Unicorn magic is one of the biggest mysteries in the world. Equestrian scientists claim to comprehend every aspect of it, but in truth they only comprehend it in its purest, most obvious form. There is much they do not understand about its usage or origin. They understand even less about alicorn magic, which is said to be ten times stronger and more complicated than that of a unicorn. Scientists are constantly uncovering new aspects of unicorn magic that utterly redefine their previous thoughts about it. For example, they only recently discovered that specifically skilled unicorns and alicorns are capable of lucid dreaming at any time they will it before slumber and can even control their dreams with ease.
Twilight Sparkle knew she was capable of controlling her dreams, albeit she did not venture to do so because she thought it wrong to meddle with her brain's functions. What she did not know was that there existed another sleep-based power held by unicorns and alicorns, a power she tapped into without knowing she had. Afterward, Twilight was not aware what had triggered it. Perhaps it was her unusually dedicated reading in the field of psychology before she drifted off to sleep. Whatever the cause, she would never forget the completely unique experience that would some day open up an entirely new field of magic.
The sensation it caused was terrifying, yet pleasant. Twilight felt her consciousness, her heat and her being, slipping away from her hooves. It was as if she was turning into air, light and invisible as she ascended upward. But this was not death. She was still attached to herself by a thin string, yet rising as if she was not. She was leaving her body to go on a journey. She had passed silently through the roof when it came to her attention that she was not in control of her speed or direction.
Where am I going? she wondered, horrified and fascinated.
She wanted to scream at Spike for help, or at the very least a reassurance that he would not allow anything to happen to her body while it was technically vacant. Yet even though she could speak, the words did not truly leave her mouth. She was shouting from behind a glass wall, her utterances merely bouncing back into her own face. Nopony could hear her while she was trapped on this plane of existence. This fact increased her feeling of terror, but she could do little about this miserable reality. She was completely at the mercy of this plane and where it wanted to take her.
After a few minutes of aimless drifting, Twilight sank through the roof of a cottage. It was most certainly a home in Ponyville, yet she couldn't recall ever being on the interior of it. She thought it must belong to one of the ponies she knew, but wasn't strictly friends with. Since that described over half of the town's population, this wasn't helpful information in the slightest. Furthermore, she wondered why she had been taken to this place if she was not familiar with the occupant.
A light-colored mare with a blue and pink mane lay asleep in the bed. Twilight was not good with the names of ponies who chiefly remained in the background of her life, but she thought this one might be known as “Bon-Bon”. The owner of a local candy shop, if she was not mistaken, and an occasional visitor at the library for literature concerning delicious treats or ancient pony wars. The need for these was quite obvious, for Twilight noted a half-finished replica of the earliest type of battle tank composed entirely of candy in one corner of the room. Bon-Bon was apparently a handypony of sorts whose favorite material was sugary sweets.
All of this is fascinating, but why am I here? Twilight thought impatiently.
A door slammed downstairs, alerting the two ponies, one unable to be seen and the other sleeping, that a third had entered the abode. Bon-Bon started awake at once, her hoof leaping toward the katana, also constructed from candy, that lay on the nightstand looking extremely out of place. Crime rarely happened in Ponyville, the worst being minor thefts or vandalism by some of the fillies and colts attempting to project a “tough” image. However, Bon-Bon was tortured by a somewhat irrational fear of being caught unawares by an aggressive burglar. Hence she insisted on storing a weapon within easy reach. Other ponies did this as well, including unicorns despite their magic giving them an advantage over most intruders, but Bon-Bon was the only one to have something more than a baseball bat or a slipper on her side.
“Lyra?” the mare called nervously.
An answering voice shouted from the lower level, assuring her that it was indeed Lyra. The voice had an aura of exhaustion to it, but it clearly belonged to Lyra, or at the very least a talented impersonator. Regardless of having been reassured, Bon-Bon waited, her hoof still inches from the katana, for the other pony to confirm her identity by appearing before her. She exhaled a deep sigh of relief when the familiar green mare climbed the stairs and strode into the bedroom.
“Sorry I'm late,” Lyra apologized sheepishly. “You know how it goes, B-B.”
Bon-Bon departed the bed, not looking at all angry about the other pony being late. She instead appeared relieved, as if she had been worried about Lyra's well-being and the mere sight of her erased any possible cause for wrath. Her smile affectionate, she walked up to the green unicorn and playfully nuzzled her side. As usual, the pleasing aroma of vanilla and apples, Lyra's favorite scent, drifted into her nostrils. If there was anything she absolutely adored about Lyra, it was the fact that she always carried this pleasing scent on any occasion.
Blushing, Lyra extracted a piece of parchment from the saddlebag she was still wearing. From her vantage point, Twilight could not see what was written on the parchment. Lyra produced a quill from the same saddlebag and observed the words with satisfaction, speaking to herself all the while.
“Okay, now I've been with....a firepony, a construction worker, a baker, a griffon, and a Wonderbolt. I'm almost halfway through the list, B-B!”
Nuzzling her side again, Bon-Bon spoke lovingly, her voice slightly muffled. She had once scolded Lyra for producing the list in front of her, but now she was used to it. It no longer bothered her, as with most of the things that had once made her furious with the other mare. Fortunately, it went both ways, albeit there were times when they became enraged towards one another. Kissing and making up was their favorite part of the process.
“I don't care if you're late. All I care about is that you come home to me.”
Lyra tenderly ran a hoof through the other pony's mane, her eyes aglow with caring. Bon-Bon had spoken those words so many times they were forever etched into her brain. Not that she would have ever forgotten them, even if they had only been spoken once. She was glad that Bon-Bon knew where her heart was, regardless of the things she did with others.
“I'll always come home to you. No matter how many ponies I sleep with, you know that I'll give all of my love to you.”
Twilight, who had been caught up in the scene, cried out a little when she began to drift upward yet again. It was a good thing she could not be seen or heard, for the other ponies would have surely noticed her presence due to the volume of her cry. She already felt guilty for having inadvertently observed such a touching, private scene between two ponies she barely knew. But huddling behind her shame was the feeling of having been an observer of something truly beautiful. While she felt bad for spying on them, she was also quite pleased that she had seen what she did.
I had no idea Lyra and Bon-Bon had that kind of relationship, she thought musingly. It's kind of weird, but I guess it's fine as long as they're happy. And they looked pretty happy to me.
The wind, or whatever guiding force was leading her, began to carry her away from the cottage. The speed of her departure steadily increased as she went. Twilight was oddly relaxed as she passively drifted across the astral plane to her next destination. It felt nice to be able to roam without worries, a nonexistent hoof pulling her in what she could only assume was a pre-determined path. She wondered what other ponies whom she didn't pay too much attention to were doing interesting things at this time of night. Having wondered that, she was a little disappointed to find herself heading toward Sweet Apple Acres.
Would Applejack even be awake at this time of night? Twilight wondered. Doesn't she have work on the farm before the sun comes up?
But she did not pause over the house as she expected to. Instead, she continued to flutter directly past Applejack's window, where she glimpsed a slumbering orange Earth pony who showed no signs of waking prior to dawn. Twilight found herself being taken past the house completely. When she at last halted, it was before the doors of the barn. She was bemused for a second, wondering if there was something here she was supposed to see, such as an inaccuracy in the barn's design. Or maybe she was meant to admire the fact that it was still standing after having been rebuilt several times over the past two years. As she stood there gazing dumbly at the closed barn door, a sound drifted from inside. A sound she recognized as the muffled melody of a string instrument, most likely a guitar, being played by skilled hooves. However, she knew of nopony at Sweet Apple Acres who had “skilled hooves”. The mystery was only brief, as she began drifting through the closed door the moment the music began.
Inside the barn was Big Macintosh, shrouded in darkness. The only light came from a small collection of lanterns arranged in a semi-circle around him akin to a fairy ring. His eyes were closed, not that it truly mattered since he could not have seen Twilight even if they were open. He was playing an old acoustic guitar that had obviously seen better days, but the sound it produced was as crisp as if it was brand new. The notes he was strumming were long and sad, yet gorgeous. Twilight did not think to question why Big Macintosh was sitting in the barn in the middle of the night surrounded by lanterns and playing a guitar. She lost herself in the beauty of the music. She wanted to wrap herself up in the notes as if they were a blanket.
Who knew Big Macintosh had talent! she thought, in awe. I guess there's no real need for skills like that on a farm, though. If Applejack didn't need him at Sweet Apple Acres, he could go on tour and make thousands of bits.
“I wouldn't do that if I could, sugar cube.”
Twilight jumped in astonishment, believing for one bizarre second that Big Macintosh had spoken to her. But she saw that he had not even wavered in his playing and gave no signs he was aware of her. Yet it had certainly been his voice, that deep tone unmistakable despite her only having heard him speak a hooful of times. Puzzled, she turned to see if anypony else was in the barn.
Big Macintosh, or rather a transparent version of him, was perched on a haystack two feet away. Seeing him, Twilight realized that this must be how she would have appeared had ponies been able to see her: A version of herself that was primarily see-through, but could still be perceived, like a ghost. The comparison frightened her a little. She neither believed nor disbelieved in ghosts. However, the idea of being one in appearance scared her, almost as if she truly was deceased and floating endlessly between life and death.
“You can see me?” Twilight uttered aloud, skeptical.
“Ee-yup. Don't get the wrong idea, though. My.....other self can't see a thing. He'd be plum scared if he could. Shoot, he doesn't have any idea what goes on when he's outside of his head. When I return, I won't even remember we talked.”
Twilight looked at the oblivious stallion strumming away on his guitar. She was a bit sad at the idea that Big Macintosh would have no memory of this extraordinary happening. On the other hoof, it wasn't clear yet if she would. For all she knew, she would awaken the next morning and recall everything as a mere dream.
“Uh...what exactly is happening to us?” Twilight inquired anxiously.
She was struck by how strange it was for her, the alicorn who always managed to have information readily at hoof, to be asking a pony who barely spoke more than two words for answers.
“Happening to us?” Big Macintosh echoed, smiling. “I reckon there's some fancy word for it, but darned if I know it. I like to call it “advanced tourism”. Whatever this plane is we're on, it tells us where to go and what to do. Or at least I think that's how it works. I've never been outside of Sweet Apple Acres myself. You, on the other hoof, have probably started to go places.”
“You've never been outside Sweet Apple Acres? Isn't that a little.....restrictive, even more so than when you're not in this plane? What's the point of “advanced tourism” if you don't go anywhere new?”
Big Macintosh laughed at her query. Twilight Sparkle might have been an immensely intelligent mare, but she could be surprisingly dense at times.
“Just because I stay in one place doesn't mean I don't go anywhere new.”
Twilight longed to ask the meaning of that specific sentence, but she never got the chance. She was whisked away, more forcefully than she had been the other times. She was only given enough time to wave a farewell to Big Macintosh, his song beating a soothing rhythm inside of her skull. She hoped that she would at least remember it after she woke up.
Well, that was.......unexpected, she thought, rather at a loss. Big Macintosh can sing and play the guitar! He really could make a lot of bits if he took his talents on the road. But if he wanted to do that, he would have abandoned the farm ages ago. I guess he cares more about helping his sister than he does about being famous.
As she was taken away, it came to her attention that she was being drawn out of Ponyville. She did not have the sensation of going quickly, yet the landscape below her seemed to alter hastily as she floated past it. The lush fields and blooming flowers gave way to a less natural environment, one that had clearly been made, rather than occurring on its own. Gone were the simple cottages of Ponyville. In their place stood elaborate buildings clearly meant for those of high class. Twilight realized that she was now in Canterlot, although it felt like she had been traveling for only two minutes. Looking on curiously, she saw one specific apartment building coming closer as she was pulled toward it. In a moment, she had floated through the wall of one particular apartment.
Inside was a familiar pony, stretched out luxuriously on the single bed in the room. Even though her mane was more untidy than Twilight had ever seen it, she knew at once that this was Ms. Harshwhinny. She realized in the same moment that she had never even thought about where this uptight pony might reside. It had of course never been relevant during their meetings. But if she had ever thought about it, she would have assumed that Ms. Harshwhinny lived in the very place she was in now: Fancy, perfectly clean, and lacking anything of unique taste. The place had the exact touch of a mare whose attitude was almost consistently stiff.
I guess ponies' surroundings really do reflect their personality, Twilight thought, remembering her own library.
Ms. Harshwhinny opened her eyes and groaned. Obviously she had not been asleep, but in a state of meditation. Meditation was commonly used to help somepony descend into a state of serenity, yet Ms. Harshwhinny had apparently done the opposite. Rather than looking calm, she had the same dissatisfied scowl she wore throughout her daily life.
“Useless!” she burst out indignantly.
A door to the left opened to admit a blue-maned nurse Twilight recognized from the Ponyville local hospital. She didn't know the nurse by name, but she thought she might have been one of the nurses on duty when Rainbow Dash was being kept there after her flying accident.
“You okay, Ms. Harshwhinny?” the nurse inquired softheartedly. “Were you trying those exercises Dr. Pacemaker gave you?”
Ms. Harshwhinny snorted in contempt. Her and the nurse clearly had differing opinions about this “Dr. Pacemaker”.
“I see no reason for this nonsense, Nurse Snowheart,” she replied stubbornly. “I'm as fit as a filly and that quack Dr. Pacemaker is perfectly aware of it. Tell him to stop squeezing bits out of me and go prey on some other impressionable sap!”
Nurse Snowheart did not seem bothered by this analysis, suggesting that Ms. Harshwhinny had made these remarks against the doctor in the past. Indeed, she was used to Ms. Harshwhinny saying all the manner of rude things in response to the doctor's orders. Despite all she said in objection, Ms. Harshwhinny continued to give her hard-earned money to Dr. Pacemaker and, even though she spoke out against his recommendations, she always got around to going through with them. Her threats to “drop him” never came to anything.
“Now, now, Ms. Harshwhinny, you know what the doctor says about that stress. You may be “as fit as a filly” on the outside, but that body of yours is plum ready to quit because of all the pressure you've been putting on that noggin. If you just keep trying your meditation and not straining yourself, you'll put a lot of distance between yourself and that persistent fellow named Death. He's been eager to get his hooves on you for a long time now, especially since you insisted on helping oversee the Equestria Games.”
Ms. Harshwhinny bristled in automatic defense of her decision. It was true that Dr. Pacemaker had advised against her taking that particular job, fearing that it might do more harm than good. He was already worried about her dangerously high level of mental pressure, which he cited as the source of her repeated fainting spells over the course of the previous year. Based on her test results, he told her she would be better off health-wise if she loosened up. But this was easier stated than carried out for the mare. She was far too used to working and being useful to cease that easily.
“If that hack was half as skilled as he says he is, he would have done more than assign me exercises and give me medicine while telling me over and over again what I am and am not allowed to do!”
Nurse Snowheart carefully guided the aggravated mare to the bed, her smile not wavering. She was barely listening to the familiar rant. Dr. Pacemaker had warned her on her first day that she must get used to this, for Ms. Harshwhinny was a very difficult patient. This was part of the reason she was suffering from disproportionate stress, he explained. She had an irresistible desire to complain about every little thing that annoyed her, the words often devolving into a pure rant as her blood pressure skyrocketed.
“Please calm down, Ms. Harshwhinny,” Nurse Snowheart implored her gently. “It's about time for you to turn in, isn't it? I'll go get your sleeping mask and run a bath. I went out today and bought a whole new batch of scented candles for you to try. And I'll find a nice soothing melody for you to fall asleep to. That alright, Ms. H?”
She forced the sputtering Ms. Harshwhinny to lie on the bed while she strode into the bathroom to prepare the promised bath. As she watched the water flowing into the tub, she reminded herself to tell Dr. Pacemaker to yet again try a new type of medication or at least a better dosage. Clearly the current one, which had once seemed to do a lot of good, was failing. Ms. Harshwhinny by this time had been on nearly everything and she showed only tiny signs of improvement. Nurse Snowheart privately thought that Dr. Pacemaker might eventually have to try something stronger and less legal to sedate her, otherwise Death really would be waiting at her bedside.
Poor Ms. Harshwhinny, Twilight thought, saddened. I've gotten stressed over my studies a few times, but I'd never ignore a doctor's advice. At least the doctor and the nurse are doing their best for her. I hope she's better by the next time we meet.
Twilight wished she could stay to observe more, but she was again not permitted to do as she desired. She was being hurried away, on a journey that may or may not conclude anytime soon. In truth, she didn't want it to conclude. She was learning a lot about her fellow ponies. There were so many stories in Equestria that she would never get to experience in any other way.
I can learn everything, she thought, excited by the very idea.
This time she was ascending faster than she had been previously. Due to this, she had an inkling of where her destination was this time. If she was going up, there was one stop she was destined to make before she reached the stars. A city in the clouds she had been to, albeit only one or two times. As predicted, she saw the city of Cloudsdale rapidly approaching before her.
Am I going to see Spitfire or Soarin? she wondered.
Those were the names one usually associated with Cloudsdale, the pair being the most well-known of the Wonderbolts. Fleetfoot was renowned as well, but her fame was slightly less than that of the other two. After all, Spitfire was the one in charge of the Wonderbolts themselves and Soarin was Equestria's “most desired hunk”, according to several magazines focusing on the subject.
Twilight drifted through the roof of a cloud home and into a living room. Below her she saw a couch of considerable age, two cushions for sitting, and a scattered collection of athletic magazines. The walls were decorated with newspaper clippings and magazine articles that seemed to concern the Wonderbolts, specifically Spitfire. There were also a few articles bearing Rainbow Dash's picture, although Twilight could not read them. These articles bore signs of malice, having been slashed with a sharp object or vandalized with markers.
The stallion in the midst of all this was clearly a Wonderbolt, as made obvious by the fact that he was wearing the typical uniform. But he was not any of the Wonderbolts Twilight knew. His mane was swept back similar to that of Spitfire, but it was chiefly orange with streaks of a very light yellow. His eye color could not be seen, since he wore his goggles over his eyes. Yet he was somehow in the process of doing a crossword puzzle and his vision was not impaired by the eye wear. On the contrary, his writing was unusually neat. Twilight thought she might have seen him during the Grand Galloping Gala and as a judge at the Best Young Flyer competition, but she did not know his name.
“Yo, Fire Streak, what gives?”
A mare Twilight certainly knew appeared from the kitchen, her face set in a displeased frown. She recognized her as the mare who had given Rainbow Dash trouble at the Wonderbolts Academy. From what Rainbow Dash had said afterward, Twilight surmised that this mare's reckless actions had nearly injured several of the other ponies being trained and almost convinced her to abandon the Wonderbolts altogether.
Fire Streak looked up from his crossword puzzle, but he did not remove his goggles. The goggles worn by the Wonderbolts did not make one blind. However, they were only meant to be used for flying at high altitudes to prevent eyes from tearing up or random debris blocking one's vision. They were not intended for everyday use as if they were regular glasses, a point that seemed to have flown over this stallion's head. For that matter, he also didn't seem to realize that the Wonderbolt uniform was not be be worn like a regular outfit if he was calmly doing a crossword puzzle while clothed in it.
Lightning Dust angrily jabbed a hoof in the direction of the kitchen she had just vacated.
“We're out of everything, dude. No oat chips, no hay fries, no nachos, no tomato sticks. What the hay am I supposed to eat?!”
Despite his face being almost entirely concealed, Fire Streak's look of disdain was discernible. The ponies were obviously not on good terms, at least when it came to food. And they had obviously had this very conversation in the past, hence there was little new ground for either of them to explore.
“Oh, I don't know,” Fire Streak replied sarcastically. “How about something that doesn't treat your heart like its bitch?”
Lightning Dust rolled her eyes and laughed, not impressed by his common suggestion. She knew Fire Streak was a health nut prior to moving in with him, yet she had been confident that he would not attempt to force his ways on her. It had gotten worse since she was kicked out of the Wonderbolts Academy. He appeared to think that the best way to heal her after this humiliation was to encourage her to adopt his own idea of a perfect diet. She naturally resisted, both because she had no interest in it and because she liked to aggravate Fire Streak by opposing everything he did. They were at least partially comrades, but this did not stop them from getting on each others' nerves at every junction.
“Sure, I'll get right on that,” Lightning Dust responded with the same cynicism. “In the meantime, I'm going to take a little trip to the store and buy some, you know, food...”
“Your idea of "food" will just take you even further away from ever being a Wonderbolt......”
The remark was muttered, but an incensed Lightning Dust still caught it. She leaped into a wrathful defensive state at once, advancing on the other pegasus with a threatening look on her face. There were some lines even he wasn't allowed to cross, and that was one of them. Granted, she had crossed many lines with him, but she felt that this was a notably cruel violation.
“Like I have a chance of becoming one anyway!” she snapped. “If you didn't notice, I got kicked out of the academy. You think Shitfire is just going to show up at my door, apologize, and let me back in? Ha! But you love to rub salt in my wounds, don't you? It really gets you off, doesn't it?”
Fire Streak didn't reply, save for briefly shaking his head. He returned to his crossword puzzle as if their argument had been imagined. He was close to finishing and therefore had no time for Lightning Dust's nonsense. Contrary to her sour belief, he didn't wear the uniform around their home to taunt her, nor did he get off on “rubbing salt in her wounds”. He wore the uniform because it was the one thing he felt at home in. The confidence he experienced while clothed in it was completely unique and helped get him through his life. And in reality, he truly thought that Lightning Dust might be given a second chance if she simply improved her attitude a little and made an effort to reform her ways. But whenever he tried to tell her these things, she took them the wrong way and pulled him into an unpleasant disagreement.
She's even worse than Rainbow Dash made her out to be, Twilight thought, disgusted. I wonder why she's like this. But.....I kind of feel sorry for her. She obviously really wanted to be a Wonderbolt and being kicked out of the academy dealt a devastating blow.
This did not make her any less of a villain, but it did make Twilight think. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Lightning Dust chiefly led a misguided life. Her problem wasn't her goals, it was the way she chose to go about them. Therefore, there was always the chance her dreams could flourish if she would only let go of some of her less productive points of view.
Is there a chance for her to change her ways? Twilight wondered, uncomfortable. We kind of dismissed her as a loss cause and so did the Wonderbolts. But....is there a chance?
She was so caught up in these thoughts that she didn't notice that she had begun moving again. Indeed, it did not catch her attention until she had gone a considerable distance away from Cloudsdale. When she realized it, she looked around to see where she was heading. But nothing around her was familiar in the slightest, not even the landscape below her. In addition, she noticed that she was ascending upward at a very hasty pace, toward the stars above. Having never been in space before, she wondered if she was about to see the galaxies in all of their glory.
“Good morning and good evening.”
Twilight, who had become quite used to not being addressed, started at the voice. She thought for one preposterous moment that Lightning Dust or Fire Streak had somehow become aware of her presence and were greeting her in an unsurprised fashion. But then she realized that she had drifted too far away for that to be the case. She was now, she realized with added surprise, of such a height that the only things that existed below her were the tiniest indications of dwellings, grass, and ocean. She looked around for the owner of the stern voice that had spoken to her.
History books spoke about this pony in great detail, boasting of his amazing magical feats and his magnificent facial hair. Accounts of his bravery, skill, and intelligence had reached to the very ends of Equestria while he was alive. And proceeding his demise, the stories flourished. Over time, historians only dared make passing mentions of how odd this stallion had been during life. Those close to him spoke blatantly about his bizarre habits and some of his truly intense experiments in the world of magic. Whatever he was, mad spell weaver, genius, or both woven together, he was a legend among unicornfolk. Few modern ponies could ever forget Star-Swirl the Bearded.
“St-Star-Swirl?” Twilight stammered, her thoughts tossed in circles. “But you're.....you're......”
She swallowed the word “dead”, for some reason unwilling to tell one of her heroes that he was meant to be deceased. Regardless, she knew for a definite fact that Star-Swirl the Bearded was no longer alive. She visited his special grave in the Canterlot Gardens at least once a year, occasionally leaving behind a book she thought he might have enjoyed while he was alive. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, who had of course known him personally, openly lamented his passing and sometimes spoke frankly about their time with him. Yet if he was truly dead, Twilight should not be gazing at him while she was certainly alive.
“You're dead!” the purple mare at last burst out.
She covered her mouth with her hooves, her cheeks colored with embarrassment. She felt as if she had uttered an indecent insult of some sort, rather than stating bare facts. Although for all she knew, Star-Swirl might take offense to the accusation that he was deceased. Having never been in a situation that called for the information, she wasn't sure if dead people were offended by being told they were dead.
Star-Swirl ran a hoof through his beard, his eyes twinkling and a slightly vague smile on his features. He did not look offended, nor did he look surprised to hear that he was supposed to be dead. He did not even question Twilight being up there, which seemed the logical first question.
“Dead?” he uttered musingly. “Why, no, young lady. I'm merely having a very long dream.”
Twilight didn't know how to respond to this. Everything had been so out of the ordinary that she could almost believe anything she was told at this point.
“What are you doing up here?” she queried curiously.
There didn't seem to be a lot of activities available in this place. Star Swirl, not being a pegasus or an alicorn, could not fly and therefore could not properly experience the sky. He appeared to be floating there just as she was, except he wore a contented smile. Twilight had the feeling that he was used to this, while she was not.
“Thinking about bells.”
This was not any of the answers Twilight predicted. At the most insightful and deep, she had expected him to say that he was “contemplating life and the fragile existence of ponykind”. At the least insightful and deep, she had thought he was going to say that he was star-gazing. She had in no way suspected he was going to utter anything about bells.
“Bells?” she echoed dubiously.
“Yes, bells,” Star-Swirl replied cheerfully. “I have a lot of them on my hat and cape, as you can see. They jingle pleasantly when I move around. I do so enjoy the sound of bells at any time of day. They make all sorts of wonderful songs. Better than organized music, although some ponies will disagree.”
While making her Star-Swirl the Bearded costume for Nightmare Night, Twilight had reflected on what a strange unicorn he must have been to adorn his garment with bells. She had read about certain ponies, in an effort to appear more threatening, attaching knives or other sharp objects to the tail ends of their capes. She had never heard of anypony, let alone unicorns known for their heroic mastery of spells, attaching bells to their capes and certainly not their hats. This had led her to conclude that Star-Swirl, despite being unquestionably brilliant, was a bit unbalanced. She now had conclusive evidence of her suspicions, if this was more than a dream.
“Uh-huh....,” Twilight uttered slowly. “That's.....a really unique point of view.”
Star-Swirl didn't seem to be bothered by her tone. On the contrary, a smile spread across his features as he regarded her. A closer look at her revealed similarities to a mare he'd once known, an intelligent pony who had assisted him in his later experiments. She had had much the same appearance, although the shades of her mane were different and her eye color was slightly darker. He walked over old ground with his response.
“You think I'm mad, don't you?” he replied, but with an understanding smile. “I don't blame you. I am mad. I daresay nearly every unicorn who particularly excelled in magic was a little off their head. Ever heard of Frost-Moon the Lovestruck? Completely bonkers. Glad I married her.”
The words “I excel in magic and I'm not mad at all!” leapt to the edge of Twilight's tongue, but were held back as memories of a certain incident swarmed into her brain. An incident, she was mortified to note, that involved a dangerous spell, utter chaos among Ponyville citizens, and her beloved Smarty-Pants doll. As of Star-Swirl's words and her recollections, she wondered if she was a little mad. If so, her statement about all the ponies in the town being unhinged felt largely hypocritical. Or perhaps a bit of their lunacy had rubbed off on her during her stay.
“You study magic long enough, you're bound to go a little cuckoo,” continued Star-Swirl happily. “Or else you become corrupted. Magic isn't all cupcakes and bedtime stories. If you let too much of it into your soul, it will seize the chance to spread darkness through your heart. Just like a glass of expired milk.”
A gust of bitterly cold wind flowed through Twilight. Every corner of her senses felt it, slinking its icy hooves through her as if she herself was part of it. And as this frosty wind moved, her own form moved with it. She was gently nudged backwards, away from Star-Swirl, lovingly yet coldly. Gasping involuntarily, Twilight realized something without knowing how she realized it.
I'm waking up. Time to go.
“Nooooo!” she protested desperately.
She reached out her hooves, attempting to take hold of something. But of course there was nothing there to prevent her departure even if she could. It was only blackness and stars here, besides Star-Swirl the Bearded. Yet her desperation to stay did not heed this. She wanted to remain and ask Star-Swirl thousands of questions about magic, life, history, and everything else that came to mind only as she was being taken away. Earlier she had been too distracted by Star-Swirl's oddness to comprehend the galaxy of queries. But the world was rushing past her, the speed increasing rapidly over the seconds. She was being forcibly pulled back toward her sleeping body and the waking world.
“Star-Swirl!” she screamed against the roaring wind. “I have to know.....! How can I do my best as the Princess of Friendship?”
For one brief moment, before Star-Swirl's face and voice were whisked from her sight, she saw and heard him laughing heartily.
“Bells, my dear!” he called passionately.
Despite the night's adventures, Twilight woke up rather calmly. She merely opened her eyes and watched the world steadily come into sharp focus. She was lying on her side in bed, her wings tucked at her sides as they normally were. Nothing felt unfamiliar about the weight of the sheets over her body, nor did the softness of the mattress at her back give her any unease. She was waking up in her normal way, as if from a dream. Except she could not lie to herself and say it was a mere dream.
“Bells, my dear!”
Star-Swirl's voice rang out in her mind. She was still disappointed that she did not have time to ask him more questions, but perhaps that was for the best. The answers he could have given her, regardless of how wise or strange, would have just been answers. If there was anything she had cause to regret, it was the fact that she had not thanked him for all he had done for Equestria. Thanked him in person, rather than by unveiling yet another statue or library in his honor. She had a feeling, just from that conversation, that he wouldn't have wanted to be thanked in those ways.
Later that day, Twilight Sparkle spoke to Bon-Bon. She didn't bring up anything she had heard and seen the previous night. She simply spoke to the mare. Their conversation was long, but pleasant and filled with the things they enjoyed most in the world. The thing Bon-Bon enjoyed most in the world was Lyra.
Twilight Sparkle then visited Sweet Apple Acres and spoke with Big Macintosh. Again, she did not say anything about what she had seen or heard the night before. It was a normal conversation between two ponies whom, she realized upon starting, had never had a real conversation before. Somehow, it did not come as a surprise to discover how fluent Big Macintosh was with many subjects that did not relate to farming. He even knew some things about famous authors that Twilight herself was ignorant of. She departed with the promise that she would return again when he was less busy so they could have a more in depth discussion on cognitive psychology.
Twilight visited the post office with two packages to be sent out at once. The first was a specially made sound machine, to be sent to Ms. Harshwhinny. Unlike most sound machines available in Equestria which were created to play a variety of supposedly calming noises, this one was made specifically to mimic whatever the subject considered soothing via magical brain-to-output transfer. These were special and very hard to come by, but Twilight, being a princess, managed to pull a few strings. She sent it anonymously, albeit she planned to invite Ms. Harshwhinny over for tea at some point in the future. The second package, to be sent to Lightning Dust, contained a beauty kit made particularly for the care of wings. It was the same one utilized and popularized by the Wonderbolts, especially Spitfire. This one was also sent anonymously, but Twilight included hoof-written note that read “You might never become a Wonderbolt, but you can always become a better pony”. It was likely, of course, that Lightning Dust would pay no attention to the message and continue behaving as she always had. But as long as there was a chance, Twilight felt it was worth the effort.
Twilight's last stop of the day was Star-Swirl the Bearded's grave. She had been there before in the past, but she still had an odd feeling in her stomach as she approached. It was strange visiting his grave after speaking to him the previously night. She almost felt as if he was alive. Reading the date of birth and death, it was clear that he was indeed deceased. This time, rather than leave a book as she usually did, Twilight left something else.
“They make all sorts of wonderful songs,” Twilight whispered.
Smiling despite the hint of tears, Twilight carefully placed a bell against the headstone.
