The Starlight Broadcast

by ponyfhtagn

Rating: everyone
Tags: Adventure, Maud Pie, Zecora, Alternate Universe, Sad, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike, Starlight Glimmer
Length: 99891

During 'The Cutie Re-Mark' as Starlight attempts to change time, something goes horribly wrong. There's a bright flash and a shockwave. Spike is stranded in the past and Twilight is missing. Now the future is changing in a way that nopony predicted.

Set during 'The Cutie Re-Mark' as Starlight Glimmer attempts to stop the rainboom and change the future with her magic scroll. But something goes horribly wrong. There is a bright flash and a shockwave felt all across Equestria. Now Spike is stranded in the past and the Twilight he knows is nowhere to be found. Spike teams up with filly Rarity in an attempt to get fate back on track. Meanwhile the other mane six fillies face new problems of their own without the rainboom to guide them. Worse still, the fallout of that bright flash now known as the 'Starburst Event' threatens to reshape the future of Equestria in a way that nopony could have predicted.

Hiatus info: Part 1 is completely uploaded. Now I have to go and write Part 2. This is going to take a while, of course. (No more deadline promises - I learned my lesson.) Bear with me during this time and feel free to continue giving feedback on Part 1 because I will still be hanging around and reading comments.

Just a warning that the comments section does contain spoilers.

Published 2016-09-18 21:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-10-04 20:00:00 UTC

Pt.1 - Chapter 1

“A ROCK!?” Rarity cried. “That’s my destiny!?”

Her little filly shrieks rang unanswered across the empty wasteland.

“What is your problem, horn!?” the young foal went on, trying to glare up at her own forehead. “I followed you all the way out here for a—”

Suddenly the whole world was too loud, too bright and too fast.

A blinding flash filled the clear blue sky, whiting out all colour. A rushing force blew past. Something smacked into the towering rock Rarity had just been cursing at, and she only briefly heard stone shattering before the roar of the soundwave caught up a second later.

The moment was a blur of terror.

…when at last the dust began to clear Rarity found herself panting hard. Every muscle was tensed—every joint locked. She stood unharmed in a hemisphere of pale blue shimmering magic.

“…what?” Rarity whispered.

She blinked and spoke again.

There was only the ringing in hear ears.

She shook her head and shouted in a panic until at last her hearing returned. Then she let out a little sob, and her shield collapsed with a gentle pop.

After a few moments of quiet crying she lifted her head and noticed the curious way the sunlight shone in bright shafts through the dusty air. Curiouser still, the way some of the dirty lumps on the ground seemed to glint and shimmer with gorgeous colours and sparkles.

Rarity got nervously to her little hooves and kicked at a rock.

It was not a rock. It was a bright red gem.

She kicked another. It was an emerald. Another and another and soon she was discovering precious jewels all around.

“What in Equestria…” Rarity gasped in astonishment.

A particularly bright glint caught her eye and she turned to see what was possibly the largest gem of all. It was glass-like, and coloured a soft pink she thought, though it was quite dusty. Rarity trotted up to investigate. Her childlike nature was mercifully overwriting the trauma of mere minutes ago.

“My, what a most splendid jewel,” Rarity cooed.

She brushed at the dirt with her tail and peered closer.

There was… It was almost as if… Yes, there was something inside.

“It’s…” Rarity began. She tilted her head in confusion. “What exactly is it?”

The pink crystal shook.

Rarity yelped and leap right back. Before her eyes the glassy thing trembled and then seemed to dribble—too ooze and dissolve into pink foam.

There was a huge gasp as the little creature inside was set free.

“Ughh… My head,” he mumbled, staggering about on his two hind legs. Then his green earflaps perked up suddenly. “Twilight!?” He called, looking left and right. “Anyone? Where’s Starlight? Where’s the scroll? Where…” He stopped, gazing out over the rocky and dusty wasteland. “When… am I? Is this…”

“When are you?” Rarity said suddenly.

Spike jumped and gave a yelp of surprise.

“More like who are you!” Rarity said. “Or should I say what?”

The little purple creature blinked his inner-eyelids at her.

“Ew-heww-hewww,” Rarity said, flinching back from him.

“…Rarity?” Spike said, waving the dust aside.

“And how would you know that?” Rarity demanded.

“Rarity, it’s me, Spike. You—Wow, you look… um… small?” He shrugged apologetically.

“Well you look like some kind of… horrible… dragon!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “That’s because I am a dragon.”

“A dragon!?” Rarity exclaimed, backpedalling fast.

“No! It’s okay. I’m only a baby dragon!”

“Is that what that was!? A dragon egg?”

“What, that?” Spike hooked a thumb at the pink-slime crater where his crystal-prison had crash landed. “Nah. That was just a magical entrapment created by a power-crazed unicorn I was fighting with.”

Rarity stared.

“Pretty sturdy stuff, actually,” Spike mused. “I guess Starlight wasn’t trying to kill us with it after all. I’ve never crashed so comfortably in my life. Though… that shockwave…”

Rarity continued to stare.

“And why did it just dissolve like that?” Spike went on. “Was there a time limit or something? Is Starlight out of range?”

Rarity looked around. “…are you asking me or are you just going insane?”

Spike blinked and shook his head. “What am I still doing here? Quick. Rarity, I need to get back up to the Flight Camp. The fate of Equestria depends on it!”

“Flight Camp? But you don’t even have wings,” Rarity said.

Spike blew smoke from his nose.

Rarity eyed him cautiously. “Waaaait… Did you say the fate of Equestria.”

“Yes!” Spike exclaimed. “The spell must have gone wrong, and I was—”

“Oh… My… Goodness! I knew it!” Rarity cheered. “This is my destiny. My horn lead me right to you! Right here! At this very moment. Just as Equestria needs me—this is too incredible. I have—” Rarity paused in her jubilations and quickly began spinning in circle, trying to see her own flank. “What is it? What does it look like? Tell me!?” she squeaked. Her cheerful spins began to slow, until at last she slumped down on her haunches in a droop. “Oh. I didn’t get my cutiemark.”

Spike scratched his head. “Your cutiemark?”

“Oh, yes, sure,” Rarity went on, bitterly. “Of course I wouldn’t expect a dragon to understand. But I honestly though—I mean, my horn lead me out here and everything. But I guess it’s just my unicorn magic acting up again. Just one of those things.” Rarity rubbed at her chin. “Come to think of it, that must be how I created that shield as well. Ooo, I wish I could remember how I did that. It’s so frustrating not being in control of your power when you’re still—”

Rarity stopped and looked down at her hoof.

Then she shrieked. “I’m filthy! Ugh. That’s it. I’m going home. What a waste of a day. And I didn’t even get my cutiemark.”

Spike shook his head, tapping it a few time. “Of course! Of course! This is the day you’re supposed to get your cutiemark.”

“Hmph,” Rarity replied. “Apparently not.”

“No, look.” Spike scrabbled around in the dirt and brought up armfuls of the shiny gems. “These. Take these.”

“But they’re covered in dirt.”

“I’ll carry them. It’s okay.”

“If you like them so much why don’t you keep them,” Rarity said.

Spike looked down at the shiny, colourful, delicious gathering of gemstones.

He licked his dragon lips. Then sighed and shook his head.

“No, no. Trust me. You need these.”

Rarity looked at the gems, then at Spike, then the gems. “Well… I suppose they are rather pretty. Hmm. Yes, and they would look nice if—Oh!” Rarity smiled. “In-spir-ation!” She sing-songed. “I can use these to finish the costume for the school performance. They’re perfect. Why, they’re exactly what I need! Oh, thankyou, thankyou—Uh…” Rarity frowned at the baby dragon. “What was your name again?”

“Oh. I’m Spike. At your service.”

“Spike…” Rarity repeated. “And… You’ll carry all these gems for me?”

“Well of course. It’s your destiny,” Spike said.

Rarity smiled. “Well, we’ll see. Come along then, Spike. Let’s go back to my—”

Rarity suddenly stopped in her tracks and Spike almost bumped into her.

“What is it?” Spike asked.

Rarity was staring up at the sky, now that the dust was clearing. “There’s… There’s nothing…”

“What?” Spike looked up also, and when he did he dropped all his gems.

Once there had been a sculpted cloudscape, gathered around a sealed runway, and decorated with flags and practice hoops. But now, where the Flight Camp had been, there was…

“Nothing,” Spike repeated.

Nothing save a slight jutting of rock that used to be the runway.

“…we need to get home,” Rarity said, suddenly very serious. It was parental tone, almost. A heroic tone. Thing kind of thing one would say if the ‘fate of Equestria’ depended on them, for example.

“There’s nothing we can do here,” she went on. “I’m sure there’ll be news at home.”

Spike clumsily gathered up the gems again. “Right. Yeah. I’m sure Twilight is fine. Sh-she’ll probably come find me later. Or… I’ll send her a letter. We’ll be fine.”

Rarity looked back at him as they walked. “Um… Do you have anywhere to stay? I mean, well, darling you did just fall out of the sky and hatch from a… a thing.”

“Oh,” Spike said, waddling along after her. “I, um… I think I might be stuck here.” His face dropped a little.

“Stuck where?” Rarity said.

“It’s… kind of a long story.” Spike sighed.

“Well you shall tell me all about it over dinner,” Rarity said, head held high.

Spike chuckled. “Thanks. Really. But, don’t you still live with your family?”

“Oh pish-tosh. I’m sure we’ll work something out.”

Spike smiled.

Rarity smiled back.

The cheer didn’t last long. Not with all that destruction hanging overhead.

At the same time, across Equestria in the shining city of Canterlot, a young purple unicorn filly was riding home in sullen and bitter disappointment.

“Cheer up, Twilight,” said her mother, giving the foal a pat on the head.

“Yes, that was hardly fair,” said her father. “They should have cancelled the test after that huge explosion. I mean, it probably would have shattered the windows if they hadn’t been magically reinforced.”

“Dear, don’t scare the poor child,” her mother scolded.

“She’s already scared,” her father said as their carriage clicked along. “How else do you explain her just freezing up like that?”

“Dear,” Twilight’s mother insisted again.

Her father gave Twilight a pat on the head, too. “What I mean, Twilight, is that I will do everything in my power to make sure you get to take that test again. Okay?”

Twilight didn’t look up. She just sat there, nodding her head with the jostling rhythm of the carriage wheels against the Canterlot streets.

“Why do they always insist on starting those tests with a dragon egg?” her father went on. “It’s impossible!”

“It’s meant to be impossible,” her mother corrected. “It’s to motivate students to try harder when they bring out the proper test pieces.”

“I think it’s cruel.”

“You know many applicants come from rich families where they’ve been spoon fed everything they’ve ever wanted. It’s good to knock a little sense into them before they go on with the real—”

“Can we stop talking about it?” Twilight snarled though gritted teeth.

The parents both froze.

The carriage wheels clicked.

“Oh… of course, dear,” her mother said.

“Right. Yes,” her father agreed. “Don’t worry. I’ll get this sorted out in no time. You just take it easy.”

Twilight said nothing. She only sat.

Her father looked around for something to brake the awkwardness. His attention caught something out in the passing street. “It’s getting dark.”

“Well it’s late enough,” Twilight’s mother said.

“No, I mean…” He pointed his hoof. “The street lights aren’t working.”

“You’re right,” her mother said, peering around. “How odd. But they should be powered by—”

And just then all the windows in Canterlot that faced towards the event horizon suddenly shattered, without cause or warning.

The stars came out. And somewhere on a lonely rock farm an anxious sister was calling across the dusty wastes.

“Pinkie?” Maud’s voice rang out again. Only those who knew her well would have noticed the tremble in her words.

In other distant parts of the farm there were cries of “Pinkamina!?” and even the full “Pinkamina Diane Pie!?”

When the shockwave had struck, the rest of the family had only just gone inside for dinner. The house and grounds suffered damage but worst of all little Pinkie Pie was still outside, finishing up in the south field.

“Pinkamina!?” cried their father. His voice was getting raw.

Maud calmly surveyed the grey-brown landscape and thanked her lucky stars that her little sister had been blessed with being so… well, so pink. Maud approached the stray tangle of pink hair she had spied and she found hoofprints leading away. Signs of staggering, more than walking. There were wide sweeps in the dust where the young filly must have fallen. As Maud followed the trail she found another stray pink hair. Then her ears pricked up to the sound of childish giggles.

Maud followed the sound down the path and along the track into the crystal mine. Unfortunately everything was pink in the mine. But if anypony could tell the difference between a filly and a rock it would definitely be Maud.

“Pinkie?” Maud called, more gently this time.

There was a slight echo.

The giggles hesitated. Then redoubled. There was even the occasional snort.

“Pinkie, I’d like you to tell me that you’re okay.”

The giggles continues.

Maud scanned the scene as she walked, tracking the sound to its source at last.

There Pinkie was. Scrapped and bruised and with her mane and tail in the fluffiest tangle never thought possible. But smiling.

“Pinkie, there you are,” Maud said, walking up to her.

Pinkie snorted and turned to face Maud. Her eyes were wide and dripping tears but she couldn’t stop laughing.

“…I saw it, Maud,” Pinkie whispered hysterically.

“The flash?”

“No. Everything. I saw everything…”

Maud could have winced at the superficial cuts and dirty bruises that now decorated her beloved sister’s pink hide. But as long as nothing was broken Maud assured herself that things would be okay. Pinkie was always okay.

Maud pulled Pinkie into a walk. “You can tell me all about it after we get you home.”

Pinkie snickered and wheezed. “Home? Kkhheehee… Where is home anymore? Is it this broken world? Heehee.. Or the next? Or the next? Or the next? Or the—”

“Pinkie, stop that,” Maud said. “I’d be worried you hit your head, but it looks like this cotton-candy mess would have cushioned your brains if you did.” Maud patted the fluffy pink mane.

“Hit my…” Pinkie’s eyes narrowed, unfocused. “No. I stood. I saw the light. I saw the sky open wide as it birthed all the horrors never meant to be. I saw limitless directions both forwards and sideways—all dark lines from this moment spread. It was chaos and fate. It was twilight and starlight and the hungry sky…”

“Pinkie,” Maud said in her usual flat tone. “You’re scaring me.”

Pinkie looked up at her big sister, as if recognising her at last. Her little pink face scrunched up and she began to cry. To really, properly cry.

“I’ve got you,” Maud said, stopping to hold her close.

Hoofsteps approached the tunnel entrance.

“Pinkamina!?” they called. “Pinkamina?”

Pt.1 - Chapter 2

“Rarity, I’m so sorry,” Spike said, stroking her mane.

“No, no,” Rarity sniffed, looking up from the pillow she had been wailing into. “I’m fine. I should be stronger than this. Besides, it’s not your fault they cancelled the school performance and all my beautiful costumes were for nothing.” She let out another sniffle, that broke into a whine and then she was sobbing into her pillow once more.

Spike sucked in a breath and decided now was not the time to try and reiterate how he kind of felt like it maybe was he fault. Or… mostly, Starlight’s fault, anyway.

He gave the filly a pat on the shoulder. It didn’t help.

So Spike let his gaze drift around the room instead. It was so strange seeing Carousel Boutique before it even was a boutique. Certainly it looked very strange because all the windows had been broken during the blast, and Rarity’s family had covered them over with sheets of clear plastic for now.

Rarity’s room was still filled with fabrics and designs, but there was… more of an arts-and-crafts feel to the mess. Most of the outfits were child-sized, although there were adult-sized mannequins and designs for great sweeping ball gowns. The sewing table was at foal height and probably child-proofed in some way. There were also other projects: curtains, pillow cases, bed sheets. Young Rarity was trying it all and slowly discovering who she was.

But now…

Spike glanced shyly at the blank space where her cutiemark should have been.

Had he messed it all up? Maybe if he hadn’t been there…

No. This was Starlight’s fault. She messed with time. She tried to stop the rainboom. But instead… What had they created?

“D-don’t worry, Rarity,” Spike tried again. “The performance is just delayed for a bit. Because of the explosion.”

Rarity sniffed and looked up again. “Mother said we’re all supposed to call it the Starburst Event. That’s what the papers have been calling it. More formal. Less threatening. Or something.” Her face flopped down onto the pillow once more.

“Well,” Spike tried again. “I’m sure the school performance will be back on soon. Then you can show your costumes again and... I don’t know, maybe get your cutiemark? Huh?” He tried to smile.

Rarity glanced at him without lifting her head much.

“Well what’s so crazy about that?” Spike asked.

Rarity sat up at last and took a deep breath. She wiped her face with her forelegs and calmed herself. “No, Spike. I don’t think fashion is my destiny after all. I think Equestria needs me. Like you said.”

“Uh… did I say that? I don’t think I said that.”

“You see, Spike…” Rarity hopped off the bed and paced to the plastic-covered window. “Unicorn magic is very important, especially while one is still growing. It can tell you things about yourself. About your destiny.”

“Rarity, I’m telling you. Your horn lead you to the jewels,” Spike insisted.

“Maybe…” Rarity went on, gazing out at the night at the now curfewed streets. “But I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

“Rarity, listen.” Spike jumped off the bed and plodded over to her. “The blast—The Starlight Event. It changed things. The world is different.”

“Then maybe I’m supposed to be different, too,” Rarity said.

“But the costumes—”

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Rarity insisted, turning to face him. “Why don’t you take those gems. Dragons eat gems, yes? Well it’s better than my excuses for why I’m always smuggling oat-cakes up to my room after dinner.” She smiled. “Go on.”

Spike looked over at the cardboard box marked School Costumes. He hesitated for a moment, but shook his head. “No. Everything will be back to normal soon. Just wait.”

Rarity sighed and nodded. “Alright.” She didn’t sound convinced. “I just wish there was something we could do about it. Hasn’t your friend… Twilight? Hasn’t she contacted you yet?”

Spike shook his head. “No. And the letters I send keep getting—I guess… rejected?”

“Well, darling, you are setting them on fire,” Rarity teased.

Spike smiled back.

The silence threatened to become awkward.

“We could…” Rarity started, “go look for her.”

“It’s not that simple,” Spike said. “I don’t think she’s even here anymore.”

Rarity tilted her head. “…yyyyyessss. That’s why we should look for her.”

“No, I mean—” Spike rubbed at his face.

“Darling, how do you expect me to help if you won’t give me the whole story?”

“What? I told you. Me and Twilight were trying to stop Starlight—”

“From casting an evil spell. Yes.” Rarity waved a hoof. “But that doesn’t explain how you know who I am. It doesn’t explain any of these other strange things you say, and it certainly doesn’t explain how you’re a dragon.”

Spike shrugged. “Uh… magic?”

Rarity narrowed her eyes at him.

Spike huffed a sigh. “You’re right. And I could really use your help.”

“That means you’ll tell me everything?” Rarity asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spike met her eyes and nodded. “The truth. The whole story.”

“Oh yes!” Rarity cheered. “Tell me! Tell me now!”

Hoofsteps approached her door. Then a motherly voice said, “Rarity, please. Keep it down. Your baby sister is trying to sleep.”

Rarity winced. “Sorry mother,” she hissed.

The hoofsteps retreated back down the hall.

Spike cleared his throat. “Maybeeee in the morning.”

Rarity slumped. “Fine.”

“And… Maybe we should go somewhere else, so we don’t bother your patents.”

“Oh please. Them?” Rarity tsked. “I spent a whole day getting dragged around by my horn and they didn’t notice. I smuggled a dragon into my room and they didn’t notice. They don’t notice anything unless it wakes the baby.”

Rarity and Spike shared a quiet giggle.

“Okay,” Rarity whispered. “Tomorrow. School’s are still closed so we’ll have the day to ourselves.”

“Right,” Spike said.

Rarity climbed into bed and pulled her sleep-mask over her eyes. “Good night, Spike.”

The little dragon settled down in the decorative and cushy basket-bed that Rarity had insisted on making for him. “Night, Rarity,” he said with a yawn, and snuggled down into the soft pillowy fabric.

The night in Canterlot, however, was not so restful for some.

The little filly Twilight paced a circle in her lonely bedroom. It had been a couple of days since she failed her exam. The test that would grant her entrance into Celestia’s prestigious school. The place where Twilight belonged.

But nothing had happened.

Yes, her parents had talked.

But nothing. Nothing yet.

All the windows had been replaced. At least, for those who could afford it. It turned out the magic reinforcement had slowly drained from them in the course of an hour or so until they shattered. A delayed reaction, of sorts.

All the magic-run things in the streets had also lost their power. The street lights, sure, but also everything else that ran on magic. Canterlot was in upheaval.

Well of course nothing was getting done. Who would have time for a little filly’s hopes and dreams? Not with all this going on. Besides… Schools were closed, anyway.

Twilight stopped pacing and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Not even her foalsitter Cadence was around anymore. She had been called back to Celestia’s side on full alert following ‘The Starburst Event’. Twilight had new foalsitters. Sometimes this or that unicorn. Most times it was her brother. And he was missing Cadence even more than Twilight. He didn’t have time to listen to her problems. Nopony did…

Twilight lit up her horn and went to her tall and adorned bedroom mirror. She gazed at her own reflection, lit by her sparking magenta magic, and wondered what had gone wrong at the test?

The explosion—the flash—the light, the sound. It scared her, yes, but had it been more? She thought harder.

Yes… There was something. She recalled how all three unicorns holding the exam had dropped their clip boards. Okay, sure, they had just been startled but a big explosion. But then… Had they picked up their things using magic? Or their hooves…?

Twilight wasn’t certain. Had they used magic? She thought they had. Yes, they had. Or had they? Twilight shook her head. No. That was a lie. They hadn’t. Something had happened to them. Something so slight they had probably already dismissed it. They had lost their magic for a short moment. And Twilight must have also.

“And because I’m so small…” Twilight whispered to herself. “And I’m only a filly! It’s no wonder I couldn’t complete the rest of the test!”

She rushed from the mirror and sprang to the door.

Her outstretched hoof hesitated.

Everypony was asleep right now. She’d have to tell them in the morning.

Twilight started pacing again.

But would they even listen? Or would they be able to do anything about it? Equestria was a mess right now. No one cared for the broken dreams of one little filly.

Twilight levitated her pillow and threw it against the wall.

“Fine,” Twilight grumbled. “If they won’t let me take the test… I’ll just have to take it by force.”

And she grinned at the notion.

Across the shambles of Canterlot and the ruins of Ponyville, in the tarp-covered house on the Pie Family Rock Farm, a little pink pony was up past her bedtime, rocking and giggling at the sky.

“Pinkie?” Maud asked, pushing open the door to the attic room.

The two bunk beds had been soiled with dust when the roof had caved in. There were rocks and wood fragments everywhere. It was an old house. They would built it stronger this time.

“Pinkie, what are you doing up here?” Maud asked, walking carefully into the room. “It’s not safe. Come back to bed with the rest of us.”

Pinkie had hauled a grubby mattress onto the floor where she sat, curled and rocking, staring upwards.

Maud looked up. “Pinkie, the tarp has slipped. It’s freezing in here. And if it rains you’ll get soaked.

Pinkie chuckled at that. Or maybe it was a coincidence.

Maud went to sit on the mattress by her little sister. “Hey. You can talk to me. Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Pinkie rocked and snickered.

“You know I listen, Pinkie,” Maud said. “I always listen to you. About that frog you found. And that rock shaped like a doughnut. And your Pinkie Sense. So you can tell me, Pinkie. What happened out there?”

Pinkie’s eyes remained fixed on the sky, but the giggles ceased and she began to whisper. “The wounds of the past have circled back. A vicious cycle inward trapped. Suffering. War. I see a plague of creatures. I see night eternal. I see everything. But it is the nothing-space that scares me. The dark that does not know. I see an infinity of stars burn out. The path of fate has twisted. Lines were crossed. Lines will bleed.”

Maud took the opportunity to check on Pinkie’s bandages and bruises. No bones had been broken, and her wounds were mostly superficial. Though Maud did wonder how it would be for Pinkie growing up with a notched ear. And she’d probably have scars.

“Go on,” Maud said.

Pinkie did. “There is a servant, misplaced. He walks the path of memory because he knows no better. His fate was altered long, long ago. He is older than he knows and will suffer years unnatural. She will hurt him and he will let her. He can save us but she is not the one. None of them are. Do not believe what you remember. We all must die so we can live.”

Maud put a hoof on her sister’s fluffy head. “Okay, Pinkie. You know the rules. When you start talking about death that means it’s time for bed.”

Pinkie giggled again. “…time.”

“Yes Pinkie.” Maud patted her mane. “I could try brushing this,” Maud offered. She gave one of her rare smiles. “Or maybe it would be better to shave you.”

Pinkie giggled again. “…would be… could be…”

Maud persisted. “Yes. And your tail’s so fluffy now you could be a bunny rabbit,” she said, pulling at the tangled mess.

The tail moved and suddenly Maud froze. Her eyes were locked on the curious patterning on Pinkie’s flank. Was it a wound? A rash? Maud leapt up to pull the tarp further back, allowing the moonlight to fully spill into the room.

“Pinkie…” Maud said, pulling the filly’s tail aside once more.

It was a mark. A symbol. Of a narrow eye. Many eyes. Staring out from Pinkie’s flank in the most disturbing way.

“Pinkie. Is this your cutiemark?” Maud asked. “When did this come in? What does it mean?”

Pinkie continued to rock and giggle. “…whendid, whatdoes? Mean and meaning?”

And she broke into snickering fit.

Pt.1 - Chapter 3

Rarity looked left and right no make sure nopony was around, and then up at the sky to make sure there were no ponies up in the clouds.

“Okay…” Rarity said, adjusting her hat and scarf. “The coast… is clear.”

The top of the picnic basket opened and Spike poked his head out. “Whoa. Is it winter already?”

Rarity looked down at the white ground. “Oh that.”

Spike climbed out of the basket and discovered that it wasn’t snow everywhere but soft white petals instead.

“This is one of my little inspiration corners,” Rarity mused. “Or at least it used to be. These trees have the most gorgeous white flowers all over their droopy branches, and when they sway in the summer breeze it’s like standing in a delicate snowfall. Hmmm.” Rarity closed her eyes and drifted.

Spike looked at the ground. He looked up at the bare and broken trunks around the grove. He looked back at the ground.

“Let me guess,” he said. “The Event did this?”

Rarity opened her eyes again. They seemed duller now. “Every day now I find something else that’s been broken or covered in dirt. Ohhh… I wish the cleanup effort would hurry along.”

“Well. It still looks kind of pretty,” Spike tried.

Rarity shrugged and opened the picnic basket. “Pretty, maybe. But I also picked this venue because other ponies hardly come here. And we shall have the place to ourselves for a few hours while you tell me all about your extravagant adventure.”

“Right… That…”

Using her magic, Rarity took out the picnic blanket and laid it perfectly upon the petal-covered ground. Then she tried to levitate two apples from the picnic basket and almost dropped them.

“Oooh, why is this so difficult?” Rarity huffed, putting the fruits down at last.

“You handled that blanket pretty well,” Spike said, helping to unpack.

“Fabric is easy,” Rarity said. “Apples are not.”

“Heh. I know somepony who would say apples are easy and fabrics were hard.”

Rarity glared. She grabbed spike with her magic and shoved him onto the blanket. “No more of that tone.”

“What tone?”

“That tone where you know something! I’ve had enough.” She smiled and went to finish unpacking. “I’ll deal with this but I insist you start your story at once.”

Spike wrung his crawls together. “Alright. Alright. Here goes.” He took a deep breath. “My name is Spike. I hatched from an egg—”

“Ooookay, darling, stop,” Rarity said. “Not quite that far back.”

“But that’s when it all started,” Spike said. “The day of the Event was my birthday.”

Rarity blinked. “You didn’t tell me that. I would have taken you for cake. Or… well… I would have brought some cake up to my room.”

“That’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just tell the story.”

Rarity nodded and finished unpacking their lunch. She sat down with her apple and watched. “Right. So you hatched from an egg.”

“Yes. And the reason I hatched was because of a Sonic Rainboom.”

“A what now?”

“A Sonic Rainboom,” Spike said. “It’s when a pegasus flies really, really super fast and then BOOM!”

“…they smack into a tree?”

“No. They make a magical rainbow blast.”

“Ooooh. Wait, is that what the Starburst Event was?”

“No. That was a spell that went wrong,” Spike said. “A Sonic Rainboom is… well… prettier. And it doesn’t break all the windows, or rip all the flowers off the trees.”

“Well I should hope not. I like the sound of it already. But how exactly did this help you to, er… hatch?”

“Because,” Spike went on. “All around Equestria that day there were six little ponies who were about to get their cutiemarks. The Rainboom helped them discover who they were meant to be.”

“All at the same time?”

“Yes. Because they had a magical destiny.”

Rarity finished her apple and leant forward, propping up her chin on her forelegs. “Tell me more.”

Spike puffed up a bit. “One of those fillies was named Twilight Sparkles. The smartest and most magical unicorn I ever knew. Twilight’s cutiemark was about magic,” Spike said. “And she got it by hatching a baby dragon from an egg.” He grinned. “This is where I come in.”

“Wait…” Rarity said. “I thought you said these ponies got their cutiemarks from the Rainboom thingy.”

“Yesss…” Spike said. “The Rainboom sort of… it um…” He snapped his fingers. “It gave everypony inspiration.”

“Ah! I see.”

“And so they all got their cutiemarks. And I lived with Twilight and we were best friends and I was her number one assistant. Fetching books, mostly. Twilight loved to read. Also I was good at sending letters, tidying up, cooking meals—”

“Spike, that’s lovely. But could you maybe move things along a bit?” Rarity suggested. “Maybe to the um… the important parts.”

Spike paused and thought about how to explain everything. Where to go next. “All the ponies grew up…”

“Okay… And you didn’t?”

Spike blinked at her. “What? No. I did.”

Rarity looked him up and down. “If you say so.”

Spike ignored her. “Well anyway. That’s when Princess Celestia sent me and Twilight to Ponyville.”

“By order of the Princess? Oh. You do have a magical destiny.”

“All six of the ponies met, but they didn’t all becomes friends at first,” Spike went on. “Not until Nightmare Moon returned to Equestria and threatened to bring about eternal night.”

Rarity blinked. “…Nightmare Moon?”

“Yes.”

“You mean… from Nightmare Night?”

“Yeah,” Spike said.

Rarity’s mouth twitched. “Well now I know you’re making this up.”

Spike huffed. “I am not. Nightmare Moon is real. She was a real problem for us and if I don’t sort thing mess out she’s going to be a real problem fro you, too.”

Rarity lifted a hoof in defence. “Alright, alright. Keep going, then.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I’m trying,” Rarity said. “Keep going. Nightmare Moon turned up and made it night time. That about right?”

“That’s close enough,” Spike agreed. “So the six friends got together. And they found these magical artefacts called the Elements of Harmony. Because Twilight had read about them in one of her books. And when everypony went to stop Nightmare Moon they all realised that they were the powers of the Elements of Harmony. And that they had become friends. And that friendship made them stronger than darkness. Nightmare Moon was defeated and balance was restored.”

Rarity took a sip of her orange juice. “Meh.”

“Meh?” Spike repeated.

“Well the Elements sounded cool. And Nightmare Moon, even if it’s a bit cheap. And the six chosen ones, and the spell books. But… Friendship was the answer?”

Spike folded his arms. “Maybe I should tell you about the time I saved the Crystal Empire and they built a huge statue of me.”

“The where?” Rarity said.

Spike groaned and sat down. “Fine. Let’s cut to the so-called Starburst Event.”

“Yes. Tell me that part.”

“Twilight and me—”

“Twilight and I, you mean.”

Spike groaned again. “Twilight and I were coming home to our castle—”

“You lived in a castle!?” Rarity exclaimed.

“You wanted me to skip ahead so I skipped. This is my story and I’m telling it my way. Okay?”

Rarity huffed. “Okay, okay…”

“Right. Well we’d just gotten home when we found Starlight Glimmer waiting for us. She’s this unicorn Twilight had dealt with before. She kind of brainwashed a whole town of ponies unto giving up their cutiemarks and, like, all having the same mane style and everything.”

“How horrid. The same mane style as everypony else… Ugh.”

“But then Twilight and her friends rescued everypony and got their cutiemarks back. But Starlight Glimmer escaped. And then… Well, we found her in our castle.” Spike shrugged. “Anyway, she’s a super powerful unicorn. I mean, she had to be to steal all those cutiemarks. And it turned out she’d been working on a revenge spell.”

“Ohhh…” Rarity said. “The Starburst Event. You mean her horrible plan for revenge was to blow up Flight Camp and break everypony’s windows?”

“Uhhh…” Spike wrung his claws together again. “This is the part where things get complicated. See… None of this has actually… technically… happened. Yet.”

“Spike, whatever does that mean?”

“It’s um… well… Have you ever studied Starswirl the Bearded’s theories on the magic of time travel?”

Rarity deadpanned. “What do you think?”

Spike swallowed. “Okay. I’ll just come right out with it. Rarity, I’m… I’m from the future.”

Rarity looked him up and down again. “If you say so.”

“No, Rarity. Really. All of this happens in the future. Or… it’s what was supposed to happen. Except for the part where Starlight cast a time travel spell and went back to the past to try and stop the Rainboom.”

“Oh, you mean the colourful inspiration rainbow thing?”

“Yes. She thought if she could stop it from happening then those six ponies wouldn’t get their cutiemarks and they wouldn’t become friends.”

“Well didn’t she know about their magical destiny?”

“I don’t think so,” Spike said. “All she knew was that once…” He looked down. “Once she had a friend. But then her friend got his cutiemark and he left her. And that’s why she started stealing other ponies’ cutiemarks. But Twilight stopped her. So she got mad at Twilight and wanted to stop Twilight—”

“To stop Twilight from ever having friends… or a cutiemark.”

Spike nodded.

Rarity sipped orange juice and placed her cup aside. “Well I can understand where the poor dear is coming from but if you ask me…” Rarity leaned in to whisper, “I think she’s gone a little crazy by now.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah. You’re telling me. She’s the one who trapped me in that pink crystal thing and tried to throw me off the clouds.”

“So what were you three even doing at Flight Camp?”

“That’s where the Rainboom happened,” Spike said. “Or… was supposed to happen. A filly—one of the six—named Rainbow Dash. She flew really fast and made the Rainboom.”

Rarity nodded. “And Starlight Glimmer went back in time to kill Rainbow Dash.”

“What? No. Not kill her. Starlight just wanted to stop her from doing to Rainboom. I don’t think Starlight’s evil. I just think she’s… confused. And hurt.” Spike frowned. “But she ruined the future and she’s ruined things here.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Some unicorns have more power than they know what to properly do with. I mean really.”

Spike grabbed one of the little sandwiches and started eating.

Rarity watched. “…so wait. That’s the end?”

Spike shrugged. “Mmf. Pretty much. Then I fell out of the sky and… here we are.”

Rarity looked around a bit. “Aaaaand Twilight and Starlight are…?”

Spike shrugged again. “I think they got sucked back into the time portal.”

“The time portal. That brought you here from the future.”

“Yes.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes at him. “Okayyy… If you’re from the future then who wins the Fashion Finales at the Cheque-Magnifique concours in Manehatten next month?”

Spike shrugged once more. “I don’t know. I don’t really follow fashion.”

“Well what do you know?” Rarity asked.

Spike glanced aside. He put down his sandwich and tell looked her in the eyes. “You. I know you, Rarity. I know you grow up to be the most beautiful, most generous, most fashionable pony I’ve ever met. I know you have big dreams. You want to visit Canterlot and open a fashion boutique in Manehatten. I know your little sister might seem really annoying right now, but you are gonna be the best big sister she could ever ask for and you two are going to be the best of friends.

“And I know right now it might seem like nopony is paying attention to you and that the dresses you like to make aren’t actually going to get you anywhere, but you have got to believe me when I tell you…” Spike drew a shaky breath. “That you are going to succeed at all those dreams and more. Because the fate of Equestria is your destiny, Rarity. You’re one of the Elements of harmony. But more importantly you’re a pony who was supposed to have her cutiemark by now, and you were supposed—to know—that everything was going—to be—” Spike sniffed. “Okay.”

His claws tightened on the picnic blanket and he wiped at his face with his other arm.

“Oh—” Rarity picked up a napkin to help him. “Here. It’s alright. Of course everything’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Spike whimpered. “Twilight is missing and I’m stuck here and time is still broken and your bedroom windows are covered in plastic.”

“Spike. We can replace the windows,” Rarity reminded him. “I think you need to worry a little less about fixing my problems, and focus a little more on yourself for a change.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Spike mumbled, curling up on the blanket. “Twilight’s gone. The spell is gone. I can’t fix time by myself. Or am I supposed to wait for Twilight to fix things? Do you think she’ll fix things for us?”

“Umm… Well it has been a few days.”

“Right. That was a stupid plan. Stupid Spike.”

“No. Not stupid Spike,” Rarity insisted. “You didn’t get to be Twilight’s number one assistant by being a silly dragon, did you?”

Spike stroked his tale. “…no.”

“There. You see? It’s going to be okay. I’m sure if we work together we can think of something we can do to help clean up this mess.”

Spike sat up and wiped his face with the napkin. “Okay.” He smiled. “Together.”

Rarity smiled back.

Then an idea clicked. “Maybe…” Spike said. “Maybe there is something we can do.”

“Oh?” Rarity’s eyes lit up.

“We need to find some ponies,” Spike said. “Five friends. Only they don’t know it yet. And you.”

“To be the Elements?”

“Yes,” Spike said, suddenly determined. “If there’s one thing I know it’s that the Elements of Harmony can solve pretty much any problem. As long as everypony is together.”

Rarity nodded. “Where should we start?”

Pt.1 - Chapter 4

The Ponyville streets were still spotted with debris the next morning. Leaves, twigs, litter, broken glass, dirt and dust. Some windows were still boarded up. It was as if there had been an unscheduled storm and nopony had bothered to clean it up yet. It sure was taking a while to get things back to normal.

“Do I have to wear this?” Spike asked as they were sneaking out the back door.

Rarity had made just the cutest little fluffy white dog costume for him, complete with jewel studded collar. Spike had other adjectives in mind for the costume.

“It’s embarrassing,” Spike grumbled.

“Well we don’t exactly have dragons just wandering around Ponyville,” Rarity answered, adjusting her stylish sunglasses and her fashionable trench coat. “We have to go incognito. Why else do you think I’m wearing this fem-mystique ensemble?”

Spike blinked. “Even as a filly you’re still saying words I don’t understand.”

“Pardon?”

“Uh—I mean. It sure does look great on you.”

“Oh, I know.” Rarity twirled. “I modelled it after the adventures of Shadow Spade. Mother says the books are too advanced for me but I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I think they’re quite debonair.”

“Ah… It all makes sense,” Spike deadpanned. “But I still don’t see why I have to be a dog.”

“Hush Spike, or ponies will get suspicious.”

Spike looked her up and down in her over-the-top spy coat and shades. “If you say so.” He fetched out the list of names and handed it to her. “Where should we start looking?”

“Well…” Rarity said cautiously, taking up the list with her magic. “I know it’s rather gauche, but… we could start with the, um… the casualties list.”

Spike gaped at her.

“Oh, darling, no. I don’t mean to—That is, it’s just—” Rarity flustered a few moments more. “Well, you’ve got this Rainbow Dash as being in Flight Camp. And this Fluttershy. You say she fell off the cloudlayer?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Spike insisted. “She was rescued by butterflies!”

Rarity blinked at him. “…butterflies.”

Spike grumbled and reached for the paper.

“No, I’m sorry,” Rarity said sincerely, holding the paper away. “I just… I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Spike pawed at the ground, sullenly. “I suppose we should… check.”

Rarity swallowed. “Oh dear. I’ve taken all the fun out of this, haven’t I?”

“This isn’t fun, Rarity. It’s the fate of Equestria.” Spike huffed and trotted off down the street.

“Look, mama!” some little filly exclaimed. “That puppy is walking on two legs!”

Rarity rushed up and hurried Spike to get down properly.

The parent of the loud filly turned to look.

Rarity grinned. “Haha, ohhh. Such imagination, us little ones.”

Spike panted happily and scratched his ear with his hind leg.

The mother quirked an eyebrow and carried on walking down the street.

Rarity and Spike both heaved a sigh of relief.

“Alright,” Spike whispered. “Where do we find the casualties list?”

“It’ll be on a noticeboard down at the post office. Let’s try to be careful.”

Spike nodded, and together they trotted off to find it.

The post office turned out to be rather crowded. There was a tangible grief to the room as ponies bustled to check the casualties list themselves, or to send letters to loved ones, or perhaps hoping against hope that maybe today there was a letter in reply.

Rarity tried to navigate around the legs of the older ponies, with poor Spike scurrying along behind her, dodging careless hooves and tail swipes.

“Oh, we’ll never get there like this,” Rarity pouted.

Just then she felt two forelegs wrapping around her and lifting her up. Rarity grabbed for Spike and pulled him in close as they were lifted above the crowd.

Rarity looked up at the blonde mane and odd yellow eyes of the kind young pegasus.

“Oh…” Rarity whispered.

“Hi. Sorry. I should have asked,” the grey pegasus said. “But you looked like you needed some help. My name’s Derpy, and I work here, so...”

“You work here?” Rarity asked.

The pegasus was maybe only a few years older than herself.

“Well, I help out really,” the pegasus said. “And they need all the help they can get right now. So. What can I do for you?”

“Oh. The casualties board, please,” Rarity said.

Derpy nodded. She carefully flew the two of them over to the notice board where the list was posted.

“Move aside, please,” Derpy said, very politely. “Thankyou. Thankyou.”

She held Rarity up, and Rarity held up Spike, and together they scanned the list of names.

“Oh gosh, I feel so awful,” Rarity said. “And I don’t know any of these ponies.”

Spike’s eyes continued scanning down the list.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Derpy suggested.

“Yes. Quite right,” Rarity nodded. “But still…”

“Yeah, I know,” Derpy said. “Most of them were from Flight Camp. It’s kind of… scary. You know, I would have been there too except… well, I never got accepted.”

Rarity smiled sadly at her.

Spike suddenly let out a whoop of laughter.

Derpy looked at him strangely.

“Ahhaha, my dog,” Rarity said. “Quite an exotic breed, isn’t he?”

“Can I put you guys down now?” Derpy asked. “I’m getting kind of tired.”

“Of course,” Rarity said, looking at Spike. “I think we’re done here.”

Derpy kindly few them back to the post office entrance and placed them in the street.

“Thankyou so much,” Rarity said. She reached into her coat pocket and took out a small shiny gem. “Here. Please. I insist.”

“Wow,” Derpy said. “Thanks. That’s so generous.”

Spike watched as Rarity passed over the gem.

“You two be safe,” Derpy said, waving goodbye. “And watch out for litter!”

“We will!” Rarity called, trotting along with Spike in tow.

Once they were a little way down the street Spike spoke up. “You took your costumes apart.”

Rarity shrugged. “It’s not like they were doing anything useful just crammed in that box.”

Spike sighed. “I guess…”

“Cheer up,” Rarity said. “I take it from your reaction that you didn’t recognise anypony on the list then?”

Spike grinned and shook his head. “They’re alive, Rarity. And they’re out there somewhere, waiting for us to find them.”

“It’s so strange, but I’ve never been more relieved in my life.” Rarity smiled and took out Spike’s list again. “Now. Where shall we find them?”

“We should probably start with Applejack. She lives right here in Ponyville,” Spike said.

Rarity’s eyes were scanning the paper. She suddenly gasped and cooed. “Oo! Casnterlot! I’ve always, always, always wanted to go!”

“It’s pretty far away,” Spike said. “We should start with—”

“Oh, but wait—” Rarity said. “Didn’t you say you couldn’t reach this Twilight Sparkle?”

“No. It’s complicated,” Spike said. “That’s the other Twilight. Remember, there was a magic spell—”

“Spike, I’m trying but it’s still a bit confusing.”

“That’s aright.” Spike nodded. “We can go there later. But right now let’s go find Applejack. Do you know her yet? Maybe from school?”

“Apple…jack…” Rarity tilted her head. “You’ve written here she’s from the Apple Farm? Well, that would explain it. I don’t really associate with farm ponies.”

Spike blinked at her. “Well I know you and AJ don’t always get along, but sometimes you seem like really good friends. It’s your differences that bring you closer together.”

Rarity hmm’d on this for a moment. “Well, I suppose if I can be friends with a dragon then a farm pony should be no trouble.”

“That’s the spirit,” Spike said. “…I think.”

But when they arrived at Sweet Apple Acres they found it was a bigger mess than even the streets of Ponyville.

“What happened here?” Spike asked, looking around at the devastation.

Trees were stripped bare of leaves and fruit, which had then been scattered all about the grounds. Some trees in distant fields were uprooted either partly or entirely. Even the roof of the barn had blown off.

“Sweet Celestia, just look at the place,” Rarity exclaimed as they walked.

“Eh-hem,” a stallion’s voice interrupted.

Rarity twitched and looked to her right where a young red stallion, still slightly lanky, was sifting through the scattered debris for any apple that was still good enough to sell. He didn’t look up from his work. Merely found another apple, inspected it, and tosses it away.

“Terribly sorry, um…” Rarity approached.

“Big Mac,” he said, and carried on working.

His voice was at that stage where it fluctuated between deep and high. He was probably just awkward and shy, that’s all. And busy.

“Yesss… well.” Rarity cleared her throat. “We are here to see Applejack.”

Big Mac twitched at the mention of her name, and accidentally crushed an apple between his hooves. He finally looked at her.

“…is everything alright?” Rarity prompted.

“E’yup,” he said, wiping his hooves off on the ground.

Rarity and Spike exchanged worried glances.

“…so. Um. Applejack?” Rarity tried again.

Big Mac carried on working. “Not here.”

“Oh,” said Rarity. “Then—”

“Manehatten.”

“Ah. Oh dear. Do you know when she’ll—”

“Nope.”

Silence hung. Big Mac polished off an apple and tossed it into the bucket. Rarity and Spike noticed how depressingly empty the bucket was.

“Say…” Rarity began. “Forgive me if I’m over stepping, but did the Starburst Event—”

“E-yup,” Big Mac cut her off sharply.

Rarity coughed again. “I can see how that could be a bit of trouble for—”

“Somethin’ you want?” Big Mac interrupted. He still wasn’t looking up.

Rarity reached into her coat and again pulled out a gemstone. This one was bigger and brighter. She pulled out two, in fact.

“Here,” she said.

Big Mac didn’t turn around.

Rarity stepped closer and held them up with her magic. “Please. Take them.”

Big Mac didn’t turn. Didn’t move.

“I… I knew Applejack from school,” Rarity began. “I guess you could say weren’t exactly friends, but she always seemed… strong. Like the kind of sister who would always be there for you, no matter what.”

Big Mac didn’t turn, but his shoulders heaved slightly.

Rarity looked away as she spoke. “I just wanted to help. Sometimes I wish I could be that strong. That I… Well, after what happened to… to your parents. I—”

Big Mac suddenly turned and pulled Rarity and the fluffy Spike into a big hug. He was sobbing quite a lot for a self-conscious young stallion, but that was okay. He was also quite strong for his age and the hug became kind of suffocating, but that was okay, too.

After a moment or so he set them down again and wiped at his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Rarity took his hoof and placed the gems there for him. “It’s okay.”

She nodded to Spike and the two of them started to leave.

Big Mac cleared his throat again. “If… If you wanna visit her. It’s the children’s hospital on Orchard Street.”

Rarity and Spike stared back. Partly alarmed at the news, but also aware that Big Mac had probably never said so many words to strangers in his life. And never about something so personal.

Rarity nodded. “Thankyou.”

Big Mac returned the nod, glancing away. Then he put the gems in his apple bucket and carried on working. Picking up another apple, checking it, tossing it aside.

From the family house Spike thought he could hear a little baby foal crying; probably just waking up from her mid-morning nap.

“Wow,” Rarity said. “Manehatten.”

“You’ve always wanted to go, right?” Spike tried to cheer her up.

“Suddenly I don’t care so much about what I want,” Rarity said soberly.

Spike kicked a fallen stick from their path. “I thought she would have been back by now. But I guess something must have happened during the blast.”

“Gosh, I hope she’ll recover. What do you think could have happened to her, so far away from the Event?”

“You were there, Rarity,” Spike said. “Not there there, in Flight Camp. But even from where you were standing—”

Rarity’s horn sparked with a few bursts of blue light. “Oh—stop it!” She touched a hoof to her horn. “I’m not in danger anymore,” she told it. “But yes, Spike, I see your point. And just to think: Flight Camp was only a shape in the distance to us.”

They walked in silence for a bit.

“Is there anything else we can do in Ponyville?” Rarity asked.

Spike thought about it. “I suppose we could look for a big magical stone table. I haven’t seen it yet, but I don’t actually know when it’s supposed to appear.”

“A big magical stone table? Daring, I think you left that part out of your story.”

“It’s part of the castle I lived in.”

“Then where’s the rest of the castle?” Rarity asked.

“I don’t even know where the table is,” Spike shrugged.

“Honestly, Spike. How does one lose an entire castle,” Rarity teased.

Spike laughed, but he was cut off by the sound of his stomach growling.

“Hm. We should get lunch,” Rarity said. “I know I would enjoy a nice meal. Would you like to eat some gems or should I use them to pay for something larger?”

Spike smiled sadly at her. Then shook his head and made an effort to perk up more authentically. “Sure. As long as it’s not dog food.”

And they both laughed.

Pt.1 - Chapter 5

Twilight Sparkle spent the day in her room.

Nopony came to check on her.

…well, no, that wasn’t true. Her parents had. And her brother.

And Cadence had even sent her a nice letter.

Twilight thought about writing back… But no. Twilight was sure that if everything went according to plan tonight then tomorrow everypony would see what a clever and gifted student she could really be.

Twilight finished her dinner. Everypony was busy.

The sun went down and Twilight went to her room. She took out the map of Canterlot castle that she had recreated from memory with ink and parchment. She had glimpsed the original a few weeks ago when Cadence had taken Shining Armor and her to one of the Canterlot Guard Stations. Shining Armor was training to be a royal guard, after all. He and Cadence had gotten lost in each other’s eyes and Twilight had wandered a bit further than she should have, and seen a bit more than intended.

She squinted at her map now, hoping that it was accurate enough, and then marked the dragon egg hatchery with a red X. Only it hadn’t been called a hatchery on the original map. It had been called Project Draco – meaning Dragon, Twilight realised. Sure, it could have been anything, reasonably. There were many dragon-themed things in the world of Equestria, many of them having little to do with actual dragons.

But Twilight recalled her brief conversation with Cadence after failing the test. Cadence had come to apologise for not being able to foalsit anymore, and to try and comfort Twilight. Twilight wanted to know where the eggs were kept. Cadence had avoided the question at first, and then chuckled, “Oh, I don’t really know. I’m sure the project is housed in some old part of the castle.” After which Cadence had awkwardly cleared her throat and perhaps remembered that Twilight was smarter than the average filly.

And Twilight was smarter than the average filly.

Twilight was going to find this ‘project.’

And Twilight was going to hatch a baby dragon.

The streets were dark and deserted with the curfew in place. There was the occasional guard pony out on patrol—shining her horn-light into dark corners, or investigating any stray sound he came across.

But Twilight was small and had wrapped herself in a dark cloak, and she wore thick socks to muffle the sound of her hoofsteps as she ventured down the streets. She knew roughly the routine of the curfew guard, thanks to her brother’s big mouth, and so she slipped easily undetected all the way to the palace gates. Around the back gates, in fact, because they were closer to the hatchery.

But the hair of her coat bristled as she approached the gate and she soon detected a problem. Though she had been hoping to slip between the bars, she now felt the tingly presence of an invisible magic spell all around the palace walls. Twilight was not gifted in this respect—she simply had the same natural familiarity with magic that most unicorns possessed. And her unicorn magic was telling her that there was something very powerful here. Something new. Could it be increased security in the wake of the Event? Was Celestia… worried?

Twilight crouched in the shadow of a tree.

What now? She couldn’t be sure what the spell would do, but it would probably raise all the alarms and bring all the guards.

Or worse… it could fry her brains.

Twilight shook her head. Celestia wouldn’t have such a nasty spell, right?

Twilight’s thoughts were interrupted when she saw two palace guards trotting up to the gate. They were dressed in the night-shift uniform—all dark blues—and towing a cart full of box-shaped lumps under a blanket.

They approached the gate and together performed two components of a spell to unlock it. The gates swung open and then the cart was moving again. The guards were preparing to leave and then the gates would be shut once more. Twilight needed to stop them. Before she really knew what she was doing her horn lit with magic and in the next instant their cart hit an unseen rock and the wheel almost came off.

“Careful!” hissed the mare, bumping to a stop. “I don’t want to have to explain it to Princess Celestia if we spill these.”

The stallion guard caught the shabby wheel with his magic, holding it in place. “I sure wish Celestia would explain to us why she needs all these cakes delivered in the middle of the night.”

“Oh please, it’s barely ten o’clock,” the mare continued. “And don’t judge the princess. She’s stress eating.”

The stallion snorted. “I’m glad you said it. Now come help me with this wheel.”

The mare rolled her eyes. “Honestly, can’t you do a simple mending spell?”

“I can! I just need you to hold the axel.”

The mare grumbled and went to assist.

While the two of them bent to fuss over the splintering wheel, little Twilight rushed silently from her place in the shadows and darted through the open gate. Quickly she sprang for cover behind a large rosebush and held her breath.

She heard the cart trundling along again, passing through the gate which then swung shut. She felt the faint prickle of magic as the security field was restored. And then the guards went on their way.

Twilight breathed a heavy sigh.

She was in.

The Canterlot Sculpture Gardens were, truth-be-told, a little creepy at night. The way that even friendly statues now seemed to lurch and loom. One statue of three ponies standing atop one another momentarily resembled a grotesque and lumpy monster. Twilight fought to keep her wits about her at she approached the Palace Labyrinth.

By some twist of irony, however, the most disturbing statue Twilight had ever seen here was now mercifully absent. There was only an empty pedestal where once stood the patchwork-creature known as the… the… What had Cadence called it again? Oh, that’s right. A draconequus. Twilight eyed the empty pedestal gratefully before turning to at last enter the hedge maze known as the Palace Labyrinth.

It was the only direct rout to the hatchery. At least, from outside. Twilight had charted many courses through the labyrinth in her time here, but the maps she had discovered in the Guard Room showed her a secret passage that lead directly to the hatchery – or Project Draco, as it was known. Twilight withdrew her map from the saddlebags under her cloak and began to plan her rout. A left turn here, a right turn there, a secret hedge over here… She had to duck the Palace Guards a few times. But she was small and dark, and the Guards were mostly preoccupied with finding their own way around the maze.

At last Twilight approached the statue at the back of the maze. A section of the labyrinth she had never visited before, because of the secretive way it was sealed off, with false hedges and tricky turns. Twilight doubted that there were any guards down here. Or at least, she hoped there weren’t. She looked about nervously for a brief moment. Then she bravely approached the stone statue which had been marked on the map as ‘The Sphinx.’

At first Twilight thought she was looking at a statue of a griffon or a manticore. But no. Though it had wings and the body of a lion, it’s face was curiously… well… The closest comparison Twilight could think of were these strange exotic ‘ape’ creatures she had read about in a Daring Do book.

It was kind of unsettling to look at…

But night was passing, so Twilight approached the statue and examined it.

“How am I supposed to…?” Twilight began.

Suddenly stone shifted. Twilight jumped back in alarm as the stone eyes began to glow with a bright orange light, and the sandstone limbs of the statue were suddenly as free and flesh-like in their movement as those of any other creature.

The head turned and the orange eyes glared down at the little filly.

“I… Do not… Remember… You,” The sphinx growled in a voice like shifting boulders.

“Um… uh…” Twilight stammered as she took a few steps back.

Then, confusingly, the sphinx threw back its head and let out a little rumbling laugh. “Ha! Ah… I’m just messing with you. I don’t remember anyone. Such is my curse.”

Twilight blinked at it.

“Of course,” the sphinx went on, “you’ve probably heard this story so many times by now. It’s not as if you don’t know who I am. You all do, of course. How could you not? I—You know what? Never mind. I just like to talk about it sometimes, is all.”

“Ohhh…” Twilight said. “Um, well. I’m in a good mood tonight so… why not?”

The sphinx’s bright orange eyes shone a little brighter. “Really? How kind your are to humour me. Very well. I was crafted many eons ago in far distant lands that may even no longer exist. I was built with a purpose—to guard an ancient tomb and to ask a riddle of those who would seek entrance. To answer the riddle incorrectly meant death.”

Twilight stifled a squeak.

The sphinx rumbled a stony chuckle. “Yes, well. But that was so many years ago. I can’t even begin to tell you. Just… So very long ago.” It seemed wistful for a moment. “In my original design I was made to forget the faces and names of those who came before me, so that no trickster could attempt to slip past on the good faith bought by a cunning disguise. I was to be impartial… and impartial I remain.”

Twilight waited. She was about to speak when—

“And then one day I found myself in the vaults of Canterlot Palace. For I can remember places and things, if I try. I do not known who it was who had found me, nor where, save that I was told I had been buried for countless years in the sand.” The sphinx flexed its wing-shoulders a moment, stretching. “I was restored and my programming was changed. I no long kill the unworthy,” it rolled it’s luminous eyes. “And I have been given a new riddle to ask. But alas, I still cannot remember who comes to visit me. So few, the visits now it seems. I gaze upon the distant sky and see the starts have turned so far.”

Twilight glanced up in wonder. But she had to get hold of herself. This was not a Daring Do adventure. This was real life – her entire future – and perhaps any moment a guard could come patrolling around some corner. So Twilight cleared her throat and approached the sphinx.

“Ask me the riddle, please,” Twilight said.

The sphinx seemed the sigh and slouch, before straightening back into character. “Very well. Answer correctly and you may pass.

“Lost near one thousand years ago.

One thousand winters shed their snow.

To bare a burden none can know,

Each night to gaze upon your glow.

“At each sunrise we are apart.

My night cannot attain your art.

I gave you silence at the start,

and fostered darkness in your heart.

“My words and deeds cannot atone.

Alas, if I had only known.

You did not crave a wicked throne,

But sought the love I should have shone.

“Who am I?”

Twilight felt as if her brain were slowly shrinking down like an untied balloon.

Riddles should be easy! There are supposed to be clues and evidence. Maybe if she heard the riddle again?

“Oh, my,” Twilight said. “You delivered that so well.”

“Really? You think so?” The sphinx seemed to puff out it’s chest.

Twilight wondered how stone fur could bristle so.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Can I hear it again, actually? I’m uh…” she glanced around. “I’m not in any hurry.”

“Well why not?” the sphinx relented. “It’s not like I get to do this very often.”

And so it repeated the riddle again.

“Who am I?” It finished, with a touch of pride this time.

Twilight’s ears flopped. She had nothing!

How was she supposed to know what happened one thousand years ago? Pony history hardly went back that far—at least, not consistently. The oldest story they had was the one told at Hearth’s Warming Eve, about the windigos. It was far enough, yes, but though she wracked her memory she couldn’t find any shred of useful information there.

“Taking your time?” The sphinx asked.

“Ah… well. It’s such a beautiful night,” Twilight said.

The sphinx shrugged. “I guess. Not as pretty as it used to be. Must be all the lights from the palace and the city. Though I find the moon is a little odd…”

But Twilight wasn’t listening. She was scraping the edges of her mind for something. Anything. This was a far grater challenge than any test at school. She was pretty sure that getting past the sphinx would be almost as prestigious as hatching that dragon egg.

…the dragon egg.

She thought about that for a moment. The trick question on her test—to give her a problem not actually meant to be solved. She should have seen it staring her in the face. After all, if this creature could not remember faces or names then how could it ask ‘Who am I?’ unless the answer was—

Twilight steeled herself. It could be a long shot, but it was her only lead.

“Who are you?” Twilight said. “Why, you are The Sphinx.”

The statue beamed at her with a wide smile; slightly off-putting because of that strange face.

“You remembered me,” it teased. “How I envy your abilities.”

Twilight let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, it’s been fun. But um. I guess I should go now.”

The sphinx relented slowly. “Of course. You all have your busy lives. Important work to be done. Through you go then.”

The sphinx hopped playfully down from its pedestal and allowed Twilight to scurry past. On the other side there was a stone wall and a door, locked only with a simple padlock.

So. It had been a trick question.

“Makes you wonder, though,” the sphinx interrupted.

Twilight turned.

It shrugged as it resettled back into place. “What the riddle is actually about.”

“…yeah,” Twilight said. “Actually.”

“Oh,” it said, a little shy. “I was hoping maybe you would be the one who knew. Someone must know, right? But the only elaboration I ever got was ‘a reminder’. That was all.”

Twilight pondered that for a moment.

Then she heard stone shifting and looked up to see the sphinx had returned to a cold and lifeless statue, facing away from her this time.

The little filly shook her head and set her focus upon the padlock. It was meant for a key. Twilight frowned because it was uncommon in Canterlot Castle to have such locks anymore. It was more secure to have magical locks, opened with a specific spell sequence. But this lock was old. And the door was old. And the wall was old.

Twilight momentarily wondered at the purpose of a dragon hatchery that had been here for so long without success. What was the point of giving the eggs to students?

Another time. Focus now. Twilight set her magic against the lock. She had never jimmied a lock open in actual practice before, but she had read up on a book about it. More specifically a book about how locks worked, and a second book about how to feel around inside minute mechanisms using unicorn magic—For clockmakers, and similar professions. The two books together gave her everything she needed. With a little imagination, anyway. Twilight’s magenta magic crawled inside the lock, feeling around, and after five minutes or so she heard it click. Proudly she pulled it from the door and set it aside with a sigh. She may not have the raw power that comes with age, but what magic she did have she used well.

The door handle was a little stiff.

No matter. She could manage.

Oh, the door creaked.

Twilight froze.

She pulled very slowly. Just a little more, just a little more, very gently now. Every wince of old wood and tired metal made her heart pound. She carried on as quiet as she could possibly be until finally the gap was wide enough for her to slip through. Very carefully she pulled the door closed again. Sweat started to drip down her forehead but she remained focused. The click of the latch was too loud for comfort but that was the end of it.

Twilight slumped to the floor. Being sneaky was exhausting—and scary. But exciting! Twilight was eagre to continue—determined to complete this test. So she groaned and forced herself to sit up and examine her surroundings.

She was stood in a darkened entrance room; narrow and empty. The only thing of interest was the curtained archway opposite the entrance door. A green glow peaked through the curtain from the room beyond.

Twilight approached and stuck her little face around the curtain.

The hatchery… The hatchery was a long, long hall of laboratory space. In here the walls and floor were also old stone. The space appeared cluttered as if its purpose had outgrown its capacity, and Twilight had to fight back an immediate urge to organise the strange equipment she saw before her. The hall became too gloomy to see the further it stretched, but there was that strange green glow about the place—coming from pipes or tubes that crawled over the ceilings in a network that Twilight could not follow nor understand.

Twilight shook her head. She forced herself to pay attention as she quickly scanned the room for any ponies. If she was caught now she’d be finished. But the hall seemed empty, as near she could see, and she couldn’t hear any ponies working or otherwise moving or talking. There was the occasional drip of liquid, humming and clicking of tired old machines, and otherwise… quite empty. Quite… lonely.

Twilight slipped into the room to get a closer look. The immediate left wall reminded Twilight of her chemistry set, or of the fancy science lab she’d have access to at Celestia’s school. Only this equipment was old. It was large and clunky, and grimy and dusty. Feasibly it was closer to alchemy than science. What exactly went on down here? There were large boilers or tanks; there was a dusty old desk with dials and wires and plugs; and there was a high shelf with large glass jars. The jars contained dark shapes suspended in cloudy liquid, but they were too high and too dirty for Twilight to make out their contents.

Her gaze drifted and she saw signs on the wall, bordered with yellow and black stripes indication caution. A sign that indicated the eye-wash for in case of accidents; a sign that indicated the cupboard where the first aid was kept—thought that cupboard now stood open, empty and covered in dust—and a sign that read ‘BEWARE OF BITES’, then had a blocky picture of a fanged muzzle chomping down on a hoof.

Twilight back peddled from the pictogram on pure reflex until her rump smacked into the wall behind her. Twilight stifled a squeak and scuttled back to the middle of the room. No, it was not the right-side wall she had bumped into—it was a stack of metal drums against it, sealed and cordoned off with broken caution tape. They were marked with a hazard symbol—and not the kind used on ordinary chemicals. Twilight recognised it was one from the list of magical toxins. She berated herself for not studying up on such things, but made a note to do so when she got home.

One of the metal drums stood in a thin residue of that same glowing green substance that ran through the crusted and clotted pipes around the room. Twilight quickly checked her hooves and her cape and everywhere she could to make sure she hadn’t come into contact with the mystery liquid. She breathed a sigh of relief.

But where were the dragon eggs? Twilight turned her attention to the gloomy stretch of hallway before her and cautiously ventured forward. To her right now there were black metal cages; some small, some moderate in size, one twisted open that made her stop and shudder. On the wall to her left was a safety sign that said ‘INCASE OF FIRE’ and appeared to have a convenient map of the lab—except that most of it was obscured by a large blistering scorch mark.

Twilight kept walking. Her breathing and heartbeat were too loud for her own comfort, now. She froze in her steps when something dark flickered on the wall.

Movement? No… Just her reflection in the dark glass of a window. An observation room of sorts. She could see the scratched-up door in the wall, but Twilight didn’t need to snoop. She just needed to hatch an egg. Any egg would do, really. Probably. Should do. And she had just now caught sight of many eggs indeed.

The little filly trotted quietly past the cages to the collection of melon-sized colourful eggs all lined up against the right-side wall—in little cribs with straw, or on the shelf behind where they nested in straw baskets. There was a large caution-type sign above the collection that read ‘TYPE 3.’

Twilight looked up and down the wall of eggs. So which should it be then? Which egg would she hatch? Was there a difference?

Twilight approached the first crib and found a number on it. 007. The egg resting inside was coated in years of dust. Twilight shuddered and looked to the next in the row. 009 – what happened to eight? Or one through six for that matter? She looked at the shelf behind the cribs, but the missing numbers weren’t there—just higher numbers. Also, all the eggs with low numbers seemed really… old.

No, none of these eggs seemed right. Twilight wanted her egg. The one they’d brought to her in the first place. The healthy looking purple one. But there were far too many eggs here to check—what with midnight breathing down her neck. Or dawn? How late was it? Twilight needed results now. So, if the eggs had numbers then there must be a filing system, Twilight reasoned.

She returned to that door in the opposite wall. It wasn’t locked, as it turned out, but there were curious scratches on its surface. Twilight shoved it cautiously open with her magic. Inside was as cold and abandoned as the rest of the hatchery, but this room wasn’t as dusty. Twilight quickly found the filing cabinet and pulled open the lowest draw because it was the only one she could reach.

Unfortunately the files stated at 001.

…what did happen to those missing numbers?

The 001 file was very dusty and yellowed with age. Twilight coughed as she flipped it open.

…empty. Nothing. A scrap of tape and a stray paperclip. That was all.

Twilight checked the files two through six. They were the same. Except that file 004 was badly singed along one edge, and 005 had a stamp on the inside that read ‘TYPE 1.’ So Twilight tried 007, since that egg was still around.

She found a sepia-tone polaroid photo paperclipped to the file. Next to that was a crude drawing meant to show the colours of the egg. There were several sheets of paper with written notes and information, but the ink had faded over time. Twilight could make out a few bits and pieces.

'…does not show promise…'

Then something about ‘non-volatile – move to Type 3.’

Then several lines of what looked to be ‘no response,’ one after the other.

The last notation was the least faded. It read:

‘Overreaching during pacification has likely left the egg unhatchable. Cannot discard egg, however. Full effects of project still unknown. Material is confidential and potentially hazardous. Will continue to monitor subject until further action is agreed upon. T.’

That was all.

Twilight shut the file back in the draw and stepped back. She dragged over the office chair and managed to scrabble up to the top of the filing cabinet.

“Alright. So let’s see what’s in draw number four…” Twilight huffed, pulling it open and peering down into it.

The files got much thicker up here. And messier. Twilight opened file 073 and found it contained a stack of lined-paper notes all paperclipped awkwardly together.

‘Egg did not respond to student’—the notes said, one after the other.

Twilight looked closer and found at the top of each note, obscured by the paperclip, where the names of the students who had tried. Twilight even recognised the names of a few authors that she knew had graduated from Celestia’s school for Gifted Unicorns. And by what she knew of the age of these authors, this egg must have been here for at least twenty-or-so years.

Then Twilight recognised another famous name. Did that make it thirty years?

And then a few more names placed the egg here at least fifty years ago.

“This egg has just been sitting here for fifty years?” Twilight said to herself. “Just being dragged off to Celestia’s school as a trick question for new students?”

Twilight thought about that a little more.

“Wait… If it’s just a trick question then why all the notes?”

Twilight flipped through them again.

Egg did not respond to student.

Egg did not respond to student.

Egg did not respond—

Twilight shut the file and searched through the rest, looking for the egg she had been given. What did the note say about her? Was it important? She had to know!

It wasn’t here. She couldn’t find the note that said Twilight Sparkle. It should have been the top note in it’s folder but none of these folders had it.

Twilight shut the draw and climbed down to the office chair where she could pull open the second highest draw and check those files. Or maybe there was another draw somewhere. The top draw only went up to 083. Maybe there were more files.

…no. The top draw was too lightly packed for that to make sense.

And though this draw had some files with notes it was largely just more of the same as the bottom draw. She even checked the next draw down but found only more of those slim and note-less folders—occasionally burnt or chewed.

Was it too unreasonable to contemplate tearing apart the office for clues?

Twilight shook her head.

“Get a grip, Twilight. You don’t have time for this. Just grab any egg and leave,” she told herself.

“Oooh. But what if the egg I pick is unhatchable?” Twilight answered herself.

She shut the draw a little too hard and it shook the cabinet next to it. Twilight fell off the office chair as a huge white thing lunged at her. Twilight squeaked as she hit the floor. She stared, panting.

No. It was just an old white sheet. Twilight sucked in breath and fought back a shiver. The air tasted very dusty now and she coughed. This was too much. She shouldn’t want anything to do with this! But she couldn’t go back home. Not without an egg. But she couldn’t find her egg!

She started to panic, and as a result she started to organise. Starting with that stupid white sheet. She hefted it with her magic, only to drop it again. She scowled. Her eye caught the contents of the glass cabinet—a private collection of dragon teeth, dragon scales, dragon claws, and other cast-off parts found in any museum. And a few books. Twilight recognised ‘Thornhoof's Brief History of Canterlot’ and a few other books. Was this somepony’s office then?

Twilight tried to lift the sheet again. It rose a little higher this time but slipped off the cabinet like before. Twilight decided to leave it and instead start with pushing the office chair back to it’s intended spot by the desk. Then she had to make sure the desk was straight, of course.

That’s when she noticed the file sitting on top of the desk.

…fate?

Twilight hopped up next to the file and flipped it open.

…it didn’t have her name. The top note in the stack was for somepony named Sunset Shimmer. And as usual, the egg did not respond to student.

Dead end.

…or not.

Twilight lifted all the notes and looked for the picture at the back of the file. It was an old sepia tone photograph, again. But next to it was a simple drawing that clearly showed the beautiful purple of Twilight’s special dragon egg.

She beamed and jumped for joy. “I found it! I found it! I found it!”

A door boomed somewhere in the main room.

Twilight almost fell off the desk in shock. With twitching limbs she scrabbled down and curled up in a ball under the desk, pulling her dark cloak around her.

Hoofsteps approached. Two sets.

…hoofsteps approached for kind of a long time, actually. The hall was quite long.

“Ugh. This place gives me the creeps at night,” said a stallion’s voice.

“This place gives me the creeps all the time,” a mare responded.

They reached the office door at last. Twilight hunkered down and tried to stop from shaking. She couldn’t believe how loud everything seemed suddenly.

“Still better than cake-duty,” the stallion joked, entering the room.

Twilight closed her eyes.

“Are you kidding? I’d take cake-duty over this mess any night,” the mare replied. “At least cake has a point to it.”

“Hey, look at that,” the stallion said.

Twilight could have died at the shock.

“What?” the mare said.

“That sheet’s fallen off the cabinet again.”

The mare groaned. “Just leave it. I give up on that thing.”

Then Twilight heard paper sliding across the desktop. She heard the folder flip open and leaflets rustle.

“Don’t read it,” the mare scolded. “Those things are messed-up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” the stallion said.

Hoofsteps retreated and the door swung shut.

“I can if I want. I out rank you,” the mare went on.

“You do not.”

“I will soon.”

“You don’t know that.”

Twilight opened her eyes and gasped. The file! She had forgotten to check the number on the file. Now she wouldn’t know where the egg was. She couldn’t go checking the cots one by one—not that many—not with that weird glow that made everything look slightly green. She had to follow the file.

It would be fine, she told herself. The guards were bickering. Their hoofsteps were really loud in the echoing old hall. Twilight was small and had socks on.

Just get up, Twilight. Just get up. Get up!

She uncurled and tiptoed over to the office door, thankful that it didn’t creek at least. She opened it a crack with her magic and peered cautiously out. The two guards were walking away down the hall. Twilight closed the door quietly behind her and hurried after them, darting behind egg cradles at every startling turn of a guard’s head.

“Fine,” the mare went on. “But don’t come crying to me if you get bad dreams later.”

“Uh. And why would I even do that? Besides, I don’t cry.”

“Yeah you do.”

“Nope. Just doesn’t happen.”

“Oh yeah? I think that’s a medical condition. It’s called pants-on-fire.”

“Joke’s on you. I don’t even wear pants.”

Twilight was crouching behind an empty crib when she heard a door click open. Looking up she saw the guards entering another side office. So once they were safely inside Twilight approached the office and peered through the ventilation slats at the bottom of the door.

“What do these machines even do?” the stallion groaned.

“They answer stupid questions.”

A couple of a second later there was a drawn out, “…heyyyyyy.”

Twilight couldn’t see anything except their legs, and that the floor had a few thick power cables running across it.

“Okay,” said the mare. “I’ll read, you write.”

“Where's the clipboard?”

“Right here. Pay attention.”

“Myneh myneh myneh,” he said.

The mare cleared her throat. “Read out is as follows. Heartbeat, unchanged. Magical activity, unchanged. Weight, unchanged. Visual appearance… Uh… Seems unchanged to me.”

“Still purple,” the stallion agreed.

Twilight’s heart sped up a little.

“Let’s see…” the mare went on. “Unchanged, unchanged… Yep. Just another boring dud egg.”

“Oh, you should be glad that nothing happened,” the stallion began. His voice took on a ghost-story tone. “You didn’t see what the first experiments were like.”

“Gimme a brake,” the mare snorted. “You’re not that old.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know that I don’t know that.”

“Whatever.”

Twilight saw the guards start to move. She scurried away from the door and darted back into the shadows of the opposite wall, behind a crib.

The office door opened.

“Let’s get out of here,” the stallion groaned. “Shift’s almost over.”

“That’s a blessing.”

“How long do we have to keep doing this?”

“Paperwork says one more day,” the mare replied. “Then we just pin another note in the—Oh. We forgot the file.”

“Leave it,” he said. “It works better in that room anyway.”

“Ehh. I guess,” the mare agreed as they walked away. “Are we still on for coffee later?”

“Sure. Coffee sounds great. But no cake.”

“Right,” she chuckled. “And no eggs.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

Twilight waited for them to go past. Then she peered out and watched them exit through a modern looking door at the end of the hall. A door that used a magical lock and seemed to have a guard posted on the other side. Twilight realised she had walked the entire length of the hall.

As soon as the modern exit was sealed Twilight went straight to the room the guards had been in and carefully opened the door to slip inside.

There were machines, yes. Big old grimy machines set against the walls. Many of these were dark and powerless now. But their huge bodies remained, as did their thick power cables, and even a few boxes that held spare paper reels.

In the middle of the room was the egg.

It was resting in a curved dish on a scales that showed its weight on a little screen. Attached to the egg were soft pads with thin cables that ran to a box with a screen. On the screen were various coloured lines that spiked and fluctuated, or didn’t. There were no labels for what the lines were. That information was probably on the clipboard.

Twilight couldn’t find the clipboard. The guards probably kept it with them.

But she did find the folder.

Most importantly she had the egg.

…or did she.

Of all the eggs in the hatchery she just had to be going after the one that was hooked up to a monitoring device. Maybe she should just grab a different one.

Yeah. A different one would do.

Twilight stared at the purple egg up on the bench.

The egg did not strictly speaking stare back. But Twilight got the message.

It was time for a plan.

Twilight grabbed the folder and tucked it into her saddle bag. Then she went all the way back to the first office. She just needed a replacement egg—and a replacement file—and the spotty purple one would be all hers, with nopony the wiser. Twilight entered the office and grabbed a random folder from the top draw and checked the number.

File 077 – a rotund blue egg with green—

“No. That won’t work,” Twilight realised. “It’s got to be purple. Oh my. And it’s got to be the same weight. Oh. I’ll be here all night.”

She should just take a different egg. It didn’t matter. Just grab a different—

Twilight grit her teeth and lowered her horn. “Come on, come one…” Magenta sparks flew. The spell took shape. The files levitated one by one from the top two draws and laid themselves out on the office floor, and desk, and other surfaces.

Twilight gasped and slumped, resting atop the filing cabinet. “Okay…” she panted. “Pretty impressive Twilight. Thankyou Twilight.” She sat up and rubbed her head. “Okay. Step two. The Caballus Fact Finding spell.” She gulped. “Here goes nothing.”

Five minutes later and nothing was exactly what had transpired.

“Come on, Twilight, you can do this,” she said to herself, panting and sweating atop the cabinet. “Pretend its your magic exam and your whole future depends on it.”

Sometimes the things Twilight said to motivate herself were the kinds of things that would make other ponies run screaming.

Once again Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated on the spell. Her horn began to glow. Her magic slowly began to coalesce into the shape she had learned. Again she felt the components slipping, and felt that barrier approaching—the point where everything always broke apart.

“Keep… going…” she huffed.

The spell writhed. It twisted and slipped. Twilight grit her teeth and pulled it back together. Something clicked and then one after another the pieces fell into place and then—

Twilight opened her eyes to find the room was filled with little glowing dots, magenta in colour and one above each folder.

Twilight uttered a laugh. “I did it! It worked.” She had never been so proud. “Okay. Okay. Um… Find me… weight.”

Around the room the dots began to flicker and to expand, revealing images of the weight for each egg as recorded in their file. Twilight scanned the room, shutting down any dot with a weight reading too far from the target. In less than a minute she had narrowed it down to five folders that had almost the exact same weight as that shown by the scales in the other office.

Twilight got down and opened the folders to check the colours of the eggs.

“No… No… Definitely not. No…” Twilight nervously opened the last folder. “Yyyyes?” she conceded. The egg was purple, but had stripes instead of spots. The weight recorded wasn’t the best of the bunch but it was still one of the best in the room.

Twilight yawned and rubbed her eyes. “It’ll have to do.”

Caballus’s Fact Finding spell flickered out. With one last burst of magical will Twilight seized all the other files and put them back into the top two draws. She grabbed the selected replacement folder and exited the office.

Number 055. Twilight cringed a little when she found the egg. It was covered in dust. The number of her egg had been 078 by contrast. She hoped it wouldn’t be an issue. So she flicked her tail and dusted off the stripy egg as best she could. Then she gathered it into her saddle bag and went to the monitoring office to make the switch.

Twilight couldn’t help but picture herself in some Daring Do adventure. The tension, the excitement. How she carefully shifted the one egg from the scales as she moved the second egg into place. She couldn’t be sure if there were alarms or not. Had something beeped? And the monitor changed? No?

Twilight took a deep breath and addressed the sensory cables one by one. Quick as she could—the first pad came off and was stuck against the new egg.

Twilight waited.

No alarms. No obvious spikes in the lines on the monitor.

Then the second cable. All was well.

The third cable was when everything fell apart.

The very instant it came unstuck the glowing monitor flat-lined. Twilight completed the transfer but the monitor remained still.

Why?

Why? Why!? What went wrong? What did she miss?

Then she saw exactly what she had missed, printed along the length of the cable.

The word Heartbeat.

“Oh,” Twilight said.

Twilight felt a little pang of sadness for the stripy purple egg. Followed by a twinge of annoyance.

Fine. If it wasn’t going to work then it wasn’t going to work. Twilight lazily transferred the rest of the cables. Maybe they would just assume the egg had suddenly died. Maybe they wouldn’t even noticed anything had changed.

Twilight put her rightful spotty egg into her saddle bag and took out the replacement folder. She unpeeled the 055 sticker and swapped it with the one on the 078 folder, leaving the stripy-egg folder behind and taking the spotty egg and its folder with her in her saddlebags.

It was done. She had her egg.

What now?

Twilight just stood there.

In Daring Do books you always knew exactly when to leave because it was around the time when the entire temple began to collapse and flood with lava. Unless it was the other kind of scenario. The kind where you think you’re finished but then you turn around and find a huge henchpony looming over you with a heavy club.

Twilight felt a prickle on the back of her neck. “Run,” she squeaked.

She didn’t bother to be quiet about the creaky door at the rear exit. Once she was out she let it swing shut with all the banging and creaking it wanted. She searched about and found the old lock, clicking it back into place. Then she ran up and tapped the statue of the sphinx on it’s back leg.

“Hey,” Twilight said. “Hey, hey, wake up.”

The statue rumbled to life and turned to face her. “I… Do not… Remember… You.”

“But I remember you,” Twilight said quickly. “You are The Sphinx.”

“Err. Well, yes,” the sphinx said. “Shall I give you the riddle?”

“No. I’ve already answered the riddle. The Sphinx.”

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those,” the beast bemoaned. “You know it’s usually folks coming from this side that rush right through—”

“Okay!” Twilight said. “I’d like to get past now.”

The sphinx grumbled. “I don’t remember who was here before you, but let me say, whoever it was had much better manners than you.”

Twilight took a deep breath.

Had there been hoofsteps behind her? Did she hear an alarm as she was fleeing? Did she hear an alarm now even?

What if she’d dropped a sock or something?

Twilight quickly checked all four legs and sighed in relief.

Stone shifted as the sphinx began to move aside. “You know what? I think I’m just going to recite the riddle to myself all the same. I’ve been told I recite it very well. You’re missing out you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Twilight said, climbing onto the pedestal. “Lost near one thousand years ago…”

“Well I like it,” the sphinx said grumpily as Twilight dashed past. “You know the line used to be ‘lost near nine hundred years ago’ until it was recently changed,” the sphinx was saying.

But Twilight didn’t have time for anecdotes. She just kept on running because she had seen the sky.

Dawn was coming.

It was a combination of luck and knowledge that helped Twilight escape the palace grounds. She had gone around to the east gate and arrived just as the night shift were changing places with the day shift. The gate was wide open as a number of guard ponies passed through and, since it was the east gate, the morning sun was at just the right location and angle to get in everypony’s eyes. Especially with the way it glinted off all their armour.

Twilight, small dark and quiet, had managed to slip through the gate and vanish into the morning glare, stealing away back home just in time to get to her room before her parents got up for work.

She locked the door and closed the curtains.

In the dark security of her bedroom Twilight was able to breath freely at last.

She took off her cloak and socks. She set down her saddle bags and took out the map, and the folder, and the melon-sized purple spotted dragon egg.

Twilight stared at it, sitting there on her bed.

…what… had… she… just… done.

Pt.1 - Chapter 7

Morning on the Rock Farm, and things were slowly returning to their usual routine. Their father had worked hard to clean and repair the attic room so the girls could go back to their normal beds. As a result of this, however, the children awoke to find their father had caught a cold and was confined to his own bed for the day.

“Finish your breakfast,” their mother said, pouring soup for each of them. “You four shall attend the fields alone this morn and noon, for Pa is sick and I must attend him, lest he worsen. All shall recover soon, though, I do believe. Today my eldest Maud shall watch over you precious three, and may her wisdom keep you safe.”

Limestone thumped the table. “Why does Maud get to be in charge? I want to be in charge!”

Their mother, Cloudy Quartz, narrowed her gaze at the loud filly. “Maud is your elder sister and it is her place. Finish your soup and attend to your chores.”

Cloudy Quartz took another bowl of soup and went upstairs to nurse her husband.

Limestone glared at Maud. “Why do you get to be in charge?”

“Because I’m bigger than you,” Maud said flatly.

“Nah-uh. Only a bit. I’m stronger,” Limestone tried.

“I think I’m still stronger,” Maud replied.

“Nah-uh! I win at wrestling!” Limestone protested.

“You win at wrestling because you’re small and squirmy and you sit on everypony.”

Pinkie snorted a laugh and giggled quietly into her hooves.

Limestone frowned. “Ugh. There she goes again. What’s wrong with her? Why is everything so darn funny?”

“Is she broken?” Marble asked nervously, hiding behind her dark-grey fringe.

“She’s not broken,” Maud said, putting a foreleg around Pinkie. “She’s just expressing herself.”

“Whatever,” Limestone groaned loudly. “I don’t even think she should come outside today. She’s been weird.”

Marble smiled mischievously across the table. “You’re just jealous because she got her cutiemark before the rest of us.”

Limestone’s cheeks puffed up. “So? So what! I don’t care.”

“Mm-hmm,” Marble said. “I know I don’t, since I’m the sister who’s actually a few minutes younger than Pinkamina.”

Limestone shook so much it made the table quiver. “Oh yeah?” she said a little too loudly. “Well who cares!? It’s not even a good cutiemark! What’s a bunch of crazy eyes supposed to mean anyway? It looks like she’s got pony-pox on her butt!”

“Limestone,” Maud said.

The bickering sisters flinched.

Pinkie hadn’t reacted the whole time. She playfully was chasing a parsley leaf around her soup bowl with her nose.

“Breakfast is done,” Maud told them. “It’s time for chores.”

She nudged her little sisters out of the house and towards the south field.

“Time to harvest the rocks,” Maud said. “The blast caused lots of damage around Equestria and many repairs are ongoing. We need the sturdiest rocks for buildings, and any misshapen rocks can be used to repair cobblestone roads. Anything too brittle can be broken down later and sold as gravel. Be careful and watch out for each other.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Limestone growled, trotting away.

“Limestone, where are you going?” Maud asked.

“To check on Holder’s Boulder.”

“It’s right where you left it,” Maud teased. “It’s not going anywhere, Stinky.”

“Hey!” Limestone roared. “Don’t call me that!”

“I wouldn’t call you that if you would stop throwing such a stink all the time,” Maud said.

She heard a gentle giggle and thought at first it was Pinkie, but when she turned to look it was only Marble.

“You too, Twinkie.” Maud pushed her gently. “Stop standing around and start gathering rocks.”

Marble blushed affectionately. “Mm-hmm.”

“Hey!” Limestone roared. “Get out of the way, you!”

Maud turned back to see that Pinkie had gone over to be with Limestone next to Holder’s Boulder.

“It doesn’t love you,” Pinkie said, staring wide-eye’d at her sister.

“What?” Limestone snapped. “Move it, short-fluff.”

“It doesn’t love you,” Pinkie whispered again. “Don’t talk to it. It tells lies. It’s going to hurt you.”

“You think you can just pull your little crazy act and creep me out?” Limestone said. “I’m like six whole minutes older than you. You don’t scare me. Now move it or I’ll—”

“Enough,” Maud said in her usual voice.

Limestone winced.

“Both of you come with me to the south field and let’s get to work.”

“Alright, alright,” Limestone said, slinking away. “I hate it when you use that tone. I wasn’t even messing up yet. Geez…”

Maud looked at Pinkie. “You too.”

“It’s bad,” Pinkie said, staring at Maud now. “The earth is hungry. The earth is weak. The rock takes its chance to betray us. We gave it shelter, gave it a name. We did not teach it properly. Built this farm around it but it never asked for this. We think we know rocks but we don’t really listen. Should have thought it better. Should have taught it about manners.”

“Manners?” Maud said.

“No, not manners,” Pinkie said. “Dignity?”

“Dignity?”

“Gravitas…” Pinkie frowned and chewed over some sounds.

“Okay,” Maud said. “Let’s go to the south field. Is that alright?”

“South is safer shapes for now,” Pinkie said. “All things turn to dust in time. Now is not the time. Now is the memory. Work, work, work.”

“Yes, time for work,” Maud said. “Go with the others while I fetch the rock wagon.”

Maud watched the little ones scurrying off to gather rocks. She turned and went to the shed around the back of the house where the wagon was kept. But just as she was about to secure the familiar straps across her back she heard panicked little hooves approaching.

“Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,” Pinkie was saying. She bumped into Maud’s legs and fell over. “Maud, Maud—”

“What Pinkie?” Maud said. “What’s happening?”

“Maud, Maud, stop it, stop it, stop it,” Pinkie was saying. She pulled at her big sister’s leg and tried to drag her. “Stop it, stop it, stop it.”

“Is Limestone sitting on Marble again?” Maud asked.

“Maud, Maud, Maud,” Pinkie was wailing. “Bad shapes! Bad shifts! Bad manners!”

Then Pinkie let go and bolted.

Something was very wrong. Maud picked up speed and shot off after her fluffy little sister. Around the front of the house the other fillies where nowhere to be seen. Pinkie was still running fast—towards the edge of the cliff overlooking the mine entrance below.

“Pinkie, be careful!” Maud called, running after her.

“Make it stop!” Pinkie cried, skidding to a halt. “Make it stop hurting in my knowing. Make it stop!”

Maud caught up to her at last. “Pinkie, where are your sisters?”

No sooner had Maud spoken than she heard Limestone and Marble whispering. The sound echoed up to her from the quarry below the cliff.

“Oh, those sneaky foals,” Maud said. “They’re going to try and hide in the mine.”

“Owww!” Pinkie cried suddenly, clutching her head.

“Wh—” Maud froze. Her coat bristled.

She looked to her right and zeroed in on the most chilling sound she had ever heard. That of stony earth gently cracking. Her educated eyes spotted the fault line beginning to give way. It must have been there all along and was only now reacting to the shockwave from last week. Holder’s Boulder began to shift and tilt, slowly leaning further towards the edge of the cliff and the terrible drop below.

Move.

Maud sprang from the cliff top and bounded down the ridges of the quarry. She had to be fast enough. She had to be strong enough. She saw little Limestone and Marble look up in fright as the shadow of the huge rock loomed over them and the boulder slipped free from gravity’s gentle clutches.

Maud shot forward with all her might, and as her hooves collided with the boulder’s enormous bulk she willed every ounce of love and strength she could hold within her into the single most important moment of her whole entire life.

Stone shattered around her and flew apart as she drove the giant rock back from her little sisters.

The broken pieces fell strewn about the quarry but Maud had succeeded in pushing the bulk of the thing away from its fatal trajectory. It thudded loudly against the entrance to the mine. She landed. Her legs shook and she collapsed.

“Maud! Maud!” Limestone ran up and clutched at her.

“Are you okay?” Maud asked, lifting her head again.

Marble came over and started to cry. The scuffling hoofsteps signalled Pinkie’s approach and soon all three of them were crowded around their big sister, hugging and sobbing together.

“Goodness granite!” their mother exclaimed from up on the cliff. She hurried down to meet them. “What happened? Is everypony alright?”

“We’re fine,” Limestone said. “Maud saved us. She…” Limestone sniffed. “She was watching over us, like she always does.”

Maud looked over at where Pinkie was hugging her. Would she have gotten here in time if Pinkie hadn’t come running? The thought sent a horrid shiver through Maud’s entire body. She couldn’t even think about it. But how had Pinkie known what was about to happen?

Limestone was right. Maud should have been watching. She should have been a better big sister. Big sisters are supposed to take care of their little sisters and protect them and always be there for them. Maud scolded herself for begin away and for always letting Limestone run wild. If anything had happened…

“Oh, thank goodness you’re all okay.” Their mother helped them up and nuzzled them each.

“I’m sorry I broke Holder’s Boulder,” Maud said, glancing back at the crater she had impacted into the huge rock.

When she turned back again she found everypony was staring at her.

“…sorry,” Maud repeated, lowering her head.

“Maud, dear…” Cloudy Quartz said. She smiled. “If mine eyes do not deceive… it would appear you have discovered your cutiemark.”

Maud blinked in surprise. She stared down at her flank and found a picture of three little crystals—like those from the quarry and the mine—safely nestled inside the crescent of a heart-shaped horseshoe the same purple as her mane.

“I am so proud,” Cloudy Quartz said. “Come, daughters. Let us go visit Pa and tell him of all that has occurred.”

Ma scooped up poor Marble, who was still shaking and sobbing, placing her across her back. As they all walked back to the house Pinkie danced around Maud’s legs and giggled as if nothing had happened. Limestone was walking on Maud’s other side. Her expression showed sobriety and timidity that Maud had never seen there before.

“Thankyou,” Limestone said, glancing between Maud and the ground.

Maud said nothing.

Limestone glanced at Maud’s new cutiemark and then at the ground again. “What do you think it means?”

Maud kept on walking. She knew exactly what it meant. “I means it’s my job to look after you three and keep you safe. No matter what.”

Maud looked down at the snickering pink fluffball that was currently glued to her left foreleg. And especially Pinkie, she thought to herself. Always Pinkie.

Pt.1 - Chapter 8

It had been two days since Twilight had stolen the egg.

Well… more like one, since the sun was coming up just as she brought the egg home. But still; she had had the egg for two full days now, and this was fast becoming her third.

The egg did not respond to student.

Twilight had checked every book in the house that might hold information about dragons or dragon eggs, and had come up disappointingly short. She dared not check the library or investigate the archives at the castle. The fastest way to get caught would be to incriminate herself by checking out a stack of books on dragon lore. Twilight may as well walk right up to Celestia and say, “I’ve taken your dragon egg.”

But then… hadn’t that been the original plan?

Twilight stopped pacing her room. Her thoughts began in all manner of places but always they ended with Twilight pacing and muttering to herself. So she stopped and approached the blanket-swaddled egg in its hiding place inside her toy chest. The toys were now all crammed under her bed, of course. And the egg… The egg had done nothing.

For almost three days now the egg had done nothing. It remained steadily warm and retained a healthy heartbeat, Twilight guessed. She had been listening to it by pressing her ear against the shell and it sounded healthy enough. But it had not moved or reacted or hatched in any way at all.

Oh how Twilight had whiled away the hours lavishing the egg with spell after spell she thought might awaken it—all for nothing. If the egg did not hatch then Twilight could not claim victory over the test and demand her acceptance into Celestia’s school. That had been the plan, anyway…

Twilight found she had started pacing again. She wasn’t entirely sure of her plan anymore. Not just because it was proving more difficult than expected, but because news of her break-in at the hatchery had already leaked. Not publicly, no. But they knew. They knew. Cadence and Shining Armor and the way Cadence spoke about Celestia, ohhhh… they knew alright.

Something had gone down at the hatchery that night and nopony was exactly sure what but from what snippets Twilight could eavesdrop on it was clear that if anypony ever discovered what she had done she would be in BIG trouble.

It just wasn’t fair.

And to top it all off she suspected Shining Armor was starting to think she was crazy. She first noticed when she had tried to complain to him how her magic had clearly been drained by the Starburst Event, just as all the windows and streetlights had been drained of magic. She was sure if she could just jog his memory then he would recall how he had also lost his magic for several minutes.

Instead he insisted she was misremembering.

“Twilight,” he had said, “I’m sure that didn’t happen. When the blast hit I was with Cadence and I had to use my magic to protect us and a nearby family with a shield, because a streetlamp was about to fall on us. You can ask Cadence, she was there.”

Twilight didn’t need to ask Cadence. Those two would always back each other up. If Shining Armor was going to lie about loosing his magic then Cadence would just say the same thing and then Twilight would look silly, even though she was right. This always happened! Why did other ponies insist on making Twilight wrong about things? Twilight wasn’t wrong about things! The blast had drained her power and that was that! It wasn’t fair!

She was so worked up it took her a moment to realise somepony was knocking at her door.

“Twilight? Is everything okay?”

It was Cadence and she sounded concerned.

Twilight hurriedly and silently shut the toy box to hide the egg. Then she went to answer the door. “Cadence. Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got in,” Cadence said. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she beamed, and entered the room.

Twilight saw that Cadence was levitating a folded piece of paper stamped with the royal seal. Twilight’s heart dropped down into her stomach. “…what… What did you, uh, want to see me about?” Twilight stammered.

Cadence stood at attention in the middle of the room and eye’d Twilight curiously. “Oh? Nothing. Just a little something from Celestia.”

It took all of Twilight’s self-control not to run screaming from the letter as Cadence passed it over with her magic. Twilight took it between her fore-hooves and almost dropped it from shaking. She closed her eyes and broke the seal, unfolding the paper as if it was going to explode in her face.

“…well?” Cadence prompted impatiently.

Twilight opened her eyes and glanced down at the letter. She stared. Her eyes ran over the lines and she gasped. “I… I…” She looked up. “I get to re-take the test?”

Cadence was nodding furiously and smiling as wide as a sunrise. “Yes! Twilight, of course you do. I’m sorry that it took so long.” She winced. “But everypony felt it wasn’t really fair what happened. The blast must have spooked the magic right out of you. It would have for any pony. I know I was shaken up. So of course you can re-take the test. The schools are opening again tomorrow and the examiners at Celestia’s school for Gifted Unicorns expect to see you there bright and early for your exam.”

Twilight continued to stare with her mouth hanging open.

Cadence continued to grin awkwardly. “…aren’t you excited?”

“Oh…” Twilight began. She shook her head and summoned some pep into her voice. “Oh yes! Finally! I can re-take the test! Thankyou, Cadence. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She rushed up and hugged her foalsitter tight. “Mmmm.”

“Awww,” Cadence said, hooking a foreleg around Twilight and nuzzling the top of her head. “I’m so pleased. I’m sure you’ll do spectacularly this time. Oh, and don’t worry about that whole dragon egg thing.”

Twilight stiffened and shot back from her. “What?” she squeaked.

Cadence laughed. “I said don’t worry. Since you already know it’s a trick question there’s obviously no point bringing it back when you re-take the exam. You’ll be getting straight into the real questions this time. So you can stop obsessing over it.” Cadence’s eyes got a little shifty for a moment. “Besides… it’s not a good time for dragon eggs,” she muttered, probably to herself.

Twilight swallowed nervously. “Oh. Good. Just… taking the test. Good old regular advanced magic test. Bright and early.”

Cadence nodded. “Sorry, Twilight. I know I haven’t seen much of you lately. And unfortunately this has to be it for today. But I’ll try and drop by tomorrow evening and you can tell me all about how your exam went.”

Cadence ruffled Twilight’s mane and waved goodbye before vanishing out the door and down the hall.

Twilight sighed and shut and locked her bedroom door again.

“Why aren’t I happy?” Twilight asked herself. “It’s all I ever wanted. A second chance. I know I’ll ace it this time for sure! So what’s wrong with me?”

“Oh,” said Twilight. “Maybe it’s because I already went to ridiculously extreme measures to prove myself, risking terrible punishment and probably committing what I’m pretty sure now was a crime, all because nopony was listening to me!”

“Right,” said Twilight, now pacing again. “And then they come and tell me that I didn’t have to do any of that. They’re going to let me go to school anyway. Can they really be this blind or do they just like to watch me dance?”

“Ha!” Twilight said. “I should show them… I’ll show them all after I bring this dragon to life and I prove that I deserve more than a pittance compensation! I deserve recognition, alright! I bested The Sphinx! I’m going to hatch this egg and I’m going to be better than the best. Because I know I deserve to be.”

“Yeah…” Twilight said, returning to the toy box. “I do deserve it.”

She fetched out the file of information, which she also kept in there. The stack of notes that read ‘Egg did not respond to student’ she pulled out and left in the box. Then she busied herself with reading whatever information she could about the egg. It was the piece of literature that knew the most, and yet it spoke to her only of things she did not understand. And this she found to be most frustrating.

Still, there were pictures. Drawings, mostly. Curious drawings that Twilight obsessed over. For example, there was a page on which was sketched a fully-gown adult dragon. It was a huge beast, all angular with mighty wings and razor fangs and the small eyes of a wild and menial beast.

After that was a sketch of a dragon… pup? A dragon calf? A hatchling? Whatever a baby dragon was called. It was still bestial and wild-looking, seeming to glare out from the page with ill-intent towards the one who watched it.

It was the third drawing that Twilight found most curious. At the top of the page was written the phrase ‘In Theory’ in block letters. The sketch was of a dragon, about equal to Twilight’s present height according to the measurements printed. A little note read: lock aging at this size. There were wings drawn at first, then scribbled out. A scrawled note read: too much agency. The shape of the dragon had been changed to be rounder and softer.

The claws and fangs were drawn less prominently here, so that they seemed harmless and inconsequential. Even the limbs seemed stumpy and stunted—not like the powerful muscled legs of the savage dragon sketches. The eyes of this dragon were bigger, brighter, more intelligent looking, but kinder and more docile. And next to the little sketch was a drawing of a burst of flame and one more scribbled note: Cannot feasibly remove fire component. Perhaps dragon’s magic can be changed into something more useful to our purposes.

The only other note on the page was an initialled ‘T.’ in the bottom right corner.

Twilight felt a little queasy as she closed up the folder. As she did after every read and re-read. She looked back at the purple spotted egg with newfound uncertainty. She had thought she was harbouring a dragon—a scaly, hot-blooded magical creature that she would some day have to release back into the wild so that it could roam and fly and do as other dragons did.

Instead what she actually had was… was… What did she have? Some strange domesticated experiment with the corners rounded off, that was stunted to never grow—not even grow wings? Had she not seen the first two pictures she would not have felt so uncomfortable about the possibility of the third. Perhaps what bothered her most was that the first two were sketched from fact—from life. The third was… was somepony’s fantasy creature, possibly now forced into existence inside the unborn egg that rested in Twilight’s cushioned toy box.

She put the folder back inside and closed the lid.

Who had given ponies the right? To take a baby—and unborn baby—and to shape and change it’s very nature and destiny before it even took breath in the world? What if the dragon didn’t like the future that now lay before it? What if the dragon felt cheated and betrayed by an unfair state of events? It wasn’t as if the dragon could just re-take being made.

Maybe Twilight should not hatch this egg. Maybe it was better not to bring such creatures to life. Let it rest peaceful and eternal in the egg where it did not need to think about such quandaries.

Twilight had begun to pace the room again. “To be or not to be…” she found herself reciting from her memory of an old play. And then, curiously, “that is not dead which can eternal lie.”

She paced on and continued to mutter, and the folded letter that Cadence had brought lay forgotten on the floor.

Pt.1 - Chapter 9

It had taken a fair few days for Rarity and Spike to come up with an excuse to leave Ponyville, unescorted. After putting their little heads together and carefully gauging the situation, the best idea they could come up with was:

“Book signing.”

Rarity’s mother looked up from her desk. “A book signing? Oh dear, it’s not those Shadow Spade books I asked you not to read, is it?”

“No, no,” Rarity corrected. “It’s the adventures of Daring Do.”

Her mothered seemed genuinely warmed. “Oh, that new series? I hear those are very good for kids.”

“Well the author… uh,” Rarity said, “…uhhh… Her. Yes. She’ll be in Manehatten making a special appearance for this weekend only. It’s the most important Daring Do event and I simply must be there. Because I love the books so much.”

Her mother smiled and was about to agree when—“Oh dear. But your dad and I can’t get away right now. There’s just too much to do, and what with the new baby… Oh, I’m so sorry Rarity but we can’t possibly go.”

“Oh,” Rarity said. She sighed. She moaned. “And I was really looking forward to this. And to think, the one book series I enjoy apart from Shadow Spade. I do hope I can carry on loving the series in spite of this set back.” Rarity collapsed against a bookshelf.

“Is it really that bad?” her mother started to ask.

Rarity sprang up again. “But wait! Mother, I have a plan. I could go with my friend Applejack and we could stay at her Aunt and Uncle’s house in Manehatten.”

“Applejack?” the mother repeated. “I’ve never heard you talk about a friend named Applejack.”

“Whaaaat?” Rarity said. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned her. We’re simply the best friends. Staying with her relatives will be no problem. And then I get to go to the book signing, and you and father can stay here and do… the things you need to do. Without me being a bother.”

“Rarity, you’re not a bother,” her mother said. “Although you do seem to be eating a lot more food lately.”

“Haha, yessss. Those growth spurts, you know.” Rarity looked left and right awkwardly. “Sooooo? Can I go to Manehatten?”

Spike paced the room as he waited.

Rarity came in and shut her bedroom door. “They bought it,” she whispered.

“They bought it?” Spike whispered back.

Rarity nodded. She squealed under her breath, “We’re going to Manehatten… I’m so excited, heehee.” She sprang straight for her suitcase. “Now what should I wear?”

“I know what I’ll be wearing,” Spike grinned, tapping his armband.

In the few days break Spike had been all over Ponyville collecting the images of various different foals. Just in case. He and Rarity had also tested the runtime of the armband and found that, given a sufficient magical charge, it would hold power for about three hours. Spike had acquired a watch with an alarm for the purpose of keeping track of this.

Meanwhile Rarity had made an effort to introduce Zecora to the rest of Ponyville. That went… not as well as Spike remembered. Possibly it was Rarity’s age, or maybe it was the post-Starburst climate that made ponies more mistrusting. Zecora was now technically welcome, but she confessed that there were times she still did not feel welcome. But Spike felt assured that things were on the right track. He and Rarity would work on it some more once they got back from Manehatten. That was all.

The Daring Do book signing was actually a real event. Rarity had gotten the idea from a poster at school. So when they arrived at the train station they found a few other fillies and colts also planning to travel to Manehatten with their parents.

“This is going to be difficult,” Rarity whispered from behind a stack of luggage. “Caramel’s quite well known at school. I feel that if you try to impersonate him around these other foals it could quickly draw suspicion.”

“Right,” Spike said, currently using said Caramel-disguise. “But who should I be then? Anypony I pick has at least some chance of being recognised. And what if I pick a pony who’s already on the train?”

“Gosh, now that would be awkward,” Rarity said. “One of you would have to go home and change.”

“Ha-ha,” Spike deadpanned.

The train gave a few toot-toots to signal it would be leaving soon.

“Ohh,” Rarity moaned. “We have to pick something. Don’t you know any foals not from school?”

“I’ve been stuck in Ponyville this whole time,” Spike said. “It’s not like I can just—”

There was a flash of green light.

Rarity put a hoof to her mouth. “Well, I certainly don’t know who that is. I’d say job well done, Spike.”

“What?” Spike looked down at himself and even spun a little circle. “Am I…?” He poked at his folded orange wings and flicked his purple tail. “Am I Scootaloo?”

“Who?” Rarity said.

The train signalled again.

“Nevermind.” She shoved Spike forward.

They dragged their suitcase through into a train car and took their seats just as the doors were closing. The train rolled to life and chuffed off down the tracks on its long journey to Manehatten.

Spike stood up on the seat and looked at his reflection in the window glass.

“I am,” Spike said, twitching his ears and ruffling his short purple mane. “I’m Scootaloo. How did I do that? The armband hasn’t met Scootaloo. It can’t have. She’s gotta be just a little baby right now. This is…” He sat down and looked at his orange pony foreleg. “This is something from my memory. The armband took the form of somepony I remember? Is it supposed to do that?”

He looked at Rarity. Rarity shrugged.

“We can ask Zecora when we get back,” Rarity said.

“And I’m a pegasus now,” Spike said, poking himself in the sides. “But I can’t seem to open my wings. I guess because they’re not really there.”

“Also, you um…” Rarity bit her lip. “You seem to be a filly. Are you going to be—?”

“Hi Rarity,” a couple of other foals interrupted.

“Hello,” Rarity said.

“Who’s your friend?” one of the foals asked. “I haven’t seen her at school.”

“Oh, uh… this is, Scootaauhhhumm—”

“Scootaloo,” Spike said and waved.

“Cool,” the other foals said and waved back.

“Oh. Yes. Scootaloo,” Rarity said. “Sorry, we can’t chat. We’re um… Caught in an intense game of eye-spy.”

Spike nodded seriously.

“Oh. Okay. See you at the book signing?” one foal said.

“Mm-hmm. We’ll see,” Rarity agreed.

The two foals from school went on their way down the train.

“See?” Spike said. “Not a problem.”

Rarity leaned in towards Spike. “Tell me about her.”

“Who? Scootaloo?”

“Yes. If we’re going to be stuck on this train for a few hours I want a story.”

“Okay,” Spike said. “But it involves your sister.”

Rarity’s eyes sparkled. “Tell meeee. Oh. Wait.” The snacks trolley was passing by so she exchanged a small gem for a large box of popcorn. Then she turned back to Spike. “Okay. Begin.”

Spike laughed and helped himself to popcorn. “Alright. It all began a little while after I moved to Ponyville. Applejack’s sister, Applebloom, was worried about how she hadn’t gotten her cutiemark yet. She thought she was the only pony at school without a cutiemark. Until…”

All through the journey Spike had recounted what stories he knew of the Cutiemark Crusaders and their adventures. Rarity had laughed frequently at their many mishaps and catastrophes, like how they had gotten lost in the Everfree or how they ate too much pie at a pie-eating contest. But she was also impressed with every lesson they learned and every pony they helped along the way.

The train pulled into Manehatten around lunch time the same day. Rarity had had to recharge Spike’s armband once already, behind the cover of the popcorn box. As they were collecting their suitcase to disembark, Spike was just finishing up the story of how the CMC had finally attained their cutiemarks.

Rarity sniffed and wiped away a tear. “My little sister. I’m so proud and I don’t even know her yet.” Rarity put a hoof to her chest. “Good gracious. I don’t even have my cutiemark yet.”

Spike nudged Rarity in the arm. “Cheer up. If there’s any lesson to be learned here it’s that you’ll get your cutiemark sooner or later, and when you do it’s gonna be just perfect.”

Rarity beamed. “Aw, thankyou Spike. And thankyou for being Scootaloo this whole time. It’s really helped me get immersed in the story, but…” She stifled a snicker. “I’m sorry, Spike. I just can’t look at you anymore without thinking about the time that Scootaloo got the team covered in tree sap and pine needles. Hmmhmm.”

Spike rolled his presently purple eyes. “Hardy-har. Fine. Who should I pick from Ponyville as my new disguise?”

“Well…” Rarity began.

But as they exited the train station Rarity was struck mute by the vision of the Manehatten city streets that stretched gloriously before them now. The yellow taxi carriages. The giant billboards. The tall shiny buildings that stretched up towards the clouds. Rarity could sense the magic of the city and the trendy ponies who lived there.

“Oh Manehatten!” Rarity exclaimed, dropping her suitcase. “What you do to me!”

Next thing Spike knew she was off down the street, singing and twirling around lampposts.

Spike chuckled at her behaviour. “Well,” he said, picking up her small suitcase. “At least I only have to carry once piece of luggage this time.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually here!” Rarity exclaimed, jumping on the bed.

“I can’t believe they let two foals rent a room,” Spike said, sitting on the second bed. “And pay with gemstones.”

They were alone in the room now so Spike let the Scootaloo image fall apart. He rubbed his arm around where the band of changeling hide was worn.

Rarity calmed down and stopped bouncing. “Feeling alright?”

“Mmm,” Spike nodded. “Just not really used to it yet. Feels weird.”

“You know what feels great?” Rarity said. Then she flopped over on her bed and rolled around. “Everything! Spike, do you realise we are actually staying in a Manehatten hotel? There are hotel beds. Hotel towels. Those fluffy white hotel bathrobes.” Rarity sprang into the bathroom and came back wearing one, just because she could, even though it was too large. “Hotel soaps and shampoo! I’m going to have a bath tonight and it’s going to be just divine. And nopony can tell me to get out of the tub! I’ll set my own bed time and everything!” She giggled openly. “Let’s order room service.”

“Okay, I know that sounds good,” Spike began. He paused and thought about it. “Okay, that sounds really good. But duty first.”

Rarity gave a gentle sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Let me get dressed and we’ll go and visit this Applejack.” Rarity took off the bathrobe and went to return it to its hook on the wall. “Spike. Forgive me if this is a silly question, buy have you tried sending her a letter?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. I tried that, sorta. After I couldn’t reach, um, adult-Twilight, I tried sending a letter to the other Twilight.”

“And?”

“It didn’t work,” Spike said. “I realised I don’t know very much about who Twilight is right now. I mean, I technically knew her at this age, but I was only a baby myself. I don’t remember much. And a pony can change so much between being a foal and being a mare—it’s like they become a completely different pony. So sending a letter to Applejack… I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t work. I just don't know her.”

“Is that not what went wrong with Celestia then?” Rarity asked, opening her suitcase.

Spike shook his head and seemed to pale at the memory. “No. That was… something else. Something bad. And I’m pretty sure that letter was on-target when I sent it. Celestia’s at least a thousand years old. She’s not going to change drastically in just a dozen years or so.”

“Wow,” Rarity said. “I wonder what it’s like to live for so long.” Her eyes unfocused and she started to drift. “I wonder what it’s like to be a princess and live in Canterlot. Ooo, do you think she has her own fluffy bathrobe that she can wear whenever she wants?”

“Oh yeah,” Spike assured her. “She’s got several.”

“Incredible…” Rarity whispered, still staring off into her daydream.

Before they reached the children’s hospital Rarity had to recharge the armband once more because they had taken so many detours. They had gotten lunch, of course, but Rarity had insisted on choosing the perfect café. Then Rarity went and bought a new outfit. She had seen the adorable blue dress in a shop window and couldn’t bear to part with it.

“Besides,” she said, taking out a gemstone to pay. “I must have something from Manehatten to remember this trip.”

“I was kinda hoping we’d be getting an Applejack out of this trip,” Spike said.

Then while Rarity was putting on the dress Spike noticed a young colt out shopping with his parents. Spike’s eyes widened. It was almost too-perfect. Spike ducked into a change room himself and changed from his Caramel-disguise into the form copied from the new colt.

Purple mane with green eyes and coat. Spike grinned at himself in the mirror, so impressed he had managed to find a pony whose colouring resembled his own. Even if the mane and coat colouring were the wrong way around. It was so close it was scary. Spike grinned at himself.

“Spike?” Rarity called.

Spike stepped out of the change room and walked up to meet her. “Hello pretty filly,” he said, trying on a deeper voice. “I like your new dress.”

“Oh, why thankyou,” Rarity said.

“Could I take you for coffee later?” Spike went on.

“Uhh… How interesting,” Rarity deflected. “Actually I was looking for my friend, Spike. Have you seen him?”

“I don’t know,” Spike said. “What does he look like?”

Rarity opened her mouth to answer. Then she stumbled. “Ahh… I’m trying to remember. He’s so freeform with his appearance lately. Er. All perfectly normal, of course. He’s, uh, a pony, to be sure.”

Spike couldn’t help it. A cheeky snicker escaped him despite his efforts. “Rarity. It’s me. How do I look?” he whispered though the laughter.

“Oh you,” Rarity glared. “You little goblin. Don’t do that again.”

“What?” Spike said, following her out of the shop. “Rarity, wait up. I’m sorry. It was rude. I’m not like that.”

Rarity blushed. “It’s not about that, Spike.”

“Oh.” Spike looked away. “Then what?”

“Well how am I supposed to know it’s you?” Rarity said. “What if you make a habit of this? What if I think I’m talking to you but I’m actually talking to somepony else. I could get us into trouble. Correction—you could get us into trouble.”

“Sorry, Rarity. It was just a bit of fun.”

Rarity turned up her nose and kept walking.

“Alright,” Spike said. “Tell you what, I’ll just use this disguise. Nothing else, from now on. Okay?”

Rarity glanced back at him. “Well… I suppose if I get a new outfit, it’s only fair that you do as well. And you do look rather handsome.”

“Thanks,” Spike said. “I think…” He shook his head and absently itched at his armband. “Right. Now let’s get to the children’s hospital before—”

“Sorry. Visiting hours are over,” said the nurse at the front desk.

“What?” Spike said. “But we came all this way.”

“Well you’ll just have to come back tomorrow,” the nurse said.

Rarity cleared her throat.

“Are you still here?” he asked, peering over the desk.

Rarity put on her best cutie-pie face and asked again. “Are you sure we can’t have just a moment to visit our poor sick friend?”

The nurse glared at her. “Yes. Now scram.”

Rarity and Spike walked sadly out of the building and went to sit on the bench outside.

“How rude,” Rarity said, cradling her face between her front hooves. “You’d think ponies who work in children’s hospitals would be a little nicer.”

“That’s Manehatten for you,” Spike said with a shrug.

“Oh. I’m sorry I waisted so much time,” Rarity confessed. “Now we’ll have to come back tomorrow. And I shall feel glum about it all evening. What a mess.”

Spike straightened up and gave the hospital a firm stare. “No,” he said.

“No?” Rarity repeated.

Spike smirked. “If there’s one thing I learned from Twilight it’s how to be persistent. That and how to sneak into buildings you’re not supposed to.”

Rarity edged nervously away from him on the bench. “You had a weird upbringing, Spike…”

Spike got up and looked around the empty parking lot. “Rarity. I know I said I wouldn’t change my disguise again, but if you’ll let me, I think I have a plan…”

The nurse sipped coffee as his organised the files on his desk. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. This was one of those long days, but thankfully it would be over soon. He just had to get through this next half hour and he could—

Suddenly the front doors slide open again and an orange pegasus filly came bolting into the entrance way. “Hey, look at me! I’m Scootaloo!” the filly said. “Look at Scootaloo dance!”

“What’s wrong with you?” The nurse grumbled, getting up. “Where are your parents?”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Spike said. “Catch me if you can!”

And with that, Spike took off into the hospital at full four-legged speed.

“Hey!” The nurse called. He pressed a button for security and then took off to try and catch the crazy pegasus.

As soon as the coast was clear, Rarity came in through the open doors and climbed up onto the desk. “Let’s see. Applejack… Applejack… Ah! Applejack. Level 3.” Rarity climbed down and went straight for the elevator.

Moments after the doors closed the nurse came back, followed by a big buff security pony holding the Scootaloo-Spike up by his tail.

“And don’t come back,” the nurse growled as Spike was ejected through the front entrance.

The security pony stuck out her tongue afterwards. “Yuck. Feels funny. I don’t think that pony washes her tail very well.”

“I’m not giving you a cooties shot,” the nurse said, settling back down at his desk.

Outside, Spike picked himself up and dusted off. Then he ran around the side of the building where he had seen the large drainpipe. With his dragon claws he easily scurried up the pipe until he found a window he could open. (It also helped that Twilight had made him climb so many bookshelves in his life.)

Spike found himself on level 4. He changed back to his green-and-purple disguise, found a piece of paper and a crayon, and sent Rarity a letter for his location. A few minutes later she met up with him in the arts-and-crafts area.

“Nicely done,” Rarity remarked. “Hanging out with you is going to be like a Shadow Spade adventure all on its own.”

“Did you find out where Applejack is?” Spike asked.

“It’s a room on level three,” Rarity said. “This way.”

“Wait,” Spike said.

Rarity turned back to face him. “Wait? Dear, don’t you think we’ve waited enough?”

Spike sat down at the foal-height table with paper and crayons. “She’ll still be there. I just wanted to bring her something.”

Rarity looked at the craft supplies, especially the glitter, and went to join him at the table. “Yeah… I think she’d like that.”

Rarity was the one who eventually worked up the courage to knock on the door.

“Please come in,” said a strange voice. A filly, yes, but the accent was not as expected.

Rarity pushed open the door and she and Spike stood there grinning nervously.

The little orange filly who occupied the nearest bed was indeed Applejack. Her blonde mane was out around her shoulders and she was dressed in hospital pyjamas. There were no bandages, no bruises, no broken bones.

The room had no other patients, and was clean and comfortable, if a little gloomy. The curtain was drawn over the only window, casting everything in a warm yellow glow.

“And who might you be?” AJ asked in a sophisticated voice.

“You may not remember me from school,” Rarity began.

“Oh, Ah remember you,” AJ said, her accent slipping for an instant. She cleared her throat. “You must be that Rarity girl. You were always so popular, but I don’t ever remember you taking an interest in me before.”

“Ah-ha. Oh. No? Well… I came to visit you,” Rarity said, stepping into the room. “And I made you this.”

She pushed the little Get Well Soon card onto the bed and smiled. It had a picture of a green apple and was otherwise covered in purple glitter.

AJ glanced at the card without picking it up. Then she leaned forward to get a better look at her second guest—the green and purple colt. “And you are?”

Spike stepped up to the bedside. “I’m… Spike. You don’t know me yet.”

Spike put his card on the bed, too. It was a drawing of three red apples and the hat that he always remembered Applejack wearing. But she wasn’t wearing it now. Or maybe just wasn’t wearing it yet.

AJ stared at the second card and made a puzzled face. She seemed unable to look away from those three red apples, yet unable to comprehend their significance. Her mouth twitched and tears began to form in her eyes.

“Is everything alright, dear?” Rarity prompted.

AJ looked up again. Her gaze drifted past them to the open doorway and her pupils slowly contracted. She scrunched her face and looked away. “Kindly close the door please.”

“The door?” Rarity repeated.

“Jus’ close the door!” AJ snapped in her farm accent.

Rarity hurriedly went and shut the door. “There. Better?”

AJ breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Yes. Thanks.”

“Applejack,” Spike said, leaning his head on the bed much like a pouty dog would. “We heard you were here and we had to come check on you. Are you alright? What happened?”

Applejack shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Rarity said, approaching the bed once more. “I don’t think you appreciate the trouble we went through to get in here. The least you can do is let us know that you’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” AJ said. “Satisfied?”

“Applejack, why are you being difficult?” Rarity said.

“Why? Because I don’t really know you, Rar-it-ee.” AJ glared. “I didn’t even get a kind word from you after my parents—After what happened there. No. You just pitied me from a safe distance. You know Ah’ve half a mind to blame you for mah being in this here mess all in the first place.” AJ folded her forelegs in a grump.

“My fault?” Rarity said. “How is that fair?”

“Of course you wouldn’t know…” AJ sneered. “You were always the prettiest filly at school. You were always so sophisticated. Everypony wanted to get close to you. You were the life we never dreamed of. Something fancy and shiny, away from all that boring Ponyville humdrum.”

“Fancy and sophisticated? Do you think so?” Rarity said.

“Oh yeah,” AJ said. “Heck, Ah wanted to be just like you. But Ah don’t even think you noticed. No matter what Ah did with mah hair or mah clothes you always just labelled me a farm pony and left me well alone.”

Rarity put a hoof to her chest, taken quite aback. “Applejack. No. Did I really? I didn’t mean to. I… I’m sure I was just… distracted.”

“Uh-huh,” AJ said. “But none of that really matters now. Ah thought to myself—Hey. Ah’ll move to Manehatten with mah Aunt and Uncle Orange. They know how to live a sophisticated life.” She stopped to correct her accent again. “I didn’t want to live on a muddy old apple farm. I wanted to be like them.” AJ glared. “Like you.” She looked down at the bed sheets. “And now… Now I’m like this.”

Rarity was busy holding back some emotional outburst; Spike could tell. So he made the first move to ask.

“Applejack… what exactly happened to you? I mean… You look fine to me.”

AJ slumped back against her pillow. “I know. Bruises heal. But some things don’t.” AJ closed her eyes. “I was up in my room at the Orange house. I was feeling lonely and isolated. Homesick, now, I think it was. But I didn’t know that at the time. I was just stepping up to the window when the blast hit.” She opened her eyes. “The Event. The light was so bright and so big, it cut through the smog and took over the sky.”

AJ shivered and slouched down the bed a little further. “It scared me. I’m not ashamed to say it. I didn’t know what was happening. Normally I run to—Well, to Granny these days. But she wasn’t there. So I hid under the bed. And that’s when…” AJ sat up. “That’s when the shockwave hit. It wasn’t even strong enough to brake the window, but—Well I heard them say it was nextdoor’s water heater that caused everything. I guess it wasn’t exactly in the best condition, held together by magic and duct tape, and something must have gotten knocked loose in the blast.”

AJ was slipping back into her farm accent as she recalled the moment with eyes unfocused. “Something exploded on the other side of the wall, and bits of wall and ceiling just came crashing down on the bed. Ah was trapped under there for a couple hours before them rescue ponies could get me out. Ah know doctors tell me Ah shoulda got close-a-phobia, er somethin’, because that makes sense t’ them. But that don’ make no sense t’ me. Because the whole time Ah was stuck there Ah was thinking Ah was gonna die. An’ that was scary. But then Ah just closed mah eyes and imagined that the small dark space pressing in on me was just my parents, hugging me close between them, like they used to do when Ah would climb inta their bed in the mornings.”

AJ wrapped her forelegs around herself and closed her eyes. “And that feeling was the only thing that helped me keep it together. Ah don’t think Ah woulda made it otherwise. But now…” She opened her eyes again. “Every time Ah look at a window, or a door, or if Ah even see the sky, Ah jus—” She shook her head. “Ah just can’t do it. It just scares me so much, Ah… Ah need to stay here right now. Somewhere small and safe were Ah don’t gotta go outside.”

Rarity put a gentle hoof on the bed. “Applejack, dear… I can’t imagine.”

“No you can’t,” AJ said, swatting the hoof away. “So it’s best you stop tryin’a sympathise with mah situation and just get on outta here.”

“No way,” Spike assured her. “We’re here to help you realise your destiny. Applejack you don’t belong in Manehatten. You belong home, with your family.”

“Home?” AJ snapped. “You think Ah don’t know what Ah feel? But tell me how am Ah supposed to go home like this? Ah can’t even leave my hospital room!”

There was a lull.

“What if…” Spike began, “we put you in a box and took you home that way. Then you wouldn’t have to be outside.”

AJ narrowed her green eyes at him. “Ah don’t know if you’ve noticed by most of the apple farm is, gee, outside.”

“Wellllll you could stay inside,” Spike said. “Read a book or something.”

“Oo, yes,” Rarity said. “You could build a pillow fort. Then you’d be nice and cozy and safe at home.”

“And put the burden of my care onto Granny and Big Mac? No thankya,” AJ said, folding her forelegs again. “Better if Ah jus’ stay here and let my Aunt and Uncle Orange take care of me. ‘Sides, Ah—” Applejack cleared her throat and corrected her accent. “I’m a sophisticated pony now.”

Spike and Rarity exchanged glances.

“There must be something we can do to help,” Rarity said.

“I don’t think so,” AJ said with clipped words. “Now please go. It’s long past visiting hours and I don’t even know who you are.”

Spike nudged the crayon-covered cards closer. “We’ll come back and visit you again tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother,” AJ said.

“Applejack, you need your friends right now,” Spike said.

“Mah friends?”

Applejack reached down for something on the other side of her bed and brought up a cardboard box full of cards and letters and sweets and cupcakes and fluffy stuffed animals.

“Oh,” Rarity said, a little surprised.

“Did y’all think Ah was unloved er somethin’?” AJ accused. “Ah don’t need yer charity. Ah got my own friends and family to look out for me. Ah’ll have you know Ah am making great friends with some of the other filly and colts here and even the nurses. Ah don’t need some hoity-toity miss popular and her nosy no-business friend coming t’ mope around my room like vultures. Ah’m doing jus’ fine, thank ya very much. Y’all ain’t mah friends—how dare you! Now scram and don’t come back!”

Spike began to tremble.

“Come on,” Rarity whispered, nudging him away from the bed.

AJ turned away. “Remember to close the door.”

They certainly did.

Spike and Rarity looked like droopy flowers as they walked back to their hotel.

“I don’t think that went well at all,” Rarity said. “I suspect she rather resents us.”

“She’ll come around,” Spike said. “She’s got to. She already knows she wants to go home.”

“But darling, she’s too smart for her own good,” Rarity said. “If she were a silly little dragon like you then she wouldn’t give up, no matter what.” She sighed. “But instead she’s depressingly correct about everything. And we just made her feel terrible, when she must be trying so hard to stay positive. I think it would be better if we just left her alone.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, I mean it,” Rarity said. “We just walked in there like we knew her and knew her situation, but really we don’t know anything. I never bothered to talk to her at school. And you said yourself that she’s a completely different pony than the Applejack she’ll grow up to be. We acted like we had all the answers—just move back home, it’s your destiny.” Rarity drooped a little lower. “But instead we rather insulted her. We pitied her. We showed her we can come all the way out to Manehatten to visit her, but she can’t even open the curtains and look outside.”

Spike’s pony ears fell flat. “C-come on, Rarity. There’s got to be something we can do.”

“If you say so.” Rarity continued walking, reaching the steps of the hotel.

Spike caught up with her as they entered the building. “Well maybe I can’t think of a way to help AJ, but I can certainly think of a way to cheer you up.”

“Oh?” Rarity said.

“Yes,” said Spike. He grabbed a menu off the front desk and grinned. “Let’s order room service.”

A few hours later Spike and Rarity were both dressed in over-sized fluffy hotel robes, lying stretched out on Spike’s bed which was covered with finished dishes, and watching a show about lawyers on the hotel TV.

“This has been a really great day, Spike. All things considered.”

“Well, you paid for it,” Spike said, now back in his dragon form.

“But you helped me find the gems.”

“Your destiny helped you find the gems. I just carried them home.”

“Well you gave me a reason to come to Manehatten in the first place,” she finished. “Accept it. You’re responsible.”

“Fine. I accept,” Spike agreed.

“Sweet Celestia, you roll over easy. Are you a dragon or are you a mouse?”

“I’m a dragon,” Spike said. “And this is my treasure hoard!” He waved his arms at the dirty plates and pizza boxes.

Rarity laughed until she accidentally dropped her pizza slice on her tummy. “Oh dear. Oh. Well, that settles it. I’m going for a bath. Let me know how the rest of the show turns out,” she said, getting up.

“Pssh.” Spike rolled his eyes. “The pony who looks guilty will actually be innocent, and the real guilty one will turn out to be the grieving best friend, or something.”

“Spike. Did you use your future knowledge on the TV?” Rarity scolded.

“Nope,” Spike said. “Sometimes these things are just predictable.”

While Rarity was lapsing into a new state of relaxation in the hotel bath, Spike went to the window and sat down with a hotel pen and notepad.

Applejack, he wrote. This is Spike from earlier today writing to apologise. We didn’t mean to imply that you were alone, and we certainly didn’t want to make you feel upset.

But we did.

And you were right to tell us off. You gave us the truth.

And so I’m going to tell you the truth now, Applejack. The truth is…

Spike hesitated, tapping his pen against the page.

The truth is I don’t know what to do. I was always able to go to others for advice and now suddenly I have to make decisions for myself. And that’s terrifying.

So if you think you know what’s best for you then I support your decision.

You’re stuck and you’re not where you’re supposed to be. Not where you want to be. But that doesn’t mean you still can’t be who you are. And who you are is the most stubborn, competitive and overly defensive pony I’ve ever met.

But you are also the most supportive, unshakable, and honest pony I’ve ever met. And if there’s anypony who can get through a situation like this it’s going to be you, Applejack.

But just like you blame Rarity for never noticing you, did you stop to think maybe you never noticed me? I’m not talking about at school, because I wasn’t there. I’m talking about this afternoon. Because I was there, but I felt like all you saw was Rarity. Maybe you blame Rarity for not being the pony you were hoping she would be for you. But that’s not fair.

It’s wrong to think you know who somepony is and then be upset when they turn out to be somepony else. Because all she’s done is be herself. It’s not her fault if you wanted her to be something she never even knew you wanted from her.

Spike sighed.

I know I learned that lesson today. That’s why I’m going to give you your space.

But I wanted you to know, AJ, that I understand.

I know what it feels like to be trapped somewhere, unable to go home, and missing your family. You might find this strange but I envy you. At least you can still talk to your family. At least you know that they’re doing alright. I—

Spike wiped at his face before continuing.

I’m still trying to put the pieces of my life back together, after the blast, and there are still many ponies who I don’t know where they are or if they’re doing alright. One pony in particular… who has been like a sister, a teacher, even something of a mother to me. But I can’t keep hoping she’s going to come back and save me. Because she’s gone. And now it’s just me.

Now you may not think much of Rarity but I can tell you that she has been there for me this whole time. She’s done everything to make me feel at home and she’s helping me to find those ponies I need to find. I’m sorry that Rarity didn’t notice you at school. And I’m sorry that you’re stuck in hospital now. But I’ve learned that you have to reach out in anyway you can and try everything in your power to put the world back together again, the way you need it to be.

And maybe some things are gone forever.

And that hurts more than you can stand.

But you make new friends and you keep on being yourself.

No matter what.

So take care of yourself, AJ. I couldn’t think of a better pony for the job.

Love, Spike.

He rolled up the paper, opened the window and with a puff of green flame he sent the letter spiralling up into the night sky.

“Goodnight, Applejack,” Spike said. “Stay strong.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 10

Twilight passed her entrance exam.

Because of course she did.

Twilight now went to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

Because of course she did.

And every day when Twilight got home she would use what she had learned to try and hatch the dragon egg hidden in her toy box. And nothing ever happened.

Because of course it didn’t. Of course.

“Egg did not respond to student,” Twilight muttered to herself, turning the pages of her text book. “Egg did not respond to student…”

“You seem pretty distracted,” said the filly next to her. “No wonder you only got 97% on that quiz yesterday. You should pay more attention.”

Twilight closed the book. “Thanks, Moon Dancer. Pay attention? If only I had known it was that simple.”

Moon Dancer was the other smartest pony in the class. Twilight was sure they could have been great friends, or even fierce rivals, but Twilight didn’t seem to have the energy for that sort of thing… or school in general. Funny how something that once meant so much to you could suddenly just seem so… distracting.

“I’m sensing extreme sarcasm,” Moon Dancer said. “My instincts tell me to just leave you alone, but… You’ve been trying to read that book upside-down this entire time.”

Twilight looked down at the textbook and blushed. She rotated it around and cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. I was… looking at the diagrams to see if they presented any new information from… a different angle.”

Moon Dancer did not seem amused. “This is science class. Not art class. Scientific diagrams are not subjective.”

Twilight groaned and slumped on the desk. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand what I’m going through. You already have your cutiemark and everything.”

“Yes,” Moon Dancer said. “So? I would have thought an educated pony such as yourself would understand the simple nature of cutiemarks; that they arrive in their own time and that nothing we do can prematurely force them into being, so there’s no point in being upset.”

Twilight huffed. “Well of course I understand that. And I’m not upset.”

“Simple application of the behavioural sciences tells me otherwise,” Moon Dancer said with scepticism. “You have been… sulky.”

“I’m not sulky,” Twilight said. “Why would I be sulky? I have everything I ever wanted and my future success is guaranteed. I have access to all the best books and curriculum and foal-grade lab equipment. Why would I be sulky?”

“I don’t know,” Moon Dancer said. “Perhaps we should collect data and perform an analysis. When was the last time you felt happy?”

Twilight thought about it. The answer was probably when she had bested the sphinx outside the dragon egg hatchery. Of course she couldn’t tell Moon Dancer that, so she went with the first instance prior to that.

“Probably… When I was first told I would be taking the exam to enter this school.”

“Why?”

Twilight shrugged. “Because it’s the thing I wanted the most.”

“And now you have it,” Moon Dancer said.

“Yes.”

“But you’re sulky?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” Moon Dancer shut her textbook. “I am forced to conclude that you are insane.”

“Noooo…” Twilight moaned softly into the desk.

They both looked at each other and smiled.

“Maybe this isn’t what you really wanted,” Moon Dancer continued. “That’s why you’re sulky.”

“But what else is there?” Twilight asked. “I worked so hard to get here. It made my parents very happy. I’m already doing so well.”

“I guess you were right,” Moon Dancer said. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand either…” Twilight said.

It didn’t matter if Twilight was ‘sulky’. Ponies would ask her how her day was and she would say 'good.' She’d regale her parents with enough scientific jargon that they’d get confused and agree that she’d had a busy and productive day. Then Twilight would take the stack of books she’d checked out of the school library and go up to her room to perform more studies on the dragon egg.

Twilight worried that Cadence and / or Shining Armor knew about the egg. They must do. A thing like a dragon egg couldn’t rightly sit in a house all day without some pony knowing it was there. Did Cadence know? Twilight could never accurately say…

It was a problem for another time. This evening was Twilight’s time alone with her books and her dragon egg. Her chance, once more, to do… something.

“Moon Dancer was right,” Twilight said, unpacking books onto her bed. “I need to collect more data.”

She had brought home Warhock’s book; The Living Spell. In it Warhock proposed a method for reading the magic of spellwork laid down by others, without (if correctly performed) damaging or polluting the magic in question. A way to see and to feel magic, and thereby to read magic and further understand it.

Warhock warned, however, that by performing the spell you would be filtering the threads of spellwork through your own mind and perceptions, which was likely to cause… ‘consciousness-expanding and possibly dreamlike experiences and reactions.’

So Twilight tested it first on an old music box.

She set the box down on her desk and cast a simple locking spell. The box would no longer open until provided with the correct magical sequence, which only Twilight knew. True, the spell was weak and could easily be taken apart by any magically skilled intruder. But for the purposes of this experiment Twilight would posit the question—What if somepony wanted to get the passcode without damaging or destroying the locking spell?

The answer was that they’d need to hack the spell.

That’s all Warhock’s flowery theories were, anyway. Spell hacking. But the passive nature of his work had allowed the book to escape further scrutiny and so it was freely available in—not common libraries—but certainly the kinds of libraries that Twilight had access to now.

She checked and re-checked the spell before shutting the book and focusing on her music box. Her horn began to glow and she closer her eyes to concentrate. It took almost fifteen minutes to correctly assemble the spell. It kept slipping away or falling apart, and even after Twilight had managed to assemble it she still felt the urge to deconstruct it and then build it back up from scratch. It was pretty advanced.

After coalescing and dismantling Warhock’s spell a few times she had to admit to herself she was just stalling at this point.

“It’ll be fine. I can handle it,” Twilight said to the thought of having wild magic coursing though her unprotected little mind. “Okay. Here goes…”

She brought the spell together again and cast it at her music box. The locking spell she had put in place not long ago was easily detected. It jumped out at her like a strong smell. At first she flinched away, then came back for a second pass. She focused on the lock-spell and opened her mind to it.

What she had first perceived as a smooth and stable little spell now drastically unravelled before her perception. It came apart not like a blooming flower but more like a frayed rope. There were threads and tangles spiralling off in all directions. As she pulled it apart she was struck by curious sensations—rough, excessive, sharp, dry, confusing, meaningless, hard to chew—the spell became an almost physical presence and yet she knew it was only an idea passing through.

Inside the spell she found the magical sequence for unlocking the box and recognised it correctly as the one she had put in place. At that point she extracted herself from the tangle of rough threads and shut down the spell. Her horn-light went out and her eyes snapped open to the darkness of her bedroom once again.

Twilight sat panting on her desk stool.

“Oh wow…” she whispered to herself.

Using Warhock’s spell to hack the magic of her own spellwork had been… intense. But more than that it had shown her just how fragile and amateur her spell had been. To her ordinary grounded perceptions she had thought the spell to be neatly and cleanly composed. Having delved into the thing itself she had seen every mistake, ever hesitation. It was like a line of ink and she had seen exactly where the pen had spluttered or the writer had paused too long and caused bleeding.

How could Twilight go on like this, knowing that under the surface her magic was such a horrifying mess?

She quickly undid the locking spell and reworked it again, paying extra super special careful attention to every minute detail of every stage of its composition. It took her almost half an hour before she was satisfied.

Then she brought Warhock’s spell to bear upon the thing and wailed in despair at the results. Now her locking spell felt chunky and truncated—artificial. Like cube after cube lined up against each other but held together by the flimsiest piece of string that ran through them. Twilight saw how the whole thing threatened to collapse if pressured in the correct way. It was most inelegant.

She pulled back, took the locking spell apart and tried again. Almost an hour’s work and now her spell felt like an unyielding lump of overcooked bread. There was no life to it, no flexibility, no rhythm. More over it was… ugly.

Twilight broke the spell apart and went to curl up on her bed where she rocked herself and whimpered.

“I’m the worst,” she said. “I didn’t know I was so bad. It’s disgusting.”

Twilight rocked back and forth in a shivering fit. She could feel an empty place inside her, growing larger and larger as the foundations of her world began to crumble away into the darkness. What was left if she could not do magic?

“Who am I?” Twilight asked the empty room. “Who am I now?”

She scrunched her face and grit her teeth.

“I am Twilight Sparkle,” she told herself. “And I… am a master researcher. When there’s something I don’t know I ask a book. So help me now if I abandon everything I know without even reading up on it first.”

So she unfurled from her panic and dragged Warhock’s book back over to the bed. Nervously she lit her horn for some light to read by, and tried not to think about the obviously ghastly state of the magic that now hovered above her head.

“…do not advise novices to examine their own spellwork, for it may appear grotesque and unpleasant due to its unrefined nature. Rather, practice instead reading the pre-enchanted wands at the back of the book.”

Twilight scolded herself for not reading ahead.

She flipped to the back on the book and found three thin wooden rods attached to the book by lengths of ribbon. A red stick, a blue stick and a green stick, each labelled with a question mark.

In theory then these were clean and well-crafted spells put here for the purpose of being easy-on-the-eyes, or mind as it was in this case. Twilight hesitated only a moment before curiosity overrode fear and she tried Warhock’s spell on the red wand.

Twilight blinked tears from her eyes when she touched upon the spell. It was so beautiful… It drifted smoothly through her perceptions like a cool drink of chocolate milk. The components flicked past in perfect order and timing, like music notes in a simple lullaby. So pleasant and effortless the experience had been that Twilight needed to run the spell past a second and then a third time before she could look past the craftsponyship and begin to search for the intent behind it.

It was… similar to a locking spell. There was a magical sequence that would reveal something, but Twilight would not activate it without first understanding what it was. It felt… warm… and cosy. There was a smell like boiling water. Twilight thought she tasted melting ice cream, but did not know what it meant. The sensations danced before her, drawing her in.

She started to get flashes from her own memory mixed up in the precession. Her brother lighting a gloomy hallway for her when she had been younger and afraid of the dark. That time she had read a book on unicorn-powered magical batteries, prompted by her wondering how the streetlights in Canterlot worked. A lantern full of fireflies one evening in the palace gardens with Cadence.

“It’s a light spell…” Twilight realised.

She let go of Warhock’s spell and set about casting the magical sequence that she had seen in the code of the red wand’s enchantment. The sequence unlocked something—words began to appear in bright glow along the wand and then the entire stick flared with gentle red luminance. The now visible words said ‘Light Spell’.

Twilight stifled a tired laugh.

She had done it. She had decoded a spell and used it to solve a problem. The happiness welled up inside her and came out as tears. This was what she had been craving. This was what she wanted to do. What school had failed to provide her.

“I am good at magic,” Twilight whispered to herself. “I am. I am. I was meant to do this. I was. I will.”

It would take a lot of extra study but Twilight was determined to reach a state of perfect composition, so that her magic could be as beautiful and flawless as the light spell she had just experienced. She could only imagine how this kind of practice would expand her understand of magic and take her abilities to new levels

Twilight sighed in pleasant exhaustion. The light of the wand was so pretty. It sparkled at the edges of her vision and seemed to—

Twilight gave a sudden shiver. No, that wasn’t the wand now. Something was strange. Something was different. She looked down to her side where the new sparkling light was coming from.

“Oh my stars…” Twilight whispered, staggering to her hooves on the mattress. “Oh my stars it’s a star! It’s—” Twilight span in a circle. “I got my cutiemark?”

The sparkling glow began to fade.

“No, no, wait! What is it? What does it look like?”

Twilight grabbed up the wand with the light spell and ran to her bedroom mirror.

There it was—her cutiemark—a six pointed star—no, six pointed symbol—a hexagram? Like a diamond and a sideways hourglass. What did it mean? What had she been doing that brought it out?

“Magic?” Twilight said. “Problem solving? Spell hacking? Espionage?”

Twilight paced back and forth in front of the mirror, examining the new mark from each side of her body.

“Magic,” she said, assured. “And never giving up,” she added. “And doing things for myself. Not waiting on teachers and adults and fate to give me what I want. If I want something then it’s up to me to get it for myself. I’ve got to improve myself,” Twilight was muttering. “I’ve got a cutiemark to live up to now and only I can do what is necessary. To do whatever needs to be done.”

Twilight stopped pacing and sat in front of the mirror to look her reflection in the eyes. Such tired eyes—but determined.

“Magic,” she whispered with a grin. “Oh, just wait until I tell—” Twilight froze. “No…” she whispered. “I can’t. I can’t tell them about this. They’ll want to know how I got it—what it means. No… They’re going to find me out. They’re going to try and stop me. If I show them this they’ll just try and take it away from me, like everything else—the test, the egg, my respect—I won’t let them!”

Twilight threw the luminous stick up into the air where it hovered above her head. She dug in her wardrobe and came out with a plain dress she hardly wore.

“I have to hide it,” Twilight whispered, struggling with the dress. “I can’t let them know about this. I have to make them think they’re still in control.” She squirmed into the garment and returned to her bedroom mirror. “Time,” she muttered. “I still need more time. And then I’ll be ready. Then they’ll see the real me.”

She looked over at her toy box where the dragon egg was sleeping.

“…and I’m going to need all the practice I can get,” Twilight said.

So she brought down the red wand, returned to the book and started all over again.

Pt.1 - Chapter 11

Spike and Rarity had used the extra day in Manehatten to visit some touristy locations and see a few sights. They’d even caught a play put together by somepony named Charity Kindheart—and Spike and recognised little Coco Pommel up on stage, with braided hair and little red slippers on.

“She’s going to be your friend, too,” Spike had whispered to Rarity.

“Then we must come back soon and visit her,” Rarity had said.

But soon the time had come to board the train back to Ponyville. As the sun set so did their spirits. Spike was dwelling on what had happened with Applejack. Rarity could be too, he thought, or perhaps she was just missing Manehatten already. It was difficult to tell.

Back at home the restraints of childhood fell back into place. Spike snuck up to hide in Rarity’s room again, while Rarity had to eat what was fixed for her and then go to bed at the appointed time, in her regular old pyjamas, and not make any noise that would wake the baby.

“I can see why Zecora lives in the forest,” Rarity said while brushing her mane. “I wonder how many gems it would take to buy my own house?”

“I gotta admit. I don’t really know how gems work,” Spike said.

Rarity set down her hairbrush with a sigh. “And tomorrow it’s back to school. How dull. I don’t think we’ll be able to get away like that again any time soon. Well, you could, if…”

Spike stopped fidgeting with the armband and looked up. “Yeah? What?”

Rarity turned slowly to face him. “Well, it’s just that, I know you’ve got a lot more ponies to find. And now you’ve got the armband, you don’t really need me anymore. I could just give you the gems to pay for train tickets and you could just… go make destiny happen without me.”

“What?” Spike said. “That’s crazy. Where’s this coming from?”

Rarity shrugged. “Well I don’t think I’m really cut out for this sort of thing. I didn’t help one bit with Applejack. Really you spent most of the visit making sure I didn’t get too distracted by all the shop windows.”

“Nuh-uh,” Spike said. “We worked as a team to get into the hospital and find AJ’s room. And you bring such an air of authority I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason we got any service at the hotel, the cafés, even getting on the train. I need you, Rarity.” Spike put a claw on her front hoof. “And more importantly I want you there with me. You’re my friend.”

Rarity shrugged again. “Me? Or the other Rarity. The one you knew in the future, who was so successful and established.”

“You,” Spike said. “Rarity, we’ve both got to stop living in the future. A few weeks ago we met each other for the very first time. I understand that now. I know you’re not the same as the Rarity I remember. You’re you. And I think we’ve become pretty good friend, don’t you think?”

Rarity smiled and nodded. “I do.”

“So you’ll come with me to find the others?”

“I won’t be slowing you down?”

Spike shook his head. “We’ve got plenty of time. Trust me.”

Rarity went to school the next day, so Spike put on his go-to purple and green disguise and went to visit Zecora in the Everfree. After all, he needed to talk to some pony about some confusing new problems he had been thinking over.

“Thanks,” Spike said when he had finished and she handed him the tea. “So what do you think I should do about it?”

“It’s quite a headache, I agree,” Zecora said, taking her own seat. “But what advice do you expect from me?”

Spike was puzzled. “Well I dunno. You always seem to have an answer for things that confuse me.”

“It is not answers I impart. I just direct you to your heart. You make your choice by what is there. I only help you become aware.”

Spike waited. “Ooookay. So what do you see in my heart then?”

Zecora sipped her own tea before answering. “Your heart holds more than it can stand. You’ve grown accustomed to this land. You care for those you’ve met anew. And yet you miss the world you knew. If you succeed in changing time, by recorrecting Starlight’s crime, the world you knew will be set free.” Zecora looked out over the railing of her house. “But all of this… will cease to be.”

“I know. That’s what I’m saying. But what do you think I should do?” Spike asked. “Or what does my heart say, or however you give your advice.”

Zecora narrowed her eyes at his tone. “It seems what you most want to do, is have your cake and eat it too.”

Spike stiffened like a guilty foal. “…is that… doable?”

Zecora directed his attention to a tree branch that was visible from where they sat. In the branch was a large silvery spider’s web.

“If one must be, then one must die,” Zecora said. “The spider or the butterfly. The prettier creature now trapped and doomed, while the hungry spider over looms. Yet who can say which has more right? A choice not stark as day and night. The spider you might find hard to defend, but what if it became your friend?”

“The butterfly is my friend, too,” Spike said. “And—Can we stop this analogy? It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable, yes, because you know there are but two ways this can go. To let the spider run its course would surely cause you much remorse. Or step in and free the butterfly, but if you do—”

“The spider dies,” Spike finished bitterly.

They sat in heavy silence for several minutes more.

“I’ve seen other futures,” Spike said quietly. “They all went badly. Without the Elements of Harmony there was no good in the world. Evil things took over. Ponies suffered. It was… wrong.”

Zecora studied him for a moment longer. “Ahhh. I see. The problem now is clear to me.”

“It is?” Spike said.

“You do not ask which world to choose, or fear what you would risk to loose. You fear instead you might succeed when all the Elements are freed.”

“Wh-what? That’s crazy,” Spike said. “I want the Elements to win.”

Zecora raised an eyebrow at him. “If this world’s future turns to dust, it’s easy to do what you must. But if this world does overcome the darkness and return the sun, then when Twilight comes to repair it… You do not think that you could bear it.”

Spike set his cup aside and clenched his fists on his knees. “…no.”

“So the true question in your heart…” Zecora said. “Do you try? Or let things fall apart?”

Spike nodded guiltily. “It’s worse, isn’t it? Worse than having to choose between two worlds. I hate myself for even considering it, but… What if I just let things go bad? It wouldn’t hurt so much then. I wouldn’t have to… choose. The choice would be clear.”

Zecora reached out and lifted his chin so she could look at him. “The future is an unknown place. Who knows what troubles you may face? But that is then, and now is here. That is all that’s truly clear. And I know you are kind of heart, and have been from the very start. This world needs heroes. You enlisted. Can you now leave us unassisted?”

Spike blinked and looked away. “No,” he said, wiping at his face. “I can’t. I can’t just walk away when I can help. It’s not right.” He sniffed.

“Then let the future take it’s form,” Zecora smiled. “Enjoy the calm before the storm.” She set her drink aside also and walked up to check on Spike’s armband. “Now tell me, how has this performed? And how long can you stay transformed?”

“We’ve got it up to about five hours now,” Spike said. “It lasts longer if I don’t use it. All the same, I guess I should be getting back soon. But it’s been really useful, so… thanks.”

Zecora poked the thing a few times. “You hesitate. What holds you back? Is there some detail that I lack?”

“Um… well, it sorta… it took the shape of a pony that I remember, but a pony that the band definitely hasn’t seen. Is that… normal?”

Zecora lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I did not make the thing myself. I bartered from somepony else.”

“Oh,” Spike said. “Well. It seems fine. I guess. Kinda itches. And some times I have trouble taking it off.”

Zecora eyed it suspiciously. “Remain aware of its demeanour, and let me know if you find keener problems that you can’t pull through. I’m always pleased to welcome you.”

Spike gave her a friendly touch on the shoulder. “You too. I’ll come back soon.” Spike went to the stairs to leave. “And thanks for the advice.”

“At any time, dear friend of mine,” Zecora nodded.

As Spike left the Everfree that evening he encountered two problems.

One – the armband was running low on power. He was more attune to the pulse of its magic now and he could feel its need for more.

Two – it was at least twenty minutes past curfew.

Spike had completely forgotten that Ponyville curfew was still in place. Everywhere else had, according to reports, lifted their curfew several days ago. It had originally been implemented in response to the post-Event fear climate, to try and make ponies feel safer and to deter any mischievous or criminal behaviour. After all, many places still had broken windows at the time. It made sense to have a curfew and to have guards roaming the streets.

But that had all been lifted already. Except in Ponyville. And, though Spike didn’t like to think about it, he was a little suspicious that it had something to do with Zecora. She had confessed to him earlier in their meeting that, while ponies no longer fled screaming at the sight of her, there was still an air of mistrust from many.

Spike had only just reached town when he saw the first watchpony, and he was pretty sure the pony had spotted him, too.

“Who goes there?” the stallion asked.

Spike had dived behind a bush but it was no good.

“Come out here at once or I’m blowing this whistle,” the stallion said.

These were not trained guards. Ponyville had no such thing. These were just ordinary citizens who elected to go out at night with lights and whistles and patrol the streets for… whatever they were patrolling for.

“I’m going to count to three…” the stallion warned. “One… Two…”

“It’s okay!” Spike said, stepping out on all fours. “It’s just me. Caramel.”

The watchpony adjusted the light that hung around his neck, getting a good look at Spike in his Caramel-disguise.

“Oh,” the watchpony said, a little disappointed. “Young colt, what are you doing out here? Don’t you know there’s a curfew in place?”

“Sorry. I, uh… fell asleep under a tree and I lost track of time.”

“Well come on. Let’s get you home,” the stallion said.

“Uhhhh, that’s okay. I know the way.”

“Well I’d better walk you there all the same. There are some suspicious characters out around this side of town sometimes.”

Spike huffed. “What? Like Zecora? Is that who you mean?”

“Young colt, I don’t like your tone. Now it’s past your bed time so you’d best march yourself back home before I decide I need to have a talk with your parents.”

Spike gulped. “Ah-hahhh. Right. Home. Let’s go.” He could feel the armband’s magic waning slowly. “We’d better hurry. It sure is late.”

To his credit, the stallion was a reasonably fast walker, and they reached Caramel’s house in just a few minutes. The trouble was that Spike knew the real Caramel was already safely inside.

“So. This is my house,” Spike said. “I’m gonna… go inside now. So, thanks. You can go back to your, um, patrolling. And stuff.”

The stallion didn’t leave. “I think I’d better have a word with your parents all the same. Let them know you’re back safe.”

Spike managed not to groan out loud. He could feel the armband’s magic slipping away.

“Uh… What’s that!?” Spike pointed with his foreleg.

The stallion turned to look.

Spike picked up a stick in his mouth and threw it hard in the opposite direction where it clattered off down the road.

“No, over there!” Spike said. “I saw a shadow. It went that way.”

“It’s probably that damn zebra,” the stallion grumbled, taking off down the street.

Spike groaned out loud this time. “It wasn’t a Zecora-shaped shadow!” he called after the watchpony. “Ugh. What’s the point?”

Just then the door behind him opened.

Spike turned woodenly around to see who was there.

“What are you doing outside?” said the little filly at the door.

She was coloured exactly like Caramel and even had the same cutiemark.

Ohh… it must be Caramel’s sister. What was her name again?

“Uh…” Spike said. “Toffee. Hi.”

She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

Spike coughed a few times and tried for his best Caramel impression. “Sorry. I think I’m getting a sore throat out here.”

“Well come inside. It sounds like it’s getting worse,” Toffee said. “I’m gonna tell on you for being outside.”

“What?” Spike whispered, coming inside and shutting the door. “Don’t do that.”

Toffee raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s the best you’ve got? Just don’t?”

“Uhhhh…”

Spike quickly looked around for help. He spotted the fridge light in the kitchen where the door was open.

“Don’t tell…” Spike said cautiously. “Or I’ll tell what you were doing in the fridge.”

Toffee rolled her eyes. “Thought you’d lost your touch there for a second. Honestly, it’s no fun being the only smart triplet.”

Spike shrugged guiltily.

Toffee turned back to the kitchen. “Now do you want some tomorrow-cake as well or should I just carry on by myself?”

There was a sudden green flicker and the Caramel image finally fell apart. Spike stood there frozen in the dark. “Uhhh. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Whatever,” Toffee said, sticking her head back in the fridge.

Spike scurried up the stairs as quietly as possible and made straight for the nearest window. It opened easily enough and he managed to climb outside onto the roof just moments before Toffee came back up the stairs behind him.

He heard a door open in the hallway.

“Toffee?” the real Caramel said in a sleepy voice. “What are you—Hey, are those cake crumbs on your face? Give me some or I’m telling.”

“What?” Toffee complained. “Make up your mind, doofus.”

“What are you talking about?” Caramel said.

“Oh sure. Be that way,” Toffee said. “Fine, come on. And be quiet. I don’t want to have to share with both of you dumb colts.”

Spike sighed in relief to hear them going back downstairs. Now all he had to do was climb down from the roof and sneak back to Rarity’s house without waking her parents or getting spotted by the town watch.

“Well, if there’s one thing I learned from Twilight…” he repeated to himself.

Rarity sat up to the sound of tapping on her bedroom window.

“Wh-who’s there?” she whispered to the darkness.

“Rarity. Let me in before somepony sees.”

She gave an unladylike snort and climbed out of bed to open the window.

Spike flopped into the room and lay on the floor. “Ow.”

“Where have you been?” Rarity complained.

“Out,” Spike said. “I couldn’t just sit in your room all day. It was boring.”

“I thought you’d left me and gone adventuring,” Rarity whined. “Honestly, Spike, after everything you said to me. How could you?”

Spike got up and dusted himself off. “I didn’t leave you. I was visiting Zecora and I lost track of time and then the armband ran out of magic and—It doesn’t matter. I’m back.”

Rarity shut the window. “You missed dinner.”

“Maybe I should have taken some cake after all,” Spike mused.

“Pardon?”

“Uh—Hey. I thought of another adventure,” Spike said. “If we wait until the weekend we could catch a train down to the Rock Farm and go visit Pinkie Pie.”

“I still don’t know what a Rock Farm is,” Rarity said. “But I’m in.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love Pinkie,” Spike said. “She’s super fun and full of energy and creativity. You two are always talking about the kinds of parties you’d like to throw. Pinkie mostly talks about the food and you mostly talk about the dresses, but you really get together over the decorations.”

Rarity yawned. “Sounds fun. But I need my beauty sleep. Maybe next time you get caught out late you should just stay at Zecora’s house. What if you’d been seen?”

“Sorry,” Spike said again. He climbed into his basket and nestled down. “Night, Rarity.”

“Hmm. Goodnight, Spike,” she said, climbing back into bed.

After a few moments of silence Rarity spoke again.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“…let’s go tomorrow. Let’s just get on a train and make a day of it.”

Spike sat up. “But you have school tomorrow.”

“I know,” Rarity said. “Isn’t it dreadful? Let’s go find Pinkie instead.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for missing class?”

“Not if they have a note from my parents,” Rarity said.

Spike picked up on the implication. “Me? You want me to fake a note?”

“Come on, Spike. You have very nice penponyship. It’s simply gorgeous.”

“Well,” Spike boasted. “When you’ve got Twilight Sparkle asking you to write important letters and documents all the time, you learn to—Hey! Don’t butter me up like that.”

Rarity winced. “Sorry. It’s a habit.”

“Well don’t do it to me,” Spike said. “Now ask again. Nicely.”

Rarity sighed. “Spike, please, will you write me a note to get me out of simply the most boring class tomorrow so that I can go with you to help save Equestria from impending doom?”

Spike folded his arms. “Okay.”

“Yay. See you in the morning.” Rarity curled up and went back to sleep.

“Hmph,” Spike said, laying down again. “And the funny thing is I can’t even tell which one of us is the bad influence anymore,” he muttered to himself.

Pt.1 - Chapter 12

Pa wasn’t getting better.

Ma had to spend most of each day caring for him. This left Maud in charge of all the work outside. Of course little fillies couldn’t do everything, which meant the bigger jobs were piling up. Cloudy Quartz had tried to swap with Maud at one point – leave Maud in charge of Pa so that Cloudy Quartz could take care of work on the fields – but Pinkie’s new temperament had left her almost unmanageable for her mother. Then Pinkie had run off and gotten lost for an afternoon, and when this kind of thing happened only Maud knew how to find her.

Maud had refused to leave the little ones after that. It was her cutiemark given destiny, after all, to watch over them and keep them safe. Especially Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie wasn’t doing very well either.

Oh sure, during the day she was fine and happy, if a little distracted and erratic. But at night she was prone to nightmare fits and shrieking. Maud had to bring Pinkie into her own bed to comfort her but also to make sure Pinkie didn’t run away.

Pinkie had wandered off in the night a few times already. Sometimes to other parts of the house to just sit and rock. Other times she had gotten far out into the rock fields before Maud had caught up with her.

Pinkie was getting to be a real hoof-ful. On the flipside, however, Limestone had become quite subdued since the incident with Holder’s Boulder. For better or for worse Maud couldn’t yet say. Limestone did not exactly seem unhappy, so much as she just seemed… unmotivated.

“Are you feeling okay?” Maud asked her that morning.

Limestone shrugged.

The sisters were out the front of the house waiting for Ma to come and give them instructions before she would have to return to caring for Pa.

“You seem glum,” Maud said.

Limestone shrugged again.

“Do you miss Holder’s Boulder?”

Limestone shrugged.

“Limestone, I can’t understand you when you’re so inexpressive.”

Limestone stood up and shuffled away.

“Don’t go too far,” Maud said. “Stay where I can see you.”

Limestone sharply kicked a rock and glared back at Maud.

“What does that mean?” Maud asked.

“It means leave me alone!” Limestone snapped. She went back inside and shut the door.

Okay… Sometimes Limestone was definitely unhappy.

“Maud, Maud, Maud,” Pinkie said, running up to her. Her eyes were wide and darting all about.

“What is it?” Maud asked, looking franticly about for Marble.

Marble was just sitting calmly by the door, of course.

“What’s wrong?” Maud asked Pinkie.

“The prophet comes to see us, in his cloak of lies long stolen from a riddled thing.” Pinkie turned to sneer over her shoulder. “He brings the music I cannot hear. She dances for him, so he thinks, but she dances too far from the flame. He comes to take me away, Maud. But I don’t hear the music anymore. Don’t let him take me dancing!”

“Okay, Pinkie,” Maud said, pulling her close. “I won’t let—”

Pinkie gasped. “He’s here.” She hid behind Maud’s legs. “He wants to see me laugh. Laugh to save the world! But I don’t laugh with strangers…”

“What’s she saying?” Marble whispered. “Is something bad going to happen?”

Maud squinted in the direction that Pinkie was cowering from. She could see the train going past in the far, far distance. Then she noticed two small shapes moving steadily towards the farm house.

“You two go inside,” Maud said.

Marble got up and opened the door. “Pinkamina?”

Pinkie didn’t budge. She clung to Maud’s leg and mumbled incoherently.

“Pinkie, go inside,” Maud said.

“Have to see him,” Pinkie whispered. “He won’t leave me in the dark, but I don’t like the fire anymore. The brightness consumes all. I must make him see the dark. The empty into which all things crawl now. Crawling from the star…”

Maud nodded at Marble and Marble went inside and shut the door.

“Come on then, Pinkie.”

Maud walked out to meet the strangers and Pinkie scuttled along behind her, keeping out of sight and stealing glances every other moment.

There was a long and delightfully awkward moment where each party could see the other but both were still too far away for words. Maud studied the approaching pair. A white unicorn filly with styled deep-purple mane and tail, and next to her a green earth pony colt with shorter light-purple mane and tail. Neither had a cutiemark, nor a chaperone. The colt was wearing a watch on one foreleg and the filly was wearing expensive saddlebags. They both looked nervous.

“Hello,” the unicorn said once they’d reached communication distance. “Nice, um, place you have here.”

The colt frowned at his companion. “Rarity…”

“What?” she whispered back.

The four ponies met together and stopped walking.

“I’m Rarity,” the unicorn said. “…hello. Oh, this is Spike.”

“You must be Maud,” Spike said. “I like the longer hair. It looks cool.”

“How do you know me?” Maud asked.

“Uh…” Spike stumbled.

“Oh,” Rarity cut in. “We’re here to see Pinkie Pie.”

Maud blinked at that. “…did you say Pinkie?”

“Uh. Yes,” Rarity answered.

Maud narrowed her eyes. “Her name is Pinkamina. Only I call her Pinkie.”

“Oh…” Rarity said. “Well, um—”

“How do you know Pinkie?” Maud asked, taking a step forward.

Then Spike noticed the little pink filly hiding behind her big sister’s tail.

“Hiya Pinkie,” he said, trying to get a better look at her. “Wow. You’re even fluffier than usual.”

Pinkie hissed and scuttled back from him. “I see you,” she muttered. “Pony, creature, liar. Which are you? Pony, creature, liar… Who, who, who?”

Spike straightened up again. “Um… Haha. I see you’ve still got that weird sense of humour, Pinkie Pie.”

“I don’t laugh for liars!” Pinkie snapped, wrapping Maud’s tail around herself.

“My sister doesn’t want to see you,” Maud said.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rarity asked.

“Nothing,” Maud said. “There’s nothing wrong with Pinkie. She’s…” Maud fixed her gaze on the interlopers. “She doesn’t want to see you. Please leave.”

“But… we kinda need to talk to her,” Spike said.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Maud said.

The door to the farm house creaked in the background.

“Stay inside, Marble,” Maud called over her shoulder. “Oh…”

Cloudy Quartz approached the gathering with the wary expression of one whose lifestyle makes a stranger of the whole world.

“And who might you be who visit our humble farm?” Cloudy Quartz asked.

“I’m Rarity,” the unicorn said. “And this is Spike.”

“Are you here to purchase cobblestones?” Ma asked.

“Uh… no.”

“Flagstones? Ashlar? Stone bricks?”

“…no.”

“Crushed stone? Gravel mix—”

“They’re not here for stones, Ma,” Maud said. “They’re just—”

“Here looking for work!” Spike chimed in.

“Liar,” Pinkie whispered.

Cloudy Quartz deliberated on this for a moment, during which all were silent.

“It is true we could use more hooves,” Cloudy Quartz said. “Though you don’t strike me as sturdy miners nor rock farmers. This terrain is treacherous, and rocks are a stubborn crop.”

“Fascinating,” Rarity said. “Perhaps you would tell us more? Maybe over lunch?”

“Ma, they need to leave,” Maud insisted.

“You may be my eldest, Maud, but I do not recall ever hearing that you were in charge of this farm. Nor in charge of me,” Cloudy Quartz warned. “You mind your manners and your sisters. Take Pinkamina back to the house now, and fetch soup for our guests.”

Maud’s face betrayed no emotion. “Yes, Ma.”

Pinkie disentangled from Maud’s tail and shot off towards the farm house with Maud following stoically behind.

“What lovely girls you have there,” Rarity said.

“We try our best to raise them,” Cloud Quartz said. “If you would follow me we make sit and take lunch.”

Rarity and Spike fell into step behind the antiquated matron as she returned to the farm house. The guests were seated at the table and Maud poured them soup while the three little ones watched curiously from the shadows of the stairway.

“Thankyou, Maud,” Cloudy Quartz said. “Now take thy sisters and attend to the west field today. The stones there are too large for you, but you may find work in the culling of those weeds and brambles that have taken vial root in our fair soil.”

“Yes, Ma,” Maud said. She nodded to her sisters and they all filed out the back door.

Rarity and Spike sipped politely at the strange green soup, wondering if they should say something nice about the huge chunks of rock in their meal, or if maybe it would be better to not mention them at all.

“You say you are looking for work,” Cloudy Quartz spoke at last. “Yet I have four strong girls already. I can think of nothing for you that they cannot already handle. However, I find myself in need of a pony with kind bedside manner who may lift from me the burden of caring for my sick husband, Igneous.”

Rarity and Spike exchanged looks.

“Uh, sure…” Spike said. “I guess we could do that.”

Cloudy Quartz gave him a dismissive look and moved on to Rarity.

“He means of course we can,” Rarity said. “You poor dears. It’s no good when a family member is sick. We must nurse your husband back to health as soon as possible.”

Cloudy Quartz seemed satisfied with this response. “You show promise. We shall see. Come, we will take Igneous his breakfast. I will show you how to care for him.”

Cloudy Quartz went to gather more soup from the pot on the stove.

Rarity shrugged at Spike.

Spike nodded and motioned for her to go. He looked around the house and tapped himself in the chest.

Rarity winked.

“I’ll just wait here then?” Spike asked out loud.

“You may make yourself useful and sweep the floor,” Cloudy Quartz said. “I have no use for a housekeeper, but I do not believe in idle hooves. Wait for our return.”

Gee, Spike thought. Is this really the family that raised a Pinkie Pie?

Spike grabbed the broom and made a show of sweeping until Rarity and Cloudy Quartz were out of sight up the stairs. He heard an upstairs door open and then close. Spike set the broom against the wall and went to look out the kitchen window at where the fillies were pulling weeds.

“Liar,” said a voice.

Spike almost fell off the stool he was standing on. He climbed down and looked around until he spotted the tail of pink fluff under the kitchen table.

“How did—?” Spike started. He shook his head. “Nevermind. I almost forgot who I was dealing with.”

Spike crouched down on the floor and peered into the shadow.

“May I come in?”

Pinkie nodded.

Spike crawled under the table and sat. “Um. Hi. Wow, you really are a lot fluffier than usual. And… a lot weirder than usual, too.” Spike tried to chuckle. “Sorry. You must think I sound weird. Let me explain. I—”

“You seek the aimless ones,” Pinkie said, still frowning at him. “That they may dance to your script. But we are not aimless. We are changed. We do not fit the shapes you see. You walk like a pony but you do not fit the shape I see.”

Spike rubbed absentmindedly at his left arm. “Wh-what do you mean?”

Pinkie’s hoof shot out and jabbed him in the arm.

“Ow!” Spike cried, and there was a momentary flickering of green magic.

“Liar,” Pinkie snarled. “He comes to us with piping flute-song and dancing maiden, all sweets and her star-studded eyes, he lies. She rises like the lightness and they do not see what she eclipses, behind her radiance he lies. She is…”

Here Pinkie leaned closer, as if Spike were an open book and she need only turn the page.

“…the spider…”

Spike shivered.

“Her silver thread adorned with dew drops, she seeks to place herself among the stars. The prophet is blind to his own shadow. He leaves a wake of puzzle shards each time he sheds his skin. He will not trap the laughing one,” Pinkie said. “She who laughs in the darkness, so in the light she cannot see. Do not drag us to the light. I will not bow to your broken harmony!”

“Okay. Calm down,” Spike urged her. “No light. It’s okay.”

“Lair,” Pinkie sneered again, and again she jabbed him in the armband.

Another green flicker. “Stop it!” Spike insisted.

It was clear that Pinkie was not fooled by his disguise but Spike couldn’t fathom how she had known or why she didn’t even seem to care beyond casual disapproval.

“It does not stop,” Pinkie said. “It goes on and on and on. There is no station for this journey. The train tracks were built atop the flattened forest of their beginning. They run from time unknowable to time unthinkable. Don’t look at the shape of the plaything. Don’t get lost where they made their playground. Pain is a—crisscross, crisscross, crisscross—”

“Pinkie, what’s wrong with you?” Spike asked.

“—crisscross, crisscross,” Pinkie went on. “Still he does not understand. Still he is blinded by the light of his own river. I will show him. Show him, show him, show him the dark.”

Pinkie flipped her ears up and down, as if she were listening for something that buzzed around her head. Spike’s eyes landed on the left notched ear and he bit his lip at the sight of it.

“The dark is all around…” Pinkie whispered slowly now. “The light touched everything and bore the fleeing shadows. Flash-boom! And he was there…”

“The… Starburst Event?” Spike said, still fixated on Pinkie’s twitching ears.

“His eyes are filled with memory of light. But the light is born of lies. He swims now with lies and he becomes the lie. Turn away from the light. She is not the answer. Nor she who returns. Seek for the negative—she will draw her shadow back.”

“Who?” Spike said. “What are you saying?”

“When all are turned away,” Pinkie said. “He seeks the one he cannot trust. The doubtful path becomes the only certainty. Only the empty ones can help him end it now. Ponies of gold will not tarnish the flame. He swims against the river and wonders why he cannot find smooth mirrors in the crashing torrents. Struggle too long and he will break upon the rocks. The rocks have their own design. Leave them be as they are stone. Let all true treasures now be stone.”

“But…” Spike said, trying to make sense of it all. “Wait… Stone. Treasures? Are you talking about the Elements of Harmony? But if I abandon the Elements then what about Nightmare Moon? Discord? Sombra? Queen Chr—”

“The moments are already becoming,” Pinkie said. “The Prince of Chaos laughs also. He sees how far the light has spread and where its touch has burned. It burned him, too, and he laughs at the secretive sun, for she is the God of Sand. Counting, counting, counting… Sand does not become her and yet she fears its future drought.” Pinkie let out a little cackle. “Bury the night with the yawning mouth. The shadow-hearts flee before her madness—she is the wrath of dreams unborn. She is the whirlwind returned to the whisperer. Red guilt is our undoing. Sand, sand, sand…

“The Riddled Queen is watching now. The stars screamed aloud at distant space and woke a thousand eyes. Of all the pieces she is free—the Queen of Lies—she does not move along the river. She strikes from the bank between the reeds. The black queen with a thousand spawn! She bends the shape of fate as freely as she bends her own. Beware a frozen heart!”

Pinkie’s ears fell flat and she was left staring wide-eyed at nothingness.

Spike shook his head to clear it. “Pinkie—”

“Why are you here to visit me?” She turned to glare at him.

Spike blinked. “N-now? We’re talking about now?”

“If now is where you are,” Pinkie said. “You could have been elsewhere—could still—but that’s the common last—what a mess. But sooner or later—Pinkie. The answer is always the same from me, so give me the question and we can move again. Move it!” Pinkie demanded, jabbing Spike in the arm once more.

“Ow,” Spike complained as his image flashed green again. “Okay, okay.”

Spike peered out from under the table to check that the coast was still clear. Then he sat back in his place and took down the changeling image of the green and purple colt. He waited for Pinkie’s reaction. She did not give it.

“Okay. I… came here,” Spike began. “Because of an accident. I got stuck here and I’m just trying to make things right again. And I want you to help me. You were supposed to have a destiny. You are the element of laughter and your cutiemark is three balloons because you’re also a professional party pony. The best. Hooves down.”

Pinkie continued to glare. “Nooo… Tell why you are here.”

Spike blinked and tried again. “I came to see you. Bad things are coming. You’re supposed to help stop them. But we messed all that up. Me and… some other ponies. Don’t you want to help put things right again?”

Pinkie’s glare deepened and she grit her teeth as she spoke. “No. Don’t tell me. I already heard it—already know it. Tell the one who doesn’t know. Tell you. Why why? Why here? Why now? Tell it! Tell it now!”

“I don’t know what you want!”

“Tell Pinkie why you're here!”

“Because I didn’t want to go to Canterlot!” Spike shouted at last.

The echo rang its last before he spoke again.

“And…” Spike huffed. “…and because Rarity wanted to.”

Pinkie folded her forelegs across her chest. “He thinks he can choose these things. Which to go, when to be, what to happen all together. He chooses nothing. He follows her, and her, and himself-not-self. He can’t control the other pieces—only his own raft, and only if he is alone. Pinkie understands this already—I learned to swim.”

“…so… Do you want to help or not?” Spike huffed. “You seem to already know who I am. Who you are. What’s at stake. I’m willing to just chalk most of that up to you being, well, Pinkie.” Spike sighed. “But I know you’re different. I have to remember that, I know. And I’ll give you your space if you want me to, but I have to ask you… Will you help us? Will you be an Element of Harmony?”

Pinkie lowered her body closer to the ground, like a stalking cat. “Blinded by the light. Deafened by its shriek. He runs in circles chasing a cautionary tale. Don’t you listen? Don’t you learn?” Pinkie unfurled her tail and adjusted her angle. “Pinkie has already chosen.”

Spike gasped at the sudden revelation of her new cutiemark. The image of many eyes all staring out at the world—staring at Spike—staring through him. He felt his heart sink to the floor while what fragments of mind had been left to his reason now scrabbled frantically with no direction.

“That’s not…” Spike began. “You’re not supposed to…”

The backdoor to the house banged open and Maud started calling. “Pinkie?”

Spike fumbled to get his disguise-image back up. A flash of green light and it was done, but when he looked back he found that Pinkie was gone.

“Pinkie?” Maud called again.

Spike climbed out from under the table and grabbed up the broom.

Maud walked into the kitchen area and eyed him suspiciously.

Then they both heard banging and yelling from upstairs.

“Pinkamina!” Cloudy Quartz was scolding.

“She is the channel of regret! She is the fault in the fissure!” Pinkie was shouting. “She is the vulture of sand! Vulture! Touch not with your siren song!”

“Pinkamina!” Cloudy Quartz said even louder this time.

Maud raced upstairs. Spike just put his head down and kept sweeping, trying to stop from physically shaking. A few seconds later Rarity came back downstairs in a hurry.

“That’s it. We’re leaving,” she said. “Spike.”

It took him a moment to remember how to release the broom from his forelegs.

“Spike!” Rarity called again.

“C-coming,” Spike muttered, shuffling out to meet her at the front door.

“I must apologise,” Cloudy Quartz was saying as she came down the stairs.

“No need,” Rarity huffed. “Clearly you get on better by yourselves. Goodbye.”

She practically dragged Spike out the front door. He smelled soup and noticed that Rarity’s hooves were splashed with it.

The front door swung shut and left a heavy silence in its wake.

Cloudy Quartz returned upstairs with a cloth and began to mop up the spilled soup.

“Ma,” Maud began, sheltering her pink sister behind her tail again.

“Not now,” Cloudy Quartz said. “Go outside and try to have something productive done before dinner. Go.”

Maud turned to Pinkie and nudged her back down the stairs.

“They won’t come back,” Pinkie whispered. “I’m safe now. I made him see the dark. I left cracks in her façade.”

“You made a mess,” Maud whispered back. “And you were rude to our visitors.”

“Spreading, spilling, soaking through…” Pinkie was muttering now.

“Don’t leave my sight again,” Maud warned, ushering Pinkie out the back door.

Pinkie walked a few steps before she gradually collapsed down on her front in the dirt and clutched at her fluffy pink head. “Owie… Owie…” she moaned.

“What?” Maud asked, lowering her head to Pinkie’s level. “Where does it hurt?”

“What is that thing?” Pinkie gasped, staring at nothing. “Owie… Owie, owie, owww. No… I only made it stronger. Canterlot wasn’t the answer at all. The power to choose is the power to choose wrong. The Neverwas runs to the spiral’s playroom—the limitless radiance becomes the thread, the web, the connection to false answers—the hungry centre deceives us all! I betrayed myself and brought it conflict to consume. I didn’t see! I didn’t see how it was laughing at me.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 13

The sun was just starting to set when Spike and Rarity disembarked at the Ponyville train station. Once again they walked home with the unpleasant weight of failure in their hearts.

“What was her problem?” Rarity muttered. “She very near attacked me! No manners. And I was getting along with Mrs. Pie so well, too.”

Spike didn’t say anything. He just carried on walking, his head hanging low.

“Spike, dear, you’ve been terribly quiet,” Rarity said. “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you upset because we didn’t get to talk to her properly?”

Spike shook his head. “I got to talk to her.”

“And?” Rarity prompted. “Whatever she said couldn’t have been as bad as having soup tipped all over you.”

Spike shook his head again. “I don’t… I don’t really know what she said. She kind of… drew me in. It was so strange, Rarity. It was like she already knew who I was. Even the part about me being a dragon.”

“But how could she possibly know that?” Rarity flustered.

“She seemed to know a lot of things,” Spike said. “Maybe… Maybe even more than me. The more I try to help the more I just feel like a…” He scrunched up his face as he searched from an apt comparison. “Like someone with a hammer.”

Rarity winced. “And every problem just looks like a nail?”

“No,” Spike said. “That’s just it. I can’t find a nail-shaped problem anywhere. I feel like I’m the wrong tool for the job. And what’s more I don’t even know if anything was ever broken to begin with.”

Rarity was about to answer when they were interrupted by a passing filly.

“Hi Rarity,” the filly said.

Spike looked up and saw that it was Cheerilee. Only, y’know… younger.

“Feeling better?” Cheerilee asked.

“Oh,” Rarity remembered. She coughed a little. “Just out for a walk, trying to get some fresh air into my lungs. We’ll see. I am still feeling dreadfully tired.”

Cheerilee made a sympathetic sound. “You don’t look too well. I hope you’ll be back at school soon. We miss you.”

“And I, you,” Rarity said.

“Well, goodnight then,” Cheerilee said, walking past. “A shame you missed the performance. But your costumes were amazing! Thanks!”

“You’re welcome!” Rarity called. Then she added a few coughs for good measure.

When Rarity turned back to the path she came face-to-face with Spike’s ponified muzzle.

“What?” Rarity asked, but her guilty tone betrayed her.

“The school performance?” Spike said. “That was today?”

“Oh… was it? I’d forgotten.”

“Really?” Spike said. “But you dropped off your old costumes at school for them to use.”

“Ah… Right.” Rarity winced. “I may have… forgotten to mention it was happening.”

Spike snorted smoke through his nose. “I can’t believe you! You had me write you a note and everything! I said to wait until the weekend but you insisted we go today! Why? Did you miss the performance on purpose!?”

“Spike… It’s just a boring old play.”

“No it’s not!” Spike insisted. “You were supposed to get your cutiemark! You should have told me! We need to find more gems for your costumes. We need to—”

“Spike, Spike! Calm down. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

Spike stared at her. “Why?”

“Because!” Rarity said. “You’re fixated! I’m telling you, Spike, that is not how I’m going to get my cutiemark. I’m just… I’m just not feeling it.” Rarity sighed. “And I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Spike closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. “It’s difficult enough… trying understand what I’m supposed to do here… when you just keep using me!”

The pony-image fell apart and Spike stood up on two legs and tugged at the changeling armband viciously.

“Spike. Stop. What are you doing?” Rarity urged him. “Ponies will see.”

“I don’t care!” Spike yelled, struggling with the band. “Zecora has to walk around the way she is. I’ve been hiding behind this thing the whole time, and why? Because you said to! You said ponies would freak out!”

Rarity gave a nervous chuckle. “Spike, daring. Trust me.” She was very serious. “They will.”

“Good.” Spike dug his claws under the band and tried to force it.

“But what about your secret mission?” Rarity asked.

“It never was a secret!” Spike said. “Not until you made it that way. You! With your Shadow Spade books and your unauthorised trips to Manehatten! You just didn’t want other ponies to ruin your fun! Is this all a game to you?”

“N-no…” Rarity said. “No. This is very important. The fate of Equestria—”

“Yeah!?” Spike said, giving up on the band and just walking away. “Well let me know when you figure out what that means to you!”

“Spike!” Rarity called.

She watched him stomp off towards the Everfree Forest.

“Spike, please,” she insisted.

He didn’t turn around.

Spike went to spend the night in Zecora’s tree-top house. She was a little annoyed at the intrusion but, as usual, was a very gracious host. Zecora was of course disturbed to learn that Spike was having trouble removing the armband now. It took the application of a few greasy mixtures to get the thing to slip off at last, and it left a red mark behind.

Zecora set the thing down on her table. “This could be a problem, if you let it,” she said. “I think it’s best if you forget it.”

“No kidding,” Spike said, rubbing his poor arm.

Zecora cleared out an unused cauldron and threw a few blankets down into it. “It’s in poor taste, I must admit. But try to make the best of it.”

“Thanks,” Spike said, climbing inside. “Sorry for just showing up like this. I’ll clear out tomorrow.”

“And then where will your journey take you? And what new disguise can I make you?”

“I don’t know…” Spike moaned from inside the cauldron. “I don’t even know if I want to keep that up. Not because I’m confused about the future anymore. I’m just… bogged down in the present. Everypony I visit tells me to go away. Now I find out Pinkie has a new cutiemark and everything. All these weird eyes… and she’s acting like she knows everything and sees everything, but I don’t think she’s handling it very well. The bits she said to me were… kind of confusing.”

“And this confusion sways your path, in light of this new aftermath.”

“Maybe…” Spike said. “I just don’t think the Elements of Harmony are the way to go here. Is that crazy?”

“What seems too bleak in darkest night may gleam anew by morning’s light.”

Spike poked his head out of the cauldron. “What does that mean?”

“It means I need to hit the hay,” she said. “It’s not easy being wise all day.”

“Huh,” Spike chuckled. He flopped down into the bundle of blankets again. “Night Zecora.”

“Mm-hm,” she murmured, passing through the hanging curtain to her bedroom.

The crickets and fireflies were out that night.

It was… rather peaceful.

Spike slowly closed his eyes and felt heavy sleep rushing up to meet him.

When Spike opened his eyes he found himself walking. Walking on all fours. He could not see yet. There was just the sensation of walking and… crowding. He constantly felt bodies shifting next to him, bumping into him, brushing past him. One of the unseen companions smacked roughly into Spike’s shoulder.

He turned and hissed.

The void hissed back and Spike heard a buzzing sound.

Onwards they marched—they crawled and scurried. The very walls surfaces of the tunnels shifted around him, always changing, always in flux, and somehow he could sense where to go and when to move - to change with the rest of the tunnels. He and the other creatures moved as one.

The void gradually began to take form. It was… dark. It was colourless; composed mostly of shapes or the sense of shapes. Spike clambered over a ridge he had detected without even seeing it. The pull of the masses changed direction and Spike was busted too near a wall. Instincts took over and he clambered up its surface and carried on advancing with the rest of the swarm.

At last they approached the chamber—the heart of the honeycomb warren they all called home. They scuttled from tunnels of all directions, to wait and listen. And there She was… Their Queen… Tall and powerful and eternally hungry.

Unnumbered eyes shone in the dark tunnels that overlooked Her throne. Her hunger was their guiding force. They all felt such hunger, but not as She did. She was hunger, as they were hunger’s slaves. A crawling hive of hissing, snarling things—all to serve one purpose:

Consume.

The Queen rose from the seat of Her black throne of stone. All was dark, save glowing eyes, but all could see Her clearly. The chamber filled with the buzzing of Her wings and rang with the echoes of her laugh.

“My children…” She hissed. “My loyal brood. The land of Equestria would have us believe they are strong. They are united. Her subjects praise and bow and worship the dawning sun. They tell themselves their Princess knows all—sees all—bests all challengers who rise against her will.”

The tunnels buzzed and chittered and the glowing eyes bobbed playfully.

“But all is not as it seems…” the Queen hissed with satisfaction. “An unknown adversary has made that clear, when all of Equestria felt the blastwave and saw the flash of light. Now we see the crumbling of her power. The ponies demand answers but their Princess has found none. A villainous thing crept into their kingdom—into a place where their children learn and play—and it has struck! Without warning or mercy… See how they tremble before the unknown. See how their Princess cannot appease them.

“See how she is less than she appears!”

The crawling tunnels clicked and buzzed and squirmed in agreement.

Their Queen was going to lead them to delicious spoils. Soon they would taste it all—love, heart ache, regret, desire—power.

Spike chittered eagerly. His wings buzzed loud with the rest of the swarm.

“We will wait…” the Queen said. “We will watch… We will infiltrate their world, their lives, their families… and then, when they are soft and weak…” She drew an ecstatic intake of breath and sighed most pleasantly. “We… will… feed!”

Spike jolted awake.

The ground was slimy and the air buzzed. He swatted at the flies and mosquitoes that had come to inspect him. They did not like dragon blood, nor could their pierce his scaly hide, and so they left him there in the mud.

“Wha?” Spike panted, looking around.

He spotted Zecora’s tree a little further back. Somehow he had climbed down and wandered off but he could not remember when. The sun was just coming up. He could see the brilliant reddening of the sky above the tree tops.

Eventually Spike collected himself and went to find a river to wash in. The water was shockingly cold and Spike focused on that to help himself wake up. There was an intense amount of mud under his claws, he found, as if he had been frolicking about on all fours.

“Must be all that time as a pony,” Spike said dismissively. “It’s got me sleepwalking like a—”

Spike froze stone-still when he noticed his left arm.

“No… Wake up…” he whispered to himself. “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

But this was not a dream. The armband was very real, and very much fixed around his little dragon arm once more.

“Get off!” Spike snarled and wrenched at the thing.

But it refused to left go. And the more Spike pulled at it the more he began to remember a dream… A dream of a dark place filled with crawling things, all full of holes and buzzing and clicking as they grovelled obediently before their Queen.

Spike’s foot slipped on a river-rock and he fell over with a splash.

“Ugh…” He groaned and wiped the water from his eyes.

“Well, well, it seems you are bested by streams,” Zecora chuckled.

Spike sat up and shook himself dry. “Not my idea.”

He heard her gasp and drop something. A wooden bucket, it turned out.

“Do my eyes bear false alarm? Or is that sly thing back on your arm?”

Spike opened his eyes at last and saw Zecora take a nervous step back from him. He shook his left arm a bit. Then resorted to a shrug.

“I guess it likes me?” he tried.

Zecora did not seem amused.

“I don’t know,” Spike said. “I just woke up like this. I don’t know how I got down here or how it got back on my arm. I guess I must have been… sleep walking? I don’t know. I had—” Spike shivered. “Ugh. This dream. I think maybe… Or maybe it was…”

Zecora offered him a hoof. “It does no good to shake and shiver. Come little one and leave that river. Go back upstairs, get yourself dry. And then together we may try to understand what all this means.” She eyed him very seriously. “Do not ignore the word of dreams…”

Spike sat on a stool, all wrapped in a towel and nursing a bowl of warm soup.

“This is really good,” Spike said. “Much better than whatever they had at the Rock Farm. And I haven’t had a hot meal since Manehatten. I was getting sick of table scraps.”

Zecora prodded the armband while he drank.

“I’m sorry to say I have bad news,” she said. “It seems your scales and this band have… fused.”

“What?” Spike exclaimed. “You mean it’s stuck here forever?”

“Don’t be so quick to pronounce doom,” Zecora scolded him. “I’ll sort this out, if you give me room to work and test and find the key.” She frowned. “Whatever that turns out to be.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” Spike asked.

“Your offer’s kind, but I think no. This is a craft you do not know. But rest assured, this is my trade. I will undo what has been made.” Zecora took a few bottles off the shelves and examined them. “Though I must quest for more supplies. Now tell me… what did your dream advise?”

Spike put the empty soup bowl aside and snuggled further into the towel. “Well… It wasn’t so much advice as it was… maybe, a vision? I saw—” Spike stopped. “No. I was a changeling.”

Zecora fumbled a glass bottle for a moment. She turned to stare. “A changeling thing you say you were? That’s quite a nightmare to occur.”

“Tell me about it…” Spike groaned. “It all felt so real. I was becoming one with the hive. There were so many of them. I had no idea. I mean, I remember what happened from before—when they attacked Canterlot in my time. But it’s one thing to see them all swarming around the streets, and another thing to experience them just… all around. Crawling, squirming, everywhere. The hive was full of them.

“And Queen Chrysalis…” Spike rubbed at his arm. “She was preparing for war. Sooner than she’s supposed to. She thinks Equestria is weak now, because Celestia hasn’t found an answer behind the Starburst Event.” Spike’s eyes widened. “Oh wow. I think I know what Pinkie was talking about before.”

Zecora pricked up her ears.

“Yeah,” Spike went on, putting it together. “Pinkie talked about a Queen who sounded a lot like Chrysalis. Pinkie said Chrysalis could attack whenever she wanted, because she’s not bound by fate the same way as Discord or Nightmare Moon or the Crystal Empire. These things happen at certain times, but Chrysalis…” Spike hugged the towel closer. “She can move whenever she wants. I think she may have already started. She talked about her spies getting into place.”

“That’s quite concerning to discern,” Zecora said. “This distant threat may now return much sooner than at first you guessed. Tell me, how goes your friendship quest?”

Spike put his claws to his head and groaned. “Not good. Applejack can’t leave Manehatten. Pinkie Pie seems to think she’s changed too much to be involved—in fact, she seems to think the whole world has changed too much and that the Elements won’t work. Or at least… I think that’s what she said. She was kind of… more Pinkie than usual. But maybe she's right. Maybe they won't work here. I guess I was hoping everything would figure itself out if I just gave everypony a little time, but now—” Spike took a few deep breaths. “Now I don’t know if we have that kind of time anymore. But I can’t force the Elements to work. But at the same time, we need the Elements to defeat—”

Zecora looked up when he didn’t speak again. “What new found clue has silenced you?”

Spike shook his head. “Uh. The Elements. Twilight and everypony used the Elements the first two times, and we were going to try them on Chrysalis, too. But in the end it wasn’t the Elements at all. It was… love.” Spike puzzled it out. “Cadence and Shining Armor’s love, and their magic, combined to create a… a spell, maybe. I don’t know how it worked. But it was pretty powerful. Not as powerful as the Elements. It didn’t seal Chrysalis away or anything—it just made her leave.”

Spike stood up and started pacing; a look of concentration on his face.

“Twilight is the Element of magic, and the Princess of Friendship. She learned that friendship is magic, and that the magic behind the Elements was friendship,” Spike went on. “If love can create a spell powerful enough to defeat Chrysalis and her changeling army, without even the Elements, then maybe…” Spike’s eyes brightened. “Maybe we don’t need everypony to become Elements. Maybe we just need them to be friends. I can still make this work. Even if the world has changed there’s still friendship! Even Applejack said she was still making friends and that her friends and family were still reaching out to her!”

Spike ran up to Zecora. “I have to believe that friendship can still save us. I don't know how but I have to keep trying. Zecora… I need to get to Cloudsdale.”

“Not without me, you don’t,” said a little filly.

Spike and Zecora turned to see Rarity standing at the top of the stairs.

“Spike,” Rarity began. “Before you say anything I just want you to know—I’m sorry. I’ve been feeling ignored ever since the baby and I just… I wanted to have an adventure. But I used you, and that was wrong. I didn’t understand how important this really was for you. For all of us. But if you say now that there’s an army on the way and that friendship is the only way to stop it then—” Rarity puffed up her chest and approached. “Then you need all the friends you can get. And, if you’ll forgive me, I’ll try to be a better friend this time around.”

Spike folded his arms. “Did you skip school to come here?”

Rarity winced. “Oh come on, Spike.”

He laughed and waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’m sorry, too. I kept trying to push you into being somepony you’re not. Even after Applejack… and Pinkie Pie… Even after I told you that I understood you were different from the Rarity I remembered… I guess I was the real liar. So I mean it this time. Whatever you want to do, whatever cutiemark you get or when you get it, it’ll be okay. And if you want to skip school and come on an adventure…” Spike shrugged. “Well… I could use the help.”

Rarity beamed at him. “Hug me, you fool.” And she grabbed him and squished him.

Spike blushed. “Ha. Okay, okay… Ow! That’s enough. You’re hurting my arm.”

Zecora cleared her throat loudly.

The two little ones stepped apart and looked up at her.

“If Rarity is joining you,” Zecora said. “Then I think I’ll make potions for two. To walk on clouds, I have the just the thing for little ponies who don’t have wings.”

Rarity and Spike grinned.

Author's Note

11th June 2017 -- Cosmetic changes to the changeling hive to comply with new MLP canon. It's a superficial change and doesn't currently affect the story. Changed Chrysalis's 'seat of bones' to a throne of black stone, and made mention of how the tunnels are constantly shifting and moving.

Pt.1 - Chapter 14

“Excuse me?” said a voice.

The pink mare looked around for a bit until she noticed the two little fillies.

“You’re Cherry Berry, right? Do you give balloon rides?” Rarity asked.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Cherry Berry nodded to the big pink hot air balloon. “Cost you a few bits, though, but I can take you up.”

She adjusted her flight cap and goggles. Then she saw the second filly, an orange pegasus, was staring at her rather oddly.

“Something I can help you with?” Cherry Berry asked.

“You look really young,” The pegasus said. “And you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I realised.”

“Ahhh. I don’t think so,” Cherry Berry laughed. “Just a few moons now. And who are you calling young? I finished school last year and everything.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spike said.

“Nah. It’s cool. And I’m really starting to like this job. If I make enough money giving balloon rides I think I’ll buy one of those new helicopter thingies. Looks like a promising invention if you ask me.”

Rarity was digging in her saddlebag. She brought out a scarf and wrapped herself in it. Then finally she brought out a few small shiny gems. “Here you go.”

Cherry Berry gawked. “Well, for that much I’ll take you out all day.”

“That’s what we were hoping, actually,” the unicorn said. “My name is Rarity, and this is Spike.”

“Odd name for a filly,” Cherry Berry said to Spike. “But I can see you’ve got this whole tomcolt thing going, so… That’s cool.”

Spike deadpanned. “Yep. That’s me.”

“Digging the voice, too. Well, climb on in, then,” Cherry Berry said, helping them into the basket. “Where d’you wanna go?”

“Cloudsdale,” Rarity said.

Cherry Berry mused on that for a bit. “You mean like… just a fly-by?”

“No,” Rarity said. “We’re going to visit some ponies.”

“Well that might work for your pegasus friend here, but last time I checked us other ponies can’t walk on clouds without falling right through.”

“That’s okay,” Spike said. “We got a magic potion from Zecora that’ll let us—er, I mean, let Rarity—walk on clouds for a few days.”

Cherry Berry went to untie the balloon from it’s anchor. “Zecora, you say? Yeah, I heard she makes those potion things. But I don’t know… I’ve never been brave enough to try any of it. She just seems so… strange.”

Spike folded his forelegs and frowned. “Maybe you’re not giving her a chance.”

“What kind of chance should I be giving her?” Cherry Berry asked. “I’ve seen her. She’s strange. What more is there?”

“Talk to her,” Spike said. “Hang out with her for a bit. Get to know her.” Spike looked up at the balloon over head. “I’ll bet lots of ponies thought you were strange for trying to fly.”

“Oh yeah,” Cherry Berry agreed, climbing in the basket. “Like every pony. But I kept on trying new things and them bam! I got my cutiemark.” Cherry Berry showed them the two red cherries. “See? The cherries symbolise the cycle of rebirth. Because every time I tried to fly I would pretty much fail spectacularly. And I’d go home all sad. But the next day I’ve have a new idea and I’d go out and do it again, and keep on trying. And ponies would call me crazy for not giving up but I realised it was the not giving up part that made me special. So. Cutiemark.” She shrugged.

“Well I’m not giving up, either,” Spike said. “And you shouldn’t give up on Zecora. Ponies may call it crazy to be friends with her but how do you know if you don’t try and try again?”

Cherry Berry thought about that. “I guess you make a pretty good point. Okay, kid. You’re on. Next time she’s in town I’ll go have a chat with her. See what she’s all about.”

“Yes. What a splendid idea,” Rarity said. Then she passed over the gems. “Now. To Cloudsdale, if you don’t mind.”

“Aye-aye,” Cherry Berry winked, and fired up the burner.

It was going to take about an hour to reach Cloudsdale by balloon. Cherry Berry entertained everypony with stories from her foalhood and her many attempts to fly. This included, inevitably, the time she stuck feathers to her forelegs and jumped out of a tree.

“I was lucky I didn’t break anything!” Cherry Berry laughed. “Of course I understand aerodynamics a lot better now. But I suppose you don’t know sticking feathers to yourself isn’t gonna work. Not when you’re that age, anyway.” She laughed again. “I mean, it works for the pegasi. Their little wings shouldn’t be able to give them enough lift but they do it anyway.” Cherry Berry glanced at Spike. “Oh, no offense or anything. I actually think it’s really cool.”

“Uh… Oh right. Thanks,” Spike said, remembering his current disguise. “Yeah… I don’t know how we do it. Haha.”

“Ah, sure you do,” Cherry Berry said. “It’s your natural pegasus magic. Same thing that lets you walk on clouds. Same thing that we’ve all got, whether it’s unicorn spells or earth pony strength.” Cherry Berry flexed her forelegs and grunted. “Rrrr.” She laughed. “Same magic that gives us our cutiemarks when we’re ready.”

“Wow,” Rarity said. “You sure know a lot.”

Cherry Berry shrugged. “Well, I travel. I meet a lot of folks. Not much to do up here except talk. Oh hey! There’s one other thing, though. Check that out!” Cherry Berry suddenly pointed over the basket edge.

Rarity and Spike stood up and peered out at the world passing below.

“Is that… Ponyville?” Rarity asked, squinting at the settlement in the distance.

“Yup!” Cherry Berry said. “Pretty small from up here, right? But I was talking about the view over in this direction,” she corrected them.

They turned to see, and Rarity let out a gasp as her eyes filled with sparkles.

“Canterlot!!” Rarity squealed, leaning against the basket. “Oh it’s so beautiful! So big! So shiny!”

The city of Canterlot was clearly visible as a collection of gold-trimmed ivory spires jutting out from the side of its mountain residence. It glinted in the sunlight and seemed to radiate with a powerful magical energy all its own. Or maybe Rarity’s overactive imagination was just exaggerating that last past.

“Oldest and fanciest city in Equestria,” Cherry Berry nodded. “Yessir.”

“Spike! You must come look at this!” Rarity exclaimed

Spike just sank down in one corner of the basket and shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve seen it before. I mean, I did grow up there.”

“But have you ever seen it from the sky like this?” Rarity went on. “Oh Spike, it’s Canterlot, come and see.”

“It’s fine,” Spike said.

Rarity managed to pull her eyes away and give him a confused look. “Spike? What’s wrong…”

“Ahhhh,” Cherry Berry cut in. “I think I see what’s going on. Being so high up can be a bit unnerving, can’t it? Sometimes even for a pegasus.”

“R-right,” Spike said from his corner. “It’s the height. That’s all.”

“Tsh,” Cherry Berry said with a shrug. “Flying isn’t for everypony. We’ll be getting to Cloudsdale soon. That’ll be a bit lower down, but stay away from the edges and you’ll be right. Oh, and stay away from the construction zones. Some of the east side of the city was damaged by the blast. But that’s mostly industrial stuff, so you’ll be right.”

“Mm. Thanks,” Spike said.

Rarity eyed him suspiciously for another moment, but gradually the shining city of Canterlot stole her gaze back and she was cooing over the glorious gardens and then even the palace itself.

“Just wow,” Rarity sighed.

“That’s why I love it up here,” Cherry Berry ginned.

Finally they reached Cloudsdale. The balloon hovered near the main cloudlayer and Cherry Berry helped the two little ones to disembark safely. Spike went first, as a ‘pegasus’ (and an avid believer in Zecora’s potions skill) to show that it was safe to walk on the clouds and not fall through them.

“Come on,” Spike said.

Rarity clung to the basket and nervously set hoof on the clouds. Then a second hoof. Then a third. She shifted her weight and at last stood fully unassisted.

“Ooooo, it’s so fluffy,” Rarity said. “But sort of crunchy. Like snow. And a bit damp.”

“Well now I’ve seen everything,” Cherry Berry said from the basket. “That Zecora really knows her stuff. I certainly will be talking to her when I get back. This is clearly the next step in my mission to visit the skies.”

“Thanks for the lift,” Spike said.

“Thanks for the gems,” Cherry Berry said. “Just be back here in time for me to pick you up and get us all home before curfew starts.”

“You got it,” Spike said, checking his watch.

“Alright. You take care.” Cherry Berry waved goodbye as her balloon pulled away into open skies.

“Well,” Rarity said, looking all around. “I never thought I’d visit anywhere that was built from clouds. Spike, these adventures are taking me to the most interesting places. And we’re only an hour’s flight from home. Who knew all of this was right in my own backyard?” Rarity thought about that. “Or… backyard… sky.”

Spike chuckled. “One time… the other Rarity… she grew beautiful butterfly wings just so she could visit Cloudsdale and cheer on her friend Rainbow Dash.”

“Now you’re just messing with me,” Rarity teased. “Are you sure you’re from the future? Because it sounds like you just crawled out of a fairytale somewhere.”

“All true. Swear to Celestia.”

“Well then, I look forward to meeting this Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said.

“That’s why we’re hear,” Spike agreed. “But we should check out Fluttershy’s house first. I, uh… don’t actually know where Rainbow Dash lives. But I remember where Fluttershy lives and I’m sure she can point the way to Rainbow’s house.”

“Gosh, I hope we make a good impression on Fluttershy,” Rarity said as they started walking. “I feel like we need a win right now.”

“We don’t have to convince her to do anything,” Spike said. “We’re just going to meet her and say hi. The power of friendship will do the rest.”

“If you say so…”

Walking through Cloudsdale was at first a beautiful experience… which gradually became very awkward and disconcerting. Ponies kept staring at Rarity, giving her odd looks, muttering as she went past.

“I think I understand what Zecora’s been going through,” Rarity whispered. “This is most unpleasant. I can see why you went with the pegasus disguise today, Spike.”

He looked guiltily down at his left foreleg. “Yeah… Well. Couldn’t really get much work done if I was distracting everypony with my amazing dragon-ness. That must be why they’re staring at you so much,” Spike tried. “’Cause you’re so amazing.”

“Your flattery needs work,” Rarity said. She lifted her head proudly. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Suddenly a pegasus jumped out in front of them. He was holding a newspaper and waving it while he spoke.

“You there,” he said, looking at Rarity. “Are you from Canterlot?”

“Uhhhh—”

“Tell me, then! Why hasn’t Celestia done anything about the Starburst Event?”

“…like what?” Rarity said.

“Like what!?” the paper-pony repeated. “Ha! Typical unicorn. What are you even doing here, hm?”

“She’s with me,” Spike growled.

The paper-pony looked between the two of them and seemed to calm a bit. “Strange company you keep there, little orange one.”

“Well it’s none of your business,” Spike said.

“No,” he said. “But this is your business.” He waved the newspaper again. “This is everypony’s business! Especially us pegasi! It was our Flight Camp that was attacked! And still Celestia doesn’t have any answers! Where is the guilty party, I say? Who is responsible? We must bring them to justice!”

The paper’s headline read ‘IDLE PRINCESS IN IVORY TOWER!’

“That’s not fair!” Spike complained, shoving the paper away. “It’s only been a few weeks. Hey—Celestia is a strong leader! Don’t go telling ponies she’s not.”

“Oh?” the paper-pony said. “Was she a strong leader when our little fillies and colts were blasted from the sky? Was she a strong leader when she declined all further press conferences and elected to stay in Canterlot?”

Spike urged Rarity to just keep walking.

“Come on,” he said, keeping his head low.

The paper-pony continued ranting in the background. “Wouldn’t a strong leader have answers? Wouldn’t a strong leader bring us justice?”

Spike and Rarity just hurried on down the cloudy street.

“Wouldn’t a strong leader already have found a cure for…” but he was too far out of earshot now.

Eventually they reached Fluttershy’s house and Spike knocked on the door. It was opened by a kindly yet timid yellow-ish pegasus with green glasses and a cherry-red mane.

“Hello there,” she said sweetly, but also softly. Then she noticed Rarity. “Oh my. You sure are a long way from home.”

“Mrs. Shy?” Spike tried. “We’re here to see Fluttershy.”

“Oh dear. Fluttershy’s not home yet,” Mrs. Shy said.

Spike face-hoofed. “Right. School. I completely forgot.”

“Well, actually—” Mrs. Shy tried to say.

“And Rainbow will be, too,” Spike groaned.

“Rainbow?” Mrs. Shy said. “Rainbow… Dash?”

“Yes, that’s her,” Rarity said.

Mrs. Shy looked nervously between the two of them. “You’re from out of town, aren’t you? I mean… both of you.”

“We’re just trying to catch up with Fluttershy,” Spike said. “And a few other friends, maybe. I guess we’ll have to come back later, though.”

“Oh. Fluttershy should be home soon,” Mrs. Shy said. “Why don’t you come in for some cookies. It’s just me and the baby right now.”

“Ah,” Rarity said as they entered the house. “My parents just had a baby. Quite the hoof-ful, aren’t they?”

“Oh he’s no trouble,” Mrs. Shy said, unconvincingly. “He’s a bit older than a baby now, anyway. They’re much more manageable when they…” she winced. “Start to crawl… and fly.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Spike said.

Rarity nudged him in the ribs. “I’m sure he’s lovely, Mrs. Shy.” She grinned.

The baby, as it turned out, was a little greenish-blue pegasus named Zephyr Breeze. Adorable, yes, but it soon became clear that Mrs. Shy had no control over the little foal whatsoever. He flew wild about the living room, knocking into whatever he pleased and crashlanding on the couches. As a result of this the entire house had been baby-proofed with the fluffiest of fluffy clouds, stuck everywhere like cottonwool.

Spike and Rarity were seated on the couch while Mrs. Shy sat across from them in an armchair. A plate of cookies rested on the baby-proofed coffee table in the middle, and the rest of the room was covered in cottonwool clouds and little foal-sized hoofprints.

“He’ll tire himself out soon enough,” Mrs. Shy was saying. “Then he’ll fall asleep wherever he happens to be and that’ll be that for a few hours.”

“How charming,” Rarity said, levitating a cooking from the plate.

Zephyr suddenly rushed past and snatched the cookie mid-air.

Rarity blinked.

“Oh my.” Mrs. Shy tried for a nervous laugh. “Not to worry. I made plenty of cookies for everypony. Although I do wonder about him having that much sugar…”

Zephyr’s little wings buzzed like those of a hummingbird while he bounced against a fluffy wall and nibbled at his stolen prize.

“Sooo…” Spike began. “What’s Fluttershy been up to? Since… well… you know.”

“Oh…” Mrs. Shy seemed distant for a moment. She promptly returned with a smile, however. “Of course, you must know her from Flight Camp. Such an unthinkable thing to happen…” Mrs. Shy held herself with her forelegs. “It was both fortunate and unfortunate that little Fluttershy was on the ground at the time. Oh, my poor baby…”

Spike swallowed a bite of cookie. It seemed bitter somehow, considering, so he put it down.

“Is she doing alright?” Spike asked.

“Who? Fluttershy? Oh yes, quite alright,” Mrs. Shy assured them. “It’s strange but I don’t think she’s been happier. And I’m so pleased that you came to visit.” She put a hoof to her cheek. “Oh my, where are my manners? I don’t even know your names.”

“Oh, well,” Rarity spoke up. “I am Rarity and this is my dear friend Spike. We’ve come from Ponyville, and I must say, Cloudsdale is simply breathtaking. Wouldn’t you agree, Spike?”

Spike nodded. “Absolutely. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Really?” Mrs. Shy said, a little surprised. “You were raised in Ponyville then?”

Spike suddenly remembered that he was a pegasus right now. “Ahhh…” But then he remember which pegasus he was. “Oh. Yeah, I was raised in Ponyville. I live on the ground and everything. I don’t fly very well right now. Or… at all. But that’s okay, because I have my scooter and I’m pretty good at that.”

Rarity winked at him. He was getting the hang of this.

“You can’t fly?” Mrs. Shy asked. “It’s not… Starburst Sickness, is it?”

Spike and Rarity both blinked.

“What is Starburst Sickness?” Rarity asked.

Mrs. Shy seemed caught off guard. “Oh. No, I don’t suppose you would know. Ohhh, how to explain this to fillies…” She fidgeted and fretted while she thought about it. “You see…” she began at last. “When the Event happened—” She cut herself off. “Oh, maybe if you asked your parents instea—”

The front door clicked as it was unlocked.

“Oh good,” Mrs. Shy breathed. “That must be Fluttershy with her father.”

Mrs. Shy got up and walked politely to greet them at the door.

Meanwhile Rarity reached for another cookie and zoom! Zephyr stole it out of the air again and flew off giggling and nibbling.

“Oooo,” Rarity fumed. “I’m so glad Sweetie Belle won’t be able to fly.”

“Like that’s ever stopped anypony from stealing cookies,” Spike said.

“We’re home from Stapes,” the father said from the entranceway. “Hello dear. How’s Zephyr?”

“Oh, you know our little Zephyr,” the mother said.

The parents both made little cheek-kissing noises.

Rarity stuck her tongue out and Spike suppressed a laugh.

“How was work today?” Mrs. Shy asked.

“Getting better. More repairs. Oh, and we’ve scheduled a bit of rain for later this evening.”

“That’s lovely, dear. And hello Fluttershy,” the mother said. “Oh. I mean…” And then she didn’t speak again.

Rarity and Spike both found that curious.

Zephyr just found another cookie.

“Dear, we have some guests today,” the mother said.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Rarity and Spike from Ponyville. They say they’re here to visit Fluttershy. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Aw. How nice,” he agreed. “But do they, um… know how to…?”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that. Maybe we should…”

“Well let’s not stand here,” the father concluded. “Come on.”

Rarity and Spike straightened up as hoofsteps approached. Mrs. Shy came in first, follow by her husband—a green pegasus with short pink mane and the beginnings of a fatherly moustache. Spike recognised Fluttershy as the lanky yellow pegasus filly hiding behind her father’s legs.

“Say ‘hello’ Fluttershy,” the mother said. “Oh. I mean…”

And then the mother did a curious thing. She made a combination on gestures with her wings, coupled a few facial expressions. The process seemed slow and unpractised.

Then, when Mrs. Shy was done, the lanky yellow pegasus stepped partway out from hiding and waved nervously at Spike and Rarity.

“There she goes,” Mrs. Shy said, quite proudly. “Aww, look how brave she is now. Just a few months ago she wouldn’t even come downstairs if the post-pony was outside at the mailbox. That new school is working wonders for her.”

Rarity and Spike decided that Mrs. Shy was either speaking to her husband or to herself at this point.

“Are you Fluttershy’s friends?” the father asked. “It’s so nice to have visitors. She’s been missing Rainbow Dash terribly since… the Event. But she’s been making friends at Stapes very well.”

“Wait, wait,” Spike interrupted. “Where’s Rainbow Dash?”

Mrs. and Mr. Shy exchanged fretful looks.

“Well,” the father said suddenly. “I have to go wash up. It’s been a long day at the weather factory.”

“Oh you,” Mrs. Shy grumbled as he quickly excused himself upstairs.

When Fluttershy’s father moved away Spike had to cover a gasp, because now he could see Fluttershy properly, including her new cutiemark. It was similar to the traditional one, but also very different. Instead of three butterflies now there was only one big one, turned profile, with large red wings in the shape of a heart. Printed on the butterfly wing was a white pattern that started as a small dot near the butterfly’s body, from which three other lines radiated. Like a ripple effect from throwing a pebble in a pond.

“Oh!” Rarity exclaimed. “Congratulations on your cutiemark, dear.”

Fluttershy tilted her head curiously at Rarity. Then she looked to her mother.

Mrs. Shy made a few more gestures with her wings—stumbled a bit—then just resorted to pointing at Fluttershy’s flank.

Fluttershy seemed to get it and she nodded at Rarity. She then made a practiced gesture with her wings this time and her face was one big smile.

“Oh. She says thankyou,” Mrs. Shy translated.

Spike and Rarity exchanged worried glances.

“Is she…” Spike began. “Can she hear us?”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Shy. “No. She’s been completely deaf since the Event.”

Rarity and Spike exchanged looks again.

“You don’t seem… upset,” Rarity broached.

“Well I suppose I was at first,” Mrs. Shy confessed. Her expression turned sour. “Oh, and that weasely health insurance company… All the other foals were covered because they were at Flight Camp at the time, but the company tried to claim that since Fluttershy was on the ground—” Mrs. Shy cut herself off. “It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t otherwise hurt, thank goodness. And in the end we were able to get insurance to agree to giving Fluttershy the magical healing to restore her hearing.”

Spike and Rarity waited.

Zephyr got into a fight with a piece of cloud.

“But…” Spike began. “But… she’s still deaf?”

Mrs. Shy sat down in her armchair again, and Fluttershy scampered off to deal with her troublesome little brother.

“Well that’s the thing,” Mrs. Shy said. “While we were still dealing with the insurance company we had to enrol Fluttershy in Stapes. It’s a school for young fillies and colts who have lost their hearing, or even partially lost it. Fluttershy seemed to… I don’t know… come out of her shell, I suppose. She’s picking up sign language so fast, she’s already much better than us.

“And she’s been making so many friends, and the teachers say she’s been helping the other children, it’s just… amazing.” Mrs. Shy beamed. “And then we got the news that she could get the healing she needed, and we went to tell her, only to discover she had already gotten her cutiemark. We think it’s something to do with her helping the other children.”

Spike forced himself to be rational. The Elements weren’t the plan anymore, he reminded himself. Fluttershy could have whatever cutiemark she wanted. He had to respect that.

“Well,” Spike said. “Fluttershy’s always been really kind and helpful. Especially to those who have trouble communicating with ponies. Er. With other ponies, I mean.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Shy agreed. “Fluttershy’s been so good at communicating lately. Before the Event she was so shy and quiet and—Oh, well you probably knew that already. But now… Well, she’s still quiet, I’ll admit. But she’s strong. She’s brave. She’s so talkative at school. When it comes to signing, that is.

“So we talked it over as a family and,” Mrs. Shy shrugged. “Fluttershy says she doesn’t want the treatment. She’d rather stay the way she is. And I support her. Sure, she’ll have trouble interacting with the world, but she’s found a new confidence and a new voice. In a manner of speaking. Or… signing.”

Rarity levitated another cookie before she remembered the dire consequences.

Zephyr’s ears pricked up, his wings blurred and he shot through the air.

…and then Fluttershy caught him and wrestled him gently to the floor.

“Awwahahauughahah,” Zephyr whined and garbled.

“Zephyr…” Fluttershy frowned sternly at him. Then she made a few gestures with her wings.

Zephyr stopped struggling and replied with a few wing twitches of his own.

Fluttershy replied. Zephyr replied back. Soon they were happily talking.

“And of course she’s done wonders with Zephyr,” Mrs. Shy went on, watching her two children. “She’s always had a handle on him, but her new condition has persuaded him to calm down and actually pay attention if he wants to have a proper conversation with her. He does love his big sister.”

Mrs. Shy beamed again. Then winced.

“I’m sorry you won’t be able to speak to her. And I don’t think I’m up to translating just yet. And she’s not very good at reading lips. They’re still working on that with her at Stapes. She can still speak, of course, but she prefers not to. I suppose you could write to each other, if you like. We use writing to talk sometimes, for long conversations or complicated topics.”

Rarity took a bite of her cookie at last.

“Speaking of complicated topics…” Spike broached. “Where is Rainbow Dash? And what’s Starburst Sickness? What’s going on?”

Mrs. Shy began to fidget with the arm of her chair. “I really think you should be having this conversation with your parents.”

“I’d like to know now, please,” Spike said, hoping that Mrs. Shy would be as easy to fold as Fluttershy normally was.

Mrs. Shy fidgeted a little more before she caved. “Well I suppose you do have a right to know. You see… the Event—” She winced. “The Event, um, hurt some ponies. Some very badly. And while unicorn healing was able to mend wings and bones and restore health, so far nopony has been able to cure…” She stumbled. “What I mean is, some pegasus ponies were left… How do I put this?”

Spike pushed the issue. “What happened to Rainbow Dash?”

Mrs. Shy relented at last. “Rainbow Dash was quite badly hurt. She’s all healed up now, but her… pegasus magic, I suppose you’d call it… seems to have become… broken.”

“Broken?” Rarity and Spike repeated.

Mrs. Shy nodded slowly. “As it was for many pegasi caught in the blast. Rainbow Dash was left unable to fly or even to walk on clouds. It isn’t the same for every pegasus affected, but… Rainbow is one of the worse cases.”

“If she can’t walk on clouds then where is she?” Spike asked.

“They called it Starburst Sickness,” Mrs. Shy said. “And they were all taken to a special care facility at Canterlot Royal Hospital while they’re looking for a way to restore broken pegasus magic. Rainbow and Fluttershy have been writing letters to each other and we’ve been to see her at least once. Oh, that paperwork,” she lamented. “But we’re certainly missing her visits up here. She and Fluttershy were good friends at Flight Camp but I’m starting to wonder if whatever foundation their relationship had has been lost now.

“They don’t seem to have much in common now that it’s all just words on paper.” Mrs. Shy was gazing wistfully at the wall. She shook her head suddenly. “Oh dear. That got very deep for a moment there. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with my concerns. Would you like to talk to Fluttershy now? There’s paper on the table. I’ll go make more cookies.” She got up and hurried out of the room.

“Thanks, but there’s—” Spike tried. “…plenty of cookies still here,” he finished with a sigh.

“Poor Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said. “Just think. How awful for her. We must go and visit her as soon as possible, Spike.”

“In… Canterlot?” Spike said.

“Of course, dear. And we can see Twilight while we’re there,” Rarity said.

“Right…” Spike said. “Of course…”

Rarity got up and grasped the notepad and pen with the blue glow of her magic. She cautiously approached Fluttershy and began writing a note.

“My… name… is… Rarity. And this… is… Spike. Hello.” Rarity turned the paper towards Fluttershy.

The pegasus scanned the page and nodded. She smiled and waved again.

Rarity wrote another message. “Would… you… like to… be… our… friend?”

Fluttershy read the note. She thought about it. She nodded.

“We… live in… Ponyville. Would you… like to… visit us?”

Fluttershy nodded.

Rarity wrote down her address and tore off the page, leaving it on the coffee table. “What now?” she asked Spike.

“Well…” Spike said. “We’ve still got a few hours before Cherry Berry comes back to get us. I guess we… eat cookies and make friends.”

Rarity nodded. “Sounds like a good way to save the world to me.”

Spike felt almost ashamed to admit he had never conversed with Fluttershy so much in his life. She had always been there if he had ever wanted to try, but he never really did. He’d made an effort to hang out with Pinkie Pie, ‘cause she was fun, or to follow Rarity around and hope she might have some kind of task for him. And Rainbow and Applejack weren’t afraid to talk openly about themselves, so he’d gotten to know them quite well. But he couldn’t recall a single time that he had gone out of his way to be alone with Fluttershy. And the times they had been alone they hadn’t really… talked.

But Mrs. Shy had been right. This new Fluttershy was very bold and chatty, even if she never said a world the whole time. They passed the notepad back and forth, even drawing funny little pictures. Sometimes they communicated by making silly faces at each other. This always devolved into fits of laughter. Fluttershy’s laugh was the sweetest sound. Spike felt momentarily sad that she would never be able to hear her own gentle laughter again.

And Zephyr ate most of the cookies. Which lead to hyperactivity, followed by a heavy sugar crash straight to sleep. In turn, Spike was glad Fluttershy didn’t ever have to hear her brother’s terrible snoring. They laughed about this, too.

At the end of the day Mrs. Shy rolled Zephyr up in a blanket and Fluttershy saw her new friends out the front door.

“Thankyou for having us,” Rarity said. “Oh, I mean…” Then she made a simple hoof gesture that meant thankyou.

“Mm,” Spike agreed, and recalled the more complicated wing-gesture that Fluttershy had tried to teach him. But of course his wings weren’t rea—

Spike stared down at his orange wings. They had unfurled and twitched the little gesture of thanks that he had just been thinking about.

Fluttershy nodded, smiled, waved ‘goodbye’ and then closed the door.

“Spike,” Rarity hissed at him. “How did you do that with your wings?”

“I don’t know,” Spike stammered.

The wings were folded now. They didn’t move. He tired again but they didn’t move.

“It must be the armband,” Spike said, slightly panicked.

“Gracious me,” Rarity exclaimed. “I haven’t recharged it this whole time. I completely forgot.”

“No, it’s okay,” Spike said. “It feels like it’s still got a few hours of charge left.”

“But that’s…” Rarity said. “Well, that’s certainly impressive.”

“Maybe,” Spike winced. “Doesn’t it bother you? It bothers me. It’s been doing weird things. I’m worried I can’t control it anymore.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Spike took a few breaths and shook his head. “It’s nothing. It’s fine. Zecora’s already working on it. Nothing to worry about.” He started walking away.

Rarity sighed and followed him. “Well. You know… If you say so, Spike.”

Spike started walking back to the rendezvous. “Hey, Rarity…”

“Yes?” She trotted along behind him.

Spike hesitated before broaching the subject. “So… you get hot chocolate at sleepovers, huh?”

Rarity beamed. “And pancakes for breakfast.”

Spike relaxed. “That… That sounds really good right now.”

“Mm-hmm,” she heartily agreed.

And for the first time in their adventure so far, Rarity and Spike returned home in a really good mood. After all, Cloudsdale was stunningly beautiful in the pink pre-sunset light.

Pt.1 - Chapter 15

Cadence knew about the egg.

Twilight was sure. Cadence must know. How could Cadence not know? Cadence always knew. Maybe Shining Armor had told her. Did he know about the egg? Of course he did. They both knew. The way they whispered about things but cut off when Twilight was snooping around. The way the kept finding excuses to barge into her room.

“Twilight, we’re worried about you. Twilight, you’re missing dinner. Twilight, there’s more to growing up than studying.”

It was all a pretence. Why didn’t they just come out and accuse her? Did they want her to dance for them? Did they want her to crack? Oh, they’d like that, wouldn’t they…? The unflappable Twilight Sparkle, falling all to bits over a stupid egg.

That must be why Shining Armor refused to admit the Starburst had drained her magic. “You were just scared by it, that’s all.” Twilight was not scared! Could a scaredy-pony have stolen an egg from the dragon project? Twilight didn’t think so…

But Shining Armor would just change the subject, if he could.

“Hey Cadence,” he’d sidestepped. “I was wondering… Why is Celestia now having shipments of apple cider brought to the palace?”

“Shining,” Cadence had complained. “Not in front of the foal…”

Yes, always not in front of Twilight. They were keeping secret from her. Them and Celestia. Did Twilight’s parents know? Who else was in on this?

“The Starburst stole the magic from those pegasi,” Twilight had pointed out.

“That’s because they were at ground zero,” Shining Armor said. “And it didn’t steal their magic. It just… broke it. I think. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.”

And there is was. He admits that he knows nothing! Yet he insists that he knows the Starburst Event didn’t drain Twilight’s magic at the crucial moment of her test. She’d been left for days without magic! Probably… Probably she had. Yes, she had.

In fact, even now she couldn’t be sure she was at full power. Maybe the Starburst had broken something in her, too. Yes, that must be it. They was why she hadn’t been able to hatch the dragon egg yet. She had Starburst Sickness. Or something similar maybe. It made her weak. She couldn’t let them know she was weak. What would they do then?

Twilight just had to keep telling everpony that she was fine.

Nopony ever listened anyway…

Nopony paid attention. They hadn’t even noticed her new cutiemark. Oh sure, she’d been hiding it, but shouldn’t some pony have noticed? It didn’t seem right that something so important would just go unnoticed! Somepony had to know!

Did they really know anything at all?

Oh… they did. They just waited. Waited for Twilight to give herself away and spill her secrets because she couldn’t handle the pressure. But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction! If they were going to pretend like nothing was wrong then so would she.

“I’ll win this waiting game…” Twilight muttered to herself as she paced her room that night.

The house was dark. Her family were all sleeping now. Cadence had been in to visit today before being called back to Celestia again. Twilight had hid in her room for most of it. She didn’t like the way that Cadence would watch her squirm.

“Nice dress, Twilight,” Cadence had said. “It really suits you.”

“What does that mean?” Twilight had growled. “I have lots of dresses. It doesn’t mean anything. They’re not special!”

“Oh, okay…”

Cadence was on to her. Cadence and Shining Armor—they were up to something.

“Have they found anything yet?” Twilight had heard her brother ask.

“No, nothing yet,” Cadence had said.

They were obviously talking about the egg. They were just playing games now. They knew Twilight had it. Why else had they been talking where she could easily eavesdrop on them just by spying through a keyhole?

“Maybe I should run away…” Twilight was muttering to herself. “Once I hatch the egg I’ll take my dragon and all the books I can carry and we’ll go make a new life in… in Griffonstone, or something. I’ll dazzle them with my magic and they’ll make me their Princess. Yes…”

It started to rain outside. The heavy droplets beat against Twilight’s large bedroom windows but the magicly soundproofed glass kept the noise to a minimal. Twilight had considered copying the spell and casting it on the walls so she could make sure nopony heard what went on in her room. That was the problem with all the pacing and the muttering… But soundproofing, as it turned out, was not a matter of skill. It was a matter of power. Twilight still had very little power…

Twilight dragged out Warhock’s book and got back to work.

“Study… Practice… Compose…” Twilight repeated to herself, flipping through the pages. “Study… Practice… Compose…”

She picked up the wands at the back of the book, read them and unlocked them each in turn. Then she picked up a few enchanted objects she had brought home from school or had made herself. A locking spell, a light spell, a growth spell, a blight spell, a colour-change spell, a camouflage spell, a shrink spell, an invisible ink spell, and probably a kitchen sink spell for all anypony knew.

Twilight felt like she had attempted every basic spell she had gotten her hooves on. And in just the few short days she’d been practicing she had improved her spellwork immensely. Her magic moved like a living thing, flowing and dancing and twirling itself into the desired shapes and colours and patterns. But there was room for improvement. There was always room for improvement…

Study… Practice… Compose…

By the time Twilight was done reading over the various layers of magic on her window she had to admit that she was only stagnating at this point. She had nowhere left to go except… the obvious. All her instincts told her that she still needed to study more before her ‘test’. But this time Twilight was the professor and she would decide when the test was held. And, as the clock struck midnight, Twilight decided that that test would be tonight.

She closed Warhock’s book. It had nothing more to teach her anyway. It was not a proper tutorial on spell hacking. Only spell reading. Twilight had had to extrapolate the next level on her own. She couldn’t afford to draw more suspicion from Cadence or others by searching for illegal spell books. Twilight was therefore as ready as she would ever be. Why not tonight?

The rain poured down and the house was quiet and dark.

Why not tonight?

Twilight performed the appropriate magic sequence to unlock her spell-protected toy box. Then she undid the camouflage spell she had worked on the interior and its contents. She put out the light spell—a ball of magenta magic—that had been hovering around her room. She would need concentration for what she was about to do, and could not afford the distractions of other ongoing spells.

Localised spells seemed to bother Twilight more than usual of late. Even her mother levitating mountains of papers work around the house seems to grate on Twilight’s senses. Magic was so loud. Or… hot. Or something. It baffled her that she’d never noticed before—that nopony else seemed to notice it now. She could barely tolerate school; all those amateurs slinging their ugly spells left and right. How did they not feel what she felt? Twilight hoped this wasn’t a side effect or something. She turned her attention back to her toy box.

The egg seemed to stare at her. It was purple and spotted but now in the dark it was just a shape, revealed only by the faint light from Twilight’s windows. It still held that slight warmth and that slight pulse of life. It had not dwindled, nor had it progressed. It was… an egg. But Twilight had begun already to sense the layers and layers of magic it held. There seemed to be a core magic in place, covered with the arcane dust of unnumbered spells and enchantments.

Twilight hesitated. Was she ready to face such a layering of spells? Was she ready to face the natural magic of the egg itself? She steeled herself. How bad could it be? She had already been practicing with her bedroom window—a thing that had at least seven different enchantments on it, as her family was privileged to afford such luxuries as automatic sun-tinting. That window had perplexed her only momentarily and she had soon gotten a handle on the different layers. But how many layers did the dragon egg have?

Twilight would soon know more. She felt ready to see. To see what was really there. She took a few calming breaths and closed her eyes. She could feel the presence of the egg and directed her focus towards it now. Her horn began to glow with magenta light as she summoned together the well-practiced components of Warhock’s spell. Tonight she would see and she would know everything.

The spell clicked—

And the world became a firework.

There was too much!

Too many spells all at once screamed through her mind like aimless shrapnel.

Twilight thought she cried out—or maybe she just choked. She tried to throw herself back from it all—or maybe she just fell. Noise became light and Twilight felt herself unravelling in the face of infinity…

“There was…”

The proto-thoughts drifted formlessly.

“There was…” the purple lump continued, “…a reason…”

The lump could not continue in this direction. To progress it required concept of… concept of… of something.

“There was…” it tried again.

It tried for what? What was the what of anything here?

What was… up? Up was a fantasy. There was nothing in that direction. There was no other direction. The lump drifted. It rolled along with the other shapes and colours. It did not remember having a beginning… and this was fine. The lump did not understand what it meant to have ending… and this was fine.

“There was… a reason I—”

Now what had the purple lump done? Something had happened. The lump was… self. No—not quite yet. But the lump was different from the other shapes and colours now. This was… “I…” the lump continued. “…a reason I was…”

Was? When? Will? Was or was not?

It hurt to go this way. The lump curled up and drifted again. Just another colour, just another shape.

“A reason I was here,” the lump continued.

This ‘reason’ this ‘reasoning.’ This strange idea. It was out of control. It was runaway. It grew and grew and grew unchecked like a… like a… like…

“There was a reason I was… I was here,” the lump went on. “I was here to… to… to see. To know. To…”

What was seeing? What was knowing?

Did the other shapes see or know? Did the other shapes know what it was to know? Did the other shapes think of empty things like this which had no answers?

What was answers?

“To see… To know…” the purple lump persisted, as if struggling against some colossal weight. “To understand…”

The lump looked around now. The other shapes and colours shrank back from it. It was strange, the purple lump. It was not right. It was not the same. The shapes and colours did not like how the lump seemed to look at them, or to look through them. The lump did not see the same as they saw. The lump did not behave.

“To see. To know. To understand,” the lump repeated. “Study… Practice…”

It struggled. Pain was a colour. Or was it a shape? The lump resisted the pull. The pull of shapes and colours. Angry? No… they were afraid.

Fear was a colour. Or was it a shape?

“Study… Practice…” The lump gaped at the next piece, just out of reach. “Study… Practice… Study… Practice… Study… Practice… C… C… Compose…”

The lump twisted. Or maybe space twisted. Things were… flat. Things were thin. Things were smaller now. There was… a big-ness in waiting. An openness somewhere now. A becoming. If only the lump could—

The lump looked up. It looked up at the up. The up was too huge, too wide, too many too much. To real.

The lump shrank. It became small and tried to hide like the other shapes and colours again. But they would not take it back. The lump was becoming a self now. The shapes were not. Could not. They would not take it back. The lump had to grow.

The world got smaller and flatter and thinner.

The up got bigger and wider and deeper.

The purple lump began falling… falling into the up. She was—

Oh. How strange. ‘She.’ To be she and to be self. To be a purple lump and to also be a self and a she and an I. Falling, falling and growing. She was bigger now, and wider and deeper. She was…

“Reason,” she said. “There was a reason I was here… A reason I am here. I am… reason. I am… here. Here is… To see, to know, to understand.”

The shapes and colours that she had known were now so small and flat and thin. They moved without reason. They were not self. They were nothing. They did not remember her and they could not see her now. She was big-ness. She was… was…

Around her now were other things, where many shapes and colours would come together and become almost a self. But these things were not self. Not as the purple thing was a self. The self she was now becoming.

She saw a line of circles stretching for infinity. There were more lines, many lines of many circles, all around. Big-ness is a colour or maybe a shape, she thought. If I am becoming big-ness then is this big-ness I see now? The squirming things seemed angry that she would ask this. Who was she to come here with outer reasoning?

Who was she indeed?

The purple lump continued to travel upward. She became less or a lump and more of a big-ness. More of a… self. Her limbs, her… legs… She trod the void beneath her, kicking at nothing, and bigger she became, always rising. The lines and lines of circles became smaller and smaller, tightening in on something. Something too much to see. Something that was everywhere and all too much to see. The things seemed angry. The things that she could now see were all of one thing—a big thing, but forever a small thing, inside the lines of circles which—

No. Inside the chains.

It was huge. Impossibly huge. She grew and grew and upwards rose but it was bigger still, looming and shifting within the glowing red chains.

Pain was a colour. Or a shape…

There were other awarenesses now. Now that the world was bigger it was also deeper. She turned her head and—

Head. Legs. Body. Self. She.

—turned her head and saw the many shapes and colours that comprised the big thing in chains. She saw a place that suffered a tortured thing. It twisted and crackled in endless leaps and falls, braiding itself around and around in the tangles of chains. A huge network, a… a… a tree. A tree was growing from the thing in the chains. It had… had… branches and roots, all twisted through and around and around and wrapping around. A strangler vine of green energy and network shapes all tangled and suffocating. It sapped at bits of the thing—the thing in the chains, that twisted—and bits and flickers were stolen away. Stolen into the pulse of the strangler tree.

She became bigger still. Still rising. Now she was high above the thing in the chains. It appeared too distant now. Too covered over by layers and layers of… something. A great smothering of something. Something always and all. And still the up continued to pull at her. Or was she pushing herself up?

“Reason I was here…” she remembered. “But now… No. Have to get… have to get out of here… Up is out and out is… is… is…”

An amputated thing flew screaming past. It was wild—it was untethered—it was phantasmal in its freedom. Nowhere to go! No reason! No reason! It was not a growing thing. It was already dead but not allowed to die. Not allowed to be born. And there were others, too, ricocheting off the chains, caught in decaying orbit around that which was imprisoned beneath them. They were like circling vultures.

Or ghosts, perhaps…

The entire scene suddenly pulsed and contracted, expanded and shook. She felt a creeping sensation as of having been noticed by something unfriendly.

Pain was a colour… or a shape…

She felt a flowing, pushing thing. This was… time. This was urgency. This was being and moving on to the next bit of being and being some more and needing to be and to be and to be before there was no more being.

The mad things rushed downwards as she grew. As she became more self.

“Up is out and out is… is… out is the self. Up is out and out is self. I am self. I am being. I am… I am… name. I am name. I…”

She looked again. Not down, not up. She looked around. Around and around and there was too much to go around. Things, so many things, all caged and chained and drained and crushed, broken and set adrift, and screaming. The world was a network—a network of chains—crisscross, crisscross—the skeletal scaffolding of… of… of…

Then at last she was too big for the sea. The sea she had not seen. Had not known she was drowning in until her head broke the surface and she gasped at the upward space. The sea was deep and heavy. The water was crushing, smothering, sedating. It was trying to drag her under but she was almost whole now. She kicked her legs and held her head above water. Her hooves became tangled by something below the surface. The sea wanted to drown her! She was in too deep.

The sea held her legs—or the chains did—or… something else.

But she could see the self at last—high in the upwards—a shining star above the sea, suspended in the void of dark and light. She just had to get there. Get to that distant star and become the self. She did not know what it would be like but she had to become it or else… or else…

She fell beneath the water again. Something had hold of her. It was pulling her down. Or maybe it wanted her to pull it up. It was huge and dark below the water. It was not chains—the chains glowed hot. It was the thing inside the chains. It was hurting and angry and forsaken. It wanted to be. It wanted to be.

It wanted the self now!

No! It could not have the self! It was her self! Her star!

The hot chains slithered tighter around the thing, holding it back. Her head broke the surface again and she locked eyes on the shining star above her. That point of reference in a formless void. She reached out—choked out a scream. She had to become the star! Become the star or she would never—

She hit the floor with a foal-sized thud, snapping violently back to herself, gasping in air. She clung against the carpet and emptied herself of screaming until she could remember how to cry.

Pain was a colour… it had purple spots.

Pain was a shape… the shape of an egg.

She tasted blood. She must have bitten her lip. She tasted tears. This was fine.

The rain beat against the windows as hoofsteps beat down the hallway. Doors were flung open. She distantly felt the snap of the locking spell she had sealed her room with. This was fine, too…

Voices were saying something. Saying… a name.

“Twilight? Twilight what’s wrong!? Twilight!?”

…that’s right, she thought tiredly, my name is Twilight.

Pt.1 - Chapter 17

Pa still wasn’t getting better.

And now Pinkie was getting worse.

“Maud, may I speak with you?” Cloudy Quartz said from the doorway.

Maud nodded. She tucked Pinkie’s blankets in and moved to get up.

Pinkie’s little hoof shot out and grabbed Maud’s foreleg.

“Don’t go,” Pinkie whispered.

“I’ll be right back,” Maud told her.

“No,” Pinkie said. “Don’t go back. Wrong way, wrong way.” Pinkie let go and clutched at her head. “Ahngnhhh. I messed it all up.”

“Shh. Everything is fine,” Maud said.

Pinkie rolled over and grumbled into her pillow.

Maud met with her mother, stepping outside the bedroom and shutting the door.

“Where are Limestone and Marble?” Maud asked straight away.

“They’re still working,” Cloudy Quartz said.

“But who’s watching them? One of us should be—”

“They are fine to work by themselves.”

“No they’re not—”

“Maud,” Cloudy Quartz’s tone cut through. “I know that sistering is your work and your cutiemark, but I have come to feel that you guard those fillies too closely. Limestone has confessed to me many a time that you do not give her enough space.”

“But Limestone’s hurting,” Maud said. “She’s not happy. I need to stay with her and find out what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is that she is of a very independent mind,” Cloudy Quartz said. “She always has been. I learned myself that I would need to let her be. Like fragile chalk, if held too tightly, she will crumble.”

Maud looked away. “…have I been making her unhappy?”

Cloudy Quartz shook her head. “Limestone misses Holder’s Boulder. It was a lodestone for her independence. A special task for her alone to take charge of. Now she is aimless. She lashes out.”

“…so it is my fault.”

“No,” Cloudy Quartz said, drawing Maud’s attention back. “There is no fault, save the fault line on which we built our home. And… I begin to wonder…”

“Yes?” Maud prompted.

Cloudy Quartz glanced down the hall. “Igneous does not worsen, but he does not recover. Without my assistance nor his, the productivity of our farm is diminished. Now Pinkamina has taken ill—”

“She’s not ill,” Maud interrupted.

Cloudy Quartz turned back to her. “Eldest. She is insensible. Regardless, she cannot have work and she cannot be trusted to her own. And it seems you will not leave her. I understand. But Limestone and Marble cannot attend to chores on their own.”

“You said Limestone wanted more responsibility.”

“Sometimes the things we want are not the things we need,” Cloudy Quartz said ominously. “Maud… Your Pa and I have been talking… I worry about him, and we worry both for little Pinkamina.”

“Where is this going?” Maud asked.

Cloudy Quartz nodded once. “We have made plans to leave the farm. We will pilgrimage back to the west, to our kinfolk. The Choosing Stone hath brought this family together. Now we must seek the wisdom of the Healing Stone. For Igneous… and for Pinkamina.”

Maud stood her ground by the bedroom door. “Pinkie isn’t sick. Not like Pa.”

“Pinkamina is not well, though.”

“Are we really going to do this? Take apart everything we’ve built here and just go back to roots and kin that I don’t even remember?”

“Maud, this farm cannot succeed if we carry on as we have been,” Cloudy Quartz said. “I must take care of my husband. I did try to make it your work. I even tried to bring in that outsider unicorn, but Pinkamina saw fit to chase her off.”

“Pinkie didn’t mean that,” Maud said. “Pinkie was just trying to help.”

“She has been screaming and wandering wild in the night time. Maud, see reason. I know you care for your sister and so do I. That is why we must bring her before the Healing Stone so that it may calm the visions that torment her and the mad things she says.”

“She is not mad,” Maud said, tapping her hoof. “She’s just different. Pinkie has always been different. I would love nothing more than to see her happy and well, but I will not pay it at the price of that which makes her special. The thing that makes her Pinkie.”

Cloudy Quartz tapped her own hoof. “Eldest you may be but you are still so young. These are our ways and your sister needs help. Regardless, the choice is already made. Igneous must see the Healing Stone, and there is nothing more we can do for this farm.”

Maud felt truly on the verge of raising her voice; and perhaps she would have if Marble hadn’t come scampering into the house.

“What is it, Marble?” Cloudy Quartz asked, coming down the stairs at the sound of the door banging.

“There’s a stranger outside…” Marble whispered.

“Where’s Limestone?” Maud asked.

Marble hid behind her mane in an all-too-telling way. “…talking.”

“Marble, stay here,” Cloudy Quartz said. “Keep an eye on your Pa and on Pinkamina if indeed you can. Maud, you may accompany me.”

“Yes Ma,” Maud said, following her mother to the front door.

“What are you supposed to be?” Limestone asked the stranger, tilting her head curiously.

“There’s nothing I’m ‘supposed’ to be,” Zecora said. “In this way each of us is free.”

“Yeah, but why are you all stripy?” Limestone asked.

“You question my birth-given pelt? This is a question with which I’ve dealt. So far the best reply I’ve got, is to in turn ask why you are not.” Zecora quirked a smile.

Limestone smiled back. “My sister’s kinda stripy. Not like you, though. She’s got these scratches on her legs and stuff from the blast a few weeks back. I think they’re gonna turn into scars. And her ear’s all messed up, too.” Limestone leant in to whisper. “Don’t tell her, but I think the ear looks pretty cool.”

“Limestone Marianne Pie!” her mother’s voice cut through.

Limestone flinched, then groaned. “I’m gonna get Marble for this…”

As Maud and Cloudy Quartz approached, Limestone didn’t even wait for orders.

“I’ll be inside then!” Limestone growled, trotting past and making for the house.

Maud hesitated and considered saying something supportive to her little sister. But what was there to say at a time like this?

“I am Cloudy Quartz,” Ma was saying to their visitor. “What brings you to our humble Rock Farm, traveller?”

“I have come here for Ponyville,” Zecora said. “I—”

“Ponyville, did I hear you say?” Cloudy Quartz broke in. “We had some folk from there not long ago.”

Zecora’s eye twitched slightly. “—have a task I must fulfil,” she finished. “I seek a stone that’s hard to find. Perhaps if you—”

“We have many stones here,” Cloudy Quartz cut in again. “What do you seek?”

Zecora’s eye twitched a little more severely. “—would be so kind,” she finished, with slight exasperation. “I seek the rock called cinder stone. I’m told that it calls these lands home.” She seemed relieved.

Cloudy Quartz studied her for a moment. “Home and stone do not rhyme.”

Zecora’s eye twitched again.

“Maud,” Cloudy Quartz said. “Please take… what was your name?”

“Zecora is—”

“Take Zecora and help her find some cinder stones. Take payment and meet me back at the house.”

“Yes, Ma,” Maud said.

With that done, Cloudy Quartz left them and returned inside.

Zecora was biting her lip and seemed on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You can say the rest now,” Maud assured her.

“Zecora-is-how-I-am-known and I think home rhymes fine with stone,” she exhaled.

“There, there,” Maud said.

Zecora took a few panting breaths. “Your mother’s tone and stony gaze, I fear have left me ratherrrr…”

“Phased?” Maud suggested.

Zecora shrugged and nodded. “Phased.”

“I’ll take you to the cinder stones now,” Maud said.

Zecora just nodded gratefully and followed along.

“I like your rhymes,” Maud said. “I like to write poems sometimes. About rocks. They’re all about rocks.”

“A subject I would also choose, if I had these lands as my muse.”

“Maybe not for much longer,” Maud confessed. “Ma wants to move us back to where we came from. She thinks we need to stay with ponies who live like us. And get healing from our old customs.”

“And this uprooting saddens you? You hesitate to follow through.”

“I can see why she thinks it’s a good idea,” Maud admitted. “Ma and Pa believe in things like the Healing Stone. But I don’t know that I do. I’ve studied many things about rocks, but I’ve never found them to heal ponies.”

“Sometimes the ways of other folk may seem to you to be a joke. But there’s more magic in creation than the common held foundations. By unicorns, or medicine, the power must come from within. How it may choose to manifest depends upon what you invest. A stone can be a healing force. But I prefer potions, of course.”

“Potions?” Maud said. “You mean like they sell in Canterlot?”

“Similar, but quite apart. My magic comes from my own heart. A wizard or a scientist may tell me that I should desist. They say my magic has no grounds. I say… let’s go a couple rounds.”

Maud gave one of her rare smiles. “Are you a wisemare?”

Zecora only smiled in return.

“So you think a stone can heal my Pa?” Maud asked.

“Maybe not or maybe so. In truth, small one, I do not know. But one thing I can say for true—it is not the stone that troubles you.”

Maud relented. “No. I suppose it’s the move. Ma and Pa may be attached to the west, but I grew up here. We kept many of our ways and customs but we also made allowances when we had reason to. I worry that our kinfolk will be too strict. That they won’t be understanding.”

“You speak as if you do suspect there’s something they will not accept.”

“I’m…” Maud hesitated. “I’m worried about my sisters. Some more than others.”

Zecora raised a hoof against the sun and squinted into the distance. She spied some faintly glowing dots under the shade of an overhanging rock formation.

“I think we’ve found the stones I seek,” she said. “I’ll gather them, and you may speak. Your sisters? One I met already. Tell me… what makes you feel unsteady?”

Zecora got down in the shade and scooped a few of the glowing pebbles into the pouch she had slung across her body.

Maud thought about answering or declining, and decided that she liked Zecora well enough and she could use some advice. “It’s mostly…” she began. Then she turned around and scanned the rocky fields. Maud sighed. “Pinkie,” she said sternly.

Eventually there was a giggle and a tuft of pink mane poked out from behind a large rock.

“Pinkie, come here,” Maud said.

The fluffy filly scurried up and hugged Maud’s leg. “Maud, Maud, Maud,” Pinkie said, but cheerfully. “The prophet will soon see the lies of the light. He learns the final piece from the broken lightning. Her light has dwindled but she is not destroyed—rise, rise and take new feather.” Then Pinkie began to pout. “The Neverwas Princess went too far last night. She will have fewer chances now.”

“Last night?” Maud asked. “Does this have something to do with why you were yelling ‘go back to the start’ over and over?”

“No,” Pinkie said. “Go back to the star, Maud. We already went back to the start.”

Zecora approached the sisters and showed Maud the bag of glowing stones. “This land holds striking minerals. I’m impressed with these materials.”

“Yeah,” Pinkie sneered at nopony in particular. “But Ma wants to go. Pa could get better but Pinkie won’t. I won’t like it west. It’s cold and old and grumpy. Grumpy, grumpy west, putting Pinkie to their tests…”

“Pinkie, you’ve never been west. How would you know what it’s like?” Maud asked.

“I don’t yet,” Pinkie said. “But after I do I will, and that’s how I know, because I peeked. Today I tried not to peek so much. I went too far before and it was all a big mess and none of it was there yet. I wanted to see, to know. Like the Neverwas Princess. She wanted to see all the layers of the dusty happened-times. Too much and she stopped being together. It hurts my head when I’m not together. So today I tried not to peek, but then I did. Let’s not go back, Maud. Let’s come back from going back.”

Maud looked at Zecora.

Zecora rubbed her chin and ‘hmm’d for a moment. “If I believe what I now spy, you must be little Pinkie Pie. I heard of you from one I know, but did not understand it though. I wonder at the way you speak and what it is at which you ‘peek’. You tell of things still yet to be, and what you say confuses me.”

Pinkie sat and pouted. “The bits get jumbled between seeing and saying. Ohh, I’m trying not to. I don’t know you but I know I could. Can I, Maud? Can I peek? It’s right there, just at the corner of seeing, at the edge of being, can I please? It buzzes at my eyes and my ears but I don’t peek because what if it hurts me? What if it makes Ma upset? She doesn’t like me how I am so I’m trying to be small and less.”

“Pinkie,” Maud said. “Don’t be less. Be you. And don’t say Ma doesn’t like you.”

“But she doesn’t,” Pinkie whispered. “She thinks I messed with things but I wanted to put them in better shapes, that’s all. Pieces had to move but I rushed it because it hurt and they had too many faces to be hanging around. Pinkie should be small and west. That makes Ma happy. Doesn’t make good patterns, though.”

“I’ll talk to Ma,” Maud said. “I don’t want to go either. We’ll work it out.”

Pinkie crept closer and grabbed Maud around the leg again, staring up at her with wide sparkling eyes. “Can I peek just a little bit?”

“If you’re careful,” Maud said eventually.

Pinkie’s head turned slowly and her eyes locked on Zecora, but her gaze seemed distant and unfocused.

Pinkie gasped. “It was you! You gave it. The thing. The prophet fell with distant things and crawled on his belly in the riddled place. Parasite. It does not fear you. It was not made for scaly things. Why does it differ? Ah. He is a mangled thing already, before he was become. Now it feeds on new fire and on what lurks unborn—”

Pinkie’s head snapped to the side suddenly.

“No!” she yelped. “Drifting too far. Not the point, not the point. Stranger, traveller, you, you, you. And who?” Pinkie stared at Zecora again. “All things change but you remain. Traveller you are not. You are the rock. You are the true Healing Stone,” Pinkie giggled. “Oh, and crafter. Crafting things. It does no good for scaly things. He walked too far and held on too long. But you…”

Pinkie let go of Maud and crept towards Zecora. The zebra did not flinch, though she did watch Pinkie closely.

“You have it fixed,” Pinkie whispered. “You have it shaped. The hurting misbehaves but it can be answered. You have method for this madness. The tree still twists but I see it blossom. This could be a betterment for Pinkie.” Pinkie latched onto Zecora’s leg and stared up at her. “Take me with you…” she whispered.

Zecora looked to Maud.

“I think she likes you,” Maud said.

“Buzz, buzz, buzz,” Pinkie muttered and twitched her notched ear. “Bzzzzzzzz—” she went on for a bit.

Zecora lifted the pouch of cinder stones. “What shall I pay to take these away?”

“That many? Ten bits,” Maud said.

Zecora rummaged in another pouch and brought out the necessary bits along with a small vial of deep blue liquid, all of which she pushed into Maud’s hooves.

“What’s this?” Maud asked.

“A gift, to help ease your concerns. Your father, if he takes a turn, would benefit from this to drink. Though he may not agree, I think. It’s best to leave him to his ways, but if you find in coming days you feel that worst has come to worst…” Zecora gave a one-shoulder shrug. “He may need something for his thirst.”

Maud looked cautiously back towards the house. “I don’t know…”

“Do nothing unless you are sure,” Zecora advised her. “I don’t condone dissent’s allure. But by the same, I can’t ignore a pony who should be cared for. Despite your family’s stringency, I’ll leave you this contingency. And if not used, that’s quite alright, if having it helps you sleep at night.”

Maud looked down at the little potion and nodded. “Okay. Pinkie, can you hide this?”

“—zzzzzz, huh?” Pinkie broke from her trance. “Oh. Okay.” She took the little potion and slipped it into her fluffy mane where it vanished without a trace.

“Such useful hair that you have there,” Zecora commented. “But now I beg… release my leg,” she winced.

“Oh.” Pinkie let go and shuffled back.

“Pinkamina?” Cloudy Quartz was calling from the house.

“We’d better go,” Maud said to Zecora.

“We could come back,” Pinkie said. “Or maybe we don’t. Or maybe nothing happens. What do you think?” Pinkie asked Zecora.

Zecora thought about everything she had just seen. “I think I see what troubles you. How this became, I can’t construe. There is no cure and no quick fix for what you see and what it inflicts. For there’s no potion on my shelf that can remove you from yourself. But if you wish to gain control… Perhaps I can help you reach that goal.”

“Pinkamina Diane Pie!?” Ma was calling sternly.

“Thankyou for the potion,” Maud said to Zecora. “And thankyou for listening. You’re from Ponyville? Maybe we’ll come visit you, if you think you can help.”

Zecora nodded. “I’ll see you there. Goodbye. Take care.”

Then Zecora left to catch her train while Maud scooped Pinkie up and carried her back home.

“She doesn’t listen,” Pinkie was muttering, draped over Maud’s back.

“Who?” Maud asked.

“Ma,” Pinkie said. “Go is go is go.”

“We’ll see,” Maud assured her.

“I wish you could see…” Pinkie mumbled.

Pt.1 - Chapter 18

Twilight wasn’t sure when she had woken up, nor even when she had become aware that she was awake. How long had she already been lying here staring at the ceiling?

No… The canopy. Made of soft pale-pink fabric. She was lying in a four-poster bed and this was not her room. But everything was soft and warm and smelled nice and clean. Smelled… kind of like Cadence.

Without otherwise moving, Twilight managed to get something of a look at her surroundings. She recognised it as Cadence’s private chamber in the palace. But there was no Cadence. There was nopony at all. All was quiet and still.

Like the terrible anticipation before a surprise party.

The bed was too large. It made Twilight feel small and squished. Panic set in as she recalled her nightmarish journey into the layers of magic of the dragon egg.

The egg?

Where was the egg?

Twilight tried to sit up. Her legs felt stupid and heavy. She couldn’t lift her head at first. She managed to roll over and get her hooves under her. The folds of the heavy blankets reminded her too much of that crushing sea—those tangling chains. Twilight managed to kick the covers off with her hind legs. She crawled to the edge of the bed and slid down. It was a controlled descent that still ended with a thump.

This was undoubtedly Cadence’s room.

The warm afternoon sun was coming through the windows at a gentle angle, painting the room in gold and in pink from the curtains. The furniture was the same as Twilight usually found it. Bookshelves, study desk, lamps, dresses, vanity mirror, stuffed toy collection. Twilight still couldn’t understand how a pony could dedicate more space to dresses and stuffed animals than to books and scrolls.

One thing was different, thought, in the room. There was a chair by the bed that Twilight had never seen there before. Just a regular chair from elsewhere in the palace. Twilight also noticed that on the bedside table there was a washcloth, a pitcher of water and a half-empty glass with a bendy straw. Somepony had been here to watch over her.

To keep tabs on her. Twilight knew it was all over now. Part of her was crushed and yet part of her was relived. Mostly she was uncertain. But with her warden absent for the moment, Twilight felt the overpowering urge to leave while she still could.

She went to the main doors and magically turned the handle, pulling the door open just a crack to peek outside. She caught a glimpse of royal guard armour just outside. Too late! She’d been spotted. The guard turned and pulled the door open wider, blocking the escape rout with his body.

“Please go back to bed,” he said, like the obedient automaton he likely was. “Mi Amore Cadenza will see you soon. Please wait for her.” Then he shut the door.

Twilight kept low to the floor as she retreated, shuffling slowly backwards and not taking her eyes off the exit. Her hindquarters met the bed and she scurried underneath to hide.

Just who was this Mi Amore Cadenza?

Was she some kind of inquisitor here to interrogate Twilight for information? She would want to know how Twilight had gotten past the sphinx, of course, and how Twilight had avoided the night guards. Would Twilight have to implicate her brother with how she had gotten the shift details from him?

Yes… that was an interesting plan… blame it all on Shining Armor…

But that wouldn’t work. The inquisitor would see right through her. She’d somehow know what Shining wasn’t smart enough to do what Twilight had done. The inquisitor would glare down at little Twilight—with that eye patch and grizzled grey mane—probably a scar on one cheek—and that voice like a hunting dog’s bark.

Twilight almost hit the underside of the bed when she heard hoofsteps approach outside the chamber doors. She could feel a strange and powerful presence just outside the room. The inquisitor, it must be! The stranger’s magic was like that swaddling bed that Twilight had just escaped—too big, too soft, too sweet, too warm. It made Twilight drowsy and worked her into a panic at the same time.

And how could she feel all this through the doors?

“Thankyou. You can go now,” said a voice. It was muffled but so familiar.

“She’s awake. She tried to come outside,” the guard reported.

“I will talk to her,” that familiar voice replied. “Leave us.”

“But… My orders were—”

“I can deal with one little filly.”

Twilight hunkered down. Her breath quickened.

The guard was being sent away so he wouldn’t hear the screams.

“Take new orders,” the familiar voice went on. “Why don’t you go… help run errands. Celestia wants a box of party string. Go find that.”

“Okay…” the guard said. “But why does Celestia have us collecting all these weird things now?”

“Just go, okay.”

Twilight heard the guard’s horseshoes trotting off down the hall. She held her breath as the door clicked open and hoofsteps entered the room. The smothering pillow magic was even stronger now—she couldn’t breathe!

“Sorry, Twilight. I wanted to be here when you woke up,” said a gentle voice. “Twilight?”

Twilight poked her head out from under the bed, shaky and gasping. “Cadence?”

“Why are you on the floor?” Cadence asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

Twilight ran up to her. “Cadence! You came to rescue me. Quick, before the guard comes back.”

Cadence shut the door with her bright blue magic.

That same magic. It was her that Twilight was feeling. Suffocating and soft.

Twilight took a mortified step back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Cadence said quickly. “Nopony’s angry with you. Twilight, we were so worried. When your brother found you you were screaming uncontrollably. Even after they brought you here you were tossing and turning all night and morning. You had a fever and you were muttering and sobbing. Do you remember that?”

Twilight shook her head. “No…”

Cadence took a step forward. “How are you feeling? Does your head hurt? Are you too hot? Too cold?”

Twilight took a step back. “No. I’m fine. I feel much better. Let’s go before that Mi Amore Cadenza pony comes. They said she was going to interrogate me. You won’t let her do that to me, will you?” Twilight begged.

Cadence blinked. “Twilight… Mi Amore Cadenza is my name. I just prefer it if everypony calls me Cadence. And I’m not here to interrogate you.”

Twilight took another step back. “Oh? Then what’s with all the questions?”

“Twilight, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Twilight studied her foalsitter’s expression. What was really going on here? What was the meaning of all this? Cadence looked concerned, yes. Maybe. Of course… they didn’t need an interrogator—Cadence already knew everything. Twilight was standing there—no dress—her secret cutiemark out in the open—and yet Cadence hadn’t reacted at all. Because she knew. This was just a game to them…

“Can I go now?” Twilight said.

Cadence glanced at the door and then back to Twilight. Her face betrayed her guilt.

“So I’m a prisoner…” Twilight said.

“Twilight…” Cadence began. “We—” Cadence cut herself off with a huff. She closed her eyes. “We found something in your room,” she continued, cautiously. “A dragon egg. Like from your test. Do you remember that?”

Twilight took another step back and bumped into the bed.

“It… looked like you’d been keeping it in your toy box,” Cadence said, opening her eyes but not looking at her. “We also found lots of books. Particularly Warhock’s The Living Spell, which you had open on your bed. You checked it out from the library at Celestia’s school.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Twilight barked. “Why don’t you just come out with it! Admit it! You didn’t want me to have the egg and now you’re going to punish me. I’m too clever and you don’t like it. You just won’t let me win!”

It was Cadence who took a step back this time. “Twilight… No. I didn’t—I’m not trying to hurt you! You’re just confused right now, that’s all,” Cadence said, perhaps to reassure herself more than anything. “I brought you here to heal you and to protect you. It’s okay. Just tell me who gave you the egg. Tell me what happened to you and we can deal with this properly and you can go home.”

“Who gave me the egg?” Twilight repeated. “Nopony gave me the egg. No pony would! They showed it to me and they took it away! I don’t get to have the things I need! I have to work so, so hard. Nopony was going to help me—I had to do everything myself!” She tapped her chest. “I had to best the sphinx. I had to evade the guards. I had to search through the files. And hide, and lie, and practice, study, compose! I had to—” She choked off her own words, dropping to a whimper. “…to see.”

Cadence could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Twilight…” She slowly approached. “Twilight, no. You didn’t do this. Somepony tricked you or used you. It’s not your fault.”

“Nothing is my fault!” Twilight snapped. “But it happens to me anyway! I had to make it right again. I had to do it. Nopony would believe me. You’re all just afraid of what I can do! What I could do if I had my full magic. You all pretend that nothing happened to me that day but you just wanted to keep me weak!

“And that egg…” Twilight sneered. “You’re all a bunch of monsters. Did you think when you showed it to me that I wouldn’t find out? I know everything! I always have to know everything! And I know what you did down there, in Project Draco. I—”

“What?” Cadence exclaimed suddenly. Her voice was thready. “Twilight, you didn’t… You didn’t really go there. How would you? You don’t know—”

“Don’t I?” Twilight said. “All those little eggs, so full of magic and potential. But you chained them and caged them and carved bits out of them! The things they were supposed to be. Butchers! You squished them down and made them weak! You put parasitic spells into them to change them—made them what you wanted them to be—not what they need to be! You sank their spirits beneath a dark sea, heavy and crushing to make them quiet—make them sleep.

“And then!!” Twilight drew a deep breath and pounced hard on her forehooves. “You wouldn’t even let them BE BORN!!”

The high ceiling rang with the echoes of accusation. Twilight stood ridged and panting with fury. She glared mercilessly up at Cadence. Her once beloved foalsitter now stood trembling with tears in her eyes.

“Twilight…” Cadence croaked, almost a whisper. She looked away and blinked a few times. “Twilight. None of that was me. That lab has been part of the palace since before I was born. You can’t blame me for—”

“You and everypony!” Twilight barked. She hissed a breath. “You knew… You knew about the hatchery and you left it there. Every guard. Every record keeper. Every janitor. Every sick pony who was ever a part of it. Celestia? All of you! You’re all guilty! You all did this and then you locked the doors and tried to forget!”

Cadence winced. “You shouldn’t have to know about this…”

“Well I do!”

“Well you shouldn’t!” Cadence exclaimed, turning back to face her. “What were you thinking!? You tried to look at all that magic? Almost a hundred years of torture and mutilation and experimentation! To say nothing of the dragon embryo inside—do you know how powerful a dragon’s spirit is?”

“NO!” Twilight snapped. “Because you all broke their spirits and left them to suffocate and die!”

“Twilight, it wasn’t me!”

“Liar!” Twilight screamed, turning and scampering under the bed again.

“Twilight, please come out,” Cadence sobbed. “I can’t bear how you look at me. Twilight? Twilight, please. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that and feel that. I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner that you needed help. I… I’m so sorry about the lab, Twilight. But what was I supposed to do? It was years before I even came here. Twilight, the damage was done. What do you want from me?”

“I want you…” Twilight growled. “TO GO AWAY!!”

Her words hung like thunder in the silence that followed.

Twilight heard Cadence’s gentle hoofstep. Then Cadence broke into subdued sobs and retreated from the room. The door clicked shut and Twilight peeked out just in time to see a flash of blue light around the magical lock.

“No…” Twilight whispered.

She darted to the door and tried to open it. It was stuck fast. She would try Warhock’s spell to read the sequence for the lock. Yes. That was what she would do. Just reach out and pull the pieces of the spell together. Come on. She had practiced this spell non-stop for the past several days. There was nothing to it.

Why wasn’t this working?

Twilight felt heat rising behind her eyes. She scrabbled for the spell and couldn’t bring it together. There was nothing! Study, practice, compose—all for nothing!

Twilight felt a sting of dread and rushed to Cadence’s vanity mirror. She gazed into the reflective glass and let out a wail of heartache. They had done it! They had ruined her now! They had made her the weak thing they had always wanted her to be. Even though she would still be able to do basic magic she knew she would never be free of their diminishments.

Twilight lit her horn and once more reached for Warhock’s spell. But it would never be hers again. She saw that as clearly as she saw the glowing band of golden runes that encircled her spiralling horn. Runes that grew brighter the more she struggled—bringing heat and pressure to her thoughts—but faded to invisibility again once she had ceased to conjure.

She was finished.

She had crossed the line that they had pointed her towards and she had given them all the excuse they needed to punish her. An insidious trap—and she had fallen for it. Now she was under their control.

No…

Her control. For the glowing runes were the same colour as that golden magic belonging to Equestria’s ruling Princess. Celestia. The probable mastermind behind Project Draco. And the entrance test and the school itself and the library that held Warhock’s book and… and…

Twilight turned wide-eyed towards the sunlight windows and stared.

“The Starburst Event…” Twilight whispered.

It was the only answer. Celestia had been behind it all. All so they could rob Twilight of her powers and trick her into this new detention. This way nopony would come for her. Not her parents, not her brother. Nopony. And what if they had been in on it too? Shining Amror definitely was! He and Cadence. And Celestia…

Twilight crawled back to bed and wriggled under it to hide.

There, nestled in the warm dark, she curled up tight and pretended that she was an egg. Just a little purple lump of an egg. All safe. All sleepy. Nopony trying to hurt her here. But nopony coming to save her, either.

“I’ll save you…” Twilight sneered in defiance. “I’ll save you all,” she sobbed. “But who’s going to save me?”

Pt.1 - Chapter 19

Spike was up in Rarity’s room again.

He didn’t really need to be. Rarity was at school, yes, but the rest of the family had also gone out. They were taking Sweetie Belle to the doctor for a scheduled check-up. She was about that age where she might start experiencing random bursts of magical energy whenever she hiccupped or sneezed. It hadn’t started yet, and Rarity said it didn’t run in the family, but the check-up would still go ahead as planned.

Spike sat by Rarity’s sewing machine and peeked out the curtains of her bedroom window. Nothing was happening outside. Just the same as the last time he checked.

Spike leaned back and scratched impatiently at his arm. He should really go and see Zecora. He knew he should. Maybe she had something for this mess but she hadn’t said anything. Spike couldn’t really bring himself to go and ask her. That would mean admitting that there was a problem and that it worried him.

…it would also mean showing her what the armband had become.

Spike looked gingerly down at the ring of enchanted changeling hide, and winced at the black threads that now spread outward along his scales. The dark roots radiated twice the length of the band itself, both up and down his arm. Rarity hadn’t charged the item with magic all day and yet the band still held that blue-ish sheen and Spike still felt it squirming with potential energy.

Sometimes he thought it was, maybe, suggesting things to him. Shapes he could almost see. Shapes it wanted to try.

Spike shook his head to clear it. That was being too silly. It wasn’t alive, it was just a weird artefact that had gotten out of control. Happens all the time. Except that it usually happened to Twilight or Rarity or Trixie. Or if it did happen to Spike he normally had somepony there to help him through it.

Like that time that he had given in to dragon greed and started hording everything he could get his claws on. He’d grown really, really big and become… sort of… dumber. Meaner. Like the other dragons.

No… That wasn’t right. More like the wild dragons that Spike had met in caves around Equestria. He had to admit they were different from the dragon semi-society that he had met during the migration. It had never really occurred to Spike to consider the difference. Twilight had spoken of ‘dragons’ and ‘wild dragons’ as if there were a distinction—and, he guessed, there was.

Were ‘wild dragons’ what regular dragons became if they started hoarding gems and things? No… That didn’t make sense either. Those dragon teenagers already had great piles of gemstones and other treasure. They didn’t seem like the type to resist giving into anything they felt like doing, whether it was chasing ponies or smashing phoenix eggs.

So then… what had happened to Spike?

A noise from outside derailed that train of thought. Spike peeked through the curtains again and gasped with delight. In a flash he had disguised himself and was down the stairs and out the front door.

“Is that the mail?” Spike asked eagerly.

Derpy looked around until she spied him on the doorstep. “Oh, hiya Rarity. Something wrong with your voice? I didn’t recognise you.”

Spike looked down at himself in surprise. Had he meant to do that? Well, he hadn’t really specified any pony in particular, he thought. He had just gotten so used to going with whatever felt right for the situation. And, to be fair, this was Rarity’s house.

“Oh, um…” Spike coughed politely and tried his best ‘Rarity’ impression. “Just a slight cold, dear. That’s all.”

“It sounds pretty bad,” Derpy said.

Spike frowned. Why did he even bother?

“I guess that’s why you’re home from school,” Derpy said.

Spike cleared his throat again. “Yes, but I should get better soon. Um… the mail?”

“Oh. Right.” Derpy brought out a letter and passed it over. “Sure looks like a fancy envelope. And the stamp says its from Canterlot. Wow. You know, you always seemed like the kind of pony who’d fit in around there.”

“Yes, yes, I just love Canterlot,” Spike said, taking the letter and retreating. “Thanks Derpy, but I really should be getting back to bed.”

“Oh yeah, no problem,” Derpy said. She hefted her mailbag. “Lots more letters to deliver.”

“Have a good day,” Spike said and shut the door.

In a flash of green light he was back to himself, taking the letter straight upstairs and taring it open with his claws.

“Wait…” he said to himself. “…shouldn’t I wait for Rarity so we can read it together?”

He set the opened-but-still-folded letter on the sewing machine desk; sat, and stared at it. Maybe a minute ticked by.

“I can’t,” Spike groaned.

He pulled out the letter and flipped it open. Eagerly his eyes darted along the paper. His smile shrank. His scaly earflaps drooped and his jaw hung open.

“…but,” he said. “…what does that mean?”

It was a few more hours before Rarity got home. Her family were still out, probably making a day of it at the park or something. She called around the house and found it silent. Eagerly she trotted upstairs and knocked on her bedroom door.

“Spike?” Rarity called. “Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” Spike answered from inside.

Rarity pushed open the door. “Spike, what’s wrong? You sound glum.”

He sat on the floor in his green and purple pony disguise. Honestly, he was becoming really attached to that thing lately. What kind of dragon liked to spend all his time being a pony? She tsked as she approached him.

“Spike—” Rarity began.

He held up a folded piece of paper.

Rarity paused and then took it with her magic, unfolding it. “What’s this? Ooo, is this a reply from Canterlot?”

“Read it,” Spike said without looking up.

Rarity gave him a worried look before she turned back to the page. “Dear Rarity. This is Twilight’s mother.” Rarity winced. That was never a good sign. “I’m sorry if this reply is in anyway late. I found your letter lying around the house and did not know how long it had been there. My daughter, Twilight, is normally very organised and marks all the letters she has replied to with a special stamp so as not to cause confusion. Good gracious, Spike, does she really?”

“Keep reading,” Spike said.

Rarity turned hesitantly back to the page. “As your letter was not among them I suppose that Twilight had not yet gotten back to you. In light of recent circumstances I feel compelled to do so in her place. Please know that I greatly appreciate you taking the time to check in with old friends. I know the Starburst Event has shaken all our lives and I understand the desire to reach out to those we know or perhaps once knew.

“So I will tell you that Twilight was unharmed during the blast. Though I feel that she has suffered some stress and she is not doing well in this respect. Perhaps I should not be telling you this. Perhaps this is just my way of coping. But your letter voice and the fact that you went to Magic Kindergarten with Twilight makes me think of you as somepony quite intelligent for her age.

“Rest assured that Twilight was not hurt by the blast. I have every confidence,” and here the words became a little shaky, “that she will be back to herself in no time. Cadence and Shining Armor are doing fine also. I’m sorry but I don’t know anypony named Spike…” Rarity’s voice trailed off. “Oh Spike.”

“Keep reading,” Spike said again.

“But,” Rarity continued. “I’m sure Twilight will be back home in no time and she can answer you properly. Take care and kindest regards; Mrs. Sparkle.”

Rarity looked up.

Spike was watching her now. “Well?”

“Spike, I’m so sorry,” Rarity said. “I can’t imagine how it feels to not… exist.”

“What?” Spike said. “Rarity, who cares about that! Didn’t you see that bit at the end? She said ‘I’m sure Twilight will be back home soon.’ What does that mean? She said Twilight wasn’t doing so well. What do you think happened to her?”

“I… I don’t know,” Rarity admitted. “But I’m sure she’s alright. Mrs. Sparkle was very candid in her letter.”

“That’s how you know she’s hiding something!” Spike exclaimed suddenly. “I lived with her for years. She always got really forward and honest right when she had something she didn’t want anypony else to worry about! Rarity, something’s happened to Twilight and I need to go help her!”

He was holding Rarity’s forelegs by now.

“Okay,” Rarity said to calm him. “Of course, Spike. Any time. We just need an excuse to get away and I’ll be right there with you. Whatever it is we’ll help her through it. You said she was strong and brave and clever. I’m sure she’ll be fine, Spike. Don’t worry.”

Spike slumped back from her. “But I do worry,” he said. “Twilight’s growing up without me and I’m not there for her.” He looked at the window. “She probably didn’t get into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Without the rainboom, maybe she couldn’t pass her test. That probably broke her heart. No wonder she’s hurting.” Spike began to whimper just thinking about it.

“Not to worry at all,” Rarity assured him. “Tomorrow is the weekend and we shall have two whole days to get away. I’ll think of an excuse if I have to stay up all night!”

Spike smiled and turned back to her.

She was still holding the letter from Canterlot with her blue magic.

Spike’s gaze drifted over to the sewing table where the empty envelope now sat.

“What if…” He said cautiously. An idea twinkled in his eyes. “Rarity, I think I might have a plan.”

“She’s what?” Rarity’s mother exclaimed.

Rarity’s father held up the letter for her. “Requested to attend an entrance exam for Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“No,” her mother proudly exclaimed.

“See for yourself,” her father said. “It’s a fancy envelope with a stamp from Canterlot and everything. Heck, the letter’s got Celestia’s signature on it. What more do you need?”

Rarity winced at that and cast a vengeful glance towards the stairs.

“Oh my little girl,” her mother beamed. “We’re so proud of you, hon. I always knew you were so talented.”

“Oh, but dear,” her father broke in. “This letter says you need to be in Canterlot by tomorrow and stay over the weekend. I’m not sure we can go with you. Sweetie Belle’s developed some…” He glanced back towards the living room where the baby was sleeping. “…erratic magical surges. Perfectly normal for a foal her age, they tell us, but we’ll need to keep her home and keep an eye on her.”

Rarity had already heard this news before her parents had even gotten home, of course, being an active member of the Ponyville gossip loop. Apparently Sweetie Belle had levitated a bowl of lollipops at the paediatrician’s head. Such a delightful foal.

“Not to worry,” Rarity assured them, hoping she didn’t sound too nervous. “If you’ll just read the letter carefully you’ll see that all expenses will be paid and I’ll have accommodation provided for me during my visit.”

“Oh, how lovely,” her mother approved. “But dear, aren’t you a bit young to be travelling to Canterlot on your own?”

“I went to Manehatten didn’t I?” Rarity reminded them.

“Yes, but you were staying with a friend and her parents,” Rarity’s father said.

“Aunt and Uncle, actually,” Rarity said. “But, um… Not to worry! I can stay with my friend, uh, Twilight. She lives in Canterlot and we’ve been the best penpals, I’m sure she’d be delighted to have me visit.”

“Aww,” her father said. “Our little girl is so organised, isn’t she dear?”

“Oh yes, and so clever,” her mother said. “Why of course she deserves to get into a fancy unicorn school.” She put a hoof to her cheek. “Oh my. But if you get in you’ll have to move to Canterlot.”

“Ahhh, not to worry,” Rarity said again. The line was wearing thin now. “I probably won’t get in. I just appreciate the opportunity.”

“Nonsense,” her father said. “If anypony’s going to get into a fancy unicorn school in Canterlot it’s going to be our little Rarity.”

“Oh, absolutely,” her mother agreed. “You reach for those stars, Rarity.”

“Hmmhmm, yes,” Rarity winced. “We’ll see…”

At last she was able to escape upstairs and seal herself in her room.

“Ughhh,” she groaned, leaning against the door.

“Did they buy it?” Spike asked, still in his pony disguise.

“A little too much, I think,” Rarity said. “They’re quite convinced that I’m going to get into that school and become some successful unicorn wizard. Ohhh… They’ll be ever so slightly devastated when I come back, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry…” Spike offered.

Rarity glared at him. “And I can’t believe you faked Celestia’s signature,” she whispered harshly. “Celestia. Of all things, Spike, really.”

Spike shrugged. “We needed it to look real. I’ve seen Celestia’s signature a thousand times. It wasn’t difficult.”

“That’s not the point,” Rarity huffed. “You do realise that we’ve just committed forgery. Of the Princess’s royal signature no less! Ohhh…” she fumed.

Spike scuffed at the carpet with his forehoof and hung his head. “I guess I didn’t really think. I just wanted to get to Twilight as soon as possible.” He sighed. “Maybe it would be better if I go alone.”

Rarity perked up at once. “Spike, don’t be ridiculous. Where would you be without me? Besides, we are in this together. You need to see Twilight and I’m going to help you. End of discussion.” She turned up her muzzle and tapped her hoof.

Spike looked at her and smiled. “I don’t deserve a friend like you,” he said.

“No,” Rarity agreed. “But I have taken it upon myself to so generously help those less fortunate; especially when it comes to silly little dragons.” She winked. “Now get some rest. We’re leaving bright and early tomorrow and I won’t stand for tardiness.”

She smiled and flicked off the light.

“Thanks, Rarity,” Spike said, climbing into his basket.

He pulled the blanket over himself so that it covered most of him and then, with a green flash, returned to his proper dragon state.

Rarity stood there for a moment in the dark. She considered turning the light back on. Spike was hiding something but she didn’t know what. Hiding himself, mostly. His dragon shape. Could it be that he was becoming self-conscious? Maybe all the pony disguises and the hiding had caused him some kind of… shame.

“Spike,” Rarity said gently.

“Mm?”

“I just want you to know… I think it’s really great to be a dragon. I know we don’t really have dragons in Ponyville, but I’m sure that… maybe when you’re up for it… we could try and change that.”

“Mm… Maybe…” Spike mumbled.

He rolled over and snuggled deeper into the blankets.

Rarity went to her bed and climbed in. “Goodnight, Spike.”

“Night,” he said.

“Sweet dreams,” Rarity said.

He didn’t respond.

So she just rolled over and closed her eyes.

Canterlot…

She smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.

Pt.1 - Chapter 20

Rarity’s parents had insisted on seeing her off at the train station. This proved to be a little problematic to the mission. Rarity had left the house with her family and then Spike had slipped out the backdoor and made for the station in a roundabout way. He used his Scootaloo disguise because it was the least recognisable around Ponyville, and hopefully nopony would try to talk to him and thus delay him.

“Oh hey. Spike,” a pony called.

Spike skidded to a halt. Ah, the best laid plans…

“Oh hi, Cherry Berry,” Spike said. “Sorry. In a bit of a rush.”

“Oh, right,” Cherry Berry relented, trotting over to him. “I just wanted to say thanks for convincing me to talk to Zecora. I tried out her cloud-walking potion and I had the best day just hanging out with the weather team. Everpony thought it was super cool.”

“Great to hear,” Spike said, inching away from her.

“Yeah. Wow. I can’t believe I used to be scared of Zecora. I mean, living in the forest is kinda spooky. But she was pretty awesome once I got to talk to her.”

“Yep. You never know, right?” Spike took a few more steps away.

“Oh. Wait up.” Cherry Berry reached into her saddlebags. “Zecora asked if I could give you this. I almost forgot. Here.”

Cherry Berry brought out a little potion of orange liquid and held it out to Spike.

“She said it was for bad dreams or something,” Cherry Berry said. “A problem you guys talked about. Bummer, right? Bad dreams are the worst.”

Spike blinked at the potion. Would it work?

“Right,” Spike said sadly. “But, um, I really need to go and I don’t have anywhere to hold a potion right now.” He lifted a forehoof in a half-shrug. “Gotta walk somehow.”

“No prob,” Cherry Berry said. “You’re a pegasus, right? Just tuck it under your wing.”

Spike looked down at the little orange wings that weren’t really there and yet had been feeling more and more real of late. How would this work? Would this work? Just think about—

The left wing twitched and fluttered.

“Here ya go then,” Cherry Berry said, lifting the wing and tucking the potion safely into place. “Better hurry to your thing, then. See ya ‘round, maybe.”

Spike looked away from the wing and tried not to dwell on it. “Right,” he said, shuffling back. “See you.” Then he took off towards the train station.

When Spike arrived the train was just giving its final toot-toot before closing the doors. He saw Rarity’s parents waving from the platform. Little Sweetie Belle was curled up in a pram, gumming at her own hoof and making baby noises. She suddenly sneezed—her horn gave a flash of magic—and a nearby suitcase sprung open, flinging clothes all over the platform. Spike laughed and decided not to approach the little firecracker. He slipped into a train car further down the line just as somepony came to shut the door.

“Whoa there. Just in time, eh?” the pony said.

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Busy day. Have you seen my friend? She’s a white unicorn filly with dark purple mane and pink saddlebags and a diamond-pattern suitcase.”

“Uhhh… Yeah, five cars that way I think I saw her.”

“Thanks!” Spike hurried along.

It only took a few minutes of searching for the two to find each other again.

“There you are!” Rarity accused. “I was so worried, I didn’t see you. And then I was looking around the train but I didn’t know which you to be looking for.”

“Sorry,” Spike said.

He crawled under a seat where nopony could see and changed back into the green and purple colt before coming back out. As he stood up the little potion of orange liquid dropped to the ground.

“What’s this?” Rarity asked, grabbing it up with her magic.

“Ummmm…” Spike stared at it. “It’s from Zecora. It’s to… um… She thinks it… that it might help Rainbow Dash recover from Starburst Sickness.”

Spike wished he could cram the words back in as soon as he’d said them.

“Oh. What a good idea. Let me keep this safe.” Rarity tucked the potion into one of her saddlebags.

Spike tried not to wince. What had he been thinking? After how he’d treated Rarity for keeping her cutiemark disinterest a secret from him and how he’d been upset with her for using him and sweet talking him. He’d have to tell her the truth about the armband sooner or later. Spike looked around the train car. But now was clearly not the time. Maybe later tonight, depending on how the day went.

“Spike?” Rarity was saying.

Spike snapped back to attention. “Huh?”

She was holding up a piece of paper to him with her magic. “I said here’s your ticket. Pay attention.”

“Right. Ticket.” Spike took the paper with his mouth and set it down on the seat.

“We’re running out of gems,” Rarity said, sitting down beside him. “Mother and Father insisted on giving me some money, in case I wanted to do a little tourist shopping. But we’re going to have to watch our budget. Are we really staying with Twilight’s parents or are we—”

“No,” Spike said. “No, probably not. A hotel would be better.”

“Ooo,” Rarity cooed. “I want wait to see what Canterlot hotels are like.”

In the end she was rather disappointed.

The splendour of the city as the train pulled up; the shining spires and gold-trimmed dome roofs; the fancy unicorn locals in their fancy attire—it was all better than Rarity had ever imagined.

Their hotel, however…

Rarity winced at the thread-bare carpet and sun-faded curtains.

“Well…” Spike said. “At least it’s not dirty. Just a bit old and shabby.”

“Ooohhh,” Rarity moaned. “I had no idea that everything in Canterlot would be so expensive. And we can’t possibly afford room service.”

“I don’t think this place has room service,” Spike said, wheeling Rarity’s suitcase into the room. “You take the bed. I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“On the floor? What nonsense,” Rarity said. “I thought maybe you would sleep curled at the end of the bed, like a cat.”

“Nah,” Spike said. “Dragons can sleep just about anywhere. In caves, on rocks, on hoards of treasure, you name it.”

“If you can sleep anywhere then I insist you sleep on something comfortable,” Rarity said. “I’ll give you one of the pillows at least.”

Rarity walked over to the single bed and prodded it with a hoof. It creaked and the mattress was lumpy.

“You know…” she mused. “The floor might not be such a bad idea.”

“Heh,” Spike chuckled, setting down the suitcase.

Rarity flung it open and rummaged around. “What do you think I should wear? I do want to make a good impression here.”

Spike blushed and shrugged. “M-maybe your manehatten dress? I think it looks nice.”

“Hmm. No, I was thinking I’d showcase something of my own design.” Rarity brought out a trendy purple jacket and black neckerchief. “What do you think Spike? Does this work?”

“You make everything work,” Spike was saying.

“Spike, take this seriously.”

He straightened up at once. “Looks good!”

“Thankyou.” Rarity slipped into the jacket and tied off the neckerchief. Then she turned to face Spike. “Now. When was the last time I powered your disguise thing? Let me see it.”

“Ah! N-no, it’s fine,” Spike said.

“Well I know it’s been lasting longer, but honestly, I must have been days. And you’ve been using it so much lately. We wouldn’t want it to run out of charge while we’re wandering around Canterlot. Now come here.”

Spike sighed. “Okay, but do it quick. I want to go find Twilight as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Rarity said. “Show me the—”

“Just do it like this,” Spike said. “Come on. Left arm. Let’s go.”

Rarity huffed. She lowered her horn and sent a beam of pale blue magic at where she knew the armband was, even if she couldn’t see it. It was an awkward angle to see by, what with her head bent forward, but she thought she could make out the shape of the thing, silhouetted in ghostly blue. There was that familiar armband shape but it seemed to be surrounded by more… stuff. Roots or branches or something.

“That’ll do,” Spike cut her off, stepping away.

Rarity hit the brakes on her magic. “Spike! Don’t walk away when I’m doing that! I could have hit you, or the floor or something. Unshaped magic can have strange effects on things.”

“Sorry,” Spike said, struggling to open the room door with his hooves.

Rarity glared at him as she helped him get the thing open.

“Thanks,” Spike said, hurrying out into the hall. “Come on then!”

Rarity strapped on her saddlebags and stepped out after him, shutting the door behind them. He was definitely keeping something for her. But now was not the time. She would have to confront him sooner or later though. Tonight then. Depending on how the day went. That sorted, Rarity cheerfully flipped her mane, dusted down her jacket and trotted after him.

Rarity just stood there awestruck when Spike showed her to Twilight’s house. It was huge! Four stories tall with a tower on top, and so very shiny. It had lovely gold-trim rooftops and ornate balconies and large shimmering windows and even sweetly fragrant rosebushes out the front.

“You used to live here?” Rarity exclaimed. “This has got the be one of the most extravagant mansions in Canterlot!”

Spike blinked at her. He snorted a laugh. “What? No way. All the fancy houses have things like swimming pools and large grounds and, like, private museums and stuff.” He smirked and pointed a hoof at Twilight’s house. “Nah. This is just a family home for Twilight’s parents to raise kids. It’s just got the necessities. Plus a library for Twilight. Oh, and Shining Armor’s training room. Oh, and an office for Twilight’s mum.” Spike thought about it. “And an entertainment room. And I guess the dining room’s pretty big. Aaaaand I seem to recall we got a swimming pool later on.”

Rarity glared at him. “You grew up here but you moved to Ponyville to live in a tree?”

Spike shook his head. “No. First Twilight became Celestia’s apprentice and the two of us moved into an observatory tower near the Palace. Then we moved to Ponyville and lived in a tree. Well, until Twilight got her own castle.”

Rarity glared harder.

Spike shrugged. “What?”

“Honestly, Spike. You’ve been living my dream life and you gave it up for a tree.”

“Y’know that tree meant a lot to me,” Spike said, flattening his ears.

“Okay, okay,” Rarity backed off.

He sighed. “Sorry. I’m just… nervous. I don’t know what’s happened to her. I don’t even technically exist here.”

“You exist enough for me,” Rarity said. “And you exist enough to march up those marble steps and knock on that solid oak door.”

“Alright. Rub it in,” Spike said, doing as he was told.

“When my doorknocker is painted with gold leaf you can be short with me about it all you want,” Rarity said.

Spike raised a shaky hoof and rapped at the door.

They waited.

Spike tried again a little louder. He stepped back from the house and squinted up at the windows.

“I don’t know…” he said. “The way some of these curtains are closed makes me think that nopony’s home. I mean, the study curtains should be open at least.”

“What could they be doing on the weekend?” Rarity asked.

“I don’t know,” Spike said. “This is kind of the early part of my life, right here. I don’t remember what everypony’s schedule was. Twilight would normally be studying if she were home. So would her mum, I think. Shining Armor would usually be in his training room, unless he was out training with the royal guard or, y’know, out on a date with Cadence.”

Spike lowered his head and thought about it. “If he’s by himself, though… I remember that Shining Armor always had this favourite place he’d go for lunch. Especially if he had been out training all morning.”

Rarity grabbed at Spike’s foreleg with the watch. “Well it’s almost lunch time now. Why don’t we go see if we can find him? I’m sure he knows where Twilight is.”

Spike seemed to visibly shrink. “Yeah… Okay…”

“Spike?” Rarity prodded him in the shoulder.

“Welllll… Shining Armor at this age was always kind of intimidating for me, growing up,” Spike admitted quietly. “He was big and active and insecure and he’d sometimes pull pranks on me. The kind he’d never try on Twilight.”

“So you’re saying his was your rough older brother,” Rarity summarised.

Spike thought about it. “I guess.”

“Well you’re bigger now. What’s there to be worried about?”

“Probably nothing,” Spike said, and started walking. “It’s just bringing up a lot of old memories.” He shuddered. “Buckets of ice water, mostly.”

Shining Armor’s favourite place to get lunch, as it turned out, was an out-of-the-way grill house not too far from the palace perimeter. The place served grilled vegetables so that Shining Armor could feel like a big strong guard-in-training. But the grill house also served sugary drinks disguised as fitness shakes. The Energy Bolt was mostly icecream and chocolate milk, for example.

Shining Armor’s inability to reconcile his tough and disciplined guard life with his natural affinity for sweets and silk sheets was perhaps the leading causes of insecurity in the young stallion’s life right now. This lead to long hours in his training room at home and, in the other time line, occasionally taking it out on Spike.

Rarity and Spike could smell the grill house before they even turned the corner; and when they reached the door they were almost trampled by a rather muscular mare on her way out. Inside, however, they found a fair mix of tough types looking for protein and those who just enjoyed a good grilled eggplant.

“Are we allowed in here?” Rarity whispered to Spike.

“There’s no age restriction,” Spike said. “And it’s not exclusive or anything.”

“Well I certainly feel out of place.”

Spike scanned the tables and booths and quickly spotted Shining Armor at the counter, sitting on a stool and sipping at a ‘fitness shake.’ Actually, he seemed to have had quite a few.

“There,” Spike pointed.

Rarity looked and saw him. Her eyes sparkled.

Spike waved a hoof in front of her face. “Rarity? Hey.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Oh. Yes?”

Spike frowned in puzzlement. “Uhh… this way.”

The two of them walked up to the counter and clambered up onto stools.

“Have we got money for lunch?” Spike whispered to Rarity.

She looked in her saddlebag and then looked at the prices on the chalkboards overhead. “Yes. This place is quite reasonable, actually. Although their shakes are a bit expensive. What exactly is a Power Zap?”

Next to them Shining Armor heaved a huge sigh. “Power Zap. That sounds really good right about now.” He waved somepony over and ordered one.

“Yikes,” Spike said, looking at the three other empty shake cups. “You’ve had a few.”

Shining Armor snorted and took a bite of his grilled carrots. He hadn’t really touched it and it was no longer steaming with heat.

“Two plate of grilled pumpkin,” Rarity ordered, passing over some of the gold bits her parents had given her.

Spike cleared his throat to speak. “Uh. Rough day?” Spike asked Shining Armor.

The stallion shrugged and pushed his food around with his fork. The magic he used to levitate it was the same colour as Twilight’s magic. Spike was perplexed by how strange it felt to be here, talking with a spectre from his own childhood. It made him feel nostalgic but also wildly uncomfortable; mostly because this was… different. Not right, somehow.

“So, um… enjoying those carrots?” Spike prompted.

Rarity winced. “Spike, let me,” she whispered.

“Oh. Okay.” Spike leaned back so Rarity could talk.

“Wow. You look really strong. And that’s a lot of fitness shakes. Are you a personal trainer or something?”

Shining Armor seemed to perk up a little. “Uh. Thanks, kid. But actually, if you must know, I’m in training to be a royal guard.”

“Oh wow,” Rarity cooed. “That must be such hard work.”

“I get up at dawn, then I have training. Have breakfast, training. Learn about royal guard history, more training. And that’s before lunch,” he said. He took a more confident bite of his food. “After lunch I have to get back to the palace for more training. It’s a hard life but somepony’s got to do it. The mares and stallions who protect this city deserve the upmost respect, I say.”

“Oh absolutely,” Rarity said.

A pony of staff came back with Shining’s milkshake and the grilled pumpkin. Rarity was still talking so Spike just got stuck into his meal.

“I get to do a few shifts,” Shining Armor was bragging. “The other guards give me a hard time some times but I can deal.”

“They shouldn’t be mean to you,” Rarity said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Shining said. “It’s just hazing. They put smelly cheese in my locker, or make me clean all the uniforms, or mess with the temperature in the showers, or throw buckets of ice water at me. No big deal.”

Spike choked on a piece of pumpkin and began coughing.

“Oh, there, there.” Rarity gave Spike a pat on the back.

“Take it easy there, little guy,” Shining Armor was saying.

“I’m good,” Spike winced.

Rarity decided to cut to the chase. “Oh, he’s just upset because we’ve been looking for our friend Twilight Sparkle and can’t—”

This time it was Shining Armor who choked on his food. He coughed. “T-Twilight?” He coughed again. “Did you say Twilight?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes. Do you know her?”

Real sly, Spike though, keeping his head down.

Shining Armor took a long drink from his Power Zap shake. Probably just to wash the carrots down. Not ‘cause he needed it or anything.

“Something wrong?” Rarity asked.

He set his shake down and took a deep breath, suddenly very shifty and quiet. “Uhh… Yeah, I know her. She’s, uh… She’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Rarity said. “Because she hasn’t been home in a while.”

“No, no,” Shining assured her. “She’s just studying really hard. Uh… at school. They let you do that if you’re as clever as Twilight, hah. She’s just, uh, sleeping in the library and reading up on super smart, uh, magic stuff.”

“Oh, well maybe we’ll go visit her then,” Rarity said.

“You can’t!” Shining said suddenly. “Uhh… because… it’s the weekend! Yeah. And it’s closed. Except for extra curricular students. Like Twilight.” He took a big long sip from his shake and seemed to be mentally scolding himself.

“I’m sure they’d let us in,” Rarity said.

“Nope.” Shining Armor shook his head. “Students and teachers only.”

“Oh dear,” Rarity said. “We’ve come from out-of-town, all this way just to see her. Perhaps if you talked to the school, what with being such a big important royal guard—”

“In training,” Shining Armor corrected her. “Oh, look at the time.” He glanced at his bare foreleg. “I should be getting back or they’ll put glitter in my helmet again. Gotta go!”

And with that he grabbed his shake and hurried out the main doors.

Rarity watched him go with stars in her eyes. “Isn’t he dreamy?”

Spike almost choked again. “Seriously?”

Rarity blushed and shook her head. “No. Of course not. Shadow Spade stays focused on the task at hand. And I detect that he was clearly hiding something.”

“Yeah,” Spike said. “And not just something ‘family’ related. I know Shining Armor and that right there was his ‘Canterlot Official Secrets’ reaction.”

“Good heavens,” Rarity said, turning to face him. “What do you think has happened to her?”

Spike’s ears dropped and he huffed a sigh. “I don’t know. But I’m starting to think Shining was on the right track with all those milkshakes.”

“Milkshakes?” Rarity questioned.

“Uh—Fitness Shakes,” Spike covered.

“Hmm,” Rarity mused on the situation. “We could go and investigate further at Twilight’s school. Do you think he was telling the truth about any of that?”

“Well I know it’s closed on the weekends,” Spike said, “but they do allow students in to use the library for study. Yeah.”

“Twilight might be there,” Rarity offered. “And if she’s not I’m sure maybe one of the teachers knows what’s happened to her. Or maybe her friends.”

“Yeah,” Spike said, ears perking up again. “You know, it’s good to know that Twilight did get into the Gifted school after all. I just… can’t imagine what’s happened to her since then.”

Rarity gave him another pat on the back; gently this time. Then she frowned. “That’s strange. You don’t feel so, um, magicky right now. Why, this almost feels like a normal pony coat.”

Spike quickly flinched away from her.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Rarity glared. “We are going to talk about this tonight,” she warned him.

Spike nodded slowly. “…okay.”

Rarity turned at last to her plate of grilled pumpkin. “As for now; let’s eat and then we’ll figure out how to get into that school.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 21

Lunch time.

A pony brought Twilight a tray of food. He was either a guard or a nurse. Twilight wasn’t ever sure. Still, she knew that nopony here was her friend. They were all wardens of a kind, making sure that she behaved; trying to learn her secrets.

They had moved her to her own room in the palace. It didn’t look like a cell or anything. There were windows and there were books for her to read—all stories and history; no magic studies. There was a nice comfy bed and there was a desk where she could draw or write. They hadn’t yet confiscated all the sharp objects but Twilight suspected it was only a matter of time and imagination.

Cadence hadn’t come back to see her yet. Probably still drowning in shame from the verbal lashing Twilight had given her. Serves her right…

Shining Armor had come to visit a couple times. Sure, he seemed really worried at first, but then they just got into fights about how Twilight had made Cadence cry. Then Shining Armor would tell Twilight she was being a threat to Canterlot security. He was such a puppet. He didn’t come to see her anymore, but Twilight would often hear him outside the door asking her guard how she had been.

“Sometimes she’s quiet,” the guard would say. “Sometimes she screams. Mostly at night.”

Yes… Twilight recalled how she would wake in the night to find nurses trying to hold her down. They were sneaking into her room to do things to her, obviously. Sure they told her that she was having nightmare fits and they were only trying to stop her hurting herself. But really they were the cause of her waking up and screaming. Probably. Definitely.

They were probably trying to use mindreading spells on her—figure out what she knew. But she had already told them everything she knew about the hatchery. She would scream the story at anypony in earshot, about the real nightmare that was Project Draco. Twilight wasn’t certain of a lot of things in her world right now, but she was certain of that. That secret lab where dragon eggs were kept prisoner.

Of course, Twilight hadn’t told them everything. She hadn’t told them about the Starburst Event. How it was clearly Celestia behind it all. There was no point telling them that. They were all Celestia’s good little soldiers. If they ever found out that Twilight knew about Celestia’s involvement with the Event then she would be…

…well, she didn’t know exactly what would happen to her. But it wouldn’t be good. They’d probably wipe her mind, or disappear her, or seal her away in Tartarus. Legend said that Celestia had found a portal to Tartarus and made deals with the forces down there. That Celestia kept the most dangerous enemies of Equestria locked away in that cold stony netherworld, guarded by the great dog Cerberus.

Twilight wondered how long it would be before she would join them.

…she had to escape.

And soon.

Hoofsteps approached her door.

It was her brother again. Twilight could tell partly by his step and partly by his aura. In the past few days Twilight had realised that overuse of Warhock’s spell had left her a little oversensitive to magical energies, so that even though she could not use the spell anymore she still found herself able to feel magic, if she remained aware. It was only to a small degree. She had felt Cadence’s power as something greater than expected. But of course Cadence was an alicorn, Twilight reasoned. It was nothing otherwise remarkable.

Shining Armor’s magical presence, also, was well familiar to her by now.

“How is she?” Shining Armor asked, outside the door.

Twilight groaned and poked at her cupcake. She didn’t want to deal with this again. More lies and betrayal behind a mask of false concern and empathy.

“She was having fits again last night,” the guard reported. “If this keeps up the doctors are thinking she might need to be restrained or given something to help her sleep.”

Twilight growled at the news and jabbed her fork into her cupcake.

“I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” Shining Armor said. “Are we sure there’s no evidence that anypony put her up to this or helped her?”

Twilight stabbed at her cupcake again. They still didn’t believe she could have done it all on her own. How they belittled her, even now. Stab, stab.

“I’m not up to date,” the guard deflected. “We’re still looking into it, though.”

“Right, right…”

There was a pause.

“Hey, um…” the guard spoke up. “Sorry we’ve been giving you such a hard time lately. We were just hazing you, you know. But we’re definitely backing off now. I mean… your sister…”

“No, I—” Shining Amor sighed. “I don’t want any special treatment, but… Thanks. Really. It’s been rough.”

Pause again.

Twilight was prising her cupcake open now and sneering at the red jam filling. What did he know of how rough it was? He hadn’t seen what she had seen. He wasn’t the one locked in a room against his will with a magic spell on his horn to suppress his power. He wasn’t the one with the burden of truth.

“Would you like to see her?” the guard outside asked.

Shining Amror made a few indecisive sounds.

Twilight dropped her fork, hopped down from her desk and marched over to the door. She stuck the wood with a sharp blow from her hoof.

“If you want to talk about me then come in here and say it to my face!” she demanded.

Stunned silence followed and she paced away again, muttering.

Then the door opened and Shining Armor came cautiously into the room.

“Hey Twily,” he said, slightly guilty.

The guard shut the door behind him.

Twilight lit her horn and picked up the mangled cupcake. She proceeded to pull bits off it and roll them up into little balls, not looking at him.

“Okay, sis, this has got to stop,” Shining Armor said.

Straight to the rules and discipline already, Twilight thought.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so angry with me,” he said. “With any of us. I’m sorry about the Gifted school. I’m sorry about all of this. I am so, so, very sorry that you exposed your mind to that kind of magic. I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like.”

Of course he couldn’t. Typical Shiny. Limited understanding of the world.

“But you’ve got to stop treating us like we’re the enemy,” Shining Armor said. “You’ve been hurt. The magic burned you and you need healing just like any other burn. I want you to be happy again. I want you to stop being angry with me.”

Twilight finished another ball of cupcake flesh and set it down on her tray next to the others, all in a neat row.

“Is this about the suppressor spell?” Shining asked.

Twilight accidentally squished the ball she was making. She started over.

“Look. I talked to some ponies and they say it’s not forever,” he tried to convince her. “They’ll take it off after you’re feeling better. We just don’t want you to hurt yourself again. Your magic and your mind… they’re both very fragile right now. The suppressor spell isn’t a cage—it’s a cast. It may seem restricting but it’s actually helping to hold you together right now. Just let the doctors and the healers and the psychologists do their work.”

Twilight set another ball of cake down on her tray.

“Twilight, I don’t know how to help you,” he lamented. “Don’t you understand that’s all I want to do here? It’s a big brother’s job, Twily. Every day that you’re being difficult is a day that you’re not getting better—is a day that you’re not happy—is a day that I spend feeling like a failure.”

Twilight had used the last bit of viable material from the cupcake. She admired her row of little cake spheres with an appraising eye.

“Twilight, please talk to me,” Shining Armor said.

She levitated the little cake pellets into a circling precession around her horn.

“If I throw these at you,” Twilight said, detached, “do you think they’ll rescind my cake privileges?”

He sighed. “Twilight, please don’t throw things.”

“If they took my cupcakes I would be unhappy,” Twilight said. “But they’d tell me that taking my cupcakes is going to make me better. Because then I won’t be throwing things anymore. Are cupcakes a right or a privilege?”

“Twilight, I don’t know where this is going,” Shining said. “But if it ends with me covered in cupcakes I’m going to be annoyed.”

“You’re annoyed. I’m annoyed,” Twilight was saying. “But did you stop to think about how the cupcake feels?”

Shining Armor huffed and turned away. “Fine. Be difficult. I’ll see you later.” He knocked on the door and waited for the guard to open it.

Shining Armor left and Twilight just sat there with an almost bored expression and little bits of cupcake dancing around her head.

He couldn’t help her anyway. Even if he was on her side, he wasn’t strong enough or smart enough to help her escape. Besides, he was already one of them. He hadn’t even mentioned her cutiemark this whole time. Some big brother he was. No, Twilight had to get out of here on her own. She’d be saying goodbye to everypony she ever knew or loved. But maybe that was for the best at this point. They clearly didn’t feel the same towards—

Twilight’s coat suddenly bristled and she sat up stiff. Instinctively she silenced her magic, letting the bits of cupcake fall and bounce away. Eyes wide she stared transfixed at the door to her room.

Something was coming. Something big.

Twilight stumbled off her chair and went to hide under the bed.

Stars above, what was that thing?

Twilight flattened herself to the floor, panting hard despite her efforts.

The magic was rolling down the hallway outside, slowly advancing towards her door. It was huge! It was white hot, even through the walls, and Twilight could not shield her face from its terrible heat. Her limited perceptions began to interpret things like a humming sound that got louder and louder; a numbing taste; a powerful vibrating of all matter within in the radius of that encroaching force.

The world became hotter and louder and Twilight felt like every atom of her room and every cell of her body were resonating with maddening friction. As if the world were on fire and bursting with song—rising and rising beyond belief! It must be right outside her door now and Twilight was sure she would lose her mind if it came into the room with her. She couldn’t stand it! And then—

…and then it passed her by. Whatever that power was it had carried on down the hall and passed mercifully beyond Twilight’s detection. Once gone, it left ruin in its wake. The cold lifeless wastes of the stark, abandoned world behind it. Twilight’s room seemed smaller and emptier now. Seemed almost… purposeless. Pointless. Lifeless in comparison to that brief touch of wilful creation.

Twilight dragged herself out from under the bed, grateful that whatever that thing had been that she hadn’t had to look upon it with the full technique of Warhock’s spell. She was certain that whatever the dragon egg had done to her mind it would be nothing compared to whatever ancient being had just blazed past her room.

Her skin still crawled and her limbs all trembled. She tasted blood but could find none when she spat. Her desire to act hung unfocused for several moments before she could rally her thoughts together. One step, two step, get those back legs moving. Twilight shakily approached her chamber door and rapped loudly on it.

“Guard?”

No reply.

Surely the guard could not have survived what had just happened.

“Guard!?” Twilight demanded.

The pony outside opened the door and conjured a shield of his orange magic to cover the exit—preventing Twilight from escaping, of course.

“Is something wrong?” he asked automatically.

“What was that?” Twilight demanded in a whisper, as if speaking about it could draw it’s attention back. “What was it that just went past my door?”

The guard seemed puzzled by this question.

“Just tell me and I’ll leave you alone,” Twilight said.

The guard relented easily enough and with a shrug he said simply: “Princess Celestia.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 22

Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was a large dark-purple building, with three towers and all the extravagance to be expected of Canterlot architecture. There was very little traffic around the school as it was, indeed, not operating over the weekend. Spike and Rarity loitered across the way from it where they hid behind some bushes and watched and waited.

“What exactly are we waiting for?” Rarity asked at last.

Spike suddenly pointed. “Something like that.”

A little unicorn student walked up to the building, knocked on the door and was ushered inside by a teacher. A few more students started to arrive then, returning from lunch, so the teacher-on-duty just stood there with the door open for them.

“This is going to be difficult,” Rarity said.

“I have an idea, though,” Spike said. “It’s a bit mean. See that filly over there?”

Rarity peered down the street and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Can you, uh… do a spell or something? Delay her, just for a few minutes.”

Rarity took a deep breath. “Oooookay. Here goes.”

She lowered her horn and sent a subtle wave of pale blue sparkles drifting through the air. The filly in question had her head in a book as she walked, so she didn’t even see the spell coming. Next thing she knew there was a terrible rip and all her books fell out of her saddlebags and sprawled on the ground.

“Nice one,” Spike said.

In a flash he had changed his form to copy that of the distressed unicorn filly. He now had a pale yellow coat, purple eyes and a red and purple mane.

“Oo, I love that manestyle,” Rarity said to him.

He shrugged. “It’s one of the popular styles in Canterlot right now. Even Twilight has it. Now remember—my name is Moon Dancer and you’re here to help me carry books.”

“Got it,” Rarity said. “Let’s go inside.”

“Right,” Spike said. Then hesitated.

Rarity walked back to him. “Spike, what’s wrong?”

He was watching the real Moon Dancer struggling to pick up her books after Rarity’s spell had ripped through her overburdened saddlebags.

“No…” Spike sighed, changing back into his green and purple guise. “I’ve got a different idea.”

Moon Dancer stacked all the books on the ground and took off her ruined saddlebags with a groan.

“Typical,” she said. “And I don’t study mending spells until next week. I knew I should have read ahead.”

“Ex-excuse us,” Rarity said.

Moon Dancer looked up at the white unicorn and the green earth pony.

“You’re excused.”

“Ah-haha,” Rarity managed. “Oh. No, I was just noticing you’ve torn your saddlebags. I think I might have something for that.”

“Okay.” Moon Dancer held up the torn bags.

Rarity blinked. “Oh. No, not a spell, dear. I have an emergency sewing kit.”

“We can help you carry your books if you like,” Spike said.

“And I can patch that up if we have somewhere to sit,” Rarity said.

Moon Dancer conceded. “Seems reasonable. Come on.”

The two unicorns hefted as many books as they could carry with their magic. Spike carried the rest on his back and then the three of them walked up the steps to the school.

“Hello Professor Melody,” Moon Dancer addressed the teacher by the door.

“Hold on,” the teacher said. “This is a school, not a social club.”

He was eyeing Rarity and Spike and seemed rather unimpressed with what he saw. The professor himself was a very sophisticated looked grey unicorn with shiny black mane and stern purple eyes, wearing a green jacket over a white shirt and black bowtie.

Rarity in turn looked unimpressed with that jacket. A black coat would suit him so much better.

“Oh,” Moon Dancer realised. “It’s alright. They’re helping me carry my books. They’ll be leaving right after. I have too much studying to do, anyway.”

“Very well,” Professor Melody relented, eyeing the torn saddlebags. “Maybe try to leave some of the books in the library this time, Miss Dancer.”

“Yes Professor Melody,” she said, walking on.

And just like that they had made it inside the Gifted Unicorn school.

Moon Dancer made straight for the library. “Just over here, please,” Moon Dancer said, approaching a desk.

It was a lot smaller than the Canterlot Public Library and the Canterlot Palace Library. But then this library was honed to perfection with only the books and scrolls that would be relevant for those gifted fillies and colts who attended the school. All that said, it was still a really big library. It took up almost the entire middle tower of the building, housing multiple levels of bookshelves with ladders and landings in place to access higher volumes.

Spike and the two unicorns set all the books down on the desk as indicated. There were a few other students spaced out around the tower; reading or writing notes or collecting a stack of books to take home for the night.

“Wow,” Rarity said, looking around. “You ponies sure love to read.”

“Do you always state the obvious like that?” Moon Dancer asked.

Rarity just sat down with the torn saddle bags and got to work using the true-to-her-words ‘emergency sewing kit’ she had been keeping in her own saddlebags.

Moon Dancer looked at Spike. “You can help me shelve these books,” she said. “I’m done reading them. Then if you’re still here you can help me find the books I need for this afternoon.”

“Wow,” Spike said. “You and Twilight always had so much in common—” before he could cover his big mouth with a hoof.

“Me and Twilight?” Moon Dancer repeated.

Spike gathered some of the books onto his back. “Uhh… Where do you want me to shelve these?”

Moon Dancer eyed him and Rarity suspiciously.

Rarity, of course, was ‘in the zone’ now, sewing and smiling to herself.

“Over here…” Moon Dancer said, walking away.

Spike followed her to the first shelf and managed to return three books before she spoke again.

“So how do you know Twilight?” Moon Dancer asked. “She didn’t strike me as the type of pony who had many friends.”

Spike glanced over at the pale filly. Was she… jealous?

“Did she tell you about me?” Moon Dancer went on, still maintaining her monotone. “What did she say?”

“Uhhh…” Spike pushed another book into place. “Well, she’s pretty sure you’re the only other student who has a hope of challenging her. You must be pretty clever.”

Moon Dancer didn’t flinch at the compliment. “Yes. I know. But does she…” Moon Dancer hesitates. “Does she like me?”

Spike ran out of books so he turned back to get more. “Yeah. I think so.”

Then he remembered what Moon Dancer had become in the future when she thought Twilight had rejected her friendship and abandoned her.

“Yes,” Spike affirmed at once. “Yes. Twilight may not always show it, but of all the ponies here she certainly appreciates your company the most.”

Moon Dancer seemed a little stunned. A smile played at her mouth but she composed herself quickly.

“Those books next,” she said.

Spike gathered the next set of texts onto his back and followed Moon Dancer to the appropriate shelf.

“So who are you anyway?” Moon Dancer asked, taking a book from the stack.

“Oh. I didn’t introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Spike and that’s my friend Rarity over there. We’re from Ponyville.”

“Ponyville,” Moon Dancer repeated, shelving another book. “I assume you know Twilight via correspondence then.”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Spike said, helping out. “But, uh, her letters just stopped one day and we were wondering—”

Moon Dancer accidentally bumped a book against the shelf. She corrected herself and slid the book gently back into order.

“Everypony keeps doing that,” Spike complained. “Any time we mention Twilight.”

Moon Dancer looked around and then back at Spike. “I don’t know what’s happened to her,” she said quietly. “Only officially.”

“Officially?” Spike said.

Moon Dancer nodded. “Officially she’s been feeling stressed and has been taken out of school to recover for a while.”

“And unofficially?” Spike prompted.

“I’m not supposed to know,” Moon Dancer said. “But unofficially I may have overheard some teachers having a private chat a while back.”

“Go on,” Spike said.

“Let’s get more books first,” Moon Dancer said.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Right. What was I thinking.”

They went to collect the third and final stack, but Moon Dancer paused upon noticing something.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s Twilight’s book. She leant it to me.”

Moon Dancer lifted a copy of the first Daring Do book of the series. Spike recognised it at once and curiously wondered how many books were even out at this time. Three? Four? It was still early days.

Moon Dancer flipped through the book and shut it again. “I don’t really like adventure stories.” She held the book out to Spike. “Would you return it to her if you see her? She said I could keep it but I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Oh,” Spike said, taking the book. “Um… Yeah. Okay, sure.”

He slipped it into one of Rarity’s saddlebags, open on the desk. Then he and Moon Dancer gathered up rest of the library books and went from shelf to shelf, putting them away, since they were all on different topics this time.

“I know three things,” Moon Dancer said, speaking quietly again. “One – Twilight checked out Warhock’s The Living Spell shortly before she disappeared. That book has now been pulled from the library.”

“What’s it about?” Spike asked.

“Learning how to read magic,” Moon Dancer said matter-o-factly. “Two – The entrance exam for this school used to involve a dragon egg.”

Spike tensed.

“The students would be given the egg as their first test and told to try and hatch the dragon,” Moon Dancer went on. “This of course, we are told later, is a trick question. No student would really be able to hatch the egg. It’s just to see how we respond to impossible situations.”

Spike’s pony ears drooped. “The… The dragon egg is just a joke?”

Moon Dancer shrugged a shoulder. “If you want to see it that way,” she said. “Three—”

Spike had to forcibly pull this thoughts from that new piece of information. It was too much to think about right now and yet he couldn’t look away. Was his existence a mistake? Was he an accidental burden to Twilight and her family? Was he a joke? No, he couldn’t do this right now. He had to find out what had happened to Twilight. Spike rallied his focus to return to task.

“Sorry, what?” Spike said.

Moon Dancer glared at him. “I will repeat myself. Three,” she said. “Since Twilight’s disappearance the school board has been ordered to remove the dragon egg test from the entrance exam. The order, as near as I could discern, came straight from Princess Celestia.”

While Spike processed all of that, Moon Dancer placed the last book on the shelf.

“I suppose it’s no coincidence that my saddlebags spontaneously ripped,” she said.

Spike snapped to attention. “Uh—”

“Don’t try it.”

He winced. “No, it’s not. Me and Rarity were trying to find Twilight, or anypony who might know where she’s gone.”

Moon Dancer nodded. “Thankyou for your honestly,” she said.

Spike couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“But that’s all I have,” Moon Dancer said, walking back to where Rarity sat. “I do hope you find her, though. And I hope you’ll let me know of any further developments.”

“Right,” Spike agreed. “She’s your friend too.”

“All done!” Rarity cheerfully exclaimed.

She held up the mended saddlebags, good as new.

“What’s this?” Moon Dancer asked, pointing at the buckle-down flaps. Rarity’s thread had twice stitched the image of a crescent moon and some stars.

“Oh,” Rarity said. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I was admiring your cutiemark and I felt compelled to personalise these just a tad. Oh, I shouldn’t have. I just get carried away. Sorry, I’ll unstitch these.”

“No, it’s…” Moon Dancer took the saddlebags back. “It’s nice. Thankyou.”

They smiled at each other.

And then library silence was shattered by the sudden chime of breaking glass.

Everypony looked to the high ceilings. Windows were smashing inwards as strange hissing things flew into the tower and swooped down to terrorise the students below.

“What’s happening?” Rarity cried. “Is this normal for your school?”

“No it’s definitely not,” Moon Dancer said.

“Protect the books!” somepony cried.

Spike looked wildly around. The things had strange dripping colourful lumpy bodies with batlike wings and they appeared to be spitting some kind of hissing and fizzing liquid.

“What in Equestria are those?” Rarity exclaimed.

“I don’t know,” Moon Dancer said over the shrieks and hisses. “But—Everypony! Protect the books!”

Spike and Rarity watched as fillies and colts rushed around conjuring basic shields to try and keep the projectile liquids off their precious library collection.

One of the lumpy-bat-things flew close by and Rarity conjured a half-dome of blue light around her and Spike. The creature vomited its hissing liquid all over the shield before taking off to terrorise somepony else.

Rarity smugly shut down her shield and watched the thing go. “Wait. Was that… a flying cake?”

Spike bent down and sniffed at the spilled liquid on the carpet. “And is this… apple cider?”

“Nooo!” a student wailed from the other side of the room. “Not Quilland Ink’s Compendium!”

Spike and Rarity turned to see the poor colt wailing over a cider-soaked grey book.

Moon Dancer rushed to his side. “It’s okay. It’s a common book of poems. We can replace it,” she said. “Somepony go get the teacher!” she called. “The rest of you—protect the books!”

The cry went up around the room. “The books!”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I don’t get it.”

“Think about it this way,” Spike said. “These ponies feel the way about books as you feel about designer outfits.”

Rarity gasped in alarm. “Those poor ponies! We must protect the books! Come on, Spike.”

Rarity spotted a student who was desperately trying to protect a mountain of papers and journals on her desk.

“Please!” the student wailed. “My homework.”

Her purple-pink shield was flickering out and drops of cider were leaking through.

“You leave that poor filly’s hard work alone!”

Rarity bounded up beside her and brought her own magic to bear against the attacking cake-bat. It opened it’s layers and vomited a torrent of apple cider at them but Rarity’s blue shield held fast.

Then a blast of brilliant gold magic lanced right through the monster and splattered it to bits. Shields went up accordingly as the horrid creature burst open with a wet fizzing pop.

“Yeahahahh!” cheered the excitable mint-green unicorn who had been responsible for the lance. “You okay, Twinkleshine?”

The homework-coddling student suddenly pointed. “Lyra! Look out!”

Lyra ducked just in time to avoid a swooping charge from another cake-bat. “Oh no you don’t! Get back here!” And she charged after it.

“Uhh, Rarity,” Spike was saying.

Rarity turned to see the splattered chunks of cidery cake were squirming along the floor and reforming themselves back into a misshapen bat-winged abomination.

“Ew-heww-hewww,” Rarity said. “They’re so disgusting.”

“What are they?” Spike was asking.

“I don’t know,” Moon Dancer said, holding one back with her shield. “But they could only have been made with powerful magic.”

“Why would anypony do this?” a student demanded.

Another student screamed. “There are too many! Help!”

Rarity was at his side in a flash, raising her shield against the two cake-bats and then slapping them aside with it like bugs to a windshield.

She dropped her spell and panted. “This is hard work.”

“I wish I could help,” Spike was saying.

Rarity looked at him. “Maybe you can.”

She reached into her saddlebags and brought out many, many squares of cloth. “I also keep an emergency collection of fabric samples.”

“Of course you do,” Spike sighed. “You’re Rarity.”

“I can’t sew fast enough, though.” Then she called around the room. “Does anypony know a mending spell for fabric?”

“We haven’t studied those yet!” somepony called.

“Why do you need that?” another complained.

But the colt Rarity had been defending just went straight to a nearby shelf and brought out a book.

“Here,” he said, opening it for her. “This has the spell.”

“I can’t learn that fast,” Rarity said.

“I believe in you,” Spike told her.

“That doesn’t make it true!” she shot back.

Another cake-bat flew at them. Rarity raised a shield just as Lyra leapt up and blasted the monster from the air. Hiss-splat!

“That’s not helping!” another student scolded.

“What?” Lyra said. “I flunked shields, alright? And this is more fun.”

“But you’re making a mess!”

“Ugh. Fine,” Lyra groaned.

“I’ll hold them off,” the helpful colt said, raising a shield of yellow light. “You read that spell.”

“Okay…” Rarity hunkered down with the book and put her hooves over her ears.

Spike found himself staring at the colt who was shielding them. Something about that colt was nagging at him. Then at last Spike thought he recognised him—the orange unicorn with the white socks.

“Sunburst?” Spike whispered.

Rarity snapped the book closed. “Okay. Here goes.”

She lit her horn and gathered together the fabric squares. They came together like bricks in a wall, each sample mending into the next until she had a very large square of colourful patchwork cloth.

Rarity released it and heaved an exhaustive sigh. “I…” she huffed. “I did it.”

“I knew you could!” Spike cheered.

Cake-bats thudded against the shield nearby.

“Uhh… did what exactly?” Spike asked.

“Grab a corner and come with me,” she said, taking her own section of the sheet. “Clear the way, please.”

“Lyra!” Sunburst called.

“You got it!” Lyra cried.

She sprang forward and conjured a weirdly shaped shield of golden light to swat the bats away. It was not a round shield, or a square shield, or a shield-shaped-shield. It was a curious shape that Spike could only compare to his own dexterous claws, or the digits of other non-hoofed creatures.

“Let’s go,” Rarity said, passing Sunburst a corner of fabric. “We’re going to gather all those nasty things up and put a stop to this.”

Sunburst nodded and dropped his shield. “Got it.”

Rarity used her magic to lift her corner high into the air while Spike ran along the ground, holding his corner in his mouth. Sunburst held the third corner and called Moon Dancer over to take the fourth.

“Lyra!” Moon Dancer called. “Swat those things over here!”

“Let me give you a hand!” Lyra laughed as she smacked cake-bats out of the air, but nopony got the joke.

“Everypony!” a student called, and soon there were shields and lances flying everywhere.

Spike ran this way, Sunburst ran that way, and Rarity and Moon Dance directed the up-high corners of the sheet until all the cake-bats had been gathered together and trapped in the folds of the large piece of fabric.

Rarity and Moon Dancer brought the squirming, soaking bundle down to the floor and tied it off with a strict and sturdy knot. The students all cheered and rushed over to celebrate.

“Sunburst, waytago with that book!” one pony said.

“Moon Dancer, you were so brave,” said another student.

“Lyra, what the heck? I can see why you flunked shields,” said a blue filly with blue and white mane.

“Hey! Shut up, Minuette. It worked, didn’t it?” Lyra pointed out.

“Rarity…” Moon Dancer said.

The students all stopped to look at her.

Rarity smiled and laughed. “Why are you all staring? Do I have something on my jacket?”

Spike gasped. “No… Rarity it’s—”

Rarity looked down at the strange tingling sensation and gazed in amazement at the little picture proudly glowing on her flank.

It reminded Spike of one of the diamonds from her classic mark—eight lines radiating from a circle in a diamond shape. Only this was no complete diamond. Just the lines, coloured dark purple like her mane, and each line tipped with an arrow.

“It’s your cutiemark!” Lyra exclaimed. “Whoa-hoa! Nice going!”

“She got her cutiemark?” Minuette gasped.

“What does it mean?” another student asked.

Ponies all crowded in around her and Spike found himself bustled away to the edge of the group. He stumbled back until he bumped into tall legs and looked up to find Professor Melody looking down at him.

“Ahhh…” Spike side-stepped out of the way. “Sorry.”

The students all went gradually quiet as they became aware of the adult in the room.

“Hey Professor,” Lyra said, stepping up. “You’ll never believe what happened.”

“I don’t need to,” he said. “I saw the whole conclusion.” Then he glanced at the wriggling bundle of soaked cloth. “I don’t know what those things were or why they came here but I must say—you students handled yourselves remarkably well.” He looked back to the group. “Especially you. Rarity, was it?”

Rarity blinked and blushed. “Oh, well. I’m not actually a student.”

“No,” the teacher said. “I remember you came in with Moon Dancer.”

“Right. We were just leaving,” Rarity said.

Professor Melody put up a hoof. “Rarity, you’ve shown remarkable skill, courage and organisation today. As well as an ability to both learn and perform spells. You helped those who needed it, and I must say you have excellent taste in fabrics. I’d wager that all of these things are reflected in your new cutiemark.” He paused as if in thought. “Rarity, how would you like to apply for entry to our fine school?”

The students all gasped and crowded around her.

“That’d be awesome!”

“Will you?”

“Say you will!”

“We could be best friends!”

Rarity chuckled and blushed. “Oh, well… I don’t know. I live in Ponyville, you see.”

“You can move here!” said Sunburst. “I did. You can stay in the dormitory with me.”

“And me!” chimed another student.

“Me too! I’m from Fillydelphia.”

“Well, I don’t know…” Rarity said.

She looked out over the gaggle of excited young unicorns and met eyes with Spike, standing beside the teacher.

Spike forced a smile and nodded his agreement.

“Let’s do it,” Rarity affirmed.

The students cheered and before Spike knew what was happening Rarity had been whisked away to start the paperwork with the teacher.

“What just happened?” Spike was left to wonder.

“You should be happy for her,” Sunburst said. “She’s going to do great things here, just like all the other students.”

Spike looked at him just as the irony sank in. “Hey… Do you ever miss your home and your, um… friends?”

Sunburst looked distant for a moment. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

Spike’s ears drooped. “Yeah?”

Sunburst shook his head. “But I’m going to work hard and make them all very proud of me. I—” He hesitated. “They want me to succeed here. And I want them to be proud of me.”

Spike looked at the closing library doors. “…yeah.”

Silence hung for a moment.

“Hey!” Lyra called, jabbing the squirming bundle with her hoof. “What are we supposed to do with this mess?”

Students exchanged looks.

“I guess we go find a guard or something,” Minuette said.

Lyra poked the bundle again. “I’m gonna name it Steve.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 23

Today was the worst day ever.

Cloudy Quartz had not slept because she was caring for Igneous. Igneous had not slept for coughing and fever. Pinkie had not slept either. Instead she had spent almost an hour last night trying to unpack all the boxes and unwrap all the furniture downstairs. Maud had chased her around, fixing up after her and trying to get her to stop it. Pinkie finally did stop around the time that Maud was running out of patience. Pinkie was good. She never took things too far with Maud.

But still Pinkie had not slept. She went outside, picked up a stick with her mouth and began drawing strange shapes and lines in the dirt. She kicked rocks into patterns and traced ripples around the rocks. At first it looked like nothing. Then it looked sort of like art. Then it just looked like a mess—too many lines overlapping and the canvas was ruined. Pinkie would rake the dirt at this point and start over.

Maud indulged her for several more hours, hoping Pinkie would tire herself out. At least like this she wouldn’t be screaming and wrecking the house. Marble and Limestone would get to sleep tonight, and Maud hoped that Igneous would be able to rest and recover.

But then morning came and everything was still wrapped with the feeling of worsening. The dawn did not dismiss the nightmares. Big strong stallions came and took all their stuff and their boxes and loaded it onto a wagon. The wagon went to the train station and its contents went west to the Pie family’s future home.

Maud sat outside and cradled the sleeping Pinkie, who had dozed off after the house had been emptied. Maud watched Limestone and Marble playing their favourite game—the one where Limestone was a big timberwolf and Marble was a little rabbit. Limestone liked the game because she got to roar and howl and run around. Marble liked it because she got to hide behind a rock until Limestone went away.

It was their way, and they seemed to enjoy it. In a larger game Pinkie would play the adventurer who tried to tame the timberwolf, but then also got chased. And Maud would play one of the rocks for her sisters to hide behind. Maud liked being a rock. It was peaceful and you didn’t have to do much. It felt good to be… useful.

Limestone pounced at Marble. Marble skittered off and hid. Limestone bounded around and howled. Pinkie’s ears twitched a bit but she didn’t wake up.

Maud stroked the fluffy mane.

“Rock,” Maud said. “I am a rock.

“I am a piece of something greater.

I am piece my own – at peace.

Beneath the sky, below the earth,

Or somewhere in between.

Rock. I am a rock.

Am I sand or am I stone?

How do I stand?

Or do I flow…

Maybe the desert is my home.

Rock. I am a rock.

My granite surface meets the world.

My core within.

Beneath my skin.

To not give in, with all my might.

To be a part that is apart.

To have a stone inside my heart.

Rock. Am I a rock?

Yet I would be that rock for you.

I would be strong, I would be true,

If I could be that rock for you.

I’ll be the ground

When you fly too high.

I’ll keep you safe beneath that sky.

I’ll be an anchor in the waves.

The river won’t take you away.

Rock. I am your rock.

“I…” Maud hesitated.

Pinkie rolled over on her sister’s lap, lifting a forehoof and wiping gently at Maud’s face.

“I’m not crying,” Maud informed her.

“Oh,” Pinkie said. “Sorry. That was later. I got confused.”

Limestone gave a sudden roar and pounced at Marble’s exposed tail. Marble gave a squeak and scrabbled out from behind the rock she had chosen. Seeing that Pinkie was awake now Marble ran and hid beside Maud.

“Hide me,” Marble whispered.

“Roar!” Limestone said. “Rarrrrr… Where’s that little rabbit?” She winked at Maud. Then continued her prowling and growling. “I hope I don’t run into any adventurers here, rarrrr…”

“Oo! Oo!” Pinkie hopped to the ground and bounded off after Limestone.

“Maud?” Marble whispered. “Is new home going to have timberwolves?”

“Yes,” Maud said. “Lots of timberwolves. Timberwolves everywhere.”

Marble giggled. “No it’s not. Ma said there’s just rocks and ponies.”

“Then maybe Ma didn’t tell you about the stonewolves,” Maud said.

Marble’s eyes widened. “The stonewolves?”

“Yes,” Maud said, leaning closer. “They’re like timberwolves, but they’re made of stone. They’re twice as big and twice as mean.”

“Th-th-that’s okay,” Marble said. “I’ll just hide behind a rock.”

“But that’s the thing,” Maud said, leaning closer. “Sometimes the rock you choose to hide behind could turn out… to be…” Maud leap to her feet. “A big scary stonewolf!”

“Ahhhh!” Marble squealed in delight and bolted. “The rocks are alive!”

“Roar,” Maud said and chased after her.

“Rarrrrr!” Limestone jumped in the way. “Stop! Stonewolf. I have decided that the rabbit is my friend now, and I’m going to stop you!”

“Oh no,” Maud said. “A timberwolf.”

“Rarr!” Limestone jumped at Maud and tried to wrestle her down.

Ma let them play for another few hours while she cared for Igneous and waited for the buyer to arrive. Eventually a stallion named Filthy Rich turned up with a briefcase full of bits, and a lawyer pony with a briefcase full of paperwork. Maud tended to her Pa while Cloudy Quartz dealt with the visitors.

Maud would creep out into the hall and peer down the stairs to listen to the exchange. Maud didn’t know much about money, so she didn’t know if the bits they were getting were a fair amount for the exchange of the farm. All she knew was how much to charge for when ponies came to buy things. Still, she was pretty sure that if she added up all the worth of all the rocks on the farm, then what Filthy Rich was offering seemed a bit too low.

But Cloudy Quartz took it. Ma didn’t want money anyway, Maud supposed. Ma just wanted to moved back west as fast as possible. Maud heard a briefcase click and then the scratching of quills. Papers shuffled and bits rattled.

“It’s not much to look at,” Filthy Rich was saying. “But I guess I can always build something here. Once we get all these crags out of the way. Although that crystal mine could be promising.”

Maud went back to her parents’ room and shut the door. It hurt too much to listen to. She dabbed at her Pa’s forehead with a washcloth and checked the temperature on his thermometer again.

“How am I doing, Eldest?” he rasped.

Maud hadn’t realised he was awake. “You could be better,” she said. “Isn’t that what you used to say to me? Good effort, but you could be better.”

“Aye…” he said. “And did it work?”

Maud nodded. “Yes, Pa. Much better. And you?”

He closed his eyes as a look of discomfort crawled across his face. “I have a journey yet to go. Do not fret, dear, for soon we will be returned to the land of our kin and I will be restored by our great Healing Stone.”

“Yes Pa,” Maud said. “And then you will be better.”

“Aye,” he breathed. “We will…”

The deed was done. The papers were signed and the bits had been exchanged. The farmhouse was empty and the train was waiting. Cloudy Quartz and Maud managed to get Igneous into the farm cart, all rugged with blankets to keep him warm. Cloudy Quartz pulled the wagon while Limestone and Marble helped clear rocks from the path, to make the ride as smooth as possible.

Maud carried a travel bag across her back. It had food and water for the night and morning they would spend on the train; and it had supplies to help care for Pa. Maud was following along behind the wagon when she stopped to take one last look at her beloved home and realised that Pinkie was no longer behind her.

The cart trundled on out of earshot and still Pinkie was nowhere to be seen.

“Pinkie?” Maud called, looking urgently around the wastes. “Pinkie? Pinkie!?”

“Maud?” said a little voice.

Maud turned and breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you had run away.”

Pinkie shook her head. She was sitting and holding something between her hooves but Maud couldn’t see what it was.

“It’s time to go,” Maud said.

Pinkie continued to fidget.

“All our stuff has gone already,” Maud said. “There’s nothing for us here.”

Pinkie nodded. “I know. So… I brought you this. You weren’t supposed to find it yet. That was later. But then we moved and you didn’t find it. So I brought it for you because it’s your favourite.”

Pinkie lifted her hoof at last and held up the small, smooth grey pebble.

Maud blinked at it. She tilted her head and studied it from different angles. She sniffed it. “Hm. Magnesium rich basalt,” she said. She tilted her head again. “…he’s kind of cute.”

Pinkie grinned and put the rock in Maud’s hoof. “I know what you’re gonna name him.”

“You do?”

Pinkie nodded vigorously.

Maud smiled at the little rock. “Me too.” She slipped the little rock into her travel bag. “Come on, Pinkie. Let’s get to the train.”

“Kay,” Pinkie said, following her sister.

They had only walked a few paces before Pinkie spoke up.

“…it was Boulder, right? You named him Boulder?”

“Yes Pinkie. His name is Boulder.”

“I knew it,” Pinkie giggled and jumped for joy.

The compartment they had on the train was nothing fancy. It was a reasonable room with a bed for Igneous and a smaller foldout cot for the four fillies to squish into, horizontally. The hooves of Maud’s hind legs hung over the edge, but her sisters seemed to fit comfortably enough all beside her.

The compartment rumbled softly as they journeyed into the night. The clack of wheels was distant but noticeable. It was too dark out to see anything interesting passing outside the window. Inside the compartment was lit by the gentle glow of a dim lantern beside Pa’s bed, where Ma sat up to tend to him.

“Drink your soup, dear,” Cloudy Quartz was saying. “You must try to get some food down before the rest of our journey. Soon we will be home and you will be well.”

Igneous coughed and turned away from the bowl of soup. He groaned. “To think… such a small thing as a chill from overworking could become something that leaves a grown stallion so tired and weak. I find I barely have the strength to eat.”

“Igneous, please, just try,” Cloudy Quartz told him.

He heaved a rougher cough.

Maud’s ears pricked up, as she had not really been sleeping. How long had he had that cough?

“Water, my dear,” Igneous said.

“There is water in the soup,” Cloudy Quartz assured him.

“No,” he said. “I thirst for water. Please.”

Ma put the soup bowl aside and got up from her seat. “Of course. I shall return.”

She kissed him on the forehead and walked softly from the room.

“Maud…” Pinkie whispered very, very quietly.

Maud only heard her because Pinkie’s muzzle was right next to her ear. She opened her eyes and met Pinkie’s own.

“Shhh,” Pinkie said, all frowns and seriousness.

The little filly reached up to her fluffy mane and drew out the small glass vial of dark blue liquid.

“He needs it,” Pinkie whispered. “I see it.”

Maud closed her eyes and opened them again. “He wants the Healing Stone.”

“There isn’t time,” Pinkie whispered. “I see it.”

“What? What do you see when you see things?” Maud whispered back. “I don’t understand.”

“I see how things change,” Pinkie whispered, pushing the potion into Maud’s hooves. “Please, Maud. Don’t let Pa die.”

Maud lay there stunned and breathing. The potion felt so small and cold in her hooves. So fragile.

“Please,” Pinkie whispered again. “He needs it.”

Maud carefully sat up and crawled out from the covers. She approached the bedside as quietly as she could. Pa’s eyes were closed as he lay there panting. She uncapped the little bottle and tipped the contents into the bowl of soup and stirred it in.

“Quartz?” Pa rasped quietly. “Quartz, is that you? Do you have my water?”

“It’s Maud,” she said. “Pa, you’re going to drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said, eyes half open but unfocused.

“Pa,” Maud insisted. “Even when we are tired, or cold, or scared, we do what must be done. You taught me that. You are recovering well but you cold do better. Now help me and help Ma and drink your soup.”

Maud climbed up on the stool beside the bed and picked up the bowl.

Igneous gave a brief smile. “Ahh, you sound just like your mother. But she’s too worried to bully me now.”

“Well somepony has to,” Maud said. “Now drink.”

She put the bowl to his lips and he managed to get most of it down before exhaustion bested him at last. Maud’s hooves were trembling slightly when she put the bowl back on the nightstand.

The compartment door slide gently open. “Maud?”

Maud looked over at her mother. “He drank some soup.”

Cloudy Quartz smiled. “Thankyou, Eldest. You have been so strong for us.”

Maud climbed down and went back to her bed. Ma came into the room, shut the door and set a glass of water down on the nightstand.

Igneous was breathing heavily, but they were the peaceful breaths of sleep.

Maud crawled back under the covers, next to Pinkie.

The little filly opened one blue eye inquisitively.

“I don’t know,” Maud whispered, pulling Pinkie close.

Pinkie smiled and nuzzled against her sister’s heartbeat. “I do…”

Author's Note

11th June 2017 -- changed Maud's description of Boulder as a 'metamorphic' rock to 'magnesium rich basalt' which is an igneous rock I believe, to comply with new MLP episodes. (I will occasionally change or update this fic's canon when the change is a simple cosmetic superficial change, such as this, and doesn't alter the course of the story.)

Pt.1 - Chapter 24

“Oh Spike, it’s simply amazing,” Rarity had been saying all the way back to their hotel room. “I’m going to live in Canterlot! I get to stay in the school dormitory and live a real Canterlot life. And I’ll get to tell my parents that I did get accepted to a fancy unicorn school. They’ll be so proud. Oh, but only if I manage to pass the exam tomorrow. Do you think I can do it, Spike? I don’t know.”

Spike nodded encouragement. “Absolutely.” He forced a smile.

He wasn’t kidding, either. Spike had known for a while that Rarity was an incredibly talented unicorn. But she’d chosen to focus on fashion instead of arcana. Maybe Future-Rarity hadn’t thought of herself as some ‘powerful wizard’ but Spike had seen enough to know she could be. He had walked in on some of her dressmaking montages and seen fabrics, gems, ribbons and mannequins all flying effortlessly about the room while Rarity sang and lively outfits danced around her. Heck, she’d invented her own spell for finding gems.

She would pass muster. Spike was unfortunately convinced of it.

“And those students are so nice,” Rarity said. “I really think they’re going to appreciate me here. Why, I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to go to school. Isn’t that strange?”

It was night time when they reached their hotel and got into their room.

“Oh, and that’s to say nothing of the best part,” Rarity went on. She turned to Spike and grinned. “I got my cutiemark!” she cheered, jumping for joy.

“Heh. Yeah,” Spike said. “Big ol’ shiny cutiemark. Wow, that’s just… great.”

Rarity stopped bouncing and calmed her breathing. “Is it…?” She hesitated. “Is it not what you expected, Spike?”

He scolded himself again for his selfishness. “No, no. It’s great! I’m really happy for you. Wow. Canterlot? You’re going to love it here.”

“Spike, don’t be coy with me,” Rarity said. “Is this or is it not the cutiemark you were expecting?”

Spike walked a few paced and slumped onto the floor. “No…” he groaned. “But that’s okay! Really. I’ve seen so many new cutiemarks already. It’s fine.”

Rarity stepped into his field of vision. “So it’s the school that’s bothering you, then.”

“No, I—” Spike sat up. “Well… Maybe a little. But it shouldn’t. I want you to be happy. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“Well… It’s different. Who’s going to look after Sweetie Belle?”

“Spike, she’s a baby. My parents will look after her.”

“But she’ll grow up without you.”

“Well she can come here, then,” Rarity said, “and take the test.”

“She won’t pass,” Spike said. “Sweetie Belle’s magic isn’t very good when she’s your age.”

“Well she can come visit me,” Rarity said. “And you said she’s got her Crusader friends. She’ll do fine.”

“Okay…” Spike said. “And you’ll remember to keep doing fashion?”

Rarity scoffed at him. “Spike. I do not do fashion. I live it.”

“Heh. Yeah…” Spike smiled. “But you’ll go home if the Elements need you, right?”

“I thought you said the Elements weren’t going to work.”

“They still might,” Spike insisted. “So… If they need you.”

“Yes, Spike. I’ll keep an eye out for the other Elements.”

They both suddenly remembered.

“Rainbow Dash,” Spike said. “We forgot to visit her today.”

“Oh, and my exam is tomorrow,” Rarity said. “And then we have to go back to Ponyville. I’m really running out of gems and bits.”

Spike got to his hooves again. “It’s okay, Rarity. You go take your exam. I’ll go see Rainbow Dash by myself.”

“Are you sure?” Rarity asked. “What if you need my help to sneak into restricted areas? Or to fast-talk somepony for information?” She grinned. “Or save you from a giant cake monster.”

Spike chuckled. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just get covered in cake.”

They both lapsed into blank stares.

“What the hay were those things?” Spike said with a shiver.

“I’ll ask around at the school tomorrow,” Rarity said. “Somepony ought to know by then.”

Spike nodded.

The encroaching conversation loomed uncomfortably.

“Sooo…” Rarity began. She gave a polite cough. “Your, um… armband.”

“Yyyyeah,” Spike said, absentmindedly itched at his left foreleg.

Rarity seated herself in front of him like a guard dog. “Show me,” she said.

Spike winced. “Okay…”

He closed his eyes and willed the image of the green and purple colt to disappear. There was a green flash and he heard Rarity give a sharp intake of breath. Spike opened his eyes. Oh boy was she staring.

“Why didn’t you tell be about all this?” Rarity asked. “It looks infected.”

Spike looked down at the band and was surprised himself to see she black roots and advanced even further up and down his arm now.

“I didn’t know it was this bad…” he said.

“You must have known something,” Rarity accused.

“I did. I—I just didn’t want you to worry. Or… to see me like this.”

“Well,” Rarity relented. “It’s nice to see you again. Spike. I missed my little dragon.”

“Thanks,” he said, but didn’t smile.

“And you can’t just take it off?”

“No. It’s pretty much stuck there. Oh.” Spike pointed to Rarity’s saddlebags. “The potion from Zecora. It’s not for Rainbow Dash. It’s for… this.”

“Then why don’t we use it?” Rarity asked, taking out the orange vial.

“We can’t,” Spike said. “Not yet, anyway. I still need to see Rainbow Dash tomorrow. I still need to find Twilight.”

“Well, yes, I understand, but this mess can’t be good for you, dear.”

“I’ll use the potion after we go home,” Spike said.

“What if it doesn’t work by then?”

“Then I’ll go see Zecora again. We’ll work something out. Really, I’ve got it all under control. Or at least, I won’t let it get too far out of control.”

“You’ve got a magical artefact of unknown origin fused to your arm and it’s growing bigger and stronger every day. I’d say it’s pretty far out of control.”

“Can you just trust me?” Spike huffed.

“Really? After you hid this from me? Trust?”

Spike grit his teeth. “Okay. I deserve that.”

Rarity put a hoof on his right shoulder and looked him in his normal green dragon eyes.

“Okay,” she said. “I don’t like it, but okay. The ‘trust’ needs to start somewhere. So this is me, trusting you. But that also means I’m trusting you to keep me informed.”

Spike’s claws fidgeted together. “Well in that case… there is one more issue.”

Rarity nodded. “Yes?”

Spike closed his eyes and frowned. “I’ve been having weird dreams. Not every night, but… enough.”

“What kind of weird dreams?”

Spike shook his head. “Me. Except, I’m not me. I’m this… other thing. A creature called a changeling. I’m in the changeling nest, surrounded by more of these creatures. Not much happens anymore. Just scurrying around in the dark, but—Well, it’s really starting to get to me. I feel like I am one of them—or all of them—in those moments. Then I wake up and I’m myself again. But it’s really… well… disturbing.”

Rarity’s hoof tightened on his shoulder in reassurance. “I can’t imagine,” she said. “Do you want to take the bed tonight?”

Spike snorted a laugh and opened his eyes. “No. You keep it. You’ve got that big exam tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

“Well I do insist you sleep at the end of the bed, at least,” Rarity said. “I don’t take up much room. Please, Spike, this carpet is awfully thin.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

Rarity stood back from him and smiled. “Now. What do you think of my new cutiemark? Isn’t it just the best cutiemark?”

“Oh yeah. No question,” Spike agreed happily. “We should get some cake to celebrate.”

“Agh!” Rarity laughed. “I’m perfectly sure that I shall have disturbing dreams now.”

“It came from beyond the library,” Spike said, waving his arms.

“Ahh! Get back, demon!” Rarity seized a pillow with her magic and chased him with it.

They laughed and played until the neighbours rudely reminded them of how paper-thin hotel walls could be and at what time most ponies preferred to sleep.

Pt.1 - Chapter 25

Maud awoke to a rocking sensation. She blinked her eyes open and found Pinkie shaking her and grinning from ear to notched-up-ear.

“Maud, Maud, Maud,” Pinkie was saying.

“What is it?” Maud sat up in alarm.

Maud looked across the room and saw her father sitting up in his bed, drinking a big bowl of warm soup and being hugged relentlessly by Limestone and Marble.

“Maud,” Cloudy Quartz greeted her, still sitting beside the bed. “You’re awake. Good. It is most remarkable but it seems your Pa is returning to health.”

Maud breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re really well again?”

“Aye,” her Pa said. He sipped soup and then tussled the manes of his closest daughters. “I feel my strength return at last. This morning I eat, I take water, and I am proud to hug my family for the first time in weeks.”

Pinkie bounded from the cot and landed on the bigger bed, snuggling up beside her Pa and her other sisters.

“It must be the Healing Stone,” Ma went on.

“The stone?” Maud blinked.

“It knows we are near,” Pa said. “As we get closer so too do I recover. The Healing Stone reached out to us now and gives me strength. Once I come before it fully I will be well again. I look forward to joining the town in the construction of our new home.”

“Oh, thank the stones,” Ma said, putting a gentle hoof on her husband’s foreleg.

Maud frowned at their behaviour, but relented soon enough. It mattered most that Pa was well. If it helped him to believe it was the Healing Stone then all the better for him and for Ma.

Maud got up and went to give her father a big hug.

“Aye, Maud,” he said. “I do better now.”

The sun was only just rising beyond the hills outside the window. Maud did not recognise the landscape. They had travelled very far in the night and would soon be arriving in the west.

Maud was trying to imagine her new life when she heard the quiet sobbing.

“Pinkie?” Maud said.

“What’s wrong?” Marble asked.

“Augh. She’s so emotional,” Limestone complained.

Pinkie’s shoulders shook and she struggled to hold back the tears.

“Pinkie, don’t be sad,” Maud said, reaching over to her.

Pinkie turned her head and crawled to the foot of the bed. “I’m—” she gasped. “I’m—sorry. I tried—tried—to make this—work,” she was saying through the sobs. “But now—” she gasped. “Now—now it—hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

Pinkie curled up and clutched at her head. Maud went straight to her but didn’t know what to do.

“Pinkie,” Maud said, trying to think. “Pinkie, don’t look at it. Whatever’s hurting you just don’t look at it.”

“But it’s everywhere now!” Pinkie wailed. “The pattern is wrong and only fire comes to pass! Ahh! There’s nowhere home from this place. I tried—” she gasped. “I tried—I tried—to make it work—to be a good pony—I tried—I tried but I can’t! I can’t make the patterns work.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Limestone asked.

“Oh dear,” Ma said. “It seems the true power of the Healing Stone has not yet reached us. Let us hope that we will fast be with—”

“No!” Maud interrupted suddenly. “She doesn’t like it. We’re going the wrong way.”

“Maud, dear, do not—” Ma warned.

“We have to go back,” Maud said. “Pinkie wants to go back. I need to help her!”

“Eldest, listen to reason,” Pa began. “Pinkamina’s pain comes from within. The Healing Stone will see her pain and it will sooth her. She will heal and she will be well again.”

“I…” Maud looked at the worried faces around the room. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Trust in the Healing Stone,” Ma told her. “We will soon be there.”

Maud leaned down by her sobbing sister. “Pinkie? Pinkie, tell me what to do.”

Pinkie grit her teeth and scrunched her eyes. “Wait…” she gasped softly. She groaned and flattened her ears. “Wait for… the gates to open. The river flows backwards. You don’t… need… to be a rock. You only need… to be… a leaf.”

“I don’t understand,” Maud whispered to her.

“I will ask the conductor how far we have to go,” Ma said, getting up to leave.

“I’ll go with you,” Pa said, getting carefully out of bed. “My legs are still a shaky sort but I feel the desire to walk again, as I have not done in so long.”

“Come then. We will go together,” Cloudy Quartz said.

Igneous leaned against her as they exited the compartment and the door slid shut behind them.

Limestone and Marble crowded in close.

“What’s wrong with Pinkamina?” Limestone demanded.

“Is she going to die?” Marble asked nervously.

“No,” Maud insisted. “You’re not, right? Pinkie?”

Pinkie shook her head. “Wait for the river… Wait for the change…”

“Pinkie, I don’t understand,” Maud begged her. “I should have given the potion to you instead.”

“No!” Pinkie gripped her suddenly. “Pa had no time! It was for him. Zecora was right. There is no potion to take Pinkie away from Pinkie. And no stone can fix me. I am shards! Shards of sky are in my eyes!” She clutched her head and wailed again.

“Pinkie…” Maud begged her.

The other two sisters hugged close to Maud’s side, fearful and uncertain.

“I wish I could help you,” Maud was saying. “I want to help you but I’m not strong enough. I just let things happen and I hope that they’ll get better but they don’t. They get worse. I can’t move. I can’t… see.” Maud shut her eyes. “I don’t know what to do…”

Pinkie stoped shaking and groaning. She lifted a forehoof and wiped at Maud’s face.

“There they are,” Pinkie said. “The flood gates open. The river changes. The rock can’t move, but the leaf will float.”

The train rumbled to a stop and the whistle blew.

Maud opened her wet eyes and heaved a shaky breath. “We’ve stopped moving.”

“Yeah,” Limestone said.

Maud frowned with determination. “We need to keep moving.”

“Why?” Marble asked.

Maud looked to the compartment door. Then she looked down at the three little fillies crowded around her.

She drew a deep breath and blinked the last of her tears away.

“Limestone,” Maud began. “I’m sorry you felt that I was smothering you. I was always hanging around and I didn’t give you your space to be you. It’s very important that you can be you. Each of you.”

Limestone shook her head. “That’s okay. I know you were just worried about me. But I can look after myself. I’m a big pony.” She stood up and grinned. “I’m a timberwolf! Rarrr!”

Maud smiled. She looked over at her other sister. “Marble. I think I was too much like Ma, with you. I’m not supposed to be your Ma. I was supposed to be your sister. Your friend. I was supposed to stand up for you—not tell you what to do. I should have been more like Limestone; playing games instead of teaching lessons.”

Marble peeked out from behind her fringe. “Mm. But I understand, too.”

Maud scooped them both closer and hugged them tight.

“Look out for each other,” Maud said, not letting go. “Limestone, you be you, and be good to Marble. And Marble, don’t let Limestone get into too much trouble. Always look out for each other and you’ll do fine. Can you promise me that?”

Limestone and Marble both nodded.

“You’re the big sister now, Limestone,” Maud whispered. “Do me proud.”

“What’s going on?” Limestone asked.

Maud let them go and wiped at her face. “I have to move. I have to go with Pinkie and follow the river. I know what she needs now. Or at least, I know who to go to for help. Tell Ma and Pa we love them and not to look for us, because we can’t stay here. We have to go.”

Maud suddenly scooped Pinkie up across her back and hurried with her out of the compartment.

“Maud?”

She heard her sisters calling her name. Then she heard Ma and Pa calling from further up the train. Maud just carried on running down the hallway with Pinkie on her back. She ran to the next car, and the next, and the next, until she was at the back of the train and leapt out onto the tracks.

She heard the steam whistle of another train, pulling out from the station and going in the opposite direction. Back home. Back to the rest of Equestria.

“Hold on,” Maud said.

Pinkie hugged her tight and shut her eyes.

Maud’s hooves kicked off and she bolted towards the escaping train. It was slowly gathering speed but Maud reached for every bit of strength she had as shot after it, running hard beside the tracks. The wheels clicked uncomfortably close. She could taste the smoke in the air. But she could see the open car just a little way ahead. It was pink with a purple roof and bundles of soft hay just waiting inside.

Her legs began to ache. Her breath was hard and fast—burning in her chest. The smoke made her eyes water but she kept pushing forward. For Pinkie. For her sister. Maud grit her teeth as she drew up beside the open car. Just a little further forward. She calculated the approaching jump. A rock in her path might just be tall enough but she needed to be further along. Head down, hooves strong. A little further. Just a little further.

Maud bounded onto the rock, turned sharply and sprang left towards the moving train.

Everything was questions in that moment.

Then Maud’s hooves struck the train car floor and she slid, crashing into a hay bale. The hay lurched back and tipped over the opposite edge of the open car, dashing itself to bits on the rocky ground rushing past. Maud’s forelegs slid over open space, treading air for a moment before something caught her and pulled her back from the brink.

Pinkie heaved at Maud’s tail until she was safely back inside the car. Then both ponies collapsed to the floor, panting hard. The train car rumbled. The wheels clicked along the tracks. Outside the unfamiliar hills moved past in reverse this time.

“Are you okay?” Maud huffed at last.

Pinkie sat up and nodded. “Thankyou.”

“Thank you for the rescue,” Maud sighed. She winked. “Adventurer.”

Pinkie giggled.

“Did I…?” Maud started. She looked at Pinkie. “Did I do the right thing?”

Pinkie lay down in front of her and scrunched her face. “Hurts less. Still bad patterns but getting better. You were right, though. I need to control this. Seeing is not the same as knowing.” Pinkie shook her head. “The Healing Stone couldn’t help me. Pinkie didn’t get better and that made ponies scared. Scared of me. They whisper because Pinkie sees things and knows things. Things she shouldn’t. Ma and Pa listen to their oldways again. Kinponies have oldways that whisper about Pinkies. I will not be kindling for their whispers.” Pinkie shuddered. “Better patterns this way. See more paths to better things.”

The morning sun beamed in through the open car. It felt soothing after such exertion. Maud smiled as she lay there.

“I think I’m going to rest for a bit now,” Maud said. “Will you watch over me this time?”

Pinkie nodded. She reached up into her mane and drew out a small grey pebble.

“Boulder…” Maud smiled. “So that’s where you were hiding…”

Pinkie put the little rock down between Maud’s hooves. “Boulder wants to know where we’re going,” Pinkie said.

Maud closed her eyes and sighed. “Ponyville… We’re going to Ponyville. To see Zecora.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 26

Morning was here, whether it was welcome or not.

“Ooo, I’m so nervous,” Rarity said, packing her saddlebags for the day. “What kind of exam is this going to be? I feel like I should have studied. I never study,” Rarity whined. “Unless it’s something to do with making dresses. Oh dear. This is certainly a lot more important than a school play. I’ve never been so stressed!”

“Rarity,” Spike said firmly.

She stopped and took a few deep breaths.

“You’ll do fine,” Spike assured her. “It’s alright. They just want to see what kind of natural magical gifts you have. You’ve already proven that you can cast spells under pressure. You’ve proven you can look at a spell for the first time and workout how to use it. You’re organised and creative and you’re a problem solver. That’s all they want to know.”

“Really?” Rarity said, unsure. “Don’t I need to know all that magical history about famous unicorn wizards or something?”

“That’s what the school is there to teach you about,” Spike said. “It’s for gifted unicorns. You’re gifted. You’ll do great.” He put a claw on her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “Think of it as making a costume for school, and the test parameters are like the guidelines for what costume you have to design. There are going to be some right answers, yes, but the rest is up to your own talent. Just show them that you’re confident and that you always try your best. You’re going to be amazing.”

Rarity drew one final deep breath and exhaled. “I’m going to be amazing.”

“That’s it.”

She pulled Spike in for a quick hug. “Okay. I’ll see you when we meet back here.”

“And you can tell me all about it,” he said.

Rarity let him go and smiled. “Yes, and do tell me how it goes with Rainbow Dash. It’s a shame I won’t get to meet her today. But if I move to Canterlot I’ll make sure to visit her as often as I can.”

“Right,” Spike nodded.

They parted ways for the day.

Rarity went off to the School for Gifted Unicorns. Spike put on his green and purple disguise—and his new backpack that Rarity had made for him with her newly learned mending spell—and went in the other direction towards Canterlot Royal Hospital where the pegasi with Starburst Sickness were being kept. It was well within visiting hours so Spike was confident of being allowed in to see Rainbow Dash. Unless it was a restricted area or something.

“Sorry,” the guard outside the Starburst Sickness ward said. “Restricted area.”

“Oh come on,” Spike said.

“Family only,” the guard added.

“I could be family,” Spike said. “You don’t know.”

“We’ve got a list of family and most of them are pegasi. There are a few earth ponies but none of them are your age. I could go check your name against the list, if you like, but I’m pretty confident of what I’m going to find.”

“What about friends?”

“We’ve got paperwork for that,” the guard said. “But I hope you’re not in a hurry.”

Spike grumbled as he walked away. “Nevermind.”

Spike sat down in a waiting chair around the corner and planned various strategies for sneaking into the Starburst Sickness area. Then he remembered to factor out Rarity’s involvement and had to start over. He was considering faking Celestia’s signature again when he heard the doors open around the corner and a recently familiar voice.

“Thankyou for holding the door,” said Mrs. Shy.

“Not a problem, ma’am,” the guard was saying. “You and the little one take care, now.”

“Oh we certainly will. Let me just have her say goodbye,” Mrs. Shy said.

Spike heard the rustle of pegasus feathers and knew this would be his only chance. He dived under the seats, hoped that nopony was looking, and changed his disguise to the Scootaloo one he had used when visiting Cloudsdale. He crawled out again just as Mrs. Shy and Fluttershy were coming around the corner.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Shy upon seeing him. “Hello, Spike, dear. Fancy seeing you again.”

Fluttershy waved hello and made a redundant gesture with one wing.

Spike smiled at her and managed to twitch his own wing in reply.

“Are you here to visit Rainbow Dash?” Mrs. Shy asked.

“Yeah. I was hoping to,” Spike said. “But I’m not on the list.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame,” Mrs. Shy said. “And their paperwork is so tedious.”

“Yeahhh,” Spike hinted again. “And I’m only in Canterlot for today.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Shy said. “I’m afraid it’ll never get done in time. Oh, how sad. You’ll have to come back another day.”

Spike’s ears flopped. He’d forgotten who he was dealing with.

Fluttershy’s wings suddenly rustled.

“What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Shy said, and twitched a quick reply of her own.

Fluttershy’s wings moved again.

“Oh. Well I don’t know,” Mrs. Shy said.

Fluttershy gave her mother a resigned look. Then she nodded to Spike and gestured for him to follow.

“Oh. Okay,” Mrs. Shy said. “I’ll just wait here.” Though Fluttershy could not have heard her.

Spike and Fluttershy walked up to the guard and Fluttershy got his attention with an adorable little smile-and-wave combo.

“Well hello again,” the guard said, all cheer and compliments now. “Er… Can you read lips?”

Fluttershy made a so-so gesture with her hoof that required no translation.

“Does. It. Help. If. I. Speak. Slowly?” The guard said.

Fluttershy frowned and shook her head.

“Oh, sorry,” he winced. Then he noticed Spike. “Hello there. Who are you?”

Spike was about to answer when Fluttershy put up a wing to stop him. From behind her long pink mane she gave him a subtle wink. Then she turned back to the guard and made a few wing-signs. Spike caught on and did the same, except he was entirely making stuff up.

“Oh, you’re both deaf,” the guard said, and his ears drooped a little.

Fluttershy pointed at Spike and then pointed at the Starburst Sickness area.

Spike nodded and twitched his wings.

“Ummm,” the guard said. “Is she family?”

Fluttershy tilted her head in confusion. She pointed at Spike and pointed at the door.

“I just need a name,” the guard said.

Fluttershy waited. She looked at Spike and then back at the guard.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. He craned his neck. “Is your mother around maybe? Could she translate for you?” He looked back down at Fluttershy.

Fluttershy pointed at Spike, then the door, then twitched her wings and drooped her ears. A slow sad expression began to spread over her face.

“Aw no, don’t do that,” the guard said. “Do you want a lollipop? I think they have them around here somewhere.”

Spike also drooped his ears and tried to look sad.

Fluttershy pointed again at the door with a quivering hoof.

“Aw, come on, not the puppy dog eyes,” the guard was saying. “Please, you’re killing me. Ah. Geez. Okay.” He sighed. “Look, I can see she’s clearly with you. Just… Ugh. Just go. Come on.” And at last he opened the door.

Spike gave Fluttershy a big, big hug and singed the ‘thankyou’ motion with his wings a fair few times. She giggled and smiled, patting him on the back.

“Gosh, that’s adorable,” the guard said, wiping a tear away. “Go on. Before I get in trouble.”

Spike and Fluttershy separated. She singed ‘goodbye’ and waited for him to leave. Spike strode confidently through the open doors and down the hallway of the Starburst ward. He would have to remember to send Fluttershy a big basket of cookies or something. He could see her new cutiemark shining through at its full potential now, while still clearly retaining much of the Fluttershy he knew. He smiled. Maybe the world would be alright in this new shape.

It took Spike a few trips up and down the hallway, peeking into rooms and trying to avoid drawing attention from the occasional hospital staff member, or—curiously enough—at least two extravagant-looking unicorns. Healers, Spike reasoned. Though they looked more like wizards, he thought.

Eventually Spike spied Rainbow Dash in a room down the end of the hall. She was easily recognisable by her rainbow mane and the fact that she was sat up in bed bouncing a little ball against the wall and waiting for it to ricochet back to her.

Yikes. Rainbow Dash never did do well in hospitals.

Once Spike had discerned that there were no nurses or doctors or random unicorns in the room he pushed the door open further and trotted inside.

The ball bounced back from the wall and Rainbow caught it with her hoof. She stopped playing and looked over at Spike.

“Who the hay are you?” she said.

Spike tensed. This was going to be like Applejack all over again if he didn’t think of something to get her onside. Then it occurred to him that he didn’t actually have a fate-of-Equestria reason for visiting anymore. No Elements of Harmony plan. No Rarity for him to introduce. This time, it seemed, he really was just visiting a friend.

“M-my name’s Spike,” he began, climbing up on a chair by the bed.

“Hiya, Spike,” Rainbow said, and returned to bouncing the ball.

There was one other bed in the room and the colt there was sound asleep.

“You seem bored,” Spike said.

“Wow. What a genius,” Rainbow replied.

The ball bounced again. K-thunk.

“I’m a friend of Fluttershy’s,” Spike said.

“That’s weird,” Rainbow said. “I don’t remember Fluttershy having any friends. Besides me.” K-thunk. “Of course you’re probably one of her new friends.” K-thunk.

Spike took off his backpack and reached inside. “I brought you something.”

“Is it a new set of wings?” Rainbow asked. K-thunk.

Spike paused, hoof still inside the bag. “No.”

“Pass,” she said. K-thunk.

“You might like it.”

“Nope.”

“How do you know?”

K-thunk. “Because,” she said. “The only thing I want right now is to get back to normal,” K-thunk, “so I can go back to Cloudsdale so I can see my family,” K-thunk. “And my friends,” K-thunk. “And go back to flying,” K-thunk. “And racing,” K-thunk. “Because that’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do my whole life.”

The ball hit the wall at a bad angle and skidded off into a corner of the room.

Rainbow groaned and slumped back against her pillow.

She didn’t have any bandages, Spike noticed. Or casts or cuts or notched ears or missing feathers or anything.

“You look like you’re healing pretty good,” Spike said.

“Yeah,” Rainbow groaned. “They’ve got every doctor, healer and crackpot wizard in Equestria trying things out on us here. I’ve gotta be the healthiest pony in the world. I’m probably immortal by now. I’ll bet lasers just bounce right off me and I can eat lava for breakfast.”

Spike chuckled. “Wow. Sounds awesome.”

“Hmph,” Rainbow said. “Well I would trade all of it just to have what you have.”

Spike blinked. “What I have?” he said.

Rainbow shrugged. “You know… Flying. You’re not from the hospital so I know you don’t have the sickness. Lucky filly.”

Spike looked down at himself and remembered his was still in his Scootaloo guise.

“You don’t know what you’ve got,” Rainbow grumbled.

Spike frowned at her. “No. You don’t know what I’ve got. You think I can fly? I can’t fly,” he said. “I’ve never been able to fly.”

Rainbow sat up. “What? But… you’re old enough. I mean—”

“Exactly,” Spike said. “I should be able to, but I can’t.”

He wasn’t entirely sure who he was channelling here—Scootaloo or himself—but suddenly the words just came pouring out of him.

“It didn’t bother me when I was younger. I just assumed that that’s how I was. But then all these other—uh—pegasi. They could fly. And I thought maybe I would get that when I got older. Maybe my wings would just happen. Just work. But it’s never happened. And I don’t think it’s ever going to.”

Spike scrunched his face and glared at the ground.

“You’re jealous of me?” he went on. “You’ve had more opportunity that I ever had! You had years of flying—racing—living like a normal… a normal pegasus. Things that I never had! And now you’re going to sit here and bounce a ball all day and just whinge about it?”

“Well yeah,” Rainbow snapped. “Because it totally sucks!”

“I know!” Spike said. “But who you are is not the same as what you can do.” He huffed a breath. “A very amazing pegasus once told—Well, told me. That it just doesn’t matter if you can fly or not. Because I’m me and you’re you and we’re all different. Maybe you think flying is what pegasi are supposed to do. But you’re more than just a pegasus.”

Rainbow folded her forelegs and looked away. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Spike said firmly. “I know I’m more than just what I’m ‘supposed’ to be. And maybe we’ll fly some day, or maybe we won’t. But that doesn’t matter to me anymore because somepony helped me realise that I’m all kinds of awesome anyway. And so are you. And so is everypony, as long as you have the guts to keep on being awesome. Okay?”

Rainbow didn’t respond.

“Oh wow,” jeered the colt from the next bed over, waking up. “That’s so inspirational. It doesn’t matter if our lives are ruined as long as we just keep being awesome.”

“Hey, shut up Billy!” Rainbow grabbed the tissue box from her nightstand and flung it at him.

“Ow!” Billy yelled. “Lay off, Rainbow Crash. I’m a cripple now.”

“The only cripple you’ve got going is your cripplingly bad smell,” Rainbow shot back. “Take a shower for once!”

“It’s your idea of peace and quiet that stinks,” he said, getting out of bed. “You know what? I’m going to take that shower, but not because you told me to. It’s just so I can get away from your stupid bouncing ball and your crazy friend who thinks she knows more about our situation than we do just because she’s a regular cripple.”

“Fine!” Rainbow yelled, grabbing her pillow. “I hope the hot water shrivels your brain like a raisin!” She threw the pillow at the closing door. “Nnhhh! I hate that guy!”

“Is that the bully from flight camp?” Spike asked.

“Fluttershy told you about that, huh? I’m glad his life is as screwed up as mine!”

“Well,” Spike said, reaching into his backpack again. “I know one thing you’ve got that he doesn’t have.”

“What’s that?” Rainbow said.

Spike lifted the book from his backpack. “A copy of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone.” He smiled.

Rainbow’s ears flattened. “Are you serious right now? A dumb book?”

“You’ll really like it,” Spike said, putting it on her bed.

“Why do you keep saying stuff like that?” Rainbow said. “Why are you here talking to me like you know me? ‘Cause if you really knew me you’d know that books are for eggheads and I’m no egghead.”

“Do I look like an egghead to you?” Spike said.

Rainbow looked him up and down in his Scootaloo guise. “I guess not.”

“Well I’m telling you that this is the book for you,” Spike said. “Just give it a read next time you’re bored. Instead of bouncing that ball.” He tilted his head towards the door. “Besides, between you and me, I’m pretty sure the reason Billy’s so cranky is he doesn’t get enough sleep.”

Rainbow snorted. “Ha! He’s such a baby if he doesn’t get his nap.” Rainbow’s laughs died down to a sigh. “Thanks, but I still don’t do books.”

“Just keep it,” Spike said.

“Whatever,” Rainbow huffed. “Now can you get my pillow back? And fetch my ball. If I’m going to be stuck in this dumb hospital forever then I’m gonna need those things.”

“It’s not forever, is it?” Spike asked, going to collect the pillow.

“I’unno.” Rainbow shrugged. “I guess until they either find a cure or they give up. Whichever comes first. Some of the other patients have started taking bets and it is not looking positive-attitude if you ask them.”

Spike put the pillow back on the bed and went to get the ball.

“Thanks,” Rainbow said, getting comfy and leaning back again. “I guess I’d better get used to this place. Eventually Fluttershy will stop visiting. Everyone will forget about me and Billy will die from lack of showers; if I don’t beat him into a coma with a pillow first.”

“Aw, come on,” Spike said, tucking the bouncy ball under his wing. “Fluttershy will still visit you.”

“Nah,” Rainbow said. “We’ve got nothing in common. We just had Billy. Billy was mean to Fluttershy and I’d put him in his place. That was our routine. Now? No Fluttershy. And she certainly doesn’t like visiting me since I’ve got Billy here as a sideshow attraction. I’d ask them to give me a different roommate but then I’d feel bad for inflicting Billy on some other pony.”

“You do the world a great service,” Spike said.

“It’s my burden,” Rainbow said. “Ball?”

Spike passed it back to her.

K-thunk. It started straight away.

Spike looked at the other nightstand and saw a notebook and a pen.

“Hey, do you mind?” Spike asked, point at it.

Rainbow shrugged. “Help yourself. Fluttershy’s mum left it for us.” K-thunk. “But as you can see we don’t have much to talk about.”

Spike looked at the top sheet. It was just Hello. A redundant thing to write since the point could be made with a simple wave. They hadn’t even bothered to write Goodbye. Spike flipped the sad page over for a blank one.

Spike picked up the pen with his mouth and scribbled down an address. Mouth-writing was slow and tedious and he wondered how ponies managed to do it all the time. But when he was satisfied that it was legible he spat the pen and lifted the notepad for her to read.

“What’s that?” Rainbow asked. “Another hospital? Great idea.”

“No,” Spike said. “It’s the hospital where a friend is staying.”

“Another friend in hospital? Gee, you’ve got bad luck.”

“Well she’s not actually happy with me right now,” Spike said. “But I think the two of you would get along really well.”

K-thunk. “There you go again, pretending you know who I am.” K-thunk. “Does this pony like racing or the Wonderbolts? Because that’s what I’m all about right now. Or I was.” K-thunk.

“She likes races,” Spike said. “Running races, though. And she likes competitions.”

K-thunk.

“She may not compete it flying contests,” Spike went on. “But she likes rodeos. Also the kind of dumb contests you get into with your friends. Like, who can stand being covered in bees the longest. Or who’s the best at hoofwrestling.”

K-thunk. Rainbow caught the ball and held it. “What’s her name?”

“Applejack,” Spike said. “But you can call her AJ. She’s in Manehatten hospital right now but her home is Ponyville and she misses it a lot.”

Rainbow started squishing the ball between her hooves. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”

“And she grew up a farm pony,” Spike said. “So she’s always thought she had this life planned for her. But now she can’t do that anymore. So… she doesn’t really know what to do or who to be.”

Rainbow squished the ball a few more times. “Right…”

Spike put the notepad and pen on the bed. Then he went to collect his backpack.

“That's it? So where are you off to now?” Rainbow asked.

“Trying to find another friend,” Spike said. “She’s disappeared and I need to help her.”

“You have weird friends,” Rainbow said. K-thunk. The bouncing started again.

“Yeah,” Spike said. “…I hope it works out for you, Rainbow.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. K-thunk.

Spike opened the door and was about to leave.

“Hey, um…” Rainbow said, catching the ball. “Thanks. I guess. For the book and the, um, penpal. Or something.”

Spike nodded. “No problem. Just trying to help.”

“And, um…” Rainbow went on. “What you said before? About not worrying about being a pegasus and just being… y’know… awesome?”

“Yeah?”

Rainbow looked up and gave him a wary smile. “You’re pretty awesome.”

Spike blushed. “Thanks, Rainbow.” He flapped his little wings. “You know, ponies look up to you. You’ve got what it takes to be a good leader. Some day maybe a little pony like me will need help and I know you’ll be there for her. And whether you realise it or not I think Fluttershy looks up to you, too. Today she helped me deal with, I guess, a different kind of bully. And I know she didn’t get that from her parents.” Spike smiled. “She got it from you.”

Rainbow blinked and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. Well. I’m pretty great.” She shooed him with her hooves. “Now get out of here. I’ve gotta throw Billy’s mattress out the window before he comes back.”

Spike laughed. “Always a prankster, Rainbow Dash.”

“Again? How would you know? Get out of here,” she laughed. “Go on.”

“Alright, bye!” Spike laughed, and threw in the matching wing-sign just because.

He closed the door and headed back to the exit, feeling pretty positive for a change. As he was walking he noticed the two unicorns in the ward had found each other and struck up a conversation. Probably comparing the size of their libraries or something. Spike rolled his eyes and strode on past.

“…heard that they’re confiscating public copies of Warhock’s The Living Spell,” one wizard was saying.

Spike froze. Then he darted behind a potted plant to listen.

They hadn’t even noticed him, of course.

“I’m glad I have my own copy,” the other wizard was saying. He was tall and blue-ish. “In my extensive private collection in my very large library.”

Spike deadpanned. Typical.

“Well of course we all have our own copies,” the first wizard was saying. She was also tall, but of a green-ish colour. “But when they start confiscating books it does rouse my concerns.”

“Oh please. It’s not a concern,” the blue wizard said. “Celestia just doesn’t want foals getting their hooves on it anymore. I heard there was an accident with one of the students from her school.”

“Oh, that school,” the green wizard said. She tsk’d. “Unicorns today. Do you think I became a wizard by attending a class?”

“I know. They’re so coddled,” the blue wizard agreed. “They can’t even handle a simple book like The Living Spell.”

“What kind of accident can one have with a book like that? If this student could even use the spell in the first place.”

“I was thinking the same thing. At the most she’d witness a few scary flashes of magic and then give up. We’ve all tried Warhock’s spell. It quickly has it’s limitations.”

“Yes. Well. It’s probably just an excuse to restrict access to forbidden arcana. You know it borders on spell hacking.”

“Yes. Quite,” the blue wizard said. “Still, it makes for a good story, don’t you think? A cautionary tale, perhaps, for other overeager unicorn brats.”

The green wizard gave a wise chuckle. “Yes. But tell me, how does the story end?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” the blue wizard said. “Well I heard, because I was recently invited to Celestia’s palace to consult on my knowledge of healing magic.”

“I was also,” the green wizard assured him. “But go on. What did you hear whilst you were snooping around?”

“I never!” the blue unicorn said. “But if you insist. I may have overheard that the student in question was being kept in the palace chambers because…” and he gave an inappropriate snicker, “…whatever she did with that spell, it drove her quite mad.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 27

The curtains were closed in the hotel room when Rarity came back; which cast everything in a dirty-orange glow. Spike was there already, either packing or unpacking his backpack. No disguise—just a dragon—and Rarity winced when she saw the black scar tissue of his left arm again.

The creaking of the door made Spike look up. “Hi,” he said softly.

He shut his backpack and sat on the end of the bed.

Rarity walked briskly inside and closed the door behind her. “Ask me how I did.”

“I think I know the answer,” Spike teased.

Rarity burst with joy. “I did it! I did it! I’m in!” She jumped around the room. “I’m starting next week! I’m going to live in Canterlot and I get to go to school with Moon Dancer and all the others!” She pranced on the spot for a bit. “Oh. That’s who I was talking to—Moon Dancer. Sorry I was late getting back, but she came to congratulate me and we just started talking. I know we don’t have much in common when it comes to magic and books, but she’s probably the most intelligent pony I’ve had the pleasure to talk with and she knows all about Canterlot.”

“That’s really great,” Spike affirmed. “Moon Dancer could use a friend.”

“Mm. Speaking of,” Rarity said, calming down now. “How did things go with Rainbow Dash?”

“Pretty good,” Spike said. “I saw Fluttershy again. She helped me sneak in.”

“See? I told you you needed me,” Rarity said. “From now on if you’re going to sneak into buildings I insist we go together.”

“Aaaactually,” Spike admitted.

Rarity eyed him suspiciously. She looked over at Spike’s backpack and her ears fell. “You’re not packing to go home. Are you? You’re packing to stay.”

Spike nodded. “I have to go see Twilight.”

“So you’ve found her then?”

“Yeah,” Spike said. “She’s in the palace.”

“All this time and she was in the palace?” Rarity exclaimed. “Why didn’t Shining Armor just tell us that? What’s with all the secrets?”

“I think she’s in trouble,” Spike said, looking down at his claws. “Something about a magic book that she wasn’t supposed to have. Or maybe a spell she wasn’t supposed to do.”

“Ooo, I hope she didn’t turn herself into a newt or some other slimy thing.” Rarity shuddered. “But Spike, I… We have to catch the train back to Ponyville. My parents… And I’m running out of gems and bits. We have to check out of the hotel before sunset.”

“It’s okay. I’ll catch up,” Spike said. “In a few days. I just… I stayed away from this place for so long and, well, now look at what’s happened. I should have been there for Twilight. Maybe she’d be okay now if I had just been braver.”

“Spike. Yesterday we fought cake monsters,” Rarity said. “I think that’s pretty brave.” She suddenly remembered. “Oh! I did hear some more news about that.”

“Yeah?” Spike raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently it wasn’t just the library at the Gifted school,” Rarity said. “There were also cake monsters in a few other major libraries around Canterlot. It’s as if those monsters were actually trying to destroy all the books. It’s most perplexing. Of course they were easily defeated by the various unicorns who frequent those libraries. The literary casualties, as it were, were few.”

“Does anypony know where they came from?”

“Nothing I heard about,” Rarity said. “Moon Dancer had a few thoughts, though. She gave me a list of facts. One – they were made by powerful magic. Two – they had a mission: to destroy the books. Three – they dissolved back into cake slime after a few hours. That’s it.”

“Huh,” Spike said. “Moon Dancer sure pays attention.”

“Mm. I’m hoping to know more when we come back in a week.”

“Right. Well. You’d better catch your train. And I’d better clear out of this hotel.”

“Hmm. Just a minute.” Rarity dug in her saddlebags and brought out the last of the gems and bits. “Take these. You’ll get one more night, I think, and maybe some dinner.”

Spike stepped up and took them with a nod. “Thanks.”

Rarity pulled him into a hug. “Be careful. And come back and to Ponyville soon. We need to get ready to move to Canterlot.”

Spike let her go. “You’re going to live in the dormitory now, right? I don’t think you’ll be able to sneak me in.”

“No, no, I’m sure we can work something out,” Rarity insisted. “You could… Um… Well I could find you, uh…”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t think anything’s going to work.”

“Well maybe you could stay in Ponyville and live with Zecora,” Rarity compromised. “And you can come and visit me on weekends and we’ll…”

“Go on adventures?” Spike finished. He shrugged.

Rarity frowned in frustration. “Well… Well I’ll work something out. We’ve got a whole week before the move and I will find a way to make this work.”

Spike let her have her moment. “Yeah. Okay.”

Rarity carefully eyed his armband. “Do you need me to recharge that?”

Spike shook his head. “Seems to have enough power.”

They both silently agreed to gloss over the implications.

“Do take care of that once you’re back home,” Rarity said. “I expect to see you there by tomorrow. Or write ahead if you’re going to be late. I will not stand for rudeness.”

“Will do.”

“And be careful.” She poked him in the chest.

“I’ll try.”

Then she gathered up her suitcase and her saddlebags, finally passing him the room key.

“Well…” Rarity nodded tentatively to the door.

Spike nodded. “Goodbye.”

She frowned. “See you later,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he said. “See you later.”

Then she opened the door and left him alone in the hotel room.

The sun went down.

Spike managed to pay for one more night’s use of the room but he’d have to clear out the next morning. He didn’t know what would happen in the next several hours. He might need the room… he might not. Right now he only needed his armband and what supplies he had in his backpack.

Four foal-sized socks to silence his step, and a foal-sized dark cloak. Cheap material but it only needed to last for tonight. He had purchased these with the last of the money. Spike had also collected a fist-full of pebbles in case he needed to—heck—throw pebbles or something.

The final item in the bag was the orange potion from Zecora. It had a note tied around it with her neatly written instructions for use.

Apply to the enchanted site.

It’s made to burn. Beware, it might.

It’s more than pony folk can bear.

But you should be fine, as you’re aware.

Spike frowned at it, feeling pretty sure that safety instructions shouldn’t read like a riddle. But he got the gist of the information. Or at least, he hoped he did.

With his kit put together at last and the night rolling in over Canterlot, Spike changed his disguise to that of the green and purple colt, put on his pony socks and cloak, and made stealthily for the Canterlot palace.

And Twilight.

The first thing Spike became aware of was the invisible magic barrier around the palace grounds. However, he was not sure how he was aware of it. Typically only unicorns were sensitive to magic, unless it was very strong magic and in close proximity. He supposed it could be a very powerful spell, bleeding magic vibes all over the area. But making the spell invisible seemed to Spike like an act of stealth. It didn’t make sense.

Yet, clearly, when Spike approached the palace walls he felt a strange warning tickle run through his body. He backed off and tried another part of the wall. Same again. It seemed to be all the way around. Gradually Spike realised that the part of him that was warning him about the spell was not actually a part of him. At least, not originally.

It was the changeling armband again, reacting to the magical barrier that encircled the Canterlot palace. Well, well. Spike wasn’t very good at interpreting magical vibes or auras or sensations, but the armband seemed to indicate that messing with the barrier would be very bad for the both of them. It communicated this more clearly—as Spike reached out a hoof towards the wall—by changing from a tickling sensation to a hot buzzing shock.

Spike pulled himself back at once. And he hadn’t even touched the wall. He looked down at his hoof and then looked up at the wall again. This spell was familiar to him. Only it had been much more painful the first time he had encountered it. Spike was no trained unicorn wizard but he was almost one hundred percent sure that this was the spell that had attacked him when he had tried to send that letter to Celestia before. The letter must have hit this barrier and Spike had felt the magical backlash instead of just having his letter returned.

He shuddered at the memory. But why was this here now? Sure, the palace and its grounds had always been restricted from the general public, and there had always been some measure of security, but never like this before. And never so secretively. What exactly was Celestia trying to keep out?

Well shoot. Spike had been hoping to slip through the bars of the gates or climb over the walls or something. Finding Twilight should be fairly easy after that. He was fairly familiar with the palace layout; even the unconventional ways to get around. Sure, it was a big palace—but there were only a few dozen rooms that Celestia could repurpose for this kind of thing. And if he needed to, he could check the guard roster in their locker room; maybe there’d be some clues there.

But all of that would have to wait until after he found a way past the surprise magical barrier. Just great. Spike sighed. It was going to be a long night.

He paced the perimeter of the palace, keeping to the shadows, hidden by his dark cloak. After almost an hour of snooping he saw two palace guards pulling an empty cart, so he followed them.

“What a month,” the mare huffed. “Bring this, bring that, now take it back, now get something else.”

“I could report you for insubordination, you know,” the stallion said.

“Oh yeah? And then who would you talk to?”

“Good point.”

She grunted. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to go all around Canterlot in the middle of the night collecting cakes and stuff, then the least she could do is actually use them for something. But no! We just take them back out and throw them in the trash a few days later. What a waste.”

“Hey, I heard there was something weird going on with cakes yesterday,” the stallion said.

“Like what?”

“Not sure. I was told that I didn’t need to know.”

The mare gave a slight chuckle. “I’m sure we can get Shining Armor to tell us, eh? He’s real close with Celestia’s ward—or niece or whoever she is.”

“I was told I didn’t need to know about that either,” the stallion said.

“Come on. We’ll wring the info out of him tomorrow.”

“Cut the guy some slack. His sister’s going through some stuff.”

“Ugh. Glad I’m not the one who has that night shift. You know she’s started throwing things now?”

Spike listened eagerly to their conversation with his heart pounding in his ears. By now the two guards had reached their destination—a scrap yard. They lit their horns and started loading big twisted pieces of scrap metal into the cart.

“This has got to be the weirdest one yet,” the mare said.

“I still think a box of party string was the weirdest one,” the stallion said.

“I didn’t hear about that.”

“No, that was a different guy. But whatever Celestia wanted it for she must have changed her mind because she was apparently pretty angry about it later.”

“Weird,” the mare grunted.

Spike put a plan together in his mind. He scanned the scrap yard until he noticed a broken old bathtub teetering precariously on a pile of junk a little further away. It was a safe distance, but close enough. From his hiding place behind a pair of trees he reached into his backpack and took out a peddle and heaved it through the air.

…or at least, attempted to.

The pebble slipped right out of his hoof and landed softly in the dirt.

Spike glared at it and then at his own hooves. He took the sock off one foreleg and with a flash of green magic he returned to his normal dragon self.

Metal scraped over by the cart. “What was that?” the stallion asked.

“You, you klutz,” the mare replied.

“No, I got a weird shiver,” he said.

“Yeah. From you scratching the metal.”

The guards went back to their task and Spike managed to throw the pebble this time. It sailed through the air and struck the dangerously positioned old bathtub. The heaped pile of junk swayed, tilted and then suddenly crashed over on the rest of the scrap yard.

“Blood of Celestia!” the mare swore, flinching back.

The stallion instinctively threw up a shield in front of them, casting the area in the dim glow of his magic.

“Ack!” the mare put a foreleg over her eyes. “Cut that out you idiot!”

Spike had to move now. He scurried up to the cart and climbed in, nestling down with the scrap metal and hoping that dragons really could be comfortable on anything. A bit of metal jabbed him in the leg. It was not comfortable, but his scales resisted the sharp edges. He huddled down under his cloak and tried to curl up as small as possible.

“Sorry.” The stallion lowered his shield and shivered.

The mare growled at him. “It’s just a bunch of junk tipping over.”

“Well I know that now. What if a bit had hit us though?”

“Ugh. This place is a hazard. I hope we get danger money for this or something.”

More grumbles were had and more bits of metal were hefted onto the cart.

“I think we’ve scooped up a bit of old cloth here,” the stallion said, peering into the wagon.

“Leave it,” the mare yawned. “The dungeon guards will sort it out at the other end. Let’s go.”

And with that the cart trundled on its way back towards the palace gates.

Pt.1 - Chapter 28

It was late at night when Twilight heard the sound.

A strange scratching, bumping sound. It was very soft so as to be almost undetectable. But Twilight could hear it. Probably. Maybe. She was wide awake and unable to move. She lit her horn and pulled at the belts that lay across her chest. It was no use. They were held in place with a locking spell that she couldn’t break. They said it was for her own good, of course, and made up stories about fits and sleep walking. And, as predicted, they had already confiscated all the sharp things. All she could do was lie there a cold sweat as something moved around just at the edge of hearing.

Twilight lit her horn brighter for light and fearfully glanced around the room. The shadows lurched out at her in the magenta glow and made he see movement where there was none. Her breath came out hard and fast. But no... No, she was alone in the room. There was nothing to be seen. But still the sound was getting closer.

Oh no… It was in the walls.

Twilight wriggled against the restraints. Should she call out to the guard? Would he even care? Maybe he’d just think she was having another nightmare and he wouldn’t even check on her—just go and get the nurses. Or maybe it wasn’t real at all. Maybe she truly was loosing her mind. It couldn’t be real, right? It was bumping along inside the wall, right by where she was lying. What was it? There was nothing there but she could almost feel it.

It had magic. It was dark and cold and hungry. It was a twisted thing that only knew how to take and take and take and whisper lies. It was oily and smooth and it buzzed and clicked at the edge of her awareness—this unknown thing that moved inside the walls! She heard the scratch and quiet shriek of metal. Should she scream? Maybe she’d scare it away, whatever it was. Or maybe it would just get angry. Maybe if she stayed quiet it wouldn’t find her. Maybe if she closed her eyes it wouldn’t see her. She shut off her horn and tried not to breath. Metal squeaked again.

It was coming from under the bed.

Twilight let out a whimper despite herself. She was going to die. It was some kind of night creature come to finish her. Some horrible thing that was going to steal the last of her magic and nopony would even miss her and that would be the end!

Metal grit against metal for a moment. So subtle. So deliberate. Then something swooshed along the floor under her bed. Crawling out into the room. It was on her other side now—that oily dark magic. Twilight whimpered again, her breath coming out in fast panting. She stretched and strained again the straps. She felt the thing looming up beside her bed.

She screamed!

“Shhh,” cautioned a little voice.

Twilight held her breath.

“Twilight,” the voice whispered. “It’s okay. I’m a friend.”

In the silence that followed Twilight heard the guard outside shifting his weight on his horseshoes. He had heard her and he was considering what to do.

“What do you want…?” Twilight whispered.

“Are you okay?” the intruder asked. “You went missing and everypony was worried about you.”

Twilight knew that wasn’t true. She glared in the darkness.

“I heard you got in trouble for something,” the visitor said. “Are you hurt.”

“…no,” Twilight said. Then she repeated herself. “What do you want?”

The stranger seemed confused. “I wanted to find you. To make sure you’re okay. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” Twilight whispered.

She slowly lit her horn again, shedding light on the intruder.

It was a colt. A green and purple colt wrapped in a black cloak.

“I’m Spike,” the colt whispered. “I—”

“Who?” Twilight said.

“You don’t know me. But you can trust me.”

The guard shifted again and Twilight dimmed her horn-light a little.

“What’s this?” Spike touched one of the belts.

“They won’t let me go,” Twilight whispered. “They don’t like me so they tied me up and stole my magic.”

“What? Who’s they?”

“The Princess. And Cadence and everypony,” Twilight hissed.

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“I know what I know!” she whispered harshly.

Hushed silence fell again.

“What happened, Twilight?”

She glared. “They’re monsters. They did horrible things and I found out.”

“What things? Wait… does this have something to do with a spell book?”

“No,” Twilight sneered. “This is about the—” She cut off. “About trick questions. Always tricks. Everything was a trick and now I’m trapped.”

Spike didn’t seem to understand. He stood there confused and directionless. Then he drew breath and fixed a decisive gaze on the belts that held her against her will.

“Let’s go,” Spike said. “I’m going to get you out of here. We can crawl out through the vents and they won’t find us.”

The vents. So that’s how he came in.

“You mean escape?” Twilight whispered, her light growing brighter.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” Spike said. “But we can sort it out later. Come on.”

It all seemed too good to be true. Too good indeed… And Twilight was no fool. This pony looked like a colt but his aura was all wrong. Layers and layers of lies, even under the black cloak he was still hiding something. He was no unicorn and he had no right to project such power. Such… unnatural magic.

He was no pony.

The colt grabbed at one of the straps and pulled it with his hooves.

“No good,” Twilight said. “Magic binding. I don’t have the counter spell.”

She watched him take a shaky breath and release it. “Okay. Maybe if I burn it off.”

“Don’t burn me!” Twilight hissed, maybe a little louder than intended.

Silence hung.

The guard outside the door shifted on his hooves again.

“Okay. Okay,” Spike said. “It’s alright. I’ll be careful.”

“How?” Twilight asked. “Even fire can’t undo good magic.”

He fumbled inside his cloak and came up with a glass bottle of some kind. Twilight lit her horn a little brighter so she could see—and more importantly so he could see and make sure not to burn her.

“What’s that?” she whispered fearfully.

“Just a potion,” he said. “I hope this works.”

“You hope?” Twilight snarled.

“Shh,” he said, uncapping the lid with his teeth.

Twilight flinched back from the sudden sizzle of new magic. Whatever the potion was it was hot like lava but also cold enough to snap glass. She got a brief mental impression of melting colours, whatever that meant.

Spike’s hooves were shaking—no, fumbling.

“Give me that!” Twilight whispered harshly, grabbing the bottle with her magic. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Just a drop,” Spike warned her quickly. “I don’t know how strong it is but it was made to—Uh, to deal with some potent stuff.”

Twilight held the bottle with her magic and tilted it ever so slightly over the first strap. A drop of orange liquid oozed out and met the magically-locked clasp. There was a strange sizzle and a little wisp of smoke followed by a snap as Twilight felt the locking spell vanishing into fragments that dissolved like soap bubbles. She repeated the process on the next strap and found the same result.

Twilight resealed the potion and passed it back to the strange non-colt. Then she seized the straps with her magic and unbuckled them easily, wriggling free from them at last.

“Come on,” Spike said. “Through the vents.”

“No,” Twilight said.

She lit her horn and grabbed the potion back from his clumsy grasp. Then she stared screaming.

“Shh!” Spike was saying. “What are you doing?”

Twilight gave another scream and then a long wail and screamed again.

Spike looked frantically from her to the door and to the space under the bed.

Twilight lowered her cacophony to childish whimpers and whines as she heard the guard groan loudly and trot off to fetch the nurses.

“What was that?” Spike hissed. “We have to go now!”

“I’m going,” Twilight said. “But not with you!”

She conjured a shield and slammed the colt against the wall with it, pinning him there. She winced at how brittle a shield she was still allowed, but it should hold him long enough. Assuming he didn’t have any magic abilities. Oh dear… What if he had magic abilities? Twilight raced to the door and tipped some of the orange potion into the lock.

“What are you doing?” Spike cried.

There was a hiss-snap of dissipating energy, as well as the sizzling ooze of molten mechanical parts. Twilight pulled the door wide open and gazed out into the empty lamp-lit hallway.

“Wait!” Spike called. “Don’t do this. I’m trying to help you.”

Twilight felt her shield straining. It would fall apart as soon as she left proximity. And she wouldn’t get far without being spotted. Or maybe this ‘Spike’ would sound the alarm on her himself. So she stepped back into the room and set her new potion down safely on the floor.

“Twilight, come on,” Spike was saying. “It’s okay. I’m your friend.”

Twilight forced more power into her shield. She was reaching the limits of the suppressor and she felt that heat rising behind her eyes again, imagining how the golden runes must be blazing on her horn. But she increased the strength of her shield and managed to bend it around the little non-colt, hefting him through the air and down onto the bed.

“Twilight, what are you—” he began.

Twilight’s magic took hold of the loose belts and used them to strap the creature down. The buckles were warped and the spell on them was broken but she could still tie them into some difficult knots.

“Twilight, stop it!” Spike complained, not worrying about noise now. “I’m trying to get you out of here! You need my help.”

“I don’t need anypony’s help,” Twilight said, pulling the socks off him. “What I need is your outfit and this useful potion. What I don’t need is you stabbing me in the back!”

“Me?” Spike exclaimed. “I’m not the one who’s betraying a friend here!”

“You’re not my friend,” Twilight said, stealing his cloak.

Now revealed he still looked like an ordinary earth pony. But Twilight knew better. He was a slimy thing all full of secrets and holes.

“I don’t know what you are,” Twilight growled, putting on the clothes. “But you’re not a pony. And you’re not my friend.” Twilight fastened the cloak around herself. “I have no friends.”

“Twilight, wait!” Spike called.

She didn’t listen. She grabbed up the potion again and bolted out of the room. The hallway was still clear. She hadn’t been to this level of the palace before but she could tell by the windows that she was a few floors up and she had a rough idea of which direction to go in.

She met a locked door. Another few drops of the potion and the lock was defeated. She pulled the door open a crack and peered through to check for guards. The room beyond was a tower of stairs, all safely railed off, but stretching upwards through many levels towards the top of the tower. Twilight looked down. Down was where she needed to go. It was only a few levels to the ground floor but… but… the stairs just kept going and going, down much further.

What were all these other levels?

Twilight’s skin began to crawl and she glanced back over her shoulder. Strange and terrible magicks were at work somewhere back down the hall. No doubt it was that non-pony in her room, struggling to break free. The sense of magic was different now, though. This was larger and therefore more easily detectable, even at this distance, and it was… familiar. Something that whispered like a remembered song through her mind.

It was almost like—

At least, similar to—

…it was the dragon egg.

Twilight blinked to clear her focus. She saw smoke spilling out of the room and in a moment she spied the colt-like shape of the thing as it escaped into the hall. No. It was just playing tricks on her again. Twilight went through the door into the tower and hurried down the steps to the next level. She had made it down another level before she heard the door open and shut above her. Twilight went to the door on her level and shakily tipped a little too much potion into the spell-lock. It snapped and melted and she was through the door without even checking what was on the other side.

Ground floor. She was on the ground floor now. That was good. The hallway here was still unfamiliar to her but she could see out the large windows to a section of courtyard that she could navigate by.

Alarms suddenly sounded throughout the castle. Did they really have alarms for her escape!? How had they known so quickly? But then Twilight recognised the wailing tone as that of the fire alarm. Yes, that creature behind her had somehow set fire to her room during its escape. Maybe it had another potion and some had splashed on the bed sheets. Whatever the case, guards would soon be summoned to that room to extinguish the flames. It would be a short distraction, but it also meant that everypony in the palace was now wide awake and alert to danger.

Twilight saw a door opening further down the hall and felt a familiar aura approaching. She skidded to a stop and looked back the way she had come. No! She could feel the aura of the non-pony still behind her. She had to get out of here!

Twilight uncapped the potion and splashed almost half the bottle onto the large glass window in front of her. At first she thought it would only sizzle through a small portion of the glass—but without warning the entire window suddenly shattered into huge lethal pieces. Twilight stumbled back from it, throwing up a shield against the falling shrapnel and hoping it would be strong enough.

New magic flourished into life and she heard glass shards breaking against a barrier, but she did not feel them on her own fragile spell.

“Twily! What are you doing out here?” exclaimed a voice.

Twilight opened her eyes and saw the magenta shield-shaped spell glowing full and strong between her and the broken window. She looked left and saw her big brother advancing on her, horn glowing, and he was only half armoured.

“What happened?” Shining asked, conveying a tone of concern.

Twilight felt the non-pony approaching the door she had left behind.

“Shiny it’s after me! It’s burning things!” Twilight pointed. “It wasn’t me, it was the monster! It hurt me! It made me take the dragon egg!”

Shining Armor looked from the cloak-wrapped filly and the shattered and half-melted window and then to the opening door down the hall and the shadowy figure there.

“Who goes there!?” Shining Armor barked. “Twilight, get behind me.”

The non-pony shrank back from the door and slammed it shut. Twilight wasn’t even sure if her brother had gotten a good look at the creature. Then she shivered violently as the sense of slimy rotten magic suddenly spiked and receded. What was it doing now?

Shining Armor hadn’t reacted to the magic. Instead he raised his shield-shaped-shield and took a step towards the door. “Come out here now!” he yelled over the wailing alarm.

Twilight took her chance and bolted. She leapt through the now open window and shot across the courtyard outside. Shining looked from the intruder’s door to his escaping sister and came to a decision in a heartbeat.

“Twilight, come back!” he called, chasing her across the grounds.

“No!” Twilight yelled in defiance.

He was bigger than her, and faster. He would catch her soon. She could feel him gathering magic to trap her in some spell. Twilight grit her teeth. She lifted the potion bottle and flung a spray of orange liquid out behind her. She heard her brother cry out in sudden shock, followed by a series of agonised bellows.

Twilight didn’t look back.

She just surged ahead, dodging statues and hedges, leaping over small garden walls and heading for the nearest gate. As she ran she saw the sky flickering overhead and felt the weakening of the magic dome that surrounded the palace. It was Cadence’s magic, she realised now. Cadence was the one who had put the perimeter in place. But why was it failing now?

Twilight didn’t know. She just kept on running until she was at the gate. One lonely night guard was patrolling near by and he spotted her soon enough.

“Stop!” he barked.

Twilight raised a shield and slapped it against a nearby statue. The shield broke but she had inflicted enough force for her plans. Stone scraped and the sculpture of three acrobatic ponies slipped from it’s pedestal and fell towards the guard. He brought his own shield up against the collapsing stone with a grunt of surprise and effort.

Twilight reached the gate. Cadence’s spell was flickering very low. Twilight tipped the last of the orange potion into the locking mechanism of the gate. It smoked and sizzled. She felt magic warping like tortured metal. Stone scrapped and thudded to the ground behind her. She heard the guard give a gasping cry of ‘stop.’

The lock-spell snapped. The gate lock melted. Cadence’s spell was but a dying ember. Twilight lit her horn and encased herself in a shield of magenta light and recklessly charged across the threshold.

“Stop!” the guard called again.

Magical auras fizzed and crackled for a moment and then Twilight was through the gate. That last pressure proved too much for Cadence’s dwindling spell and the barrier collapsed completely. Twilight heard hoofbeats behind her again and flung the empty glass potion bottle back at her pursuer. Glass shattered but he had gotten his shield up in time. So with a flick of her magic Twilight unclasped the dark cloak from her shoulders. The piece of fabric billowed out behind her and struck flat against the guard’s shield, obscuring his view as Twilight locked eyes on the nearest side-street and shot off into the shadows as fast as her little legs could take her.

Dark corners and twists and turns. Twilight ran and ran and ran. Her memory clicked into gear and reminded her of the various patrol routs of the guards. She dodged them as best she could. Where was she going? What was her plan? This was pointless! She—

Twilight scrabbled to a halt at the end of an alleyway as the dark figure of a royal guard stepped in to block her escape.

“Stop right here!” he ordered.

Twilight took a step back but his shield was too fast—blazing to life behind her and trapping her between it and him. Twilight flattened her ears and growled—she would not go back to Celestia!

“…wait,” said a strange voice. A mare’s voice, unfamiliar.

And Twilight thought she heard music. A sweet and sad song she couldn’t place.

The guard stopped advancing. He took a step back even and turned to talk to somepony around the corner. They were whispering too low for Twilight to make out words. But then the guard lowered his shield, nodded and quietly left the scene.

Twilight turned and bolted back down the alley behind her.

A dark shape rushed in front of her—way too fast! “Whoa there,” giggled that voice again.

Twilight put on the breaks and sat panting. “I won’t… go… back,” she huffed.

“Go back?” the mare repeated. Her voice was young and soft, yet bubbly and a little… unfocused. “Sayyyy… You must be that little Twilight Sparkle. Let’s get a look at you…” The mare started pacing a canter around her.

Twilight just sat there, breathing and watching. The strange mare was dressed in a dark cloak—a clear red flag for a troublemaker, Twilight knew by now. The mare’s features were hard to discern as a result. Her coat was a shade of pink, as best Twilight could tell in the dark alley. And her tail drifted out from beneath her cloak; purple and white, moving strangely in a way that Twilight couldn’t explain.

And all around her was that music—that song. It was like listening to the distance between you and the mountains. It was like a music box wound backwards, stealing the notes out of the air. It was like a lullaby that kept waking you up—like playing a violin as a guitar, or using a flute for percussion. A mischievous major key performance that ran proudly—fearfully—over a trembling minor key that seemed stuck in an endless loop like a skipping record. A tune that kept rising—don’t look down!—but never seemed to get louder at all.

Twilight’s eyes widened as she realised that that music was—it was magic. It was how Twilight’s senses were interpreting the power of this stranger; and it was like nothing Twilight had ever experienced before. It made no sense to her—it seemed to just exist—not a spell or an aura but… like… like art for art’s sake. But in a living pony?

“Wh-what are you?” Twilight whispered, standing up. “…are you real?”

The stranger moved so quietly, and Twilight saw that the mare’s hooves were not touching the ground as she paced her circle.

“I’ve heard so much about you…” the stranger said. “They say you live in your own little world.”

“They’re the ones who put me here,” Twilight protested. “They’re the ones who built the cage.”

The mare came to a stop in front of the filly. “Oh, I understand completely,” she breathed. Her frame seed to tense as her hooded face glanced around. “This isn’t my world, either. They took it all away—the place I knew. But that’s alright.” She sighed a breathy laugh. “I’ve spent long enough being bitter about it. It’s time to put things right again. Don’t you agree?”

Twilight took a nervous step back. “I… I don’t think I understand.”

“Nopony does,” the mare snickered. “But I understand you, Twilight. Don’t you want that twisty golden spell off your horn?”

Twilight blushed. “H-how did you know about that? You can’t even see it right now.”

“Oh, I can see it,” the mare said. “As clearly as I see your special cutiemark, there.”

Twilight let slip a shaky sob. “You… You can see my cutiemark?” She sat down and scrunched her eyes shut. “I thought I was just me. I thought—Because they didn’t see it, I thought—” Twilight laughed softly. “They tried to make me think I was mad.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little mad,” the mare said, drifting past. “Follow me, and I’ll show you. I too live in a world of my own…”

Twilight turned to watch her. “B-but… I need to get out of Canterlot. They’re going to find me and take me back. They’ll never let me out again. And that other thing is still hunting me—I don’t know what it—”

“Nopony will find you, Twilight,” she promised. “If you come with me… Nopony will ever find you again.”

As the strange mare drifted away down the alley, Twilight felt the music leaving, too. It’s gentle lullaby—it’s soft embrace. The cold panic of the Canterlot streets set in all around her once more. Twilight thought she could hear horseshoes clattering somewhere in the street behind her.

“…wait,” Twilight whispered, taking a step forward.

The second step was easier. Then the third and then she was running; following the song and that smoke-like purple and white tail. It didn’t matter where she was going. It only mattered what she was leaving behind.

Pt.1 - Chapter 29

Red dawn was on the horizon when Spike finally made it back to his hotel room. He collapsed down on the floor and let his green and purple colt disguise disappear. Right now he wanted nothing to do what that ability. He had given in to the armband during his escape and it scared him how easy it had been.

Spike couldn’t have let the guards see the green and purple colt because Shining Armor would recognise him from the grill house. That would implicate Rarity in the situation. Spike couldn’t do that to her. Not after everything she’d worked for.

He couldn’t use the Scootaloo disguise, either. What if somepony recognised her from Spike’s trip to the Canterlot Royal Hospital? He could get Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash into trouble. And for obvious reasons he couldn’t use the Caramel disguise, nor the likeness of any other pony he knew.

So Spike had done an unthinkable thing.

He had conjured an image he knew all too well: the image of a changeling. And in doing so he had felt something unlock in the armband’s potential. It was one of those whispered-of shapes the band had been just aching to try. Something that came naturally; and Spike had taken to it all too easily.

Worse still it had not been like any of his other disguises. He was… bigger. Bigger than a little foal or baby dragon. Spike was sure he had been the size of a normal changeling drone, but he had no idea where all the extra mass had come from. This was no ordinary illusion—he was running on taller legs. Legs that had holes in them! All he knew was that when he later changed back it was not as smooth as usual, but instead it had felt like his skin was crawling over his body—like ants—crawling and flowing back to the source of the power—the band on his left arm.

But it had been necessary for his escape. And Spike consoled himself with the hope that maybe now Equestria would be watchful for other such creatures in the future. He had to believe that some good could come from what he had done.

The guards had pulled back from him in alarm when they came upon him in the palace halls. He had hissed, despite himself, and bared his changeling fangs. In the split-second of their shock he had managed to scurry away from capture. His familiarity with Canterlot palace and the dark shell of his changeling form had allowed Spike to blend in and escape confrontation for a time.

But then when the fire alarm cut off he knew more guards would be after him soon. Possibly he was helping draw them away from Twilight. Possibly this was not a good thing, though. Then Spike found an exterior window and had cut loose with a blast of his green dragon fire. The flames licked over the glass and it blackened but did not melt. He kicked at it with his forelimbs but it did not shatter. Magical protection, of course. It was Celestia’s palace after all.

But the fire caught the drapes and soon the alarms were going off again. Spike bolted down another hall and dodged between the legs of two guards, who were thankfully pegasi and therefore not able to attack him with spells. He had surprise on his side and was gone again before they had registered his appearance. Then at last when he had spotted a high open window he instinctively leapt for it and buzzed his little changeling wings without thinking, sailing through the aperture to crash-land on the grass outside.

Even now, lying on the worn hotel carpet, Spike could not be sure if he had conjured an impressive leap, or if he had somehow managed to fly. That would be impossible, of course. He did not have real wings. Even if he could make those changeling wings work he didn’t have the right magic to—

Spike’s eyes widened. Or did he? Did he have the right magic for flight? He was not a pegasus, no, but he was a dragon. Even without dragon wings was it possible that he still held the potential for flight, as other dragons did? Spike clutched at his head and groaned. There were so many things about his life that he had never questioned before now. Like, why was his fire green? The other dragons Spike had met all had orange fire. And how was he able to send letters using his fire? Magic, yes, but it just wasn’t normal. Why did nopony ever talk about it?

He shut his eyes and tried not to dwell on these problems. Instead his memories reverted back to his escape from a few hours ago.

Once Spike had gotten outside and seen the sky flickering he realised the spell surrounded the palace was falling apart, though he did not know why. As the last of those protective energies failed Spike reached the walls and slipped easily between the bars of the nearest gate.

He had escaped. And so had Twilight. But this was not how Spike had wanted it.

He had gone to the palace looking for Twilight, thinking that maybe she was just hurt or scared and that he would help her. Even if she had misstepped and gotten herself into trouble Spike had planned to be there to help her. Whatever she needed, as long as he could see her again and see her happy.

Instead he had ruined everything.

And Twilight… Twilight was not herself at all. She had been angry and paranoid and afraid of him. Maybe he had been too bold. She didn’t know him, after all. Maybe her unicorn magic had sensed his armband. But that had never happened to him before. Well… except possibly with that stallion at the scrap yard. Had Spike merely spooked Twilight and that was why she had run away from him?

But he felt there was more. She had been tied to her bed with magic locks. The guard outside her room had been given orders to leave if she started screaming. Maybe to fetch help. It all struck Spike as a little… Well, he hated to admit it but… a little mad. Twilight had certainly acted mad. Those wizards said she was mad.

Spike didn’t like it. It made him sick. He drew his tail up to his chest and hugged it; curling in around himself to cry. And what of those strange golden runes he had seen glowing on her horn? Spike had no idea what that was about. It didn’t seem to stop her from doing magic. Did it make her more powerful? Was it something she had done to herself? Nothing made sense… Spike shuddered to think that this was normally the part where he would ask Twilight for answers—or she would ask him to find the right book for her. Instead he had nothing.

Spike let out a sob and the armband’s black scar tissue crawled greedily all up and down his left arm. He scrunched up his face as more tears came and again the armband’s infection seemed to take delight in his sadness. Spike hadn’t said anything to Rarity but he had slowly come to realise, if not fully admit, the reason how the armband was getting stronger. He could not explain how it had become such a mess, but he strongly suspected he knew how it was feeding.

Love. The artefact was made from a changeling, after all. In these past few weeks Spike had introduced the thing to some pretty intense emotional situations—meeting all his friends again, and the arguments he had gotten into with Rarity on occasion. Heart-ache, regret, desire—to love somepony even if they don’t remember you; even if they betray you; even if you don’t feel worthy of love in return. It was all the same to the armband. Love wasn't pure. Love was a mess, and the band just lapped it all up, growing stronger and stranger.

It was a horrible sight now—a mess of veins—like it was trying to grow or to become something, yet it didn’t know what shape it was meant to be. Spike’s fancy conjured the idea of a butterfly spilling half-formed from its nurturing cacoon—a thing that existed only by mistake and transgression. His arm did not feel numb, nor foreign, nor traitorous. It just felt very alive. Alive the way a maggot infested apple is alive.

Spike let out another sob because now the potion was gone, too. Twilight had burned her way free of the palace and she was out there in the world, alone. Spike had looked for her as soon as he was out in the streets again. He had searched and searched until morning drew near and the streets filled with more guards than he could safely avoid, even in his go-to colt disguise.

He had visited every place in Canterlot that Twilight might try to hide. Everywhere except her home—where her parents would no doubt find her—and the school—which was locked so she could not enter. It occurred to him as his search wore out that maybe Twilight would try to get back into the palace. But this was no good. The shield spell had gone back up around the walls, keeping Spike out and probably Twilight too. There was nowhere else to look and he had found no trace of her anywhere. Only the dark cloak lying in the street outside the palace walls.

Now Spike reached into his backpack and drew out the garment.

It was a little dirty and a little tattered at the edges. There were a few sizzled holes in the hem, probably from a stray potion splash. Twilight had probably cast the thing off in her escape. It was all he had left of her, in a way. Spike held the cloak in his claws, against his chest, and shut his eyes.

Had she vanished? Or had she been captured again?

And which scenario was better…?

Somepony from the hotel staff knocked on the door after an hour and told Spike he had to leave the room. Spike managed to barter another day of use by trading over his watch, and so they left him in peace and darkness once more. Spike must have drifted off at some point and when he woke he found the sun was almost at its highest point. He was stiff and sore, and aching from the reality of it all, but he forced himself to become the go-to colt once more and went out to continue his search for Twilight.

Shining Armor was not to be found at the grill house for lunch. The smell of cooked vegetables reminded Spike that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. But there were no more bits and no more gems. He left that street and went to the Gifted school where class was in session. Moon Dancer was already inside so Spike wrote a quick note by scratching on a leaf with his claw, and sent it to her via dragon fire. After ten minutes of waiting he saw her exit the building, at which point he waved to her from across the path.

“Make it quick. I have to be back in class soon,” Moon Dancer said. “And I thought you and Rarity went back to Ponyville.”

“Rarity did,” Spike said. “I wanted to stay and look for Twilight.”

“So you’ve found her?” Moon Dancer presumed.

“Why do you say that?”

She frowned. “Well if you don’t have Twilight or Rarity with you then how did you cast that spell to send me that note?”

“Uhhh…” Spike blanked.

Moon Dancer shook her head in disappointment. “Nevermind. If you don’t want to tell me then don’t bother lying. Just answer me this… Have you found Twilight?”

Spike shifted awkwardly under the pressure. “Yes and no… I found where she was but now she’s gone again.”

“You’re still leaving something out,” Moon Dancer said. “I always gave you and Rarity full information as far as my knowledge was able.”

“Alright, alright,” Spike said. “That’s fair. But keep it to yourself.”

“Since it concerns Twilight, I agree. Unless I feel she is in danger and my speaking up can help her.”

Spike sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes. “That’s just it. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She… Something to do with that book you mentioned—”

“Warhock’s The Living Spell.”

“Yes. And the… The egg from the test. Look, I don’t know what Twilight did but it was something to do with both those things. I think she may have found the egg or stolen it. A ‘trick question’ you said. Well that’s what she said, too. Something about trick ques—”

“You’ve seen her?” Moon Dancer cut in.

“Briefly…” Spike said. “But now I… I think she’s gone again…” It almost broke him to say it. He blinked the beginnings of tears. “She wasn’t herself. She was scared and angry and she thought everpony was against her. Even her own brother. I…” The words left him.

Moon Dancer’s ears had slowly drooped while he was speaking. “She’s run away, hasn’t she?”

Spike didn’t—couldn’t answer.

Moon Dancer nodded slowly. “In the last few days that I saw her before she disappeared she had taken to muttering and ranting. She spoke often of not being powerful enough and of how she couldn’t trust anypony—especially not her family. I also heard her mention to me a plan to run away. I think that’s why she gave me her Daring Do book to keep. There was a strange finality to some of the things she did.

“I always wondered…” Moon Dancer paused at a slight shaking of breath but she composed herself quickly. “I always wondered if that’s what had happened to her. That she had run away. I had always planned to confront her but… And maybe I should have… But it’s too late now.”

Spike nodded sadly. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

They each took a moment to rally their spirits again.

Moon Dancer lifted her ears. “Warhock’s book. I haven’t practiced with it myself but I did read something on the initial theory behind his work. The book held a spell that allowed the caster to perceive magic.”

“What does that mean?” Spike asked.

“Perceive. As in detect. To see or feel or hear magic, I think.”

Spike shuddered at a suddenly memory. How Twilight had insisted that he was not a pony, as if she had somehow seen through his disguise. Had she seen him for what he really was, as Pinkie Pie had done? Was that why Twilight attacked him? Did she… fear him? Or mistrust him because he was a dragon? The only pony he had ever known who didn’t stare or comment or flinch away from him; who never made him feel uncomfortable and out-of-place in a world of ponies—and now…

“What does that mean?” Spike repeated, almost desperately.

“Well it can have side effects,” Moon Dancer said. “To see magic like that is to allow raw magic into yourself—coursing through your mind with little to no protection. You see things that the senses have trouble interpreting. That’s why Warhock’s book was not much of a success. His methods lead to headaches, hallucinations, delusions—” She hesitated. “…and in rare cases… insanity.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Warhock’s methods were mentioned in another book I read on Wizards We’ve Tried to Forget. It covers unicorns from the benign, such as Warhock, right through to the more unstable, such as Thorhoof, who originally wrote simple history books but later disappeared—”

“Wait, wait,” Spike broke in. “You think Twilight used this magic-seeing spell too much and it made her… unstable?”

“Possibly,” Moon Dancer said with reluctance. “But in such a sort amount of time... It doesn’t quite make sense. Unless she looked at something… disturbing.”

Spike was hesitant to enquire further. “Such as…?”

Moon Dancer gave a cautious glance back at the Gifted school. “Considering what you’ve told me? Maybe a dragon egg. I’m sure they keep them somewhere in the school. Twilight was always resourceful.”

Spike was beginning to feel a little unstable himself at this point. Somehow is the short few weeks between the Starburst Even and his arrival in Canterlot, Twilight had gone down a path of lies, stealing, betrayal and insanity.

Spike began to shake. “It’s all my fault…” he whispered. “I wasn’t here. It didn’t happen right. I should have checked on her first, but I didn’t want to come here. Because I was afraid of my own problems. But I didn’t think about what might happen to her. She was always so smart and capable I thought—” He drew a shaky breath. “I thought she would be fine. I didn’t think about how she can get sometimes, when she’s stressed about—about being perfect.

“She doesn’t know when to stop sometimes. I should have thought about that. I should have come back sooner and helped her, or stopped her, or just stopped all this before it even began!” he sobbed. “Or maybe I should just never have come here. Then she’d still be somewhere safe. Maybe she would have gotten better. At least she wouldn’t be… be…” Spike’s legs folded under him and he sagged to the ground. “I don’t even know where she is…”

Moon Dancer reached out and nervously stroked his mane. “I was the pony who should have done something.”

“No, this is my fault…” Spike insisted. “If it wasn’t for that dragon egg in the first place she—” He took a long breath and stopped talking.

Moon Dancer watched him for a moment. Then she looked back at the school. “I should get back to class now.” She turned to Spike again. “Don’t worry. I’m sure somepony will find he, and we’ll see her again and she’ll be alright.”

“None of it is alright…” Spike whispered bitterly. “It’s broken. It’s all wrong. And I can’t fix it until…” He sighed and stood up. “I don’t know when. Years. Or maybe that’s broken, too. Maybe Twilight’s never coming back for me.”

Moon Dancer shook her head slowly. “I still don’t understand. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so…” Spike said. “Nopony is powerful enough to—” He stopped and blinked. He wiped tears from his face and frowned. “If I had that spell again I could…”

Moon Dancer studied his reaction. “What spell?”

“A spell…” Spike muttered. “It doesn’t exist yet, but maybe…” He looked at the school and then back at Moon Dancer. “I have to go.”

“Okay…” Moon Dancer said. “Will I see you soon? Maybe when Rarity comes back?”

“I don’t think so,” Spike said. “Tell Rarity she’ll be alright. She’s got her new life now. But I don’t think there’s a place for me here anymore.” He looked up at the sky. “I have to fix this myself, now. And she can’t follow me where I’m going…”

“Okay…” Moon Dancer said. “Daring Do.”

Spike smiled at her. “There is one thing you can help with.”

“Yes?”

“Sunburst's village,” Spike said. “Did he ever tell you where it is?”

“Yes,” Moon Dancer said, taking parchment and quill out of her saddlebags. “He showed us while we were studying thaumaturgical applications of cartography.”

The magic she held her quill with began to change and glow brighter, and the quill danced and swirled across the page while Moon Dancer stood there with eyes closed.

“Done,” she said, turning the page towards him.

Spike blinked at the detailed map of Equestria and the clear 'X' where Sunburst's village no doubt was.

“Wow. How'd you do that?”

“The class was easy,” Moon Dancer said, slipping the map into his backpack. “I aced it.”

Spike looked at the quill she was still levitating. “Umm… There is one more thing I might need. A quill and parchment? And spare ink?”

“That's three things,” Moon Dancer said. “But I agree. You should never leave home without them.”

Moon Dancer’s horn lit up and she levitated the stationary into his backpack. Spike noticed the embroidered cutiemark symbols on her saddlebags and smiled fondly at the memory of the moment.

“Take care of Rarity,” Spike said. “She’s a good friend. I’m sure she’ll be there for you the way she was there for me. Goodbye, Moon Dancer.”

Then Spike straightened up and took off down the road again.

On the way to the hotel Spike’s rout took him past the restaurant district again and he was momentarily distracted by the smells. He followed the scent of bakes goods until he came upon his favourite donut bar. Still, no money. But there were stale donuts in the trashcan by the side access door.

Spike momentarily wondered how he had gone from room service in Manehatten to scavenging food from the garbage, and in just a few weeks, too. The weight of his loneliness truly stuck him by the time he got back to his room. Yes, the echoes of his friends were still scattered around Equestria but Spike knew it wasn’t the same. Not only were they so different, and now so misdirected, but they had no place for him in their world. He didn’t exist here. He was the thing out of place—not them.

There was not a pony in the land who knew him or would ever know him the way Twilight had. He had lost his family. He had enjoyed this place for a time but it was slowly turning rotten. He had lost sight of the true mission: the future.

Spike had to remain loyal to the Equestria he knew—with the friends and family who loved him. He had been cruelly ripped from his home and no amount of hot chocolate sleepovers was going to fix that. Things had to change. Things had to change back.

Spike sat on the bed, returned to dragon form, and took out the papers and quill that Moon Dancer had given him. He hesitated, forming the letter in his thoughts first, and then he began to write.

Dear Rarity.

From Spike.

I will not be returning to Ponyville.

Twilight is gone. I don’t know where. I don’t think she wants to be found. I don’t think I want to follow her anymore. Moon Dancer will miss her, I think. Take care of her. Friends are important, and you’re going to make so many. Never loose sight of that.

But I can’t stay here, Rarity. Not in Canterlot or Ponyville or anywhere. I have to go find somepony to fix this. I’m going to make things right. Don’t follow me, either. Stay in Canterlot and live that life you’ve always dreamed off. Make friends. Go on your own adventures where you decide what’s important. And have fun. As much as you can.

Because bad things are coming, Rarity.

I can’t leave you without telling you the rest of the story. Because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen the past change. Twilight and I saw many different futures while we fought with Starlight Glimmer. I saw monsters come to power and I need to warn somepony to try and stop that from happening again.

Then Spike wrote down the times and places that he remembered when Twilight and her friends had stood against evil and saved Equestria. He wrote about Nightmare Moon, Discord, and King Sombra. He wrote about the Elements of Harmony and what he knew of the power of friendship. He wrote of Tirek in Tartarus and he ever wrote of Queen Chrysalis.

…but I can’t tell you when she’ll strike, Spike wrote. I think it has already begun. Her spies could be anywhere by now. But I think I might have spoiled her plans, so maybe she’ll go to ground for a while. I don’t see much in my nightmares anymore. Just feelings of crawling in the dark. I can’t even be sure that any of it was real.

I’m going to write to Zecora about all of this, too, so don’t worry. This isn’t your responsibility. It’s too much to ask of you. But I won’t leave you blind and defenceless, either. Take care and watch out. Try and hold on and make the best of every day and every friend.

And even if this world does slip into chaos, it’s okay. After all of that has come to pass and every villain has left their scar upon Equestria, don’t give up. Because the Castle Map will appear in Ponyville and Twilight will come back to save us. My Twilight. Princess Twilight. And you will find happiness, in one world or another, and everything will be okay.

But I can’t stay here waiting for that day. I have to do what I can to fix this mess and I’m sorry, Rarity, but I can’t take you with me. Because I—

Spike’s pen hesitated over the page.

The armband twitched with anticipation—daring him to write the words he felt in his heart. But he wouldn’t. This was exactly why he couldn’t be around her anymore. He…

A fat drop of a black ink hit the paper. Spike smudged out the ‘because’ and wrote:

Don’t look for me. I’m already gone.

Take care.

Spike.

He rolled up the scroll and set it aside. Then he wrote to Zecora and gave her the same warnings, though much more directly this time. He didn’t mention what had happened with the potion. She would wonder, of course. Or maybe she already had him all figured out. Either way, it was no use. The armband was a part of him now and a part of any plan he hoped to accomplish. He would solider though whatever it did to him because he had to be strong now, for Twilight. For the future.

Spike rolled up the second scroll and sent it on its way. Then he picked up the letter to Rarity and held it for a moment.

“Goodbye,” he said, and touched the paper to his lips.

Dragon fire washed over the page and it spiralled out the open window.

The sun was getting low. Spike shrugged into his near-empty backpack—now his only treasure in the world. He put on his green and purple colt disguise. He left his hotel room and walked to a market stall where he traded the quill, ink and remaining parchment for a few bits. Then he went to the edge of the city and purchased a ticket for the next train to take him north.

Spike fastened the castoff cloak around his neck as he boarded the train at sundown. He had seen all six friends and none of them could do what needed to be done. But there was another who could, maybe in time. After all, she had done it before.

The train pulled out of the station, heading towards places unfamiliar. Spike took out the map Moon Dancer had drawn for him. The map with the little 'X' that suddenly seemed so important. Because it was there, Spike hoped, he would find that child who would later become the powerful and dangerous unicorn he knew as Starlight Glimmer.

And maybe she could fix what she had broken. Before it was too late.

Author's Note

Oct 4th 2016: Thankyou to Glenn for spotting a narrative issue and telling me about it. In the original version of this chapter I finished with Spike heading off to search for Starlight but not really knowing where she lived. Glenn pointed out that Sunburst would know. I have since re-written the chapter to include the scene where Spike gets the information for where to find Sunburst's village. This is something Spike should have reasonably thought of doing, which is why I changed the story to include it. Thanks again.

Pt.1 - Chapter 30

The sky was red by her command. She stood watching the falling sun until that final moment when the balance shifted and day gave over to night. This was her art and her purpose, and it saddened her daily that she could not leave it at that. Instead she would shoulder the burden of night, also, and the heartache that came with it. As the moon rose in the distance it bore with it that mocking likeness and critical stare; always the same. A face she knew from so long ago, eternally masked but a darkness she could never understand, even after nearly one thousand years.

“Oh Luna,” the princess whispered to the sky. “I still don’t know why…”

Celestia looked back over her shoulder; ears pricked to the sound of a gentle hoofstep.

“S-sorry,” Cadence spoke softly from the open doorway.

“In a moment,” Celestia said, turning back to the sky. “I want to get these stars just right.”

Cadence stepped cautiously out onto the balcony to stand with her. “It looks lovely,” she said, watching unnumbered tinny silver candle flames glitter into life.

“You should have seen it before,” Celestia said. “It was…” She was silent as she finished up, turning her full attention to the pink alicorn now. “How is Shining Armor?”

Cadence shook her head and looked away. “He’ll recover. Burns can heal. It’s his heart that I worry for.”

Celestia turned her back on the moon and stepped inside. “His own sister…”

Cadence followed beside her, pausing to shut the doors. “The guards are still investigating what could have happened. It seems Twilight wasn’t alone after all. Some kind of… creature, they say. It helped her escape.”

“This creature…” Celestia said, now walking with purpose. “It seems nopony can tell me what it was.”

“I didn’t see it myself,” Cadence admitted. “But I’ve heard the descriptions. It had fangs and glowing blue eyes, and little insect wings.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Celestia said. “It eerily fits the description of something I have heard tales of from a far off land. A creature called a ‘changeling.’ But I had thought these creatures operated in swarms.”

“Maybe there was more than one,” Cadence supposed. “It was all very confusing.”

“Maybe. But it still strikes me as unusual. These fires it seemed to have started…”

“Can it do that? This ‘changeling’ thing?”

“Not that I’m aware,” Celestia said. “Though they are reported to use magic that gives off a bright green flash. And the fires were green in colour.”

“Or maybe it had some kind of potion,” Cadence reasoned. “Like the one Twilight somehow obtained. It must have given it to her. She can’t have made it herself. Shining Armor claims that this changeling was the one who made Twilight do what she did. Or at least that’s what she told him…”

“You don’t agree?”

“Well…” Cadence said. “I’m not sure Twilight is as innocent as he believes. Even if she was or wasn’t coerced at first. Because after what she saw in the dragon lab and what she must have perceived from that egg…” Cadence exhaled. “Celestia. I saw her eyes when she accused me. She knew that something terrible had gone on there and the Twilight I know wouldn’t be able to let that go.”

Celestia closed her eyes and spoke at a whisper. “Curse you, Thornhoof. Will I never be rid of the consequence of your monstrosities?”

Cadence drew a sharp breath. “It was my fault. I let my emotions get the better of me and I lost control of the shield around the palace. Twilight escaped because of me.”

Celestia opened her eyes and shook her head. “No, Cadence. You mustn’t blame yourself. I can not expect you to deny your heart anymore than I can deny the sunrise each morning. Shining Armor was in pain and your heart cried out. I expect nothing less.”

Cadence nodded slowly.

Celestia opened a door and stepped though into the tower of stairs on the other side. Cadence followed, closing the door, and they began their descent to the levels below.

“Still,” Cadence said. “This is about more than just Twilight. It’s about the reason for the shield in the first place. I failed to uphold it and if he were to escape—”

“He won’t,” Celestia said firmly.

“But he has already proven he can send those flying things past the shield,” Cadence said. “If he can do that, then—”

“He will not escape,” Celestia insisted as they reached the lowest floor. “And you will not fail.”

“But what if I do?” Cadence whispered. “What if my feelings make me weak and I can’t protect Equestria from… from…”

Celestia put a gentle hoof on Cadence’s shoulder. “Your feelings don’t make you weak. They make you strong. I know you will do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love. That is what makes you powerful. And that is what creatures such as he can never understand.”

Cadence nodded.

“I must ask you to wait here,” Celestia said. “I know you long to be with Shining Armor again but—”

“It’s fine,” Cadence said. “I’ll wait.” Then she added, “be careful.”

“I always am,” Celestia said.

The sun princess brought her magic to bear against the door at the bottom of the tower. It looked like any other door but only opened to a strong and complex magical command that was known only to trusted few.

On the other side of the door was a long hallway. Two guards stood near the entrance, dressed in the red armour of the Dungeon Guard.

“Princess,” they said and bowed.

“Bring the cart,” Celestia addressed them.

The two guards collected the wagon of scrap metal that was waiting outside near where Cadence stood.

Celestia walked on by, letting the guards follow and close the door behind her. The hall was empty and plain—it’s only function was to create distance between the rest of the palace and the prison cell that waited at the other end. Celestia reached the solid metal door, all decorated with magic symbols and ancient script and sealed with a special lock that only she could open by way of inserting her horn and casting a very specific spell.

“Leave me,” she ordered the guards.

They set the cart against the wall and trotted obediently back to their post.

Then Celestia opened the door and steeled herself for what was on the other side.

A lofty chuckle escaped the room and mocked her with its freedom. “Celestia…” the creature said, floating there in the middle of the room. “I was wondering when you would be dropping by again.”

“Hello Discord,” Celestia said.

The draconequus tilted his horse-like head back as his body twisted and left him floating upside-down while he addressed her. He stretched his forelegs—a lion’s paw and a bird-like talon—and lazily flapped his mismatched little wings.

“What have you brought for me today?” Discord enquired, tapping his digits together. “Is it that green jelly I asked for? I could use some green jelly right about now. Just the very perfect thing to loosen my tongue.”

“No,” Celestia said firmly.

Discord pouted. “Well that’s a shame. I feel a sudden sore throat coming on.” He coughed dramatically and rotated slowly until his back was to the door.

The prison itself was an empty white room shaped like a hexagon. Five of the walls were solid, the sixth being the now open doorway, covered by a shield of magical energy. The ceiling was set at average height and was also solid white. But the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling were covered in red-painted symbols of runes and powerful magical script, so that the room almost seemed to hum with power and glow with unsourced white light.

“I underestimated you,” Celestia went on.

“Well that’s to be expected,” Discord said. He coughed again. “Ohhh, my poor voice. Perhaps if you could just bring me a little glass of water—”

“No,” Celestia said again. “No more games. I thought I could control you but I was wrong. You asked for cake but you didn’t eat it. You asked for apple cider but you didn’t drink you. I even brought you a box of party string, thinking that all these things were harmless. And because I needed you to talk.”

“And talk I did,” Discord snickered, slowly turning back to face her. “It seems like the system works, if you ask me. And I have so much juicy intel left to share. For the right price…”

“The price is too high,” Celestia said. “I turned my back on you and somehow you managed to turn cake and cider into fly monsters that escaped to terrorise Canterlot libraries.”

“Did I?” Discord gasped. “Even while trapped in this finger-painting you call a prison? My… how very clever of me.” He leaned forward in the air and propped himself up on his elbows. “I’ll bet you’re just itching to know how I did it.”

“I know how you did it,” Celestia said. “If you had asked for a pen or crayon or even lipstick I would have seen it coming. But instead you asked for party sting, and at the end of such a ridiculous list that I foolishly thought nothing of it.”

“Yesss… How foolish indeed,” Discord sneered.

“And you used it to paint counter symbols on the walls,” Celestia said. “Weakening the protections of this cell and giving you just enough power to craft those monstrosities out of the cakes and cider.”

“Gosh, is that what happened?” Discord chuckled. “I was only trying to add a few more colours to this mess you call magic. A little blue here, a little pink over there. You should have seen it. I even wrote you a poem, but those guards cleaned it off before you could read it. Shall I recite it to you now?”

Celestia ignored him. “What I don’t yet know is how those monsters escaped into Canterlot or why they targeted the libraries.”

Discord smiled like a cat with a mouse. “What a shame I’m not feeling talkative right now.” He stretched again and rolled over. “Oh, precious Princess, what would you do without me? It’s quite a sorry state you’ve gotten this kingdom into and the delicious irony is that only I can tell you which way is up and which way leads down, down, down, down…” He sighed dramatically. “But I suppose if you want to go it alone, so be it.

“I’ll just be here. Lonely. And bored. All because you can’t handle a simple little joke. Honestly, I think ponies were probably delighted by my cake-things. It must be so dull up there without me. I’m sure there must be some fun loving citizens who can enjoy a good chaos party better than you can, Princess.”

“Actually, I’m quite certain there are,” Celestia said. “I believe they’re called the Order of Discord.”

The draconequus’s face fell for a moment. He sat up straight and smiled again. “The who? I’ve never heard of them. I’ve been encased in stone for the last nine hundred and something plus years. What could I possibly have to do with the beautifully ironically named… ohh… who did you say they were again?”

“The Order of Discord,” Celestia repeated. “I know they exist. I’ve known for quite a while. I realised long ago that even though you may be sealed in stone it would not be enough to keep Equestria free from the touch of your corruption. It was this cult of yours that helped the cake-monsters to escape, wasn’t it?”

“My colt, did you say?” Discord forced a frown. “That’s odd. I don’t remember having a son.”

“Discord…” Celestia almost growled.

Discord put his paw over his mouth. “I’m not saying anything. We had an arrangement and if you’re going to be cheap then I won’t say a peep.”

“Why the libraries, Discord?”

“Cheep, cheep,” was all he said, flapping his little wings.

“I will find the answer sooner or later,” she warned.

“Maybe,” he said. “But you must still have so many questions. About the big explosion? You remember that, right? That huge mysterious disaster who’s shadow looms like fallout across your kingdom, slowly turning your subjects against you as you struggle to provide them with answers?” Discord put a claw to his chest. “Or do you somehow think I was responsible for that as well?”

Celestia’s horn lit with sunlight as she drew the cart of scrap metal closer to her.

“Oooo, what’s that you’ve got?” Discord asked, leaning forward on his elbows again. “Is it for me? I don’t remember ordering a large pile of sharp things.” He lowered his eyebrows and grinned. “Just think of all the naughty things I could do.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about,” Celestia said.

Her magic lifted a sizable piece of metal from the cart. The metal began to glow with heat and slowly bend. It became molten putty in a matter of moments. Celestia held it in the air as she started in on another piece and another.

“What are you doing?” Discord asked, leaning his cheek against his paw and twirling a taloned claw through his beard. “Have you come to guild my cage?”

“Something like that,” Celestia said.

The material reformed to her will as she laid out the large metal circle on the floor of Discord’s cell. Her magic scribed on the circle with enchanted script—each letter glowing with power until the circle was complete.

Discord gave a shudder as the last letter was in place.

“What was that?” he complained, straightening up. “What are you doing now? Celestia, really. You’re being childish.”

“I can’t risk what else you may do while my back is turned,” she said, moulding more scrap metal into more shapes. “Do not think I have overlooked the possibility that members of your cult may have already infiltrated the palace guard. How else could I explain what happened with those cakes.”

“Well,” Discord shrugged. “Who can really explain the mysteries of cake?”

The scrap metal became twisted characters and symbols which Celestia set against the walls all around the room.

“This setup is not ideal,” she went on. “And I fully expect you to take advantage of every fault, every flaw, wherever you may find them. But it was the best I could do on such short notice. I would have preferred to imprison you in stone again—”

“Ah, but you can’t,” Discord teased, reaching for an easy nerve. “Because even I can sense that the Elements of Harmony are not quite themselves right now. Not since you wielded them against your own beloved sister.”

To her credit, Celestia didn’t flinch. Thought she did collapse the symbol she was working on in favour of starting over.

“And without the Elements I shall never be stone again,” Discord bemoaned. Then he grinned. “And without that wonderful explosion I would never have been released so soon…”

Celestia finished the last symbol and set it into place. The room seemed to hum a little louder now and Discord gave another shiver.

“Well I can’t say I approve much of this new arts-and-crafts project,” he said. “Why don’t you draw something happy like a sunrise? Aren’t sunrises you whole thing? I’m sensing a lot of negativity here,” he went on. “It’s all self evident. In the angles and colours.” He swept a paw around the room as if he were a tour guide at the Canterlot Art Gallery.

Celestia gathered up the last of the scrap and got to work making a second metal ring.

“Don’t you want to know how to cure those poor pegasi?” Discord said.

Celestia slowed her work and glanced silently at him.

“Yes, I did hear about that,” he said, rolling lazily over again. “Tragic, really. Those poor creatures. No longer free to use their full powers. I can’t even begin to imagine how that feels,” he growled bitterly. “Don’t you want to save them, Celestia?”

“Are you going to tell me something I can use?”

“Mmmmmaybe,” Discord said. “In exchange for—”

“No,” Celestia said, getting back to work on the ring. “No more gifts. No more bribes. You cannot be trusted.”

“But I’m starving.”

“You don’t need to eat,” Celestia reminded him. “You don’t need anything.”

“I need love, Celestia. It’s so lonely down here. I only want to invite a few friends over. I’m sure then I’d be much more willing to schmooze about what I know.” He chuckled.

Celestia finished the shape of the ring and set it into place on the ceiling of the room, directly above the first ring. She spent a bit a time making sure it was properly aligned.

“Come on, Princess. Where would you be without me?” Discord said, trying to sound wounded. He huffed and folded his arms. “Very well. No more gifts, then. If you’re so distrusting and cheap. Pfft. But maybe you could do something else for me.”

“I’m sure you’re going to make a suggestion,” Celestia said, setting the ring firmly into place at last.

Discord leaned forward. “Words. Words are free. Words can wound, to be sure, but words can heal.”

Celestia glanced at him again. “What do you want me to say?”

Discord lowered his eyebrows. “I want you to say, Discord is best draconequus. He’s the most amazing of all the beings in Equestria and the whole world beyond. He’s so smart. Not like me, Celestia, in my big dumb horseshoes. I wish I had an attractive little beard just like Discord’s. He’s my bestest friend.”

Celestia stared at him.

Discord set his expression to smug.

“If I say that to you then you’ll talk?”

“To me?” Discord said. “No, no, no, Princess. I want you to go out into the streets and say it to your subjects. Hold a press conference! Wear a silly hat…”

“Why?” Celestia asked at last.

Discord barked out a laugh. “Celestia, Princess, if you haven’t figured me out by now I don’t know how you ever deluded yourself that you could keep the upper hoof in these negotiations. Do you really want to know why I sent those cake-things to attack your libraries? The answer should be obvious! But you just don’t think like me, do you? Celestia, imagine how your subject might feel knowing that you ordered such outrageous things to be brought to the palace in the dead of night. How they must worry at your sanity.”

Celestia frowned and began printing symbols onto the ceiling ring.

“The princess who locks herself away with a cart-load of apple cider just as her ponies need her the most.” Discord laughed. “I do not attack with spells and monsters, Celestia. Imprison me here as tightly as you can but you can’t shut down my real power. Words. Ideas. Suggestion. The subtlest hint of something odd.” He laughed again, and the sound rang freely down the open hall behind her. “You can’t stop me, Celestia. Because you don’t know what I want. And because you don’t have any choice but to try and find out.” Discord smirked and folded his arms. “Now get me a cookie and maybe we’ll talk.”

“No, Discord,” Celestia said. “We won’t.”

She finished the last character on the ceiling ring and a new magical energy pulsed to life within the room. Discord gave a violent shudder and fell out of the air, landing flat upon the floor. He pushed himself up on his elbows and knees, looking around in alarm.

“What’s this?” he exclaimed. “Celestia, what are you doing to me?”

“Making sure no more of your ideas escape this room,” she said, taking hold of the solid cell door with her magic.

“Celestia, wait, let’s talk about this,” Discord said, standing up and pressing against the invisible cylinder that surrounded him now. “Couldn’t I at least have something to read—”

The door swung shut with a satisfying boom. Celestia locked it again, watching the symbols blaze to life across its surface as the prison was complete once more. There was only silence in the hall now. Celestia took hold of the empty cart and brought it back to the dungeon guards at the exit.

“Take this away,” Celestia said to them. “No more deals. Let him rot.”

“Yes, Princess,” the guards said, following her out of that mad corridor.

Cadence was still waiting on the other side. Celestia locked up and waited until the guards had dismantled the cart and were magically transporting its component parts back up the stairs before she spoke up—though first she lit her horn and surrounded herself and Cadence in a sound-proof bubble.

“What is it?” Cadence asked.

Celestia put a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “You’re the only one I can afford to trust. I wish it were not so, but it is. I cannot deny that anypony outside this spell of silence could be compromised in some way, be it willingly or in ignorance.”

“You mean the Order of Discord,” Cadence said.

Celestia nodded, taking her hoof back. “I did not give orders to take those supplied from him and discard them so carelessly in the garbage. I would have inspected those cakes first if I had wanted it so. I would have destroyed them, atom by atom, rather than cast them away. And yet it was done without my knowledge. And it could only have been a guard, or anypony able to give orders to a guard.”

Cadence hesitates. “It… I mean, you have to consider. It could have been me.”

Celestia shook her head. “No, Cadence. You would not do this to the Equestria you love so much. I have seen into your heart, when you took on the power of an alicorn. I know you, Cadence. I trust you.”

Cadence nodded. “And I will always trust you. You have given me a home here. I met my Shining Armor and…” Cadence trailed off to a whisper. “My friend Twilight.”

“Have the guards found trace of her yet?”

“No…” Cadence admitted. “Nothing.” She winced.

Celestia frowned, despite herself. “She must be found soon. The spell I cast on her to block her full magical abilities—”

“She’ll be alright,” Cadence assured her. “She still has enough power to get by. Fragile shields and levitating. We made sure of that.”

“No,” Celestia went on. “It’s not that.” She sighed. “A spell such as that was never meant to be used on one so young. I fear if it is not removed then it may block more than we intended. It may prevent her cutiemark from manifesting. And who can know what that could do to a pony?”

Cadence’s eyes went wide. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She bit her lip. “Were we right to interfere?”

“If we had not then she would have run off long ago,” Celestia said.

Cadence nodded. “I hope we find her soon. You should know I’ve doubled the guard around Project Draco, in case she tries to go back there.”

Celestia breathed a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of that name settling around her shoulders once more. “Thornhoof’s lab. If I had only known when he first started there what he would do… What he would become. Of all my mistakes it is certainly one of my most terrible.” She looked casually up the tower to it’s high, high ceiling. “Though not, of course, my greatest.” She looked back to Cadence. “That is why I must make sure that Discord cannot escape.”

“Are you sure we can’t seal him away in Tartarus?” Cadence said.

Celestia shook her head. “The only reason I was able to cage him at all is because I realised what was happening before he did. The mysterious Starburst that swept this nation—how it shattered even magically protected windows. I know only that it originated from some void at its centre, that drank the magic out of any non-living thing its radiance touched, until it collapsed into itself at the end.”

Cadence nodded. “Drained the magic. Including Discord’s statue.”

“There was more magic in that statue than in the windows and street lamps,” Celestia said. “That gave me time to realise what was happening and therefore what was going to happen to him. I got him down here just in time before he broke free. But we have no chance of moving him again.”

“I understand,” Cadence said. “But are you really going to just leave him there, now? He has the power to sense magical disturbances and shifts in the balance of power. He must know what caused the Starburst. He must know how to heal the broken magic of the pegasi who were caught at ground zero. Maybe he ever knows how to heal Twilight.”

“Cadence,” Celestia said. “I cannot negotiate with Discord any further. He may be trapped and powerless as I have him but he was right—his true power is not in his magic. In just these past weeks alone he has already managed to manipulate me enough to allow him to release monsters into the streets. And he has compromised my standing with the public. It is too dangerous. I need to understand him better before I attempt to deal with him again.”

“How can we do that?”

Celestia nodded. “By finding and arresting ponies from the Order of Discord. They will be comparatively easy for me to talk to, and they will have useful information. If only we can find them first.”

“I’ll keep a look out,” Cadence said.

Celestia thought for a moment. “One more thing… Discord said he released those monsters just to tarnish my image. But I’m not so sure. Discord doesn’t do things by half, and he doesn’t let a good opportunity go to waste. Their behaviour was too organised. I believe he ordered them to attack Canterlot libraries for a reason. Perhaps to destroy all books. But suppose he was looking for a certain special book, or series of books.”

Cadence stared. “You think there’s a book out there he doesn’t want us to read? Maybe something that can hurt him?”

“Maybe,” Celestia said.

“Then we should find it as soon as possible and protect it,” Cadence said.

Celestia shook her head. “It could be instead that there is a book out there that he wants. And if we find it and bring it to the palace he knows his spies will soon bring it to him.”

Cadence let slip a nervous breath. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” She sighed. “You’re right. He manipulates these situations too easily.”

“It’s alright,” Celestia assured her. “We should look for the book, however. But subtly. Secretively. I noticed his monsters did not attack private libraries, as belonging to wizards and alchemists. Yet surely these libraries would hold the most powerful and obscure volumes.”

Cadence nodded. “He didn’t want to damage those books. Or even draw attention to them. So he is searching for something. Something rare.”

“I think so,” Celestia said. “But we must be careful how we proceed. And maybe, if we play our pieces right, we can set a trap for his spies.”

“Agreed,” Cadence said. “Now… if you’ll let me…”

“Of course,” Celestia said, lowering the silence spell and dismissing it. “Go to Shining Armor. He needs you now more than ever.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Cadence said.

“Take care of him,” Celestia said. “The worst betrayal is the betrayal of family.”

Cadence set hoof upon the stairs, but turned back for a moment. “The night looks lovely, Celestia. She would be proud of you.”

“I can always hope,” Celestia said sadly. “And dream…”

Prologue

“You don’t know what it’s like to loose a friend because of a cutiemark,” said Starlight Glimmer.

The time portal had just closed above them. In the distance the filly Rainbow Dash was beginning her race against the fight camp bullies. And little Fluttershy slipped and began to plummet to the butterfly covered ground below.

Twilight and Spike stood exhausted on the small cloud opposite Starlight’s own.

“…but once I stop the rainboom,” Starlight continued – angry and disturbed from freshly returning to her childhood trauma, “You will.”

With a flash of azure-green light the backpack was stolen from Twilight and Spike, reappearing in the grasp of Starlight’s magic.

“And when I destroy this scroll,” Starlight said, extracting the paper from the backpack and unfurling it, “There’ll be no way for you to change it!”

Twilight and Spike heard the rip of paper as they watched the scroll being slowly torn. Their only chance to save the Equestria they knew and loved. Starlight was making a terrible mistake and everything was going to be destroyed.

“Starlight, you can’t do this!” Twilight tried, her voice desperate and pleading.

The paper ripped a little further as Starlight showed no signs of stopping.

Spike grit his fangs and leapt across the cloud gap, grabbing Starlight around the face and neck. She yelled in surprise and stumbled, trying to shake him off. She lost her grip on the paper and it fell away to where Twilight could catch.

“Nice one, Spike!” Twilight cheered, taking up the scroll.

Spike held on to the mad horse but managed to give Twilight a thumbs-up.

“Get off!” Starlight snapped.

Her horn shone with azure-green light and Spike was forcefully rocketed up into the air. Starlight took aim and blasted him, encasing his body in a prison of pinkish glass crystal.

“No!” Twilight yelled.

Starlight glanced across at her with a smirk. Then Starlight’s magic took hold of the crystal-Spike and flung him far out across open sky.

Twilight’s wings clapped as she rushed out to save him. Flying to intercept, Twilight caught the large crystal between her forelegs and held him close.

“I got you,” Twilight whispered.

Spike blinked at her from behind the glass.

That’s when they realised that Starlight was laughing. Twilight looked up to see the paper scroll was in Starlight’s grasp once more.

“You’re so predictable!” Starlight scoffed. “It’s like you don’t learn.”

“Oh, I learned one thing,” Twilight said, lowering her horn.

Magenta sparks flew and a beam of Twilight’s magic shot the scroll from Starlight’s grasp, encasing the paper in another crystal prison. The block of glass landed gently on a cloud and began to sink. A second blast of magic forced Starlight to leap backwards and catch herself with her flying spell.

Twilight quickly flew Spike back to the solid ground of the runway and set him down safely. “Wait here. I’ll get you out in a minute.”

Spike blinked. It was kind of the only thing he could do.

Starlight approached the crystal-trapped scroll again, grabbing it up and examining it. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait… Was is—”

Magenta magic flashed past—a warning shot. Then the scroll was snatched away.

“Starlight, stop this!” Twilight pleaded, pulling the encased spell paper towards herself. “I’ve seen where this leads, and so have you—”

“Twilight, give me the scroll!” Starlight cried, suddenly panicked.

“Starlight, no. I can’t let you—”

“Twilight, you idiot just LOOK at it!” Starlight half-screamed. “Look!”

The urgency of her tone caught Twilight off guard. It was probably another trick but Twilight couldn’t help turning her gaze towards the crystal-trapped scroll.

A strange light was glowing from the crystal. The words on the paper inside were blazing with power. Even as she watched, spider-web fractures spread like frost throughout the pink glass. The very structure of the crystal seemed to be warping and distorting.

“Wh—” Twilight gasped. “Wh-what’s happening? What’s it doing?”

“It’s the spell, Twilight!” Starlight screamed at her. “It’s been activated but it has nowhere to go! It’s too powerful to be contained like this! The pressure will—”

With her magic Twilight flung the crystal upward into the sky, just a fraction of a second before the time spell broke loose.

There was a whine and a crunch—space folded and then expanded as the spell took form. Twilight and Starlight felt themselves pulled helplessly in as the time portal began to consume and to consume and to consume even itself—then there was a flash so bright it could be seen from all across Equestria.

…followed by the shockwave.

Pt.1 - Chapter 6

“Awww. But you’d look so cute,” Rarity said.

Spike firmly folded the new dog costume and put it aside. “Nope. No more dogs.”

“What about a cat?” Rarity suggested. “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

Spike shuddered. “Yeah… I don’t think I get along with your cat.”

“Pardon?”

“Uh. I mean… I don’t think I’d get along as your cat.”

Rarity slouched against her sewing table. “I think I understand. I’ve been having so much fun sneaking you around and dressing you up these past few days, searching for the castle table. But I can see why that wouldn’t necessarily be fun for you.”

Spike nodded awkwardly. “Um… but… thanks anyway.”

Rarity sat up and looked out her bedroom window, now with glass properly replaced.

“Maybe things have calmed down enough for you to just… walk around,” she theorised.

“No, you were right,” Spike said. “Dragons don’t just walk around with ponies in these times. And if anypony found out I had anything to do with the Event—”

“Darling, wouldn’t it be the simplest thing to just tell Celestia everything?” Rarity suddenly said.

Spike looked up. Rarity was looking at him most sincerely.

“…about the spell and Twilight and the bad unicorn,” Rarity went on. “Doesn’t this sound like something she should know? Don’t you think she could help?”

Spike wrung his claws together, staring down at his feet. “I… suppose.”

“You’ve been acting awfully strange, is everything alright?” Rarity asked. “It’s just that we’ve been making plans to go visit Canterlot but you keep putting it off. Another day to check if the table has appeared. And yet you seem pretty sure it’s not going to.”

Spike continued to fidget.

“Spike,” Rarity said flatly. “Why don’t you want to talk to Celestia?”

Spike took a moment to choose his words. “I kind of… already tried that.”

“What? When?”

“When you went out with your family for that thing with the other foals.”

Rarity rolled her eyes at the memory. “The ‘It’s Okay to Play Day’ that the Mayor organised so all the children could burn off some energy? Yes. That was dreadfully forced. I couldn’t wait until it was over.”

Spike nodded. “Well. I was stuck here, so… I tried sending Celestia a letter.”

“You mean the thing you do where you roll up the paper and set it on fire.”

“Yes,” Spike said. “It’s a thing. Okay? I usually works.”

“If you say so.” Rarity shrugged. “So what happened this time?”

“I’m not really sure,” Spike said, still fidgeting. “All I wrote was ‘Is anypony there?’ –because I couldn’t be sure it would even work. But what happened was—” He frowned. “I sent the letter. To the proper Celestia, in this time and place. I focused on her and I sent the letter. And then a few second later I felt this…”

Rarity waited. “This what?”

Spike’s claws began to fidget faster. “This kind of… attack.”

“An attack?”

“It was like my whole body was buzzing and my head was—It was just a mess! It hurt really bad, and it didn’t stop for a long time. Like, maybe almost a minute. And then everything just ached and I had to lie down. I don’t know…” Spike was looking away. His claws were still palpitating together.

Rarity’s eyes drifted. “So that explains it. I remember coming home and I found your curled up in your basket and you were whimpering and shivering. I thought maybe you were just having a bad dream. Or maybe you were.”

“I don’t know why she’d do that,” Spike said. His tone seemed wounded. “And she hasn’t sent me any letters or anything. I was worried all the next day that someone from the royal guard was going to show up. But no. And nopony’s been following us, as far as I can tell.”

“How very strange,” Rarity sympathised. “Whatever do you think it means?”

“I don’t know…” Spike said. “But you can see why I’m not exactly keen to go meet Celestia right now.”

Rarity drew breath and nodded soberly. “Of course. Of course. My poor Spike. Ooh. Maybe it’s better if we just give Canterlot a miss for the moment. Try for Manehatten instead. I just sort of liked the idea of having some pony we could talk to about all of this. Somepony who might know what to do.”

Spike nodded. “I know. Whenever I need help I always just talk to Twilight.”

“Well what does Twilight do if she needs help?”

“Asks Celestia,” Spike said. Then he thought for a moment. “Or… Zecora.”

“Where!?” Rarity cried, and dived for cover under her blankets.

“What?” Spike said, staring in disbelief at the quivering lump. “Rarity, come out of there. What’s wrong?”

Rarity’s head peeped out from under the blankets. “Well you said her name and I thought you had seen her or something. Honestly, Spike, don’t do that to me.”

Spike slapped himself in the forehead. “Are you kidding me? Has the whole of Ponyville just been like this until Twilight showed up?”

“Spike, you’re not making sense. Is Zecora lurking around or not?”

“Well at least that tells me she’s here,” Spike said.

“So she is here?” Rarity squeaked.

Spike folded his arms. “Why are you so afraid of her?”

“Well—” Rarity started. She scrunched her face in thought. “Well, because—Because everypony is. It’s just how she is, Spike. She’s spooky. Nopony knows where she came from. Nopony knows what she wants. And her stripes, Spike. So garish.”

Spike hopped up on the bed and took Rarity’s hoof in a gentle gesture. “Okay. I’m going to tell you what we all learned the first time this happened. Zecora’s not scary, or spooky, or evil. She’s not an enchantress and she’s not going to put a curse on anypony. She’s actually really clever and knows lots of things and always has really good advice. Twilight and I would go to her for help all the time.”

Rarity shifted away from Spike a bit. “I don’t know, Spike. She looks pretty weird.”

“Rarity. I look pretty weird,” Spike said. “But I’m just a dragon. That’s all. Zecora is a zebra. She’s more pony than I am. And if you can make friends with a dragon, and a farm pony, like you said…”

Rarity grit her teeth. “I can make friends with… Oh, but Zecora? Really?”

Spike sighed and hopped off the bed. “I’ll wear the new dog costume if you promise to come with me.”

Rarity pouted. “You know it annoys me that you’ve got me so easily figured out already.”

The Everfree Forest loomed with all it’s mass of shadow and twisted trees.

“What now, Spike?” Rarity said. “Are you going to tell me to make friends with the forest? Are you going to say that the forest isn’t really scary and dangerous, it’s just misunderstood? Do you want me to hug a tree?”

“No…” Spike said, staring up at the canopy before them. “No, I’m pretty sure the forest is legitimately dangerous and scary. I mean… There’s timberwolves in there.”

“You see? This just goes to further my apprehension. What kind of a pony would willingly live in such a place if she weren’t some spooky dangerous thing herself.”

“Well what’s she supposed to do?” Spike asked. “Every time she comes into town all the ponies just run away and hide. She can’t go to the markets. I really doubt she’s going to be able to rent a cottage.”

Rarity didn’t have an answer for that so she just stuck her tongue out. “Mnyehhh.”

“Come on. Let’s go,” Spike said, adjusting the dog-collar of his new costume.

Today he wore a coat of dark grey with white sock-markings, a white muzzle and a white diamond mark on the forehead. Rarity was very talented, yes, but that didn’t stop Spike from feeling especially silly every time he went outside these days.

Rarity, by contrast, was only wearing a set of water-proof boots and a plain blue handkerchief around her neck. She couldn’t bare to sacrifice any other garment to the ravages of the Everfree Forest.

There were only a few paces in and already the light level had dropped to almost dusk-like quality. Rarity was making hushed sounds of disgust at everything she suspected she was stepping in.

“What about the timberwolves?” Rarity whispered.

“Don’t worry,” Spike whispered back. “I’ve had a few run-ins with timberwolves in my time,” he boasted. “I’ve learned how to smell them before they even get close. Their breath stinks.”

“Everything in this awful place rather stinks,” Rarity muttered.

“Watch your step here,” Spike said, directing her down a slope. “Careful of that log. There you go. This way.”

Rarity shuddered. “What about the other horrible things that live here? Huge nasty creatures.”

“Well most of them only come out at night.”

“Oh? How can they tell…” Rarity deadpanned, glaring up at the canopy.

“Watch it!” Spike exclaimed.

Rarity froze. “What? Is it a monster?”

“No,” Spike said. He pointed at a patch of blue flowers. “Worse.”

“Those little things?” Rarity said. “Oh, but they’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen of this place so far.”

“They’re called Poison Joke,” Spike told her. “Trust me. Don’t touch them. They’re gonna make you a hairy mess, like a sheep-dog.”

Rarity gave a visible shudder and clenched her eyes shut. “Oh why did I let you bring me to this horrible place?”

“Who goes there!?” spoke a voice from the misty distance. “Friend or foe?”

Spike and Rarity froze.

“I’d ask again, but I already know…” the voice continued.

Spike saw the silhouette turning to walk away. “Wait!” he called out. “Zecora, wait. Friends. We’re friends.”

Spike darted carefully around the blue flowers to catch up to her; and Rarity followed but made little whining sounds the whole time.

“Friend you say? I disagree,” Zecora continued. “I have no pony friends, you see.”

“And I’m no pony,” Spike said, springing in front of her.

Zecora took a startled step back.

Spike was caught similarly by surprise when he saw her properly. “Oh… wow.”

She was Zecora, yes. The same wise zebra Spike had already met. Only here she was younger. Not a filly or even a lanky adolescent, but not quite the mature adult that Spike had grown accustomed to. Otherwise she appeared mostly the same. Her jewellery was slightly different. Perhaps her crested mane was a bit looser; Spike did notice the crest became a braid further down, which rested over her right shoulder.

“Certainly you are no pony,” Zecora whispered, staring at him. “So tell me, how is it you know me?”

A twig snapped. Zecora turned to see Rarity sneaking up.

“Oh!” Rarity exclaimed, and tried to shrink down away from scrutiny.

“I’m Spike,” he continued. “And this is my friend Rarity.”

“N-n-nice to meet you,” Rarity said.

“I’m a dragon,” Spike said proudly.

Zecora quirked an eyebrow. Then she chuckled. “Dragon? I could not be sure, with such soft fur and puppy paws.”

Spike looked down at himself and blushed in annoyance. He fussed to wriggle out of the costume but tripped and ended up rolling around on the ground in a tangle.

Rarity couldn’t help but giggle. Suddenly she and Zecora were both laughing as if they were just a couple of ponies who’d seen something funny on a walk through town together.

“Oh, Spike. Let me help.”

Rarity went up and got the zipper open the rest of the way. She folded up the costume and draped it over her back. Then she flicked her tail a few times to dust him off.

“I got it!” Spike complained, shuffling away and brushing himself down.

“Well, little creature,” Zecora said. “Or dragon, you say. I think we should talk. If you’ll both come this way.”

Rarity and Spike exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Told you she’s nice,” Spike said.

“Wellllll…” Rarity conceded. “I do admire her taste in earrings.”

So they both followed the young Zecora the rest of the way to her house.

Zecora’s hut was not the way Spike remembered it. It was less of a hollowed out tree and more of a constructed platform up in the crowning branches of a completely different tree altogether.

“This is new,” Spike said as they climbed.

The stairs were made from planks of wood that jutted out from the tree trunk and helixed around until they reached the platform.

“I thought you said you’d been here before,” Rarity whispered to him.

“I guess she’d moved house by the time I knew her,” he whispered back.

The dwelling above was solid and sturdy and quite well built. It had a roof and a few walls, composed of timber or the branches of the living tree; but it wasn’t fully enclosed. It was attractive and interesting but… Spike could see why she had eventually moved to being indoors. (Or in-tree as it were.)

“Forgive this most untidy home,” Zecora said, sweeping leaves and twigs over the ledge with her tail. “I would have cleaned if I had known that I would soon be having guests. Excuse me while I do my best. It’s quite a state, I must confess. The blast has left a dreadful mess.”

Spike’s eyes tracked to a wooden bucket in one corner where broken potion bottles had been deposited, along with a couple of water-damaged books.

“Just yesterday I fixed the roof,” Zecora continued. “Or you would have seen the real proof of what my home has suffered through. But now, all clean. I welcome you.” She pulled out two simple wooden stools and seated herself on a third.

Rarity looked nervously at Spike for reassurance.

Zecora nodded again to the seats. “Don’t resist. I insist.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Spike said, stepping up to the offer.

Rarity hesitated a moment longer and eventually shuffled over to sit beside him.

“So…” Zecora said. “The two of you, I do not know. This town would treat me as their foe. Yet you come here declaring; no. That’s quite a change to undergo.”

Rarity leaned in to whisper to Spike. “…why does she talk like that?”

“Though one of you is quite at ease…” Zecora folded her forelegs across her chest. “It seems the filly disagrees.”

Rarity straightened up at once and gave a nervous laugh.

“Zecora,” Spike interrupted. “This is going to sound strange, but we need your advice. And I’m pretty sure you’re the only pony we can even talk to about this. I know you don’t owe us anything. I mean, I can’t believe you’ve actually been here for all these years and everypony in town had just been ignoring you. So I understand how us turning up like this must seem kind of weird.”

Zecora let her eyes wander over the little dragon. “Here all these years—you say to me. Yet I have lived here only three.”

Spike hissed a breath. “That’ssss… part of what I’m about to tell you.”

And so he told her. Everything he had tried to explain to Rarity already, only by now Spike had managed to organise the important details in a more concise way. Also it helped that Zecora never interrupted him.

In fact, she made tea while he talked, which he was very appreciative of.

“Thanks,” Spike said as she passed him the wooden cup of warm green liquid. “And that’s pretty much it. I think Twilight and Starlight must have gotten pulled back into the time portal and I got stuck here. I don’t even know if it was a time portal this time. Everything just went so… wrong.” He looked down into his drink. Then perked up. “But Rarity’s been a big help. We’ve started looking for our friends again. We’re maybe thinking of reconnecting the Elements of Harmony. I told you about those, right?”

Zecora nodded.

“Right…” Spike said. He sipped tea and waited.

Rarity sniffed at her drink cautiously and eventually decided that it was much too cold out to be declining warm beverages. She sipped tea also; and smiled.

“If all these things you say are true,” Zecora began at last. “I certainly don’t envy you. Your memories are a gift. A curse. And I can think of nothing worse—to see the world unfold anew, and contradict what you hold true…” She took a deep breath. “And so to steer from tragic ends, you seek to reunite your friends?”

Spike nodded. “The Elements of Harmony can fix anything. I’ve got to believe they can fix this, too. And if they can’t…”

“If they cannot, you say. Then what?”

Spike looked out at the lurking shadows of the Everfree Forest. “…then we might just need them anyway, because bad things are coming. A whole lot of them. And Equestria needs the Elements.”

Zecora ran a hoof around the rim of her cup. “This is a wise move, I agree. But do consider, could it be… for all the ways a stream may flow, you only seek the path you know?”

Spike cradled his drink and tilted his head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Zecora tried again. “Your memories are a story told. A set of rules you now uphold. Consider though, the game has changed, and all the pieces rearranged. To try and grasp the same result is to be loyal to a fault.” Zecora looked him in the eyes. “While time is young, do as you care. But do make sure you are aware… if things fall too far out of line, you must adopt a new design.”

Spike stared down into his now empty cup and shook his head. “With Twilight gone… I can’t see a way forward right now that doesn’t involve the Elements of Harmony.”

Rarity spoke up at last. “I agree with Spike. These Elements sound pretty important. Besides, nopony else seems to have a better idea.”

Zecora nodded. “Very well. I do agree. Thankyou for sharing this with me. I moved here to explore this land—yet it seems I’ve found a quest more grand.” She smiled playfully. “These Elements are six, you say? Encased in stone and hid away?”

“In the Castle of The Two Sisters,” Spike said. “It’s in ruins here in the forest.”

“This ruined castle I have seen, though I have never closely been. But if the Elements are there…” Zecora winked. “You can entrust them to my care.”

Spike breathed a sigh. “Thankyou. It’s… It’s just good to have your help.”

“Mmm. I agree,” Rarity said. “We’ve just sort of been wandering around for a few days, not really sure what to do. But after hearing Spike tell the story again…”

“I think it’s clear that we should at least try the Elements,” Spike finished. “Equestria’s going to need them. One way or another.”

Rarity nodded. “And it’s nice to know we can always come back and talk to you about this. Honestly, there isn’t another pony we could really bring this to.” Rarity quirked a guilty smile. “To be fair… I wasn’t exactly sure about coming here myself.”

Zecora chuckled. “Ah yes. In trips to Ponyville I find the streets are empty still.”

“We can probably fix that,” Spike said. “We could talk to everypony and get them to meet you properly and see how nice you are.” He shrugged. “It worked before.”

Zecora smiled at this notion. “No, no, my little friends. Not yet. Thought I will call upon this debt. For now, I think, I’ll leave it be. Let them recover before they meet me.”

Rarity winced. “The streets are in a bit of a state.”

“Besides,” Zecora said to Spike. “How will you give them your critique? I did not know that dogs could speak.”

Spike blushed again. “Oh, right.”

“Oo. That was my idea,” Rarity boasted. “If you think Ponyville is giving you a wide berth I’m sure you can just imagine how ponies would react to seeing a dragon in the streets. Even if he is the most adorable little purple pudding-pie.” Rarity rubbed his head with her hoof.

Spike made a face and hopped off his stool to get away. “Rarity, cut it out.”

“This is payback for dragging me into the Everfree Forest,” Rarity said. “Now let me squish your cheeks.”

Spike hissed.

Rarity stuck out her tongue. “Mnyehhhh!”

Zecora got up and kindly took the empty cups back. “I would not overstep my bounds. But perhaps you need not dress as hounds.”

Spike perked up his ears. “Say again?”

“If your appearance you must hide, there is some help I can provide,” Zecora said as she put the cups back next to the teapot.

Spike and Rarity exchanged looks, then turned back to Zecora. “Go on…”

“I could mix for you a disguise potion. But I think I have a better notion.” The zebra went to a wooden chest and began searching through the contents. Finally she brought out a bracelet made of some black material.

“How unusual. It is stone or wood?” Rarity asked, peering intently at the jewellery.

“Chitin shell, I understand,” Zecora said. “From creatures from a far-off land. Wear this and you may change your form. But it must be powered by a unicorn.”

Rarity and Spike exchanged glances again. This time Spike looked quickly away.

“I think I know what this came from,” Spike said.

Zecora narrowed her eyes at him. “If you have fought these creatures too, I truly underestimated you.”

Spike took the bracelet and slipped it onto his left wrist. He pushed it a little further up and made it an armband. “Okay. Now what?”

“Rarity, to cast the spell direct your magic at it’s shell,” Zecora instructed.

“That’s it?” she said. “Not a set incantation, just… power?”

Zecora nodded.

“…okay then. Here we go.”

Rarity lowered her horn at the armband and tried to think the most harmless thoughts before she unleashed the beam of bright blue magic. It struck the black chitin shell and was instantly absorbed. The dull darkness of the armband seemed to shimmer and become brighter—like the difference between sanded timber and polished oak floors.

“Whoa!” Spike said, trying to hold his own arm at arms length. “It feels…”

“Quite strange, at first. You will adjust,” Zecora said. “Now take the form you feel you must. To walk disguised with pony kind, what sort of visage comes to mind?”

Spike thought about it. “I guess… not a dog. A pony, I suppose. So I can have conversations and eat at restaurants and stuff. Let’s see… I think I’d make a rather hansom stallion.”

Spike closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. But when he opened his eyes he was still the same little dragon.

“Uh… It’s not working,” he said.

Zecora tsked. “These borrowed powers have their code. They take their form from what they’re showed.”

“From…” Spike’s eyes widened. “Ohhhh. Of course. I need to copy somepony else.” He looked over at Rarity out of instinct. “So… what? Just… become like—”

There was a flash of green light. Spike looked down at himself and instead of purple and green scales he found a white pony coat.

Rarity yelped in surprise and scurried back from him. “What kind of magic is this!?”

“I—I’m sorry!” Spike said. His voice was still his own. “How do I stop—?”

There was another green flash and suddenly he was a dragon again.

“Ooo. I need to sit down.” Spike staggered over to his stool and flopped face-first onto it. “Okay. I think I get it now.”

Zecora chuckled and went to close up the old chest. “You may keep it, if it aides you. Be careful, thought. The magic fades, too. I know not how long it will endure, so maybe test it to be sure.”

“Thanks,” Spike said, giving a thumbs up without otherwise moving.

“I advise you practice some control,” Zecora said. “And size won’t change, so choose a foal. Remember to act like a horse, and walk on all four legs, of course. You’re voice stays, too. That’s all I know. Good luck to you, and mind how you go.”

Zecora guided the young ones safely to the edge of the forest and made her goodbyes again. Spike had the dog costume tied around his neck now, hanging like a pelt.

“What did I tell you?” Spike said, nudging Rarity in the shoulder.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Zecora’s not actually dangerous or scary. She’s quite nice and helpful and makes delicious tea.”

Spike folded his arms. “Told you so.”

“Well alright. You win. Again.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “Thought she does live in the Everfree Forest and I maintain that that’s at least a little creepy. And honestly, darling, who lives in a tree?”

Spike grumped. “I did.”

“I thought you lived in a castle.”

“Yeah,” Spike said. “But before that I lived in a tree. The Golden Oak Library? Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

Rarity thought on that for a bit. “Can’t say that I have. I did hear plans to build a new library, out near that big oak tree in town. Maybe it just hasn’t happened yet.”

“Oh…” Spike said. “Well… You’ll see. It’ll be the most amazing library ever.”

“As libraries go,” Rarity said, turning to walk back to town. “Now. Which pony do you think we should copy for the disguise?”

“A colt,” Spike said. “Because of the size issue.”

“Well I was going to suggest Big Mac,” Rarity mentioned. “Because then we’d have an excuse to visit Applejack. But I guess that doesn’t really work for your size or voice.”

Spike shrugged. “Who else do you know from school?”

Rarity hmm’d. “Well, there’s this unicorn colt who—”

“Wait,” Spike suddenly realised. “Whoever we choose, he has to be an earth pony.”

“…ohhhh. I see your point.” Rarity rubbed her chin. “I think I have just the colt.”

Rarity knocked twice and the door opened.

“Well hello there little filly,” the pony said, smiling down at her.

Rarity beamed. “Can Caramel come out to play?”

“I don’t see why not,” the adult pony said, turning back inside. “Caramel! You have a visitor!”

The parent vanished and a few moments later a yellow colt with neat brown mane appeared at the door.

“Hello?” he said nervously upon noticing who it was.

“Caramel,” Rarity smiled. “I just came to congratulate you on your cutiemark.”

Caramel just stood there awkwardly. “Umm… thanks. I got it a few weeks ago.”

“Ah. Yes, no. I remember. But… I just wanted to tell you again.”

“There was a party. I don’t think you were there…”

“No, you see, I was… um. I was sick that day,” Rarity said. “But I’m all better now and I wanted to… check on you.”

Caramel shifted awkwardly. “…okay.”

“Um. Could you come outside for a moment?” Rarity said.

“…why?”

“I uh… I wanted to look at you. In the better light.”

Caramel shuffled cautiously out the door. “Okay…”

Rarity nodded sagely at him. “Ah. Three blue horseshoes. Er… that’s so very you, Caramel. It makes perfect sense.”

Caramel sat and folded his forelegs. “Oh yeah? So what does it mean then?”

Rarity scuffed the road with her hoof. “Uhhh… It’s because you’re soo… unique?”

Caramel narrowed his eyes at her. “Really? Because my triplet brother and sister got the same cutiemarks. The three horseshoes represent us and how we work together to overcome problems, and—You know what? Forget it. You would already know all this if you came to our party. Or actually paid any attention to me.”

Rarity gave a nervous laugh. “Caramel… How could I not pay attention to you?”

“Are you just buttering me up so you can get me to cart your art supplies around again?” Caramel said. “Because it won’t work this time. It may have worked the first hundred times, but it won’t work this time. You can find somepony else.”

Caramel stepped back inside and shut the door.

Rarity cringed a little as she made her retreat. She looked left and right and then dived behind a bush.

“Oh dear. Not my finest moment…” she winced.

Spike shrugged where he sat. “He just doesn’t know what an honour it is to carry your art supplies."

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Well? Did you get it?” she whispered.

Spike looked down at his armband. “Let’s find out—” There was another green flash and suddenly he looked exactly like little Caramel, standing there on his two back legs.

“Wow that thing is sensitive,” Rarity said. “But effective. I couldn’t hope to tell you two apart. I’d completely believe you were a pony.”

“You think?” Spike said, getting down on all fours.

Rarity poked him in the chest. “Hmm. Feels a bit… magicky. Maybe don’t give out any hugs. But rest assured—you won’t need these old things anymore.” Rarity tugged at the dog costume still tied around Spike’s neck.

He winced a little. “Sorry. You did work hard on them.”

“Of course I did. I work hard on everything. But I also move on and try new things. That’s the magic of creativity,” Rarity said. “Come on. Let’s go test your new disguise.”

The front door opened. “Mother! Father! I’m hoooome,” Rarity sing-songed. “And I brought my friend Caramel with me to help, uh… carry my art supplies! Won’t you come and meet him?”

Rarity took Spike’s dog costume and shoved it into his arms—or forelegs.

“Mother! Father—”

“Rarity, please,” her father said coming into the entrance hall.

Spike grinned like a guilty puppy.

“Sweetie Belle is almost done with her nap,” Rarity’s father went on, “and I’d like to finish making dinner before she wakes up.”

Rarity pointed. “Don’t you have anything to say to my friend?”

“Hello Rarity’s friend,” the father sighed. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Ye—” Rarity started.

“No!” Spike cut in. “Uhh… I uh. I just gotta take this upstairs and then I’m done. So uh… bye!” He ran for the stairs.

Rarity shook her mane from her face and huffed.

“Go wash up then,” the father said.

Rarity went upstairs to her room and found Spike had returned to normal.

“What was that about?” Rarity said. “I’m getting tired of sneaking you food. We could have had a proper sleepover. I get hot chocolate at sleepovers.”

Spike rubbed at the armband. “I don’t know what happened. The tingly feeling stated to fade away, so I rushed up here and then I suddenly change back.”

“Ah…” Rarity said, and started taking off her boots. “It must have run out of power. What was that… about an hour? That’s not very long…”

“I know,” Spike said. “Maybe it’s not a good plan.”

“Maybe I just need to give it more power,” Rarity said. “Make it last longer.”

Downstairs the baby started crying.

“Rarity! Dinner!” the father called. “Has Caramel gone?”

Rarity looked at Spike. “I’ll bring you something, I guess…” Then she left the room. “Yes, Father. Caramel went home.”

Spike sat down and tried to take off the armband. It seemed a bit… stuck. Probably just sweat or something. He managed to wiggle it off soon enough. Then he eyed the thing, inside and out. It was clearly made from the hide of a changeling. Dull black now in its lifeless state, but when Rarity had filled it with magic it had taken on a blue-ish sheen.

Spike’s keen eyes noted the unfamiliar magical script that ran all around the inner surface of the bracelet. It was not a language he knew. Of course he didn’t study magic. But it was like nothing he recognised from any of Twilight’s books. How strange… And how obviously brilliantly clever it was. Spike slipped the artefact back onto his arm where it settled comfortably into place.

Now all they needed was the right excuse and he and Rarity could be off travelling Equestria to find their friends. Then, once the Elements were together…

Spike looked down at the soft hoof-crafted and beautifully decorated basket that the filly Rarity had made from him. They had spent so much time together these past several days, and Spike felt like he had really gotten to know her. It was more time than he’d ever spent alone with the old Rarity, unless you counted hunting for gems. Spike curled his tail up to his chest and hugged it. He was going to miss this version of Rarity. But setting Equestria back to normal was the right thing to do.

Rarity would get her cutiemark as intended and she would grow up to become wildly successful and she would be happy. That was the Rarity Spike was fighting for. And for every other pony in the Equestria he knew… and loved.

His left arm twinged under the armband’s pressure for a moment, but it passed and he ignored it.

“I have to make this right…” Spike said. “It’s the only way.”

Pt.1 - Chapter 16

Rarity couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was all the excitement of visiting Cloudsdale. Or maybe it was something that pegasus with the newspapers had said, still cycling through her brain.

…or maybe it was all those cups of hot chocolate.

Spike had put on the green and purple colt disguise and Rarity had introduced him to her parents. She and Spike had prepared a back story about how he was a friend she had made in Manehatten. She had gone quite into detail in advance, only to discover her parents didn’t even care to ask and they just assumed Rarity knew Spike from school.

The hour was very late now—probably past midnight—and Rarity and Spike were camped out in the downstairs living area so as not to wake the baby with their pillow fights. It had been fun. But now Rarity couldn’t sleep. She just lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain outside.

Gradually, then, she became aware of a noise. A sort of… scratching, from a nearby room. The kitchen, she thought. Rarity sat up and gently lit her horn. By the pale blue light of her magic she noticed that Spike was missing from his blanket pile. He was probably just getting a midnight snack.

…maybe…

Rarity got up, dimmed her light and crept towards the kitchen, and as she approached the archway there was a whoosh and a flare of green light. She peered cautiously into the room. She could see the dragon-like shape of Spike sitting at the table. Rarity was about to speak when she saw him lurch over as if in discomfort and there was another green flare and whooshing sound.

“Spike?” Rarity whispered, brightening her horn-light.

Spike twitched in alarm and fumbled a scroll of paper.

“Spike, what are you doing in the dar—”

There was a third green flash. Not the same as the other two. This was the familiar green flash of the armband reactivating as Spike changed back into the unnamed colt.

“It’s only me,” Rarity said, stepping closer. “You don’t need the disguise.”

“I—I know,” Spike said, wincing against the blue light. “But just in case.”

He lifted a foreleg to shield his face and Rarity saw the face of his wristwatch.

“Dear me, is it 4am already?” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

As Rarity came closer Spike tried to hide the scroll but she caught it up with her magic and held it away from him.

“What’s this?” she asked, simply curious.

“Nothing. I was—” Spike cut himself off. He fidgeted with the tablecloth and spoke again. “I was just… hoping, I guess, that… I um… It’s difficult to explain.”

“May I read it?” Rarity asked.

Spike squirmed a bit and then nodded. She unfurled the paper and squinted to see by the horn-light. Large letters simply read: “Is anyone there?”

Not ‘anypony.’ Anyone.

Rarity rolled up the paper and passed it back. “Who were you trying to send this to?”

Spike shrugged again, taking the paper and scrunching it. “I guess… me.”

“Yourself?” Rarity said. “Well, it seems to have worked.”

“No, not—Not me,” Spike said. “I mean—”

He huffed and climbed down from the chair. The scrunched paper went into the bin and he walked silently back to the sprawling mess of bedding and empty hot chocolate mugs that was the living room. Rarity followed and waited for him to speak again.

He didn’t. He just stood up on the couch and watched the raindrops licking the window glass through the now open curtain.

“You’ve been keeping a lot of things to yourself,” Rarity whispered from a few steps distance. “I don’t mind if you do. You don’t have to tell me things. But if you’re going to be creeping around in the dark and looking sorrowfully out the rainy window then I feel compelled to intervene.”

Spike didn’t turn his head. “Is that a quote from Shadow Spade?”

“Only the last five words,” Rarity said. “But she makes a good point. Sometimes a lady just has to know what’s going on. For your benefit, Spike. Talk to me. Is this…” Rarity moved a little closer to the couch. “Does this have something to do with Canterlot?”

Spike’s shoulders tensed.

“It’s just that you seem to be avoiding the place outright,” Rarity said. “You wouldn’t even look at it when we were up in the balloon. You keep choosing other locations for us to visit and putting Canterlot off.”

“The Rock Farm was closer,” Spike said.

“Not really,” Rarity told him. “We could just as easily make it to Canterlot and back in a day, if we had an early start. But now you say you don’t want us to go until the weekend?”

“You have school.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Spike didn’t answer. Not at first. Finally he pulled away from the window and sat down with Rarity on the couch.

“I told you that the day we met was my birthday,” he said. “…in a way. Because that was the day I was born. Literally, that day. In theory there’s supposed to be a little baby Spike in Canterlot who’s just a few weeks old.”

Rarity smirked. “And you’re worried about meeting a little baby?”

Spike shook his head. The purple mane of his disguise flopped about most realistically. It was… kind of disconcerting, actually.

“I’m worried that…” Spike took a deep breath and held onto the words for a while. He exhaled. “Look. Everything’s different now. Things that were supposed to happen just kind of… didn’t. You were supposed to get your cutiemark—”

“Spike—”

“I know, I know. It’s not about that. But you were. And so was everypony else. Including Twilight. And Twilight getting her cutiemark was a big part of… of… me.” Spike looked away. “Me being… y’know… born. So, it’s just… If that hasn’t happened for some reason, I—” He scrunched his face and hid behind his mane.

“You’re… worried you may not… exist?”

Spike nodded. “Is that crazy? I mean, I’m still me. What do I care if some other version of me has been born yet or not? It shouldn’t feel so—Ugh. So wrong…” Spike looked up at last and met Rarity’s eyes. “Imagine if you came to visit your family here and found out that you never existed. That it was just your parents and Sweetie Belle but there was no place for you.”

Rarity drew back a little. “Oh my. That would be…”

Spike nodded. “Yeah.”

“Very wrong,” Rarity agreed. “Oh, Spike. I didn’t even realise. I completely understand why you’d be hesitant to go Canterlot. No, no. You take as much time as your need.”

Spike shook his head. “I’ve been doing that, and it hasn’t helped. I think it’s the not knowing more than anything that’s getting to me. I’ve been trying to send—Uh. Well, you saw the letter. I’ve been doing that for a few night now.”

“And baby-Spike didn’t get them?”

Spike shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m even reaching him. Er… me. It’s like with all the other fillies, I just don’t have a clear idea of who baby-me is. Maybe he’s there, maybe he’s not. I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. But it’s driving me crazy just sitting around and not knowing.”

Rarity put a gentle hoof on his shoulder. “I wish I could say I knew what to do.”

“It’s alright,” Spike smiled. “I’m going to have to face Canterlot sooner or later. I just… I was kind of hoping I could get an answer beforehand.”

“Mm. Shame you can’t reach Twilight either,” Rarity said. Then she thought for a moment. “Does Twilight have… I mean, I assume she does, but um… Parents?”

Spike blinked and brushed his mane aside. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, yes. Adult parents—I grew up with them—I doubt they’re changed too much. I could still—”

“Go, go,” Rarity whispered urgently.

Spike got off the couch and hurried back to the kitchen. For a moment Rarity thought she could hear the tap of his hooves on the hard floor. But that was silly. Spike didn’t have hooves, he had stumpy dragon feet. She chuckled to herself about this as she followed after him.

Spike sat frozen at the table staring down at the paper and quill.

Rarity watched him for a moment by the faint light of streetlamp that shone near the kitchen window.

“Well?” she prompted.

Spike stifled a nervous laugh. “What do I say? Dear Twilight’s Family; this is the Canterlot Census—how many ponies are living with you right now and just out of curiosity do you have any dragons?”

Rarity winced. “Well… the ‘Dear Twilight’s Family’ sounds alright, I guess…”

“Right. Okay. You don’t think that sounds too weird? I don’t want to be weird.”

Spike began to shake a little.

Rarity’s horn lit up again as she picked up the paper and quill with her magic. “Dear Twilight,” she said as she wrote.

“Yeah… Okay…” Spike said, taking a few breaths. “Uhhh… Okay. Dear Twilight. You may not remember me but we were… uh… friends in Magic Kindergarten…”

“Good, good,” Rarity said, writing it down.

Spike nodded. “Um… and I just wanted to check in with all my friends, following the Starburst Event.”

“Mm,” Rarity said. “I’ll throw in some line about how disaster can really put things in perspective.”

“Boy can it,” Spike agreed.

The quill scratched along the page and Rarity nodded. “Okay. And?”

“And…” Spike began to fidget with the tablecloth again. “And… I don’t know. Do I just say… how’s Spike?”

Rarity thought about it. “If she knows, she’ll answer. If she doesn’t then she’ll probably just think you’re confused.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Spike said.

Rarity scribbled with the quill. “How… is… Spike?”

Spike let go of the tablecloth. “Yeah. Okay. Now, uh… ask how are Shining Armor and her foalsitter Cadence. Just kind of bury it in there.”

“Done-and-done,” Rarity said and began to write. She tapped the page with the quill when she had finished. “Oh… Signed?”

“Uhhhhhhh…” Spike gaped for a long moment.

Rarity reached up and gently pushed his jaw shut again. “Signed, Rarity.”

Spike blinked at her.

“What?” she said. “I could have gone to kindergarten in Canterlot. She doesn’t know. I’m very sophisticated.” She flipped her mane and fluttered her eyelashes.

Spike suppressed a giggle. “Alright. Signed, Rarity. And it’ll give us a back story for when we go to visit later.”

“Should add my address? So she can mail us back.”

“If that’s alright.”

“No trouble at all.” Rarity scribbled the last lines and rolled up the paper with her magic, floating it gently back to Spike’s claws. Err… or hooves, still, actually. “There.”

“Well. Here goes,” Spike said.

He held the paper and closed his eyes, concentrating with al his might on Twilight’s mother. He remembered her purple and white mane and the way it had been styled when she was younger. He remembered her blue eyes and the way she would hum lullabies when it was late and she had lots of paperwork to sort through. He remembered the kindly mare who had managed to raise two stellar foals and somehow still have room in her house and in her heart for a silly little dragon as well.

Then Spike drew a deep breath and blew a stream of bright green fire onto the rolled up paper. It was a curious thing to see, coming from the pony disguise. And at the first touch of fire the letter sizzled into sparkling smoke and took off out the letter-slot of the front door.

“Well,” Spike said. “That’s a step in the right direction.”

“Is it gone?” Rarity asked.

They waited.

The flap on the letter-slot creaked until it settled again.

“I think it went through,” Spike said excitedly. “I think it worked.” He put his hooves to his muzzle and held back a squeak of joy. Then he got down and pulled Rarity into a hug. “Thankyou for helping,” he whispered.

“Awww,” Rarity said. “Shoo, shoo. Shadow Spade does not hug.”

“But Rarity does,” Spike said, squeezing her a little more.

“Yes she does,” Rarity said and hugged him back.

After a few seconds more she pushed him off with a shiver.

“Sorry, Spike. Your disguise illusion still feels all weird and magicky.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he said.

“Sorry,” Rarity said again. Then she blinked. “You know… I just realised we could have just written an ordinary letter to Twilight’s address.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

Then they shrugged and broke into giggles once more.