Adagio

Chapters

Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII [Draft]
Chapter IX [Draft]
Chapter X [Draft]
Chapter XI [Draft]
Chapter XII [Draft]

Chapter I

Adagio laid dreamily at the bottom of a murky lake, underneath the paranoid eyes of a gathering of ponies. They watched her from above, hiding behind a thin sheet of crystal that stretched over the surface of the lake. A minute ago, her song had turned their fear into love, but then she had gone silent and they’d all snapped back to their wary staring.

She didn’t understand why the ponies looked at her so differently when she closed her mouth. Her song was still there, as real as when it came out of her throat. It danced and undulated through her world, as tangible a thing to her eyes as any pony or crystal around her.

One pony stood closer than all the others; with a strong, deep voice, he asked her to sing again, but the voice of the gem in her chest was far, far sweeter. Don’t sing for them, it whispered to her. Not yet. They do not deserve to hear it.

There was more. Adagio knew there was. Something was missing, something important. She didn’t know what it was, just that it existed, that she didn’t have it.

But she’d already searched her whole lake. And still there was that feeling, that knowledge that she was less than whole.

The song in her head turned into a gentle, soothing lullaby, petting her scales, coaxing her to lay down her weary head and wrap her coils around herself.

Rest. Your time is coming. Very soon now.

She didn’t know what any of that meant, but she trusted her gem, trusted the song dwelling inside it. They loved her, no matter how many ponies did not. They would always love her.

She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since she laid down. Only minutes, or maybe hours, or even longer. But, somewhere down the line, a strange, alien sound reached her ears and she saw glinting shards of broken crystal falling in slow motion through the water all around her.

When she looked up, she saw what had been missing. Two things that looked very much like her, diving down through that sheet of crystal like angels swooping to her side. They greeted her with a song she had known her whole life, and she responded in kind.

Clarity she never knew she’d been lacking came to her song. It seemed more solid than before, less like an ethereal veil around her and more like a third and fourth and countless more limbs.

Go, a voice whispered to her. Not the one she’d known, but comforting and familiar all the same. Powerful, like a crackling fire. She knew it was that voice that had sundered the crystal wall. We will follow.

Help us be beautiful, another familiar voice said. That one was soft and delicate, like a flower riding a ripple. It was that voice that tugged on her, encouraging her to rise.

Powerful swipes of her fluked tail sent her rushing towards the surface, then hurtling out into open air, where her scales glimmered underneath a canvas of stars.

There were ponies beneath her, fear filling their eyes.

But she knew what to do about that.

With her angels and her song by her side, she dove, soared and knew she’d found her place in the world.

Adagio slouched in her chair, leaning against a window, lazily cradling a glass of sloshing red wine in one hand. Her other hovered by her neck, fingers running over a locket of polished silver—her fingertips tingled slightly, and she couldn’t remember how many drinks ago they’d started doing that. A dangling lamp lit her table, she caught glimpses of waiters scurrying about, and the sounds of prattling mortals creeping closer to death one breath at a time bombarded her ears.

She glanced towards the front door—the only entrance to the restaurant, as far as she knew—stared for a moment, took a gulp from her glass, and paused.

Still thinking, she realized a moment later. That night, that meant she hadn’t drank enough.

She glared at her glass before setting it aside. There was plenty of time left in the night to drink herself blind. If she stuck around, anyway.

To distract herself from the glass, she took up her locket, resting it in her palm, glancing about briefly before cracking it open. The ruby shards inside were small, most no larger than teeth, and their voice had long since gone silent, but when she slipped a finger inside and touched them, she knew that they still loved her. Even in their mangled state, far too weak to speak to her, let alone sing, she could feel them assuring her that everything would be alright. Just like they’d always done.

For a few moments, she felt herself smiling, a small ember of hope kindled in her breast. It didn’t last long, though; when she looked towards the door again, she felt like it just wasn’t enough.

Rolling her eyes, curling her lip, flipping her locket closed and letting it dangle, she looked away from the door, out the window, and spotted the distinctive hair of someone she’d rather forget.

Sunset stared. Adagio stared back.

It was far more surreal than shocking. A lot of questions ran through Adagio’s head. None of them made it out into the air. She made a small beckon with two of her fingers, then returned her attentions to her wine as she took another sip. Movement in the corner of her vision told her that Sunset had complied.

Adagio spent the next few moments looking everywhere she could except towards the door. She stared at her glass, glanced down to vacantly admire her freshly-manicured fingernails… then she looked up, and just like that, Sunset was there, standing silently beside the table, expression pointedly neutral.

“Ah, Sunset.” Adagio reached for her glass again. “I was hoping we’d see each other one of these days.”

“Really?” Skepticism and excitement warred very discreetly on Sunset’s face.

“Truly. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, actually. It’s been… weighing on me, you could say.” Adagio sighed, gazing wistfully out the window. “It’s a hard thing to ask, but do you think you could find it in you to accept an apology?”

Sunset’s eyes subtly widened. “Wow. That’s, um…”

“Surprised? I would be too, if I were you. But people do change, don’t they?”

“Yeah, sorry.” It took a moment, but Sunset’s smile brightened. “But, yes, I think I could.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Now, if you don’t mind, then…” Adagio faced Sunset head-on, locking eyes with her and leaning forward. “I want you to look into my eyes and tell me exactly… how disappointing it is that you’re not going to get one.”

Exquisitely slowly, Sunset squeezed her eyes shut and groaned.

“Oh, come on. Say it. Tell me how you feel.”

The raw exasperation that had come over Sunset’s face was delicious, if not quite as delightful as Adagio would’ve hoped. “What’re you doing here?” Sunset asked, vaguely accusatory.

“Afraid I’m up to my usual naughtiness? I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. Alas, it pains my twisted, black heart to say it, but I’ve been the epitome of docility ever since that night.” Adagio gave her glass a jostle. “Apart from trying to poison myself. You know how it is.”

“I see. You... clearly don’t want me bothering you.”

“When did I say that? I was worried my tongue was going dull for a little while, and there are so few opportunities to sharpen it quite like this one. I’ve prepared several barbs as witty as they are scathing, if you’d like to stick around and hear them.”

“Right.” Sunset backed away. “Well, if this is all you’re up to, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Adagio scoffed, waving her hand dismissively and pointedly turning away. “You’ll be back.”

Sunset’s face tightened as she turned on her heel. Adagio waited a few seconds, keeping her gaze fixed squarely on the wall across from her, then glanced to the side at the head of fiery hair walking off towards the door.

When Sunset reached the door, but hesitated before pulling it open, Adagio quickly resumed her disaffected posture.

A few more moments passed, and when she didn’t hear footsteps coming back towards her she allowed herself another glance. She stared at the door, grimacing when Sunset’s absence made her pulse quicken, and then gulped down another mouthful of wine. It didn’t work as well as she would’ve liked.

She peeked back at the door, straightening in her seat when she caught a glimpse of Sunset pacing in place outside through the window. Ditching her scowl with barely a thought, Adagio slouched a little, resting a rosy cheek on her palm and doing her best to make herself look haughtily indifferent, shameful excitement be damned.

When she heard Sunset drawing closer, she looked up and feigned surprise, slowly cracking a coy smirk. “That was even faster than I expected. You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“Yeah, well…” Sunset sighed as she came up next to the table. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Why should you care?” Adagio retorted.

Sunset shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you alone before.”

“No, you haven’t.” Adagio resisted the urge to feel for her gem. “Would it matter to you if this was the first time?”

Sunset looked out the window into the night, then back to Adagio’s glass. “A little.”

“Would you leave me be if it wasn’t?”

“Probably.”

“You know…” Adagio spat out a dry, sardonic chuckle. “A few days ago, I don’t think I could’ve thought of anything less pleasant than you sitting with me. But I do love inconveniencing people, and talking about myself’s the only real hobby I’ve got left.” Idly fingering her wine glass, she looked up at Sunset and made a faint gesture towards a chair. “So. I guess it’s up to you to decide what to make of all this, isn’t it?”

Sunset pulled out the chair and sat down. “Where are your friends?”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you. I don’t make friends with morsels.” Adagio gestured with her glass to the restaurant’s other patrons. “And I haven’t seen my sisters”—she hissed that word through tightly clenched teeth—“for a little while now.” She felt unwanted thoughts coming on again, and tried to wash them away with a mouthful of wine.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t—” Sunset cleared her throat “—realize they were your sisters.”

“There comes a time when a bond between women becomes so saturated with loathing and yet unbroken that it can only be called sororal. This is one of those times, and this—” Adagio theatrically held up her glass “—is the inevitable result.”

“But they left you?”

“Is that your problem?”

“No.” Sunset shifted back in her chair, shaking her head. “No, I guess it isn’t. But I wanted to stop you, not make you suffer.”

A faint smile crept its way onto Adagio’s face. “Now there, I can’t blame you. Suffering is such an ugly thing, isn’t it?” She laughed again. “Must be a bad day to be you, then, seeing me like this. But don’t worry, it’s a bad day to be me as well.”

That got Sunset’s attention; there was a newfound focus in her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Adagio cocked an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.” Sunset pursed her lips like she wasn’t sure she wasn’t out of her mind, but her “I do” was clear and certain.

“In that case…” Adagio leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Sunset nodded. “Sure.”

“You can’t tell anyone else.” Adagio exaggerated a pout. “Promise?”

The clenching of Sunset’s teeth wasn’t quite too subtle. “I promise.”

“Good. Now, I know you’d never think this, looking at me now, but I used to be a siren. I had this lovely pendant, you see—”

Sunset drew in a sharp breath and held up her hand. “I’m sorry, but… I want to sympathize, but don’t you dare try and make yourself out to be the victim here.” Her voice was stern, not quite harsh enough to be called angry.

Adagio responded with her most saccharine smile. “Ah, it’s so cute when you’re trying to be scary and tough. Now, I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of fascinating thoughts to share, but can we please get back to talking about me before I fall asleep?”

The hand Sunset had raised balled up for a brief moment. “Fine,” Sunset said, sighing heavily, leaning back and motioning for Adagio to continue. “I’m listening.”

“Good girl. Keep that up and you might get a pat on the head.” Adagio laughed again, then frowned. “Sorry, where was I?”

“You used to be a siren.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not very exciting, is it?” Adagio muttered, draining her glass, pausing to stare at it before setting it down and eying Sunset closely. “This’ll be more interesting, then: I know it’s probably too much to ask, because you’re so disgustingly selfless, but do you still hate me, by any chance?”

Sunset tilted her head. “I don’t think I ever did.”

“Have you ever considered trying to make me suffer? You’re awfully good at it." Adagio rolled her eyes. “Honestly, if I weren’t so short on admirers at the moment, I’d rather you did.” She flicked her head towards the crowd of patrons around them. “It’d make you infinitely better company than those pitiful little creatures.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Sirens are creatures of passion and strife, little girl. I’d much prefer you bow down and worship me, but hate us, love us, it’s all food. These people, though? They don’t even realize what a special place this is. There’s nothing more anathema to a siren than obscurity, and that’s exactly what you gave me. Even Star Swirl didn’t vanquish us so thoroughly. You should be proud.”

Sunset paused, probably to contemplate, and then nodded slowly. “And that really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Bother me? Why should it? I can seethe and brood all I want and it won’t change a thing.” Adagio scoffed. She reached for her glass again, scowling at it when she remembered it was still empty. “Won’t stop me from trying, of course. But, after tonight, that won’t be any concern of yours, will it?”

Another pause. “I don’t think anyone should have to be alone, not even you.”

“One more thing we can agree on, then.” Adagio ran her fingers over the surface of her locket; against her will, blue and purple faces tried to claw their way into her thoughts, at least until she swatted them aside with a grimace. “But I think I’d done more than enough wallowing for one night an hour ago,” she said as she stood up. With a toss of her hair, she sauntered towards the door—catching herself on the nearest table when her heels didn’t work as they had when she’d walked in earlier. She took a moment to steady herself, because she was a siren and she was in control and the situation could damn well wait for her, and then looked back to Sunset. “Shall we go?” Without having to keep looking, she heard footsteps behind her and smiled.

The walk was spent in silence. Adagio looked at just about everything that wasn’t Sunset. After a little while, if it weren’t for the arm linked with hers—Sunset had insisted after a particularly graceless stumble—Adagio could almost relax and pretend she was alone again.

Until the parts where her vision started to blur a little, anyway. She bowed her head, lifting a hand to both keep her hair out of her face and massage her brow.

Sunset brought her to a halt. “Everything okay?”

Adagio grumbled to herself. “I just… drank more wine in an hour than I usually do in a week.” She shook her head, blinking quickly as she stared at her ground, trying to clear her vision. “Just a little woozy, that’s all.” Things blurred beneath her. “And I might be seeing double, but whatever. I’m fine, just… give me a—”

There was a pause, and then a hand nudged her shoulder. “Hey, um… it’s not just you.”

Adagio frowned, muttering as she gave a shake of her head, refocused, looked up and saw herself standing about ten feet in front of her.

Her double looked back at her, holding up a slender index finger, eyes flitting between her and Sunset. “Am I missing something? I feel like I’m missing something.”

Adagio blinked. How could she be over there…? She shook her head to try and get her eyes to behave themselves, but that made the world spin instead, and she nearly stumbled until Sunset caught her. A groan escaped her numb lips, and she peered out again, squinting through hanging hair at herself.

No. Wait. Not herself. Her face was the same—whatever—but the hair was free and dangling, and the low-cut shirt—

Adagio’s fingernails dug into her palm. A snarl resonated in her throat. The way that other harlot brazenly flaunted her bare neck, as if slyly aware—or proud—of having the flesh and body of a siren but not the soul… she even smiled, the rancid little pest, as if she didn’t have the decency to be ashamed of herself.

The growl that had been trying to take Adagio over finally broke free. She ripped away from Sunset’s side and launched herself forward, nearly falling into her double, lashing her hand out to seize whatever fabric she could get a grip on. “Who are you?”

The woman’s eyes went wide and she held up her hands. “H—hello there. My name’s Adagio Dazzle.” Initial alarm faded to a more subdued worry, and she crinkled her nose. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“What are you—”

Hands gripped Adagio roughly by the shoulders, yanking her back. “Adagio…” Sunset’s voice had gone stern again, and her eyes were hard and stony when Adagio whipped her head to meet her gaze. “Back off, calm down.”

Adagio scowled. “You want me to calm down? Get whatever that is out of my sight. Then we can talk about calming down.”

“Sorry, still confused. Who are you, exactly?” her double inquired in a horridly innocent voice.

Before Adagio could respond, Sunset looked to the woman with a decidedly more pleasant expression. “It’s a little complicated. Look, I’m really sorry about her, she’s—”

“Got sooo many better things to do than whatever this is,” Adagio interjected, hooking her arm around Sunset’s and tugging. “Sunset, can we go?”

Sunset drew in a long, tight breath. “One moment, please?” She turned to level another glare. “What’s going on, Adagio?”

Curling her lip, Adagio flicked her head towards the imposter, although her eyes never left Sunset’s. “There’s a lump of clay pretending to be marble. It would be endearing if she weren’t so horrifically bad at it.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Sunset, be a good little girl and tell that pitiful little trollop that she can go find some mud to wallow in if she’d rather not listen to me?”

Sunset pressed her fingers to her temples and looked to the other Adagio. “I’m really sorry about this.”

The imposter held up her hands. “Of course, of course. She’s…” She paused, leaned in a little, and frowned. “Oh, she’s been drinking, hasn’t she? You know, I—I really don’t want to be a bother, and this clearly isn’t a good time for her.”

How dare you was the first thing to come to Adagio’s mind, backlit by flames of embarrassment brought on by the validity of the judgment. “Mostly because you’re here,” she spat. “But I think it’d be a lovely time for you to—”

“Okay, you know what?” Sunset dragged Adagio a few paces back, then planted her hands on her shoulders. “Just… wait right here. Give me two minutes with her, and then let’s get you back home, okay?”

Adagio did her best to make sure both girls got an equal share of her most withering glare before she threw up her hands, scoffed and looked very far away from either of them. “Fine—fine. I was tired of listening to her anyway.”

The hands on her shoulders came away shortly, and then all she heard of the other girls were quiet footsteps and scattered fragments of a conversation. Not that she paid attention to any of it—why should she? If she wanted to look herself, she’d find a mirror; no reason at all she’d have to settle for…

Well, whatever that arrogant tart wanted to call herself. Whatever let her carry on prancing about, holding her head high, proclaiming to the world how she was something she very certainly wasn’t. And smiling, no less!

If it weren’t for that smile, we’d have something in common.

Adagio blinked, then shook her head. Stupid thoughts and feelings and—and all that drivel. Wasn’t the wine supposed to have stomped it all out for a little while? She should’ve known better than to trust fermented grapes.

She looked down the sidewalk. Her home was just a little ways down, if she remembered correctly. Her bed was in her home, and had never seemed more inviting in recent memory.

Footsteps behind her made her turn; Sunset’s face was neutral as she approached.

“Okay. That’s all taken care of, for the moment, I hope. Let’s get you home.”

Adagio rolled her eyes, then managed a step or two before her heels wobbled and she felt herself swaying again. She leaned, and Sunset’s arm was right there for her to steady herself with.

They walked like that for a little while longer, again in silence.

“Please tell me I’m never going to see her again,” Adagio muttered, after a while.

The pause was an ill omen. With her free hand, Sunset rubbed at her nose. “Well… her interest’s piqued, and I think she deserves an explanation. She’s gonna text me tomorrow morning and… we’ll figure something out, but if you don’t want to be there—”

“I don’t.” The words left Adagio’s mouth so quickly she barely realized she’d said them.

Sunset nodded. “I thought as much. Do you—” she made a vague gesture, and her tone turned into a careful one “—want to tell me why you don’t like her, at least?”

The way that the thought of that familiar stranger made Adagio’s blood boil made her eager to drop the topic. She glanced ahead down the sidewalk, quickening her pace slightly when she saw her house just ahead. “Oh, look at that, we’re here. It’s a dreadful shame, but we’ll have to finish this absolutely riveting talk some other time.”

She unhooked herself from Sunset, fumbling through her pockets for her key as she teetered her way to the doorstep. Once she had a grip on the doorknob, she cracked a smirk. “On the bright side, we can both finally be out of each other’s hair.”

Sunset chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I guess so.” She paused, mouth hanging open like she had something else to say, but she closed it without a word.

Adagio cracked the door open. “I don’t think I’ll need any help getting to my bed.”

“Ah. R—right. I’ll… leave you to it, then. Goodnight.” A pause, and then clomping footsteps.

Adagio glanced over her shoulder, staring at Sunset’s back, then looked into the doorway. The silence of her desolate home hadn’t seemed quite so obtrusive earlier that day, but having been rid of it for a little while that evening made it seem ravenous and oppressive.

Idly, she rubbed her locket again. The shards inside were quick to remind her that it would all pass, in time. Her sisters would come back to her, one day.

When she went to step inside, her eyes dipped down to the floor—an envelope called out to them, light pink color leaping out from the dreary dim light.

When she picked it up, turned it over, and saw the flowery, glitter-encrusted script inked on one side—and most importantly, the name neatly packed into the bottom corner—she froze.

They were here. They were here, and they didn’t—

Her shards might have protested, had she listened to them, but instead she flung the envelope down, spun around, and almost ran facefirst into the doorway in her haste to make it back out to the sidewalk.

“Sunset?” she called, slowing down lest her footwear betray her.

A little ways down the sidewalk, Sunset came to a halt, a frown on her face as she turned and hurried over. “What’s the matter?”

“I—” Adagio hated that she started to speak, half-wished that she could stop herself, but she didn’t “—want to see you again.”

The way Sunset’s brow furrowed shouldn’t have made Adagio’s pulse quicken, but it did. But then Sunset looked down and to the side, and her expression softened. “Any particular reason?”

Because any sound at all is better than silence. She tossed her hair, hastily plastering a smirk onto her face. “Not much point in looking like this with nobody around to appreciate me, is there?”

Sunset drew in a long sigh. Her lips quirked, first to one side and then to the other. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“I could… probably find the time. What time were you—”

“Whenever you can. I won’t be busy.”

Sunset bit her lip, and Adagio’s heart thudded in her chest. “Okay,” Sunset said at last. “Yeah, I’ll just… stop by sometime in the morning?”

The sense of relief Sunset’s response brought made Adagio acutely aware of how ridiculous her nervousness was in the first place. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said with a sweet a smile that she turned into a glower a few moments later, after they exchanged farewells and Sunset set off back down the sidewalk.

When she’d gotten back inside her home, Adagio lingered for a little while in the doorway, then pushed the door closed, leaned against it, and let her shoulders droop. She held up the envelope again, and it hurt just as much the second time she read the words inked in flowing script on the paper. Happy Birthday, it read. She hadn’t ever heard those words used as a taunt before.

She walked over to the dining room and threw the envelope onto the table. She’d see it again in the morning, eventually.

Her bedroom was the next destination; after she’d slipped out of her clothes and under the covers, the wine finally did what it had promised to do, and hardly any thoughts at all went through her head as her eyelids drooped shut.

Chapter II

The violet dress had been so pretty, once, just like her. At least she'd survived that night, the last time she'd worn it, while the same could hardly be said for the tortured fabric. It was a sorry sight now, torn in places, stained in others, and wrinkled everywhere from being crumpled and wadded in the corner for nearly a week. At least her own scars from the ordeal were internal.

Mostly internal, she thought with a growl as she scratched at her shamefully bare neck. The lack of weight there was an unending nuisance, like an itch crawling outside her reach beneath her skin, but what greater disrespect would there be than hanging some mortal bauble there as a replacement?

She was better than that. No matter who’d beaten her, or what they’d stolen from her.

The dress, though. That could go. She’d let it stain her room for too long—why it’d taken her close to seven days to think that, she didn’t want to dwell on. But at least she was up before noon and thinking about keeping her room tidy. That put her leagues ahead of Aria.

She knelt down and snatched up the dress from the corner, wrinkling her nose at the revolting feel and scent of ripped fabric and more dried-up liquids than she’d bothered to identify.

Still, Adagio ran her fingers over it. It had been a favorite of hers, once. She stared at it, only briefly. But, just before she’d written it off and walked towards the garbage, she froze. Familiar flecks of red winked at her. A few slivers of ruby, tangled in the fabric.

As soon as she touched them, a feeling stirred in her breast. Invigorating hope, from a source she’d feared had been extinguished. She felt her flesh warming, comforted as if by a hearth.

They were still there. Those little slivers, they hadn’t forgotten about her. They’d come home with her when all the mayhem of her defeat had made her drop the rest. No matter who’d tried to take them away from her, they’d come back.

The gems had broken. Shattered. She’d assumed they’d died on that stage, but if they’d followed her home, if there was still something in there…

She worked to tug the shards out of the dress, and let them rest in her palm. She hurried over to her desk and sat down, pouring the shards on the table and already feeling excitement quickening her pulse.

Thoughts and schemes bloomed in her head, nourished by that newfound hope.

And then a sound reached her, from somewhere outside the room. It careened down the hall, screeching and shrieking. It pulled and tugged and wrenched at Adagio’s nerves until she could focus on nothing else.

In all honesty, she could admit that, however imperfect the voice may have been, it carried just a faint enough echo of majesty to elevate it above what she’d heard from many mortal girls. Not that it was enough.

Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm. With a fist at her side and a scowl on her face, Adagio pushed herself out of her chair, pushing all her machinations out of her mind as she stormed out the door.

It was a quick jaunt down the hall to another door, the one with a plaque and a terminal rhinestone infection. Strings of tiny baubles too trifling to be called sparkling spelled out the same name that occupied Adagio’s thoughts.

She paused when the sound faltered, the gap in the melody filled by a faint sob.

Clenching her teeth, Adagio slipped inside.

And there, sitting on the side of a bed with her back to the door, hair down and still in her thin nightwear, was Sonata, her face buried in her palms.

A moment of silence passed. Then, Sonata lifted her head up, breathed deeply, and tried again. Another desperate attempt left her mouth, perhaps ever so slightly more graceful than the last.

But it was still hideous, and they both realized it. Sonata’s effort tapered off almost immediately, pinched off by shamefully sealing lips.

Adagio sighed quietly. She peered at the doorframe, lifted her hand to the wood and rapped her knuckles on it.

Sonata flinched, spinning in place to face her with bloodshot, puffy eyes. She said nothing, only turned her mournful eyes to the floor. “Oh. I- I didn’t realize you were—” She sniffled, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand. “Are you mad at me?”

Adagio paused, drumming her fingers on the wood. The tirade that had been on her tongue before faded. She approached slowly, and ran her fingers through Sonata’s hair as she sat beside her. “You’re chasing an echo,” she murmured. “And it’s never going to get closer like this, no matter how many days or weeks or years you listen for it.”

Thoughts of those shards made a smile come easily. “I know you want to make things right. But this isn’t getting us what we want.”

“I know.” Sonata looked away, wilting and wrapping her arms around herself. “B-but maybe if I get better, then—”

“Sonata.” Adagio cupped Sonata’s cheek. “I miss it too, and if there’s any way to get it back I’m going to find one.” She felt a smile coming on as she thought of the shards in her room, but pushed it aside, saving it for a more opportune moment. “But this? Don’t settle for something less.”

“But I want to keep singing.” Sonata reached up and touched the back of Adagio’s hand. Her eyes were wide, pleading and desperate. “Just let me try. It’s something, right? Even if it’s not the same, isn’t it—”

“Don’t lie to yourself. Look at you. You’re already on the verge of tears and you’ve just started. It is only going to hurt more from here.”

“How do you know?”

Adagio stared into Sonata’s eyes, eventually looking away and sighing as she lowered her hand. “We’re sirens, Sonata. We’re not like all those other people.” And we’re going to sing again, one day.

“Are we, though?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Adagio turned back to Sonata.

Sonata shrank back further, both hands fidgeting in front of her chest. “Sirens are supposed to sing, aren’t they? So if we can’t… doesn’t that mean we’re not sirens anymore?”

“Sonata…” Adagio pressed her fingers into her forehead. Her heart sank, despite her attempts to make it stop. “It doesn’t matter what we can or can’t do. We’re sirens.” She wished her gem was there to give her the hope she longed to feel instead of the half-hearted thing she mustered. “And if we have to claw our back up to the top all over again… then that’s exactly what we’ll do. What you’re doing right now…”

A first tear welled up in Sonata’s eye and trailed down her cheek as she shook her head. Her hands trembled, as did her legs when she stood up. “I think it’ll help. What’s so wrong about trying?” With another tear down her other cheek, she clamped her eyes shut and hurried out the door.

Adagio turned to watch her almost run headlong into Aria, who appeared by the doorway. The two shared a look, Sonata’s pleading and Aria’s inscrutable, before Sonata vanished around the corner.

Aria kept looking the way Sonata had gone, then yawned and rubbed her eyes. She leaned her head against the doorway, muttering a curse under her breath. “Have you thought about waiting till the afternoon before you make someone miserable?”

“Are you worried about her?” Adagio let herself chuckle and flash a smirk. “When did you get so selfless?”

“Hey, she can cry all she wants, but you know how it always goes. She storms off, sulks for an hour or two, and next thing you know she’s bawling on my shoulder. So don’t pretend it’s just her problem.” Aria grumbled, folding her arms. “I get that she’s being stupid, but would it kill you to let her do her thing and spare me from all this touchy-feely crap you girls get off to?”

“Forgive me for keeping her best interests in mind,” Adagio said as she stood up and smirked at Aria. “I could leave her to it, if you’d prefer. But, really, how well do you see that going for her?”

Aria stared back, her face stony. “You know how much we all liked singing. If… whatever she’s doing makes her happier, then what’s the problem? As annoying as she is when she’s cheerful, she’s even worse when she’s gloomy and mopey and stuff, and we’ve all got enough to put up with as is.”

“Maybe, Aria…” Adagio stood next to Aria, slipping an arm around her waist. “I don’t want her torturing herself and thought I’d spare her the heartbreak. You must’ve seen how hard it was for her. Besides…” Her lips spread into a wide smile. “I think we can find something more fulfilling.”

“Oh?” Aria’s expression remained neutral.

“We’re going to pay those girls a visit and make sure they get the punishment they deserve.”

“Is that so?” Aria’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry if I’m less than enthusiastic, but isn’t it… oh, I don’t know, kind of a terrible idea to go right back for more after the first smackdown?”

Adagio scoffed, and shot Aria a withering glare. “That depends. How likely do you think it they’ll squeak by with another fluke? We’ll be more careful, they won’t be as lucky. Problem solved.”

“And if they just decide to love us to pieces the second we show our faces?” Aria broke away from Adagio’s grip. “You’d better have a hell of a lot more than ‘we’ll be careful’ if you want us to go back so soon.”

“And what would you have us do, if you’re so much wiser?” Adagio put one hand on her hip and reached to her neck with the other. “Look what they did to us. How can you see the same things I do and say they don’t deserve punishment?”

“I don’t.” Aria scowled, a low snarl coming from her mouth. “If they get run over by a bus in the morning, I’ll bring fireworks to their funeral. But if they did something like this” —she clawed at her bare neck— “how much worse do you think it’ll be the second time?”

“So we… what? Scamper off with our tails between our legs?” Adagio stepped forward, clenching one hand into a fist. “We’re better than that, Aria.”

Aria bored into Adagio’s eyes, face twisted into a hateful glower. “So we wait. Ten years from now, they’ll either have keeled over in their own time or they’ll have forgotten about us.”

“You want us to wait? They mutilated us. Stripped of us our power, of our beauty.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I know that the last thing we need right now is you—”

“Girls!”

Aria and Adagio whipped their heads to the side to scowl in synchrony at a trembling Sonata.

Fixed by two wordless demands, Sonata bit her lip and gulped. “H-how does this help?”

Exchanging scowls, Aria and Adagio slowly backed off from each other. Adagio’s eyes flitted over to cast a momentary glare on Sonata, but then she pushed past Aria. “We’ll finish this later,” she hissed as she marched back to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

The next morning, Adagio hauled herself out of bed, casting a lingering stare at the shards on her desk as she sat up and stretched. She threw a robe around herself, tied it loosely, and stepped outside her door.

It was there that the lack of activity became apparent, first with a lack of scent. Sonata almost invariably had something or other cooking in the morning, but this time Adagio detected not even a subtle waft.

From there, a glance into Aria’s bedroom revealed an empty bed, with the covers in disarray as always, but the room itself ever so slightly neater. Trinkets and baubles she’d grown used to seeing on the shelves and walls were replaced by blank space, and even the star-shaped hairclips that tended to find sanctuary on the nightstand were conspicuously absent.

Sonata’s room existed in a similar state. A few stuffed animals were missing—an otter and a walrus, if Adagio recalled correctly—as was the spectrum-spanning rack of nail polish.

Adagio stared at the empty, diminished rooms, eventually curling her lip and closing the doors. One last sweep led her past the kitchen, where two sets of house keys had vanished, and into the garage, where the solitary occupant was nowhere to be found.

The evidence was damning.

“Fine,” Adagio murmured to herself. “Let them see how long they can last without me.”

It was only then that the house’s emptiness became fully apparent. Deprived of savory odors, or sounds either grating or soothing, the building felt desolate.

But it was no matter. They’d come crawling back to her once they got their heads screwed on straight. Even they weren’t that thick.

Chapter III

Adagio awoke from a restless slumber, reluctantly dragging herself up to sit against her headboard and bury her face in her palms; every second of hazy weariness reminded her why she didn’t usually drink.

Just as it did every morning, though, one of her hands made its way towards her throat, where her fingers wrapped around her locket and held it close to her chest. She took a peek inside and saw shards, but pleasant, soothing daydreams showed her images of something whole. She thought she saw it for a moment: fractured, mutilated crystal resuscitated, coagulating under the gentle touch of a voice so heavenly it could only be hers.

That day would be a wonderful one. She hadn’t a clue how it would come to pass, but when she looked at those shards, she knew it would, eventually. Hope filled her when she held those shards, nourishing hope that ate away at the troubles of the present. Pains, whether of the flesh or of the heart, were temporary, but her song was eternal and undying.

She felt a small, faint smile dawning on her lips as her fatigue receded. The oldest, most stalwart companion she’d ever had… of course it hadn’t given up. She should’ve known that, but the affirmation brightened her spirits just the same. To her surprise, she heard herself chuckling quietly after a little while.

And right afterwards, as if it had been preordained, the soft sound of a distant knocking broadened her smile, made her sit up straight and sent flutters through her heart. Out from amidst tousled sheets she crawled, lingering in her bedroom just long enough to slip a luxurious silk robe on and then hurrying towards the door.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered under her breath as she approached and gripped the doorknob, trailing into a giggle.

But then it was teal eyes that she found herself looking into—soft, bright green where she’d been hoping for vivid, piercing violet.

She faltered briefly, blinking and swallowing a curse as the events of the last night came rushing to her like a flood. “Oh.” She recovered from her stumble, leaning against the doorframe and masking the bitterness her memories brought with a flashed smile. “It’s you again.”

“You did ask me to stop by today. Last night?” Sunset’s eyes dipped down, and faint touches of red came to her cheeks. “Sorry?”

Adagio shrugged. “I was hoping that was all just a terrible nightmare, to be honest. No such luck, I take it?” Nippy morning air made her pull her robe slightly tighter around herself.

Sunset folded her arms, sighing. “Do you want me here or not?”

“If I knew what was good for me, I probably wouldn’t have asked you to come in the first place.” The exasperation on Sunset’s face wasn’t quite as enjoyable as it had been the night before. Adagio drummed her fingers on the doorframe, sparing a glance at her glaringly silent home.

She could use a distraction, perhaps. “But you’re already here,” she said, craning her neck and peering over Sunset’s shoulder. “Alone, I might add. I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, well… you’ve had an awfully long time to try something, if you were going to.”

“Indeed I have, and you’ll notice that I have very little to show for it.” The envelope from last night reminded her that she wasn’t the only one who’d been dragging her feet. “But you’ve probably told your friends all about me, at least.”

A pause hinted at doubt. “No, actually. I haven’t. They don’t even know I’m here.”

Adagio lifted an eyebrow. “Going behind their backs just to get me all to yourself?” She chuckled softly. “I can appreciate that. Be a dear and keep this between us for now, then? I don’t know if a delicate flower like me could handle much more attention.”

“For now, at least.”

“I’ll take it. So. Why’d you come, then?”

“Because you asked me to.”

“Not because you wanted to, then?” Adagio pouted, then scoffed. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Well… I meant what I said last night.”

“About how I shouldn’t have to be alone?”

“Yeah, that.” Sunset stepped back a little, holding up her hands. “I’m not saying I know what to do about that, but…”

“You’re under the impression I need to do something?”

“You seemed pretty miserable last night.”

Adagio fought to keep herself from scowling. The number of things she might have changed from the night before seemed too large to count. “Today isn’t yesterday,” she stated.

It would have been so, so easy, just then, to leave it at that. She could have taken a step back, thrust the door closed, and been done with it all… and alone with that letter.

She sighed. Sometimes she wished she could just pluck out her heart and get rid of all those unwelcome feelings. What kind of goddess welcomed a former enemy just because she felt lonely?

“But, if you want me to indulge you…”

Sunset stiffened. “You don’t need to do that.”

“No,” Adagio said, “I don’t. But you did a few things you didn’t need to do last night. Fair’s fair.” She glanced down, tugging at the hem of her robe, then flicking her head. “Let’s take this inside. I’m not wearing a thing under this and I’m about to catch my death of cold.”

“S—sure, yeah.”

The faint little blush that came to Sunset’s cheeks made Adagio put a smirk on her lips and an extra sway into her hips as she went back inside, lazily beckoning with two fingers.

The living room, being the first thing visitors might see, was almost immaculate. Sure, thin layers of dust had accumulated and perhaps the tiled floor wasn’t freshly polished, but plenty of decorations more than made up for it.

“Would you like something to drink?” Adagio asked. “I’m not keen on repeating last night, but I think there might be something lying around if you felt like misbehaving.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Adagio waved her hand, moving farther from the door towards the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t break anything important.”

The kitchen, fewer people saw. In the time Adagio had spent in that house, she’d seen it resemble something between a factory and a laboratory, producing far more tastes and scents than she could have put names to. When she stepped inside, she was greeted by a sink filled with dirty dishes and a squatting wastebasket almost overflowing with the crumpled cardboard boxes left over from frozen appetizers that had ranged from bland to horrid. But it was either those or teach herself how to cook, and she saw no reason to break a perfectly fine thousand-year old tradition of cooking being something done for her, not by her.

She sighed, popping open a cupboard and pulling out a hand mirror—there was one in every room—and inspecting herself from a few different angles. The “just got up” look was far from her best, and she wished she could at least sneak a few minutes with a brush in, but whatever, she was still gorgeous. Sunset seemed to agree, anyway.

Adagio chuckled softly as she filled a glass of water. Maybe she won’t be such a bad distraction, she thought as she sauntered back to the living room.

When she saw Sunset standing by the table, peering down at a light pink letter, she stiffened and almost swore, but she put only a smirk on her face. “Of all the things here, it’s a letter that catches your eye?”

“Oh, sorry!” Sunset tensed, hurriedly turning. “I was just—”

Adagio sauntered over slowly, plucking the letter out of Sunset’s grip and giving it a flippant wave. “It’s my own fault for leaving it out.” She turned it over in her hand, stifling a scowl. “Not much point in trying to hide it anymore, is there?”

“Right, yeah.” Sunset frowned, glancing at the letter. “Were you thinking of writing back to her?”

Adagio looked down at the letter, turning away to hide her scowl and flinging the letter onto the far side of the table. “I’m not the one who needs to apologize.” She brushed her fingers over her locket, certain that her silent companion would agree with her.

“But you do miss them, don’t you?”

“A little.” An ugly feeling churned in Adagio’s gut; she swatted it aside, wearing a smile as she slunk over to her couch and leisurely sprawled over it. “But this isn’t the first time we’ve had a squabble and ended up parting ways for a bit. We’ve always found our way back to each other.”

Sunset’s frown didn’t relent. “How long have they been gone?”

Adagio suppressed a glower. “Too long, and yet not long enough.” She leaned back, draping her arms along the back of the couch. “Dull though it may be, I was just starting to enjoy having this all to myself. You wouldn’t believe the kinds of trouble they could get up to.”

The look on Sunset’s face said, “Yes, I would,” even as her mouth said, “No, I can’t. But there must be some good memories, right?”

A sinking feeling welled up in Adagio’s gut. She ran a finger over her locket, then shrugged her shoulders. “There was that one time I tried to replace one of them with a rabbit, but that turned out to only be a temporary solution,” she said, staring pointedly at Sunset and patting the couch beside her. “What’re you getting at?”

Sunset stayed where she stood, shifting anxiously. “Look, Adagio… Sonata wouldn’t have sent you that letter if she wasn’t thinking about you, would she?”

“I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I have spent more time with them then you will ever spend breathing, and that’s all I have to say on the topic.” More venom crept into her voice than she wanted, and she chided herself for it.

Sunset went silent. She looked away, ran a hand through her hair, and sighed. She looked so tragic for a moment, when Adagio caught a glimpse of her wistful eyes.

Eventually, it was the faint sound of a buzzing phone that ended the silence. Sunset frowned, fumbling through her pockets as Adagio arched an eyebrow.

“S—sorry.” Sunset murmured, hastily withdrawing her phone.

Adagio drew in a long breath. “Something important, I hope?” The interruption was refreshing in some ways, insulting on others.

“It’s… you.”

And just like that, Adagio felt her face tightening. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. She said she’d contact me today and…” Sunset stared at her phone for a moment, biting her lip. “Well, she’s asking if I can go and meet her now.”

Adagio’s gem would have been livid, and she was inclined to agree. “You could always say no. Her problems are not yours.”

“Yeah, well, the last person who got curious about this magic stuff on her own almost broke reality. Now that she knows something’s up, I’d just as soon keep an eye on her.” Sunset went still again, just for a moment before sliding her phone back into her pocket. Her expression went hard and stony briefly. “And I think she deserves an explanation, at the very least.”

“Does she, now?” Adagio couldn’t stop a scowl from forming on her face. The cheerful, smiling face she pictured immediately seemed like a taunt—what did that feeble little thing deserve that a siren didn’t?

Nothing, she knew her gem would have whispered to her.

“You… weren’t exactly very polite last night.”

Adagio stared daggers at Sunset. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear the last time, Sunset,” she hissed. “She is a mockery of me. A puppet, with flesh to match her name but none of the spirit.”

Sunset clenched her teeth. “That’s not her fault.”

“I know. It wouldn’t matter if it was.” Adagio glowered for a moment, lip curling. Aria would understand. That thought just made her anger rise. She gave a sharp wave of her hand. “Fine, then.”

With that, Adagio stood to her feet, sending one last glare down towards Sunset, folding her arms across her chest. “I think we’re done here.”

Sunset breathed deeply. By the time she stood up, her face had softened, just slightly. “Adagio, I… didn’t intend to anger you.”

“We all do things we don’t mean.” Adagio gestured towards the door, wondering if she’d made even more mistakes last night than she’d first thought. “I’m starting to think you and her are a better match than you and I anyway.”

“I don’t—” Sunset held out her hand, squeezing her eyes shut, breathing again. “I wasn’t trying to choose anyone.”

“I’m sure you weren’t. For what it’s worth, I really am glad you were there to keep me company last night.” She fought to stop herself from scowling, resting a hand on her hip and looking away. “And I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I don’t see it ending well for either of us.”

“I’m not certain you’re wrong,” Sunset said, at last. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared towards the floor. “Okay. If you want me gone, I’ll go. Just… think about writing back to Sonata?”

Adagio tilted her head from one side to the other. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks.” A moment went by, and then Sunset stuck out her arm, clutching a piece of paper. “And… take this? You don’t have to do anything with it, but I’ll feel better if I know you have it.”

Adagio glanced down at the paper and the phone number scrawled on it. She took it without saying a word, staring at it before gesturing to the door. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Now, I think you should go.”

Sunset gave her a long look before nodding and showing herself out.

Adagio watched Sunset leave with a grimace on her face, then turned away shaking her head and making her way back to her bedroom.

Who does she think she is, telling me what to do?

She took the envelope, scowling, discarding it with a flick of her wrist out of spite before flopping down on her bed and very pointedly not doing what Sunset suggested.

Because she was better than that. Sunset didn’t know anything about her. She was young, naïve, absolutely insufferable…

The silence of an empty room reared its ugly head again. But she could find other distractions, could she not? Sunset could go make friends with that audacious strumpet if she really wanted to. It was her time to waste.

Seething thoughts turned toward that imposter’s face. Her stolen face. Her undeserved face. Her smiling face.

Adagio’s fingernails dug into her palm. She felt warm, burning. Anger, some deep, visceral rage, churned inside her.

Aria would understand, she thought again, which infected her anger with bitterness.

Why should she be the only one who gets to smile? she thought next.

It had been difficult for Sunset to keep the one Adagio out of her thoughts as she made her way to a nearby shopping mall to meet the other—Dazzle, she’d decided to call the second one, for convenience.

Her phone lit up with another text; Dazzle wanted to meet in… an outlet store, of all things? Sunset lifted an eyebrow at that, but shrugged and navigated accordingly.

Dazzle, when Sunset found her, was combing the racks and displays of a clothing store, with a handbag slung over one shoulder and a cluster of clothes on hangers dangling from her other arm, seemingly lost in thought.

Sunset cleared her throat. “Hi!” she said, approaching with a friendly smile.

Dazzle lurched to face her, and her face lit up with a bright, cheery smile. “Oh, you’re here!” she chirped. Before Sunset could respond, she was being hugged, and then a second after that Dazzle had flitted away. “Sorry, I was thinking we could talk over coffee or something, but then I was looking for a good place and stopped by here and—” Dazzle held up a glittery high-heeled shoe and let out a small giggle “—well, some things are just hard to say no to.”

Sunset blinked. Whether it was unfair of her to think it or not, seeing ‘Adagio’ fawning over shoes was weird.

Dazzle stepped back, shot a quiet, longing stare back at the shoe. “But anyway, I really did want to talk to you about…” She cut herself off, quirked her lips, then skimmed through the cluster of hangers on her arm. “Well, okay, one more thing first?” She picked out a tight, black, perilously short skirt, cocking her head and holding it against herself. “What do you think of this? I have such a hard time thinking it’s really ‘me,’ but last night I saw myself wearing those shorts and was just struck by this odd confidence to—”

“You know, I’m—” Sunset stepped back and held up her hands. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask, to be honest.”

“Hmm.” Dazzle looked at the skirt with an appraising eye, then shrugged. “Well, I’m feeling daring.” She turned towards another shelf and started scanning it. “But anyway. That wasn’t what I dragged you out here for.”

“R—right.” Sunset followed behind Dazzle. “I just wanted to apologize. You know, for what happened last night.”

Dazzle looked back at Sunset, giggled again, and flashed a gleaming, pearly-white smile. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, sweetie. It was a little surprising, sure, but—” she leaned forward a little, lowering her voice slightly “—just between the two of us, you’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for something as exciting as this to happen.”

“That’s… good to hear.” Sunset bit her lip and tried not to dwell on how jarring Dazzle’s friendliness was. “She really was out of line, though.”

“Yes, well…” Dazzle’s attention shifted back to the shelves. She walked slowly, eyes wandering, occasionally pausing to take a closer look at something. “She didn’t seem like she was having a very good night and we’ve all been there, haven’t we? Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah, she’s been going through a pretty rough patch lately, I think.” Adagio had her moments of haughtiness, sure, but there was an air of melancholy to her quite far removed from the embodiment of glamour she’d been when she’d strutted into CHS.

“I figured as much. I don’t mean to pry, of course, but what seems to be the matter with her?”

“Well, I don’t know the whole story. Sounds like some kind of… family drama, let’s say.” That seemed a fair compromise between practicing honesty and avoiding gossip.

“Oh.” Dazzle came to a slow pause, frowning. She looked distant for a moment, before she shook her head and put another smile back on. “I don’t suppose you’re insinuating she also has two sisters who drive her crazy?”

Sunset winced, wishing she’d thought of that earlier. “Something like that, I think.”

“I see.” Dazzle thought for a moment, then glanced around. The store was quiet—both of people and of noise, Sunset noted. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business,” Dazzle said, her voice laced with more concern than curiosity, “but do you by any chance know what happened?”

“Not really. Argument of some kind, it sounds like.”

“If hers are anything like mine, it’s nothing they haven’t gone through already.” Dazzle looked Sunset over, chuckling softly. “But at least she’s got a…” Her hand raised and made a vague gesture. “Sorry, what’s your relation to her?”

“That’s a long story. We met almost a year ago, when she and her sisters were… doing some pretty bad things, let’s say.” It felt dirty, hiding the truth like that. But when the truth involved small magical artifacts as powerful as the siren gems had been… the line between ‘cautious’ and paranoid was thin indeed, but she felt like she was squarely in the realm of the former.

And I’d sound crazy if I dove into it. Baby steps.

“Anyway, my friends and I put a stop to them,” Sunset continued, “and then they just vanished, basically. Last night was the first I’ve seen of her since then.”

Dazzle cocked an eyebrow. “She must not’ve been that bad, if you could go from shutting down her scheme to walking down the street with her hanging off your arm like that.”

“I’m still not sure what to think of her, to be honest. Like I said, she’s done some really bad things, but seeing her all alone like that… I’m not sure what you can do that’s so bad you deserve losing your family for it.”

Dazzle’s hand drifted up, and her fingers brushed against her left ear—Sunset thought she caught a glimpse of a pearl earring for a moment, but then dangling, curly tresses hid it from view.

It was difficult to guess what feeling occupied Dazzle’s thoughts, but Sunset got the impression it wasn’t the most pleasant one—doubly so when she noted that she’d only ever seen Dazzle alone. Not the most troubling of things, but when, for the longest time, she’d never seen Adagio all by herself…

Could this be hitting a little close to home for her?

“Do you have any idea what happened to the other two?” Dazzle asked eventually. Her expression had softened slightly, but it was only a faint smile that played on her lips.

Sunset shook her head. “No. I’ve asked her to try reaching out to them, but…”

“I see. Is there any chance I could see her again, then?”

Memories of harsh words and sudden glares made Sunset wince. “She’s still pretty mad at you, I think. This might not be the best time.”

“I can’t blame her.” Dazzle chuckled briefly. “Well, I was holding out hope she’d turn out to be a long-lost identical twin, but it’s sounding like there’s a little more to her than that.”

“…It’s a long story.”

“All the best ones are. I…” She rubbed at her ear, quirking her lips and pausing thoughtfully again. “Well, I wasn’t originally planning on staying in Canterlot for long, but clearly just a day or two isn’t enough to see all the sights. I do hope you can find the time to tell me the rest of that story soon.” She smiled, then made a small “oh” and rummaged through the clothes on her arm. “But, if you’ll excuse me, I think I have a few more errands to run, and I wouldn’t want to keep you for too long.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll keep in touch. See you later, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Thank you for your time.”

The sun had started to lower by the time Adagio had finally decided to take the plunge and look over that envelope more closely. Everything about it felt perfunctory, like an offered hand where the salient transgressions called for a grovel.

And yet there was a return address, scribbled on a corner.

Sunset’s evening had not been a restful one. Through the afternoon and beyond, she had neither the desire nor the capability to get Adagio out of her thoughts—which Adagio she was more fixated on, she wasn’t sure she knew herself. She found herself drifting back to those women again and again, wishing she knew better than she did what to do about them.

Somewhere down the line, Sunset’s eyes finally fell shut and she slipped out of the waking world.

She found herself standing on a grassy hill. She felt wind, cooling her cheeks and tossing her hair as it whipped past her. One hand tightly gripped a microphone; the other relaxed its grip, and a black leather jacket fell to the ground.

The battle. No memory of it had ever been so vivid—now, it was like she’d been wrenched back in time. Everything was as she knew it had been:

The sirens on the stage, suspended by gossamer wings, eyes consumed by pools of crimson.

The great dragon-like creatures hovering protectively above them.

The crowd alternating between roaring passion and eerie silence, enslaved by the ebb and flow of haunting music and horrifically blissful the entire time.

The torrent of the adrenaline in her ears.

The knowledge that, when confronted by majesty as inexorable as that of the sirens, a single dud note, a single fracture in the harmonious ensemble she formed with her friends, could be all it took.

The most exhilaratingly high stakes she’d ever been subjected to.

But she knew what came next. The sky would split; she craned her neck just in time to see it happening, see the crystal alicorn they'd called into being riding on their melodies. A triumph that would set the world back as it should be.

But before that happened, for a moment, just before that climactic strike, she looked down and saw for the first time in her life what a siren on the verge of defeat looked like...

Adagio was pale. Pale, trembling, clasping her gem to her chest. Her eyes were sinister, yes, but they were pleading as well.

And Sunset felt a dozen different things rushing through Adagio just then. Panic, fear, disbelief… concern, and not just for herself.

The gem broke. It was not the only thing on that stage that shattered.

The thrill of victory competed with a nagging, twisting yearning; Sunset saw the sirens scrambling away, and this time she reached out to them; she was too far, her voice too small… and she didn’t know what to say, anyway.

That world dissolved into a slurry of formless dreamstuff, unfurling and twisting until it became something new.

This time, she was in a dimly-lit hallway, and three sirens circled her slowly like sharks. There was one in every direction she looked, each one smiling, each one chipping away at her resolve with scalpel-like words—or, in the case of the blue one, mallet-like chirps that felt painfully dismissive.

And fear coursed through her. Fear of the sirens, of what they might do, of whether they had a point and her friends didn’t fully accept her yet.

But this time, she wasn’t just afraid of the sirens. She… envied them, in a way. She’d spent months being among the lowest of the low—shunned and scorned by all, no matter how she’d worked to scrape her way up—and in had walked three girls who were so glamorous it was otherworldly, and they’d turned the cafeteria into their catwalk in seconds.

And they’d had each other. Companions, the exact thing Sunset realized she’d always craved, and her worst enemies had the exact kind she longed for the most.

The world dissolved again, then reformed.

This time, she was in a bedroom. There were no sirens, not anywhere, just her and her friends—Princess Twilight was there too, since she hadn’t gone back to Equestria yet—and they were celebrating their victory. There was an air of joy to everything that happened that night, a sense of giddy excitement that kept every spirit in the stratosphere.

It was eventually diluted, just briefly, by talk of whether the sirens might return, and that had made everybody go a bit quiet and then they’d started chattering about how they should go looking for them and see what’d happened and what they should do with the shards of ruby that were left behind and then Sunset saw golden hair swishing past the window and felt her chest tighten for a few tense seconds—was that—no, it couldn’t be—but what if it was…?

She had time to confirm it was just someone with light hair, but not the time to relax before that world faded away.

In the next world she found herself in, she was a goat. And she was in a field with lots of other goats, and she had lots of goat friends, and they all gathered together every evening to sing songs together, and sometimes when they sang especially cheery songs, as they did this particular night, the sky would change color, and when that happened they’d all hug each other tightly and then go trotting off to see the wizard who lived in the tower a few fields over—every field was full of goats—and ask him very impishly to please pretty please change the sky back—

That scene melted away too. What it became next, Sunset wasn’t sure; her dreaming mind blinked through half a dozen surreal worlds that only tantalized her memories.

But then.

Then there was music. It was like a knife, the only thing sharp and neat in a swirl of foggy things. When it faded, the silence was agonizing—but didn’t last for long.

“Hello, Sunset.”

Sunset blinked. She was in her bed, gazing upwards at a dark ceiling. Hazy seconds ticked and tocked by and her head spun, but that voice had sliced through the daze to reach her ears with sublime clarity. It was languid and sultry. She knew it, or so she thought—dimly, as she lifted her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes—but when she looked she couldn’t see anything but a ruby light winking at her.

Adagio sat there, lounging in a chair, framed and draped in shadow. A black dress clung to her tightly, save where long, supple legs poured out of slits in the skirt. Glossy crimson lips flowed into a sensual smirk while delicate fingers brushed against a gleaming, malevolent, wholly intact ruby hanging from Adagio’s neck.

“Did you miss me?”

“A—Adagio?” Sunset moved to scramble out from under the covers. “What’re you—?”

“Now, now.” Adagio’s voice drifted lazily through the air, soft and silky and musical, but then it felt like a boulder pressing on Sunset’s shoulders. “There’s nothing you need to worry about. Just… relax.”

Her voice, for that last word, turned into a lilting purr—then resonated with the most effortlessly perfect note Sunset had ever heard. And then there was music, suddenly bursting from every pocket of air all around her. Everything that wasn’t Adagio turned blurry and hazy. Thoughts became elusive, ponderous things, difficult to chase and harder to hold on to. Her pillows felt like a cloud, though, when she sank back down into them. Soft, inviting… why would she ever want to leave them?

“There we go. See, isn’t that more comfortable?” Adagio stared for a moment, silent and inquisitive, and then a radiant smile lit up her face—but if it was really radiant, why did it make Sunset’s blood churn? “But you can talk all you want, if you’d like to. Not to say I couldn’t listen to myself all night, but that wouldn’t be very productive, would it?”

And just like that, it was like a fog had been lifted. Thoughts came so much more easily once Sunset had permission to voice them. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by, keep you company for a little while. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?” She slithered off of the chair, rising to her feet, caressing her gem. Her lips remained sealed, but her head moved as though she’d heard something. “And we are friends, aren’t we? Or you’d like to think we are.” Her eyes gleamed excitedly, glimmering dangerously in the dark. Straight towards the desk, she went, as surely as if she’d known what was in it all along.

“Why are you doing this?” Sunset wondered why she thought it was a problem.

“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” Adagio made a short chime of a laugh that hung in the air like an echo. Long, slender fingers languidly pulled a drawer open; Adagio held a small shard of ruby up, pinching it carefully. “You really shouldn’t be keeping these poor little things cooped up all day. Beauty like theirs is meant to be admired, don’t you think?”

“Adagio, you know I can’t—” Sunset paused, frowning. Her body said she was relaxed, but her mind told her she should have been terrified.

“Of course you can. But, here’s the thing about sirens, little girl.” Adagio slipped the gem back into the drawer. “We can’t even imagine a world where we don’t get what we want. And if there is one thing we are oh-so-very good at…” She laughed again, puffing out a note that darted into Sunset’s chest and made her heart turn flips. “... Well, one more thing, anyway… it’s wanting things.”

She came forwards, stalking and swaying, her gait leisurely and sinuous. She knelt beside Sunset’s bed, reaching out to lift Sunset’s chin so their eyes met.

Her touch was soft, and it left Sunset feeling warm, heated and hopeful, even as icy cold dread gnawed at her core.

Adagio’s tongue ran over her lips. Her fingers left Sunset’s face and drifted downwards, finding the scarlet pendant hanging from her neck and lifting it up. “Someone’s a little fixated. But…” She let Sunset’s pendant drop and redirected her attention to her own pendant. “… I think we both know who’s got the prettier bauble.

“So. I’d keep those stolen trinkets close if I were you.” Adagio shaped her lips into a smile as she leaned forward. Her breath was a gust of hot air on Sunset’s face, sweltering her like she was in a sauna. Sunset wished they could stay that close forever. “Wouldn’t want anyone doing something naughty, would we?”

When Sunset opened her mouth, a burble of scattered noise leapt out, so unsightly that she was ecstatic that a finger pressed to her lips silenced her. But then Adagio pulled away, and Sunset’s bed seemed cold and empty and far less than adequate.

“Or you could give them back. I know someone would appreciate them. If you don’t, though…” Adagio stood up again, brushing a lock of errant hair out of her face, gesturing towards the desk with her eyes. “… be a dear and take good care of them for me?”

Desperation Sunset was only barely aware of pushed her to speak. “Please. You don’t have to do this.”

Adagio gave her a long look. And then she laughed. It began as a whimsical giggle, then slowly turned low and haggish, filling the room, wordlessly taunting Sunset from every angle. That laugh made her feel small and frail, like a guppy courting a great white.

“Oh, you don’t even know how far out of your depth you are. It must be nice, not knowing what kinds of things are out there.” The next smile that came to Adagio’s face was broad and glinting, and this time Sunset knew exactly how afraid she was supposed to feel. “What, you think you keep me company for one night and suddenly know what makes me tick? No, Sunset, I’m not like you. There is a siren’s dying heart locked in your drawer, and you don’t know a thing about it or me.”

Before Sunset could speak again, a faint breath from Adagio’s lips turned all her muscles to jelly. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t sense anything but Adagio looming over her.

“Well. I hope you enjoyed this little talk as much as I did,” Adagio said, licking her lips and fluttering her fingers in a little wave. “You make such good company I might have to come back one of these days.” She grinned, wicked excitement flashing across her face.

Sunset’s head flopped back, her eyes clamping shut.

Sunset’s eyes snapped open, despite the daylight that ordinarily would have brought a wince. She sat up at once, bolting over to her desk and yanking on the drawer.

It didn’t budge; the lock rattled. Sunset blinked, lurched around, felt her heart thumping rapidly as she darted for the key’s hiding spot underneath her bed. She found it right where she’d left it, then darted back to the drawer, shoved the key into the lock, twisted.

Even when she saw ruby fragments staring at her, she didn’t quite relax. Just a dream, she told herself, but it took until she looked down at the carpet and saw not a single footprint in the corner that she slumped down, breathing heavily, shivering. Just a dream.

Chapter IV

There had not been many moments, throughout Adagio’s life, where she had found it worth her time to question her intents. Her gem had always been there, to set her straight when she was veering or to encourage her when she was moving the right way.

Now, if her gem could still speak to her, she thought that it would have protested. She had been in the right before, and she knew her gem would have agreed—would have asserted that her sisters ought to have obeyed her, that unity was their best course of action by far. The natural, correct resolution would be her accepting an apology, not offering forgiveness.

And yet she found herself, walking along a sidewalk, off to do exactly the latter.

Sunset would’ve approved, wouldn’t she? If she were there right now, she’d be all cheery grins and wide-eyed hopefulness.

Well. Adagio scowled as she walked, staring down the sidewalk towards her destination. Let’s hope she can be right once in a while.

The house that the numbers on the street told her she’d been looking for was a compact one, squat despite its two-story frame. A balcony stood above her as she approached, while small, cheerful statues of otters beamed at her from the porch.

It felt… vaguely familiar. She’d lived in many houses over the years—most had stopped standing out long ago, especially when she’d first made a habit of keeping at least two in each city they stayed in. Just in case.

Adagio lifted a hesitant hand and rapped three times on the door. A moment of silence passed and then muffled, shuffling footsteps reached her ears.

The opening door revealed a Sonata whose eyes went almost dinner-plate-wide. “A—Adagio?” she gasped.

“Hello, Sonata,” Adagio said. Sonata drew back briefly; the way she flinched nearly made Adagio falter, but she kept her voice purposefully steady and calm, restraining herself from all the criticism and questions she might have had and presenting a soft smile in their place. She was offering forgiveness. “May I come in?”

It took a long second for Sonata to smile, but when she did, her face turned bright and gleaming. Adagio only saw it like that for a moment before supple arms looped around her shoulders and dragged her into an embrace she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

Questions came with it, but she held Sonata close to her chest and gave no time to ponder. The joy that came to her then was simple and earnest. It smothered worries and relieved doubts rather than elevating her to ecstatic heights, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Sonata was the one to end it, though. She slipped back quickly, letting out a startled squeak and whipping her head around. “Oh no, I’ve got—” She winced, absent-mindedly waving Adagio inside as she darted off.

Adagio watched her go, then shrugged, chuckled, stepped inside, and pulled the door shut behind her.

If there was one thing she could appreciate about Sonata, it was how tidy she managed to keep things. A mystery for the ages, that little quirk of order in a scatterbrained head. The floorboards were glossy, the woodwork smooth and shiny; dust was a rare commodity. The house itself was small, but as Adagio walked slowly inside, neatness, subdued warmth and a pleasing, sweet scent of caramel from a flickering candle greeted her. A second welcome, almost, extended by the house itself.

Other scents trickled out to meet her—spices she recognized but couldn’t put names to—as did sounds—first a clattering of metal and then a faint sizzling.

That trail of sensations led her forwards, where she rounded a corner and saw Sonata fretting over a ramshackle contraption of a kitchen.

“No, no, no…” Sonata’s brow knit and her nose scrunched up. She looked to Adagio, apologizing with just her eyes. “I’m sorry, I only made enough for two, and I don’t know if there’s time to—”

Adagio’s heart skipped a beat, but in a good way. “No, you don’t need to—” She stumbled through her own joy-clouded thoughts. “It’s fine.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she didn’t care.

“I’m sorry,” Sonata repeated. “I… didn’t know you were coming, and…” She turned away, rubbing at her eyes with her hands, then sighed.

“… Of course you didn’t.” Adagio batted aside a pang of disappointment she knew to be unfounded and a spike of indignancy she knew it wasn’t the time for. “But it’s fine.”

Sonata slowly looked back at her, wide eyes blatantly tragic. She gave a small shake of her head, and then fixed her attention on the stove. “I really am sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t want to waste… I should’ve…”

“I told you not to worry,” Adagio said, even as she snuffed out temptations to agree, then stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Sonata’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

Skepticism and worry bloomed on Sonata’s face, but a fond, budding smile diminished them. “I know you did.” She turned her head to the stove again. “Oh, but I need to—” She waved Adagio off.

“Of course.” Adagio backed away, still smiling. “Is Aria…?”

“She’s still out.” Sonata laughed, sounding forcing at first but quickly turning into a more genuine giggle. “Blowing off some steam after a long day at work, if you can imagine that.”

Laughter proved contagious. “You mean she’s got a…” Adagio covered her mouth, tittering softly but backing away. “It sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do, then.”

Sonata laughed some more, then made a small gasp. “Oh, you should spend the night! We’d definitely be able to get through it all then.”

Breathy sounds of joy escaped Adagio’s lips. “I’d like that. But I should probably stop bothering you and let you work, right?”

One last look at Sonata’s smile, and then Adagio took her leave, slipping away from the kitchen and coming to an aimless rest in the living room. Shortly, more sounds made themselves known. First a quiet but upbeat pop song bouncing through the air—catchy, she might have called it in a particularly generous mood—and then a voice. What a strange voice it was. It… sang. Compared to what Adagio knew it had once been capable of, it sounded grotesque, mangled and fundamentally diminished. But if she didn’t compare it…

Well, it was still far from masterful. Agile, but not quite graceful, skilled but in far from an effortless way . But it was peppy. Sprightly. Unfettered, whimsical. Small—little more than a hum—but cognizant of its nature and content with it.

Happy. It was a happy sound.

It shouldn’t have made Adagio jealous. No, it shouldn’t have stirred even a sliver of envy. That voice, it wasn’t worth the effort it must’ve taken, not when there were grander things in store for her. The day would come when her gem hung whole from her neck once more, and on that day she wouldn’t care for a voice like Sonata’s. She was a siren, after all. Beauty so ordinary was beneath her stature. Sonata was polishing a rock when she could’ve—should’ve—been hunting for diamonds.

One day, Adagio told herself as she cradled her locket in her palm, and she knew it to be true. An absolute truth, as certain as the setting of the sun each evening.

And yet she was glad when a twisting doorknob stole her attention before a frail facsimile of music could make her weep.

Aria looked at her from the doorway with a stony, silent face. Adagio felt her pulse quicken—all the words she’d thought would’ve been on the tip of her tongue abruptly vanished.

Eventually, after what seemed like far too long for comfort, Aria’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Hey. Took you long enough.”

Adagio’s heart stopped pounding and started fluttering. “Yeah.” She breathed deeply as she stepped forward.

Before she could speak more, though, Aria pressed a finger to her lips. “We’ll talk later,” Aria said, gesturing down at herself. “I gotta go get cleaned up. You staying for dinner?” She turned slowly on her heel, slipping away and slinking up the stairs.

Adagio swallowed. “Sonata seems to think so, and I’d hate to disappoint her.”

A soft but dry laugh came down the stairs. “I’d better hurry, then.”

Shortly afterward, Aria vanished around a corner at the top of the stairs, and it felt like a boulder had tumbled off of Adagio’s shoulders. She collapsed on the first couch she could find, letting out a long breath.

When she looked down at her locket, letting it rest in her palm and flipping it open to peek inside, ruby shards winked back at her.

“You were right,” she whispered, giggling to herself. Hours of what now seemed like wasted time drifted through her memory, but she wanted to laugh at them instead of scowl and scream. All that nonsense with Sunset and that other woman... she couldn’t believe how worked-up she’d gotten over nothing, those last few days.

Everything was going to work out. Had worked out, even, in a roundabout sort of way. Maybe she did owe Sunset a little gratitude. Maybe. A little.

But she could handle that another day.

Adagio sat at the dining table, sideways in her chair with her legs crossed and her fingers drumming restlessly on the table’s surface. She could see Sonata flitting about in the kitchen out the corner of her eye—the singing had stopped and the music had been turned off as soon as Sonata realized she was there.

Aria came back down, wearing a tight black tank top only slightly more modest than what she’d had on before, still fussing with her hair as she dropped into the chair opposite Adagio.

They looked at each other for a moment. Adagio stopped drumming her fingers, swiveling to face Aria and clasping her hands together on the table.

Before Adagio could figure out what she wanted to say, Aria flashed a smirk. If Adagio were in a more critical mood, she might have called it far too casual. “So,” Aria said, “how’ve you been?”

“Surviving, mostly. Talking to myself a little more than usual.” Adagio allowed a small chuckle. The events of the last few days seemed so suddenly distant, and far less bearable for it. It became a wonder that she’d made it through it all without losing her mind and shrieking to the sky.

In comparison to those foul memories, Aria’s wryly lifted eyebrow was a welcome sight. “I thought that was your idea of a perfect conversation,” she drawled.

On a different day, Adagio might have glared. That day, a laugh slipped out of her and a smirk played on her lips. “Well, I’ve been feeling generous lately. Thought I’d shake things up a bit and indulge a few peasants for a little while.”

“Wow. I didn’t think you knew generosity well enough to recognize it in yourself.”

“I didn’t either,” Adagio said as vapidly as she could manage, running a hand through her hair. “Some people just bring the worst things out of me.”

Aria snorted amusedly. Shaking her head slowly, her eyes drifted away from Adagio’s. “Yeah, well...” Her voice was lower, with just a hint of sincerity peeking out through the rasp, and that made Adagio focus her attention more keenly. “... you look like you’re doing better, bad influences or not.”

Adagio swallowed. Hopefulness welled up in her heart, but the weight of all those unspoken discussions seemed a little more salient. “I do, do I?”

“Well…” But then, just like that, flippancy bounced back into Aria’s voice and disdain into her downward-turned eyes. “You do still dress like a hooker, but I don’t think anyone could change that now.”

Adagio wasn’t sure whether she was disappointed or relieved. She folded her arms and shot Aria a not-entirely-serious glare. “I’m not sure someone who habitually wears pigtails is qualified to criticize me like that.”

Aria tugged on her hair. “Badass pigtails, you mean.”

“Oh. Right.” Adagio pointedly rolled her eyes. “How silly of me to forget.”

Aria’s mouth opened, and Adagio made out the first syllable of another barb, but then a clattering of plates and cutlery so impossible to ignore that it must have been intentional rang out. Sonata hurried over bearing steaming food and a smile, and the banter died out.

The rest of the meal had passed pleasantly enough. The conversation had been nice, if vapid and ultimately pointless. It seemed all three of them had been mostly content to appreciate the comparative novelty of having a full table again.

Afterwards, while Sonata went straight to work clearing the table, Aria had gone upstairs and out to the balcony, where she leaned on the railing and looked out at a suburban neighborhood underneath a twilight sky.

“So,” Adagio began as she walked up next to Aria. “Sonata tells me you’re gainfully employed.”

Aria pointed. “There’s a dance studio a couple blocks that-a-way.”

“I didn’t realize you two needed the money.”

“We don’t.” Aria’s lips split into a leering smile. “But some guy wants to toss some at me so I can show off and criticize people, which puts three of my favorite things all in the same place. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

Adagio snickered. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Plus, there’re a couple of guys and at least one girl who I’m fairly certain are trying especially hard ‘cause they think I’m hot and wanna impress me.” Aria’s grin became laced with smugness. “I can think of worse jobs out there.”

“I’m glad to hear they’re treating you right.” Adagio reached out, brushing her fingers against Aria’s shoulder.

Aria looked over at her, smirking, eyes wandering lower. “You should give it a try sometime. Easy way to get some admirers.” She chortled quietly. “They don’t do any of the really sexy stuff over there, but I’m sure you could find a place that does.”

Adagio peeked down at her locket, briefly. She shouldn’t have to get a job to be adored, or so they would’ve told her. The idea did have a certain allure, though—had to be better than the stagnant silence of her home, on some level, right?

“Tempting,” she said at last, stepping a little closer to Aria. But I won’t have to be alone for much longer, will I? “I’m not sure how much of the public I want seeing something like that, though.” She giggled quietly, tossing her hair and giving her hips a shake. “Diamonds wouldn’t be any more glamorous than pebbles if everyone on the street had one.”

Aria rolled her eyes, snorting derisively and scratching at her nose. “Can’t argue with that, I guess. You’re lucky you’re hot enough most people let you get away with being so haughty.” She glanced over at Adagio, but then yanked her eyes away, staring down at her fidgeting fingers instead. Her voice took on a very faintly reverent tone. “It’s better than trying to sing, at least.”

Adagio slipped into a somber silence. Screeching that called itself music and brought out feelings that should’ve been far outside its reach haunted her.

She brushed them all off so that she could face Aria with a smile. “Talking of which… Sonata’s still going at it, I hear.”

“Yeah.” Aria shook her head slowly. “I can’t remember the last time she put so many hours into something so silly.”

Adagio felt her smile brighten. Aria understands.

“Even roped a few other girls into it,” Aria said, “if you can imagine that.”

“Oh?” Adagio exaggerated her surprise, talking like it was a juicy secret instead of something she should’ve guessed. “She neglected to mention that part.”

“Bumped into them at a mall or a park or something.” Aria waved her hand. “Probably literally—You know how Sonata is. Now they’re all taking lessons together or something.” Aria glowered into the distance, spitting out a grim, dry laugh. “I don’t know all the details, but. honestly, take your eyes off Sonata for a week and she’d have herself a little cult.”

“She never did have to try very hard, did she?” Cheeriness did not come easily to Adagio just then, but she made it happen as she exaggerated her interest. “What are they like?”

“Couldn’t tell you much. They all seem like they’re half as cute and smart as they think they are. So I guess they make Sonata look good, but… well, I wouldn’t bother with them, let’s say.”

“So we’re not missing out, is what you’re saying.” Adagio found that thought oddly comforting. Her gem would agree with her, assure her that she could never be replaced. She knew it would. “Sonata’s enjoying herself, though?”

“I’d give ‘em a couple months before she gets bored of them. If that. But for now, yeah, I guess. It gets her out of my hair for a little while now and then, so I’m not complaining.”

“Well…” Adagio moved a little closer, slipping an arm around Aria’s waist. “I’m glad you’ve both found something to pass the time.”

Aria shot her a look—if the closeness bothered her, it showed only as a flicker that could’ve been unease. Adagio stood next to her, letting herself relax for what felt like the first time in years.

“You haven’t said much about what you’re up to these days,” Aria said at last.

Adagio picked apart Aria’s statement to decide how to reply; she settled on a smirk and a swat. “Is that concern I hear? You were worried about me, weren’t you?”

Aria rolled her eyes. “Don’t dodge the question.”

“Alright, alright. Yes, I…” Adagio fussed over the right words. What was there to say, really? Vanishingly little, surely, compared to what Aria could say. But there was something, wasn’t there? “... I did find someone to keep me company. Or she found me, rather. But she turned out to be one of those boring, polite, wholesome sorts.”

Aria’s eyebrow arched. “Was she hot, at least?”

“She seems awfully plain right now.”

“She must be very flattering if you gave her a chance at all, then.”

“I wish. Honestly, the least she could do is be wracked with guilt and stricken with lust, but no such luck.”

“What’s her name?”

Adagio felt her chest constrict. This part, she dreaded, but… well, if Aria did still hold a grudge, it could truthfully be said that it wouldn’t be a problem for long. “Sunset.”

Aria’s brow knit. “As in…?”

“Shimmer, yes.”

The pause was a tense one. Aria’s face remained nigh-unreadable, her stoniness betrayed only faintly, vaguely, by a narrowing of her eyes.

Eventually, after too long for Adagio’s comfort, Aria brushed off her tension and forced a laugh out. “You always did have rotten taste in women.”

“I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

“Thanks for agreeing. Is there a story behind this one?”

“I was drunk, and she was willing to sit down and let me talk about myself for a little while.” Adagio’s eyes dipped down to Aria’s hands—they were clenched tightly around the railing, so she adjusted her approach. “But she’s a distraction, that’s all.” The dismissiveness of that word left the faintest bitterness in her mouth, but one look at how Aria had faintly relaxed upon hearing it affirmed its validity. “Just something pretty to whittle away at the hours with.”

The look Aria shot her wasn’t quite tense, but it was wary. Adagio tried to discern what it was that still nagged at Aria—there was something; she knew there was—but a turned head halted her efforts.

“Mostly, though… she just made me remember what I was missing.” Adagio slid a little closer, wrapping her arm around Aria’s waist. “It’s good to see you again, Aria.” Aria squirmed slightly, so Adagio pouted at her. That got her to roll her eyes again, but then she held up a single finger, as if to say, “Just once,” and after that she loosely draped her arm over Adagio’s shoulders.

A moment of calm, warm silence passed.

“As far as pleasant surprises go…” Aria cleared her throat. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Adagio opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she blinked.

Surprise?

Sonata only had enough for two…

She swallowed a lump in her throat, then looked into Aria’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Aria gave her a glance. “You just did.”

Adagio shot Aria a withering look. “Did you know about that letter Sonata sent me?”

Aria’s face stayed stony, but it turned to face outwards—not “towards the street” so much as “away from Adagio,” though. “I dropped it off for her,” Aria whispered.

A faint, ugly ache prodded at Adagio’s heart. “And you knew that it had this address written on it?”

“Sonata insisted.” Aria pulled away, leaving Adagio in nippy night air, then leaned forward on the railing, supporting herself on one hand while the other ran through her hair. “I… thought about covering it up.”

“But you didn’t.” A small, sad smile tried to stay on Adagio’s face, but couldn’t last for long. She looked away, wrapping her arms around herself, glancing down at her locket. “And yet you were both surprised to see me.”

Silence said over a span of a few seconds all that Aria’s voice did not.

“Aria?” Adagio squeezed her eyes shut. At her side, her fingernails dug into her palm. “I missed you,” she said. She slowly worked up the nerve to look back at Aria. “You knew that, right?”

Aria spared her a quick glance, then sighed. Her eventual nod couldn’t have come soon enough. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d take,” she murmured.

“To do what?”

That finally got Aria to lift her head. When she did, her vivid eyes seemed to bore right into Adagio’s, scrutinizing as they stared.

Eventually, they dipped downwards. Aria reached out slowly, gently holding Adagio’s locket between two fingers. Her brow knit—she knew right away what was in it. She must have, because that moment when she looked at it was the first time that night her stony mask cracked.

“What do you want?” she asked, voice wavering slightly.

Hesitantly, Adagio reached up and laid her hand over Aria’s. She looked back at the house, remembering the blotchy sounds of mortal music she’d heard earlier that evening. “The same thing as you,” she whispered. She met Aria’s eyes, then, and witnessed them softening before her. “How long do you think any of this is going to satisfy you?”

Aria looked at the locket again, and her eyes screamed ‘not very long at all.’ There was a desperate, undying craving burning in those eyes, and it comforted Adagio to see it in someone else.

“You and Sonata can have so much more,” Adagio whispered. She squeezed Aria’s hand gently. “Come back, and let’s all go and get it together.”

Aria’s mouth opened straight away, but then it shut slowly. “Tell me you have a plan, Adagio,” Aria said.

Adagio swallowed, gulping down her unease. The indomitable hope that her shards always gifted to her faltered, but only slightly. She knew they could do it, and one day they would. There was no other truth.

She found those words very difficult to say out loud, but she said them.

A long while afterwards, Aria slipped her hand out of Adagio’s, stepped back and turned away again. “You know… the moment I first saw you, I just knew that meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me. I never did know why, but I knew it.”

“I know,” Adagio said.

“But those things?” Aria gestured to Adagio’s locket. “They never spoke to me. Not as clearly as you say they did to you, anyway. Nudges and whispers and… and all that, but nothing more.”

Adagio felt her heart sinking, but took every effort not to let it show. Aria, she… she knew better, didn’t she? She would come around. Of course she would.

“So you made all these promises and I never knew where they come from. But you made so many of them come true.”

“And I’ll keep doing it,” Adagio said. “Until we’re right back where we belong.”

Aria fell into a grim, dour silence. “I think you know exactly how much I want to believe that. But… if what you’re saying is true, and we’re… meant to be somewhere better than this, then why has there always been someone waiting to beat us down when we go for it?”

“I—” Adagio faltered, taking a desperate step towards Aria. “I don’t know,” she said, loathing the crack in her voice. “But I know we can do it.”

“You know, I…” Aria’s shoulders slumped, she breathed out a heavy sigh, and she turned away. “Star Swirl beat us. Those girls beat us. I don’t care how much higher we can go, I’m not putting myself through that again.”

Those words hurt like a hammer to Adagio’s gut. Her breaths turned ragged, her thoughts scattered and swirled and a dozen sentences tried to push their way out of her throat all at once. “Aria? What are you trying to—”

Aria took a step away from Adagio. “I don’t know that we can do it, and I’m not even sure if you do either. If you want to take that chance, go for it. But…” She looked back, over her shoulder. “Unless there’s something more you’re not telling me…”

Fumbling for the right words, Adagio lifted a hand to her locket, glancing down at it and silently pleading. Her shards wouldn’t have lied to her. They couldn’t have, they’d never have done it. They knew what was best for her. They always had. But when she tore her eyes away from her locket, looked up and saw the weary, forlorn look marring Aria’s face, her shards seemed less than infallible.

“I was afraid you’d do that,” Aria murmured. She turned away fully, showing her back to Adagio. “And I think you should go.”

Adagio froze where she stood. She must have been hearing things. That had to be it. Her shards would never have given her false hopes, Aria would never have turned her away like that. Why wasn’t anything going the way she wanted it to?

In the end, she turned and ran. A voice called her name behind her, but it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear, and it was little more than a forceful breeze by the time it reached her. Nighttime air nipped at her skin, heels clacked against concrete, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Sonata peeked in through the still-open door to Aria’s room. She crept inside, eyes glued to the solitary figure on the balcony outside, still leaning against the rail.

Met with no greeting, she made her approach, pausing at the glass door to the balcony to listen attentively. She didn’t hear much apart from the wind, but then it was often difficult to tell when dealing with Aria.

It reminded her why she had to be there.

Thinking of being back home, all together again, made her heart ache. She remembered when not even an hour before she’d seen Adagio smile again and brighten the whole world with her joy.

And it was easy, so very easy, to imagine that she’d still get to see that every day if it weren’t for Aria.

But then she drew closer. Aria still didn’t make a sound, but a tiny drop of moisture glistened as it fell from her eye.

Sonata hung her head, resisting a heavy urge to sigh.

She questioned, as she inched closer, whether she was really doing herself any favors by staying. When she thought back to earlier that evening, she imagined going back to Adagio, leaving Aria behind.

Aria looked at her when she got close enough. Less of a look and more of a glance, with dampened eyes quickly turned away. Aria never did like letting other people see. That was just how she was.

Sonata actually did sigh that time, quietly enough to escape notice. Since Aria wasn’t looking at her, she clamped her eyes shut, told herself to smile, and stepped closer. She pressed herself against Aria’s side, found the closest hand and gave it a platitude of a squeeze.

“It’s okay,” she lied. She kept her voice sweet, not quite cheerful.

A moment passed, and fingers turned and twisted to interlace with hers. Aria peered at her again. “She wants us to follow her again.”

And I want you two to talk without one of you crying.

“I can’t do that. I’m done following.”

So walk next to her. Why do you both have to be so stubborn?

And more importantly…

Why does that mean I can’t have what I want?

Those thoughts weren’t what Aria wanted to hear, so Sonata let them go unvoiced. Instead, she nestled up against Aria, kept holding her hand, and kept lying, all with a smile on her face. “It’s okay. I understand.”

She got a stare in response, and her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she thought the blandness of it all had given away her falsehood. She had never been a very good liar, not to them at least.

But, in time, the stare faded and mellowed, and the quiet “Thanks,” that followed told her that she was helping.

Sonata wondered if Adagio needed help too. Probably not. She was stronger than Aria in some ways.

But none of them liked being alone. Sonata wanted to be there for Adagio, but Aria wouldn’t want to be left alone either, and Sonata couldn’t be in two places at once.

By the side of Adagio’s bed, a vinyl disk spun sedately as a speaker blew out a steady stream of soothing notes. She knew the song by heart already—it had been written for her, after all, and since there were no words to usher in her disdain, she could admire the expertise of its composer.

For a little while, the respite was welcome, the sound holding the silence at bay.

Then it became the sound that vexed her. A particularly captivating diminuendo whisked her away to a time far removed from the present. She remembered the sound’s maker, a man who had looked at her with feverish admiration in his starry eyes, and spent night after night slaving away trying to emulate what he saw in her.

Adoration of that kind, so starkly distinct from her present isolation, made the memory a mocking one.

“Damn it.” Adagio pawed at the record and CD player until the sound ended, and then sat on the edge of her bed with her face in her palms.

She wished she’d never gone to that school. Weakness was infinitely preferable to powerlessness, empty praise far superior to obscurity.

She wanted to stop thinking like that. Where was a bottle when she needed one? Wine hadn’t quite been strong enough the last time, but maybe something else would work? If she had enough, wasn’t she supposed to reach something of a stupor? There must be a—

No. Stop it. I’m better than that.

Anything else.

Anything? She looked up slightly, peering through a curtain of dangling tresses.

A more recent memory led her over to the phone on a shelf, and bid her punch in a string of numbers she had been gifted. The movement was mechanical, almost autonomous up until she finally held a delicate finger over one last button, the one that would let the phone do what it was meant to do.

It was only then that she asked herself what in the world she expected to get out of it. Sunset had written her no songs, given her no gifts save for fleeting relief. The poor little girl had no conception of the sort of pain her actions had brought.

And what would Sunset do, if she knew what had transpired that day? Adagio could only imagine how much pity she’d be showered in.

Why, then, would she ever want to reach out?

I don’t want to be alone.

Friendship wasn’t meant for sirens, she reminded herself. Not with mortals.

But I want it. What’s a siren to do, if not break a rule?

She pondered for a moment what her gem would think, if it knew what she was about to do. It only took a moment for her to decide she didn’t care.

Consequences be damned.

She pressed the button, held the phone up to her ear, and waited.

Chapter V

You can leave whenever you want to, Adagio reminded herself. She sat at a small booth in a quaint little coffee shop, fingering a warm cup and keeping a wary eye trained on the door.

Sunset wasn’t there yet, but she’d said she would be. Last night, when Adagio had been in one of her… less than lucid moods, that had seemed like good news.

Now, though…

She’s a distraction, she’d said to Aria the night before. She liked to think she’d meant it, too. Sunset made a poor approximation of a siren at best. And when it was the company of sirens one craved, one found that other people just didn’t compare.

Adagio stared down at her locket. The shards were something. They helped, of course they did. But last night… last night convinced her that sometimes the shards just weren’t enough.

So, when she saw a glimpse of fiery red hair out the window, followed shortly by the door opening, she put down her locket and put on a smile, because a distraction was exactly what she clearly needed, and perhaps for longer than a day.

“Ah, there you are,” she said as Sunset drew closer. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“Sorry. Busy morning.” Sunset sat down across from her, pausing to reach up and fix her hair, then clasping her hands in her lap and smiling brightly. “How’s it going?” Her voice was cheerful and light, as casual as if she didn’t remember their past conflict at all. Another day, that might have been insulting.

“Well. I would still be at home, but lounging around looking gorgeous doesn’t exactly melt the hours away without anyone to appreciate how much effort I’m not putting into it.”

“You know, there might be something you could learn from that…”

Adagio rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, friendship’s wonderful. Now you’re going to enrich my life with more of your rainbow-saturated enlightenment, I take it?”

With a giggle, Sunset made a cheeky grin. “Well, I was going to give you a break, but now that you asked…”

“You’ll have to expand my horizons some some other time, I’m afraid.”

“One of my friends is taking on friendship students now, I’m told.” Sunset shrugged in a pointedly nonchalant kind of way.

“Sirens are allergic to studying. It ruins our complexion and makes our hair fall out.”

Sunset snickered. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a hard life, being a siren.” Adagio exaggerated a wistful sigh and a longing gaze out the window. “Feels like we can hardly go out the door somedays, with all our allergies. Studying… virgins…”

A snort caught her attention; out the corner of her eye, she saw Sunset clearing her throat, then making a bashful smile. “At least one of those,” Sunset said, “I know you’re making up.”

Adagio cocked an eyebrow, then smirked and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.” She took a brief second to appreciate the touches of red that came to Sunset’s cheeks, then pulled back and searched for a different topic, settling on the first one that came to mind. “I’ve been meaning to ask, by the way. Whatever happened to that—” she paused to remind herself not to scowl “—other me?”

“Oh, her. Yeah, um…” Sunset rubbed at her nose. “We actually had breakfast this morning. She’s… nice.”

Adagio was many things just then. Jealous certainly wasn’t one of them. “She’s keeping out of trouble, I hope?”

“Seems to be. I... told her about the magic thing, though. Just so you know. And how we’re not from around here and all that.”

It was an effort to respond with a smirk instead of a reprimand and a grimace. “You know, most people, if they knew about potentially world-dominating magic, would… I don’t know, lock it in a box or something, not tell anyone off the street about it.”

“I... didn’t say anything about the rubies.” Sunset quirked her mouth, then waved her hand. “Not yet, anyway. And… yeah.” Momentary discomfort took hold of her face, but its reign was a short one. “But actually, while I’m thinking about it, she did express an interest in meeting with you sometime.”

Adagio stopped herself from picturing such a meeting before it ruined her less-than-awful mood. “Tell her I’m not interested, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Sunset held up her hands. “I don’t plan on making you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“It’s cute that you think you could.”

To that, Sunset responded with a chuckle and an eyeroll. “Right.” She looked over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get myself something. Be back in a few?”

Adagio shrugged, gestured, and watched Sunset stand up to leave.

A few minutes later, when Sunset came back and sat down with her drink, they talked for a little while. It… wasn’t terribly interesting, really. Aria would’ve had more insightful things to say, Sonata would’ve put more energy into it. But they weren’t there.

Once she let herself, Adagio managed to enjoy it a little bit. She tried to seem interested, even when Sunset talked about whatever trite nonsense went on in her school life.

“... but anyway,” Sunset said, having just finished a mildly-amusing tangent about her pet lizard and, from the sound of things, almost finished her drink, “you’ve been around for a long time, right? Got any interesting stories?”

“Quite a few,” Adagio said. She glanced about the room, then, curling her lip at the ambient chattering noises. “But not for here. I tend to get odd looks when I talk about my life. Care to walk me home again?”

Sunset paused. “Oh. Um… sure. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Adagio cocked an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing. Just… last time you had me over you—”

Adagio faked a sneeze into her elbow. “Sorry, allergies acting up.” When she saw Sunset blush, she grinned and leaned forward. “Sunset, when someone like me invites you home with her, a girl doesn’t usually say no.”

“... And here we are,” Adagio mumbled beneath her breath as she turned the knob of a freshly-unlocked front door, marching straight on through and beckoning Sunset to follow. “What kinds of stories were you after? I’m partial to tragedies, myself, but you seem like you’d prefer something lighter.”

“Actually, just… while I’m thinking about it, could I ask you something?” Sunset said, hurrying through the doorway behind Adagio, then pausing and shutting the door behind her.

“That depends on how flattering a question it is, I suppose,” Adagio said.

“Did something happen yesterday?”

And just like that, Adagio felt the already-tenuous good mood she’d let herself slip into dangerously fraying. She’d sought out Sunset precisely so that she could take her mind off recent events.

“A great deal of things, I’m sure.” She shot Sunset a mostly-false smile, trying in her head to work out ways to deflect the line of inquiry. “Why do you ask?”

“The last time you asked to see me again, you’d just found out that your sisters weren’t coming to see you. Two days ago, you sounded like you wanted nothing to do with me.” Sunset crossed her arms, frowning. “But last night…”

Adagio bristled, curling her lip, then sighed. Not much point in lying when Sunset was already so close to the truth, was there? The mood was already shot anyway; she doubted she’d get into a more enjoyable state of mind again soon. “I took your advice,” she murmured.

Sunset’s mouth opened like she had a question, but then she just nodded solemnly. “Oh.” She bit her lip, frowning, then met Adagio’s eyes. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know. Can you change the past?” When Sunset didn’t answer right away, Adagio shrugged and turned away. “I guess you have your answer, then.”

Silence lingered for a moment.

“You know…” Sunset’s voice made Adagio stop and listen. “This whole time, it’s always been talking about your sisters, not your magic, that gets to you. You’re… well, I can’t blame you for being angry at me about the gem thing, I really can’t. I would be pretty livid if someone went and took my magic away too.

“But then… I’d be feeling a whole lot worse if someone took my friends away, and I’m starting to think that you get that. The ruby isn’t what cuts deepest for you, is it?”

Adagio stared ahead, then felt herself glowering—Sunset sounded… sympathetic, for one. Wistful, melancholic. Whatever anger she may have once felt seemed to have cooled to a simmer, if it endured at all. But it was pity that had cooled it, wasn’t it? Pity for the pains of a splintered family, coming from the girl who’d stripped a goddess of her splendor.

“Is that really how you think of me?” Adagio’s eyes narrowed as she looked to Sunset. “That underneath all this grandeur and danger is a loving, caring sister? That’s what absolves me in your eyes.”

Again Sunset faltered. “I… I guess, yeah.” Her brow knit. “Why? What’re you—?”

Seeing Sunset stumble put Adagio slightly at ease. Facing Sunset head-on, Adagio folded her arms across her chest. “You know… I’ve never been alone before, not in my entire life. So if you’re desperate to help me, make that feeling go away and you’re doing it.” She scowled. “For completely the wrong reasons, apparently, but I’ll take what I can get right now.”

“I’m… not sure I understand.”

“No, you clearly don’t.” Adagio grimaced, then tried to reign herself in—she reminded herself of why she’d brought Sunset back. It wouldn’t be productive to drive her away.

But neither did the misguided little girl deserve an apology. “But that’s fine,” Adagio said. She tried to make herself smile, but managed a smirk instead. “You’re trying your best, I’m sure, but you’re… not a siren.”

“What would the right reasons be, then? If… if everything about this was the way you wanted, what would I be doing?” Sunset seemed as sincere as ever, at least to Adagio’s eyes.

“Forgiving me,” Adagio began, “as easily as you’ve already done. Not because you know there are people I care about besides myself, but because my song is the most beautiful thing in existence.” The bond she shared with her sisters was beautiful in its own way, certainly, but… it pained her slightly to put it second to anything, but how could it compare to her music? “And you’re driving yourself mad with guilt after taking it away from me.”

“Adagio, I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t see it that way.”

“I gathered. I’d try to explain it to you, but… I don’t think I have the words.”

Sunset paused. Then she reached into her pocket, pulled out a circular crimson stone and thumbed it. “Would you like to show me, then?” she asked at last.

Adagio cocked her head, eying the stone in Sunset’s hand. Something popped out to her when she looked at it, an unmistakable glimmer of magic that gave her pause. “What does that do?” she asked. A suspicion came to mind, but not a pleasant one.

“It lets me see other people’s memories.”

Adagio’s face tightened. She fixed Sunset with a glare. How dare you? she hissed in her head; the thought had almost made it out her mouth before a raised hand cut her off.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t used it on you, and I’m not planning to, not unless you let me. I was thinking maybe you could show me a time when you were singing and…”

A grimace and a low growl formed Adagio’s response. Instincts urged her to recoil, and she thought her gem would support that decision.

Again she quelled her anger, though this time she wondered if Sunset’s company would be worth the trouble. “What would you see, exactly?” She forced herself out of her scowl and into a smirk. “Just so I can know how offended I should be.”

“Not very much. Just whatever’s on your mind.”

“I see.” Adagio edged back, staring away from Sunset at the wall in front of her. Of all the things Sunset could have asked of her…

… why did she have to go and pick the most infuriatingly tempting one?

What would be the point of accepting it, though? If Sunset had seen the beauty in the song of a siren before, her heart would have rent itself in two before it let her break those rubies. She had judged it by its danger, by what it could do, and in doing so flaunted her incurable ignorance of the music’s essence.

Incurable. That’s what her gem would have said, if it could still speak to her. Sunset didn’t see the music of sirens the way Aria and Sonata did because she couldn’t. Attempting to enlighten her was to contemplate the meaning of futility—a thrum from Adagio’s shards seemed to validate her.

And yet she still hadn’t refused.

She wanted that seemingly impossible result, didn’t she? Aria understands, she’d thought to herself the night before; the joy that came hadn’t seemed like a craving then, but she longed to feel it again, it seemed.

“Do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. Get on with it before I kick some sense into myself.”

Sunset frowned, but nodded, then stepped forward and reached out. “Okay. I… just need to touch you, then.”

Adagio rolled her eyes, then stuck out her hand and envisioned a memory. She only barely realized soft fingers wrapping around her hand and white light filling Sunset’s eyes.

The grandiose stage hadn’t seemed so desolate and lifeless, but suddenly Adagio strutted out onto it and midnight turned to noon. The clamors and whispers of the thousand faces packed into the audience all snuffed themselves in an instant. No sound wished to be the one to compete with Adagio’s voice.

She stood there, still, silent and serene in the center of the stage, slender fingers wrapped around a microphone. There wasn’t another place, not anywhere in the whole world, that anybody in that room wished to be. Adagio feasted on the adoring stares trained on her, basking in the crowd’s affection and reluctantly restrained enthusiasm. Somehow, an eager smile defied reason by beautifying an angelic face.

Her song was already there. She hadn’t felt generous enough to speak a word of it, not just yet, but it was there, waiting. An ethereal melody unfolded and evolved in her head, shifting from one of endless forms to another every second. A song of unparalleled beauty inhabited her head—the kind of song that would make poets throw down their quills and weep and drive musicians to envious madness.

But to her, its presence was almost silence while its absence would be deafening.

When she cared to, and not a second before, she opened her mouth and her music came to life. Words flowed from her, dancing through the air, leaving streaks of radiance where they wandered and graced mortal ears. They coiled around Adagio, suffusing her body with enrapturing radiance—looking away from her would’ve been the cruellest torture in the world to those fortunate souls in her audience.

It shouldn’t have made such a difference, her speaking her song aloud, not when it already lived in her head, but it did. It uplifted her, transformed her. Her eyes twinkled, her skin glowed, her hair shone. Every movement she made was fluid, graceful and stunningly bright, like she was made of water mixed with sunlight. Awe descended upon her audience, but the only look on her face was one of joy. The thrill of singing, unadulterated joy.

Adagio and her song stood there on that stage, blazing stars dwarfing mere wicks with their presence.

Sunset’s grip released abruptly. She jerked back with a start, eyes dazed and unfocused once the light faded. Adagio withdrew her hand sharply, wringing it with her other, regarding Sunset warily.

The question—“What had she seen?”—rang sharply in Adagio’s mind. A faint nervous shiver ran through her; she wished right away that she’d had more restraint, but the damage had undoubtedly already been done. She couldn’t put into words what exactly the damage was—and frankly, it was Sunset; it wouldn’t be a big deal—but still she chastised herself for letting it happen.

You idiot. You foolish, shallow, reckless, desperate—

“Wow,” Sunset gasped. She shook her head, blinking quickly, mouth hanging open. “You—that was—wow!” More noises came stumbling out of her mouth, half-formed utterances and disjointed mashes of syllables.

Adagio faltered. She felt as though she ought to have been relieved, but lingering caution and memories of whispered warnings made her keep Sunset at arm’s length.

“That’s what it was like?” Sunset finally managed to say coherently. Her eyes were wide, gleaming brightly and… starstruck—that was the only word Adagio could think of to describe the awe that she saw in Sunset’s eyes. “Every time you sang, that’s…”

Adagio blinked. Sharpness fled from her tongue—silver turned to lead. “Y—yes,” she said flatly. The awe on Sunset’s face should have been a welcome, joyous sight, but the surprise of it all left it ashen and matter-of-fact.

Or it did at first, at least. Sunset stammered again, tripping gracelessly over her praise, she had so much of it to give. Adagio knew she should have been smiling.

And she might have been, if she could stop thinking about how her shards had been wrong—that thought gave her pause; it felt ugly, slimy as it crawled about her head. But they would’ve told her that, at best, letting Sunset see that memory was a pointless endeavor. And now here she was, presented with a sight of adoration. The shards had been wrong.

No. No, they couldn’t have been, she decided. Why would they be? They’d never been wrong before, not in a thousand years. Surely, Sunset of all people would not be the one to finally coax an error out of them, would she? No, there had to be something she was missing.

“Would that have changed anything?” she asked, quietly. Nagging doubts made her anxious to continue. “If you’d seen that back when…”

A stark, grave silence fell over Sunset, as though she’d just realized her joy was an unwelcome outsider. It brought Adagio at least a little solace. There was more to that reaction than merely joy, at least, and that was exactly what she knew would come. Part of her loathed how she tried to convince herself that made her happy.

“It… makes me think about a few things. I—I don’t know if it…” Attempts at eloquence crumbled, and soon Sunset gave only a sad shake of her head.

“I see,” Adagio murmured.

“But…” Sunset started to reach out—when Adagio flinched, Sunset made a show of tugging her necklace off, slipping it into her bag and tossing the bag to the side. Then she drew close again, laying an almost-comforting hand on Adagio’s shoulder. “I’m glad you let me see that. It puts some things in perspective, knowing what you lost.” Her voice was soft and heavy, laced with prominent sympathy and just a hint of regret.

It was exactly what Adagio wanted, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking how much simpler it would be if she’d been denied it. Her shards had said it would never come. Her shards, that had assured her that her sisters would return, comforted her with visions of mended gems and ascensions to the peaks she deserved.

She stared down at her locket, wishing it would give her something more—maybe if it admitted that it could be wrong sometimes…

That still wouldn’t be better. If her shards could be wrong about Aria and Sonata first, and then Sunset as well—Stop it, she told herself when she felt her composure fraying.

“Adagio? Is everything…”

She jerked away from Sunset, stared at her for a moment, then turned a shoulder to her. “You should go,” she said. Her voice sounded weak, wavering slightly, so she breathed deeply. “You should go,” she repeated, more clearly this time. She looked back at Sunset, and found some small solace in collecting herself. “I’ll let you know if I want to see you again.”

Confusion flashed through Sunset’s eyes. But she nodded. “Okay. I don’t understand, but…” She nodded, holding a sorrowful frown for a moment before taking her leave.

The rest of the day trudged by at a sluggish pace. Adagio had too many things to think about.

Her locket sat on a table by her bed. The loss of its weight made her always feel like squirming. She had to move back to the living room to even have a slim chance at stopping herself from throwing it back on before the night was over.

Just one night, she’d told herself—the shards in that locket were her oldest friends. If they’d been wrong, and she still didn’t like thinking that they had been, they’d not steered her so badly she could never forgive them. She just… wanted to think about how to deal with that on a different day.

They might be proven right eventually, after all. Maybe they’d known, somehow, that Sunset’s awe would blacken and turn to scorn, that the glimpse of magic she’d seen would make the prospect of even a hint of it coming back a terrifying one.

Maybe.

There was a knock on her door. Adagio peered towards the sound; despite the vulnerability that came with excitement and hope, she found herself grasping eagerly at them. So she hurried over, gripped the doorknob.

The door swung open and Adagio stared at herself—her double stood there, beaming vacuously, a bottle of wine gripped in both hands. “Hi! Sorry for—”

Biting anger tore through sullen brooding and fleeting optimism. Adagio’s face tightened into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by, try and smooth things over, get off the wrong foot we started on.” The imposter held out the bottle. “This is what always got me through the nights where my sisters gave me trouble.”

Adagio cocked her eyebrow, then reached out and took the bottle. She gave it a scrutinizing stare before shrugging. “Thank you.”

She slammed the door shut, lingered long enough to lock it, then walked back towards her kitchen.

That was just what I needed, she thought, chuckling and managing a smirk as she glanced down at the bottle. Oh, and she’s even got good taste.

The loneliness of taking out a single glass along with a corkscrew had never felt sweeter. She pulled the cork out of the bottle, poured herself a glass, gave it a few swirls and sipped from it. The sharp taste was good; in half an hour, it would be delicious. Remembering what had happened the last time she’d had wine made her almost reconsider, but…

Screw it. She deserved a little naughtiness after everything she’d been through, didn’t she?

She carried the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, walking out of her kitchen intent on going back to her bedroom—and almost dropped them both when she saw her double calmly seated on her couch.

Anger rose up, but she quelled it straight away. A wretch like her imposter didn’t deserve the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her so easily.

“How did you get in here?” she asked, curling her lip but keeping her voice sharp and clear.

“You really ought to get a better lock,” her double said with a nonchalant shrug. “For people like me, that one’s as good as wall of paper.” She paused to look around, idly brushing her fingers through her hair. “Although I bet you don’t get many of those in this part of town.” Her eyes drilled into Adagio’s, frustratingly enigmatic. “People like me, that is.”

Adagio stared. Her double seemed… still relaxed, but not in a vapid kind of way, this time. Less like oblivious to consequences, more heedless. There was an air of confidence to her that suggested she thought she was completely safe sitting uninvited in someone else’s home. And perhaps an undercurrent of tension, if she strained her eyes, but only a faint one.

“You make it sound like you’ve done this before,” Adagio said.

Her double shrugged again. “Desperation has a way of making us stop caring about what we’ll regret.”

“Perhaps.” Adagio sipped calmly from her glass. Her grip on the bottle—the closest thing to a weapon she had on hand—tightened. If words hadn’t gotten her double to leave…

“Believe me, I didn’t want to have to do that,” her double said, leaning forward and clasping her hands in her lap. “But I really did want to talk to you.”

Adagio stared back at her double and wondered. Everything she’d just heard played back through her head, and this time she picked it all to pieces. Whatever life her double had lived didn’t sound like an easy one. If she’d been dropped into a… rough life... without any magic to rely on, then presumably she’d found other tools to get what she wanted.

Adagio, speculating and theorizing, glanced down at her double’s chest and curled her lip, then decided to, for the sake of her pride if nothing else, draw a different conclusion than the first one that came to mind.

Everything pointed to the odds not being in her favor, if it came to force. She wished Aria was there with her.

“Alright.” She took a small sip from her wine, adopting a haughty smirk. It did, on some level, make it all more bearable knowing that her double likely hadn’t had the same pampered lifestyle a siren would’ve lived. “I’m curious. What do you want?”

Her double eyed the bottle. “Let me pour myself a glass of that and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Adagio stifled a scowl, then stopped herself from cracking a smile. “Give me my couch back first and you have a deal.”

A few minutes later, Adagio laid on her couch still cradling an almost-full glass, while her double sat primly in front of her on a chair, lowering an empty glass and reaching for the bottle again.

“So,” Adagio began, “when you decided it would be a good idea to come here, what were you thinking we’d do?”

“Well. Let’s not make this too much about me, shall we?” The imposter giggled as she poured her second glass. “But I would like to know why you don’t like me, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m not sure how I earned that much hatred so quickly.”

Adagio eyed her double’s bare neck, then shrugged. “Don't sell yourself short.”

The imposter’s smile was maddeningly unperturbed. “Would you let me make a guess, then?” She swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Sunset says that you used to have magic of some kind. You could tell by looking at me that I didn’t, couldn’t you?”

Adagio blinked, keeping her face purposefully unyielding. “What leads you to that conclusion?”

“If I were one of the only people with magic around, I’d be pretty proud of that. Seeing someone else who looks just like me but doesn’t have that special something… well, ‘a lump of clay pretending to be marble’ was how you put it, I believe.”

The feeling of being backed into a corner was not an appreciated one. Adagio rolled her eyes, feigning a lack of interest. “Where are you going with all this, exactly?”

“Oh, that’s…” The imposter laughed again, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “That’s about all I had worked out, actually. This magic stuff’s more exciting than it is easy.”

Adagio almost rolled her eyes again.

“But I was actually wondering if there was any way you could get it back.”

“What do you want that my magic would give you?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure I know the answer to that myself.” The imposter smiled—it wasn’t quite a sinister one, but neither was it half as vapid as before. “I envy you, though.” She glanced about the room, raked her eyes over every bit of luxury in sight. “I hear about the life you’ve lived and I just can’t stop myself from wanting most of it.”

“You’re wasting your time. My magic belongs to me and my sisters.” A satisfied smirk came to Adagio’s face. “You could never use it yourself.” She didn’t know that, strictly speaking, but she had a hunch her gem would agree with her.

Her double, though, hardly seemed bothered by that information—whether that was stubbornness or a lack of ambition was hard to say. “Let me help you get back what you’ve lost, then.”

What would I need you to help me with that? Adagio thought, but she held her tongue for a moment. Sunset had seen something beautiful earlier that day, she said, but… did that mean she would hand the rubies over, if she were asked? She still thought they could be dangerous, or else she would not have withheld that information.

So if it came to taking the gems back without permission—that thought made her uneasy, and she scolded herself for not having taken measures to stop it from doing that.

But if it did come to that… her double had broken into a home once, and seemingly done so many times before. And Sunset seemed not to mind her—maybe, then, she really did have a better shot at getting the rubies.

“Awfully reckless of you, isn’t it?” Adagio said, to both herself and her double. “You don’t even know what I’d do with my magic if I did get it back.” And I don’t know what you would do either.

“Call me desperate, then.”

Adagio knitted her brow. Desperation had driven her to do a lot of things as of late, not all of them in her favor. That quality in her double could be either wonderful or horrible. “Desperate for what?”

A moment of quiet thought and a gulp of wine. Her double idly scratched at her left ear. “Escape, I guess you could say.”

That, Adagio could almost sympathize with. Almost. She could if she wanted to, certainly. She sipped from her own glass. “You’ll have to tell me more about yourself, one of these days.”

“Maybe one day I will. Right now, though, I want to help you.”

And though she didn’t like to admit it, Adagio thought that perhaps her imposter could do exactly that. “You want something in return, I take it?”

Hesitation flickered across the imposter’s face. “Yes. I… want to see…” She bit her lip, filled up her glass again, took a long gulp, breathed deeply and then spoke clearly. “You have two sisters, Sunset tells me. I want to see them.”

Adagio’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Her double shrugged, as if what she'd said carried no more importance than if she'd asked for a weather report. "I'm curious what they're like, after seeing you."

Adagio’s hand clenched. Letting someone she barely trusted herself go anywhere near her sisters… what was there to gain from that? If the gems came back to her, she would be able to provide for them everything they needed.

But… On the other hand, though, what was there to lose? They could handle themselves, certainly. Her double would more likely be compliant if she was trusted with a little, and she must have known that there was nobody else she could barter with for what she wanted.

“You’re looking for shards. Rubies. I would start with Sunset.” A nagging doubt coiled in her stomach, but she pushed past it. “I’ll point you towards my sisters.”

Chapter VI

Sonata craned her neck, carefully adjusting her grip on the stepladder. “Did you find it yet?”

“Shut up.” Aria, from her precarious perch at the very top of the ladder, dragged a hefty cardboard box off of the highest shelf they had. She made her way back down slowly and lugged the box inside while Sonata folded the ladder and shoved it away into the corner.

Once Aria had the box open, Sonata flounced over and rummaged through it, digging past a layer of bits and bobs and odds and ends—and setting aside a palm-sized plush fish that she’d spent ages looking for—to find a photo album. “Okay,” she chirped, waving nonchalantly to Aria. “I think I have what I need.”

“Good for you,” Aria drawled, slinking off towards the fridge. “What the hell do you even want out of this?”

Sonata flipped through the album’s pages. They didn’t usually keep many pictures of themselves lying around—it would be a little weird if someone else were to see some of the really old ones—but a handful taken in private were deemed worth keeping. “I was hoping to find some pictures of Pancake in here.”

A can cracked open and Aria came back pouring some kind of yucky alcohol stuff down her mouth. “Please tell me you don’t actually expect to find a pancake in there.”

“Uh, no. That would be silly. I said Pancake. Capital P, so that means it’s a person, not a thing.”

“How did you make that make less sense by trying to explain it?”

“Remember that time like…” Sonata thought for a second. Cameras had been a thing, so it could have been… few centuries ago, maybe? That sounded a little longer than she thought, but it had been a really old and clunky one, so… “A whole long time ago?”

“Sonata, if you’re going to keep rotting my brain like this, there’s a fence outside that I’m told is an excellent listener.”

“Not falling for that this time!” Sonata sang. She then paused, beaming as she homed in on a photo of herself and Adagio fawning over a plump, haughty-looking rabbit seated on a fancy velvet cushion surrounded by a veritable cavalcade of decadent bling. “Ooh, here’s a good one! Not quite what I’m looking for, but…”

“Lemme see.” Aria plucked the picture out of Sonata’s hands, eyed it and made an angry frown. “Oh, was this that time you and Adagio pretended to go crazy for a year so you had an excuse to ignore me?”

“We weren’t ‘crazy,’ we were Prince Pancake Sparklefluff III’s personal handmaidens.”

“And that’s different from what I said… how, exactly?” Aria sent the picture fluttering towards the ground and Sonata moved to catch it.

“There was a bunny involved. Duh.” Sonata looked up at Aria and glared at her. “Also, you threw Dagi’s fancy pen into the ocean, remember?”

“No, but that sounds like something I’d do.” Aria shrugged.

That pen cost her more than this house did. Sonata paused. Cost someone, anyway. “Yeah, that’s a thing you did. We were totally justified.” Sonata looked away to hide her silent muttering. “But anyway, I need a different picture. That one’s too… y’know.”

“If you were going to say slutty, I completely agree. I’m not even sure this is age-appropriate for you.”

Sonata looked at the picture again. Ooh, wow, yeah, that is a lot of skin. Really pretty, though! “Pancake had very specific tastes.” She tucked the picture back in its place and kept looking. “But I need one that’s a little more boring than that. Something that’s cutesy and fluffy and wholesome and just screams ‘pity me.’ ”

“What do you even need it for?”

“You know those friends I have? The ones who you totally hate and stuff?”

“You just described literally every person any of us have ever met. But yes. What about them?” Aria tipped her head back to take a drink.

“Well, one of them, the one you especially don’t like” —Sonata found another picture, of the same bunny sandwiched between her cheek and Adagio’s ample, technically-not-uncovered breasts, and set it aside as she closed the album and stood up— “cheated on her boyfriend, so we’re taking her clubbing to cheer her up.”

A few droplets of liquid splattered forcefully onto her back.

“Did I say that wrong?” Sonata looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, then shrugged. “I might’ve said that wrong. Whatever, it’s not really that important anyway. But when I heard about it, I was like, ‘Oh my gosh!’ because that meant we’d all be spending the entire night consoling her and stuff. But then, if they’re all pitying her and stuff, there’s not gonna be any attention left for me! So tonight—” She held up the picture with a dramatic flourish and beamed at Aria. “I’m going to tell them that my bunny died, and I need pictures and stuff so they’ll believe me.” Sonata giggled, thinking that things like that must be why Dagi always got so smiley when she was doing the scheming thing.

Aria nodded, then smirked and tousled Sonata’s hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a conniving bitch?”

“Aww, thanks, Aria!” Sonata responded by nuzzling her sister, then pouting when Aria lurched back. “Yeah, I get that a lot, but it’s kinda weird: I think you’re the only one who means it in a nice way.”

“Right.” Aria rolled her eyes, which meant she knew she’d heard the truth but didn’t want to admit that someone else was right. Her methods were renowned for their subtlety. “Anything else you wanted to pester me about?”

Sonata reached into her pocket, unfolded a crumpled piece of paper with “Stuff to do” scrawled on top, looked at the bottom, and tensed. “Yeah, kinda.” She had told herself that she was going to do something that day. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Aria said, but Sonata couldn’t help hearing “no” instead. She’d gotten used to some lies over the years, but that particular one stung to hear. Aria didn’t mean it, of course, but...

“Just wondering.” Sonata shrugged, because it totally wasn’t like it was a big deal or anything. “I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere? Go shopping, see a movie, that kind of thing?”

Aria didn’t nod or say yes, both of which would’ve been nice, which was probably why she didn’t do them. She just stared like she’d heard something stupid, but that meant she was at least thinking about it. That gave Sonata a flicker of hope that was shortly extinguished by a raspy voice. “Don’t you have other friends you can do that with?”

Sonata stiffened, because that really wasn’t the point and she hated how Aria didn’t seem to realize it and…

Sonata smiled. “Yeah, but you know, I was just wondering if... ” If you wanted to, she realized she was about to say. She seemed to say that a lot around her sisters.

“I think they’d enjoy it more than I would.”

“Oh, okay. So that’s a no, then?” Sonata nodded slowly. “That’s fine,” she lied.

“Glad to hear it.” Aria walked away. She eyed the box she’d taken down earlier and moved to pick it up. “I hope you enjoy yourself tonight,” she said. Sonata liked to think she meant it.

She took the album with her and trudged back to her room.

“What do you see in Aria? It’s just that you obviously care about them very much, but I can’t think of a time you’ve spoken about her like you, you know, like her.”

They sat on a worn but comfy sofa in Sunset's living room, in an apartment most kindly described as 'cozy.' Sonata would have liked the place, Adagio thought. It had that kind of pleasantness to it that only those constrained by a lack of ambition could properly appreciate, the comfort it offered subdued so as not to offend the less fortunate. And that was the question Sunset had chosen to ask, once the usual pleasantries were passed and the subject had turned to how Adagio was holding up.

“Hmm. Aria… Aria is the second-best siren that there’s ever been, as far as I know. I imagine I’d be very much like her, if I weren’t always the prettiest girl in the room.” A smile made its way to Adagio’s mouth; memories flickered through her head, of beautiful Aria weaving a tempest of wrath out of her song. “She had a voice that could make fires roar and veins open.” She curled her lip. “Some of the uglier tricks our magic could do, but sometimes they had their place.

“But she’s also the kind of person who would burn down an art gallery just to spite all the people who thought the pieces in it were beautiful. Basically, she hates me, hates Sonata, probably hates you, hates… oh, who am I missing? There must be someone else, someone she’s… I don’t know, been in a room with.” She turned to face a now wide-eyed Sunset and flashed a gleaming smile. “Does that answer your question?”

“Not really? Everything you’re saying makes it sound like you’d want her as far away from you as possible.”

“That’s how you know I’m telling the truth about her. Because you’re right, I’d never invite someone like her into my life. But she’s a part of it, and she has been for a very long time. Sometimes a siren just… needs another siren there for her, and there were a lot of days I wasn’t sure Sonata counted.”

The first face Sunset made in response to that was a puzzled one, like she was expecting to have another question. Soon, though, she shifted to a more intent interest and she crossed her ankles, like she was settling in for what she expected to be a long story.

“How’d you three end up together, then?”

Sonata rested her cheek on her palm, staring at an assortment of dresses strewn out over the dining table.

She’d taken them downstairs; her room was next to Aria’s and the walls were rather thin, so being somewhere else gave her a little leeway if she ever felt like sniffling. Aria didn’t like to hear that, and she probably had enough to worry about on her own.

Sonata had thought that picking out what she was going to wear that night would help her relax and take her mind off things. So far, it hadn’t been working.

Sonata wondered sometimes if Aria felt the same way about the whole situation as she did. Sure, they couldn’t do fancy magic things anymore, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find other things they liked, right?

If they tried, probably.

If they tried.

Sonata sighed, and half-heartedly poked and prodded at the dresses on the table. They all look nice, I guess.

She stood up, trudged away from the table and flopped down on the couch. Maybe she’d flip a coin or roll a die or something later.

She fidgeted for a bit, tried to find a comfortable way to lie down, but nothing quite worked. After a little while, she sat up, groaned softly and lazily looked out the window, wondering if there was something exciting outside.

Nope. There was a sidewalk, and a street past that, and Adagio was walking up to the doorway and there were houses and things on the other side of the street and—

Sonata rushed over to the door and flung it open.

Adagio stumbled back, steadying herself against the door as her heels wobbled. She looked quite surprised, and certainly not very happy. Even after she caught herself and focused on Sonata, she was still and wistful.

Hesitating, Sonata noted that Adagio’s locket was missing, and awful thoughts came to mind. “Dagi?”

At the sound of her name, Adagio flinched, breathing out a sigh and then stepping a little closer. She smiled, and Sonata immediately felt better for it, but Adagio still had an air of melancholy to her, and that kept Sonata’s spirits from rising too high. “Kind of, but, uh… hi,” Adagio said. “I’m not who you think I am, Sonata.”

“Hmm?” Sonata looked at Sort-Of-Adagio again. She didn’t look any different, not really—except for her hair, now that Sonata thought to look. Adagio rarely went without something spiky and pointy holding her hair up, but this time she had it flowing unbound down her back. And she didn’t look confident, and Sonata knew Dagi was like that only rarely. Oh, and hadn’t there been another Princess something-or-other at that school with the magical girls? “Oooh… so you’re This-Dagi, not That-Dagi?”

That wasn’t so bad, she thought, but it did remind her that she missed the real Adagio. But maybe this other one would be kinda similar? That would be pretty nice.

This-Dagi thought for a moment and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that. I’m sorry, this is all very rude of me, but… I just wanted to see you. I spoke with your sister the other day, and we were talking about you and it’s confusing, I know.”

Sonata blinked. “No, I think I get it.” Not like it was all that complicated anyway, but whatever.

Still, This-Dagi looked pretty happy to hear it. She smiled, but only in that half-hearted kind of way that meant she wasn’t sure whether she was really supposed to be happy or not. “Is Aria here?”

Oh, sure. That’s the first thing you ask. Sonata deflated a little on the inside, but kept herself chipper on the outside. “I could go and see.” She thought for a moment. “Do you want to come inside and wait?”

After she saw a faint glimpse of a nod, she ushered This-Dagi in, plopped her down on a couch, and then hurried upstairs to knock on Aria’s door.

“Aria?”

She didn’t hear anything, which meant…

Well, it could have meant just about anything, really. Maybe Aria wasn’t even there, or maybe she just listening to super-loud music with her headphones on, or brooding in the corner being all sulky and “Don’t touch me,” and stuff, or maybe she was passed out on the floor ‘cause she drank a whole lot…

Hopefully it wasn’t any of that nasty stuff. Sonata knocked again, just to be sure. “Aria?”

Would knowing that there was a second Dagi get Aria out faster? It seemed like the kind of thing that she’d want to check out, if she knew about it.

But then she thought back to the last time Aria and Adagio had spoken to each other. Hmm. She frowned, then flounced away from the door and went back downstairs. She saw This-Dagi standing by the table, looking so at home and in place that the whole room seemed more welcoming. “She’s not here,” Sonata said.

This-Dagi wilted just a tiny bit, but put a smile back on quickly. “That’s okay,” she said. Sonata didn’t believe her, but This-Dagi changed the subject by gesturing to the dresses Sonata had laid out. “What’s all this for?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh…” She’s kinda not a stranger, right? Sonata missed having Adagio around to smack her when she said the wrong things—kind of like a fluffy-but-angry safety blanket—but there wasn’t really anything too bad she could say, right? There weren’t any complicated plans to ruin, not really. What was the worst that could happen? “I’m going out with some friends tonight and was figuring out what to wear and all that stuff.”

This-Dagi looked at Sonata, then back to the dresses. “And you were going to wear…” Her finger traced a loose circle in the air, settling on the closest one. “That?”

Sonata looked at the indicated outfit—which she knew from experience she looked awfully cute in, even if the skirt was a little longer than she liked and it didn’t emphasize her hips enough. She knew for a fact at least one of her friends was jealous of those hips. “Uh… yeah? Is something wrong with it?”

“No, no. Looks fine to me.” This-Dagi held up her hands, then quirked her mouth and idly fiddled with her hair. “But I was told that you and your sisters were… sirens, I think was the word?”

Had Adagio told her that? That didn’t sound like her. But This-Dagi seemed nice so far. Maybe Adagio liked her too? That must’ve been it.

Sonata cracked a smile. Nodding all the while, she trotted over and stood right next to This-Dagi. “Something like that, yeah.” She eyed This-Dagi closely, stopping once she satisfied herself that there weren’t any differences she’d notice apart from the hair.

“And, I don’t know, I guess I always thought sirens would be… sexier? Don’t get me wrong, I think you’d look adorable in that, but—”

That made Sonata wilt a little, because it wasn’t very Dagi-ish. “No, I get it.” Sonata shifted in place, rolling her eyes a little and gesturing up the stairs. “They kinda always had that bit covered pretty well.” Sure, that often meant they were the ones that got all the attention—or a lot of it, anyway—but that wasn’t that big a deal anyway.

“And there’s no point trying to beat them at their own game, right?” This-Dagi nodded knowingly. “Are they going with you tonight?”

Sonata cocked her head, then felt a wonderful idea building. “No,” she said, “They’re not.”

This-Dagi paused, thought for a moment, then looked Sonata over with an appraising eye that might have made her uncomfortable had it come from someone else. “How long until you need to leave?”

“Few hours, I guess?”

“Little tighter than I’d like, but…” This-Dagi spun Sonata around, then darted in front of her and dragged her towards the door by her wrist. “I can work with this. C’mon, let’s go.”

Sonata frowned. “What? Go where?”

This-Dagi looked back at her, in that kind of way that people did when other people asked them silly questions with obvious answers. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Slowly, Sonata shook her head.

This-Dagi replied with a light chuckle. “Shopping.”

Sunset had looked so content sitting on that sofa that Adagio hadn’t been able to resist sending her off to fetch a glass of water. The few seconds to herself, Adagio had used to make herself comfortable.

Now, though, she peered through memories muddled by time and turned into words, as confidently as if she’d heard her own story just last night.

“From what I gather… Sonata washed up on the shore of a coastal village you’d probably never have heard of, half-dreaming but fairly docile, and she was awfully pretty, so the townsfolk decided to keep her. They were good to her, as far as I know.” Not to say they could’ve done much to her if they’d wanted to—sirens were creatures of music and water, not so easily harmed as those of flesh and blood.

“She wore a body like theirs, and they treated her like their child. One day, a panic came over the town when an angler was out for a walk in the woods and disappeared. The search party went out, only to find that he’d been devoured. By a fierce, ravenous monster with scales a lovely shade of fuschia. Aria, her name was. The other ponies chased her back to the town, and that’s when Sonata met her.

“Sonata had her gem, back then, even when she was a pony, and Aria’s was in her chest. They met, Sonata woke up from her dream, and Aria’s savagery softened. She too wrapped herself in the guise of a pony, and over time she reached an uneasy peace with the townsfolk.” How she had managed that, Aria had never said, but even then, her voice had been exceptionally compelling, or so Sonata said. “She and Sonata were inseparable. It was like they were both newborns, experiencing life for the first time together.

“But something was always missing. They spent their days in peace, lazing about with fishers and farmers, but they were never really at home. Something called out to them, but none of their companions knew any life outside the village. So they set out on their own. They followed the sea, and it whispered in their ear as they walked alongside it. It taught them how to sing, how to wield their power. It showed them their path. Their journey took them far to the north, and that’s where they found me.”

Adagio glanced to the side, half-expecting to see Sunset nodding off, but enraptured interest looked back at her. “And where were you?” Sunset asked.

Despite herself, Adagio felt a smile playing on her lips. “It’s hard for me to say, truthfully.” Thinking ahead did wonders to quell her cheeriness. An encouraging smile told her it wouldn’t be so bad, but it was just a candle trying to dispel a whole bank of dreary fog.

“At the time, things didn’t seem so bad, but looking back at it it’s like I was trapped in a nightmare. I was in a lake, or maybe a pond, with ice over the top that I couldn’t break. And there was a pony standing over me.” She couldn’t remember a face, not after so long—they’d all looked the same to her back then anyway. But even then, there’d been a coldness of spirit to him that she hadn’t felt from many other ponies. He hadn’t purified himself of fear completely when he stood in her presence, but she distinctly recalled it being balanced and diluted by curiosity—no, something stronger than that. Pragmatism, perhaps. Where other ponies saw a monster or a thing of beauty, that one saw a tool. “He kept asking me to sing for him, and…”

She cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and calming herself with the images that came later, when she’d awoken. Two other sirens, descending from the sky like angels coming to their goddess’ side.

In the present day, of course, it was Sunset who came to her side, laying a soft, comforting hand on her shoulder and speaking in a gentle voice. “Do you want to show me?”

Adagio shook her head. “No. No, not this one, not right now. It’s not one of my fonder dreams. My earliest memories are of that lake and my sisters coming for me. I don’t know if there were ever any other sirens. I never saw any but them, and they’ve never told me about any others.”

“But then I never gave them much thought at the time, really. They did what I needed them to do, they reaped the rewards of their obedience, and that was that. Then we came here.” Old memories surfaced yet again. She saw Aria staring at her with bloodshot, vicious eyes, face contorted by pain and betrayal. She remembered a stinging pain on her cheek, a hectic blend of desperate pleas and snarling curses bombarding her ears. “Things didn’t go well at first.”

Sunset’s voice came from beside her, clear as crystal amidst foggy memories. “But then they got better, right? You were with them for so long, there must’ve been something.”

“We didn’t really have a choice in the matter, actually” She stood over a body marred by crimson gashes, too broken to stand but too proud to kneel or beg. A song that she’d thought silenced came reborn from her mouth to cleanse purple skin of wounds, and she cried tears of joy for a woman she hated. “Those gems were a set of three. Together, they were strong. But take them apart…” That lesson, Aria had taught all of them, when a month had passed and extravagant lies she’d woven effortlessly a dozen times started to crumble during her solitude. If I hadn’t found her that night…

“So you couldn’t have left them if you wanted to.”

“No.” Flash forward a century. She saw a figure standing alone under a solemn moon, still swathed all in black and still enduring the pain of immortality and secrecy. At the time, she didn’t have many words to offer, but gentle touches spoke volumes for her and trust was the reply. “Drop three girls into a forest, cold, naked and frightened, all alone in a world where their truth is answered with fire and steel. We didn’t like each other.” Although one of them had done a better job pretending. “But it was better than being alone.” Not that she’d ever truly been alone, not as long as the gem around her neck could gift her honeyed sounds and soothing lullabies, but sometimes flesh and blood could offer a more nuanced companionship.

“And there you have it. That’s how we met, and that’s why we stuck together for as long as we did. Is that everything you wanted to know?”

“Yeah. I think so. What happened, then?”

“It’s Aria. She’s being so… so stubborn, so stupid, so determined to… I don’t know what she’s thinking these days, I really don’t.”

“There’s no kind of… compromise you two can reach?”

There was one. Or Aria seemed to imply there was, at least. But to think of actually taking of it, of turning her back on something so central to her being…

Unthinkable. Her gem had been there before Aria. The power it could offer was her oldest dream. A life without her ruby, no matter who occupied it, would be a shadow of one where she had that gem back.

“No,” she murmured. “Not unless she changes her mind, there isn’t. She’s asking far too much of me.”

Sunset gave a small, sad nod. “Alright. We’ve… already established that I’m a bit out of my depth with you three, so… I’ll believe you when you say that. But if there ever is anything you want me to do…”

There was, of course. But she didn’t dare ask it out loud, did she? Sunset wished for her to have her beauty back, perhaps, but only if it were fangless.

And if her double, who seemed surprisingly competent, came through and she’d get them anyway…

“There isn’t. Not right now, anyway. Keep me company for as long as you can stand to and I think you’ll be able to call it a day.”

This-Dagi prodded and dabbed at Sonata’s face with a brush a few more times, then stepped back, tilted her head, smiled smugly and pulled Sonata in front of the mirror.

“So… what do you think?”

“Eee!”

“Satisfied?”

“Yes. Thankies!”

“You’re… very welcome.”

This-Dagi held the hug for a long time, but finally she stepped back and looked away. She rubbed at her eyes, bit her lip and sighed.

Sonata froze. The unfamiliar sight left her staring silently, until eventually she worked up the nerve to speak hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” This-Dagi looked at her, forced a smile, and tried to pretend that her eyes hadn’t been welling up just a second ago. “Oh, it’s… it’s nothing.” She tried to wave it all off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m glad I got to do this with you, it’s…” She winced. “It’s been a long time, but that’s not your problem. I shouldn’t be burdening you like this.”

Seeing Adagio in that state, even if it sort of wasn’t actually Adagio, made Sonata’s chest tighten. “Don’t you have your own Sonata at home?” She let herself dream for a moment, wondering if the three of them would be fighting so much in a life without magic.

The look that came onto This-Dagi’s face drained Sonata of hope.

“Yes. I- I do, and she’s very sweet. But… I haven’t seen in her in so long, and...” Sonata offered her an encouraging smile, and This-Dagi continued. “I’m going home soon.” She wilted, letting her shoulders sag, and looked every bit as weary as if she’d actually been a thousand years old. “I’m going home,” she repeated, but she said it like she was going to a funeral.

Smile. Keep smiling. That’s what she wants to see. Sonata inched closer and held This-Dagi’s hand, squeezing it gently like she would’ve done for Aria. “Isn’t that usually a good thing?”

“Usually. Yeah, usually.” This-Dagi shook her head. “Not this time, not for me.” She met Sonata’s eyes but immediately wilted like she wished she hadn’t. “I’m… sorry. Really sorry. This whole day, I’ve done nothing but treat you like someone else, and that’s not fair to you. But…” She reached out, cupped Sonata’s cheek and made her desperately wish it was the real Adagio touching her like that. “You’re so much like her.”

“It’s okay,” Sonata said. For once, she felt like she meant it. “I was kinda doing the same thing.” And enjoying it, but she didn’t say that part. “They mean well. Really, they do, but… sometimes it feels like they’re not even thinking about what I want.”

“I’m sorry.” This-Dagi pulled Sonata close again and just held her. “If… if you mean as much to them as mine does to me, then they care. I know they do. It’s hard sometimes to see through someone else’s eyes.”

After a moment’s consideration, Sonata relaxed, let her head rest on Adagio’s—This-Dagi’s—chest. “I hope you’re right.”

“Sonata…” Slowly, carefully, This-Dagi stroked her hair, holding her tenderly like a flower. “You’ve spent your whole life with them, and it’s so, so easy to take people like them for granted. I know I did, and I don’t think there’s ever been a thing I’ve regretted more.”

That sounded awfully bad, and the pain in This-Dagi’s voice put Sonata on edge. She wondered what kind of life This-Dagi lived, and whether or not the real Adagio felt the same way.

Because if she did…

Sonata felt terrible just thinking about it. She imagined the real Adagio saying the kinds of things she’d just heard and immediately, a twisting, seething pain churned in her chest. What kind of person was she, if Adagio was feeling that bad and was all on her own?

She hesitated for a moment, then put her arms around This-Dagi, smiling as she hugged her back. “Hey. Why don’t we make a deal?” She pushed back a little and looked into This-Dagi’s eyes. “Let’s both do something about this. Tomorrow, I’m going to go see my Dagi, and I’m going to do everything I can to bring Aria with me, and we’ll try and make things better.” She felt a little brighter just saying it, all the confusion and worry of before melting away. “And you… are going to do the same thing. As soon as you get a chance, just… go see them again.” She paused, remembering how even Aria had smiled a little when she and Adagio had last met, even if it all went downhill from there. “I think they’d like that.”

Sonata had hoped to see joy come to This-Dagi’s face, and she didn’t quite get that wish. She didn’t get a gleaming smile, nor happy tears. What she got was a sigh. A soft, delicate sigh, accompanied by a steadying of This-Dagi’s features. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m not going to like what I’ll have to do to make that happen. I’m not sure anyone would.” Her voice wavered, and was far from as certain as Sonata would’ve liked to hear it be. “But you’re right. I have to.”

She smiled again, then. Just a faint, thin shape her lips made, but it made Sonata’s heart soar just the same.

This-Dagi breathed out another sigh, then ran her fingers through Sonata’s hair one last time, kissed her on the forehead, and took a step back. “Thank you,” she said, pausing to steady herself one more time before finally giving a fond smile and ushering Sonata towards the door. “You should get going. Wouldn’t want to keep your friends waiting, would you?”

“No, I guess not.” Sonata stopped on the doorstep. “But you should come too. I mean, you’re already dressed for it and everything, right?”

“No. No, I can’t.”

Sonata stared at her, tilting her head. “Why not?”

There was something odd about the look that came to This-Dagi’s face. It was slightly pained, but in the kind of way someone felt when they got a papercut. “I can’t say.”

That sounded like something Aria would say when she was trying to lie. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We don’t have to go with my friends, if that’s… I’ll tell them I’m sick or something, and…” Sonata looked up at This-Dagi, letting her shoulders slump and feeling like she was echoing herself again. “You don’t have to. If you don’t want to, I mean.”

This-Dagi stood still for a long few seconds. She looked away, lifting her fingers up to rub at her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. “Of course I do.” She bit her lip, fiddled with her fingers. Eventually, though, she looked down, took Sonata’s hand and squeezed it. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Chapter VII

Sunlight smacked Sonata awake like a mallet to her forehead. She winced, mumbled, rolled away from the invading rays to burrow under her pillow. Her reaching, aimless hand found a plush something-or-other and hugged it to her chest.

Beside her bed, something buzzed. Sonata groaned.

Five minutes later, she worked up the will to roll onto her other side so she could grope about for her phone and drag it under the covers with her. The harsh white light of the screen made her squint. There was a text waiting for her:

Good morning, Sonata. This is Adagio. The other one. You gave me your number last night.

Sonata blinked slowly. Last night… what had she…

She sighed. Thinking was hard that morning. She finally sat up, pausing to stretch and yawn.

It wasn’t until she looked and saw the dress draped haphazardly over a chair beside her bed that it started to come back to her. Dim memories came to her, a slurry of drinks and short skirts and dancing and more short skirts and music and Adagio showing why she needed to wear short skirts more often…

When she flopped back down on her bed, she giggled to herself, holding up her phone. That had been a fun night.

She typed out a cheerful “Hi!”, then paused to contemplate whether a regular heart or a sparkly heart would’ve been more appropriate before she realized what a stupid question that was.

Two sparkly hearts it was, then.

A few minutes later, Adagio—or not-Adagio, maybe? Other Adagio? That sounded confusing. Adagio replied:

Hello. You promised to do something today. Do you remember that?

Sonata stared at the screen. Promise, promise… what would she have promised to do?

I think? :-(

But maybe you should remind me? Just to be safe. :-D

It took a little while to get a reply. She wondered what was taking Adagio so long.

You said you’d talk to Aria about your sister today, right?

Aria, apparently, was so good at being gloomy that just mentioning her sucked all the cheer out of a conversation. Sonata sighed—that was a hard thing to think about. It took her a few minutes to write back—maybe Adagio was thinking about hard things too, and that’s why she was taking so long?

Yeah.

Another few minutes, and she had another text:

Just do it. Please?

Sonata sighed again and stared at the wall in front of her. It didn’t do anything but affirm how pink it still was. Her phone buzzed in her hand:

You promised you’d do it, remember?

She wished it could have been yesterday instead of today. But… she had made a promise, hadn’t she? She typed out a reply, slowly.

Yeah. I’ll do it.

It took until she’d dragged herself out of bed, pulled some clothes on and fixed her hair a bit that her phone buzzed again.

You should try and get her to come talk to your Adagio today. If you can.

That… that did sound nice. Hard. But nice. She started typing out, “Okay, I’ll try and do that—” then paused, stared at the screen, backspaced and started over.

Okay. I’ll do that.

That made her feel better. She put down her phone and set off for Aria’s room.

Knocking turned out to be a scary prospect, so a minute or two later she was staring at Aria’s door, quietly hoping that maybe, if she looked at it long enough, it’d figure out what she wanted it to do and make it happen.

No such luck.

“Today” was an awfully broad time range, she concluded. She’d promised to talk to Aria today, that was true, but it would still be “today” in a few minutes.

Or a few hours. She’d have to put up with thinking about it and stuff, and maybe Adagio’d bug her about it and that would be hard, but she could put up with that for a bit, right?

Yeah. That sounded like a good plan. She’d go back to her room, maybe doodle or listen to music or something, wait until lunchtime when Aria’d be out anyway, and then she could—

“What are you doing, Sonata?”

Sonata let out a startled squeak, shrinking back before Aria’s unexpected presence. “Oh! Hi?” She gave a little wave, inching away. “So… what’re you doing today?”

Aria stared at her like she’d just done something incredibly stupid before shrugging. “Dunno. I was thinking I might go running in the park or something.” She peered back into the gloomy wasteland of a room that she called hers. “I’ve been cooped up too long this morning.”

“Oh. That sounds nice, I guess.” Sonata nodded slowly. Then, biting her lip and trying not to notice Aria’s expectant stare, she gradually worked up the nerve to speak. “Hey, so… could I ask you something?”

Aria gave another, nonchalant, shrug. “Shoot.”

“Well…” Sonata looked down at her fingers, fiddling with them idly. “I was just wondering if… maybe I could come with you?”

She looked up, mentally kicking herself and feeling even worse when she saw Aria’s cocked eyebrow.

But in the end, all Aria did was nod. “Knock yourself out.”

“A- Aria…” Sonata moaned pitifully, reaching upwards from the ground at Aria’s leg. “Don’t forget about me. Go, but let my tale live on.”

Aria pulled one earbud out of her ear—Sonata could just barely hear the blaring music it blasted out—then glanced down, her face shrouded by an air of callous indifference. “See, I might pity you, but this is exactly why I told you to bring water.” She punctuated her speech by jostling the bottle she’d brought, then looked to the side, at a picnic table not too far off, conveniently situated under a tree. “I’m gonna go take a break in the shade. Let me know if you feel like not dying anytime soon.”

And with that, Sonata’s last hope sauntered off.

Thunk.

Sonata’s head hit the grass. “Blegh.”

Sighing heavily, she clambered up onto weary limbs, wondered how in the blazes Aria looked not even winded, and trudged over so she could collapse at Aria’s feet.

“Blegh.”

A shoe nudged her in the ribs. “Are you done?”

Muttering, pouting, and dusting herself off, Sonata righted herself and plopped down on the table next to Aria. Neither of them said anything for a little while. Aria seemed content to sit there, and after a little while Sonata finally managed to work up the nerve to clear her throat. “Hey. So… remember those times when Adagio used to, like, be here? And stuff?”

Aria put down her bottle and tugged out the other earbud. Her demeanor became a grim one. “Is that what this is all about?”

“... Kinda, yeah. Those were nice, right?” When Aria said nothing, Sonata rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe not always, but there must’ve been something you liked about her, right?”

“She was…” Aria twisted her face into a grimace, then to a scowl, and then got up and moved to the opposite side of the table. “Y’know what? I’m not gonna ruin your fond memories.”

“Ariaaa…” Sonata leaned over and prodded her in the shoulder. “Please say something nice about her?”

She was rewarded with a hostile glare. “If I do, will you stop talking?”

Sonata paused to think, then shook her head. “Probably not, no.”

Aria pressed her fingers to her temple. “At least you’re honest. Fine. Adagio is…” She quirked her mouth, drummed her fingers on the table, then snapped them. “Callipygian.”

“There, see? That wasn’t so…” Sonata blinked. “Calli-what?”

“Callipygian.” Aria adopted a wolfish smirk. “Impeccably so, I’ve been told on many occasions.”

“Oh.” Sonata blinked. “I don’t really know what that means. Is it something nice?”

“Honestly, I think some people could overlook everything else that’s wrong about her.”

“ ‘Cause she’s… callipygian?”

“ ‘Cause she’s callipygian. There. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Sure! Can you come with me to go and talk to her?”

Aria glared at her, hissing through clenched teeth. “Sonata…”

“Please? You both seemed really sad the last time, and… I don’t like that. I really don’t like that. I’m worried about her, and—and I just think she’d be so happy if she got to see you again.”

For a moment, Sonata thought Aria was about to say something. Instead, the other siren folded her arms and scowled at the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, okay. Are we gonna go now, then?”

“No.” Aria turned her back, tense and stiffened. “Do me a favor and don’t ask again.”

Sonata swallowed her immediate urge to comply. “Why not? Don’t you want to?”

Aria’s fist trembled, then slammed down onto the table, making Sonata jump and squeak. Aria glowered, but Sonata knew the difference between anger directed at her and anger for the world at large. A heavy breath slid out of her lungs, and then she hung her head facing away from Sonata.

As much as it frightened her to see Aria acting that way, Sonata told herself to stay calm, because that’s what she needed to do. With no small amount of trepidation, she approached Aria from the side, sitting next to her but maintaining a measurable distance.

Aria glanced at her, a few strands of loose hair dangling in front of her face. There was a long silence before Aria spoke, and even when she did, it was in a low, muffled voice as if frightened of her own sounds. “I don’t think I can say no to her again.”

More silence. Aria leaned back against the table, propped up on her elbows. She didn’t meet Sonata’s eyes, but her voice steadied and strengthened. “If you want to go, then go. It’ll be better for both of us if I don’t.”

“But I’ll be there too,” Sonata said. She offered a smile she hoped would be encouraging. “Maybe I can say no for you?”

To her surprise, her suggestion got a dry, mirthless cackle out of Aria. “Stupid little Sonata,” Aria drawled, though she didn’t quite sound malicious. “When has it ever been that easy?”

“Come on come on come on! Pick up, Rarity, please pick up. Ah! Rarity? It’s Sunset. The siren gem fragments are missing! ...No, they’re just not there. No sign of break in. ...Yeah, I guess she is the main suspect, but if I just accuse her... Well it could be her human double. Yes, she’s—just like Twilight. Yes, or it could be one of her sisters, I guess? Or anyone else magical, maybe. No, I’ll go talk to her. ...Thanks, but there’s no way she could have glued it back together already, I’m sure I’ll be safe. I’ll call if I need you. Bye!”

Adagio pulled the door open, saw herself, and frowned. Her double, on the surface, didn’t look different at all, but her demeanor made her seem almost like another person entirely. There was an air of melancholy to her, a tragic layer to her stoic expression. She had a handbag slung over one shoulder, and gripped the strap tightly with one hand.

As soon as Adagio laid eyes on that handbag, she knew what was in it. That close, she could almost feel the shards calling to her, sense their yearning for wholeness.

Excitement coursed through her, bliss at the prospect of the panacea that seemed suddenly within her reach.

“Come in,” she said, slipping back inside and sauntering towards her backyard without bothering to close the door or look back at her double.

She didn’t hear a word, nor a sound, not at first. Then, soft footsteps followed behind her, and by the time she’d stepped out into her yard and turned around, her double was close behind.

And yet the imposter hardly dared to meet her eyes. None of the enthusiasm she’d displayed when she’d spoke of acquiring the gems returned to her eyes, nor to her voice. It was unsettling, and it put Adagio on edge.

“Do you have them?”

Her double locked eyes with her, then gave a small nod. “I… do, yes.” She spoke in a murmur.

Adagio frowned. Something had gone wrong—it must have. The gems had been damaged, perhaps—but what could be worse than shards?—or her double had been caught in the act. But if she had the shards, one way or another, what could have…?

She swallowed. There were unpleasant things to wonder, if she speculated as to the manner of the acquisition. She tried to dismiss them, because the gem was what truly mattered, she knew.

“Then let me see. Show me.”

Her double hesitated briefly, then reached into her bag, pulled out a pouch, and emptied a few jagged, fractured gems into her palm.

It was a sincere struggle for Adagio to let those shards remain in someone else’s grasp, even for a few moments. She wanted to snatch them away right that instant, claw them out of the imposter’s possession.

Why she didn’t, she wasn’t quite sure. Something was wrong.

“They’re all here,” the other Adagio said in a quiet murmur. “But…” She breathed, deeply and slowly, turning her gaze upwards, away from Adagio’s face. Weariness and resignation descended upon her visage. “I’m leaving. Today. I’m going back to…” She bit her lip, scratched at her left ear, then faced Adagio again. “I’m going back to where I came from,” she said, “and I need you to come with me.”

There was no joy to be found anywhere in the imposter. She spoke calmly, but in conjunction with her forlorn expression her voice became eerie. The odd blend of quiet speech and demanding words were so unsettling it took Adagio a moment to recognize what had just been asked of her.

Her eyes narrowed. She glanced over her imposter, and again the odds against her in a physical engagement made themselves obvious. For the sake of appearances, though, she tossed her hair and acted as though she were a queen speaking to a peasant. “That wasn’t part of our agreement, and I think you know that. I told you where my sisters were, you brought me the shards.”

“I do know that.” Her double nodded. She tilted her palm, pouring the shards back into the pouch and then cinching it shut. She wrapped her fingers around it tightly. “But it’s not my choice.” She closed her eyes; when they opened a moment later, they looked just as melancholic as before, but this time they were also fixated and determined. “And I can’t let it be yours. I’m sorry.”

Curling her lip, Adagio composed a reprimand in her head, only for a third voice to cut her off.

“Adagio? What’re you—”

Four eyes turned to face Sunset, who stood in the doorway to the house, with eyes that couldn’t make up their mind who to linger on.

There had not been many times when Adagio felt things were truly out of her control. Standing there with two women that both frightened her in their own ways, though…

She backed away, opening her mouth just as her double stepped forward.

“You should go,” the imposter said—urgency crept into her voice. “Get out of here, right now—I don’t care where you go, but don’t make this your business.”

“One of you has the shards, right?” Sunset frowned. She looked to the imposter and the pouch, and her features hardened. “I wanted so much to give them back to you, but I can’t. I can’t let you have them. This has to become my business.”

But then she looked back to Adagio, and her face softened again. Pain replaced anger in her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on,” she said. “I don’t want this to end badly for any of us.” It sounded less like a threat and more like a plea.

Adagio glanced between the two women in front of her. The thought occurred to her that she could try to talk her way out of it all. It didn’t have the same appeal that it might have had on a different day; Sunset must have guessed she’d try to take the gems back. It was the method that she must have been surprised by, not the goal.

And yet her double seemed to have a few secrets to her. “I don’t know the whole story,” Adagio said, and she turned her eye towards her imposter. “But I think she does.”

Her double looked at her, then back to Sunset. “You should go,” she repeated. There was a faint crack in her voice this time, hinting at a desperation Adagio found mystifying. “Walk away. You don’t need to be here.”

Sunset’s brow knit. She looked from one Adagio to the other, then eventually grit her teeth. “Alright. If neither of you are going to tell me what’s going on…”

In a blur of motion, she snatched the imposter’s wrist, and white light flooded her eyes.

Adagio tensed. She bit her lip, tempted to try to seperate the two but held back by uncertainty.

The imposter’s eyes went wide.

Sunset stiffened, tensed.

Sonata trailed alongside Aria, humming quietly to rhythm of the clomping of Aria’s pumps.

“Stop it,” Aria muttered.

Sonata stopped humming. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Aria kept an eye out for street signs, navigating them towards their old home. Her headphones dangled from her neck, swaying slightly as she walked.

“Hey, so…” Sonata nudged Aria in the side to get her attention. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna say to her and stuff?”

“What did I say when you asked me five minutes ago?”

“Something about growing wings, I think?”

Aria clenched her teeth, but nodded grimly and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Sure, that. Whatever.”

From somewhere not too far off, a shrill, ear-piercing shriek rang through the air, and brought them both to a screeching halt.

Sonata’s blood ran cold. It didn’t sound like Adagio’s voice, but it was from that general area… “A—Aria? What’s—”

“I—I don’t…” Aria’s eyes went wide, her face paling. She quickened her pace, snatching Sonata’s wrist and dragging her along. She fell into a grave, stony silence as a walk turned into a run.

Sunset collapsed backwards, her legs giving out from underneath her as the light faded from her eyes. She stumbled, and was just about to topple over before Adagio lurched forward and caught her.

As Adagio faced her double, it was a blend of fear and anger that churned in her chest. She released Sunset, let the girl drop to her knees, trembling, and then shot a vicious glare at her double.

Her teeth bared, and a snarl rumbled out of her throat, but a hand latched onto hers and held her back before she could descend on her double.

“W—wait.” Sunset’s voice cracked and wavered shakily, but her eyes fixed themselves on the imposter. “Who’s doing this to you? Please, you don’t—”

Adagio frowned. “Sunset? What’re you—” What in the world had Sunset seen when she used her geode?

The imposter sighed, stepped back, and just looked at Adagio. “Ah. I see. So that’s what that does.” It was a quiet, solemn stare she sent, forlorn and saturated with weighty resignation. Her fingers slipped into her pocket and she closed her eyes.

“Adagio, what—” Sunset stood back up, eyes locked on the imposter, still trembling but managing to rise on two feet. “Whatever’s happening, we can—”

“Some people don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’m sorry for being one.”

Silently, the imposter took her hand out of her pocket, wrapped her other around it, and brought them both up towards her throat. She exhaled.

Her eyelids peeled back to reveal two pools of solid crimson.

Adagio barely noticed them, for her eyes were instantly, irrevocably captivated by the flawless ruby clutched in False Adagio’s hands. A ruby that she knew could not exist, and yet defied all conventions of reason to do so anyway.

Music filled the air. Ethereal, undulating melodies plucked from distant memories swirled around Adagio, but their touch was cold and clammy, like blunt knives scraping across her skin.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could barely even think. All went silent, the gem that was clearly hers and yet could not possibly be hers leaving her stunned into paralysis.

All it took was a single harsh note and her legs turned to jelly. She collapsed, her head swam, she reached out to steady herself but couldn’t hold onto anything. Music flooded her senses, ruthless pulses of sound corrupted from the beauty she knew into harsh, oppressive lashes. It made her enjoy it, made her wish she could lie there and listen to it for the rest of her life.

Then there was a blur of motion, the sharp crack of knuckles on flesh, and a yelp of pain.

Suddenly, the fog lifted. A hand wrapped around her wrist tightly and pulled her away quickly, all but dragging her until she finally had the clarity to run.

She blinked, looked back. Her double was on the ground, rubbing her cheek and clawing at the dirt.

A hand clenched around a ruby, and two grim eyes cut through her, slowly enveloped by crimson as lips parted and the first hint of a melody made her head start to spin again—

A startled cry, not Sunset’s, pierced the fog. Sonata? What was she doing there? Adagio didn’t know what was happening, but suddenly there was a lull in the music—for a moment, it seemed to recoil from her; the sounds bombarding her, once filled with grim, undying purpose, hesitated and took on a tragic tone.

She looked back, just in time to see her double wide-eyed and trembling, with an outstretched hand but firmly planted feet. The music quieted, receding to the corner’s of Adagio’s mind and ears.

Then, a door slammed shut, blocking Adagio’s view of the yard. She heard the pattering of running feet. Her own, blind and stumbling, and others less so.

An insistent tugging jerked her to the side, then another shortly after. Blurry motions of yellow and purple and blue danced about all around her in a haze of confusion, before settling into a dim fugue.

Hands on her shoulders shook her, jolted her awake. She shook her head and blinked rapidly as the world gained focus and sharpened, and at last she could clearly see two concerned teal eyes inches from her face, hear her name being whispered urgently.

“Sunset?” she murmured, only half-remembering what had just happened. Then it all came back in a flash, and she snapped up to straightness. “Sunset, where did—”

“Shh!” Sunset clamped a hand over Adagio’s mouth, holding a finger to her own lips and glancing warily to both sides.

Whatever protests Adagio might have had died out at the distant sound of an anguished wail. It made her shiver, that sound, and it forced her into wary silence.

She was seated behind a couch now, she saw, one she knew very well, and when she peeked out she saw Aria standing grimly by a window, peering out through a tiny crack in the curtains.

Aria’s eyes flitted over to her, stony and bleak save for faint vestiges of anger and fear in equal measure. She crept over, bare feet all but silent on the carpeted floor, and knelt down beside Sunset. “Doubling back must’ve confused her, ‘cause she’s not coming back inside, but I wouldn’t count on it buying much time,” she whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard. She cast a piercing gaze towards Adagio first. That steeliness never quite left her, but it did mellow considerably when her eyes dipped down towards Adagio’s locket.

There were things that needed to be discussed, that look said; a second, harsher look directed towards Sunset echoed the sentiment. But then Aria’s attention flicked back to Adagio, silently questioning.

“We can trust her,” Adagio murmured. “She didn’t have anything to do with this.”

Aria hardly looked satisfied, but she relented. “Sonata’s looking for earplugs upstairs. I don’t know if they’ll help, but…” She glanced towards the window, then shook her head. “As soon as she’s back, we need to—”

A tremor stabbed through the air, a wave of sound that tugged at Adagio’s mind. Already the room started to blur and her whole body wanted to go limp, until a lingering fragment of will forced her fingers to her ears.

Beside her, she saw Aria doing the same. Sunset just held still, but a stab of worry in Adagio’s chest faded when she saw a faint shudder but then a focused, willful gaze.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on that just then. Aria rushed over, kicking her in the shoulder to get her attention. and ushering her towards the front door, then craning her neck to look behind them. The three of them darted out into the street, Sonata trailing along behind them.

Open air was like bathing in liquid madness. Everywhere Adagio looked, she felt an echo of that mystical tremor, like an armada of ethereal footprints chasing after her. Blood drained from her face, her heart hammered away in her chest.

Then the song called out to her, with a voice that transcended sound and crawled right into her mind, and she needed to hear it. She couldn’t think of anything else—no, she could, she had to, she must—

She had to hear more. She released a finger, just for an instant. More clearly, then, an echo came from behind her, but in that short instant her knees gave out, and sudden dizziness made it impossible to stand. She slumped over, collapsing into a pair of waiting arms as unwanted euphoria filled her thoughts with an impenetrable miasma. An air of gentleness surrounded her, promising comfort like a long-lost friend, but as it drew closer its deathly, frigid pallor sliced her to the bone.

Two soft nubs went in her ears and made the sound fade and dull, but a persistent ringing kept her dazed. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, and she felt arms on her back and legs. She gasped, icy, dreadful realization gripping her, and silently cursed her recklessness as soon as her focus returned.

Sunset set her down shortly after, plopping her onto a panelled deck where a panicked Sonata rushed to her side while Aria darted off to pry open a window. A few moments later, Adagio was being pulled back up to her feet, Sunset whispering in a voice too muffled to understand but guiding her towards the now-opened window.

As soon as they were all inside, Aria broke off from them, then froze, dropped to the ground and gave a frantic wave.

Adagio caught a glimpse of brightly-colored hair outside a window, tensed, and fell into a crouch behind Aria. She hadn’t realized how hectic her breaths had grown until she stopped moving, but, now that she had, every labored breath made her chest heave. Phantom echoes wormed into her brain, and a burning craving sprang up inside her. Every second she remained separated from that song was torturous, like needles piercing her skull. She shuddered, her eyes welled up. It felt like she had a million questions and couldn’t even try to answer any of them.

She lowered her head, covered her ears, wished for it all to go away. She wept into her knees, pushing with all the will she could manage, but it felt like trying to topple a mountain barehanded. Power dominated her world, crushing her beneath its inexorable weight.

Somehow, though, a terrible shrieking of splintering wood and pulverized concrete ripped through it all to reach her ears.

If thoughts of escape had been muddled before, they were abandoned the second it dawned on Adagio’s mind that that was a golden, pointed hoof, as long as she was tall, that had gouged through the roof.

A deafening, piercing roar segued into a harmony that carried the weight of the ocean’s gloomiest reaches. The ceiling above them disintegrated into splinters.

How could someone possibly react to that? All Adagio could do was stare, trapped in panic and drowning in confusion. The hoof retreated, slithering back and dissolving into nothingness. For a moment, it seemed as though the whole thing had really been a mirage.

But then, descending gently, carried on diaphanous, fin-like wings, eyes consumed by a baleful crimson light, the imposter touched down not far from them. The ruby hung from her neck, and Adagio wasn’t sure whether what she was seeing was a feverish dream finally brought to reality or a horrific nightmare.

Dreadful silence hung in the air. The world seemed to vanish, everything around her except the siren in front of her.

And even that soon faded to blackness.

The moment Adagio thought too much, she would lose. Her emotions would betray her, the softness of her heart tangle her in a mire of her own making.

So she didn’t think. There was a building standing between her and her goal, so she tore it away. Sharp hooves rent through the house like it was paper. Earplugs or not, Aria—no, not Aria, she told herself—toppled immediately, her whole body made rigid.

Adagio gave the purple girl—who was not her sister, no matter how much she looked and sounded like she was—no more thought, simply hurling her into the corner and diving down to the first floor.

There, she touched down on slender feet. A whispered harmony put her double to sleep.

Sunset stayed where she’d been, catching Dazzle in her arms and holding her. Then she looked up and met Adagio’s gaze with something more pitying than fearful. “You don’t want to do this, do you?”

No. Of course not, Adagio thought. Somehow she just knew that all she had to do was speak truthfully, but when the words tried to make their way out of her mouth, a thrumming by her ear heralded a nagging tightness in her chest that she knew would only intensify and sharpen if she kept trying. A crystal hung from her ear, all but violating her with the ugliness of its power. Whatever hatred she could have felt for it had relented to only a simmer. In that moment, it was little more than just one more pain to endure, mixed in with what could’ve been an eternity of labor.

“It doesn’t matter.” Adagio bowed her head, reaching up to wrap her fingers around her gem. Weary, bleak purpose drove her to draw on the font of power hanging from her neck. Sunset had resisted her magic before—no doubt thanks to her own—but perhaps a different application…

Adagio lifted her head, stared right at Sunset, purged herself of pity, channeled sound up her throat and—

Threw it all away when a familiar blue face leapt in front of her.

She jerked her head to the side. Magic she’d been holding in her throat surged outwards. A wake of ruin stretched between her and the now-gaping hole where there had once been nothing but wood.

“Sonata…” She clamped her eyes shut. She had to. And she had to be quick. If she saw or heard something, then—

Too late.

“We promised, didn’t we?” Sonata sounded small, her voice soft and full of pain. Heartache, bordering on a sense of betrayal. “Did you mean to do this all along?”

Adagio trembled. Ragged breaths made her chest heave. Damning and cursing herself all the while, she let go of her magic. The power that had been flooding her body withdrew to her pendant.

“No.” She didn’t want to look, told herself that she couldn’t look, begged herself not to look, but she opened her eyes and looked. She saw exactly what she knew she would, and the haunting sting of failure already drove her almost to despair. “No. No, I meant every word. But…” Words flooded her mind, but when they tried to escape her lips a thrumming by her ear heralded a dull ache that made her falter and change course.

“Things are different now,” she said. “And there’s not a promise, anywhere in this world, that can change how things are.”

“But why?” Sonata drew closer. Almost close enough to touch. “What are you—why do you—” Tears dripped to the ground.

“Because—” The pain intensified. Adagio’s chest tightened. She gasped for breath, then tore her eyes away. “I can’t say.”

“Why not?”

Adagio faltered again. Her head hung, her shoulders slumped. She stepped back, retreating from Sonata. Glancing away, she locked eyes with Sunset, who sat right where she’d been before, tragic compassion etched onto her face.

Adagio looked at her double, then back to Sunset. Then to Sonata. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “If you believe nothing else I say…”

Then that accursed earring lit up. At first, a lance of stabbing pain leapt into her, making her stumble, gasp and catch herself on a nearby table.

“No,” she whispered, silently pleading that she’d be heard. “No, please, I can—”

The air turned to invisible needles, piercing her from every angle. Searing agony engulfed her, and she collapsed to her knees.

Run, she wanted to say. Go, while you still have time. But she didn’t say either of those things. That ship had sailed, if it had ever been in the port to begin with.

There was a crack, and then a writhing, twisting portal of seething multicolored light sprang into being beside her. A torrent of living, inky black shadow flurried out, filling the room with a cold, malevolent presence.

Adagio looked up and saw two sinister red eyes peering down at her.

Chapter VIII [Draft]

Adagio awoke with a start, lurching upwards, groping about her neck—it wasn’t until she felt a chain and the familiar weight of her locket that she dared look anywhere else.

She was laying on a mattress, she realized, in the middle of a lavish room that must have been as large as the house she’d spent the last few years calling home. Dull, smooth black walls rose up around her, enlivened by fixtures of gold and jewels. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, jagged arms cradling misty orbs of soft white light that illuminated her surroundings.

She could only have dreamed of such opulence. An armoire, studded with colorful, twinkling gems, carved out of the same crystal as the walls, by itself would have been the shining star of any household she’d have craved. Bookshelves lined one wall, accompanied by a desk…

If she wanted to, she could go on. On the surface, it was exactly the kind of place her gem would have her believe she deserved to inhabit.

And yet, while remembering what had happened was like stumbling blindly through mist searching for a sewing needle, she doubted that all the jewels in the world could make that room into anything but a cage. A decadent cage, perhaps meant to appeal to her vanity, to make her feel cherished and precious, but still a cage.

And that was before she noted the absence of a door.

The other absences made her chest tighten. Her sisters were nowhere to be found.

She gulped. A chill ran down her spine, and she fought to stay calm. Her heart raced and leapt recklessly to dark thoughts.

There was a tremble in her when she pushed herself up from the soft satin sheets of the bed, and not just because of the cold air of the room. For the sake of her sanity and composure, her mind narrowed the slurry of questions and worries coursing through her to just one.

Where am I?

Adagio stood, all alone, atop a rocky precipice. Frigid, biting air would have chilled her right through the sheer, flimsy gown she wore, but a ruby hanging from her neck sheathed her in warmth and kept the whipping winds from knocking a single hair out of place.

Below her, sounds drifted upwards. Yells and screams, cries and shrieks. Metal clashed with metal, white snow on the ground became stained with red. On the plain below her, a battle spread so thickly she could barely see the ground.

The green mist wafting up from them, though, was another matter. That, she could see clearly. Every desperate lunge, every pained shout, every furious roar, everything those ponies did sent swirling vapors into an ever-growing banquet for her. After a thousand years of starvation, just being near that miasma made her quiver.

And yet she dreaded it. That feast, right in that moment, was so engorged with magic that it would nourish more than every scrap, every morsel she’d scraped into her gem back in the human world. Thinking about the ecstasy that devouring it would bring made her head swim and her knees grow weak.

But when she looked down at the ponies, she couldn’t bring herself to find any joy in it. War was such an ugly thing. Down there, on that battlefield, vicious, cruel, vile power, that existed for no reason but to exist and be powerful, reigned. Ponies clad in crystal marched and slew and spilled blood, only so that they could keep marching and spill more blood.

Such a hideous, wretched display had no right to her power. When she inhaled, the vapors rose up, rushed into her gem in a torrent, and she trembled. Strength suffused her body, filled her veins, but it carried a deathly pallor and tasted of ash.

Her fingers crept up to the pearl set in her left ear, that gruesome thing—she could not think of an object that could better encapsulate the ugliness of war than that horrible creation.

From above her, a blur sped by, careening into the snow behind her. She turned, languidly, and watched a pegasus mare right herself, shake off the snow, and stare right at her. Yellow feathers ruffled in the breeze, four legs tensed. Recognition and horror flashed through the mare’s eyes, but fierce determination soon followed.

Lifting the corners of her mouth into a smile, Adagio held a finger to her lips. “Shh,” she shushed, then pursed her lips, blew the mare a kiss, and sighed a single note. Music slipped out of her mouth and flounced off to do her bidding.

The mare’s eyes went vacant and glassy, and she toppled over just before she could charge.

Cocking her head, Adagio slowly made her way over, kneeling beside the mare, throwing away a helmet and tearing a patch in a flight suit. She was a pretty little thing, that mare, at least to Adagio’s eyes— she still had trouble telling ponies apart sometimes, but that striking mane, of orange slashed with yellow, and elaborate tongue of flame on her flank made this one immediately stand out.

Adagio listened again to the sounds of battle reaching her. Then she looked down at the mare, pat her on the head, and stood up. “It’s your lucky day, little pony,” she murmured as she walked back to the edge of her surveillance point.

There was enough unpleasantry ahead of her without adding to it.

Not too far off, a screaming spear of jagged black crystal shattered against a globe of flaring white flame. An unnatural shadow lashed out, wreathed in blazing violet fire, but light as pure and blinding as the sun banished it with ease.

The king, it seemed, had more trouble dealing with an enraged princess than he’d anticipated. He’d fared much better in their last engagement; Celestia had adapted, perhaps, or the strain of keeping an army of slaves mobile and responsive had taken a toll on Sombra’s prowess. Their engagements were rarely decisive, but it seemed as though Celestia’s long life gave her something of an edge. Adagio might have celebrated, if she hadn’t been busy wishing she could be in Celestia’s place.

Her good mood crumbled quickly, lances of spite twisting the melody going through her head into something vicious. In preparation, she murmured a cutting harmony and called to the presence within her gem. She did not hear a song answering her call, not like she used to, but something stirred in there, and the power she’d just devoured funneled into it.

Strands of ethereal music floated all around her, twisting in the air to the tune of sounds that existed only in her head. A thousand years’ worth of dreams came to life and reality, but they had a kind of pallor to them; they existed, but did not live, changed but neither grew nor evolved. As long as they remained idle, infectious beauty permeated their surroundings, but the second she willed them to act shackles of pain and malice constricted them.

Her greatest gift had turned to a disappointment, the riches of her world turned to dust, vibrancy turned to bitterness. As she inhaled and took in a miasma of churning emotionally-charged mist, her song gamboled and tugged, pleading for release. It wanted to be free, to make the world beautiful, and Adagio desperately wanted to let it do so.

Such a powerful yearning took hold of her that she could barely stand. Her hands trembled, her knees turned to jelly. She knew that letting it out would be torturous, but the weight of keeping it in tried to tear her apart.

She gasped out a short, single note, and her cursory surrender scratched an itch and turned a boulder to pebbles.

A dull thrumming by her ear bid her ready herself, like a goad jabbing at her side, and she almost encouraged the pain. No matter how much it hurt to be stifled when she sang, it had to be better than her current quivering state of silent begging.

Far, far too late, an electric jolt coursed through her spine, her mouth opened, and a screaming tsunami exploded into the air.

Her body dissolved into churning water and seafoam, then surged outwards and expanded until it dwarfed any pony.

She dove off the precipice. Halfway down, she caught herself in the air, threw her head back, opened her fanged, ravenous maw. What began as a piercing shriek of a roar melded seamlessly into a pulsating symphony.

Below her, the battle screeched to a halt. All eyes turned to her, from both near and far.

The battle didn’t start again, but a celebration did. Gripped by insatiable lusts, ponies saw enemies all around them and serenaded their new goddess with the sounds of violence and tumult.

It was just then that Adagio finally reined herself in. The thirst had been quenched, her urges indulged. Her song had a kind of false life to it, dancing through the air and leaving touches of fury wherever it touched.

But when she saw that there was more to the world than her music, and took in the slaughter for all that it was, all she could do was turn her eyes to her owner and pray that it would be over soon.

How she hated the power he still held over her. She saw him pinned beneath a gold-clad hoof and wished with all her being that it was her jaws that beset him. A fantasy stole her attention for a moment, of his last days being spent gripped by terror.

But for now, she knew that it had to remain a fantasy and nothing more.

Her owner called for her aid, and she had no choice but to comply. She dragged herself through the air, baring her teeth and beckoning her target—an alicorn princess, no doubt equally horrified by the viciousness on the battlefield and just as eager to end it.

With the distances involved, Celestia had plenty of time. If she desired to, she could silence the enemy beneath her right then and there.

But no goddess could ever watch their subjects die.

Celestia turned her eyes to Adagio, just as planned.

And just then, Adagio thought that she saw the princess’ mask open, and something other than a battle-hardened monarch looked back at her. There was a grieving sister buried somewhere underneath that regal facade, and somehow Adagio knew exactly who Celestia was for the very first time.

White wings flapped, and tongues of lashing flame joined Adagio’s melody in the air.

She summoned up the power of war and strife, but something gave her pause. Her magic felt just the same as it always had, but the second Celestia’s fires tested it, it faltered and crumbled. Beyond the deathly pallor, her song had a hollowness to it, one that she immediately recognized from a millennium ago. It felt like something was missing and she’d just noticed then.

Flames that she should have smothered engulfed her, shields that she should have broken stood defiantly. She slumped against the cliff, gripped by despair. The day she’d been fearing had come at last, at the worst of times.

And what a strange revelation it was. She’d experienced a sort of spiteful joy when she’d first foretold of it; a hope that an empire would crumble without her, that its king had been reckless and foolish enough to damn himself by depriving her gem of its companions. But that had all been before she knew how Sombra intended to avert it, and now that she knew she wished for nothing more than a world where her power would not fail her.

Another tongue of flame lashed at the same time that her eyes drooped shut and swirling shadows seized her.

When next her eyes opened, she laid on a familiar bed, in the clutches of a formidable chill. Fangs of cold sank into her, permeating her whole body heedless of the thick blankets covering her. She wrapped her arms around herself, clutched her bedsheets to her skin, but none of it helped. All she could manage was to lay there, tremble and hope that it had an end.

Her own ragged breaths disrupted silence’s reign, at least until she plucked a melody out of her memories and let it soothe her in the background. She knew that she’d need it if she wanted to get through the day. She liked to think she’d already run out of tears to shed, but very recent memories had since proved her wrong.

Still, when she looked up and saw the familiar ceiling of lifeless black crystal, a riptide dragged her under an ocean of despair. She drew her knees to her chest, damned herself for her own failures, and wept. They’re not your sisters, she’d told herself over and over and over again, and now that she knew what had come of her actions she wished for nothing more than the willpower to have convinced herself earlier. She remembered holding Sonata again, hearing her voice again, searing every sensation into her mind and wishing that it could’ve been real. Looking back, she wished she’d had the strength to be cruel to them, though she knew she’d think differently if she saw them again.

It could’ve been so much easier. That first night, when she’d found out for herself just how easily Sunset’s mind could be molded, she could’ve—should’ve—had the gems in a matter of hours. It was impossible not to count the tragedies that might’ve been avoided if she’d acted differently that night, when whatever it was that seemed to shield Sunset from her later hadn’t been present. The opportunity had been hers, and thus, the weight of failure fell squarely on her own overburdened shoulders.

She stayed in bed until her tears stopped, and then slowly pushed herself up. As had been the norm for what felt like a time as long as she could remember, it was not eagerness that compelled her to rise and dress herself, but grim determination. She had to live, no matter how bleak the day seemed. No matter what she had to endure, there was nothing more important than survival.

She told herself that every waking hour. Nothing was more important. A few days ago, she thought she believed herself when she said that.

Her chamber—a cage made of gold and finery and luxury as decadent as any she’d dreamed of—was lit only by a swaying crystalline chandelier that cradled spherical gem-candles. She could see her bed well enough, as well as the mirror and wardrobe by its side, but the rest of the room was shrouded in shadows.

And, in the deepest depths of Sombra’s empire, the shadows had eyes. Adagio felt them everywhere she looked and saw darkness. They were there, slithering about, peering into every nook and cranny they could find. They weren’t always open; Sombra was only one unicorn, and his attention could not be infinitely divided. But those eyes were there. Always. Lurking in every corner, the threat of their nocent gaze silently stated.

When her earring had not yet pulsed by the time she stood by the door, a creeping dread preyed on her. It came as something of a small relief, being left to her own devices for the time being, but it was balanced by perilous uncertainty; she couldn’t be sure what it was that Sombra had in store for her, but she wished for nothing more than to never know.

How cruel it was, making the only emotional bonds to have weathered the centuries seem like knives in her back. If only I could have stopped loving them, she whispered in her head, and thinking what kind of monster would make her think such a thing made her blood boil with impotent rage.

Out into the hallway she stepped, where she all but ran headlong into a silent guard. The stallion stood chest-high next to her, peering up through a somber, faceless mask. Were it not for the hints of flesh peeking out through gaps in his armor, he wouldn’t have looked so different from a statue.

His timing, however was truly unfortunate. He was no Sombra, but in the moment, Adagio didn’t particularly care. He was an extension of Sombra’s will, in some sense; a slave much like her, only a thousand times weaker. Anger and hatred stirred in Adagio’s veins, and since her ideal target was far, far out of her reach…

He’ll do.

A sound began as a growl. Low, guttural and savage, it ripped through the air, left deep rents in the walls, and tore a plate of armor off of the unfortunate stallion. The pony underneath was unharmed, but another snarl shredded his armor to ribbons. Only his helmet remained untouched, the rest of his uniform turned to scrap and clattering to the ground.

Then Adagio turned her eye on the pony himself. A click of her tongue pinned him to the wall, though he remained grim and still.

Teeth clenched, one hand balled into a tight fist, Adagio crept forward, staring into that pony and feeling her pulse quicken. She could do whatever she wanted to him, and nobody would bat an eye. In her head, she imagined it was Sombra she had pinned, and oh, the things she wanted to do…

She got as far as whipping up another song when she clamped her mouth shut.

No. I’m not like him. I will never be like him.

She let that pony crumple on the ground. Then she pushed right past that miserable little stallion, feeling not even a little better for her spiteful outburst. Hatred lingered in her, quiet and seething, spurred by her indulgence, but without a proper target all it could do was sink inwards.

Moments like that were victories, she told herself. Tiny, infinitesimal victories scored against her, without her enemy even lifting a finger.

It was difficult to move away from that thought, but she had to, and so she did. There was too much gloom shrouding the past for her to see through. Such a mire would be difficult to escape, if she let herself sink too deeply and get too tangled. As much as she’d hated being thrown back onto the battlefield within minutes of her return, long before she’d had a chance to catch her breath, she found afterwards that she’d almost prefer diving off another cliff into another army.

Her mind could go to strange places when it was alone, after all. Duties were loathsome things, but they kept her in the moment and gave her something to look forward to; thoughts of the future were all that had kept her mind from shattering, she mused. She tried to keep some particularly favorable ones in her head as she wandered the shadowy halls of the palace she’d come to know so well.

There were not many places in Sombra’s palace that she claimed to like. Very few, in fact—the chamber she resided in was as lavish as anything she’d stayed in during the last thousand years, but it was still a cage, and she couldn’t rest there as long as she knew that.

But there was one room she was rather drawn to. There was, as far as she knew, only a single garden in the entire palace, and it surprised her that there was even that. Gleaming flora, radiant under what little sunlight pierced the dreary sky, lay sprawled out in a little alcove. Vines studded with twinkling rubies crawled and wrapped around glistening pillars, while blooming emeralds swayed gently in an ethereal breeze. Sombra’s predecessor must’ve had quite a fondness for arcane botany, but she could only imagine that simple resilience was all that kept it alive; it would simply be too much trouble to cleanse, and so it remained neglected instead. A single tranquil jewel amidst a stagnant, wretched shadow of an empire.

No wonder she liked it so much, then.

A fountain in the middle of the garden trickled idly. Adagio sat down beside it and cradled her gem in her hands.

She wondered what had brought on that sudden weakness from before—perhaps it merely her gem decaying from being isolated, cut off from its brethren. Or perhaps it was just her magic’s way of revolting against Sombra, protesting the destruction he made her wreak.

The reason didn’t matter too much, she supposed. Neither situation was one she was capable of remedying herself.

She breathed deeply, glancing about to see if she was being watched. Satisfied that she wasn’t, she brought both her hands to her gem, closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and started to sing.

Music filled the garden. Somber, quietly hopeful tunes flowed out of her mouths—she and her sisters had songs of anger, and had slipped into them a few days when the tension between them climbed, but they had songs of forgiveness, too, welcoming songs that they would sing when they were ready to make peace.

In the thoughts that she clung to, in the dreams that made pushing forward a necessity, she was not alone in that garden, and it wasn’t just her music keeping her company.

Adagio’s search of the room she’d awoken in had yielded few insights. There was no way out, not that she could see, but if she could overlook the oppressive atmosphere, she could almost fall in love with it all. The armoire housed some of the most beautiful, intricately decorated dresses she’d seen, the bookshelves lining the walls offered to stimulate her mind, and a basin of still, heated water invited her to a bath.

None of it had put her mind at rest, though. When she’d found no sign of escape, it was all she could manage not to fall into a corner and weep.

Suddenly, a chill overwhelmed her. An icy, frigid aura enveloped her, and in the corners of her vision she thought she saw shadows writhing and dancing. Darkness came to life, all around her. In the farthest corner from her, what had been dim, flickering shadows darkened to a ravenous black blot.

And then a man appeared there. It didn’t seem as though he’d stepped there, more like the shadows had peeled back to reveal him like he’d always been there. Even at a healthy distance, he managed to loom over her. Burnished steel plates girded him from the neck down, fashioned simply and devoid of ornamentation; a rich scarlet cloak, trimmed with white fur, made up for the armor’s simplicity. Draped by a thick mask of shadows, an ashen-gray face framed by an unkempt mane of inky black stared at her. Piercing crimson eyes, cold and callous, seemed to be plucked right from her dimmest, darkest memory.

She could not have known that man, and yet she knew she did.

Before she had time to dwell on that faint recognition, he drew closer. His posture was stiff and rigid, his movements awkward and unbalanced, but a carpet of black mist carried him more than he walked.

Between the physical disparity—he was several inches taller than her, and nearly twice as broad—and the ease of his magical displays, she felt creeping dread preying on her. She felt small, like a grain of sand adrift in an ocean.

Just as she’d swallowed that fear and opened her mouth to speak, the man’s eyes bored into hers and she felt frozen where she stood.

“We met once, you and I,” the man said. His voice was deep and reverberating. “You were a small, frightened thing, then, dreaming and oblivious. Neither of us wore these bodies, back then.” He glanced down at his hand, regarding with the same contempt he might have held for a cockroach. “But your counterpart says she’s taken a liking to them.”

Adagio felt her eyes widen, slightly. She definitely knew that man—memories crept back to her, of a stallion standing above a goddess dreaming in her lake.

“I know much about you,” the man said. His narrow eyes burned in their sockets. “Your kind makes weapons out of words, so I will not mince mine. I am King Sombra.” His name and title rang with a hammer striking a gong, lingering in the air and saturated with a domineering, imperious weight. “There is a land of strife, beyond the reaches of my palace. Swear yourself to my side, and you will have a never-ending banquet.

“You have seen your counterpart. Her fate is your alternative.”

Thoughts clawed their way to the forefront of Adagio’s mind. She saw her own face in them, a beautific visage so marred by lies and treachery that she could feel nothing but scorn towards it, and yet wracked with such anguish that she couldn’t bear to add more to it.

Swiftly, though, two other face entered her mind. For their sake, she stood tall and straight, met Sombra’s eyes and spoke clearly. “Where are my sisters?”

“They are safe. My offer extends to all three of you.” Sombra turned to face one wall and gestured; crystal flowed like water and sculpted itself from a naked wall to a door. “The halls of my palace are open to you. Go and see them. We will speak again soon.”

It took Adagio a long while to work up the nerve to approach the door. There was something foreboding about it all, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever it was that awaited her on the other side would be something quite terrible. Necessity eventually overcame fear, but it was a lengthy struggle.

Stepping out the door put her in a gloomy hallway, where her suspicions were instantly confirmed. Everywhere she looked, shadows danced in the wake of flickering motes of flame that lined the walls and shifted from searing red to eerie green and misty purple. The air was still and odorless, its touch frigid on her skin once she left the comfort of her room.

Those shadows. They were alive, she realized. There was a will behind them, dark and forceful, and they were all eager to heed the call of the palace’s master. When she moved, they crawled along with her, tugging at her just strongly enough to not be forgotten.

Adagio faltered momentarily. Every aspect of the hall conspired to send her cold pangs of dread, haunting fears that she could not dispel. Promises of pain and misery that awaited her if she attracted their ire. She ducked back into her room, closing the door behind her and all but reveling in the tenuous security that was gifted to her there. There, she was safe; she suspected she was supposed to think exactly that, in order to encourage her to remain in that gilt prison.

But she couldn’t, of course. Her sisters were there, somewhere not far away, if anything that man had told her could be trusted—and, for whatever motive, he seemed to prefer that she willingly acquiesce, though she was certain that, in her present state, there was little to stop him from taking what he wanted from her. That thought made her tremble, helplessness weighing her down like an anchor chained to her ankle.

Hesitantly, she reached up to her locket, wrapping her fingers around it as she clamped her eyes shut and breathed. Caution told her to leave it at that, once a gentle echo of a hum told her that her shards were still there. She presumed that the only reason she still had them was because her captor hadn’t realized they were there; they were small enough to escape his notice, perhaps.

Which meant she couldn’t rely on them. Just thinking about those shards, the one glimmer of hope she’d laid eyes on in the last few months, being taken was almost as unsettling as being out in that hallway with the shadows.

“Find them,” she whispered to herself. “Find them.” Drawing in a long breath, she pushed the door open again and slipped out. Shadows gathered around her, corroding her will. “Find them.” Her own voice distracted her for an instant, gave her something else to dwell on. She took a few steps away from the safety of that door. “Find them.”

That hallway seemed like it might stretch on forever. She didn’t think she’d actually gone very far, but it seemed as though there were miles behind her.

Suddenly, the wall beside her, just like the one in the first room had done, shaped itself into a door.

She froze at the sight. Shadows gathered all around her, and this time she wondered if she wasn’t as alone as she might have guessed.

She hurriedly threw the door open once she reached it. Just as she’d hoped, the room she stepped into—which was distinctly less thoroughly furnished than hers had been, though what decorations there were tended to be just as gilded—was a place of refuge, separated from the writhing shadows by a wall of crystal. Her heart leapt with joy when she closed the door behind her and felt the chill receding.

“Sunset.”

“Adagio. You’re… I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I… don’t know where we stand right now. We’ve got some things to talk about, I think.”

“Yeah. I think we do. This doesn’t seem like the time.”

“No. It doesn’t. What about your sisters? Are they safe?”

“I think so. I haven’t found them yet, but I think they’re close by.”

“Don’t worry. If there’s a way we can make it out of this, we can find it.”

“If all you’re going to do is tell me things I already know, you’re not going to be much help.”

“True. Let’s go find your sisters, then.”

“Do you hear that?”

Adagio paused, cocked her head, and listened.

There was indeed a sound, slithering through the air. It was so soft she wondered if she’d been hearing it along and never noticed, but now that she did…

It was a somber, quietly majestic sound.

“Yes. It… it sounds like…” There wasn’t anything else it could have been. Her own voice was unmistakable.

Sunset moved towards the door resolutely, gripping the handle before turning to Adagio. “Go find your sisters.” She hesitated, then put on a transparently reassuring smile. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

Adagio’s brow furrowed. “What’re you—” She shook her head; thinking of what her double had done made brought white-hot anger. “She’s the one who tried to bring us here. What do you think is going to—”

“I don’t know. I’ll be fine, I think.”

She sounded more certain that time, Adagio realized. Too certain, perhaps; a girl who’d seen a siren turn a woman to a quivering wreck and a house to rubble should not have been so calm about approaching one. Not unless she…

Ah. Of course.

Whatever Sunset had seen when she looked into the other siren’s mind, it must have encouraged her—had her scream, then, come from feeling the other siren’s pain? Sombra had used her fate as a threat…

In the end, Adagio folded her arms, and sighed, but then gave a stiff nod and made her way to the door. “If you’re sure.”

Sunset didn’t answer that right away.

Stepping out into the hallway was as much of a shock the second time as it was the first; it was like stepping from a dream to a nightmare, and the paleness that came to Sunset’s face and the shiver that ripped through her said it wasn’t any better for her.

Adagio stood next to Sunset and put a hand on her shoulder. It was easier to push back her own dread with someone to look better than. “Be careful,” she said. All the grudges and disagreements between them were deemed irrelevant; Sunset had potentially useful information, and that meant Adagio cared about her.

Sunset nodded. “I will.” She took a moment to steady herself, but when she set off in the direction the song had come from, Adagio saw her still shivering.

And then Adagio felt herself doing the same, when the shadows all around her made their presence known.

She turned and set off in the opposite direction, murmuring “Find them” to herself.

Adagio let her voice die down—her song didn’t end; it never did, but she brought it to a pause—when she heard footsteps approaching, and lifted her head anxiously.

She and Sunset looked at each other for a long while, silently.

“I… heard you singing,” Sunset said. She looked about the garden, pausing as if to take it all in. Then she bit her lip and face Adagio directly. Pain, confusion, concern and fright all swirled about in her eyes, almost palpable in the air around her.

Silently, Adagio stood, pausing to brush an errant lock of hair out of her face and smooth her skirts. Then she looked at Sunset—she looked so young, with a face as youthful as a siren’s but lacking so much of the grace that came with longevity.

“I’m sorry you’re here,” she said.

Sunset looked at her for a moment. “I’m not,” she said, eventually. She gulped, then wrapped her arms around herself. She did a better job suppressing her terror than most, but there was still a shudder to her as she drew closer. “Can we talk?”

Adagio swallowed and glanced about the room. “Not for very long,” she said. Sombra had… plans for her, she was certain. But until then…

She sat on the rim of the fountain, and beckoned Sunset to join her. “And I don’t think you’re going to like most of it.”

Sunset gave a small nod, but complied. “I… saw what Sombra did to you. When I…”

“I thought you might have.”

“What’s… what’s going on here?” Sunset bit on her lip, and her voice wavered. “I think I already know some of the answers, but…”

Words gathered on the tip of Adagio’s tongue, and this time she felt no pain ready to stifle them. How elated she would have been, if only she had known that joy a day or two before. “It’s… all very complicated,” she whispered. Drawing in another breath, she felt a tinge of pity in the eyes that met hers, and it made her want to turn on her heel and march down the hall.

The silence that followed was a difficult one to break, laden with unease from both parties. “You… must have some idea,” Adagio began, at last, “of where we are, at the very least.”

Sunset nodded stiffly, glancing briefly around her. “Equestria,” she murmured, half-heartedly as if she—understandably—thought it an impossible answer. “You, then, does that mean you’re… no. What are you? You couldn’t be a siren.”

And there it was. Somehow, Adagio couldn’t help but think that she wasn’t going to like this part of the history lesson. “Why not? I wear the face of one. I sing with the voice of one. If anything, I’d say I have more claim to the title than” —unwanted empathy threatened to stifle, so she locked it away under a scowl and told herself that she hated that other woman who dared to use her name— “that arrogant tart you’ve been carrying around.” Purposeful iciness slipped into her voice, accompanied by a haughty demeanor. “What else do I need?”

“But you can’t be. There were only three of you, that’s what Adagio…” Sunset’s frown intensified for a moment. Then she shook her head. “No, she wouldn’t have lied.” She stared at Adagio’s ruby.

“As I said. It’s complicated.” Adagio drew in a long breath. “Star Swirl was a meticulously habitual note-taker, you know. Scrolls, journals, unfinished spells… he left his entire magical journey behind for all the world to see, even when it took him to disciplines no other unicorn dared to touch.”

“I know that.” Sunset nodded quickly. “He even tried to study—” She froze suddenly, eyes going wide and paleness crawling into her face. “Time,” she whispered, with such care it seemed as though the word was veritable blasphemy to her. Painful enlightenment touched her eyes as she edged away. “You’re from another—”

“No.” Adagio shook her head gravely. “But you are. This is my time,” she said, gesturing to the world at large and enduring a pang of melancholy. It seemed less immutable to her now, the state of her world, and it was all the more mocking for it. “You and your friends were taken from yours.”

Sunset clasped her hands together, silently slipping into what looked to be deep thought—she took the news in stride remarkably well. “But you were also taken,” she said eventually. That sympathy returned. “I saw it in your…”

“Did you?” Adagio looked away, biting her lip. Bowing her head, closing her eyes, she remembered that loathsome night.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. Instinctively, a song started to form in her head, jagged, harsh and cruel, the tip of a claw that she hoped might rend Sombra’s heart from his chest.

She made herself stop instantly. Just for a little while longer, she had to survive. No matter the cost.

“So that’s what you saw,” she murmured. Glancing out the corner of her eye, she saw Sunset drawing closer and recoiled, standing sharply to her feet. “You know where we are now, and who I am,” she said, forcibly adorning her face with a cold stare. “There is nothing left to say.”

There was, of course. In a world of shadow of crystal, one compassionate soul would hold her attention utterly, if only there were no eyes peering at them. Seconds spent in comforting arms were risks she could not yet afford again.

“Of course there is.” Sunset, like clockwork, stood straight up. “We’re going to fix this. If we were brought here, we can get back.” She stepped closer, stopping just out of reach. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

“Identifying a problem doesn’t mean you have the answer.” Adagio stared back, wondering what must have been different about Sunset’s Equestria. Purposefully, she drew a hand up to her ear, pinching the gem set in her earring. It laid dormant for the moment, some of its most insidious stipulations lifted with her return, but it remained a shackle that no key she knew of could open. “And not every story has a happy ending.”

Just then, a shiver went down her spine. Slowly, unfurling behind her, she felt but did not see an eye. It bored into her back, latching onto her with a cold, unblinking stare.

Sombra was summoning her. She hated it, but knew it.

And then she had a decision to make. Speaking softly would brand her a traitor, marking the scene with traces of deception. That, she could not afford, not when the ice she stood on was already so thin.

But if she were the one keeping the peace…

I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.

Sunset looked at her, hopeful and determined.

A sudden lash of sound brought her to her knees.

“So, whatever it is that you’re looking for…” Adagio lowered her voice to a growl. Towering over Sunset, she reached inside her power, summoned up a torrent of magic, prepared to let it loose, and forced herself not to cry. It wasn’t going to pleasant, what she was about to do, but there were other lives at stake and she couldn’t afford to let her facade be a weak one. “... I don’t have it. Nothing does, not here.”

Sunset tried to stand until a drifting strand of music made her legs petrify and turn rigid, leaving her helpless on the ground.

“You are not going to escape this place,” Adagio proclaimed in the same instant she told herself not to listen. “The kindest thing to do for yourself is to accept that.” Magic seeped out of her gem and lent more weight to her voice; just a touch, but still more than she could bear. Instincts that a voice in her head had cultivated and nurtured for a thousand years told her to be content that her enemy was being humbled, and she had to beat back that joy.

She wasn’t like him. No matter what kind of tyranny she may have wished for, his was far worse. There was no beauty there, not like there was in her power. His was a malignant blight, hers a shroud of sublime radiance.

In a way, she was being merciful. It wounded her to drench Sunset’s hope, but she whispered to herself that what she did was far kinder than what Sombra himself would have done.

The last that Adagio saw of her were two weary teal eyes looking back at her, weary and pitiful and heartbreaking instead of bright and hopeful.

An insistent thrum by her ear told her that her presence was demanded elsewhere. She turned sharply and left Sunset alone in the garden.

The halls of the palace had been a labyrinth, once, and the room Adagio sought most difficult of all to find—purposefully so, she suspected—but too many summons had taught her the path well. When she knew she was close, she stopped in place, touched her fingers to her gem, and let her magic envelop her. Again her flesh dissolved into water and foam, the dress she’d been wearing falling to the ground in a heap just as she broke into a brisk trot upon four dainty hooves. The flesh she garbed herself in was as alien as her human body had once been, even then, and she despised every second she had to wear it, but that had just made her body into one more thing she didn’t control—Sombra had little but disdain for the human form, and didn’t particularly like being dwarfed.

Shortly after her changing, Adagio strode through a grandiose archway, the sole portal of the palace that led to a room with stature matching the owner’s title. This one room, situated right in the building’s core, crackled with power, seething as seeping magic from a dozen or more experiments permeated the air. Crystals of many forms dotted the walls, some twinkling while others resonated, many etched with jagged runes. In the center of the room lay a great circle of such runes, portions of which Adagio vaguely recognized from an ancient scroll she’d seen the palace’s loathsome master carting around. It was there that space and time alike had recently been hewn, torn and stitched back together.

Off in the corner, there was a table riddled with things that terrified her: three haphazard piles of ruby shards, alongside a red geode she only faintly recognized. And three crystalline earrings that nearly made her wail where she stood.

Most importantly of all, though, perched in an alcove on the far side of the room, there stood a lonely, somber casket of crystal. At the distance she saw it from as she entered, the murky surface was nearly opaque, but were she to draw closer she would see the faces inside.

It wouldn’t have mattered to her if it were a thousand miles away instead of a dozen yards; the contents had long since been seared into her memory, a brand that held nearly as much power as the enchanted shackle on her ear. She pictured them clearly, every detail as vivid as the first time she’d seen them, whether she chose to or not.

She wondered sometimes, when she had the leisure to entertain such thoughts, that even the casket’s placement could be called a torture. Its position, such that she could barely even try to ignore it, was cruelly clever.

“Soon,” she whispered. “I’m coming. Just…” She clamped her eyes shut, and tore them away. “Just a little while longer.”

She had no time to dwell on whether her promise had been heard; shadows bared themselves, crawling and writhing and slithering like hellish serpents. They gathered in front of her, and a steel-shod hoof struck the ground.

Despite herself, she retreated, forced back by a wall of coiling dread. She dared not meet the king’s eyes, not when she knew he would already be displeased with her. She could seethe back in her chamber, but until then…

As soon as she felt eyes on her, she flinched, waiting for the pain that would force her to kneel. She never did it without being prompted, and the king was always willing to prompt.

But not that day.

Somehow, the absence of pain felt like the crueller act.

King Sombra loomed over her, his powerful frame dwarfing her dainty mare form. The look on his face was as dour, grim and steely as ever, the coldness in his eyes more chilling than the frigid wastes outside the palace.

Still keeping her head bowed and her posture demure, Adagio dared to speak after a long silence. “I…” She winced, expecting a disciplinary lash, but continued when none came. “I did as you asked.”

“Did you?” An aura of magic gripped her face and forced her to let those fierce crimson eyes peer into hers. “When last you stood before me, I do not recall asking you to go dancing with a shadow of your sistren. One week, I gave you, and you could have done it in a day.”

Adagio’s earring flashed, and a whip-like pain made her knees buckle, but Sombra’s grip kept her on her shaky hooves. A dozen excuses came to her with practiced ease, but she knew there was not a single one that could let her avoid paying the price for her recklessness.

“You spared me the trifling difficulty of hunting the shards down myself. That is all that you have done for me.” Sombra’s eyes burned, wisps of violet smoke forming streaks in the air; his magic was palpable. “And now I find you can barely contest Celestia. Explain to me, then, why you still deserve your reward.”

A terror worse than any she’d known in centuries coursed through her body. Protests came easily: she was surprised by her own weakness when she fought Celestia, she was too cautious in the face of unknown magic during her mission to the other time. “Please. Y—you have the gems. Let me mend them, and I c—I can be—”

“Spare me your simpering.”

The grip on her face released, and Adagio staggered. Then Sombra’s horn flickered, the pearl in her ear lit up, and a force struck her across the face just as her insides felt like they tried to rip themselves to pieces. A shriek escaped her lips as she collapsed to the ground.

What came next was only a haze, but it felt like an eternity before the gleaming thing in her ear relented, and by then she wanted little more than to curl up and sob until it ended.

When she looked up, she saw Sombra approaching the casket, speaking words she couldn’t understand, and she forgot all about her weeping. A flicker of hope welled up inside her chest; she thought at once that finally, finally, it would all have been worth it. All the burdens she’d endured, all the pain she’d inflicted, all the tragic wretchedness that had tarnished her, everything.

Sombra’s horn ignited, and that hope bloomed. A ray of crackling magic leapt out of Sombra’s horn, and Adagio’s hope flared.

Crystals gleamed for an instant before the will of their maker took hold of the bonds holding them together. Cracks spread slowly, infecting the once-flawless surface of the casket.

Adagio had been creeping closer, trembling and wavering, but when a sharp whipcrack of magic sent countless shards raining onto the ground, she broke into a run. She hurried towards the casket as quickly as her legs could carry her, tears streaming from her eyes.

When Adagio’s search lead through a passage into open air and she found herself in a sprawling courtyard, she wondered for a moment if she’d stumbled across an exit.

She didn’t see one, not right away, but she saw something else that interested her even more: there was a lake in that courtyard, lined by a rim of stone that she knew ponies had once stood on. The water was still, and as clear as the crystal surrounding it; it was like a mirror, reflected stars twinkling like little sparks of underwater flame as she drew closer. As soon as she saw that lake, a prediction popped into her head, but it wasn’t until the very moment she stood by the edge, the deep gash plainly on view in the nigh-impenetrable sheet of crystal stretched over the surface, that she knew. An image right out of her oldest memory, brought to life at last and marred by knowledge of what came of it. Sombra had been there that day, she now knew; his fascination with her magic must have been what drove him to do all that he had done to them.

And then, looking just like she imagined she must’ve all those years ago, a leviathan sheathed from maw to fluke in scales of the most gleaming gold rose from the inky depths. The siren dragged herself out of the lake with her sinewy forelimbs, luminescent antenna shining like little stars in the twilight, a ruby in her chest winking and shimmering.

The siren never once looked towards Adagio. She dissolved into churning water and foam, compressing until she solidified into a tall, slender, nude woman with silky golden curls tumbling unbound down her back. Other Adagio moved to the rim and sat down in silence, staring deep into the depths of the lake.

Adagio thought she might cry. As far as she saw things, she hadn’t been truly alive until the moment she left that lake. Realizing that what may as well have been her birthplace was also where the vilest machinations she’d ever been caught in had begun…

It was a wonder to her that she made it to the lake’s edge without dropping to her knees and weeping, but she did exactly that.

She didn’t announce her presence aloud, though the crunching of snow underneath her feet must have done it for her. But, if Other Adagio knew she was there, she made no response. No greeting, no shunning, not even a sideways glance. Her eyes were glassy and still, her face pale, her hands clasped primly in her lap, her legs crossed at the thighs.

Adagio sat down beside her double, keeping her distance at first. A slight gust of wind made her shiver, but Other Adagio didn’t seem to notice, despite her nakedness.

That was where it got difficult. What am I to say? Adagio asked herself. Looking at her double, she didn’t think she was possibly cruel enough to be angry at her, even though she had every reason to be. She didn’t think she even wanted to be angry, but kindness was something she suddenly felt quite inexperienced with.

What would I like to hear, if I were in her shoes?

For a long while, doubt still left her silent; she didn’t know, not really, what her double’s life was like. Sunset probably did, thanks to that magic of hers—

So what would she do here, then?

Drawing in a slow breath, Adagio slid a little closer.

How close was too close? If it were one of her sisters she was approaching, she would most certainly be right by their side, but with Other Adagio, she couldn’t see that going over as well. So she kept a small amount of distance, staying just within arm’s reach, already running through a dozen possible things she might say in her head.

Eventually, she stopped trying to think about it so much. She could barely understand herself then and there, much less her double.

“I forgive you.” She wasn’t quite sure that was the truth, but saying it out loud made her believe it a little bit more.

And it got a reaction, albeit a small one. Other Adagio glanced—not at her, but at least more towards her than before—and spoke a single word. “Why?”

Why indeed? Adagio racked her brain, searching for both what she thought her double would want to hear as well as what was really true. “Because I understand.” That had to be it, or at least a component. “Parts of it, anyway. If…” It was a gamble, what she was about to say, but she didn’t think there could be any better answer. “If someone took my sisters from me, I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do to get them back.”

She’d hoped for another reaction, kept her eye well-trained for hints of sorrow, or anger, or… anything, really. Seeing little more than a pale, blank slate of a face and being left in sullen silence for her mind to wander led her towards dreary thoughts.

Salvation came in the form of a whisper. “I told myself they were yours, not mine.” Other Adagio’s voice was flat, and lifeless. Adagio wasn’t sure whether she was speaking to herself or not. “Over and over again. I thought that maybe if I kept saying it, I could…” The first hints of emotion crept through cracks in her façade; weariness dominated. Other Adagio hung her head. “It doesn’t matter, not really. What’s done is done.”

Then she looked at Adagio, actually met her eyes, but only for a fraction of a second before she jerked away. “I’m not the person you want to—"

“Shh, shh. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No. No, you’re not. But you’re not going to help me, either.”

“When did I say that?”

“You didn’t.” Other Adagio drew in a long, slow breath; she shuddered, but Adagio didn’t think it was because of the cold. “I need to sing a song,” Other Adagio murmured, “but I don’t have the right one. There are a thousand songs in my dreams, but the one I need isn’t there, because I’ve never had to sing it before, and now… now that there isn’t anything else I need more, I don’t know how to sing it.”

“Why do you need to sing?”

“Because there’s a song that needs to be sung. There’s nothing else, not in this world, not in any world, that can do what this song needs to do, and there’s nobody else who can sing it.” Other Adagio wrapped her fingers around her gem, staring down. “It has to be me. But I can’t. I don’t know how. All I can do is want it, and that used to be enough.”

Adagio felt a troubled frown coming onto her face, but before she could figure out what question to ask, Other Adagio breathed out a sigh. “This is where I met them,” she whispered, leveling a somber stare at the surface of the lake, “where I waited for them, even before I knew they existed.” She went silent for a long time. Her face was blank, eyes glassy and unfocused, looking at something distant and intangible. “Do you think they’re the ones waiting for me, now?”

Creeping dread seeped into Adagio’s confusion. More questions came to her, but the answers she thought she might hear terrified her into silence. She gulped, feeling the blood draining from her face, reaching up with a faintly trembling hand to twirl a strand of hair around her finger.

“I told myself they were,” Other Adagio continued. Her voice, still flat and lifeless, now seemed eerie, unnervingly calm. “Every time I had to hurt one of you, that’s what I told myself. That they were waiting for me, and that that made it all okay.” Her voice lowered still further, and she bowed her head; as still as she was, with that pallor about her face and the muted gem at her neck, it was hard to look at her and not see a corpse being forced to live. “I should’ve known. Obvious, really.”

Sputtered protests tried to escape Adagio’s mouth, but she realized how empty they all were quickly enough not to bother with any of them. She wanted, so desperately wanted, to insist that what she thought to be true simply couldn’t be, but it seemed to explain the conundrum of her double with such tragic perfection that she couldn’t imagine how she hadn’t at least guessed it before. It was obvious why, of course, from the way her heart sank to such a dismal abyss just from hearing about it.

Suddenly heedless, she recklessly threw her arms around her double, drawing her close and holding her tight. A heaving chest forced out ragged breaths, but she didn’t cry; shock and aches of the heart left with something closer to pain than sorrow. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, again and again as if she could change something by meaning it enough.

She had always found tears difficult to deal with, whether they came from herself or others, but she would gladly have taken weeping over the cold stillness that greeted her.

“It doesn’t matter.” A stony face looked at Adagio. “Sympathy will not breathe life into their flesh, grief will not spirit us away from this place. Sorrow will not tear down the walls and the chains that bind us.” Other Adagio blinked. Just for a second, there was a flicker of anger that came to her face, an ember struggling to be free and fiery. It was quelled after only an instant, but Adagio thought that it had to still burn, somewhere deep inside Other Adagio’s breast. “And, when the day finally comes that Sombra can cling to life not a second longer, it will have been neither your kindness nor your tears that felled him.”

Adagio gasped out bits and pieces of words that petered off into a weary sigh. “You’re right,” she murmured. Still clinging to her double’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and willed herself to calm. Selfish though it may have been, she reminded herself that her Aria and Sonata were still safe. As far as she knew—which was an absolute certainty, she decided for the sake of her sanity. Finally, she drew in a long breath. “I need your help to beat him,” she said, unable to completely stop her voice from cracking.

Other Adagio’s lip trembled and curled, her eyes clenching shut. A low noise that could easily have been a growl rumbled out of her throat. The hand holding her gem twisted into a tight fist. Then, all of a sudden, the growl turned into a soft mewl. A gem by her ear twinkled, and just like that, she went still again. “I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. “I couldn’t fight him then, and I can’t now. I’m sorry. Truly sorry, but there’s nothing I can…” She turned away.

Adagio sighed. Drawing back, knitting her brow, she glanced down and hesitated. Her locket dangled, just as it had for the last few months; it was still there only because the contents had escaped notice, she reminded herself. Would Sombra notice, somehow, if she took them out?

Perhaps more importantly, was she so lost without them that it was worth the risk? Just thinking about losing them pained her so much she was reluctant to dare to look at them.

But she needed them. She needed someone, anyone, who could help her. With trembling fingers, she reached for the locket. The shards had always bolstered her when nothing else could; they had shown her visions of futures that kept her from going mad with grief, and—

Ruby shards, serenaded by a voice so angelic and flawless it could only have been her own.

She came to a sudden pause. The shards had shown her that vision mere hours before she’d crossed paths with her double. That same day, she’d learned that her own anger wasn’t enough to fill the shards, her own voice incapable of weaving the strands of magic, but…

Just then, though, something else was there to pick up the slack. It was so faint she might have passed it off as her mind playing tricks on her, but tiny strands of green crawled out of Other Adagio. They drifted lazily, meandering towards Adagio’s locket. From just one person, the bitter taste of grief was almost impossible to pick out, but each strand carried a potency that she’d almost never felt before.

Anger, despair… a siren mourning her sistren, craving the blood of the one who’d ended them…

Other Adagio was a wellspring of negativity just then. And with as much magic as she had enriching it…

It still wasn’t much, but it was infinitely more power than what her shards had had for the last year.

“Maybe you’re right,” she whispered. Releasing her locket, gazing once again into the lake and then returning to her double’s side, she thought that the whole world seemed clearer than it did a few moments before. Her pulse quickened, this time with excitement. “Your gem doesn’t sing to you anymore, does it?”

Other Adagio stiffened. She peaked back with puffy, reddened eyes. “No,” she said. “There’s something there, still, but it’s only been my voice that brings it to life. Yours didn’t either, did it?”

“No.” It just whispers.

But even that might’ve been too much. She looked down at her locket, wondering if all those visions her gem had shown her had just made her blind. “I think that we’ve both been letting something else choose the paths we walk on for far too long now.”

Cradling her locket in one palm, she carefully cracked it open with her other hand, locking eyes with her double and feeling an exhilarating rush when a glimpse of ruby brought the first hint of life that she’d seen in the other woman all day. Other Adagio’s spirit had been shattered, perhaps, but Adagio saw shards of it, then, that yearned for wholeness.

“We’re going to find a way to break our chains,” Adagio said, closing her locket and holding it tightly to her breast. “And once we do, we’re going to decide for ourselves what we really need.”

“I…” Other Adagio shook. She stared right at Adagio’s locket, eyes wide and full of longing.

“I can’t,” she said again. Adagio didn’t think she wanted to believe it, but she did. “Please, I’ve… I need to survive,” Other Adagio whispered. Her voice was grave and dour, morose instead of determined. “No matter what else happens, I need to—”

“Well…” Adagio looked down at her locket. “Now I know you’re lying, because what I needed was never enough for me.” Eying her double, playing through old memories in her head, pieces of a puzzle started to click together, and her sly smile grew wider by the second. She looked at Other Adagio’s pendant and earring, and chuckled. “I still need you,” she said as she pushed herself up to her feet and walked away, “but we’ll talk about that after I’ve convinced you.”

Chapter IX [Draft]

Back in her room, Adagio sat on her bed, cradling her locket in the palm of her hand and gazing down at it. There was only a single shard resting in it, and if she looked closely enough, she thought that she could see it shimmering. She hovered her fingers over it, wondering what would happen if she touched it.

It took her a long while to finally take it in her hand. The sharp edges threatened to dig into her skin if she gripped it too tightly, so she wrapped her fingers around it loosely. Right away, she felt a presence stirring in that shard. A susurrus trickled out of it, half-formed whispers drifting towards her mind. Fragments of melodies she remembered occasionally peaked out at her, but they were always too small to be called beautiful.

“Are you…” Her voice wavered and cracked; she let the shard rest in her palm and lifted it up towards her face “… are you there? Can you hear me?”

Moments ticked and tocked by. To her dismay, the shard went silent, and if it hadn’t kept it luster and sheen she might’ve thought it dead.

But then something came to her. Still not a song, not quite. The gem hummed to her; a melody of a centuries-old lullaby came to her, soothing and so joyful to hear that she thought she might cry. Steadying herself, closing her eyes and holding the shard close to her chest, she did her best to follow along, matching the rhythm that her gem sent to her. She struggled, at first, to make out what the gem had to say, but it grew louder the longer she held onto it.

And then she felt it. A reservoir of power, buried deep inside the small shard. Her attempts were a far cry from music, but as she stayed attuned to the ruby conductor in her palm, magic tingled in her fingers. It crept through her, suffusing her with warmth, crawling up her arm, spreading out through her torso, then reaching up towards her throat. She felt it gathering, a spark of power balanced right on the tip of her tongue.

For as long as she could, she held onto it with her lips closed, afraid to dare any more. The spark grew, albeit slowly, and it hated being contained. It wanted to be free, to be let out of her mouth so that it could have open air to play in, a world a enrich with its beauty.

Closing her eyes, trembling, daring, Adagio breathed. She called up memories of a song, tried to bring one to life with her voice.

A glimmer of success made her heart leap and frolic. It was there, just for a moment; strands of music creeping out of her mouth, hints of the perfect beauty housed in ruby depths.

It all crumbled in an instant. Her voice, her damaged, shattered voice, couldn’t keep a hold on it. Her gem sent her pitches that she couldn’t match, tried to drown her in intricate harmonies that should’ve been effortless. It was like trying to mold a river with her bare hands.

She pleaded her gem to stay with her, just for a moment longer. Her whole body shook, her hands clenched so tightly around her gem she thought she might draw blood.

In the end, there was nothing. No song coming from her lips, not even an echo within her gem.

Hope fractured along with her gem. She stared down at the gem in her palm, silently begging it for gifts that she knew it couldn’t bring her.

She slumped back against the wall, pressing her fingers to her brow.

How long she spent like that, she didn’t know. Maybe just a few seconds, maybe minutes, maybe longer…

One way or another, though, the shard in her hand slowly came back to life. It thrummed in her hand, trying to comfort her with vague sensations.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, gazing down at the shard. “I—I couldn’t…”

Another thrum cut her off. She wished she could hear what the shard was trying to tell her, but all she got was a sensation. It’ll be alright, she guessed, but the thought just felt vacuous.

“Thanks,” she murmured half-heartedly. “But if I can’t—”

Can’t what? Sing?

She stopped.

Sonata.

She’d been trying to sing, hadn’t she? Maybe if she had the gem, she’d be able to use it more effectively? She’d just have to break an earring with it, and such a small target surely wouldn’t take much power, just precision.

But would she need to know the right song? Adagio frowned. Their gems had always given them songs to sing before, matching whatever their purpose was. If their gems couldn’t speak to them anymore…

Then maybe Sunset’s geode could let them communicate. Her gem, at least, seemed to have a mind of its own.

All she had to do was get to it, then. Just that easy.

Okay. Think.

Start with the enemy. What did she know? Lots of petty details; seemingly few helpful ones. He was proficient in magic; he waged some sort of war. He had one siren by his side.

And he’d talked to her. Tried to bargain.

Why?

If it had already been shown that he could subjugate one, why would he not take it a step further and claim two, and then a third one and then a fourth one? Ego, perhaps, or ambition? One simply wasn’t enough? But if that was the case, and the first one had been so tamed so thoroughly, so forcefully, then what was stopping him from doing the same?

There wasn’t any kind of reason, as far as Adagio could tell. If Sombra had the resources at his disposal to force her to submit, what would he possibly gain by trying to secure her cooperation peacefully?

If he had the resources.

Other Adagio had a pearl in her earring. Could it have been something special? Something rare, difficult to find and impossible to synthesize?

No, that couldn’t be it. Sombra had been quite meticulous before. The risk of three sirens engorged by a land engulfed in war would be far too great. Sombra must have had something in mind to stop that from happening.

Which meant—and Adagio felt her heart sinking when she realized it—that there were likely three more of those horrific things waiting for her and her sisters.

No. Her teeth clenched, anger flared up in her breast. I can’t let that happen.

As suddenly as her anger had come, she quenched it just as quickly. For a few minutes, at least, she needed to be cold.

He has them. He has them or he’s making them. She had to assume that, whether she liked it or not—and she most certainly did not.

So what could she do about it? Her thoughts leapt back to that room he’d taken her to, where he’d shown her the ruby shards and tried to persuade her. He wouldn’t have let her catch sight of those earrings, not if he was planning on forcing one onto her. But did that mean they were someplace else, or simply hidden?

She didn’t like making assumptions, but she had to hope for the former; She didn’t have any other leads to follow.

Alright. She had to find that room, then. Sombra wouldn’t want her to find it, much less go in it, obviously. That meant it was either guarded or hidden. Probably both.

But those shadows were out there, everywhere she’d seen in the palace, and Sombra could look through them at any time. There was no way that she’d have the time to search for that room.

Damn it. She hissed through her teeth, pressing her fingers to her temple. Damn it, he could just—

She paused, frowning.

If Sombra was so intent on keeping an eye on them as to enchant his entire palace, why not keep them under constant surveillance? He couldn’t use guards, not if he wanted them to have an illusion of freedom, but what was stopping him from always watching them through the shadows?

He was busy, perhaps? Every time they’d spoken, he’d always vanished abruptly, saying he was off to handle some other affair. If Adagio were in his shoes, she imagined she’d thrust all the boring duties onto her sisters and…

And then it struck her that, in all the time that she’d seen Sombra, he’d never once had an ally. His guards were slaves, shackled to his will. Other Adagio was as well, just with more power and a slightly longer chain keeping her down.

He has to do it all himself. There’s nobody else he can trust.

Adagio felt her lips lifting into a faint smile. Were those shadows in the hall just an elaborate bluff, then? A threat of surveillance, enforced just enough to make them worry, but in practice far from reliable?

She turned her eye to the door, and thought of the creeping shadows that lay beyond it. If her guess was correct, that meant that, provided Sombra wasn’t actually in that room, he likely wouldn’t notice if she went out looking for it.

And if she could know that he was off fighting in the war…

It would still be a risk, especially if he could return at any time, or look through the shadows from afar. But what other options did she have? The gem was the only weapon she had at her disposal. If she couldn’t use it herself or find someone who could use it, then—

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a knocking sound. She spun to face the door, going tense until she reminded herself that Sombra had never come in that way.

She cracked her door open, saw Sunset on the other side, and flung it the rest of the way. Worries that had vexed her before melted away into joy that she was quick to express with an embrace.

“You’re alright,” she gasped, relief making her voice high and soft. “I was just about to go and find you, but—” Thoughts of shadows made her hold her tongue. She settled for a sigh instead, pulling Sunset close and holding her tightly. “What happened to you?”

“It’s…” Sunset bit her lip, glancing warily out into the hall before breaking away just long enough to push the door closed. “Nothing serious,” she said, though the paleness of her face suggested that it was a far cry from the truth. “I talked to your double. Found out a few things. Did you ever find your sisters?”

Adagio hated not knowing who she was supposed to be more worried for. She wasn’t sure whether it was more right to stay and make sure that Sunset’s encounter with the other siren hadn’t left any lingering effects or to bolt down the hall and find Sonata’s room. “Yes,” she said. Pausing, dwelling on all the thoughts that had been circulating her mind, she look all around. There were no open eyes in the shadows, not that she could see. If her theory was correct, they weren’t likely to open, but…

But why would she want to take any risks? Sonata was the only other person she needed, at least for the moment, and every moment she spent explaining her plans put them at risk of discovery.

“Sunset.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, drew in a long breath. There were so many things she wanted to say, and countless more that she felt she had to but couldn’t hope to put into words; eyes and ears lurking in the shadow-shrouded corners forced her to put most of those wants to rest. She allowed herself little time to speak, so she made what she did say count. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

She hated that she had to say it, but hated that she didn’t know what the response would be even more.

Sunset looked at her, and there was an agonizing moment of doubt that crept over her. “Adagio? What’re you—”

“I can’t say any more.” Adagio shook her head, silently pleading for things to be different, wishing that there could be a world where she had more to offer, where she could have blinded those eyes in the shadow before they could ever open. “Please. I need you to trust me.”

Worry was heavy on Sunset’s face, and knowing that it was perfectly justified did little to ease the pain it brought. Adagio felt her heart speeding in her chest, palpable in the silence of the room.

“Okay. I trust you.”

Adagio could never have guessed how much joy that simple statement could’ve brought her. It made her heart leap and flutter. She stepped forward and threw her arms around Sunset’s neck and shoulders, and after a small pause felt two limbs reciprocating. Hands found their way to her back, gentle and soft. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting her head rest on Sunset’s shoulder.

“A-anytime,” Sunset murmured.

It felt good being held like that. Adagio wished that she could stay there and not move and trust the rest of the world to sort her problems out for her, but as it was she was forced to pull away.

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“For now...” Adagio looked down, running her fingers over her locket. “I need you to wait for me. Go back to your room, don’t leave unless you absolutely have to. I’ll come back for you.”

They shared a look. A long, quiet, solemn look.

“Adagio, whatever you’re planning…” Sunset sighed, bowed her head, took Adagio’s hand and squeezed it. “Stay safe.”

“I will.” Adagio paused, glanced towards the door, dreamt of her double and all the shadows in the palace, wondered what might happen to her if her guesses were wrong. The weight of her ruby hanging from her neck shielded her from the worst of it, but still she could feel insidious fear trying to worm its way into her head.

Sombra had already killed two sirens.

She felt her pulse quickening, despite her attempts to calm it. “Alright,” she said, trying to project calmness into her voice. “I’ll find you when I can.”

Magenta eyes, bright and vivid. Crimson lips pursed into a smile, alluring even on a strange face, whispering an effortlessly sublime melody.

By all rights, Spitfire knew that she should have died up there, on that cliff. She’d seen many ponies—good, brave, loyal ponies—get tangled in that entrancing voice, and not a single one snap out of it.

Sirens were monsters. That’s what all the stories said. That’s what she’d always seen. A monster.

What kind of monster leaves a hostile soldier alive?

She twisted away from a flying spear, dipped down, dove. Her outstretched hooves struck like lightning, but not to kill. Never to kill, not when her enemies did not move under their own will. She put a dent in a helmet, saw her mark drop, sped away. Her eyes darted, her wings pumped. No sign of the siren yet. That meant there was still time.

She spied a crystal stallion pushing a boulder. Eyes narrowed. She dove, careened into his side, spotted his partner, lashed out with a kick. Two heavy bodies hit the ground. She lifted her head, combed the battlefield.

Damn it, where is she?

There!

A lonely speck of gold and silk, hiding in a field of steel. Spitfire sighted, focused, leapt, dove. Streaking through the air like a comet, she tore off her helmet—she needed to be recognized. She landed with flared wings, spiky mane whipping and lashing about.

Two stallions turned to face her. Guards, perhaps. The first one charged, but his strike was clumsy, and a windmilling hoof sent him to the ground. The second one held back, more cautious; Spitfire was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground.

And then there was only the siren herself. She wore the body of a slender mare this time, with a silky coat the color of burnished gold, a waterfall of curly hair cascading down from her scalp, and a faded, muted ruby hanging from her neck by a black leather strap. A pearl dangled from her ear, and a flowing, bejeweled gown of breezy silk draped over her body—despite dragging over several inches of snow, it was purely unblemished. In stark contrast to the fickle smirk Spitfire remembered, the siren had a dour mask of a face, as unflinching as stone even as it turned towards her.

“I know you, pretty little thing,” the siren whispered; Spitfire heard her as clearly as if they were all that existed, even with the ringing clamor of battle surrounding them. The siren’s voice was beautiful and lilting, even when she wasn’t singing. She blinked twice, then drew in a breath. Flecks of red formed in her eyes, like roses blooming in a matter of seconds.

“Wait!” Spitfire took an urgent step forward. To her surprise, the siren listened, regarding her with a look that was more vacant than aloof. Not quite tragic, but undeniably weary. She’s still a monster, Spitfire knew many others would say, but seeing the siren face-to-face made it hard not to question and ponder.

She’s not trying to hurt me. The rest of Sombra’s army are slaves.

Was it a gamble, what she was about to do?

Unquestionably so.

Was it worth the risk, if she was right?

“What’s your name?” She had to shout to make herself heard.

The siren stared back at her; Spitfire wondered if sirens didn’t have names. But then, after a pause, the siren lifted her head and turned it to the west. Then she started humming. Then a flicker of a song sprang out of her lips, and it brought the sounds of battle to a screeching halt. Only a faint hum lingered, as though the siren’s song overwhelmed all those paltry sounds that dared to compete with it.

“What are you—” Surprise at hearing her own voice made Spitfire pause.

The siren glanced back at her. “Adagio,” she whispered. It was a strange word, at least to Spitfire’s ears, but the siren made it seem like the most beautiful word ever spoken. But it was a somber, tragic kind of beauty. Sorrow tried to seep into Spitfire’s hardened heart. She thought that the siren—no, Adagio, she has a name now—was, at best, a creature to be admired, but never one to be envied.

Adagio bowed her head, breathed out a long, forlorn sigh. Not the kind of sound that said she wanted Spitfire to attack her, but one that said she wouldn’t mind very much.

Spitfire gulped. Damn it, she was thinking too much. Stupid beautiful mare made her go all weak in the knees. She was a soldier, she had a job to do. “Come with me,” she said, forcing her voice to stay strong and clear. “Princess Celestia wants to speak with you.” Probably.

“Does she?” Adagio stared right past Spitfire. It was easy to forget that, outside that little globe of serenity Adagio had created, there was a heated battle, but Adagio noticed, and seemed even more forlorn for it. “Not badly enough to punish you, I hope.”

Adagio sighed again, and looked at Spitfire. “Run along. You’re too pretty to be caught up in all this ugliness.”

“I could say the same about you.” Where in Tartarus did that come from?!

Spitfire was surprised by a laugh. Dry, snorting and mirthless, like Adagio laughed only at herself. “You know…” A grim, sardonic smirk etched itself onto Adagio’s face. She opened her mouth again, glared over Spitfire’s shoulder.

Pounding of steel-shod hooves, somewhere behind her. Spitfire whirled, tensed, saw a heavy stallion barreling towards her.

A melody of a single note, like a flick of a wrist. The stallion’s hooves lifted off the ground first, then the rest of him. He landed on another Crystal pony some twenty feet away, they both crashed to the ground.

Spitfire whipped her head to face Adagio, who shrugged. “That was rather rude of him, wasn’t it?” she hissed like it was an explanation.

Then that earring she wore flickered with light. Her eyes squeezed shut, a hateful scowl marred her angelic face. When next she spoke, her voice was scratchy and horrifically distorted—which just made it lilting instead of sublime. “Duty calls. Do us both a favor and find a hole to hide in.”

Adagio started to walk away, dainty hooves stepping purposefully over snow and sleet. Spitfire darted in front of her, lean muscles tensed. “You’re not the only one with a duty to keep.”

“Are you going to try and stop me, then?”

You’re not the one we need to stop, are you?

The earring crackled, Adagio hissed, and Spitfire wondered.

Loyalty makes soldiers march.

Pain makes slaves march.

Such a small, insignificant thing. If Adagio was truly as strong as she’d been before, could something so tiny really have hold over her?

Only one way to find out.

Hindlegs coiled, forelimbs curled and one snapped out. Adagio could take a hit, if she was a siren. Precise, careful, but not gentle. Spitfire’s hoof collided with a pearl, glanced away. Adagio flinched, winced, shrieked. She tore away, clapped a hoof to her ear, stared back at Spitfire. Her chest rose and fell, forcing ragged breaths out of her mouth.

“For what it’s worth…” Her voice had turned into a growl. Her teeth were the first things to change, sculpting themselves into sharpened fangs. Her tail slithered out from under her gown, long, scaly, tipped with a forked tip. Eyes flecked with red looked at Spitfire. “… I appreciate the effort.”

Spitfire’s pulse quickened. Excitement, not fear. She snapped a sharp nod, flared her wings out. “Anytime, Adagio. Take care of yourself out there.”

She watched a leviathan of scales and fangs and music come to life in front of her, and flew away faster than she’d ever flown before. She saw Adagio’s mouth open, but reptilian eyes met hers, and she never once heard a song.

Spitfire looked away, towards the pillar of yellow light and lashing white flame that was Princess Celestia.

You too, Princess. You’re going to want to hear this.

It wasn’t until Adagio stepped back out into the shadows that the fear had welled up in her again. She’d swept it aside for a little while, perhaps, ridden a high of hope and vigor brought on by her ruby, but when she walked through that tunnel of dimly-lit blackness, her mind tended to wander.

They’re fine, she whispered to herself, over and over again, like her own thoughts were a blanket to keep out the cold of the shadows. Sombra wants me to cooperate. He wouldn’t dare to…

She swallowed. It was a painful thought that got dredged up—simply telling herself it wouldn’t be was far from adequate. Tendrils brushed against her, leaving ghastly images for her to dwell on, haunting visions of what her future might hold if Sombra discovered her.

No, she insisted, and a faint hum from below her neck told her that her gem echoed that thought, but by the time she stood in front of a familiar door, those fears had still not been completely quelled.

They’re fine. They’re both going to be in there, and there’s not going to be a scratch on them.

She still gulped before she stepped up to the door, still felt her hands shaking slightly when she first pushed on it. She almost didn’t want to look when she slipped inside, just because of a faint, ever so slim chance that—

One step in, thin blue arms wrapped around her chest. “You’re back!” An excited squeal came from Sonata’s mouth in tandem with an eager twinkle in her eyes. “Are we going to—”

Adagio gasped, flinched and froze. It had all happened so quickly, so abruptly that she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t quite process that she was supposed to be ecstatic. She clapped a hand to her chest, letting out a slow breath and looking at Sonata’s worried face as she collected herself. Sonata’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Shh.” Adagio shushed her. If she had the time, she might have said many other things, but in the moment she just whispered, “Everything’s going to be alright.” She held Sonata close to her chest, stroking her hair with one hand, listening to her giggle and sigh, taking in the faint fruity scent that still lingered about her. “You just… startled me, that’s all.”

She’s still here, she told herself. Her mind leapt back in time to the vacant stare she’d seen branded onto her double’s face. She couldn’t think of many fates as grim as that one, and even a ruby with as much power as the one she’d seen couldn’t keep it at bay. I’m not letting you go. Never again, not once we’re back home.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last, reluctantly letting go and moving past Sonata. Her eyes combed the walls and corners, returning to Sonata only when convinced there were no eyes hiding in the dark. “I’m not going to be able to stay for very long. I need you to wait here for me.” Every word she spoke worked to gradually turn Sonata’s beam into a frown. “Just a little while longer, I promise. I’ll come back for you, and then—”

“Hey, um… Dagi?” Sonata tugged on Adagio’s sleeve, pointing vaguely.

Adagio followed Sonata’s gesture, and felt mixed tremors of relief and worry when she saw vivid purple eyes fluttering open from the bed. She stood and moved over, though she kept some distance between her and her sister—as much as she wanted to gather Aria into her arms, the past conversations they’d shared made her fear that Aria wouldn’t take such abrupt closeness very well.

And, confirming her suspicions, Aria just stared at her silently, peering through a hanging curtain of disheveled hair while she sat up. Throughout all the centuries, that gloomy purple face had never given up its secrets easily, not even to Adagio. It was all hard lines and stone when Aria held things back, and softened only when she wanted it to. At home it had been infuriating, but throwing another layer of uncertainty into an already delicate situation was nothing short of terrifying. The silence that came with Aria’s stare, expectant and unyielding, was equally daunting.

Of course, there was no better time for Adagio to be her most certain on the outside than when she was the least sure on the inside. “I’m glad to see you’re well, Aria,” she said. A vacuous platitude if she’d ever heard one, but hearing her own voice aloud gave her something to focus on.

Still silence. Damn you, Aria. Adagio sighed. “Look. We have a lot of things to talk about. I know we do, and we’re going to.” Memories of an argument with a severity she’d failed to recognize flashed through her mind. “And I’m going to listen as attentively as I should have then.”

Aria’s eyes widened, just slightly. She spat out a dry sound, a mix of a scoff and a snort. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She swung her legs over the side of her bed, only to stumble and catch herself on it—whatever it was Dazzle had done to her, it must have left her more drained than she’d ever let on; when she looked at Adagio, there was little but grim determination etched onto her face. “If you’re going to ask me the same thing, the answer’s no.”

Adagio saw Aria’s eyes flick towards the side, and glanced to see Sonata wearing a bright, encouraging smile. “I know,” Adagio murmured. She moved towards Aria, extending her hand once she was just outside arm’s reach. “I’m hoping there’s more to it than that, but you’ll have to tell me later.”

“Right.” Aria looked down at Adagio’s hand, waited far too long before grabbing it and yanking Adagio forward, holding her in place with an arm hooked around her waist. “So. Big spooky… castle?” She glanced around. “Castle. What’s the plan?”

Silently, Adagio thanked her foresight for doing all the brooding and plotting in her own room. She could only imagine what a sorry sight she would’ve been if she’d had to answer that question an hour before. “It’s… complicated.” A quick survey of the room told her that there were no eyes in sight, so she allowed herself a small laugh and a conspiratorial wink. “And involves breaking things. Right up Sonata’s alley, in other words.”

Aria opened her mouth, but a finger to her lips cut her off. “I’d say more,” Adagio said, affecting a more serious tone and gesturing with her other hand at the door, “but I don’t know if we’ve got each other alone just yet. Do you trust me?”

“Sometimes.” A smirk came to Aria’s face. She backed off, folding her arms over her chest. “Is what’s-her-face here as well?”

“Sunset, you mean?” Adagio nodded, pondering briefly how much she wanted to say. The details weren’t important just yet, she decided. One more thing to talk about when we’re back home, then. “Yes, she’s just down the hall from here.”

Aria glanced towards the door. She managed a whole two steps before Adagio followed along and seized her wrist. “She got caught earlier,” Adagio said, meeting Aria’s eyes. “I know there’re a lot of things you want to do, but the best thing we can all do right now is wait. If we’re seen talking, then…”

Chapter X [Draft]

“Captain Spitfire.”

Princess Celestia’s clear, lilting voice made Spitfire instinctively stand up straighter. Even at rest, her posture was sharp, but Princess Celestia made her want it to be perfect. “Your Highness.”

Even after hardening her domain into a reluctant land of warfare and industry, Princess Celestia could smile at will. She stood up, standing taller than Spitfire but never looming. Her horn lit up with undulating, entrancing yellow, and the doors to her tent cinched themselves closed.

A moment later, Spitfire felt soft, pillowy feathers touching her side, not quite dragging her but just coaxing her. Most leaders didn’t hug their soldiers, but that Princess Celestia did was just one of countless reasons Spitfire would follow her right into Sombra’s flames.

“I’m glad you’re alright.” Princess Celestia kept the hug short, then moved back away to her table. A warm smile played on her lips, undeterred by war—but then the likes of war were nothing but another trial for one as old as Princess Celestia. “That siren… I should have known that if anypony would come away from her unscathed, it would be you.”

‘Unscathed’ might be pushing it.

Praise from Princess Celestia made many ponies beam. Spitfire just nodded. “We’ll see about that, ma’am.” She was never sure whether to smile or not, but Princess Celestia’s presence made her do it without thinking. “I may have a way we can win this thing.”

“At this stage, a few more weeks ought to cover it.” Princess Celestia peered down at the table. Her horn lit, and what had been a piece of taut fabric and a collection of pewter miniatures grew to be a flickering, ethereal canvas, vividly colored and hovering in front of them both like a wall. To Spitfire, it may as well have been a whole different language, but that was why she was just a captain. “Sombra has far too much ground to cover, and has been throwing his ponies’ lives away so heartlessly he has few left.”

Spitfire shuddered as she recalled that first day of the war. An entire empire marching at once had very nearly pushed Equestria ‘til it snapped. Since, then, though… She didn’t like to think about what had to be done to do it, but supplies had never been anything less than bountiful.

“We could overrun him tomorrow, if we all pushed hard enough. But too many would die.” Princess Celestia’s smile faltered, for a fraction of a second.

Nopony ever asked Spitfire to be an advisor, but sometimes even a princess needed one. “We only have one of you, though, ma’am. That siren—” Adagio, she wanted to say, but held back “—must know that if Sombra falls, she’ll be put to death.” Spitfire swallowed, surprising herself with how uneasy that thought made her feel.

The Princess Celestia that Spitfire had met several years before, at her first Grand Galloping Gala, would have been horrified at such a suggestion. Whereas now, the reaction was no more than a distasteful grimace. Maybe they’d return to the subject later, once the discussion was resolved, and Princess Celestia would show more reluctance? Or was that only wishful thinking? Either way, when that legendary mercy was in question, Spitfire was in deep.

Princess Celestia went silent for a moment. It was a grim, dour silence. “Sombra has been wasting her power, by keeping her here. She could do a thousand times as much harm if she could slip past us, and I don’t doubt that she would try, if she had nothing to lose.”

“And you held your ground against them both, ma’am, but I don’t know about defeating either of them like that, unless one makes a mistake.” Spitfire drew in a sharp breath. She could still walk out of that tent without taking any risks.

“I know.” Princess Celestia nodded slowly.

“What if you didn’t have to?”

Princess Celestia said nothing, though a curious twinkle came to her eyes. The answer to the ‘what if?’ was obvious: they could win the war tomorrow, with minimal bloodshed, and all go home. It was the getting there part what would be tricky – both in the ‘what if?’ scenario, and in persuading the princess.

“The rest of Sombra’s armies are slaves.” Spitfire had faced legions with less of a dry mouth than at that moment. “What if she’s there under duress as well?”

“That siren has the blood on her hooves of thirteen thousand ponies.” Princess Celestia’s face was flat, but her voice had a mournful tone buried amongst the severity.

So many? The number, beyond a certain point, meant nothing to Spitfire other than just being a big number, not something she could connect with. She’d known it would be a lot, but... how many had she expected? And how was she struggling to link it with the haunted eyes in the beautiful face etched into her memory, when she’d seen first-hoof those eyes turn red with power and death?

Before Spitfire could form further thoughts about Adagio having little choice in the matter, Princess Celestia continued, her face darker still. “And a quarter of that dates back to long before this war, when she tried to take over the world on her own, and came far closer than Sombra.” But then despair found its way into Princess Celestia’s voice again, though Spitfire wasn’t sure whether it was at or for such a creature. “Where do you think she’d rather be than a battlefield?”

“I got close to her today” – perhaps too close, if she was now in her CO’s tent asking her to trust a mass-murderer – “and from what I saw, she’d rather have been anywhere else.” Spitfire swallowed again, hearing how weak the argument sounded when she aired it aloud. What was it about Adagio that had so convinced her? Not convinced, no, but sounded believable to her in spite of everything.

Anypony else might have openly scoffed, but of course Princess Celestia was always kinder than that. Something flickered across her face, but Spitfire wasn’t sure what. There was a tightening around her eyes, and a slight shift in her stance, as if looking at Spitfire from a new angle. Was this the part where she’d confine Spitfire to quarters, not trusting her sympathy for the enemy? Unable to rely on her to fight her foes rather than befriend them?

But when Princess Celestia spoke, it was only to lay out her next counterargument in a calming, neutral voice. “She effortlessly changes form, she naturally has size, scales, and sharp hooves and teeth, and her magic is not only powerful, but insidious. She doesn’t overwhelm ponies – although I am quite certain she could – she merely redirects them against each other without them even realising it.” Again Princess Celestia’s voice hardened while laced with sadness. “She’s a creature built for war.”

Then why does it seem to make her so miserable? Especially when she’s obviously so good at it. And why, Spitfire tried to fathom, would Adagio bother with such grace and beauty in everything she did? Why the silk dress rather than armor or a Wonderbolt-style jumpsuit, and why expend the magical effort to keep it untouched by the snow it draped through?

Princess Celestia tilted her head to one side, her tone neutral again and verging on curious. “How do you propose Sombra could have captured something so powerful and bent it to his will, if it didn’t want to be there?”

That thought hadn’t even occurred to Spitfire. She was so used to throwing herself against Sombra, alongside half the rest of Equestria, that anypony being able to stand up to him alone, other than the princess herself, seemed almost alien.

And how did she explain it in Adagio’s case? In fact, was it even her job to explain it? She was just reporting what she’d seen, passing on a strategic advantage she’d become aware of, and maybe even helping somepony in the process who might be more innocent than they’d all thought. A bit more, anyway.

But she was also trying to argue her case to her commander, and convince her that Spitfire’s suggested course of action was the best way forward. If the princess picked holes in her plans or theories, well, then they deserved holes picking in them. Spitfire could only offer what she knew, what she’d observed.

“She wears a pearl earring in her left ear, no matter what form she’s taking. It flashes, and she winces.” Even in that nerve-wracking situation of trying to sound persuasive in front of Princess Celestia, Spitfire felt her heart go out to Adagio at the memory of the pain on her face. “Everypony who’s been in the bunk beds in Cloudsdale Flight School knows how it feels to be kicked in the head from time to time, but when I tried to kick that earring, the reaction was way stronger.”

It probably wasn’t much of an indicator of her progress overall, but nonetheless she was reassured when Princess Celestia smiled again.

“Some ponies just don’t like being kicked in the head, Captain.”

Spitfire could chuckle later. For now she had to be defiant and stay the course. “This pony thanked me for it afterwards, as well as saying ‘Duty calls’ when the earring flashed, and moving off like she’d received new orders.”

Princess Celestia leaned a hair forwards. “So you think Sombra’s using it to control her?”

“Yes ma’am.” That much was solid, at least. The conclusion fit the facts, even if the princess ended up deciding the evidence wasn’t strong enough to operate from.

The twinkle in Princess Celestia’s eyes gained more intensity, curiosity becoming something more. “And you think if we can break it, and free her from its influence, she’ll be one fewer thorn in our sides?”

For the first time in years, Spitfire had to fight to stop herself shuffling her hooves. “I do.”

They weren’t just fighting for survival against Sombra, they were also fighting to free the ponies he’d enslaved and driven to war. And while Adagio clearly had more autonomy than the masked troops making up Sombra’s land armies, how could she react any differently when freed? If anything, her relief and gratitude was likely to be even greater, as the soldier ponies perhaps weren’t even aware of what was going on, while Adagio was kept in line with pain, all too aware of her torment.

Maybe ‘gratitude’ would be a stretch; she couldn’t quite picture Adagio throwing her hooves around them all and joining them for a group song. A pang of sadness whispered through her at that. Because Adagio’s voice was so beautiful, of course, and their group song would be nothing without it. Not because of missing out on hugging her. Obviously.

But it would take quite the leap for a freed slave to then go on a crusade of revenge against those who freed her, surely?

Returning to her senses, Spitfire noticed Princess Celestia wasn’t quite done yet with her contemplating, looking this way and that as different expressions of thoughtfulness took their turn on her face, narrowing her eyebrows one moment, biting her cheek the next.

At no particular signal, Princess Celestia’s eyes lifted to Spitfire’s again, resolved. “If it’s that simple, it would be worth investigating.”

Thank you. So calm was the princess’ answer that Spitfire didn’t sigh with relief, just silently exhale to fully empty and refill her lungs afresh, nodding as she did so. No sooner had that success rolled in, though, than the problems with how to proceed crept up on her.

“But when I kicked it, there was no sign of damage.” Not to the earring, anyway, Spitfire thought; seeing the image in her mind of Adagio’s wide-eyed stare. “And I gave it a hefty old kick.”

“It may be magically toughened with one of Sombra’s enchantments.” Princess Celestia sat back on her haunches. Were her commander anypony else, Spitfire would have been left looming over them, instead of still barely reaching their chin.

“If the commands come through the earring, then one order will be to protect the earring itself.” Spitfire took to pacing a few steps side to side while the princess watched on. ‘At ease’ was Princess Celestia’s insisted default stance in her presence, and Spitfire knew from previous experience there was no problem with her moving around while advising the princess if it helped with her thinking. “We won’t get a clear shot at it without having to go through her to get there, and we won’t survive that.”

“I might be able to.” Princess Celestia sounded neither over-confident or under-, just weighing the possibility.

No, that hadn’t been Spitfire’s intention at all! She froze – if any harm came to the princess in such a fight, Equestria would be both leaderless and defenceless against Sombra.

Before Spitfire could channel her panic into words, Princess Celestia continued. “But she might flee if I came after her directly. Why chance fighting me alone, when she and Sombra could unite against me?”

That time Spitfire did let out a sigh, though her resumed pacing hid it. If the pearl couldn’t be destroyed without serious firepower, could it be removed? “The only thing I can think of is to continue as I have been, to let me get close to her and then, without warning, bite her earlobe off quicker than she can respond.” A dark thought, that; cannibalism, the taste of blood, and how tearing a chunk out of Adagio’s face felt like damaging a work of art. Not to mention just how near Spitfire would have to be to a dangerous creature very likely to lash out when provoked like that. “But pony teeth aren’t the sharpest, so I don’t know if I can do that in one swoop.”

The set of Princess Celestia’s mouth had wavered at the suggestion of biting ponies, but by the time Spitfire had finished speaking, determination had pushed it back into its thin, considering line. “Maybe a visit to Lieutenant Minuette can add some enchantments to help with that.” The princess let a sly smile overtake her look of keen strategizing, most probably thinking of how Spitfire did not get on with that particular lieutenant.

Why did the front line’s only dentist have to be so chatty, and determined to invade a pony’s personal space? “Tooth sharpening.” Spitfire gulped. “Yes ma’am.”

That’ll teach me to speculate aloud on tactics without vetting what I’m letting myself in for.

“It sounds like something only you can achieve, Captain, so make it your priority on the battlefield. In the meantime–”

“In the meantime, ma’am, I think it does mean something for our strategy.” Not many would dare interrupt the princess mid-sentence, however forgiving she might be, but Wonderbolt captains weren’t chosen for their shyness. And if it meant fewer lives wasted needlessly, Princess Celestia would be first in line to encourage her own interruption.

“What do you suggest?” The princess’ voice as melodious as her smile was kind, but both had a wary edge.

Driving away the urge to take a deep breath before speaking, Spitfire halted her pacing and respectfully looked Princess Celestia in the eye. “It’s not her we need to worry about. If we can beat Sombra, Adagio can be reasoned with.”

Ponyfeathers! Spitfire fought to keep her eyes from widening like saucers at her mistake. The name had just slipped out! Not that there was anything wrong in principle with knowing an enemy’s name – they all knew Sombra’s, after all – but the closer Spitfire appeared to be to Adagio, the more on her side, then the more biased and less reliable she looked in her reasons.

“She told you her name.” Princess Celestia’s words came out in a wry whisper. “She must really like you.” Her eyes twinkled again, but were tense around the edges.

Spitfire had never met a pony who could show two opposing emotions at once quite like Princess Celestia. The light in her eyes was something that usually came with mischief, but the tension from concern. Like I’m flirting with something dangerous. There was a sinking feeling in Spitfire’s stomach as she realised how close to the truth that assessment was. “...She said I was pretty.”

“Poor, deluded thing.” Princess Celestia shook her head to herself and looked to the ceiling. The blush that had been warming Spitfire’s cheeks since her admission had to fight to hold its own against amusement. A tiny flash of outrage, too, which lasted only the brief moment until she reflected on how sweet it was that, despite all the centuries Princess Celestia had been teasing ponies for, she still couldn’t quite keep a straight face while doing so.

Just as Spitfire was wondering how many other ponies couldn’t stand in the princess’ presence without periodically feeling love radiating off her, the jovial glow faded. The image that came to Spitfire’s mind was the now-familiar one of the sun going down over the frozen wastes, leaving only bitter winds in place of its warmth. Again, the comparison was accidentally close to reality.

The Sun Princess looked regretful that her manner sobered and sombered again. “You understand how vulnerable that will leave us, if we strike at Sombra and Adagio’s true colors are darker than you believe?”

A creature so adept at killing she made it look like art would rampage across Equestria, while the forces meant to protect the ponies there were still tied up in the Crystal Empire. Yes, Spitfire understood.

“I know. But every instinct I have is telling me it won’t come to that.” All a pegasus had was her instincts; nothing else could provide answers quickly enough when diving, and to ignore them was often to spin out and fall.

But then...

Turbulent thoughts crept from the shadows of her mind. Lightning Dust had trusted her instincts, and she’d spun out all the same. Lightning had spent her whole life listening to her intuition, but never learned to give her conscious reasoning the same consideration, and within her first week at the front line she’d sent a tornado through their supply convoys. Lightning solely trusting her instincts, where her common sense might have told her not to be an idiot and to just follow orders, had cost her her life, and Rainbow Dash her wing.

Were her instincts so infallible that she could rely on them when half of Equestria was at stake? Was that even fair on those whom her choice would affect? It wasn’t a snap decision of when to pull out of a dive; there was time to think it through, rationally, from every angle, before taking any action. And, for all she was trying to persuade the princess, she also trusted Princess Celestia’s judgement, and owed her full transparency. That meant the doubts she’d been trying to shut out needed to be shared, so a proper decision could be made.

“But... It’s easy to enchant a pearl to light up from time to time, right?” Spitfire probably knew less about magic than most pegasi, as immersed as she was in her life amongst other fliers. She couldn’t imagine that level of it being difficult, though. “And it’s easy to fake a grimace of pain.” Much too easy, in fact; that was a doubt she definitely should have listened to earlier. “If that kind of manipulation is what sirens do, then it wouldn’t be hard to pull this off as an act.”

Everypony who’d ever spoken, usually in hushed tones, of the dreaded siren and her powers – that was, those who hadn’t personally experienced it, for those ponies never discussed it aloud – seemed to assume that brainwashing was akin to some fog clogging the conscious mind, a beguiling haze of bad decisions a pony thought to be sensible at the time, but deep down knew to be wrong. And the suggested coping strategy she’d heard was to hold as firmly as possible to that fundamental, emotional truth beneath it all, and let it guide you when the conscious mind was compromised.

What if that wasn’t it? What if emotions and instincts, the most base, subconscious basis of thoughts, were the easiest to fool? They were the simplest, in terms of how their impulses were presented – break left, snap roll right, kiss her, don’t trust him – how simple would it be to interrupt that connection, and scramble it to say whatever a siren wished? While the rational mind could only sit there, watching but powerless, screaming that the dazzling yellow mare with the spectacular mane had awfully sharp teeth, and that you should run while you had the chance. Only for the subconscious to whisper, But I don’t want to...

Shuddering, Spitfire shook herself to break the dark vision’s hold on her. “And no, I really don’t know how Sombra could capture a creature that powerful.”

A long silence stretched. Princess Celestia never took her eyes of Spitfire, but the impression was that sometimes she was seeing what was right in front of her, and others her focus was far away. There was a quiet respect in her eyes, different to how Spitfire had ever been looked at before. Every previous time she’d thought Princess Celestia especially proud of her, it had been because of the success of some raid or escort mission, some offensive or defensive she’d won, held out or survived. But they were all a soldier’s achievements, and the current look seemed to be because Spitfire had reached a strength beyond that, a triumph greater than that of her usual comfort zone.

“I do.” Princess Celestia’s voice was barely a whisper, although it could have made mountains weep. “Her sisters. Once there were three sirens, now we see only one, and she obeys Sombra’s commands.” She brought one forehoof to her stomach, and her lip curled. “If ever there were a creature vile enough to exploit family as a weakness, it’s him.”

Something to be feared rather than envied, Spitfire remembered thinking of Adagio. Which should have raised alarms at the time, now she thought of it, how something so beautiful and so powerful could possibly elicit sympathy rather than jealousy. “That would explain it.” She’d thought Adagio had had a haunted look to her eyes; she hadn’t had any idea how literal that guess had been. “And if her sisters’ lives were at stake, then–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence, Captain.” Princess Celestia sounded weary; more so by far than Spitfire had ever heard from her. Nor could she ever recall the princess interrupting her before, and Spitfire would’ve thought her angry if the bone-deep exhaustion of centuries hadn’t been so prominent in her tone. “To weigh the suffering of a beloved sister, simply because she’s closer to you, over that of all the ponies being hurt as a result is nothing but selfishness. It would explain her actions, but not excuse them.”

A long time ago, a golden yellow filly had been warned that her habit of speaking before she thought was liable to one day land her in trouble. Spitfire had always assumed, though, it would come from something she said in anger, not out of compassion. You were right, Dad. Wish you could still be here to see it.

She couldn’t even process it; what she’d said, and the massive important connection she hadn’t made. So she stood there, and if she had more luck than she deserved in that moment then hopefully her mouth at least wasn’t hanging open.

And Princess Celestia was right, of course. To protect family was one of those arguments that could be used to justify anything, but rarely actually did so. If everypony suspended their morals in that situation, Equestria would be chaos.

How would I have acted, though? If I’d had a sister, and she’d been in trouble, what wouldn’t I do to try to save her? Some ponies might argue that stealing a hayburger to feed their family was ok, or at least more ok than stealing just for personal gain; but how far did the line shift in those circumstances? Theft ok, murder not? But how many mothers wouldn’t kill to protect their foals? So was one murder ok, but not ten thousand? Or the murder of the guilty party acceptable, but not innocents murdered at their command?

Even at its most extreme – as seemed to be the case with Adagio – it made a difference knowing the motivation was love. Not even the deluded spinoff emotions like jealousy or possessiveness which sometimes drove ponies to fight; this was pure love acting genuinely in the sisters’ best interest. Could that really be called evil? Did the evil of the actions Adagio was forced to take stay with her, or was it transferred onto Sombra, the one truly responsible for the situation?

Just as Sombra would be held accountable for the harm caused by his brainwashed army of slaves, and none would blame them for their deeds over which they had no control, couldn’t the same be said of Adagio? And how could Adagio be said to be created for war, when all her actions stemmed from love?

“Why do I want to excuse them?” Spitfire spoke mostly to herself, but loud enough to be heard as well.

Princess Celestia gave her a quizzical look but said nothing.

Spitfire frowned, absently considering how she might be blowing her own credibility by voicing her thoughts, but too frightened not to. “There’s this tiny voice in my head saying that it’s ok she acted like that.” Because Princess Celestia really was right: Adagio’s actions stemmed from her own control, and to take that many lives to protect only two could not be justified. Yet Spitfire couldn’t see Adagio’s face, and the look in her eyes, and think of it as evil. “That she didn’t really mean it or something... because she’s... pretty?”

A blush might have risked creeping up on Spitfire another time, but at that moment she knew nothing but her own paranoia. “Is that her in my head?”

“Why would she be in your head?” Princess Celestia’s question was reassuring, and she drew herself to her hooves and moved to stand in front of Spitfire, stroking her shoulder with a wing.

For once, the soothing caress of the princess’ feathers wasn’t enough to calm Spitfire. “All I know is she left me alive twice, for no clear reason, when she could just as easily have killed me.” And she’d taken that needless mercy as evidence that Adagio wasn’t just the sadist they’d thought until that point. “But what if this conversation is the reason? Sombra doesn’t have long left, so it’s the right time to be earning points with the enemy.” How predictable was it for Adagio that Spitfire would petition Princess Celestia after their encounter? “And even if it’s not her attempting to save herself, or jump ship, it could be a ploy to lure us into lowering our defences around her, whether it’s a plan cooked up with Sombra or a chance for her to get even if he falls.”

How many of the thoughts that led Spitfire there had been her own? How would she know if any of them had been planted, guided or encouraged by the whispers of a siren who manipulated others as easily as clouds drifted on the breeze?

Princess Celestia stepped closer, raising her wing to cup Spitfire’s chin and lift her head, peering into her eyes from only a hoofwidth away. Up that close, she could feel the princess’ breath stirring the feathers on her chest, and she felt the tingle running over her scalp and back she knew from being inspected for her annual physical.

“No, there’s no trace of dark magic that I can see.”

A lot of air left Spitfire’s lungs, her sigh meeting the deep breaths she’d been trying to ground herself with.

Princess Celestia gently turned Spitfire’s face this way and that with her wing, continuing to look her over closely. Traces of creases appeared on her brow. “But siren influence is potentially more subtle than I can detect.” Her smile then reasserted itself when she retracted her wing, giving Spitfire a very knowing look. “And she is very pretty.”

Even a princess has eyes, it seems. So unexpected was the thought, and so contrasting to the fear and doubt that had been creeping through her that she snorted with laughter before she could stop herself.

“Do you think I need to worry?” If even Princess Celestia couldn’t tell, would Spitfire ever be sure?

“I would say try to keep an eye on it, but don’t worry about it. It’s probably not that.” Princess Celestia seated herself again as before, and her horn lit up, enveloping a kettle across the room in a warm glow.

“What do you put it down to, then?” If she was compromised as an advisor of sorts – let alone as Wonderbolt Captain – then she needed to know.

Noises of china pottery drew her attention to the far side of the tent again, where the aura of Celestia’s magic dropped three teabags into the teapot and then poured in the now-steaming water from the kettle. The princess sighed contentedly as lid and cosy settled over the teapot, and Spitfire in turn found herself also more relaxed, despite her concern.

Then Princess Celestia turned to Spitfire again, pursing her lips, though her tone was that of idle musing. “It could be that you saw somepony suffering and reached out to them, listening to compassion on the battlefield, where it is most lacking.”

Joy, love, pride, relief; they all blossomed in Spitfire at that moment. It wasn’t lost on her how the princess chose her words, praising Spitfire’s loyalty rather than questioning it. Princess Celestia’s allegiance was not to Equestria, but to compassion itself, and no embracing of that virtue could be thought of as an ill. That was the reason they were all fighting in the first place.

Princess Celestia’s eyebrow rose, and she undercut her kind and noble air with one of mischief. “Or it could be the lust of a pegasus who should know better.”

Spitfire lowered the mug of tea after a sizeable sip of its contents, holding it in both her forehooves. The nights in the Crystal Empire were frigid and fearsome, and hot drinks were sometimes even better than magic at keeping it at bay. And even for her, it wasn’t every day you were offered tea by the princess.

They sat opposite each other on the floor, each on a cushion, Princess Celestia with her back legs folded beneath her, Spitfire with hers crossed in front, recalling pictures she’d seen at school of Nippone or Saddle Arabia. Any tension the room had held at points in their earlier conversation had mellowed, and the magically-contained fire the princess had lit cast warm shadows around the tent as it flickered.

Spitfire stared deep into her tea before speaking. “You didn’t react as strongly as I expected when I mentioned that she’d spoken to me.” Princess Celestia’s ears swivelled forwards attentively, but she didn’t look up from her own drink. “I thought you’d be more inquisitorial in case she’d brainwashed me.”

A movement of Princess Celestia’s hoof swirled the contents of her cup a final time before she lifted her gaze to meet Spitfire’s. “If you start accusing ponies, Captain, they lock up.” Her voice was low and melodic. “If you’re trying to detect an external influence on somepony’s mind, you need her to act like herself so you can see if anything is amiss.”

The princess took a dainty sip. It appeared she shared the rest of the army’s feelings on the rudeness of blowing on a drink to cool it when the climate would do so quickly enough anyway. She looked more keenly at Spitfire as she continued. “More than that, though – you mentioned that the earring would force the wearer to defend it?” Spitfire nodded. “I’d think this would be the same, with a defensive mechanism of denial. I can’t say I know much about brainwashing, but you being able to express doubt about being in your right mind as freely as you did seems a good sign.”

Nodding absently, Spitfire looked away and mulled it over. An effective test, for sure, but at what risk? “I can’t say I’m too comfortable with that as procedure, ma’am. It seems very trusting to let somepony who could have been turned into a sleeper agent stay within hoof’s length of the commander-in-chief.”

Princess Celestia tittered nervously to herself behind a hoof. “If it makes you feel better, I’d been ready to squash you with magic ever since you mentioned being near her?”

Well alright, you don’t need to get jealous or anything. The idea that an alicorn had been willing to snuff out Spitfire’s existence in a heartbeat was one of those that should have been chilling rather than jokey. Would have been, if not for the level of her trust of Princess Celestia. When somepony personally raised the sun each morning, you kind of accepted they had power of life and death over you anyway.

The fire now drew Princess Celestia’s gaze instead of her teacup, and she appeared to lose herself in the ever-shifting flames for a long stretch until she continued. “But also, I had my own suspicion about Adagio.” She turned a kind, magenta eye towards Spitfire. “I’ve noticed something off about her too. Her heart wasn’t in that last fight.” Her eyes wandered back to the fire. “If it had been, I might not have made it out in one piece.”

“But why did you oppose me, if you thought I might be right?” Though it was nice for Spitfire to have a second opinion backing her up.

The princess took a long drink of her tea, not looking away from the twisting flames. Spitfire noticed the cue that it was cool enough to be drank rather than sipped, and followed suit. By the time she lowered her cup again, Princess Celestia still hadn’t moved.

Even when the princess spoke, her body remained still apart from her mouth. “Because I’m not as brave as you, Captain. You see an opportunity and you dive for it –” for a moment she turned to Spitfire, and seemed more conversational than reflective “– and you’re right to, because if you hesitated for a second you wouldn’t make it.”

Princess Celestia returned her attention to the fire and continued. “I can’t do that.” She lifted her cup to her lips again and drank. “The most important thing to me has to be what happens if I’m wrong. I think of the risk where you think of the reward, because taking risks for me is gambling with everypony’s lives.”

The princess took a final draft of her tea, setting the cup down on a table with her magic and then focusing fully on Spitfire, her manner present, almost urgent in it seriousness, and all the more intent for its contrast to her previous demeanour. “So we need to be as sure about this as we can. Adagio Dazzle – that’s her full name, by the way – is the most dangerous creature you’ve ever met. That includes Sombra. And myself, too. And we need to know if we can trust her.”

Spitfire hid her wide eyes behind the act of finishing her own drink, which also neatly covered the urge to swallow. What have I got myself into this time?

They gathered in inky, impenetrable masses that spilled and billowed across the floor. Even skirting as close to the walls as she did, she had a sinking feeling that those shadows would consume her if she strayed to close. The second-worst part was the noise that they made. Ethereal, echoing howls crawled out of them, accompanied and diabolically enriched by eerie whispers. If walking through the shadows of the rest of the halls was like walking on coals, their unearthly wails made Adagio think that stepping into one of those masses must have been like diving headlong into a furnace.

But the worst part about them was that they were eager. They were not passive at all, not like all the other shadows. The others were content to lie where they rested, and latch on only to those who strayed close enough. Those masses, though? Far from it. When their reach fell short, they tried to extend it, and not just by making themselves longer. They were welcoming. Tendrils didn’t just blindly grope towards her, but curled back like crude beckons.

Sonata clung to Adagio’s shoulder a little tighter whenever they had to go past one of those. Fortunately, they were few and far between, though scattered so sparsely and seemingly sporadically that it was nigh impossible to get used to them. Even Aria had gone pale the first time she saw one, and shivered every time thereafter.

“Dagi?” Sonata tugged on Adagio’s sleeve after walking past one such mass of ravenous blackness. “How much farther do you think we have to…?”

“We’ll know it when we see it,” Adagio replied. “It’ll be guarded, I’m sure. We’ll just have to—”

“Do we even know we can find it?” Aria interjected. “What kind of dumbass would leave something like that where his prisoners can get at it?”

“He needs to access it somehow, doesn’t he?” Adagio came to a halt, and looked back to glare at Aria. “What kind of secret lab doesn’t have an entrance?”

Aria gave a flippant shrug. “Unicorns can teleport. Who says it has to be a door?”

Adagio opened her mouth, ready to reply, and then said nothing. Beside her, Sonata frowned and looked up to her. “Dagi? Did you think of something?”

I wish I hadn’t. Adagio nodded, swiveling in place to peer at the mass of shadows they’d just passed. Looking into it made her blood run cold, and she had to struggle to not turn tail on the spot, let alone walk closer.

“What’re you doing?” An insistent purple hand seized her by the wrist.

Adagio shook it off. “Just a minute.” She pointed to the mass of shadows. “What do you think those do?”

“Kill us?” Aria said at the same time Sonata said, “Eat us?”

“But he needs us alive, doesn’t he?” Adagio turned to face her sisters. “If we’re so important and he’s willing to let us wander, why would he put things this dangerous out here for us to walk into?”

Sonata looked confused, Aria thoughtful. “I guess you might have a point,” Aria muttered. “What’re you thinking?”

“That the last door you’d want to go through is one that you think is going to kill you.” Adagio stepped closer to the mass of shadows, close enough that she could just barely feel the tips of its eager tendrils brushing her skin.

“This doesn’t seem like a very good idea,” Sonata murmured.

“Probably because it’s basically the opposite of that,” Aria grumbled.

“He’s been meticulous about everything else.” Adagio took a step closer. A tendril lashed out and yanked on her arm, nearly pulling her off-balance. Aria and Sonata darted beside her, each dragging her back by the shoulder and waist. Adagio could hear her heart racing, and every instinct she had told her to run while she still had time, but when she felt more tendrils reaching for her, she pushed both her sisters off, stepped forward, and let the shadows swallow her up.

It felt like standing under a waterfall, only every droplet of frigid water was alive and crawled across her skin after it landed on her. Not quite pain, not like any that she knew, but the experience was deeply unpleasant.

At least it was short. Just a second or two, and then she tumbled out onto a hard crystalline floor, where she lay sprawled out flat on her back and staring up at a grandiose archway.

She breathed out a long breath. “Nailed it,” she muttered to herself as she clambered to her feet and looked back the way that she’d come. There was a doorway behind her, a frame of glossy dark crystal filled with rippling blackness. Once she was on her feet, she moved up, hesitantly stuck a hand through, and quickly felt soft fingers interlacing with hers.

“There, see? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Adagio said as Sonata wheezed and panted on the ground and Aria clawed at her chest. With a smug smirk and a toss of her hair, Adagio walked right over her sisters, moving forwards into the room ahead of them, where she came to an abrupt halt.

It was like no room she’d ever seen, in or out of Equestria. Runes and scrolls and apparatus everywhere she looked, all charged with veritably palpable magic. Far in front of her, there stood a tall slab of plain, cloudy black crystal, opaque from the distance she saw it from. Something about it put her on edge, for reasons she couldn’t hope to fathom.

The bulk of her attention, though, was drawn to a pedestal towards the center of the room, where a crimson geode laid in wait for her.

Sonata touched the geode, and immediately gasped. She paused, shivering, biting her lip but nodding. When she looked back to Adagio, she wore a troubled frown. “I, uh… I don’t think this thing likes me very much,” she whimpered. “It’ll work, I think, but… can we hurry, maybe?”

“Of course.” Adagio nodded, resting her locket in her palm, flicking it open, and holding it out towards Sonata. Ruby shards twinkled in the light, greeting her eagerly. It felt like it had been ages since she’d seen them, but a friend as old as they were never failed to lift her spirits. “Go on, then.”

“O- okay.” Sonata kept frowning, flitting eyes between the geode and the shards. “What am I supposed to—”

“Just…” Adagio blinked slowly. Sunset had always had to touch her to use the geode’s magic, she distinctly recalled, so she procured a small sliver from the locket, pinched it between her fingers, reached out towards Sonata—and then abruptly retracted. A stinging pain on her fingertip made her flinch and curse under her breath.

“Dagi?” Sonata put her hand out, but then glanced back at the geode and thought better of it. She still inched closer, and her face expressed worry that her hands didn’t. “Are you—”

Adagio didn’t respond right away. She glared down at her hand, at the bead of crimson forming on her index finger, and at the sliver of ruby she still held. It must have meant something, that prick. She’d learned a long time ago that her gem did not act lightly, and the timing seemed far too convenient to be an accident.

“Adagio?” Aria spoke that time, turning away from the door. “What’s going on?”

Shaking her head suddenly, Adagio stared at Sonata and held out her empty hand. “Give me the geode,” she stated quickly. “I- I think my gem wants me to be the one to—”

“But Sonata needs to learn the song,” Aria growled. Clenching her teeth, she pressed her fingers to her temple. “Just give her—”

Adagio glanced between a confused Sonata and an impatient Aria, and quickly went to the latter’s side, laying a hand on a shoulder and locking eyes with her sister. “It wouldn’t” —she held up her bleeding finger— “have done this if it didn’t…” When Aria shot her a glare, she felt her heart ache, and a rebuke gathered on her tongue.

“Girls!” Sonata slipped in between them and pushed them both aside. “Please, you can’t fight now!”

After a tense pause, Adagio breathed out a sigh and met Aria’s piercing gaze. “Trust me,” she pleaded. “It’s… those shards have never lied to me before.” She wondered if they hadn’t stretched the truth, or perhaps made promises they didn’t quite believe themselves, but that was a thought for another time. They had her best interests at heart, at the very least.

And, gradually, Aria backed away. Swearing quietly, she made a dismissive wave of her hand as she stalked over towards the door. “Whatever. Do what you need to do.”

Savoring the relief that came with that only for a second, Adagio quickly turned back to Sonata, who carefully dropped the geode into her hand.

She plunged into a world of radiance. Brilliant white light, everywhere she looked, like a star had swallowed her. A scattered jumble of memories sped by in a fraction of a second: far off to her left, she saw a bearded stallion carving a hole in time and space, while to her right, she saw herself and her sisters, rehearsing a dance the day before they would strut into Canterlot High. Rivers of music circled her—every song she’d ever sang was a part of it, a mere strand plucked from a tapestry far bigger than she could fathom.

Throughout it all, she felt something stirring. A great vastness, submerged in an ocean of melodic sound. She knew that it was old, far older than her, but she’d known it her entire life. That leviathan had been there when she was born, had nurtured her and guided her through every waking hour for over a thousand years.

It touched her. Not with any kind of flesh, but a sound more beautiful than any she could produce or even imagine, one that reduced her to tears instantly.

That entity could answer every question she might have had about herself,, from the minutiae of her time as a human to the smallest details of her days in that lake, and even more. There were countless dozens of things she wished she had time to ask of it.

But there was only one thing she needed. “Please. I need a song,” she whispered; the currents of music all around her shifted faintly, and she knew then that her plea had been heard.

The entity’s answer came shortly after. A riptide rushed out and entangled her, dragging her away and hurrying her purposefully. Another white light flashed, she saw a vision of herself singing a song that splintered wood and shattered glass, and then Aria was shaking her roughly by the shoulders.

“I’m fine,” she blurted, gasping immediately after. She blinked quickly, her eyes unexpectedly moistening, and shook her head to try and make the room stop spinning. When she tried to turn, but felt herself rolling onto her side instead, she realized she’d fallen over, and a distant ache in her back made itself known as she clambered up to stand on wavering legs. Despite all that, she could hear a melody playing in her head, every bit as clear and vibrant as it had been when her gem had been singing to her, and her heart leapt with joy. Through her tears, she laughed, and it was a giddy, lilting laugh that forced her to smile.

Even when the black crystal walls came back into focus and she remembered where it was she stood, that song in her head still made her feel like she was walking on a cloud. Panting, she whirled to face Sonata, extending a hand that she didn’t realize was empty until she saw Sonata frown.

“I, uh…” Sonata fidgeted awkwardly, peeking down at the geode that was already cradled in her hands. “I didn’t think that you were going to… so I- I had to—”

Sonata sniffled, and that immediately made Adagio pull her into a warm embrace. Traces of fear diluted Adagio’s joy, but she could still wear an effortless smile as she kissed Sonata’s forehead and held her close. “Shh, don’t worry. We’re fine now.” She touched Sonata’s hand, gently coaxing her until she felt fingers interweaving with hers. When she saw Sonata’s eyes go white, she tried to think of nothing but that song in her head.

A few moments later, Sonata let go, backing away and shaking her head but quickly easing into a bright smile. “I think I can…”

“Do you hear it?” Adagio asked excitedly. “Can you hear it, even when you’re not—”

Sonata just frowned at her. “Uh… not really? I just kinda saw you singing it, and… like, I know the words and stuff? Why? Did something else happen to you?”

Adagio paused, blinking and frowning. “Yes. I saw…” A tapping foot beside her stole her attention, and she looked to see Aria glaring at them by the door. “Never mind, it’s probably not—” With a sigh, she ushered Sonata over towards Aria. “Get back to your room. I’m going to go put the geode back.” She clasped her fingers around her locket. “There’s one more person we need. And once she’s here…”

Author's Note

Parts of this chapter--assume they're the good parts--were written by forbloodysummer

Chapter XI [Draft]

“Ah. It’s you again,” Adagio said with an affected dispassionate air. “Did you miss me?”

“A little.” The mare shook a bit of snow off her shoulder and popped off her helmet. Her fiery mane tumbled down from her scalp. “Just between the two of us, I’d rather look at you than any of these other soldiers.”

“You’ve got good taste, then.” Every word Adagio spoke came easily, and she heard her own voice being effortlessly lilting and sultry. “But if you really wanted to sweep me off my hooves, you should’ve brought wine.”

“Well, after all this is over—” the mare stepped closer, chuckling lightly “—meet me in Canterlot and we’ll open a bottle together.”

“Why wait? Nobody’s watching.” Adagio pointedly eyed the looming tower of crystal that was Sombra’s palace. “You’ve already met me, and that’s more than most ponies manage, but then you went and spoke with me, and…” She giggled softly, turning to the mare with half-lidded eyes. “How were you planning on beating that, I wonder?”

Touches of rosy red came to the mare’s cheeks, and her eyes dipped lower and wandered. “Well…” She let out a chuckle that didn’t quite come naturally, narrowing her gaze and tightening her face. “I might have an idea, actually. I’m going to tear that thing off you.”

Adagio feigned a gasp. “Right here, in front of everyone?” She giggled softly. “I never figured you were one of those ponies.”

“I’m not.” The mare came closer, face grim and taut. She breathed deeply, as if to steel herself. “But I can make an exception for you.”

Tempting though it was to keep flirting, instincts gave Adagio pause. She saw the mare not quite meeting her eyes, but looking just slightly to the left, teeth slightly bared. And… were those teeth sharper than she remembered?

Wings flared and flapped, hindlegs compressed and sprang. A pegasus-shaped mass of lean muscle leapt at her. Forelegs struck her shoulders, a wing swept her hindleg out from under her. She hit the ground on her side, and both her front hooves went straight for her ruby, criss-crossing in front of it. A growl escaped her lips, bubbling anger flaring up in her, turned more towards herself than anything else. She should never have trusted a pony, never should’ve—

Teeth tugged at her ear. They touched the pearl, and in an instant, Adagio’s world was nothing but scorching heat. She couldn’t hear her own shriek, but she felt it, felt barely-tamed magic rushing out of her throat, maybe against her will or maybe with it. Celestia’s flames had been kinder to her.

It only lasted a moment. Somehow she found the nerve to make her limbs obey her. She panted, hooves shaking—a song coiled around her protectively, and she could feel her own pain making it writhe and crackle and distort. The mare was on the ground in front of her, sprawled out, shaking her head, trying to right herself.

She—she tried to—

Adagio lifted a hoof to her ear. It came back marred by blotches of sticky red, and her heart skipped a beat. She whipped her head over to the mare, saw her spit a chunk of stained, twisted metal out onto the snow. A pearl rolled onto the ground, coming to a rest on top of the snow.

Nothing else existed. The whole world went silent and still, for it didn’t matter. Adagio saw nothing but the pearl. Pain made it difficult to summon her song, so she struck at it with a hoof. All the strength she could manage, spurred by desperation, down, straight down at the pearl, but still it didn’t break. Clenching her teeth, shaking her head, she fought through the pain, tried to grab hold of the song in her head.

Shadow swallowed her. A maw of rushing, icy-cold darkness swooped down from the sky, and only then did she realize her mistake. Her song came to her aid, but it came too slowly; an aura of crackling, sickly green gripped the pearl, set it back into the metal. Her mind tried to think a dozen different things all at once. A lash of sound whipped out, one last, desperate strike at the pearl.

So close. So very, very close. She saw a crack all but split the pearl down the middle, and knew in an instant that she could do no more. A spike of metal pierced her skin, this time in her right ear, and she shrieked again, but now it was just a wail; magic gathered in her mouth, pleading for release, weeping for her, crying out—she couldn’t make even a spark of it answer her plea.

She looked up, saw Sombra towering over her, indomitable as a mountain, contemptuous glare trained on her, stabbing into her. She cursed herself, damned herself, hissed a stream of vicious curses, looked at Sombra and wished, above all else, that hatred alone could stop a stallion’s heart.

Burning light screamed in from the side, breaking against a suddenly standing wall of black crystal. Sombra jerked back, horn ignited, eerie smoke trailing from both eyes. He looked to one side, then the other, then back to Adagio. Twisting shadows unfurled from him, reaching out and connecting to Adagio.

He seized her, lips curling into a snarl, and she could smell spite and malice gathering on his tongue. But he never spoke. White flames carved through his wall, greedily reaching and clawing at his face, searing his cheek and ear. It arrived nearly too late, finding flesh only for an instant before there was naught but shadow, rising out of the ground, enveloping Adagio, dragging her down and down and down until she flew up and hit the top of a crystal wall hard.

She shook her head, found her hooves and tried to stand. The pearl by her ear flared and crackled. Pain wracked her, throwing her to the ground. Steel prodded her in the ribs, flipping her over onto her back. She looked up, paling when she saw Sombra still towering over her, pinning her down with a hoof pressed to her belly, seemingly unaffected by the gruesome burn Celestia’s flames had painted on his face. “You are fortunate I still have need of you.”

Adagio bared her teeth, managing a low hiss before another whipcrack of stinging pain made her clamp her muzzle shut.

Sombra glared down at her, then twisted his neck and surveyed the battlefield below. His soldiers were rigid without him to direct them, Adagio knew, but if there was a care in the world that crossed him, it never made it onto his face. When he looked back down at her, pointedly eying the pearl in her ear, and grimaced, she felt a tremor of spiteful delight.

“You are running out of time,” she spat, pushing through the pain he inflicted her with to cackle. The power inside of her rose up, straining to make it out through her tongue, to stop Sombra’s black, twisted heart.

“Then I will make more,” Sombra growled. He cast his gaze towards the beacon of fire shining down below, signaling another push. Already Adagio could feel his faceless legions faltering, and if he continued to flee, she hoped they would crumble.

But still Sombra did not care. “Let Celestia burn them all to a crisp, if she pleases.” Shadows crawled out of the ground, wrapping around Adagio’s hooves. “There are mightier weapons than armies.”

They plunged downwards, rushing towards the palace.

“You are not supposed to be here.”

That stern, icy voice nearly made Adagio’s heart stop still. Behind her, metal rang against crystal, four hooves stomping along with a stately cadence. She didn’t dare look, not at first, but then she could make out other, smaller hoofsteps mixed in with Sombra’s, and she whirled around.

She’d seen Sombra as a pony before, she thought, but so long ago that she could hardly manage to remember. In the shadows of the laboratory, his equine form just made him seem more alien; when first she saw him, she thought he stood no taller than her chest, but as he drew nearer he seemed to swell until their eyes were on level ground. Behind him, though, was another pony, diminutive next to Sombra, struggling to keep pace on her trembling hooves. She was a wretched sight, with her mane matted by sweat and, at least on her left side—her left ear was a gruesome ruin—blood, but a winking pearl set in her right ear left little doubts as to her identity. It wasn’t until both ponies drew closer that Adagio saw that a long, jagged crack ran along the pearl’s surface, and when Sombra’s face was no longer curtained by darkness she could see that one half of it was marred by a large blotch of singed fur and charred flesh.

In that moment, as Sombra drew closer by the second, Adagio wasn’t sure what to expect. There’d been less anger than she might have expected in Sombra’s declaration, and if he was at all bothered that he’d found her in the lab, he kept it well-hidden. Beside her, though, Sonata went pale and clung to her side.

“We’re leaving.” Sombra strode into the center of the room, not even breaking stride. His horn—which was itself an ugly sight, all curved and pointed, not at all like the stubby horns most unicorns bore—crackled with an aura of seething green magic, and the entire room lit up. Runes all around ignited, blazing with flames of either eerie green or malevolent violent or sometimes even ravenous black. Far in front of Sombra, a slab of crystal in the wall shimmered; its surface turned into something somewhere between a mirror and a window—Adagio could see her own face in it, but it was murky and intangible, and she saw a sight on the other side that could not have been in the same room.

“This is your last chance.” Sombra wheeled around to face Adagio, regarding her with an imperious stare. She felt small standing in front of him, and whatever response she might have had vanished from her head. After all that she’d seen, she couldn’t imagine a fate worse than serving him, not when the future that might await her was spelled out so plainly in the image of her double.

But what was she supposed to do? Sonata needed to sing, and Sombra would not give her that chance, not when he had his eye trained on them all so sharply. Even Aria was backing away from him, staring at him as if he were a lion ready to pounce on her.

Just then, a thunderous crash made the whole ground shake and shudder. One of the pillars in the room groaned and trembled, and that made Adagio look towards the wall. What’s going on out there?

“Or it was.” Sombra never once took his eyes away from them. His horn crackled, and behind him, the Other Adagio gave a shriek and collapsed. Adagio tensed and moved, and saw Sonata do the same, but plumes of baleful fire leapt up from the ground in front of them and kept them apart.

“Where is the other girl?” Sombra’s horn crackled again. “Here with you, perhaps?” The shadows in the room came alive for a few seconds, scurrying about like serpentine rats, whispering indistinctly, hurrying back to Sombra after a moment. He paused, as if listening to them, and when he refocused, a hint of a glimmer came to his eye—in another pony, Adagio might have called it excitement, but in Sombra she couldn’t see it as anything but spite.

“You didn’t bring her with you? No matter. We will take shelter without her, then.” Sombra wheeled and marched about the room. Shadows leapt and slithered, flitting about. They pulled grimoires off of shelves, snatched half-shaped masses of metal out of an inert furnace, dragged over bubbling concoctions. Sombra eyed everything, moving with something more akin to urgency than either haste or fervor, discarding much but setting a few things aside. Adagio didn’t think she wanted to know what else his vicious mind had given form to.

“There are other worlds with shadows to hide in, but you four are trouble enough.” Sombra pointedly eyed Adagio, and she wondered for a terrifying second how much he knew. “When Celestia comes to tear down this palace, the girl will burn with the rest of them.”

A dozen different protests muddled into a strangled cry, and to Adagio’s amazement, it actually gave Sombra pause. He drew closer, and his lips made a crude approximation of a smile—between his burned face and already stony features, it was impossible to imagine him ever looking joyful. “Sirens care only for their own kind, I thought.”

Sinking dread coiled up inside Adagio, and she wasn’t sure whether she had made a terrible mistake by reacting or if holding her tongue would have been crueler still.

With callous disdain, Sombra turned an uncaring back to her, and hurriedly moved to assemble the messy pile of devices he’d gathered, at least until the ground shook again and his face tightened. He snatched up one or two more things from a shelf, cast a frenetic gaze about, but only leered at another thing or two. “Fine, then. She will come too, if she’s so important.” Sombra made it sound as though saving Sunset’s life—from danger that might have been imagined, no less—was as cruel as leaving her to die. He didn’t even look nor did he move; beside him, shadows plunged into the ground. A moment later, they erupted again, carrying Sunset with them. Her face was pale, her eyes wide.

Adagio tried to move, but a lash of invisible force slapped her back, and she gasped for breath. She saw Sombra flick his horn again, and tongues of eerie flame leapt up from the ground around her.

“But first…” Sombra’s voice was sharp and cold. “…I can’t have you three going around doing something this foolish again. You had your chance to stand and walk, but do not think I will not make you crawl.”

His horn lit up again. Another cry rang out—Adagio hadn’t seen her double lifting her head, but there was no more motion to see afterwards. Then, from the far side of the room, a panel lifted off of the wall, and a box slid out. Sheathed in Sombra’s magic it floated over, eerily steady in the air. It opened once it drew closer, and Adagio saw one of the most horrific sights in Sombra’s empire replicated thrice before her.

“I did not want to do this, but you leave me little choice.” Sombra pointedly stared right at her. “You first. Unless one of your sistren—”

“No.” Adagio gasped, pushing Sonata back almost unconsciously even as she stepped forward. She felt the blood draining from her face, felt a crushing weight smothering what hope she’d cultivated. One look at that pearl that floated out of the box and shimmered as it approached her slowly, one glance at her double, and—

She heard a scream, but it wasn’t her own. Aria dove for the pearl, snatching it out of the air, shrieking in pain as soon as her fingers wrapped around it. She hit the ground a second later, but not before twisting and slamming that thing onto the first patch of exposed skin she could find on Sombra. His own magic did not make him scream or even cry out, but he grunted and whickered, and his knees buckled. The other pearls hanging in the air fell to the ground and scattered; Sombra’s magic flickered weakly about his horn, reflecting his own pain.

It wasn’t long that he stayed that way, but he kept his attention on Aria for a second or two, and that was enough, even when he ripped the pearl from his own leg. Sonata barely hesitated, clasping her fingers around the ruby hanging from her neck, hitting her notes flawlessly. A needle of sound leapt out from her mouth, flying across the room towards that sullen, despondent mare lying in the center.

Everything started to blur right about then. Sombra’s magic crackled and writhed, and a black crystal spike sprang into existence and stabbed through Aria’s thigh. Then shards of a shattered pearl sprayed out onto the ground, and a piercing, ear-splitting wail made the whole room shake. Anguished keening hurled Adagio to the floor, and she looked ahead to see a mass of churning water and limbs—struggling to find the right flesh to wear, wracked by pain, her double was a human one instant, then a pony the next and then a siren and sometimes all three at once; a dainty hoof stood next to a planted hand as a fluke-tipped tail thrashed, a rounded, furry muzzle gaped, full of fangs with a forked tongue lashing out. And through it all, that scream never ended. It was trying to be a song, trying to be beautiful, trying to be focused, but there was too much pain.

For the first time, Adagio saw Sombra retreat. A thrashing hoof scored the ground where he’d stood, and tendrils of barely-realized music batted the pearls away as he tried to ready them. Changing his tactics, his horn crackled, and crystal answered his call. He tore a wall away, shaped it into a sphere, wrapped it around the flailing sometimes-siren in front of him, and then cast it out. That globular prison hurtled out into open air, and Adagio saw it plummeting downwards, muting the shrieks and roars trying to break out of it.

Then Sombra faced Adagio and Sonata, and his face was a gruesome mask of anger. His eyes blazed with wrathful fire, and his body seemed to become one with the shadows, spreading and expanding until it filled the whole room. He was all around her then, all around her sisters, everywhere they could look or feel. Eyes stared at them from an inky, impenetrable darkness, freezing them, suffocating them, crushing them. Adagio shrieked, overwhelmed and powerless, and she saw long spears of crystal creeping close, jagged tips reaching, some splitting into two and snaking around her throat, others trained on her chest and seeking her heart—

Outside, clarity finally came to agony. A bundle of half-formed sounds joined together, uniting into a heavenly symphony that obliterated a crystal sphere and split the sky. Dust rained down on the city below, shards so small Adagio could barely see any of them, and a golden leviathan called a siren tasted freedom for the first time since losing it.

All around Adagio, the darkness retreated. Not banished by the siren’s song, but fleeing from it. Creeping tendrils of music smote the spears and turned them to dust, and a rushing flurry of shadows screamed towards the slab of crystal like a furious black gale. What would have happened had it reached it, Adagio would never know—a vengeful siren tore into the room like the walls were paper, crying out for Sombra’s blood. Chunks of crystal tumbled from the ceiling, some smashed to dust mid-air while others smashed into the ground.

Pulse racing, Adagio dropped down and took hold of Aria, dragging her away. Beside her, she saw Sunset and Sonata clamoring and rushing to her side, and when they all looked up, they saw a gleaming portal drawing shut, a scaly, fluked tail and a mass of shadows vanishing as they watched.

Mere moments later, yellow light shone through the hole in the wall, and Adagio felt the air warming subtly, like she was basking in midday sunlight.

The last time Adagio had known the sweet taste of freedom, it had been fleeting, and swiftly became tainted by bitterness. Her shackle had resisted her drive to destroy it, and in doing so, had endured long enough to plague her once more. It became one of the two things she despised the most, out of all the sights she’d laid eyes on in her century-spanning life, and now it was dust.

And the other thing? He was right in front of her, and that was the very worst place he could have been. Pain, malice and grief… her song had been bloated on those corrupted delights. Ponies cried out for Sombra’s fall, and their anger had made her grow stronger. If her sisters had stood beside her, she doubted that the highest peaks of her life would have reached the zenith Sombra’s war had elevated her to.

Her song carved through his crystal like it was nothing but mist. He was wise to flee from her. She trailed behind him, through his portal, through a twisting tunnel of coursing currents. She could feel touches of Star Swirl’s old magic in the gateway, hints of artistry she could grudgingly respect mixed in with the filth she loathed.

Where the portal placed her, she didn’t know. A distant corner of the world, continents removed from Equestria, perhaps. Or another time—what better refuge could there be?

Her hooves touched down on dark rock, and the scent of ash was thick and fiery all around her. The air was hot, and searing heat lapped at her side; molten rock flowed through a deep trench in the ground beside her, crawling down from a mountain of rock and magma.

But she didn’t care about that. The portal closed behind her, and she didn’t care about that either. No.

Sombra was in front of her.

That was all that mattered.

She hurled himself at him. A piercing roar became a stillborn melody, lashing at Sombra like a whip, shattering the ground he once stood on. Sharpened, massive hooves cleaved the air, intent on rending flesh but only finding living shadow.

Wretched, cowardly, hideous, hollow king that he was, Sombra was still no weakling. She could feel pain wafting off of him—bitterness was the scent of most pain, but his was sweeter than sugar, more delightful than roses—pain from Celestia’s flames, pain from his own magic when his torture device had turned against him. His pain weakened him, slowed him, made Adagio grow stronger…

But it was far from easy. Striking him with hooves was like trying to catch a breeze; he was flesh one moment, tearing at her scaly flank with a jagged lance of crystal, then she turned and he was a pitch-black torrent.

A hammer of crystal descended on her. Her melody rushed out and tore it to pieces, but hellish flames came behind it. Nearly as hot as Celestia’s, they seared and blackened her scales, clouded her vision. She thrashed for an instant; crystal manacles leapt from the ground, encasing her fetlocks, seizing her, holding her where she stood.

Then Sombra was in front of her, wicked red eyes wreathed in fire, smoky shadows engulfing his form. She hissed at him, but he swatted the sound away and it exploded a boulder in the distance. He crafted a claw of crystal, and it plunged forward.

She didn’t think anything could hurt as much as what he did to her. First it was just aches of the flesh, crystal spikes gouging naked skin where her scales had peeled away from her chest.

As a human, it had been its own kind of agony to be separated from her ruby, to be stolen from its comforting embrace. Sombra had done that to her, snatched her from a world of music and warmth and into icy black shadows.

But when that claw sank into her chest, gripped her gem and tried to wrench it out of her, it felt like her mind itself was on fire.

She hadn’t thought there was any room left in her for fear, but Sombra found space. She remembered ruby dust sprinkling on the floor, remembered slender bodies falling to the ground, oblivious to her tears…

Never again.

In her mouth, there was a weapon forming. Forged out of anguish and heartbreaking loss, tempered by undying hatred, sharpened by fury. Thousands wanted Sombra dead. She sang a song, and into that song she poured it all in. Even as she felt her ruby straining and cracking, she gathered her magic.

When she let it loose, crystal around her fractured and shattered, flames extinguished, and shadows dissipated, shredded apart and sent screaming in all directions. Her bonds were broken, and Sombra’s defenses stripped. His magic pushed back on her, and for a moment she thought it might still win, but then her hoof slashed his chest and the strongest song she’d ever sung funneled straight into his mind. His knees buckled, the aura around his horn flickered and vanished, and his eyes went glassy and vacant.

He had lost.

From behind a large, jagged hunk of fallen crystal, Adagio peeked out, trying her hardest to stay hidden—the feel of the magic radiating into the room left little doubt as to who was approaching, and the first glimpse of a pristine white hoof left none at all.

Where Sombra was possessed wholly of either insidious writhing or imperious posturing, Celestia was all flowing grace and supple vigor. Her limbs were long and slender but as far removed from ungainly as a dove’s wings were from a fish’s tail. Her face had an ageless quality to it. Not quite youthful, it was far too mature for that, but neither was it old. She landed effortlessly, floating down on pure white wings, stepping into the laboratory with her head held high and her eyes wandering vigilantly. If she saw Adagio and her companions where they lay, huddled out of sight, she did not look towards them.

Adagio gulped. Celestia had been young when last their paths crossed, and capable even then. A thousand years had only sharpened her edges, if the potency of her magic was anything to go by—even at a distance, she could feel the air warming, though it was not an uncomfortable sensation. If bad blood still lingered, whether with herself or her double, she could only hope that Celestia would not act rashly.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Adagio.” Celestia stood in the center of the room, not facing them, but with too much assuredness for her to be unaware of them. Her voice was calm and smooth, but it had a sternness to it that Adagio did not recall. “Come. Let us speak for a while.”

Keeping a hand on the wall to steady herself, Adagio rose to her feet. She cleared her throat; a small sound was more than enough to be heard, and Celestia faced her at once.

At first, Celestia’s composure was impeccable. Her demeanor was perfectly regal, dispassionate but not entirely aloof. After she’d looked at Adagio for a moment, it started to crack, ever so slight traces of surprise slipping out. A faint stream of magic danced around her long, blunt horn, and her enigmatic violet eyes blinked as she asked, “Who are you?”

Try as she might to ignore it, Adagio was acutely aware of her own lack of power just then, and it made her breath catch in her throat. “It’s complicated,” she managed eventually, unconsciously dropping into a slight curtsy that Celestia almost certainly wouldn’t recognize.

“I’m sure it is.” Celestia’s tone made it sound like she had very little patience, if any at all, for trickery. “Who else is with you?”

Adagio hoped her falter wasn’t too obvious, but since it was Celestia she was facing, she might as well have shrieked. Without a word, she moved to usher Sonata and Sunset out; Aria managed to stand, leaning on Sonata’s shoulder, but she looked weak and pale.

If Celestia had been surprised to see Adagio, she was veritably shocked to see Sunset. It took a moment for realization to bloom, but when it did, her eyes widened, faintly but noticeably. She passed through at least two or three emotions in those short few seconds they looked at each other, and Adagio could see Sunset similarly paling and shifting anxiously.

Celestia was the one to speak first, and when she did, her voice was tight with anger. “If this is a trick, then—”

The portal opened.

Magic leapt from Celestia’s horn, wrapping Adagio and her companions in a hardened globe, shunting them off into the corner, where they remained imprisoned. Celestia herself faced to portal, wings slowly flaring, horn igniting—Adagio felt the air warming again, this time invoking a parched desert instead of a comforting hearth.

Nothing happened at first. Adagio pressed herself up against the globe she was in, peering out, taking comfort in the knowledge that Celestia could no doubt have done much worse to them, if she’d wanted to.

Eventually, though, one long, sinuous limb crept out of the portal, then another. Two massive sharp hooves bit into the ground, anchoring before hauling out a siren’s titanic frame. Celestia seemed small just then, at risk of being swallowed whole in a single snap, but she held her ground staunchly.

And then there were two creatures in the room making Adagio feel powerless. A siren coiled on one side, bearing many wounds but wholly unbowed, and Celestia on the other. There was no sign of Sombra.

Other Adagio lowered her head, cracked her maw open. A long, forked tongue slithered out, slowly unfurling, dropping something hard and curved to clatter on the ground. Adagio had to press right up against the confines of the globe to see, squirming to find space as Sonata and Sunset tried to look as well. A blend of feelings were still rushing into her, but adulation won out for a little while when she saw Sombra’s horn, tipped with a jagged stump on one end, laying desolately on the crystalline floor.

Other Adagio’s serpent-like eyes, cold and piercing, flitted between Adagio and Celestia. It was difficult to read such an alien visage, even if Adagio knew it to be her own. “Let them go,” Other Adagio said. Her voice was smooth and silky, echoing faintly despite its softness, possessed of a gentle cadence entirely belying the speaker’s maw of fangs.

After a long pause, Celestia nodded, and the globe vanished. Adagio and her companions spilled out onto the floor, hurriedly huddling together where they had stood—none of them dared to speak, not when beings of such power were filling the air with such palpable tension.

Celestia was next to speak. Her voice rang out, easily filling the room. “How much blood is on your hooves, Adagio?”

Other Adagio turned her unflinching gaze to the hole in the wall she’d left earlier, beyond which the pale sun glistened off the frozen wastes, bringing light but little warmth. She lifted one of her hooves, and Adagio could see that the tips were dark red and still dripped. “Enough.” Other Adagio pointedly eyed the severed horn laying on the ground. “How much more could I spill before you slay me, and how much did I spare by tearing that from his brow?”

It took a long while, but gradually Celestia “sheathed” her magic. The heat she radiated receded and moderated, until again she was merely like a hearth. “What do you want?”

“There are wounds to be mended. Mine, yours, others. Tell your army to withdraw, and give us all time to heal.”

The look on Celestia’s face was not a trusting one, but her head dipped down, towards the horn lying on the ground, and she slowly nodded. “There are ponies whose chains need to be broken.”

Other Adagio let out a low hiss, but everyone knew it was not directed at Celestia. “I will do what I can to break them, if you can assure me that I will not be met by cries for vengeance.”

“Of course.” Celestia nodded again. She had not said “for now,” but Adagio thought she meant it. Celestia gestured slightly towards Adagio. “Who are they?”

Other Adagio looked towards them. “My greatest crime,” she murmured. “The story is a long one.” Then her body dissolved into water, flowing languidly and compressing until she sculpted herself into a slender, shapely mare—who would have been gorgeous were her body not still marred by numerous wounds—just reaching Celestia’s chest but standing as straightly as if they were equals, and extending a dainty hoof.

Chapter XII [Draft]

She could feel the ugly taint of Sombra’s magic, a loathsome fog clouding the poor little thing’s mind. All it took was an utterance, a melodic breeze, and the fog lifted. The crystals in the visor crumbled to dust, and just like that the pony awoke from her nightmare. She gave her head a toss, fumbling with her hooves, tearing the mask from her face, looking about wildly.

“Shh, shh.” Adagio gently touched the frightened mare’s cheek, soothing her with a calm song. “He’s gone. You don’t have to fight anymore.” Hardly the words a siren would say, but every Crystal Pony wearing that armor was a lingering fragment of Sombra’s influence. Evil such as his deserved the most utter annihilation.

She had just began to turn, to seek other remnants of Sombra to scrub away, when she felt grateful hooves wrapping around her shoulders. She suppressed a wince at the pressure on her aching body, glad she'd had the time to turn just enough to avoid it directly on her chest where Sombra's black claws had fought to pry the gem from her flesh. Even as a pony, the injury to the heart of her being remained, too drenched in magic to be healed with a simple form change. She'd have covered it with a bandage if she'd known there'd be hugging.

“Thank you,” the mare said, joyful tears already gathering in her eyes. “Please, can you…”

Adagio felt only a tiny trickle of fear in the mare. Her gem suckled on it unconsciously, diminishing it until it was gone, and then there was nothing but joy looking back at her. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, not at first. Joy was of little concern to a siren, for it neither indulged her ruby’s cravings nor enriched her song. A day before, she would have dismissed it, for joy could not have given her what she desired.

Now, though…

After she parted from the grateful mare, she found another pony, and did the same for him. Another mask came off, another shroud of fear lifted, and another pair of joyous eyes looked at her.

Adoration. That was the kind of look that they gave her. As she walked, tearing off masks, shattering Sombra’s grip on the world one pony at a time, more and more faces looked at her with something resembling adoration.

She looked down at her ruby.

Crowds of ponies calling out her name, loving her. Worshipping her, beneath her as she sat above them all on a gleaming throne, golden scales sparkling in the radiance of her song. There was no older dream, not for her, not for any other siren.

And as she sang her song and shredded Sombra’s magic until there were only tatters of it remaining, ponies flocked to her. The taste of such a dream, so sweet and satisfying, so swift on the heels of Sombra’s nightmare, was delicious and intoxicating and she found herself yearning for more. More and more Crystal Ponies she freed, to obliterate Sombra’s legacy and to indulge her own wants.

Eventually, she turned her eye towards the palace—battered and worn though it was, weathered by the recent assault, she knew that there was a throne in there somewhere, and that the old king was as good as dead.

She dreamed a little more, but even in her head, there was a hollowness to the dream. There was a void in her breast, an empty cavern that Sombra had carved out of her heart, and a part of her knew, as surely as she knew the sky was blue, that her dream wasn’t enough.

But it was all she was going to get. Sirens were powerful. There was no loss that could truly fell her, so long as she drew breath and sang.

There was a little saunter in her step when she made her way back to Celestia’s tent. Slipping inside unannounced, she saw Celestia and Spitfire poring over a pile of notes and charts and whatnots, lifting their heads and eying her when she entered. Spitfire’s wry grin came back for an instant—it seemed to vanish as soon as Celestia moved.

“The king is dead,” Adagio said. She moved to stand in front of Celestia, tilting her head to meet the Alicorn’s gaze. “His empire will need a new ruler.”

She did not say more, but the hint of a frown that came to Celestia’s face said she didn’t need to. “You have somepony in mind, I take it?”

“Not a pony.” The silence that followed spoke of hesitance, the austere stare fixed on her hinting at skepticism. “The tyrant is dead, his subjects freed. You’ve done what you came here to do. Send your ponies back to their homes. They’ve earned a respite.”

Celestia glanced at Spitfire. Whatever question she wished to ask never made it out into the air, but Spitfire seemed to understand; she nodded, but it did nothing to soften Celestia’s face, and that made her frown. “The ponies here deserve a respite as well,” Celestia said as she turned back to Adagio. “This war has been too long already, but how can we know we won’t be called back if we leave?”

“I’m not like him,” Adagio stated—there was nothing she wished to be more certain of. Even when their end goals had been one and the same, comparing herself to Sombra was comparing a spider’s web to a lump of pitted iron that its owner called a hammer. “Those ponies out there already adore me, and that’s all I ever wanted.” Her voice sounded smooth to her ears, telling the lie with ease. “I’m taking that throne, and then I promise I will leave you in peace.”

“And I think we both know that your promises have rarely held any water.” Celestia’s eyes were not quite angry, but piercing nonetheless. She glanced at Spitfire only briefly, then eyed the ruby hanging from Adagio’s neck. “Trust goes both ways.”

Adagio did her best to hide how she tensed. Peering down at her ruby, she squeezed her eyes shut, reluctantly lifted a hoof, and whispered a quiet, sharp note. It stung, just as if she’d carved off a piece of her own flesh, but she presented a substantial chunk of ruby on her hoof. She felt naked with even that portion of her ruby missing—she could feel the lopsided weight from her neck, and it was excruciating.

It was a gamble, what she’d just done. With her strength waning even before that night, and her gem already cracked, she didn’t think very favorably of her chances of escape, if Celestia chose to strike at her.

That didn’t happen, of course. Celestia’s heart was softer than Sombra’s, less inclined towards outright treachery. Cunning, perhaps, half-truths and hidden schemes, but the princess had a degree of honor to her. She took the fragment of ruby in her magic, lifting it to her face and examining it. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, she turned to Spitfire. The two mares shared a long, silent look, and then Celestia handed the fragment back to Adagio.

“We will deliberate on this matter,” Celestia said. She did not sound eager. “I will return to the palace with you, and convene with my advisors.”

Adagio slipped into the room, and Aria felt herself tensing. Somehow, all the years they’d known each other, Adagio still surprised her from time to time, and when she saw the clattering pouch dangling from her sister’s hand, it felt like a dozen feelings all sprang up at once, and she couldn’t make sense of them at all, not right away. She sat up a little straighter, pressing against the headboard. “Are those…?”

She hadn’t needed to ask, really. The gems had always been a mystery to her, from the very first second she’d looked down and seen hers set in her own chest; she vaguely remembered that they’d whispered and spoken to her, especially when she was by the sea, but everything was blurry and faded, and clarity had only come with silence.

The day they met for the first time, Aria’s gem had stopped guiding her. Enigmatic little bugger must’ve thought she didn’t it now that she had Adagio. She could never have explained it, but for so long, Adagio had been utterly flawless in her mind. Before they ever met, she dreamed of what perfection must have looked like—and looking back, had dreamed only what those damnable rubies had told her was perfect, ‘cause it was Adagio.

And damn it, she would still be beautiful, no matter how many bad ideas went through that head of hers. She came over, holding the pouch, quietly sitting down beside Aria. “Yes, they are,” she said. “But we… never really got another chance to talk, did we?”

There was a softness to her voice and face that there hadn’t been that last time they’d been alone. The blind, vatic confidence of before simply wasn’t there.

Aria hated the way her mind leaped straight to It could be a trick, but that’s exactly what she thought. “No,” she said, “we didn’t.” She shifted slightly, one of her hands tensing and squirming under the covers. “What is there to say?”

It took Adagio a little while to say anything. She looked away, glanced down at the pouch in her hands, then leaned over, dropped it onto the floor, looked back and hesitantly put a hand on Aria’s. Her skin was soft and buttery, and Aria hated how easily it could sway her. She grit her teeth, silently chiding herself. Just say no. I can do it.

“Aria, you…” Adagio paused and breathed, as if the tenderness in her voice was a struggle to maintain. “You’re very important to me…” She paused again, and Aria thought she saw her eyes moistening. “And I don’t want to lose you. I know you haven’t agreed with me lately, and… if you want a little more space, you can have it. I’m not going to ask you to follow me again.”

How did she always do it? Just when Aria had thought she’d finally had Adagio figured out, there was a plea where there should’ve been a command, honey where she’d expected a subtle whip.

Adagio paused, rubbing at her eyes with her empty hand. Tears looked… strange, on her. They snatched everything Aria might have said right out of her mouth and left nothing behind to grasp. “Aria?” Adagio said after a while. “What do you…”

Aria blinked. Twisting her head a little, she glanced to the side at Sonata—who shrugged and looked just as confused—and then leaned a little to peek down at the pouch resting on the ground. “The other you, she can… she can put those things back together, can’t she?” Shut up, she told herself. Stop talking, stop persuading yourself.

“Yes. She can.” Adagio bent over and picked the pouch up, balancing it in her palm before tugging it open. Her fingers dipped inside, and came out holding a ruby. Not even shards, a fully-formed ruby. That thing stole Aria’s attention straight away; her eyes were glued to it, and it took every ounce of willpower she had to not try and touch it.

Even then, she only managed a few seconds. Before she knew what was happening, she was reaching out, and she stopped herself with her fingertips just brushing against the gem’s surface. Her hand stayed there, trembling, and when she finally dragged it back she shivered, still unable to look anywhere but at her ruby.

“Damn it,” she hissed to herself. She wanted to look away, but didn’t. Dreams of thrones and empires and banners bearing her name and temples built in her honor, dreams that she thought she’d conquered, all came rushing back to her, and the gem right there offered to make them all reality and a nagging, burning desire sprang up inside her. “I want it,” she mumbled. “I do, I—I want it, I want to—”

“I know you do,” Adagio whispered. She slipped the gem back into the pouch and set it aside again, then slid a little closer. She touched Aria’s cheek, giving her a little nudge so their eyes met. “But you don’t need to take them, and I wish I’d realized that before.”

More dreams sprang up in Aria’s head. This time, though, they were tempered by a cold touch of reality. She saw herself on a throne, just as she did before, but this time there was a rainbow light ready to topple her. She saw a statue of herself in front of a great marble temple, the crowds of worshippers scattering as a white alicorn stood in a halo of solar flares, blasting it all into ruin. A euphoria she hadn’t realized had been trying to claim her retreated suddenly, and as much as she hated how much power it held over her, being separated was excruciating.

“Adagio, you…” Her eyes flitted away from Adagio’s. She reached out, took the pouch, held onto it for a few tantalizing, agonizing seconds whether she wanted to or not, and then threw it across the room; it landed in the corner, where she couldn’t see it anymore. Then she faced Adagio. Breathing deeply, she reached up and pulled the hand that was on her cheek away. “I don’t care what any of those things tell you,” she muttered, as much to herself as to Adagio. “Is there any way we come out of this with everything we want?”

For a brief moment, Adagio looked at where Aria had thrown the gems, and her eyes were full of longing. Then she looked away, but still not quite at Aria—she hesitated for a moment, but the longing was still there, and it made Aria wonder.

When Celestia comes to tear down this palace, the girl will burn with the rest of them.

Sombra had said that, and Aria remembered. When next she looked at Adagio, puzzle pieces clicked together in her head, and she knew. Adagio bit her lip, met Aria’s stare, and whatever confidence the rubies may or may not have been giving her crumbled. She looked so much less like a goddess and more like a woman just then. “Tender hearts were… were never a luxury sirens could be allowed, were they?” Adagio whispered. She blinked back tears, looked back once more at the gems. “I guess I haven’t been a good siren in a long time, then.”

After a long pause, Adagio breathed a long sigh. “No.” She gave a sad shake of her head. “No, I don’t think there’s any way we can have everything, and…” Back to Aria she looked, and a loving smile made its way to her face. “I’d rather keep…” She paused, and bit her lip again. “I’d rather try to keep what I had than keep trying to reach higher.”

Aria looked at Adagio for a long while. Eventually, she nodded. “Okay. That… that sounds good to me, I guess.”

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Adagio looking happier. Her sister leaned forward, kissed her softly on the cheek, and then drew back, wiping joyful tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Aria.”

Aria was about to mumble something in reply when blue arms abruptly gathered up both of them. “I love you girls,” Sonata murmured dreamily.

Grumbling under her breath, Aria smacked Sonata lightly on the head. “You’re making it weird, Sonata.”

The door to Sunset’s room was left open, but Adagio still nearly retreated when she saw who else was in it.

“… I know that it’s far from just of me to ask for your input, but—” Celestia craned her long neck, turning her serene eye to the door and offering a small nod before quickly looking back to Sunset, who was seated on a pillow across from her “—it’s far outside my own perspective. You have every right to refuse, but any insights you could offer would be invaluable. Think it over.”

She started to rise, gently ruffling her wings. Adagio moved closer, raising her hand. “I don’t mean to intrude,” she said, slipping over to hover over Sunset. “Sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow your necklace for a little while?”

Sunset tilted her head slightly, but only questioned after she’d already tugged the loop over her head. “What are you going to use it for?”

Adagio glanced at Celestia, then back to Sunset. “I’ll give you all the details later?” She gulped, and gave her most charming smile. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Okay, sure.” Sunset dropped the geode into Adagio’s palm.

“Thanks.” Adagio stared down at the geode, wrapping her fingers around it as she stepped back and turned to offer Celestia a curtsy. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

Maybe Celestia didn't keep her guard up as high given her close history with Sunset, maybe ponies weren't as wily as humans or maybe Celestia just wasn't as subtle as she thought, but the way her supposedly-enigmatic eyes flitted down towards Adagio's closed hand, twinkling curiously, couldn't have been more plain.

Adagio gave her a grin, one that came to her far more easily than the curtsy had. “One day, one of us will just wear a necklace bought from a shop, without any magical powers, and the world won't know what to do” If Adagio had pitched it right—and she had, because Celestia wasn't the only immortal in the room—she'd offered just enough to confirm the initial suspicion, and therefore made the follow-up question all the more teasing for not being asked or answered.
It wasn't often you could get away with one-upping a princess, but rules of etiquette could present such opportunity.

“Interesting,” Celestia remarked, and then fully rose, nodding once to both Adagio and Sunset. “I think I’ve said all I need to. Thank you both for your time.” Her eyes lingered on Sunset just a hair longer, and Adagio saw a subtle kind of wistfulness cross them, but regal composure snuffed it out in an instant. Celestia calmly took her leave, departing without another word.
“Huh.” Adagio held the geode up to her face, staring at it again. It didn’t feel any different, not as far as she could tell. “Any idea what all that was about?”

Sunset frowned as she rose. It took a moment for her, but then her eyes brightened and she nodded gently. “Maybe,” she said, moving over to Adagio’s side, “but don't worry, it's nothing pressing, or even relevant to us. I'll tell you on the way home. How'd it go with your sisters?”

“Good as new.” It came out slightly bittersweet; they were on the right path again, but it wasn't quite the same, and they'd wasted a lot of time getting there. And on that note... “Thought this'd be a good time to go talk to myself for a bit.”

Sunset nodded, a kind smile lighting her features.

Adagio held the geode tightly in her hand and turned for the door. “Right. I’ll be back soon, then.”

Other Adagio knelt beside a long box of crystal, one hand resting on the surface. Her face was more desolate than tragic; joy hadn’t been turned to ash for her, just been snatched away, and there was only an emptiness left behind. The sight threatened to tear Adagio’s heart in twain.

She didn’t want to move any closer. The box looked harmless, but the way Other Adagio looked at it told another story. There could be no doubt as to what was inside it, and Adagio didn’t think she could bear to look. Just the thought ushered in macabre images she’d rarely—if ever at all—chosen to dwell upon in the last hundreds of years. The risk of death had always existed for her and her sisters, she supposed, but they’d learned to be careful after the first few close calls, and afterwards…

“This is where they are, isn’t it?” Cutting through the silence helped Adagio find courage. She moved closer, slowly, and it felt like wading through molasses.

Other Adagio spared her a glance. Just a short look, and then she turned her gaze back to the coffin. “Yes. Right here.”

Adagio moved a little closer. The surface facing the ceiling was transparent. Somehow, it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would when she looked inside, but it still took her a while to speak. “They look peaceful. Did… did they—”

“I don’t—no. No, they didn’t.” Other Adagio did not sound nearly certain, but she made it sound like a comforting lie.

“That’s good.” It took some time for Adagio to tear her eyes away, but she did. She sat down beside Other Adagio and reached out to touch her. “I can’t imagine how this must…”

“No, you can’t.” Other Adagio squeezed her eyes shut, slowly rising, turning her back on Adagio and the coffin. “And you shouldn’t try to. It’s my burden to bear, not yours. You still have yours. Cherish them. Please, whatever you end up doing—”

“I know. I will.” Adagio looked back once at the coffin, then stood and followed Other Adagio. “You could come back with us, if you wanted to. Someone else can take the throne.”

Other Adagio paused. Subtle wistfulness etched onto her face. “No. I won’t do that.” She hung her head, sighing. “There aren’t any other sirens left now, not here. I want the ones who are gone to be remembered, and… and I can’t do that back where you are. No, I need to stay here. As long as I’m here and alive, then—”

Adagio moved over next to Other Adagio, offering a small smile she hoped could be comforting. “Then they’ll look at you and know there were sirens here, once. I think they’d appreciate that.” Up close, the cracks in Other Adagio’s gem were impossible to ignore. Adagio eyed the wounded gem. “But… what are you going to do about this? Without the other two, it’s going to—”

“I know.” Other Adagio held the gem in her palm. “It’s already dying. I don’t know how much time it’s got left.” She paused, and wrapped her fingers tightly around the gem. “But even if it’s only for a year—” her tone made it sound like she thought it would be even less than that “—a year on the throne is better than no throne at all.”

That gave Adagio pause. “You’re going to…” It was worry, first, that plagued her just then. She imagined herself in her double’s shoes, standing atop a palace, beautiful and powerful but lonely, and could see nothing but what wasn’t there. The image was not an unhappy one, though—indeed, a part of her desperately wished their roles could be reversed.

But her sisters had already made up their minds. Breathing deeply, she reached for the pouch in her pocket and held it out. “Take these, then.”

“No. I can’t, I—I won’t. They’re your sisters, and they… they’re not sirens without them.”

“And they’re alright with that. They both are. There’s more than one path to happiness for people like us—and more than one way to sing, even. Our days of being sirens are over, I think.” Adagio cast another wistful look at the gems, fighting the urge to pull them back, reminding herself that Other Adagio would need their power if she intended to rule. “You need these if you still want to be one. Take them.”

Other Adagio looked at her, motionless for a long while. Eventually, she hesitantly accepted the pouch, holding it carefully in her palm. “You have my thanks, then. You and your sisters both. They’ll… they’ll still grow weak, without yours to keep them strong, but…” She attempted a smile, but barely seemed to stop being dour. “You’ll just have to come and visit often, then. I wish you well, wherever your new life leads you.”

She turned without another word, tugging the pouch open as she walked, carefully withdrawing the rubies from within. As soon as she touched one of them, another wave of sadness washed over her.

Adagio looked down at her gem. It was whole again. A reservoir of power with potency that she’d only tasted twice before, right at her fingertips; a year ago, it would have been all that she ever wanted. Songs as old as the world coiled around her, nurturing her, eagerly tending to her needs. If she asked them to, they would lash out and grind her enemies to dust. In her mind’s eye, she looked out over a gleaming empire and a voice whispered to her that it could all be hers. All she had to do was sing.

She wanted to. So, so desperately, she wanted to let her mouth drop open, let a resurrected symphony spread its wings and soar again, let the gem’s power carve out an empire for her to rule over.

While her mouth opened, it wasn’t a song that came out of her lips. “Wait. Take this one too.”

Other Adagio paused, turning around to stare at her. “What? Why would you—”

“Because a queen needs to be powerful enough to protect her empire.”

“I can use one of the other two. You can bring that one, and—”

“And what if the portal fails? What if something happens to me?” Adagio moved closer, cradling her ruby in her palm and gazing down at it. “You need to keep all three with you. I won’t allow it any other way.”

“Are you—”

“Yes.” Adagio stepped closer still. “But there’s one thing I need to do first.” She took the geode out of her pocket, held it in one palm, and focused on her ruby. In her mind, a song that she wished she’d never have to sing bloomed and came to life. She poured a thousand years worth of memories into it, weaving it all together into a story. Times of bliss and times of rest, times of anger and times of bickering, everything. It was a story of two lives, both the good and the bad. She erected a memorial made of sound, sculpted from a sea of harmonies and filled to the brim with memories.

She focused on that song, filled her mind with it, thought of nothing else. Then she reached out towards Other Adagio. “Take my hand.”

Other Adagio frowned, glancing down at the geode in her palm, and then did so. White light swallowed her eyes, and for a few long, silent moments, she was utterly still.

And then, at last, Adagio felt her let go. Other Adagio fell to her knees. Her eyes welled up, but a glint in them told that the tears that streamed down her cheeks were wrought from nothing but joy. Her lip trembled, her breaths quickened. Sounds escaped her mouth, things somewhere between laughs and sobs.

Adagio knelt down next to her, reaching out and laying a hand on Other Adagio’s. “I know it’s not much,” she said, “but—”

Other Adagio seized her in a fervent embrace. Spluttering, half-formed sentences poured out of her alongside her tears. “Thank you,” she managed to say clearly a few times throughout her joyous babbling.

If Adagio hadn’t been smiling before, she would have beamed. She put her arms around the sobbing girl in front of her, holding her tightly and closely and stroking her hair. It felt oddly natural, to have a siren clinging to her chest and weeping into it. She didn’t say anything; she doubted that she had any words that would’ve helped any more than what she’d already done.

A long while later, Other Adagio finally drew back, damp cheeks glistened, reddened eyes still moist as she rubbed at them. “I—I can’t tell you how much that—” She took both of Adagio’s hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. There was a smile spread widely across her face, like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dreary fog. “Thank you. I could say that a thousand times and it still wouldn’t—”

“It’s alright. Twice is enough.” Adagio smiled fondly at Other Adagio, reaching out brushing a few errant strands of hair out of her face, letting a hand rest on her cheek, caressing her gently. “It’s the least I could do.”

“It’s much more than that.” Other Adagio stood slowly, taking Adagio’s hand and pulling her up with her. “If there is ever anything that I can—”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Adagio pulled out Other Adagio’s hand. She pressed the gem into her double’s palm and closed her fingers around it.

Other Adagio opened her hand and stared down at the gem in her palm. She ran her fingers over it, pausing to look up into Adagio’s eyes. When next she held up her hand, there was a shard of ruby, perhaps as wide as Adagio’s thumb, pinched between her fingers, gleaming with an inner light. “You won’t be able to hold much in here,” Other Adagio whispered. “Enough for a few songs, at least.” Without asking permission, she took Adagio’s locket, popped it open, and placed the shard inside. “I’ll fill it up for you when we see each other again.”

“I don’t…” Adagio shook her head slowly, cradling the locket, but a look into Other Adagio’s insistent eyes told her that it was easiest to simply assent.

Still, she couldn’t. It was her failure to stop dreaming of rubies that had made her push her sisters away. “No. I can’t. Keep it here for me. Maybe…” She regretted that last word almost as soon as it left her mouth. “Maybe I’ll sing a song or two when we see each other again.”

Other Adagio nodded. She drew in a long breath, finally reigning it all in, finally calming herself. There was still little but joy to be seen in her eyes when next she looked at Adagio, but it was a calmer sort of joy. She leaned in for one more hug, and they kissed each other’s cheeks, and then they parted. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

“Likewise. Rule well, sister.”

“Hey. Got a minute?”

“Depends. What’s it about to be used for?”

“Well…” Spitfire circled around in front of Adagio, and reached into her saddlebag to procure a bottle of dark red wine. “Turns out being on good terms with the princess has its perks, but this stuff looks too nice to just drink by myself.”

Adagio glanced at the bottle and arched an eyebrow. “Whomever you’re going to share it with, she’d better be pretty stunning, if you’re going to pamper her with something like that.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. C’mon. I promise I’m not gonna bite you this time. Unless you’re into that, in which case I’m not getting these changed back for a few days.”

“You might need more than one bottle, then. Does Celestia know about this?”

“She gave me the bottle, didn’t she?”

“And I would think that she, of all ponies, would know exactly the kinds of mischief that happen when you put sirens, nubile mares and alcohol behind closed doors.”

“Well, let it never be said she doesn’t pride herself on her open-mindedness. Go on. Ladies first.”

Adagio stepped into the tent. It mostly had all the charm and grace one might expect of a military tent in a frozen wasteland—none whatsoever, in other words—but the bed, of all things, looked downright luxurious. And there was a table, draped in a pristine white tablecloth, with two empty chairs and two fine crystal wine glasses. It all made her cock an eyebrow and glance behind her at Spitfire. “Do I have the princess to thank for all this, too?”

Spitfire chuckled and shrugged. “I have no idea where this all came from.”

“Of course you don’t.” Adagio moved over to the table, idly running her fingers over the surface. “Did Celestia say anything else when she gave you the wine?”

“Nah, just winked.” Spitfire set the bottle down.

“Oh my. Wine from the princess, with a wink?” Adagio put on a coy smile and chuckled. “If you were a siren, you’d have just proposed.”

Spitfire looked at her and waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, is that how it works?”

Adagio shrugged. “Ours is a very elaborate system of courting. They’ve written manuals for it.” She pulled out one chair, and stood by the other. “Shall we?”

“I can hardly wait.” Spitfire rummaged through a pack on the ground, eventually digging out a corkscrew. She paused just when she’d twisted the cork out. “But, uh, before we get started… the princess said she’d tell in the morning, but I thought I’d give you the heads up. It’ll take a few days to get all the Crystal Ponies situated—homes are damaged, families are split up, that kind of thing. We’re gonna stick around, do what we can to help and once we’re done—” She sauntered over to the table, poured two glasses, and held one up with a smirk on her face “—then we’ll all get out of your way, and all these ponies can figure out what kind of crown they’d like to put on you.”

“Really? I wasn’t so sure she’d let me get away with that, the last time we spoke.” Adagio held up her own glass, cradling it lazily in her fingers, watching Spitfire with half-lidded eyes. “Do I have you to thank for that?”

“For once, I can’t take all the credit.” Spitfire cleared her throat and winked. “Or won’t, rather. No, somepony else vouched for you. Princess Celestia didn’t say who.”

Adagio pursed her lips. “Is that so?” She couldn’t think of many people who’d do that for her, let alone anyone whose opinion of her Celestia would be likely to trust. Not like it really matters who, she concluded.

“So I’m told.” Spitfire raised her glass. “To a long and prosperous rule, then?”

“I can get behind that.” Adagio lifted her glass, touched it to Spitfire’s, sipped from it. The taste was sweet, with a potency and flavor entirely surpassing the trite excuses for wine humans could make. Magic really does make everything better.

But then there were other things to address. Adagio glanced down at the sparkling navy dress she wore, sipping again from her wine. Then she looked up at Spitfire and offered a polite smile. “Give me a few moments, if you wouldn’t mind? I’m sure you’d have no objection to watching me shred it, but it’s so hard to find good dresses shaped like this around here.”

Spitfire nodded, busying herself with her glass. “Certainly. Take your time.”

Nodding in return, Adagio set her glass down, reached behind her back, and—pain sprang up in her chest, shooting through her. With a small gasp, she brought her hands back. “H-hang on.” It hurt a little to breathe, and her breath came out short because of it.

Spitfire looked at her, tilting her head slightly. A question was on her lips, but not yet spoken, and Adagio gave a smile to keep it that way. She was a siren, and the situation could damn well wait for her, after all. She tried again, more slowly this time.

But there was that pain again. When she reached, she felt the wound in her chest being tugged on. She breathed deeply, trying to steady herself, muttering a curse under her breath. “Not now,” she hissed quietly.

“Are you…?” Spitfire set down her glass and darted over, eyes full of concern.

“Yes, just…” One more try, and one more bout of pain. Adagio hated having to pull back, hated the way her body protested. “Of all the times to—”

“Hey.” Spitfire was next to her, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Adagio hung her head, sighing. “I… I can’t…” She blinked twice, pressed her fingers to her temple.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Spitfire extended a wing, gently coaxing Adagio towards the bed, nudging her to sit down. “C’mon. Get comfortable and talk to me.”

Spitfire’s wing was surprisingly soft, as was the mattress. Adagio thought about leaping to her feet, hurrying away, and… well, she wasn’t sure what to do next, but it had to be better than staying and looking so graceless. “It’s…” She looked over at Spitfire, so calm and patient. If it weren’t for Sombra, she’d have wondered if any pony had a cruel bone in their whole body. Adagio idly tugged at the hem of her dress. “I’ve been doing this beautiful seductress thing for centuries, you know. Effortless grace, all you’ve ever wanted—you’ve seen me wear ballgowns on the battlefield.”

“And make them look splendid indeed,” Spitfire interjected.

“Well, that goes without saying. But now…” Adagio bit her lip, looked away. The first pony in months she’d been allowed just a few moments of respite with—no battles to fight, no rulers to placate, nothing… “Now that it matters, I can’t even get out of my dress.”

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

Adagio glared at her. “Gaping chest wound?”

Spitfire paused, looked at the ceiling, shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

Before she knew it, Adagio had snorted, and then a few dry chuckles came. One of her hands crawled downwards, pressing gently until it found the wound—it was just then that something clicked in her head, and she realized that, were she wearing the flesh of a siren, the wound would be right where Sombra had pierced her when he tried to tear her gem out. “I don’t think I can undo this thing without breaking it open.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Spitfire leaned back to examine the dress from another angle, raising a surprisingly dexterous hoof to Adagio’s back. “I got this.”

To her surprise, Adagio felt the garment slipping; when she looked down, she saw the same wounds she’d just gotten used to an hour ago, but now they all looked to be three times the size and twice as hideous. “Cleavage usually looks better when it’s not mostly scab, too.” Adagio blinked. She felt the bodice of her dress falling, the straps sliding off her shoulders, and each inch of bared skin was like a new knife stuck in her. She lowered her head into her hands, speaking through her fingers. “Why did this have to be now? Can we—couldn’t it have waited just… just a few weeks and I’m sure I’d be…”

The wing that was draped over her bare back was nothing but kind, the voice that spoke to her nothing but soothing. “Of course we can. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Adagio glanced over at Spitfire, and thought for a moment she might cry. Spitfire had seen her as a thing of beauty, in a time when other ponies ran for their lives, and now it felt like every scrap of that beauty was being peeled away from her. One last bit of Sombra’s spite. “And the one pony I’d really have preferred to not look pathetic in front of…”

“If it helps…” Spitfire shifted her posture a little, nudging Adagio’s arms aside. “Some of them will look ever so dashing, once they’re scarred.”

Somehow, Spitfire’s cheer was infectious, and Adagio felt another smile creeping onto her face. “Like one of those swarthy pirates all the mares go crazy for,” she murmured to herself. Images came into her head and brought a small chuckle out of her mouth.

Spitfire, of course, was quick to join in the laughter. “No, they just… they show that you’ve been through a lot. And that you’re still here. I mean…” Hesitantly, cautiously, she lifted a hoof to Adagio’s bare chest, hovering over an ugly blotch. “These scabs came from beating King Sombra, and there aren’t many things that could’ve done that.”

Adagio blinked. If I had been stronger, I could’ve gotten away without a blemish, a voice in the back of her head whispered. She felt the wound in her chest, looked down and could see nothing but how it diminished her.

“And everypony’s come out of this with injuries.” Spitfire paused, moving away long enough to peel off her flight suit and then coming right back. “My left side is still a mass of bruises from leaping clear when Sombra appeared. My knees are shot for life from all those combat landings. Soarin has a permanent limp, Fleetfoot bit the end of her own tongue off in a crash, Rainbow Dash lost a wing... but the scars you can see have nothing on the ones you can't, inside.”

And that was when Adagio became acutely aware of that ache in her heart. That void that had once been filled by sirens…

Her head sunk as she stared at the floor.

The wing draped over her back was quick to try and comfort. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me about it?”

Adagio glanced at the mare beside her. The wing nudged her closer, and after a little resistance Adagio let herself rest against Spitfire’s side. She could see dark blotches of purple marking the skin underneath, but the coat was still soft—if a little matted and in desperate need of some care.

Everything about Spitfire warmed Adagio as she leaned into her. Like a little candle, with a flickering flame to push back the chill of the void with.

“Maybe one day,” Adagio murmured. “You could…” She paused, a little unsure of where that had come from, but an expectant look told her it was alright to keep going. “You could stay, you know. I’m sure Celestia would…”

“She would.” Spitfire chuckled lightly, flashing a grin and a smirk. “She did.”

Somehow, that sight and those sounds lifted Adagio’s spirit like she thought nothing else could have. Maybe, she thought, resting against Spitfire’s side, content to bask for a little while. Feathers stroked and rubbed her back, as if trying to scrub all her pain away, and she was amazed to say she thought it might be happening. Maybe this can work.

“Oh, so…” Spitfire said, after a long while. “How long do siren engagements last?”

It took a moment for Adagio to catch up, but she did not falter for long. “Few weeks. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering.” Spitfire pointedly look straight ahead, away from Adagio as she gave a nonchalant shrug. “Of all the species in Equestria, that’s just about the last one I’d expect would want to wait until we’re married. It’s very… virtuous of you, let’s say.”

Adagio frowned, then felt her eyes narrowing. “Oh, you evil thing…” Pausing, she leaned back to eye Spitfire from behind, then licked her lips. She slipped out from under Spitfire’s wing, stood long to let the rest of her dress drop to the floor with the soft sigh of silk, then breathed out a note and dissolved into water.

A few seconds later, she was a slender, shapely but scarred mare, leaning atop Spitfire, gazing down at fiery eyes that had an eager glint to them. “If I bleed on you, it’s your own fault.”

“Almost ready?”

Sunset’s voice, from somewhere behind her, put a smile on Adagio’s face. “Almost,” she said, turning just enough to beckon to Sunset with two fingers and then leaning over the railing. “Just… taking it all in, I guess.”

“Yeah? Anything in particular on your…” As soon as Sunset came up next to Adagio, her eyes dipped downwards and she petered off. “You don’t have your…”

Adagio absent-mindedly lifted a hand, pausing when she felt bare skin beneath her throat. “I’ll have to put something else there, I suppose.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I would’ve thought you’d be glad to hear that.”

“Kinda, but at the same time… it was really beautiful, wasn’t it? Your magic, I mean, and if there was a way for you to… I don’t know, still sing but not need to…”

“You might not realize how much you’re asking for. But…” She turned her gaze back, inside the palace, and dreamed of a siren with a hole in her heart that no gem’s magic could fill. “That other woman, she’s me.” She bit her lip, blinked twice and felt her eyes beginning to moisten. “I don’t want to be her, and trying to hold on to that ruby almost made me lose the same things she did.”

She paused again, lowered her head. She could already feel a little ache, somewhere inside of her chest—it felt wrong to her to be separated from her gem, and when she thought of never again having the kind of power and beauty it offered, it terrified her.

And then Sunset was there to help make it go away. An arm looped around her, she found a shoulder to lean on, and a kind smile told her it was alright to be scared. “Don’t worry,” Sunset said. “You’ll figure something out. I know you will.”

Adagio chuckled softly. She thought there were tears ready to drip down from her eyes, but they were short-lived. “Yeah. I know we will.”

Somewhere in the back of her head, she still dreamed of rubies and thrones, but when she looked down below, at the once-dreary, slowly brightening city sprawled out beneath them, a sense of satisfaction welled up inside her. She relaxed, nestled a little closer against Sunset, and savored every drop of the experience she could.

I could get used to this.