Compatī

Sunset figured it out: change the color. It was so simple!

Magic resonated at fixed frequencies when applied to uniform matrices like ice or certain precious minerals. Strangely enough, those frequencies could be attenuated or amplified based on color variation independent of base material, and the change plotted linearly.

It was something yet to be explained by Arcanonaturamancology. Current theory leaned toward the similarities in wave-particle function that magic and light shared. Regardless, predictable trends were predictable trends, and Sunset wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity.

Now, all that wasn’t to say she could slap a can of paint on the thing and call it a day. She needed to find a stone or crystal type that had naturally occurring color variants, and at a price the royal treasury could stand to lose without gaining any unwanted attention.

She settled on a soft amethyst quartz as a middle ground between magical decay and energy dissipation, and even before running her stress tests, it already performed leaps and bounds over the deeper auburn of the last model. Rather fitting. Its gentle purple sheen complemented Nocturne’s mane whenever she saw her reflection in the mirror.

With the experience from her previous attempts under her belt, it only took a few days to get the base and frame to her standards. Not that those days weren’t without their moments.

Sunset wasn’t technically barred—or even unwelcome—from the research labs, but everypony knew she had no reason to be there anymore, especially String. If anypony saw her skulking around, it’d get back to Celestia, and that could not happen.

Celestia seemed to think scruples alone would keep her away. But this was bigger than morals or ethics or anything like that. Celestia was wrong about Nocturne. When she met her in person, she’d see.

Sunset refocused her dispersion crystal and triple-checked that the layer of microcrystalline gel on the mirror was as smooth as butter before taking her place behind the blast shield. She powered up an Attunement Spell and fired it through the dispersion crystal suspended in the shield’s center.

The spell refracted as a perfect white light across the mirror’s entire surface, and the bleed-off fed into the frame. Sunset cut off her spell at the moment indicated by the scribbled calculations at her hooves, and she gave the mirror an intense stare.

The mirror glowed for a brief moment, then went still. No explosions, no latent feedback. She gave it an extra minute just to be safe, and when all seemed good, she stepped out from behind the blast shield.

On closer inspection, the mirror frame looked no worse for wear, a far cry from previous attempts, if the scars and indents in the blast shield’s plexiglass were any indication. She ran a hoof along the frame. No markings or cracks, nor was it warm to the touch—an important indicator in magical buildup. Good. Didn’t want it exploding later on after multiple activations.

She turned back for her schematics lying on the safe side of the blast shield and—

Celestia stood in the doorway, flanked by Stone Wall and some other guard. The hair went up on Sunset’s neck.

“I went to your dorm to speak with you,” Celestia said. Her voice drifted across the distance between them, distressingly calm. “You weren’t there, or the library. And String hasn’t seen you since last week.”

“I… I-I haven’t been back since last week,” Sunset said, looking away. The lie came out clumsily, and she knew before even finishing the sentence that Celestia saw right through it.

Celestia’s eyes flicked to the mirror, then back to her. Though short, the silence spanned a moment Celestia would have certainly made use of. Little silences like that she reserved for grave offenses. It was enough to make Sunset sick to her stomach.

“You promised me you would stop this.”

“You forced me to make that promise,” Sunset said. A lump welled up in her throat. She already knew where this was going.

“I did not force you to do anything.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” She could barely get the words out.

A few lab ponies poked their heads around the corner. With a brief flash of her horn, Celestia slammed the door shut in their faces.

“I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.” Celestia’s words came out short and precise. She took a step forward, chin raised.

“Then what about everything you’ve said about Nocturne? I know for a fact that she’s nothing like what you say.”

That got Celestia to narrow her eyes. “I told you who she is, Sunset.”

“No! Shut up. Just shut up!” Sunset stamped her hooves. “You’re wrong about her. Maybe she was evil. Maybe she deserved to be locked away for a thousand years. But whatever she might have done, she’s changed. You haven’t seen her now. You haven’t looked into her eyes and felt what I do.”

Tears rolled down Sunset’s cheeks. Her mane fell in front of her face, and she brushed it back with a shaky hoof.

“She’s kind and compassionate and beautiful.” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes, but they kept coming. “And she visits me when I’m sad or lonely.”

“She does those things because she has underlying motives. She—”

“She does them because she loves me. And I love her, too.” It hurt letting the words fall out. It felt like an admission of guilt, but at the same time it was the most liberating feeling. Celestia needed to know. Nocturne’s life was on the line.

Sunset shook her head to reaffirm herself. “You keep acting like she’s a monster, but she isn’t. Why can’t you just see that?”

“Because what I see is my most faithful student blinded by false pretense and lies.”

“It’s not false pretense. It’s real!” Sunset put a hoof to her heart. “You can’t tell me what I feel in here isn’t real.”

“What you feel is your emotions being manipulated by a monster—”

“She’s not a monster! Stop calling her that!”

“By a monster,” Celestia repeated, “intent on upending everything you know and love.”

“I love her! She isn’t manipulating me, you are!” She jabbed a hoof at Celestia. “You’re the one upending everything. You’re the one who’s trying to control who I love.”

“Because you can’t see that she will break your heart the moment she has what she wants, Sunset. And not because it is necessary, but because she can. I guarantee you nothing will come of what you seek except heartbreak and misery. And if this is the path you choose, then you give me no choice. If you cannot see reason, then I will have to enforce it for your own safety.”

Sunset’s legs shook, barely able to hold her up. Shameful tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t care anymore. Nocturne was worth more than her pride. She was worth more than anything in the world.

“How dare you,” Sunset choked out. She sucked up a dribble of snot, and her breath hitched. “How dare you talk about her like that.”

“Sunset—”

“No! That’s not fair. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t love. You can’t tell me not to do what I think is right. I’m going to save her. I… I have to…”

Celestia drew a strained breath in through her nostrils. She closed her eyes, and a pained look settled on her brow, like she had the audacity to think whatever ran through her head was right and just.

“So be it,” Celestia said. When she opened her eyes, every last ounce of patience had left her, and she spread her wings with an authority that sucked the warmth from the room.

“Sunset Shimmer, I hereby strip you of your status as my pupil. You will forfeit any and all privileges related to your standing, and you are officially barred from castle grounds until you have come to your senses.”

A cold ice-water sensation rippled down Sunset’s back. “I, I… what?”

“I am not finished. You will relinquish any and all progress you have made on the mirror, and you are forbidden from discussing it with anypony until I deem otherwise. It is going somewhere safe, where you can’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”

“No… No.” Sunset shook her head. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. “No, no, no you can’t do this! Princess—”

“I can and I will.” Wearing a determined scowl, Celestia strode toward the mirror.

Sunset was a full three heads shorter than Celestia, but that didn’t stop her from standing in her way. She squared her shoulders and did her best to put on a brave face despite the tears.

Celestia towered over Sunset, her wings silhouetted by the skylight. The air became charged with magical energies that felt like the tingling sensation before lightning struck. Even the guards fidgeted behind her.

“Move,” Celestia growled.

Sunset trembled beneath the sight, but glared back defiantly all the same. Once upon a time, she saw in Celestia’s eyes the world and everything beautiful waiting to be discovered. But now all she saw was a tyrant trying to tear apart the one thing that ever truly mattered.

“N-no…”

“I will not tell you again, Sunset. Move.”

“I said no!”

Celestia took a step forward to shoulder her aside, eyes locked on the mirror. The determination in her eyes fell short of only murder.

Sunset didn’t have the will to fight—all the happy memories of the last ten years of her tutelage welling up inside her—but an overwhelming fear of what was to come brought a desperate spell to her horn, and she let it fly.

Celestia’s eyes tracked down toward her as the red flare lit up the room, and with the reaction of a trained soldier she deflected it into the floor. It left a blackened crater the size of her hoof.

“Sunset Shimmer!” she boomed loud enough to shake the walls, and slammed a hoof down, cracking the tile.

It was the first time Sunset ever felt afraid for her life. She crumpled backward onto the dais, her hoof stretched out behind her in a last-ditch effort to protect the mirror.

Celestia stared at her, breathless, with a mixture of anger and realization. She collected herself with a deep breath through her nose, eyes closed, prim and proper like a Princess of Equestria.

“Sunset,” she said weakly. “Please. Do not force me to move you.”

“You can’t do this…”

“Sunset.”

“You can’t!” She wrapped her hooves tight around Celestia’s legs and sobbed into her fetlocks. “You can’t…”

Celestia’s hooves quivered ever so slightly, like maybe, just maybe, she would reconsider. Like she actually understood how much this hurt.

“Sunset…” She sounded tired, sad. “Please stand up.”

Sunset shook her head. It felt as if she were holding onto Nocturne. Letting go meant casting her back to her own personal hell and herself adrift in a universe devoid of meaning.

A gentle hoof rested itself on her shoulder. It was Stone Wall, lying on his belly beside her. There was no anger or motive on his face, just a sympathetic frown that said he was there for her. He gently pulled her into a hug.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his muzzle buried in her mane, just behind the ear. “You’re okay.”

At his touch, something inside her broke, and she leaned into him in a sobbing heap. The individual rivets of his armor dug into her skin, but she couldn’t find the strength to let go.

He held her like that for who knew how long. Time didn’t mean anything anymore.

“Come on,” he said after a while. “Let’s get you home.” He coaxed her to her hooves and led her out the door—the mirror abandoned, and her hopes and dreams of true love with it.

Stone Wall led her back to her dorm and left her with a solemn farewell. In the silence of the living room, red-washed as it was in the waning light of dusk, Sunset couldn’t bear the loneliness.

She imagined the look of disappointment on Nocturne’s face, the slump in her shoulders, the defeated splay of her wings about her on the floor. What would Nocturne say? How would she react to having her hopes dashed to pieces?

Sunset felt powerless, weak, useless. Her life had fallen apart before her very eyes, and all she had the courage to do was watch.

Celestia might as well have shattered the mirror, just to make it official. Sunset sniffled. What did she care? Nothing mattered anymore.

She was a reject, a useless nopony that now didn’t even have that one bit of status that made her worth the time of day. She had nothing left.

Nothing except Nocturne. Maybe not in real life, but they could still be together in her dreams. There was still hope. Somewhere, somehow. That’s what ponies in love did in hard times, wasn’t it? Never gave up hope? Leaned on each other?

They’d… They’d get through this, she and Nocturne.

Sunset sniffled and dared to smile. Nocturne was as wise as she was beautiful, and just as kind. She would understand.

Sunset got in bed and closed her eyes. She held her hooves to her heart, thought of Nocturne, and cast the spell. When she opened her eyes, Nocturne was already standing in front of her.

Sunset threw her hooves around her and buried her face in Nocturne’s chest. The tears she cried were as happy as they were sad.

“I missed you,” Sunset said.

“And I you.” Nocturne wrapped a hoof around Sunset, and it was the best feeling in the world. Sunset could have stayed there forever. “But I am here now, Little Sunset. Let me be the salve to the wounds upon your heart.”

Sunset let the gentleness of Nocturne's voice seep into her bones. It made everything she had to say bearable, if only just.

“They all hate me. I don’t ever want to see them again.”

“Who could possibly hate you, my love?”

Sunset sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes. Hearing that phrase, “my love,” made her heart do a somersault, and the pain hurt that much less.

“Everypony,” Sunset said. “Copper, Celestia, and everypony else will too once they find out what I did.”

“Come now, Little Sunset. Celestia surely could not hate you. You are her everything, are you not?”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see how… how furious she was. I thought she was going to hurt me.” She nuzzled into Nocturne’s chest, and everything felt just a little better. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Such things should not be said. One cannot find solace in one being and one being alone.” She ran an idle hoof along Sunset’s shoulder, and the contact helped reassure Sunset that yes, things would be okay.

“You don’t understand. I don’t have anywhere else to go… There’s no way Celestia could forgive me for what I just did, and my parents would disown me faster than anything if they even thought I tried to attack the princess.”

“Attack Celestia? What could bring you to do such a thing?”

A wave of shame rolled through Sunset. It made her shiver just thinking about it.

“Sh-she… she caught me working on the mirror again, and she tried to take it away from me. I, I did get it working, though, but I don’t think she knows that.”

Nocturne perked up. “You got it working?”

“I mean, it’s not the 30th full moon right now, so it’s not active. But… but it passed all my stress tests, and it took the Attunement Spell just fine. At the very least, it won’t explode when it does activate.”

Nocturne was silent for a moment, her eyes glazed over in thought. Presently, she shifted her eyes toward Sunset, and she flicked an ear askance.

“This means… This truly means what my heart tells me must be true. There is yet hope.”

Sunset pulled away, ears flat back. Another wave of shame came over her. How could Nocturne be so hopeful when everything was lost? “Yeah, but she took the mirror. I don’t know where. Probably the Royal Treasury, or her bedroom. She’s afraid I’ll get it working.”

“Then that is to your advantage, is it not?”

“It is, but… I mean, I could probably figure out where she’s keeping it. Maybe sneak through if there’s nopony guarding it. I just…” Sunset shook her head. “I, I don’t want to leave you.”

Nocturne took Sunset’s hooves in hers. “My dearest, you are not leaving me. The span that will soon divide us is little more than a setback, a necessary evil we must endure for the sake of greater truths. We knew this from the beginning.”

Still holding Sunset’s hooves, she placed one against Sunset’s chest and the other against her own. They beat in time, two hearts in harmony.

“Feel this, my love,” Nocturne said. “Feel the warmth that beats in time with mine own. Take heart that never a day will go by that I do not eagerly await your return, and all the sweeter that glorious moment shall be for it. I believe in you.”

“I just… I don’t know.” She pressed herself into Nocturne’s chest. Oh, it felt so right like this, just she and Nocturne. “Why can’t I just sleep forever and be with you like this instead?”

“Because life does not work in such ways, Little Sunset. You must trust me, as I trust you.”

Sunset pressed herself deeper into Nocturne’s chest. Why did it have to be this way? Why did she have to leave?

Thirty full moons was roughly thirty months. She didn’t know if she could last a week without Nocturne, let alone over two and a half years.

Working on the mirror, building toward a goal she could see and feel was anything but difficult. But faced now with the very real prospect of leaving Nocturne for years, she had doubts. The what-ifs crawled out of the dark corners of her mind.

What if she didn’t find the magic on the other side in time for the next 30th full moon? What if she wasn’t strong enough to bring it home? What if something happened and she never made it home?

She’d never see Nocturne again. She’d never get to hold this forlorn, time-lost mare in her real-life hooves and tell her everything was okay.

“I just…” Sunset clenched her teeth. “I can’t. I’m scared. I want to stay here with you. Don’t make me go. Let’s just stay like this. Please. I’ll miss you too much.”

“Do not say such things, Little Sunset,” Nocturne said. “Do not let your fears sway you. You are strong as the northern wind and beautiful as the auroras. Trepidation can never drive a wedge between us lest you give it quarter. Please, my Little Sunset, I beg of you to find your courage. You must do this for me.”

There was a twinge of impatience in her voice. Or maybe it was desperation. They were both desperate.

“I know, I just…” Tears beaded in Sunset’s eyes. “I can’t. Please. I’m sorry.”

An almost mournful hardness settled on Nocturne’s face, as if she were… was that disappointment? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, all emotion drained from her face.

“Very well,” she said. When she opened her eyes, a tiny smile formed on her lips. “It pains me that you would come to this decision, Little Sunset. But if this is the path you choose, then I shan’t deny you.”

The dream darkened as if a cloud had passed over a nonexistent sun, and the nothingness blurred into vague shapes and shadows suggestive of furniture.

Her bedroom took form around them, down to the littlest detail—her bed to the left, her recessed bookshelf lording over the back wall, her dresser beside the closet door. It was comforting, being surrounded by the familiar things she had known practically all her life, and having a chance here to share them with Nocturne made the moment all the more sentimental.

After all the dream’s shifting and morphing, Nocturne stood by her bed. She lowered the tip of her muzzle just a hair and gave a little chuckle.

“Come to me, Little Sunset.”

Her laugh leaned a little toward the creepy side, but the smile on her face, that glint in her eye… It got Sunset’s heart running wild in her chest. It told her to leap forward and kiss Nocturne and never let go.

This was where she belonged, not in a castle or studying under a princess that didn’t care about her. She belonged with Nocturne, whether that be in the Dreamscape or the real world. As long as Nocturne was there, everything would be okay.

She met Nocturne halfway with a kiss, and she melted like chocolate left in the sun. She pressed forward, kissing deeper, giving herself to the sensation that felt so natural and true—but pleasure turned to pain when she felt a sharp sting in her lower lip.

“Ow!” Sunset jerked back, putting a hoof to her lips. She tasted blood.

Nocturne craned her head low and ran her tongue along her upper lip. With wings half spread, she took a step forward, grinning. A devious hunger danced in her eyes, like a candle flame trying to leap from its wick.

“N-Nocturne…? Did you just bite me?”

Nocturne said nothing. The shadows wafting from her legs sprawled out to carpet the floor. Her horn glowed a pale blue, like moonlight on a tombstone, and thin, thread-like shadows snaked around Sunset’s horn.

“Nocturne, w-what are you doing?” Sunset backed into the dresser. The little knickknacks on top jostled and fell over. Something shattered on the floor, but still she pressed harder, enough that the dresser leaned on its back legs. No matter how hard she tried, her horn wouldn’t light, tied up as it was by the moonlit threads.

Nocturne came nose to nose with her before tracing a line with her tongue across Sunset’s cheek and up to the tip of her ear.

Sunset seized up as Nocturne’s breath raked along her neck and collarbone like a winter wind. It was getting hard to breathe.

The shadows wrapped themselves around Sunset’s hooves. They didn’t care for how she pulled away, ever persistent and invasive. One slithered up her back leg and licked at her inner thigh.

Sunset yelped and jerked away. She scrambled to the far corner, where she put her back against the wall. Tears ran down her face. She tried again and again to light her horn and pull herself from the dream, but the harder she tried, the tighter the snaking threads wound themselves.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Nocturne, stop. I don’t like this.”

Short, curt laughter froze the blood in her veins. The room dimmed as a wicked smile on Nocturne’s lips split the darkness like a crescent moon.

“Ohhh…” Nocturne drew out the word with sickening enjoyment. She strode forward again, her hooves distinct and heavy on the hardwood. “But is this not what you wanted, Little Sunset? To sleep and be with me in this dream, forever?”

Sunset shook her head. She pressed herself into the wall in desperate hope that it would disappear, that she would fall away and start awake in a damp sweat. That’s how nightmares were supposed to end.

But Nocturne came closer, her hooves louder, her smile sharper. The room rimmed her wings and shoulders silver in its dying light.

Sunset’s legs refused to hold her up, and she collapsed in a shivering heap, unable to look away from the glowing slits that were Nocturne’s eyes. The shadows licked at her hooves, teased at her skin.

She kicked at them, tears in her eyes and pleas for mercy caught in her throat. But the more she swatted them away, the angrier they wound and pulled and grasped at her.

She could scream. She wanted to. She wanted to scream and cry until the world made sense again. But what would it do? That’s what… that’s what Nocturne wanted.

Nopony could hear her. Nopony could save her. She felt herself shutting down, and as the seconds wore on, she closed her eyes and curled in on herself.

An ice-cold hoof touched her beneath the chin, drawing her eyes up. In the blackness towering over her, Nocturne stared back with that wicked smile.

That same hoof holding her so delicately by the chin suddenly shoved her against the wall, pinning her there. One of the many shadows traced down Sunset’s cheek and neck like an icicle, then down her chest—lower, lower, lower.

Sunset whimpered and squirmed away, but Nocturne’s grip grew tighter around her throat. No matter how hard she pushed with both hooves, she didn’t have half of Nocturne’s strength. Her neck felt ready to snap, and she couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes bulged as she managed to suck in the tiniest, gasping breath, and Nocturne leaned in close enough for her to smell the wintergreen on her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried.

“Yes,” Nocturne cooed. She ran a cold tongue up Sunset’s cheek to lick away the tears. “Good girl. You know that I love you. Now, Little Sunset, let me grant you the courage to cross that divide…”

• • •

Sunset Shimmer didn’t sleep that night.

She had awoken not long after that fateful, terrifying moment, once the innocence and wealth of the world had been stripped away. She stared absently into the bookshelf on the far wall as the thin lines of sunlight through the blinds crawled their last few inches up the wall, her tail tucked firmly between her legs.

Her tears had long since run out, and the unending silence lent no comfort. She felt hollow, as if her soul had been dug out of her with a scalpel.

The bedsheets were still damp from where she lay after her shower. It didn’t help. No matter how much she lathered or how hard she scrubbed, she still felt everything.

“I’ll be back, Little Sunset,” Nocturne had whispered moments before she woke up.

And Sunset believed her. Every word of it. The relish in Nocturne’s voice was unmistakable. She would do it again, and Sunset couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Except… she could still go through the portal. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she pulled her comforter tighter around herself.

Nocturne couldn’t reach her there, that much she believed as well. But Nocturne wanted that. It was part of some plan of hers, some sick and twisted game that Sunset was merely a pawn in. Used and tossed aside. Forgettable, unimportant, like she always knew herself to be.

Celestia was right. Nocturne had played her for a fool, and she was too stupid to listen.

She imagined Celestia now, what she would say if Sunset went groveling back to her. Celestia would welcome her with open hooves and accept her apology, surely, but… but what would that accomplish?

Celestia couldn’t bring Nocturne to justice. Nocturne would come back like she promised. She’d do it again. And again, and again, and again, until Sunset threw herself through the portal or she chose a more… permanent alternative.

But even if Celestia somehow managed to stop Nocturne, what would she do, throw her in a prison cell? Iron bars in exchange for Sunset’s innocence wasn’t justice. Justice was taking back the words Nocturne made her say, unthinking the thoughts that demon had drilled into her brain, unbreaking her heart, and making whole her peace of mind.

No. Celestia was useless. All she had done was set Sunset on this path to pain and misery.

Make some friends…

Where did that get her? Sunset tucked her tail tighter between her legs.

This was all Celestia’s fault.

She had failed Sunset, just like however many others Nocturne had broken before her. There was no justice in crawling back to her, only more lies about the wonders of friendship.

If Sunset were to have justice, she’d have to find it herself. She was a go-getter. She was Sunset Shimmer. Nopony could stop her when she put her mind to something.

And if this was how the world worked, then fine. She could play along.

She’d cross through that portal and find whatever magic there was. She’d become the most powerful unicorn that ever lived. When she returned, she would show Celestia what real power was.

And when she finished that? She would come for Nocturne. She would drag that bitch kicking and screaming from the Dreamscape and teach her the real meaning of nightmare.

And nopony—nopony—would use her ever again.

• • •

And so the nightingale has spent its last coo. Oh, Little Sunset, how it sang its song to give fire to your heart, make light your hooves for the heavens behind your eyes. And how you listened.

Dethroned, deflowered, deserted.

Naught a petal remains of the single red rose, and ample is the crimson that drips from its thorns. Such is the coward’s due—undesired, yet no less satisfying.

However, Little Sunset, do not mourn yourself. No… Not yet.

This darkness befallen you is but the first of many hells you shall endure, for you do not know the fortune of death your predecessors do. In time, you shall see.

I relish the thought of your return. I await the coming of the full moon that sees your pretty face on this side of the glass. And once I reclaim my rightful place with Sister’s head upon my throne, I will welcome you home with fire and ash.

But for now, Little Sunset, goodbye.

Goodbye, and good riddance.