Subject #4: "Determination"

by Starlit Rose

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Other, Moondancer
Length: 20496

Moon Dancer wants to be left alone. Obviously that doesn't happen.

Moon Dancer is tired.

She's tired of giving friendship another chance.

She's tired of listening to Twilight's excuses for them to get back together.

She just wants to stay in her own house, do her own research, to simply live in peace.

But of course, that doesn't happen.

Brilliant artwork by flamevulture17!

Related to this story, but not a direct sequel. Not necessary to read, but recommended.
I suggest reading this blogpost for information on how the stories relate to each other.

Published 2017-09-25 14:20:07 UTC
Last updated 2017-11-19 14:07:39 UTC

Act I - Chapter I - To Take A Fence Down

Moon Dancer had been busy.

For starters, she had rearranged her study desk off to the side so she can free up her window. From there, she moved her chair over into the light, positioning it perfectly so she can bask in the sunlight, yet still not be blindsided whenever she reads a book.

She may not know Haycartes' methods, but that doesn't mean she can't do something herself.

Afterwards, she went to town and bought a new sofa to suit the new look. And to replace the broken one she has now. The rusted nails had been poking her in certain... undesirable places, which was clearly a hindrance to her studies on obscure mythology - including the 'hairless' Ape/Minotaur hybrid that another pony had been discussing with her - as well as a potential health risk.

She also brought home a dozen of so quills while she was actually outside. The statistically high probability of meeting with ponies who bring unpleasant memories to her day meant that such visits were rare, so she makes the most optimal use out of each and every journey. Although it wasn't really their faults per se that their presence brings forth these things.

At least they were friendly enough to attend her party, unlike a certain lavender alicorn. A Princess of Friendship no less! If she were to give Celestia a piece of her mind-

So she was perfectly content in remaining solitary in her home; the silence brings her peace and quiet. Something she can relate to over her life. Aside from her sister, Morning Roast - who remains to be the only relative she keeps in somewhat regular touch with - and her research, its the only thing that comforts her these days.

Moon Dancer gazes out the window. She notices the little colts and fillies running around. A ball flies past. She wistfully sighs; she used to love playing those simple games. Her eyes drift slowly to the sky, the nostalgia of an earlier time being once again remembered.

She frowns. The pegasi have done a good job clearing the clouds this time around. She deduces something of importance must be occurring at the castle. And Princess Twilight must be having a wonderful time there, isn't she? She laughs bitterly, and takes another sip of her wheat-herbal tea. The tea however, does little to soothe her raw nerves.

Perhaps the orange shavings she added in had been a mistake then.

She sets aside the cup onto her desk with a brief flow of her light cerise magics. In her hooves she holds a copy of Torah L. Embow's - Quite the unusual name, if she were to say so - Disorderly Arcanics: A Documentation of Draconequi and Chaos. A light read for her, nothing more. Although Moon Dancer would normally be making notes on the topic, she simply isn't in the mood to do so. As it may be, she can always do a proper analysis of the text on a later date; it is not as if she is tied up with any events or special places to attend to.

Another benefit of living a mostly solitary life.

In the exponentially receding light of Celestia's sun, she reads a few more lines from the book.

...and little is known about Draconequi; their chaotic arcanics are poorly documented and often misunderstood.
Simply, we only know of one to even be of existence in Equestria or its surrounding nations. The 'spirit of chaos' as it refers to himself, Discord used to be a prominent figure in the Great Chaos Wars over a millennia ago, being the direct instigator of the conflict. After subsequently being solidified into stone with the Elements - which in itself is another curious topic to read upon - he freed himself a few years ago, only to be petrified again by the Element bearers. As per Celestia's request, Fluttershy - the element-bearer of kindness - has solely managed to maintain a peaceful relationship with the spirit, 'reforming' him in essence. As of now, only a few ponies have ever seen him in action, and...

Moon Dancer groans. None of what she is reading sticks with her, her mind distracted, in turmoil over conflicted feelings. She gathers herself off the sofa, stretching her limbs while doing so.

Perhaps a walk outside might clear my mind up.

Opening the door, and then treated with a gust of Luna's nightly breeze, she picks off a woollen coat from the nearby rack and sets off. Gazing at the stars, she contemplates over her troubled mind. She wants to be alone with her life. She needs peace and quiet to perform her research. Yet, she cannot but help desire the companionship of other ponies. Twilight's visit had reminded her of the pain she felt in the past. Pain which she had locked up deep within mental file cabinets. Pain which she had sorted away as 'eldritch abominational constructs'. Pain which she had sworn to never touch upon again.

Now she is experiencing those same feelings again.

Damn Twilight to Tartarus for unlocking hell's gates onto my mind.

Now that she had reasoned out her emotions, Moon Dancer looks up at the stars. Truly looks up at them. She grins giddily. No matter what, Luna's nightly show always brought a smile to her face. Even on her mother's funeral, a few minutes under the stars with her father was all it took for her to be at peace.

"Moon Dancer, my sweet daughter. Do you know what Luna's stars up in the night sky are?"

"Oh, that's an easy one. They are burning balls of-"

"Each of them is a pony, Moon Dancer."

"But that's just silly dad. Ponies don't become stars."

"When they have moved on, they become one with the stars. They are always watching over us. You mother is watching over you. Don't you forget that, okay? No matter what happens in the future, your mother and I are watching over you. We will be there when you need us most. All you have to do is look up at the night sky."

"O-Okay dad."

"Remember to look up at Luna's night sky..."

Remember to look up at Luna's night sky

For a while, Moon Dancer merely gazes up at the sky. She slows down her hooves on the cobbled streets of Canterlot, and leisurely paces herself. After all, she wasn't in any rush to get anywhere in particular. Still, it didn't take long for her pace to quicken to a trot, then a gallop...

Moon Dancer flies through the mostly empty streets of Canterlot, her hooves creating a serenade on the cobbled ground beneath her. Her blood pumps within her body, the pulses forming a soft beat, latching onto her music flowing through her mind. She hears a nightly waltz from Princess Luna in the castle towers, and so joins in on the symphony that is the night, is all its glory, pure as the moon shining down upon her.

Moon Dancer she is indeed.

The smile never vanishes from her face, even when she takes her eyes off the sky to see where she had taken herself to.

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few ponies traversing around. A few of them travel in groups, chatting amicably together as they wander off in the night. A few others flit between different buildings, sometimes carrying bags of concealed goods, sometimes carrying bags of bits. Yet a few others-

"How ya' doing there?"

She twirls around to see a stallion greet her. Blinking her eyes, she formulates a response.

"Oh, uh... Hi." A classic one-liner.

The stallion raises an eyebrow. "Now, what's a good-lookin' mare like ya"- Moon Dancer blushes slightly at the compliment -"doing all alone out 'ere in the middle of the night? Ya must be freezin', even with the woollen coat ya have. Why don'tcha come inside? Ah was just on my way home, but ah reckon another mare won' do me much harm." He turns around and unlocks a door to the restaurant behind him, motioning for her to follow him.

Moon Dancer adjusts her glasses, unsure whether to follow him in. Deciding that it would be harmless enough, she walks through the door. A few seconds later the lights turn on, revealing a large amount of broken glass strewn about on the floor.

"Ya'll haf'ta forgive me on the glass. Still haven't got the shipment of new bottles of alcoholic drinks yet from Sweet Apple Acres. They don' make too many deliveries up 'ere ya know? So ah've been too busy sortin' out the stocks from down below, an' checking the inventory and whatnot. Stupid paperwork's takin' too much of my time out." The stallion appears from a set of stairs leading to the cellar. His jaw drops.

"Well, fancy me a roaches bottom! Ya managed to clean it up! Why thank you Miss..."

"Moon Dancer." Moon Dancer takes a window seat, her gaze still on the night sky outside. Her horn glows from the after-effects of the levitation spell she had just used on the shards of glass, and then teleporting them all to an active volcano in the dragon lands. Impractical and inefficient, but those weren't on her mind then.

"Please, tell me, who are you?"

"Ah'm just the barkeeper. Ah run this place. Now, since ya have cleaned the glass up for me, let me treat ya. Whatever you want: On the house. Ah still have some good old hard apple cider in the store rooms down below. Ya want that now?"

Moon Dancer thinks for a moment. "Yes, that would be great."

The stallion comes back up with a pair of bottled of cider. Pulling out the corks with his teeth, he sets up glasses for both of them and sits opposite to her.

"So, Miss Dancer, what do ya do?"

Moon Dancer turns away from the windows and looks at him. "I don't do much."

"Sure as hell ya don', With that fancy magics of yours ya should be a mage or something." The barkeeper laughs, and takes a long swig of cider.

Moon Dancer takes a simple sip, tasting it. More importantly, deciding whether or not she would have to pre-emptively call on her sister with a rudimentary communication spell to drop by and pick her up. Swishing the golden liquid in her mouth, she calculates a low concentration of alochol; just within her pitifully low tolerance. Tastes better than tea anyway. In fact, after guzzling down a large amount of the drink, she decides it is much better than tea.

She needs to obtain this liquid. Moon Dancer makes a mental note in her mind to research on "Apple Cider" once she get back home.

In the meanwhile, she asks him, "What was with the shattered glass then, Mr. Barkeeper?"

The stallion snorts in annoyance. "Well, just a few days ago, a group of mares kept on drinkin themselves till late at night. Ah think one of 'em was an alicorn as well, and 'ere ah thought that all alicorns were princesses with politics to do. No disrespect to any of 'em, of course. 'specially not Princess Luna, she's been a favourite of mine."

Moon Dancer raises her eyebrow in response. "An alicorn? Was she, by perchance going by the name of Twilight Sparkle?"

"Eh, ah wasn' really payin' attention to 'em, so ah can' tell ya on that one. Still, managed to see a dragon that night as well. Still a baby though. Didn' one of the princesses have 'em as a pet?"

"Yes, Twilight Sparkle," states Moon Dancer.

"Anyway, like ah said before, had a bunch of tipsy mares and then the dragon comes in at the middle of the night. Ah was gonna to kick 'em out - ah need my own sleep too - but then they all just fell asleep! Together, just like that! And then ah might've fell asleep as fell. 'Cos next thing I know, ah opened my eyes to the sounds of an 'undred or so of ma bottles crashin' on the floor, with that alicorn fallen head over heels beside it."

"Yes, and then..." Moon Dancer is quite entranced by the story, listening attentively to the stallion's words.

"Well, ah was gonna give her a piece of my mind there an' then, princess or no princess, but then she decided to fire a bunch of her fancy magics into my face. The docs at the hospital did a crackin' job at gettin' rid of the scars and ah think the bill's been covered by Princess Celestia, but still, can ya believe that?"

Moon Dancer could not believe that. She thought Twilight had been a jerk to her. Now, it has been confirmed that she is one. She takes another long sip of the cider.

"No apologies, no nothin'. She just took off somewhere with the dragon of hers." The stallion grins. "Now ah've told ya ma story. How 'bout ya tell me some'in'?"

Normally, Moon Dancer would have already left at this stage, her general coldness to simple talk leaving her with an air of cynicism and a desire to simply get out of any social situations. Tonight however, the alcohol seems to have other plans for her.

"Sure! That seems fair enough to me."

"Alright then. Ya say ya don' matter much. That's a damn lie right there if ah ever saw one. So tell me, what do ya do?"

Before Moon Dancer could formulate a response, the stallion interrupts, "Ya know what? Nah, don' answer that. Let me guess, ya feel like ya hurt and ya tired and ya hate everypony else, 'cos ya think ya have it so bad? So that's why ya don' think ya matter much?"

Moon Dancer's face reveals the response despite it not coming from her mouth. The stallion leans closer, dropping his voice down to a whisper despite nopony else being in the café.

"An' ah'm right as well. Go figure. Listen here now. Ah don' care how lonely ya are or what ya have been through to feel this pain from somepony else. No matter what anypony else says, ya do matter. But ah'm sure that ya have heard that from a lot of ponies anyway.

"At the very least, ya were able to give a stallion like me a reason to keep on drinkin' the night away. If that doesn't count as something then ah swear to ma mama's grave - bless her heart - ya might need to see a doc as well." He laughs. This time, Moon Dancer joins him, chuckling. A warm feeling rises in her chest, but then disappears as soon as she recognises it. She frowns for a moment.

"Anyway, ah'd better be heading back home an' ah reckon ya do too. Hey, let me get ya a couple more bottles of that cider as a thank-ya-very-much-for-clearin'-up-the-broken-pieces-of-glass. Ya seem to be guzzlin' it down as if ya just been to a trip down in Saddle Arabia."

Moon Dancer starts to protest, but soon changes her mind. That cider is good stuff. "Yeah, I'd like some more."

The stallion returns with a couple more bottles in hoof, letting her take it with some levitation arcanics. Not seeing the point of continuing with idle talk, she walks out the door into the night, the bottles trailing behind her with a flow of magic. Turning around, she asks him one more question.

"Hey, I've forgotten to ask you something. What's your name?"

The stallion pauses for a few seconds, cocking his head. "...Ya can call me Bartholomew."

"It's... been a pleasure, Mr. Bartholomew."

"An' the same to you too, Miss Dancer."

With that, the two ponies go on their separate ways. Moon Dancer in surprisingly high spirits, even taking the alcohol into account. She gazes up at Luna's night sky. She smiles, despite herself.

"Thank you mother."

Author's Note

Bartholomew. Interesting indeed.

Chapter II - Your Best Nightmare

The mind is the last refuge for a sapient being.

Sure, they can lose a leg, lose a mane, lose a few eyes here and there. One can even lose their mortal bodies, and still not be dead, yet. Even more unusual circumstances include spirits like the Nightmare and Sombra, which are souls that have taken on physical forms - possessing ponies and using the umbras respectively. They still retain their minds, and so are still to an extant, alive.

But, the mind presents the last safe haven for a soul; a sanctuary of sorts. When the mind is destroyed, the soul drifts away in the ether without the means to contain itself. It floats away in the 'river of life' so to speak.

Who knows what happens at this point. Perhaps the final destination is a raging waterfall, an end to all means, an inescapable void. Or perhaps the river leads to a pristine ocean. A promised land, idealistic; perfection at its finest. Or even perhaps the river does not leave anywhere to significance; it is merely a cyclical path, leading back to where it had started - a resurrection, though without the memories and personalities of the previous life.

But this is merely conjecture now, and also off-topic from the discussion at hoof. And fortunately, one would not have to worry about their mind being destroyed as much as worrying about dying in the strict traditional sense of a failure in the mortal body. No, what must be of concern is the mind while it is still in function.

With the mind being of this significance to all sapient creatures, one must surely think of it being impenetrable, a wintry fortress in the hardened glaciers of the north. Yet this is not the case, and can easily be seen with the most simplest of concepts, and the most unknown of concepts.

Dreams.

She opens her eyes. Not too much of a help, since everything and everywhere is in darkness. Although it is unlike Luna's night as there is no ambient light of any sort; or rather, the singular concept of light does not exist naturally in this place.

It is dark, darker yet darker.

The darkness seems to be growing, but that cannot be right - the surroundings are of blackness.

The shadows cut deeper into her soul, striking fear into her heart. She rapidly turns her head around. Shadows? They need light to exist, yet there is none. Confusion reins in her head as she tries to rationalise her situation.

Light readings are negative as she fails to produce light from her horn. Not a glow, nor a spark appears. Any magic simply vanishes off into the... air? Atmosphere? She cannot tell if there is one, although she keeps on breathing as if oxygen is present.

"This next experiment..." The mare hears a voice in the darkness. She stiffens, her body's senses going into overdrive, attempting to find out something, anything about her predicament.

"Seems very, very, interesting..." Her heart throbs loudly, too loudly. Loud enough for that, thing could hear her. She feels sick, to the point of throwing up. Rivers of sweat run down her body, sweat from pure, unadulterated fear.

"What do you think?" The voice is close to her. Too close. It must be behind her. Or maybe to either side. Or maybe above her. She doesn't think anymore, neither does she care. No, primal instincts are what will let her survive today. Adrenaline will let her survive tonight.

So she runs.

Into a solid object. The last thing she sees before blacking out is the spark of a candle. Unnatural light spills from the stick of wax before she loses consciousness.

Dreams. A curious topic indeed.

Nopony really understands the need for such a thing, though if one were to take on Princess Luna's words, then dreams are the mind's way of dealing with stress, with fear - though it seems that purpose only applies to nightmares. Who knows what the average dream could result in.

Regardless, the dream is quite a weak point in the barrier of the mind, no matter how useful it may be. Many creatures traverse through the realm - for no better word can describe it - with apparent ease, often interacting with the subjects within them. Most often this occurs unnoticed, though it depends on the skill of the dream walker and the lucidness of the subject.

However, awareness can be forced directly with the subject, if the walker so desires to. This usually leads to, interesting circumstances.

She wakes up. No, that cannot be right.

She opens her eyes.

She blinks rapidly. Blinks at the lone candle set ablaze, merely floating a stone's throw away from her. The light emanating from it doesn't reach very far, as it barely illuminates the floor. The mare gathers herself up off the floor. A non-existing floor, yet still feeling solid to her touch.

Like a moth to a light, she draws nearer to the candle. Only once she is beside it does she realise how fake it seems. How cold and lifeless it felt. Her eyes narrow at the realisation. Everything appears fake to her now, as if she is...

...in a dream.

"Took you long enough." Her heart beats faster but she wills it to calm down. She will not act like a panic-stricken filly in the face of a fictional entity. She stands her ground, rising slightly taller as if to prove her resolve.

Unable to find the source of the voice, she calls out, "Who are you? Where are you?"

"I believe the first question is unimportant right now."- Her nose flares in suspicion -" As for the second question, I presume you would rather talk to something which you can see." With the statement, the candle besides her floats a distance away. Curiosity overtaking her, the pony watches intently as smoke wafting from the flame coalesces into a physical body.

She should not be able to see the smoke against the inky blackness of the world, yet her eyes observe more than the candle in front of her. The figure before her stands tall, much taller than she is. The figure before her splays her wings out, her horn lighting up in synchronous timing.

The figure before her is Nightmare Moon.

With dreams being such a backdoor entry to the minds of a sapient being, it is often used as a method of extracting vital information and accessing memories. Some creatures, through conditioning or just plain stubbornness, do not react well to physical or mental torture, requiring more subtle forms of gathering vital knowledge.

This can pose quite a severe threat to the unfortunate victim, as openly sharing a dream with another being is the equivalence of throwing them a perfect record of their memories, desires, beliefs... everything about themselves. Thus, it comes as no surprise the practice had been outlawed in Equestria for centuries, only to be used in dire situations.

The art of dream walking is a dying one. The thousand years without the leader of such a practice had severely limited the motivation for such information to be spread down from generation to generation. Ponies eventually forgotten the process altogether in the centuries that followed, and creatures which could naturally do so have begun to die out simultaneously with the banishment of the princess.

Even with the return of the Princess of the Night, and subsequent collaboration with the Alicorn of Magic, the practice had yet to be picked up upon. To this day, only two beings can perform such feats successfully.

It's a shame only one of them follows the laws of Equestria.

"I believe we have met before." Nightmare Moon smiles at her. A smile which is both genuine yet unsettling.

"Well, if you must remain so silent, at least allow me to indulge myself." The alicorn magics up a crystal protrusion from the non-existent ground and two sofas. A wave of her hoof and a set of teacups and the accompanying teapot appears. She motions for the mare to take the seat, which she complies.

The concept of fear had long left the pony's body, replaced with a burning desire of curiosity, an insatiable need to satisfy her knowledge. She asks a simple question, "Who are you?"

The alicorn raises her eyebrows. "Why, I must be simply offended! Do you not simply recognise the creature seated opposite to you? That is not a question though, is it? You do know who I am, though you do not acknowledge me as such."

The mare merely nods her head. "If... you're Nightmare Moon, then what did the Elements..."

The alicorn laughs. "The elements, what would they do to me? Have you ever noticed that those magical gems had never killed a creature? It is certainly interesting, what their method of dealing with... opponents are: usually temporary and always non-lethal. It's always on the belief that every sapient creature can conform to the notions of harmony..."

He eyes darken in malice. "But they can just as easily go the other way as well."

"Still, what they have achieved is separating me from dear Luna, yet still leaving enough magical substance to sustain me in thought. Oddly enough, I can never seem to gather enough power to free myself from the prison, but that's a story for another day, or another night."

The pony only gazes up at her in disbelief. "Why do you tell me this?"

The alicorn wistfully rubs her chin in response. "Why are you concerned with me telling you information you already know of? Don't give me that face, you obviously know me well enough by now. No, the real question has yet to be asked."

She frowns. What question has she not asked? There are plenty of them, that is certain, yet the... creature before her is set on being asked a specific one. What could it be?

True to the alicorn's words, she does know of the predicament of which the Nightmare exists in: imprisoned ever since her separation from Princess Luna. Yet the Nightmare seems to be able to traverse through the dream realms, as if she still contained a shard of her power. But that cannot simply be true! How could the elements allow her at a chance of once again rising in power? Unless...

A crazy idea comes to her mind. Nonsensical. Ludicrous. She's an idiot for actually doing this.

The pony reaches out across the table, across the untouched teacups, and touches the Nightmare on the nose.

It is as real as she is. Oh dear.

The nightmare herself is just bemused by the action. "Well, that was unexpected. What did you hope to achieve with an ambush on my nose? A poor hit, if I must say so as well."

The pony mumbles under her breath, "Just making sure your real..."

"Real? Why, what makes you think I'm real?"

Confused, she faces the alicorn. "What do you mean by that?"

"What makes you think I'm real. For all you know, I could be a figment of your imagination. Still, you have managed to find out the question to which I had been seeking. Congratulations, by the way. I would give you a prize, but it is your dream; you can merely wish anything you desire."

The pony hardens her gaze on the alicorn. The dancing flame on the candle continues to produce flickering shadows on her darkened face. She appears to be real, but considering her words... she could also be another part of an elaborate dream. All the information she had been told, in a way she had known it all along, or reasoned out as potential theories.

It is all too confusing in retrospect. Too many hidden layers. The strings of deception ran too deep into her. What is this is just a dream, to another dream? What if the dream is in fact, real life? Or the other way around?

"Oh dear, it appears you have gone silent again. Maybe some tea would calm your nerves?" The alicorn pushes forward a cup, prompting the mare to take a sip from it. Immediately she throws it away in disgust.

"Not a fan of orange seasoning now, are we? Oh well, that was all I had."

"So you are simply a fantasy, a delusion of my addled mind?"

"Oh no, I would not be so definite with that judgement. There is a saying: In every shattered window, there is always a shard of truth. Meaning-" The alicorn begins to fade away in smoke "-you have to decide yourself on what is real and what is not. Take care of yourself, pony. For there are others in this world who are watching your every move, calculating your every step. No matter how immune you may think you are with your status or rank. For now, auf wiederschen..."

The candle blows itself out, leaving the mare in darkness.

The final point on dreams that is worth mentioning is on its reality. Or perhaps, whether real life is merely a dream from which we all may wake up from.

Sleep tight indeed.

- Prof. Embow

Author's Note

The plot thickens...

He who dreams of drinking wine may weep when morning comes; he who dreams of weeping may in the morning go off to hunt. While he is dreaming he does not know it is a dream, and in his dream he may even try to interpret a dream.

Only after he wakes does he know it was a dream. And someday there will be a great awakening when we know that this is all a great dream. Yet the stupid believe they are awake, busily and brightly assuming they understand things, calling this man ruler, that one herdsman - how dense!

Confucius and you are both dreaming! And when I say you are dreaming, I am dreaming, too. Words like these will be labelled the Supreme Swindle. Yet, after ten thousand generations, a great sage may appear who will know their meaning, and it will still be as though he appeared with astonishing speed.

Quote from Wikipedia. Burn me.

Chapter III - Calm

Moon Dancer groans. Her head throbs and aches from unforeseen complications. She cannot concentrate on any of her research, let alone function biologically.

Idiot. Idiot.

What did she hope to gain by venturing outside? Get some fresh air? Try to loosen up her distracted mind? Attempt to talk to somepony else?

Why? Why does she put herself through this again?

Moon Dancer crushes the quill onto the desk in frustration, knocking the inkpot beside her. The liquid spills everywhere, coating her papers with blackness as dark as Luna's night. She curses; whatever work she has done is now a forgotten dream. Annoyance bleeds into anger, flaring in Moon Dancer's thoughts, tainting the calm demeanour she had hopelessly aimed to achieve since morning.

Calm, Moon Dancer. Breathe. Let go.

Moon Dancer closes her eyes and breathes. She pays close attention to the rise and fall of her chest, though not without sight, but by simply knowing it to be the case. Moon Dancer does this for some time, eventually quelling the spikes in her mind. She notices birds singing outside, the orchestra a reminder of the nightly serenade she partook in last night. She feels the flowers blooming in the light of Celestia's sun as it soars higher in the sky, a few hours to its peak. A pleasant breeze flows by, splaying her red and violet mane, flowing through her fur.

Moon Dancer opens her eyes, casting them at her desk. The ink still gathers in large clumps, thickening and swirling around. It grows outwards from the tumbled inkpot, a parasitic wave devouring her notes and research material with each passing second.

Off into the volcano it goes.

She uses her magic to sort out whatever is left untouched, placing them aside to clean the desk. Some of the ink has already started to stain through the decades-old wood. Moon Dancer places a restoration spell on the desk to remove the ink locked within the fibres, and after consulting a Woodwork For Unicorns handbook, adds on a polishing spell to finish the job.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Moon Dancer finally looks upon herself. She sighs; the ink richly contrasts against her pale fur. Flicking the broken quill into the dormant volcano - which has now acted as a trashcan for literally everything - she heads across to the bathroom to clean herself off.

Moon Dancer flicks on the shower taps, precisely at a quarter turn and two-fifths for the hot and cold respectively. She has long found out the exact turns needed to obtain the perfect temperature and pressure of water flowing over her; that particular task took surprisingly little time for her compared to some of her more intense projects.

The water doesn't run as she expects to.

Frowning, Moon Dancer flicks the taps either way, attempting to gain a response from the shower head. Not even a drop of water leaks out. She grits her teeth in annoyance, attempting to brute force the knobs into giving a response.

Calm, Moon Dancer. There's another way.

Moon Dancer narrows her eyes in concentration. Although she is not a pegasus, there are still spells a unicorn could use for rudimentary control over the air and water. A cloud of condensation forms in the air above her. Focusing on the intricacies of the moisture gathered within it, she tugs at the cloud, eliciting a trickle of water from it. Forcing a greater stream of magic to flow into the dissipating water, she obtains a stream of water droplets, leading on to a somewhat management rainstorm within the bathtub.

Moon Dancer cuts the connection of her magic, letting the water just flow over her glistening skin. In what little amount of time she has left, she scrubs off the ink splotches, using soap to lather herself, bubbles frothing on a marshmallow-like skin. After rinsing herself off, Moon Dancer steps out of the shower, drying herself with a towel. She looks at herself in the mirror, and sees a fresh face smiling back at her. She immediately turns it to a growl as she steps out, noticing the bottles of cider propped up against her bed.

Alcohol will be the death of her someday.

A niggling thought forces its way through her mind. An idea borne from her paranoia and suspicion of the life she lives in. Something which she listens to with utmost care. What if...

Moon Dancer grabs the remaining bottles of the liquid with her magic, carrying it across to the back of her house, where she performs her testing procedures. There are two rooms, one for physical testing, the other for magical experiments.

Well that didn't work.

Moon Dancer sprawls onto the lab-bench, her tests failing to return positive for an additive, any unknown substance mixed in with the cider, accidentally or otherwise. Filtration, spectroscopy, gravitation, nothing gave her the results she wanted. Her rather limited books on the topic had failed to bring any new information to the table as well.

Still, she had the magical avenue left to go by.

Moon Dancer brings out more samples of the liquid into the other room. Compared to the previous room, it is bare bones in terms of equipment, to say the least. Aside from bookshelves containing rows and shelves containing books to test for magical residues; and magic amplifying runes - for some of the more difficult incantations - carved into the floor, the room had not much else to go for it.

Moon Dancer lays down the liquid in a small beaker. Stepping back, she lights up her horn, starting with basic magical residue recognition. However, within a few seconds, her magic around the beaker flickers. She frowns, curious yet unsettled by the unseen forces tampering with her arcanics. She pours more energy into the spell, intensifying to overcome the resistance.

The beaker jumps.

Blinking, Moon Dancer attempts to work with another spell. When that caused a similar jitter for the beaker, she tries another simple spell. And another one.

And then Moon Dancer decides to blast a beam of pure, unrestrained magic at the anomaly.

The beaker shakes chaotically, juggling the liquid within in an elaborate dance. The unicorn takes a step back, and then another... and another and turns her whole body around to jolt out of the room before the unknown liquid, swirling in black and yellow auras releases the energy it has absorb-

Inconclusive readings. Unknown substance detected. Instructions unclear: laboratory burnt down. Please send further funds to continue project.

Moon Dancer is not a happy pony. Never mind herself, her books almost smoked into nonexistence within that single blast of magic from that... whatever that is! If it weren't for her careful application of a severe amount of protective spells and charms to each single book within her house, a whole century's worth of knowledge would have been gone, reduced to a white pile of ash on the floor. Besides that, one room in her house is now locked off with an warding seal as she waits for the drastic levels of magic to dissipate into the outside atmosphere.

It is only luck that nopony else had noticed the brilliant flash of light from her house. Or perhaps they did, but merely did not feel the thought to care at all too much. For once Moon Dancer feels the need to thank the apathy of most Canterlot ponies in regards to anything other than politics, gossips and themselves.

Currently, Moon Dancer is well on the way to the local Canterlot library. She could report the dangerous substance to the authorities, but that would result in an explanation of how she acquired such dangerous goods. As far as her strong skills go, creating an elaborate story is not one of them, when telling the truth is out of the question.

Somepony gave me this bottle of cider last night.

"Now what is a young mare like you doing out in the streets in the middle of the night? Definitely not part of the drug cartel that we have been ruthlessly down for the past few weeks now are we?" one might ask. A little too enthusiastically one may imagine as well, considering their general ineptitude and failure in handling anything other than their own body.

No, that's not going to work well.

So Moon Dancer decides to venture outside once more, to acquire research on the strange and exotics arcanics present in the liquid. That is, despite her face smoked to the point of being caked in ash and thus ignoring the faces the Canterlot nobles make at her, until they either notice the round glasses and then immediately make the connection to an 'experiment gone wrong', or that she simply loses the fight against their goldfish-like attention span.

Moon Dancer instead focuses on the cobbled streets beneath her. She may not be an expert on geology, but she can certainly stand her ground in the basics of subject.

She counts them.

"Two plus two is four, minus one is three..."

Moon Dancer does not know how long it took for her to dissolve into a pile of illogical ramblings. She had lost count at around five-hundred-and-twelve before venturing off in a tangent to the deeper realms of mathematics. Namely, proving the basic fundamental concept of arithmetics.

Riveting stuff really.

It is not until a round, brightly-coloured fruit makes a first impression with her face that she snaps out of her delusions. She glares at the intruder.

An apple.

"Hey sugarcube, you all right?"

Moon Dancer raises her head, still carrying the murderous glare in her eyes as she searches for the mare who had just committed a cardinal sin. The headache once again threatens to pound her mind, forcing her to grit her teeth to fend off the pain. As if being blasted by a wave of exotic energies wasn't enough...

"I'm mighty sorry for chuckin' my apple at you, but it seemed you were tied up more than a rattlesnake after it meets my granny. And she can twist them real fancy as well, and that's knot a lie either."

Moon Dancer notices the chuckling offender. Orange fur; pale yellow mane; earth pony with a trio of apples as her cutie mark.

She always mentally classifies the ponies on her hit-list. The list may only have one item on it now, but the organisation would pay off in the end with the amount of time she would have saved.

Calm, Moon Dancer. Breathe. There's another way around this.

Moon Dancer walks over to the farmer, each step calculated with the exact position and power needed to drive herself towards her destination. With the pony being none the wiser, she prepares a series of spells to... deliver hell to her doorstep.

There are some points in life when a pony crosses the line. A questionable boundary of ethics and morality. A key on making good judgement of a tense situation. A grey area between what is right.

And what simply needs to be done.

Moon Dancer doesn't cross that line today, fortunately for the orange pony, for a simple fact that she notices a glow of amber radiating from a necklace, inscribed with a number of ancient symbols. The centrepiece of it is what strikes her the most important; a crystal in the shape of an apple.

One of the elements.

"Anyway, the name's-"

"Applejack. One of three apple farmers in Sweet Apple Acres, and recognised as one of the most hardiest of ponies across Equestria. One of the element bearers, representing the value of honesty - her gem shaped as an apple.

"The gem which should be given back to the tree of harmony, alongside with the rest of the bearers after the events of the Plunderseed Intrusion' a few months ago..." Moon Dancer reads off facts about the earth pony, as if is holding a book on her life at that very moment.

Applejack's chuckles die down as Moon Dancer slowly narrows her eyes in icy resentment.

"...Also currently about to be bucked to wherever and back again unless she explains to the mare in front of her why in Tartarus she threw an apple straight to her face. Unless of course she doesn't value her life at all, which said pony completely agrees with at this moment." She raises her eyebrow. "I personally recommend you follow her advice; it may just save your life."

"- Applejack. But I reckon you already know that. Uh... I don't mean to pry, how did you know all of that?" She fidgets behind her cart, trying to gain some distance between her and the manifestation of Death knocking at her door..

Moon Dancer rolls her eyes and steps closer. "The elements and their bearers were one of the first things I did research on ever since Twilight left me for them. And then kept tabs through these years. Now, about the fruit." She bites on the apple, accentuating the crunch as to perhaps imply bad times to happen to the earth pony.

Applejack simply shakes her head in response. "Uhh... alright then. I think we have a silly misunderstandin' here. I would never mean to hurt you like that sugarcube. I just couldn't stand there and watch you walk circles round the plaza like that. More so when you started rambling away like a plucked goose after the fifth turn. How about we start again now, after you give me some room to breathe, if you wouldn't mind being so neighbourly."

Moon Dancer steps back, dumbstruck. How could she have simply spiralled into such despair? She had memorised the entire route to the library the moment she was able to attend it on her lonesome!

"Ah... thanks for that." Applejack takes a deep breath as to prove the point. "Now, I'm Applejack, and you must be"- she cocks her head, light bulbs flashing within her mind -"Moon Dancer! Nice to meet you! Twilight had told me about you after... she came home from her Canterlot trip."

Moon Dancer squints at the apple, eyeing the contours of the bite. "Is that all she said about me?"

Applejack once again uncomfortably fidgets on the ground. "Well, she did tell me and the girls more than that, to tell you the truth. But uh... besides that, why do you have a bottle of my cider floating beside you?"

Moon Dancer repeats firmly, "Is that all she said about me?"

Applejack searches the crowd for a distraction, biting her lip as she does so.

Fortunately, such an escape does come to her rescue.

In the form of a ten ton boulder rolling down the middle of the street.

Moon Dancer's eyes widen.

Not at the boulder specifically, but at the tan coloured stallion riding it.

The hitlist has now expanded to two ponies.

Author's Note

Sometimes, not telling the truth is worse than not telling the truth...

...The mystery has just begun.

Chapter IV - From Correlation To Causation

Under the light of Luna's night, two partners discuss their plight.

"It is rather unbecoming of you to arrange a meeting in the middle of the night. Though at the same time, it is what I expect of someone of your kind. What is the matter? Have you found out more information regarding her?"

"Let’s just say we got ourselves a curious one. I think she is already figuring my game!"

"Already? Well, I had been thinking to be more forward with our plan. Still, what have you found out so far?"

"Hold on for a minute here. Let's not forget the first thing I had to do was to drive away the pesky book pony and her peer."

"You mean Twilight Sparkle?"

"I thought we had stated in our... agreement that you would deal with her. My job would have been much easier if she didn't try to meddle with our plans; that saboteur."

"I apologise for the unusual circumstances."

"Of course you do. It was only luck that my magic in the alcohol managed to make her drunk enough for me to charm all of the silly ponies to sleep, while of course being unnoticed too."

"And I assume this included the barkeeper as well?"

"Naturally. And if I may add, with nopony else being the wiser, actually."

"Good to hear you are willing to see your methods through properly."

"I am nothing if not thorough. But it doesn't stop there if you must know. In my rush to get rid of her, I had forged a letter advising her to return to her castle in the earliest manner.”

"And what this letter entail?"

"The message informed her of the return of the elements of harmony – the crown and the necklaces."

“I had been wondering how Twilight had obtained her element to be sent off to Canterlot for study. Have you placed the Tree at risk again? Or have you presented them with merely trinkets, of no actual magical value?"

"Neither; only a slice of the power was returned with the gems, the barest I was able to obtain without disrupting the balance of the wild magics. However, it is still enough to carry out the powerful arcanics of the old gods with how the bearers are strongly connected to the thaumic field."

"This may create further complications for us down the road. But for now, it should not prevent us from completing our mission. You still haven't answered my earlier question; what do you mean about the mare finding out your ways?"

"She has one of my bottles of cider."

"I... See?"

"I assume that she will decide to investigate the matter in the morning after experiencing the... side effects."

"Ah yes, you are right in the assumption. That is worrisome news. We should initiate our first contingency then. I believe Princess Twilight had sent her crown - her element - over to the castle for experimentation."

"You want to use the barkeeper?"

"He has been serving our purposes quite fine now, hasn't he? How much harm can there be just using him a little more?"

He grins her a wicked smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

>>>>> Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Results vary for ponies however. - Somepony.

"Help!"

That is the cry of a tan-coloured stallion riding a ten-ton boulder. A boulder rolling down the street towards an applecart. An applecart with two mares between it and the boulder.

Many of the Canterlot nobles scream and attempt at evading the object. It is fortunate that they actually had some sense in them and decide to jump off to the sides of the streets and into alleyways instead of simply running away in front of it. For anything in the path between Moon Dancer and the Boulder, would have intercepted the spell which could very well save the day from certain destruction.

"What the hay is going on here? Moon Dancer, I reckon we need to skeddadl- urk!"

Moon Dancer fires a spell. Not aimed at the boulder however, rendering the previous point moot. She forms a teleport matrix with her magic, surrounding both her and the orange earth pony beside her with a light cerise aura. Within moments both mares appear off to the side of the street, away from the path of destruction of the boulder.

"Somepony! Help!"

The cry of the stallion falls on deaf ears for Moon Dancer.

Serves him right.

She does however notice the cart of apples; the livelihood of the pony beside her. Gritting her teeth while managing to fling off a barrage of curses at the day's sudden escalation into sudden disorder, she shoots a beam of magic at the boulder, intending for it to slow down and stop.

Yet the boulder simply shoots off with increased energy; a faint yet shimmering black and yellow aura surrounding the boulder intensifying at the point of magical contact. Moon Dancer's eyes widen at the connection between it and the strange exotic arcanics she had discovered earlier in the day, and then immediately scrunches up as the sound of splintering of timber, mashing of apples and breaking of glass reaches her ears.

Applejack simply lowers her hat in shock, her mouth agape yet failing to produce a sound.

The stallion on the boulder almost loses his footing, but the magic emanating from the rock keeps him in place, forcing him to continue the circus charade.

Moon Dancer frowns. The magic seems to control him, as if somepony else is forcing him along the act. An urge within the depths of her mind compels her to stop the boulder now. She feels an inexplicable drive to chase after it.

But at what reason? She had already tried a spell, and that sure didn't work; what more is there to attempt? Besides, any magic would simply be absorbed anyway, so why try further? Why not just let the royal guards and mages deal with the issue? Where are they?

Despite these logical questions she feels as though as if she needs to save the stallion's life - to play the hero. What kind of a hero is she though? A pony who regrets venturing outside in the middle of the night because of a headache from the alcohol?

That night.

Despite the morning afterwards, that night she had felt free. Lost in the symphony of the harmonious orchestra. Dancing through the streets of Canterlot, without the pressure of her research weighing her down. Without the thoughts of being abandoned, pain resurfacing from the encounter with an old 'friend'.

And then that stallion, who had invited her for a drink. Nothing more, just amicable talk. Despite the conversation lasting less than ten minutes, those ten minutes had been golden for her. To simply talk with another pony without them reminding her of how much of a recluse, a failure, an alcoholic she is.

And she doesn't even drink alcohol normally.

Though in fairness, he did breach onto the sensitive topic. Even then the pony didn't pity her or try to weakly encourage her with her discoveries. Moon Dancer knows what she has achieved. She doesn't need another pony thanking her for something they don't truly know about.

So Moon Dancer knows she cannot, will not give up on him. Not like how others have given up on her.

She is filled with... something.

Moon Dancer teleports again, and again, moving past the boulder, buying herself time to formulate a plan to stop the runaway rock. As if to support her in her quest, a gathering of unicorns band up together, firing off an assortment of spells to slow it down. The boulder simply absorbs the magic and continues uninterrupted, forcing all to teleport out of the path.

Moon Dancer teleports onto the rooftops of Canterlot. Not only did it provide a better vantage point to observe her location, it also allows her to continue her path uninterrupted, without the fear of blinking into existence in places she most certainly does not belong; most ponies would be surprised to hear the shockingly high number of injuries from unicorns teleporting into trees.

With the higher ground, she decides to gallop across the urban canopy, conserving her arcanical energy due to the substantial amount of magic she has spent so far. Her hooves drum across the tiles in a steady rhythm, much akin to the symphonic night yesterday. The screams from down below filter out in a haze as she focuses on that beat. The rhythm. The music.

She dances under the light of Celestia's sun.

A mare places her newspaper down on the bench. Taking a bite out of a hayburger, she gazes out across the scene before her. A boulder ridden by a tan-coloured earth stallion comes up from the horizon. Ponies scream and run and cry everywhere. She tut-tuts at the outlandish reactions of the nobles and takes another bite.

She is simply used to bizarre happenings such as this one during her life. Besides, she'd be a hypocrite to find it weird anyway. She uses her magic to flip the page of the newspaper, noting the shift of her aura from gold, to orange, to cyan.

She's no stranger to a strange thing in a strange place, in all honesty.

She notices a mare flitting atop the rooftops, her amaranth mane with purple streaks trailing smoothly behind in the breeze. She would have given it no further thought were it not for the cutie mark the mysterious crusader displays - a crescent moon with three stars.

This should certainly be interesting.

Now that Moon Dancer has gained a formidable distance, and therefore time, she surveys her surroundi-

How?

The boulder is already ahead of her, somehow gaining speed; gaining energy; gaining magic. It appears to be on a one-way ticket to an intersection, where a group of ponies stand together in shock. Moon Dancer gasps, and then fires off a spell with what little energy she has left to redirect the boulder, to stop it, anything to avoid the demise of half a dozen ponies just standing in the middle of the street, huddling together in raw, primal fear at the end of the rock's destination.

But the rock doesn't alter its course.

Moon Dancer can only watch in horror as the boulder closes the distance to the terrified ponies. Just as out of ideas as she is out of breath, she once again shoots off an intense blast of magic at it knowing full well what had happened earlier in the morning with the small sample of tainted cider. And when the spell strikes, something does happen.

The boulder jumps.

Who would have thought? Certainly not the dozens of nobles who are frozen in place, mouths agape in unison. Their widened eyes tracking the boulder as it soars majestically across the sky. Moon Dancer traces the rock to its eventual destination. Her eyes soon join the rest of the ponies in widening, though not for the same reason, as Moon Dancer realises where she is, and where the boulder will land.

In front of the castle.

Initiate plan ‘Save Pone’.

Start pre-emptive countdown.

Four seconds.

Phase One: Gain a positional advantage.

In an instant Moon Dancer shoots off teleport spells with an exit vortex to the ground below - one to herself and another towards the tan stallion holding onto the boulder as it spins chaotically through the air.

Her first spell successfully transports her to the cobbled streets of Canterlot.

Phase Two: Remove fragile goods–

The second spell didn’t. Even though it strikes with precision, her arcanics fails to produce a noticeable effect - the black and yellow magic simply absorb it, flowing over the stallion in a protective aura.

Damn it. No contingencies to fall back onto.

Three seconds.

Moon Dancer’s expression slackens in grim realisation, succumbing to exhaustion. There is no more hope for him, not with the exotic magic having such a tight grip. Moon Dancer closes her eyes, avoiding the gaze of sheer terror etched in his eyes.

Revaluating situation: Odds are statistically against success.

Two seconds.

Oh, to Tartarus with all of this.

Moon Dancer opens her eyes. She rears her head back, unleashing a torrent of pure magic, unfiltered through any matrices. Raw energy blazes from her horn, impacting directly into the boulder. The rock consumes her magic in greed, though with each passing moment its jittering increases exponentially.

One second.

Moon Dancer digs into the ground. Or rather, the recoil of her magic grinds her into the cobbled streets, pulverizing the stones around her to fine dust. She strains under the magical tension, sparks spluttering out of her horn as she intensifies the beam of magic.

The boulder shakes violently, heaving and buckling on its rippling surface.

She is not going to make it. There is not enough time. The boulder is going to crash into the wa-

It explodes.

Author's Note

The first domino wobbles.

Interlude I - A Conversation With An Old Friend

Hey Sunset!

Just wanted to see how are you doing in Canterlot High. I'm sure you are having a great time since the battle of the bands. Don't tell your Rainbow Dash this, but you're the best singer out of all of us - and that's a scientific fact!

Your friend,
Twilight

Heya interdimensional neighbour!

Aww, thanks Twilight! But it's not just me in the Rainbooms, all of us are great singers! It's been going up here since the dazzlings were beaten. Before the event, everyone ignored me as if they still had resentment for what I did in the Fall Formal. Not that I'd blame them-

But now I feel like I've turned a new leaf! I guess all it takes is defeating a group of megalovaniacs bent on dominating the world to earn everyone's respect, doesn't it?

Oh, that's quite a quick response, Sunset!

Also; Ha. Ha. Very funny.

I suppose it does then. Maybe after you save the world a few more times you'll become a princess like me! Then perhaps we can do a combined research paper on the effects of ascension! How about the change in physiology from changing races! Maybe an analysis of the magical signature imprinted in the arcanical field - Think of the sheer possibilities!

Interested research partner,
Twilight Sparkle

Twilight, you can stop right there before you ramble on. I don't think I can handle any more magic over here for quite some time now!

I do appreciate your unbridled enthusiasm to my joke however.

Say, you haven't looked into the magical transmission from Equestria to here, have you?

...

...

...

Twilight, you there?

Sorry! Just had to fix a little thing-

Something happened?

No, nothing happened. I totally didn't need to sanitise the floor of my drool from thinking about research into alicorn magic. No, nothing at all like that.

If you say so, Twilight.

By the way, Sanitus Expellere works wonders for cleaning liquid spills on books.

So Twilight, about that issue with magic; Back when I was Princess Celestia's student, I learned best by physical field-work. You know, actually doing something instead of studying ancient books. Unlike ~~some people~~ ~~ponies~~ others, I like to solve magical mysteries by rolling up my sleeves and getting my ~~hooves~~ hands dirty.

But after all the testing on the girls, I've come to a definitive conclusion that I have no idea how magic works in this world. So, would you be able to lend a ~~hand~~ hoof with this?

Thanks for the spell Sunset- Not that I needed to use it or anything!

I'd love to help you, but I'm kind of swamped up in Princess duties over here. Maybe once I settled the matter with this prophecy and the elements, I'll be able to help you. They have been giving me a headaches for the past few weeks, more so after conversing with Princess Celestia.

Well of course, Twilight; I don't want to distract you from your princess duties! I'm sure you're already busy enough as it is, and I don't want to burden you with my issues when you should be fixing yours.

Instead of chatting to me through our messaging diaries.

Let me inform you, Sunset Shimmer, that as the Princess of Friendship it is in my duty to correspond with ponies who I am in regular contact with, according to section 2, rule 34 of Les règles de l'amitié.

I'll have you know that the penalties are quite severe.

You- You're not serious now, are you? Please tell me this is another one of your 'jokes'.

I- Hey! I can be funny too!

But, yes, that was a 'joke'. But I made sure I followed the book down to the exact word this time though!

Thank goodness Twilight! You actually had me worried there for a second!

I think we can both agree to that you really need to get out of the books. They are not always the answer to life, the universe and everything.

Though if you don't mind me for being curious, why did you want to talk to me all of a sudden?

Well, I do need breaks every now and then from my research! My alicorn magic doesn't let me study strenuously without feeling the side effects of it, so I imposed myself a restriction.

...

Fine, you got me. Apparently, reading Hooflysses and foregoing the need to eat and sleep somehow necessitates an intervention, despite my alicorn status easily sustaining me for months with no breaks. So Spike and the girls decided to set me a 'break' every few hours, despite its impracticality and inefficiency.
...

Okay, that wasn't the only reason. I just want to chat with a friend, honest!

...

"Why me?" you may ask, to which I say, "Well, why not? I do what I must, because I can!" Is it wrong to just simply talk with you?

...

...

...

Am I just not allowed to‽

Twilight! I was only gone a minute to get a drink, and then the diary started jumping! Is something wrong?

Wait, Sunset, you weren't ignoring me on purpose, refusing to acknowledge my reasons for writing to you?

Not that I'm aware of? Like I just said; I went to get a drink - it's getting chilly and a cup of cocoa seemed quite nice at the time.

At least, it would've been If I hadn't spilled it in my rush to get over to the thrashing book. Are you sure nothing's wrong with the magic?

That was embarrassing; I'm not sure what came over me then. Please disregard my previous messages as I clearly wasn't thinking through before writing them.

However, this does lead to a curious observation. You say that the book has been physically moving? Well it almost seems as if it can sense emotive magic and transmits it through physical phenomena. Intriguing, though I must say, emotive magic is still quite the new field of research, so I can't say for certain the cause of the curious behaviour.

I heard a loud crash and saw the book bouncing around the room, so does that qualify as physically moving? Also, emotive magic? As if when you're sad or angry?

Wait.

Is something wrong for you? Actually, looking at what you wrote, my gut tells me something is bothering you. Is that why you wanted to talk to me? That would also explain why the window of my apartment now has a book-shaped hole in it (though I'm not sure how the journal remains inside the room after that).

Oh shoot, I'm sorry Sunset if I caused that! I'll remember to try and pay for that sometime later, and that's a Pinkie Promis as well. Actually;

Cross my heart,
Hope to fly,
Stick a cupcake,
In my eye!

There, now I can be reminded by Pinkie just in case I forget.

But I guess the data doesn't lie, does it?

Yes, something has been bothering me I suppose. There's a simple question that I just can't for the life in me seem to answer - through neither science nor philosophy.

Okay, that sounds like a problem you of all ~~people~~ ponies would have. Shoot.

Okay, here it goes:

Do you think I do well as a princess, Sunset?

...

Sunset?

Oh wow, you have been learning! That. Was. Brilliant. No, you had me literally rolling on the floor laughing out loud. Man, I take back what I had implied about your humour.

Set-up - Check!
Reinforcement - Short and Sweet!
Punchline - Subverting expectations into believing nonsensical truths!

No offence Twilight, but that was terrible.

Because that wasn't a joke.

That was my poin- wait, what?

Do you want me to repeat it? Here it is again:

Do you think I do well as a princess?

Hold up there, Twilight. What on ~~Earth~~ Equestria are you talking about?

It's a simple question, isn't it? One that I was thinking of in the Plunderseed Invasion. One that I was thinking of during the time that led to Tirek's Outburst.

One that I thought I had solved after everything had happened.

But it appears that I'm wrong, and I'm not sure to the exact reason why.

You're being serious here? Come on, Twilight! You taught me the value of friendship when no-one else dared to stop me in my demonic reign. You gave me a second chance when no-one else wanted to be with the she-demon.

You were the first true friend I ever had.

Of course you are a great Princess Twilight!

I would say the same thing to myself, but I'm starting to have doubts again.

Why? What happened for you to lose hope in yourself?

Well, it's been some time since my coronation, and as the Princess of Friendship, I'm expected to resolve any relationship issues with ponies. Yet, I've failed to make it up to an old friend of mine who I've abandoned before moving to Ponyville.

Her name is Moon Dancer, and she used to be a recluse just like me. As in, when Celestia had tutored me before sending me off to Canterlot.

I tried to talk to her, and she refused to listen. I've organised dinners and parties - I've even brought Pinkie along to help - and that left her bawling her eyes out before teleporting away. I tried to go to her house by my lonesome to apologise for everything, but again, another failed attempt.

Well, I don't mean to sound harsh on you Twilight, but you do realise some ponies just don't want to be friends anymore. You must had known that anyway, right?

That's what I kept telling myself. That not everypony can be amicable to each other.

But, looking back over my actions, do you know what I had done?

I just gave up on her! I didn't realise it at first, until Spike called me out on it.

Actually he yelled out for all of the Canterlot nobles to hear about my ‘failure’, which had ticked me off slightly. I guess I still don't take too lightly to criticism about my Princess duties.

Regardless, it was fortunate of me to have bottled up my anger; only Celestia would know what could have happened if instead I let my emotions loose in the cobbled streets of the city.

I'd already - accidentally let me tell you as well - blasted an earth stallion just a few minutes earlier out of instinct, and that left him hospitalised.

And to think that I had done so in exchange for a meeting in a letter from a dubious pony of the name 'Bartholomew' - (seriously, what kind of a name is that?).

I just can't get rid of this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I've made a terrible mistake which will bite me in the rump some time down the track. Not to mention the fact that this should be my forté as Princess of Friendship.

...

Oh, what am I doing; I'm going into an existential crisis again, aren't I?

I think, that maybe Rarity's rubbing off on you a little too much. Have you, by any-chance, been stress-eating while contemplating the futility of your life, Twilight?

Wait, she gorges on ice-cream in your world too?

Like you wouldn't believe it!

Spike has been complaining about missing ice-cream, so there might be a correlation here.

Twilight, don't do that to yourself. Listen, I promise to help you out in anyway possible-

Actually, you know what, I'll come through the portal myself. Then we can have a real conversation. I've got a few weeks of break over here, and I'm sure I can wrangle something at work. How about that?

Sunset, you don't have to do that. Besides, I'm heading over to Canterlot tomorrow, so I don't have enough time to set the mirror here. Another strange pony named, "Torah. L. Embow" handed the elements of harmony back to us (That is, being informed by the letter from Mr. Bartholomew). I'm going to study my element in the laboratories set up near Celestia's castle. Something tells me that they aren't what they seem to be.

It doesn't matter, Twilight. I'm sure I can travel over to Canterlot by myself.

Are you sure? I know that you used to live here before, but that would have been years ago. Do you still know the train routes from here to Canterlot?

Twilight, not all ponies memorise the train schedule and routes like you. I'm perfectly sure that I can simply ask at the station when the next one is coming. Trust me, I can take care of-

Bits. Do you have bits?

...

Well then. I guess that plan is cancelled for you then.

...

Sunset?

...

Fine! I'll set the mirror up in the Canterlot Castle while I'm there so you wouldn't be troubled to reach me.

Wow, I'm surprised the silent method actually worked a second time. I knew you would find a way quickly!

Sunset, I just- Nevermind.

Step through the portal at precisely 3.14 pm on your end tomorrow afternoon.

And yes, I have accounted for the difference in timezones between both worlds.

If everything goes smoothly, I'll be there waiting for you.

If not, then Equestria as a nation has fallen.

I'll see you then, Sunset.

Do not be tardy.

Please.

Author's Note

Humour - A guide.

Chapter V - Larceny

Sunset looks at the Wondercolt Statue. The marble monument shines in the afternoon sun. Freshly polished too, with nary a speck of dust on it. The groundskeeper must have done a last minute job before the school break.

She glances at her watch.

3.07 pm.

Sunset listens and hears a song a few birds are singing, as she is unable to simply stagnate herself waiting. An unlikely pair of a blue jay and a robin, chirping in good spirits despite the frosty air. The harmonious melody rings in her ears and soon she finds herself humming along to their tune. They dance together in the air - an orchestral waltz to the rhythm and beat of their music. She stops shivering for a moment, focusing on the performance - the twirls and the twists, the loops and the spins - the graceful creatures perform in the air.

She flits back towards her arm again.

3.10 pm.

Sunset sits down and watches the flowers blooming around her. Despite the snow which still blankets the ground, patches of buttercups break up the white sheen of monotony, signalling the start of rejuvenation. Away with the fall, with the winter, with misery and dejection. Spring is a new birth of life. Spring is a renewed spirit of hope.

Spring had always been her favourite season.

She steals another peek at her watch.

3.13 pm.

A pleasant breeze flows by, leaving a trail of dust. Pollen to be more specific, though Sunset couldn’t exactly tell for sure. And pleasant it may be to most, the wind brings a new wave of chills traversing down her spine. She shivers again, and grips on the woollen jumper, yanking the cords of the hood tighter.

Sunset curses at the chaotic weather system - Equestria never had any problems wrapping up the season according to schedule. Though she has lived here for years, this phenomena is perhaps the one feature of her world she still hasn’t gotten used to yet.

A chime brings Sunset’s attention to the portal.

3.14 pm.

Sunset rechecks her backpack to account for all the supplies for the fortnight-long stay. Satisfied with their presence, she checks her phone for last minute messages from the girls. Not that she should expect any; as far as Sunset knows, she had managed to cover all bases regarding her trip, and so minimise collateral damage if there were any to begin with.

It’s show time!

Sunset bounces off the steps, striding towards the portal. She pauses for a moment in front of the marble face. The solid surface presents a faint swirl as it recognises a traveller. Funny how it does that - almost as if the magic has rudimentary intelligence - but that’s a matter to ask the princess on later. For now..

Sunset takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the journey ahead of her.

She dissolves into laughter.

What is the point of that?

Chuckling at her nervousness, she springs through the portal.

A minute later than asked, but Sunset gives it no thought as the swirling magic transports her through the veiled fabric of realities.

Sunset steps out of the mirror. On two feet. Two hooves. That’s not right.

She flails and falls flat on the floor. Grumbling, Sunset attempts to gather herself up slowly, shaking, yet steady on her hooves once she does so. A few tentative steps reassure her that she doesn’t need to learn to walk again.

Twilight isn’t there to greet her.

Huh.

Frowning at the sheer oddness of a tardy Twilight, Sunset surveys the room she finds herself in. Bright with sunlight streaming through open windows. Comfortably warm too, which is quite fortunate for her as the mirror remodels outfits of those who traverse through it. She cannot begin to imagine how she’d survive if Winter Wrap Up hadn’t gone to schedule on this side of the mirror as well.

But it is not to be the case, and Sunset confidently takes a step towards an open doorway.

Equestria hasn’t fallen as a nation yet.

And that’s when her vision turns to pure white.

Moon Dancer stares at the wall. Or perhaps, the non-existence of such a structure.

Her limbs lock up as a chilling realisation creeps over her.

Screams and shouts blend together in cacophonous melodies as Moon Dancer focuses on the rubble. Equestrian royal guards stream out of the castle into the swirling populace in a desperate attempt to defuse the whole situation. The Canterlot nobles – grace and elegance they may have had a few minutes ago – regress into squawking chickens bowling over each other. Colts and fillies shriek and screech despite their parents trying to calm them down.

Moon Dancer ignores them. She ignores them all.

But she couldn't ignore what she had done.

A thought flashes across her mind autonomously.

How to deal with an emergency.

Step One: Take a deep breath

Moon Dancer follows her mind's request; nay, she follows memorised lines of books read in the past. She had never known when the knowledge would come in use - considering Canterlot's relatively safe track record - but it seems extenuating circumstances call for such measures to arise right now. Her intake of breath - marred by the presence of cinders and ash - dispels all the pathos within her, leaving the more essential logic to deal with the situation.

Step Two: Count to ten. Tell yourself you can handle the situation.

Moon Dancer ignores this step; far too much time has been wasted already - each second is another tick in the exponentially decaying function of another pony's survival rate. Besides, of course she could handle the situation - a cold scientific mind processes external factors at a rate far superior than one laden with distress, with desperation, with despair.

“Ma’am?” A guard trots towards her, pausing for moment to rub his nose.

“Ma’am, are you alright? We need to clear”-

A sneeze interrupts him. From himself that is. Pulling out a tissue from under his metal helmet, the guard wipes his nose as he continues on.

“...clear the area of all civilians.”

Noticing the stoic face of the mare in front of her, he repeats himself.

”Please, you need to move away from here; one of our nurses can help you with any inquiries and injuries you may-”

A mare gallops towards the pair, interrupting him.

“I think it’s best if you leave her to herself sir.”

The guard frowns, coughing. “We need to remove all casualties from the zone of-”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t give a beaver’s dam what your orders are. Can’t you see the girl’s shaken up? Let me talk to her, alright?”

“But-”

“Rookie! Forget the civilians, we’ve got ourselves a code black here! We need everypony to search for the intruder!”

Widening his eyes, the young guardsman gallops off towards the castle entry without even a glance back towards the mares, though not without stopping for a brief moment to blow his nose.

Applejack faces her.

“Uhh… sugarcube, you alright there? I didn’t see much when you took off, but it seemed to me you were pretty close to the blast.”

Step Three: Analyse the external situation. Check for danger. Check for casualties.

Moon Dancer had completed that step during the quibble of a conversation. But regardless of the few remaining patches of fire and rubble strewn about, there’s now an even bigger problem at hoof.

Where is the stallion?

He certainly hasn’t joined the atmospheric molecules by her explosive arcanics. This would be extremely fortunate for her, if it weren’t for the traces of a teleportation she had been able to detect among the blasted remains of the castle wall.

A unicorn had managed to bypass the magical defenses of the boulder and relocate the him in the mere instant before she had overloaded her power onto it.

But where?

Speaking of overloading, Moon Dancer lowers herself onto the cobble. Her legs doesn't give out per se, but…

“Moon Dancer, are you alright? You look as if you’ve just ridden the bull by its horns.” Applejack scans the area. There are surprisingly a large number of medical personnel already in the general vicinity, though none aren’t already treating burn injuries or of the sort.

A fair number of ponies had been caught in the blast radius, and while nopony had been outright killed, nopony had gotten off without so much a scratch on their shinbones. Especially not this close, not without a god-almighty shield or an unsettling amount of protective charms and wardens.

“Stay here, let me get you some hel-”

“Fine! I’m fine! Fine. Though I couldn’t say for certain the same to Mr. Bartholomew.”

Applejack raises her head to the scorch marks amid the rubble. She realises what the mare had meant.

“He… he hasn’t turned the cart over now, ha-”

“No, somepony else had teleported him, blatantly disregarding whatever exotic arcanics that boulder was enchanted with.”

she forces herself to her hooves and faces Applejack eye-to-eye-

“Applejack, you need to cover the exterior of the castle. Find more help if you need to. Actually, do find more ponies; more eyes lets us monitor the area. He wouldn’t be too far, the thaumatical energies indicate short-range teleportation of roughly under 150 metres radius from the epicenter of the shock.”

Her horn glows briefly before she continues on.

“A short analysis of magical wavelengths indicate unusual levels of variability, so he could be literally in any three-dimensional space. That is, of course not currently occupied by solid material; that would be quite the shameful way to die.”

Applejack blinks. “Come again girl? What the hay are you talking about?”

Of course, Moon Dancer had forgotten who she was speaking to.

“Mr. Bartholomew hasn’t died. He hasn’t vaporised. He hasn’t ‘turned’ the cart over. He’s somewhere nearby, and I want you to go look for him outside the castle. Get some help if you need to. Monitor the area just in case he shows up.”

More blinking by an unfazed Applejack prompts Moon Dancer to mentally slap her own forehead.

“Now, is that a simple enough instruction for you? I could always get out my copy of 'A Filly's Guide to the Alphabet', and we can go over this step by step! It’s-”

Narrowing her eyes, Applejack cuts her off.

“I can understand damn well that fancy-speak of yours, Moon Dancer. I’m just saying, have you honestly listened to yourself? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you sound like you’re missing a few loose straws here and there. And it seemed like Twilight was just turning the truth inside out, but no, I see the real deal here.”

“Listen, I… we need to get moving quickly; Mr. Bartholomew could be anywhere now, and I need your help to look for him outside the castle.”

“And what are you going to do then, jumping out of the frying pan?”

Moon Dancer peers through the non-existent castle wall. She swivels her head back out. For a rare moment, a smile flickers onto her face while she cocks her head.

“Me? I’m going into the fire.”

Moon Dancer springs through the hole, through the fire and rubble. Shouts and screams quieten behind her; the disharmonious tunes lost amid the rush of energy. Somehow, deep, deep within her soul, there is a burning feeling within her that won’t let her collapse. That won’t let her faint in exhaustion. That won’t stop her from what she wants.

“I swear by my apples that mare’s gonna be twisted deep in plundervines before she sees it coming.”

Applejack turns away from the ruined wall and searches the - by now pacified - crowd. She notices a young guardsman being berated by a pair of nobles.

She sighs.

Moon Dancer jumps into the castle. Despite the rays of afternoon sunshine behind her, the room soon dissolves into an inky blackness, not unlike Luna’s night. She lights her horn, producing an ethereal glow which flows away from her, illuminating the space around her.

Now with the ability of sight, Moon Dancer racks her mind to locate herself; the castle couldn’t have changed significantly since she reviewed the floorplans a few years ago. It is an unnecessary feat however, as the sheer number of magical artifacts surrounding her make an easy decision.

Mundane Magical Mausoleum.

The odd naming scheme had left quite the imprint within her memory.

Moon Dancer pours more energy into the radiance of her spell, to peer into the darkest corners of the room. Satisfied with a lack of animated beings, she continues on to find an exit, being careful so as to not bump into the rickety shelves either side of her. She’s already in restricted space according to legal jurisdictions; accidentally breaking an object of unknown arcanics within here would only provide further problems to her.

After a dozen minutes of almost being lost, Moon Dancer approaches a door. If she remembers correctly, it should lead to a hallway - a more expansive and simpler-to-monitor location to start off her search. Though if she’s wrong…

She pushes on the knob. The door refuses to budge. Moon Dancer frowns, subsequently pushing with more force. No change in the door’s physical state. By this stage she’d have sent a teleport matrix to circumvent the nefarious obstacle, though due to an inability of gauging the objects on the other side with reasonable estimates, Moon Dancer cannot assure herself to not endinside a potted plant.

After all, that would be quite the shameful way to die.

So, in an alternative manner, Moon Dancer slides back along the marbled floor - to give herself distance away from the epicenter - and prepares yet another destructive spell. She doesn’t cast it, fortunate for the aging historical accounts beside the door, as a prominent sign reveals crucial information, only noticed from her current angle.

Pull to open.

Oh.

With a simple pull, the door swings without the expected squeak of rusty hinges. It opens to a brilliant white light, blinding Moon Dancer for a few seconds. Cursing, she staggers through the doorway, attempting to get across and away from the blinding glare.

What on Equestria is this?

Failing to grasp a solid object to cover herself with. Moon Dancer employs the negative of her illuminative spell. Streams of darkness flow out from her horn, clouding the air around her in a cloaked mist. Testing the brightness levels by opening her left eye - the weaker one, in case of permanent blindness - she finds the issue to be resolved, to a manageable extent at the very least.

Though still uncomfortable to do so, Moon Dancer looks around the room to find a defining feature, something to lock onto and relocate herself. Perhaps she had made a slight error in her navigation. Perhaps new connections had been made between rooms since she had last glossed over construction blueprints.

The room is a complete polar opposite to the mausoleum; glazed windows allowing light to filter into the dark fog, crystal columns towering over her own head, pristine marble floors with a luscious carpet on top. None of the dust, the dirt, the grit and the grime from the mausoleum appears in here.

But Moon Dancer doesn’t notice these details. Rather, she notices three pedestals, each of a different crystal makeup upright upon a raised platform in the center of the room. A circle of radiant light shines down upon them, keeping her own spell of darkness at bay.

Entranced, Moon Dancer takes a few steps closer, to make out the objects on top. Important artifacts perhaps? National treasures?

The Princesses’ crowns.

What is the jurisdiction on breaking into the Royal Vault?

Each pedestal is inscribed with a symbol; a representation of each princess: The sun, the moon, and the stars.

Moon Dancer loses focus on the former two in front, paying closer attention to the third crown.

Elements of Harmony

Or more specifically, the Element of Magic.

What is it doing here?

The jewel embedded within the crown dazzles her eyes with its sparks, energy crackling from the surface. She steps forward to inspect it, curiosity overcoming all of her screaming, raging morals. Morals which are fighting with damndest determination against the wave of coldness spreading through her mind as if it is a plague delivered by angered gods. Logic demands to seek knowledge. Compels to seek truth. Forces to seek power.

Her hoof reaches out towards it.

What am I doing here?

Moon Dancer shakes her head, pulling her hoof back towards her.

Strange. Odd. Bizarre.

She had been controlled; that is blatantly obvious. But by who? Or perhaps more disturbing, by what?

Questions which remain unanswered as Moon Dancer trails backwards away from the pedestals, to remove herself from the source of confusion.

A pinpoint of pressure locates itself on the upper regions of her flank. She pauses in her motion.

A gruff male voice answers a question for her.

“...Knew there’d be another pony trying to sneak in through the back door.”

...

What was the question?

Author's Note

larceny
noun

Unlawful taking and carrying away of tangible personal property with the intent to deprive the owner of its possession permanently.

- The Law of the Modern Age: Volume 999

Chapter VI - In Control

Moon Dancer’s horn flickers. The cloud of darkness fades away.

But the light does not shine in its place.

Her legs refuse to move, though she is not asking for it.

Her head remains still, though she is not demanding it to do so.

Is that what she wants? Is this what she is supposed to want?

Are these her thoughts, or is it all fabricated?

How does one simply react to her current situation?

The guard snaps her out of her philosophical musings.

“You are going to step out of the vault. And don’t get any ideas with your magical hocus-pocus. The moment I see a spark from your horn is the moment you’ll regret waking up this morning.”

He prods Moon Dancer with his spear - lightly so as to not injure but to shock the mare in taking a few steps forwards. That is, towards a metallic door inscribed with the Princesses’ symbols. Towards the outside, where a dozen guards will be more than willing to arrest her. Where Celestia and Luna will surely be waiting, ready to punish her severely for the crime she has committed.

What are the consequences for such a trespassing - accidental or otherwise? Nopony had ever broken into the vault and lived to be dealt a sentence. Moon Dancer couldn’t decide which is worse, knowing she will be reprimanded for a crime she did not wilfully commit or that her fate is now precariously left in the mercy of two alicorns.

She breathes in short bursts as the gravity of the situation finally sinks in through dissipating layers of adrenaline. Her eyes widen, her heart constricts and her hooves stumble across the marbled floor as Moon Dancer judges on what awaits her the moment she steps out of the vault.

The guard pays no attention to her however; his helmet fixated on the door, shadowing his narrowed eyes as he determines how somepony had managed to bypass through the sheer number of magical defenses and fortifications. Most of which had been created by the Royal Princesses themselves.

“I don’t know how you got here, or what dark magic you used to bypass the lethal defenses, but I’m sure the princesses will be more than happy to ask you personally.”

He gazes at the trespasser, noticing her quiet demeanour - though her the slight trembling of her body seems to suggest otherwise. Giving it no further thought, he switches his attention to the looming door ahead.

The guard runs through the specific sequence to unlock the magical combination in his mind. To most ponies, alicorn magic is necessary to traverse through the vault door. In fact, that assumption is not technically wrong.

Technically.

A few key ponies - and while he may not be in a full suit of shining armor, he is respectable enough himself to earn the knowledge - know of the true mechanisms behind Celestia’s seal. Quite ingenious for the ponies as well, for the lock has a contingency to fall on in case of a sudden absence of an alicorn to dismantle it.

Though in the time he has been a royal guard, he had learned to improvise his methods.

The horn, the feather and the hoof - to which he answers: the beak, the feather and the talon.

What am I doing?

Moon Dancer runs this single thought through her mind, again and again, repeating in a cycle without a limit on its end. As if somepony has shoved her into a Mandeltrot set-based maze to find a way out.

What are you doing?

Her horn sparks.

But no matter which how she tries, the logic which had served its mistress for so many years is losing the battle against the fear and dread - crawling through the cobweb-laden corridors of her mind with nothing but flickering lights giving off a false impression of hope. She attempts to get her hooves steady on the ground, but somehow the whispers in her mind urge her anxiousness to wash over her. To drown her in dread and fear. Trapped within her own mind.

Own mind?

Moon Dancer splutters, shaking her head, trying to rid herself of the voice in her mind, ignoring the guard fiddling with the metallic door.

Out! Out, damned voice! Out, I say! Once, twice; why is now the time to present yourself? I charge at your presence yet you haunt me still. To what peril do you stay? Why do you not leave me alone?

...

Alright, Moon Dancer, what am I doing arguing with myself? The first step to madness most ponies say, despite the studies against such misconceptions. And yet I still keep doing it, thinking about it. Where is the logic and rationality - I need to get out of here -

But what is this… spirit that curses me? I see clearly the world surrounding me, yet a dim fog slumbers over my eyes deep within the far reaches of my mind-

What hell-borne monstrous being has possessed me for me to start monologuing my thoughts?

...

It’s me, obviously.

Her horn glows brighter.

A click - and then an aha! - wrenches her head forward; something, anything to distract her. The guard steps back, a grin fixing itself on a grim face.

The vault door open swings open in a shimmer of magic, the patterns etched on its surface swirling in multitudes of colours.

“Door’s open. Now, if you’ll just step outside...”

Well, we cannot let that happen now, can we?

Moon Dancer freezes. She screams at every muscle within her body to move, to run, to get away. But they refuse. Of shock... or something else entirely.

The guard frowns, repeating himself, “That wasn’t a request; move, pony.”

Faced with a frozen popsicle from the criminal, the guard prods her with his spear again. It doesn’t faze her, aside from her face scrunching up in pain.

Her horn splutters and crackles with magic.

He narrows his eyes.

“What on Tartarus is wrong with you? I said, move!”

Yet again, the mare’s body remains stubbornly still, though sweat drips off her forehead.

The guard growls, twirling the spear as he takes a few steps across the marble, past her line of vision.

What is he doing? Where is he? What am I doing? Oh sweet Celestia, I need to get out of here. Yes, out of this madhouse. Out of this scene. Away from this cursed, wicked place of desolate despair. Out, out, out!

Her vision dims and flickers, breathing laboured, hooves slipping on the floor. She closes her eyes, away with the outside world. A headache pounds her mind, threatening to burst in a torrent of magic.

Calm, Moon Dancer, there’s anoth-

The guard raps her flank with the shaft end of the spear.

And the room envelopes in a burning light once again.

Explosions cannot be said to be exciting when one is caught within the blast. Sunset attests to this fact; all she feels is pain spreading through her body in ebbs and flows, pulsing through her veins, building to excruciating crescendos, and then dropping off in sharp staccatos.

Sunset curls into the foetal position, drowning out the blossoming orchestra of pain in her mind. She dares not open her eyes despite the shouts and screams adding to the cacophonous symphony of agony at its pure unadulterated core.

Something hits her on the side of her head.

“Get up.”

Sunset opens her eye to the sight of a rolled up newspaper swinging in a gold aura. She shifts her gaze past to see hooves of aquamarine. Turning her head upwards, Sunset finds a unicorn mare; a green unicorn mare. Mane to tail, with the exception of a few white highlights here and there, the unicorn is completely dressed in sea green.

“Hang on, I think you are still suffering from shock. Give me a moment.”

Still mystified by the sheer green in front of her, Sunset can only lay there as the pony tilts her head in concentration. Her horn lights up in shifting auras, from the gold surrounding the newspaper to orange and then cyan.

Twilight would find that interesting.

The magic fills Sunset’s vision as the noises of the world tune out to a fine whir. It feels warm, comforting, healing. Her eyelids droop for a moment.

But then it disappears. And the world rushes back to greet her in a thunderous crash.

Sunset groans, pulling herself up off the smoky, cracked marble floor. The mare peers at her. With so many questions raising their placards within her mind, Sunset simply asks, “Are there other ponies hurt?”

The unicorn cocks her head.

“No, nopony is hurt except for you. Unless you count that griffon who happened to be only a few feet away from the blast. Don’t worry, he’s only suffering from ruptured lungs, severe internal bleeding, loss of a few limbs here and there-”

She looks out of the shattered windows to snatch some more symptoms from the skies above.

“‘-cardiac arrest, third-degree burns, fractured skull…”

Sunset slowly lets her jaw drop as the pony continues listing out illnesses.

“...systemic air embolism, pulmonary contusion, hypovolemia-”

Sunset’s eyes widen in disbelief as if she has just been condemned to a thousand hours of remedial friendship lessons.

“-oh, and I’ve almost forgot! He’s deaf now as well!”

Sunset draws herself steady, arching her back, rotating her head, stretching her legs out. She grunts as the clicks, ticks, clocks and tocks of her joints cracking into their places resonate in a smooth harmonious conclusion.

“Nah, I’m just pulling your leg with that one. Don’t worry, I used a handy spell to teleport him out of the way of the blast, so he’ll be fine provided he doesn’t end up stuck inside a potted plant. Now that would be quite the shameful way to die.”

She stares at the unicorn, and the unicorn stares back at her.

She blinks, and the unicorn keeps staring at her.

“Listen, I have honestly no clue who you are, what is going on, or why there aren’t any guards around whatsoever to deal with the… explosion?”

The wall dividing the room and the hallway is non-existent; Sunset could see rubble and shards littered haphazardly on the scorched rugs outside.

Hallway. Outside.

A question raises itself in her mind.

Where am I?

She is in the castle - no doubt about that. Yet attempting to be more specific than that and Sunset’s a lost cause.

Gain bearings. Find Twilight. Get help.

The green mare interrupts her before she can act on the predicament.

“I know, right? Moon Dancer really blew that one out of the park!”

Ignoring her, Sunset trots towards the shattered windows. The sun continues its path towards the horizon, spilling streaks of red and yellow and orange throughout the sky. A hint of a smile appears on her face as Sunset languishes within the warmth of her…

Her smile wavers.

...the solar princess.

Sunset brings her hoof up to read the time on her watch. She puts it down however, noticing that the mirror hadn’t brought it along with her.

So instead, she turns around to see the green mare walking through a doorframe amid the rubble. An intact doorframe, she might add, standing in solitude when its walled brethren had crumbled under the blast. The newspaper follows behind, the aura surrounding it still shifting between an assortment of colours.

“Well- hey! Where are you going?”

The unicorn doesn’t respond. Rather, she jogs across the hallway to another room. Another room, which appears to be free of any debris. Indeed, were it not for the singed carpet with a thin layer of dust on the floor, Sunset would have been befuddled to see such a dramatic contrast into pristine conditions.

Sunset follows after her.

Passing across the hallway, she glances at coloured windows lined on either side. Sunset pauses in her tracks. Despite the carnage around her, they are still standing, still shining with nary a scratch on them.

Sunset warily looks over at the mare, making sure she doesn’t wander too far away. Fortunately, the unicorn appears to be inspecting a pedestal, intently. Sunset turns back and walks down the hallway.

Each stained glass panel is, in fact, an artwork. Some she recognises - Last Day of Discord, Luna’s Banishment, Defeat of Tirek - and some she doesn’t. But with this fact Sunset surmises her whereabouts - in the Hallway of Memories. Though, that would place the explosion…

Her eyes widen.

Sunset gallops towards the green mare. Still observing the pedestals- no, wait; handling something on top. She tries to make out the sparkling object.

Sunset notices the inscriptions on the plinths - symbols of the sun, the moon and the stars. Raising her head, she identifies three crown. The Princesses’ crowns. Twilight's element.

Being stolen.

“What on Equestria do you think you’re doing!” Sunset’s horn glows.

“Just making sure these beauties are-”

The unicorn turns around and faces an oncoming beam of magic. Frowning, she teleports out of the way. The spell misses the crowns by a hair’s breadth.

Another blast of light aims for her. Though this time she brings up her newspaper, unfolded. The energy strikes violently, but the paper doesn’t react. She yawns as the magic dissipates in the air after contact.

Sunset leaps over the rubble into the vault room. Despite hearing shouts and screams around her, there are no guards galloping in to control the situation.

Where are they?

The question answers for itself as a deafening rumble rocks the castle. Sunset stares at the green mare, who had returned to the central raised platform. She grits her teeth.

Up to me.

The last few rays of sunlight stream through broken windows. Sunset narrows her eyes. She tugs at the light, willing it to bend around her magic. It complies and the energy burns through her veins, adding to her strength as she fires off another set of spells.

The mare brings up the newspaper once again. Sunset’s magic incinerates it. She curses, bringing up another weapon to attack-

A lyre. Sunset stops in the midst of blasting the pony senseless, dumbstruck at the sight of a musical instrument produced from thin air.

“Who are you?”

The unicorn ponders the question, lowering the lyre behind her.

“Oh, It’s L- hmm...”

She caresses her chin philosophically.

“What is my name indeed! Well, what would you suggest, Sunset?”

A question to which Sunset replies with a blank stare.

“Aryl? Too obvious. Lina? Too weird. Beatrice? No, that’s just plain disgusting.”

She looks to the stars above, painted in the ceiling.

“Minty… minty... yes, that is the name.”

Sunset blinks, and the mare looks down upon her.

“My name is Minty! Now, could you stop with your spellcasting for a moment so I can explain myself?”

Seeing a slack-jawed expression, she continues.

“Alright. This here is the element of Magic.” Minty holds up the respective object.

“Firstly, it’s not supposed to be here. Secondly, Moon Dancer tried to take it. Thirdly, I saved your life back there. Any questions?”

Sunset shakes her head, taking a few steps closer to the mare.

“Within the next minute or so, I need to try and find Moon Dancer, and make sure she doesn’t blow up like half the castle or something. Though, I suggest you do the same too.”

Her horn lights up in a gold aura, along with the element.

“You know what? Here’s a word of warning: take care of yourself. There are others in this world who are watching your every move, calculating your every step. If I were you, I wouldn’t be so brash and reckless."

Sunset notices a flicker and immediately leaps towards her. She tackles Minty by the shoulder, disrupting the connection to the crown, breaking the aura surrounding it.

Minty disappears in a flash of light. The element stays behind.

She had stopped the mare in stealing the crown.

At the price of being teleported along with her.

Moon Dancer reappears behind a potted plant.

Though nauseated, she attempts to orientate herself.

Her groggy eyes prove counterproductive to the task. The world around her is a blur of colours. A headache hammers away at the side of her head.

She groans.

A half-stringed process establishes itself in her mind.

Op-operation... Restart lower - no - higher thoughting, thinking processes.

In-inititiatate backup logic values/fields.

...

Logic reestablished.

Open eyes.

No, don’t do that. Close eyes. Sensory overload.

Determine functionality of magic.

Perform summoning spell. Set position at a metre above the head.

Ouch.

Apples successfully summoned.

Potential for arcanics to kickstart a cold engine?

Research thaumic knowledge. Yes, it is possible.

Perform spell in 3...2...1…

Ouch.

Experiment with visual field.

It’s bearable, to say the least.

Results indicate some viability.

Go again?

3...2...1…

Ouch.

Attempt motor control.

Good news: Limbs are responsive, no broken bones.

Caveat: Acting like a drunken pony.

Oh well.

Moon Dancer looks around the… corridor?

Marbled floors, glass windows. She is still in the Canterlot Castle.

Moon Dancer shuffles towards a window. The sun isn’t visible here, and the streaks of orange, red and yellow start to fade further out in the sky.

She wanders down the corridor, occasionally tripping over her own hooves. While in a past life she would have confidently described her exact location, current revelations have shattered her knowledge of the castle layout.

The nightly breeze kicks up - earlier than expected - and Moon Dancer shivers as it flows through open windows. Definitely not prepared for that; she had left her woollen coat at home. Her jumper, while sufficing for normal day-to-day use, just doesn’t cut it right now.

Before she can amend the temperature discrepancy, the sound of cantering hooves reach her ears.

Moon Dancer frowns.

A group of armored ponies gallop around the corner, rushing past her in blurs of steel. A pegasus guard however, stops in front of her.

“Ma’am, this is an extremely dangerous area. You should evacuate the castle right now. We have unstable criminals on the loose, and civilians should not be caught in the crossfire if it comes down to such.”

Moon Dancer replies, “I’m sorry? Who are these criminals?”

“Why, one of them caused the explosion at the side of the castle.”- he lifts a feather to the window -” You see the carnage out there? This group has the power to cause damage like that, and then they use it as a distraction.”

Moon Dancer looks away, breathing faster, tapping her hoof on the floor. A scream reaches her ear. Followed by a deafening rumble. She looks back down the hallway, and then raises her head. The pegasus grimaces.

“It looks like another has activated a trap card of his. Damn that bat to Tartarus.”

Moon Dancer faces him, curiosity overtaking her turbulent emotions.

“Bat?”

“Yes, a couple of our scouts reported sightings of a thestral hanging out near the Royal Vault. Listen, you need to get out of here. It’s just not safe with these dangerous ponies around. You know your way out right?” She nods.

“Alright, I’d escort you outside myself, but the guards are stretched thin as it is. Just, take care of yourself.” He flies off.

Moon Dancer breathes slowly. Now that things are calm and controlled, she can finally go home.

Dammit, she can’t go home. The stallion is still somewhere out there. Maybe the farmer has found him already. Maybe not.

If he is inside the castle, who else can find him except for Moon Dancer herself?

Sure, the guards, incompetent as they are, can do a wonderful job of rescuing ponies. Let’s just pray to Celestia that they don’t mistake him for a violent criminal then.

She continues down the hallway.

Moon Dancer slows her pace as she approaches the corner. She stops, testing the air for vibrations - a subtle magical technique to identify motion. Satisfied with nothing being out of the ordinary, she juts her head out.

A dark thestral’s bright eyes greet her with enthusiasm. An unnatural smile presents on its face; fangs glinting in the last dregs of light flowing from the windows outside.

“Boo!”

Author's Note

When you're rife with devastation
There's a simple explanation:
You're a toymaker's creation
Trapped inside a crystal ball.
- FiW - Gypsie Bard

Interlude N - A Visit To An Old Friend

Under the light of Luna's night, two sisters discuss their plight.

“Is this necessary?”

“We were wrong about all of this. We had assumed its meaning incorrectly. We must address this predicament.”

“But this is madness! What you are attempting to achieve – if anypony were to find out…”

“The stars will aid in her escape. We cannot take any chances. We must... take care of these ponies. Each of them have a chance of presenting the threat to Equestria. We cannot allow this to occur.

"Besides, our… method is willing to keep this a secret. Despite his unpredictable nature, he does value his word.”

“But… she is so innocent…”

“And we may not have to resort to our contingency plan. For now, we shall merely observe and interfere if necessary. I place my faith in him to do just that.”

"...For now it is."

Solitude and isolation are painful things, beyond pony endurance. – Jules Vermane

She knocks on the wooden door, the thuds echoing throughout the lit interior of the home. A scuffle and a shuffle later, a face decorated with a dozen scorch-marks greets her, accompanying the eerie creak of the opening door.

“What is it– Oh, it’s you. It's been a long time since your party. How have you been? Here to humiliate me even further?” the homeowner snaps with a frightening glare. Two clear lines run either side of her smoky face, glistening with fresh moisture.

The visitor mumbles with a guilty tone, “Hey, I just wanted to…”– she lowers her head in shame – “…apologise for everything. I should have realised that you would be upset, and if it really makes any difference, I just wanted to say sorry. Truly, I am sorry.” Her voice by now is in the barest of whispers, but it is loud enough for the homeowner to hear it.

She mulls over her plea in her mind, considering its worth.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t forgive me. I don’t think I deserve it at all. But– “

She interrupts the visitor’s remorseful apology.

“You’re right. You don’t deserve forgiveness.”– hearing this, the visitor raises her head, her eyes saddened with her hope shattered – “So if you wouldn’t mind… Leave. I never want to see your face again.”

With that statement, the door slams shut in her face. The visitor waited for a few seconds, before turning around and walking back; the sound of her hooves on the broken granite pathway in symphony with the slight drops of water falling to the ground. Her mind numbs a little more with each step she takes away from the wooden house. She could not feel the warm rays of sunshine on her back as she did when she had hope in rekindling their friendship.

So she continues on her way with an even gait, occasionally stepping aside as to avoid the ever-increasing number of puddles on the ground. For a while, she occupies herself observing the urban landscape before her. That is, watching the noble and headless chickens scampering around as to not get their suits and dresses wet. But it came to a point where she is the only one walking outside. Her mane, drenched as if she took a dip in the Luna Seas, protests against this cruel treatment.

It didn’t take long for her to get bored of observing the now-somewhat empty cobbled lanes. So her thoughts take her to a different world. Everything around her blurs out of focus, dimming in brightness; she is in a void of her own subconscious.

Normally she uses this mental construct to peacefully debate on the meaning of life with herself – after all, intelligent conversation is never starved when she can talk to someone of her own level of intelligence. This time however, she uses the space to process what had just happened.

She pitches out, “Where did I go wrong?”

It didn’t take long for a reply to answer her.

“Isn’t it obvious? You should’ve let her some more time to herself before apologizing. She was practically humiliated with her emotional breakdown at the party yesterday.”

She considers the suggestion. “True, but I… I can’t let herself get holed up in her home after all this! I had to do something quickly, or she’d be gone forever.”

“Well, what difference would it have made now? She’s gone now anyway.”

She sighs in defeat.

“Listen, just… forget about all this okay? You don’t want anything to burden you down, and besides, you managed make amends with the rest of the girls.”

She casts aside her net of turbulent emotions to see where her body has taken her in its auto-piloting state.

Still in the rain. Under a streetlamp. In front of a café.

The warmth inside the building contrasts against the gloom of the night. The only occupants inside are a group of ponies, unwinding the tense day with cups of flowing, molten hot chocolate. Despite what had just happened in the past hour, she could not help but raise a smile onto her face.

At least the rest of them were a little more forgiving.

She moves inside, her body drawn to the warmth of the building. The patrons notice the new arrival with a soft clink of the bell.

“You look absolutely drenched! What were you doing out in the rain?” One of them says, concern etched across her face.

“Hey there, how’d it go? No splinters from broken timber now, am I right?” Another giggles at her joke.

“Anyway, are you both friends now?” Yet a third asks.

She takes some time to think of a suitable response. Curious eyes stare at her while she does this. “No.”

Agape mouths stare back at her. Perhaps she was too blunt?

Attempting to remedy the awkward situation, she hastily draws a follow-up to her one-liner. Before she has a chance to speak it however, a barrage of questions fly at her. Her eyes widen in a daze, overcome with the amount of inquiries.

“Keep it calm girls, you’ve got more questions than the book: A Pony’s guide to the lost art of conversation: 1001 questions and liners to spice up your sayings, which I totally didn’t read on the journey here form Ponyville.” She blushes furiously at the realisation of her slip-up.

Luckily for her, the ponies don't notice this, dragging her down to one of the seats surrounding the wooden table, as to better position themselves as detectives interrogating a murder suspect. She answers them honestly - point ticked off for honesty - well, except for her reason for visiting them all in the first place.

She wasn't sure how they would react to if she states that she believes one of them had been possessed by an evil spirit. Or that a Princess had told her of this belief.

Still, she refuses to let her spirits down, and so downs a spirit of another kind served by the solitary bartender. The warm, golden liquid flows down her throat, cooling the raging fire in her mind with a fuzzy numbness.

She has a 5.12% chance of making it through the entire night without collapsing down onto the floor. The odds are statistically unfavourable towards her now. Why did she have to inherit her father's genes?

It didn't take long before the five mares are laughing and joking together, as if they are just old friends catching up with each other. She casts her doubts and fears away in the nightly breeze as she joins in on the serenade, much to the displeasure of the barkeeper. The worn-out stallion is just about ready to buck the crowd out into the streets as to allow him a moment of sleep, when the chime of the bell rings again.

He curses under his breath, and prepares another round of shots for the newcomer. "Ah, swear to my ma's grave..."

The tipsy mares turn around once again to greet the newcomer in a warm embrace. A short and stubby dragon, carrying a regal letter in his claws, panting beside the open door in an effort to catch his breath. He gazes around the building, before landing his eyes on the mare to which the letter is sent to.

Between breaths, he shouts, "Letter... important... read... now..."

The earlier-arrived mare uses her magic to carry him across to the group. Despite hating being carried around with magic, he is in no mind to argue as the energy flows over him, smothering him in a magenta aura not unlike a smooth blanket. His eyes droop, succumbing to deep sleep as the other mares come round to hug him.

The mare disrupts the flow of magic, releasing the hold on the dragon, who falls onto her back face-up with a groan. She frowns however, after hearing what appeared to be a snore coming from him. She smiles, partly from the sweetness of her companion and partly from the seventh shot she is taking right now.

Mostly from the alcohol.

She glances around to notice her friends already asleep, piling on each other like a cart of hay. She frowns again, but it leads to an extended yawn.

"Huh, I've beaten the odds..."

Within a few moments, she also lays her head on the table, snoring peacefully in a midnight slumber.

"Well ain' this just great? Now ah'll haf'ta look ou' for 'em. Goddamn these uni..." The barkeeper falls asleep.

The dragon wakes his companion with a vigorous shake.

"No, I swear I'm not a changeling, please not The Plunger- Eeek!" She launches off the table at Mach 2 velocity, crashing into the shelf containing ninety-nine bottles of alcoholic drinks on the wall. One of them falls down, the others pass around and soon they all end up on the ground.

Broken and shattered that is. But the bottles aren't the only things in the bar that is cracked.

"Ah have ha'f a mind to come 'round an' buck ya all straight to goddamn Tart-" The barkeeper is interrupted however, when the mare fires off a succession of spells in his face.

She would apologise that one later.

"So, what was it then that had you worked up so much last night?"

The dragon replies, "Oh, it's a letter given to me by somepony, who I don't seem to somehow remember. I think his name was 'Bartholomew' or something. Anyway, he said the message was of utmost importance to you." He hands her the letter, which she tears open.

After a moment, she places the letter into her saddlebags and prepares a simple teleport spell.

"We need to go now."

"Wait, what about Moon Dancer? Have you mended friendships with her?"

The mare stops in the middle of casting with the dragon's words. She slowly turns her face around to meet his bewildered expression. How should she respond to this?

"No."

"Wha- why? What happened? How could you not fix things up with her? Wait, you didn't give up on her now, did you?" After seeing the mare's stiffened gaze, he gasps, "...No, you can't do that! She was your first friend! She was your only friend for years, and you are just leaving her? Why?" The pony turns away from his glare.

Had she given up on rekindling her friendship?

No.

She shakes her head in discontent and resumes a hardened gaze. The letter had told her of a friendship emergency back home and she needs to resume her princess duties. Besides, she can let the others take care of the matter, as Celestia herself had mentioned in her letter.

"I said no. Someponies just... don't want to be friends any-"

"You're the Princess of Friendship for crying out loud! You're supposed to fix these things!"

She grits her teeth in frustration. She was getting fed up with the constant whine in her peripheral vision, and in a fit of exasperation teleports them both back to their castle.

She would not have to apologise for that one later.

The homeowner sees a brief flash of light across the town, through her window. Sitting in her musty chair, she sips on wheat-herbal tea while she processes her observations - which only lasts a moment as she soon figures out the pony who could produce such an iconic aura.

Her nostrils flare at the thought of the visitor from the day before; anger returning in full force from a dam bursting in the back of her mind. She closes her eyes and breathes evenly, as to calm herself.

She would not lose herself over somepony who had lost her.

Author's Note

Ninety-nine bottles of alcoholic drinks on the wall...
Ninety-nine bottles of alcoholic drinks on the wall...
One of them falls down,
The others pass around,
And soon they all end up on the ground...

Poor Mr. Barkeeper. Now he has to deal with 4 very drunken mares and 99 bottles of alcohol spilt on the floor. Must be ~~kinky~~ incredibly frustrating for him, right?