Blankness

Twilight’s throat felt as dry as a desert. Running across Ponyville tended to have that effect. Swallowing did little to ease the raspiness she felt. She figured her body didn’t want to cooperate because it felt as restless as her mind did. It seemed to be running as fast as she had, after all. Once she… connected some dots back at the Library—and after the initial shock wore off—she’d rushed to the hospital as fast as she could without teleporting. She didn’t trust herself to focus well enough for that.

She could have misread the changes in Golden Harvest, she had to admit. The evidence was subjective at best, delusional at worst. But Zecora’s stripes? Those were much harder to explain away.

It had been a rather strong wake up call. Her mind was rushing to fill all the gaps in her theories with rampant speculations brought forth by the picture of her zebra friend and her cutie mark, all while berating herself for missing something so obvious.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths, Twilight. Deep breaths. There was no point in getting worked up before she could share her thoughts with Doctor Horse. This all could end up amounting to nothing but a misguided hunch—though she didn’t believe that for a second.

With a sigh, Twilight slumped on her seat and looked at the empty waiting room. A stark contrast to how packed it had been only a few days ago. The doctor had mentioned at the meeting how more and more ponies had started to come regarding their missing marks, even after the quarantine barrier had been set up.

Now, though, the waiting room was devoid of other souls. The soft buzzing of the halogen lights filled the silence left by the absent chatter, murmurs, and occasional coughing she’d come to expect from Ponyville’s Hospital. She supposed everypony would much rather stay at home for the time being.

Still, the emptiness only deepened the eerie feeling settling in her chest.

Nurse Redheart had been kind enough to accommodate her and let her be in the waiting room as she let Doctor Horse know she’d arrived. Then again, Twilight had to admit she’d probably had a frantic and disturbed expression when she’d run into the hospital, so perhaps the nurse had just been worried for her.

At the thought, Twilight’s lips twitched into a faint, lopsided smile. She should worry about herself a bit, too. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t eaten anything all morning, and that hadn’t been the first time since everything started. So much had happened in the last couple of days, it all started to blur.

“Miss Twilight?” The sudden voice made her head whip around. Nurse Redheart stood nearby, eyes filled with concern. “Uh... Doctor Horse will see you now.”

Twilight scrambled to her hooves, forcing herself not to dash toward the office. Nurse Redheart looked as if she wanted to say something, but decided to step back and let her in. Twilight made a mental note to thank her later—when she wasn’t in such a frenzied state.

She opened the door and was met with a crestfallen Doctor. The stallion was poring over some reports with a concerned expression when he looked up and their eyes met. Somehow, Twilight suspected she wouldn’t be the only one with information to share.

“Good evening. Please, take a seat,” he greeted, nodding toward the chair in front of his desk. As she walked in, Twilight noticed him hurriedly organising the scattered papers. “Curious of you to visit me right now.”

That was unexpected. With decisive steps, she walked up to his desk and sat down on the seat across from the doctor. “I… I take it that there have been developments in the case.”

A quick rise and drop of his eyebrows. “You could say that.” He lifted the stack of papers and gave them a final shake before setting them on his desk once more. “I got an update from the medical team. It’s still preliminary, but… It seems promising.”

A flurry of emotions stirred in Twilight’s chest, just as an innumerable torrent of questions fought to be the first to escape her lips. Taking a deep breath, she squashed those thoughts and urged the doctor to keep going. “What… What did they have to say?”

Doctor Horse tapped his hoof lightly on the desk, his expression difficult to read. “So far, the developments seem in line with our initial guesses. We already knew there was no magical feedback, nor traces of magical interference, either before or after the cutie marks vanished. Building off that, they continued the tests we started running and…”

Twilight swallowed as the knot in her throat tightened in anticipation. “What did they show?” Her voice was quiet, though her mind had already latched onto an answer she didn’t want to believe.

With a heavy exhale through his nose, Doctor Horse laid the papers down on the desk. “It appears we were barking up the wrong tree.”

The silence in the office seemed to press down on them both. It wasn’t just the two of them alone in the room—it felt like even time had abandoned them. “I…” Twilight’s breath caught for a moment, but she pushed forward. “I was thinking that may have been the case.”

Doctor Horse’s expression quickly turned into confusion. “Oh. Were you expecting this?”

“Not at all, it’s just—” A sigh “—Just a moment ago, I was thinking back to some of the things that have happened these days and I… Well, I think I may have stumbled upon something. Something we’ve been overlooking.”

The doctor’s face was blank, as if he were trying to assess whether to take her seriously. If she were to be in his position, would she consider listening? She wasn’t on the same level as the experts from Manehattan or Canterlot, after all. Not that she’d pretend to be. But… She still hoped he would hear her out. Whether to soothe her fears or confirm them, she couldn’t tell.

After a pause, Doctor Horse leaned back in his chair, the tension in his posture softening slightly. “I’m listening.”

This was it. Time to see if her thoughts and hunches were correct. “Golden Harvest was the first who came to our attention,” she pulled out the photo album from her saddlebags and opened it where she had first marked it.

One of the many pictures taken right after her first Winter Wrap Up showed Applejack’s team after they’d managed to finish planting the seeds for the spring flowers in time. Front and centre stood Golden Harvest, clearly tired but with a content smile.

Doctor Horse adjusted his glasses, leaning closer to inspect the photograph. “I remember that day. Everypony was glad to finish on time, for once. But… What am I supposed to get from this picture?”

Twilight took a steadying breath and pointed right at Golden Harvest. “Look at her. Does Golden’s coat here look… paler to you?”

The doctor glanced up at her, a flicker of confusion passing over his face. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he seemed to decide against saying anything. Instead he leaned forwards, focusing on the farmer. “Hmmm… Maybe,” he muttered. “I suppose she does look a bit lighter, but this picture was taken at the end of Winter. The lighting is different, not to mention it’s normal to shed your winter coat in the first weeks of Spring.”

Twilight nodded, her voice quieter but firm. “So, we can agree that her coat colour… changed.” She let the word hang in the air.

Doctor Horse squinted, looking as if he was trying to connect the dots in his mind. “Are you implying that this disease didn’t just affect the cutie marks, but her entire coat?”

Twilight shook her head slowly. Her gaze lingered on the picture, particularly on Golden Harvest’s bright smile, a stark contrast to the realisation she was about to share. Letting out a sigh, she gave the doctor a solemn look. “I’m saying that this disease never really affected cutie marks specifically.”

Her words hung heavy in the room, as if they’d snuffed out the last bit of warmth. Doctor Horse’s face twisted in confusion before he spoke again. “Hold on, Miss Twilight. What are you trying to say?”

“Wait. That’s not all.” Quickly, Twilight flipped through several pages of the photo album until she reached the blasted picture that had eluded her memory these past few days. “Back when I first arrived at Ponyville, after just a few weeks, we had that run-in with Poison Joke, and that’s when we met Zecora.” She jabbed a hoof at the image of the zebra, perhaps with more force than intended.

Doctor Horse nodded, his gaze briefly flicking between Twilight and the image. “You mentioned her. She was one of the first to lose her cutie mark, wasn’t she?”

“That’s the thing.” Twilight swallowed hard, feeling the returning dryness in her throat get worse the more she spoke. She rummaged through her saddlebag and took out a simple notebook and a pencil. In quick, precise motions, she sketched a simple outline of a pony and drew her best approximation to Zecora’s stripes and cutie mark. “This is what Zecora’s coat used to look like.” She used the pencil to point at the stylised sun. “As you can see, her stripes go up her legs, stopping just above her knees, and cover her back, leaving space for her cutie mark, right here.” She tapped the stylized sun on the drawing.

“I’m following…” the doctor replied, his face unreadable, though Twilight sensed an undercurrent of tension hidden by the stillness. Almost unnaturally so, she noticed. His expression hadn’t changed, but the subtle twitch of his ears betrayed something… No, she had to focus.

With a quick spin, she erased Zecora’s mark, leaving a blank space between her stripes. “Had she just lost her cutie mark, this space would be bare, but that’s not what happened.“ Another spin, and she filled the space with two thin stripes the same shade as the ones covering the zebra’s body. "I made sure to brush up on zebra biology. Their stripes don't do that. They are born with blank flanks just like us."

Doctor Horse was just as impassive as before, but now she was sure he was putting in the effort not to move. His ears gave just the slightest shiver, so was sure he was making a conscious effort not to move them. Why? Why was he so rigid? Was he hiding something, or just processing everything?

"I think... I think this was never about the cutie marks,” Twilight said, her voice wavering, as if the words were foreign even to her. “I think this disease just targets hair in general and the fur on our flanks was... I don't know. Evened out.” She shook her head, as if she herself couldn't believe the words she was speaking. "It sounds so absurd when I say it out loud, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I'm not sure if I'm right or if I'm crazy, or maybe it's both and I've been freaking out for the past thirty minutes and it doesn't help that you—" she jammed a hoof at the doctor "—are so calm! Why are you so calm? I mean, I guess you have to know how to keep your emotions in check if you're a doctor, but isn't this kind of a big deal!?"

It was a big deal… Wasn't it?

Doctor Horse held her gaze for a few seconds, his silence stretching thin across the space between them. Then, he looked away and let out a heavy sigh. He removed his glasses and cleaned them absentmindedly with a piece of cloth. Without them, his face seemed to sag, the weight of sleepless nights and stress etched into every line. He looked older, more worn.

“Because I did my freaking out about an hour ago,” he admitted quietly.

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. She blinked, then blinked again, her mind stumbling over his words. “I… Wait, what? What do you mean?”

The stallion rubbed his temples, his magic lighting up as he levitated a folder from the pile next to him. His expression was weary, his movements slow. Twilight gave him a confused glance before her eyes dropped to the folder as it floated towards her.

“I’ve been receiving somewhat frequent updates from my colleagues on the other side of the barrier ever since the quarantine started.” An exhale. “It appears the arrival of your friend sent them into a frenzy.”

It was Golden Harvest’s test results, at last. Admittedly, she didn’t understand most of the words in the paper, as they were very technical. The one that she understood right away was ‘melanin’. Was she breathing faster? It felt as if she was. Another gulp, but it didn’t help. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to begin her breathing exercises, her mind reeling as she waited for Doctor Horse to continue.

“They didn’t go into details. In fact, their reports became more laconic from that point onwards. Not that I’m complaining. They are under no obligation to keep me up to date, after all. But I’m capable of coming up with my own theories.” Doctor Horse’s hoof rubbed at his forehead. Twilight was reminded of her father’s habitual gesture whenever he tried to stave off a brewing headache. “It was hard to notice anything at first. After all, the melanin levels on all the coat samples were normal.” A short laugh, more of a tired exhale than anything. “It was staring us right in our faces.”

Twilight felt her brain whirring, her thoughts catching on every word as they began to line up with what she had suspected. If she was right about the disease, then… What was wrong with the test results?

“You know what gives hair its colour, don’t you, Miss Twilight?”

“Melanin,” she replied immediately as her mind recalled the information she’d gathered during her early research. “In the case of equines, it’s a distinct balance of eumelanin for darker shades, pheomelanin for lighter shades, and thaumelanin for distinct hues. It’s the combination of these chemicals that leads to the variations of hair colours.”

Doctor Horse gave his desk a light tap. “Quite so. But what’s interesting is that these concentrations vary between individual strands of hair.”

Suddenly, he tousled his mane. Twilight blinked, startled by the sudden action. Before she could ask if everything was alright, he plucked a single hair from his head, holding it aloft with his magic.

“Grey hairs,” he said as he lifted the nearly white strand in his magic for her to see. “Caused by the death of melanocytes in hair follicles. No more melanin. No more pigments for hair.” He released the hair from his telekinesis, letting it float lazily through the air before it drifted away.

Twilight’s eyes followed the grey hair, but quickly went back to meet the Doctor’s. Her gaze quickly snapped back to meet the doctor. A growing realisation began to settle deep within her chest, an uncomfortable swelling of fear and understanding. “If something was interfering with the levels of melanin…”

“ …perhaps causing them to even out with those surrounding it,” Doctor Horse added.

“Then… Then the marks were never affected at all. This disease was just affecting the melanin in our coats.” She could feel the warmth spread even further, filling her with hope. “If that’s the case, then—”

Her sentence stumbled to a halt as she caught the doctor’s forlorn expression. The hope faltered, tripped by the quiet weight in his eyes. Why wasn’t he relieved? They’d just uncovered a major revelation, hadn’t they? Did she miss something? Again?

“Do you remember what makes thaumelanin special, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight blinked. "Ah... Um... the other two are purely biological chemical compounds, while thaumelanin reacts to magic. It's what gives ponies such a wide variety of colours, and it's what helps—" Her voice caught in her throat, the realisation hitting her like an icy splash of water.

Doctor Horse gave a slow, solemn nod. "Once you realise your special talent, you get your cutie mark. Your inner magic makes the thaumelanin react and change colour into the pattern of a mark. But thaumelanin isn't magic in and of itself."

All the sounds in the room seemed to vanish, swallowed by the silence that followed his words.

"If only melanin... If only the hairs themselves changed colour... If there was no change to the inner magic of a cutie mark...” Her voice wavered. “Then that means..."

It meant the magic within—the essence of a pony’s special talent, their unique signature—hadn’t been erased or lost. It was only the outermost layer, the coat itself that had… faded. And if it wasn't lost, how was one supposed to bring it back? As far as the magic within could tell, everything was normal. There had only been a change on the surface.

“Can this even be cured, then?” Twilight whispered.

Doctor Horse leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the ceiling as if searching for answers in the white plaster. “That’s the question, isn’t it? In theory, it should only be a matter of turning those hairs back to their original colour, but…” He sighed, a weary sound that filled the room. “Well, they are technically back to their original colour already.”

Twilight felt a chill run down her spine. “And it’s not as if simply recreating the exact conditions that produced their specific cutie mark would make it reappear somehow. Magically speaking, the mark is still there. We would have to… I don’t know, recreate each pony’s unique balance of eumelanin, pheomelanin, and thaumelanin for every individual strand of hair.”

“And that’s assuming the melanocytes can even be reactivated or replenished.”

The technical jargon started to weigh on Twilight—not because she couldn’t understand it, but because it felt like they were drifting further away from the core of the problem. She had come here hoping to share her suspicions, maybe find a spark of hope, some way forward. Instead, she was faced with a grim confirmation that only deepened the void of hopelessness swelling in her chest.

What would this mean for everypony who had already lost their mark? The mere thought of telling them, "We know you lost your cutie mark, but biologically and magically speaking, you really didn’t," felt like a cruel irony. It wasn’t comforting. It was a hollow explanation that offered nothing but despair.

“We are making quite a lot of assumptions,” she murmured, more to herself than to the doctor, perhaps in an attempt to fool herself into thinking there could be another explanation.

Doctor Horse shrugged, his movement almost too casual for the grim situation. “Even if we’re wrong, we can’t be too far off, given the data we have.”

Twilight buried her face between her hooves, as if by squeezing tightly enough, she could hold herself together. She could barely believe it herself. “What now? What do we do now?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the weight of their predicament settled over both of them like a heavy fog. For a long moment, neither spoke, the silence thick with the unspoken fears that neither wanted to voice.

Eventually, Doctor Horse leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his expression grave. “Ponies aren’t going to just shrug this off,” he said quietly. “Even if every single pony who lost their cutie mark could understand what happened and that their cutie marks aren’t technically gone… it won’t change how they feel.”

Twilight looked up, locking her gaze with his. She felt a pang in her chest as she thought back to Golden Harvest, to Diamond Tiara, Sweetie Drops, and to all the ponies who had a deep personal story behind their marks. All of it, gone in an instant. Not just the marks, but part of their stories as well.

“I know,” she finally said, her voice trembling with the weight of her own realisation.

Doctor Horse nodded, his gaze distant as he considered the implications. “A cutie mark is more than just a symbol. It’s a reflection of who a pony is at their core. Their identity, their purpose. It’s something they’ve spent their entire lives discovering and embracing. And now… it’s been stripped away, or at least it feels like it has.”

Twilight’s chair grew more uncomfortable with every passing moment, or perhaps she was just overcome with the need to pace around the room, to do something—anything—to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure how she should feel. Still, a part of her hoped the medical team would have more information and could come up with alternatives… But deep down, she already knew. This was it. This was the truth they had to face.

Doctor Horse let out a quiet hum, as though mulling over some distant thought. "Back when that Saddle Arabian delegation came to Ponyville, I couldn't help but notice they didn’t have cutie marks."

Twilight blinked, the memory surfacing from what felt like a lifetime ago. Two diplomats sent from the faraway desert region, and yes, she had noticed their lack of a mark as well, though it hadn’t seemed important at the time. "I… I think I remember some ancient history books saying they were not, uh, blessed by Celestia's light. That's why they didn't have a mark. Now we know it's because their levels of thaumelanin are much lower than in ponies in Equestria."

"And yet, their society thrived," the doctor mused.

"Do you think we will?"

"I don't know," he replied immediately. But then, as though some deeper thought had softened the sharp edges of his doubt, his gaze shifted, more reflective now. "Then again, ponies over a thousand years ago didn't think all three tribes could live together. So we will have to wait and let time give us the answer."

His words swirled around Twilight, sinking in slowly as she mulled over their meaning. She could see it now—the same fear of change, of losing something fundamental to their way of life, just like now. Back then, it had been about tribes, about their places in the world. Now, it was about their cutie marks, their identities. But maybe, the fear was the same.

Her eyes trailed to her own cutie mark—the six-pointed star she had worn proudly for years. It was more than a representation of her talent, after all. It was a reminder of the journey that had shaped her, the struggles she had overcome, the friendships that had defined her path. But if it disappeared… if that star faded into nothing… would the essence of who she was fade too? No. It wouldn’t.

She would still have her magic, her knowledge, her accomplishments. The Element of Magic would still rest safely in the vault in Canterlot. And most importantly, she would still have her friends. Her bonds, her memories, her experiences—those would remain untouched.

In the end, that was what mattered most. Was it not?

Twilight looked down at the floor as her mind conjured up a scene of her walking through Ponyville, seeing everypony with blank flanks. The image still twisted something deep in her heart, but it didn’t feel as dire as it had just the day prior. She raised her eyes to Doctor Horse, the smallest flicker of hope remaining in her voice. “Everypony who has lost their mark… They’ve not lost who they are. Even if they’ve lost sight of that. They still remember their talents, their passions. What their cutie marks represent is still inside them.”

The doctor gave a small nod, his expression softening. “You’re right. It’s a loss, but it’s not the kind that destroys who we are. In the end, it’ll be more of an inconvenience—a painful one, no doubt—but ponies will learn to move forward, even without their cutie marks.”

She found some amusement in her thoughts from way back when this whole madness started. Life was unpredictable. No matter how stable things may seem at one point, everything can change in a flash. As Discord’s words, seemingly spoken ages ago, resonated in her mind. He’d been so sure that things would turn out fine. That ponies would adapt.

"I guess, in the end, it’s not really about whether we can bring the cutie marks back,” Twilight said, her voice steadier now, though no less sombre. “It’s more about whether ponies can regain hope in themselves. At least, in the long run."

Doctor Horse nodded again, his eyes holding that same weary understanding. “Hope. That’s what we’ll need most.”

Twilight leaned back, letting the words sink in. There would be pain, of course—she knew that all too well. But ponies were resilient, capable of adapting to change. It wouldn’t be easy. But maybe, just maybe, they would find their way through this, as they had before.

As she stared out the window, her gaze was drawn to the sun, hanging in the sky, its light painting the clouds in shades of orange and gold. A faint smile tugged at her lips, unbidden but not unwelcome. “They will move forward,” she said softly, almost to herself. “We always do.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Twilight allowed herself to believe it.