An Open Door

Chapters

Pride
Understanding
Growth
Hope
Friendship?

Pride

Sunset’s footsteps came to rest on her way out the door of the sirens’ small rented house. “Adagio…” she said softly. “You sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?”

Adagio grimaced at the half-eaten bowl of cereal on the table in front of her, sitting with her back to the door and still wearing the clothes she’d slept in. A giggling outburst between Sonata and the pink menace shattered the momentary silence, bringing with it an awareness of the tightening grip around the neck of her spoon.

Her expression hardened to a scowl. As if I'd accompany you anywhere…

Her attention was inexplicably drawn, however, to a familiar characteristic in this ‘Shimmer’ girl’s voice. Despite its husky undertone, the voice held a certain musical quality that hung on the air even when speaking naturally.

Adagio's knuckles paled as her strangled spoon, now clenched between both hands, began to bend. Her thoughts darkened at the memory of her own voice; a memory long since drowned by the grief following their loss. Hers had been a voice of unrivaled beauty. A voice that had once manipulated, seduced, enslaved thousands over the course of centuries. A voice that had been broken, shattered in an instant, by the one now standing scarcely across the room—her and the rest of those damned six and their purple-haired princess. Her mind spat the word, refusing to acknowledge the girl by name.

She had underestimated that one. The purple one. Awkward, visibly apprehensive, singing barely above a whisper into the microphone in the early rounds of the competition. She should have recognized it immediately—that spark of a fellow Equestrian. She cursed this world. Cursed the years of doldrums for dulling her senses.

Her trembling grip constricted further, bending the spoon nearly to an ‘L’. And then this one here... She gritted her teeth. How? The verbal torment they’d leveled against her in that hallway should have broken her—would have broken anyone else, Adagio assured herself. What had given her the resilience to withstand their influence when even the magic bearers themselves, those Rainbooms, had fractured under its weight? And then, on the hill with the others pressed to their knees in submission, it was she who—

Adagio was pulled back to the table by the creak of hinges and a click-thud as the front door closed, leaving her alone in silence. The remains of her uninspired breakfast looked even less appetizing now than before. She didn't know how many of them had been at the door—she hadn't turned to look—only that Aria and Sonata had, once again, left with them.

A low growl formed in her throat and then flared into a choked-up roar, as the mangled spoon sailed across the room into a corner and clanged to the ground.

***

The early autumn wind was brisk against the side of Adagio’s face, blowing her thick tie of hair toward one shoulder while she walked without purpose down the street, hands in pockets. The route had become automatic, its scenery blurred by months of repetition. As each day passed deeper into the season, her fraying hooded sweatshirt provided less shelter against the onset of the cold. It didn’t matter. The chill on her skin fit well with the cold that had settled into her heart.

Gray sidewalk. Gray overcast sky. Everything around her was gray—a reflection, she thought, of the hollow place where her song once swelled. But no matter how empty, how cold, and how deep into despair she sank, she maintained resolve. She had not shed a single tear since that day; she would’t give them the satisfaction. Those six and their princess.

Adagio considered the discolored leaves that tumbled past now and then, powerless against the wind that dictated their fate, and her thoughts turned to Aria and Sonata.

Gloomy, unmotivated Aria. Naive, incompetent Sonata.

“Hmph. And just what are you two looking at?”

She came to a stop and narrowed her eyes at a pair of birds that had been staring blankly back at her.

Chirp. Cheep.

“Indeed,” she growled. “What would those two have done without me—what could they have done? They wouldn't have lasted a decade in this world on their own.”

Cheep.

“Yes, it took our three voices for the magic to work, but it was my plans, my leadership that kept us moving forward and out of trouble.” She looked down and clenched her fists. “The whole time I pulled those two along, enduring their squabbling and their bickering, no matter how unbearable it became.

“And yet, where are they now?” she mocked with a swipe of one hand. “Once again off with Shimmer and her cohorts playing friendship-is-rainbows.”

Chirp.

“Ugh. Idiots.” She stuffed both hands back in her pockets, glaring at the birds. “Them and you.”

She clenched her jaw and set to walking again. Her thoughts drifted back a few months prior, to when the two of them had finally crumbled. Sonata was the first to falter. Unsurprising. She had stubbornly insisted on continuing to attend that school, where she had, naturally, fallen under the sway of their words. Sonata then began to pressure Adagio and Aria to join her on their outings. She, of course, had a knack for being annoyingly persistent. So despite their bickering, Aria eventually relented and accompanied her and the others one evening. Not long afterward, she disappointingly lost her edge and fell in with them as well.

Adagio realized that her hands had freed themselves from her pockets and folded into fists, and she clenched them even tighter. How could they be so weak-willed and so easily humiliated? she thought with gritted teeth. We are creatures of savage beauty and majesty!

No. She lowered her sight to the cracks in the sidewalk, exhaling and raising a hand to her neck. Not anymore.

The flame of her rising anger snuffed out in the wind, and her hands went limp. She returned her attention to the darkening clouds, and then back to the ground, turned around slowly, and began the cold walk home.

***

Those seven and their light… That blinding, searing light. Adagio had awoken late this morning to its memory pounding in her head. She relived that sharp anguish of everything she was being cleaved in two. All of that ageless power and beauty… burned away, leaving nothing behind but this empty, voiceless husk. She dug a thumb into her temple, took another sip of wine and rested both elbows on the table with a long exhale.

Centuries of power over the weak-minded natives of this world had left the three of them with a considerable reserve of wealth, and she was grateful now for their—for her—foresight to keep it hidden and live simply. Yet even this security provided little in the way of comfort against what they’d lost that day.

And while it was perhaps the afternoon sun pouring in through the front window, and the glass of eight-year-old pinot in her hand, Adagio still appreciated that comforts, however small, were comforts nonetheless. But this small patch of emotional sunlight clouded over quickly. For she knew responsibility would now fall squarely on her shoulders to devise a means of warding off suspicions about their living arrangement. All it would take is one nosy neighbor.

The irony of now working to prevent such a situation rather than incite one was not lost on her. With equal parts bemusement and resentment, she managed a dispassionate “Hmmph,” and turned to look out the window. That was a task for another day.

As the sun began to dip into the horizon, she recalled that during the early months following their loss, the three of them would come and go with hardly a spoken word, aside from Sonata’s and Aria’s arguing—which consisted typically of Aria growling, and then eventually yelling, in response to the former’s attempts at small-talk and invasion of personal space. They ate. They occasionally, individually, walked the streets in thought. And they slept. More than once on her walks, Adagio had brought her voice to song, but the dissonant sound had only sunk her spirit deeper. She wondered whether the others had done the same. She presumed they had. But then, what would it have mattered? If she herself had come up empty, then what hope was there for those two incompetents?

Swirling the last sip of wine in her glass, Adagio stood and made her way to the kitchen. At the same time, Aria turned the corner out of her room and banged on the bathroom door. With her hair brushed to a silken sheen and wearing a new outfit, she called, “Come on, Sona… We're gonna be late again.”

Aria turned and walked into the main room, but froze when she met eyes with Adagio. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Hey…” Clasping her hands together and lowering her eyes, she added, “I don't suppose that—”

With a growl, Adagio swung open the refrigerator door and leaned in. She heard a heavy sigh followed by the sound of departing footsteps. Slamming the door shut with a rattle, she turned and placed both hands on the counter. She’d seen less and less of those two over the recent months as they'd given up their identities—their very selves—and lost their wills to those others. Tonight, she knew, would be another of those nights, when the expected knock sounded at the door. Sonata bounded happily out of the bathroom, greeted the rainbow troupe and then showed them in.

This time, unlike the last, Adagio turned to face them, crossing her arms and glaring as they entered. All six of them were present this time, but they said nothing to her. Sunset, the one who had reached out to her last time, upon meeting Adagio’s gaze, slowly lowered her own to the floor with a look of, what? Regret? Sympathy? Intimidation, perhaps. Adagio smirked.

The encounter was brief. The group filed outside, and it was Aria who turned to close the door behind them, but not before glancing back with a soft frown and what appeared to be a look of genuine, affectionate—pity? Adagio blinked in surprise but immediately composed herself, looked to the side and scowled as the door shut, once again, on an empty room.

Understanding

The sound of the front door startled Adagio back to awareness. With a groan, she opened her eyes and tightened her grip on the empty wine bottle before it could roll off onto the floor. Propping herself up on the other hand, she glared at her two housemates when they walked in. “Fun evening?” she chided.

After putting her things down, Aria, with that same soft look as before, sat down in the middle of the couch next to Adagio. Sonata walked past with her eyes lowered and took the final seat to Aria's left.

“How can you do it?” Adagio asked, gesturing to the door as she looked first at Sonata and then Aria. “How can you stand to be seen following them around like little lost dogs? Have you lost all sense of who we are—what we were—before they shattered us?”

Aria sighed and closed her eyes. “I get what you’re feeling… I do. For those first few months, I was there too.” She glanced up to Sonata and smiled, but then lowered her gaze to the floor. “I was so angry. At them, at this world, at both of you.”

She turned to Adagio and continued, “It was so easy for me to place all my blame on you and your plans. I was wrong for that. And I know you don’t have that same kind of easy out. So yeah… I can see why you're so mad at them.”

She was right, of course. Adagio couldn’t just pin the blame on someone else and run away from it. It was her who pushed them to take that calculated risk at the school—and with good reason. There appeared to be nothing at risk. None of them could have expected the way everything would come crashing to the ground in the end.

“And what about you?” Adagio asked, looking over to Sonata as she placed the empty bottle on the coffee table. “How could you bear to be around that place after what happened?”

Sonata sighed and stared off into the kitchen. “I guess… I think I was just lonely. I don’t let you guys see it much, but I just kinda felt sad.” She lowered her eyes and folded her hands in her lap. “We were never really that close before anyway, but after that night it just hurt so much. I didn’t know what else to do. But… I knew I couldn’t just stay in my room all day crying.

“And yeah. It was hard. But I guess it was still easier than the way I felt around here. And when I went back, almost all of them were mean to me. But you know who wasn’t?” She narrowed her quivering eyes at Adagio. “Those girls—Sunny and her friends.”

‘Sunny’. Adagio grimaced at the notion of cute nicknames being attributed to that group. But then her expression softened. It struck her that... while Sonata was always happy and bubbly on the surface, the past few months had shown hints of a genuine… contentedness in her that hadn’t been there before. Adagio felt the fog in her mind begin to lift. Memories filtered through of Sonata’s growing confidence lately with things she was passionate about. Whereas in the past she’d have simply frowned and sulked off with a pouted ‘okay…’ Her daily insistence with sharing her new outlook had been difficult to ignore. Her budding talent for sketching and painting had certainly left its mark around the house. She truly had begun to carry herself with a new measure of inner strength and purpose.

Adagio felt the grip of her resistance begin to loosen. And in its place sprouted this… unfamiliar sense of uncertainty, made even more surprising by the emotional stillness and a feeling of calm that crept in with it. What was happening here? She looked down at her hands while breathing quietly in and out. But then… Gah. She ran her fingers through her hair and shook the confusing thoughts from her head. “But our songs…” she said, feeling the resistance tighten again. “That power. What are we now without it, with our voices broken?”

“You must have felt it,“ Aria responded, looking Adagio in the eyes. “Yeah, the Old Songs are gone. We’ll never have them back. But gone with them is the hunger.” She brought a hand up to her neck. “Those gems. You know they were just as much a curse as a source of power.”

“Of course I know,” snapped Adagio. “How could I forget. But that power. Oh, that power.” She brought her palms up in front of her and clenched them into fists. “I know you must have felt that.” She narrowed her eyes at Aria. “That rush we hadn’t had in centuries. It was right there. And they ripped it from us!”

“We had the power, yes,” Aria responded, holding Adagio’s gaze. “That rush. All our memories of Equestria. I know you wanted more.” She paused for a moment and then added softly, “I did too. But then… yeah. We lost all of it.” She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. “Look. I know this may be hard to believe. But with where I am now, I don’t miss it.”

Sonata nodded with a “Mmm-hmm,” smiling at Adagio.

Hard to believe indeed. Adagio, at a loss for words, simply stared at Sonata for a moment and then back to Aria.

Aria opened her eyes again and smiled. “We remember what it feels like now to have people who enjoy us and want to be around us. It’s not forced, there’s no magic—they just like us for who we are.” She crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. “And I don’t have the words to tell you how good that feels.”

At this, Sonata smiled broadly and wrapped Aria in a tight hug. Adagio raised one eyebrow and prepared to inch away from Aria’s impending wrath at the invasion of personal space. But instead, the other eyebrow followed when Aria closed her eyes and leaned into the hug. Where was the predictable growl, the shove, and then the shouted rebuff?

As Adagio composed herself, Aria turned toward her again. “Think about it, Adagio. Think back through all those hundreds of years, even in Equestria. Sure, the power was exhilarating, but was there ever a time when you really felt fulfilled… and actually happy?”

Equestria. Adagio's memories began to swell with the tide and her mind dove in. Scenes flitted past of youthful ambition, an opportunity taken to grasp at power, squabbling neighbors, jealous lovers, the blinding rage of war. All those satiating, empowering emotions—sometimes coaxed, other times offered freely. She had reveled in the surge that flowed from each of those encounters, and she longed again for that seductive power which had dwelled within the Old Songs. That such beauty and influence could be simply willed into existence was a heady, staggering rush.

But in the end, the rush never lasted; it was never enough. And so the search always began for the next.

Her expression darkened slightly, when it occurred to her that every memory was laced with her perpetual struggle for control. Manipulating trade relations, planting a seed of suspicion in the wife of a village mayor, even playing Aria and Sonata against one another to keep them within her grip. There was never an end to the plotting, the scheming. There was never a moment when the stress of maintaining this control didn’t weigh somewhere in the back of her mind.

And for all that work, all that effort, had there ever truly been an opportunity to enjoy the fruits of her labor? Had there ever been any ‘fruit’, beyond simple sustenance?

Adagio’s brow furled as she struggled to think why this had not crossed her mind until now.

And that thought drew her to the unfamiliar, hollow, painful memory which had begun to creep into her reveries since the shattering of their pendants. It was a strange sensation, as if she could remember the feeling of the experience, yet not the actual experience itself—a feeling of listlessness, the absence of fulfillment—an emptiness in her soul that revealed itself whenever the rushes of power subsided.

But why? Why had this feeling never existed before that searing light? The light had burned away everything she knew. Or perhaps… it was just everything she thought she knew? Perhaps there was something more, something hidden deep within that was only able to reveal itself once the red stone’s influence had been stripped away.

She brought a hand up over her heart at the thought. Could it be? Might some actual sense of fulfillment to that emptiness be what Aria had found and lacked the words to adequately describe? The way she related her experience evoked a faint sense of longing in Adagio that both frightened and relieved her at the same time.

“Adagio.” Aria’s voice pulled her back to the couch and the dimly lit room.

With a quizzical look, Aria continued, “Yeah, for the first few days my mind was a mess. Angry, hopeless. Like there was just this… hole in place of everything I was. More than once, I wondered what it’d be like to just end it all. I couldn’t go on feeling like that.”

For a few days, mused Adagio with a dour smirk. She recalled the utter hopelessness and alcohol-dulled thoughts of ending the pain that had haunted her for weeks.

Aria closed her eyes and sighed. “I got past it, but those first few months I was in a dark place; I did some terrible things.” She glanced over at Sonata. “But then when I finally let this one talk me into going with her, well…”

“Please, Adagio,” Sonata begged, leaning forward from around the other side of Aria. “Will you please come with us next time?”

Adagio again noticed Aria glance sideways at Sonata, this time with a warm smile. What had happened to these two? Well, Sonata had always been Sonata, but Aria—Aria with all her anger, Aria with all her bitterness. Who was this now sitting next to her? Had she truly rediscovered some spark of happiness, despite everything they’d been through?

Adagio was struck again by that earlier feeling of calm and its accompanying warmth. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands.

At this, Sonata yelped out a “Yay!” and bounced on the couch a few times before being interrupted with a yawn. “Gosh I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I need some sleep,“ added Aria, putting a hand on Adagio’s knee, “Think about it.” She smiled, stood up and walked down the hall to her room, with Sonata following suit to her own door across the hall.

After hearing both doors shut, Adagio leaned back into the corner of the couch and closed her eyes. Was it possible? In spite of everything they had lost was there some path, however humble, that led to a future worth pursuing?

Every fiber of her past was pulling at her in refusal. Yet there they were—Aria and Sonata. She couldn’t recall the last time the three of them had simply sat and talked like that in such a heartfelt manner. Had we ever? She opened her eyes and looked around the room. This feeling, this atmosphere. It began to fill her with a comfortable warmth. It was… peaceful.

Closing her eyes again, she settled into a quiet stillness as the sensation drifted around her.

***

Adagio stood and turned off the last of the lights. After her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, a faint glow from the hallway crept into the edge of her vision. Taking a step around the corner, she noticed a sliver of light fanning out across the floor from Sonata's cracked doorway. When she slowly approached the door, the sound coming from within caused her eyes to widen in shock. She fell back against the wall and steadied herself with one hand, placing the other over her heart while gasping for breath.

Aria was inside as well. And the two of them… they were singing.

Not the broken dissonant sounds of before, but something—something beautiful. Aria’s pure, clear melody drifted amid Sonata’s deeper backing harmonies, carrying images of ages past, of a time long since forgotten when… happiness was a feeling the three of them had known. And could it be? To think they might have rediscovered some piece of that… after all this time? That thought, carried on the raw, innocent emotion of their song, began to chip a crack in the dam Adagio had built up in her mind. A torrent of thoughts swirled as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

How? her mind gasped. How are they doing this?

She leaned her head back against the wall. Her breath came more rapidly, and she wondered just how long this had been going on, how long ago their voices had returned. Had they been singing like this together for some days, some weeks now?

Her eyes narrowed, and her hands balled into fists as a familiar coil of anger began to rise.

And if so, why hadn’t they told me?

No. Relax. She forced a long, slow exhale. What they shared with her earlier this evening had been so genuine. It lacked any trace of the tension that used to persist between them. Adagio assured herself that Sonata and Aria wouldn’t hide something like this from her for selfish or spiteful reasons.

She stared down at the floor between her feet. Perhaps they thought I wasn’t ready yet. She gripped her knees tighter and sighed. Or had they been trying to tell me all along, and I just wasn’t listening...

But was she ready now? Adagio thought back to the faint spark she felt awaken inside her while sitting in the quiet earlier.

It’s worth a try.

She pulled her knees up close to her chest and—as she had for centuries before—began to blend her voice with theirs, this time singing barely above a whisper. Out of habit, her song rose to spin its influence and control in a way that weaved over and through the harmony the two were creating. But her voice remained discordant and broken.

No. Nothing, she sighed.

With arms still on her knees, she looked down again at the floor and brought her wrists to her temples. Her eyes began to quiver.

What is wrong with me?

And as her mental pacing became more frantic, she was drawn again to the soft light that struggled to glow within the void left behind by her old song. Again she slowed her breathing and calmed herself. Had the others felt this too? This glimmer, this light, this… hope? They must have.

Adagio closed her eyes, breathed in and exhaled deeply, a part of her built-up resistance crumbling and flowing out with the breath. For several minutes she sat silently in the dark hallway, simply listening to the sound the two of them were creating around her.

And as she listened, she began to realize that it did truly possess no hint of the Old Songs.

The Old Songs. At this, thoughts of stolen power and resentment again began to rise, but she was surprised at the ease with which she quelled her anger this time—as if it was in and out with a breath.

What is this song? There was an element of purity to it, and surprisingly, a lack of any ambition other than the simple joy of expression. The dam weakened further. Small cracks began to form. Part of her was afraid of the release she felt was coming, but another part of her yearned for it. She was so tired… So tired of maintaining this vigilance over her despair.

With eyes still closed, Adagio again began to sing, this time without any motive for control, simply asking her voice to join and harmonize with theirs. The sound that arose remained ragged, but she pushed through the frustration. The cracks widened and spread. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

She clenched her fists against her forehead to steady her thoughts as they began to quaver. Sing, she urged herself. I don’t care how it sounds, just sing! She pressed her eyes closed, forcing the first few tears down her cheeks. Turning inward, she felt the tiny spark of light begin to grow. Her song took on a new hint of softness and clarity.

No! You must maintain resolve, the old voice scolded in her mind. If you break, you admit defeat. You must not let them win!

But what has all of this ‘resolve’ done for me?! she countered. Half a year’s worth of empty, grey existence? It had just been one day after another. Hollow. Meaningless. Hopeless.

But then… these two here, Adagio thought, as her mind calmed again. She could no longer deny the warmth and the new life they had brought with them into this small house in recent months. Why can’t I have that, too? she pleaded. What gain has there been in clinging so stubbornly to the past? She recalled again the look of pity in Aria’s eyes before she’d walked out the door earlier. And then the compassion the two of them had shared with her during their talk on the couch. Her voice faltered at the thought. But then the soft light lifted her with an aura of comfort. Her song took on a renewed sense of strength and determination.

Adagio again turned her focus to Aria and Sonata, and to the beauty they were creating around her. They had found it. She had seen it earlier, and she could hear it now in the expression of their song. The two of them had discovered a new sense of freedom and hope.

And they had tried for so long to share it with her. Again, here they were. All she had to do now was let go. Let go of her pride, and the bitter resentment. I can have this too, she thought. All I have to do is let it in. She choked out a single cry of surrender. And the spark of light began to grow, pushing aside the last of her resistance along with the darkness. She released all desire for control, and from a place of humility allowed them to guide her emerging voice. Her song grew louder, clearer, and began to join with theirs in harmony.

This isn't defeat, she willed. It’s moving forward!

And with that, the dam burst, and the light exploded to fill the void in her heart. Her voice rang out, with tears flowing freely as the release she’d longed for washed over her.

Adagio sank her forehead to her knees, and a deep, soulful sobbing overtook her breath and drowned out her song. But she had felt it. She had found her voice. No magic, no mask, no manipulation, but something sourced from deep within. Had it always been there, stifled under the darkness that was burned away all those months ago? She didn’t know. She didn’t care right now. She knew there would be a time for that later.

After the wave of release subsided, a tide of regret swelled in its place. She recalled the disdain she’d harbored for so long toward her companions. She had never made any effort to disguise it. She shook her head between her knees. I don’t deserve this, her mind cried in shame. I don’t deserve this gift they’ve given to me. After everything she had put them through—the ridicule, the relentless drive, and then the fall, in the end it was Aria and Sonata who were there to lift her up.

Deep, steady Aria. Brave, innocent Sonata.

Adagio’s thoughts returned to their voices when she heard quiet footsteps approaching the bedroom door. As the two of them drew near, their song began to evoke a new emotion. The tranquil sense of joy that had been flowing around her settled into a soft embrace of sympathy and compassion.

Tears continued to stream down her face while she attempted to choke out a melody. She looked up to see Aria kneeling to her left, and Sonata sitting to her right as they took her in their arms.

They put their heads down on her shoulders, and the three of them sang.

For the first time in half a year, the three of them sang. Together.

Growth

A lazy creak of hinges preceded Adagio as she opened her bedroom door and stepped quietly into the hallway. The diffused light of the morning sun drifted down the hall from the west-facing window in the front room. She lifted a cascade of hair from her face and released it over her shoulder, following through into a long, languid stretch. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes for a moment and allowed the smell of fresh-brewed coffee to paint its mural on her senses.

One of the other doors in the hallway was slightly ajar, and Adagio peeked in. Sunlight from the drawn window illuminated a jumbled landscape of artist supplies and oversized plush animals, the room’s occupant nowhere to be seen. Hmmm, Sonata. She smiled, inhaling again the rich dark aroma floating down the hall. Thank you.

Sitting down at the table in her nightshirt and boxer shorts, a cup of warmth between her hands, Adagio sighed at the feeling of peace which still lingered from the night before. The room was silent, and she assumed Sonata to be out doing whatever it was she did on her cheerful mornings. She couldn’t recall the last time she herself had been out of bed so early—or had slept so soundly, for that matter. She took another deep, relaxed breath and looked up out the front window.

The sun rising behind the house and its backing foothills illuminated the treetops in the field across the street, slowly painting them in light from the top down. Adagio reflected on how the scene mirrored the change of heart she felt emerging out of last night’s experience. She cupped her hands tighter on the coffee mug and purposefully squeezed, flinching after a moment at the heat. Not dreaming, she smiled, shaking out her hands. She was not so naive as to believe the road ahead would be free of troubles, but was content for now with the feeling that she had finally set foot on the path.

A clattering from the kitchen followed by a muffled curse revealed that Aria was now up and about as well. If Sonata was the bright and alert morningbird, then Aria was the yin to her yang. Wearing only a t-shirt and briefs, her hair still down and frumped after sleep, she walked past and dropped into the chair across from Adagio. Steam rose from the warmth of her own cup, and after a long sip she stated, “You look well.”

“You have no idea,” Adagio replied with another contented sigh.

“I think I do, actually. I remember my first morning after Sonata and the others opened my eyes. It was like this fog that had been weighing me down for months—”

“Had lifted away overnight,” Adagio finished for her. She reached her arms across the table, palms up, and Aria joined hands with her. “Thank you.”

They both sat back again, and Aria took another long sip. “It’s good to see you again, Adagio. I mean, the real you. It was so hard seeing you like that, having been there myself, and knowing what was on the other side… and wishing you could see it too.”

After a pause, she added, “I can only imagine how Sonata must have felt that whole time when we were both so lost.”

Adagio noticed a hint of pain flash across Aria’s face, a hint of something that ran deeper than what they were presently discussing. She was about to inquire further when the doorknob on the front door rattled for a few moments longer than it should have, and the door opened into Sonata in her sweatshirt and running pants, pushing through and holding a pair of grocery bags in her arms. With a quick motion of her sneaker-clad foot, she shut the door behind her and moved to the kitchen.

There was a startled “Eep!” when one of the bags tipped over on the counter, followed by a “Phew,” as Sonata rifled through an open egg carton, appearing to find them all intact.

“Breakfast?” she perked cheerfully.

“Yes, please,” both said in unison, with an added chuckle.

Turning back to Aria, Adagio asked softly, “Are you alright? You looked… If there's something more you needed to say, I—”

“No, it’s…,” Aria interrupted, lowering her eyes past Adagio toward the kitchen. “It’s nothing you did. And not something I wanna dig up right now.” She gave a weak smile and added, “What about you though? We want to make this your day. So if there's anything you wanna do, we’ll go along with whatever.”

Unlike her singing voice, Adagio’s keen sense of reading people had never faltered and was as sharp as ever. She decided against pushing Aria further, though, and followed along with her eager change of topic. “It might sound silly, but I’d like to walk my usual route today. I’d really like to see the scenery without the fog, if you know what I mean. And after that? We’ll see what comes up.”

Amid the sounds of sizzling and grilling, and the smell of butter, bacon and eggs, the two continued their small talk for a while until Aria looked around Adagio into the kitchen. Adagio turned to follow her gaze and discovered a confused yet determined Sonata trying to puzzle out a means of using her two hands to transport four plates and a pitcher of juice from the countertop to the table. The thought of making two trips appeared to have drifted past her and out the window.

Aria stood and made her way toward the kitchen. “Here, I got it,” she fussed. “Silly.”

“Four plates?” Adagio asked, as they emptied their hands onto the table.

“Oh, I asked Sunny to come over,” Sonata said nonchalantly before her eyes widened with an “Ohhh.” Glancing up at the wall clock, she added sheepishly, “I hope that was okay, heh. She should be here soon.”

“Actually, you know… I’m glad for that. If nothing else, I’d like to thank her for what she did for you at the school.” Lifting her fork, Adagio pushed around some of the food on her plate. “And to apologize. I could see all along what you three were trying to do for me, even if my pride wouldn’t let me anywhere near it.

“And on another note,” she said, grinning at the two of them and wagging a forkful of eggs, “I can’t help but feel the hallway last night was more than just coincidence.”

“Yeah… We did kinda hope you’d hear us,” Sonata said. “Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, it’s just… it seemed like something that needed the right time.” She leaned her shoulder against Aria’s, and the two shared a smile.

Adagio took the bite off her fork with a peaceful “Hmmmm.” The thought of the two of them plotting together to help her after all the scheming she had devoted toward keeping them apart brought a happy feeling of warmth.

“It was her idea,” Sonata continued, pointing her fork at Aria. “She snuck in my room while you were on the couch and asked if I’d help.”

Aria swallowed and studied her own fork as she poked at her plate, a bit of the levity leaving her face. “That look in your eyes had been getting worse over the last few weeks. And I just couldn’t stand to see you like that anymore, not since we found there was another way.” She looked back up at Adagio and went on, “So when I thought I saw you start to crack last night, I knew it was time to try and make you understand. Like she did for me.” Aria brushed once down Sonata’s arm with the back of her fingers.

At this, the two shared a lingering glance before both lowering their eyes to the table. After a few moments of silence, Sonata popped up with a smile toward Adagio, but Aria’s gaze lingered, taking on again that troubled look from earlier, as if some unrequested memory were playing out inside her coffee mug.

Sonata’s smile faded when she followed Adagio over to the pained look on Aria’s face. She placed one of her hands on Aria’s wrist. “Ari,” she said softly. “It’s okay. She should know.” Moving down to squeeze her hand, she added, “It might help both of you.”

Aria lifted her gaze to Sonata and then turned to Adagio. She took a deep breath, and her eyes began to glisten with moisture as she exhaled. “Last night I told you I did some terrible things those first few months.”

So there was something more to this… The unusual closeness these two had shown last night—or that Aria, specifically, had shown toward Sonata. Something must have happened to bring about that change in her. It had seemed so uncharacteristic. Did this memory that was paining her so badly have something to do with that change? It had to… In anticipation of the answer, Adagio nodded with a soft, “Mmm-hmm.”

Aria lowered her eyes back to her plate and set her fork down on it. “I was so angry… and afraid. And mostly afraid of anyone seeing that fear inside me.”

She took another staggered breath. “But even hiding behind the walls I put up, and the doors here, Sonata still saw it. She saw the hurt and the fear, and it was so in her nature to try to help me that she just kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing.” Her voice hardened with each repetition.

“And, of course, I pushed back. You heard all the yelling and the slamming doors.”

Adagio again nodded. Her mind had been so lost and clouded during those early months that much of what went on in the house was blurred, but Sonata’s persistence with both of them and Aria’s near-nightly yelling had been impossible to ignore.

“It went further, though.” Aria looked at her open hands resting on the table. “It got to a point where I was so angry that she wouldn't just leave me alone, that I blew up and pushed back with more than my voice… Repeatedly.” She began to choke up. “And through it all she still didn’t give up. And—I can’t…” With elbows still on the table, she leaned forward and covered her face. Sonata placed a hand on her back and began to rub gently.

Through the mask of Aria’s hands, Adagio could hear her ragged, steadying breaths, as if she were struggling to hold back tears. She’s still so afraid to show that vulnerability… Her thoughts then turned inward with a tinge of regret. Though I’m hardly one to talk, am I?

And it made sense now. Adagio had seen the bruises on Sonata—on the sides of her face and once below her ribs while she was changing her shirt. In her disdain for the two of them at the time, she had dismissively attributed the injuries to Sonata’s clumsiness, or to her being bullied at the school. She also recalled the time when Sonata had suddenly run out of the house and down the street, bawling and clutching her chest as a door down the hallway slammed following a one-sided shouting match.

“I’m so sorry,” choked Aria through cupped hands.

Sonata gently lowered Aria’s hands and met her eyes. “We talked about this, remember? That was so long ago, and I’ve forgiven you.”

“I know, but… it still makes me sick to my stomach.” Aria looked back down at the table. “How could I have done that to you, when all you wanted to do was help me?” she asked hoarsely, clutching her arms and hunching forward.

“It’s alright,” Sonata reassured her. “I’m alright. We’re in a much better place now.” Sonata then turned to Adagio and rested a hand on one of hers. “And we missed you, Dagie. We missed you so much. We’re so happy you’re here with us again.”

Adagio smiled back and was about to respond when a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Sunny’s here!” Sonata hopped up to show her in. At the same time, Aria made her way quickly down the hall and into the bathroom, a single sob wracking her form while she clutched her arms. Which left Adagio alone at the table, with everything she had just heard still setting in. How? She shook her head at the thought of Aria so visibly hurt. And at knowing now just how badly Aria had hurt Sonata. How could I not have seen any of this? She brought a trembling hand to her mouth, attempting to choke back the emotion swelling her throat.

After showing Sunset in, Sonata returned to her chair next to where Aria had been seated. This brought Adagio back up out of her thoughts, and she dried the edges her eyes, hoping neither of them would notice. Sonata’s brow furled when she turned toward Aria’s empty chair. She peeked under the table, scratched her head and then looked around the room.

Sunset’s shoulders tensed while fiddling with her jacket cuffs. She eyed the remaining chair next to Adagio—who worked her expression into what she hoped was a welcoming smile. At this, Sunset finally let out her breath. She returned a smile of her own before taking a seat.

“I gave your bacon to Dagie and Aria,” Sonata said proudly.

“Thanks, Sonata. These eggs look wonderful.”

“Oh, Aria didn’t eat her bacon…”

“Well, the conversation did take a turn.” Adagio glanced over her shoulder down the hall and then back to Sonata.

Sunset followed Adagio’s gaze to Sonata, who shared a knowing look and brought two finger tips up to her cheek. Sunset lowered her eyes to the table with an “Oh,” and was silent for a moment. “I guess she really is the one who ended up with the scars.”

“Karma has a cruel sense of humor,” Aria stated flatly, and three heads turned to see her leaning against the corner of the hallway. “It's alright. Let’s just talk about it.” She took a seat again next to Sonata and wiped one eye with the sweater she’d put on. “I really wanted today to be about you, Adagio, but maybe it’ll be good for you to hear more of what we went through.”

Sonata covered Aria’s hand again with one of her own.

After a few moments, Adagio broke the silence. “All this time, I was too wrapped up in my own funk to see what was going on between you two.” She turned to Sunset. “But you knew, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“That night…” Aria said. “That first night I let Sonata take me with her, this all ended up coming out. It was a big part of my release. And then the way everyone was so supportive really opened my eyes to what we were missing.”

Sunset turned to Adagio and added, “It’s the same thing those girls did for me after I had—well, you heard. So when I saw most of the others treating Sonata like they’d treated me, I knew I had to help. None of us were surprised she was the only one who came back, but—no offense—”

Adagio raised a curious eyebrow as Sunset caught herself smirking mid-thought. Sunset appeared to pick up on her confusion, and with a light laugh said, “Sorry, I’ll tell you later.” Her face going serious again, she cleared her throat and continued, “But like I was saying, while Sonata was the only one who came back, we still wanted to find a way to reach out to both of you as well.”

“With their help, it really was Sonata who saved me,” Aria said. “And I’m thankful to her, but… it still hurts to remember it.” She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Do you remember that night she ran from the house, and we didn’t see her again for over a day?”

“I do,” Adagio replied. She remembered it vividly—the very scene she had recalled earlier. “I feel like I should have done something, but was too depressed at the time to be bothered with thinking about what to do.” She looked up at Sonata and added, “I’d never seen you like that, and looking back now, I can’t believe I wasn’t more worried about you.” She rubbed her temples with both hands. “Ugh… I was so lost.”

Sonata gave no response. She sat motionless, staring at the air in front of her.

“I don’t think I’d ever hit her that hard before,” Aria confessed. “And that broke something inside me. What I never would’ve let you see was me sitting in the corner of my room, head on my knees in tears, replaying over and over that look on her face before she ran out the door. It was something I thought I’d never see. That hope and happiness she always carries around had just… drained out, and there was nothing left.”

Aria glanced at Sonata, whose expression, Adagio noted, still had not changed. Had she even blinked? “It was like her light had been snuffed out. And I knew I was the one that did it. That woke something up inside me. Something that only got brighter when she finally came home.” She squeezed Sonata’s hand gently, causing her to blink and take a quick breath. Sonata looked at Aria, leaned on her shoulder and closed her eyes.

Adagio sat in silence, listening. She saw that Sunset had her eyes lowered with her hands folded in her lap. Both took an overdue breath. Adagio's mind was… She didn't know. In that moment, she felt nearly as shut down as Sonata had looked. The thought that none of this had even registered with her while it was occurring… She took another slow, steadying breath.

“It was the first time I realized I was actually jealous of her irritating happiness,” Aria continued. “I knew I had to do everything I could to keep that alive in her. I’d never forgive myself if I let that part of her die.” She lowered her eyes and sighed. “And so I finally agreed to go with her to meet the others. She was kinda my hero at the end of it all.”

Adagio reflected back on her sour perception of Aria’s falling-in with Sunset and the others, and contrasted it with what she’d just learned. Could I have been any more blind? How in the world could she have missed all of this? She shook her head and closed her eyes. Yes, those two had been such a burden over the years. But still… she had always looked after them, even if begrudgingly. She gripped her arms with huddled shoulders. Her thoughts fell to Sunset sitting next to her. When I turned my back on them… at the time we need each other more than ever. She was right there to help, wasn’t she? Adagio should have been strong for them. She had always taken that maternal role. Always been the guiding voice.

Yet after everything, they were the ones who pulled her up out of that darkness. And Sunset had played a big part in that. Adagio lifted her head, allowing her built-up tension to flow out with a breath. She gave Sunset a sideways glance and saw her sharing a look with Aria.

After a few more moments of silence, Sonata finally spoke. “When I saw what Sunny and the other girls had, I wanted it so bad for us.” She nuzzled into Aria’s hug. “I knew I could help you guys, even if you couldn’t see it. They helped me grow so much, and I just wanted that for you too. I knew both of you were just scared.”

“And after she opened my eyes,” Aria picked up, turning to Adagio, “I understood her wanting to share this and knew I had to help.”

“Thank you.” Adagio smiled softly. “Thank you both.” She caught Sunset brushing a sleeve against her eye.

“No. Not us,” said Aria. “Thank her.” She rested her head on Sonata’s and quietly added, “I don’t know how you did it—how you kept believing and hoping in me when all I did was throw it back in your face.” Her eyes widened for a moment before she looked away with a sharp breath and frowned. “Despair can do terrible things to a person.”

“Stubborn pride as well, I’ve come to realize,” Adagio said. “Neither of us would have taken those first steps, for our own reasons. Thank you, Sonata.”

“We’ve all had our dark places,” Sunset added. “I could never forget mine. But that light. It does something to a person. There really is some powerful magic there, and it has a way of changing you for the better.”

Sonata turned to Aria. “How I did it?” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Well, it’s… I know you guys never really had much respect for me. I mean, I never said anything about it, but I could always feel it—how you talked to me and how you looked at me. I guess I just kept smiling because I thought it was the only thing I was ever good at.”

She looked down and placed both hands on her glass of juice. “But I also knew that we needed each other, lately more than ever. I mean, we’re all we’ve had for so long. So when I thought I found a way to help you, how could I give up?” She shrugged without lifting her eyes.

Aria tightened her hug on Sonata. “I can't say ‘thank you’ enough for what you did for me—for us.”

After a moment, she pulled back and met Sonata’s eyes. “Courage,” she said, blinking away a tear. “That’s another thing you’re good at.” It was Sonata’s turn then to wipe her eyes with a sleeve, and her tiny choked-up laugh lit the room again with warmth.

After their outpouring, the conversation turned to lighthearted matters. Sunset shared a few recent stories of her own, adding to Adagio’s newfound feeling of warmth. And when they had finished eating, Adagio stood and collected all of the plates. She dropped them off at the sink with a “Hmm,” before taking a relaxed breath. “I need a shower. I feel like I owe it to all of you to really enjoy what you’ve done for me today. I’ll be right back.”

The others agreed unanimously, and Adagio heard them return to conversation as she started down the hallway.

***

Turning the shower knobs off, Adagio relished in a deep, long breath as steam hung in the warm wet air. Her long hair, uncharacteristically lean while wet, was wrung out, and with a swift automatic motion, wrapped up in one towel. She stepped out and quickly draped her middle with a second before closing her eyes and leaning back against the bathroom door.

A new day, a new start, she thought to herself peacefully. Inhale. Exhale. She enjoyed a few more minutes of simply feeling her chest rise and fall with each quiet breath before finally unfurling her hair and beginning her lengthy encounter with the blow-dryer.

After walking down the hall and into her room, she stopped for a moment to consider the waves of clutter and disarray, and how they so acutely reflected her mental state over the last few months. She smiled with the thought of continuing the trend and took note to hold a fall-cleaning session over the next day or two.

Adagio hummed a pleasant tune as she hung her remaining towel and then fished around the room for a clean pair of undergarments and jeans. She slipped them on quickly before heading to the closet, where she instinctively reached for her daily t-shirt and hoodie but then stopped mid-motion. For a moment, she studied the fraying sweatshirt sleeve in her hand and then turned her eyes to the far right end of the hanger rod where—buried deep in the alcove behind the sliding door—her collection of nicer clothes had been unceremoniously shoved aside. There they had remained, willfully forgotten since the incident.

Hmm… it's time.

She pushed the array of frumpy sweatshirts aside and one by one released her treasured garments from their confinement. Fine clothing had been a passion, her penultimate spending vice, second only to her collection of rare, exquisite wines.

“No. No. Hmm, maybe. No.” She went down the line brushing a finger against each top until, “Yes.”

She pulled a light-brown padded suede vest and matching scarf from a hanger and set it neatly on the bed before turning with determination to the armoire and unfurling a cream colored, skin-tight, long-sleeved top from one of the drawers.

Adagio turned to her full-length mirror and began lifting the shirt over her head, but then slowed to a stop when her eyes met those of her reflection.

Six months. She lowered her arms again slowly, still holding the shirt between both hands. It had been over six months since she had been able to look herself in the eyes. For another several minutes she simply stared. Stared deep into her own eyes as they began to glisten with moisture.

Vivid memories surfaced and seemed to replace her own reflection as they shifted past. Decades of faces and crowds flitted by, one after the other. Sprawling outdoor theaters. Old western saloons. The dim haze of a smoky nightclub. And from this vantage point in her memory, Adagio could make out a pattern across all of the adoring, yet vacant expressions. All were empty. Spellbound. Lacking any trace of genuine respect.

The memories continued to swirl before finally coming to rest on the adoring faces of the crowd during the band finale at the school. All eyes were locked on Adagio and her magnificent allure. But like the others before, all were devoid of any emotion other than enthralled obedience. Adagio fell to her knees and placed a hand over her mouth as she choked out a breath. There was no true adoration in that, she now realized. Even with all that power… What had we ever really accomplished?

The harsh revelation was driven home further when the scene before her shimmered with a resurgent vibrancy. Another sob escaped her throat as she watched all of the awakening faces turn away from her and toward the band on the hill. Their bewildered hush broke into a chorus of excitement and dancing, their voices joining in harmony with the Rainbooms’ joyous song.

Adagio clutched her arms and leaned forward, lowering her forehead to her knees. For a good minute, she remained this way, breathing raggedly with an occasional sob. Everything I thought I wanted… her mind cried. It really was all for nothing. Hundreds and hundreds of years… And for what? She shook her head and let out a final, pained cry. She huddled there on the floor for another few minutes as her grief and regret flowed out, making way at last for acceptance. A long, deep, cleansing breath followed.

Drying her eyes, she sat up again. Her thoughts drifted back to their conversation at the table this morning, and to Sunset’s happiness and relief as the three of them shared their experiences and their newfound hope.

Hope.

That’s what this feeling was. This feeling that had been tapping at the door in Adagio’s mind whenever she looked at Sunset Shimmer this morning. She was beginning to see now that perhaps the two of them were more alike than she’d at first thought.

She sniffled and again wiped her eyes, a new measure of determination swelling up within her. Sunset had been through a great deal as well, hadn’t she? Well, no, it wasn’t quite the same. But the experience was surely there. And with her wave of grief receding, Adagio could now say with certainty that she had so much to look forward to. And that it was finally time to step down from her lonely place of pride and seek out the wisdom of experience. I really do want this, she assured herself. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Adagio lifted her eyes to the mirror again. Looking softly at her reflection, she traced the fall of her hair, the curve of her nose, but then… What? She leaned in closer with an odd discovery. For centuries, her reflection, as well as Aria’s and Sonata’s, had been constant and unchanging. But now, made even more evident by half a year’s passage since she’d truly looked at herself, she noticed the faintest of lines around the outsides of her eyes. Pulling at the skin on one side with a finger, she watched the line disappear, only to reassert itself as she released the pressure.

A pit began to form in her stomach as this all but confirmed a prior suspicion.

“So this is it then…” Exhaling sharply, she wrapped her arms around her middle and moved up to sit on the edge of the bed, her grief from a moment ago threatening to return. What was going to happen from here? Was it really, finally, over?

The dark cloud setting in around her was scattered by Sunset's laughter in the other room. She narrowed her eyes and steeled herself. No, not today. Today was about enjoying themselves and each others’ company. There’d be time later to worry about this. And it’s not like it was anything immediate—she knew these human bodies lived quite a long time. At the very least, there’d be a good number of years to enjoy this new measure of happiness. And that thought brightened her spirit again slightly.

She quickly retrieved the shirt off her shoulder, stretched it over her figure and then reached to don the vest and scarf before finally pulling on a pair of socks and soft leather boots. She returned to the mirror and tied her hair up in its usual place with a thin, sheer piece of leopard-print fabric before making her way out into the hall.

When Adagio emerged into the main room, she was met with wide eyes from three turning faces, and then startled by an “Aahhh!” as Sonata nearly tackled her, exclaiming, “You look so pretty!”

“Thanks. I really feel it.” Adagio looked down and pulled at one of her sleeves. “It’s been so long.”

“You really do, Adagio,” Sunset said, with her hands folded on the table. She smiled softly. “I'm so happy to see you like this.”

Adagio returned the smile and felt her cheeks grow warm. She stated that after her walk they could discuss what to do for the rest of the day together. But then, opening the door, she turned halfway back to the room and paused for a moment. “Sunset. Would you?” Lowering her eyes with sigh, she added, “Would you mind joining me? I’d like a chance to talk with you.”

Sunset, caught in the middle of a sip of coffee, put the mug down hastily and wiped her mouth. “Uhm, yes. Of course!” She looked at Sonata and then Aria. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Aria smiled and waved with a ‘go on’ motion.

Sonata clasped her hands together in front of her and rocked back and forth once on her heels. “Have fun!”

As she was leaving, Adagio heard a chair slide and Sonata squeak as if pinched. She turned to see Sonata chasing a grinning Aria down the hallway, and chuckled to herself as she finished closing the door.

Hope

The two walked side by side for a time, sharing an occasional smile and enjoying the warmth of their coffee. A light breeze rustled the leaves on the nearby trees, whose shadows had begun to stretch as the sun passed its apex and started its descent.

Adagio smiled softly, feeling the warmth of the cup between her hands. “Thank you, by the way. For what you did back there. That was an odd place for me to be in—just watching and letting something like that happen. The last few months have been hard, sure, but I’ve still never had any trouble putting people like that in their place. Today, though, it’s… different. I’m just so sick of fighting.”

She turned to look at Sunset. “I think part of me is afraid of slipping back to where I was and… losing this feeling.”

Sunset touched a hand to Adagio’s forearm. “I know. I’ve been there. Oh, have I been there.” After a brief sigh and then a laugh, she said, “You’ll probably hear me saying that a lot over the next few weeks.”

‘The next few weeks.’ Adagio smiled to herself at the way Sunset had so nonchalantly made that statement. Hearing confirmation that she shared an awareness of their similarities brought a measure of comfort.

“Hmm. What was it like for you?” Adagio asked with a devious grin. “Even without magic, word is you held quite the iron grip over your little empire there on campus. Impressive, to say the least. And with what I saw back there, the reports undersold your capabilities.”

“Well… Being cut off from my magic didn’t diminish my drive,” Sunset replied. “It only made it stronger. I suppose it’s like someone who loses their eyesight. It strengthens your other senses and forces you to think about other ways of doing things. And along the way, I found this world’s technology has capabilities that can rival magic, if a person is savvy enough.”

She took a long drink of her coffee. “And it was a savvy that came natural to me. Maybe because of my approach to learning and research back in Equestria.” She began gesturing with one hand as if moving chess pieces. “And then a bit of gossip here, planting a seed there. Some investigation and misdirection. ‘Social engineering’, you might call it.”

Folding the hand to a fist in front of her, she grinned. “And then, of course, backing all of that up with a bit of force and intimidation where necessary.”

Adagio shook her head and chuckled at just how acutely Sunset’s account matched her own approach over the years. In a way, it was unsurprising, but amazing all the same. “From the sound of it, you controlled people much the same as we did, just with a different sort of ‘magic’.”

“Yeah…” Sunset lowered her eyes and relaxed the fist. “But then in the end, the stuff I was pushing so hard to achieve wasn’t worth fighting for in the first place. And from what you told me today, I guess we both ended up at that same realization, huh?”

“We did, didn’t we.” Adagio enjoyed another warm sip of her drink and then closed her eyes with a contented sigh. No matter what else happens, I really don’t want to go back to that place. You were right, Aria. Thank you.

Following another drink of her own, Sunset’s shoulders tensed with a shiver. She took a breath and let it out heavily. “Back then, I strutted around like a queen while some glared, some cowered, and others begged for even a lick of favorable attention… And I reveled in every minute of it. I had them all exactly where I wanted them.”

She placed both hands on her cup and stared down at it. “But then, when I was at home by myself, I'd wake up in the middle of the night with these feelings of… loneliness and emptiness.” Gripping her upper arm with one hand, she turned away from Adagio and took another slow breath. “Even with all that control, I still felt so hollow. It hurt. And what was worse, I couldn’t figure out why.” With what sounded like a choked-up laugh, she brushed a palm across both eyes, and her voice began to crack. “No one would have imagined the sight of me huddled in a dark corner at three a.m. sobbing my heart out. Yet there I was.”

“Huh…”

“Hmm?” Sunset sniffled beside her.

“One thing after another.” Adagio shook her head. “I just can’t believe how much we have in common.” When Sunset looked back at her with moistened eyes, she added, “It’s that hollow feeling you mentioned. Aria said something last night that got me thinking back to my old memories. After the magic shattered our pendants, all those memories had taken on this… emptiness—this lack of fulfillment.

"And it’s the strangest thing—because those feelings were never there before. So I’ve been wondering if the magic of the pendant had somehow hidden them. And so when it was broken…” Adagio shrugged.

“Hmm, I dunno. Might be a question for Twilight.” With a thumb and finger, Sunset finished drying the edges of her eyes. “But I can tell you in my case, it was only after I’d been struck by the Elements that I understood the cause of that feeling. It sounds so obvious now—but it was a lack of real friendship, and having no… purpose in life beyond my selfish goals. And now that I have realized what’s really important, I’m happy with the way things turned out—even if I decide to stay here for good without my magic. So maybe it was the Elements that brought out those feelings in you too?”

They walked past a bus-stop trash bin, and Adagio pitched her empty cup in. “Hmm, perhaps. I suppose it’s neither here nor there what caused it, just that I’m happy to be working through all of this. And talking with you today is helping with that, so… thank you.”

Sunset smiled at Adagio and put an arm around her shoulder briefly. “You’re welcome.”

The two continued to stroll along, Sunset sipping her drink and Adagio closing her eyes every so often to feel the breeze on her face and inhale the serenity of the early afternoon.

Though after a few minutes of walking, she was reminded yet again of the mirror earlier and felt the pit in her stomach return. She glanced over at Sunset, who wore a content smile while taking in the autumn colors. Adagio didn’t want to trouble her with this. Sunset had done so much for her already today.

But then… That’s what friends do, right? She took a deep breath in and then let it out raggedly.

“So many things have changed since that day,” Adagio began. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring this up, but I feel I can share it with you now after everything.” She met eyes with an inquisitive Sunset and then looked forward again. “There’s this fear that’s been nagging at me for a few weeks now. And after a close look in the mirror this morning, I think it’s all but confirmed.”

She came to a stop and stated matter-of-factly, “We’re dying, Sunset.”

“What?!” Sunset spun around, her eyes moving back and forth between Adagio, the ground, and her own hands.

“Sorry…” Adagio winced and then lowered her head. Damn it. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that. It’s just… I suppose having been all but immortal for so long, this just feels so sudden.” She forced a halfhearted laugh and added, “I guess I should have found a better way to phrase that, huh?”

Sunset’s cup fell to the ground and spilled out as she put both hands firmly on Adagio’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?” she pressed.

“The magic. Our gems. They were also the source of our immortality. And now with that magic broken, we don’t have the hunger any more—which is wonderful, don’t get me wrong. But it also means we’ve started to age now, just like you and all the others here.”

Turning away again, Adagio broke the contact and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know how to process this yet. Everything from today feels so wonderful, and I really don’t want to lose it, or go back to the way things were. But I’m scared, Sunset… I don’t know what to expect.”

Adagio looked back to the wide-eyed silence on Sunset’s face before lowering her own eyes and sighing. “I’m sorry. I know this must sound so selfish, since it’s just a natural thing for you and everyone else.”

Sunset retrieved her cup and looked around for a moment with a tight-lipped expression. “Come here.”

She grabbed Adagio’s hand and led her swiftly back to the bus-stop bench they’d passed a moment ago, tossing the cup into the same bin Adagio had.

Sunset sat Adagio down and was silent for a few moments, focusing on the space between them. When at last she spoke, she looked up into Adagio’s eyes. “I can’t say I know what it’s like to live for so long without any end in sight. But I can speak for myself and tell you that, while this feeling of… inevitability is always present, it’s not something I think about often. It rarely ever crosses my mind. And I know you’ll get there too. You will.”

She placed a hand over one of Adagio’s, adding, “But this sense of finality does make me value every day that I’m here and alive—especially now that I’ve had my eyes opened to what real friendship is, and the happiness it can bring.”

Adagio considered all of the thoughts that had run through her mind since the mirror this morning—all the fear and uncertainty, but also these new feelings of happiness and contentment. And it surprised her to think that just this one day had meant more to her, and brought her more joy, than any year of her immortal life.

“I suppose that does make some sense,” she said, feeling a large part of her worry flow out with a deep breath. “It really does.” She pressed her knees together and crossed her arms in front of her. “All these years, it had just been one day blending into the next. One conquest leading to the next. We existed, and did what we did… just to keep existing.”

She leaned forward and looked at the ground between her feet for a moment before closing her eyes. “And thinking back now, there’s nothing that I’m proud of. Not one thing that I would want anyone to think back on and say, ‘That was Adagio Dazzle.’”

“That’s an important realization,” Sunset noted. “I feel that with humans, and ponies in Equestria too, we’re defined by this drive to leave something memorable behind when our lives come to an end. It’s sort of like… knowing our time here is limited gives this sense of purpose, and a desire to leave a lasting legacy.

“And for me, it really is this sense of life-purpose, and sharing experiences with my friends, that keeps me going and keeps me hopeful for the future.”

Legacy. That was the key word here, wasn’t it? Adagio thought back to Aria and Sonata last night and this morning, and now Sunset this afternoon. Everything they had shared with her was leading her to believe that this really was worth it, and that she now had so much to look forward to.

Her long life may have entered its final chapter, but in front of her now was the opportunity to at last put something worth reading on its pages.

“Sunset Shimmer, you continue to amaze me.”

Adagio opened her eyes again. Did she really just say that? Did she really mean it? This girl now sitting next to her—comforting her. The very one on whom she had expended so much bitterness and blind hatred. And yet, now, when I look in her eyes… She sniffled as her vision began to water. Why did it take so long for me to see? She took in a shaking breath and then let it out slowly while collecting her thoughts. “At first, I couldn’t understand how you showed so much resilience during our week at the school. You stood up for your friends. And then destroyed everything we thought we knew. But today, the three of you helped me realize that we really are in a better place.”

She looked up at Sunset, and her voice began to choke up. “And now… you've actually given me hope looking forward.” As her tears continued to swell, Adagio closed her eyes. She turned away to hide her face, but then, You know what? I don’t care.

She turned back to Sunset and embraced her in a hug. “Thank you.” Sunset went stiff for a moment at the sudden gesture, but then softened and warmly returned the embrace. “This has been hard, but… after everything… I really do feel like you’ve set us free.”

Before long, Adagio felt tears on the back of her own neck as well.

“I’m so happy for the three of you,” Sunset said softly. “And I think a big part of that is because I’ve been there myself. But I was especially worried about you, Adagio. You seemed to be having the hardest time with all of this, so it’s such a relief to hear you say that.” She tightened her hug for a moment before they both let go.

They each dried their eyes and exchanged a light laugh. Noticing that the shadows around them had lengthened further, Adagio said, “We should be getting back. Those two really wanted to do something together, and I’d like you to be able to join us before you get on your way to meet Rarity.

“Well, maybe we could make the restaurant a group thing?” Sunset suggested with a grin. “I’m sure the others would love to see you now and hear how you’re doing.”

“Hmm, we’ll see. One step at a time.” Adagio returned Sunset’s grin with a small laugh. “I’ll think about it while we’re out with Aria and Sonata.”

The two of them resumed walking while the sun crept slowly to the west. They simply enjoyed each other’s company for a bit longer as the conversation turned to their various talents, interests, and a bit of gossip on current events.

***

“Yaaay! Fuzzies!” Sonata bounced up and down with her hands clasped in front of her.

Aria whispered sideways into Adagio’s ear, “I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

Adagio smiled warmly, as the contentment that had settled within her began to overflow. “I know you wanted this to be about me, but really… seeing her this excited right now is making me happier than anything else I could think of doing today.” She put an arm around Aria and held her close for a moment. “I think she really deserves it, after everything.”

Aria leaned her head on Adagio’s shoulder. “She does, doesn’t she.” She lowered her eyes with a broad smile and a ‘hmph’, before walking over to grab Sonata’s coat off the rack. Placing it and both hands on Sonata’s shoulders to stop the bouncing, she helped her don the jacket. “Let’s go, silly.”

Sunset finished loading the last of the bottled water into a borrowed backpack and hooked elbows with Adagio as she walked up next to her. “So, the zoo, huh?”

Adagio laughed and tightened her arm. “Yeah. It’s smelly and gross, but this is important to me. I just want to see her smile.”

“You really are a warm person, Adagio. And a good friend.”

“Only because of her. And you and Aria.” Adagio met Sunset’s eyes and was again drawn in by that pull of mutual understanding. You really have been through all of this before, haven’t you? There’s still so much I want to know. And I’m sure we’ll get there… She let out a contented breath. “Thank you, Sunset.”

Sunset returned Adagio’s hug from earlier and joined the other two outside.

Adagio took another deep breath and looked around for a moment. She nodded with a peaceful smile before turning to follow the others out, closing the door behind her on what was, this time, a truly empty room.

Friendship?

‘As if I'd accompany you anywhere.’

Isn’t that what she’d said to herself just a week ago? Adagio settled into a half-smile as she followed her usual route, Sunset Shimmer walking to the left beside her. She glanced sideways at Sunset and saw her admiring the colorful view of autumn leaves on the low foothills nearby.

Hmph. Who would have thought?

She shook her head, and her smile broadened. A light breeze rustled the girls' hair now and then as the midday sun did its best to hold back the chill in the air.

“Hmm.” Sunset broke the silence with the first words spoken since leaving the house. “What’s on your mind?”

“Contrasting,” Adagio replied after a few moments. “Here I am now, walking with you. Feeling thankful and, for the first time in my very long memory, genuinely happy… I think.” She sighed briefly. “Yet just a week ago today I was walking this same path while Aria and Sonata were out with you and the others. Feeling… empty, and angry, and tired. And just so done with everything.”

She closed her eyes and added, “And so alone.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, she shrugged. “But then, that was how I wanted it. Even after all our years together, I still had no respect for those two. And then after what happened at the school, the thought of even standing this close to any of you, let alone talking about your rainbow-friendship bullshit was just… No.”

Adagio's expression hardened as she gripped her arms tighter. “I had to maintain my resolve. I wouldn’t let any of you have the satisfaction of seeing me break. No one deserved to get close to me.” She shook her head with a mocking laugh. “That all seems so ridiculous now,” she said softly. “What had any of it accomplished?”

“Believe it or not, I know the feeling.” Sunset looked down at the sidewalk passing by under their feet. “During my years back in Equestria, I was the greatest magical prodigy the realm had seen in generations,” she said with a flourish. “Or at least… in my own mind I was. Maybe in reality even. I mean, of all unicorns, the princess had chosen me. Course we can see now how irrelevant that was—” she gestured toward herself and then spread her arms “—considering where I ended up.”

Adagio smiled at her with a chuckle.

Looking forward again, Sunset continued. “But it also meant I was no stranger to pride. For as long as I could remember, I felt like I owed it to myself to accomplish everything on my own. No one was good enough to stand next to me… let alone support me.” Her eyes went unfocused and she added, “No one except her. Except Celestia.”

She took a breath and closed her eyes. “She was my everything. I saw her as my mother, my teacher, my only friend. Yet with all my ambition, I also saw her as my greatest rival.”

Sunset turned to look up at the sky. “And all along, I was blind to the most important lesson she'd been trying to teach me. That I couldn’t do everything on my own, that I was never meant to.” She met Adagio’s eyes. “No one is ever meant to.”

Adagio looked forward again and ran both hands along her scarf. “I think I know what you mean now. I really do.”

Sunset crossed her arms and let out a long breath. “It wasn’t until I saw how quickly Twilight reunited the others, and then being struck by that light, that I finally realized what Celestia wanted me so badly to learn.” She lowered her eyes with a sigh. “But by then it was too late to fix the damage I’d done. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, where she’s concerned.”

“I suppose that doesn’t surprise me, the pride thing,” Adagio said, nudging a twig off the sidewalk with her boot mid-step. “It occurred to me earlier this morning that… even with all our differences in age and experience, we seem to have a lot in common.”

After a few moments’ pause, she went on, “Yet one thing puzzles me. At the table earlier, and again just now, you mentioned that ‘light’. You seemed to imply just now that it… healed you somehow, as if instantly.”

Sunset nodded. “Before I even climbed out of the crater it left me in, I had this flood of clarity. It was so many different things all at once that I just broke down. Shame. Humiliation. This heavy regret. But also this feeling of release and freedom. It took me almost an hour to make sense of it all.”

Adagio shook her head. “It wasn’t like that for us. Not at all.” The memory of that instant and the sharp anguish that accompanied it flooded through her again. She held herself tightly and shivered.

“It broke us. It shattered us. After our attempt to keep going and being run off the stage, all we had left was this empty… hopelessness. Like everything we were was ripped away, with nothing to fill that hole. And then all the yelling and the arguing and the blame. That week that followed was probably the lowest point in my memory.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Sunset said, narrowing her eyes with a shake of her head. “From my talks with Twilight, it was my understanding that the magic is supposed bring good things, not this emptiness you’ve all described. I mean, Aria told me once that she’d even thought about…”

“Yeah.” Adagio lowered her head, feeling her jaw tense at the memory. “She wasn’t alone.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sunset lift a hand, as if to offer a touch of comfort. But then, biting her lower lip, she pulled it back and let out the breath she was holding. Adagio found herself surprised at the thought that she’d have welcomed the touch and frowned slightly.

Am I really so intimidating still?

Sunset ran the hand through her hair and then lightly bit her thumb, her expression twisted in thought. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

The two walked in silence for a few minutes before Sunset stopped suddenly with an “Oh!”

“Hm?” Adagio turned to see the wide-eyed look on Sunset’s face.

“Discord.”

“Ugh…” Adagio shivered slightly and gripped her arms tighter. “What about him?” Why did you have to go and dig that up? Refusing to let the memory take hold, she buried it again quickly.

“That’s right,” Sunset pondered. “Maybe it was after you were sent here. You three had it bad when the Elements struck you, sure. But they went even further with Discord back then. When Celestia and Luna confronted him, the Elements turned him to stone on the spot.”

“So it’s not all happy rainbow magic after all.”

“No. Well… maybe yes, actually. This has me thinking about how it actually works. Being the Elements of Harmony, it would follow that their magic is the opposite of chaos and discord. So in a case like mine, the ‘yuck’ that the magic stripped off was just all the baggage I’d put onto myself. Under all that was still the real me.” She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of one hand with her other. “The part of me that sort of knew I was making a big mistake. And maybe there was still a bit of that light Celestia saw in me when I was little… before I lost sight of what was really important.”

Huh… Adagio recalled her experience in the hallway the night before. Even after everything the magic had stripped away, that small spark of warmth still remained. Had it really been there all along, just waiting to be discovered? She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. I think she’s actually… onto something here. “But in our case, our old magic was rooted in causing chaos and strife. It wasn’t just some vice we’d picked up. It had been everything we were over all those hundreds of years.”

“Right. The Elements saw no way to purge Discord of, well, discord. So the whole stone thing was a last resort.” Bringing a hand to her chin, Sunset went on, “But with you guys, the magic must have realized there was something in you worth saving.”

“I guess that'd explain the difference in how it’s been for us. Like you said, in your case, it was right there waiting for you. But it took us—” she lowered her head “—me especially—such a long time to find it, since I never even noticed it, let alone gave it any chance to grow. And something you said earlier is important too, I think.” Adagio looked back up at Sunset. “You talked about ‘clarity’, and ‘regret’ and ‘release’. I did end up feeling all of those things, and in the same sudden way you did.

"But it wasn’t until just last night. And there was something buried there. The best way I can describe it is this tiny spark of light. But it was only with Aria’s and Sonata’s help that I even realized it was there. And then, what they shared with me… It was able to grow and help me find my voice.”

“Friendship,” Sunset stated with a knowing smile. “That’s what they did for you.”

“Hmm. I suppose they did.” Adagio gave a soft hmph, and a feeling of warmth began to take hold. “This is what it feels like. And I’m only here now because they had it in their hearts to forgive me… and open my eyes to what I was missing.”

“Just like the girls and I did for them,” Sunset said softly. “And like the five of them did for me last year.”

Adagio returned Sunset’s smile and then looked around for a while at the autumn landscape, holding on as best she could to that warmth. Perhaps this was all worth it, even with everything they’d lost.

After strolling in silence for a minute, she said, “That puts something into perspective, actually. Your darkness may have only been skin-deep, but you had them. And they were already in that better place and ready to help you. But the three of us were all stuck in our hole without anyone to pull us out. Not until Sonata got up the courage to go and take that first step.”

“So in the end, maybe the magic did do you good after all…” With no hesitation this time, Sunset rubbed gently on Adagio’s shoulder. “I’m just sorry you had to go through everything you did to finally get here.”

There it was, Adagio noted. That touch. It was such a simple thing, but for some reason it meant so much. A gesture of genuine caring affection from one friend to another. That Sunset was concerned and comfortable enough to extend that to her felt like a big step forward. She closed her eyes for a few moments and took a deep breath.

But then, Ugh. Why am I making such a big deal out of this?

Perhaps because not even with Aria and Sonata had she shared anything like this until just last night. The three of them had been inseparable for centuries, but it was little more than an arrangement of necessity. But then that light from the Elements—it really did change everything. Without really understanding why, Adagio had begun to experience feelings of hurt and abandonment whenever Sonata and Aria chose the others’ company over hers. She kept telling herself that she was so much stronger and more intelligent than them—that they were the ones who needed her.

She hadn’t realized it at the time, but it was becoming clearer now. Some deep part of her truly valued and needed their companionship. And lately, it was more like that part of her needed their friendship. And now, here was someone outside of their circle who was willing to share that with her as well.

Sunset’s voice brought Adagio back from her thoughts. “It may be too soon, so you don’t have to answer this, but… After everything that’s happened, do you… miss what you used to be? I mean, compared to you I’ve only lived a short time. But this seems like such a sudden change after so long that it’d be hard for you to just… flip a switch, so to speak.”

After a long sigh, Adagio answered, “I don’t know yet.” She turned away from Sunset. “I want to say I don’t miss it. This feels good. But I can’t imagine from here on it’ll just be everyone holding hands and hugging. It’s going to be hard to forget. And should I want to forget?”

She folded her arms and looked back to Sunset. “Should I feel wrong just abandoning everything I’ve been for hundreds of years?”

Sunset bit her lip and was quiet for a moment. “Well… is there anything left from that old life you’d want to hold on to?”

Well, the power, of course. It had made life so easy with everyone around her being under her complete control. Though in the end, it was the adoration that Adagio craved, and the power was mostly just a means to that end. But then, what was the point? None of it was ever true adoration. She frowned at the reminder of her visions from the bedroom mirror.

Now that you’re under our spell.

Indeed.

And then there was the minor detail of losing their immortality, she recalled sharply. But as with earlier, she pushed that worry aside for now. Today was about focusing on this new brighter outlook. Adagio let out a breath and her shoulders slumped.

“No, I suppose not. Not after last night.”

She crossed her arms again. “After the magic broke us, I was resentful, sure. Actually, that’s not even the half of it.” She came to a stop and closed her eyes. “I hated you. With every part of me, I hated all of you. All that rage and bitterness. And then the despair…”

Adagio could feel the cold of the last few months beginning to seep back into her emotions, threatening to snuff out her struggling flame of contentment. No. I’m stronger than this. I’ve put all of that behind me. I really want to be happy now.

She turned her thoughts to Sunset, standing right there beside her. And I’m not alone any more.

“I feel good today. I really do. This still isn't easy, but… it’s getting better.”

Sunset smiled warmly. “I’m happy to hear—” The ringtone on her phone interrupted her. “Oh…” She quickly checked the number. “Sorry. You don’t mind?”

Adagio returned the smile and shook her head. Sunset took to pacing in a small area as she answered the call.

“Hi, Rarity. What’s up?”

Adagio heard a few of the elevated bits of Rarity’s exasperated speech. “Sunset! … MUST … others wouldn’t understand.”

“Shhh, it’s alright. Just breathe. Now who is this? Trend-who?”

“WHAT!? How could you not…” The buzz on the phone went on for about half a minute, but Adagio couldn’t make out much. She wasn’t really trying to though, as she was much more interested in simply watching Sunset, and how she was handling the situation.

“Sorry… I guess I’m just not caught up that stuff. Still learning about all your interests and such. Just take a deep breath. What can I do to help?”

The muffled voice continued for a few sentences before Sunset squinted her eyes and flinched at “—Applejack! APPLEJACK!” Lowering again to a bearable level, the voice hummed for another minute or two.

“I see…” Sunset stood biting her thumb again for a few moments before answering. “Look… Rarity. You’re a strong and talented person. I only wish I had the same kind of style and inspiration you carry around with you. It sounds like he means a lot to you, but think about a few months from now—or a few years from now. How happy would you be forcing yourself to live like something you’re not for all that time?”

There was some brief chatter in response, followed by a loud sniffle.

“I just know there are so many guys out there who would worship the thought of having someone as classy and talented as you in their life. Don’t change yourself. It’s not fair to you, and it wouldn’t be fair to him, either. You just have so much to offer. And I wouldn’t want to see you throw that away.”

After another half-minute of listening, Sunset responded, “You’re welcome. If you want get something to eat tonight, we can hit that place you mentioned earlier this week. … Yeah. … Sure, I’ll call you later. But please, talk to Applejack. It’s not worth letting this interfere with your friendship either. … You too, take care.”

Sunset pressed the button and turned back to Adagio with a quick, “Sorry, I—” but then stopped, likely due to the big half-grin Adagio was giving her. With a warm laugh she asked, “What?”

“You, just now,” Adagio replied. “And I can’t believe this word’s about to come out of my mouth, but that was… heartwarming to see. You did a good thing for her.”

“Oh I dunno, it’s just… that’s what friends do.” Sunset shrugged. Setting off walking again, she went on, “She was having a hard time, and I guess I just knew what to say. Though you noticed something I suppose I do take for granted now—something that was actually a really big deal to me all those months ago.”

She nudged Adagio gently with her shoulder. “Friends support each other. Over time it just becomes second nature, I guess.” After a brief pause, she added, “And then hearing the change in her voice and feelings between when she called and when we hung up really made me feel good. I guess it’s that… giving, or helping someone without expecting anything in return. It’s almost like the way it makes you feel afterward is what you get in return.”

Adagio gave a short laugh and shook her head. “Again, something that’s never even crossed my mind. But seeing it now, I think I understand what you mean.” The feeling of warmth again began to sprout, and she resolved to do something nice for Sonata and Aria later in the week. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure yet, as it would take some thought to really make it special. They deserved that.

The two of them had been walking for some time now, and the main street strip of shops downtown was only a few blocks away. Sunset asked, “Wanna get some coffee? We’ve walked this far. Might as well, right?”

A sudden heaviness settled into Adagio’s stomach. She recalled the nature of the trips she’d made into town over the last few months. All had been simple missions of necessity. Get to the store. Get what was needed. Get home. She’d made certain to avoid the social hangouts after everything that had happened.

So when her thoughts returned to Sunset's question, they brought with them a measure of that old worry. But then... Oh well. One step at a time, right? She forced a smile and in a soft tone replied, “Sounds great, sure.”

Another minute brought them to the door of the local coffeehouse, and Sunset opened it for Adagio to step through.

“Actually…” Adagio said. “Do you mind if I wait out here? I wanted to try. But I’m just not ready to face everyone in there yet.” Sunset nodded in reply. And in that moment, the look she shared with Adagio spoke volumes. On the surface, it was as simple as, ‘I understand.’ But layered within, Adagio saw strained memories of the very things she herself was feeling right then and there. You… get it, don’t you? You really do. She blinked twice and lowered her head, that revelation still spinning in her mind as she forced a breath. “Just a… small mocha. And… thanks.”

She felt a soft hand rest on her shoulder, followed by the gentle brush of a thumb. The door then whisked shut with hardly a sound as Sunset stepped inside. Adagio leaned her back against the wall between the doorway and the large front window, crossed her arms and closed her eyes. She wanted so badly to avoid conflict today. Not out of wounded pride or depression as in prior months but simply to hold on to this warmth that was beginning to take root.

So… Aria and Sonata, she thought. What could she do for them as a gesture of gratitude? Money was no object, of course. But at this point, Adagio realized that the cost or size of the gesture wasn’t important; it was the heart and meaning behind it. And while nothing could match what they did for her last night and this morning, it brightened her spirit and brought a smile to her face to think that—

“Well you’ve got a lot of nerve.” A female voice to her right startled her, and she turned to see a trio who appeared to be roughly her same physical age. Adagio didn’t recognize any of them but could wager exactly where they’d seen her before.

“Hiding out for a few months isn’t gonna make everyone forget what you did to us.”

Lowering her eyes again, her spirit sinking, Adagio said softly, “I know, I… wouldn’t expect it to. But these last few months have given me a lot of time to think. Look, I’m not here to cause trouble. I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, well I’m not.”

Adagio could only watch numbly as her assailant flicked the lid off her drink. As it spun end-over-end toward the sidewalk, she caught a glimpse of the steaming brown liquid inside the cup.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

She pressed her eyes closed and slunk further into the wall, bracing for the scald and mourning the loss of one of her favorite outfits.

But then—nothing.

She heard the sound of footsteps shuffling off and opened one eye to see the three of them walking away. She then turned to her left and was taken aback at the sight of a shockingly intimidating Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset’s stance and expression softened as she continued to watch them leave. “I saw what was going down through the window. I know them. That one with the drink thinks she’s tough. So I had to dedicate some ‘special attention’ to keeping her in line a few years ago.”

She offered Adagio her coffee with a smug grin. “Looks like she still hasn’t forgotten.”

Adagio responded with a sly smile of her own. My, my. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? She’d heard the stories, but witnessing it firsthand was another thing entirely—and without even a spoken word. And defending her. After everything at the school.

“You really were quite the alpha-bitch back then, weren’t you?” she nudged playfully.

“Yeah.” Sunset laughed. She took a sip of her own coffee. “Something else I guess you’re no stranger to.”

“Hmm, quite.” Adagio chuckled in return and gestured toward the path back home. “Shall we?” Pausing, she bit her lip with a half-sided smile and observed Sunset from behind for a moment before joining her. You’re an intriguing one indeed.