No One to Remember

Chapters

1 - The Birthday Mare
2 - Dusty Stacks of Nothing
3 - Outfly Reality
4 - The Form of a Question
5 - Ol' Blue Eyes is Back
6 - Making Friends
7 - Wear My Hat
Epilogue - Doubly Mared

1 - The Birthday Mare

Ponyville.

The cradle of Equestrian civilization. The tiny hamlet with a habit for producing ponies destined to save the world. Under the cozy eaves of Equestria’s majestic capital city above, she sleeps; dreaming of quiet days, glad tidings, and a bountiful harvest.

This year was little different, if the trees over Sweet Apple Acres were any indication. With harvest time drawing to a close, each tree, pregnant with teeming life, had been pruned of every juicy, plump fruit. They stood erect and tall despite the fleecing of nature’s gifts - testament to the stout, loving hooves that cared tirelessly for them every day of the year. Their offspring; apples in every color from ruby red, to sage green, to golden yellow, were on their way to whatever destiny fate held in store. Some overflowed from storage cellars, or titillated the senses of passersby in the form of pies left out to cool on windowsills. Others topped train cars on their way to the many corners of Equestria, in keeping with demand for the best quality apple one could find in all the nation. Still more - the true picks of the litter - were given the honor of the Apple family cider making process, which an already prideful family staked their very name upon above all else.

It was from one such mug - warmed and spiced for an early chill - that Princess Twilight Sparkle sipped. The liquid coated her equine maw as it slipped into her stomach, warming her from the inside out. It went so far as to soothe away a nagging soreness in her throat that the bite of autumn had brought about. Since neither magic nor traditional remedies had done the trick before, she thought perhaps the Apple family’s treasures were as much of a mystery as the sixth-senses possessed by Pinkie Pie. They just worked, and it was best not to try to figure out why.

Twilight magically floated the steaming mug a few inches away and took in a view that she had become used to associating with the taste. Sweet Apple Acres persevered despite the season, with many of her trees as green as the height of summer. Those that had begun to accept nature’s call to autumn were not only beautiful, but carpeted the many dirt trails in a kaleidoscopic blanket of burgundy and tangerine orange that crunched pleasantly under the hooves.

Mingling about the simple finery was a modest gathering of ponies numbering no more than a score, with every muzzle bearing a festive smile. Twilight knew most of them and considered many as friends, but there were a few faces unfamiliar to her. These belonged almost exclusively to Earth ponies, whom she judged by the many variations on the theme of apples upon their flanks were still more in the long line of Apple family relatives, who seemed to always produce a few she had yet to meet at every social event. Regardless of tribe, the many ponies present were engaged in all manor of frivolity, from lazy strolls under the trees to supping at the buffet tables set out under the banner that marked the occasion.

Twilight moved the mug to her lips again, took an extra-long draft from it, and indulged in an audible ‘ahhh’ noise. A hearty giggle with a familiar twang to it was her response.

“Just can’t beat that first mug of the season, huh?” A voice commented. Twilight, her eyes closed, responded without need to identify the commentator.

“First warm mug,” the princess corrected. “Not that it isn’t excellent cold, but there’s something about warm apple cider that’s just so perfect, it makes you wonder if it’s programmed into the pony genome. I’d write a paper about it, but I don’t think even I could explain it in words. It’s one of those things everypony just gets.”

“Well I can’t say I know anythin’ about that,” the voice replied, “But I see you finally got that scarf pulled down offa your muzzle for longer’n it takes to enjoy a couple’a sips. It’ll cure what ails ya, and that there’s Celestia’s truth!”

Twilight opened her eyes and regarded the striped periwinkle scarf that now hung loosely about her neck. It was a sloppy gift from her beloved assistant two years before, but Spike had done his best. As such Twilight cherished it beyond any work of boutique art hanging in her closet, even if it was rather nice to replace the constant odor of wool left in a drafty castle for half a year with the crisp scents of the season.

“I certainly can’t argue that, Applejack,” Twilight smiled. She turned to her friend, amethyst eyes meeting the sparkle of always-energetic emerald. “Happy birthday, by the way. And thanks so much for inviting me.”

Applejack huffed playfully and reached up to subconsciously straighten her Stetson. “Tch, are you kiddin’? As if I wouldn’t want all my best friends around at a time like this. Granny always used to say that the best time to surround yourself with folks you care about is the day you get older each year. Since, well, someday...there won’t be as many to come as there were before.”

Twilight brought the mug to her face, but didn’t take a sip. She paused to reflect on her friend’s words, watching steam rise from the tiny, ensorcelled ripples of amber in her cup. “Getting older is like the reverse of a ripple I guess. Your circle of friends gets smaller over time.”

Applejack placed a hoof on her friend’s withers, and shook her head plainly when Twilight looked up. “Naw. If anything it’s just the opposite. Maybe not so many folks you once cared about will still be around the older you get, but the longer you’re here, the move lives you touch. I don’t know how long any of us will be here Twi, and heck, any one of us could get hit by a carriage or end up in some horrifying cupcake disaster tomorrow. But every day you walk the land is one more not just for you, but for everypony who’s life you touch, whether or not you even realize what you mean to ‘em.”

Twilight felt a soft smile appear on her lips. “I guess I should be thankful that it’s never really happened to me so far. Losing ponies that are close to me, I mean.” She snorted derisively. “‘Horrifying Cupcake Disaster?’”

Applejack chuckled and stuck a hoof in the direction of the buffet tables, above which lived the banner declaring it to be a happy birthday for her. Upon one table was piled a trainwreck of black and purple cupcakes, done up in a montage of fondant and sugar to depict them as a crumbling haunted house filled with spooky imagery.

“Y’got me,” Applejack admitted. “Nightmare Night was weeks ago, but Pinkie got so much love for her ‘Merengue Schmooze Monster’ that she’s kinda stuck on that theme now, I guess!”

Twilight giggled. “Oh, I remember that. Little filles and colts running around the center of town laughing about how nopony can stop the merengue!”

“Heh, yup.” Applejack agreed. She pushed up the brim of her hat long enough to scratch her forehead quizzically. “Though I dunno what sorta message a pony’s sendin’ when she brings a stack of black cupcakes with sugar-zombies and tombstones on ‘em to celebrate a friend gettin’ older.”

Twilight fell in with her friend and made for the tables at a lazy pace, sharing tales of old times and new as they walked together. When they were close enough, the princess nearly tripped over a colorful, cube-shaped box that was sitting before the cupcake table.

“Huh? What’s this?”

Intrigued, she examined the large box and soon came upon a manual crank, which she nearly manipulated with her magic, save for the fact that a note upon the boxtop designated the package as a birthday present for Applejack. Making a silent ‘oh’ with her lips, she stepped aside.

“Looks like this is one of yours, birthday mare!”

“Eh?” Applejack cocked her brow and gave the box a profound stink-eye. She then glanced around, looking droll. “You seen Pinkie Pie?”

“Uh, no?”

“Uh-huh,” Applejack sighed. “She’s in there, ain’t she. Gonna jack-in-the-box at me, I reckon.”

Twilight grinned. “Well? You can’t just leave her in there all day, you know.”

“Yeah but--”

“Oh my, what’s this?” another voice, as glamorous as it was melodious, spoke up. “Are those rhinestones? Rather garish really for this time of year, but I suppose as packaging material they’ll suffice.”

Twilight sat her mug down and began munching on a levitated cupcake, speaking between bites. “Hi Rarity. Applejack’s just trying to decide if she wants to open her present or not.”

Resplendent in a mink stole that matched her eyeshadow and cutie mark, Rarity was working on a cupcake as well, though with highly genteel bites. She eyed the box obliviously. “Oh? Whyever would you not want to open a birthday present, dear?”

“Because,” Applejack waved a foreleg at the box, “It’s Pinkie Pie in there, and she’s just waitin’ for me to spin that crank, so she can pop out and make googly faces at me to a chorus of Turkey in the Straw or somethin’.”

“Really?” Rarity blinked down at the box. “Did she tell you that?”

“No,” Applejack huffed. “But it’s obvious, ain’t it? She ain’t nowhere around here allasudden, and you know she wouldn’t just up and leave in the middle of a party.”

“My, if that’s the case, she could pick a more refined tune.”

“Uh-huh,” Applejack snorted. “It’s cause it’s me, Rarity. If it were you, she’d prolly rig it to play Pomp and Circumstance.”

Rarity fluffed her mane and struck a pose. “I’d take exception to that darling, if it weren’t oh so true!”

Twilight allowed the banter to fall into the background as she scanned the party for more familiar faces. “Applejack, where’s your sister?”

Applejack appeared pleased to get off the subject of the package. “Apple Bloom? Prolly off playin’ with her friends somewheres.”

“Oh yes,” Rarity chimed in. “I saw her and Sweetie Belle wander down the lane a short while ago.”

“I think she said Scootaloo couldn’t turn out today,” Applejack added. “Somethin’ about wantin’ to watch a special Wonderbolts practice that’s open to the public.” She smiled. “Can’t very well blame her for that, seein’ as how she and Dash are practically sisters, heh.”

Twilight scrunched her muzzle and helped herself to a second cupcake, this one nearly the color of her coat. “It’s your birthday, though…”

“Aw, it ain’t like that,” Applejack corrected. “Apple Bloom had some cake and spent some time with me today. All three of ‘em even pitched in to get me, uh…”

“--that lovely white cowfilly hat with the cavalier vermillion plume and the sequins?” Rarity finished the thought, perking up. “A regular dandy, wouldn’t you say!”

Applejack scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah uh, that hat, which is...so ‘dandy’ that I can’t bring myself to wear it out, eh heh…like outside, ever…”

“What was that dear?”

“Nuthin’!” Applejack insisted. “My point is, they made a show, and now they wanna go off to play. Fillies will be fillies, an’ that’s okay with me.”

“Oh! Oh!” A bubbly voice added. “I wanna be a filly too! Can I!?”

The attention of the entire group turned to the table, behind which stood a merrily grinning Pinkie Pie. She was dressed, of all things, like a gigantic spider, with costume arachnid legs poking out to either side of a black carapace that covered most of her body. Only her head was revealed, allowing the faux vampire teeth in her mouth to be easily observed.

“Or even better,” Pinkie went on, “I could be the spider, and you all could be Little Mare Muffet, and I could scare you all away!”

Applejack rolled her eyes towards the early evening sky, but she couldn’t help a chuckle despite herself. “It just don’t do no good to tell you that it ain’t Nightmare Night anymore, does it Pinkie.”

Pinkie made several stereotypical, vampiric ‘blah’ noises and dressed her accent up to something that would have offended a Trotsylvanian. “Eet iz alvays Nightmare Night somewhere, mine pretties! Take heed lest I suck ya blood!”

“Pinkie Pie is her own explanation for everything she does,” Twilight giggled.

“Indeed,” Rarity agreed, “And the cupcakes, while somewhat inapropos with regards to the occasion, are simply divine!”

Pinkie Pie somehow managed to sheepishly scratch the back of her neck with one of the inanimate spider legs. “Aw geez, you all make me blush!”

Applejack nodded in agreement with Twilight. “That explains her,” she turned to face a diminutive pegasus standing by Pinkie’s side, “But what’s your excuse?”

Fluttershy was clad in no less than a colorful clown costume, complete with a propeller beanie, baggy trousers, suspenders, and a red cotton ball on the tip of her muzzle. “O-oh uh,” she stammered, “Pinkie asked me to help set out the supplies, and...well, I didn’t want her to feel awkward for being the only one dressed up.”

“But it ain’t a costume party in the first place…” Applejack trailed off.

“Quite so,” Rarity added, “but I must say Fluttershy, I’m really rather proud of you. That’s the most complicated Nightmare Night costume I’ve ever seen you wear. It’s certainly better late than never!”

“Oh, that,” Fluttershy lifted up one leg and glanced at it, “Well, I can still see really well in this, and I didn’t wear the floppy horseshoes because I might trip, and I didn’t wear the makeup because I might forget who I am if I look in a mirror, and I really didn’t want to scare myself, you know?” She beamed, “but I managed to wear all the rest of it! I know it’s not Nightmare Night anymore, but you can never be too careful!”

“...y-yes. Of course dear.”

Pinkie put her hooves on the table and peered over it, like a filly gazing at dessert. “So what’s in the box?”

Applejack stopped. She glanced at the box, then at Pinkie, and then the box again. “Uh...wait, ain’t you supposed to be in the box?”

“I dunno, am I?” Pinkie asked.

“Uh...no.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Applejack replied.

“Are you super sure?”

“Yes, yes I’m super sure you ain’t in the--”

“Are you extra super double-secret positively sure??”

“Pinkie, you’re standin’ right in front of me, so you ain’t in the--”

“--super duper double whipped ice cream cones with sprinkles, coconut, and a rock candy cherry on top sure??”

“I’m sure!” Applejack announced, her attention now utterly fixed on the box. “You’re absolutely, positively not in this box, Pinkie Pie!!”

“Well Applejack,” Pinkie grinned as she held up a foreleg with a string tied around it. “I think you’re absolutely, positively...right!”

Unseen by the birthday mare, Pinkie yanked on the string. A hidden latch that held the tightly wound crank on the box pulled free, and the crack began spinning like mad to an accelerated-tempo chorus of ‘Old McDonald’. In barely two seconds, the entire box exploded in a canister blast of confetti, streamers, and paper party hats. Taking the brunt of the assault full in the face, Applejack yelped and found herself flat on her back, with a party hat perfectly positioned atop her head and most of her body covered in party paraphernalia. When the smoke cleared, all of the rest of the partygoers around the buffet area, even those who were not in line of the blast, somehow found themselves also with a hat, strapped in place under each chin as though it had been carefully adorned. A miniature version of Pinkie’s party cannon was smoking where the box once stood, smelling of vanilla frosting and strawberries.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” Pinkie shouted.

“Yay,” Fluttershy added, her voice muffled by the party hat that had been reflected by her beanie and somehow ended up strapped over her muzzle.

Pinkie loomed over Applejack, almost muzzle to muzzle, her sapphire eyes sparkling brightly. “I just knew I had to go all out to surprise you, and nothing says surprise like my new small calibre field party cannon! I’m a party ninja now!” Pinkie blinked three times and pushed her face further forward, until Applejack’s head nearly receded all the way into the cocoon of streamers that had dominion over her body. “What’cha think? Too much!?”

The ensuing silence and stares from nearly everypony in attendance clouded the air like Trottingham fog. There was a tiny giggle, and several faces turned to observe fluttershy, giggling merrily from behind her muzzle-hat.

“O-oh dear, I’m sorry,” She sputtered, “B-but you just look s-so silly wrapped up like that Applejack, it’s so adorable, pfft…”

Fluttershy’s laughter was infectious, and it soon gave rise to a chorus of merriment from everypony present, including the birthday mare.

“Aw Pinkie,” Applejack sat up and began to brush herself off. “Don’t you ever go an’ change, ya hear?”

“But if I don’t change, my costume will get all gross and I’ll need to take a bath!”

Dismissing the quip as a typical Pinkie-ism, Applejack got up, held her party hat aloft (her Stetson had been blown clean off in the ordinance barrage), and reared. “Come on now everypony! Is there here a shindig or ain’t it? Y’all been real neighborly to turn out right after harvest time, so come on and enjoy these here eats and let’s get some music up!”

A collective ‘yee-haw’ from the Apples in attendance culminated in the hasty formation of a banjo-led jugband. A number of ponies took to the grass in a makeshift square dance, moving with a familiarity that did not require a caller.

Twilight sighed with contentment. This was just what she had needed to relax after a long week of princessly duties, and she couldn’t help but adopt a certain motherly appreciation in her heart as she watched the citizens of Ponyville enjoy themselves. This was her town, and so long as it sang with the Magic of Friendship, she felt worthy of her wings.

Her eyes scanned the crowd. There, cavorting with frivolity, were Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, the Apples…

...and somepony else.

Twilight paused and took to squinting. Her quarry wasn’t far away - just at the edge of the dancers - but for some reason, she couldn’t quite make out who was there. The long shadows hadn’t quite bled away into total dusk yet; those from the barn and the trees mingled with uncanny perfection, just barely obfuscating the pony’s finer features. Not that there was much to see. Whomever it was, their mode of dress did no justice to a hoe-down, or to a sleepy country town like Ponyville at all. This pony was clad like a hard-boiled gumshoe from a noir film reel, with a high-collared trench coat that almost entirely blocked their face from under a wide-brimmed, gray fedora. He, or she, was making no move to conceal their presence and thus Twilight assumed them to be a partygoer, but the piercing stare from his or her sapphire eyes lanced the princess until a chill crept down Twilight’s spine.

“Uh, Applejack?” Twilight asked without taking her eyes from the strange pony. “Who’s that?”

“Huh? Who’s who Twilight?”

The voice of reply was familiar, but also very wrong. The pitch was too high, and the construction of the syllables was entirely too juvenile. Twilight turned, and had to look down in order to bring Apple Bloom into focus. The filly had a party hat on, and her pale coat sported wisps of streamer material, as though she had recently been buried in it.

“Apple Bloom?” Twilight scrunched her muzzle in confusion. “Didn’t you go off to play with Sweetie Belle?”

Apple Bloom tilted her head. “An’ miss my own birthday party? Why that’s crazy talk!”

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, who were there beside the flanks of their friend, nodded in agreement.

“Who could possibly turn down presents and a party just for you?” Sweetie Belle chimed in.

“Yeah, and just think of all those homemade apple turnovers, fresh from the oven!” Scootaloo added.

Twilight blinked. “Wait...your birthday party?” Remembering her question, she turned back to the perimeter of the dancers, but did not find her quarry. “Who was that pony in the trench coat and the fedora?”

Apple Bloom craned her neck and peered around the princess’s side. “Uh...I don’t see anypony in a getup like that. Can’t say I ever saw an Apple wearin’ that sort of thing, actually. You lookin’ for a friend of yours?”

“Like your plus one?” Sweetie Belle asked incredulously.

“What? No,” Twilight shook her head. “Rarity said the two of you went off to play somewhere. And Scootaloo, aren’t you at the Wonderbolts practice? The one they opened to the public?”

A hearty laugh rang in Twilight’s ear. She turned, and found no other than Rainbow Dash herself fluttering in the air beside her, the mare’s cyan hoof hooked around a mug of cider. “Opened to the public? That’ll be the day! Practice is strictly a private thing. Spitfire would have my head if I just started bringing ponies up to watch.”

“Rainbow Dash?” Twilight hesitated. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhm, duh,” Dash lifted her mug, “Totally here to support the special day of my good friend Apple Bloom!” She leaned in to whisper range and covered her mouth with a hoof, “Totally not here mostly for the cider...I swear!”

Twilight made a sour face. “But today is Applejack’s birthday,” she insisted. “I know that for a fact, because I’ve seen her birth certificate. I have a photographic memory for these things.”

All of the crusaders, and the hovering pegasus, exchanged empty glances. Dash spoke first.

“...who?”

“What do you mean ‘who’?” Twilight replied. “Applejack. The birthday mare? Countryisms and a mean buck?”

Dash looked blank. “Uhh...okay?”

Twilight could tell her description wasn’t getting through. “The Element of Honesty?”

“Element of...what?”

Incensed, Twilight’s hoof shot out in the direction of the fillies. “Apple Bloom’s sister! Where is Apple Bloom’s big sister!?”

Apple Bloom, who had gone cross-eyed staring at the purple hoof that was nearly touching her muzzle, spoke up. “Twilight, what are you gettin’ at? I ain’t got a big sister.”

Twilight’s attention went back and forth between the group of fillies and the streamlined pegasus. She chuckled dryly. “Alright, alright, very funny. You got me, I admit defeat. Now seriously, where is Applejack?”

“Twilight,” Apple Bloom ventured, “I dunno who you’re mistakin’ me for, but honestly, I don’t have a big sister…”

“Of course you do,” Twilight said obstinately. “Did she head into the barn to roll out another barrel of cider?”

Apple Bloom stuck out her lower lip in thought. “Mebbe you’re thinkin’ of one of my cousins? I got so many of ‘em you know, I can’t always keep track--”

“She is not your cousin!” Twilight shouted with exasperation. “She’s your sister! And this is her birthday, not yours!”

The volume of the verbal assault was enough to draw attention from other partygoers. Apple Bloom’s ears wilted and her shoulders shrank, the gesture soon copied by her friends.

“I...but it is my birthday,” she replied meekly, pointing up to the banner. “See?”

Twilight looked up, “I just read that banner ten minutes ago, and I’m quite certain that it says--” she read aloud, “--‘Happy Birthday Apple Bloom’.”

The assembled crowd gave their princess a collective look. Twilight balked.

“B-but that’s not what it said a minute ago! It said ‘Happy Birthday Applejack!”

Twilight felt a hoof on her shoulder. Rainbow Dash had a mildly scolding look in her eyes.

“Twilight, hey, knock it off. It’s just a filly’s birthday party. You know I appreciate a good gag, but saying--”

“This is not Apple Bloom’s birthday party!”

“--yeah, saying that. Maybe not in the best, you know...taste?”

Apple Bloom looked dejected. “Uh, I...I don’t really understand, but...well I think Ima go, uh...play for awhile. How about you girls?”

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, by contrast to their companion, had looks of reproach on their muzzles. They turned consolingly inward, creating a retreating barrier between Twilight and the birthday filly.

“Yeah, I wanna play,” Scootaloo muttered sardonically. “Sounds like a great idea.”

“Let’s just go over there somewhere,” Sweetie Belle added.

The moment the fillies were out of earshot, Rainbow Dash turned on her friend. “Twilight, what was that all about? I can take a joke, but you can’t just start shouting stuff like that to a filly on her birthday.”

“Joke?” Twilight stammered. “What’s not funny is a strange looking pony giving me the evil eye from across a square dance, and then you pretending you don’t even know one of your best friends. I’d like to know what this is all about too, because if Pinkie Pie put you all up to some belated Nightmare Night scare, that’s what’s not in good taste!”

Rarity, who had been too bewildered by the proceedings to speak, finally inserted herself into the conversation. “Twilight dear, please. If something’s wrong, you need but tell us.”

“Didn’t you tell me not five minutes ago that Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had left the party?” Twilight snapped.

“I said nothing of the sort,” Rarity huffed, flipping her stole. “I merely confirmed that the three of them were present.”

“That’s right, you didn’t say that, did you? Because Applejack said it!”

“...who, darling?”

“Ugh!” Twilight turned dramatically and nearly tripped over the leg of one of the buffet tables as she increased her personal space bubble. “Girls, please...because we’re friends...can you please not play with my brain right now? I’ve had a really rough week. Two land writs, three property disputes, a dozen letters with friendship problems…” She glanced at Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, who at least had not changed position nor outfits. “Are you two going to tell me the same thing? That you have no idea where Applejack is?”

“I like Apple Jacks with milk in the morning!” Pinkie announced. “So if that’s all you’re looking for, just come hang out with me later!”

Fluttershy averted her eyes, “Uhm, I don’t know who that is, much less where they are…”

Twilight sighed and took to massaging the center of her forehead with a hoof, where pain had started to congeal. “Even you, Fluttershy? I’m surprised. I didn’t think mean jokes were your thing…”

“Nopony is playing a joke on you, Twilight!” Dash rumbled from above. “One moment we’re all hanging out chatting at this party, and the next you’re freaking out about somepony none of us have ever heard of, and telling Apple Bloom her special day isn’t her own!”

Twilight’s gaze passed among her friends. “Really? You’re all going to insist on this? Well fine, I’ll put an end to it right here and now.” She turned towards the barn and waved her foreleg broadly. “Granny Smith! Excuse me, Granny Smith! Do you have a minute?”

Responding more to the gesture than the call, the matriarch of the local Apple Family peered in Twilight’s direction, and instantly embarrassed the younger mare for encouraging an old nag to get up from her rocker. Granny Smith had been lounging on the porch, and waved off several offers of assistance as she warmed her muscles with a few light kicks. Running through the startup checks of the elderly took a full minute, but she was soon off at what for her was a hasty canter, but little more than a mosey to everypony else.

Big McIntosh, who knew that a ‘hasty’ mosey from his grandmare meant business, broke from a conversation with several Apple cousins to fall in beside her. Granny wasted little time, and her gums were already flapping as she entered conversational earshot.

“Eh? What’s got yer dander up, Twilight? Y’look like y’got gremlins in yer girdle!”

“Uh, I don’t wear a--” Twilight shook her head, “N-nevermind that. I’m sorry to bother you, I really should have come over there, but can you please tell me where Applejack is?”

“What’n?”

“Applejack,” Twilight raised her voice and enunciated slightly. “She was here a minute ago, and I was just wondering where she went. I wasn’t paying attention. Did she go to get more cider, or to brush off some of Pinkie’s streamers?”

“Ah heard what y’all said,” Granny Smith let out in a drawl that put her kin to shame. “But who’s jackin’ mah apples? Ah don’t take kindly to thieves!”

“What…? No,” Twilight sighed, “Applejack. Your grand-daughter.”

Granny Smith’s brow furrowed until the creases became a maze that would have been the pride of minotaurs everywhere. “Somepony hit you over th’ head with the family photo albums ‘till your brain got scrambled, Twilight? Y’all know her name is Apple Bloom. Ah got a third cousin twice removed name’a Crackerjack, though. Y’all’re gettin’ ‘em confused is all.” She touched her chin and pondered, “Then agin, that sure does sound like a good name for an Apple. Can’t imagine nopony ever thought t’use it before. Mebbe you’re lookin’ for a fourth-cousin?”

Twilight hadn’t meant to be so harsh with her friends. But the week had been trying, and her nerves were already frayed. She took a deep breath and evened out the tone of her voice.

“I am not getting anypony confused, and I am not talking about a cousin. Applejack is one of my best friends. She’s helped save Equestria by my side several times in the past-” she gestured to the small crowd, “-all of you care deeply for her, and she’s your son’s eldest daughter, Granny Smith!”

Granny Smith’s expression soured. “Mah boy and her lovin’ wife had two younguns, Twilight. They may have been spaced pretty far apart, and ah may be goin’ wonky in the head sometimes in mah old age, but if there’s one thing ah’m gonna hold in the steel trap parts of mah brain that ain’t rusted out yet, it’s mah boy’s own kin. And ahm’a tellin’ you right this here second, that there ain’t nopony I done ever heard of name’a ‘Applejack’!”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed, a prominent frown on his broad muzzle.

“But that’s not right!” Twilight insisted. Cornered by myriad sets of condemning eyes, she wracked her brain for some way to defend her point. “I-I can even prove it! Here!”

With that, Twilight lit her horn and grabbed hold of a saddle bag bearing her cutie mark from the mouth of the barn, where she had sat it upon her arrival. She brought it over at speed, flipped up the flap, and produced two objects - a pocket-sized photo album and a small, festively wrapped box.

“Here!” Twilight whipped open the album to a specific page and shoved it out for all to see. “This is a picture we posed for right after defeating Discord that first time. Just look at it!”

Rainbow Dash grinned, “Aw yeah, lookit that winning grin. I make my element look awesome.”

Fluttershy turned up her eyebrows. “I...I see me, and all our friends, but…”

“--that’s precisely what I see, darling,” Rarity quipped. “Not that I should expect to see anything else. That photo was intended to mark the occasion. The five Elements of Harmony and their bearers, victorious in the face of adversity. Why, it ended up on the cover of the Manehattan Times. They even got my best side!”

Twilight spun the picture around and stared at it. “But that’s not--!”

Her words were choked off by what she saw. There she was, smiling and surrounded by her friends - Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie.

“Where...where’s...b-but...that can’t be…”

Rarity gently touched her friend’s shoulder. “Darling, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. We can smooth things over with the fillies later, but perhaps you ought to sit down…”

“What about the Element of Honesty?” Twilight blubbered, her face still on the image.

“Honesty?” Rarity echoed. “Well that’s a fine virtue no doubt, but unless I miss my guess, there are only five Elements of Harmony. So far as I’ve been made aware, at least.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie added as she bounced once in place, her spider-legs jiggling. “You said they wouldn’t work if we didn’t have the fifth one, the magicky one! So we quested and dungeoned and dragoned, we got it, and now they’re all peachy keen!”

Utterly dumbstruck, Twilight lost her hold on the album, and the raspberry magical hue around it turned to cerulean as Rarity stepped in to keep it from falling. Trembling slightly, Twilight produced the small box and held it aloft.

“But I...I even got her a present, a pocket field manual of apple varieties. She probably doesn’t need it, but...you know, I always give a book...we were going to have a laugh about it…”

Before anypony could comment, Twilight tore the wrapping away from the package with a resounding rip. Therein did indeed lay a book. Granny Smith squinted and read the title aloud:

“‘Potion Brewin’ 101: A Field Manual for Beginners’. Aw hey, that’s right thoughtful of ya, Twilight. Apple Bloom does have quite a fancy for whippin’ up concoctions an’ whatzit.”

Twilight confirmed the title of the book. Unlike the photo album, this object managed to hit the grass when shock cost the princess her grip. She stared down at it, trying to form the words she knew were there from the jumble of letters that now spelled something new.

“B-but...but...R-Rarity I…”

Rarity, who was still close at hoof, wrapped her foreleg around her friend. “Shhh, dear. You’re just tired. Nopony is upset with you--” she glanced at the assemblage to confirm, “--correct?”

All heads nodded in assent, though the Apples did so begrudgingly. Twilight looked away, reasoning that if they truly believed Applejack didn’t exist, Big Mac and Granny Smith didn’t take kindly to being called liars.

“But, Rarity--” Twilight muttered, “who went with you to Manehattan, that time the map called you to help with the Midsummer Theater Revival?”

“Nopony dear,” Rarity replied smartly. “The map called me alone. Miss Pommel and I were fortunate to find a cadre of landscapers who were so enamored with foalhood memories of the theater that they were willing to fix up the park pro-bono. It was a truly lovely gesture of friendship.” She frowned, “Do you not...remember?”

Twilight looked at Rainbow Dash, “and the bravery test? Who would win a staring contest while covered in bees the longest?”

“Tch, endurance test you mean,” Dash grinned. “Nopony in town has even come close to my record for longest time standing still while covered in bees! Of course nopony’s tried either, but still…” Dash quirked a brow, “Twilight, I told you all about that. You know I did that by myself.”

“I think what we all need right now is a moment to take our minds off the situation, and a nice hot mug of cider, yes?” Rarity punctuated her words by retrieving a freshly poured mug from the table with her magic. “You’re sorry, we’re sorry, and that’s water under the bridge. Here dear, this will help.”

Twilight eyed the mug of cider. Something was wrong. Very wrong, and her mind was already at work trying to come up with an explanation. Was it some great conspiracy? Was there something in the air?

Or maybe...something in the cider?

So many eyes, so many contented faces, that seemed to notice nothing amiss. Or did they?

Twilight pulled out of Rarity’s embrace and stepped away whilst trying to keep everypony in her line of sight at the same time.

“I...I’m sorry, I...maybe you’re right, maybe I don’t feel well…” She lied, coughing lightly. “I think...maybe I should go lay down for awhile…”

“Oh, I’ll walk you home,” Fluttershy offered, but the princess stuck out her hoof in expedient refusal.

“N-no, no that’s just fine, I...know the way.”

Twilight made eye contact with Big McIntosh. There was no malice in his gaze, but neither did he look pleased with the situation. She wanted to ask him how he could possibly forget all about one of his two sisters, but an eerie sensation inside told her that pressing the point was no longer to her advantage. Rarity broke Twilight’s reverie by calling out.

“Spike? Spike dear! Where are you please?”

“Over here!” Spike, who had the entire time been just at the far corner of earshot making merry with a few friends, heard the summons and responded with his usual overabundance of eagerness. He trotted over on half as many legs as the other partygoers, his crests bouncing along with him. “What’s up?” He was grinning, but the expression melted off of him the moment he saw the princess. “Twilight? Hey what’s the matter? You look tired.”

Twilight restrained herself from asking her lifelong friend about Applejack. She wasn’t sure she could take any more fooling with her logical mind if he responded in kind with the rest of the troupe. “I...I just need to lay down.”

“Would you mind escorting her home, dear?” Rarity smiled sweetly at Spike. “It’s not a bother, is it?”

Rarity had her charm turned on, but Spike didn’t require it when a friend was in distress - least of all the pony that was practically a mother to him. “Of course not!” He insisted, and was by Twilight’s side in a flash. “Can you trot? Do you need to lean on me?”

Twilight smiled wanly, appreciating her assistant’s tireless devotion. “I-I’m fine. I just...need some rest,” she repeated, now quite set upon removing herself from the proceedings until she could make sense of them. She turned back to the group, “Tell Applej--bloom happy birthday from me, okay?”

Uncertain glances were appended by more nodding. Dash swooped in to retrieve the book on the grass and set it properly on a table. “She’ll love your gift. Totally gotcha covered, don’t worry.”

When the beleaguered unicorn was out of earshot and the confused Apples had gone back to entertaining their guests, the remaining four friends exchanged glances. Rarity finally broke the silence.

“Can anypony explain that outburst just now?”

Dash shrugged. “I dunno. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but you said it yourself. She’s probably tired, and you know how much she likes reading. If her brain is that big, can you imagine how off the wall her imagination is?”

“Being a princess must be so exhausting,” Fluttershy said emphatically, the party hat finally gone from her muzzle. “Maybe she’s coming down with something…”

“You think she’s delirious?” Pinkie chimed in. “I know just the thing! If we sneak the ninja party cannon into her bedroom and fill it with noodle soup, she’s sure to--”

“No no!” Rarity cut her bouncy friend off. “I mean, no Pinkie, I don’t think that will be necessary. Let’s just drop by tomorrow and see how she’s feeling. She was babbling about missing ponies and a shady character in a trench coat. Most likely she’s just a little cloudy from exhaustion and was reading a mystery novel recently.”

The assemblage, pacified by Rarity’s suggestion, agreed. They turned back to the festivities; so certain were they in their convictions that each managed to still enjoy the rest of young Apple Bloom’s birthday party.

Half an hour later, the crowd gathered around for cake, presents, and embarrassing stories of fillyhood, told by Granny Smith with help from a photo album chock full of images of her two grandfoals.

2 - Dusty Stacks of Nothing

Spike regarded Mayor Mare.

The chief executive of Ponyville’s relatively quiet executive branch had been in office long before Spike had ever graced the dirt paths of town with his talons. He had never seen her actually do much of anything beyond cutting ribbons, making speeches, and organizing an exodus from the odd monster attack, but her tenure alone made her something of a soul above question - there had never been an election that Spike could remember where she had run opposed. Her spectacles and the gray dye in her mane made her look old beyond her years, but they sent a clear message. The name of this mayor’s game was authority, not beauty.

The mayor of Ponyville held herself with a certain genteel attractiveness; her subtle skill with oratory and poise extended to nearly every move she made. She was kind and fair, but there was no doubt that she was also an accomplished politician, the likes of which most incumbents would do wise to avoid challenging. She had the talent to rise above her position, but Ponyville was her home, and seeing to its administration was as far as she had ever wanted to go.

Clearly, she was doing a fine job.

“Spike?” the mayor tilted her head thoughtfully. “Can I help you?”

“What?” thrown from his reverie, Spike’s first impulse was to blurt out the question he had often wanted to know the answer to the most - had the mayor felt at all diminished by the rise of Princess Twilight Sparkle. He had long suspected that no matter the truth, his answer would come on the wings of a soft smile, as the mayor explained that the day-to-day administration of the town was still her responsibility, thus allowing Princess Twilight a broader focus. It was a rude thing to ask, and the shallow reply likely wouldn’t really tell him anything. Thus he mentally digressed, focusing instead upon his true purpose for being at town hall so early in the morning.

“Oh, uh, no, I’m good.”

“Are you certain?” the mayor offered up her patented smile and bedroomy eyelid flutter. “You were either staring at me as though you wanted my attention, or you were quite lost in a daydream.”

Spike blushed. “Uh...daydreaming,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

“Quite alright,” the mayor replied. Her smile finally wilted a bit, and she gave in to an uncharacteristically public yawn as she turned her head towards the records chamber. “I apologize for the asking, but could you perhaps explain what we’ve been up to since the crack of dawn this morning? I have an engagement in half an hour and while I certainly trust the princess with anything she feels the need to get her hooves into, I don’t believe I’m going to be of use to you for much longer. Furthermore, I’m uncertain what use I’ve been so far at all, beyond unlocking the door at sun up.”

Spike frowned and followed the mayor’s gaze to the stacks of paperwork that were glutting the hallway. They were the contents of the town’s birth records archive, dating back to the very founding of Ponyville itself. Musty, dank-smelling files that had been exhumed from decades of rest sat beside pristine folders bearing the names, pictures, and vital information of foals born to happy couples in recent weeks. The shuffling noises and wiggling purple rump that could be clearly viewed beyond the open door were hints that a certain alicorn had yet to be satisfied.

“I...dunno,” Spike said uselessly. “It’s kind of a long story, but I don’t think Twilight’s feeling well. She’s trying to find a certain birth certificate. That’s what she said, at least.”

The mayor brightened. “Well why did she not say so? I’m well acquainted with the files. Depending on how old it is I could probably recollect it without even looking.”

Spike raised a brow. “Applejack? That ring a bell to you?”

The mayor pondered. “...not precisely. Surely he or she must be a relative of the Ponyville Apples, however. Is it a particularly old record? I admit that the ones which predate me aren’t quite as well committed to memory.”

The little dragon could offer nothing more. “I don’t think so. Not the way Twilight goes on about her. She swears we ought to all know her.”

Mayor Mare touched her chin in thought, but no recollection came to her. She glanced thrice again at the records room, her ear twitching nervously. “She will...put everything back in order when she’s done, won’t she?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “No, but I’m sure I will…”

“Ah ha!” The princess cried triumphantly. “Found it!”

Intrigued, her audience hurried into the room. Spike brushed past a pile of files that made up the ‘S’ names and nearly knocked them over, but the mayor hastily righted the stack before it collapsed and let out a relieved breath. There, in the center of the round room, was Twilight Sparkle. She was surrounded by a score of filing cabinets that were almost entirely empty, and though their contents were strewn about the floor, Spike could see that the princess had not broken with her nature - it was among the most orderly clutter he had ever laid eyes upon. In the glow of her magic, Twilight held aloft a file marked ‘A. Apples; Applejack’.

Mayor Mare brightened. “Ah, well then, is that...what you’re looking for?” She swallowed hopefully. “Perhaps we’re done here now?”

Twilight looked like her old, fact-finding self again, much to Spike’s relief. She flipped open the file and began rummaging through the pages. “Just as soon as I confirm that this is all just a big joke everypony’s playing, which I’m sure they mean well by for some reason, but I really can’t just sit idly by and watch them...pretend…Applejack doesn’t...exist…”

Twilight went pale - a feat for her coloring. Spike ventured an inquiry.

“Uh...what’s the matter Twilight?”

“This file is from...eighty-three years ago…” Twilight muttered, her ears drooping in defeat. “It’s for a different Applejack, a stallion, and he wasn’t even born here...he would have already been around fifty years old by the time of the listed local filing date…”

“Oh yes,” Mayor Mare explained, “you’ll find that among the older records. Ponyville wasn’t founded all that long ago - Granny Smith was there for it after all, and she’s still with us. At the time the area was populated mostly by wandering pioneers, and many of them brought their vital records along for the ride. Thus the ‘local’ filing date is merely the date the files were placed in the Ponyville archives, before town hall was built. Eventually they were all transferred here. Most likely you’ll find a different town listed as the birthplace on that record, with a much earlier birthdate.”

Twilight scanned the document, confirmed Mayor Mare’s explanation, and then unceremoniously tossed the folder over her shoulder where it landed back in its drawer. “Ugh...darnit…” she sighed deeply, exhaustion catching up with her, “...neither of you can honestly say you even remember Applejack at all?”

Twilight’s comrades collectively shook their heads.

“In that case,” Twilight mused, “somepony, or something else has gone to great lengths to erase one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony from existence…”

“Pardon me,” Mayor Mare spoke up. “I realize I’m a laypony on the subject, but isn’t it true that the Elements of Harmony cannot be employed without all of them present?”

“Yes?” Twilight asked, hoping for some new insight.

“Then, are they not all well and accounted for?” The mayor pressed her reasoning, “It’s common knowledge that the five of you used the elements to transform Nightmare Moon back into Princess Luna, banish Discord, and even save us all from the rampage of Tirek. If there were more than five of them...would they not fail to function?”

Twilight rubbed her chin. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. If some villain or evil force were trying to undermine the Elements of Harmony, even if they could warp reality itself, why hasn’t history changed? We never should have been able to defeat Nightmare Moon in the first place.”

“Uh, you did defeat Nightmare Moon,” Spike pointed out. “The five of you did. With the five Elements of Harmony.”

“But history has changed,” Twilight was talking to herself, and without thinking she had begun to float several feet off the ground on her wings. “I know for a fact that Applejack’s birthday is right after harvest time. The Apples love it, because it’s sort of like a wrap-up party for the work season. Apple Bloom’s birthday is at an entirely different point in the year, but I just saw her birth certificate, and the date is printed wrong…”

Mayor Mare raised a brow. “I can assure you that Ponyville town hall prides itself on accurate municipal record-keeping, Your Highness. An incorrect date on a certificate of live birth would be absolutely shocking, especially one so recent in the town’s history.” She glanced at a few piles, looking for something useful to add. “You...did check the letter ‘A’, yes?”

“Of course I checked the letter ‘A’! I checked it five times!” Twilight barked. The moment the words were out, she landed and paused to calm herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I really appreciate you getting here so early to help Spike and me out--”

“--not that I’ve done anything--” Spike quipped.

“--to help me out,” Twilight appended. “I’m just a little flustered is all. Something is very, very wrong in this town, and nobody seems to be noticing it at all but me. And I have no idea why that is.”

Spike and the Mayor glanced at one another out of the corner of their eyes. Twilight looked down.

“Neither of you thinks anything is wrong,” she concluded. “You all think I’m crazy.”

“Nopony thinks you’re crazy, Twilight,” Spike said gently, approaching the alicorn to touch her shoulder. “We just...don’t know what to say. You’re the Princess of Friendship, and if you say something is wrong then we’ll try to help, but...we don’t know what we can do.”

Twilight smiled and reached out to touch the arm that touched her. “I know Spike. I can always count on you, even when I’m off on a real wild goose chase, which this is not. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you.” Sparing her mind of her woes for a few moments, she glanced about the room. “Gee, I tore the whole room apart. I guess I’m not going to find what I’m looking for here, but I’ll be sure to put it all back before I go. Although,” She glanced at the mayor, “Why were there three different places in the cabinets for each letter of the alphabet?”

Mayor Mare checked the clock. Grateful beyond measure that the princess confirmed her intention to clean up after herself, she was only too happy to explain. “Ah, that. We reorganize the birth records when a pony changes their residence to a different town, or is deceased. It’s a bit easier on the census bureau, both local and national, if we can compare the current population with the files containing active citizens.”

Twilight considered the piles. The older looking ones most likely belonged to the absent or deceased, but the size of the stacks didn’t add up. “Really? Are you sure something didn’t get mixed up? There aren’t very many active records.”

Mayor Mare had, over time, honed her ability to count faces in crowds quickly and add up numbers of potential voters at an event or the ballot box. She scanned the piles and shrugged. “It looks correct to me. There are one hundred and fifty-four active records.”

Twilight’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh-what…? What are you saying…?”

“I’m saying that according to the birth records, there are one hundred and fifty-four ponies alive and actively residing in Ponyville,” Mayor Mare replied. “And I suspect that to be quite accurate, given that in the case of ponies who change residence to here from other cities, we place a file in the records for them anyway as a placeholder if we don’t actually have their certificate. Is there something the matter?”

“I-is something the...a-are you kidding me!?” Twilight was back on high alert. She wrenched away from her assistant to beat her wings and hover again, as was sometimes her wont when agitated. “There were more than four hundred at the last winter wrap-up, if you count the outliers! I ought to know since I organized the entire thing!

Mayor Mare adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat loudly, hoping the gesture would be infectious enough to calm the princess. “Princess Twilight, I’m sure I could be off by a few considering I counted them in haste, but as you can see,” she gestured at the newer piles, “there are most certainly not four hundred records here.”

Twilight wasn’t having it. “How many Cakes are there!?” she demanded.

“Four, counting their lovely foals. Why?”

“How many Pies are there!?”

Mayor Mare held fast under the interrogation. “Two, now anyway. We do have a placeholder record for Miss Maud Pie, since she recently moved here.”

“How many Hooves’s are there!?”

“Two as I recall...though I don’t know for certain if they’re related--”

“How many App--”

Twilight cut herself off. She was high enough to get a good view out of the only window in the room, which in turn was practically a skylight. There, under a tree across the street, stood the pony in the trench coat and wide fedora. The pony had been careful to pick dark patches of shade that perfectly concealed their features; aside from his or her blue eyes, Twilight could make out nothing. Ponies were walking right by the ominous figure without pause, and even though Twilight had been concealed within Ponyville Town Hall for hours, the being was staring straight at her. As if it had been waiting all morning long for the princess to stare back.

“You!” Twilight flew to the window. “You were there at the party! Who are you?? Are you responsible for over two hundred ponies going missing!?”

Twilight’s horn came to fiery life. She was about to teleport herself straight through the wall and into the lap of the motionless figure, but a tug on her dangling tail stayed her.

“Twilight! What’s wrong!? Who are you talking about?”

Spike was there; his face a mask of worry. “Twilight please come down, you’re really starting to worry me!”

“But he’s back, Spike!” Twilight shouted. “Or she is, I don’t know! I have to--”

Gone.

The figure was simply not there anymore, but it was worse than that - in his or her place, there was a bench with two ponies sitting upon it, engaged in merry chatting. The late-season ivy that still clung relentlessly to the legs of the iron bench suggested it had been sitting there for a long time. Twilight let out a growl and plopped back down on her hooves, her eyes shut in frustration.

“Mayor Mare, have you seen any suspicious looking characters around town lately?”

When there was no reply, Twilight looked up. Spike was standing there, looking only slightly less concerned as he wrung the tip of his tail in his claws.

“Spike? Where’s Mayor Mare?”

Spike blinked. “Uh...who?”

“Mayor Mare,” Twilight pointed at the last spot she had seen the chief executive standing. “She was looking at the clock before. Did she have to leave?”

Spike said nothing. Twilight narrowed her brow.

“The mayor of Ponyville, Spike! I don’t even care what her name is at this point, where is the mayor of Ponyville? Whomever you know them to be!”

“Ponyville...doesn’t have a mayor,” Spike meeped.

Twilight applied pressure to the bridge of her muzzle, where another headache had begun to collect. “Spike, I really don’t want to play this game again...Ponyville has to have a mayor…”

Spike shrugged. “We never needed a mayor before.”

“Then who runs this town?” Twilight shot back.

“You do,” Spike said simply. “What do we need a mayor for when we have a princess?”

“Alright, then who ran this town before I became a princess?” Twilight asked. “You and I weren’t born here. Who ran it before we came here?”

Spike put a talon to his chin in thought. “As far as I know, it was the same before we got here as it was up until you got your wings. The town was run communally, just like the Apples ran it way back when. Everypony pitched in. You getting promoted sure made all that easier on everypony, though.”

Twilight ceased the pointless interrogation. Feeling suddenly quite tired, she glanced at the overwhelming piles of paperwork. “I need to figure this out...it’s getting worse…every hour might count for something…” She looked to Spike. “We’re going to have to leave this mess here for the staff to clean up. There’s no time to lose.”

Spike blinked again. “What staff?”

“The administrative staff,” Twilight replied. “All the ponies who help the mayor--me--run the town.”

Spike blinked thrice.

“You’re kidding,” Twilight gaped.

“We don’t have a sta--”

“You and I run this town all by ourselves?” Twilight asked, exasperated. “That’s ridiculous! There are at least twenty ponies meandering around here at all times!” She began to rattle off names, but Spike showed no recognition to any of them.

“It’s like I said Twilight,” Spike ventured cautiously, “You’re the boss. We just haven’t needed a staff.”

Deflated, Twilight fell upon her rump and stared dumbly at a few papers that were scattered by the movement. She repeated the question she had originally broached to the mayor:

“Spike, how many Apples are there in Ponyville?”

“Liiiike pony Apples? Or just like, apple-apples? Because I have no idea how many actual apples are all over the pl--”

“Ponies, Spike.”

“Oh, that’s easy. One.”

Twilight winced. “...only one?”

“Sure. Granny Smith. She’s been here forever.”

Twilight didn’t want to have this conversation, but she forced herself to go on. “...Big McIntosh? Apple Bloom?”

“...uh…”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders?”

Spike tilted his head quizzically. “They’re both fine? Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.”

“...a-and the book of potions that I apparently gave as a birthday present yesterday, for the filly who brews them in the Everfree with Zecora?”

“It was an advanced knitting book,” Spike corrected. “You gave it to Granny Smith for her birthday yesterday.” He raised a brow curiously. “What are you getting at, Twilight? I watched you buy it in town last week, and I even helped you wrap it two days ago, when we were trying to figure out just how old Granny Smith is, heh.”

Twilight couldn’t speak. She felt like curling up into a catatonic ball and rocking in place.

“It was a pretty neat party,” Spike went on. “The hired hooves had a great time.”

“Hired...hooves?”

“Sure,” Spike elaborated. “Granny Smith can’t run a whole farm by herself at her age. Heck, anypony would have a hard time doing something like that all by their lonesome.”

Twilight’s head shot up. “Oh no no no, now that one I’m not buying. There’s no way Granny Smith would ever hire hooves to work on her farm. I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it, because--”

“No!” Twilight stood and slapped the floor with a hoof. “I have had enough of this, and I’m going to put a stop to it right here and now! Come on!”

Spike nearly choked as a raspberry magical aura enveloped him and yanked him onto Twilight’s back. “Wh-where are we going!?”

Twilight was already galloping out the door. The moment she struck bare earth, she kicked off of it and spread her wings, launching into determined flight. “Sweet Apple Acres! Granny Smith would never hire hooves and take herself out of the quality and care equation. I may not be able to find birth certificates, but that I can be sure of!”

The short flight was abbreviated further by the adrenaline coursing through the purple princess. Spike was just about able to hold on, and he slid off to gratefully strike terra firma the instant Twilight touched down. Wasting not a moment, the princess went right up to the front door of the Apple family home and began to savagely beat upon it with one hoof.

“Granny Smith! Granny Smith, are you here? I need to speak with you - it’s important!”

“Huhwha?” A decrepit voice cracked. “Awright, awright, don’t git yer knickers all inna bunch. Y’all’re gonna huff’n puff’n blow this here whole house down before’n I git across the room, so just hold on there…interruptin’ mah beauty nap, consarnit...”

Twilight relented, and at length the top half of the sectioned door swung open. Granny Smith was largely unchanged from the last time Twilight had seen her, save that the bags under her eyes were even deeper and more of her gray-white hairs were out of place. She looked tired - moreso than the princess had ever seen her before.

“What’cha hollerin’ abo--oh, yer Highness. Y’all ain’t gonna beat on mah door like that. What kin ah do fer ya? Y’all wanna come in an’ sit a spell?”

“No thank you Granny Smith,” Twilight said politely. “I’ve just come to ask about your grandson and granddaughter.”

Granny Smith made a sour face. “Princess Twilight, beggin’ yer pardon, but this weren’t funny yesterday at mah party - lord knows ah had enough of them - and it ain’t much funny now, neither. Y’all know very well ah ain’t got no grandfoals.”

“What about your son?” Twilight persisted.

Granny Smith’s expression broke, and she looked away to hide her reaction. “...he ain’t with us no more. Done got taken up t’be with the stars before his time, before he ever had any younguns, and before y’all were even th’ apple of yer parents’ eyes. And ah’ll thank you very much not to go an’ remind me.”

Twilight looked around, and took notice of a stallion in a ten-gallon hat mending a cart wheel. There were a number of others, mares and stallions alike, in various stages of maintenance or harvest wrap-up work. The banner for the party was still aloft, plainly wishing happy birthday to Granny Smith.

“These ponies aren’t Apples?”

“Sure’n they ain’t,” Granny Smith confirmed. “Us Apples’re all over Equestria, and we each got our farms to mind. Cain’t very well ask mah kin to drop everything t’help me out all the time.”

Twilight could scarce believe what she was hearing. “But...what about Sweet Apple Acres staying in the family…?”

“Ah’m th’ family,” Granny Smith spat. “S’been that way since mah ol’ pappy passed on. Ah ain’t got no giddy in mah up nomore, and a nag’s gotta do what a nag’s gotta do to keep apples on the trees.” She nodded at a few of the workers, “Some of em’s just here fer the season, a’couple others just passin’ through. Then there’s a few that’s been here for years now, what’s just about worth trustin’. It...ain’t so bad.”

Twilight detected the lack of conviction in the Apple matriarch’s words. The fire that kept the old nag on top of her game wasn’t there, and it felt downright bizarre. Cowed, Twilight watched the workers at their uninspired toil.

“But...but the Apple family...Ponyville was built on the Apple family…”

“That was a long time ago, Princess,” Granny Smith said, her weatherbeaten in keeping with her years for once. “Ain’t got no heirs and ain’t got no kin what’s gonna wanna make a life here. Ah guess that means it’ll be on you someday, as th’princess, to figure out what’s gonna become of this here farm.”

Twilight didn’t know what to say. Granny Smith opened the door the rest of the way and stepped through, brushing past Twilight with a triangle. “Y’all better ‘scuse me. Ah got lunch t’slop out.” With that, she turned to the fields and began to clang on the triangle by batting it with a hoof. “Come ‘n git it! Lunch call! Come ‘n get it!”

Twilight slumped her shoulders and met the eyes of Spike, who looked upon her mournfully.

“Are you...alright, Twilight?”

“Has it always been this way?” she asked simply.

“Afraid so,” Spike confirmed as he watched Granny Smith go through her motions. “It’s kinda sad really.”

Twilight shook her head and turned away. “Oh Spike...it hasn’t always been this way, and nopony even remembers the ones who are gone. They all deserve better than that…”

Spike held his tongue until the silence became unbearable. “What...do you wanna do now? Go check more records?”

“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Twilight admitted. A thought struck her, and her eyes went wide as a light bulb sparked to life in her mind. “Spike, I sat a few birth certificates on the table by themselves, where you were standing when you walked in. Did you see them?”

Spike thought about it. “Yeah. Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, uh...some of them were placeholder ones, you know, the ones we set aside for ponies who weren’t born here…”

“What about Fluttershy?”

Spike said nothing.

“Oh no…” Twilight choked. She was off again at a gallop, and Spike struggled to keep up.

“Wait! Where are we going now!?”

Twilight spared her assistant the lack of extra legs and nabbed him up in her magic, settling him again on her back as she took wing. “To Fluttershy’s cottage! Before it’s too late!”

Princess Twilight Sparkle hit the skyline at speed, trying with all her heart to outfly reality.

3 - Outfly Reality

Unlike practically every other pony in Equestria who had wings, Twilight Sparkle wasn’t born with them. Thus, she had the disadvantage of learning to fly at an age where picking up basic skills such as reading and writing wasn’t so inherent. She was therefore not, nor was she likely to ever be, Wonderbolt material.

Despite the disadvantage of age, Twilight was a star pupil, and had picked up the finer points rather quickly. She was no longer wobbly on her wings, and felt comfortable with everything from hovering to loop-de-loops. Endurance, by contrast, was something she simply hadn’t developed the muscle control for, and with her bookish nature it wasn’t likely to come any time soon. Thus, pure adrenaline was responsible for the hurricane-level urgency of her wing beats, that propelled her across town at a speed that would have impressed Wonderbolt reservists.

Fluttershy’s cottage was ominously quiet, but then, Fluttershy was not a pony of strong presence. Twilight was relieved to see the late-season flowerboxes on display and a smattering of blue jays collected around amply-stocked feeders, but the relief was short-lived - the Apple farm still looked beautiful as well, after all.

Ignoring the complaints from her wing spurs, Twilight touched down right in front of her friend’s door and made no less of a ruckus battering it than she had at the Apples’. Spike slipped off Twilight’s back and raised a claw at the display, but decided against speaking.

“Fluttershy!” Twilight called. “Fluttershy, are you home!? Oh please tell me you’re home...please tell me this is your home…”

Twilight didn’t near the latch being undone for all her banging, but she managed to stop herself an inch before smacking Fluttershy in the forehead with her hoof. The door fully ajar, the diminutive pegasus flinched and squeaked with alarm.

“Oh!” Twilight exclaimed, as much taken by surprise. “Fluttershy, thank goodness…”

“Twilight?” Fluttershy obliviously tilted her head. She glanced at Spike as if to ask if anything in the princess’s behavior had improved, but the little dragon only shrugged. “A-are you okay? Would you like to come i--OOF!”

Forgetting herself, Twilight threw her forelegs around Fluttershy’s neck and nearly bore her to the floor. The princess buried her muzzle in her friend’s ample locks and took a deep breath, just to prove to more than once of her senses that the pegasus was real.

“I-I’m sorry,” Twilight whimpered, “I...I’m getting really worried...I thought it was just Applejack, but hundreds of ponies are missing now, and I didn’t see any record of your birth at town hall…”

Fluttershy stroked her friend’s withers with a hoof. Her voice was as soothing as the rest of her countenance, and it made Twilight’s ear twitch. “Birth? You mean my birth certificate? Oh, that wouldn’t be there. I sort of...forgot to finish filling out the paperwork when I first moved into town.” She blushed. “Is that what this is about? B-because I’m really sorry about that, I can certainly fix it…”

“No, no,” Twilight finally let her friend go, favoring her instead with an overly affectionate smile. She touched Fluttershy’s shoulder again, prodding at it until the daffodil mare looked down.

“Is there something on me?”

“I just...sorry…” Twilight apologized again. “I...you’re real. You’re here. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Fluttershy frowned and stood aside. “Twilight, please come in. I’ll make you some tea and we can talk. You’ll feel better.”

Twilight shook her head, “I can’t...I need to do something about all of this...even though I don’t know what I can do…” The princess felt a claw on her flank. She looked down to find Spike, looking even more worried than before.

“Twilight, Fluttershy’s right. Whatever’s wrong, you’re no help to anypony if you don’t rest. And you barely slept at all last night.”

Twilight made a face. “Why didn’t you tell me that Fluttershy was okay?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to,” Spike replied. “You’re getting really edgy, and that’s all the more reason why you need to take a rest.”

Twilight glanced into the cozy, inviting cottage. Everything was as it should have been, with a small fire in the hearth to offset the early chill.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Fluttershy asked.

Twilight’s wings hurt, and she was beginning to feel the bluntness of exhaustion wearing on her mind. Ignoring the question, she gave in to her friends and finally trotted into the house. “...alright. Maybe I can organize my thoughts if we talk about it some.

Fluttershy brightened. “Of course! It always helps me to talk out my problems with a friend.” She shut the door, urged her friend towards the sofa, and hastened towards the kitchen. “I’ve got a lovely Earl Gray blend with a little kick of extra bergamot in it that will sharpen you right up!”

Twilight descended upon the couch, flopping down in such a jumble that Spike had to sit on the loveseat instead. When the princess opened her eyes again, she found herself muzzle to snout with Angel, who was tapping his lapine foot with some annoyance. Mouthing an apology, Twilight sat up and allowed the bunny to retrieve the blanket he had been lying on.

For a moment, there was nothing beyond the ticking of a clock, the whistling of birds, and the scurrying feet of mice in the walls that Fluttershy most likely invited there. Twilight glanced around until her eyes fell on Spike. The dragon was kicking his legs idly and staring off into space - even his reptilian eyes were starting to form bags under them.

“Oh Spike,” Twilight said softly, “look what I’ve been putting you through lately. You’re just a baby dragon, and you need sleep.”

Spike folded his arms and puffed his chest. “If you’re going to tell me to go home and rest Twilight, don’t bother. I won’t leave you like this.”

“But...nothing is out of the ordinary to you...is it?”

“Yes there is,” Spike corrected. “You. You’re upset, and so long as you’re upset I’m going to help you. I don’t understand what you’ve been talking about lately, but…you’re important to me, Twilight. If you say I’ve forgotten ponies who are important to me, then I believe you.”

Twilight felt like tearing up. Instead she lit her muzzle with a warm smile. “...thank you, Spike. More than anypony else, I couldn’t be who I am today without you. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Spike grinned. “If it weren’t for me, you’d fall into a book and we’d never see you again, heh. It would be like you didn’t exist anymore!” Realizing instantly that he made a poor choice of words, the dragon backpeddled. “Uh, sorry. You know what I mean.”

There was a sound of clattering dishware from the kitchen, and Fluttershy emerged, balancing a tray of tea and snacks on her hoof. “I made some sunflower snack sandwiches up real quick and put them with vanilla wafers. Vanilla goes well with black tea. Oh Spike,” She turned the tray to show off its contents, “I even have tiny crystal fragments left over from that time we baked together. I don’t think anypony else can do much with them, so they’re all yours.”

Spike’s empty tummy instinctively rumbled. “Really? Wow, thanks Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy sat the tray down on the coffee table and giggled as she went about plating the fare. “I thought you might like them.”

The conversation halted until each pony had a steaming cup of tea and a small plate of cookies or sandwiches. Spike’s plate was laden with the entire jar of crystal fragments in lieu of sunflowers, but he had twice the number of cookies as either pony. Having neglected breakfast, neither princess nor assistant could resist helping themselves. Fluttershy refilled their plates twice, never saying a word until her guests signaled by way of long, mutual sighs that they were slowing down.

“There now,” Fluttershy sang. “Feeling better?”

Twilight sat her cup aside. “Yes, thank you.” She considered the merry expression of her pegasus friend, and thought it to be somewhat contrived. “You’re not...worried about anything though, are you Fluttershy?”

“Just about you,” the pegasus replied, a teacup pinched between her hooves. “It’s been a lovely morning otherwise. Oh dear...is there something I should be worried about?”

“Do you...know Big McIntosh, Apple Bloom, or Applejack?” Twilight ventured.

Fluttershy enjoyed a cookie and sipped elegantly at her cup. “No, but I do remember you talking about that last pony at the party yesterday. Are they all friends of yours?”

Again Twilight ignored her friend’s question, this time in favor of re-confirming facts. “And just to be clear...how many Elements of Harmony are there?”

“Four,” Fluttershy smiled easily.

“Right, so--wait,” Twilight paused, “Four? Yesterday you were all insisting there were five!”

Fluttershy’s voice got smaller. “I...I don’t think that’s what we said, Twilight...there have only ever been four, as far as I know…”

“There are five--well no, there are six, but the last time we talked about it there were five Elements of Harmony.” Twilight raised a hoof, counting on it by the simple expedient of poking at it repeatedly with another. “Magic, kindness, generosity, laughter, and loyalty.”

“...loyalty?”

Just beyond her view and behind her friend, Twilight caught sight of a framed photograph on the end table. From the edge of it alone she could tell it was the same image she had in her bag the day before. The princess swallowed.

“Fluttershy...i-is that the picture of all of us behind you?”

“Mm?” Fluttershy glanced back. “Oh yes, the very one you showed around yesterday. I keep it right out where I can see it everyday, and I look at it sometimes when I’m feeling a little nervous. It’s always so inspiring.”

Fluttershy moved aside. The photograph was exactly the same as the last time Twilight had seen it...minus Rainbow Dash.

“B-but that...that can’t be!” Twilight shouted. In a flourish, she retrieved the image with her magic and nearly smacked Fluttershy with it as she brought the levitated photo to bear. “This time it really can’t be! We all know that we would never have come together as friends if it hadn’t been for Rainbow Dash!”

“I...oh my…” Fluttershy meeped. “...who…?”

“You know her better than any of us!” Twilight accused. “You went to school with her! She protected you from bullies!”

Fluttershy darkened. Unable to meet her friend’s gaze, she sat her cup on the table and rubbed nervously at her thigh. “I...b-bullies, I...nopony ever did that for me…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “...b-being a filly was awful for me, I don’t even want to think about my life before that time I fell out of the sky and met all my furry friends…”

“But you never would have found your calling if it hadn’t been for Rainbow Dash!” Twilight insisted. “None of us would have! We all got our cutie marks on the day we all saw the sonic rainboom at the same time!”

At a loss, Fluttershy glanced at Spike. The dragon made some gestures with his claws to assist in his explanation.

“It’s this flying move they say you can do when you’re so fast you break the sound barrier or something...I think.” He eyed Twilight. “Never heard of anypony actually pulling it off, though.”

Fluttershy no longer had an appetite, but cowed by the princess’s persistence, she focused on another cookie. “I fell out of the sky during a race in Cloudsdale, landed in Ponyville, and met my furry friends there. That’s when I found my calling.”

“Huh?” Twilight quirked a brow. “No rainboom?”

“I...have no idea, but I don’t think so.”

“What about Rarity?”

Fluttershy touched her chin in thought. “I think her cutie mark had to do with a school play where she was inspired to make beautiful costumes.”

“Pinkie Pie said she just decided to throw a party one day because she was bored,” Spike added. “Leave it to her to get a cutie mark as a result of boredom, eh heh.”

Twilight’s mind was alive again. Her thoughts wrapped around variables like tendrils, squeezing like an analytical vice around hapless facts and figures. “This just doesn’t make any sense...if some evil force were trying to undermine us, why do the Elements of Harmony still work? And why didn’t removing Rainbow Dash from the equation destroy our friendship…?”

Fluttershy and Spike looked at one another, but let the princess’s mind work out loud.

“...things are changing,” Twilight insisted. “There are historical constants that have been altered, since Granny Smith said she had a son but no grandfoals, and suddenly I’m running the day-to-day administration of Ponyville instead of the mayor. But anything that could directly cripple our ability to defend the country seems to be conveniently preserved regardless of what happens. I thought maybe somepony had managed to replicate the spell Starlight used to go back in time and prevent Rainbow Dash’s first sonic rainboom, but if that were the case...how are they manipulating other events to simply work out, and why would they undermine their own efforts in order to do that…what’s the purpose of all of this...”

“C-can I get you another cup of tea, Twilight?” Fluttershy cut in, looking for the most innocuous way to break her friend’s train of thought.

“What?” The princess considered her cup and her friends as though she hadn’t seen them before at all. “O-oh...yes please, thank you.”

“Twilight, I’m not sure I can really do anything to help you,” Fluttershy commented as she brushed a lock of mane from her eyes and served the fresh beverage. “But if you need me for anything, you know I’ll try. Everypony in town trusts you.”

Twilight stiffened. Daring not to remove her hooves or her eyes from her cup, she spoke: “...h-how many ponies is that exactly, Fluttershy?”

“How many? O-oh um...I don’t really know the exact number. Actually I thought you would, since you have access to all the files, and you like numbers and all that.”

“Like fifty I guess?” Spike spoke up.

“There are maybe fifty or sixty ponies in Ponyville, yes,” Fluttershy confirmed. “It’s a very cozy town.”

Twilight didn’t move. She wanted to lose herself in the gentle, steaming ripples of the transparent brown liquid she was drinking, but it occurred to her with horror that for each wave that splashed up against the perimeter of the cup and vanished, several more ponies may have ceased to exist. “I... a hundred more ponies are gone...a-and all I did was sit here and have tea…”

“T-Twilight,” Fluttershy attempted, “...you’re my friend and I care about you...I really do. W-would you...maybe consider the possibility that you’re just not feeling well…?”

“How can I do that when there are so many ponies who are just gone!?” Twilight cried, the sleepless bags under her eyes puffing from gray to red.

Fluttershy absorbed the shout with uncharacteristic coolness. She then began calmly collecting the empty plates to set them back on the tray. To make what she had to say easier, she avoided eye contact with her friends.

“Twilight, you’re one of my special friends, and my special friends have taught me to be more assertive. So I’m going to tell you that while I will do whatever I can for you, it’s an awful lot to ask of us all to just assume that everything we’ve ever known in our lives is changing around, just like that. There were four Elements of Harmony yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. All I’m asking is that you consider the possibility that you should talk to somepony.”

“Talk to somepony? But I’m talking to you right now!”

Fluttershy looked ashamed. “...that’s not what I mean. I mean somepony who is...maybe better qualified to talk to you about whatever is bothering you lately.”

Twilight brightened. “Of course! Princess Celestia! Why didn’t I think of that before!? She’ll be able to help me fix all of you!”

“Um...no Twilight,” Fluttershy mumbled. “...I mean a...professional in...um…”

“...in what…?”

“She means a doctor, Twilight,” Spike blurted. He couldn’t make eye contact anymore, but neither could he stand the topic at hoof. “She’s talking about a shrink.”

“W-we came to the palace this morning; Rarity, Pinkie and me,” Fluttershy said mousily. “But you weren’t there. Spike said you didn’t sleep much last night. You had that outburst at the party, and now you’re saying all of these things. Twilight, being a princess must be a horribly intense burden. I’m sure I can’t understand it, but maybe if you just...talked it out with somepony? It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

“Yes it can hurt!” Twilight insisted as she slid off the couch and found her hooves. “In the time I took to sit here and have a sandwich, a hundred more ponies were erased from existence. I have to do something!”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I...I don’t…” Twilight faltered. Research was usually her answer to everything, but in this case, it meant inaction, and every moment of inaction appeared to come at the cost of another poor soul’s existence. “There has to be a pattern,” She glanced at Spike, “Does Starlight still live with us?”

Spike’s expression made it clear how bizarre he found the question. “Sure, why?”

“Then we’re going to need her help too,” Twilight concluded. “We’re going to need all the magical help we can get on this one. We’ll go back to the palace long enough to get her, and then we’re off to Canterlot.”

“Twilight?” Fluttershy spoke up.

Twilight turned to her friend. Fluttershy spoke, but the princess did not hear. There was a shape outside the window over Fluttershy’s shoulder, and instantly it drew all of Twilight’s attention. Making no attempt to conceal itself, the trench-coated pony stood between two chicken coops. Again, the phantasmal figure didn’t move a muscle - it just stared at Twilight.

The princess’s blood ran cold.

“N-no, NO! Not again!” Twilight shouted. “Fluttershy--!!”

There was no response. There couldn’t be, for Twilight found herself standing in a dark, empty room. The only shafts of pale sunlight came from the window, and they fell upon aged furniture in various states of disrepair. Some furnishings wore sheets of moth-ridden, ghostly white, and the hearth stood cold. Spike stood in the middle of it all. Every small movement kicked up more visible dust particles into the air, and he barely managed to avoid incinerating the closest object with a sudden sneeze.

“Twilight...how long are we gonna stand here?”

Twilight glanced out the window again, but the shadowy figure was gone. In frustration she turned back to Spike, “W-wait, what are we doing here?”

“I have no idea,” Spike replied. “Coming here was your idea. As far as I know, nopony has lived in this cottage for a really long time.”

“F-Fluttershy…” Twilight choked, noting the absence not only of the photograph and the tea set, but every other trapping of her kind friend’s life. “Fluttershy moved in here...this is her home…”

Spike was twiddling his talons. “That’s what you said before. Then you said we needed to come to the old abandoned cottage on the edge of town, and...well, it’s the same place it was ever since we’ve lived in Ponyville. Smells kinda moldy, too. Also, it’s spooky in here and I’m pretty sure anypony would be allergic to this much dust, so can we go before I catch something on fire?”

Twilight stared at her assistant. “...Fluttershy?”

Spike only stared back. “It’s a very pretty name. She sounds nice, um…”

“...if she’s real, is what you want to say,” Twilight concluded. Spike wrapped one claw around his opposite elbow and hugged himself as he looked down at his own prints in the dust.

“I’m sorry Twilight...I don’t know what to think now.”

“How many Elements of Harmony are there?” Twilight seethed.

“The...the same three as always. Magic, generosity, and laughter.”

Spike flinched, but Twilight didn’t continue with her tirade. Instead he heard hoofbeats, and opened his eyes to find the princess on her way to the door. Twilight pushed on the remaining rotted planks that barred her path - they were so decrepit that more fell away easily, and Spike squinted as his eyes readjusted to the sun.

Twilight paused to touch an ancient symbol on the door that resembled a butterfly. It might have been a flower or a maple leaf - it was so dessicated that she could barely tell.

“...Fluttershy...Applejack...Rainbow Dash…” Twilight whispered. “...I won’t forget you. I will figure this out. I will bring you back.”

Spike followed the princess out into the light of the afternoon. Pleased to be outside again, he basked in the bit of unseasonal warmth provided by the sun. Twilight, meanwhile, gasped in shock as she looked upon the house. No bird feeders. No chicken coops. No flower boxes. All the windows and doors were boarded, and the tree itself had but a few patches of autumn life. Most of its branches were deceased beyond the point that the eventual passing of winter into springtime would make any difference.

Twilight fought back a sniffle. Frustrated at himself for his inability to console her, Spike touched her side and rubbed it once, petting the pony like a cat.

“This place...it’s upsetting you,” Spike observed. “You said we need to get to Canterlot.”

Without another word, Twilight lowered herself to allow her assistant to climb upon her back. She took again to the sky, her wings too sore to make speed, and headed for the Palace of Friendship.

“I will fix this…” Twilight said to the gray autumn sky in defiance. “I will, so help me.”

4 - The Form of a Question

“--and that brings us to the present.”

Twilight Sparkle paused to catch her breath. Behind her, the Great Hall of the palace at Canterlot was teeming with every research material she could think of that might have the slightest relevance. The backs of her friends were still smarting from the load, and the palace attendants, though they strived not to show it, were less than pleased with toting about what felt like the entire contents of the palace library. The chalkboard Twilight had wheeled in was a disaster of equations and theorems that culminated to the less learned as gobbledygook run through a colander.

Before Twilight stood her bewildered audience. Rarity, who had returned to the Palace of Friendship later in the day in hopes of checking up on her royal friend, now stood before the presentation at a complete loss. Her left eye was twitching slightly, as though a passing freight train had just blown her mane completely off. Beside her stood Starlight Glimmer, who was only slightly less the worse for wear - she was squinting at some of the smallest bits of text that had been crammed on the board, while making vain attempts to silently mouth any words she could pick out. Spike had given up entirely, and was rummaging under some papers for a scone he nabbed from a vendor cart on the way in (and subsequently dropped) that served as his only connection to lunch. The royal sisters of sun and moon, their everflowing manes waving patiently in the still air, bore synchronized expressions of bewilderment that only siblings could manage.

Starlight dared to raise her hoof. “Can I...ask a question?”

In true educational fashion, Twilight pointed to her student with a floating ruler. “Starlight Glimmer! Go ahead please!”

Starlight pointed at the board. “Is that squiggle there the part where I went back in time and bucked your friend in the face to ruin your friendship, or...something?”

Twilight slapped her forehead so hard she nearly staggered herself. “Ugh, no...we’ve been through this. That event, which should be the catalyst for you even being here in the first place, seems to have been altered too because you’re still here, even though it apparently never occurred.”

“But that,” Rarity spoke up, “what you described anyway dear, is not the reason why Starlight came to live with us.” She touched Starlight’s withers affectionately. “We all know that our dear friend saw the light after you, myself, and Pinkie Pie set what was happening at her village straight. She came to us of her own accord after wandering in the mountains alone for a time.”

Starlight blushed and hung her head. “Yeah I...you know, when you’re all alone, you have...a lot of time to think, I guess.”

Princess Luna, who had been silent since the group had exchanged greetings, finally added her voice to the discussion. “Twilight Sparkle, might I also point out that the events you described in the past represent a considerable accusation against Starlight Glimmer, without any manner of evidence to back it up.”

Twilight tossed the bit of chalk she had been holding in her magic upon a pile of books. “But that’s not even the point! It doesn’t matter what happened in the past - it matters what’s happening now! And it’s not just localized to Ponyville. You all told me yourself that the total population of Canterlot is only around two-hundred and fifty ponies--”

“One hundred and fifty,” Luna corrected.

“--one hundred and--and that’s even worse!!” Twilight shouted with exasperation. “There should be more than three times that, but in the time it took me to explain all of this two you, a hundred more disappeared!”

The other two princesses shared a glance that Twilight was becoming all too familiar with seeing. Incensed, she pressed her point.

“If there were only ever a hundred and fifty ponies living in this city, how do you account for all of the extra space? Why have street after street of empty businesses and vacant homes?”

“Well, that’s not to say that there was never a greater population.” Luna searched for words, spinning her hoof in a circle as she searched for a way to explanation the obvious. “Those structures may have been put to use in the past, but the fact remains that ponies enjoy creating something that is their own. Many of the constructs of which you speak were built by previous generations, and as they are in no state of disrepair, there has been little reason to demolish them. They do come in handy at times, as well. Examples include the housing the entourages of visiting dignitaries, hosting of key sporting or cultural events, the provision of shelter for ponies who have fallen on hard times…”

“More than three-quarters of the city is set aside for just for that?” Twilight replied incredulously. “Isn’t that a little, I don’t know...ridiculous!?”

Princess Celestia spoke, her presence alone instantly commanding attention from the entire room.

“Twilight, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Yes?”

Celestia cocked her head towards the small chamber behind the throne. “In private, please.”

Twilight’s ears drooped. “Y-yes Ma’am.”

Celestia hustled her student into the chamber and shut the door. The room was small and plainly-adorned, concerned mostly with ensuring whatever princess used it had their crown on straight and was spared a few moments to practice their smile. None below the rank of royalty ever set hoof in it, aside from those attendants who were trusted enough to supply and maintain the area. Both sequestered princesses could hear murmured conversation as it rose from the throne room, but a certain subtle enchantment on the little chamber they were in ensured they would not be eavesdropped upon in turn. Twilight whirled on her teacher the moment the door was secured.

“Y-you believe me right?” Twilight asked hopefully. “You haven’t forgotten? I can’t be the only one who remembers, and if anypony would have the wisdom and...and the fortitude...and…”

Celestia’s expression was not what Twilight had hoped.

“...and...you...you don’t believe me either, do you...”

Celestia shook her head. “It is not that, Twilight. It’s just--”

“--it’s just that you think I’m crazy, because this city being almost empty and half as many Elements of Harmony as there should be is all perfectly logical to you,” Twilight completed the thought.

Celestia actually scowled. Cowed, Twilight hushed herself.

“That is not what I was going to say, my student. I do believe you, insofar as I believe that you believe in what you are saying. But you have explained the events of the past day in detail, and not once have I heard an instance in which you turned to your friends for help. Quite the contrary, what I have observed is a considerable amount of shouting and carrying-on, as though we are all playing the fool to you.”

Twilight wilted. “I...I didn’t mean…”

“Answer me truthfully, Twilight. Have you been attempting to solve this problem, that you claim is so critical to the entire survival of our nation, all by yourself?”

“...yes Ma’am.”

“And is that what the Princess of Friendship does?”

“...no Ma’am, b-but that’s why I called you all here. I thought once I explained it all, m-maybe we could work together to--”

Celestia held up a hoof, and again, Twilight fell silent. “I trust you Twilight, and I don’t believe you would come up with such a complex story if there were not a kernel of truth to it. I’m not trying to shame you - I merely wish to bring to light your recent behavior, because I’m worried for you. Spike mentioned that you didn’t sleep last night, and you have admitted to having been under considerable strain lately with your duties.”

“I...I only want to do something...b-before everypony vanishes…”

Celestia continued. “Your friends, myself included, will most certainly forgive your outbursts because they understand the stress that you are under. But Twilight...look at me.”

Twilight raised her head and met her teacher’s eyes with great hesitation. Celestia smiled as warmly as she could.

“As my student, my friend, my fellow princess, and a pony I care deeply for...I want you to consider the possibility that it is you who have been tampered with. Not reality.”

Twilight swallowed hard. The eyes of her mentor, that had long been a free and clear path to her soul, now felt like the web of a spider. She steeled herself and stuck to her guns. “...I can’t do that. That would take time, and everypony is vanishing so fast, we have to act now, or we may not be able to act at all.”

Celestia sighed. “Is there nothing I can say, my student, that will stay you from this course?”

Twilight stubbornly shook her head.

“Very well,” Celestia replied. “You are a princess now, and as such I cannot simply order you to abandon this course. So I will instead strike a deal with you.”

“A...deal?”

“I want you to submit yourself to an examination of your subconscious. Clearly you believe what you believe, and that means something is going on here, whether or not it is confined to your own head. The procedure is not new to Princess Luna, and she would conduct it via entering your dreams. You need sleep besides, and thus two positive goals will be accomplished.”

“B-but there’s no ti--”

Again Celestia’s hoof went up. “The bargain is this. If the examination turns up no evidence that you have been compromised mentally, then I will believe everything you say, despite my own and everypony else’s memories to the contrary. I will therefore ensure that all of the resources of Equestria shall be at your disposal to find the solution to this problem.”

“There may not be an Equestria by then…”

Celestia stood tall. She loomed over her student, her pastel locks fluttering in the nonexistent breeze. “Twilight, this is the best I am able to do. But you have my absolute word as your teacher, I will maintain my end of the bargain. Will you submit to the examination? It is not a lengthy procedure, given my sister’s millennia of skill with dream interpretation.”

For the first time since Applejack’s disappearance, Twilight began to doubt her course. She stepped backwards until her rump came in contact with a freestanding oval mirror that prevented any further retreat. “What if...what if she does find something wrong?”

Celestia’s voice softened. “Then I will do everything in my power to help you. At the very least, you can then be assured that Equestria is not actually in the peril you believe to be, can you not?”

Twilight glanced over her shoulder. The pony that looked back at her from the mirror was haggard and gaunt, her brow heavily weighted with worry. Her stomach was in constant complaint; the meal provided by Fluttershy had apparently winked out of existence along with the chef. Twilight was on her hooves by mere force of will alone. She stared into her own eyes, searching them until the indomitable sparkle of determination for which she was named showed itself.

“Alright. If it will convince all of you to help me, and maybe lead to finding an answer to all of this...I’ll do anything.”

Celestia stepped to the side and nodded at the door. “I know you will, Twilight. Fear not. Your friends will always be by your side.”

For the first time since she had made friends with anypony, Twilight doubted that very much.

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, Twilight Sparkle found herself not only in the private chambers of the Princess of the Night, but in her bed, with Luna’s dark blankets pulled up to Twilight’s neck. Luna had insisted on the locale because of the privacy and the subdued atmosphere, but Twilight couldn’t help feeling like an invader. Her friends stood around her, encircling the bed with expressions as though she were in traction and unlikely to pull through.

Rarity glanced at Luna, who had settled herself upon the bed to Twilight’s side. “This won’t hurt her, will it?”

“Rest assured that there are no ill-effects to anticipate,” Luna explained, her hoof stroking Twilight’s mane as it pooled upon the pillow. “This procedure is one of passive observation, in which I will seek any anomalous information that may be present. Dream imagery may seem disjointed and nonsensical to the casual dreamer, but there is a method to it, that is inherent to each unique individual.”

Starlight spoke up. “So, you’re saying that my weird dreams are weird in my own way, and because they’re mine, they actually makes sense when you compare them to, say...Spike’s dreams, that are weird in a completely different way?”

Spike huffed and folded his arms from the high stool he was sitting on. “I guess if you call eating endless piles of gems and saving the world as a masked crimefighter by night weird, ‘cause I wouldn’t.”

Rarity batted her lashes and coyly touched her chin with the tip of a snowy hoof. “Is that really all you dream about, Spikey-wikey dear?”

Spike’s scales flushed a deep purple, and his back went rigid. “N-no...I mean yes!! Totally all there is, yep!”

Rarity giggled. “Boys will be boys, be they stallion or dragon~”

“Precisely,” Luna replied to Starlight. “Your imagery, strange though it may seem, is still consistent with regards to you as an individual. If there is something within Twilight’s imagery that does not fit her personal pattern, I will find it, and I will focus my observational efforts upon it.”

Twilight rolled her head towards Luna and glanced up at her. “What exactly are you going to be looking for?”

Luna shook her head. “I have said as much as I can in your presence, Twilight Sparkle. As the subject of the investigation, it is necessary to limit the amount of detail you are exposed to before the fact, lest it influence your subconscious to create unintentionally misleading images. You need only sleep normally. It is possible you may not even notice I am there. I will use a spell to assist you in achieving deep sleep, though I suspect that your body, in its current condition, will require little encouragement.”

Twilight absorbed this information and acquiesced to it with a nod. “How will I wake myself up?”

Luna hesitated. Celestia, knowing what her sister intended to say, said it for her:

“Twilight, you’re exhausted. You need to sleep properly. Your body will wake up just like anypony else’s once you’ve had enough--”

Twilight shot up to a sitting position in bed. “No! I can’t sleep for eight hours! There might be nopony left by then!” Her eyes went around the room, “It will happen to you eventually, to all of you! You’ll see!”

Only Celestia met Twilight’s eyes. “Twilight, all we want is for you to get some--”

The Princess of Friendship fixed her mentor with an accusatory stare. “You said you would help me...you promised!”

Backed into a verbal corner, Celestia sighed deeply and gestured to her sister, bidding the moon princess to speak for her. Luna took the cue and spoke.

“Before you fall asleep, Twilight Sparkle, envision an object or place that is dear to you. When I have made the link between us, I shall endeavor to place this object in such a conspicuous way as to remind you, when you see it, that flying or galloping towards it will wake you immediately.” She appended: “Bear in mind however, that if you wake yourself before I have completed my investigation, we will have gained nothing. I entreat you not to use this venue until I have given the signal that we are finished.”

“How will I know what the signal--”

“You will know,” Luna patted the pillow. “Please, lie down. I give you my word that I will signal you as soon as I am done, and not a moment later.”

Twilight settled back into her place. The midnight blue quilt spread over her, and for an instant she got the image of a great sea as it came to bear her away into the oblivion in which so many of her friends had already been consigned. She glanced at each face, prompting them to address her as placatingly as they could.

“Darling, we’re just worried about you,” Rarity said gently. “Just relax...if something really is wrong with the world, we promise we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“I-I’ll make sure you don’t oversleep,” Spike added. “If...if that’s what you really want. You know me. The last thing I’d ever want is to let you down.”

“You’ve done so much for me,” Starlight smiled honestly, “and you’ve made me proud to call myself your student. I won’t leave you hanging. Not ever.”

Twilight felt an odd tingle over her form. The magic of the night seeped into her being, and though her own power was sufficient to resist it, she allowed her eyelids to become heavy under its influence. Quickly they closed, and she felt the tranquil sea drawing her down into its depths.

“We’ll be waiting,” Celestia’s distant voice said. “Have faith. And have fun.”

Twilight perked at the strange sentiment, intending to question it, but it was too late. The sea was all around her. For a moment she was taken by panic - the endless, dark blue space, where creatures great and small swam freely, some pushing their size to the limits of her perception. An impossibly huge beast, one that seemed to dwarf the entire city of Canterlot, swam past her, it’s wake enough to send the princess spiralling and squealing with fear through the water out of control.

Twilight shut her eyes tightly and bade the monstrosity to vanish, only to find the sensation of weightlessness to be gone. Now she was falling, and before she could open her eyes, she impacted with something that felt like a bush. Flailing, she scrambled to her hooves and stuck her head out from a leafy mound near the ground to take in her surroundings.

Sweet Apple Acres stood proudly in the light of the afternoon sun. Twilight nearly forgot what was going on and wondered how she had gotten there, before the image of the sun itself brought her back.

The sun. Luna had told her to focus on a familiar, comfortable image. The sun was Celestia’s grace, and in her formative years Twilight had known no greater support. The wrongness of it was subtle, but it was enough to meet the ‘conspicuous’ standards Luna had told her about. The sun’s position was at high noon, but the long shadows cast by every object were those of a sun that was in the process of dipping below the western horizon. The direction of the light made each shadow impossible, and that was enough to bring the princess back to herself.

Disentangling herself from the bush, Twilight strode towards a group of ponies who were gathered around a collection of tables that had been set out in the front yard. There was a banner hanging from poles above, and she read aloud from it:

“‘Happy Birthday...Applejack.’”

“Why thank ya kindly Twi!” replied a voice Twilight thought she might never hear again. The princess started at the approach of the newcomer, who sported a handsome Stetson and a wide grin. “Glad y’all could turn out for my special day!”

“A-Applejack? Applejack!!” Twilight nearly burst into tears on the spot, and flung herself into the embrace of her friend. “Oh, I thought you were gone forever! I’m so happy to see you!!”

Applejack chuckled and patted her friend’s head somewhat condescendingly. “Whoa now, heh, you’re gonna squeeze the juice right out of me sure as a fresh crop at cider makin’ time!”

Twilight stood back, but held Applejack firmly by the shoulders. “Just let me look at you, just for a moment…”

Applejack tilted her head. “Gotta be more interestin’ things to look at than just me. Like the paint, for example.”

“...what?”

Applejack nodded towards the barn. “The paint, a’course. Most interestin’ thing around these parts nowadays is that.”

Twilight turned to glance at the barn, and let out a small gasp. The red paint on the structure’s walls was running, creating a thick, dark pool that had spread out on the grass. What was more, the amount of paint never seemed to lessen - like an open wound, the redness just kept bleeding from the structure in slow waves, making the entire building look as though it was melting.

“Wh-why…?”

“Hey Twilight!” Another voice called. “So you finally showed up, huh? I was starting to think you’d never get here!”

Rainbow Dash swooped up on her wings and hovered before the princess, looking no less the worse for wear than ever she had been. Twilight smiled, but the gesture tapered off when she noticed the general lack of reaction to the bleeding building.

“This...right, this is a dream. I miss you all, but...you’re not really here…”

A hoof touched Twilight’s withers from behind, followed by a meek voice.

“Oh, hello Twilight,” Fluttershy said softly, decked out in the same clown suit she had worn to the original party. “Gee, it’s awfully nice to see you again.”

“You’re all here,” Twilight mused, her attention cycling between them. “But what does it all mean? What’s happening?”

Applejack scratched the back of her head and pondered. “Well, it’s kinda your fault, all this. On account’a what ya done.”

“M-me?” Twilight balked. “But I haven’t done anything...it’s that pony that’s been doing it, the one in the coat. Is that...are you saying that’s me from another reality? A-am I getting pushed into alternate realities?”

“Wayyyy off base,” Dash waved her foreleg dismissively.

“Then what is it!?” Twilight cried. “Please, I have to know while there’s still time!”

“Well, you see, the thing is,” Fluttershy chittered, “we can’t exactly tell you that, because, you know...we’re just part of your dream. You don’t know, so we don’t know.”

“Then how do you know I’m wrong about the shadow pony being another me?” Twilight reasoned. “And how can you say this is all my fault?”

“Becauuuuuse,” Dash chimed in, “you know that’s ridiculous and you don’t believe it yourself, do ya?”

“...well, it is pretty preposterous so...you’ve got me there…” Twilight mused. “B-but at this point I might be willing to believe anyth--”

“--and you’re already blaming yourself for everything that’s happening anyway, and making it all about you, just like always,” Fluttershy added. “So saying it’s all your fault is perfectly natural, isn’t it?”

Twilight shrank under the uncharacteristic harshness of her softspoken friend’s comment. “I...that is…”

“So enjoy the party, Twi!” Applejack was walking towards the tables. “Sit a spell and wait till it’s time to head on back to reality. Everypony’s here, after all!”

Twilight blinked.

Applejack’s words were an understatement.

The buffet tables and layout were the same, but the number of patrons was beyond what the farm could manage. Hundreds, possibly thousands of ponies dressed in garb from nearly every city in Equestria were suddenly milling about everywhere, filling up so much of the land that there was barely room to wade through them. Twilight didn’t know most of the attendees, but among them were a few more that the princess was quite certain had already vanished from reality.

In the center of the tables, upon a rickety wooden dais, was a podium with a microphone. Behind it stood Mayor Mare, who swept her foreleg towards the barn and addressed the audience.

“Welcome, fellow citizens of Equestria, to Applejack’s big day! We’re so glad to see so many of you in attendance! While we await our special guest, may I direct your attention to the most fascinating spectacle ever to grace our society - the paint wall, which promises to eventually dry!”

Twilight attempted to get a word in, but the collective ‘oooo’ noise from thousands of ponies all at once drowned her out. Every eye turned to the barn; a number of foals were mucking about below, getting themselves coated in a rather baleful red that made Twilight feel sick to her stomach. Twilight stood on her hind legs and waved her hooves, desperately trying to draw attention to herself.

“Mayor Mare! Why is the barn bleeding?? Who is the special guest!?”

The mayor perked, but not at the princess. “Ah, and here we are now, our very special guest!”

Twilight froze. Upon the podium strode the trench-coated pony, whose features were again well hidden by the impossibly long shadows. Only the blueness of the pony’s eyes gave icy light to its gray clothing, and wherever it glanced, another group of ponies winked out of existence. Whenever this happened, the remainder of the audience burst forth with thunderous applause, loud enough that Twilight had to hold her ears.

“Excellent, excellent!” Mayor Mare shouted into the microphone, her voice amplified by speakers from nowhere. “Now it’s time for--fun!!”

With that, the entire assemblage of ponies began to leap about in random patterns, echoing the last word of the mayor over and over. There was no room to move, but they were vanishing so fast that there wasn’t a single collision.

Twilight shouted, screamed; demanded attention as best she could. She lit her horn and attempted to teleport herself to the dais, only to materialize further away. From every direction a bouncing pony, lost in glee, flew at her, until she had no choice but to throw herself to the ground and cover her head, hoping that she wouldn’t be trampled under the stampede.

“No...no stop...stop, please!” Twilight shouted, her words inaudible even to herself. “Stop, just...just STOP!!”

Obligingly, the cacophonous noise and thundering vibrations from the earth instantly ceased. When Twilight dared to look up again, there was no evidence, aside from the ransacked buffet tables, that another soul had been there at all. Even the birds and insects were absent, and the entire landscape was as silent as a tomb.

The princess rose and walked about the dais. The only sounds were the snap of the now tattered birthday banner that billowed in the breeze, a plastic cup as it rolled from one of the tables, and her hooves as they rustled through the grass. The drooling paint was also gone - Twilight observed the barn, it’s original coat of red now dry and cracked, as though decades old.

“P-Princess Luna…?” Twilight called in vain, climbing upon the dais to make use of the podium and microphone. “Anypony?”

The eerie stillness came alive with the sound of one pair of hooves clapping.

“H-hello…?”

“Hello, Twilight,” A deep voice replied. “My, you’ve managed to make quite a mess of things this time, haven’t you?”

A presence appeared, floating in the air just above the buffet tables. The princess’s brows knit.

“...Discord.”

The unmistakable image of the draconequus twirled about in midair, a cup of punch in his grasp. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out! Isn’t that what they say? Why, if you were to use it too much--” he began to fade away, “--just imagine what might happen…”

“Wait!” Twilight cried without thinking. “Don’t leave!!”

Discord instantly phased back into existence, albeit in a flashy sequined dress and holding several bouquets of flowers. “You don’t want me to go? Does this mean you like me? You really like me!? Ah, my public!!”

Twilight was startled by flashes from a score of nonexistent cameras, and gritted her teeth as she watched Discord blow kisses at the trees. “Are you a part of my dream?” She asked directly.

Discord’s accoutrements vanished, and he was back to lounging in the air, sipping on some punch.

“Cutting right to the chase this time, eh? I like that. Howeverrrrrrr--” Discord pondered, stretching his chin out down nearly to the ground with one elongated arm as she scratched it, “--I’d have to say…no.”

Unconvinced, Twilight asked her by now ponderous, probing question. “How many Elements of Harmony are there?”

“How nice of you to ask!” Discord pronounced. In a moment, he was Applejack, and he spoke with a ridiculously over-exaggerated drawl:

“Welp pardner, ah reckon there was once six of ‘em up here in this ol’ pig sty, but then--”

Discord became Rainbow Dash: “Then there were totally five, because five is totally an awesome number, and because I’m totally awesome!”

Discord became Fluttershy: “Oh my, but...then there were only four, because, um, oh dear, I mean, i-if that’s okay with you, there were only four…”

Discord became Rarity: “But darling, then there were only three fabulous elements, because you see--”

Discord became Pinkie Pie: “Because three is more than two, but if you don’t find out why there are only three soon, then there might be only two, and then maybe there will only be one, unless maybe there will be more instead of less, and then there would be four again, but that’s not as good as five, so maybe there will be five again, or maybe just--”

“Alright!” Twilight shouted, “I believe you! Just tell me why you’re doing this!!”

Discord, himself again, paused. He moved not a muscle, floating with one claw over his chest and a kink in his brow. “You wound me, Twilight. You think this is my doing? Have you forgotten your little friend Pony Sinatra, with the zoot suit hat and the ol’ blue eyes schtick? Isn’t that just so mysterious?”

Twilight let out a breath and dipped her head menacingly. “How do I know that pony isn’t you? I didn’t see a horn, and even if I had, there’s no magic I’ve ever heard of that can just make ponies wink entirely out of existence, just like that. But I bet it’s something chaos can do.”

Discord matched Twilight’s exhale. Suddenly he had a mass of monogrammed luggage all around him. He turned away. “After all I’ve done for Equestria and for our friends recently, you’re going to baselessly accuse me like that. Well, I never! I think I will be going after all, since you’re doing oh so well on your own. Ta-ta!”

“W-wait--!” Twilight held up her hoof. She swallowed her cry and softened her countenance, forcing the ragged emotions from the past day into remission. “...I-I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

Discord glanced behind himself by rotating his head 180 degrees. “And?”

“A-and I shouldn’t just accuse you of being behind all of this out of the blue.”

“Aaaand?”

“B-because you...because you did a wonderful thing for all of us, and for the changeling kingdom.”

“Aaaaaaaaand…?”

“And...a-and…” Twilight hung her head. “...and I need your help. Please help me, Discord.”

“There now-” Discord appeared an inch from Twilight’s face, and promptly reached out to pinch her cheeks, “-was that so hard? Helping is what friends do, oh Friendship Princess.”

Twilight, shamed, didn’t bother to brush off the draconequus’s machinations. “I...I know. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately. Will you help me?”

“Oh, most certainly.”

“You will?” Twilight brightened, and for the first time since Applejack’s party, she felt like smiling. “Then let’s get to it! Tell me what’s going on if you know, please!”

Discord was over by an apple tree. He swatted it with his cloven hoof, the leg wrapped in a brace that read ‘Kicks Something-or-Other’, held out his claw, waited for an apple to fall into it, and took a large bite. “Well, ponies are ceasing to exist.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Twilight sighed.

“It’s all your fault.”

Twilight circled around to the front of the podium, defiance on her face. “But how can that be? I wasn’t messing around with powerful magic at the time, and I didn’t do anything that could have caused this to start happening!”

Discord shook his head, clucking his tongue. In a moment he was clad differently - this time in a white hazmat suit with the helmet pulled up. “Twilight, Twilight, Twilight...you’re not thinking fourth dimensionally! Is that the only way a pony can be at fault for something?”

Twilight’s ear flicked, and she took in the sounds of clocks ticking all around her. “Uh...I’m pretty sure the only way I can be at fault for something is to do the something in question, isn’t it?”

The hazmat suit was gone, and Discord silenced the ticking noises with a wave of his arm. “You know, I had much higher hopes for you in all of this. But I can see we’re going to have to start at square one. After all, if you don’t figure this out soon, your entire world might end up in...Jeopardy!”

With a snap of Discord’s talons, Twilight found herself in an entirely different environment. The sun still loomed above and the shadows were still wrong, but the farm had been replaced by something that resembled a filming studio. Twilight was again behind a podium, but it had split thricely; to either side of her she found copies of Discord, each of the three podiums marked with either her name or his respectively. Bleachers were set off to one side, populated by dozens of other Discords who were wearing foam fingers, silly hats, jerseys with her name on them, and purple facepaint. They cheered and waved tiny banners on sticks featuring Twilight’s cutie mark.

Before the princess was a large wall of what she knew from her time in the human world to be television monitors, stacked up in a square pattern. Each depicted a blue screen - the top row featuring words, while all the others had monetary values in bits. Another Discord, this one with a suit, tie, and a gray mustache, stood before them; in his grasp a thin microphone and a claw full of cue cards.

“They’re all rooting for you Twilight,” The Discord before the monitors announced. “Just make sure you phrase all of your answers in the form of a question, but remember - miss three and it’s game over!”

Twilight tried in vain to take in the entire scene all at once. “Discord, we don’t have time for games! Who knows how many ponies are disappearing at this very moment, I have to--”

The mustached Discord grew to three times his size in the flash of a second. His neck was long enough to reach all the way over to the podium, where he touched muzzles with Twilight, gazing into her eyes.

“Do you want to go stumbling back to what’s left of your world? Or do you want answers?”

Twilight actually shivered. She relented, and host-Discord returned to his own size and position.

“Very well then, let us begin!”

There was a chime, and all of the monitors glowed brighter. “Discord,” Host-Discord said, glancing at the one to Twilight’s left. “As you are our returning champion, you sly dog - how about you start us off?”

Left-Discord clapped gleefully. “Oh, I would be delighted! Discord, I’ll take ‘Slapstick’ for two-hundred bits.”

The monitor listing the number ‘200’ suddenly ejected a pie from its screen, which flew out with the speed of a canon and struck left-Discord in the face.

“Ah!” Host-Discord cried. “That’s a daily double!”

Another pie flew out and smashed into the same target. Spatter ended up on Twilight’s hoof, and instinctively she tasted it. “Wh-what is…lemon meringue?”

“Correct!” the host yelled. “Two hundred bits for Twilight Sparkle!”

“Wait, what?”

The crowd went wild, and Twilight’s podium, itself fixed with a small monitor, lit up the number ‘200’.

“That makes it your turn, Miss Sparkle!” the host announced.

Twilight examined the monitors and began to read the categories aloud: “...questions I’ve already asked…”

“Indeed!” The host said. “For two hundred!”

“W-wait, I didn’t choose--!”

“The answer is--” host-Discord interrupted as he read from the ‘200’ monitor. “‘No!’”

“No?” Twilight repeated. “What kind of answer is that? How can I come up with a question with an answer so ambigu--”

There was a buzzing noise, and the Discord to Twilight’s right held up one arm. “Oh! Oh! I know! What is ‘Is this your fault, Discord?’”

“Very good Discord!” the host shouted. “Two hundred bits for you! And you control the board!”

“Wait!” Twilight implored. “I need to know--!”

“Oh thank you Discord,” right-Discord replied. “I’ll take ‘Potent Potables’ for four hundred, please.”

“You will indeed!” host-Discord, who had suddenly come into possession of a bell-rope suspended from the ceiling where the sun was, yanked hard on it. “We have the most potent potables of all!”

The Discord to Twilight’s right was engulfed in a torrent of amber liquid from above, followed by the cask it had resided in. Again there was spatter, and again Twilight couldn’t help but taste that which landed in her face.

“Pffft! What is this!? Hard apple cider!?”

“Correct, Twilight Sparkle! You’re in the lead, and the next choice is yours!”

The crowd burst into catcalls and hooting. Twilight wiped cider from her eyelids, opened her eyes, and brought the board into focus.

“I-I’ll take…‘questions I ought to be asking’, for...eight hundred!”

The crowd let out a collective ‘oooo’ noise. Host-Discord, who was now the only one remaining besides the audience, grinned.

“Now we’re cooking with hay!” Discord declared. “Let’s see...the answer is…‘Pony Sinatra’.”

Twilight felt her confidence building. “Who is the pony behind this!”

“Correct!”

“B-but, who is that pony…? That’s not a name…”

A buzzer went off. Discord sighed.

“I’m sorry Twilight, but you can’t question an answer that hasn’t been asked.”

“...what?”

“One wrong! Next!”

“Uh...um…” Twilight perked. “The same category for...for nine hundred!”

“Excellent choice! The answer is--‘Yes, but not in the way you think!’”

Twilight asked the first question that came into her head. “What is...are you involved in this at all?”

“Correct!”

The princess scowled. “Wait, you said this wasn’t your--”

“BEEP!” Discord shouted, as he touched his nose and gave rise to the sound of an air horn. “Your speculation isn’t in the form of a question! That’s two wrong!”

An urge to complain about the lackluster ‘rules’ entered into Twilight’s mind, but she thought better of voicing it. Instead she let out another sigh and went with the flow. “...give me the same category for one thousand, please.”

Discord grinned. “The answer is - ‘Because that pony needed me - which is more than they could say for you.”

Twilight swallowed. “What is...how does this involve you?”

Discord tossed the cue cards over his shoulder. The crowd vanished, and the rest of the studio slowly faded from existence, until there was nothing but Twilight, the podium, Discord, and a field of endless blackness.

“Correct,” the draconequus replied. “The next answer is - ‘Blue.’

Twilight hesitated. “...but I know that already. What is, what color are the eyes of that pony…”

Discord twirled in midair. “Indeed. And what does that tell you?”

“I...blue eyes…”

“How many Elements of Harmony are there, Twilight,” Discord threw the princess’s boorish question back in her face.

“Six.”

“How many Elements of Harmony are there….now, Twilight?”

“...three…”

Discord snapped his talons like a lighter, generated a small flame, and used it to light the end of a cattail reed, which he began to patiently smoke like a cigarette. Eventually, the inevitable (and quite literal) lightbulb appeared over Twilight’s head.

Twilight glanced up at the light, and just as quickly looked sharply away. “...Pinkie Pie…?”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Rarity...Rarity also has blue eyes…”

Discord puffed on the reed, tapped some of the ash off of it, and then promptly ate it. “Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today. We’ll have to save your one more wrong question for later, as I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of what my employer will allow me to hoof over to you on a silver platter.”

“But they’re not the only ponies I know with blue eyes!” Twilight insisted. “My best friends wouldn’t hire you to destroy reality just to get back at me for something I did, or teach me a lesson! And you wouldn’t do it anyway, so even that doesn’t make any sense! None of this helped at all!”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“No,” Twilight said with determination. “No you wouldn’t. Because that would mean hurting Fluttershy.”

Discord’s constantly-maintained grin finally vanished. “We’re finished, princess.” With that, he snapped his talons and the lightbulb above Twilight’s head grew to the size and luminescence of the sun high above. Its radiance did nothing to dispel the blackness, but it shown like a huge, flashing ‘Exit’ sign. Discord waved his paw at the sky.

“Get out of here, princess. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve just been wasting your time. Maybe I’m even being helpful - maybe I’ve just been trying to keep you distracted and asleep on purpose, so Princess Moonbutt can finish her term paper on your gray matter. Or maybe...maybe you’re the one who’s been wasting time, and if you don’t act fast...it will be too late for all of us.”

“B-but if you helped to make this happen, you can stop it…”

“It’s not that easy. Now that things are in motion, only you can bring them to an end. Better hurry up. Haven’t you wondered why you haven’t seen head-” Discord’s head turned into Luna’s, “-or tail-” Discord grew Luna’s tail, “-of everypony’s favorite melancholy nighthorse?”

Twilight gasped. Without another word, she closed her eyes and launched herself into the air, flying directly towards the sun - her cozy image that would ensure her escape from the absence of dreaming. A moment later she was flat on her back, blinking the sands of sleep out of her eyes. The ground below her was too hard to be a bed. She rubbed her eyes feverishly and sat up.

“Spike? Princess Luna? Princess Celestia? Hello!?”

Around her, Twilight found the quiet center of Ponyville. Everything was eerily as it ought to be, save for the presence of any living thing beyond flora. Twilight called again, her voice echoing down the empty alleys - until another sharp gasp took her. The mountain above was pristine...untouched by pony hooves.

Canterlot was gone.

5 - Ol' Blue Eyes is Back

Canterlot was gone.

Twilight backpeddled in the dirt until she banged into a fruit cart, causing an orange to promptly bop her on the noggin. The trauma failed to rouse her from her terror, and with eyes the size of dinner plates, she gaped at the empty cliffs of the mountain above.

“...g-gone…” the princess choked, “...i-it’s not just ponies...e-everything is...is…”

Having not been born with pegasus instinct, the princess eschewed her wings in her state of panic, preferring instead to go barreling down a random street on her hooves. Names escaped her lips in shrill cries as she called for friends, townsponies, and anypony else she could think of. The flowers remained in bloom, but the florists were gone. The produce in front of the grocery store looked fresh, but nopony attended it. Quills and Sofas had an ‘open’ sign hanging out front, but the clerks were nowhere to be found.

Stricken to the limits of her sensibilities, Twilight ran at a hard gallop until her legs would no longer support her. When her knees finally buckled, she found herself just outside of town, on a path she had traveled a hundred times before. She shut her eyes tightly, wishing she could get by without ever having to open them again, but the inevitable eventually came to pass.

Sweet Apple Acres was not only gone, it was as though it had never existed. There was a small, empty shack where the barn had once been with an ancient-looking carved sign marking the place, but only wild growth graced the fields. The place had once been a farm, but whomever settled it had moved on ages hence.

Twilight turned sharply away, the chill of late autumn finally catching up with her. She would not investigate. She could not bring herself to.

“E-everypony...a-and…a-and Spike! Spike!!”

Summoning up reserves of strength, Twilight shot back into town as quickly as she had left, one thought alone on her mind.

“Spike...oh Spike please...not you too...I can’t lose everyone...p-please not you…”

Upon the cusp of each breath the princess took came another cry for her assistant, friend, and surrogate son. She made it all the way back to the doorstep of the Palace of Friendship before collapsing again, her shouts obfuscated by choking on desperately needed oxygen.

“Spike…” Twilight barely managed through her coughing, “...Spike don’t leave me...please answer me…”

“Twilight?”

The sound of the little dragon’s stubby voice was a symphony to the Princess of Friendship’s ears. Panting from the stairs, she fluttered her eyelids and brought into view a blurry image of Spike, who was holding a green gem in one claw and gazing obliviously back at her. Concern alighted on Spike’s face as he trotted over, bobbing on his two ruddy legs.

“Twilight, are you okay?”

Motherly instinct caused Twilight to manage a reassuring smile. When the dragon was close enough she swept him up and drew him, half-eaten emerald and all, into a tender embrace, stroking his crests with a hoof.

“Oh Spike...oh, I thought I’d lost you...oh thank Celestia…”

“Thank who?” Spike tossed the rest of his gem in his mouth and spoke through chewing. “Youf okway? Yer cwaydlin me like a babee…”

Twilight blushed and sat Spike down. “Sorry, but...can you blame me…?”

Spike tilted his head. “Well, you only went out for a fly half an hour ago, so I don’t really get what the big deal--” he paused as something occurred to him, “...oh. This is about your disappearing thing, isn’t it.”

“Princess Celestia…?” Twilight ventured. “Princess Luna…?”

Spike shook his head. “Twilight, we’ve been through this. I’m sorry, I really am, but I don’t know anyponies named--”

“Princess Cadance? At least tell me you’ve heard of the Crystal Empire?”

“...uh…”

“My brother? My parents?”

“You don’t have a bro--”

Twilight rose to her hooves, spun in a circle at the bottom of the stairs, and held her forelegs aloft to the sky. “Who raises the sun, Spike? Who raises the moon? How can I be alive if my parents never existed!?”

Spike shrugged. “You do all that stuff, same as always. You’re the ruler of Equestria. You hatched me, and I...dunno where you came from. Magicky-stuff. We’ve never really talked about it.”

“Me,” Twilight touched her chest. “I rule all of Equestria. Alone.”

“...yeah?”

“Baltimare? Manehattan? Appleoosa? The Changeling lands? Is any of this ringing a bell?”

“...whatling?”

The lone princess rattled with a sarcastic chuckle. “Oh sure Spike, that makes perfect sense. Just you and me, by ourselves, an empire of two!! What about the citizens that make up an empire?”

“Eh, not exactly, but we’ve never really needed citizens before…?”

“Why a flower shop?” Twilight challenged. “Why a grocery store? Why a bunch of empty homes!?”

Spike began counting on his talons, with all the logic Princess Luna had used in Canterlot. “Flowers are pretty and it’s nice to have a place to store them, you never know when we might need some extra food, and we figured maybe we might get visitors someday?”

“We figured maybe?” Twilight snorted. “But if there’s nopony left in all the world, why would we ‘figure’ that!?”

“Well,” Spike hesitated. “We don’t actually know that for a fact about the whole world…”

“So you’re telling me that all of Equestria is just you and me, in this town we built in case there’s some other sapient creature somewhere who might come calling while we hang around eating gems and watching the stars.”

Spike checked his claw, as if he were expecting to see something new to munch on there. “Well, not exactly. You don’t eat gems, for one.”

Twilight let her face fall into one hoof. Without looking up, she asked her question yet again, knowing what the answer would be:

“Spike, how many Elements of Harmony are there?”

“Two.”

“Of course there’s only one--wait, what?” Twilight looked up. “Two? You have an element?”

“Tch, what? No,” Spike replied. “Not that it wouldn’t be awesome, but you know what I mean.”

Twilight drolly narrowed her eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“Magic and laughter,” Spike said simply. “What good is a magical life if you don’t have laughter, right?”

“So...Pinkie Pie is…”

Spike pointed into town. “Probably baking something awesome. Whenever she gets to baking we always get to try it. Who else is gonna eat it, right? Yum!”

“Spike, is there anypony, or for that matter anyone else, who has ever lived in this town, as far as you know?”

“Nope.”

Twilight sank into deep pondering. She could spend all day questioning Spike’s logic - how there could be books written by others, where Pinkie’s family was, and so forth - but she had the feeling it would do no good. There was still a riddle to solve, and so long as anypony was left to save, the time had not yet come to give in. She began to postulate aloud:

“...somepony has to be behind this, since Discord said this wasn’t his idea...and that somepony would have to be awfully important to him, or he somehow awfully beholden to them, for him to knowingly damage all of reality for them…” She glanced into town. “...could that somepony be Pinkie Pie? Why would Discord do something like this for Pinkie Pie? They’re not that close...”

Spike stepped up to Twilight’s side and tried, once again, to reassure her with a smile. “I said it before Twilight, if you say there’s something wrong...I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

“Is it you, Spike?”

Spike blinked. “Is what me?”

Twilight waved her foreleg towards town. “Are you behind this?”

Spike raised a brow. “Twilight, seriously...I’ve been trying to understand what you’ve been going on about for like two days now. You said you were worried something might be wrong with you instead of the world, went off to do some brain check on yourself, and now you’re back here.”

“That’s not an answer to my question, Spike,” Twilight said uneasily.

Spike looked boldly into the princess’s eyes. “You know...I’m sorta hurt you would even suggest that. Do you really think I would be behind whatever it is you’ve been talking about all this time? You’re barely ever making any sense lately, and now you’re gonna go so far as to--”

Twilight wasn’t listening. Spike’s lips were moving, but in true single-minded form, the princess only had her attention on Spike’s eyes.

His green eyes.

“...you didn’t do this, did you Spike. I’m sorry.”

“--and furthermore--huh?” Spike stopped. “No, I didn’t do anything Twilight, I’ve been trying to tell you--”

“Pinkie Pie. Her eyes.”

“...I...what? What about them?”

“They’re blue.”

“That’s not really uncommon knowledge,” Spike smirked. “Everypony in Equestria knows it, after all.”

Twilight looked back towards the town as if she were expecting it to suddenly burst into flames. “...she...why would she...but it’s the only logical answer, she’s the only one left who fits the description…”

Spike was once again lost. “Sooo...does this mean we’re gonna go see Pinkie Pie now?” There was fire again in the princess’s eyes, and even if Spike didn’t understand the source, he was glad to see it again.

“Hop on,” Twilight said as she knelt to accommodate. “Yes, that’s exactly where we’re going. We’re going to put an end to this, and...Celestia willing, reverse it somehow…”

Spike was about to say he could walk himself, but he knew better than to argue when Twilight Sparkle had that look on her face. A moment later the pair were headed straight for Sugarcube Corner.

“Reverse it…” Twilight whispered to herself. “...but Discord said, he can’t do anything about it at this point...only I can. How can I reverse all of this…?”

* * * * *

Twilight’s hooves knew the way to Sugarcube Corner better than her wings. So well in fact, that their owner put the entire quartet on autopilot whilst she ground her teeth in anticipation of their goal. By mere process of elimination, there was only one pony left who could be responsible for the unmaking of reality. Twilight knew her bubbly friend was eccentric, but to think that Pinkie Pie would champion such a heinous act, and for so petty a reason as presumed revenge, was difficult for the princess to even fathom. Worse, Twilight couldn’t even imagine what she might have done to engender such a response from one of her closest friends. Her embittered confusion might have been as much directed towards herself, were she not already boiling over with rage.

The colorful bakery that had once belonged to an innocent family who had been ripped from reality loomed in the empty streets. Ponyville remained a crypt of silence, such that Twilight could quite easily detect her quarry’s presence simply by listening to the cheerful humming coming from the kitchen. She paused long enough to let Spike down and approached the door. This time, in lieu of worried beating, Twilight spun about and snapped her heels, applying the most wicked buck her studious body could manage to the wood. The door stood tall, but the blow was enough to jar the knob and send it flying open.

“Pinkie Pie!” Twilight announced, a bewildered Spike cowering behind her. “We need to talk!”

Pinkie had already emerged from the kitchen. She was pacing behind the bakery counter with a bowl of batter balanced upon one hoof, which she was stirring via a ladle impossibly wrapped in her poofy mane. Her hum had evolved into a pleasant whistling rendition of If I Only Had a Brain, and the mollifying scent of blueberries under fresh pie crust wafted from the kitchen in her wake. She brightened at the arrival of her visitors and turned to face them.

“Oh hey Twilight and Spike!” The earth mare sang. “Here for a sneak peek of today’s treats?” She shook her head (and thus the ladle) at them in a semi-mocking scold. “Now now, you know you’re going to get to try them all anyway, later on. Who else would eat them, right?” She pondered, touching the ladle to her forehead and spattering batter over her cheeks. “Hmm, although I guess I eat most of them. But if we ever have any visitors, I’m sure they would...unless they don’t like pies or cupcakes, but really that’s crazy talk, who wouldn’t like--”

“PINKIE!”

Pinkie came back to herself and sat the bowl down, only to hold up a foreleg for no apparent reason. “Oh, sorry! Forceful armpit!”

“That’s ‘force of habit’,” Twilight muttered as she completed the process of letting herself in. “Pinkie, I’m really not in the mood today. You know that we have something to talk about.”

“We do?” Pinkie glanced at the ceiling, again inadvertently touching her muzzle with the ladle in her hair. “Waaaaait a minute...is this about the spider costume at your birthday the other day? Because I totally thought you liked spiders, because you have all those dank corridors in your basement that are totally full of them.”

“Wait, how many spiders are we talking here?” Spike whimpered.

“My birthday?” Twilight repeated Pinkie’s words. “So now it’s my birthday?”

Pinkie blew on her bangs. “Pfft, no silly. Your birthday was yesterday. Spike’s is in three months, four days, seventeen hours, three minutes, and forty-seven seconds. And mine is a couple months after that but eh, who’s counting, right?”

“Never mind whose birthday it is...was...whatever!” Twilight roared. She stamped over to the counter and leveled a hoof in Pinkie’s face. “Pinkie Pie, I’m surprised at you! How could you do something like this!? If you had a problem with me, why didn’t you just come over and talk it out? Do you really think what you did is okay??”

Pinkie blinked, and touched the tip of Twilight’s hoof, which had come up short, with her bubblegum pink muzzle. “What did I do about...what? Did you not like the boysenberry turnovers last thursday?”

“What in Equestria did you say to Discord to get him to systematically unmake all of reality?” Twilight went on. “I know he’s had his faults, but I can’t believe even he would do something like this without an amazingly good reason for it. He says you’re the one behind this, and I want to know why.”

Pinkie faltered. She scooped up a power cord that was running to the blender in the kitchen in one hoof, while holding upon her other a different cord of unknown terminus. “...’this’ cord? Which cord? This one, or...this one?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Twilight heaved. “This is not okay! I have to know what you said to him and what’s going on here, so I can deal with this situation and hopefully undo it before we all stop existing!! He says only I can fix it, but I can’t do that without your help!”

Spike kept both his voice and his gait cautious as he wandered past the threshold behind his princess. “Twilight, listen to her...she doesn’t know what you’re talking about any more than I do…”

Twilight never took her eyes off of Pinkie. “She has to know, Spike. She’s the only one left that could possibly know, and I’m not going to let her pull her disappearing act again.” She loomed, her forelegs on the counter and her eyes like fiery brands in the other pony’s coat. “I have my eye on you, this time!”

Pinkie’s ears flattened and a dry chuckle rattled in her throat. She cast several oblivious glances at Spike, but each time, her vision was pulled back to the amethyst orbs that burned like twin suns above her. At a impasse, she grabbed a random pie from under the bakery counter, dipped her hoof in it without looking, and brought up a smattering of sweet-smelling red goo.

“...w-want some cherry? Eh heh…”

Twilight raised a hoof. Pinkie flinched, but in the turning of a second, Spike was on the counter and between the two ponies. He cast a reprimanding stare at the ruler of Equestria.

“Twilight, I know you’re upset, but I’m not gonna let you hit her.”

“Hit…?”

Twilight repeated the word blankly and glanced up at her own raised hoof, as though ignorant to its plans. When she looked down again, she found her beloved assistant leveling a scowl in her direction, and her dear pink friend, cowering in such uncharacteristic fear that the expression was twice as potent than from anypony else.

“I…” Twilight choked, her foreleg dropping. “...I-I’m sorry I...b-but if you’re the one behind this…”

“She’s not, Twilight,” Spike reproached. “Nopony is behind anything. You’re being paranoid.”

Cowed into silence, Twilight found that she could do nothing but stare dumbly at her friends. They stared back, and the standoff continued until Twilight’s expression began to erode, like thousands of years of water pouring over a cliff face. She pushed off of the counter and turned away, her face hidden in the crook of her elbow.

“...S-Spike…” the princess whimpered, “...I-I...I need you to tell me if I’m going crazy…”

Spike sat down on the counter and swung his legs. “Nah,” he ventured, “you’re not crazy, Twilight. You’re just...confused I guess, and--”

“Applejack,” Twilight interrupted. She whirled about, her cheeks a mottled mess of tears, and gestured to her forehead as though she were stroking the brim of a wide hat. “Always wears a Stetson, kicks like a mule, the most honest pony you’ll ever meet?” Twilight’s gesture changed - she nabbed a muffin from a side counter in her magic and began to pantomime powdering her cheeks with it. “Rarity? Dramatic, theatrical, eye for fashion...generous to a fault, but steadfast enough to do whatever she has to in order to achieve her goals? You have a huge crush on her, Spike! Don’t you remember?”

Spike and Pinkie only stared.

Twilight took to her wings and did three small loops around the room, puffing up her chest with pride when she landed. “Rainbow Dash? The Wonderbolt? Brash, headstrong, but never gives up on her friends?” Twilight nabbed a cupcake with a fondant bunny face from the cabinet and took to stroking it lovingly with a hoof. “Fluttershy? Talks to the animals? Sweet and kind, but possibly the bravest of us all because she’s not afraid to show us how scared and shy she is?”

Pinkie tried offering a smile. “They’re...really cute names, Twilight!”

Twilight tossed the entire cupcake in her mouth and depression-devoured it like so much ice cream. Wilting again, she hung her head. “...Princess Celestia, my mentor...she made me who I am today...Starlight Glimmer, who was just learning about how to brighten the world with friendship...little Flurry Heart, who never got a chance to grow up...m-my parents...m-my...my brother...I love them all so much, they can’t...can’t just be gone…”

Pinkie scrambled for the right thing to say. “Gee, uh, maybe...maybe a nice cake would make you feel better, Twilight? We could make it huge, like seventeen layers, all your favorite flavors, and we could go have a picnic by the lake?”

“Hey, yeah,” Spike kept the thought going. “That sounds great, doesn’t it Twilight? And afterwards, we can have the biggest book-sort-cation ever! We’ll organize like the entire neighborhood!”

“Psst,” Pinkie whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “That sounds totally bori--”

“Ix-nay on the oring-bayyyy-” Spike nudged back. “We’re talking about wilight-tway heeere….”

Pinkie wrinkled her snout. “That’s like the worst pony-latin I’ve ever heard. Clearly her name is light-tway.”

Spike hissed out a shushing noise, but Twilight’s attention was already back on the pair. The fire she had built up on her way to Sugarcube Corner was ashen, as was her expression.

“...please Pinkie, if nothing else...at least tell me what I did.”

Pinkie picked up the ladle, again with her hair, and took to licking at the batter on it. “Well, you came in the door, and you were all mean, and then we started talking about books and ix-naying, and--”

“No,” Twilight interrupted softly. “Tell me what I did to you. Tell me what was so horrible that it justified this.” she waved her foreleg towards the window, and the empty town beyond. “Even if this is the end...even if I can’t do anything about it. Tell me why it happened...please. I’ll beg if I have to.”

Pinkie seemed embarrassed. She blew on her bangs and waved nonchalantly with a hoof. “Psh, oh Twilight, you’ve never done anything horrible to me. We’re besties!”

Twilight felt her expression cracking again. She shut her eyes and tried in vain to cram her emotions back into her heart. “But how can that be…how can any of this be…” she whimpered. “Even the pattern of things vanishing doesn’t make any sense...some things that shouldn’t exist anymore are still here, while other things aren’t...you’re the only pony left that fits the description, but you’re not even upset about anything...I don’t…I don’t…”

“You don’t...what?” Spike said gently.

Twilight let the one phrase that vexed her more than any other rip.

“I don’t understand! I’m supposedly at fault for all this, but I didn’t do anything! If it’s something so bad that I did, how can I not have any clue what it was!? Am I really that awful of a pony!? Nothing fits - none of the pieces go in the right holes! Am I just stupid for not being able to figure it out!?”

“Twilight, settle down, you’re not stupi--”

The princess opened her eyes, revealing to the room the windows to her stressed soul. “But I can’t settle down. Maybe I’m crazy...maybe nothing I know was ever real at all, but I can’t just stop! I have to keep trying to figure this out, until the very end! All those ponies...they all deserve so much more than just to blink out of existence forever!!”

“You need to rest--”

“No!” Twilight stood tall. “I need to solve this! Even if it kills me, I need to keep going until I figure it out! I need to--”

Twilight’s eyes fell on a mirror behind Pinkie. In the reflection, standing outside, was the trench-coated pony.

Twilight whirled.

“NO! You’re not going to do this again!!”

Flickering lights from the bakery cases drew the princess’s attention. When she looked again, the room around her was as silent as all the other buildings in town. The structure itself remained solvent, but the baked goods, the scents, and the warmth were all gone.

“Pinkie...oh Celestia, Spike!!”

Panicked, Twilight dove over the counter and sprawled into the kitchen. It was the only way they could have gone, but the rear door was shut tight and the room was deserted.

“No...no, oh sweet merciful Celestia, no...not both of them…not Spike!!”

With the names of her last two friends on her lips, the Princess of Friendship began to ransack the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner. She tore bags of spices asunder, yanked crashing dishes from their shelves, and blew holes in anything that got in her way. Two minutes later, the room was an absolute disaster. With flour on her coat and oven grease about her hooves, Twilight stood upon the remnants of a countertop, desperate to fill her lungs again.

“No...no no no...no please…”

Standing in the middle of the street, clearly visible through a large hole Twilight had blasted through the wall during her tirade, was the coated-pony. It stood motionless, lancing the princess with its cold-blue eyes, and finally turned down the street, speeding into a gallop.

“NO!” Twilight cried, her horn crackling to terrible life. “You will NOT get away from me again!!”

Sugarcube Corner’s roof exploded. From within burst the fiendish image of a princess scorned, white fire in her eyes and a demonic spring in her widespread wings. She found her quarry in an instant and swept down upon it, sizzling blasts of energy eradicating structures, carts, and trees as she opened baleful fire on her target.

“Come back here!” The princess screamed, her voice amplified by the power coursing through her. “Come back here and make this right! You can’t run from me anymore! I’m never taking my eyes off you again!!”

Twilight swept low, trailing the pony through the streets. She moved as it moved, her attention focused upon her goal, until a split trunk from a burning tree caught her by the leg. Never an acrobat with her wings, the princess toppled headfirst into a roll and crashed into the side of a building, as a final blast from her horn took the top story off of Ponyville Town Hall.

Twilight sputtered and fought to collect herself, but in the haze of masonry dust and floral fallout, there was nothing. No sound of hoofbeats, no trail, and no sign of her adversary in any direction. Pain wracked her body, but she forced her wings to open and bolted into the sky to track the unknown pony once again.

Ponyville, enveloped in a host of small fires, slept below. The flames crackled in Twilight’s eyes, strangely peaceful, as though the entire town had gracefully given itself over to the end of its days. Not a soul capable of sapience was about, nor was there any evidence that one ever had been, save for the princess herself.

“...c-come back…” Twilight choked, her mousey voice now just above a whisper. “Please come back...don’t let it end this way…”

There was no reply beyond the kiss of the chilly breeze and the whipping of embers. With no more wind to fill her sails, Twilight Sparkle floated down into the middle of town - into the mouth of the destruction she had wrought. It was warm there, blessedly warm.

“...I’m so sorry everypony...I...I failed you…”

Twilight thought that if she cocooned her body with her wings, maybe she would never have to come out again.

6 - Making Friends

Ponyville.

The total sum of Equestrian civilization. The tiny hamlet with a habit for producing nothing. Under the forlorn eaves of an empty cliff above, she sleeps; dreaming of better days, glad tidings, and the sounds of ponies who once were.

The town’s fires had long since cooled, and in their wake lay a desolate street that sliced the otherwise pristine halves of the town in twain. Along that path, the decorations had been laid out two-fold - extra strands of lights, more wreaths, and additional bits of greenery that had been levitated in to replace the scorched flora. The attempt to mask the destruction was in vain; a beautiful, narrow Band-Aid plastered over a terrifying wound. Thus, bogged down by the lameness of Tiny Tim, Ponyville ushered in the cold season with a grimace. The temperature was not without benefit - flowers and produce, left to wilt for weeks in the weak autumn sun, would require no further attention until the dawning of spring.

Twilight Sparkle wondered how the seasons had managed to change on their own, and if reality would survive to see the lilacs bloom again.

The only structure that still bore lights both within and without was the Palace of Friendship. Two-thirds of the building was as quiet as the rest of the town, for the mistress of the house required little space. Throughout its halls rang the echoes of rustling tinsel, the crackle of a warm hearth, and a single voice, raised in solemn song.

“Pony’s voices fill the night,
Hearth’s Warming Eve is here once again.
Happy hearts so full and bright,
Hearth’s Warming Eve is...here...once again…”

There was a pause, but the stubborn lyricist didn’t give up-

“Oh, what a sight,
Look at the light,
All for...tonight…
Hearth’s Warming Eve is…”

“...is here…”

A sharp shattering noise brought an abrupt end to the tune. Treading air above the great hall on her wings, Twilight stared down at a single ornamental star, which had escaped her grasp only to be ended upon the solid floor. She floated down to her hooves and cocked her head, regarding the mess thoughtfully.

“Spike?” The princess called. “Sorry, can you grab the dustpan?”

There was no response, but neither did the princess falter. She merely smiled and ensorcelled the requested equipment herself, cleaning and depositing the unproductive offal in a nearby wastebasket.

“Thank you Spike, I’m sorry to bug you with that. I know you’re having a good time tonight.”

With that, Twilight went about the business of reviewing her transformed abode. She walked slowly amongst the tall tree, the boxes wrapped in beautiful paper, and the empty barrels that ought to have contained top-quality cider. She turned her head, changing her address with each movement:

“Rarity, you really outdid yourself on the ribbons. I can always count on you too keep a sharp eye on the decor.”

“Fluttershy, how’s your bird chorus? Do you think they’ll be ready to lead the carols later?”

“Rainbow Dash, slow down! You’re indoors, you know!”

“Oh Pinkie Pie, where do you get all that party energy? What would we do without you!”

“Applejack, I have to say that the cider seems even smoother this year!”

“How are you feeling about everything this year, Starlight? You know you can always come to me if you need anything.”

“Derpy, please be careful with the star!”

Twilight scooped up a silver tray with two fine chalices upon it and grinned towards the main entrance.

“Princess Celestia! Princess Luna! Princess Cadance! I’m so glad you all could make it! I know you must be busy with your own celebrations, so it really means a lot to me for you to pop in.” Twilight waggled her eyebrows and nudged a bale of hay loosely shaped like a pony. “My brother talked you into this I bet, Cadance. He can’t get enough of seeing family over the holidays. You’re going to have to tie him down, I bet! Oh here, try the cider!”

Twilight respectively sat the chalices atop the hay bale, and another one that looked just like it, only broader. She then sat the tray aside and spun into the center of the room, her forelegs held aloft.

“Smell that pine, everypony! Hearth’s Warming Eve really is….”

Twilight opened her eyes.

“...is...it really is...here….”

Around her, the decorated hall was filled with several dozen makeshift sculptures of ponies in hay, of various heights and girths. They were crude, and in some instances required various accoutrements, such as scarves, hats, or boots, just to tell what they were supposed to be.

Twilight looked down, and dipped her hoof to bring up the familiar periwinkle scarf that was draped loosely about her neck. She stared at it, as though the world held nothing else of note.

“...y-you know Spike, I...made a joke the first time you gave this to me, but I really love it. And I love you, too. I…” she blinked hard, “...I thought I should tell you that now, you know...in case something happens and I don’t get the chance to say it in the future. Just in case, right?”

Twilight stood in silence for a full minute, her mind alive with roaring laughter and hearty conversation from all angles. Finally she turned on her heels and marched into the round room that held the palace’s treasure, the Cutie Map.

The room was as silent as the rest of the palace, but the table itself was alive with the glowing magic that fueled it. Unfurled in all its phantasmal glory, the Cutie Map was in a constant state of alertness. In the center, atop Ponyville, flashed the cutie mark of Twilight Sparkle.

But that was all.

Twilight approached the table with a ponderous gait. Ponyville was represented there as it had always been, but the rest of the map was nothing but a swirling morass of black nothingness. She had tried several times to fly to those places, only to find the sheet of nothing - the unmaking force she could neither affect nor penetrate - moving slowly and inevitably inward. The effect was gradual, but its course was obvious. Nothingness was slowly strangling the last remnants of Twilight Sparkle’s world to death.

Twilight stared at the mocking emergency flash of her personal symbol above her town. If the mark on her flank was still pulsing in time with it, she had long since stopped noticing.

She rumbled, and her hoof came down upon the edge of the table. “Stop summoning me! I tried, okay!? I’ve tried everything! I can’t fix it this time, so leave me alone! J-just...just let me have one last Hearth’s Warming in peace! Let me say goodbye to everypony the way they would have wanted!!”

“My, what an attitude,” a voice replied. “One might think you cross, Princess.”

A patch of blackness just north of Ponyville on the table quivered, and from it rose the long neck and head of Discord; emerging like a great serpent to strike at the helpless world below. His body followed, until he was floating above the table with a cup of tea in his grasp and a saucer in his lap, sitting as though upon a straight-backed chair. He opened his mouth, but Twilight cut him off and turned away.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Discord.”

Discord summoned one of the hay-ponies to his side and reached out a talon to scratch it under the chin. “Are you certain? It looks to me as though all work and no talk is making Twilight a dull girl. Or perhaps simply a mad one.” Discord popped off his head and brought it to the tea, in lieu of bringing the cup to his lips. “Not that I can’t relate. I suppose from my perspective, you’ve become quite normal indeed.”

Twilight returned to the great hall, knowing the everpresent draconequus would follow. “You think I’ve gone crazy. I was getting pretty used to everypony calling me that, when there were still ponies here. I’m not, you know. I know that they’re all gone.”

Discord appeared from inside the tree, floating out from it without disturbing a single delicate ornament. “Oh? Why the voodoo dolls then?”

Twilight had been looking at the tree, but she darted her eyes sharply away. “It’s an homage. A show of respect. I know that nothingness is coming. Everypony...everyone, deserves to be recognized and remembered. This is the least I can do.”

“Mm, I suppose that’s it then,” Discord shrugged. He finished the cup of tea, tossed it into the boughs somewhere over his shoulder, and took to moseying about the room at a casual float, examining the hay-ponies as though in a museum. “Oh, this one must be Princess Sunny. Look how tall you made her. A bit taller than she ought to be, though. Hero worship, I’m sure.”

Twilight said nothing.

“Oh come now!” Discord snorted. “That ought to have at least drawn a smart-aleck request for me to hush up, or perhaps a vehement denial of all the pictures of your mentor you have under your bed?”

Twilight didn’t even try to deny the allegation. “There are no pictures. She doesn’t exist anymore, remember?” To illustrate her point, the last princess waved her hoof at a collection of shelves. Thereupon were spread out myriad framed holiday photographs from various moments in Twilight’s past. Every single one depicted only her, from fillyhood on through the years.

Discord changed the subject. “Such trouble you went to. You’re a better sculptor than you think you are, even if the medium is dubious. Why, I can even recognize them all.” He vanished in and out of existence, appearing next to a different decoration each time in order to appreciate and name aloud the pony it depicted. When he appeared before a window, he glanced at the sky. “And it’s snowing, to boot. Makes one wonder just how you went about a miracle like that, what with nopony having ever existed to staff the factory.”

Twilight wasn’t interested in discussing her methods. She stood before the hearth, transfixed by the flickering flames as they reflected in her eyes. “...why didn’t you stop this?”

“Moi?” Discord laid a claw on his chest. “We’ve been through that, have we not? All I could do was set it in motion. It’s out of my claws, paws, and cloven hooves now.

Twilight didn’t move, save for the narrowing of her eyes. “I remember what you said. I just didn’t believe it. Everything I’ve tried for the past month - every incantation, every spell. I thought to myself, if this doesn’t work, if none of it works...Discord won’t really let things stay like this.”

Discord floated around Twilight’s head. He was dressed in a lab coat with wild gray hair, and he touched a stethoscope to the princess’s forehead. “She thingks gut, zis one, but she does not listen, no no! I haff told her ve can do nothing! Zat only she can!”

Twilight shrugged off the touch and stepped closer to the fire. “If you knew you’d be unable to stop this once it started, then why did you do it? I don’t care what that pony said to you, I don’t care what’s at stake - how could you live with this, knowing what it would do to all your friends? To Fluttershy?”

Discord appeared atop the hearth, where he lounged, dangling a cluster of grapes above his head. “We never finished the game, you know. You only got two wrong.”

Twilight didn’t look up. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Discord rolled his eyes a full 360 degrees in his head. “And I suppose that’s intended to prompt me to ask why. Way to be passive aggressive, princess.” He sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine. Why?”

Twilight bypassed the long tables that were set out for a feast, and made her way towards the vaulted foyer. There she tightened her scarf and began the task of threading her hooves into a quartet of fuzzy moccasins. “Because the party is over. My friends are gone, and they’re never coming back. But you know what? I know how to save the world anyway.”

Discord, genuinely intrigued, flitted about in the air and said nothing, waiting for the princess to elaborate on her own.

“It’s so simple that I should have thought of it before,” Twilight punctuated her words with an unstable chuckle. “Don’t you see? We all need one another to exist! If we’re not here to live in the world, what point is there to the world at all? It’s like the tree falling in the forest. If nopony is there to hear it, does it make a sound?” She gestured to the landscape outside the window, “if nopody is here to live in the world, how can there even be a world to live in? The world knows that, and so it’s unmaking itself. But I can stop it.”

Discord folded his arms, cocked a brow, and waited for the rest.

“I can stop it by making friends!” Twilight announced.

A low rumble rolled to life in the pit of Discord’s stomach. By the time it had traveled up his throat, it was ready to be released as a hearty, high-pitched giggle. “Oh Twilight, I knew all of this would eventually drive you mad! It was only a matter of time.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yes yes, I’m sure you are,” Discord converted his paw and claw into the heads of the princesses of Sun and Moon, whom he entered into conversation with:

“My dear princess Sunny, I wonder if you could help me with something?”

“Why, whatever can I do for you, you handsome beast?” Head-Celestia replied.

“Tsk,” Discord smirked. “Not in front of other ponies, dear. Could you enlighten me on the first thing that’s required to make a friend?”

Head-Celestia scrunched her brow in thought. “Well, I would have to say kindness, understanding, the ability to compromise--”

“That’s not what he asked!” head-Luna scolded. “And while I must admit that he is indeed a handsome beast, he asked for one thing, which indubitably must be the first, most important thing, above all else!”

“And I suppose you are the best candidate to answer such a question, Miss Mare-in-the-Moon?” head-Celestia chided.

“No more or less than you might be, Miss Daymare,” head-Luna sniffed.

“I resemble that remark!”

“Ladies, ladies!” Discord chuckled smoothly, “Don’t argue. You both resemble your remarks equally!”

“Indeed!” Both head-princesses harumphed. They vanished, and Discord sighed deeply.

“I swear, finding good royal appendages these days is just so much trouble. They may have been useless to explain it themselves, but the point is this:” Discord dipped down, imposing his craning neck into Twilight’s field of vision. “The most important thing when making a friend is to have a pony in the first place to befriend. Not that you haven’t saved the world before by making friends, oh friendship princess, but how do you intend to do it when there are no ponies to do it with?”

Twilight’s smile was disturbingly merry, and stark contrast to the deep purple bags under her eyes. “I just told you. I’m going to make friends, of course!”

Discord found himself at a momentary loss. The pendulum of Twilight’s tenuous emotions swung again, and she touched his snout playfully with the tip of a hoof.

“Don’t you get it? I’ll make so many friends that the world won’t have any reason to not exist anymore! It’s too late for my old friends, but what difference will it make when I’m surrounded by new ones? Everything will totally go back to normal then!”

Discord pointed weakly at the great hall. “...isn’t that what you were already doing with the straw brigade back there?”

Twilight levitated a wool cap and settled it about her ears. “Psh, no. Like I said, those were just memorials.”

“Not the way you were talking to them they weren’t…” Discord muttered.

“Anyway!” Twilight sang, a manic tinge to her voice, “it’s time to go! Time to save the world again with the Magic of Friendship!” She moved towards the double doors, leaving a befuddled spirit of chaos in her wake. “Take a letter!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Take a letter, Spike!” Twilight shouted at the draconequus.

Discord actually jumped, and in a moment he was sporting a quill and parchment. Twilight began to recite, her voice strangely upbeat:

Dear Strange Pony,

I still don’t know who you are, nor what I ever did to you that made you want to destroy everypony in the world, even the ones I’ve personally never even met. But, I guess it’s time to congratulate you. You win. I’m all alone, and if you wanted me to suffer? I’m suffering. You have no idea how much I’m suffering. I’m suffering so hard that my suffering is suffering. Every single life that you plucked away from me is another pony in my head who begged me to save them, and I failed each and every one. I cried out my last tears a week ago, and I’m starting to forget who I even am, because there’s nopony here to give me an identity anymore. I do very much hope you got what you wanted.

The thing is, since I can’t fix whatever I did to you because I don’t know what it is, I’m afraid I have to take matters into my own hooves. So for each and every pony you took away, I’m going to make another. There will be so many ponies, so many friends, that I’m afraid you won’t be able to do anything more about it. I can make friends as quickly as you can unmake them, and I’m afraid the only way you can stop that is to unmake me. But then I won’t be suffering anymore because I won’t exist, so I guess you don’t win either way after all!

I guess what I’m trying to say is, in the politest terms...kiss my pretty purple pony butt.

Your Friend,
Twilight Sparkle

Discord was writing feverishly. “...pretty...purple...pony...does your butt prefer one ‘t’ or two at tea time?” He didn’t wait for an answer. When the document was complete, he rolled it up, tossed it in the air, and incinerated it in a puff of green fire. “There now, that should send it on its way to wherever, or perhaps simply immolate it. Somehow I doubt you care. Lovely parting sentiments by the way - I could very much get used to sass like that from you. So where are we headed, commandant?”

Twilight’s cunning had returned, even if it came on the cusp of a twitching vein in her forehead and a haunted look. “To the Everfree Forest. While some of it is still there.”

Discord brightened. “Finally - I thought you’d never ask! Perhaps there’s hope for you after all, my starbutted friend! Here, let me help you with that.”

Discord snapped the fingers of his paw, and in an instant, he and the last princess were gone.

* * * * *

Alicorn and draconequus emerged in a cavern. Despite the unforgiving rock faces in every direction the chamber was quite warm, such that Twilight didn’t miss the accessories she had been magicked right out of. A shimmering glow cast their features in stark relief, passing them by to alight the walls with a constant movement that made the entire place seem as though it were underwater.

Discord blew a trail of smoke from his thumb and index finger. “This is where you wanted to be, no?”

Twilight turned. Before her, lit from their depths like an olympic swimming pool, were the patiently rippling waters of the Mirror Pool. The air was still such that the waters ought to have been the same, but still they moved, as if calling to her. Her ears twitched; an imaginary melody tickling them. She smiled.

“Yes. This is the place.”

Discord was dressed as a butler. With a towel draped over one arm, he bowed low at the waist and gestured towards the water with an upturned palm. “Your Highness, be my guest.”

Twilight quirked a brow. “You’re not going to stop me?”

“Oh, far be it from me,” Discord mused. “It’s a clever solution to an impossible problem, even if you are damning thousands of copies of yourself to oblivion in the process. So by all means, go and make your friends.”

Twilight paused. The warm water was inches away. She hadn’t before considered the point Discord now brought to bear, but something deep inside her couldn’t stand another moment of being alone. Even standing still, she was constantly fleeing for her life from the ghosts of her failure, and everypony that had been wiped from the canvas as a result. If it lasted any longer, she truly would go mad - if she wasn’t already so.

They were all in her head. They would understand.

Twilight swallowed and approached the edge. There, staring up at her, was a pristine image of herself. The reflection was clear, but for the first time in weeks of solitude, Twilight noticed just how different it was from what she expected to see. Her shambled mane. her sunken cheeks. Her gaunt countenance, sullen colors, and even the lifelessness in her eyes.

“My, you’ve really let yourself go,” Discord commented from somewhere behind. “You’re just about out of food I bet, not that you’ve thought to eat anything in ages. I bet sleeping is just about impossible, too.”

“I...I…”

“Go on, Twilight,” Discord nudged. “Do it. Make friends. It’s the only way you can keep being the Princess of Friendship, after all.”

Twilight asked of herself, “...how did things end up like this?”

Discord’s voice oozed with sugary syrup. “Make friends, princess. It’s what you do.”

Twilight began to recite: “...where...where the brambles are thickest, there you will find...a pond beyond the most twisted of vines…”

Discord floated above and checked his wrist as though there were a watch there. “It’s about time this all came to a head. I suspect it will in, oh, about five...four...three…”

Twilight went on, extreme loneliness dispelling her reason. The shimmer of the water began to increase as the incantation took hold.

“...and into her own reflection s-she stared...y-yearning for one whose reflection she sh-shared...and solemnly sweared...not to be scared...at the prospect of being...doubly m--”

“STOP!”

The voice ripped through the cavern and echoed from every wall with such force, Twilight nearly toppled into the very waters from which she intended to extract her new self. The tone was shrill and familiar, and yet not - something was different about it, such that she both recognized it and did not all at once. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, a gray fedora was floating in the water, masking the reflection of herself.

Twilight looked up - directly into the face of the trench-coated pony, who stood upon the opposite bank, its head exposed for all to see.

“...y-you…” Twilight choked. “I-it...but it...it can’t be you!!”

7 - Wear My Hat

The mane was lifeless and flat, but for Twilight Sparkle, there was no mistaking the icy stare that bore a hole straight through her heart.

“...Pinkie…?”

Devoid of her usual mirth, the coat-clad party pony nodded her head slightly in greeting. “Twilight.”

Twilight gaped. “B-but how...how can you be here? The pony in the trench coat made you disappear, too! I was there when it happened!

Pinkie nonchalantly worked at the snaps on her heavy gray coat. She stepped out of it, and Twilight could see that her tail was just as deflated as her mane. “That wasn’t me. But what’s one less Pinkie Pie to you, right?”

“...what? I don’t unders--”

“Do you carve little pictures of balloons on your bathroom stall at home?” Pinkie hissed. “One for every kill you make, with a line drawn through them whenever you get to five?”

Fatigue caused Twilight to sit without thinking about it. “ Kill? What are you talking about?” She asked honestly. “I would never kill anyp-”

Again, Pinkie cut the princess off, this time with a dismissive snort. “Psh, I guess I mean so little to you that you don’t even consider it that?”

Twilight wracked her overstressed brain, but her cognitive process failed her. “I...I’m sorry but...I really don’t understand…”

Pinkie’s entire body flushed slightly red, such was her rage, and it looked as though one might fry an egg on her forehead. “And that’s the worst part! You kept asking everypony what you did, as if you don’t know! You don’t even remember - it wasn’t even important to you!”

Twilight flinched under her friend’s tirade. She dug into her own mind again; traveling the highways of her synapses at speed as she searched in desperation for an answer. Many avenues were withered and dull, but the very sight before her eyes as she averted them delivered her to her answer.

The patient waters of the mirror pool shimmered under the drab gray fedora that floated upon them.

Twilight gasped. Her head snapped back up.

“Y-you...you’re--!”

Pinkie nodded and thrust her hoof out at the water. “That’s right. I came from there. Thirty or forty of us did. I don’t remember how many, but as far as I know, I’m the last. You killed all the rest of us. And then you went on with your life, like it was nothing.”

Twilight sputtered. “Th-that’s not the same thing! You were all just magical constructs! All I did was dispel you!”

Pinkie lifted a brow. “Yeah? Then how come you were so worried about zapping the wrong one? If that were true - if we were all just spells - why would it have had any effect on her?”

Discord was floating in a corner, munching on popcorn and wearing paper 3D glasses. “You totally killed them all, Twilight. While they were watching paint dry, of all things. They didn’t even die happy. Tsk, tsk.”

Twilight abruptly stood. “You were all just magic spells! And you were ruining our town! I had to do something!”

Pinkie turned her head sharply, her straight mane whipping about her neck. “So your solution was to just start killing us off.” She stared blankly at a cavern wall, as though she could see her own past in it. “I got lucky. Just like all the others, all I wanted to do was have fun. Because that’s what the original Pinkie Pie wanted when she made us, and so it was the first thought any of us ever had. I just happened to bounce into the forest, past where you all were rounding us up. I didn’t know what was happening any more than they did, so if I hadn’t just bounced away, it would have been me in there too. Watching paint dry until the end.”

Twilight softened. “Pinkie Pie...you have to understand...you’re not actually Pinkie Pie...the mirror pool created you because Pinkie chanted an activation incantation over it. And then you all went haywire and started summoning more copies of yourselves. You were everywhere, and you were destroying things. Something had to be done.”

Pinkie fixed Twilight with a stare. “Something like what you did? Something like just getting rid of us all?”

Twilight opened her mouth and closed it again.

“See?” Pinkie scoffed. “You may not have wanted us all to be there, but it was too late - we were all there already, Twilight. You can’t just put a foal back when you get tired of it crying all the time, and that’s what we were. That day, all we knew was that we wanted to have fun. We would have calmed down eventually, just like the ‘real’ Pinkie Pie. Because we’re all her.”

“You’re not--”

“Yes I AM!” Pinkie shouted, tapping her chest with a hoof. “I breathe, I get hungry, I get sleepy, I laugh and cry...pointy things hurt me, cuddles feel good to me, and the sampler tray is my favorite sweet at Sugarcube Corner. I have every memory of Pinkie Pie, every urge in my heart that she has, and you know what? I was made last. I came out last of every other one, so it’s least of all my fault that I started existing. How am I different from Pinkie Pie?”

Discord, who by now had his popcorn bucket on his head and was working on another, cut in again. “Do you know what else she is, Twilight? She’s the Element of Laughter. Isn’t that just fascinating?”

“What?” Twilight turned towards the draconequus. “No she’s not. She can’t be. Even if she’s a near-perfect magical summons, she’s still a magical summons. There’s only one Element of Laughter, and Pinkie Pie - the real Pinkie Pie that is - is just a conduit for it. Like we all are for our elements. Unless…” Twilight glanced back at the image of her friend. “...unless that’s what this is all about. Taking over for the real Pinkie Pie. Becoming that conduit.”

“That’s what you think this is all about?” Pinkie simmered. “You think I just want to be the only Pinkie Pie? If that’s what I wanted, why did I take everything away from you, hmm? Why not just make Pinkie go poof, and take over for her? You’d never know the difference.”

“She’s got you there,” Discord quipped through a paw full of popcorn.

“I...I…” Twilight’s ears drooped. “...I don’t know, Pinkie. Why?”

“So you can understand how it feels, Twilight,” Pinkie replied coldly. “But it’s about more than what you did to the other Pinkies. After I realized what was happening, I ran away. I went into hiding. One time you all almost found me, when you were all in Manehattan helping Rarity set up her new boutique, but I had one advantage - you didn’t know I existed. To all my friends, my family, and everypony I ever cared about, I didn’t exist. What was worse, some other pony was living my life, and if I even tried to show my face there again, you would just have dispelled me like all the others. So I had to run away, and I had to stop being me. As I travelled, I found ponies I wanted to do things for. Throw parties. Make them smile. But I couldn’t. Each and every time I had to walk away, because if I started drawing attention to myself by being me, well...Pinkie Pie is famous. You’d have found out soon enough, and then you all would have come for me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to not be yourself? And I don’t mean just wearing a mask at a business meeting or something. I mean forever. Do you know what that’s like?”

“I…”

“What if I told you that you could never read a book again, or teach anypony anything, or wear your mane a certain way, or show your cutie mark in public, because if you did, other ponies would find you and make you stop existing?”

“P-Pinkie, I--”

“Well, now you know how it feels, Twilight. You made me not exist. So for you, I made everypony not exist.”

Twilight didn’t know what to say. Pieces of the puzzle were finally slipping into place in her mind, and with every one that clacked together, a measure of her sanity returned. She glanced at Discord and spoke her thoughts aloud.

“And the reason that history was never undone...the reason that removing Elements of Harmony or other ponies from the equation didn’t cause a disaster--”

“--is because that was never the point, Twilight,” Discord finished the thought. “I did tell you that this was all your fault, didn’t I? For once, your inflated ego is correct. It is indeed all about you.”

Twilight felt her legs give way. She was again resting in the soft dirt, the reflection looking back at her from the water one of shock. “You...both of you...destroyed reality...just to get revenge on me. I...I...I don’t believe it.”

“Well believe it Twilight,” Pinkie said, “because--”

“No,” Twilight said easily, her voice even. “I don’t believe it. You can say whatever you want, but this doesn’t add up, and I don’t believe it. What are we going to do now? Just sit in an empty world and wait for it to implode?” She turned sharply to Discord. “That is what’s going to happen, isn’t it?”

Discord summoned an alarm clock, checked it, and tossed it into the pool. It doubled into two, and though it couldn’t be determined if the division had been his doing or the pool’s, he rolled his eyes and made both of them vanish. “Oh, indeed. Quite soon, too. And for the record, Miss congeniality over there is quite correct. She is the Element of Laughter, just as much as your other pink friend was. You see-” Discord floated over to the mirror pool and dipped a claw into it. “-there’s something to be said for magical forces that are only devoted to a single task. This pool only does one thing - it only makes copies of stuff. And because it only does that one thing, it’s very, very good at it. Everything about the host pony is copied perfectly. Copy an element, get another element. Even I can’t do that.”

“...and you helped her in all this because…”

“Because she’s right,” Discord smirked. “She is Pinkie Pie. They all were. And you did such a horrible thing to them all. She made her point to me, and it was a very good point. What kind of friend would I be, if I let something like that go unpunished?”

“We could have...all this time…” Twilight muttered, “...we could have just duplicated the Elements of Harmony? Multiplied their power however we wanted to?”

Discord touched his nose, causing it to emit a sharp alarm klaxon. “Wrong again! Well, you could have tried that, and it would have worked, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. There’s a certain mojo to powers like that, you see. They like being unique, and they want to stay that way.” He appeared behind Pinkie and reached out to stroke her mane. “It’s a good thing I found my little friend here when I did. She couldn’t have been herself even if she wasn’t worried you would find her. Two Pinkie Pies, both vomiting up the power of laughter at the same time, would have been a trifle, how shall we say...vexing to such fickle forces of nature? Ever hear of crossing the streams?”

“The what?”

Discord dismissed the thought with a wave of his claw. “Never mind that. Let’s just say that there isn’t enough room in this town for two of the same element. And by town, I mean world.”

Twilight knitted her brow. “But there were thirty or forty Pinkie Pies bopping around that day, and they were all being very much Pinkie Pie.”

“For a few hours, yes,” Discord pointed out. “You really don’t want to know what would have happened if that had lasted for say, a day or two. You have no idea how close you were to a laughter cataclysm that would have spelled the end of everything.”

Pinkie Pie, her cheeks sullen by a short life devoid of smiles, circled the pond and stood before the only other pony who still existed. “So believe it, Twilight. Believe it all.”

“Pinkie, you’re going to die too, when the universe implodes!”

Pinkie shook her head. “I’m not allowed to be me, Twilight. So there’s not much to lose there.”

There was a sudden shudder, as if a great beast from Tartarus was shaking the very land like a cage. Powdery debris leaked from the ceiling into Twilight’s face, eliciting from her a sneeze. Alarmed, she turned to Discord.

“What was that?”

“Oh, that?” Discord shrugged. He was bathing in the mirror pool, complete with a showercap and a sponge attached to a stick for his back. “Nothing, really. The universe is becoming nothing. It’s a shame about your palace and your insane decoupage. Probably just stopped existing at this very moment.”

“How can we survive that!?”

“Oh, you can’t.” Discord touched a claw to his chin in thought. “Actually I’m not sure even I can.”

Pinkie Pie, resigned to the fate she had wrought, sat serenely in the dirt. “It’s all over, Twilight.”

“Is this really what you wanted!?” The princess shouted at the only other pony that ever was. “I’m sorry for what I did to you Pinkie - I understand that now! But isn’t this a bit much!?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Pinkie replied evenly. “It can’t be stopped, and there’s no escape.”

“Oh yes there is!” Twilight, indignant, took to her wings and flew over to Discord in the water, hovering as menacingly as she could before him. “The one part of this that still doesn’t add up is you, and it’s about time you came out with it. You wanted to punish me because you thought Pinkie was right, that I did an awful thing to her. I get that. But you agreed to wipe out reality, including all your closest friends, and possibly you too in the process? Spill it, Discord! Why are you being so nonchalant about certain doom!?”

The cavern shook again. Discord’s lip curled into a lopsided grin, exposing the gleam of his single fang. He rose from the water, casually stretching his back, neck, and talons as though he were just waking up.

“Well, I suppose it is about time to put the last bit of wood back in the Jenga tower, yes.”

Discord snapped the fingers of his lion paw. At once, an oval image appeared on one rock face. Wreathed in magic, Twilight peered into it and made out her friends - all of her friends, chatting casually around a pair of buffet tables on the front lawn of Sweet Apple Acres. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were even still in costume.

Discord pulled a suitcase out of nowhere and tightened a beige scarf around his neck. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Off to...where…?” Twilight asked.

Discord gestured towards the portal. “Back home, of course! You don’t want to miss the rest of Applejack’s birthday party, do you? As far as they’re concerned, you just went to the bathroom for a few minutes. I’m sure you can even blame those ugly bags under your eyes on your week of princessing again, as you are so often wont to do.”

Pinkie Pie stared in disbelief. She shot to her hooves. “Wh-what is that!?”

“I think I just explained it,” Discord huffed. “It’s a birthday party. A rather pleasant one, too.” His grin deepened. “Oh come now, you didn’t really think that I would go so far as to end all of space and time for your petty dispute, did you? I very much agree that you deserved your say, and I simply cannot pass up a chance to teach Twilight Sparkle a lesson, but I’d say she’s learned it.” He glanced at Twilight. “You have learned your lesson, yes? There’ll be remorse and tears later when we aren’t all in mortal threat of obliteration, hm?”

Twilight vehemently nodded.

“In that case, we’re quite done here,” Discord concluded. “Come along now, as I have just as little desire to deprive the world of you, as I do you of the world.”

Pinkie was snorting like a prized fighting bull. “Y-you...you tricked me!!”

Discord’s smile vanished. “I’m chaos, Pinkie Pie. I am trickery. Never forget that.” He placed a claw on the portal and made as if to hoist himself through. A third, more powerful tremor rocked the cavern, sending large chunks of rock splashing into the pool. “Now then, unless you can survive the Big Bang, we’ll need to be making our exit.”

Pinkie sniffed. She sat without care, obliging Twilight to nab a stalactite from the air in her magic and bat it aside before it impaled the despondent earth mare.

“Pinkie,” Twilight said carefully, reaching out a hoof. “We have to go now. We can’t stay here.”

Pinkie gazed dumbly at the offered hoof, but did not take it. “I’m not going anywhere. And before you think you’re going to say some magical thing that’s going to make me change my mind, remember that if I go back there, nothing will change for me.”

“I promise, Pinkie. I won’t use that spell on you. If I had known then what I know now, I never would have done it in the first place. I’m...I’m so sorry.”

Pinkie hugged herself, retreating into her personal cocoon. “That’s not the problem anymore. Even if you promise that, I can’t go back to being me. Not ever. You heard what Discord said. If I start being me again, horrible things will happen to the world. I can’t go back to not existing anymore. If that’s going to be my fate, I would rather stop existing for real. Right here and right now. I was never supposed to exist in the first place, after all. I’m just a mistake your friend made one day.”

“Pinkie--”

Pinkie turned away. “Go, Twilight. I don’t know what I wanted, but I thought this was all real, so what I tried to make happen is even worse than what you did. I just wanted you to understand. I guess you do now, so there’s nothing more to say. So go away.”

Twilight gasped. Before her eyes, images crackled into existence. They were fuzzy outlines, but she could just about make them out as the bodies of ponies. Dressed in the garb of geological and magical researchers, the staticy-phantom images were casually trotting about the cavern, traipsing right through debris to examine the walls, floor, and the waters of the Mirror Pool.

“Who are they?” Twilight asked aloud.

“The research team Princess Sunny dispatched here after you closed the pool off, of course,” Discord replied easily. He caught another falling boulder in one hand and closed his fist, shattering it into pieces that he took to juggling. “Or rather, this reality’s version of them, foreshadowed.”

“Foreshadowed?” Twilight repeated the word and turned to face the draconequus. “They’re coming back? We have to save them then!”

“Oh relax,” Discord replied as he tossed his three boulders into the pool. “They’re not here yet. But they will be. Remember when I said I couldn’t do anything to stop this once it started? That only you could? I was referring to you figuring out enough of the puzzle to prompt Crazy Pie to come out of hiding, which you did, the moment you spoke of going to the Everfree Forest to ‘make’ new friends. That’s why I brought you here directly - so we could get on with this between the two of you, and settle matters once and for all. I created all of this as a pocket dimension, but I’m too skilled for my own good, and what I actually ended up creating was an oscillating universe.”

Twilight went cross-eyed as she watched a research stallion walk right through her. “Oscillating…?”

“That’s right,” Discord explained. And even I can’t put a stop to a phenomena like the creation of an entirely new universe, in this reality or any other. In a minute or two, this universe will implode completely. Then it will explode again - that Big Bang I was telling you about - and recreate itself until it’s the very spitting image of the world you know. Minus you and your friends, that is.”

The princess attempted to parse everything she was hearing. She touched a hoof to Pinkie’s head protectively, but the mare just stared blankly at the dirt. “Why not us?”

“Because this universe has become greater than my original design, of course. There’s a mirror pool in it after all, and despite my creating that, it still has powers I do not possess. I can’t recreate the Elements of Harmony. If I were to add the six of you to this world after it reforms, you would just be empty shadows - puppets of your true selves. You’d look and sound the part to everypony else here, but there would be no real spark of life inside you. And no special powers.”

“...and...and the ponies that live here?”

Discord pinched his tummy, stretching his own skin out from it in a ghastly way before letting it snap back. “As real as you or I. And just as subject to all the wonders of life, from stubbing your hoof on a rock to winning the Equestrian Games. It’s a shame they won’t have long to be happy, but there’s nothing we can do about that. I may have become something of a softie in recent years, I’m not about to sacrifice my reality for theirs, when they only just began to exist.” Again he touched the portal’s edge, caressing it affectionately. “Our world needs you, Twilight. If you die here, it will be like you never existed back home - but the difference will be that our world will suffer from the appropriate changes to the timeline. Therefore, you’re coming with me. Like it or not.”

Twilight wasn’t finished. “Why won’t they be happy?”

Discord shrugged. “You really ought to be able to reason more of this out on your own, you know. How long do you suppose Equestria will stay a happy and free place, full of rainbows and horse love, without the Elements of Harmony? They’ll have a few months, or perhaps weeks...maybe even hours. But some evil force that’s as much a consequence of creating a reality that mirrors our own will subdue them soon enough. There might end up being a new me here, even. I wonder what he’ll do with the place, in a reality where none of you were ever here to choke the cornflakes of enlightenment down his throat.”

Twilight rubbed Pinkie’s mane. “...what about her?”

Discord tilted his head thoughtfully, but frowned. “She can do whatever she wants. She deserves to be taught a lesson as much as you do, after all. The lesson of what the madness of revenge leads to. I’ve killed two moral birds with one stone today it seems.”

Wind began to waft into the room from farther down the cavern. It increased in force, until Twilight felt the need to raise her voice over it. she knelt beside Pinkie Pie and summoned a magical shield to deflect the falling rock.

“Pinkie, we have to go!” the princess repeated. “Don’t throw your life away - don’t to do yourself what I should never have done to you to begin with!”

Pinkie was drawing smiley faces in the soft sediment with her hoof. “It’s better this way, Twilight. I don’t want to go on if I can’t be me anymore. I’m not being selfish either, because you all still have a Pinkie Pie waiting for you back home. Nothing will change for any of you, and that’s for the best. At least I can be me, here...for as long as it lasts.”

“You can’t be here!” Twilight insisted. “You won’t survive the implosion!!”

Pinkie surrounded the largest smiley face in a balloon and drew stars around it - it persisted, so long as the princess’s shield stood firm. She giggled gently, and somewhere in the sound was a small measure of her original tone. “Gee, I guess I am being selfish after all. Now I won’t have to have all these ponies on my conscience, like you will. Their lives are gonna be a major bummer without us.”

Discord had a flight cap on, complete with goggles. “Too bad, so sad for this universe. If it’s any consolation, they’ll only think they had a long and glorious history. They’re the eggs that broke making the omelette.” He held out his arm and spun it with his claw in a perfect 360-degree motion, as if starting a propeller plane. “Let’s go, Sparkle! The last train’s pulling out!”

Twilight scowled at the draconequus. “B-but there’ll be hundreds of ponies here - thousands! We can’t just turn our back on--”

Discord’s mirth vanished, and his eyes flashed a baleful red as the whipping winds tousled his whiskers. “There’s no time. And even if there were, there’s nothing that can be done. I already told you, I can’t make the Elements of Harmony. There isn’t a pot of gold and a thousand ponies doing the jig of joy at the end of every rainbow, Twilight. You can’t always save everyone. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and go for the best ending you can get.” He snorted as he watched a phantom researcher casually examining a crystal formation. “It’s better them than us.”

Twilight’s perspective changed. By the power of Discord’s magic, she suddenly found herself outside her own magic bubble, and standing next to him near the portal. Her mane stung her face as violet and raspberry locks whipped at her cheeks in the wind.

“We’re leaving,” Discord snorted. “Now.”

Twilight felt herself being lifted into the air by the power of chaos. She began to float backwards towards the portal, but she didn’t fight the effect - her mind was alive, and every sight before her eyes became, in her thoughts, a collection of theorems and calculations. She called upon her vast mental resources and forced them into labor, churning through the flotsam of tiredness and confusion until her temples burned with the effort.

And then the answer came.

Twilight scrambled, but when she didn’t feel her hooves touching the ground, she turned on Discord. “Wait! WAIT! I can do this - I can solve this!”

Discord was already halfway through the portal, his cloven hoof dangling in the peaceful autumn world of Sweet Apple Acres. “No,” he replied definitively. “Whatever you think you’re going to do, I will not risk you staying here a moment longer to do it.

The draconequus turned to make good his escape, narrowly avoiding a chuck of rock as it whizzed by his head. Rents and tears appeared in the walls and floor - even the mirror pool began to drain away into the earth, as what seemed like the very bowels of Tartarus began to open upon the world.

Twilight lit her horn. With a cursory effort, she tore away from Discord’s hold on her and hurled herself back towards Pinkie Pie, battering with her hooves the magic shield that kept the earth pony from being crushed.

“Pinkie!!” Twilight screamed. “I can do this! I can save everyone! I know what to do now, but I can’t do it alone! You have to come back with me!!”

Pinkie was staring down at the largest face she had drawn in her tiny, peaceful patch of ground. It was an image of herself, grinning merrily and staring straight back up at the flattened mane and withered countenance of a Pinkie Pie who had long years prior forced herself to remain unhappy. Again, Pinkie giggled, and she reached down to caress the crude image’s cheek.

“Aw, she looks so happy.”

“PINKIE!!” Twilight shouted again. “Come home!! I’m sorry for what I did to the others - truly sorry! I can never fully make up for it, but if it hadn’t been for what I did in the first place, this world would never have been created, and it wouldn’t be in danger now! This is all I can do to atone for what happened - help me!! PLEASE!!”

Pinkie Pie finally looked up. Her worn cheeks held a smile that Twilight missed more than she ever realized.

“...really?”

“Yes! Really!! Oh Pinkie, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me after all that’s happened, and I know you probably hate me now, but I’m begging you to take a leap of faith! I’ll make everything better - even for you! So help me, I swear I will!”

Twilight dispelled the magic shield. The drawings in the dirt instantly vaporized, and the princess held out her hoof.

“...just come with me. That’s all I ask. Come with me and I’ll make this right.”

Pinkie stared at Twilight, at her hoof, and then back into her eyes again. Discord spoke, his voice reverberating in both their minds in lieu of shouting:

“Well, if she swears it, then she swears it. She’s locked in now. Don’t worry Pinkie - if she doesn’t come through this time, I’ll personally make sure she regrets it.” Discord punctuated his words with a mischievous giggle.

Pinkie took the offered hoof, and used the leverage to throw herself into Twilight’s embrace. The pair began to float again towards the portal, and Twilight re-established her shield as they moved.

Pinkie buried her face in Twilight’s shoulder. “...I’m so sorry...wh-what did I do…I don’t hate you...I never hated you...I just wanted…y-you to understand...”

Twilight held on for dear life to her friend. “I do understand, Pinkie. Now I do. And I’m sorry too. Sorry for everything. Will you help me?”

Pinkie shuddered, nodded, and began to bawl into her dear friend’s violet shoulder.

Light, sound, and matter congealed into the morass of infinity that would moments later give birth to something new, and in that instant, the world ceased.

Epilogue - Doubly Mared

“...at the prospect of being doubly mared.”

The words were her own; she had uttered them, but in the time it took for them to escape her lips and reach her ears, she found herself in another place. There was light - constantly churning light, and a warm wetness around her. As if still coated in embryonic fluid, she thrashed one leg, and then another.

Two...three...four. They were all there.

Her heart had stopped, but she hadn’t noticed until the beat began again, rhythmically throbbing in her plugged ears. The experience was jarring beyond description - a moment in one place, and the next in another, with a sensation as though she was just about to be birthed upon the world.

She gazed at the breaking of the water’s surface. From heaven above came a single hoof; purple, like color of the sky at the time of day she was named for. It beckoned to her, and she knew instinctively to take it. Her hind hooves found purchase upon a submerged crag, and she kicked off of it, using the momentum to assist her rescuer’s kindness. The pregnant water that held her broke, and she drank deeply of the still, yet succulent cavern air her lungs required. Before her, at the water’s edge, stood a mare that was herself.

“Are you okay?” The other asked.

She shook herself off in the manner of dogs, spraying water in all directions around her, and slapped her tail wetly against her rump to free the follicles. “I...think so? Aside from being all wet I feel fine, but, this is…”

She scanned the room. Eleven ponies looked on, and in an instant she understood how at least five of them felt. She tried again to put her feelings into words.

“This is just...well...one moment I was standing there-” she pointed at her doppleganger, dry save for the hoof she had used to pull her from the water, “-and now I’m here.” She glanced out at the warm stillness of the Mirror Pool, feeling very much a child in her ignorance. “All this time I thought I would be creating another me. But now I am that me. The perspective is...hard to get used to.”

Nods were traded around the chamber by the others who had been plucked one-by-one from the water before her. They were each wrapped in a warm towel that matched their mane colors.

“It’s because you’re Twilight Sparkle,” the dry alicorn said to the soaked one, whilst levitating another towel over to wrap about her. “And so am I. A few seconds ago we were just one being. It’s amazing really - how perfect the copying process is.”

“I know, right?” the copied Twilight grinned. “I knew what the Mirror Pool could do, but I didn’t know it was that good at it, until now! Can you imagine the research paper we could write?”

“Are you kidding? With both of us working together,” the dry Twilight replied giddily, “we could redefine the entire concept of a research paper!”

“Spike! Write this down please!” Both Twilights called in unison, the pitch of their voices matching in perfect stereo.

Spike, the only one of his friends bereft of a copy of himself, sat swinging his legs from a rock formation. “Ohhhh no, uh-uh. I can barely keep up with one Twilight Sparkle when she gets the urge to science everything to death. Two is just not happening, nope!”

“Besides, Sugarcube,” the Applejack wrapped in a yellow towel added, “y’all know we can’t stay here.” She glanced at her twin, who glanced back in exactly the same posture. “We all agreed to this already, though I gotta say that it’s a lot stranger-feelin’ then I thought it’d be.”

The dry Applejack, who was without a hat, smiled wanly at her double. “Y’all just take care of that hat, y’hear? It came from our pappy and it’s a family heirloom.”

Copy-Applejack smirked. “No sense tryin’ t’fool me, me. You know as well as I do that Rarity bought this here hat for us in Manehattan after we went an’ tore up the old one fixin’ the park. And that one just ended up in the garbage can.”

Dry Rarity touched a hoof to her lips. “Oh my, I hadn’t thought of that...did I throw away your father’s hat, dear? I-I’m so sorry!”

The original Applejack scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “Naw, guess my double’s got me there. It ain’t no heirloom. Just my hat, and I sure do like wearing ‘em.”

The other Applejack glanced up at the brim of the hat. “Yeah but...I know better’n anypony what this hat means to you, even if you can replace it anywheres. So...thank you.”

“O-oh! I almost forgot!” Fluttershy, the one without a pink towel wrapped cozily around her, perked up. She retrieved a small bag and rummaged through it, but her copy beat her to the punch.

“You don’t have to give me your winter boots, Fluttershy. It’s very sweet, but your hooves will get cold without them!” She shivered in spite of her towel. “Believe me, I know!”

“Huh?” The Fluttershy with her head in the bag tried in vain to lift it, and ended up speaking from the inside. “How did you know I was going to give you my boots?”

“O-oh, well...because we had the idea when we were still just one pony, I guess?”

Fluttershy the dry pulled her head out of the bag, two boots dangling in her teeth. She set them down and retrieved the others. “Well, then you know that I want you to have them, because Twilight said time is moving a little faster where you’re going. It must be very cold there, and I just couldn’t live with myself if I sent, uh...myself...off...to get her hooves cold!”

The original Rarity intruded into the conversation: “And I couldn’t possibly live with myself if I didn’t ensure that my counterpart had all the trimmings to make a fabulous splash upon the world!” She glanced at the five gilded steamer trunks that unicorn magic had been required to transport, and then at her copy. “This should be enough to get you started at least, don’t you think?”

“Dear me,” the damp Rarity replied, “I should say it will have to do! Thank you so much darling. You really are the spirit of generosity!”

“As are you, dear!”

The Rarities giggled, but dry Twilight shook her head.

“I’m sorry girls, but she can’t take all of that with her.”

The Rarities both looked crestfallen. The dry one spoke first: “Whyever not, Twilight? These are the very barest essentials!”

“Indeed!” the other Rarity added. “You’ve no idea what a monumental effort it was to dum it down this much. Not to mention the effort of hauling it here all by my--erm--ourselves!”

Twilight looked apologetic. “I know, and I’m sorry, but mass is a universal constant. Because none of the six of you--us--whatever exist in that other world, but we’re supposed to, then adding you and some other cursory items, such as articles of clothing, is no problem. But for every ounce of matter you add--”

The other Twilight took over, “--for every ounce of matter you add, the universe gets heavier by the same amount. It’s like filling a balloon with too much air.”

Both Rarities blinked. One shared the thoughts of both, “Are you saying that my ensembles and accoutrements could make the entire universe explode?”

“Well,” copied Twilight continued, “It’s not that the entire universe would just explode. But over time, the resulting stress could do smaller scale things, like rip planets apart or cause stars to go nova.”

The Rarities shared a gaping stare. One addressed the other.

“D-darling...forgive me, but...do you think perhaps you might be able to survive, erm...without…?”

The copied Rarity cleared her throat. “I think, perhaps...for the sake of the entire universe, I might be agreeable to that suggestion.”

Original Twilight smiled. “Don’t worry. That other universe is just about an exact copy of our own. I’m sure you’ll find everything at the Carousel Boutique just the way you left it.”

Around the ceiling of the cavern, two Rainbow Dashes were flying around in circles, testing one another’s reflexes. The one who still had a green towel draped around her neck let out a breath. “Tch, there’s no way that universe is gonna be the same as this place. Not until I’m there, anyway!”

“You’re totally gonna make it twenty percent cooler there!” toweless Rainbow Dash agreed as she threaded her way through a natural obstacle course of stalactites. “But Twilight’s right. There’s no universe out there that could handle the awesomesauce from two Rainbow Dashes! We’d make all kinds of stuff explode!”

“So we’re all in agreement then,” Original Twilight glanced reassuringly at her double. “We’re all...comfortable with this still?”

Every pony pair glanced at one another. The experience was beyond bizarre, and for a time they each studied one another, contemplating the implications of being in the presence of their exact physical, mental, and emotional double. Finally, the diminutive voice of the Fluttershy who had only just begun to exist broke the silence.

“I-I’m nervous about the whole thing, but...if this other world is just like ours, then it has critters in it.” Her gaze passed around the room to the other ponies wearing towels. “I won’t abandon them, and with all of you at my side, well...I-I can do anything. I know I can.”

Copy-Rarity went to Fluttershy’s side and affectionately touched her withers. “We’re going to be safeguarding the lives of thousands of ponies in a brand new universe. It’s going to be fabulous, you’ll see. And I certainly can’t let that world go on without my couture touch!”

Copy-Applejack stood by the pair, laughing gently. “I can’t very well let Big McIntosh and Apple Bloom handle the farm all by themselves! Y’all better believe I’m in.”

Both Rainbow Dashes came in for a landing. The newer one of the pair fell in with her fellows in a true show of solidarity. “And I can’t let somepony take my spot in the Wonderbolts! Every Equestria needs a Rainbow Dash!”

Copied Twilight glanced at the mouth of the cave that hung above them all. “It’s kind of ironic. We all swore we’d make sure nopony ever came down here again, because of all the trouble this place could potentially cause. And yet here we are, turning to this place for help.”

“It was a brilliant idea Twi, makin’ copies of ourselves in the Mirror Pool to send over to that other dimension,” one of the Applejacks quipped, “but then, your ideas usually are.”

Original Twilight dug her hoof into the soft silt of the cave floor, watching the rut she was making as it formed. “I guess so, but...sending you all away…”

The new Twilight pulled her towel tighter and came in close, softly nuzzling her progenitor’s cheek. “It’s going to be okay, Twilight. We’ll have lives just as wonderful as yours, and I promise we’ll stay in touch.” She glanced towards the far wall. “We will, won’t we?”

Discord, who was showing his boredom through the transformation of his body to a stone sculpture built into the wall, rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes. Interdimensional Pony Express and all that. I suppose it’s the least I can do for my own role in all this. But I expect regular updates from the two princesses of geekery as to when they’ll be finished coming up with some contraption that will allow them to do it all themselves!”

“Um, hey everypony,” a familiar, but uncharacteristically solemn voice cut in. “I...have some things I want to say.”

All eyes turned to the Pinkie Pie pair, who had both been strangely silent. They were the only two without a perfect memory of the other’s experiences up until the last few minutes, and as a result they were the most different from one another. The copied Pinkie, having no need for a towel, instead wore the gray fedora she had been hiding under since the day she had almost been discovered in Manehattan years before. It was this copy who addressed the crowd, and she moved towards the group with words on her lips. Her hair, and her tone, were back to something with which the others were familiar.

“I, uh...I know you probably all forgave me already, because you’re all the most bestest friends a pony could ever have with whipped cream and cherries on top, but...I wanna say how sorry I am again, for all this. I don’t know what I was thinking, I...I was just upset.”

The original Pinkie Pie came up behind her copy, all smiles and merriment, and stroked the copy’s poofy mane. “Aw, it’s okay. You know we forgive like everypony who tries to boom all over the world, and you also what happens to you and me when our manes get all deflate-y!” She spun a hoof over her temple and stuck out her tongue. “We get craaaaaaay craaaaaaay…! I don’t even know how you could stand not being me for so long, me!”

“And she won’t have to do that, ever again,” Original Twilight smiled. She approached the copied Pinkie Pie, the one who had tormented her, and took in a breath. “That other world is going to need you...all of you. You can be the Pinkie Pie you always wanted to be, there.” She exhaled sharply and her ears sagged. “I...knowing what I know now, Pinkie...how perfect the Mirror Pool’s copying magic is...I’m not sure I can forgive myself for what I did to all the others…i-if I could only just--”

The copied Pinkie touched her hoof to Twilight’s lips, silencing her. She slipped the hoof under the princess’s chin and lifted it up, forcing eye contact, and then reached down to tap Twilight’s chest.

“You didn’t know, Twilight,” Pinkie replied. “I was mad, because I thought you had done it all on purpose, and that you had just moved on without caring about any of it. But it’s over now, and it can’t be changed--”

“Actually,” the copied Twilight interrupted, “we could go back in time and--ow!”

Copied Rainbow Dash nudged copied Twilight in the ribs. “Hush. Wrong time, and baaaaaaad idea.”

Pinkie went on. “--it can’t be changed, so I can choose to either hate you forever, or forgive you. It’s enough for me to know that you’ll always remember them now, in here-” she tapped Twilight’s heart, “-and it’s kinda funny, really. Every time you made one of them go poof, I can’t explain it, but...I felt enriched somehow. Like there was more of me - like I was becoming more real.”

Fluttershy tilted her head in confusion. “What...what does that mean?”

Discord, floating above now, was sporting a mortarboard, horn-rimmed glasses, and a bit of chalk in his paw. “Honestly. Geekhorse is here times two, and yet I really have to explain everything again? Oh very well.”

With that, the draconequus began scribbling on the ceiling. He moved with a speed the ponies could scarce follow, and soon the ceiling of the cavern was absolutely covered in doodles and caricatures of no consequence. Discord went on the entire time, firing off a series of astrophysics, quantum physics, and metaphysical terminology in such a confused jumble that both Twilights were quite certain that Discord was either secretly the most brilliant creature to ever live, or he was just blowing smoke up everypony’s rump.

“So you see,” Discord summed up, “If you make more than one copy of the same pony, you’re still generating a Mirror Pool-infused being of the exact same kind. Destroy one, and its essence will combine with whatever of its ‘siblings’ remain, rather than simply evaporating back into the pool. Unless there’s only one copy left, of course.”

Copied Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “Discord, are you sure that’s how that works? Any scientist worth her salt would want to review your findings before accepting such a...convenient theory.”

Discord gestured to the ceiling. “The evidence is right before you!”

“Those are just a hundred and fifty pictures of all of us looking ridiculous,” Twilight muttered.

“Quite!” Discord agreed. He swooped down upon both Twilights, looming over them with a wink that he made sure only they could see. “Can you prove me wrong? Maybe we’d better leave some theories where they lie, hmm?”

“S-so then,” one of the Applejacks mused, “...they ain’t...really dead? Or, gone, or...whatever happened to ‘em?”

“You heard it right from the horse’s mouth,” Discord replied as he went to loiter around the copied Pinkie. “The goo that makes up the Mirror Pool wants to be whatever you make it. Why go back to being non-sapient protoplasm when you can graft yourself upon, well...yourself?”

Copied Pinkie gaped. “Wait, so I’m like...super duper Pinkie Pie!?”

Discord shrugged. “The world may never know! Well, our world won’t.” He jammed a talon into thin air and tore open a rift, beyond which rested a peaceful image of Ponyville. “This one, however, just might.”

Twilight’s copy brought the conversation to bear. “Girls, we shouldn’t stay here any longer than we have to. Every minute we delay could be a threat to this world, given there are too many Elements of Harmony here now.”

Copied Rarity touched her eye to check for running mascara. “You know...I didn’t realize how difficult this would really be. I feel like I’m saying goodbye to everypony and everything I’ve ever known--” she looked to the other copies, “--but I’m really not saying goodbye to anything, because you’re all coming with me and all of our friends and family will be right there waiting for us.”

“Like you never left,” Discord confirmed.

Spike hopped off his rock and trotted over to the two Twilights. “I...I’m gonna be there, right?”

Copied Twilight smiled warmly. “You’d better be, Spike. I can’t do anything without you by my side.”

“W-wait a sec then--” Spike trotted over to a bag of his own, rummaged around in it, and returned to the princess-pair with a folded periwinkle bundle in his arms. “Your Spike probably already has one of these for you but, uh...back when I made that scarf for you, both of you, I...sorta screwed up once. So I started over.” He unfolded the scarf, which was just about as crude as the one both Twilights were already familiar with. “It seemed like a waste to just throw it away, so...here.”

Copied Twilight shed her towel and dipped her head to allow Spike to drape the garment around her neck. She levitated one end of it and touched the fabric to her muzzle, just to take a whiff of the familiar scent of dragon she knew would be there. “Thank you Spike. I’ll treasure it always.”

“Well, I may look like an oak, but I’m positively bawling on the inside!” Discord declared, whereupon he made himself transparent just long enough to reveal a tiny copy of himself within his own body, crying like a baby. “See? Now then-” he was once again dressed like an aviator, “no sense in long goodbyes when a bunch of realities are at stake!”

The Elements of Harmony and their copies exchanged final words, tips for one another, and tender embraces. The original Applejack approached the progenitor Twilight and nudged her gently in the ribs.

“Maybe Granny ain’t so right about less and less folks bein’ in your life the older you get. Still feel the same way about the reverse of a ripple?”

Twilight recalled the conversation from her dear friend’s birthday party. “No...I don’t think I do. Maybe there won’t be as many ponies that are close to us in our lives the older we get, but that doesn’t mean we stop enriching the lives of others…” she nodded at the portal, “...and it doesn’t mean there won’t be more. It’s best to just imagine where you’ll be tomorrow and move towards that, instead of worrying yourself gray before your time.”

“There’s the ticket,” Applejack smiled. “Got a whole barrel of cider left that ain’t nopony touched, y’know. Granny always sets aside one barrel of the good stuff as her present to me each year. Sure would be honored if all y’all would come and share a nip.”

The other Applejack’s grin was just as merry. “I get the feelin’ that while you’re all doin’ that, the rest of us will be doin’ the exact same thing. Ain’t nothin’ warms you up like a good mug of cider, and granny would never open my special barrel without me, eh heh.”

The copied ponies, ushered by Discord, began to disappear into their new homeland. One by one they offered final words:

“Thank you for the boots Fluttershy,” Fluttershy said softly. “I-I’ll cherish them always. A-and Happy Hearth’s Warming, everypony!”

“Don’t think we’re done picking a winner just because there’s a dimension between us, Rainbow Dash!” Dash grinned. “If we’re gonna be pen pals, you better believe I’ll be comparing speed records!”

“Oh my, I left the makeup case open again!” Rarity quipped. “Don’t let Sweetie Belle get into it, Rarity! Oh, well...of course we were the same pony when we did that so I’m sure you just remembered it too but...so confusing! Au revoir, darling!”

“Dash ain’t the only one that’s gonna keep a pony on their hooves, Applejack!” Applejack called. “I’ll buck twice as many apples as you next harvest season, so you better be ready!”

“Goodbye, Twilight,” Twilight said simply. “This is all so surreal, but...I just know that both our worlds are going to be the better for it. Keep in touch - I bet the two of us are going to need each other from time to time. And I know you know this already, but...don’t forget to always turn to your friends when you need help.”

The two Pinkie Pies stood face to face. They grinned mutually, and in a flourish of Pinkie-impossibility, spun around together in such force that none of the other ponies could figure out what they were doing. When they finished, they were again standing side by side. They shared a little giggle, and one of them bounced merrily through the portal.

“Bye-bye, Everypony! Super duper Pinkie Pie won’t forget your birthdays!”

Discord snapped his fingers, and reality once again harbored but one of each Element of Harmony. Applejack blinked at Pinkie.

“Holllld the farm just a minute. What was all that do-si-doin’ just now? I couldn’t even keep track of y’all.”

“Well,” Rarity mused, “the one that went through the portal was wearing the fedora. A sharp looking accessory it is, I might add…”

Pinkie giggled again. “Aw guys, come on! I wouldn’t do something like that! ….or would I?” Her giggle became a silly cackle, and the assemblage rolled their eyes in unison.

“It...doesn’t really matter, does it?” Fluttershy asked Twilight. “Which one of us is where, I mean.”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t know. And you know what?” She peered around at all her friends. “I don’t want to think about it right now. Let’s go open that barrel of cider and...just be together, today. Okay?”

One by one, the friends filed out into the light of an early winter afternoon. Discord gave no chase, until the pegasus of kindness, who was bringing up the rear, turned to beckon him.

“I’m sure there’s a few mugs with your name on them,” Fluttershy commented. “It would be a shame if they went to waste.”

Like a bridge over two realities, a dozen ponies, one dragon, and one draconequus, spent a brisk afternoon engaged in revelry, song, and the making of memories that would last them all a lifetime. The population of each of their worlds was just as it should have been.