Father, Defender, Friend
Here lies Shining Armor
973–1067

Twilight, a mare who always read everything, only made it to the end of the first line of the tombstone, which was the same shade of white as her late brother’s coat had been. Cadence, who sat surrounded by her four children, never made it past the first word. Cadence’s oldest two and youngest child — Radiant Dawn, Elegant Shadows, and Eventide Watch — bore expressions of military stoicism, yet when they felt nopony would see, they swallowed hard. Cadence’s second daughter, Love Song, cried into her mother’s mane, an act which was reciprocated.

Twilight wished for her friends’ presence, but her long-time group of confidants had grown old and infirm, none remaining well enough to travel to the Crystal Empire. Spike had passed into draconic adolescence — complete with the decades-long emotional outbursts that entailed. Her more recent friends had come, of course, but they lacked the same fervor.

When death had severed the bond of friendship between Shining and Twilight, it had been early in the morning while she had been sleeping. The shock had awoken her and had filled her with equal parts grief and guilt. She could only imagine what Cadence had gone through, lying beside him.

She wished to be included in the loving confines of the only group remaining at the gravesite, but she dared not intrude. She wished her brother were alive, well, and as young as she appeared to be, but the world had other plans.

Thirty minutes had passed since the majority of the mourners had left when Dawn, Shadows, and Watch stood as one. Each had silently chosen to wait that much longer with their mother, and their internal clocks were in nearly perfect synch from years of service. After whispering their goodbyes to Cadence, Song, and Twilight, they filed past the tombstone, placing a hoof or wing, in Shadows’ case, on it before leaving together.

Their departure made Cadence look over Song and, through her tears, see Twilight alone and weeping. A sound that was half a gasp and half a sob escaped her, and she bodily grabbed Twilight in her aura. As she spread her forelegs, Cadence drew Twilight into a hug alongside Song.

Twilight allowed this — she lacked the strength to resist. Her brother had always been the strong one, but that had been decades ago. She could not look at her fellow mourners without seeing Shining, vital and alive, beside them. She closed her eyes and buried her face in their embrace, and together, they cried until their tears ran out, leaving salty tracks on their cheeks.

They sat dumbly, not knowing what to say, until Song excused herself to return to her little foals, needing to surround herself with life blissfully unaware of any tragedy. Thankful for the momentary distraction, Cadence and Twilight watched her go.

They were together yet alone.

Cadence thought of returning to her castle. With the entire city-state in mourning, the Crystal Heart was lifeless. Her duties told her she needed to be strong, to rally her ponies, to raise their spirits so they might be safe, but since waking up beside Shining’s cold body three days before, she struggled to find motivation for even simple tasks.

Shining had given her motivation for half a century.

Twilight remembered how Applejack’s condolences had rung hollow despite Twilight’s conscious knowledge that it had been the most sincere utterance she had heard in her life. Envisioning the train ride home, she saw that all the sympathetic ponies who would surround her would help no more. She knew she needed to fight the instinct to believe nopony else could understand her.

Shining had taught her to have a fighting spirit.

After several minutes of sitting side by side, they looked to one another, yet the silence persisted for another minute.

Twilight coughed. “I… think my right hind leg fell asleep.”

Letting out a single laugh, Cadence shook her head. “We have been here a while…” She started turning back to Shining’s grave, but Twilight muttered something and pulled her back. “What was that, Twilight?”

“Two hours twenty-four minutes plus or minus about five minutes.” She shrugged. “I learned to tell time by the sun as a filly to impress Celestia — never really lost it.”

Another few seconds of silence passed before Cadence said, “Twilight… would you like to walk with me? To stretch out your leg, of course.”

Twilight’s ever-observant mind filed away the information that Cadence was lonely and trying to maintain appearances. Her wings, clamped to her sides, tilted back at almost the same angle as her ears. Twilight knew her fellow princess could hide her emotions if she so chose. Being so alone after years of togetherness must have overwhelmed that, she concluded.

Twilight also thought of walking to the train station and being similarly alone in the crowd. The thought was anathema to her, and she shuddered. With a meager smile, she nodded. “Of course I’ll join you.”

She found she hadn’t needed to fake the brightness in her voice. Twilight wondered, for a moment, why that had surprised her — it made complete sense. Cadence had been her friend since fillyhood, after all. Her musing ended as Cadence rose.

Each placed one of their forehooves atop the headstone.

“Goodbye, my love.”

“… F-friend forever.”

Cadence thought that Twilight looked like she’d been stabbed, and she felt the same way. Twilight stayed by her side when she turned and walked away. The palace towered before them, leading them away from the graveyard and toward the city. Only after they had passed through the gates separating the two did Cadence ask, “Is your leg better?”

“Much, thanks.” In reality, she had almost forgotten about it. Other thoughts had dominated her mind. As they walked through the city, Twilight said, “You know, I’m going to miss my train.”

“What?” Cadence cocked her head, and her eyebrows rose. “I thought there was still at least an hour before it left.”

“There is, but I’m planning to miss my train. Right now, I just want to be with my secon— my oldest friend.”

Cadence winced at the correction. “Thank you, Twilight. I… I do too.”

With a knowing smile and a nod, Twilight moved closer to her, and they walked on towards the palace.

Cold and shivering, Cadence awoke. Something was missing, but it wasn’t contact — she was holding a plush pillow against her barrel. Warmth wasn’t the issue either; though, the pillow lacked that too. Once her mental faculties began working again, she realized what was missing and buried her face between her forehooves. A few very unprincess-like phrases and more than a few sobs colored the night air before she pushed herself up and took a deep breath. As she released it, she counted to three and extended a foreleg. She had taught Twilight that little exercise so long ago because she knew it worked on herself.

As she alighted on the floor, she hoped that Twilight was having a better night’s sleep. Making her way to the kitchen, she let the rest of her tired mind go mercifully blank save for that thought. The few ponies she saw on the way she paid no heed. Before opening the door to the kitchen, the scent of tea filled her nose.

With puffy eyes, Twilight looked up as Cadence pushed open the door and searched for the scent’s source. She found it in the cup held in Twilight’s magic.

“Couldn’t sleep?” they asked simultaneously.

Twilight let out a shaky laugh. “Not a wink. I was going to cast a sleep spell, but that felt like admitting something’s wrong. You?”

“To be honest, Shining was an old stallion. He got up a few times each night to use the bathroom, and I got used to it… I especially got used to the kiss he would give me each time he left the bed. It was the most adorable thing.” She stopped talking and sighed, staring ahead as a memory took her.

Twilight extended a wing and raised one of her forehooves. The motion caught Cadence’s attention, and she took the hint. Settling into the embrace, she said, “I’d hoped you’d managed to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Heh. A good night’s sleep and I haven’t met in years — decades, even. That’s why I know sleep spells… well, aside from the whole studying-magic thing. Narcomancy has its own little field of study, you know.”

Putting a forehoof on Twilight’s chest, Cadence fixed her with a glare and pushed her back. “Twilight, you said that using sleep magic felt like admitting something was wrong. Are you saying that’s how you feel every night?”

Twilight drew back and tapped her forehooves together, looking away. “Um… tea?” She levitated another cup over. “It’s a good blend — a little salty, but that may just be my cup ah ha ha…”

“Twilight…” Cadence’s voice sounded soft, almost hurt.

“Look, I…” She sighed and set her cups on the counter beside her. “I know I’ve got everything so good. I’m a princess! So many ponies out there are less fortunate than me, and I would know; I try to help them every day.”

“But what if you don’t help everypony you can? What if you give bad advice or settle a dispute in the wrong party’s favor? What if, because you made a bad decision, thousands go hungry?”

Twilight shot to her hooves, wings flaring out. “Exactly! I mean,” she said, folding her wings at her sides, “that’s exactly what keeps me up. How do you deal with it all?”

“Shining was good at keeping away more than just monsters. He also defended me from my insecurities and self-doubts when they came up. While we were lying in bed, he would tell me how well I was doing.”

While Cadence talked, Twilight nodded slightly. After a moment, she said, “You know, I have read some studies that advocate the physical and psychological benefits of sleeping with somepony else…”

Cadence’s sleepy eyes opened wider. “My-my, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get me into bed.”

“Hm? Oh!” Twilight’s wings flared, and she took a step back. “That’s not what I meant at all! I was just wondering if the researchers controlled for pillow talk. But…” She hung her head and looked up through her bangs. “It is late, and I think we could both use whatever beneficial psychological effects we can get, and I really don’t want to have to use a spell to get to sleep…”

Thoughts of her cold, empty room filled Cadence’s head, particularly the cold and empty spot beside hers in the bed. Then, it filled with the pony whom she loved so much.

She stared into his grey mane, only a few strands of blue left in it. She ran a forehoof through his mane, watching the moonlight shine off it and smiling at the aptness of it. He rolled over, and their lips met like they had thousands of times before, like the most natural thing in the world.

“You look ravishing in the moonlight, Cadence. If I were a young stallion again…”

“Hush. I love you just the way you are,” she whispered back.

He shuffled found a more comfortable position. “Of course you do. You have more love in that beautiful heart of yours than any normal pony would know what to do with. It’s your gift.” He brushed his hoof over her cutie mark and fixed her with a stare as his hoof came to rest directly over the cerulean heart. “You have to promise me you’ll share your gift after I’m gone.”

“Shining!”

“Promise me. I haven’t asked much of you, but I’m asking this. I want to know you’ll be able to be happy. And besides, think of your ponies. Promise me.”

“I do. I promise. Kiss on it?”

Shining laughed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They kissed for nearly a minute, hooves caressing one another’s face.

Twilight turned away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even considered…”

The motion pulled Cadence from her memories, and the tone of voice tugged at her heartstrings. She raised a hoof and took a half-step forward. “Twilight, wait.”

“Yes?” Twilight looked back with a little smile.

“I…” She hesitated before taking a step forward. “It would make me happy if you spent the night with me.” Her voice hitched a little towards the end.

Twilight let out a breath that wished it could have been a laugh. “Kind of like the old days. Kind of.” She sighed and looked over to the teapot. “Should I bring that along? You must have come down for something, after all.”

“Anywhere was better than my room…” Cadence hesitated before opening a door with her magic. “And there’s comfort food in the larder.” She floated out a tied-up napkin, untied it, and revealed a few scones. “Somepony’s been leaving them here for me. They’re my favorite: crystal berries in a barley scone and topped with a dusting of rock salt and sugar. Would you like one?”

“Oh, yes please!” A scone passed from a blue aura to a purple one, and Twilight turned to go while picking up the teapot.

“Now now, Twilight, let’s not make a mess while we eat,” Cadence said, gesturing with her head for Twilight to return to the counter.

This time, Twilight genuinely laughed. “Okay, now it really does feel like the old days.”

They sat together at the counter and split the scones between themselves. Twilight poured another cup of tea. Were it not for their puffy eyes, mussed manes, and the late hour, it would have been a perfectly regal scene.

When they finished eating, Cadence passed Twilight the napkin that had held the scones. “You’ll need this,” she said, pointing to the crumbs on Twilight’s muzzle.

“How do you not?” she asked, brushing them off. “And this time, you can’t avoid the question by saying it’s because you’re a princess, because that’s demonstrably untrue.”

Cadence thought for a second then smiled. “State secret.”

“Ooh, clever. Well played.” She brought a forehoof up to her chin and frowned, humming to herself.

Tilting her head, Cadence asked, “What are you thinking about now?”

“If I should send an espionage team. I have one that’s just itching to do something.”

Cadence rolled her eyes and shook her head as she folded up the napkin. “Come on, let’s get to bed. It’s late enough already.”

Twilight nodded and followed Cadence out into the long, empty halls of the palace. She noted how her wings weren’t folded up properly. They hung more loosely at her sides than normal, but that typically happened when a pony was tired. As they walked, Cadence’s wings subtly tilted backwards, which worried her more. Of course, she reasoned, Cadence had grown even more used to Shining being around than she had — a few minutes of good cheer and some pastries couldn’t fix him being gone.

“Wait!” the Pinkie who lived in Twilight’s mind said. “Her wings didn’t start off like that. There’s still hope!”

“Thanks, Pinkie. I’ll do my best to cheer her up.”

“You’d better. I may just be a figment of your imagination, but I still don’t like seeing other ponies being sad. Say, does Cadence like figs? If she does, I’d give her one, but I can’t, so you’d have to tell her a figment of your imagination meant to gi—”

Shaking her head, Twilight shut that line of thinking down and began brainstorming what stories she could tell.

Cadence watched Twilight out of the corner of her eye, wondering what it must be like for her, who had known Shining her whole life. It had kept Twilight from getting to sleep, but Cadence had managed to drift off — she winced and hung her head. There had to be something she could do to make it better, and she knew what to do. A sidestep and a one-wing hug put Twilight perfectly into nuzzling range, which Cadence capitalized on immediately.

That further reinforced Twilight’s theory that Cadence needed comfort. Glad to give it, she stopped and wrapped both a forehoof and her wings around Cadence, nuzzling against her neck. “I’m here for you, and I will be for as long as you need me.”

The fetlock lay on Cadence’s back in a different place than where she had grown used to. It reached much farther than her children’s and farther, even, than Shining’s had. That, combined with the delicate figure and the wings encompassing her, made Cadence think of being embraced by Celestia or Luna. She felt secure.

Cadence squeezed her tighter and whispered, “Thank you.”

She contemplated complimenting Twilight’s warm and immaculately preened wings, but ultimately decided to lose herself in the embrace. They stayed like that for about a minute and finally pulled apart when Twilight yawned. “You’re warm… and make a good pillow.”

Cadence got a faraway expression. “Shining told me that sometimes.”

Twilight’s eyes, which had been drifting closed, shot open. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” A hoof on her shoulder stopped her.

“Twilight, don’t worry. It’s… nice to hear that again. I never thought I would.” She nodded her head down the hall and rose. “Now come on. You need to rest.”

Yawning again, Twilight nodded, and the two set off again.

“You’re a lot less argumentative than when you were a foal,” Cadence said.

“Not true. I’m still very argumentative, just—” she yawned again “—not about that.”

Their soft hoofsteps finally brought them to the door to Cadence’s room, which she had left ajar. Pushing it fully open, they entered, and Twilight stared around. Moonlight shone in and illuminated paintings of Shining, Cadence, and their children, which hung all over the room. Twilight tried to avoid thinking that Shining’s white coat looked ghostly in the low light.

All the crystalline furniture gleamed, casting reflections and refracting dim rainbows across the room. Twilight thought, for a moment, of the convenience of seeing what was in one’s cabinets without needing to open them.

Cadence passed her and headed toward the bed. She hopped up onto it, barely rustling the satin sheets. Twilight approached the other side, and one question came to the fore in her mind. “Is that where he…?”

Cadence nodded once and said, “If you want, I can…”

“No, it’s okay.”

Placing a forehoof on the pillow where her brother had lain, Twilight exhaled slowly, hesitating. The disembodied voices of Shining and Rainbow chided her for letting something so silly stop her from going to a friend in need. Eyes downcast, she climbed up into Shining’s spot, more determined to comfort Cadence than ever.

“Cadence, did I ever tell you about the time Pinkie found out about laughing gas?” Twilight asked, knowing that she never had. Expectedly, Cadence shook her head. “Well, I was in one of my castle’s labs, and I was doing some amateur rocketry…”

For a few minutes, Cadence listened without comment or motion. Then, she leaned over to preen Twilight’s wing closest to her. A little hum came from Twilight, who stopped recounting her story for a second to smile. As she continued, she spread out her wing to give access to the underside. Her sentences lost coherency until, at last, she fell asleep with Cadence straightening her down feathers.

She finished tidying the wing and whispered, “Works every time. Sleep well, Twilight Sparkle.” Lying back down, she followed into sleep soon after.

When Twilight awoke, the first thing that went through her mind was how much she wanted to fall back asleep, and she rolled over, trying to get comfortable. It took her ten seconds to notice the heat below her but only one to recognize its source as Cadence’s wing. Twilight’s eyes flew open, and her heart raced at the thought of having woken her friend. The slow, steady rhythm of Cadence’ breath slowed Twilight’s pulse back to normal. Not wanting to wake her, she didn’t move other than to untense.

Lying where her brother had, seeing the pony he had seen every morning, Twilight’s mind put her in his place. How many times had he woken like this and lain there, watching over his wife, the mother of his children, his best friend? How had he coped as the years hurried by, robbing him but only ever refining her? How had he dealt with the knowledge that he would one day leave her widowed, not just for years but potentially decades or centuries?

Twilight had considered all these things soon after her ascension and concluded that putting any potential partner through that kind of mental anguish was not fair. Shortly thereafter, she had also concluded that she had created less self-centered reasons than not wanting to be widowed and heartbroken one day, but she maintained that the other reasoning was sound.

Sound and eminently depressing.

When she inevitably began crying, Twilight muffled her sobs to avoid waking Cadence. Between hiccupping gasps for breath, she alternatingly wished she could bring Shining back and mentally hit herself for being so foolish. After her parents had died, Celestia and Luna’s admonitions and several zombified amphibians had taught her better than to try.

Cadence shifted, and Twilight forced herself to calm — she hadn’t greeted the day with a smile, but she intended to greet Cadence with one. As she forced a grin, she remembered having read about how affecting an emotion could trick the body into thinking that was what it felt, and the expression became more genuine as she thought about outsmarting her body.

The wing under her tensed then relaxed as the other extended to wrap Twilight in a blanket of feathers. They tensed again, and, for an instant, Twilight wondered what was happening before they pulled her into a tight hug. For her part, Cadence barely thought, operating on decades’ worth of habit.

Their kiss was brief and magical. Twilight’s eyes shot wide open, and she froze as she tried to figure out how to react. Cadence’s eyes opened at the lack of response. For a fraction of a second, mutual confusion dominated the look that passed between them. It lasted until Cadence came fully awake and, with much flailing of limbs, shoved Twilight away and fled the room, sobbing.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she collapsed against a wall. She had been dreaming about being pregnant again, this time with their fifth foal. Shining had nuzzled her round belly while holding her hoof, and her heart could have burst with happiness.

A couple of the staff scurrying out of the hall caught her attention. Exhaling hard, she sunk to the floor and laid the side of her head against the wall, wondering if she cared about causing a scene and finding she no longer did.

The door opened behind her, making her ears swivel towards it.

“Cadence?”

Her ears flopped back down. “I’m sorry, Twilight. That was…”

“Hey.” With a flash and a pop, Twilight appeared in front of Cadence. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Given what you said last night, I should have seen that coming and gotten up.” She paused before asking, “Are you okay?”

She stayed looking down. “I will be, thanks.” Her voice came out flat.

Twilight frowned and began planning, a set of actions she had done innumerable times before. She welcomed the distraction — it replaced most of her emotions with the drive to accomplish a goal: cheering up Cadence. She didn’t know how to accomplish it, but she hoped she could figure it out in time. As the first order of business, she needed to get Cadence up and moving.

“Will you come to breakfast with me?”

Cadence knew that tone of voice well; Celestia used it when she said a command as a polite question. Twilight, too, had mastered it. Seeing no point in arguing, Cadence pushed herself to her hooves then stared down at them in all their unshod pinkness.

“I’ll need my regalia…”

Hers and Twilight’s materialized before them, deposited by a nebula of smoke the same color as the light surrounding Twilight’s horn. Cadence stared at her tiara and said, “I suppose that’s why your cutie mark is for magic and mine isn’t.”

Twilight nodded as they donned their jewelry. “I’m starving. Those scones last night were good, but it’s been a while. Speaking of the scones, do you know who puts them there?”

They started down the hall, and Cadence shook her head.

“Maybe we should find out so you could promote them. I don’t know about you, but that’s one of my favorite parts about being a princess.”

“I do like repaying favors… but how will we find out who it is? Ponies get flustered when royalty starts asking about unusual activities. In a situation like this, I would usually ask the Guard, but it would be more than a little odd for them to go passing through the kitchen to check.”

“Well, they were still relatively fresh, so they must have been placed there towards the end of the day. I suggest we wait till later then scry the area.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.”

“Oh, and Cadence…”

She looked over at Twilight, head tilted to the side. “Yes?”

“Clover’s continuing coat cleanliness charm? Really?”

Cadence snorted and giggled a few times. “Did you get that from the kiss?”

“Yup! Element of Magic. I knew it on touch.”

Cadence’s laughter intensified to the point where she needed to stop walking, doubled over and clutching her chest. “It took you — hahaha — eighty years to figure that out. Some Element of Magic you are!”

Twilight blushed and ducked her head, looking away. “I just thought you were really neat, not that there was any magic to find.”

As she forced herself to calm, Cadence slipped her head under Twilight’s and, nuzzling her, bought her back up to her normal stature. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings…”

“Oh, I’m okay.”

In Twilight’s mind, a mental Applejack scowled, but she figured that keeping Cadence happy outweighed telling the truth. As much as insisting on getting breakfast had been intended to distract Cadence, it had also been motivated by simple hunger. Knowing how far they still had to go, she spread her wings. “Shall we? The air is so still in here, and there’s nopony else to use it.”

“It would be a shame to let it go to waste,” Cadence said, spreading hers too.

They flitted through the castle, skipping entire flights of stairs and arriving at the dining hall in less than a third of the time it would have taken them by walking. A herald snapped to attention as they alighted before the doors and announced their titles as they entered the room. They crossed the room towards a table for two.

Twilight knew of Cadence’s propensity to have the chefs put some kind of berry in everything, so she prepared for a berry-filled breakfast. She was not disappointed. When they took their seats, waiters brought out platters — crystalline, of course — laden with crystal berry pancakes, boysenberry-topped yogurt, blueberry muffins, and strawberry cream of wheat. For her part, Twilight applied an alliterative aura to her muzzle to keep clean.

They ate in silence — save for the occasional crunch from the sweet pancakes — with Twilight monitoring everything from the temperature of her cereal to what Cadence was doing.

That happened to be staring at the table and trying not to picture Shining across from her; they had eaten at that table every morning. Purple fur wanted to shift to white, and she kept expecting a hoof to cover hers. She wondered why she felt this way. She hadn’t the few days prior, but then, there hadn’t been another pony across from her.

Because Twilight was watching Cadence, she noticed when her wings began to angle back. She said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re a good kisser, you know.” She blushed.

Cadence did nothing so dainty — she nearly choked on a spoonful of cereal. Coughing, she said, “T-thank you? It’s my… duty as Princess of Love?”

For the first time that day and, for that matter, for the first time in a long while, her mind raced. Ideas about the reason Twilight had gone unwed for so long surfaced and combined with this most recent remark. She had long known that Twilight shared a bond of love with her and had since her filly days; such knowledge came with her alicornhood. From years of experience, she also knew that there were many types of love and that different ponies loved differently. She had always thought it to be a cool, slow sort of love of the familiar, like how some loved their homes and friends. Now, she considered an alternative — Twilight’s romantic love being slow and cerebral, which she thought fit with the rest of Twilight.

Cadence, not being Twilight, did not consider that she was likely seeing what she was used to seeing.

Seeing Twilight through this new lense, she saw her in a different light, one that painted Twilight as willing to put aside her own happiness for years for the sake of love. It reminded her of Shining. She recalled the comment she’d made about Twilight wanting to get into her bed and the reaction it had garnered. Everything became clear; Twilight had needed to be with somepony she loved, yet she had protected her from being hurt by a direct admission.

She appreciated the gesture.

“Twilight,” she asked, looking up, “would you like to stay here for a while?”

The change that had come over Cadence left Twilight smiling. Her friend’s stare had shifted from being directed downward to up and to the side, a sure sign of thinking deep thoughts. Given that she had also perked up her ears and her posture in general, they seemed to be happy thoughts.

“Of course I’d like to stay. It’s just…”

Cadence leaned closer. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if it’s feasible. It seems there’s always something that comes up and needs my attention.” She paused and looked around. “Any second now…”

Cadence’s eyebrows rose as she regarded Twilight. “‘Any second now’ what?”

Still staring up at nothing, Twilight’s brow furrowed as she waited, tapping a forehoof on the table. “Of course it wouldn’t happen when I expect it,” she eventually said, shrugging and looking back down at Cadence. “It’s just that, whenever I say something like that, the universe—”

A scroll materialized in the air above them, and Twilight snatched it.

“The universe conspires against me to make it come true. It’s probably selective perception, but it still feels like a law of nature, like gravity or Pinkie being incomprehensible.” She unrolled the scroll and glanced at it. “Sorry… I should probably respond to this as soon as possible.”

Cadence waved a hoof. “If anypony understands, I do.”

Twilight read through it, muttering under her breath. “… Well, why didn’t they…? Still, they should have… Oh, laryngitis. Oh, that’s bad.” She dropped the scroll onto the table, and her ears flopped back. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Will you be back?” Cadence asked, squinting as first Twilight’s horn then her whole body shone with purple light.

She nodded, sending the already chaotic reflections dancing across the room. In a flash, she disappeared, leaving Cadence and the Crystal Empire behind.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editor, Cynewulf.