“So, Meteor comin?” Spike asked just he finished up sweeping the library floor.

“Yeah, he’ll be over this afternoon,” Twilight answered, “I’m helping him proofread his latest stuff before he sends it out to his publisher.”

“You? Helpin other ponies outta the kindness of yur heart?” The little dragon couldn’t help the sense of incredulity that came over him at the very thought of the concept. “Excuse miss,” he went to ask mockingly, “would you happen to know where Twilight went?”

“Ha. Ha.” Twilight responded in her own mocking, impatient tone. “Yes, Spike, I get it; I used to be a self-centered bitch. You know you’ve had that same epiphany like two dozen times already, right?”

“Aye.” Her little brother/slave acknowledged, moving on to dusting the bookshelves. “Aye’m just still tryin to get used to it. And actually yur still a bitch, just to let you know.”

“Eh whatever,” she said, “I’ll be whatever I wanna be. And besides, Meteor doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Aye ain’t trying to stop yuh,” Spike corrected his former statement, “Aye’m just happenin to note massive changes in the demeanor of the pony who controls my life.” He said.

“You know that’s only really a half-truth, right?” Twilight asked after the last part of Spike’s statement. “Literally all the times you’ve actually refused to do stuff, I just ended up doing it myself without making you suffer any kind of consequence. I even threatened to turn you inside out once if you didn’t go to bed, and when you said no, I let walk right past me and go wandering around town all night.”

“Aye know, Twilight.” Spike said. “And what about you? Have you ever noticed that even though it would apparently be so easy, Aye’ve never actually ran away from all this?”

The words drew a somewhat uncomfortable look from the purple unicorn. “What, are you trying to have an emotional sibling bonding moment . . . or something?” She asked.

Spike’s eyes did a slow roll before he spoke. “Ay don’t know, Aye guess not if you’re just gonna react negatively to it.” He answered.

“I’m not reacting negatively.” Twilight attempted to falsely correct him.

It only resulted in a “”really”” look from the dragon, however.

“Ok look,” she responded to the disbelieving glance, “I get that I’m being a lot nicer or whatever, but you’re asking me to steps that just aren’t gonna happen yet. The whole, stupid, half-family thing with us was supposed to be unspoken . . .”

A sigh from Spike preceded his response. “Noted. Relax, Aye’ll leave it alone then.”

Spike went back to dusting, and Twilight attempted to return to reading her textbook, but an irritating worry began grow and eventually show on her face.

“I mean,” she suddenly started up again, “you . . . you do make good pancakes . . . and, you’re like . . . the best at cleaning stuff.” She told him, with an unsureness creeping in her voice.

“Aye though you weren’t ready to take any more steps yet?” Spike reminded her.

“Yeah, but . . . I don’t know.” Twilight’s unsure disposition was still driving her. “I guess that’s just another thing Meteor really was right about.” She said.

“Aye. And what might that be now?” Spike asked.

“That everypony’s a hypocrite.” She answered him.

“You know, Aye thought you would’ve already known that.” Spike admitted.

“Yeah, well, you know how I am about admitting personal faults.” She had to remind him of the obvious.

“Up until recently,” he added a slight correction to the truth, “that kinda just leads back my point: you’re really changing.”

“Yeah?” Twilight seemed to freeze for a moment in contemplation over the exposed truth. “I guess this is just what recovering from lonely, bitter narcissism looks like.” She concluded, in something of an admission.

“Well,” Spike said with a rarer, semi-caring tone that he barely ever felt the situation right to use, “Aye hope you get to go all the way with it then.”

The final words of their conversation, the final statement from the purple-smart unicorn left an implication that Spike would have never, ever expected before. Twilight was silent for another moment before breathing out, “yeah . . . you’re not the only one . . .”

***

~ meanwhile : in Rarity’s shop ~

“So wait, what am I supposed to do again?” Rainbow Dash asked, forgetting the assigned job given to her by the fashionista. She stood up on Rarity’s modelling platform, donned in the base fabric pattern for something that resembled a uniform.

“You are HOLDING STILL,” the unicorn had re-drill into the dimwitted Dash’s head, “so I can adjust this until it fits. I’m not used to making military uniforms, let alone making anything for pegasi since you’re all a bunch of mindless numskulls who don’t care about your appearance, so I need to see how the fabric works with your stupid horsefly body type.” She finally finished her lecture . . . for the dozenth time.

“Ok.” Dash acknowledged at first, but then a light bulb suddenly went off in her head. “Wait did you say military uniforms? Oh oh oh! Are these for the Wonderbolts!?” She all but assaulted her friend with hyper-fan questions.

“No, they’re for the 51st parasprite regiment.” Rarity responded with flat sarcasm. “Of course they’re for the Wonderbolts! Just who else do you think they’d even be for?” She demanded from her idiotic friend.

“Well . . .” Dash tried to think, “uh, I don’t know, aren’t there like pegasi in the royal guard and stuff?”

“Yes, but those are royal guard!” Rarity wasted more effort trying to drill a point in. “Royal guard wear armor! The Wonderbolts are a performing squad of specialized officers. Officers wear uniforms!”

“So, so, like, when are they coming?” Dash asked. “Can I meet’em? Are they gonna be in the shop? Oh oh you gotta let me meet’em! You gotta!” She started demanded with mindless enthusiasm.

“Ah-haha-ha, ha, NO.” Rarity answered her. “And that’s the biggest N. O. you’re ever going to get, Dash. I’m not stupid enough to commit business-suicide, which is exactly what having you in here when I’m speaking to premier clients would be.”

Dash, rather predictably, started going into a childish breakdown. “What? But . . . but I really wanna meet the Wonderbolts! You gotta let me! You have to!” She whined.

“No I don’t, darling.” Rarity maintained her contradiction. “I have no such obligation.”

“No,” Dash just kept whining, “but but, but you gotta!”

“No,” Rarity held her position, “I definitely don’t, and even if I WAS willing, whining certainly wouldn’t be helping your case.” She felt her aggravation growing as she kept attempting to take measurements and fit the fabric Dash was wearing.

Dash actually went silent for a minute, just appearing downed. Then, however, her eyes shot open with another lightbulb that lit off in her mind. “Oh oh, wait I know,” she started up, “What if I wait outside your house, like up on the roof or something, and then I can jump down and catch them when they’re heading away?”

“No,” Rarity began nearing the edge of her patience, “you are NOT waiting on my roof to stalk celebrities. And if I so much as catch you anywhere near my boutique on the day the Wonderbolts are here, I WILL have you arrested for trespassing. AND I will finally take you to court over all the damages you’ve caused to my house over the years.”

“Wha-wha-what? Come on, you know I can’t afford all that stuff!” Rainbow complained in a panic.

“Well,” Rarity responded, “I guess you’d better just gain some self-control for the first time in your life, and stay away from my shop while the Wonderbolts are in town.”

“Bu-but . . . d—n’aaww man!” Dash finally gave up, dropping her gaze mopingly to the floor.

“So,” a new, agonizingly familiar voice prompted Rarity to turn around, only to find Pinkie standing just a few steps away, “Pinkie hears you have finally received attention from worthwhile clients, yes?”

The faint blue aura of Rarity’s magic instantly formulated around a curling iron on a nearby counter, switching it on right away. “What the unlady-like expletive are you doing in my shop?” Rarity demanded to know from the mentally unstable pink horse. “Pinkie, I warned you I would shove a curling iron down your throat; you have to the count of three to get out of my shop before I follow through on that threat!” She ended by levitating the said device into a ready position.

The pink pony jiggled with the snickering that erupted from her before she responded to renewed threat. “You worry your marshmellow bottom too much Rarity.” She said. “Pinkie is not here for you; she is here Rainbow Dash!”

“Huh? Oh, uh, did you want something Pinkie?” Rainbow’s attention only just managed to focus.

“Pinkie desires your final demise!” Pinkie announced. “She has come to put an end to your servitude of the yellow one! Yes!”

“Pinkie!” Rarity snapped. “I am trying to use Dash as a modelling base here. I would appreciate it if you would postpone whatever stupid homicidal plans you have for her until AFTER I’m finished here!”

“Actually,” Dash threw in as well, “I was gonna go get ice cream after I was done helping Rarity. So can you wait ta murder me till later?” She asked.

“What?” Pinkie reacted with obvious frustration. “What is this? You contrive petty excuses to elude Pinkies plans? Yes?”

“Uh, well, not really,” Dash said, “I just want ice cream.”

“And I want you both to shut up and let me finish my work!” Rarity barely kept herself from yelling at them both. “All of the agonizing I’ve been doing over the last few months to promote my business up to this point is NOT going to go to waste because of the idiot or the town psychopath!”

Pinkie broke into another suppressed series of chuckles. “So,” she mused, “Pinkie’s suspicions were correct, yes? You have been fore-slaving yourself to quench the agonizing thirst of your misery. Yes!”

“Yes, Pinkie,” Rarity confirmed for the giggling pink pony, “that is EXCATLY what I’ve been doing. And for the last three months I’ve managed to fill over fifty orders, come up with over a dozen new designs for my own personal line, and attract the attention of a number of high-end clients.” She declared her recent accomplishments.

“The lack of bedsheet distractions has done you well. Yes.” Pinkie concluded.

“Yes,” Rarity agreed, somewhat reluctantly, “so it apparently has. Now get out of my shop!”

“Hehe-hehe-hehe,” Pinkie giggled with a shifty grin, “Pinkie goes, yes. She will be waiting.”

***

~ Back in Twilight’s library ~

“You don’t find it just the slightest bit odd?” Spike was asking Twilight. “It’s supposed to just be a gold mine after all.”

“I don’t know; I mean, it is kinda overkill, but—“ Twilight stopped mid-reply as knocking came from the front door.

“Aye got it.” Spike said, carrying the simple action he’d taken charge of.

No surprise to either of them, it was Meteor Streak, wearing a satchel loaded with his next novel’s manuscript.

“Hey.” The grey stallion greeted spike as he was let in.

“Hey.” Twilight called over her shoulder. “Just a second, let me finish writing this week’s B.S. letter for Celestia.”

“You’re sure you’re not eventually going to end up repeating something at some point?” Meteor voiced what he saw as an inevitable likelihood.

“She already has.” Spike let him know after shutting the door.

“Yeah,” Twilight ended up confirming what Spike said, “believe me, I’ve probably repeated half the supposed “”lessons”” like half a dozen times, but this one’s actually something new though.”

“Sooo, she really just doesn’t care then?” Meteor asked regarding Celestia.

“Ahhh, I wouldn’t put it like that necessarily,” Twilight clarified, “I mean, she cares about what I’m doing, but she’s really selective about it. Besides,” she went on, taking a second to finalize the letter before rolling the parchment up, “I hopefully shouldn’t have to worry about that for that much longer; maybe just a couple more years.” As soon as she’d finished speaking, she passed the letter over to Spike, who proceeded to send it.

“What?” Meteor inquired about Twilight’s anticipation of the near future. “Is she getting bored or something?”

“Sort of.” Twilight said as she walked over.

“Twilight figured out a pattern Celestia usually follows.” Spike explained. “And we’re about comin to the end of one of her little cycles.”

“Yeah,” Twilight took over the explanation, going to further detail, “turns out she follows a pretty observable pattern of selecting a quote-unquote protégé, stalking their every life moment, and making their lives miserable until around their mid or late twenties. Then she gets bored finds a new one.” She said with clear, anticipatory happiness.

Meteor considered for a second, and then went to voice something that arose as a concern.

Spike spoke first, however, adding on to what Twilight had just gone into. “And since Twilight here’s about ready to fit into that boredom age category, we figure it’s probably gettin close to time. Plus Celestia’s been sendin ludacris demands to us less and less, and Aye would know, Aye haven’t had to deal with heartburn for almost two months now.”

“Of course,” Twilight had to muse, “now that you just said that she’s gonna send us a letter any moment now.”

“Screw that bitch!” Spike declared his already well-known disdain for the sun-butt princess. “Aye’ll swallow the damn letter back up.”

“No, you won’t.” Twilight’s voice grew halfway rigid in her response to his little outburst. “I may be nearing the end of my place on her entertainment cycle, but I still have to do whatever she says. Or else she’s gonna do something to the both of us that’ll involve molten silver, and knowing her it’ll probably be sexual.”

Meteor waited a few seconds for his eyes to shrink after Twilight’s last sentence. Finally he spoke up again, after clearing those unnerving images out of his head. “So,” he started, “she’s just gonna start all of this all over again with another filly?”

“Yeah, I can’t fricking wait,” Twilight said, “I’m finally gonna be free from all this crap!”

Meteor quite visibly didn’t share Twilight’s enthusiasm, or at least going by his expression, it wasn’t the most prominent thought in his mind. “But,” he said, tone subtly darkening, “this wasn’t just something centered around you? She’s gonna put another little kid through everything she did to you; she’s gonna destroy some other filly’s childhood.”

A wave of tension came over Twilight, and while it didn’t grip Spike, he still felt it’s presence in the conversation. Meteor felt Twilight’s unease reflect back at him. Flashing memories of himself being socially cornered and breaking down internally as arguments arose, and he saw the same potential progression arising on Twilight’s face. He wasn’t certain it was selfless care for her, selfish desire to avoid tension himself, or a halfway divide between both, but one way or another he realized what was happening and resolved himself not to go any further.

With Meteor saying nothing, while also withdrawing his previous expression, Twilight stood there debating with herself about what to say . . . and on some deeper level, losing the mental battle that she’d consistently fought all her life: the battle to convince herself that she didn’t care about what happened to other ponies. It was clear that Meteor did . . . but Twilight had always told herself that she didn’t. How could somepony so bitchy care about other ponies anyway? But . . . ever since she’d moved here . . . she’d been slowly losing that battle with herself.

Eventually she did speak. “Yeah, but . . . it . . . I—look, I . . . I can’t—it’s not like I can actually do anything.” It came out as what she still thought it was: her defending herself.

“I know.” Meteor said right away, before Twilight could slip any further into a panic. “It’s fine. I wasn’t . . . exactly thinking about it like you were.”

Twilight did show visible signs of returning calm, but entirely right away. “Look, I’m—I just want all of this crap to finally be over. I’m not excited about some kid going through my same childhood or whatever. I’ve been dealing with everything from Celestia for over half my life, and I’m really just a little bit desperate for her to finally shove off.”

“I don’t actually believe you want a little filly to suffer.” Meteor spoke as soon as could again. In his mind, he felt like he was stumbling blindly, but the feeling that he had to say something was consistently overriding the fear that he wouldn’t be able to articulate it correctly. “I wasn’t thinking the same way as you.” He did his best to keep his own distress out of his voice. “. . . I’m coming from a different place.”

The level of calm Twilight felt continued to rise, and in tangent, her former tension fell.

Uneasiness resisted with the words themselves resisted Meteor’s desire to say them, as was the case with more ponies than one would think. “I’m sorry.” He still said. “I can’t really keep my morality from jumping ahead of my thought.”

“Uh—ah, no it . . . it’s—fine . . .” Twilight found herself the one trying to be assuring now, “ah—I guess, sorry you had to deal me starting to go down that road . . . if I didn’t actually have my Xanax that probably would have been a full episode.”

“Yeah, speaking of that . . .” Meteor reached into his satchel, navigating around the papers it carried until he found his own prescription bottle, “uh—can I have some water?” He asked, bringing the bottle out into plain sight, trusting Twilight would obviously get it.

Twilight instantly jumped at the chance to begin shifting everything away from the tense moment that had just occurred. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Uh, Spike—“

“On it.” The dragon agreed to his duties before Twilight even finished, and went straight for the kitchen right away.

“So . . . ah, ha ha, you wanna get started on your manuscript?” Twilight tentatively asked.

“Sure.” Meteor gladly fulfilled Twilight’s hopes of leaving the previous tension behind.

Twilight took the unpublished novel from her boyfriend, while Spike returned with a glass of water. She began reading from the beginning, as Meteor swallowed a Lorazepam in the background. He hesitated for just a moment, but he went on to go and sit down next to her, and they all went on to read the story he had wrote; he and Twilight proofreading first and Spike sitting across the table enjoying the novel page by page as each piece of parchment finished undergoing its error-check.

***

~ Meanwhile : Elsewhere in Ponyville . . . ~

“This has quickly grown tiring!” Thrackerzod was in the midst of complaining to her friends. “And it is getting us nowhere! We must find a more efficient way to go about this!”

“Yeah,” Applebloom followed up, “Ah agree stalkin each one of’em one by one ain’t exactly the easiest quickest way to get stuff done. But, we’re a trio of children, we ain’t really got all that much at our disposal, far as resources go anyway.” She raised the more frustrating point they were all too used to running into.

“What, about Scootaloo’s inexplicable ability to blackmail administrative staff in any organization?” Thrackerzod suddenly considered.

Applebloom thought on that point for a second. “Em, yeah, Ah guess there is that.” She said. “But we already got the list’a students off the dean of Celestia’s school.”

“Yes,” Thrackerzod replied, “but perhaps there is more we can pry if we try Scootaloo’s methods on other targets involved?” She brought up the idea.

Applebloom though for a second again, trying to come up with a possibility. “Huh, well Ah don’t know rightly,” she admitted, “Ah mean, maybe we could get a hold of their grades and test records or . . . something. Ah don’t know what that’ll really get us though.”

Applebloom’s idea, however, did spark a sudden realization in Thrackerzod. “Many unicorn tests focus on assessing a student’s magical aptitude,” she said, “perhaps their academic records could shed light their respective power levels as estimated by their professors?” She finalized.

“Baby,” Scootaloo threw herself into the middle of the conversation, “I may not be completely in on what you need if for, but it sounds like you need Scootaloo to get a hold’a something for you again, hoo!”

“Yes!” Thrackerzod immediately jumped at the possibility. “You must re-infiltrate the Canterlot academia employee lounges and find some means to acquire copies of the students academic records and magical test scores. It is imperative!”

Scootaloo instantly flooded with her own brand of excitement, rising up from her sitting position. “Hoo! It can be done baby!” She declared. “What’s in it for me?”

The question caught Thrackerzod off guard, and consequently left the trio in an awkward silence for a solid moment before Thrackerzod answered with straight face. “I will give you half of my Nightmare Night candy.” She promised.

“Scootaloo don’t go half-way baby,” the orange filly told her, “With Scootaloo it’s go big or go home, hoo!”

“Fine!” Thrackerzod declared. “I will give you ALL of my Nightmare Night candy! Countless worlds are at stake; this job MUST be accomplished!”

“Hoo! It’s a deal baby!” Came the expectable answer from the compacted orange enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah,” Applebloom spoke back up again, “so how’s that middle-place doing that you said she was invadin next?” She asked.

“Middle-Earth,” Thrackerzod corrected her friend on the name, “and they have faired far better than Narnia. Though they still fight a losing a battle. Everything west of the Misty Mountains has been conquered, and even as we speak, Mirkwood burns to the ground. The armies of the west are gathering for a final stand against her. They plan to bottle-neck her forces at the Gap of Rohan. The coming battle will likely be long, and bloody, and may last many days, but the overall chances of them winning are slim. With every world she conquers, another set peoples become enamored with her, and her armies only swell. Some may have better forces, but no force can match her numbers now!” Thrackerzod concluded her rant glaring angrily down at the ground and shaking her hoof in a fist.

“So, do y’all think she’s gonna come here eventually?” Applebloom asked. “Invade Equestria I mean.”

“I do not know.” Thrackerzod answered. “We would have suspected her to have gone for this world first, given that the portal to it is the closest to the point at which her campaign began on the plane between worlds. But she has left this world untouched! It is both suspicious and perplexing.”

It left Applebloom thinking. From the outset, it did indeed make no sense. But, she had no doubt some kind of reason had to reveal itself if they only thought hard enough.

***

Twilight passed the final page of Meteor’s new story over to Spike. “Wow,” she said, “that was actually pretty good.”

The comment no doubt brought a smile to Meteor’s face, a split mix of just the general sense of accomplishment and the fact that the positive regard had come from Twilight.

The purple unicorn went into further detail with what exactly she meant. “I usually only read novels after I’ve been studying too much just so I can keep my mind from going numb. At least, since most of the time the whole premise of whatever the story is stupid or it all revolves around some bullshit mouth-breather romance where the characters just stare at each other for hours.”

“Yeah stupid stories are pretty often what motivate good writers to write good stories.” Meteor said. “What it really is . . .” he had to stop for a few seconds to actually decide how he wanted to explain it, “I like creating stories, not . . . just writing out my own personal fantasies and then throwing them up on advertising boards in front of everypony.”

“Well, I actually . . . liked reading this.” Twilight restated, and then asked. “Do you have any of your other stuff?”

“Uh, not on me.” He answered.

“Well yeah, I meant just like in general, whether you have your own copies of stuff or not.” She clarified herself. “So I could, like ask you for them.”

“Sure. I have some.” Meteor said. “They give you ten free copies of your own work, to give out to friends.”

Spike finally put down the final page. “Aye.” He chimed in. “The whole air-of-mystery thing was pretty good. Aye specially liked that song you threw in near the end, the one about burnin everything.”

“The dragon likes the song about burning everything?” Twilight mockingly asked. “Wow, way to not reinforce your own species’ stereotype.”

“Hey! It’s about revolution, not actually burning everything to the ground.” Spike corrected her, and then neatly stacked the papers back up together and slid the pile back over to Meteor. And while Meteor went about putting the manuscript back into his satchel, both his ears instantly picked up the melody of his own song coming out of the dragon. It was more muttering as opposed to singing, but the words still discernible, or at least more so for Meteor since he knew exactly what they were supposed to be. “Pouring the fuel,” Spike went, “fanning the flames.”

He was surprised, to a good extent, when Meteor joined him. “Breaking the habit and melting the chains.”

Meteor looked nervously at Twilight as he and Spike both went on through the lyrics together. She was wearing a mixed look of mild disapproval and a fair amount of uncertainty.

“Facing your fear, chasing the fight.” Both dragon and Pegasus went.

And then, only at the last second, and to both of their shock, Twilight actually joined in for the final line.

“The glow of the fire will LIGHT UP THE NIGHT!”

Twilight still looked somewhat nervous afterward. She tried her hardest to never sing, despite sudden instinctual bursts song being a natural phenomenon of Equestria.

“And what’s this now?” Spike asked, for the most part rhetorically. “Aye thought you utterly detested singing Twilight?”

“Yeah, and a lot of things have thought recently.” Twilight said, basically waving it off. She then turned over to Meteor again, noticing that he was getting up and putting on his satchel.

“Ah, you’re heading out?” She asked, unknowingly letting disappointment creep into her voice.

“Yeah,” he said back, “it’s nine already.” A yawn added itself after he’d finished speaking.

“Oh . . . uh . . .” Twilight tried to utter the words to match the disappointment she was feeling, but she couldn’t immediately bring herself to admit it.

“What?” Meteor asked.

On the second try Twilight succeeded. “Uh, uh—I actually . . . I don’t know, I was kind of hoping you’d stay, I guess.” She admitted.

Meteor took a few seconds to inquire anything in return. “Wh—you mean . . . for the night, or—“

“Yeah,” Twilight answered, “. . . I . . . don’t know, I guess. I’m just kinda starting to the reach that point of attachment where I end up feeling really lonely after you leave. Even though usually I’d want to be alone most of time.”

“Ok.” Meteor agreed to stay a couple seconds later. He looked around for a second and then put down his satchel on the table again, before another yawn escaped him. “I’m actually pretty tired though, obviously.” He said.

“That’s alright,” Twilight said, “I mean, I could just go to bed early tonight, and we can cuddle . . . I think, it’s called . . . I guess?” She never, ever had honestly believed in any way that she would have ever found herself saying something like that . . . but here she was . . .

Meteor now appeared almost equally embarrassed. “Yeah . . . I’ve . . . kind of always liked the idea of just holding somepony.” He admitted.

“Great,” Twilight oddly found herself saying, “and I guess I probably really like the idea of somepony putting their hooves around me and . . . letting a nice, peaceful moment finally take away all of the stress and bullshit in my life . . .”

. . .

They all ended up asleep less than an hour later. Spike laid in his bed. And Twilight and Meteor both laid on hers, Twilight in his arms . . . and sleeping without nightmares.

***

~ Meanwhile : Far, far away in the desert ~

“All personnel! Report to the viewing line or your designated safe location.” A voice echoed over the entire setup via vocal projection spell.

“Repeat. All personnel! Report to the viewing line or your designated safe location.”

Shining Armor already stood at the viewing line. Chief of operational security, his place on this assignment was beside the scientists it depended on. All of them were there beside him except for one. She was out on the tower; Shining Armor could see it clearly thanks to the lights fixed to it. It stood tall out there, the sole rising structure amidst the flatness of the desert.

It had only been a few months ago that none of this had even been here. The residents of Appleoosa had been surprised as anypony could be when an unexpected train pulled into their tiny station and a handful of unicorns in labcoats hopped out, escorted by an entire contingent of royal guard. No pony had known what they were doing, not at first. All the townsponies saw was the scientists poking and prodding rocks with a weird stick connected to a box that occasionally made a bunch of rapid clicking noises.

Within a few days they’d marked off several areas, and mining equipment started rolling in. The ground was ripped open, the buffalo were kicked off their land, an parts of the apple orchard were even destroyed to clear room for numerous large buildings that massive assembly built with incredible speed. No pony saw, save those who built them and the scientists who operated what was built inside. And inside each of those buildings were rows and rows and endless rows of water-filled metal cylinders, all connected to each other. Each one had filter inside, near the bottom, and from the first through the last in line, pulverized bits of the rocks they sought after were forced through filter after filter. What came out the other side was molded into the scientists desired shape: a hollow sphere, cut in two parts.

That sphere was what was suspended from the top of the tower. It was encased inside of another sphere, one of generic metal, and in the space between them were dozens of explosives. Moondancer was checking over them all: wiring, positioning, everything. They were directional explosives, all pointed inward, meant to make the sphere collapse in on itself, implode. Every one of them had to go off, it had to be a perfectly spherical implosion, and they all had to go off at exactly the same time. If they succeeded, the sphere would implode into a small piece of another special metal. Plutonium would implode in on Iridium . . . and then Celestia would have what she wanted.

Shining looked through his binoculars and saw the lone Pegasus guard hovering next to the tower lift up Moondancer and begin flying her back to the viewing line. They arrived in less than five minutes, and Moondancer took her place next to her colleagues.

No words were exchanged between any of the scientists. Only a simple look of acknowledgement passed between Moondancer and Dr Trottenheimer as he levitated her a key. They both turned to the small mechanism propped up before them. No more than two seconds of pause passed, and they both inserted their arming keys and turned them.

A five minute counter began timing down, and soon a message began broadcasting over the vocal projection spell.

“All personnel! Don safety goggles or face away from the test! DO NOT remove goggles or about-face until at least ten seconds after First Light! Repeat! All personnel! Don safety goggles or face away from the test! DO NOT remove goggles or about-face until at least ten seconds after First Light!” The now more-than-serious voice echoed across the assembly.

Almost in complete sync, every guard and scientist standing at the viewing line donned their goggles. And then they all waited.

“Now at T minus sixty.” The voice began vocalizing the timer’s count down.

“Now at T minus thirty.”

“Now at T minus twenty.”

“T minus ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.”

“Six.”

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“TWO!”

“ONE!”

“BURST!”

The explosives went off. The implosion succeeded. And Shining Armor found out just what he’d been called to that desert to guard.

A burst of white erupted from the tower. Blinding radiance flooded all vision. And a terrifying midnight sun rose over the desert.

Author's Note

So, we've made to installment number 4.

We get some interesting revelations this time, and perhaps some interesting development as well?

Let me know what you think. Please