Compatī

“Nocturne?” Sunset said. Her voice echoed off the nothingness as if she were in the bottom of a vast canyon. “This is your dream again, right?”

It had to be. This would make it the fourth time Nocturne had visited her, and every Nocturne dream started with this very same white nothingness as far as the eye could see.

“Hello, Little Sunset,” came Nocturne’s voice from behind her. The dream suddenly felt twenty degrees colder, but the warm smile on her face staved off the shivers. “I have been waiting for you.”

Sunset smiled back and crooked a hoof. “I was actually kind of hoping to see you again, too.”

Nocturne’s smile grew twice as large. Was that excitement? Embarrassment? Either way, seeing that Nocturne looked forward to these little meetups got Sunset’s heart going like a filly skipping down the sidewalk.

Nocturne bent low to bring herself face-to-face with Sunset. The dry-ice-like shadows curling from her underside swaddled them both. It sent a shiver down Sunset’s spine, but only a little one.

To be honest, it still kind of creeped her out. Not Nocturne—Sunset genuinely enjoyed being around her—but rather that the Dreamscape could cling to a pony like that, that it could twist and malform the very air surrounding them. But like any repetitive motion, Sunset found herself flinching less and smiling quicker every time Nocturne got close.

“It has been centuries since I have heard words from a voice as lovely as yours, Little Sunset. Verily, ’tis one of the many things I look forward to most in our meetings.”

That brought a blush to Sunset’s cheeks. She could say the same about Nocturne. What a beautiful voice she had, and her diction was as strange as it was unique. But Sunset was getting ahead of herself. She brushed Nocturne’s foreleg with a hoof and offered a smile.

“How’s your search for Star Swirl going?”

Nocturne snapped her ears backward, but still found reason to let her smile dangle. “It goes, as it has.”

Sunset leaned forward, hoping for more. When nothing followed, her smile grew strained, and she threw her ears askance.

“Well, um…” She bit her lip while thinking of something to fill the silence. “I hope you find him soon.”

“I shan’t fear your hopes are spoken in vain. But I am weary from this night’s search, and I wish for respite.” She brushed Sunset’s mane from her eyes and wrapped her hoof under Sunset’s chin. “Might I trouble you for a glimpse of your day?”

Her hoof felt as cold as ice, and the suddenness of the gesture sent a nervous tingle up Sunset’s spine. But the innocence in Nocturne’s eyes kept her still. Nocturne hadn’t spoken to another pony in almost a thousand years. She didn’t realize how forward she was being. No friend would freak out about something little like this, as far as Sunset knew.

Still, Sunset wasn’t without a hesitant smile. She took Nocturne’s hoof in hers and sat down.

“Well, I didn’t really do much today, but I’ve been hanging out with Copper a lot. Which, I guess, shouldn’t really be a surprise.”

“And you enjoyed yourself, I presume?”

“Always.” Sunset tried her best to hold in a giggle. “A few days ago, we went to Manehattan and saw the sights. I wasn’t all that excited about the crowds, but being there with Copper made it all worth it.”

Nocturne cloaked herself with her wings as Sunset spoke, some of her smoke caught up in the draft and curling off into nothingness. The gesture felt regal in a sense, almost like something Celestia would do.

“I mean, it’s not hard to do when she’s my best friend. She’s my only friend. Er, well, in the real world.” She gave Nocturne an embarrassed smile.

“Do not fear, Little Sunset. I do not fret over semantics. You are, after all, my best friend. And as such, I have something for you.”

She raised a hoof to her chest, and out from where her heart would be expanded a smoking orb. It floated an inch above her hoof, black as her coat, but with a metallic sheen that warped Sunset’s curious reflection across its surface.

“I wish to impart upon you a gift. A symbol of my thanks. A symbol of my admiration.”

“A-admiration?” Sunset crooked a hoof in front of herself.

“Indeed.” Nocturne nodded. “I do not mean to intrude upon your privacy, but when I enter your dreams, I catch glimpses of your mind, fragments of your thoughts, experiences from the waking world. It is no small feat to be Her Majesty’s prized student.”

Sunset flicked her eyes back and forth between the orb and Nocturne, unsure which she should be more concerned with—Nocturne’s clairvoyance, or this oddity in front of her. A strange aura wafted from it like condensed vapors from an open freezer.

Nocturne offered the orb to Sunset. “’Tis a part of my soul. I wish for you to have it, that it may see you safe and sound on the nights I cannot attend thee.”

That got the hair standing up on Sunset’s withers. She backed away instinctively, shaking her head. “Part of your soul? I, I can’t take that. That’s… I couldn’t do that to you.”

There was dark magic in the world that dabbled in the realm of souls—necromancy, vampirism, and the like—all of it very much forbidden and locked away in the restricted section of the Canterlot Archives. Sunset didn’t have access to that sort of blasphemy, nor did she want it.

It brought questions to mind, inexplicable horrors. Just what sort of devilry had Nocturne committed in her search for Star Swirl?

“I see the reservation carved upon your face, Little Sunset.” She herself wore a reserved frown. There was no small amount of pain behind her eyes as she stared into the nothingness beneath them. “I pray you do not linger on whatever fears trouble you. I have paid with my own flesh and blood for the crimes I committed against nature, and the time of my unholy pursuits I have long since put to rest.”

“But… soul magic is forbidden.” Sunset had settled down well enough that she stared at the orb with nervous curiosity rather than fear. Her large teal eyes stared back at her from its convex surface.

“I am not proud of what I have done for the sake of my dearest Star Swirl,” she said. She extended her wing toward Sunset and touched her under the chin, using that gentle touch to draw Sunset’s gaze up to hers. “But as I said, my sins are my own, and I accept them and who I am today because of them. To have learned from my mistakes is the only saving grace I can claim, and so I have.”

She held out the orb. “And, perchance, if I can lighten another’s journey, then wisdom is not the only good to come of it.”

Sunset took in Nocturne’s thoughtful gaze—the wisdom, hurt, and hope swimming behind her eyes. She could only imagine what sort of sacrifices it took to learn this kind of magic. If it made Nocturne feel better, there was no harm in at least humoring her.

Sunset hesitantly reached out to take the orb. It floated just above her hoof, and its fog fell in smoky tendrils along her fetlock, cold as a blizzard. Somehow, it felt both as heavy as granite yet light as a feather.

“What do I do with it?” Sunset asked.

“Whatever it is your heart desires, Little Sunset. This particular sliver is my happiness.”

“Your happiness? You mean like a… like a physical manifestation of happiness?”

Nocturne chuckled. “As physical as any one thing can be in a dream, yes.”

Within the orb, there was a mixture of obscured reflections—memories, experiences, life lessons—that played out as if on the other side of a dirty window. None of them looked happy.

“It is a happiness I hope you will come to care for and foster in my stead,” Nocturne said. “And, perhaps, add your own happiness to as well.”

Nocturne smiled at her, but turned away. A broken smile from a broken pony. Oh, what sort of life had she lived if she considered the misery in this orb happiness?

“Tis not much, I know,” Nocturne said. “But I hope you appreciate it nonetheless.” She flitted her wings and settled them back at her sides. There was a twinkle in her eye that belied her tiny smile, like she was afraid it wasn’t good enough. “’Tis all I have to give.”

“I… I do appreciate it. Really. I just… I still don’t feel comfortable accepting this. It’s your soul.”

“Fear not such trivialities, Little Sunset. My soul has long since fragmented, and the pieces will never be whole again. I have… I have long since accepted this fact. I merely wish for some good to come of it.”

Sunset stared into the orb and all the not-happy memories skimming along the surface. Nocturne wanted to make her happy. Being happy would make Nocturne happy in return. In a way, it was a lot like how Sunset and Copper’s friendship worked. Their happiness came from each other’s.

But… if these really were the happiest memories she had, Sunset had no right taking them, even if freely given.

“I… really,” Sunset said. “It just wouldn’t feel right.” She handed it back to Nocturne, who in turn took it hesitantly, ears flat back.

“I-if you insist, Little Sunset.” Her voice sounded fragile, on the verge of shattering like a pane of glass. “I shan’t solicit further.”

“How about instead of giving me your happiest memories,” Sunset said with a smile. “We help you make new ones. Ones even better than those.”

Nocturne looked at her, her ears slowly perking up. A light caught in her eyes, like a match to tinder, and her teeth poked through her lips in the tiniest of smiles.

“I would like that very much.”

Sunset laughed. “Then what are we waiting for? Does this dream count as lucid dreaming? Can I control it? I’d love to show you Manehattan, especially the toy shop.”

“I do possess modest control of dreams,” Nocturne said. “I have learned such in my time aloof. Come here, close your eyes.”

Sunset did as she was told and felt a soft brush of winter air against her face, likely Nocturne’s wafting shadows. It teased at her mane and brought a silly smile to her lips. Nocturne ran a hoof through her mane, and Sunset found herself leaning into it with every stroke.

“Now,” Nocturne said. “Think of this place, this Manehattan. Every detail, every sight and sound. All the smells and colors and emotions you felt walking its streets.”

Sunset squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She saw the neon light of the ice cream shop overhead, brushed past all the stylish ponies, heard the clip-clop of hooves on the pavement. The smell of hayburgers tickled her nose, and the whir of toy biplanes spun circles from the ceiling above. And when she opened her eyes, they stood among the throngs of ponies walking the streets of Manehattan.

Sunset laughed. “Nocturne, it worked!”

“Indeed…” Nocturne’s voice came out breathlessly. She eyed the many ponies around them with a mixture of astonishment and surprise. When one came close, she stepped aside, as if afraid they would bite. Had she really been gone so long that other ponies freaked her out so much?

No time to waste on that. If Sunset was going to be the friend Nocturne deserved, she’d have to put in every ounce of effort. She took Nocturne by the hoof.

“Come on!” Sunset said.

And with that, she pulled Nocturne inside the toy shop.

• • •

Intriguing…

How the nightingale’s coo finds empty ears where once they listened so sweetly. Intrepid may the innocent heart be, but the forest is dark, and many are the songs the nightingale may yet sing for you, Little Sunset.

Patience… Patience.

You have passed this, your second test, Little Sunset. But I must thank you. It has been ages since I’ve the honor of such labyrinthian methodology.

Perhaps more acerbic measures should suit a pony of your…

…naïveté.

• • •

“She listens to me,” Sunset said.

Celestia sat as she always did on the other side of her tea table. Meaning regally, whether she meant to or not.

“Does Copper not listen to you?” Celestia asked.

It was a quiet Thursday in Canterlot. Sunset hadn’t had the chance to talk with Princess Celestia earlier that week, and Celestia wanted to hear all about her Manehattan trip. And as all of their talks eventually did, this one devolved into boring conversations about friendship and stuff.

Sunset shifted in her seat. “Well, yeah, but not like this. Nocturne… she actually gets what I’m talking about. She wants to hear what I have to say, no matter what it’s about. Unlike Copper, who always has some snide remark to try and get under my skin just because she thinks it’s funny.”

Celestia chuckled. She flipped through Sunset’s The Nature of the Arcane to the first page on magio-thermodynamics.

“I can understand the frustration of a friend keen on mischief.” Her smile wandered toward Philomena napping in her cage. “But never marginalize a friend simply because she pokes fun. It means she’s comfortable around you. And again, never hesitate to set boundaries if you feel the need.”

Celestia flipped another page. “Still, it’s wonderful to have many friends of different kinds, and I’m glad to see you finally spreading your wings, as it were.”

Sunset dipped her nose toward her own teacup and smiled. She had finally come around to telling Celestia about Nocturne, but she still worried that Celestia might misunderstand just what—and who—Nocturne was. Convincing her that Nocturne was a pony from far in the past and not just some evil spirit would be a hard sell. Mentioning Star Swirl would only complicate that. So for now, Nocturne was simply a friend that Sunset met during the Summer Sun Celebration. Which, technically, was true.

“I would love to meet this Nocturne someday.”

Sunset threw her ears back and frowned. Nocturne wasn’t exactly a type-A personality, either. She had her bold moments, but they came across as more of a façade, like when a pony was afraid of being made fun of. When Nocturne let her walls down, she made Sunset look like a bona fide Copper by comparison.

“Maybe someday. When she’s ready to meet you.”

Celestia nodded. “I understand. But enough of that for now. I have something I want to show you.”

Sunset perked her ears up. Oh?

Celestia stood up and came around the table. She extended a wing toward the door. “Would you follow me, please?”

“Of course!”

Something new? Something exciting? Anything Celestia felt better showing than telling was definitely worthwhile. Sunset leapt to her side.

Out the door, they turned right instead of left and followed the hallway to its end. On the left stood a large wooden door that led to Stone Wall’s quarters, but Celestia instead concerned herself with the opposing wall. She lit her horn, and a large rectangle of wall lit up before recessing to slide out of the way.

“A servant’s entrance?” Sunset asked.

“It’s a shortcut through the heart of the castle, yes,” Celestia said.

Sunset had never seen a servant’s hallway before. And even though she didn’t exactly have a clear picture in her head of just what she hoped to see, it still didn’t quite match her expectations.

It was a simple two-pony-wide hallway that retained some of the aesthetics of the one behind them, mostly in the color and wall moldings. The occasional skylight kept the place feeling homely, and wall sconces filled with little glowing sunstones sat at attention, adding their own yellow-orange aura to an already surreal atmosphere.

Very clean, as she would have hoped for a passageway used by the cleaning staff. Thick carpeting, too—probably so that visiting nobility wouldn’t hear the servants stomping around behind the walls and think the place was haunted.

She had honestly expected it to be a bit flashier. This was Canterlot Castle, after all. But it got the job done, and Sunset couldn’t argue with that. Though, it was kinda musty. Probably from the linen carts stationed here and there in various states of use.

A hoofful of servants made use of the hallway as they passed. They bowed before scurrying out of the way through various doorways and branching corridors. Sunset took that as a sign that they weren’t used to Celestia strolling through their little corner of the universe.

They turned at an intersection, and the hallway gently sloped downward before ending in a staircase and a wooden door fashioned with a sliding mechanism like the other one. It didn’t otherwise look anything special, but a thin ribbon of blue-green light spilled through the crack beneath the door.

When Celestia slid the door open, Sunset shielded her eyes to a flash of light. She squinted as she stepped through, and her jaw almost hit the floor.

They stood in a massive hallway of blue crystal, segmented by diamond pillars that flanked the hall at lengthy intervals. They reached up toward an arched roof that entertained row upon row of stalactites, each its own array of facets and prisms refracting the light as clusters of rainbows. Glow-quartz crystals lined the walls like flameless torches. A pair of ponies in lab coats trotted from one large room full of whirring machines into another across the hall.

“Are these the research labs?” Sunset asked. She’d never been allowed down here before.

“Hmm,” Celestia said. “What do you think, Sunset?”

“Well, fancy glowing crystal lights, ponies running around in lab coats, and doors leading into big rooms full of fancy-looking equipment. I’d say yeah.”

“Then your skills of perception would be unparalleled.”

“I… Was that sarcasm? Since when were you ever sarcastic?”

“Ever since a very cupric pony stopped by for tea and told me just how much you enjoy quips like that.”

“Cupric…?” Sunset looked down, her eyes flicking back and forth along the polished floor. “Wait, Copper? Seriously? Now she’s got you being all smart around me too?”

Celestia laughed and cast Sunset a sidelong smile over her shoulder. “I don’t mean to cause you any annoyance. I simply wanted to see it for myself.”

“See what for yourself?”

“How flustered you get around sarcasm.” Celestia led on without a moment’s hesitation. “I won’t bother you with it anymore if you dislike it.”

Sunset frowned the moment Celestia stopped looking. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Like the servant’s passage, the ponies here noted Celestia’s presence with surprise and hurried bows. Scurrying out of the way like bugs from an upturned rock seemed to be the MO of the castle today.

The hallway followed a semi-circular pattern, likely keeping with the curve of the mountain beneath the castle, and seemed to go on forever. Sunset swore she hadn’t walked this much since her first date with Doppler.

Doppler… He hadn’t written to her yet this week, despite the two letters she’d sent him. She flattened her ears back at the thought.

He must have been off having a wonderful time up there in Vanhoover. Forget about boring, old Sunset stuck here in boring, old Canterlot.

She sighed. She just wanted to feel his hooves around her, bury her muzzle in his mane. It’d been so long since the last time she’d seen him—

Sunset bumped into Celestia’s flank. She shook her head, realizing they had stopped.

Ahead stood an archway of jagged purple crystal, whose facets cast a dozen reflections of herself back at her. It reminded Sunset of the geodes Professor Prismweave often cracked open for their crystallomancy classes. The archway led to a small room lined with metal panels and buttons and dials with needles bouncing back and forth on their meters—all pretty high-tech stuff.

A large observation window separated the room from a larger laboratory, where a half-dozen unicorns in lab coats ran around doing Celestia knew what.

A blonde-maned stallion to their left turned when they stepped through. He jolted in recognition, but was quick to recover.

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing. “String said you’d be swinging by.”

Sunset quirked an eyebrow. String? As in, Copper’s dad?

“Yes,” Celestia said, returning his bow with a formal nod. “I’d like to speak with him, if he’s available.”

“Of course.” He trotted to the window, knocked on it, and jerked his head over his shoulder at them.

Beyond the glass, a burly stallion levitating a jar with some large purple rock inside looked their way. Sure enough, it was Copper’s dad, though it was a little hard to tell at first glance because of the lab coat and goggles.

A huge smile leapt from one side of his face to the other. He passed the rock to another stallion and made for a little door beside the window.

“Your Majesty! Sunset!” he bellowed, not even halfway across the threshold. He bowed to Celestia before levitating his goggles onto a control panel beside the door, then threw a hoof over Sunset’s shoulder to pull her into a hug. It was like being strangled by a bear.

Sunset wriggled out of his grip and heaved for air. She threw on a strained smile so he wouldn’t notice.

“You said you needed me for research help?” he asked, looking at Celestia.

“I did, yes,” Celestia said. “I would like you to lend Sunset here a hoof whenever she needs it. Can I ask that of you?”

“For my Little Cupcake’s best friend? You don’t even need to ask.”

Sunset snorted and hid a smile behind her hoof. Little Cupcake? Oh, that was too precious.

But more importantly, lend a hoof with what? What research? A hopeful smile plastered itself across Sunset’s face. Was Celestia assigning her a research project?

“Wonderful,” Celestia said. “In that case, we will be in—”

Something began popping and snarling like somepony had set off a dozen firecrackers. The large purple rock glowed orange at its core, and the lab ponies around it backed away slowly.

“Put that back in the coolant!” String yelled, dashing back into the lab. “It needs to stay at negative twenty degrees!”

Celestia chuckled. She turned back for the archway. “Perhaps we’ll let him keep to what he’s doing for now.”

That sounded like a good idea. Sunset followed Celestia down the hall.

“So why did we go say hi to String?” Sunset asked. “Not that I don’t mind seeing him. He said something about research?” That hopeful smile came back twice as big.

Celestia nodded. “You heard right. There is a special project I would like for you to work on. It’s an artifact that came into my possession a long time ago.”

She led Sunset into a small research lab, lit by a large skylight. Counters and shelves lined the walls, crammed with pedestals of crystals and glassware filled with colored mixtures.

Sunset noticed a shoddy piece of glass leaning against the wall, the only non-sciency looking thing in this hodge-podge excuse of a storage room. It was roughly the size of Celestia, were she to rear up on her hind legs.

“A mirror?” she asked.

“It’s much more than a mirror,” Celestia said. “It’s a portal to another world. It might not look like much now, but it holds immense magical power. When it’s actually working, that is.”

A portal? Cool.

“So what happened to it?”

Celestia frowned. Probably more than one bad memory in there somewhere.

“Millennia of disuse. When I first discovered it, I was not in a position to make proper use of it, nor was the world across the way ready to make contact. But now that Equestria is the shining jewel that it is today, I believe now would be an excellent time to give this other world another try.

“There is magic there,” she continued, “and I believe that a lasting friendship between our two worlds would be for the benefit of all.”

Sunset did her best not to roll her eyes. There went Celestia with more of her friendship junk.

Still, the thought of researching a new world sounded way cooler than anything else Sunset had ever done. Oh, this would probably put so much of her Arcanonaturamancology studies to use! The thought dragged a smile from ear to ear.

“So where exactly do I come in?” Sunset asked. She rocked back and forth on her tippy hooves.

“I would like you to get it working again.”

Yes! Sunset could have done a backflip, but that would have probably ended in a first-class ticket to Canterlot General. She settled for an even bigger smile than the one already on her face.

“Can I entrust you with this task?” Celestia wore a smile, but not her usual one. This was a serious smile—one that implied all sorts of responsibility, and probably a government secret or twenty.

But that came with the territory, didn’t it? Being Celestia’s personal student? If this was her first real test as such, how could Celestia possibly think her ready for anything else if she said no?

Sunset nodded. “Of course, Princess. You can count on me.”

If Celestia didn’t look happy before, she certainly did now. “That is wonderful to hear. But I should warn you that projects like this require a certain level of discretion. I ask that you keep this to yourself for now. So don’t share this with your friends or anypony else.”

So basically don’t tell Copper. Easy.

Sunset wouldn’t dream of doing that, not with something so monumental. This was the stuff of Sunset’s greatest fantasies. Research. Like, real research. In a lab, with magic and potions and who knew what else. She couldn’t even conceive of jeopardizing that.

Sunset shook her head. Getting off track there.

“You had asked String to help me out whenever I needed it,” Sunset said. “I take it he’s allowed to know?”

“I have spoken with him at length and I believe he is both a trustworthy pony and an asset to your studies you shouldn’t overlook.” A chiding smile overtook her, and she chuckled. “Goodness knows I would hope he was, if he’s been promoted to his position.”

Yeah. Whatever that meant. Sunset redoubled her smile for Celestia’s sake.

Celestia sighed and stared at the mirror. “But I digress. I would love to hear back from you on anything you discover regarding the mirror, or any issues you have or things you might need that String Theory cannot assist you with.”

“You can count on me, Princess,” Sunset said, turning for the door. “I’ll just need to go grab some things from my dorm and I can get started right away.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’ll be in my room for another hour if you need me.”

“Of course, Princess. Just one thing before I head out, though,” Sunset said.

“Of course, Sunset. What is it?”

Sunset tried her best to not look too foalish standing there in the doorway. She could still feel the coal-fire blush on her cheeks, though.

“Which way’s the exit?”