, the filly's scooter fell to the ground.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” she said in a verbal mudslide.

Almost on reflex, Rainbow composed herself, slicking her mane back with a hoof and sketching the coolest smile she could muster onto her face.

“Heh, don’t worry, squirt. You didn’t ‘startle’ me,” she lied as her heart continued to fibrillate. “I was just dozing, is all.” For good measure, she reached out with a hoof and tousled the filly’s mane.

Scootaloo giggled. “Yeah. Don’t know what I was thinking. It would take a lot more than little ol’ me to scare somepony like you.”

Rainbow’s expression sobered. “Somepony like me, huh?” Then, noticing Scootaloo’s look of confusion, she changed the subject. “Hey, shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Nuh-uh! They cancelled it today.”

“Really? Just because all the color took a vacation?”

Scootaloo managed to giggle, nod, and shrug all at once.

“So, let me get this straight: You’ve got a whole day to do anything you’d like, and you’re just wandering around the park on your lonesome? What gives, kid?”

“Well, Sweetie Belle’s been sick since yesterday. Apple Bloom was with me, but when she heard that Applejack was behind on her farm work, she decided to go help out.”

“Applejack’s behind on her farm work?” Rainbow grimaced. “Oops.”

“So I’ve just been trying to find something to do.” She gave Rainbow a sly, yet shy, smile. “I wouldn’t be against—oh, I dunno—seeing some super-cool tricks.”

Rainbow didn’t need to look up to feel the weight of the dead sky pressing down on her. Nevertheless, she tried to smile—for the fans, and all. “Sorry, Scoots. I’m afraid I’m just not feelin’ it today, you dig?”

Scootaloo’s tiny wings drooped. “You’re not? Because of the color?”

Rainbow’s already-fragile smile began to crumble at the foundations. “To be honest, I don’t really know.”

“Do you… do you wanna talk about it?”

Rainbow met Scootaloo’s eyes, and felt a lump in her throat at the concern evident in them. She hopped down from the bench and gave Scootaloo a hug with one foreleg, resting her chin on the filly’s once-purple mane.

“Thanks, Scoots, but I’ll be alright. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“You? What do you have to feel sorry for yourself over? You’re the coolest pony in Equestria!”

Rainbow gave a weak, warm chuckle. “It happens to the best of us, kid.” She pulled away from Scootaloo. “I guess I’d better be on my way. I thought I’d take a nap here, but I don’t think I’m feeling as nap-y as I thought. What are you gonna do with you day off?”

“Well, I was thinking I’d head home and get back to reading Daring Do like you recommended. I’m almost caught up on the series now.”

“Good, good. Gotta keep up on the finer things in life.”

As Scootaloo picked up her scooter and mounted it, Rainbow spread her wings and prepared to the take to the sky.

“Oh, and Rainbow?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I ran into Spike earlier, and he said Twilight was close to a breakthrough with this Graying crud. Though you’d like to know.”

A thrill of something like hope ran down Rainbow’s spine and to the ends of her legs. “Whoa, really? That’s awesome. Maybe I oughta…” her expression drooped a bit. “Maybe I ought to go talk to her…”

“Well, as long as you’re making the rounds, you should stop by Rarity’s place, too. I went to see Sweetie and she—Rarity, I mean—seemed a little… um, out of it.”

Rainbow gave a rueful smile. “Must be the season for it. Thanks, kid.”

She watched as Scootaloo buzzed away, then turned her gaze to the edge of the park. To the right, she could just make out the upper branches of Twilight’s library. To the left, the banners of Carousel Boutique. She chewed her lip, spread her wings, and flew to the left.

* * * *

“Are we there yet?”

“As much as I would love to say yes, we’re but halfway there, by my guess.”

“Oh.” Spike bit his lip, glancing back and forth into the shadowy lengths of the forestscape around them. Even in the dim light, and not for the first time, the shapes of creatures could be seen, all fleeing in the same direction. Thankfully, the beasts seemed far more interested in escape than with waylaying a zebra, a dragon, and an alicorn princess. Spike noted with some apprehension that the three of them were the only living things heading further into the woods. He distracted himself from these worrisome thoughts by turning around and looking at Twilight. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Twi.”

“Sorry, Spike,” she said. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well… about all this Graying business.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I was just thinking that color isn’t inherent to reality.”

Spike did a double-take. “It’s not?”

“Not really. In a sense, color’s an illusion. It’s based on light, which reflects off objects at varying frequencies. Now, obviously, different objects can have different degrees of light absorption, reflection, and so forth, scattering the light in different ways. But it’s our brains that assign color values to them. It’s just an interpretation. Technically, the black-and-white world we’re seeing now is just as accurate.”

Twilight briefly tripped over a tree root, awkwardly using her wings to balance herself, then continued, “What that means, though, is that whatever’s causing the Graying isn’t affecting our environment, but rather, our minds. We are the ones the magic is acting upon, and for whatever reason—or maybe no reason at all—it’s inhibiting our ability to perceive color. That also explains why Ponyville looked the same as usual from Canterlot. If Canterlot’s outside the Graying's reach, then the ponies there would see colors just fine.”

“Huh,” Spike said. “I guess that sort of makes sense. Kinda matches up with what those books said about the meteor shower messing with our dreams and stuff.”

Zecora nodded along from her position at the head of their little caravan. “As much is said in zebra lore; I only hope there isn’t more.”

“More?” Spike asked.

“I think what she means is: If this thing can affect our ability to see color, what else might it do to our senses?”

What Twilight didn’t say was why she had been thinking these things. She said nothing to them about the strange, shadowy figures that had been following them for some time, observing them, obscured by the darkness, darting to and fro through the dim light of the forest. Worse, she was reasonably sure that the figures weren't actually there. Both Spike and Zecora, though taking note of fleeing animals, gave no indication that they saw these dark forms. The thought of hallucinating unnerved her, and trying not to think about it only made her headache worse.

“Magic that messes with your mind,” Spike mused. “That’s comforting.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Do you have any theories of what’s causing all this?”

“Well, I have one.” She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Considering the meteor shower, and what Zecora saw last night, I would guess that it’s a meteorite that fell to the earth.”

“A meteorite?” Spike said skeptically. “How could a space rock be doing this?”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t know, Spike. That’s what I’m hoping to find out. Like I’ve been saying all along, this could all be a wild goose chase.”

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by a ghostly howl piercing the air.

“Gah!” Spike darted to Twilight, hugging one of her legs. “What’s that?!”

“Timberwolves, or I’m a duck,” Zecora muttered, crouching low. “Just passing through, with any luck.”

And sure enough, a large pack of the arboreal lupines sprinted into view a few dozen yards to the right, weaving through trees, giving yips and barks and howls as they fled. The fact that they seemed entirely uninterested in any intruders into their woodland world didn’t stop said intruders from ducking out of sight. In moments, the timberwolves were gone, their panicked sounds fading into the distance. The three travelers emerged, breathing a sigh of relief…

…with the exception of Spike, who proceeded to give a thunderous belch.

“Eugh, Spike!” Twilight scolded. “I know being frightened makes you gassy, but could you at least try hold it in?”

“I don’t think I could hold this in if I tried,” he responded, holding a scroll in his claw.

Twilight gasped. “Is that from the princess?” She levitated it from him without waiting for an answer and squinted at it. Sure enough, there was the royal seal. She promptly broke the seal and opened the scroll. “I wonder if she found anything.”

She cast an illumination spell, and as Spike and Zecora listened, Twilight read aloud:

“My dearest Princess Twilight,

“Unfortunately, we in Canterlot are no closer to understanding the phenomenon than we were last time I wrote to you.”

“Oh…” Twilight said, looking at the others will a flat expression. She cleared her throat, then returned to the letter.

“I have received word that one of the professors in my school—the astronomy professor, as it happens—made some promising discoveries in a recent experiment that might shed some light on the matter, but he’s still processing the data and hasn’t made a formal statement.

“But this isn’t why I’ve written to you.

“Canterlot has gotten reports that ponies living to the north of Ponyville had begun experiencing the same loss of color—the implication being a worrying one: the phenomenon is spreading. So far no other major population centers have been affected, but as it stands, Canterlot may very well fall under the influence of it in mere hours.

“I will keep you updated on the situation as it develops.

“Princess Celestia.”

“It’s s-spreading?!” Spike said, curling his arms to his chest, eyes darting back and forth.

Twilight gave a sigh and massaged her forehead with a hoof. “Seems that way.” She groaned inwardly and levitated the scroll into her saddlebag. “Let’s just hope the effects don’t get more dangerous. We’ve been lucky so far, all things considered.”

“If the magic is moving, then we should too,” Zecora said, facing forward down the trail. “We should be there in an hour or two.” She set off at a deliberate trot, Spike following a few paces behind her.

Twilight delayed just long enough to catch movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look, spotting a figure behind a nearby tree peeking out at her, wreathed in shadow. Somehow, she knew it was smiling.

She made herself look away and shook her head. You’re just imagining things, Twilight, she thought. Don’t get distracted.

After a brief shiver, she ran to catch up with the others.

* * * *

For some reason, Rainbow Dash had never been able to get into tea. Looking down at the cup in front of her, she knew there was every reason to like it—warm, comforting, a ghost of sophistication. But try as she might, tea just wasn’t her… well, cup of tea. Maybe it was the taste. More likely, it was because it made have to pee.

She looked up and across the table at another cup, hitherto untouched in front of an unoccupied chair. Raising her eyes further, she glanced up the ceiling, perking an ear to the faint creak of a floorboard overhead. This was followed by a closing door, and the sound of hooves descending a staircase.

When Rarity entered the kitchen, Rainbow was again struck by what a mess her usually glamorous friend was. Not that she would say so to her face, of course. She wasn’t stupid. But she also wasn’t unobservant enough to overlook the frayed mane, the bags under her eyes, and the near-grimace she wore on her face like a tribal war mask.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darling,” Rarity said, taking her seat at the table and raising her cup to her lips—using her hooves, Rainbow noticed.

“No problem. How’s she doing, anyway?”

She took a sip. “About the same as this morning, though I suspect her fever will be breaking soon. The poor dear will be up and about in no time.”

“You don’t think her illness was caused by the Graying, do you?” Rainbow asked. “I mean, I know that hasn’t really been its M. O. so far, but still…”

“Oh yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Rarity said with no small amount of sarcasm, turning dark eyes on her guest. “The loss of color must have given Sweetie a cold. And come to think of it, that one teenager down the street got a pimple recently; that must have been caused by it, too! I hear it even caused poor Berry Punch to spill her milk this morning. Will torments never cease?!”

Rainbow’s ears lay back against her skull as if blown there by a shockwave. “Er, yeah… heheh, I guess it is kinda…”

Rarity interrupted her with a raised hoof, followed by an aggravated sigh. “I apologize, Rainbow Dash. You didn’t deserve that. I’ve just been dour today.”

Rainbow fidgeted. “You, uh… you wanna talk about it?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” She took another sip of her tea and looked out the kitchen window, watching as the late-afternoon sunlight slanted in and onto the linoleum floor. “You take things like this for granted,” she continued quietly. “Color, I mean. It seems like such a small thing, and then it vanishes, and suddenly one’s world is turned upside down. Just look at my beautiful home, Rainbow. It’s hideous!”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Rainbow lied, looking across a kitchen that could very easily pass as a mausoleum. “Sure, it’s not as cheerful as it used to be, but it’s still home, right?”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t feel like it! And don’t even get me started on my designs! Somepony might as well have taken my inspiration behind a shed, beaten it to within an inch of its life, and left it for scavenger dogs to pick the bones clean. In my work room, I have bolts and swatches of fabric, and I know—oh yes, I know better than anypony—there are blues and golds and reds and pinks to stand beside the sunrise without shame! And what good does any of it do me but to render every vision in my mind to an unrelentingly gray shadow of itself?! And to top it all off,” she added, quieter, “there’s this damnable migraine I’ve been contending with all day.”

The room fell silent, and with a huff, Rarity drained the last of her tea from the cup and set it down with a gavel-like clink of chinaware.

However, the silence was interrupted by Rainbow snickering, then chuckling, then guffawing outright, clutching her belly with her hooves.

“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” Rarity asked with a glare.

Rainbow reined in her giggles. “Sorry. It’s not ‘funny’, really. It’s just… this stupid color thing seems to be having the same effect on everypony.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well… heh, Applejack’s heart wasn’t in her farm work because the orchards were so dull and gray. Then Fluttershy was down in the dumps because all her critters were riled up by it and she couldn’t calm them down no matter how hard she tried. And me? I wasn’t able to enjoy flying earlier. And to top it all off, I’ve been having an exemplary crisis all day. Real lame.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Um… what? Do you mean an existential crisis, darling?”

“Yeah. That.”

“How so?”

“Well, you know…” She merely pointed to her mane. “Colors are kinda my thing.”

Rarity hummed in understanding, then stood and went to pour herself another cup of tea. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”

“But it doesn’t!” Rainbow huffed, folding her forelegs across her chest. “They’re just colors! And this is just a temporary thing, right? So why does it feel like I’m not even me anymore?”

“Well, you are still you, darling. Even if you don’t feel like it.” She returned to her seat, continuing to stir her tea with her dull magic. “I suppose it goes back to what we were saying before: Somehow this situation has caught us off guard, and we’re all reacting strongly to it.”

Rainbow bit her lip, then bit the bullet. “Rarity? You haven’t been… seeing things, have you? Besides not seeing things, I mean,” she added, again indicating her once-colorful mane.

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“N-never mind.” Rainbow finally picked up her cup and took a meager sip of the almost-lukewarm tea. The taste nearly made her hooves curl. Little did she know that Rarity watched her all the while, concern etched on her drawn features.

“Is something on your mind, dear?”

Rainbow met her eyes, then looked away, exhaling through her nostrils. “I’ve just been thinking. You remember Gilda, right?”

Rarity sniffed. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah, well, the two of us used to be best buddies. We did everything together. But I haven’t heard from her once since that day at Sugarcube Corner.”

“Yes, it’s always a shame when friends have a falling out.”

“That’s just it.” Rainbow gave a fragile, fragile smile. “Friendship’s supposed to be magic, right? So how can it just… end like that? I know Gilda was a major jerk at that party, and I don’t regret standing up for Pinkie and all of you guys, but… I just cut her right out of my life. All because she made a mistake.” Like getting into a hot bath, Rainbow downed the rest of her tea in one gag-inducing shot, trying not to shudder. “And last night, I made a mistake. Now I feel like the one who might be cut out—like maybe I even deserve to be.”

“Oh…” Rarity set her cup down slowly, carefully now, as if it might break. “Is that what this is all about? Rainbow, you have to know that Twilight would never ‘cut you out’ like that!”

“Why not? I did it to Gilda, didn’t it?”

Rarity’s mouth closed with a faint clack of teeth. She fidgeted briefly, then got up from her chair, pacing through her kitchen and nudging various articles into their proper alignment, more for want of something to do than anything else. Rainbow, meanwhile, stared into the greenish-brown mush left at the bottom of her teacup, looking vaguely bird-like.

Finally, Rarity spoke. “Rainbow, I do believe you’re missing one key detail.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” She turned around and looked Rainbow in the eye. “This. Right now,” she said, pointing at Rainbow. “You’re repentant. You realize you made a mistake—though, for the record, I think you’re blowing the mistake far out of proportion—and you’re willing to do better. Tell me: Did Gilda ever show remorse, or apologize?”

“Well, no…”

“And would you have remained friends with her if she had?”

“Totally!”

“Well, there you have it! If you want to stay in Twilight’s life as much as she—I assure you—wants you to stay in hers, then do something about it! Show her how much her friendship means to you.”

“But… how?” Her voice small, foalish.

“Come now, darling. You’re Rainbow Dash, colors or not. Inspiring ponies is what you do. You’ll think of something.”

“I don’t know if I can, though! Not with how I’ve been feeling lately. Please, you gotta help me.”

Rarity’s tongue froze at the edge of a sentence like an icicle. It suddenly appeared that additional, invisible weights had been placed across her back and hung from her eyelids. She turned away, placing her tea cup in the sink. “I’m afraid I’m not much in the position to do much at the moment,” she said tiredly. “Between caring for Sweetie, and my own bedragglement, I don’t think I… I mean, I’d just…”

Rainbow’s helplessness turned to frustration, then bubbled outwards, ugly and irrational and venomous. “I see how it is. You talk a good game, but it’s just for show, isn’t it? Can’t get your hooves dirty?”

Rarity took a step back as if slapped. “Now, that isn’t fair, Rainbow Dash!”

“What is fair, Rares?” Rainbow stood up and walked towards the door. “It’s getting late, and I have a friend to keep disappointing. Thanks for everything.”

She departed without waiting for a farewell, slamming the door closed behind her. Rarity was left standing in her kitchen in a state of shock. The unicorn collapsed to her haunches and turned wet eyes to the floor.

* * * *

Through the thinning trees, the sky was just barely visible. The sun appeared to be setting, but this was merely an educated guess on Twilight’s part. Without color, there was no discernable twilight hour, no reds or pinks or violets to give away the sun’s descent. There was barely any transition; one minute she could see the trail in front of them, and the next she had to squint. Fortunately, she was squinting anyway. Her headache was so strong by now that she could feel it in her horn. Having considered the possibility of dehydration, she had taken one of the canteens in Spike’s backpack and sipped from it periodically during their trek, but it didn’t do much to quell the headache.

In the dimming light, she stumbled over a dip in the path and gave a snort. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m asking this, but are we there yet?”

“Funny that you should ask,” Zecora said, raising a hoof to a bush to move a branch aside, “because here we are at last.”

“Getting kind of loose with your rhymes there, aren’t y—” Twilight’s grouchy tone cut off suddenly at the scene before them.

Beyond the bush, the forest seemed to end suddenly, a large clearing opening before them. Except, as Twilight saw, this was no ordinary clearing. It was a disaster area. Trees, singed and stripped of their leaves, tilted to the side, their roots tugged lose from the earth like fingers slipping from a holdfast. What’s more, all the trees leaned in the same direction—more specifically, away from the approximate center of the clearing. It was silent here, even the leaves around the edge of the clearing seeming to keep still, as if afraid of being noticed. It was so quiet that Twilight could hear a high ringing in her ears. Her first thought was that it was tinnitus of some kind, but she suddenly realized the ringing wasn't in her ears at all. It was in her mind. She further realized that she had been hearing this ringing all day; she just hadn’t heard it until now. Her migraine gave a surge.

Twilight slowly stepped past the threshold and into the clearing. Instantly, she felt her fur stand on end. She panned her vision across the scene before them. “There’s something wrong about this place,” she whispered. "Very wrong."

“I concluded the same this morn. And I don’t even have a horn!”

They began walking into the clearing, going a good twenty paces before Twilight realized someone was missing. She turned, finding Spike still standing among the foliage, visibly trembling even from this distance.

“Come on, Spike,” Twilight said with a comforting smile. “It’ll be fine.”

Spike gulped down the rest of his fear and jogged out of the tree line and directly to Twilight’s side, so close that their sides touched.

In moments, something became visible at the center of the clearing: a dip in the earth. With a gasp, Twilight darted towards it, Spike running to keep up like a moon in its planet’s gravity. Zecora took up the rear, her hoofsteps deliberate and cautious.

Twilight came to a stop at the lip of what she now recognized as a small crater and peered into it. Even in the dark of nightfall, a black shape was visible at the bottom, and with a simple glimmer of Twilight’s horn, the mass was illuminated in dead gray light. As she looked at it, Twilight struggled to find words, in no small part because the words needed to fight through the cloud of knives hovering in her frontal lobe.

“That’s it.” Her tone dull. “That’s what’s causing it.”

Spike poked his head around her legs and looked for himself. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” she breathed. “If nothing else, I can feel it. Something very strange is happening down there, magically speaking. It’s like… like all the leylines in the area are caught on it. Like a swimmer being pulled underwater by a shark.”

Zecora finally came to a rest by Twilight’s side. Her eyes were wider than Twilight had ever seen them. “A fallen star…” She couldn’t even be bothered to finish her couplet.

“Well, technically not a star,” Twilight corrected, then shook her head. “You know what? Never mind.”

It wasn’t as big as Twilight had expected, maybe the size of a hoofball. It was as black and glassy as obsidian, but she noticed that it didn’t reflect the light of her horn. Try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. Finally, she stepped into the shallow crater and made her way to the meteorite, the pain in her skull increasing with every step until that ringing in her brain was like a train whistle. When she was close enough, she raised her hoof and brought it to the meteorite, but the limb froze just an inch from its surface, as if it were being repelled from the stone magnetically.

She set the hoof down and managed to tear her eyes off the meteorite, looking back to the others. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work—cast some analysis spells, see what I can learn about this thing.”

She turned back to the meteorite, examining it closely. Opening herself to the leylines around it, the shrill whine instantly filled her mind again. Through the cutting fog of her headache, she listened to the whine—not with her ears, but with that part of the unicorn brain that governs the horn. She searched deep into its magic, getting a feel for it. Finally, she noticed something. She gasped, taking a step back as her eyes widened.

“Wh-what is it, Twi?” Spike said, hiding behind Zecora’s legs now. “Do you see something?”

“I don’t believe it…” was her only reply.

“What’s the matter, dear Twilight? You seem as though you’ve had a fright.”

“S-Setting Carol was right.” She turned to look at them uncertainly. “The meteorite—all the meteors in the Haizum-Shabdiz cloud, probably—produce magical frequencies. But… there’s a pattern to it, just like Setting Carol said. It’s…”

“What?” Spike prompted.

Twilight chewed her lip and looked back to the black stone. “It’s almost like a signal.”

5

Rainbow watched the scene before her with muted fascination.

A pair of hooves across the table fiddled with a piece of paper—aligning, folding, all with surprising nimbleness and precision. One side of the paper was black and the other white, but as the hooves worked, it began to make sense. In mere moments, an origami penguin sat on the tabletop. The hooves set the paper penguin to the side next to several others.

One of Pinkie’s ears gave a lethargic flop, and she reached for another piece of paper and began to fold it, starting the whole process from the beginning.

“Pinkie?”

“Hmm?”

“Why, exactly, are you doing that?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Pinkie stopped her folding to consider the question. “I guess I’ve been feeling kinda blue today.”

“That’s good,” Rainbow said with a snort. “One of us should.”

The corners of Pinkie’s mouth gave an almost imperceptible twitch upwards. “Good one, Dashie. But really…” She resumed her work on the penguin. “Everypony’s been so down in the dumps today. Do you have any idea how hard it is to cheer somepony up when everything’s black and white? I tried throwing a party earlier and it looked like something out of a prison camp. All those balloons and streamers and presents, and not a single color anywhere.”

“So…” Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “You had no choice but to fold origami?”

“Well, why not? Besides, penguins are cute, and they make ponies happy without being colorful at all!” She finished her latest penguin and held it up for Rainbow to see. “Doesn’t this make you the teensiest bit happy?”

Rainbow couldn’t help but give a weak smirk. “Heh, I guess a little.”

A look of hope flashed across Pinkie’s face, like a tightrope walker. “So,” she said, reaching down to rub a twitch out of her knee. “You wanna talk about what’s bothering you, Dashie?”

“Ugh… not really. It feels like I’ve just been complaining and whining all day.” She plucked another muffin off the plate Pinkie had brought her and put the whole thing in her mouth in one massive bite.

“Lemme guess,” Pinkie said, grabbing another piece of paper. “The Graying’s made you question yourself, and this, combined with letting Twilight down last night, has made you wonder who you really are. Except, you don’t know what to do about it, and you’re afraid of losing Twilight as a friend. And maybe even the rest of us, too.”

Rainbow’s mouth hung open, half-chewed bits of muffin falling out. “How do you always do that?” she slurred.

Pinkie shrugged, finishing another penguin.

Rainbow finished chewing and swallowed. “Well, you pretty much hit the nail on the head.” She flicked the used muffin cup with a hoof. “Except, you left out the part where I was a huge flank-hole to Rarity, who was just trying to help.”

“Oh, I’m sure she knows you didn’t mean it, Dashie.”

Rainbow growled. “Ugh, why does everypony do that?”

Pinkie paused her folding. “Do what?”

“Make excuses for me! ‘Aw, you didn’t mean it’. ‘It was just an honest mistake’. ‘Twilight’ll forgive you’.” Rainbow curled her forelegs on the table and buried her face in them, her voice muffled. “Can’t I just be wrong? Isn’t it possible that maybe… maybe I don’t deserve to have you guys defending me all the time? That maybe I don’t deserve any of you at all?!” Before Pinkie could say anything, Rainbow cut her off with a raised hoof. “And I’m not saying I don’t, necessarily. But isn’t it possible?”

Pinkie chewed this over in her mind, her penguin-production slowing because of it. “Well, I’ve always believed anything is possible. But just because something’s possible doesn’t mean it’s likely. We just care about you, is all.”

“But who do you care about, exactly? The big showoff who lets her friends down when they need her? The pony who always goes on about being cool and awesome, but who becomes a whiny crybaby as soon as her colors go away?”

Pinkie was silent for a moment, the penguins forgotten, and stared at Rainbow’s face. Finally, with startling seriousness: “No. I care about the pony who’s stronger than anypony I know. I care about the pony who’s confident and brave. I care about the pony who’s there for her friends when it really matters. She might not be perfect, but nopony is. The fact that she even cares when she makes a mistake proves that she’s a good pony. Everypony deserves to be loved, Dashie.”

Slowly, Rainbow met her uncharacteristically somber friend’s eyes.

“You wanna know something?” Pinkie asked with the beginnings of a smile. “I’ve always looked up to you.”

Rainbow’s ears perked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” She began work on another penguin. “My goal in life is to make ponies happy, and I like to think I do. But you? The way you leave ponies with wonder in their eyes? You don’t just make them happy—you inspire them! You call out the best in them, even without them realizing it, or realizing it yourself.” Pinkie looked out the window, folding without looking, her eyes fluttering slightly. “When I lived on the rock farm, my life was almost as gray as Ponyville is now. But then you happened, Dashie. Just like a flashlight. I wouldn’t have even come to Ponyville if it weren’t for you. And I’m lucky to have you as a friend. We all are.”

Rainbow’s lips moved, but no words came out. Finally: “P-Pinkie, I… I don’t know what to say, but…”

“Then don’t say anything. Just be. Because all the gray in the world can’t take away your true colors. You didn’t lose them. You just forgot where you put them.”

Pinkie finished a penguin, and let out a massive yawn. “Okay, I think that’s enough penguins for now. Maybe I’ll do more tomorr—” She looked up, then froze, looking at Rainbow, and at the single tear running down her friend’s fuzzy cheek. “Oh my gosh, Dashie! Don’t cry! Whatever I said, I’m sorry. Please, I just wanted to make you feel better…”

“No, Pinks,” Rainbow said, wiping the tear away and getting to her hooves. “Don’t be sorry. That was really, really sweet of you. And thanks for the dinner, too. But I’d better be moseying on. I have some thinking to do.” She got up and made for the door.

“Dashie, wait!”

Rainbow turned and looked at the gray party mare, shifting uncomfortably as Pinkie studied her face for a long, long moment. Finally, Pinkie gave a tiny smile. “Wanna hang out some more tomorrow?”

Rainbow sighed. “I wouldn’t miss it, Pinkie Pie.”

Then, Rainbow was gone. The last of the puffiness in Pinkie’s mane gave up its fight, and long, straight strands of gray mane drooped around her shoulders. And the emptiness of Sugarcube Corner surrounded her.

* * * *

Twilight poured every ounce of her concentration into the spell, despite the throbbing in her skull that only got worse with each passing minute. She tried tapping into the leylines as they vanished into the meteorite’s mana field, but it was like trying to follow a trail of breadcrumbs through a cloud of fogged ink. The mana signature of the meteorite was unlike any magic she’d encountered before, and, try as she might, she couldn’t navigate it. Even the simple diagnostic spell she was currently casting met with about as much success as a wave meets a cliff face.

A knot of pain twisted in her horn, and she nearly gasped, grimacing as she let the spell die. She could barely even see the meteorite in the resulting dark, but the droning sound in her brain remained, like hellish laughter.

“Twilight?” said a tiny voice behind her.

She couldn’t even bother to be startled. “Yes, Spike?”

“Are you, um, making any progress?”

“Not at all.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’ve been down here for, what, two hours? Three? And nothing I do does anything to this stupid rock! It’s so unlike any kind of magic I know of that it might as well be impervious to my spells.”

“Oh…”

Sensing something in his tone, she asked, “What is it?”

“Well… Zecora thought I should wait and let you work, but… I kinda just got another message from Princess Celestia.” He produced said scroll and held it up for her to see.

“Oh?” Any enthusiasm she might have otherwise felt was muffled by the pounding in her brain. “What’s it say?”

“Well… apparently the Graying’s in Canterlot now. It’s still spreading. Celestia says she'll have to postpone her trip to Ponyville by at least a day.”

“Wonderful,” Twilight snorted.

“And there’s more. That astronomy professor at Celestia’s school? He gave a brief summary of his findings to the Princess.”

“Oh?” she said with much more interest.

She turned away from the meteorite and approached Spike, taking the letter in the crook of her hoof rather than using her magic. She ran her eyes over the familiar, flowing script of Celestia’s horn-writing. “Hmm. It says that during the meteor shower there were strange magical frequencies. Well, nothing new there. Something about patterns. I already knew that, too. And apparently, the frequencies affect, among other things, the part of the brain responsible for eyesight. Makes sense, but again, nothing I haven’t already guessed.” She continued reading, then stopped. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“Well… according to this professor’s arcanometer, there were unusual sub-harmonics in the shower’s magical frequencies. Specifically, counter-harmonics.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well… think music. A counter-harmonic frequency would be like playing a discord on a piano.”

“Discord?! So he’s behind this after all?!”

Twilight sighed. “No, Spike. Discord’s magic is a law unto itself. This is something else. You know how magical energies flow along leylines, right?”

“Not first-hand, but yeah.”

“Alright, well, they don’t just move down leylines in a straight line. They modulate, and at certain frequencies. Now, most magical frequencies are harmonic—basically meaning they flow well with other frequencies, because their frequencies are synchronized. Otherwise, those frequencies might get jumbled up and congest the leylines, resulting in magical blocks.”

“Like a traffic jam?”

“Exactly! But certain kinds of magic have what are known as counter-harmonic frequencies. It’s hard to describe in laypony’s terms, but it essentially means it subverts other magics, usually with disruptive effects. Magic with these counter-harmonic frequencies are usually referred to under the umbrella term of ‘dark magic’. And apparently, the meteorite is giving off a form of dark magic. The only problem is, dark magic is rarely just an accident. It requires some form of… intent. A will. This meteorite is trying to do something.”

“But what?”

“I… don’t know,” Twilight admitted.

Spike watched her face, noting the bags under her eyes and the sluggishness of her movements. “Hey, Twi? How about you take a break, maybe get some shut-eye and make a fresh start in the morning?”

She sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t even consider it, but with this headache, my magic’s about to give out on me. I think some sleep would do me wonders.”

With one final, half-defeated glance at the meteorite, Twilight followed Spike towards their tiny campsite near the edge of the clearing.

* * * *

Rainbow had long since lost track of how long she’d been lying there staring at her ceiling, but it was long enough that she had every shape and swirl of the cloud marble memorized. According to her bedside clock, it was morning now. Sunrise was right around the corner.

The only light source in her bedroom was the single beam of moonlight pouring in through the window, and everything was silent except for a nearly imperceptible breeze wafting in. Tank lay beside her on the bed, his head and legs withdrawn into his shell. Rainbow gave his shell a loving pat with her hoof, then resumed her scrutiny of her bedroom.

She would periodically close her eyes in the hope that she might drift off to slumber, but every attempt so far had been in vain, her mind racing and sluggish all at once, all the day’s events and all her self-pitying washing over her like numbingly cold water.

With a sigh, she got out of bed. Her limbs begged to be used. She made her way to the window and looked out, much as she had the previous morning when the nightmare had begun. She raised up and draped her forelegs over the window sill, resting her chin on her hooves as she looked out across the town and the stars and the gray, gray, gray of the world.

A new breath of air came in through the window and passed through her feathers. Rainbow smiled, for the first time that day feeling an actual desire to fly. With one last glance at Tank’s slumbering form, she spread her wings and leapt out the window.

In the darkness, the lack of color was less obvious, and Rainbow could almost convince herself that everything was as it should be. That familiar patter of her heart picking up speed as the rest of her did thundered in her chest, and she smiled into the moonglow. Everywhere around her hung clouds stricken through the pale light, and the occasional streetlamp from Ponyville below mirrored the stars overhead, as if it weren’t a town at all but rather a reflecting pool. Rainbow soared through it all, dancing with the stars.

And she was alone.

Her smile vanished, and her legs hung limply beneath her. Spotting a lone tuft of cloud, Rainbow made for it and set her hooves down. She lay, folding her legs under her, and regarded the night—not the illusion of normalcy, but the reality of overwhelming dark.

She looked down at Ponyville. She knew, by sheer memory, where all the major landmarks were. Here was Ponyville’s town square, and Sugarcube Corner at the edge of it. There, the more sparsely populated suburbs, with Carousel Boutique as its jewel. To the south, the Everfree Forest—expansive blackness that it was—with Fluttershy’s cottage next to it, like a tree leaning over a yawning chasm. To the west, row after row of apple-scented trees and a deeper, older scent of family. And, almost directly beneath her, a towering tree and a hurt alicorn.

They really are great friends, Rainbow thought. All day, through all her whining, they had lent their ears and tried to comfort her. Had she even thanked them? She couldn’t remember.

They deserve better…

Slowly, she raised her eyes, staring off into the distance.

“Okay, think,” she said out loud. “You can do this. You can’t just cut yourself out of their lives, and you can’t sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You…” She struggled to even form the thought, honest as she knew it was. “You made a mistake.”

Applejack’s voice drifted through her mind.

“But… that don’t make you a bad friend, does it? Even best friends make mistakes sometimes.”

“But… sometimes mistakes ruin friendships. Just like…”

As if on cue, her thoughts were interrupted by movement out of the corner of her eyes. Turning, she spotted the ghostly likeness of Gilda landing on a neighboring cloud, watching her silently with an inscrutable expression.

Rainbow snarled. “Go away! How am I supposed to work this out with you following me around?! You aren’t even real!”

The griffon merely looked at her, unblinking. With a snort, Rainbow faced away from the phantom and tried to ignore it, wracking her brain.

“Yes, sometimes mistakes can ruin a friendship. But they don’t have to.”

If she was honest with herself, her mistake hadn’t really been that bad. There were far worse things she could’ve done to Twilight than not show up for a bit of stargazing. Nonetheless, she could almost feel Twilight slipping through her hooves, falling away from her. The thought of losing her—of losing any of her friends—was terrifying.

She looked over her shoulder at Gilda, and she remembered Rarity’s words earlier.

“You’re repentant. You realize you made a mistake—though, for the record, I think you’re blowing the mistake far out of proportion—and you’re willing to do better. Tell me: Did Gilda ever show remorse, or apologize?”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “That’s it! I have to do something for Twilight. Words won’t do it. It has to be a… a gesture! I have to show her how much her friendship means to me. How much they all mean to me. But how…?”

* * * *

Twilight woke from a fitful sleep, finding darkness all around her. Glancing to the side, she found that the campfire was burning low. Using her magic, she poked at the fire and placed a few more pieces of wood into it until it blazed brightly once more.

In the restored light, she saw Spike and Zecora, still asleep, both of them with expressions of discomfort on their faces. She briefly wondered if their proximity to the meteorite was giving them nightmares. Thankfully, her own dreaming had been largely uneventful, likely due to the mana-reduction field she had placed around herself to ease her headache and quiet the incessant whine of the magical note coming from the space rock.

Neither Spike nor Zecora heard the drone. She'd asked them before they went to sleep. Furthermore, neither of them had suffered from headaches like Twilight had. She'd already suspected that the drone was causing her headache, but now she wondered if her horn made her especially sensitive to its frequencies.

She added it to the list of unsolved mysteries with a frustrated huff.

With little hope of going back to sleep, Twilight crawled out of her sleeping bag. She walked across the campsite quietly on the tips of her hooves and then stepped beyond the range of the firelight, heading across the clearing toward the crater in the center.

The meteorite was right where she had left it, quiet and black and unnatural, singing its unearthly note into the world around it. Twilight didn’t cast any spells this time, instead sitting and staring at the thing. If she didn’t know any better, the note sounded… almost sad.

“How are you doing this?” she asked it quietly. “Why are you doing this?”

The stone gave no answer.

Twilight recalled the letter, and the professor’s findings. Why a chunk of rock floating through space would generate such complex sub-harmonics, radiating dark magic into an even darker cosmos—she had no idea.

She gave a snort. Maybe I should just blast it with the Elements, she thought with a roll of her eyes. It’s worked before.

Then, her ears fell flat against her skull, her own joke falling sour in her heart.

Except… I don’t have my friends with me, do I? I left them behind without even inviting them along…

Her shoulders sagged, and though a part of her felt like crying, no tears would come.

Instead, she only thought: I’m so sorry, girls…

* * * *

The eerie facsimile of Gilda continued to stare from its cloud, but Rainbow did her best to ignore it as she paced back and forth, her mind a tangle of thoughts.

The more she thought about it, the more realized her friends had been wrong. They’d told her that the lack of color couldn’t change who she was, but it had. It had made her into the mopey, whiny thing she had been all day, had caused her to forget who she really was. Even now, her mind was fuzzy, distorted. But why? Was it just the Graying messing with her head?

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her question.

Just who was Rainbow Dash?

“You? What do you have to feel sorry for yourself over? You’re the coolest pony in Equestria!”

Scootaloo’s answer made Rainbow smile, chuckling despite herself. Coolness was certainly a part of it. But was that all?

“I became friends with a pony who’s strong and brave and loyal, a pony who brings out the best in everyone!”

Fluttershy had made a good point, too. Rainbow was strong. But what was it about her that brought out the best in others?

Was it loyalty? That was her element; the quality that most ponies associated with her. But what good was loyalty, in and of itself? Whether loyalty itself was a virtue depended on what you were loyal to. So, what was she loyal to, in the end?

The answer was so obvious it smacked her in the face. Of course, it was her friends. Her friends, who meant so much to her. Opening her eyes and looking across the town, her heart almost hurt thinking about them. She knew she didn’t say it enough, but she loved her friends more than anything. There was a time when she hadn’t even had friends. Her early foalhood had been so very lonely. She hated being alone. But then she’d met Fluttershy, and eventually the others. And she had never been happier.

That is, until all the Graying had come along and tried to take it from her. All day long, it had been like a wedge driving them apart.

She turned to the griffon and scowled, compressing all her blame and hate for the Graying into that spectral shell of her former friend. “I hate you!” she screamed to the scapegoat. When the griffon remained silent, Rainbow turned away with a growl.

She spent a quiet moment looking into the distance. The sky to the east was brightening slowly. Dawn was approaching.

Finally, Rainbow addressed the griffon again, quieter this time, a small smile on her lips. “Did you know that the six of us might not have become friends at all if it weren’t for me? That day I earned my cutie mark—when all of us did—I connected us all together. I didn’t know it at the time, of course.” The corners of her mouth sagged downward slightly. “In fact… I hadn’t even wanted to go to flight camp in the first place.”

An image flashed through her mind, the passing shadow of a memory she hadn’t recalled in years. It all came rushing back to her as her eyes blinked closed…

* * * *

Rainbow lay on her bed, hugging her tiny hooves to her chest as she stared at the Wonderbolts nightlight near her bed.

There was a knock at the door, followed by a voice. “Dashie? Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

The door opened, and light from the hallway came pouring in, across her bedroom floor and onto the foot of her bed. Her mother stepped through the door, a small wisp of a pegasus, walking on thin legs. She approached Rainbow’s bed and carefully lowered herself to her haunches.

“Dashie,” she said, her voice gentle. “Your father tells me that you’re having second thoughts about going to flight camp.”

Rainbow fidgeted slightly, but didn’t say anything.

“Is it because of your age? I know you’re younger than some of the other foals that will be there, but that's only because you're such an amazing flyer for your age.”

“It’s not that,” Rainbow muttered in a tiny voice.

“Then what?”

Rainbow tongued the inside of her cheek, then forced the words out. “Other foals don’t like me.”

Her mother blinked at her. “Whatever do you mean?”

“They say I’m too loud, and that I brag too much. And sometimes… they make fun of my mane.”

“But why would they do something like that? Your mane is beautiful, Dashie.” She reached out with a weak hoof and ran it through the prismatic strands.

But Rainbow just swatted her hoof away. “I dunno. They just do. Probably ‘cause it’s different.” She rolled away, facing the far wall. “I just… don’t wanna go if they’re just gonna leave me out of everything. Sometimes I wish I could just be like the other fillies…”

Her mother reached out with a hoof again, this time grabbing Rainbow’s shoulder and rolling her back so their eyes could meet.

“Don’t ever say that, Dashie,” she said, her voice soft as ever. But her eyes bore into Rainbow’s own, strong and filled with fire. “Don’t ever say you want to be anything other than yourself, do you understand? You’re an amazing pony.”

Rainbow grumbled and tried to roll away again, but her mother’s hoof remained on her shoulder, holding her there.

“Please, Dashie. Look at me.”

With a groan, Rainbow did as she was asked, meeting her mother’s tender eyes.

“I know what it’s like to be singled out, Rainbow. My whole life, I’ve been frail and weak, and I didn’t have many friends either. But I’ve always tried to keep my head high, no matter what, because this is the only life I have, and I refused to live it in fear.” Her voice began to tremble. “W-when I got pregnant with you… the doctors didn’t think I would make it. They said I was too weak to carry a foal. So what did I do?”

Rainbow looked at her with wide, wide eyes.

“I proved them wrong!” A tear slipped from her eye as she looked at Rainbow. “The day you were born was the happiest in my life, because even then I saw how strong you are. You were like a light in my life, Dashie. And I think that’s what you were born to be.”

She smiled at her foal. “Can you promise me something, Dashie?”

Rainbow nodded slowly.

“Whenever life throws something at you, I want you to look it in the eye and not back down. Alright? Because you’re my awesome little filly. Just remember that.”

She leaned down and kissed Rainbow on the forehead.

“You’re going to blow their minds at flight camp, Dashie. Someday, you’re going to do great things, and make friends who will love you. I promise you that. Someday, you’ll paint your name across the sky with all the colors of your spirit. And everypony will see.”

* * * *

… and blinked open again, filled with tears.

“And that’s… that’s just what I did,” Rainbow whispered. “I went to flight camp, and I wowed them all. I made my first real friend. And now, I live in Ponyville.” She smiled down at the town in question. “And I’m happy. Actually, completely happy.”

Her smile faded slowly. “Or… I was. Before the Graying. But you know what?” She shot a determined look back at the griffon, whose expression hadn’t changed. “I’m not letting it go without a fight. I will not let this stupid curse take it away from me!”

Pinkie’s words echoed in her mind:

“Just be. Because all the gray in the world can’t take away your true colors. You didn’t lose them. You just forgot where you put them.”

Rainbow stood up slowly, looking at the brightening horizon where the was just beginning to rise. “You were right, Pinkie Pie. I did forget where I put my true colors. I forgot that have them inside of me. I forgot that if I want them, I have to make them happen. And… maybe friendship isn’t something you have… but something you do. It’s something I do. Can do. Will do!”

She gave a chuckle. “I’ve been so worried about losing the ‘Rainbow’ that I forgot the ‘Dash’. And something tells me one will follow the other.”

She looked down at Ponyville once more as dawn broke over it, and she smiled. Wings still folded to her sides, she tipped forward on her hooves and fell off the cloud, going into a freefall through the Ponyville airspace. As she fell, she looked up at a cloud that had once borne a griffon. It was now unoccupied.

With a smile, she turned her gaze earthwards, challenging the ground as it rose to meet her. Her friends needed her, and damned if she wasn’t going to be there for them. She spread her wings and gave them a flap, and another, and another. A laugh tore from her throat as she dove, the joy of flight embracing her for the first time since the Graying began.

In the east, the sun was peeking into the sky, gray light pouring over the horizon and bathing Ponyville. But whereas the grayness had once been a wet blanket draped across her figure, now it was a challenge, and Rainbow looked it square in the eye.

She continued to flap her wings. The air screamed around her, tugged at her, tried to suck the air from her lungs. Everything bent and threatened to tear, but she didn’t back down. Not anymore. Because she was Rainbow Dash, and she was back.

The sky over Ponyville exploded.

* * * *

Applejack saw it. She was seated at her windowsill after a restless night’s sleep, tying her mane back into her trademark ponytail for another day of harvesting. That’s what she was supposed to do, anyway. But then the earth rumbled, and she raised her eyes. There, towards Ponyville, a massive ring of colors spread across the sky. She dropped the hair tie she’d been holding in her teeth and stared. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn that the apples all across the orchard caught the light and shone red for the briefest moment.

Fluttershy saw it. She was pouring food into one of the many bowls in her kitchen, bags under her eyes and her mane frayed. All around her, animals milled and chattered anxiously, barely controllable. Then all the noise was overpowered by a massive blasting sound that rattled the window panes. The animals started briefly, but then came to a sudden stop. Fluttershy, who had been as startled as any of them, followed their eyes and watched the bands of color in the sky with the same expression of wonder. For the first time in more than a day, her cottage was utterly still and silent.

Rarity saw it. She was seated at her kitchen table. With one hoof, she scribbled designs on a notepad; several balls of paper littered the floor beneath her. In the other hoof, a cup of coffee to cushion her lack of rest. The explosion knocked her formerly red glasses right off the bridge of her muzzle, and she nearly fell off her chair. Looking up, her mouth fell open at the sight of rainbows screaming across the sky. Her eyes widened, reflecting the beauty of the sight.

Pinkie saw it. In fact, she was almost directly below it. She sat on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by thousands of paper penguins. Gummy was helping—if by ‘helping’ one meant ‘chewing one of the penguins to a black-and-white spitball’. The explosion was enough to lift Pinkie bodily off the floor, only to deliver her back to it with a thump that sent her sprawling on her back. Through the windows, she saw colors rippling across the sky in all directions. With a gasp, she got to her hooves and ran to her balcony, throwing open the doors and walking out to the spectacle. She smiled, and the smile grew and grew. She brought her hooves to her face, and her mane instantly poofed back to its usual shape. Through the smile, she managed to whisper, “Way to go, Dashie…”

And Twilight…

Twilight was sitting on her haunches, looking at the meteorite and pondering the elements of harmony. That is, until a strange fluctuation of the light caught her attention. Turning around, she saw the distant blaze of the sonic rainboom, expanding silently. It took several seconds for the actual boom to reach her, but even from this distance it shook the ground.

She worked her mouth for some seconds, struggling to form words. “I… That… How?” Finally, slowly, a smile crept across her lips. “Rainbow Dash…?”

Spike and Zecora—woken, she presumed, by the noise—came running up to her, following her gaze and mimicking her slack-jawed expression as they took in the colors in the distance.

“Is… is that a sonic rainboom?” Spike asked.

Twilight could only nod.

“But, what does this mean? How can this be?” Zecora spoke up, her eyes wide. “Everything else is gray as far as I can see!”

“That’s a good point,” Spike said. “How can that be in color when everything else is still color-less?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight admitted. “Unless…” She turned to the meteorite, squinting at it in, literally, a new light. Then, her eyes began to widen, realization dawning alongside the morning. She looked back to the rainboom as it began to fade, leaving only gray skies in its wake. “Can it be…?”

“Can what be, Twi?”

Her eyes darted back and forth, as if reading a book only she could see. “You’re right, Spike. It doesn’t make sense that the rainboom would be in color while everything else is the same. Unless, that is, we were thinking about the meteorite’s effects backwards.” She swallowed, searching for the right words to explain. “If the meteorite were only affecting us at an individual, one-on-one level, then it wouldn’t matter what happened externally to us; we would still see what the meteorite wants us to see. But if the meteorite—bear with me, here—if it affected us collectively, as a group, then it might be different.”

Spike, clearly struggling to keep up: “What do you mean?”

“Magic is everywhere, and in everything—connected by leylines. That goes for our minds, too. Now… we the know the meteorite is tapping into and manipulating the leylines, but what I hadn’t considered before now that is that maybe it’s affecting the relationships between things within its field of influence. Through this ‘network’ it’s created, it may very well have made a sort of shared illusion. The Graying isn’t just our individual inability to see color, but our inability as a community to see it.”

“Alright, I think I understand,” Spike said, not sounding very sure of his own statement. “But… what about the rainboom, then?”

“Well, what would happen if something broke free of the shared illusion? For example, a pony who somehow rejected the meteorite’s influence? Would we still see that pony as gray?”

“So… what? That was Rainbow Dash, right? Does that mean she ‘broke free’?”

“As tired as I am of saying this, I don’t know. It’s just a theory, but it’s the only one that makes sense, all things considered.”

“Is there a way to make use of this fact? To return the colors we all lack?”

“Maybe, Zecora. There may very well be a way to turn the tables.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Spike asked.

Twilight considered the meteorite anew, the way one might look across a chessboard at an opponent who’d made a grave mistake. “I think I just might. So far, I’ve been trying to get into the meteorite directly, following the leylines as they vanish into its mana field. But maybe if I follow them into the network instead, I can find a way to use it against the meteorite—find a back door, or something. If so, though… that back door will probably be in my own mind.”

Spike audibly gulped. “That sounds a little risky, Twilight. Are you sure?”

She smiled at him. “I am, Spike. I have to try if I want to fix this whole thing. And besides,”—she looked to the now empty sky towards Ponyville—“it seems that Rainbow had some kind of breakthrough. I think I’m overdue for one, too.”

With one final nod to Spike and Zecora, Twilight kneeled before the meteorite and moved her horn as close to it as she could. Once again, she tapped into the leylines in the area, but instead of trying to move into the meteorite’s manafield, the followed the leylines being affected by the meteorite as they spread outward—miles and miles of channels, perhaps millions of them. The network opened up to her like a vast spider’s web of energy as far as her mind could reach. And flowing through it all: The now-familiar drone of the meteorite’s ‘signal’.

With all the network at the tips of her hooves, she turned her attention inwards, sensing her own placement within the network. She found herself in the unusual position of looking into her own thoughts as if from the perspective of an outside observer, and slipped into them.

And everything went dark.

Spike and Zecora gasped as Twilight went limp against the ground. They ran to her side and looked her over, finding her unconscious and unresponsive. They took some small relief in the fact that her horn was still glowing, giving small, consistent, gray-tinted pulses.

Giving each other worried glances, the two of them continued to watch over Twilight and the black stone as day broke over the Everfree Forest.

* * * *

Four blue hooves set down on the gray grass just off Ponyville’s town square.

Other ponies, countless shades of gray, began to pour into the square, wandering in from alleyways and out of their homes, all summoned by the dissipating rainboom overhead. Half in fear and half in awe, they gaped at the colorful figure standing in their midst. At the head of the pack was a certain wide-eyed party mare.

“Dashie?” she asked, hopeful.

Rainbow opened her rosy eyes. Her blue wings were still extended, and a breeze wafted through her multicolored mane. She looked down at herself in approval, then turned her eyes to the colorless masses around her. Meeting Pinkie’s eyes, she smiled.

“Yay!” Pinkie tackled Rainbow with hugged her fiercely. She pulled her head back just enough to see Rainbow’s eyes. “But how?”

“I followed your advice, Pinks. I found my true colors.”

Pinkie giggle-snorted. “Boy, did you ever!”

They ended their hug, and Rainbow looked towards the library. “And now, I have to help Twilight find hers. It’s time to show her just how much she means to us.” She gave Pinkie a smirk. “You know what this calls for?”

The corners of Pinkie’s mouth twitched upwards. “A party?” she asked hopefully.

Rainbow simply nodded.

“But…” Pinkie mumbled. “But I tried throwing a party, remember? It’s so hard without color.”

“Well, this is an unusual situation. Maybe it calls for an unusual party, huh? C’mon! You’re Pinkie Pie. You’re not gonna let something like this stop you from making ponies happy, are you? If in doubt: think penguins.”

Pinkie’s eyes widened, and for a fraction of second, Rainbow thought she saw a speckle of blue in them.

“You can count on me, Dashie!” With that, Pinkie took off to Sugarcube Corner to begin planning.

“Now that’s more like it!”

As more crowds began to gather and gawk at the sole island of color in the midst of town, Rainbow looked up. “Just you wait, Twi. I’m gonna make it up to you, and then some.”

And with that, she took to the sky in a colorful blur.

6

Twilight found herself floating through a sea of nothingness. She saw nothing, she heard nothing, and, with the exception of a permeating cold, she felt nothing. She opened her mouth and called, “Hello?!” But the emptiness dampened the sound of her voice, like water poured over a flame. “Where am I?!”

With no warning whatsoever, she felt her hooves come in contact with something solid. She yelped, flailing her hooves awkwardly until they stood flat on the sudden surface beneath her.

That’s when she realized she had her eyes closed.

Opening them, she saw a road beneath her, white bricks and black mortar. She slowly, hesitantly raised her eyes, and found a massive gate, vaguely familiar, standing before her. She gulped, then moved towards it. Her hoofsteps rang like hammers against stone, unreasonably loud, yet with no echo.

As she approached the gate, she raised a hoof to push it open, only for the massive black doors to swing open of their own accord. When she saw what was on the other side, her mouth fell open in surprise.

“Canterlot…”

Except, it wasn’t. Everything was black and white—not gray, but literally black, and literally white. She stepped through the gate and into a square, her eyes raising to look at the bizarre buildings looming above her. Stretching over everything, a white sky filled with tiny black stars. There were no ponies to be seen; no sound, no movement.

She did the first thing that came to mind: She got her bearings, and set off in the direction of her family home. She walked as quietly as she could through the empty, two-toned streets, eyes darting back and forth—half in hope, half in fear.

* * * *

“I can’t believe none of ya saw it!” Applejack said before shoveling another forkful of pancakes into her mouth and masticating with abandon. “It was plum amazin’, it was!”

“Well, I heard it,” Apple Bloom said with a pout. “I thought the barn had ‘sploded again, or somethin’. Scared me somethin’ awful!”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac supplied with a chuckle.

Granny Smith kept her eyes on the newspaper in front of her. There, on the front page, was a large photograph of the rainboom in full color. “Must’ve been a sight to see,” she opined. “My fool self slept through the whole thing. Musta been something special what did that.”

There were three knocks against the front door, and the family turned as one to look.

“Well, I wonder who’d be stoppin’ by this early?” Granny Smith said.

Applejack got up to find out, trotting to the door and opening it. And then, the newspaper was no longer the most colorful thing in the room. Four sets of wide eyes fell on Rainbow Dash standing at the door, blue as the day she was born.

“Good morning, everypony,” she said with a beaming smile.

“R-Rainbow!” Applejack looked her friend over from head to hoof, then slowly took off her hat. “Land’s sakes, look at ya! That…” She met her friend’s eyes. “That really was you, wasn’t it? This mornin'? I thought it had to be, but…”

“It was me, alright,” Rainbow said with a devilish smirk. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then… why are ya here, sugarcube?”

“Well, Pinkie Pie’s getting a little party together for Twilight. Y’know, to make it up to her for missing the meteor shower and all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep!” She looked at the entire family now. “I was just wondering if you’d be willing to do the catering.”

Applejack opened her mouth, then closed it, glancing back at her family before turning to Rainbow again. “But… I thought you said Pinkie was throwin’ the party.”

“Oh, she is. But she’s got her hooves full with all the organizing and decorating and what-not. The party’s tonight, so we’re kinda on-the-clock, and if somepony else could just look after the grub, it’d help lots. And who better than you guys? Twilight loves your baking!”

Applejack averted her eyes. “I dunno, sugarcube. I don’t think I’d be much hel—” Her words choked off when she saw a blue hoof rest on her shoulder.

“Please, Applejack? I really need your help. For Twilight.” She gave Applejack a hopeful smile. “Can I count on you?”

Applejack’s face bore a pained expression for a fraction of a second, then she looked past Rainbow at the orchards. Even now, she remembered the rainboom, and the way it had lit up the apple trees. Biting her lip, she turned and looked at her family. One by one, the other members of the Apple family smiled and gave her a nod. When she turned back to Rainbow, Applejack was smiling too.

“Yeah, darlin’. You can count on me. On all of us. We’ll whip up the biggest table o’ vittles you ever did see.”

“Thanks, Applejack,” Rainbow said, holding out her hoof.

With a sniffle and a chuckle, Applejack bumped it with her own. “Think nothin’ of it. Now, I guess we’d better get to bakin’, y’all.”

With one final smile in Rainbow’s direction, Applejack turned around and began to close the door. Just before the door shut, Rainbow thought she caught a glimpse of red on Applejack’s flank.

Rainbow turned around and looked back towards town. “This… This might just work!” With a chuckle and a flap, she lifted into the air. “Alright, that’s one down.”

* * * *

Twilight knocked on the door to her house, and like the gates to the city, it opened on its own. She walked into the foyer cautiously, glancing across the black-and-white caricature of her childhood home.

“Hello?” she called. “Mom? Dad? Shining? Is anypony home?”

There was no answer. She made her way to the stairs and ascended them, taking the familiar route to her old bedroom. Mom had always kept it the same for her, even after Twilight moved out. It had always comforted her that, no matter what else changed in the world, her bedroom would always be waiting for her, should she need it.

So it was that the complete absence of anything in her bedroom was more than a little jarring to her. Gone was her bed and her well-used writing desk. Gone were the books and the lab set that her parents had gotten her for her thirteenth birthday. It was just a room now.

She looked across it dull eyes, then, with a sigh, closed the door and made her way back downstairs. She decided to make one final sweep of the house before she left. The living room, the kitchen, the family library—all of it: lifeless and unfurnished.

She made her way into the dining room, by now thoroughly dejected. Then, she screamed.

There, in the dining room, was a black, square table, and around it, three ghostly, black-and-white ponies. In spite of everything, she knew them by their shapes: her parents and brother.

“Oh my gosh, you’re here!” she ran to them. “What’s going on?”

None of them answered, or even looked at her. Twilight became aware of a fourth, unoccupied chair on one side of the table, and somewhat reluctantly took a seat.

“You have to help me!” she pleaded her family. “I don’t know where I am! This is like Canterlot, but… not. It’s more like a dream. Or a nightmare.” She buried her face in her hooves. “Oh, I wish I was back with Spike. And… and Zecora… and…”

She gasped, eyes opening wide. “That’s right! The meteorite! How could I have forgotten? Am I in the meteorite’s mana field?” Her eyebrows furrowed. “But… no, that can’t be right. How could the meteorite know about all this?” She gestured to her ‘family’. “Unless… this is my own mind. Yes! I remember now! I used the network to access my own mind, in the hopes that through it I could tap into the meteorite.” She held onto both temples with her hooves. “But… how do I do that, exactly?”

With a sigh, she looked down at the plate in front of her, finding it empty.

“I really wish I could see you guys again,” she said to her pseudo-family. “For real, though. I feel so los—” Her words cut off as she looked up.

The table, formerly a square, now stretched clear across the dining room, disappearing through the doorway to the kitchen. Raising an eyebrow, Twilight climbed down from her chair and followed the elongated table into the kitchen to where it ended at three unoccupied seats. On the floor, black hoofprints led out the back door.

With a confused shrug, and she followed the tracks out of her home.

* * * *

Fluttershy tried her best not to sob. After a brief respite following the sonic rainboom, the animals had been more anxious than ever. As before, they refused to listen to her. She had begged. She had pleaded. A few times she had resorted to using the Stare. And, in one instance that would no doubt keep her up at night for some time to come, she even raised her voice at a bunny. She was utterly at the end of her wits.

Suddenly, like magic, all the animals in her home came to a stop and fell silent. She watched as they looked around in confusion, then turned their heads as one to the front door.

A moment of silence passed, followed by a knock.

Raising an eyebrow, Fluttershy made her way across the room, stepping around animals in her path, until she got to the front door. Opening it, color fell into her home. Her first instinct was to squint, as if it were a beam of sunlight. But it wasn’t. It was Rainbow Dash, rainbow and all.

“Rainbow?” Her voice like stepping onto a frozen lake. “Oh my gosh…”

“Hey, Flutters,” Rainbow said casually. “You got a minute?”

Fluttershy looked over her shoulder at the animals, all of whom were standing at attention, staring at Rainbow with wide, mystified eyes. “Rainbow, how are you doing that?”

“Mmm? You mean the animals? Just my natural charisma, I guess,” she said with a grin. “So, anyway... You remember that scarf I lent you a while back?”

Fluttershy finally tore her eyes away from the dumbstruck animals. “Y-yes…?”

“Well, could you get it for me?”

“But…” She leaned to the side, looked past Rainbow to the world outside. “It’s not even cold.”

“Pretty please?”

“A-alright.” Giving Rainbow a skeptical look, Fluttershy turned around and fluttered up the stairs to her bedroom.

Once she was out of earshot, Rainbow turned to the animals. “Okay, you guys. I know that the color thing has gotten all of you worked up. And I can sympathize. Believe me. But it’s time to get ahold of yourselves and behave.” She leaned forward, giving them the fiercest glare she could. “You’re making Fluttershy feel really bad, so I want you to listen to her, capisce?”

The animals didn’t move. That is, until one of them stepped forward: a squirrel, looking at Rainbow with black hole eyes.

“Oh, it’s you…” Rainbow said uneasily. “Nuthanial, right? The one who wouldn’t quit staring at me before?"

The squirrel didn’t so much as chitter, instead looking Rainbow over appraisingly. Finally, his little squirrel lips gave a tiny smile, and he winked at Rainbow.

Nuthaniel turned around and began barking at all the other animals. Rainbow didn’t know what he said, but whatever it was, it seemed to do the trick. The animals nodded amongst themselves, and Nuthaniel turned back to Rainbow with a crisp salute.

“A-alright, then!” she said, shrugging off the weirdness of the proceedings. “Fluttershy bends over backwards to pamper you guys. Now, it’s time to pay her back.”

“Did you say something, Rainbow?” Fluttershy asked as she glided back downstairs and held the scarf out to Rainbow.

“N-nothing!” She took the scarf and awkwardly wrapped it around her neck, then flashed Fluttershy an unsteady smile.

Fluttershy eyed her closely. “Are you feeling okay, Rainbow?”

“What? Oh! Yeah, never better. Thanks for returning the scarf.” She turned around and took one step outside. “Oh, and one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“We’re throwing a party for Twilight tonight, and I was wondering if your songbird choir could perform? Maybe sing some of Twilight’s favorite songs?”

Fluttershy wilted. “Well, I don’t know. I mean, it sounds like an awfully sweet gesture for Twilight and all. But, the critters haven’t been listening to me at all lately.”

Rainbow smiled over her shoulder. “Oh, I think they’ll come around.”

* * * *

The hoofprints came to an abrupt end. Twilight puzzled over this for a moment, then looked up. Before her was a familiar sight—comforting, even, were it not for its somber appearance. A sign above the door read: Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

Twilight approached the building and entered. It was smaller than she remembered, but maybe that was natural. She had only studied at the school itself a few years before she went to live at the palace, and since then she’d become a full-grown mare.

Even so, little remembered things flashed through her mind as she made her way down the hall. The doors on either side of the hall opened as she passed them, then closed once she was gone. Here was Professor Bond’s chemistry class. There was Professor Maze’s magical theory class. And over there was the room where she’d gotten her cutie mark. It all came back to her like water droplets falling into a frying pan. Of course, the school hadn’t been so empty back then. And, in a way, it had. The only difference between Twilight and the lonely little filly who’d wandered these halls years ago was that she wasn’t little anymore. This was a place of knowledge, not of friendship. Thus it would ever be in her memories.

She came to a stop outside one of the doors, and she actually smiled. Professor Nova’s astronomy classroom. Twilight’s favorite class. She entered the open door and looked around. On the chalkboard, somepony had drawn a little model of the solar system. They’d gotten it wrong, though. Too many planets.

Twilight walked to the chalkboard and, levitating an eraser, wiped away the solar system, missing only the outermost planet, off to the side.

Lifting a piece of chalk in her telekinesis, she began to re-do the solar system, but as soon as she drew a mark on the blackboard, a ray of white light burst from it. She squinted against it, then looked into the opening like a peephole.

There was something on the other side.

She erased the mark, then began to draw a new one, a large circle, scratching a line of light into the dark surface of the chalkboard. Once the circle was complete, the entire inside of it turned white and fell away, leaving a hole in the chalkboard and directly through the wall behind it. Twilight, wide-eyed, tentatively stepped up to the hole and looked through.

Then, she gasped. For on the other side of the hole in the blackboard was one of the rooms of the Canterlot Archives. She looked left. She looked right. Then, she gave an unsteady flap of her wings and passed through the hole.

* * * *

“I must say, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said around the pins she held in her teeth. “This party sounds like just what the doctor ordered. And not just for Twilight, either, though the poor thing certainly deserves it. But I think the whole town could use a little celebration.”

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow said absently, fidgeting.

“Please, darling. Hold still. I want to make sure that it fits you.”

Bolts of fabric, gray though they were, lay strewn about the floor, selected to make the dress that now adorned Rainbow’s vibrant form. Rarity squinted as she made the final alterations, fitting the sleek dress to Rainbow’s figure.

“Though,” Rarity added, “I am surprised you asked me for a dress.”

“Well, y’know,” Rainbow muttered with all the patience she could muster. “It’s a party and all. And I don’t mind getting cleaned up from time to time.” Her ears drooped. “Besides, I knew you’d enjoy it. And after the way I acted yesterday, you deserve it.”

Rarity clucked her tongue. “Darling, please. You’ve already apologized for that. Let’s just put it behind us and focus on the festivities ahead, shall we?”

“But I was such a jerk!”

“Yes, well… none of us have been at our best since this whole situation began. Though, I have to say, you’ve handled yourself quite well.” She gestured at Rainbow’s body. “You’re positively radiant! Thank you ever so much for letting me make you a dress. With your coloration, it’s always a treat, yet you seldom give me the opportunity. It’s very generous of you.”

Rainbow hummed. “Well, I learned from the best.”

Rarity met her eyes, then gave the tiniest of smiles. She returned to her work for a moment or two. “Annnnd, there! All done! What do you think?”

She directed Rainbow to a nearby mirror, and the pegasus did a double-take. Even she had to admit that the dress was beautiful. How Rarity got those colorless fabrics to complement her own colors so well, she’d never know.

“Wow, Rares! I don’t usually go in for this frou-frou stuff, but I have to admit, I look good.”

“I don’t think I can take all the credit for that,” Rarity replied with a satisfied smile.

Then, Rarity noticed Rainbow staring into the mirror with her mouth open. “What is it? Is something wrong?” She followed Rainbow’s gaze to the mirror, then froze as her eyes met Rainbow’s in its reflective surface.

“Rarity?” Rainbow reached a hoof to the mirror and turned it. “You ought to see this.”

The mirror turned to face her, and it took Rarity a moment to register what she was seeing. Namely, herself—purple mane, blue eyes, and everything.

“My… my colors! They’re back?” She looked at Rainbow, her eyes rapidly filling with tears. “But… how?”

“Same way I got mine back, I guess,” Rainbow said with a cryptic smile. “Well, I guess I’d better go check up on the preparations. You’ll be there, right?”

Rarity approached Rainbow and gave her a nuzzle. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Once Rainbow’s dress was wrapped and she was gone, Rarity returned to the mirror and gave her reflection a more thorough examination. Then, she shuddered. “Ugh, I’ve really let myself go. I’ve got to do something about my mane!”

* * * *

Twilight never thought it would happen, but she was lost in the Canterlot archives. She’d been in this building too many times to count, knew its layout like the back of her hoof. And yet, she was lost. Perhaps it was merely her wounded pride making excuses for her, but she could swear that the shelves were moving. And the books themselves were no help; none of them had any titles on their spines or pictures on their covers. And the inside of the books…

She stopped and picked a random book off the shelf. Opening it, she found a map of Equestria, dark except for a white ring which seemed to expand slowly as she watched, millimeter by millimeter. She closed the book and continued on, moving to the next row of shelves.

As she walked, she heard a grinding sound behind her. She whipped her head around, finding that the way she’d just come from was now a dead end.

“Aha!” she yelled at the shelf, pointing at it. “I knew it! You are moving!”

The bookcase remained silent, and Twilight’s hoof fell to the ground with an anticlimactic clack. With an embarrassed, frustrated huff, she turned and continued on her way.

After a while, she selected another book and opened it. Inside, two large, illustrated ponies—Saddle Arabians, judging by their dress—stood on a platform under the open stars, with a telescope between them. The one on the right was black, and the other white. As Twilight stared at the picture, a high-pitched whine rose in a violent crescendo until she closed the book to silence it. She replaced it on the shelf, then backed away slowly.

She almost yelped when her rump bumped into the shelf behind her. She turned, finding that the shelf only had one book. With a trembling hoof, she lifted it and looked inside. There, she found a diagram of a solar system—the same incorrect one from the chalkboard. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned the page, finding an artist’s impression of a planet.

Twilight froze as she looked at it, drifting off into a daze. She didn’t know how much time passed before she snapped out of it, finding tears in her eyes. Closing the book quickly, she placed it on the shelf.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she found her gaze drawn to the right. At the end of the aisle, a shelf rose up, commanding her attention. On dragging hooves, she made her way to the lone shelf, and, as if with a mind of its own, her hoof reached out and pulled on one of the books. With a click, the entire shelf swung inward, revealing a dark tunnel.

Twilight gaped at the opening, then shone some light into it from her horn. The darkness simply swallowed it up. After one last glance behind her at the Archives, Twilight gulped and stepped into the tunnel.

* * * *

It was easily the weirdest party scheme Rainbow had ever seen.

The entirely of town square had been set aside for the event. Alternating black and white lanterns were strung over the square, and at the center lay a dance floor consisting of alternative black and white squares. Tables were in the process of being set up, each of them covered with white-polkadotted black table cloths and the occasional origami penguin. And Pinkie…

“No, the buffet table needs to go on the other side. Thank you!”

The pink party mare—for she was, in fact, pink once more—was a blur from one spot to the next, overseeing the little militia of party-helpers she had seemingly recruited right off the streets of Ponyville. She finally spotted Rainbow and ran to her in a flash, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Dashie! How’s everything look?”

Rainbow looked over the scene. “Well, it’s odd. But you know what? Somehow, it works! Great job, Pinks!”

Pinkie squee’d. “And what about you? How are the others?”

“I was just at Rarity’s—she’s got her colors back, too, by the way—and got her to make me a dress for tonight. She’ll be here, and so will Fluttershy. She’s rounding up her bird choir to sing for Twi. And Applejack…”

“Here I am!” the farm pony in question called, trotting into the square with a wagon full of baked goods in tow. Her golden coat shone in the sun, and a pair of green eyes peered out from under her still-gray stetson. “Got enough food here to feed a small army,” she said through a chuckle.

“Great!” Rainbow said, giving Applejack a knowing nod. She turned to Pinkie Pie. “Looks like everything’s coming together. Keep up the good work!”

“And what about you, Dashie?”

“Me?” Rainbow said, her expression sobering. After a gulp, she replied, “I’d better go talk with Twilight now.”

* * * *

Twilight was just starting to consider turning around when she spotted a light at the end of the tunnel. With a small gasp, she began to walk faster, then to gallop, until she finally exited the tunnel and stepped out into…

The atrium of the royal palace. She slowed to a stop, looking around.

“Funny, I don’t remember…” She turned around, and the tunnel was gone. “Obviously,” she said with a snort.

By now, Twilight was getting used to the two-tone color scheme of… whatever this place really was. But even so, the palace seemed far more intimidating like this than any other place she had been to so far. The ceiling seemed to tower hundreds and hundreds of feet above her, and her hoofsteps filled the expansive space like the sound of cannon fire. Especially disconcerting was the lack of guards. There were always guards, even at night.

For want of somewhere better to go, she made her way to the throne room. She didn’t know why she bothered. It’s not like she expected anything to be there.

Imagine her surprise when she opened the doors and there sat Celestia on the throne.

“Princess!” she gasped, smiling widely as she began to gallop across the room. She came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne, and only then truly registered the princess’ appearance. Her coat was pitch black, and her white mane fluttered in the solar winds. Her eyes—white—had no pupils, yet seemed to be directed slightly downward, at a chessboard set up on a table before her throne. An empty seat was positioned across from her.

“Princess?”

The shadowy alicorn neither replied nor acknowledged Twilight at all.

“Please! You have to help me! I think this is a part of my mind, but… it’s like it’s being affected by the meteorite’s magic. I think there’s some way I can find a way into its spell matrix, but I don’t know where I’m going or what to look for. Do you know anything at all I can…”

She trailed off as ‘Celestia’ continued to ignore her. With a defeated sigh, Twilight sat down at the chessboard. She turned sullen eyes to the board, finding a game already in progress.

Giving Celestia a lethargic glance, she asked, “So… is it my move?”

The larger alicorn gave no reply.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She raised a hoof and moved her bishop, no real strategy in mind but nonetheless capturing one of Celestia’s pawns.

One of the Celestia’s rooks moved of its own accord, retaliating and capturing Twilight’s bishop.

Twilight’s eyebrows furrowed, and she considered her next move with more interest. Finally, she spotted a fatal flaw in Celestia’s positioning. With a single move of her knight, she captured Celestia’s queen and, with the aid of her own queen and a rook, it was all over.

“Checkmate,” she said. “Wow, you’ve really let your game go, Princess.”

She looked up from the board, only to find that Celestia was gone. In place of her throne, a staircase stretched into the upper levels of the palace.

“Great. What now?” She got to her hooves and began climbing the stairs.

* * * *

Rainbow paced back and forth in front of the door to Twilight's library

“Okay, Rainbow," she muttered to herself. "Just be cool. It’s Twilight. She’s your friend. Just apologize and invite her to the party. No big deal.”

She regarded the door, and the closed sign hanging from its knob.

Probably closed up to do her research, she thought. Hope she doesn’t mind me interrupting her.

She raised her hoof and, after a final bout of hesitation, knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

“Twilight?” she called. “It’s Rainbow! I know you’re probably busy, but can I talk to you for a bit?” She blew a strand of her colorful mane hair away from her eyes, then blinked. “Oh, wait! And I got my colors back! Maybe that’s something that can help you!”

Still, there was no answer.

Rainbow gave a small frown. With a flap of her wings, she flew up to one of the library’s windows. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hooves, she peered inside, finding neither hide nor scale of either of the library’s inhabitants.

“Hmmm…” After a glance behind her to make sure nopony was watching, Rainbow nudged open the window and flew inside.

A quick search of the library confirmed her suspicions: No one was there.

She growled. “Great. Well, you know what? If she went out, then I’ll just sit here and wait until she gets back!”

She pulled out one of the bean-bag chairs that she liked to sit in when reading and plopped down on it, wriggling her blue rump back and forth to make it just so. Then, comfortable, she waited, watching the front door.

“I’ll wait all day if I have to,” she muttered.

Unfortunately, Rainbow's vigil as short-lived. She hadn’t slept since yesterday morning, and she found her eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute. She was asleep before she knew it.

* * * *

The staircase had taken Twilight all the way up the highest tower of the palace. She now sat on one of the higher balconies, overlooking the facsimile of Canterlot. Beyond the city’s gates, the landscape of Equestria was shrouded in shadow. Not even the mountains were visible. A white sky filled with black stars wheeled overhead, more quickly than was appropriate, but she paid it little mind, instead focusing her attention on the city.

“It’s so empty,” she mumbled. “Was it always so empty?”

No, she thought. Of course not!

That Canterlot below her was a ghost town, a mere shadow of the real thing. The real Canterlot had always been packed with ponies. Even in the loneliness of her foalhood, Twilight had always had her family, the Princess, the various teachers and fellow students and palace guards to interact with. But even so, Canterlot had always represented a lonely time in her life, a time before she’d gone to Ponyville and met the best friends a mare could ask for.

No. In her mind, Canterlot was alienation.

“But,” she considered out loud, “maybe it was worth it, if that was the path that would lead me to so much happiness.”

Except, now that happiness was slipping away from her. And had been, even before the Graying. The forces in their lives—their dreams and responsibilities—were tugging them apart, spreading them to the winds, and none of them more so than Twilight. What chance did friendship stand against such a monolithic march?

Her eyes flooded with tears, and she rubbed the wetness away with a hoof.

“… … …”

Twilight’s eyes flew open. A voice—like something out of a memory—echoed from the darkened distance, so achingly faint that she couldn’t make out the words. She looked, and there, in the shadows, about where she’d expect Ponyville to be, a ghostly blue glow was visible.

“What in the…” she whispered.

“… … …”

“Hello?!” Twilight called in response. “I can’t understand you!”

Suddenly, the entire world—if it deserved to be called such—gave a powerful, unyielding lurch, like a rattle being given one firm shake. A familiar drone rang through the white skies, drowning out the calling voice. The bluish glow vanished with finality.

* * * *

Rainbow woke suddenly, sitting upright in the bean bag chair and finding herself in the dim, quiet emptiness of the library.

“Twilight?” She looked around the library, but found it empty still, other than herself. “Huh. I could’ve sworn I heard Twilight. Must’ve been a dream.” She rubbed her eyes, then looked to the window, seeing that it was nearly dark outside. “Whoa! I gotta get to the party!”

She found some paper and a quill at Twilight’s writing desk and scribbled out a quick, sloppily-mouthwritten note:

“Dear Twilight,

“If you get this, come on over to the town square. We’ve got a surprise for you!”

She considered the note for a moment. Nothing fancy, but then she never was one for words. She chewed on the quill for a moment, then signed:

“Your friend, Rainbow Dash.”

She left the note on the desk with the horsehead statue, where Twilight was sure to find it. She left the same way she’d come in, shutting the window behind her.

* * * *

Twilight didn’t know how long she sat there, waiting for the voice to call out to her again. With each passing second, she felt her wings drooping ever more to her sides.

That voice, whatever it had been, had stirred something deep inside of her. Something good. Something her heart had forgotten how to feel. And now it was gone, drowned out and swallowed up by the meteorite’s magic. Even now, the drone continued, softer now, more soothing, like the song of a siren.

“It must’ve been nothing…” she muttered. “Another hallucination, maybe.”

Without moving her wings, Twilight felt her hooves leave the balcony, like a balloon cut loose of its string. She felt herself being pulled upwards, but she couldn’t be bothered to care much. She merely watched with resigned eyes as the city sank into the darkness below her. For the briefest instant, through some trick of perspective, the streets of Canterlot fell into an alignment not unlike a solar system.

Then, Canterlot disappeared in the shadows, leaving Twilight drifting upwards. She looked up to see one of the black stars drawing nearer. Except, as she did, she noticed that it wasn’t a star at all, but something like a hole, punched into the white dome of the sky. She felt a cold fear pass through her, but couldn’t muster the strength to resist as she was pulled through the hole and into a more complete darkness than she had ever thought possible.

* * * *

Bon Bon listlessly made her way to the buffet table and began pouring two cups of fruit punch. She ran tired eyes over the party decorations and couldn’t help but give an amused snort at the weirdness of it all. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t bring herself to smile.

She felt a hoof tap her on the shoulder. Turning to look, she nearly dropped her punch at the sight of Rainbow Dash in all her colorful glory, accentuated in all the right places by a sleek dress.

“Hey, Bon Bon,” Rainbow said. “You and Lyra still not talking?”

Having recovered from her surprise, Bon Bon’s posture sagged. “As a matter of fact, we’re not.”

“Mind if I give you a suggestion?”

“What’s that?”

“What you oughta do is walk up to Lyra and…” She whispered into the earth pony’s ear, and Bon Bon felt herself blush slightly.

As Rainbow pulled away, Bon Bon met her eyes, bit her lip, and cast a hopeful look across the party to where Lyra sat dejectedly at a table, idly fiddling with an origami penguin. She looked back at Rainbow and gave a small nod.

Rainbow watched as Bon Bon made her way across the party and back to their table, setting the punch down and sitting beside Lyra. After a moment for mustering courage, Bon Bon leaned over and gave Lyra a ferocious, passionate kiss. Lyra froze, eyes wide in surprise, but then—slowly, tentatively—she began to return the kiss. This public display of affection was met with everything from smiles and whoops to rolled eyes and small frowns, but the two mares paid no mind, giving and receiving everything they felt for each other in a moment that belonged only to them.

Finally, their kiss ended. They pulled apart and slowly opened their eyes, blue and gold eyes meeting. The crowd’s reaction was now a unanimous applause, and the two once-more colorful mares hugged each other, each hungry for the other’s presence.

Bon Bon’s misty eyes met Rainbow’s from across the party, mouthing a silent word of thanks before nuzzling into the unicorn’s neck. Rainbow smiled, gave her a nod, and turned away to give them some privacy. Instead, she looked out across the party, little points of color strewn here and there.

"It's working..." Rainbow whispered with a grin.

“There you are, darling!” Rarity called, approaching with an orange Applejack and yellow Fluttershy in tow. The fashionista looked back and forth before asking, “So, where’s Twilight?”

Rainbow sighed, rubbing one foreleg with the other. “I dunno. She wasn’t at the library. I even waited for a while, but it started getting late. I left her a note, but…”

“Yeah,” Pinkie said, startling them with her sudden presence by their side, “I went by the library earlier, too, to give Twilight a snack. But no one answered.”

“I wonder where she could be,” Applejack said.

“The poor dear’s probably working tirelessly to solve the Graying.”

“Well, if that’s the case, something tells me she’ll really want to show up for the party, then,” Pinkie said, gesturing to all their colorful forms.

“I guess there’s nothin’ we can do but wait and hope she shows up.”

With a nod of agreement, the five of them dispersed, spreading out into the party to mingle. Rainbow hung back a moment by the buffet table, looking off into the night.

“C’mon, Twi. Where are you?”

* * * *

“Where am I?” Twilight’s voice asked idly, echoing into the void around her. Everything was dark and silent and still—as if there was nothing there at all. Just her, hanging limply in zero gravity, with only her loneliness to keep her company.

After who-knows-how long, she reached a decision.

“It’s better this way. Trying so hard to hold onto everything just ends up making things worse. Maybe the fewer attachments I have, the less it’ll hurt when separation comes.”

But, if that was true, why was she so unhappy? So cold inside? Why did she feel like she was already dead? How could the avoidance of pain, itself, be a cause of pain?

“Please,” she whispered to herself, because who else was there to hear it? “Please, anyone. I don’t want to be alone anymore…”

Her pleas were met with cold, unfathomable indifference, older than time itself.

She wept silently into the nothingness.

7

[Use of the "dark" setting under the formatting button is recommended]

Four ponies stood outside the door to Twilight's library, waiting with as much patience as they could. Finally, the door unlocked, opening to reveal Rainbow Dash standing inside. She motioned with her hoof, and they all stepped into the library.

Rarity flicked on the lights with her magic. “I suppose she’s still gone, then?”

“Seems that way,” Rainbow replied. She glanced at the table in the middle, where her note still leaned against the horsehead statue. “Doesn’t look like she’s even been back at all yet.”

“You don’t reckon she went to Canterlot, do ya?”

“Without telling us?”

“Well, she went somewhere without tellin’ us!”

“And she missed the party we threw for her…” Pinkie said quietly.

Fluttershy put her hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder. “It’s not her fault, Pinkie Pie. It’s not like she knew we were throwing the party. Besides, it looks like she’s been gone for a while.”

“It's probably karma for missing the meteor shower,” Rainbow said with a humorless chuckle.

“Girls?” Rarity spoke up from the side of the room. “I don’t suppose any of you stopped by and had tea with Twilight sometime in the past two days, have you?”

The others exchanged glances, then shook their heads.

“No, why?” Applejack spoke for them.

Rarity pointed to one of the library’s reading areas, where two cups of tea and two cushions were positioned. “I remember messes, girls, and that wasn’t there the morning the Graying started. It seems our Twilight had a visitor sometime since we saw her last.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So…” Rarity replied in a long, drawn-out tone, “Maybe whoever came to visit knows where she is, or perhaps is even with her now!”

“Makes sense, I guess. But how are we supposed to know who it was?”

“Or—hello?—maybe it was Spike!”

“No, Spike doesn’t care for tea,” Rarity said.

“Oh…”

“You know, I was just thinking,” Fluttershy said. “Wherever Twilight is, she probably left sometime yesterday. If she had been in town when the rainboom happened, surely she would’ve come to investigate.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that!” Pinkie gasped.

Rainbow rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “So, what now, then? We just sit on our hooves and wait for her to come back?”

“Well, what else can we do, darling?”

“But what if she’s in trouble!”

Rarity bit her lip, averting her eyes from Rainbow’s.

“Now, let’s not get at each other’s throats, here,” Applejack said, stepping between them. “Let’s go about this practical-like. I say we stay here tonight, just in case she comes back. And, if’n she doesn’t, then tomorrow we can ask around. Maybe even see if we can get in touch with Princess Celestia. I reckon somepony has to have some idea where she is.”

“I agree with Applejack,” Fluttershy opined.

“You know,” Rainbow said quietly. “I almost forgot. I ran into Scootaloo yesterday, and she told me she had run into Spike. According to him, Twilight was close to some kind of breakthrough. I wonder if that has anything to do with it. Not that it helps us, I guess…” She looked at the others, then turned away. “I just hope she’s alright.”

“We all do, sugarcube.”

“I promise you, darling: We’ll find her somehow, and when we do, we’ll do what we can to help her. But until then, we’ll just have to trust that Twilight can take care of herself. She’s certainly proven herself to be more than capable over the years.”

“Plus, she’s an alicorn now, so that can’t hurt!” Pinkie added.

“I guess,” Rainbow sighed. “It just stinks, you know? We hurt her feelings by not being there for her. And now? She might need us… and we’re still now there for her.”

An awkward silence filled the library.

Mostly to keep their minds off their friend’s absence, they got to work making a late supper for themselves and getting the spare bed out of storage. They tried to stay up as late as possible, hopeful that Twilight might return. But the fact that none of them had slept well the night before worked against their good intentions. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, only Rainbow remained awake.

She lay in Twilight’s bed, listening to Fluttershy’s gentle breathing beside her as she gazed out the window at the stars.

“Wherever you are, Twi,” she whispered, “we’re thinking of you.”

As she slowly but surely slipped into the release of sleep, she barely even registered a faint sound, not in her ears, but somewhere deep in her mind: A piercing drone, concealing a calling voice.

* * * *

Time didn’t exist here. Wherever ‘here’ was. Twilight had long since given up trying to keep track of the minutes and seconds. She had given up on pretty much everything, drifting aimlessly through the empty noplace around her. She gave an echoing sigh and wiped a fresh batch of tears from her eyes.

As the indiscernible increments crept by, she became increasingly aware of faint, white points of light in the distance, like stars, only cold and dead. Whether they were actually appearing, or whether her eyes were simply adjusting to the darkness, she didn’t know. Nor did she particularly care. More pressing a concern was the actual nature of her location, and even this she regarded more with vague scientific interest than anything.

Was she still in her mind? Or had she passed into the meteorite’s mana field? Was this merely another stage in her journey, or was it a prison? She didn’t know the answers to these questions, of course. For all she knew, she was dead, and this place was the only afterlife she’d know for all eternity.

It was cold here—not just outside of her, but inside of her—an alien cold, foreign and imposed, as if willed there by something that knew nothing of love.

She had never been more lost, alone, and broken.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, turning her head to look with some distant cousin of curiosity. A black shape moved through the void, visible only by the stars it eclipsed in its passage. As she stared at it, the drone grew stronger, causing her fur to stand on end.

She found herself speaking without meaning to, whispering words that weren’t hers. “No gravity. They are gone. There is nothing anymore. There is nothing evermore.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes off the dark aperture. She felt that she might fall into it if she looked hard enough. She even felt it might be nice to fall into its embrace. It might be better than simply floating there alone.

“… … …”

With a start, moved her eyes from the black object and looked behind her. It sounded like that voice again, the one she'd heard from the tower. Was she simply imagining things?

“… … …”

No! There was a voice! One accompanied by a faint, bluish glow, at once visible and unreal. As if for the first time in eons, her heart thundered in her chest, warmth spreading through her veins. She knew what it was to hope again. Hope that someone was there, calling to her.

“Hello?! I’m here! Please, help!”

“Twilight?”

“Rainbow Dash?”

“Twilight! Whoa! Is it really you?”

“What? Is Twilight here, darling?”

“Oh my gosh! Hi Twilight!”

“But… where are you guys? All I see is these little colorful clouds.”

“I don’t rightly know, Twilight, but I sure am I glad we found ya.”

“We were so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t know how happy I am to… well, hear you. I was afraid I’d be here alone forever.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it!”

“But… how are you here?”

“That’s actually a fair question. How are we here, girls?”

“Um, where is here?”

“Again, fair question.”

“I’m not a hundred percept sure. I think we’re somewhere between my mind and the meteorite’s mana field.”

"Meteorite?"

"Meteorite?"

"Meteorite?"

"Meteorite?"

"Meteorite?"

“Oh, yeah. I guess I should explain. I found out that the Graying was caused by one of the shooting stars from the other night. It fell to the ground, and somehow it’s gotten the leylines in the area tangled up and projected a counter-harmonic signal through them, affecting our perceptions of the world around us.”

“Is anypony following this?”

“I think I get the gist of it. But where do you and your mind come into it, darling?"

“Well… to avoid as much technical jargon as possible, I found a way to tap my mind into the meteor’s magical field. Initially, it put me in some kind of bizarro replica of Canterlot. That part, I’m pretty sure, was all in my head, even if the meteor’s magic was altering it. But now, I’m not sure. This doesn’t feel like my mind.”

“But… what about us, then? Last thing I remember, we were goin' to sleep at the library."

“You’re asleep? Then… wait, why are you guys sleeping at the library?”

"We’re waiting for you, silly.”

“We didn’t know where the hay you’d gone!”

“Oh… Right…”

“… well? Don’t leave us in suspense, dear. Where are you?”

“The Everfree Forest.”

“The Everfree Forest?!”

"The Everfree Forest?!"

"The Everfree Forest?!"

"The Everfree Forest?!"

"The Everfree Forest?!"

“Um, yeah? Zecora’s the one who told me about the meteorite, and she led Spike and I out here.”

"Ohhhh! So it was Zecora!”

“I’m so, so sorry I didn’t ask you girls to come. Or, at least let you know where I was going… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You aren’t the only one asking yourself that lately, Twilight.”

“Speaking of apologies, Twi...I’m really super-sorry for forgetting the meteor shower."

“It’s fine Rainb—”

“No, it’s not, Twilight. It was really important to you, and it wasn’t cool of me to forget it like that.”

“And the rest of us apologize, too. I think I speak for all of us when I say we would rather have spent the evening with you.”

“…Really?”

"You betcha!"

"Of course, darling."

"Darn tootin'!"

"Yepperooni!"

"Certainly."

“I… I don’t know what to say. Of course, I forgive you guys. In fact, it was never you I was upset with. Not really. I was just afraid that we weren’t as good of friends as we used to be.”

“Why, whatever would make you think something so preposterous?”

“Well, it’s just… I don’t know, ever since I became a princess, I’ve been worried that things would be different and that we’d just… drift apart, you know? And it broke my heart, because I love all of you so much!”

“And we love you, too, Twilight!”

“Yeah! Why would you being a princess change that?”

“We’ve never been nothin’ but proud of everythin’ you’ve accomplished.”

“I know that. Intellectually, at least. But some irrational part of me was worried, I guess. I mean, that’s what life is, right? Change? And when none of you showed up, it seemed to make my fears a reality.”

“Twilight?”

"Yeah?"

“Things may change, but you’re crazy if you think a pair of wings and a fancy title are gonna change how we feel about you, or make us want to let you go.”

"Ditto."

"I agree with Rainbow."

"Yep!"

"She's right."

“I don't know what to say… T-thank you, girls…”

“If I had limbs right now, I’d totally give you a hug.”

"Heehee, thanks Pinkie. Like I said, I know I was being silly. I should know by now that what we have is special, and… wait, that reminds me. Rainbow?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you do a sonic rainboom, by any chance?”

“Heheh. You saw that, huh?”

“I sure did! It was amazing! In fact, it’s what gave me the idea which let me tap into the meteorite’s leyline network. But… how did you do it?”

“Well, when you fly really fast, and you’re really, really awesome…”

“I think she’s means the color, sugarcube.”

"Oh. Well, I dunno, actually. Magic’s not exactly my field. All I know is, I was feeling super down in the dumps, but then I had some sort of epigram…”

“I think you mean an ‘epiphany’, dear.”

“Yeah, one of those, too. And then I did a sonic rainboom, and the next thing I know, I’m my old, colorful self again!”

“Wait! You mean, after the rainboom, you were… ‘in color’ again?”

“Yep!”

“Actually, all of us have our colors back.”

“So... the Graying's over?”

“No, everything else is still gray. It’s just us that are back to normal.”

“Well, us and a few other ponies, too”

“That’s amazing! Did you all have epiphanies of some sort?”

"I did!"

"Most certainly."

"Eeyup."

"Me too."

“Actually, it sort of makes sense. And it might explain how you’re here.”

“How do ya figure?”

“Well… I realized that the meteorite’s magic alters our minds, especially our perceptions. That’s how it makes us see black and white. But it only really makes sense if the spell’s illusions are collective.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s linking all of our minds together, forming a sort of network, and all of us are affected unilaterally. Imagine a… a shared virtual reality. But if you guys somehow broke free of the illusion, the network would no longer affect you. You’d no longer be part of the virtual reality, and so everypony else would see you as you should be.”

“And that’s why we’re in color and nothin’ else is?”

“Exactly! Now, this is where it gets really tricky. The spell would likely still be there, in your mind, even if you aren’t susceptible to it. If anything, you’ve simply overpowered it. It’s theoretically possible that, being asleep right now, you were able to use the network, even if only unconsciously, to find me here. Maybe some part of you could even sense me.”

“But, how would that even be possible?”

“I don’t know… Magically speaking, this meteorite is something I’ve never seen before. Our models of magical theory barely seem to contain it. But it’s a working theory, at least.”

“But how were we able to break free of it?”

“I don’t know that either, unfortunately… Tell me: What about these ‘epiphanies’ you had?”

“Well, for me, it was realizing that being gray couldn’t touch who I was inside, and that I could still be awesome and inspire ponies. I realized that I was loved, and that… that I deserved to be loved, just as much as other ponies deserved my love. That we’re all so much more awesome when we’re together, and not apart.”

“And the rest of you had similar realizations?”

"For the most part."

"Pretty much."

"Uh-huh."

"More or less, I suppose."

“So… you all had doubts about yourselves, and when you overcame those doubts, you got your color back? Meaning that the meteorite’s magic makes you question yourselves?”

“Sounds about right.”

“But wait. That can’t be all there is to it. Don’t you see the common theme? It made all of you question you relationships with others, made you doubt what you had to offer other ponies. If the effects of the spell are collective, then it makes sense. It’s like I thought before: It doesn’t just blind us to color; it blinds us to our connections with one another.”

“But why would it want to do something like that?”

“Maybe… maybe it just wants to share its loneliness…”

“What, the meteor?”

“Meteor-ite, darling. Though, I have to say: How can a meteorite want something?”

“I wish I knew. It’s just a feeling I have. It’s like… space is so empty. So dark, and… oh my gosh!”

“Twi? What is it?"

"That’s it!"

“What’s it?”

“The connection! Think about the Elements! When they discharge their power, what does it look like?”

“Like a… rainbow.”

"Right! And when Discord corrupted us, what happened?”

“We turned progressively gray!”

“Exactly! The meteorite tries to make us forget our friendships, makes us oblivious to the impact we have on one another. And color is a symbol of that. I remember reading a philosopher once who said that all of life is an act of defiance. That we all shine a light into the darkness, and we do so by building connections, by touching lives, through love and friendship. We each give our own quality, our own passions and talents. Our own color. And what happens when multiple colors come together?”

"A rainbow?"

"A rainbow?"

"A rainbow?"

"A rainbow?"

"A rainbow?"

“No...Harmony!”

* * * *

Spike hadn’t moved in quite some time. He sat, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes unrelentingly watching over Twilight’s prone form. She hadn’t moved in nearly twenty-hours, and aside from a few cat naps Zecora had insisted he take, Spike hadn’t ceased his vigil. He tried to hold the fear back, to keep worry from consuming him.

“C’mon, Twi,” he whispered, so as not to wake the zebra sleeping by his side. “You have to be okay. You can do it. Whatever’s going on in there, I know you can do it…”

He gave a grudging look to the east, where yet another dawn was starting to break over the desolate clearing.

If nothing else, he thought forlornly, maybe today will be the day that Princess Celestia will come to help.. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. Of course, now that the Graying’s spread to Canterlot and who-knows-where else, she might be busy dealing with that.

He opened his eyes, and then froze at the sight before him. With a trembling claw, he reached over and shook Zecora awake. She opened her eyes, parting her lips to speak, but her words died on her tongue as she followed the young dragon’s stare. Both of them watched with wide eyes.

Starting at her tail, a wave of purple moved up Twilight’s body, accompanied by shades of pink on her flank and in streaks of her mane, lighting the ruined clearing with a beacon of color.

“By the stars…” Zecora breathed.

Spike, however, leapt on Twilight’s unconscious form and hugged her neck. “That’s my Twilight!” His tears dampened her gloriously purple fur. “That’s my Twilight…”

* * * *

“I understand now,” Twilight said, shining purple into the void. Five colorful shades surrounded her, mingling their light with hers, and the darkness shook around them. “Whatever is causing the grayness wants to spread us apart and turn us away from each other. It distrusts harmony because it doesn’t know it. All it knows is loneliness and desolation. But I know what that’s like. I know what it’s like to be repelled by the idea of friendship. And I know what it’s like to find harmony when the light is dimmest.

“If anyone can undo what it’s done, it’s me.”

The five colors came to her, embraced her, and there was warmth in Twilight’s heart. She closed her eyes, cherishing the presence of her friends.

Then, she opened her eyes.

A wave of purple, tinged with other hues, spread from her in every direction, and the darkness was driven away like ash in a strong wind, until only a field of white remained—still empty, but unobscured.

And Twilight saw.

She saw a black star, orbited by several black planets. All the heavenly bodies sang together into the cosmos, not with words, but with something like magic. But something happened—a trick of gravity—and one of the planets was flung from its system and into the depths of the universe. The Planet cried out and sang for its brothers and sisters, but its calls went unanswered.

For untold eons the Planet drifted through space alone, singing a song that grew weaker and more desperate with each passing epoch. It craved light, but received only darkness. It reached out with its gravity but found only itself to cling to.

Then, finally, its call was answered, and that answer was violent. The Planet passed too closely by a black hole, not so close that it was pulled it, but close enough that the black hole's monstrous gravity tore the dark Planet apart, shattering it, reducing it to millions upon millions of small Pieces. Pieces that were left to continue their solitary passage through the universe.

The Pieces continued to sing the Planet’s old song, but the song became increasingly bitter, progressively hostile. What once had been a song of out-reach and hope became a poison that wedged apart, an agent of the universe’s primal need to expand, expand, expand.

Eventually, the Pieces entered a gravitational dance with a nearby system. It was a happy system—a bright, colorful place where sun and moon were as sisters and all the little living things did their little living and dying in togetherness. Every so often, the system would pass through the Pieces, but the Pieces took no pleasure from it, for they had long since grown disillusioned with such things as gravity and light. And they ministered to the living things with their song, hoping to impart the wisdom of solitude—solitude, that was so safe, so inviting. So universal.

Twilight watched all of this with eyes thirsty for tears, then drew a silent gasp as one of the Pieces, a terribly familiar one, separated from the others and made its way toward an equally familiar world. She spread her wings stiffly. Mastery of flight continued to elude her, but there was no other way. She gave her new limbs a flap and took off after the piece on an intercept course, racing it toward the atmosphere.

But she was too slow. The Piece began to smolder as it punched its way into the sky. Twilight nearly succumbed to despair, but a brilliant flash of blue in her mind brought a smile to her lips, and with one final, mighty flap, she closed the distance and touched the Piece.

Except, she didn’t quite touch it. Instead, she passed through the surface of the meteorite and fell into it like a pool of ink.

She found herself submerged within the meteorite. There, inside of it, was a tangle of glowing threads, and she instantly recognized them as leylines. From this close, she saw that the leylines glowed with different colors, but they were dulled and flickering, all of them pulsing in time to the patterns of an ancient song of sorrow. She lit her horn and reached into the leylines like a barrel of electric eels, searching for the right one.

There! That’s the one!

She gave the leyline a hard yank, and the entire knot came undone, the leylines returning to their natural configurations. And where once the center of the knot had been, there was now a small, whirling black sphere. The whining note—a Planet’s corrupted song—filled Twilight’s mind, and her entire system seized violently. Pain lanced through her horn and tears spilled from her eyes as a sadness older than memory ran through her veins like acid.

She nevertheless reached her hoof toward the sphere, her foreleg trembling, and she grit her teeth to say, “You. Will not. Take. My friends. Away from me!”

She touched the sphere with her hoof, and it popped like a bubble. The horrible song fell silent at once. Twilight floated there, confused, looking around her. But nothing happened, everything being too still and quiet to be real.

Then, it changed. Everything began to swirl around, like water drown a drain, and the drain was Twilight’s head. Everything vanished, and Twilight’s screams echoed into its absence.

* * * *

Twilight jolted awake, gasping as she sat upright on the ground.

“Twilight!” Spike shouted with a smile.

“Spike? I…” She trailed off as she got her first good look around her. The brown dirt beneath her, mottled here and there with patches of grass as green as the trees around the edge of the clearing. Overhead, a cloudless sky stricken with pinks and yellows and pale blues as dawn broke, filled with the distant sound of birdsong. And best of all: A little purple and green dragon and a blue-eyed zebra, staring at her with expressions of joy. “Oh my gosh…” she said. “It… it worked!”

“Yes, all is colorful once again,” Zecora said with a wide smile. “What a wonderful way for a day to begin.”

Spike walked forward and gave Twilight a hug. “I was so worried,” he whispered. “You were out for a whole day!”

Twilight’s eyes widened a little. “Is that all it was?”

“Uh-huh. Are you really okay?”

She smiled, leaning down to nuzzle the top of his head. “Yes, Spike,” she replied, “I’m more okay than I’ve been in a while.”

“But what happened?”

“Well…” She regarded the meteorite, now like any other rock. “It very nearly broke me, and made me give up. But then the most amazing thing happened, Spike. Our friends found me!”

“What?” he asked, pulling back but not letting her go. “How?”

“It’s kind of complicated. I don’t even fully understand it myself. But what matters is that they found me. I don’t think I’ve felt that kind of peace and exhilaration since the day Nightmare Moon returned, and I discovered the spark that revealed my element. I’ve been so worried that we were drifting apart, but… I was so, so stupid.” She looked off in the direction of Ponyville—her best guess of it, at least—and smiled. “In fact, let’s head home. I want to see them as soon as possible.”

“Well, ‘as soon as possible’ might a few hours,” Spike said with a huff. “We’ve got a bit of a walk ahead of us.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “We can teleport this time, Spike, since I know the exact destination.”

“Really? Sweet!”

Twilight turned to Zecora. “You want me to teleport us back to your hut and drop you off?”

The zebra merely shook her head. “Teleportation does not suit me, I fear.” She smiled. “I know the way to my home from here.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Twilight stepped forward and hugged the startled zebra. “Thank you so much, Zecora. For coming to me, for guiding us out here, for staying by our side when I was… well, 'occupied' with the meteor. For everything.”

“It was my pleasure, my dear Princess Twilight. Now go. Cherish your friends in the proper light.”

After one last nod of farewell, Zecora turned and made her way out of the clearing.

“Alright, Spike. Hop on.”

He did as instructed, climbing onto Twilight’s back and holding tight.

Just as she was about to teleport, her eyes drifted to the now-dormant meteorite, and she chewed her lower lip briefly. Then, with a decisive nod, she levitated the space rock to herself.

“What, we’re taking that awful thing with us?” Spike complained. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like we should.”

“Well, if you say so…”

With a tiny smile, Twilight closed her eyes, sent a stream of mana into her horn, and winked out of the clearing in a flash of violet light.

* * * *

As soon as Rainbow Dash opened her rosy eyes, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. This was mostly due to an errant beam of bright morning sunlight that found its way across millions of miles of space, through a nearby window, and directly into her eyes, sending explosions through her brain. Hissing through her teeth, she slammed her eyelids shut again and rolled away from the offending light, wriggling deeper into the bed sheets with little constellations stitched into them, trying her best to slip back into unconsciousness.

Then, her eyes flew open again, and she sat up in Twilight’s bed. Fluttershy stirred beside her, nuzzling deeper into her pillow. A second bed nearby contained the still-slumbering forms of Rarity and Applejack, and, in a remarkable display of flexibility, Pinkie was curled up in Spike’s basket, snoring loudly. Twilight’s book-laden bedroom surrounded them, sunlight wafting in and filling the space with warmth.

But none of these things were what caught her attention. It was the fact that everything was exactly the color it was supposed to be.

“Hey guys, wake up!” she shouted, reaching a hoof over to shake Fluttershy’s shoulder before climbing out of bed and stamping her hooves against the floorboards. “She did it! Twilight did it!”

Rarity sat up, raising a hoof to lift the slumber mask from her eyes. “And what, Rainbow Dash, could be so important that you had to wake us up at the crack of da—” Her words died as she got a look at the room around them. “Oh my stars...”

“I knew Twilight could do it,” Fluttershy said with a rosy smile as she held the sheets to her chest and sighed.

“Looks like everything’s back to normal!” Pinkie said, running to the window and pressing her face against it, looking out at the streets of Ponyville and all the colorful ponies.

“Atta girl,” was all Applejack felt the need to add, though she grinned like a bandit as she set her trusty hat atop her blonde head.

“Where do you think she is, though?” Rainbow asked, only to be met with shrugs and exchanged looks of concern.

As if on cue, the distant sound of door hinges creaking reverberated through the treehouse, followed by a faint, familiar, “Hello? Is anypony home?”

The five of them looked at each other. They smiled. And then: “Twilight!”

In a colorful stampede, they made their way down the stairs and into the library’s main room, finding a purple alicorn standing in the room with a tiny dragon a few steps behind her. They skidded to a halt several paces from Twilight and met her eyes. The air pressure in the room fluctuated from unspoken thoughts, but no one seemed to notice.

They did notice, however, a single tear trailing down Twilight’s cheek. She gave them a smile and said, “H-hi guys…”

As one, they dogpiled her, hugging her so fiercely that they all toppled to the ground in a great, giggling heap. Spike averted his eyes briefly and considered stepping out the room, but, with a shrug, leapt into the fray.

None of them spoke for some moments, simply basking in each other’s presence. But finally: “I’m so… so sorry, you guys,” Twilight said quietly.

“Whatever for, darling?”

“For shutting you girls out like I did, and going off without you.”

“Aw, don’t sweat it, sugarcube. It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“Besides, we’re the ones who should be apologizing to you, Twi,” Rainbow said, hanging her head. “It’s our fault you were feeling so cruddy to begin with.”

Twilight gave Rainbow a nuzzle. “Well, with everything that’s happened, you’ve all more than made up for it. I can’t believe how stupid I was, to think that me becoming a princess would change things between us. I should know by now that what we have is magic. I promise to remember that from now on.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Rainbow spoke on behalf of the others, “we’ll try to remember to show you how much you mean to us. Because… maybe we haven’t been doing the best job of that lately.”

Twilight smiled and gave a tiny, “Thank you.”

“Well shoot, darlin’. Don’t keep us hangin’ in suspense. Just what happened out there?!”

Twilight opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of her own stomach growling. Wild dragons have been known to make less noise.

“Umm…” she said, blushing slightly. “How about I tell you over breakfast?”

They all laughed, then picked themselves up off the floor and made their way to the kitchen.

* * * *

Minuette tentatively poked her head out of her practice and eyed the seemingly normal streets of Ponyville. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she stepped outside, letting the sunlight wash over her blue coat. She stretched, yawned, and then gave a contended sigh.

She’d spent the better part of the past two days laying low, avoiding as much of the inevitable disaster-time drama as she could. But said drama passed, as it tends to do in Ponyville, and all was right with the world.

“Good morning, Minuette!” Derpy said, landing clumsily by the unicorn’s side and giving her a small bundle of mail. “You’re looking awfully blue today.” She giggled.

Minuette chuckled. “Good morning, Miss Hooves. How’s little Dinky?”

“Oh, she’s good. Though, I think she’s disappointed the Graying’s over, since it means she has to go back to school.”

“Well, if she complains too much, just let her know she could always spend the day with the town dentist instead. My schedule’s clear all day. Something tells me that’ll make her eager to get to her studies.”

Derpy flashed her a mischievous smile. “I’ll let her know. Have a nice day!”

Minuette waved as the mailmare took wing, then spotted movement in the corner of her eye. She turned to find three fillies galloping adorably down the street.

“Good morning, Doctor Minuette!” all three Crusaders chirped as they passed.

“Morning, girls! Oh, and Scootaloo?”

Said filly planted her hooves and skidded to a stop, her friends waiting a few paces ahead. “Yeah?” she asked sheepishly.

“Don’t forget you have an appointment to get that filling done the day after tomorrow.”

Scootaloo flinched. “Oh… a-alright…”

In a hurry, she turned and bolted down the street, her two friends giggling as they followed. Sweetie Belle lagged behind, giving a lingering sniffle or two.

Minuette watched them go with a smile.

“Um. Minuette?”

Her ears perked. She looked to find Lyra and Bon Bon standing on her other side.

The bottom promptly fell out of her stomach. “Oh… h-hi, you two. What, uh, brings you here?”

The two mares exchanged looks, followed by nods.

Bon Bon stepped forward. “I apologize for kissing you, Minuette. It was a mistake on my part, and should not be construed as reflecting any romantic feelings whatsoever. You are a friend, and nothing more.”

Lyra stepped forward. “And I apologize for overreacting. I realize the kiss was an honest mistake, and bear no ill will towards you. You are a friend, and nothing less.”

Minuette gaped at them, working her mouth to form some kind of adequate response. Instead, she said, “Um… okay?”

Both mares breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, then turned and walked away, shoulder to shoulder. Minuette watched them with some confusion as they disappeared around a corner, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Her right ear gave a flick, and she turned to walk back into her practice.

“Annnnnnd… back inside I go.”

The door closed with finality.

* * * *

Twilight pulled aside a sheet, revealing the dark, glassy surface of the meteorite to the light inside her library. Princess Celestia leaned in, examining it closely.

“So this is it?” she asked. “Most curious. Even with its mana field cut, I sense something… off about it.”

“It seems like an entirely new form of magic. Or something close.”

“Do you have any idea where it came from?”

“Well… when I was tapped into it, I saw something. I don’t know if it was a memory, or a vision, or just my imagination. But it seems as though the Haizum-Shabdiz cloud is really just the remnants of an ancient planet—a rogue planet, unattached to any star. At some point, it was shattered into millions of pieces, and every now and then our planet simply passes through the debris field. Most of the pieces are smaller than this one was, and simply burned up in the atmosphere—though the pieces burning away seemed to release small doses of its magic even then, which is what previous scholars detected. But this piece actually made it all the way through.”

“And you said the pieces, this one included, generated a ‘song’?”

“That’s the best word for it, I think. That or ‘signal’. Some kind of deliberate arcane counter-harmonics. I don’t know why it produces this signal, or how—maybe something in the geological makeup of the old planet—but it definitely interferes with the perceptions of living things… especially the perceptions having to do with relationships between them.”

Celestia marveled at the meteorite. “Extraordinary. I’ll have to ask Luna about all this. I remember her saying that she had an encounter with the shower about a century before she was corrupted into Nightmare Moon, but she’s always been reluctant to talk about it.” She smiled at her student. “Luckily, this situation proved to have a happier outcome.”

Twilight sighed. “It’s just good that my friends were able to backchannel through the signal and find me. Otherwise… I might never have broken free of its grip.”

“Are you sure that it was their doing?”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, not to diminish your friends’ accomplishments—breaking free of the meteorite’s magic was certainly impressive—but in my experience, Twilight, you have a way of bringing ponies together.”

Twilight merely continued to stare.

“I realize it may not seem like it, considering the loneliness of much of your foalhood. But wherever you go, harmony seems to follow, even if you don’t mean it to. Your brother and Princess Cadance wouldn’t have met were it not for the fact that you needed a foalsitter. My own sister and I would never have been reunited without you. And, even though some of your friends knew each other before meeting you, they did not become the close-knit bunch they are today, the very embodiment of harmony in our land, until you came into their lives. Even the Element you represent is the one that binds the others together.

“It may very well be that your friends found you when you needed them the most, but I think it’s equally true that they only found you because of your presence summoned them.”

“Huh… I’d never thought of that.”

Celestia laid a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “It’s a great gift, Twilight. The noblest thing we can do in this life is reach out in the darkness and connect with one another. I think your recent exploits should be proof of that.”

Twilight gave her a teary smile.

Celestia turned back to the meteorite. “I was wondering if I might take this back to Canterlot with me and have some of the palace mages study it. Would that be alright?”

“Oh, um… sure, I guess.” She tongued the inside of her cheek, navigating her feelings carefully. “But... When they’re done, could I maybe have it back?”

Celestia cut her eyes in Twilight’s direction. “Of course. Any particular reason?”

“I don’t know…” She blushed slightly. “It’s kind of silly.”

“Try me,” Celestia said, ever so lightly nudging Twilight’s shoulder with her own.

“Well…” She looked at the meteorite. “When I was tapped into it, what I felt more than anything was its… pain. Whatever magic or intelligence or whatever is inside of it, it knew a kind of loneliness I could never comprehend. Likely millions of years of it. I guess I just feel like… maybe it deserves to have a home at last. Some warmth and laughter.” Her slightly moist eyes met Celestia’s own. “After all, doesn’t everything deserve a chance to be loved?”

Celestia watched her former student’s face for a moment, and then gave a warm smile. She draped a wing around Twilight’s back. “I suppose they do, Princess Twilight.”

They shared a tender moment, then stood and made their way to one of the library’s balconies. The warmth of the sun embraced them as they looked out over Ponyville.

Twilight smiled at the sight of her home thriving. “So, what now?” she asked.

“Now?” Celestia took a deep breath, basking in the light. “Life returns to normal, I suppose. At least until the next disaster.” A small, rueful chuckle. “Oh, and don’t forget: Next week we’re holding a Princess Summit in the Crystal Empire.”

“Oh! I almost forgot, what with all the hoopla.”

“We ought to begin preparations. Will it just be you and Spike?”

A moment of thought, then: “No. No, I think I’d like my friends with me, if that’s alright. And I think they’d agree. I have a lot of new responsibilities now that I’m a princess, and I’d like my friends there by my side every step of the way.”

Celestia’s smile rivaled her charge in the sky overhead.

Twilight smiled as well, looking up the blue sky. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she looked to see Rainbow Dash soaring past overhead. She was flying too high for a shouted ‘Hello!’ to be much use—perhaps on her way to a weather job, or simply flying for the joy of it. So Twilight simply watched as her friend flew by, trailing colors in her wake.

THE END

Author's Note