Then Goes the Neighborhoodby FanOfMostEverythingChaptersPicking Up Bad VibrationsA Sad GlimmerEpilogue: Advanced LandscapingPicking Up Bad VibrationsDr. Turner's history lessons made Sunset regret not studying this world's past before the Fall Formal. He didn't need magic to make the dry passages of the textbooks come to life, just a blend of enthusiasm and storytelling talent that made every class feel more like watching a performance than listening to a lecture. He paced behind his desk as he spoke. He hadn't stopped moving since he'd began the discussion on the nomadic tribes of central Neighsia. "They called him Khan of Khans, Immortal Khan, for they believed he did not die but instead left this soft world to seek more satisfying conquests." Dr. Turner smiled. "Given recent developments, there may be something to that. Regardless of how Tirejin left this world, without his leadership, the clans he'd gath— GAH!" He clutched his head and flinched back. A loud thump sounded, but Sunset Shimmer couldn't say for sure what caused it, her own vision reduced to a blur. Her skin prickled with heat and cold alike. She swayed in her seat, resting her hands on her desk to compensate for her lost equilibrium as she gasped for breath. Her stomach roiled. Her reflexive attempt to dissolve her body resulted only in fitful sparks from her headgem, making her breath even shallower in her panic. But worst of all... "Sunset!" "Goddess!" "Glorious Proclaimer!" Worst of all were the students who worshiped her. She could hear their chairs squeal and feet stomp as they approached, their reverence an almost physical weight that was the last thing she needed, their unspoken prayers roaring in her ears, their— Silence. Another body near hers, devoid of awe, pushing back the desk and easing her head between her knees. Hands holding back her hair. Something purple beneath her, with everything else tinted the same hue. "It's okay, Sunset," said Twilight. "They can't see or hear us." Sunset managed a "Thanks" before revisiting her lunch. After several heaves, Sunset caught her breath and waited for her guts to decide if they were through trying things the other way around. Once a consensus was reached, she tried reconstructing her body again. This time, it went without a hitch, her form dissolving and reassembling in an orange wave that flowed from her headgem to the soles of her feet, leaving her clean and with no aftertaste in her mouth. "What in Tartarus was that?" Twilight's own gem brightened a bit as she formed a lid over the bucket she'd crafted from magical force. "I was going to ask you the same thing." A hollow clanging made both girls look up. Dr. Turner stood on the other end of Twilight's shield, one hand holding the back of his head, the other forming the fist that had knocked on the dome, his mouth moving soundlessly. "Oh, right," said Twilight, who then dropped the shield. "—ectly reasonable sort of candy, even if they do come off as a bit infanticidal. And going by your expressions, you hit that sentence at the most ridiculous point." Dr. Turner managed a smile. "Don't suppose either of you can tell us what that was about?" Sunset glanced at his hourglass lapel pin. "If you were also affected, I think it was some sort of temporal distortion. A big one, in Equestria. Otherwise, I'd have caught it ahead of time. So to speak." "I see. More or less." Dr. Turner shook his head, then winced. "Mostly less, if I'm being honest. Now, there's only eight minutes and twenty... one seconds of class left and a lovely June day outside; I'd say you can all leave a bit early." A fair portion of the class fled at that. Sunset couldn't help but smile a little at Twilight's disapproving glare. "Personally," said Dr. Turner, "I'm going to pay Redheart a visit and see if those cold packs are for students only. Sunset?" She shook her head. "I'll be fine, sir." She looked around at the stragglers, all of whom had been invoking her earlier. Some averted their eyes. She preferred it when they did; then she didn't have to see the faintly manic gleam of faith. "Seriously, you don't need to hang around on my account." Dr. Turner frowned at them. "Come on, you lot, your goddess is fine. She said so herself." "I am and I did." "There, you see? If you can't trust your object of worship, who can you trust?" Sunset's supplicants slowly shuffled out. Dr. Turner nodded and immediately regretted it, going by the hand he put to the back of his head. He turned back to Twilight and Sunset, said, "Have a lovely day, you two," and followed the others out. Both waved. Once he was out of the classroom, Twilight turned to Sunset. "You're sure you're okay?" "This body's fresh. I'm fine. But thanks." Twilight nodded, then hefted the force bucket in her magic. "I'll go flush this before someone tries to make a relic out of it." Sunset rolled her eyes and started gathering her things. "They would, too. See you later, Twilight." "See you." Twilight turned and made for the nearest girls' bathroom with all due haste. It wasn't out of concern for the bucket; she could've maintained the telekinetic construct for hours. The reason was waiting for her in that restroom. Ditzy Doo had her arms crossed when Twilight entered the room. "For the record, I don't appreciate thoughts in my brain when I'm not the one thinking them." "Sorry. Sending a message that actually stimulates the auditory cortex is a lot trickier than just transmitting the information." Twilight released the bucket and flushed what might now be the world's most holy public toilet. "In any case, I need a favor." "I got that much." Ditzy's frown deepened. "This isn't going to involve electrodes in personal places again, is it?" "No. I need you to go to Equestria and activate the portal." "Uh huh. Why, exactly?" Twilight mentally rifled through her options and decided to try persuasion. "I can compensate you if necessary." That broke Ditzy's composure. Twilight noted that she'd probably gone for the wrong tactic, going by the other girl's incredulous expression. "It's nice of you to offer... I think. Still, I just want to know what to tell your pony princess self if she sees me. I get the feeling she doesn't appreciate people breaking into her house and messing with her stuff." "Oh. I see." It was logical. She certainly wouldn't appreciate finding someone rooting through her lab. "That temporal anomaly wouldn't have caught Sunset off-guard if it had originated in this universe. She believes that it occurred in Equestria, and I agree. It's the most likely explanation. But if I asked to borrow Sunset's quantum entanglement journal to ask P-Twilight, she'd just brush it off because she wouldn't want me to worry." "So that leaves Plan B for bubbles," said Ditzy. She bit her lip. "Though... are you sure you want to worry about this? It seems to have blown over." Twilight narrowed her eyes. "Someone should. For Sunset's sake." "Ah." Ditzy nodded. "I see. The portal will be open by the time you're at the statue." "Thank you." Ditzy saluted, spread her wings, and seemed to shrink away into nothing. Twilight gave a sharp nod and left the bathroom, clenching her fists as the incident replayed itself over and over in her mind. Something so powerful that it could be felt from another universe was troubling enough. That Sunset was the one affected made it even worse. To see someone so strong, so proud hit that hard; to see her sickened, frightened, humiliated... "Uh, Twilight?" "Are you... feeling quite alright, darling?" She turned her head. At some point, she'd reached the entrance hall of the school. Generosity and Laughter were— Twilight caught her own thought process and took stock of her situation. The edges of her vision had gone fuchsia, and she only then became aware of how she'd been floating a few inches off the ground for the past minute or so. She grounded herself figuratively and literally and gave Rarity and Pinkie a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Something happened to Sunset and I'm investigating." "Ah. That would explain things." "Like how your eyes were all..." Pinkie waved her hands around her own eyes as she looked for the words. "Shining with the white-hot intensity of a thousand stars?" said Rarity. Pinkie shrugged. "I was going to go with 'glowy,' but that works too." Rarity gave a proud smile before turning back to Twilight. "In any case, do give the other Twilight our regards. Such a shame she can't visit more often." "I will." Twilight took a deep breath. "Just need to remember to keep myself calm. Don't want the ponies to think I'm some monster. I'm sure they didn't mean to do whatever they did." She strode off, muttering, "They'd better not have." "So romantic. Going off to defend the honor of her beloved. Would that I had so devoted a swain." "I can still hear you, Rarity." "Consider it a compliment, dear!" Twilight couldn't help but grin as she made her way to the statue. She didn't even stop to test the portal; she just stuck an arm out to confirm that it was active as she walked in. The transition through it was as fascinating as the few trips she'd made before, moving in a direction her senses struggled to register along with the sharp tingle of the transforming spell reluctantly considering her sufficiently pony to enter Equestria unchanged. The momentum conservation after the moment of paradoxically speedy stillness still took some getting used to. Ditzy steadied Twilight as she half-tumbled out of the portal. The blonde grinned. "Not every day I'm helping someone else keep her balance." Twilight chuckled as Ditzy helped her back on her feet. "Thanks." "No problem. Also, I think I found part of the problem." "Oh?" "Yeah, on my way here, I saw seven universes on the opposite side of this one." Ditzy looked off to two sides and added, "You know, for a given definition of 'opposite' in high-dimensional space. Anyway, they definitely weren't here last time I checked. Not sure if they're the problem or just another side effect, but they're definitely new, and the Trees of Harmony coming out of them aren't looking healthy. Some of them..." She shuddered. "Some of them are very definitely dead." "Oh. Oh." Twilight didn't think of herself as an especially devout Harmonist, but even considering a dead Tree was horrifying. "Good to know, I guess?" "Figured you should." Ditzy looked at the portal. "Is it better to leave this thing on or off?" Twilight wasn't sure. "Better to turn it off." She definitely didn't know what just spoke through her lips. A soothing presence brushed against her mind before she could panic. Ditzy just turned off the portal, said "Good luck," and flew out of the universe. Twilight looked around. There was no one else there, just the crystalline walls of the castle itself. The castle that, according to her local analogue, was the offspring of the Tree of Harmony itself. "Am I speaking to the building?" Affirmation. "Not the strangest thing I've ever done. I don't suppose you know what caused the temporal anomaly?" Affirmation, firmer and angrier. Twilight felt her face twist into a snarl that wasn't entirely the castle's doing. "Well then. Guide the way." A gentle tug, a familiarity with the place not her own, guided her steps. As the baby dragon rushed past her to his own tiny throne, Starlight looked about the room and swallowed as the door swung shut behind her. "I know there's no excuse for what I did, but I want you all to know that I'm ready for whatever punishment you think is fair." Princess Twilight smiled sympathetically. "I've been thinking a lot about how badly Equestria fared without just one group of friends. Because even when one friendship dies, the results can be disastrous." "I know firsthoof how true that can be..." Starlight kicked at the floor, eyes downcast. "And that's why I've asked you here. If you're willing to learn, I'm willing to teach you what I know. You'll have the power to—" A rapid pounding drew all eyes to the throne room's doors, where a familiar voice shouted, "Hey, horse self! We need to talk!" Princess Twilight blinked and put on a clearly false smile. "Excuse me a second." She trotted to the doors and opened them a crack. "Oh! Hello, H-Twilight—" "Whatever temporal experiments you're doing, knock it off. The reverberations made Sunset vomit in the middle of history class." "Experi..." The smile reached new heights of artificiality. "Oh, yes. The temporal experiments. We're in the middle of wrapping those up right now. So if you could just—" "Really?" The rage had drained out of the other voice, and Starlight's eyes widened as she realized that it was Princess Twilight's, clearly audible even when the alicorn's mouth was shut. "Do you mind if I watch? You know, assuming you can keep the higher dimensional shockwaves tamped down." Princess Twilight gave a nervous little giggle. "Well, most of the magical and technical matters have been handled, and what's left is... kind of..." She rolled a hoof, trying to find a good word. "It's... it's a princess thing." "Politics?" The voice on the other side of the door sighed. "Well.... can you at least give me your notes? If you've already collected the data, we might as well get some use out of it." "Ah, well, I mean, I can see why you'd be interested, but—" "You did take notes, right?" Starlight felt herself take a step back from the door before she realized she had. Then she felt her jaw drop. She was now at an angle where she could see the alien creature on the other side of the door. "Like you said," said Princess Twilight. "Politics. Classified. I don't... It's really complicated and I really am in the middle of something important. I'll have to look through the files to see what I can tell you—" The other being groaned and held up a spindly paw. "Alright, alright. Just... look, as soon as you're done with that, we really need to talk. There's been some temporal fracturing." The princess's wings flared open as her eyes bugged out. "Temporal what!?" "Well, that tells me whether or not you meant to cause it. But yeah, whatever you were doing, you've made seven new universes." The Twilight-voiced entity hummed to itself. "We should definitely check to see how they interact with the por—" "OOOOKAY! That is important. Good to know. Look, go wait in the library, and I extra-especially Pinkie Promise I will explain everything when I'm done here. Okay? Okay." Princess Twilight punched herself in the face, slammed the door shut, and turned back to the assembled ponies. "So! As I was saying—" "Was that some sort of mutant minotaur?" Starlight asked. "Did you have some mutant minotaur baby?" "AS. I. WAS. SAYING." Twilight cleared her throat, schooling her expression into a polite smile. "Starlight Glimmer, I'd like for you to become my student and learn the magic of friendship." Starlight's mind finally managed to get past the strange being and immediately regretted it. "What was that she said about other worlds? Do all those other timelines still exist!?" "Magic of friendship!" Twilight shouted. "So you don't have to be alone anymore! What do you say?" Starlight's legs fell out from under her. "Sweet Celestia, what have I done?!" Twilight sighed, dragging a hoof down her face. "Okay, Starlight? Breathe. This isn't nearly as bad as the time I almost destroyed the universe. Atomic matter wouldn't have survived." Starlight just curled up into a ball. "Call me crazy, Twi," said the earth pony with the hat, "but I don't think that helped." Author's Note The section written from Starlight Glimmer's perspective was modified from the Group Precipitation story "Re-Markable," written by Masterweaver. A Sad GlimmerSpike poked his head into Starlight's room. A quick look around told him most of what he needed to know. Not much had changed from yesterday or from the day before, when he'd guided her to one of the castle's many guest rooms. The walls were bare of any personal touches, Starlight herself was a lump under the bed's covers, and the salad he'd left outside the door last night had barely been touched. She had eaten a little bit—by some process Spike didn't fully understand, making the salad made it his on some magical level, and he could catalog its contents at a glance—but only a few bites. His nose told him the rest. The sparse information he'd found about dragons never mentioned their sense of smell. Spike suspected that changing the usual "My teeth are like swords, my claws spears" boasts to include "My nose is like a chemical analysis lab" would disrupt the mood. Still, the comparison was apt, even if what he thought of the different smells didn't quite match what ponies thought of them. The locker-room mustiness of unwashed unicorn pervaded the room, along with the pleasant perfume of the castle's crystal. But lurking beneath both was the sinus-tingling scent of æther, effervescent as a freshly opened bottle of soda held up to a nostril. Spike sighed. "You don't have to teleport to the bathroom, you know." The lump didn't shift beyond the steady rhythm of its breathing. Spike shook his head, took the remains of Starlight's dinner, and left. Twilight waited for him a bit down the corridor, her wings fidgeting. "How's she doing?" Twilight stretched her neck over Spike even as she asked, as though trying to catch a glimpse of Starlight. Spike sighed. "Same as yesterday. She won't speak, she barely eats, and wherever she's going to do her business, she isn't bathing when she's there. The room's starting to smell like the old tower during finals prep week." Twilight winced as she remembered how she'd made more time in her schedule to study back then. "And every time I come in, she curls up and waits for regal judgement. I'd hoped that giving Starlight time to herself might help her come to grips with what she'd done, but she's just wallowing in it." "So, what are we going to do about it?" Twilight opened her mouth, but a flashing light on the tip of her horn cut her off. She snuffed it and said, "That spell's tied to Sunset's journal. I'm going to see what she wrote. You can start trying to get Starlight out of this rut." She smiled. "You have a lot of experience dealing with unicorns too powerful for their own good." Spike kept most of what he thought about that to himself, though he did permit himself a grin and a "Don't I know it." Starlight tried to tune out existence as best as she could, especially the scaly bit of existence that kept trying to feed her obvious lies about how she'd been forgiven for bringing untold suffering to seven times the world's population. She knew Twilight Sparkle was hopelessly sentimental, but nopony could get away with that kind of atrocity. Nopony should. Hoofsteps announced Twilight's approach outside of Starlight's self-imposed prison cell. Just because the new princess didn't have the guts to use her dungeon, that didn't mean that Starlight could let herself get away without some kind of punishment. Certainly not with a reward, assuming Twilight's offer of tutelage and patronage could be believed. Which, obviously, it couldn't. The world just didn't work that way. The dragon scampered closer to his mistress. Starlight paid a bit more attention, if only to know how thinly she had stretched the princess's patience. "Well?" "No good. She's completely unresponsive. If she didn't keep turning away from me, I'd have thought she was comatose." "You gave it your best shot, Spike. Let me take over." Hoofsteps approached Starlight. She squeezed her eyelids tighter. "Starlight?" Starlight said nothing. What was there to say? "Starlight, I'd like you to come with me." Starlight didn't move. Why bother? She'd get what was coming to her eventually. Fuchsia magic enveloped her and lifted her off the bed. She flinched a bit out of reflex, but hung limply once she got a grip on herself. The time had come. Time to face the music. Starlight opened her eyes and saw an eerily familiar forced smile on Twilight's lips. "Okay!" Twilight said with forced cheeriness to match her Our Town grin. "We're just going to take a little trip." She trotted through the castle, carefully steering Starlight clear of door frames. "Just to be clear, this isn't a banishment. The portal will be open the whole time. All I ask is that you stay in that dimension for the whole conversation." Starlight blinked a few times as the words penetrated her malaise. "Wait, what?" "You'll see. And hopefully, once you're through here, we can focus on your friendship studies! I've been putting together a small curriculum we can discuss upon your return." Starlight looked down at Twilight's face. The smile was little more than bared teeth, and the eyes spoke of something that could never be mistaken for sanity. "Doesn't that sound like fun?" Starlight realized that Twilight's imagination was far better than hers. To think, she’d thought being a princess’s pupil would be a reward. "... Yes?" "Wonderful!" Twilight pulled a lever. Starlight only then became aware of her surroundings, watching as the various devices around an ornate mirror churned to life. "Hold on, what is all of this?" "You'll see. And don't worry, almost no one in that world knows what you've done. Have fun!" "Doing wha—" Twilight tossed Starlight into the mirror midsentence. After a great deal of uncomfortable twisting and stretching, Starlight found herself on the ground in an almost wholly unfamiliar body, dressed in some rough, itchy garment that looked like it had begun life as a potato sack. "What?" She stared at the gangly things that had replaced her forehooves. "What?" She tried to get to all fours and found her body didn't much appreciate that. Something took her fetlocks in its own paws and helped her rear up, which her body seemed to accept. She stared into turquoise eyes and said, "What?" The face containing those eyes smiled. "Trust me, I know how you feel. I'm Sunset Shimmer, local Spirit of Harmony. You're Starlight Glimmer, right?" Starlight didn't trust herself not to speak in What. She just nodded. "Welcome to Earth, and to a human body. Be happy that you arrived after the upgrades." Sunset tapped the jewel set into her forehead. "This universe used to have next to no magic." "Why am I here?" "So we can discuss the outcome of your crimes against space-time." Starlight turned to the new voice and saw a frowning "human" in a suit that almost perfectly matched its mint-green skin. Sunset frowned at... her? It certainly sounded feminine. "Come on, Lyra. She clearly regrets what she's done. Just look at her outfit!" Lyra rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'll see if I can find any ashes or a whip to go with it. That doesn't change the fact that she's caused the biggest headache for the Bureau since Twilight read Starswirl's Unfinished Spell. At least most of those permutations merged back together into a single whole." Sunset crossed her forelegs. "I asked you here in the hopes that you'd put aside the grudge for five minutes." "Grudge? Grudge? Do you have any idea how many subjective hours of work that maniac has put me through?" Starlight winced. "Lyra," Sunset said sharply. Lyra took a deep breath. "I have literally not slept for a week. I am running on fumes and stimulant spells. You'll have to pardon me if I'm feeling less than compassionate." "Ignore them." A paw—no, hand, that was the term for minotaurs—on Starlight's withers brought her attention to the same "human" creature who she'd seen in the throne room a few days earlier, the one also named Twilight. "They've basically been having the same argument since they arrived here." "Uh..." Starlight fumbled for something to say. "Thanks?" "How are you handling all of this? I'd imagine that this is very disorienting for you." Starlight took a moment to think about that. "Well... huh. The disorientation is actually helping. It's distracting me from..." She looked away. "Well, you were there." "Right. The time-space magic. Speaking of." Twilight slapped her hands together, drawing the others' attention. "Okay! You two can argue in circles some other time. Right now, I'd like to know what the state of those other worldlines is, and I think Starlight would as well." The commanding tone finally made the last connection click in Starlight's mind. "Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?" The human Twilight gave her a confused look. "Uh, yes. I thought you knew." "I do now." "A Twilight, just not the Twilight you know. Yadda yadda, alternate universes, different dominant species and magic levels with the same soul harmonics, you get the drill. Now, onto business." The golden jewel in Lyra's forehead lit up and projected an image of several spheres. Two large ones floated opposite one another, one topped with a tree, the other with a human torso. Near the tree-topped sphere, on the side furthest from the other, was a cluster of seven smaller spheres. "Here. Equestria. The splinter worldlines." Lyra's finger moved from left to right along the diagram, jabbing at points of interest as she named them. "Any questions?" "Can those other worlds access this one?" said Sunset. "Not through the mirror portal. Princess Twilight was instrumental in taking you down back during the Fall Formal, to say nothing of her recovering the Element of Magic in the first place. Without her playing that key role, there's no telling what you might have gotten up to, but you certainly wouldn't have ascended to spirithood." Starlight stared at the illusion, at her unwitting, suffering creations. "Is there any way to fix this?" Lyra gave her a long, hard look. "Twilight tried. Several times. Those worldlines are like icebergs calved off of a glacier. You can't just glue them back on." Her features softened by a minute degree. "Well, it's not the best metaphor. Technically speaking, they all already existed. The probability of their existence had just been so low that they were nearly indistinguishable from the background of probability space. You basically just dug them out of the higher-dimensional muck, and we can't bury them again." "Oh." Starlight tried to tap her forehooves together, idly noting the novel sensation that produced. "Is there anything I can do to help with your workload?" A laugh burst out of Lyra before she could quash it. She gave a crooked grin. "You're making it really hard to stay mad at you, you know that?" Starlight turned to Twilight and Sunset. "Do I apologize here? I'm not sure if I'm supposed to or not." Twilight shrugged. "I just pretend I have social skills most of the time. It generally works out well." "Sure, when you're not crusading to defend my honor," said Sunset, nudging her with a knee. (Were they still called knees on arms?) Twilight flushed. "I only did it the one time." "No, I appreciated it. Really. Though you're awfully devout for someone who doesn't believe I'm a god." "That isn't devotion, it's friendship." "Textbook 'best friendship' if I'm any judge," Lyra said with a smirk. She turned to Starlight. "To answer your question, we've already done the lion's share of the work. Each bundle of worldlines you and your analogues created formed along very similar lines; most of them should fold into one another soon." Lyra's expression returned to its earlier scorn. "Besides, you do seem to sincerely regret your actions, but that doesn't mean I trust you with any kind of spacetime magic." "That's... entirely fair." "Still," said Sunset, "not bad as the time I almost destroyed two universes." "Huh. You know, Twilight said something similar. Uh, the real Twilight." Starlight gasped. "Other! Other Twilight!" Twilight—who Starlight saw as no more or less real than any other Twilight, really—just smiled. "We've had this discussion before. She and I just use P-Twilight. Can't seem to get anyone else to, though." Sunset shrugged. "Only one of you is a princess." She turned back to Starlight. "Come on. We'll take you to Rarity's. I'll tell you all about it while she makes you something more comfortable." "That sounds nice." Starlight squirmed. "This thing really itches. Thank you, for everything." Sunset smiled. "Speaking from experience, you'll find that getting beaten by Twilight was one of the best things that ever happened to you." Epilogue: Advanced LandscapingOur minds are not designed to comprehend the activities of crystalline spirit trees on the Astral Plane. As such, we must settle for a rough approximation of what will soon happen amidst its mists and beneath its strange stars, using humanized forms of the ones involved for the sake of convenience. From a certain point of view, the Tree of Harmony approached her daughter, who was in a mental state that approximated sitting and sulking with her arms crossed. Harmony put a proverbial hand on Junior's figurative shoulder and metaphorically said, "Hey, Honey. You doing okay?" Junior turned away, wrenched her toy-castle-shaped hat back into place, and huffed, "I'm fine." Harmony couldn't help but smile. "Oh dear. I had hoped that I wouldn't have to deal with an adolescent for another few centuries." Junior just rolled her eyes. "We really do need to talk, though." "Fine. It's not like I can talk to anyone else right now." Junior scowled at her bracelet, its large crystal disc marred by a few hairline cracks. "That's why we need to talk. You shouldn't have done that to the human Twilight. We should only guide, not command." Junior sprung up to her feet. "I can't guide if I can't talk to them! And they don't know anything about the Map! For all they know, it's supposed to never work again. If they're just going to leave me mute for the rest of my life, I might as well find some other way to communicate." Harmony shook her head. "There's communicating, and then there's directly nudging brains. That's a slippery slope you're on, young lady." "She didn't have to follow my directions." "No, but direct mental interfaces like that lead to dark places. Harmony has to be in balance with all things, including itself." Harmony shut her eyes. "Taking such a direct approach can lead to a bunch of empty, self-satisfied smiles not accomplishing anything." After a few moments of silence, Junior said, "You seem to know an awful lot about this." "We all have youthful indiscretions we're not proud of." Seeing that Junior still looked unsure, Harmony added, "The future's never very clear, but I can say with some confidence that they're going to know something's wrong in a matter of moons. Just trust them." "Well..." Junior heaved a sigh. "Okay. I guess." Harmony smiled. "Attagirl." There were no more once-upon-a-times in what once had been the magical land of Equestria. The sun was a dying ember, the moon a derelict wreck, and any timekeepers long dead. There were only the untended clouds above, the shifting dust below, and her coasting between them. She had accepted this state of affairs, had finished mourning the Equestria that had been. There had been anger and blame shifting. There had been desperate attempts to correct her mistake once she saw all else wither and die around her, long after her efforts might have made a difference. Now she drifted, her heart as cold and indifferent as the world she ruled by default. Something registered in her senses. Faint, yes, but a pin dropped in an otherwise silent auditorium. It took her a moment to place the sensation, and once she did, she nearly fell out of the sky in her shock. Magic. There was magic somewhere else. There could be life somewhere else. She pumped her wings, even her muscles aching in protest after their long motionlessness. She paid no heed to the discomfort, intent on the possibility of something else, someone else out there. In her long transit, she noted that she had no idea what she might do when she finally found it. Another flare of magic spurred her onward, helped steer her toward the source after she had drifted a bit off-course. And when she arrived... Nothing. No motion. She snarled and landed hard enough to crack the dead earth. A bare husk of a tree fell over, catching her eye. It brought to mind another tree, how she had watched its colors fade, watched it crumble into dead stone. She never saw the blast. She just felt her moon-marked crown heat up, and then the fallen trunk became splinters and flames that dwindled to cinders even as she watched. Snarling, she turned to go, when she noticed that there was something else there, a low table made from a painfully familiar material. It still glittered weakly, but the poor light and scouring breeze were doing their best to change that. The crown burned against her skull once more as she erected a shield. She opened the saddlebags she'd never been able to leave behind. From one pocket, she pulled out crumbling chunks of the Tree of Harmony. From the other, she pulled out its fruit. She arranged five of the Elements on the table. The sixth she left in her crown for now. She still needed the power; there was no telling if the broken portal would pull her magic from her otherwise. Besides, the crown itself had long since fused to her skull. She took a deep breath. "Well," she said, her voice creaking from long disuse, "let's begin." And Sunset Shimmer, demon queen of dust, began to experiment.
Picking Up Bad VibrationsDr. Turner's history lessons made Sunset regret not studying this world's past before the Fall Formal. He didn't need magic to make the dry passages of the textbooks come to life, just a blend of enthusiasm and storytelling talent that made every class feel more like watching a performance than listening to a lecture. He paced behind his desk as he spoke. He hadn't stopped moving since he'd began the discussion on the nomadic tribes of central Neighsia. "They called him Khan of Khans, Immortal Khan, for they believed he did not die but instead left this soft world to seek more satisfying conquests." Dr. Turner smiled. "Given recent developments, there may be something to that. Regardless of how Tirejin left this world, without his leadership, the clans he'd gath— GAH!" He clutched his head and flinched back. A loud thump sounded, but Sunset Shimmer couldn't say for sure what caused it, her own vision reduced to a blur. Her skin prickled with heat and cold alike. She swayed in her seat, resting her hands on her desk to compensate for her lost equilibrium as she gasped for breath. Her stomach roiled. Her reflexive attempt to dissolve her body resulted only in fitful sparks from her headgem, making her breath even shallower in her panic. But worst of all... "Sunset!" "Goddess!" "Glorious Proclaimer!" Worst of all were the students who worshiped her. She could hear their chairs squeal and feet stomp as they approached, their reverence an almost physical weight that was the last thing she needed, their unspoken prayers roaring in her ears, their— Silence. Another body near hers, devoid of awe, pushing back the desk and easing her head between her knees. Hands holding back her hair. Something purple beneath her, with everything else tinted the same hue. "It's okay, Sunset," said Twilight. "They can't see or hear us." Sunset managed a "Thanks" before revisiting her lunch. After several heaves, Sunset caught her breath and waited for her guts to decide if they were through trying things the other way around. Once a consensus was reached, she tried reconstructing her body again. This time, it went without a hitch, her form dissolving and reassembling in an orange wave that flowed from her headgem to the soles of her feet, leaving her clean and with no aftertaste in her mouth. "What in Tartarus was that?" Twilight's own gem brightened a bit as she formed a lid over the bucket she'd crafted from magical force. "I was going to ask you the same thing." A hollow clanging made both girls look up. Dr. Turner stood on the other end of Twilight's shield, one hand holding the back of his head, the other forming the fist that had knocked on the dome, his mouth moving soundlessly. "Oh, right," said Twilight, who then dropped the shield. "—ectly reasonable sort of candy, even if they do come off as a bit infanticidal. And going by your expressions, you hit that sentence at the most ridiculous point." Dr. Turner managed a smile. "Don't suppose either of you can tell us what that was about?" Sunset glanced at his hourglass lapel pin. "If you were also affected, I think it was some sort of temporal distortion. A big one, in Equestria. Otherwise, I'd have caught it ahead of time. So to speak." "I see. More or less." Dr. Turner shook his head, then winced. "Mostly less, if I'm being honest. Now, there's only eight minutes and twenty... one seconds of class left and a lovely June day outside; I'd say you can all leave a bit early." A fair portion of the class fled at that. Sunset couldn't help but smile a little at Twilight's disapproving glare. "Personally," said Dr. Turner, "I'm going to pay Redheart a visit and see if those cold packs are for students only. Sunset?" She shook her head. "I'll be fine, sir." She looked around at the stragglers, all of whom had been invoking her earlier. Some averted their eyes. She preferred it when they did; then she didn't have to see the faintly manic gleam of faith. "Seriously, you don't need to hang around on my account." Dr. Turner frowned at them. "Come on, you lot, your goddess is fine. She said so herself." "I am and I did." "There, you see? If you can't trust your object of worship, who can you trust?" Sunset's supplicants slowly shuffled out. Dr. Turner nodded and immediately regretted it, going by the hand he put to the back of his head. He turned back to Twilight and Sunset, said, "Have a lovely day, you two," and followed the others out. Both waved. Once he was out of the classroom, Twilight turned to Sunset. "You're sure you're okay?" "This body's fresh. I'm fine. But thanks." Twilight nodded, then hefted the force bucket in her magic. "I'll go flush this before someone tries to make a relic out of it." Sunset rolled her eyes and started gathering her things. "They would, too. See you later, Twilight." "See you." Twilight turned and made for the nearest girls' bathroom with all due haste. It wasn't out of concern for the bucket; she could've maintained the telekinetic construct for hours. The reason was waiting for her in that restroom. Ditzy Doo had her arms crossed when Twilight entered the room. "For the record, I don't appreciate thoughts in my brain when I'm not the one thinking them." "Sorry. Sending a message that actually stimulates the auditory cortex is a lot trickier than just transmitting the information." Twilight released the bucket and flushed what might now be the world's most holy public toilet. "In any case, I need a favor." "I got that much." Ditzy's frown deepened. "This isn't going to involve electrodes in personal places again, is it?" "No. I need you to go to Equestria and activate the portal." "Uh huh. Why, exactly?" Twilight mentally rifled through her options and decided to try persuasion. "I can compensate you if necessary." That broke Ditzy's composure. Twilight noted that she'd probably gone for the wrong tactic, going by the other girl's incredulous expression. "It's nice of you to offer... I think. Still, I just want to know what to tell your pony princess self if she sees me. I get the feeling she doesn't appreciate people breaking into her house and messing with her stuff." "Oh. I see." It was logical. She certainly wouldn't appreciate finding someone rooting through her lab. "That temporal anomaly wouldn't have caught Sunset off-guard if it had originated in this universe. She believes that it occurred in Equestria, and I agree. It's the most likely explanation. But if I asked to borrow Sunset's quantum entanglement journal to ask P-Twilight, she'd just brush it off because she wouldn't want me to worry." "So that leaves Plan B for bubbles," said Ditzy. She bit her lip. "Though... are you sure you want to worry about this? It seems to have blown over." Twilight narrowed her eyes. "Someone should. For Sunset's sake." "Ah." Ditzy nodded. "I see. The portal will be open by the time you're at the statue." "Thank you." Ditzy saluted, spread her wings, and seemed to shrink away into nothing. Twilight gave a sharp nod and left the bathroom, clenching her fists as the incident replayed itself over and over in her mind. Something so powerful that it could be felt from another universe was troubling enough. That Sunset was the one affected made it even worse. To see someone so strong, so proud hit that hard; to see her sickened, frightened, humiliated... "Uh, Twilight?" "Are you... feeling quite alright, darling?" She turned her head. At some point, she'd reached the entrance hall of the school. Generosity and Laughter were— Twilight caught her own thought process and took stock of her situation. The edges of her vision had gone fuchsia, and she only then became aware of how she'd been floating a few inches off the ground for the past minute or so. She grounded herself figuratively and literally and gave Rarity and Pinkie a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Something happened to Sunset and I'm investigating." "Ah. That would explain things." "Like how your eyes were all..." Pinkie waved her hands around her own eyes as she looked for the words. "Shining with the white-hot intensity of a thousand stars?" said Rarity. Pinkie shrugged. "I was going to go with 'glowy,' but that works too." Rarity gave a proud smile before turning back to Twilight. "In any case, do give the other Twilight our regards. Such a shame she can't visit more often." "I will." Twilight took a deep breath. "Just need to remember to keep myself calm. Don't want the ponies to think I'm some monster. I'm sure they didn't mean to do whatever they did." She strode off, muttering, "They'd better not have." "So romantic. Going off to defend the honor of her beloved. Would that I had so devoted a swain." "I can still hear you, Rarity." "Consider it a compliment, dear!" Twilight couldn't help but grin as she made her way to the statue. She didn't even stop to test the portal; she just stuck an arm out to confirm that it was active as she walked in. The transition through it was as fascinating as the few trips she'd made before, moving in a direction her senses struggled to register along with the sharp tingle of the transforming spell reluctantly considering her sufficiently pony to enter Equestria unchanged. The momentum conservation after the moment of paradoxically speedy stillness still took some getting used to. Ditzy steadied Twilight as she half-tumbled out of the portal. The blonde grinned. "Not every day I'm helping someone else keep her balance." Twilight chuckled as Ditzy helped her back on her feet. "Thanks." "No problem. Also, I think I found part of the problem." "Oh?" "Yeah, on my way here, I saw seven universes on the opposite side of this one." Ditzy looked off to two sides and added, "You know, for a given definition of 'opposite' in high-dimensional space. Anyway, they definitely weren't here last time I checked. Not sure if they're the problem or just another side effect, but they're definitely new, and the Trees of Harmony coming out of them aren't looking healthy. Some of them..." She shuddered. "Some of them are very definitely dead." "Oh. Oh." Twilight didn't think of herself as an especially devout Harmonist, but even considering a dead Tree was horrifying. "Good to know, I guess?" "Figured you should." Ditzy looked at the portal. "Is it better to leave this thing on or off?" Twilight wasn't sure. "Better to turn it off." She definitely didn't know what just spoke through her lips. A soothing presence brushed against her mind before she could panic. Ditzy just turned off the portal, said "Good luck," and flew out of the universe. Twilight looked around. There was no one else there, just the crystalline walls of the castle itself. The castle that, according to her local analogue, was the offspring of the Tree of Harmony itself. "Am I speaking to the building?" Affirmation. "Not the strangest thing I've ever done. I don't suppose you know what caused the temporal anomaly?" Affirmation, firmer and angrier. Twilight felt her face twist into a snarl that wasn't entirely the castle's doing. "Well then. Guide the way." A gentle tug, a familiarity with the place not her own, guided her steps. As the baby dragon rushed past her to his own tiny throne, Starlight looked about the room and swallowed as the door swung shut behind her. "I know there's no excuse for what I did, but I want you all to know that I'm ready for whatever punishment you think is fair." Princess Twilight smiled sympathetically. "I've been thinking a lot about how badly Equestria fared without just one group of friends. Because even when one friendship dies, the results can be disastrous." "I know firsthoof how true that can be..." Starlight kicked at the floor, eyes downcast. "And that's why I've asked you here. If you're willing to learn, I'm willing to teach you what I know. You'll have the power to—" A rapid pounding drew all eyes to the throne room's doors, where a familiar voice shouted, "Hey, horse self! We need to talk!" Princess Twilight blinked and put on a clearly false smile. "Excuse me a second." She trotted to the doors and opened them a crack. "Oh! Hello, H-Twilight—" "Whatever temporal experiments you're doing, knock it off. The reverberations made Sunset vomit in the middle of history class." "Experi..." The smile reached new heights of artificiality. "Oh, yes. The temporal experiments. We're in the middle of wrapping those up right now. So if you could just—" "Really?" The rage had drained out of the other voice, and Starlight's eyes widened as she realized that it was Princess Twilight's, clearly audible even when the alicorn's mouth was shut. "Do you mind if I watch? You know, assuming you can keep the higher dimensional shockwaves tamped down." Princess Twilight gave a nervous little giggle. "Well, most of the magical and technical matters have been handled, and what's left is... kind of..." She rolled a hoof, trying to find a good word. "It's... it's a princess thing." "Politics?" The voice on the other side of the door sighed. "Well.... can you at least give me your notes? If you've already collected the data, we might as well get some use out of it." "Ah, well, I mean, I can see why you'd be interested, but—" "You did take notes, right?" Starlight felt herself take a step back from the door before she realized she had. Then she felt her jaw drop. She was now at an angle where she could see the alien creature on the other side of the door. "Like you said," said Princess Twilight. "Politics. Classified. I don't... It's really complicated and I really am in the middle of something important. I'll have to look through the files to see what I can tell you—" The other being groaned and held up a spindly paw. "Alright, alright. Just... look, as soon as you're done with that, we really need to talk. There's been some temporal fracturing." The princess's wings flared open as her eyes bugged out. "Temporal what!?" "Well, that tells me whether or not you meant to cause it. But yeah, whatever you were doing, you've made seven new universes." The Twilight-voiced entity hummed to itself. "We should definitely check to see how they interact with the por—" "OOOOKAY! That is important. Good to know. Look, go wait in the library, and I extra-especially Pinkie Promise I will explain everything when I'm done here. Okay? Okay." Princess Twilight punched herself in the face, slammed the door shut, and turned back to the assembled ponies. "So! As I was saying—" "Was that some sort of mutant minotaur?" Starlight asked. "Did you have some mutant minotaur baby?" "AS. I. WAS. SAYING." Twilight cleared her throat, schooling her expression into a polite smile. "Starlight Glimmer, I'd like for you to become my student and learn the magic of friendship." Starlight's mind finally managed to get past the strange being and immediately regretted it. "What was that she said about other worlds? Do all those other timelines still exist!?" "Magic of friendship!" Twilight shouted. "So you don't have to be alone anymore! What do you say?" Starlight's legs fell out from under her. "Sweet Celestia, what have I done?!" Twilight sighed, dragging a hoof down her face. "Okay, Starlight? Breathe. This isn't nearly as bad as the time I almost destroyed the universe. Atomic matter wouldn't have survived." Starlight just curled up into a ball. "Call me crazy, Twi," said the earth pony with the hat, "but I don't think that helped." Author's Note The section written from Starlight Glimmer's perspective was modified from the Group Precipitation story "Re-Markable," written by Masterweaver.
A Sad GlimmerSpike poked his head into Starlight's room. A quick look around told him most of what he needed to know. Not much had changed from yesterday or from the day before, when he'd guided her to one of the castle's many guest rooms. The walls were bare of any personal touches, Starlight herself was a lump under the bed's covers, and the salad he'd left outside the door last night had barely been touched. She had eaten a little bit—by some process Spike didn't fully understand, making the salad made it his on some magical level, and he could catalog its contents at a glance—but only a few bites. His nose told him the rest. The sparse information he'd found about dragons never mentioned their sense of smell. Spike suspected that changing the usual "My teeth are like swords, my claws spears" boasts to include "My nose is like a chemical analysis lab" would disrupt the mood. Still, the comparison was apt, even if what he thought of the different smells didn't quite match what ponies thought of them. The locker-room mustiness of unwashed unicorn pervaded the room, along with the pleasant perfume of the castle's crystal. But lurking beneath both was the sinus-tingling scent of æther, effervescent as a freshly opened bottle of soda held up to a nostril. Spike sighed. "You don't have to teleport to the bathroom, you know." The lump didn't shift beyond the steady rhythm of its breathing. Spike shook his head, took the remains of Starlight's dinner, and left. Twilight waited for him a bit down the corridor, her wings fidgeting. "How's she doing?" Twilight stretched her neck over Spike even as she asked, as though trying to catch a glimpse of Starlight. Spike sighed. "Same as yesterday. She won't speak, she barely eats, and wherever she's going to do her business, she isn't bathing when she's there. The room's starting to smell like the old tower during finals prep week." Twilight winced as she remembered how she'd made more time in her schedule to study back then. "And every time I come in, she curls up and waits for regal judgement. I'd hoped that giving Starlight time to herself might help her come to grips with what she'd done, but she's just wallowing in it." "So, what are we going to do about it?" Twilight opened her mouth, but a flashing light on the tip of her horn cut her off. She snuffed it and said, "That spell's tied to Sunset's journal. I'm going to see what she wrote. You can start trying to get Starlight out of this rut." She smiled. "You have a lot of experience dealing with unicorns too powerful for their own good." Spike kept most of what he thought about that to himself, though he did permit himself a grin and a "Don't I know it." Starlight tried to tune out existence as best as she could, especially the scaly bit of existence that kept trying to feed her obvious lies about how she'd been forgiven for bringing untold suffering to seven times the world's population. She knew Twilight Sparkle was hopelessly sentimental, but nopony could get away with that kind of atrocity. Nopony should. Hoofsteps announced Twilight's approach outside of Starlight's self-imposed prison cell. Just because the new princess didn't have the guts to use her dungeon, that didn't mean that Starlight could let herself get away without some kind of punishment. Certainly not with a reward, assuming Twilight's offer of tutelage and patronage could be believed. Which, obviously, it couldn't. The world just didn't work that way. The dragon scampered closer to his mistress. Starlight paid a bit more attention, if only to know how thinly she had stretched the princess's patience. "Well?" "No good. She's completely unresponsive. If she didn't keep turning away from me, I'd have thought she was comatose." "You gave it your best shot, Spike. Let me take over." Hoofsteps approached Starlight. She squeezed her eyelids tighter. "Starlight?" Starlight said nothing. What was there to say? "Starlight, I'd like you to come with me." Starlight didn't move. Why bother? She'd get what was coming to her eventually. Fuchsia magic enveloped her and lifted her off the bed. She flinched a bit out of reflex, but hung limply once she got a grip on herself. The time had come. Time to face the music. Starlight opened her eyes and saw an eerily familiar forced smile on Twilight's lips. "Okay!" Twilight said with forced cheeriness to match her Our Town grin. "We're just going to take a little trip." She trotted through the castle, carefully steering Starlight clear of door frames. "Just to be clear, this isn't a banishment. The portal will be open the whole time. All I ask is that you stay in that dimension for the whole conversation." Starlight blinked a few times as the words penetrated her malaise. "Wait, what?" "You'll see. And hopefully, once you're through here, we can focus on your friendship studies! I've been putting together a small curriculum we can discuss upon your return." Starlight looked down at Twilight's face. The smile was little more than bared teeth, and the eyes spoke of something that could never be mistaken for sanity. "Doesn't that sound like fun?" Starlight realized that Twilight's imagination was far better than hers. To think, she’d thought being a princess’s pupil would be a reward. "... Yes?" "Wonderful!" Twilight pulled a lever. Starlight only then became aware of her surroundings, watching as the various devices around an ornate mirror churned to life. "Hold on, what is all of this?" "You'll see. And don't worry, almost no one in that world knows what you've done. Have fun!" "Doing wha—" Twilight tossed Starlight into the mirror midsentence. After a great deal of uncomfortable twisting and stretching, Starlight found herself on the ground in an almost wholly unfamiliar body, dressed in some rough, itchy garment that looked like it had begun life as a potato sack. "What?" She stared at the gangly things that had replaced her forehooves. "What?" She tried to get to all fours and found her body didn't much appreciate that. Something took her fetlocks in its own paws and helped her rear up, which her body seemed to accept. She stared into turquoise eyes and said, "What?" The face containing those eyes smiled. "Trust me, I know how you feel. I'm Sunset Shimmer, local Spirit of Harmony. You're Starlight Glimmer, right?" Starlight didn't trust herself not to speak in What. She just nodded. "Welcome to Earth, and to a human body. Be happy that you arrived after the upgrades." Sunset tapped the jewel set into her forehead. "This universe used to have next to no magic." "Why am I here?" "So we can discuss the outcome of your crimes against space-time." Starlight turned to the new voice and saw a frowning "human" in a suit that almost perfectly matched its mint-green skin. Sunset frowned at... her? It certainly sounded feminine. "Come on, Lyra. She clearly regrets what she's done. Just look at her outfit!" Lyra rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'll see if I can find any ashes or a whip to go with it. That doesn't change the fact that she's caused the biggest headache for the Bureau since Twilight read Starswirl's Unfinished Spell. At least most of those permutations merged back together into a single whole." Sunset crossed her forelegs. "I asked you here in the hopes that you'd put aside the grudge for five minutes." "Grudge? Grudge? Do you have any idea how many subjective hours of work that maniac has put me through?" Starlight winced. "Lyra," Sunset said sharply. Lyra took a deep breath. "I have literally not slept for a week. I am running on fumes and stimulant spells. You'll have to pardon me if I'm feeling less than compassionate." "Ignore them." A paw—no, hand, that was the term for minotaurs—on Starlight's withers brought her attention to the same "human" creature who she'd seen in the throne room a few days earlier, the one also named Twilight. "They've basically been having the same argument since they arrived here." "Uh..." Starlight fumbled for something to say. "Thanks?" "How are you handling all of this? I'd imagine that this is very disorienting for you." Starlight took a moment to think about that. "Well... huh. The disorientation is actually helping. It's distracting me from..." She looked away. "Well, you were there." "Right. The time-space magic. Speaking of." Twilight slapped her hands together, drawing the others' attention. "Okay! You two can argue in circles some other time. Right now, I'd like to know what the state of those other worldlines is, and I think Starlight would as well." The commanding tone finally made the last connection click in Starlight's mind. "Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?" The human Twilight gave her a confused look. "Uh, yes. I thought you knew." "I do now." "A Twilight, just not the Twilight you know. Yadda yadda, alternate universes, different dominant species and magic levels with the same soul harmonics, you get the drill. Now, onto business." The golden jewel in Lyra's forehead lit up and projected an image of several spheres. Two large ones floated opposite one another, one topped with a tree, the other with a human torso. Near the tree-topped sphere, on the side furthest from the other, was a cluster of seven smaller spheres. "Here. Equestria. The splinter worldlines." Lyra's finger moved from left to right along the diagram, jabbing at points of interest as she named them. "Any questions?" "Can those other worlds access this one?" said Sunset. "Not through the mirror portal. Princess Twilight was instrumental in taking you down back during the Fall Formal, to say nothing of her recovering the Element of Magic in the first place. Without her playing that key role, there's no telling what you might have gotten up to, but you certainly wouldn't have ascended to spirithood." Starlight stared at the illusion, at her unwitting, suffering creations. "Is there any way to fix this?" Lyra gave her a long, hard look. "Twilight tried. Several times. Those worldlines are like icebergs calved off of a glacier. You can't just glue them back on." Her features softened by a minute degree. "Well, it's not the best metaphor. Technically speaking, they all already existed. The probability of their existence had just been so low that they were nearly indistinguishable from the background of probability space. You basically just dug them out of the higher-dimensional muck, and we can't bury them again." "Oh." Starlight tried to tap her forehooves together, idly noting the novel sensation that produced. "Is there anything I can do to help with your workload?" A laugh burst out of Lyra before she could quash it. She gave a crooked grin. "You're making it really hard to stay mad at you, you know that?" Starlight turned to Twilight and Sunset. "Do I apologize here? I'm not sure if I'm supposed to or not." Twilight shrugged. "I just pretend I have social skills most of the time. It generally works out well." "Sure, when you're not crusading to defend my honor," said Sunset, nudging her with a knee. (Were they still called knees on arms?) Twilight flushed. "I only did it the one time." "No, I appreciated it. Really. Though you're awfully devout for someone who doesn't believe I'm a god." "That isn't devotion, it's friendship." "Textbook 'best friendship' if I'm any judge," Lyra said with a smirk. She turned to Starlight. "To answer your question, we've already done the lion's share of the work. Each bundle of worldlines you and your analogues created formed along very similar lines; most of them should fold into one another soon." Lyra's expression returned to its earlier scorn. "Besides, you do seem to sincerely regret your actions, but that doesn't mean I trust you with any kind of spacetime magic." "That's... entirely fair." "Still," said Sunset, "not bad as the time I almost destroyed two universes." "Huh. You know, Twilight said something similar. Uh, the real Twilight." Starlight gasped. "Other! Other Twilight!" Twilight—who Starlight saw as no more or less real than any other Twilight, really—just smiled. "We've had this discussion before. She and I just use P-Twilight. Can't seem to get anyone else to, though." Sunset shrugged. "Only one of you is a princess." She turned back to Starlight. "Come on. We'll take you to Rarity's. I'll tell you all about it while she makes you something more comfortable." "That sounds nice." Starlight squirmed. "This thing really itches. Thank you, for everything." Sunset smiled. "Speaking from experience, you'll find that getting beaten by Twilight was one of the best things that ever happened to you."
Epilogue: Advanced LandscapingOur minds are not designed to comprehend the activities of crystalline spirit trees on the Astral Plane. As such, we must settle for a rough approximation of what will soon happen amidst its mists and beneath its strange stars, using humanized forms of the ones involved for the sake of convenience. From a certain point of view, the Tree of Harmony approached her daughter, who was in a mental state that approximated sitting and sulking with her arms crossed. Harmony put a proverbial hand on Junior's figurative shoulder and metaphorically said, "Hey, Honey. You doing okay?" Junior turned away, wrenched her toy-castle-shaped hat back into place, and huffed, "I'm fine." Harmony couldn't help but smile. "Oh dear. I had hoped that I wouldn't have to deal with an adolescent for another few centuries." Junior just rolled her eyes. "We really do need to talk, though." "Fine. It's not like I can talk to anyone else right now." Junior scowled at her bracelet, its large crystal disc marred by a few hairline cracks. "That's why we need to talk. You shouldn't have done that to the human Twilight. We should only guide, not command." Junior sprung up to her feet. "I can't guide if I can't talk to them! And they don't know anything about the Map! For all they know, it's supposed to never work again. If they're just going to leave me mute for the rest of my life, I might as well find some other way to communicate." Harmony shook her head. "There's communicating, and then there's directly nudging brains. That's a slippery slope you're on, young lady." "She didn't have to follow my directions." "No, but direct mental interfaces like that lead to dark places. Harmony has to be in balance with all things, including itself." Harmony shut her eyes. "Taking such a direct approach can lead to a bunch of empty, self-satisfied smiles not accomplishing anything." After a few moments of silence, Junior said, "You seem to know an awful lot about this." "We all have youthful indiscretions we're not proud of." Seeing that Junior still looked unsure, Harmony added, "The future's never very clear, but I can say with some confidence that they're going to know something's wrong in a matter of moons. Just trust them." "Well..." Junior heaved a sigh. "Okay. I guess." Harmony smiled. "Attagirl." There were no more once-upon-a-times in what once had been the magical land of Equestria. The sun was a dying ember, the moon a derelict wreck, and any timekeepers long dead. There were only the untended clouds above, the shifting dust below, and her coasting between them. She had accepted this state of affairs, had finished mourning the Equestria that had been. There had been anger and blame shifting. There had been desperate attempts to correct her mistake once she saw all else wither and die around her, long after her efforts might have made a difference. Now she drifted, her heart as cold and indifferent as the world she ruled by default. Something registered in her senses. Faint, yes, but a pin dropped in an otherwise silent auditorium. It took her a moment to place the sensation, and once she did, she nearly fell out of the sky in her shock. Magic. There was magic somewhere else. There could be life somewhere else. She pumped her wings, even her muscles aching in protest after their long motionlessness. She paid no heed to the discomfort, intent on the possibility of something else, someone else out there. In her long transit, she noted that she had no idea what she might do when she finally found it. Another flare of magic spurred her onward, helped steer her toward the source after she had drifted a bit off-course. And when she arrived... Nothing. No motion. She snarled and landed hard enough to crack the dead earth. A bare husk of a tree fell over, catching her eye. It brought to mind another tree, how she had watched its colors fade, watched it crumble into dead stone. She never saw the blast. She just felt her moon-marked crown heat up, and then the fallen trunk became splinters and flames that dwindled to cinders even as she watched. Snarling, she turned to go, when she noticed that there was something else there, a low table made from a painfully familiar material. It still glittered weakly, but the poor light and scouring breeze were doing their best to change that. The crown burned against her skull once more as she erected a shield. She opened the saddlebags she'd never been able to leave behind. From one pocket, she pulled out crumbling chunks of the Tree of Harmony. From the other, she pulled out its fruit. She arranged five of the Elements on the table. The sixth she left in her crown for now. She still needed the power; there was no telling if the broken portal would pull her magic from her otherwise. Besides, the crown itself had long since fused to her skull. She took a deep breath. "Well," she said, her voice creaking from long disuse, "let's begin." And Sunset Shimmer, demon queen of dust, began to experiment.
