Cuori Intrecciati

‘Sparkle Tower’, as Rainbow Dash—and therefore everypony else—called it no matter how many times she complained, was the newest and, honestly, only real tourist attraction in Ponyville. In the year since its sudden, and some might say ‘explosive’, appearance, it had effectively doubled the tourist population of the small town south of Canterlot, and that number showed no signs of decreasing.

Oddly, other than her home, not that much had changed for Princess Twilight Sparkle. For the year prior to its arrival, she’d lived in the local public library, and before that most of her life had been spent in Canterlot Castle. She could hardly remember what it was like living in a genuinely private home. As long as she had a few rooms to call her own, she had no issue letting random stranger walk through her halls. Which they did, frequently.

Her staff presented something of a marked change, if she bothered to notice them at all. Aside from the extra paperwork they added to her desk at the end of every month, she didn’t see them any different than she’d seen Princess Celestia’s staff back in Canterlot.

She knew each of them by name—there weren’t that many—and tried to get to know them, at least a little bit. Princess Celestia had warned her, however, that most of them would be averse to her being too friendly. And, as always, she was right. They were her employees and it was better for everypony that they all remember that. It wasn’t something she was terribly happy with, but the Princess assured her that they would bond well enough over the course of time, and that would have to be good enough.

Spike was a little miffed, though more because of the new chef than anything else. It wasn’t like they’d had much choice in the matter. Between the cleaning staff, the small garrison of guards, and the other courtiers—not that Twilight had held court yet—there were too many ponies for Spike to cook for and still help Twilight with her old and new duties.

Those negotiations had not been fun, and, in the end, neither pony nor dragon was happy with the compromise, but Princess Celestia had promised Twilight that that was for the best.

Of course, knowing that didn’t make listening to Spike complain about the whole affair any easier.

“She rearranged my spices again, Twilight! That’s the third time this month! Can’t you please make her stop?”

Twilight sighed. Every week it was something new, yet oh so old. “No, Spike, I can’t. You two need to sit down and work out an arrangement both of you can live with. Or you can keep on as you have and just make each other’s lives miserable. Either way, you both made it quite clear that the kitchen was out of my jurisdiction. I’m sorry, Spike, but you’re going to have to fix this one on your own.”

That was not entirely true. She could step in and force the issue to a resolution. She could, but she wouldn’t, not after Princess Celestia warned her against doing so. There were, apparently, three ponies around whom even a princess must step lightly: her stylist, her publicist, and her chef—or chefs as the case may be.

Twilight pushed the worries, and Spike’s grumblings, out of her mind and focused on her paperwork, of which there was plenty nowadays. As it turned out, being a princess with a castle made out of crystal required a great deal more maintenance than, say, being a librarian with a library carved out of a tree.

There had been a number of rapid changes in the days after Tirek’s defeat. The most notable being that Ponyville was now, technically, hers. All governmental functions were suddenly her responsibility. It had taken her all of thirty seconds to appoint Mayor Mare as her Chief Administrator, effectively giving her all the same authority she’d had before, save that she answered directly to Twilight. Again, in the end, the only real difference was that Twilight had to sign off on just about everything.

Drawing her quill across the bottom line, she signed her name to the last month’s payroll and picked up the next page. There was something meditative about doing paperwork. It wasn’t really reading, just quick skims and signatures before moving onto the next. Soon enough, the last page settled onto the outbox, and Twilight rose from her seat with a victorious smile.

Spinning around, she hollered, “SPIKE!”

“Gah! Geez, Twi!” Spike dug a claw into an ear, glaring up at her. “I’m right here.”

“Oh, hehe.” Twilight cringed, cheeks flushing. “Sorry, Spike. Today’s paperwork is officially done.”

“Right.” Spike flourished his quill and produced a thick scroll. “And…” he made an exaggerated mark in the corresponding box, “check.”

“Alright. What’s next on the list?”

Spike rolled the scroll to reveal the next line, his eyes reading over it before he answered, “Prepare for Princess Luna’s visit.”

The smile on Twilight’s muzzle could have given Pinkie’s a run for its bits, she’d been looking forward to this all week. “Great!” She turned to look out the window, judging the Sun’s distance from the horizon. “And we should have just enough time to get everything ready.”

“Everything?” Spike asked, his voice heavy with trepidation.

“Yes, Spike. Everything.”

Spike’s face fell into his claw as he groaned.

Aside from her own personal possessions, the destruction of the old Ponyville library had also taken all of Twilight’s magical and scientific equipment. Or rather, all of the equipment that had been loaned to her by the University and Princess Celestia.

The reordering process had taken months, and the unpacking, well…

She’d gotten around to some of it, of course, but only bits and pieces as she needed them. Between her new duties as Ponyville’s resident princess and making time with her friends, Twilight’s research and experiments had been shoved to the back of the stable. Even her most recent delving into Harmonic Resonance had fallen to the wayside after her initial pass, all those instruments she’d ordered still sealed away in their shipping crates.

At the moment, she had one out of five telescopes set up and ready for use. Little more than a tube and two lenses, it had been the first real telescope she’d ever owned and was kept safe and secure at her parents’ house after moving into the palace. Only suitable for hobbyist stargazing at best, it would never pass muster for a royal visit from the Princess of the Night.

Heading toward her laboratory, Twilight sent Spike down to the library proper to retrieve the less fragile supplies she would need, mostly star maps and books that detailed the last thousand years of astronomical observations. She’d read most all of them at some point, and the ones she hadn’t… well, she intended to speak to Princess Luna directly regarding their validity, or lack thereof. Those should provide some good laughs—Astromancy, ha!

Half an hour later, with the Sun not yet kissing the horizon, Twilight carried the fourth and final crate out to the large observation deck, setting it down beside the others. She’d just started to pry off the first lid when a disgruntled huff informed her of Spike’s arrival. Glancing his way, she watched him waddle toward the pile of books and maps he’d already retrieved with another load held under each arm.

“Is that all of them?”

“I think so,” he said breathily, winded from his multiple trips up and down the tower’s trunk.

A pang of guilt caught in Twilight’s chest. With all the extra work she’d had of late, she’d been putting more and more responsibility into his claws without a second thought. More importantly, he’d performed spectacularly! Aside from the griping that is, but even that was mostly focused on the kitchen situation. She really needed to think of someway to reward him. Maybe a day off to visit Rarity?

She’d think of something later. For the moment, she stepped forward and nuzzled his cheek. “Thank you, Spike. You’re the best assistant a pony could ask for.”

“Aw, geez, Twi.” Spike tried to pretend he didn’t enjoy the praise and affection, but she knew better.

Turning back toward the crates, Twilight unpacked the first telescope and began to assemble the tripod. “Let’s get to work. If we hurry, we can get all of these unpacked and calibrated before Princess Luna arrives.”

“Actually,” Spike began, something about his voice ticking the back of Twilight’s mind and slowing her movements as she tried to pin it down, “I was kinda hoping to just head off to bed.”

“Really?” Twilight glanced over her shoulder. He was further away than a moment ago, edging his way toward the door. Something was definitely off. “You don’t want to stick around and watch the stars with us? I’m sure Princess Luna has some great stories that she’d be willing to share.”

“Naw.” Grasping the latch with one claw, he waved her off with the other. “I’d just be in the way.”

“Oh, alright,” she sighed, a little disappointed. To be fair, he definitely deserved some time off. He probably hadn’t even had dinner yet. Then again, neither had she. As though her stomach had been listening in, it chose that moment to make its dissatisfaction known. “Could you—”

“Way ahead of you, Twi,” Spike said as he opened the door.

“Your Highness. Sir Spike,” Petunia said with head bowed as she stepped onto the crystal balcony. A pegasus, Petunia balanced three wicker picnic baskets between her wings. Two of which looked to contain an assortment of food stuffs, while the third only seemed to hold a checker-board blanket.

Cocking her head to the side in mild consternation at Petunia’s serendipitous appearance, Twilight watched mutely as she went about setting up the picnic. With all three baskets set aside, Petunia pulled out the blanket and, pumping air beneath it with her wings, unfurled it almost perfectly in one swift motion. It was as she reached back into the basket to unload the rest of its contents that Twilight’s consternation shifted to alarm.

Her jaw worked, but her ability to form coherent sentences seemed to be jammed up at the crossroads of her ‘Broca Area’, motor cortex, and occipital lobe. While that blockage struggled to work itself out, the rest of her brain scrambled to catch up. By the time everything kicked back into gear, Petunia had already produced a box of matches and lit the first candle.

Nopony would ever accuse Twilight of being terribly well versed in social constructs or rituals, but that didn’t make her completely ignorant. Two ponies, all alone under the stars, talking for hours, with a candle lit picnic and a nice bottle of red wine… Even she could spot the makings of a romantic date.

“No. No. No. No! Petunia! What is this?” Twilight almost shouted, gesturing the offending objects.

Pausing, Petunia glanced between Twilight and Spike in confusion. “It’s your evening meal as you requested.”

“I didn’t—” Twilight stopped, her head turning purposefully toward the young dragon. “Spiiiiike!”

For his part, Spike utterly failed to look innocent, no matter how hard he tried. “Yes, Twilight?”

Instead of answering, Twilight just repeated her earlier motion to indicate the candles and wine.

“That’s your dinner,” Spike said, gesturing Petunia to continue setting out the meal. “And since the kitchen will be closed for the night, it’s all the food the two of you will have available. You would be a very poor host to not provide your special guest with food and drink.”

Twilight’s field wrapped around the bottle and candles, smothering the small flames, and placed them back in the basket. “I appreciate the food, but the candles and wine, no. They have to go.”

Spike stepped away from the door, retrieving the wine and candles and putting them right back on the blanket. “You’re going to need light to read all those books and charts by. And no,” he wagged a finger at her before she could offer any protest, “you promised to stop reading by horn-light. You know it’s bad for your eyes.”

“Hello,” she scoffed, wiggling her wings for emphasis. “I’m an alicorn now! My eyes are better than ever.”

“And you should be trying to keep them that way,” he paused to relight the candles with two quick puffs of green flame, “and not ruin them all over again just because you don’t have a candle on hoof.”

She glared at her little brother who was starting to sound more and more like an older brother every day. Of all the bad habits he could have picked up… “Okay. Fine. The candles can stay. But the wine… That’s where I draw the line, Spike.”

“It’s part of the meal. You don’t eat hay fries without ketchup, and you don’t eat eggplant parmesan without a red.”

“How would you even know that? You’re not old enough to drink wine!”

“Because I have an older sister who makes me read more in a week than most ponies read in a year!”

By this point, alicorn and dragon stood nose-to-nose, locked in a contest of wills and completely oblivious to everything else around them. Neither noticed Petunia drop into a deep bow, nor the flutter of wings and ting of silver on crystal. They did, however, hear the regal, if slightly uncertain, voice that came from behind the elder of the pair.

“I hope I did not arrive at a poor time.”

Twilight spun around in a panic, nearly knocking over the lit candlesticks and one of the baskets. Princess Luna loomed whether she intended to or not, her imperious visage making Twilight cringe like she’d been caught with a hoof in the cookie jar. Worrisome questions ran through her mind, all focusing on exactly when she’d arrived and how much she’d overheard. With her mind thoroughly occupied, Twilight’s body fell into old habits, bowing to the elder monarch.

Or she would have if a blue hoof hadn’t caught her chin and kept her from so much as lowering her head. “Neigh, Twilight Sparkle. There is no need of that from you. We are equals, and I would have you treat me as such.” Stepping closer, Luna added in a whisper, “Though I encourage you to continue with my sister, it doth fluster her so.”

So close, Twilight could smell the pleasant lavender and thyme of Luna’s coat mix with the fresh mint on her breath. “I—of course, Pri—” Luna clucked her tongue and Twilight blushed. “Luna.”

“Better,” Luna said with a smile and a nod, only for her humor to vanish as she turned toward Petunia, still bowed with her chin on the floor. When she spoke next, Luna’s tone was disinterested but expectant. “You may leave us.”

Petunia rose from her bow only to drop again, accepting the dismissal with gratitude and hastily making her goodbyes, wishing them a pleasant night as she backed toward the door, only turning her back once she’d reached the open portal. Twilight wanted to stop her, to dismiss her a little more kindly, but couldn’t find the words until she was already gone.

With Petunia gone, Twilight’s eyes fell to Spike, only for Princess Luna to speak again.

“And you, sir Spike. Will you be joining us for this evenings fun?”

“Ah, no. If that’s alright, Princess,” he said, doing little to keep the mischievous lilt from his voice as he followed Petunia’s course toward the door. “I have… uhm… things to do. You two have fun.” At the door, he stopped to waggle his eyebrows at Twilight. “And Twilight, there are some red tulips in the conservatory if you change your mind.”

And then there were two.

Spike was so dead once she got her hooves on him!

“Twilight Sparkle?”

“What? Oh.” Twilight shook her head to clear her thoughts and expression. Spike would come later, for right now she had a Princess to entertain. “Sorry, Pr—er, Luna. I was…” Her eyes fell to the blanket and the offending objects before quickly turning toward the soon to be setting sun, then back to meet Luna’s own teal pair. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

Luna’s ears turned in mild embarrassment. “It is no trouble, I hope.”

“No. No trouble,” Twilight said in a rush, caught off guard by the worry in Luna’s voice. “Just unexpected is all.”

“My apologies. When Sister suggested I arrive early, I assumed that she would have informed you.” Twilight nearly choked on her tongue when Luna’s field brought the wine bottle up for a quick examination. Her nod of appreciation did nothing to stymie Twilight’s nervousness, especially when she retrieved two glass flutes and filled them with the crimson liquid, passing the second to Twilight. “‘Tis an excellent choice, my compliments to the chef.”

“I… I’ll be sure to pass that along,” she said, taking the glass and throwing on a large smile in an attempt to cover her rising panic.

Luna’s ear flickered toward the west. “Ah! ‘Tis time.” Placing a wing over Twilight’s withers, she guided her to the railing. “Come, let us witness my sister’s song. I expect that it will be extra lovely this eve.”

The moment those blue feathers touched her, Twilight’s entire back tightened, nearly causing her own wings to flare. Everything was fine. There was no need to panic. She’d been in nearly this exact situation with Princess Celestia countless times… except for the wine and the candles and the… perfume? No, that had to be scented soap. Why would Princess Luna wear perfume to watch the stars? She wouldn’t, that’d be silly.

If only she could use Cadence’s breathing technique without drawing attention to herself. Wait, that’s it! Twilight took a deep breath without the corresponding leg motion, held it for a second, then let it out. It probably would have worked too, had the air around her not been suffused with scent of Luna’s perf—soap.

Fortunately, Luna hadn’t noticed anything, or at least made no sign of it if she did, all her attention focused on the Sun as it approached the horizon. In celebration of her stealth, and hoping it would calm her nerves, Twilight brought her glass up for a sip, only to find it already empty and a bitter, fruity taste on the back of her tongue.

It was the burst of magical energy that broke Twilight out of her thoughts. Even so far away from Canterlot, Twilight could still make out her mentor’s unique signature reaching for the Sun. It was a familiar tingle of power that she’d grown to associate with the Princess’ comforting presence. During the first years living at the palace, she’d always made sure to be awake before dawn and to pause her studies at dusk just to revel in the heavy thrum of it. Even though the novelty had faded with time, Twilight took a few moments to enjoy the spectacle whenever she could.

Half of the sky was already tinted a warm amber, like a cup of chamomile tea with a dollop of milk, fading into an almost metallic lilac hue. The closer the sun got to the horizon, the thicker the amber got until it began edging toward violet, clouds in the distance still catching the light in long streaks of shining gold, tinted by hints of rose. The sun continued to lower, the golden hue darkening into a wide band of reds and oranges that divided the sky in two. Great swaths of the sky shifted into vibrant purples and violets surrounding the brighter hues and gradually edged their way in until a dark-blue edged its way in from the east, pullin with it the pitch black of the night sky.

As the last of the light began to fade, the shades of violet darkening into the pitch of the night sky, the Princess’ magic falling away, Twilight turned toward her companion, her nervousness washed away by the familiar, comforting show. "Luna, what did you mean by ‘song'?"

The serene smile that’d been on Luna’s lips faltered, her head cocking to the side as she pulled away to face Twilight head on. "You do not know? But you’ve already moved the heavens, how can you not know?”

Something about Luna’s words dug at Twilight. They weren’t meant to be insulting, she was sure, but that didn’t make them feel any less so. “The spell isn’t all that complicated,” she stated defensively. “I’ve watched Princess Celestia cast it so many times… The only real hurdle is the power requirement.”

“Twilight Sparkle, that…” Luna’s head followed as her ears flicked toward the east. “I do not have time to explain.” She trotted across the balcony, motioning for Twilight to follow once again. Bracing her hooves on the railing, Luna turned all her attention toward the dark, empty sky. A thick blue aura surrounded her horn in preparation to bring forth the night. “It surprises me greatly that you appear to have no inkling of what I speak.” She shook her head. “Take heed and listen well, Twilight Sparkle, for there is more to magic than even you realize.”

Luna started the spell, and Twilight watched, mesmerized. Though it wasn’t as awe inspiringly immense as Celestia’s, Luna’s spell was labyrinthian beyond Twilight’s reckoning. Long tendrils of magic erupted from her horn, blossoming into a thousand tangled vines that shot toward the sky, only to blossom again into a thousand more. Stars flickered to life, lighting up the firmament in a wave from one horizon to the other. The moon came next, a silver disk cresting the edge of the world and filling it with a pale, silvery light as dim, almost invisible nebulae and smudges of swirling galaxies coloured the spaces in between stars.

With the moon set on its course, and all the sky filled with lights, Luna’s horn dimmed, and she turned once again to Twilight, an expectant look in her eyes.

Twilight didn’t respond right away, too busy ogling the spectacle of magic still fading into the sky. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” she gushed once she remembered where she was. “When Princess—”

Luna’s expression slipped into one of consternation. “Seen? I did not request you to watch, but listen.”

Twilight dropped back a step. “Listen?” she asked, unable to keep the incredulous tone from her voice. She’d never heard something so… so… “You can’t listen to magic. Well, you can, but it’s all sparks and static, there’s nothing—” Luna rolled her eyes as she took a small sip of her wine. “What?”

“Have you truly never listened without your ears?”

“Listen without… how else am…” Twilight stopped and took a breath, centering herself and pushing away the sting of being talked down to. “You aren’t making any sense.”

Luna gave her a disbelieving look. “Have you not studied harmonics at all?”

Twilight gave a single shake of her head. “I started to, but I’ve been busy. Even so, my preliminary results were far from what I would call promising.”

“Far from… preliminary…” Luna snorted. “Next you will be stating that you have no understanding of color palettes…” At Twilight’s blank stare, Luna’s voice trailed off. “You know nothing of color palettes.”

Twilight nodded dumbly in confirmation of the non-question. She was missing something. One of the first lessons she’d had to learn was just how much she didn’t know. It was a lesson that repeated itself often, even more since moving to Ponyville. But this… Listening to magic? Colour palettes? In all of Twilight’s studies, she’d never come across any mention of those in relation to spellcraft.

Luna’s expression deepened with a glance toward Canterlot. “Tia, what did you do?” Turning back to Twilight, she asked, “What has my sister been teaching you all these years? Math?” Once again, Twilight found her voice uncooperative in the face of Luna’s off-hoof, borderline disdainful tone. Fortunately, or not, that was all Luna needed to not hear. “You’re joking… Celestia taught you math?”

Twilight had no idea how to answer that question. It wasn’t that she didn’t know the answer, but, somehow, she knew that speaking it would only make the already deteriorating situation worse. “Yes?”

“Celestia taught math?” Luna’s tone edged further from disbelief and ever closer to amusement. “My sister, Princess ‘don’t mix my letters with numbers’ Celestia, taught math?”

At Twilight’s final nod of confirmation, Luna started to laugh. It began as a repressed chuckle hidden behind a forehoof, but quickly escalated into a full body chortle that saw her fall to the ground as she gripped her sides. Twilight’s well honed baby dragon catching skills were all that saved Luna’s glass from shattering on the floor when her magic winked out.

As Luna rolled, wings and legs flailing and kicking at the air, a sliver of anger found its way through Twilight’s shock and bemusement. Were it any other pony, Twilight would have surely pounced into a biting verbal assault, berating her for even contemplating laughing at or insulting Princess Celestia. Even if she ignored everything that Princess Celestia meant to her personally, she was the single most important pony in all of Equestrian history, and it was NOT okay to insult her. Especially about math! Princess Celestia loved math!

But this was Luna. She couldn’t yell at Princess Luna for laughing at Princess Celestia… could she? It didn’t seem right, but then neither did Luna’s laughter.

She downed the rest of Luna’s wine, grimacing at the bitter flavors.

Either way, Luna didn’t seem to notice Twilight’s conundrum even as she calmed down and regained her hooves. “Oh, you poor thing.” Luna patted Twilight’s shoulder as though she were a foal who’d missed a perfect score by one question. “How harrowing it must have been to endure Tia stumbling through calculous and Starswirl’s theorems.” Snickering again, Luna hid her muzzle behind a forehoof. “Does she still use those puppets—”

That did it.

All of Twilight’s reticence died, skewered by that sliver of anger turned spear of indignation that propelled her forward. “Stop it!” Twilight stomped a hoof, glaring up at the taller alicorn who dropped back in surprise. “What do you know about modern magic or teaching! Or anything! Princess Celestia is the smartest, wisest pony in all of Equestria, and… and you can’t talk about her like that!”

Luna chafed at Twilight’s reprimand, all her amusement drying up in a flash as she stepped forward into a far more rigid stance. “You are right, Princess Twilight Sparkle. I know little of modern magic. But I know mine own sister far better than thou ever will!” Her eyes narrowed. “Thou mayest have occupied a petty few decades beneath her wing, but we spent centuries in her shadow.

“We built an empire together, faced down armies of usurpers, battled dragons and monsters with only each other to rely on. We have licked clean her wounds and carried her broken body across war scarred plains. We celebrated with her each time she found love, and We mourned with her at every funeral. We were with her when Discord came and took everything, and we were at her side as what was lost was built anew. By what right dost thou dictate the ways in which we may speak of mine own sister?”

“I never betrayed her.”

The words landed like a physical blow, a slap that snapped Luna’s head to the side and left them standing in silence so complete that Twilight thought herself struck deaf. Regret did not begin to describe the tsunami of emotion that threatened to drown her. Those words had been cruel beyond anything Twilight had ever said before, a stiletto aimed straight for Luna’s heart. Even five minutes ago, she’d never have thought herself capable of filling so few words with so much vitriol.

It was not her, but Luna who broke the silence.

“You wished to know about the lights?” she asked in a voice so soft that Twilight doubted her ears. Not bothering to wait for a response, Luna turned toward the north and continued, “Then perhaps this will help you understand both.”

Before Twilight could so much as part her lips, Luna’s magic flared to life. The spell Luna cast was simple enough, little more than an energy transfer, the basis for teleportation, but it wasn’t until it landed on Twilight’s horn that she realized what it was for.

Their magic connected, and the world lit up. Shock and awe pulled Twilight’s eyes wide as she was forced to see the world in a whole new light. The darkness that had surrounded them since sunset didn’t so much disappear as give up all its secrets. Light did not reveal the world; it only made it glint and shine, distracting the eye from seeing the true forms that lay beneath. Before she could revel in the world lay bare before her, a soft wing tilted her head up toward the sky.

Her jaw dropped. She could see… everything.

Strung between the stars like so much gossamer thread, the trails of Luna’s magic were still visible. A delicate web of dark-blue aether that stretched across the heavens. Her eyes immediately centered on Ponaris, following the thirteen glimmering strands radiating out across the sky to touch Shirius, Criopus, Tolizzan… only for each of those to connect to a dozen more and again until every star could trace it’s way back to Ponaris.

For a brief second, Twilight thought she would never see anything more beautiful. Then Luna began to cast her spell, and Twilight closed her eyes.

It started off faint, barely enough energy to levitate a pin reaching for the northern sky, but steadily built, adding layer upon layer of complexity. Playing across her horn as though it were her own magic, Luna’s spell made everything she’d ever cast look like a foal’s crayon drawing hung beside the greatest works of Marebrant. Lithe, intricate swirls of colour mixed together, spinning and writhing, curling into a kaleidoscope that would have hurt her eyes had she been using them.

Then she heard the first note. To call it a song was to look at the blue sky and call it a reflection of the ocean. There were no words, or if there were, they were in a language that Twilight at once had to learn, but knew she could never hope to give voice. It was soft and low, a desperate, hopeless whimper lost to an unfeeling void. It was the sadness and longing of a lonely heart rent and bleeding into the sky. It was pain.

When the shift came, it was so slight, so infinitesimal that Twilight missed it. Even looking back, she could not say what or how, only that it had. Misery gave way to furtive whispers. Where before the anguish of despair had choked out the singer’s voice, now it was laden with secrets and hidden thoughts and desires that could never see the light of day. Unbreakable hope balanced on the knife’s edge of fear.

Twilight trembled as she opened her eyes to watch the sky dance. To see the realization of Luna’s spell. The greens and pinks, the violets and teals that sliced across the northern sky in great dancing ribbons of light. Even though she’d seen them only a week before, they still took her breath away.

But it was the lost song, barely an echo now, that brought tears to her eyes.

“What… what was that?”

“That, Twilight Sparkle, was magic as it was meant to be.”