First Contact

A woman walked, alone, bare feet leaving prints in the sand. Her long blonde hair fluttered in the slight breeze coming off the lake. In the distance, seagulls swooped, boats sailed, the fountain sprayed its water over a hundred meters into the air. Life seemed normal. Too normal, the kind of normal it had been before. Before everything. The other world, the ponies, she and her two sisters. The war.

“Planet Earth,” the woman said, speaking aloud to no one in particular. The beach was empty on this side, though across the lake she could see children playing by the water. “This is where I was born. And this is where I died.” For a moment she thought she heard someone laughing nearby, but she didn't bother looking around. “For the first twenty-nine years of my life, nothing happened. Nothing that could ever compare. And then I met Twilight Sparkle, and she showed me a world of magic. I thought I might never go back. But I was wrong. My name is Chryasor Xlevrata, and this is the story of how I died.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic, sister, you're not dead yet.” A new voice came from behind her. The voice spoke a language not of this world, but it was one Chryasor knew. She whirled around to look at the speaker, already knowing who it must be but unable to believe it could really be her.

“How... how did you...” Chryasor was at a loss for words. Tears began to well up in her eyes. “I thought I'd never see you again. What about–”

“She's fine. It's over now. Everything is better again.” But she could see by the look on her sister's face that Chryasor had a different opinion about this last statement. “Wait a second,” the visitor said. “Were you about to kill yourself when I popped in? Is that why you said this is where you died?” Chryasor said nothing, but again her face betrayed an answer. “No,” her sister said. “You must not. There is still hope. But I must go soon; magic of this caliber takes tremendous energy to maintain.”

“Just... just show me. Show me there really is hope.” She took a step forward and reached out to touch her sister's arm, but her hand passed through with no resistance. “Oh no...” she said softly to herself. “I've gone mad, haven't I? As if the rest wasn't enough, now I'm seeing visions, hearing voices... Enough, I'm done with this.” She reached into a pocket and produced a knife.

“No!” the apparition screamed, lunging to grab the knife away even though she knew she could not touch it. But that was enough, as Chryasor reflexively dropped it in fright as she backed away. “No,” she repeated. “I am real. As real as you are. Just... elsewhere. Now, go home, and leave that thing behind.” She looked down at the knife laying half buried in the sand. Looking back up, she noticed Chryasor would not meet her gaze. “Remember, Chry, hope. The one thing no one can ever take away from you. There is always hope.” And with that, she closed her eyes, and her body momentarily shimmered with a rainbow outline before fading away.

Chryasor stood, alone, staring at her footprints in the sand. Her sister had left none behind when she vanished. In the distance, all was normal. A few boats were starting to head toward shore as the sun went down. And the knife lay still at her feet. She felt drawn to it, as if it were somehow daring her to pick it up again. Would she give in to the temptation, and wade out into the water to end it all? Or would she leave it in the sand, and walk the other way back towards home?

Could she really not be insane? What rational senses she thought she had left were telling her that there was no way her sister could have been here, that it was all just a hallucination. But somewhere deep within her, there was a glimmer of hope that somehow it had all been real. That both her sisters still lived, and maybe, just maybe, she could too. She told herself that this was crazy, that it was impossible. But the glimmer of hope remained.

About a year earlier...