A Magic Turn of Events

by MagLocal

Rating: everyone
Tags: Alternate Universe, Other, Equestria Girls, Slice of Life, Anthology, Sunset Shimmer, Main 7 (EqG), My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 72630

The world of Canterlot High has changed drastically, everyone having turned into ponies or other magical Equestrian creatures. In the aftermath lie these not-so-chronological tales of new fates, of trying to live here again.

After a serious magic mishap with the portal, the dimension of Sunset Shimmer and her friends has been rocked to its very core with everyone suddenly a pony, a zebra, a griffon, or some other magical creature from magical Equestria.

Not to mention that this reality's gone magical as well, if the sun revolving around the Earth did not make that obvious enough.

With this irreversible change, everyone's stumbling along in the quest to regain a semblance of normal life, but how can they do that in strange bodies and with strange magic? How will they tackle all the old with all the new?

Find out in this not-so-chronological collection of short stories exploring the day-to-day journey this world's taking.

Published 2018-08-25 06:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-08 13:44:48 UTC

Stemming the Tide with Flowers

Canterlot High’s garden was often overlooked in the days following the magical disaster. From the point of view of someone who cared nothing about plants: “Why see if the flowers were well-watered? I just turned into a magic pony, and I don’t know what to do!”

After the initial panic had ceased, everyone became at least a little concerned over the garden. However, it wasn’t for the reasons one might think: It wasn’t out of fear that some beast or monster gobbled the plants up. It wasn’t out of dread that neglect would kill the garden.

In reality, it’s because it was infested with tons of exotically magical plants that looked so scary and horrifying, no sane pony would ever step hoof in it—and the principals-turned-princesses who were both sane and were willing to step hooves in it had to go to Manehattan and convene with various world leaders. Sadly, just zapping the garden with beams harmed more than it helped, so they left with only a promise.

If the ponies who controlled everything in outer space could not handle a measly garden, it’d take someone obsessed with gardening to the point of craziness to do the job.

Yet, there was not just one, but two: Wallflower Blush and Rose.

Or, perhaps, just one, with Rose being dragged along and making hooftracks in the mud under pouring rain.

“Are you mad?!” she yelled at her green friend.

As they entered the garden, it became clear that it had devolved into a dark forest complete with spooky trees and their pointy branches. Hisses and coos could be heard from too many places, and the whirl of a head was not enough to see the offending creature. Glowing eyes popped into view, creeping Rose out while following an equally creeped out Wallflower, striped sweater still on her though drenched.

“There has to be some way to make the garden safe!” Wallflower said, looking here and there and seeing a few strange specimens: some yellow flowers in a row that had little flames inside their petals in spite of the rain, an herb that reeked of rotten eggs and toothpaste combined which neither pony was willing to sample nor imagine, and the ghastly and hideous cyan grass known as poison joke.

“You think you can make this abomination safe?!” Rose shouted, raising her hoof in both surprise and annoyance as the rain washed her mane wet.

Wallflower rolled her eyes, watching her hoof to avoid tripping on invasive roots. “We’re both Earth ponies. We have the magic to keep this in check...somehow.”

Then, a growl from behind some rustling bushes.

Wallflower and Rose stood still, hooves shaky.

“Run?” Rose suggested in a scared whisper.

“Wait,” and Wallflower placed a hoof over her friend’s face.

Rose lowered the hoof and returned it with a glare. “That thing could eat us!”

“You don’t even know what that thing is!”

Another growl, and the bushes shook violently.

Both ponies clung onto each other, teeth clattering and staring at the bushes.

A figure shot out.

Made of branches, somehow a sentient being with green eyes under leafy eyebrows—

“Timberwolf!” screamed Rose.

The wooden canine lunged into the air, aimed straight for Rose.

Wallflower grabbed her by the mane, threw her out of the way. Then, the green pony was hit by the wolf.

Was kicked in the jaw.

“Ah!”

Rose moaned as she quickly got up from her crater in the ground, saw Wallflower battling the timberwolf, though with a limp and pained hoof.

“Wallflower, no!”

And Rose galloped her way to the enemy and bucked it on the torso, causing it to wince and reflex.

The timberwolf growled at her, baring its wooden teeth as it crept up on its next prey.

“Eep!” as Rose’s eyes darted to and fro, trying to think of something despite the wolf’s bad breath, though she was relieved that Wallflower was safe, so how was she gonna—

Noticed the flaming flowers behind her.

She smirked, grabbed a bunch, then held them in front of the wolf’s face. With a sudden rise in confidence, she yelled, “Come closer to me! Yeah, come closer! I dare you!”

The timberwolf was visibly shaken by the magical plants, though it still showed its sharp teeth.

“Come on!” Rose taunted, waving the flowers around with her hoof. “Come on, doggie! Scared of some pretty flowers? Pathetic!”

The timberwolf lowered its head, growling again.

Then, Rose stretched her hoof, putting the flowers mere inches away from the creature.

Letting it feel the flowers’ warmth.

The timeberwolf cried out, whimpered, and ran away with a slinked tail.

Rose smiled, smugly putting the flowers on her mane. “Hah! Don’t you come back!”

Caught the smell of smoke.

Rose whirled around to see her mane.

As it was being burned by the flowers.

“Aaaahhh!”

Rose galloped around, forgetting to stop, drop, and roll properly. Instead, she stopped just to trip over Wallflower’s listless body, dropped to the muddy ground with a thud!, and rolled to a halt at a tree’s trunk.

That was all she remembered before she fainted.

At first, she saw nothing but felt something soft on her back.

Probably lying down. Probably on a bed.

A pungent smell wafted into her nose.

She recoiled. “Ugh! What’s that?!”

“The cure for your poison joke,” was Wallflower’s casual reply.

“Oh. OK.”

Then, Rose’s eyes opened, realizing what her friend just said.

“What?!”

She instinctively grabbed the first thing beside her which was a mirror. She brought it up to her face.

Her mane was gone, replaced with wilted stalks and stems.

“Aieee!”

A hoof steadied her on the head.

“Rose! Focus on me!”

She dropped the mirror to the bed, then focused on Wallflower’s face, her vision clearing up and even seeing the latter’s freckles.

Realized she wasn’t inside the garden at all. Rose trembled on her pillow. “Wh-Where are we?!”

“Had to improvise. I tried Zecora’s mixtures but it turns out they don’t work here.”

“Z-Zecora?!” Rose stammered, irises shrinking. “D-Did I drink a magic potion?!”

“Didn’t work,” repeated Wallflower with a slight shake of her head. She then gestured a hoof to the rest of the room. “I had to make my own.”

Rose sat up on bed, then saw, inside the patient’s room, a cauldron of bubbling green goop under shelves not of medicine but of unknown magical plants and borrowed magical extracts from Equestria.

“Wallflower, what’re you doing?!” Rose yelled, raising a shivering hoof at her. “You’re just like a witch!”

Wallflower tapped her hoof impatiently and glared at Rose. “I’d rather be called a ‘magical herbalist.’”

The distinction between “witch” and “magical herbalist” didn’t matter to Rose. To her, the only thing lacking was ominous music and a black robe around Wallflower. Oh, and let’s not forget the pointy hat.

Consumed by this daunting image in her mind, Rose was reduced to blubbering. “N-No! I w-won’t be turned into a monster!”

Wallflower raised a brow. “Why would I do that to a friend like you?”

“There’s too much evidence!” Rose screamed, sweeping the whole room with an accusing hoof.

Wallflower wasn’t impressed by the prosecution, though. “How else am I gonna help you?”

“Ask the principals?!” she answered with flailing forehooves.

Wallflower sighed. “They’re still busy with international talks.” Then, she glanced at the cauldron. “Wait right here.”

She trotted to the big pot, grabbed a ladle, scooped some of the goop into a bowl, and tasted a bit of it. The end result was a smile. “That should do the trick!”

As for Rose, the end result was a pinch on the snout. “Eww! You’re gonna feed me sewage?”

Wallflower groaned. “If I wanted to poison you, maybe.”

Rose coughed, the smell still overwhelming her senses. “What’d you put in there?!”

“Twilight said it’s an herb called ‘Pourrifraise’,” replied Wallflower. “It’s the plant that smelled so bad back in the garden.”

Upon remembering that from their ill-fated excursion, Rose almost puked, her cheeks bulging and turning green.

“B-But it’ll be good for you!” Wallflower insisted, holding the bowl with one hoof while managing to walk back to the bed with the other three. She almost stumbled, spilling a few drops onto the floor, but she made it to the other side.

Rose moaned, captured by what could go wrong. “Wh-What if it backfires? What if I start turning into a plant? Or a tree?!”

Wallflower placed the bowl on the bedside desk, the stink making Rose cover her snout with both forehooves. “Don’t worry.” She then bit a branch that was stuck on her wet sweater and took it out. “I tried it and it worked just fine!”

“And what did you have?!” Rose yelled, having just noticed the odd branch.

True to her name, Wallflower blushed, cheeks flushing red. “I also had my mane replaced with plants.”

Rose blinked. Then, after mustering up some much-needed breath, she said, “Well, why would I not believe you now?”

Wallflower sighed. “Finally! So, you’re ready for a batch?”

Rose nodded, though still covering her snout. “Anything to get rid of my horrible ‘mane’!”

With that, Wallflower brought the bowl up to Rose’s lips, letting her friend gulp the delicious curing potion down her throat.

She looked at Rose’s mane as the red hair grew back up, throwing off the stalks and stems in their place.

Wallflower grabbed the mirror and put it up to her friend’s face for her to see that the potion worked. “How do you look?”

Rose looked at herself, seeing her normal red mane. She bobbed her hair with a hoof. “Aww!” Turning to Wallflower to wrap her in a hug, “Thank you so much!”

Wallflower blushed again, still staying true to her name as she reciprocated with a hug of her own.

“...and that’s how she saved me from both a timberwolf and a really bad mane day!” Rose said to finish her story to Sunset Shimmer.

They were trotting down the street with Wallflower, avoiding lots of repair work on cracked roads and broken storefronts, plenty of construction workers on the scene as they attempted to fix with hooves instead of hands—machinery was hard to operate without fingers, after all.

On the now dry roads was an eerie lack of cars or anything else that had wheels. There was a sleek sports car with a spoiler on its rear, but it moved around awkwardly. Considering that it had a pony behind the wheel, it was reasonable.

It did move around slowly, too. That meant the driver had safety in mind, not wanting to run over a poor, innocent pony.

Then again, when you had lost your hands and feet in exchange for hooves some days before, safety would be in your mind all the time.

Getting off from that sports car tangent:

Those three mares passed by other ponies on the sidewalk, with the occasional wave for familiar faces. “Hi!”’s and “Hello!”’s were in order, a few polite questions asked before they went on with their business. With almost every other passer-by, Sunset gazed upon them with a pitiful look.

“What’s wrong?” Wallflower asked, having noticed that distressed expression.

Sunset lifted her head up and faked a smile. “Oh, it’s nothing! Don’t mind me!”

Rose frowned, not buying the smoke screen. “I think it is something.” Putting on a welcoming smile, “You can share your troubles with us, Sunset.”

The worried unicorn kept up the facade. “It’s not much, really.” Then, looking at Wallflower to deflect suspicion, “Come to think of it, I didn’t know you had a knack for potions!”

Going thrice, Wallflower blushed, shying a little away. “I-I didn’t know, too, until I had to figure out how to whip up a cure. After skimming the first chapter on The Book for Panaceas and Not Placebos, it just...clicked.”

Sunset chuckled, ignoring Rose’s drooping ears. “At least it’s getting easier for you to learn magic.” She rubbed her chin in thought, then said, “What about you start practicing potion-making? I mean, you’re good at gardening, and if it turns out that you’re also good at magic gardening, you could set up a business for it! Call it, Wallflower’s Shop of Cure-’em-all’s! or something like that.”

For the fourth time today, Wallflower blushed, flattered by the suggested name. “You don’t have to do that!”

“I insist!” Sunset, well, insisted. “Unless you have a better name,” then ended with a nervous chuckle and an anxious look up at the clear sky.

Rose detected the signs of a troubled pony, then nudged her on the shoulder. “Sunset, you don’t have to hide from us. What is it?”

Sunset still smiled for a few more seconds.

It crumbled into a sulking frown.

They stopped by the intersection, waiting for cars to cross the road.

Except, of course, there were no cars.

The pedestrian light was red, though. Being a pony was already a big problem. They did not want to compound that with being law-breakers.

Sunset sighed as they stood there, avoiding non-existent automobiles. She stared at the two ponies by her side. “When I look at you, all of you, I see lives changed forever. I’m sure none of you asked to gain magical powers or become ponies.”

“But you don’t have much to worry about, right?” Rose asked. “You were born a pony, so it’s not like you had to adjust a lot.”

Sunset glanced away, focusing on the road before them. “That’s the thing.”

The light turned green.

The mares crossed the street, looking left and right out of habit. They reached the other side and continued their trot.

“I’m the one who came to your world. I was the one who had to adjust. Walking on two legs, holding things with hands, surviving in a world without magic...trying to blend into a society that’s new but wasn’t at the same time.”

A pause, slowing down a bit to make sure they were within earshot.

“Even after the Fall Formal, I still had a lot of things to learn. And then, just when I was getting comfortable with staying here for a very long time...” and looked down on her familiar hooves, “this happens.”

A heavy sigh escaped her mouth, betraying remorse.

“I know it’s not my fault nor was it anyone else’s, but seeing these new ponies going through the same process I did, it makes me feel more than just sad...even guilty at times. And it’s not just you and the rest of our friends in Canterlot. It’s everyone.” Stopped to catch a breath. “I have to see a whole world adjust to what I’m used to, and it feels like I’m getting away with it ‘cause I know it all—been there, done that for most of my life.”

Ended it with another sigh, avoiding their deep looks.

Rose tilted her head. “But you’re helping with the pony tutorials you posted online. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

Sunset frowned, still not wishing to see the disaster’s victims. “Maybe in the long run, but now...if only there was a button you could just press and everything would go back to normal.”

“The problem is, there is no button, right?” said Rose.

“Exactly.”

Sunset’s ears drooped.

There was no button to reset everything. No magical stone or amulet to restore the world to what it was before. Not even a temporary solution would work—a fanciful thought about Discord came to mind, but it was tossed away, knowing that he’d be using magic to try to get rid of magic. Surely, nothing good could come out of that.

Then, two hooves wrapped around her neck.

She looked at them, seeing Wallflower and Rose hugging her.

She hugged them back.

As they embraced each other in the middle of the sidewalk, garnering looks from passers-by and the pony still trying to drive his sports car.

The next day, Rose decided to go to Wallflower’s house first thing in the morning.

She stood by the door and knocked on it with her rather flat hoof, as if hooves could be pointy.

“Who’s there?!” shouted Wallflower from inside.

“It’s me!” Rose shouted back.

“Oh! Come in! I wanted to try out an enchanted lock so it’ll only open if you’re on my list.”

“...what?”

But Rose tried anyway. She grabbed the door handle, heard a snap! from inside, and tried to push the door.

It swung open.

When she entered, she was surprised with mouth open at the humble abode’s new horticultural additions. Bizarre plants flourished on a variety of pots scattered from living room to bedroom. Flowers of strange color combinations and shapes took up space—here was a flower in purple and white stripes, emitting a smoketrail of perfume and filling the house with a sumptuous fragrance of foreign wood. Over there, some weird root crops were thriving, namely of exotic spices including one where leafy bags of actually powdered spice hung from its dangling petioles. Last but not the least were the little bonsai-like trees growing normal-sized fruit. Regular apples hanging from a tiny tree? Yes, that’s what’s happening, and the apples weren’t pulling the branches down; other than their bigness, they fit in with their trees.

Coupled with the vines sprawling on the walls, the house had become a botanist’s dream beyond one’s imagination.

Rose then found Wallflower watering a pot of flowers, specifically the ones with little flames on their petals. “W-Wallflower?”

The gardener smiled, putting the watering can out of her mouth and onto the side. She closed her eyes, cheerful. “Hi, Rose!”

Rose’s eye twitched, still unable to take in all the plants at once. “D-Did the garden infest your house?”

What she got was a playful chuckle and, once again, her trademark blush. “I thought about Sunset’s ‘magical gardening’. Since I, well, like gardening a lot, and since magical gardening’s a thing now, I guess I should make something out of it.”

Rose took a step back, still scared that a plant might suck the life out of her.

Wallflower trotted over and gave her an assuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry! I didn’t get anything dangerous. Just the usual.”

Rose gulped, wondering how cruel the “usual” magical plant could be to her.

Wallflower frowned. “Anything?”

Rose shivered, unable to quickly accept that Wallflower had truly become a magical herbalist, that her home had become a hut for Equestrian plants. “Are you out of your mind?!”

With a blink, Wallflower replied, “No?”

Rose smacked her own face with a hoof. “You just jumped in and bought all this stuff from Equestria, did you?”

Wallflower shook her head. “The only things I bought were these helpful books.” She then gestured to the literature on the desk, containing interesting titles such as Don’t Leaf Me Alone: Leaves and Herbs Guide 100 + 1, Don’t Look Directly at the Sun! (Unless You’re a Sunflower), and Pine Coning for More: How to Impress Your Romantic Interest with a Love-inducing Cypress.

“So, everything else is local?” Rose asked.

“You could say that.”

Then, Rose saw a green bubble float from behind a counter in the kitchen before it popped. Raising a shaky hoof to point at empty space now, “Uh, is that—“

“The cauldron?” Wallflower asked, looking at that empty space, too. “Decided to buy that also. Zecora’s got a spare pot.”

Rose placed a hoof on her head, staring at her friend in utter disbelief. “You’ve gone from gardener to sorcerer in one week!”

Wallflower glowered at her. “We’ve gone from humans to ponies in one minute.”

Rose rolled her tongue inside her cheeks. “Yeah. Right. Hah.”

She stood there, watching Wallflower trot over to the hidden cauldron to check up on the potion’s progress. Then, Rose raised her hoof and asked, “What’s gonna happen to the gardening club now that you’re a sorcerer or whatever?”

Wallflower stopped and whirled around one-eighty. “I won’t dissolve it. Just because gardening’s a lot different now doesn’t mean we’ll abandon the club.” Then, an idea striking her in the head, eyes growing wide, “What about I show you how it all works?”

Rose looked around, seeing the strange plants including the flowers with flames. With a mumble of a groan, “Let’s make this quick.”

That simple move turned Rose into Wallflower’s semi-apprentice. She started by delivering this or that specimen and stirring the pot for a certain amount of minutes. After getting the hang of that, she leveled up to the finer points of the art, handling test tubes and precise amounts of mixtures. Once that was accomplished, she not only read the books, she devoured them, opening her eyes to the world of magical botany.

By the time Rose and Wallflower’s Shop of Cure-’em-all’s! was on the brink of opening almost two months later, the once humble abode had ponies packed and talking at the sidewalk, all beholding a green and red ribbon in front of Wallflower’s door.

Because it was evening, it was Principal Luna who was levitating a pair of scissors beside the ribbon, waiting for the two shop owners to come out.

There were many ponies to recognize at this momentous occasion. Aside from the Princess of the Night herself, there was Sunset Shimmer who decided to be a little wacky and wore some shades despite the darkness. The two Twilight Sparkles were there, both of them giddy though Sci-Twi more so—a classmate of hers not only survived the change practically unfazed, but she’s made a worthy establishment out of it. The icing on the cakepie, however, was Zecora herself making an appearance, pleased to witness a like-minded pony about to set up a place like hers back in the Everfree Forest.

Of course, if a store advertised cures, there should be sick ponies out in the crowd. Yes, there were sick ponies out in the crowd, especially those down with the cold.

All the mumbling stopped when the door opened.

Wallflower Blush and Rose stood there, wearing genuine smiles for everypony.

The former chuckled and blushed, tearing up at the many ponies there who would not just give her a good time but would take part in something that she had a devotion to for a long, long time.

Tonight, she was far from being forgotten. She would be remembered for helping so many ponies—and why stop there? What about helping griffons, zebras, yaks, and more?

Even with all the sentiment in her mind, Wallflower rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Eh, I’m not good with public speech. Luna?”

Luna chuckled. “We thank thee for making it easy for us.”

She cut the ribbon.

A surge of ponies rushed in while Zecora stayed behind for a minute, observing the heartwarming opening from the sidewalk.

Then, she trotted inside.

Off the Record, into the Frying Pan

There are many things in life that don’t exactly have a neat and tidy list of rules to follow. One doesn’t need a manual in order to clean the bedroom, nor does one have to read up a technical textbook on the subject of whether it’s called a cracker or a biscuit. In those cases, it’s alright—take five minutes of your time to learn from someone else, or just find your own way and hope it’s good enough.

But then one might encounter suddenly acquiring a new body complete with magic hitherto unfamiliar with everyone else suffering the same fate in a reality somewhat redone. What then?

Hours after the change, this was Sunset’s train of thought as she mulled over many things in her house. In the dead of night, there was no light but that of the moon penetrating the windows and seizing her in its silver, immaterial grasp.

She was sitting in front of the turned off computer, not in any mood to relax on the sofa. Hooves rubbing her forehead, making sure not to harm her horn, she let out a long-winded groan.

A cascading river coursed in her mind. What’s going to happen now? Will the world burn in the death throes of magical chaos? If not, how much of it will be burned before things get better? How many will get hurt or injured before they could get the hang of their new forms? What about those who didn’t care, perhaps happy that they have new ways of continuing their crimes by preying on the gullible in anarchy?

Ideas came and went. Could she teleport to as many places possible to give whoever a quick lesson on the pony lifestyle? Or maybe send Twilight and the rest of her friends everywhere and join them? But that meant traveling thousands of miles, and they couldn’t just teleport. Twi couldn’t do that, unlike her Equestrian self.

And it’s not like Sunset could teleport either.

Then, Sunset gasped as a simple yet genius plan surfaced: Why not make some tutorial videos on how to get through as a pony in a newly magical world?

Smiling, she rushed a hoof to her phone to tell Twilight about the project.

And realized that she couldn’t operate it with her flat hooves.

“Ngah!” and shouted more, rubbing the phone helplessly and pressing the buttons in vain. “How?! How am I—”

A pop-up appeared on the screen.

It appears that you are wearing heavy duty gloves. Super Glove Mode will be turned on. You can disable this mode in the options sidebar.

Sunset’s mouth snapped open at such convenient timing. “Well, better than nothing.”

Her phone glowed briefly, indicating that the mode was turned on.

Sunset stuck her tongue out as she painstakingly tapped out a text to Twilight. She moaned at each mispress, knowing that her hooves might make a couple more before she could press the backspace button. After a few minutes of hardship, her message formed. Don’t know if you’re awake, but if yes, give me a call. I’ve got something that’ll help everypony.

She pressed Send and began waiting for the reply.

Sunset then realized that Twi might not be able to access super glove mode so easily.

She looked at the corner of her screen, at the time there.

One A.M.

“She’ll find out.”

Sunset levitated the phone into a drawer. After closing the curtains and checking if the front door was really locked, she trotted up the stairs and slept on her bed.

It wasn’t long before tears soaked her pillow. Haunting her were the memories of a wonderful era lost in that fateful afternoon.

In the morning, Sunset and Sci-Twi met in the barren school cafeteria, sitting across the Equestrian versions of Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie. The sight of of many empty tables and chairs, the absence of Granny Smith or anyone else from the cafeteria staff, the sheer silence of the canteen itself while shouts, bangs, and other noises persisted outside….

Sunset levitated her camera to the table. Looking at her friends present, “Just to make sure everyone’s thinking of the same idea: We’re here to spread helpful videos on being a pony. I’ll handle the basics and the unicorn section, Pinkie Pie will take care of the Earth pony section, Rainbow Dash covers up the pegasus one, and you—” facing Twilight with a hoof twirl “—will record everything and discuss the videos with Principal Celestia so she could send it to the big guys over at MyStable and TackTube, Got it?”

The three ponies nodded while wearing their solemn frowns, even Pinkie Pie. The pink pony then smacked her hoof on the table, saying, “I’d be more than willing to help if it means nopony’s getting hurt.”

Rainbow hovered over the chair, crossing her forelegs as she flapped her wings. “I’ve already seen enough broken windows. It wouldn’t be great to see pegasi break their wings, too.”

Then, turning to Twi, Sunset told, “I’ve contacted Sparkle to come over within the month. She knows more about advanced magic than I do so she’ll have to take up that section down the line.”

Twi chuckled in a nervous fit, scratching the back of her head.

Sunset smiled. “But if you want to join me, why not bring a stand? It’ll probably be easier seeing two ponies talk instead of just me.”

In almost pure joy, Twi smiled and whinnied.

She covered her mouth, bothered by her horse noise.

Rainbow couldn’t help but hide a laugh of her own.

Sunset sighed, slouching on her chair before standing up. Everyone’s attention on her now, she pointed towards the doors and shouted, “To the halls, everypony!”

Everypony else got out of their chairs and left.

Sunset stood in the empty hall, right in front of the school’s green lockers. Seeing them harkened back some more memories, those of yesterday’s times when the worst thing that could happen was a magic monster here and a magic monster there. She thought back to those times when enjoying friendship as high school students was all there was to it.

Seeing those lockers deserted, seeing them as a pony—it made revisiting Canterlot High a bittersweet affair.

At least she had Twilight by her side. She was levitating her glasses in front of her, wiping them clean with a rag.

Rainbow and Pinkie stood quietly behind the camera, sitting down on the floor and watching the unicorns with bated breath.

Sunset breathed in, breathed out. Then, she heard the twinkle of magic as Twilight perched the glasses back on to her snout with the glow of her horn.

“I’m ready!” Twi said in the happiest tone she could assemble, though everyone could tell the worry beneath it.

Sunset made a smile for the camera, her horn glowing red along with the device. “So, in three, two, one—”

The first video covered the basics, beginning with Sunset alone in front of the lockers. She looked into the camera with a calm yet concerned look: ears raised up, eyes straight, and stance not too stiff yet not too shabby.

“Hi, there,” Sunset said, sounding serious with a not-so-serious greeting. “If you’re watching this, you’ve been turned into a magic pony. This is probably all sudden to you, so don’t panic.”

She placed both forehooves in the air for emphasis.

“Don’t.”

She put them down.

“Before you think you’ll turn back: You won’t. You can’t. It’s permanent. If you try to change it, you’ll hurt yourself a lot. Believe me, I should know. Why?”

She placed a hoof closer to the camera.

“Because I was born a pony.”

Put hoof back to the floor.

“First things first: How to walk.”

She raised her right forehoof.

“Do you feel this hoof? We’ll call it, ‘fore-right’.” She raised her left forehoof next. “This is your fore-left.” Then, she lifted one of her back legs. “And these are your hindhooves.”

Sunset put it down. “The pattern is: fore-right, back-left, fore-left, back-right, repeat.” She then said each hoof’s name out loud as she trotted at a leisurely pace, taking a few seconds to pause at each step before moving to the next one.

When that was done, she moved on to a faster gait. “If you want to gallop or run, push the ground down with your hind-left hoof which should follow immediately with your hind-right. You’ll jump a little into the air, and, as you land, you’ll have to hit one forehoof and the other one quickly. Like this.”

A cut to Sunset galloping down the hallway in slow-enough motion, hooves hitting the ground precisely as she described it.

It cut back to Sunset standing in front of the lockers. “You’ve got that? Great!” She wore a huge smile on her face, teeth glittering a bit under the sunlight from outside. “Now, let’s move on to everything else you have to learn.”

Another part of the video was about cutie marks.

“You most likely have a symbol on your flank.” She trotted forward, bringing her symbol into view. “This is a cutie mark. Ponies gain them when they figure out what makes them unique, what’s their purpose in life.” She paused. “Sometimes, it’s quite obvious—a carrot cutie mark means you like carrots or you’re involved in carrot farming. Other times, it’s a bit obscure, like my cutie mark which looks a lot like the sun.” Pausing again to look at her mark, “It can mean looking on the bright side, or delivering some shine into ponies’ lives.”

Yet another part of the video showed Sunset explaining how the change happened.

“To put it simply,” and she gestured around with her hoof: “There’s this portal in our school connected to a magical world called Equestria. One day, the portal started leaking magic onto Earth. I and my friends tried to stop it, but because of forces we could not control in time, it finished its change over all reality.”

Took a breather.

“It’s locked in place now, so it can’t change back at all—not without tearing apart the fabric of the spacetime continuum or something like that.”

She rolled her eyes, only half-knowing what she said at that last bit, but Sunset maintained an optimistic smile as she dragged a nervous Twilight into view.

“Here’s a friend of mine! Her name’s Twilight Sparkle and she’ll help me talk about magic.”

Twilight waved nervously at the camera as Sunset moved a step away.

For Sci-Twi, the floor was hers.

After a huge gasp of air, she started: “You see, magic is, at its core, an energy inherent in every single creature from Equestria and its home dimension. It comes in different shapes and forms, but we all have magic abilities to some extent. Unicorns, for example, have unicorn magic which they can use to levitate objects and cast spells via their horn.”

Her horn glowed purple, lighting up herself and the floor below. The magic twinkle also appeared, ringing.

“However,” Twi said, shaking her head since she knew what to say next, “this isn’t the kind of magic where you say a few words and you can do whatever you want. Real magic follows a lot of rules and principles. One mistake and you won’t just end up with flopping the spell or whatever equivalent it is for pegasi and Earth ponies. It could have devastating side effects!”

“Psst!”

And the camera whirled around to face Sunset who’d floated it out of the stand.

“You’re not supposed to be scaring them!”

Deciding that Wallflower should not have a monopoly on blushing, Twilight’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry!”

When it came to assisting fresh Earth ponies, Pinkie Pie brought with her that innocent enthusiasm. This became all too clear when she jumped up into the camera’s view, throwing confetti around.

“Good morning or afternoon or evening!” Pinkie screamed, the camera capturing her dithering tongue. “My name’s Pinkie Pie! You might be thinking, ‘Oh, you’re that pink girl from Canterlot High!’ Well, you’re wrong because I’m a Pinkie Pie but not that Pinkie—”

“Keep it short!” whispered Twilight who was operating the camera out of sight.

Discounting the three-word advice, Pinkie rubbed her forehooves together, eyes on the camera and her future audience. “So, if you’re here, you’re an Earth pony! You might think it’s so boring because you can’t fly or do all those wizard stuff like you see in the movies—or books, but whatever!” She raised both forehooves in the air, throwing more confetti and littering the floor that way. “Earth ponies are awesome!”

“Pinkie!” came another whisper from Twilight, somewhat harsher this time. “We have to keep it short for them! They can’t watch a thirty minute—”

“Number one,” Pinkie said, holding up one hoof to represent one finger, “Earth ponies are probably the closest you get to the horses you have here—no, had here,” pointing at the floor below. “You don’t have to worry about taking care of extra limbs,” pointing at her torso where her imaginary wings resided, “nor do you have to memorize tons of spells,” pointing at her forehead where her imaginary horn was. Resting her hoof, she concluded, “You’re a simple, down-to-earth...um, Earth pony!”

An audible groan from Twilight. “Can you go straight to the explanation?”

“Pfft!” and Pinkie shoved a hoof to the air. “Sure, Twilight Pile Height!”

“...Pile Height?”

Pinkie pulled a graph out of a locker and presented it to the camera. “Earth ponies are strong and good in common sense!”

Twilight smacked herself on the head.

“We Earth ponies have our own kind of magic. We may not control the weather or be able to do flashy stuff, but we control dirt!”

“Pinkie, you’re not help—”

The pink pony put the graph down on the floor, forcing Twilight to aim the camera at it. “You see, a lot of us are farmers or greenskeepers. If you have a cutie mark in a plant-related thing, you’re good with plants. Me? I used to work at a rock farm, and I can still do this!”

She held the graph close to the camera’s lens.

A seedling sprouted from the paper.

Twilight had her mouth open in pure shock, eyes twitching as she had witnessed what she just witnessed. “D-Did you just—”

Rainbow tapped her on the side. “She’s Pinkie. Let her be.”

Twilight’s look of surprise gave way to one of mundane awareness. “Should’ve known.”

For the untried and untested pegasi, Rainbow Dash was the host, and her introduction was no less than astonishing: She flew into the scene, leaving behind a little rainbow trail as the wind flapped her mane about.

“What’s up?” she greeted, closing her wings. Pumping her chest, “I’m Rainbow Dash, experienced flier with these bad boys—” opening her wings to show them off “—which means I’m qualified to help you new pegasi out there!”

Twilight gave her a little frown from behind the camera. “Shouldn’t you be less...self-promotive?”

Rainbow leaned her head to the side to look at Twilight. “They have to trust an expert, and I’m an expert.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, remembering that Rainbow was a member of some kind of Wonderbolt organization. “Fine. Continue.”

Rainbow snickered before reverting to her confident smile for the record. “I know it’s weird to have six limbs instead of four. I’ll get you up to speed on that.”

She took a few steps forward and opened one wing, getting it under the camera’s high-quality scrutiny.

“These are wings, as you know,” Rainbow said. “I’m not gonna give you a biology lesson, but just to lend a hoof: These are feathers,” pointing at the blue feathers on her wing. She then pointed at the end of her wings which had longer feathers than the rest. “These are your primary feathers, and their tips are your wingtips or your pinions. They’re the closest you get to hands because I can do stuff like hold a cup.”

Out of view, Sunset levitated a cup enveloped in her red glow. She brought it to Rainbow’s wing and the cup’s red glow disappeared, dropping onto the pegasus’s pinon. Rainbow closed her eyes, holding the cup’s weight. “See?”

Sunset levitated the cup out of the wing and out of the scene.

After a minute or so of describing the typical wing which included opening and closing a locker with her pinions, she went to the exciting part: flying.

She took a few steps back then spread both her wings. “Since you’re pegasi, you can ‘feel’ the air more. I don’t have to explain it. You’re feeling it now.”

A pause for dramatic effect, wings still open.

“Think of it like swimming,” she continued, wriggling her wingtips, “except you’re inside air, not water.”

She took a huge breath in, readying herself for the first step.

“Let’s start with flapping your wings once.”

And she flapped her wings once, her hooves barely getting off the ground before dropping to the floor.

“You’re supposed to feel lighter after that,” Rainbow spelled out. “If you’re not, you’re doing it wrong. Gotta straighten those wings up or whatever.” Then, spreading her wings again, “Once you’re comfortable with one flap, try two.”

She flapped twice, getting higher and staying in the air longer. She drifted back to the ground again.

“After that, try doing more flaps in a row. Three, four, five...before you know it, you can stay afloat for as long as you want!”

With that, she flapped her wings and kept flapping them, hovering in the air.

Eliciting a strange look from Twilight as lessons on bird flight came to her mind and contradicted Rainbow’s lessons.

“But, you gotta move around when you’re flying, right?” Rainbow continued, moving on fast. “This is where traditional flying comes in.” Paused to catch her breath, cocking her head to the side while still hovering. “We’ve been doing light flaps to stay in one place. All you gotta do to really fly anywhere is to put in more force in your wingflaps.”

So she flapped her wings harder, the camera logging the louder wingbeats as she flew to one end of the scene and then the other.

“Do it slowly,” she said while drifting in the air, “adding more strength until you find your ‘walking’ pace.” Then, shaking her head, “Don’t use all your strength at once. Otherwise, you’ll crash into a window or something like that.”

Upon finishing that warning, she cringed, her teeth in a rattle.

Twilight shook her head, thinking that these ponies weren’t taking this video project seriously.

Then again, Pinkie and Rainbow were smiling and treating the whole thing in such lively style. Maybe that’s their way of saying, “Welcome to this new life. We’re here to help you.”

That thought made her smile.

Finally, Sunset returned to view to take humans-turned-unicorns under her wing.

Which might not be the best thing to say, considering that she had no wings.

“If you’re a unicorn, congratulations!” She grinned the warmest grin she could rally up, stretching across the width of her face without looking bogus. “You’ve moved into the realm of magic as you may know from fantasy novels. Of course, actual magic’s different from fiction.”

She relaxed her shoulders and darkened her grin into a troubled frown. “I know it’s scary, suddenly being able to lift things with your mind and having the capacity to cast spells. You don’t know what you’re capable of and maybe you’ve already fired a spell on accident. It’s terrifying—this whole thing is terrifying—but that’s why I’m here for you.”

She took a step forward, her comforting smile taking up more of the video.

“I know what it’s like to change to an alien world. It wasn’t for the best of reasons, but that didn’t make the change any easier for me.” She turned her head to the side, reminiscing on her wicked past. Then, overcoming that, she faced the audience, picturing those former humans horrified at what had happened to them. “Now that this world has become alien to you, the best I could do is to return the favor—”

Shook her head, hating the choice of words.

“No. It’s not returning the favor.”

She lifted her head up, eyes becoming wet. What were these poor unicorns going through right now? Images of running through the streets, hiding behind walls for fear of being questioned, only just getting away with the most complex of lies she’d concocted in her first few weeks on Earth—these came running back to her, these remnants of an unsure life steeped in villainous planning.

Deja vu closed in. She felt like she was on the opposite side of things. Once a malevolent manipulator trying to get by in a new world, now the benevolent friend helping many get by in their own world.

Was it sympathy? Or, better still, empathy?

“Uh, Sunset?” Twilight spoke up.

Instead of jerking or jolting up in place, Sunset Shimmer simply smiled.

Facing the camera.

“I’m doing this because I care for you. I can’t change things back to the way they were, but the best I can do is to guide you whatever way possible.”

Only then did a tear stream.

Once the heartwarming introduction was over, she proceeded to unicorn magic.

She started by pointing at her horn, direction attention there. “This is your horn. This is where all your magic is concentrated and turned into an active force—and, yes, a big chunk of unicorn magic is done with the mind.”

Her horn glowed red.

“A common beginner mistake is to focus too much,” Sunset added, tugging her mane with a hoof. “For key skills like levitation, don’t overthink. Just picture anything floating to you.”
Horn still glowing, that magic twinkle was heard.

“When your horn starts glowing,” Sunset continued, the twinkling becoming louder, “you’ll feel like it’s heating up. That’s your horn using up energy, so don’t freak out.”

A cup floated into view, glowing red as well and staying above the ground thanks to the unicorn’s magic.

“The heavier the object, the more concentration you need to levitate it. Still, don’t overconcentrate. That can lead to painful outbursts that can damage you and those around you.”

Then, she placed the cup back behind the camera with her magic, making it disappear from the video.

“You can also use it to push and pull stuff around, like open this locker.”

She looked at one of the lockers behind her, glowed her horn red with the locker’s handle as well, and opened the compartment, revealing nothing inside.

Her horn stopped glowing.

Sunset turned to the camera again.

“Once you get the hang of that, you can learn the rest.”

With everything recorded, Twilight trotted up the stairs onto the next floor.

In the hall, nothing but lockers, walls, and doors.

She stood there, stood still there.

Imagined people walking down, carrying bags and papers, talking about some upcoming quiz or what to do when the weekend came. Not even after incidents like the Battle of the Bands or the Friendship Games was magic discussed for long. Over time, it had become something accepted, perhaps even expected. Seven students who also took care of magic problems once in a while? That was OK—say, what kind of pie was available for Soarin? And, just like that, the topic shifted away like the weather.

Then, ordinary life shattered.

Classes had been suspended indefinitely. Canterlot High, Crystal Prep, Everton—it wasn’t just the schools and universities. Almost everywhere, lifeless and hollow shadows reigned, lone steps of journeycreatures echoing out of rooms—if there were any of them journeying about to begin with. Most of them were panicking anyway, narrowly avoiding destruction while causing destruction themselves.

Her mind went back to the news on TV. The reporter looked frazzled and dazed—he only had half an hour to get used to his new body before having to broadcast the most serious news piece in history. The camera had waved around erratically every minute or so—one time, it fell to the floor, delaying everything.

There were no commercials. All cartoons and other entertainment shows had been shafted. Surfing through the channels, Twilight had found the great majority of them reduced to black-and-white noise.

Radio had found better luck albeit it wasn’t much. It’d sounded the same, though that made the whinnies and squeals all the more noticeable.

Then, she remembered the ponies themselves. A unicorn Micro Chips scampering for safety inside his house, a battered Earth pony Octavia crying on Vinyl Scratch’s shoulders beside the cello she’d deemed unplayable, a pegasus Spitfire with a bruised head and a broken wing poorly bandaged as the adhesives fluttered in the wind, Twilight’s own family now one of unicorns plagued by magic blasts out of nowh—

“Twilight?”

Her eyes went wide.

She whirled around and saw Principal Celestia standing behind her, elegant in that royal alicorn form as her mane and her tail waved and moved on their own.

The student shuddered. She kneeled before the principal.

Celestia sighed out of embarrassment, putting a hoof on Twilight’s chin. “You don’t have to do that.”

Twilight shivered before the sun-controlling authority before her, standing back up on her four hooves. “I-I’ve brought the c-camera,” and levitated said camera into view. “You can s-send the files online!”

“...which would be a problem since internet’s spotty,” Celestia said, a small smile on her face. “It’s coming back, but still not enough for me to securely send it. I’ll just bring this myself; I’m sure Sunset wouldn’t mind.”

“Uh, n-no, she wouldn’t!” she replied, growing unhinged as her voice went sing-song. “Actually, she thought you’d send it yourself, too, but I thought that was crazy t-talk!”

Celestia looked down on her student. “What’s wrong?”

Twilight’s breathing quickened, feeling her heart beat faster and faster. “Um, uh—”

“Sister!” cried out Luna from downstairs. “Are you not preparing thyself for Gestal of Griffonstone tonight?”

The Princess of the Sun let out another sigh, this one of unease. Then, she gave a long look at Twilight who had been observing her this whole time. “Would you like me to accompany you down?”

Twilight shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m just...contemplating….” as she looked upon nothing in particular.

Celestia said nothing as she took the first step down the stairs. Thinking that Twilight shouldn’t be left off without a proper goodbye, she bent her neck and said, “It was nice seeing you, Twilight.”

The unicorn snapped out of it with a gasp, eyes dancing in confusion before settling on Celestia.

She giggled anxiously before saying, “Nice seeing you, too! Have a-a good day!”

And Celestia went down.

Those hoofsteps disappeared.

Twilight stood alone in that hallway.

It was now up to Celestia to spread the videos to the whole world.

The Battle of One Third of the Band

A little scrapbook lay on the table. Photos of Adagio Dazzle, Aria Blaze, and Sonata Dusk filled the fragile pages, some sticking out of the papers’ boundaries. Too many photos blotted out too much space, surrounded by huge jotted comments with too many exclamation points and too much capitalization.

Here, near the top left corner, was a picture of the trio posing at the backstage right before the finals for the Battle of the Bands. Both Adagio and Aria had donned sinister smirks; Sonata gave a thumbs up.

Considering how that battle ended, another picture there was that of Adagio and Aria trying to push the camera away. It was blurry, though Adagio had a face that could only be described as a Sonata, stop taking pictures of me or else! kind of face.

The next several months produced a vivid journey for the sirens.

With their magic amulets broken and their vocal talents snatched away, they’d had no choice but to go somewhere else to re-learn singing. It’d been utter humiliation for them to take lessons on the one thing that’d defined them.

On a positive note, one photo from that time was Adagio finally smiling a not-evil smile, dragging a not-happy Aria into frame.

They had siren blood in them, though, so it took them less than a week to regain their groove. The final image from the experience was all three of them holding up a golden trophy on the podium, Sonata merrily laughing at winning the local sing-out while hugging the other two who were more focused on their keepsake than her.

What followed was a small tour spanning some states. From these sprung photographs of their “concerts” which were actually busking sessions, with the three of them taking up different instruments to complement their vocals. Adagio had her acoustic guitar, Aria had her drums, and Sonata bought a keyboard from a garage sale.

No one attacked or argued with each other during these concerts thanks to the lack of evil amulets, but the band did well on their own merit. Cheers and applause had been a common sight and sound—the small-scale hordes of fleeting admirers in the plentiful concert photos was proof enough.

And there was a picture of Sonata surfing the elated crowd, much to the irritation of the other two left behind with a song cut short.

As the world-changing catastrophe neared, the journal’s photos recorded a settling down, namely back in Canterlot.

Front and center close to the book’s end rested a portrait of a somewhat skeptical Sunset with hands on her hips. However, the next page showed Sunset and the rest of the Rainbooms shaking hands with the Sirens. It hadn’t been all fun and games—Adagio and Aria had plastered phony smiles on their faces, with Sonata the only one who truly showed her joy by showering everyone with bags of tacos, nachos, and burritos.

Everyone was confused but Pinkie who was no stranger to devouring free food.

The next set of photos marked an odd twist of events: the Rainbooms and the Sirens playing together. It was in the relatively small gym in Canterlot High, but the bleachers were packed. A lot of students and other civilians attended not for the music but for the weirdness of it all. Wasn’t their last meeting not so amiable? Certainly, being dished out a public put down by having one’s trademark talents taken away wouldn’t foster the best of relationships.

Yet, from the looks of it, everyone had seemed to follow Sunset’s example of forgiveness—or, at least, they’d been trying to. There was a little distance between the Sirens and the audience, perhaps ten meters or so in length from the stage. The smiles and the overall upbeat atmosphere, though, sealed the deal for the Sirens.

Their life after that had been, on the whole, mundane. Sometimes, the trio would be invited to an out-of-town gig, but, for the most part, they’d stayed inside a modest apartment in the downtown area. They mostly lived off being musical artists, though Sonata had finally secured her not-quite-lifelong dream of selling tacos as a part-time job. Adagio and Aria hadn’t been pleased by this unhealthy obsession, so they would prank her once in a while by disguising themselves as taco haters in front of the shop. Despite this effort, she had smiled through her dream come true.

Which crashed when everyone else suddenly became vegetarians.

Fewer pictures appeared. A stall decked with taco shells and ingredients—empty, void of customers. A nighttime performance where a noticeable number puked because of an uninformed shop owner. A dozen citywide newspapers on the table, the strange cold garnering headline space.

Sonata having gained pony ears right before bed.

The final words on the scrapbook, scrawled in almost illegible handwriting. They read:

Sonata turned back into a siren. Don’t know what to do.

A cold gust of wind closed the book.

Right outside the window floated Sonata, back in her siren form. Her face took up much of the window.

“Hey!” shouted Aria from outside. “Get back here!”

Whimpering at the temporary loss of her journal, she scampered away in flight.

Sonata the Siren proved the outlandish spectacle. Floating above the city streets with nothing but her fins—or just siren magic—she scared off more than a few ponies despite the taco she had on her finned hoof. The good-natured gesture didn’t sit well when the taco-holder loomed over normal-sized ponies.

Lacking legs, she only had two hooves, and, for the most part, she looked like a scaly horse-fish of some sort towering over the general populace, at least as tall as the houses there if not taller. Alongside the huge fin extruding from her back, her face emitted a nasty impression even with her goofy smile.

To top it all off, there was the red gem on her chest.

Sonata flew round the corner and was met with a hooves-crossed Aria, now a siren just like her. “What’re you doing out here?!”

“I wanna get my diary!” Sonata whined with a booming voice. This only made more ponies gallop away, some seeking cover behind trees and storefronts.

Aria shook her head then jerked a hoof behind her. “Follow me.”

And then, Sonata followed Aria as they both drifted in the air, their fins acting like immovable wings under the wind.

Sonata and Aria reached the hill’s summit.

On the apex, they took in the sweeping view of Canterlot, from the stately gathering of steel-and-glass architecture marvels known as skyscrapers all the way to the charming little houses at the city’s outskirts. Not much had changed from this distance, though they could see pegasi practicing flight in the sky.

Adagio was floating over the grass, looking upon Canterlot.

Aria and Sonata stopped, quieting themselves.

Nothing. Only the faraway sounds of words on the streets, only the fresh hill air that felt like natural mint.

Adagio extended a hoof, not turning to look at her partners in crime. “Girls?”

Sonata sniffled, already feeling tears in her eyes. “Y-Yes?”

Adagio stomped a hoof to the ground, mini-crater left on it. She whirled her head, showing her long siren snout and her sleek siren eyes. “Let’s cut this one short,” and pointed at their amulets. “We’re back on the siren diet.”

Sonata lowered her brow. “But we ate regular food back then!”

Aria smacked herself on the forehead. “You know what she meant.”

The unaware Sonata scratched her chin with her hoof, then understanding that it’s hard to scratch an itch without fingers. “Um, uh...wait....”

Appalled at her clueless companion, Adagio growled and struck the ground, dirt flying into the air.

Landing on Aria’s face. “Seriously?”

Adagio paid no mind to the question. “Don’t you get it? We’re back to feeding on others’ negative energy!”

It took a few seconds for reality to hit Sonata.

But when it did, it hit her hard. The siren covered her snout with her hooves, creating large tears in her eyes. “But I l-love ordinary people! They really adore us!” She went to the edge of the summit and pointed at the city, pointing at the people-turned-ponies down at street level. Half-pleading, “Can’t we, uh, try something else?”

“Well, too bad.” She raised her head, appearing snooty with it. “If only we hadn’t bought these duplicates,” indicating the gem on her chest, “we wouldn’t have this problem!”

Aria grunted, feeling left out. Wanting to speak her mind, she asked, “Are we going to split ponies up again?”

Adagio pursed her lips. “For food, yes.”

A heart broke.

Sonata clenched her jaw, wincing away from the city she had come to love. Songs remembered, verses and choruses rung once more, but what burned in her mind the most was the simple joy in being in others’ company. Laughter shared with Sandalwood over an old but precious guitar, enjoying baking with Pinkie Pie even if it’d meant failing at getting the secret recipe for cakepie, watching indie films with Juniper Montage way past midnight, and just hanging out with the other sirens—all darkened under a hunger for negative emotions.

To think she had to break friendships apart to feed herself….

“Hey!” Aria yelled again, punching the air before her. “Snap out of it!”

Sonata gasped in shock, bent backwards, then was falling.

Caught by Aria before she would hit the ground with a resounding thud! echoing across the sky.

Adagio clucked her tongue, giving her distracted friend a pitying look. “I told you Sonata. You weren’t supposed to form lasting friendships with these folks.”

“But they’re nice and friendly!” Sonata complained, raising both forehooves as if waving them around made the argument more sensible.

“Being friends with them only makes our meal bitter!” Adagio shouted.

As that statement reverberated to the horizon.

Adagio’s anger vanished, her furious expression gone.

Aria smirked. “Nice going. Now everyone knows we really don’t like them.”

“I like them!” Sonata countered, placing a hoof on her chest. Then, raising her head to the sky, she hollered, “I like them!”

That likable declaration shook the ground, causing apples to fall off the nearby tree.

She could hear distant screaming from the city.

That pushed Sonata to the breaking point, for she wept. Her sobs hurtled through the sky, her howls amplified to be heard by all. Yes, her crying became a song, but there were no words, nothing coherent—only pristine grief.

Adagio sighed, wagging her head at the ruined Sonata. “You’ve forgotten what being a siren’s like. We’re supposed to stick to our own kind. Everyone else is food!”

“No!”

“What?!”

And Sonata flew away from them in tears.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Aria yelled as she flew after her.

Adagio was about to jump up to the chase as well.

She kept quiet.

Listened to the fading sorrows of her assistant, of her partner, of her companion.

Her friend?

Adagio stayed at the hill’s summit, watching Aria disappear below.

“...so that’s how you surround yourself with a magic shield,” finished Sunset to an eager Crystal Prep unicorn.

They were at Canterlot High’s school grounds which were occupied by some ponies new to the pony way of life. Sci-Twi was there to help Sunset with the unicorns and Equestrian Rainbow Dash stayed behind to take care of the pegasi. Equestrian Pinkie Pie came bouncing back, a scroll in her tail containing photos of ponies she’s served across the city within the past hour.

It was loud, chaotic. Fresh ponies stumbled and tripped on their hooves, dropped lots of objects with those same hooves. Earth ponies with a supposed knack for farming tried cultivating crops, only for them to wilt immediately or to grow too fast and wilt seconds later. Pegasi crashed onto the ground and not into windows thanks to the timeliness of Rainbow’s flights, although their wings still got bruised and injured, necessitating the presence of Soarin and Fleetfoot from Equestria’s Wonderbolts. Finally, unicorns felt their minds going on fire because of too much magic concentration; their horns glowed too bright, blinding Twilight for a moment and causing her to yelp in pain.

“Uh, y-yes,” said Upper Crust in a highfalutin accent, anxious to defend herself with her magic powers.

Then, she glowed her horn green.

A transparent sphere flickered around her.

Sunset smiled at the success. “You did it! You—”

Piercing screams, followed by hoofsteps as ponies scattered and dispersed, most leaving the school in a jiffy.

Upper Crust looked behind her.

Saw a huge blue siren floating above the streets, hooves on her head and reduced to mewling.

Shadow looming over her, Sunset looked up and saw Sonata crying.

Revealing her wet face—well, she’s a siren, after all—Sonata bent down to Sunset and pleaded, “Can we talk?!”

Not wanting to be confronted by someone so big, Upper Crust galloped away, adding her scream to the collection of screams found everywhere.

Sunset lowered a brow, folding her ears back to muff them. “What’s the matter?”

“In private!” Sonata shouted, rumbling the ground and causing a few windows to break.

Pinkie Pie sighed and took up a hammer. “And I thought sticky notes would do it!” Then, she bounced to the broken windows to fix them with only a hammer.

Somehow.

Back to the siren and the pony: Sunset pondered on Sonata’s request. “Let’s go to the amphitheater. Can you carry me there?”

Sonata nodded and then picked up Sunset who could rest her torso on a siren hoof. After that, Sonata flew away, turning her head down to hide her tears.

Leaving Twilight, Rainbow, and Pinkie speechless on school grounds.

“I was asleep yesterday,” Rainbow commented. Turning to Twilight, “Did you make up with the sirens?”

Twilight smirked then adjusted her glasses with her magic. “A-heh. It’s a long story....”

The amphitheater was a little out-of-the-way in town, but it made up for it with its grandeur. The staircase-like seats formed a huge semi-circle in front of the stage which looked like a massive saddle. Being a spectator in a concert set here would’ve been a, well, magical experience.

Not much was prepared on the stage itself. The speakers remained idle, the spotlights hung in leisure.

Which meant that the drama was occurring backstage, behind the curtain.

There, in the green room which was neither green nor a room, Sunset stood on the carpeted floor, raising her head to see Sonata who had to curve downward in order to fit inside.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” Sunset said, voice tainted with apprehension. “What’s going on?”

Sonata sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes and from her snout. “I-I don’t want to starve, but…” pointing at her gem, “we h-have to do evil stuff again to stay alive!” Shaking her head, fearful at having to return to her wicked ways, “I don’t want to hurt anyone! But, it’s here, we’re there, ponies and other creatures are somewhere, a-and—”

“Sonata,” Sunset cut in, “are you sure you have to eat negative emotions again?”

“That’s who we are!” Sonata said, restraining herself from shouting and causing an earthquake. “What’s a siren without mind-control songs and eating others’ hatred?”

Sunset gulped, irises shrinking as a solution escaped from reach. “Oh, no.”

“For realsies!” Tearing up again and putting her hooves closer to her face, “We were doing just fine. I didn’t care until Beardo and pals banished us here. With almost no magic, we had to eat up petty squabbles—but then, y-you know the r-rest.”

She sulked a bit, the disastrous Battle of the Bands upsetting her.

“After we ran away, I r-really warmed up to the people here. Th-They didn’t know about m-magic, but it was f-fun to be with them and play songs for them when we could. Just singing to sing, just musicing to music, to see them smile and e-enjoy what we made without worrying about our next m-meal or conquering the world....”

Sonata lowered her head, trailing off.

“I-I didn’t make a lot of friends here, but I have some friends. Adagio and Aria—they’re r-really cool and they’ve been with me for so long, b-but there’s e-everyone else, too. It’s n-nice to talk to people who didn’t get thrown a thousand years ahead.”

Then, the siren ended her monologue.

Sunset levitated a photo on one of the tables there, occupying her mind with the picture of some other band playing on stage. “You were able to live without others’ hatred despite having none of your pendants, right?”

Sonata nodded, the elusive solution coming within reach. “Yes!”

Sunset smiled. “What about you remove the gem?”

“What?!”

“Hear me out,” Sunset said, twirling her hoof in anxiety. “You lived normal lives without those gems. You only got hungry when you didn’t eat stuff like tacos.”

Sonata let out a little giggle at the mention of tacos. “Yeah, that’s true...but what about our singing?”

Sunset shook her head. “No one’s throwing tomatoes at you when you sing these days, right?”

Sonata looked down at the green carpet, thought about it. “N-No?”

“Then, there’s your answer,” Sunset replied, taking a step forward to warm up the conversation. “Take it away. Break it if you have to.”

The siren kept staring at the carpet pensively, wondering. “I-I don’t know, Sunset. We’ve always had them.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t outgrow them.”

Sonata finally raised her head a little, seeing Sunset Shimmer confident in her answer. “Huh.”

Silence in the green room.

The siren bent her neck, cracking it as she hovered a little higher. “I-I’ll see what I can do. It’s gonna be hard to convince Adagio to do that.”

Sunset waved at her, reassuring her with, “I know she’ll say yes.”

When the farewells were done, Sonata left the amphitheater.

By the time sunset arrived, Sunset also arrived.

At her home, that was.

She was about to close the door to relax. Helping out a city’s worth of new ponies would be stressful to some degree.

However, she heard the stroke and snap of tape.

Wanting to investigate further, she stepped outside.

Under the orange sky, ponies were trotting or galloping along, most of them trying to get comfortable with their four hooves. A businesspony, lacking a horn for levitation or a wing for holding, resorted to putting his briefcase on his back. It was a delicate balancing act for him, so he couldn’t go any faster lest his briefcase would wobble about.

He then saw a pony holding her own briefcase with her mouth.

Without knowing the resolution to the businesspony’s problem, Sunset turned her head to see Lemon Zest putting up a poster on her house’s wall.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” Sunset asked.

Lemon put the roll of tape down and smiled. “You didn’t get the memo?” With a hoof, she tapped on the half-done poster. “The sirens are gonna perform tonight!”

“The who are gonna what?!” yelped Sunset with eyes wide as soup bowls… “tonight?!”

Lemon nodded. “The Sonata one’s kept telling us not to be scared because they got rid of some gems.” She took out her headphones. “I won’t be scared! We’re gonna rock on!”

And turned on and up her music. She banged her head as she taped the poster on the wall.

Sunset took a look at the poster.

Three sirens depicted there. Adagio and Aria smudged the sign with their glowers while Sonata sweetened it with a happy grin. On it were the words, The Sirens! Only at the amphitheater 8 PM tonight! With Trixie and the Illusions as opening act!

Sunset smiled, ready to embrace a better Battle of the Bands. “Things are going full circle, huh?”

Going Past the Sky Limit

It was a beautiful and fragrant grass field, one to frolick in with a carefree trot and with not a care in the world. The sky was clear and blue with its far-reaching horizons, the sun was shining down with its warm light and heat, and the trees gave life to the plains. It was a fun place.

Were it not for the tombstones.

Seven tombstones. Alone. Adorned with flowers, letters, and pictures, but alone.

Or, put in another way, together.

The framed pictures by the deceased’s memorials displayed these wonderful friends in life. From high school through college through work life through families through old age to death, these seven ponies stuck with each other. Smiles were abundant, laughter was a common element, and embraces abounded.

Before these tombstones were two easels that held two pictures. These pictures summarized in two thousand words and one minute the lives of seven friends through a hundred years. On the left stood the first ever group photo these friends had in Canterlot High, those high school students bubbling with joy and having a bright future ahead of them. On the right rested the last group photo these friends had in that same school, back for one final shot as old mares unwilling to go out with a whimper—the determined smiles on their faces said it all in spite of their rickety limbs and their wrinkled faces.

On the tombstones were their names: Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Sunset Shimmer.

And the pony beholding these tombstones was none other than Principal Celestia, crying on her knees as her mane and her tail flowed in the wind, looking as young as ever.

Criminally young as she screamed to the sky.

“Sister!”

Celestia’s eyes snapped open.

Saw Luna’s face first. “Thou hast experienced a nightmare, have you not?”

Celestia shuddered, nodding in fear. “Y-Yes, Luna!”

The principal got off her bed, and went to put on her slippers.

Realized that her slippers did not fit her hooves. She also realized that she was lacking two more slippers.

Luna glanced at her, standing by a bookshelf and an outdated model of the solar system with the sun at the center. Her “hair”, if it could be called that, waved like a fleeting night sky. “Cold sweat is upon your face. That is a bad omen.”

Celestia gulped, wanting to spill the beans, but— “I...I….”

Hugged Luna tight, squeezing her neck and giving her dear sister some breathing difficulties.

Then, Luna pat her on the back, fighting through the pain. “Wh-What is going on? What is this torment thou hast dreamed of?”

“Forever,” Celestia said in a guttural voice, releasing her grip and looking at Luna with wild eyes.

Luna took a step closer, seeing her plight but reluctant to speak.

“W-We’re going to live for thousands of years,” Celestia continued, voice shaky, “and we’re the only ones who’ll stay t-together,” as her vision shifted from Luna’s elegant visage to the floor’s sober drabness.

The Princess of the Night looked down on the floor, too. She sighed. “That is indeed a solemn future.”

“Solemn?!” Celestia shouted, catching her sister by surprise. Flailing her golden-shoed hooves about, “How are we going to live with everypony dying around us?! I...no, we have so many friends, and to see them die while we live on...we’re cheating! Cheating death!”

Was left exhausted, breathing slowly with her shoulders hunched.

Luna looked away, at a loss for words and at an abundance of tears about to flow. For her, too, the thought of immortality—or, at least, of living for a very long time—was a terrifying thought. Mental photographs of forever etched in memory, seeing budding faces swept away by time while hers remaining youthful beyond belief.

She tightened her lips, returning to what she came here for, and managed to say, “Sister, we came here to inform you of th-thy meeting with Princess Celestia.”

Celestia’s eyes widened, that meeting dawning upon her again. Her schedule dawned with it.

“Perhaps you can find solace in her words of wisdom,” Luna encouraged, though, inside, she continued to feel eclipsed by the reality of being long-lived.

It was now Celestia who sighed. She took in a big breath, and put on a firm face, blocking out all the tears wishing to get out. “I hope so, Luna.”

Then, the Princess of the Day trotted out of her bedroom.

But not before she could hear Luna say, “Oh, and do not forget to raise the sun!”

Celestia stopped and turned around. “Thank you for reminding me!”

Then, the Princess of the Day really trotted out of her bedroom.

Principal Celestia began her journey to Canterlot High from her house. While on her way there, she was met with much reverence and respect, more than half the ponies bowing down to her or saluting her or both. All talk was silenced before the alicorn’s presence, all eyes were on her to show high courtesy to the diarch, and everything stopped with a hint of fear.

After all, it would be unwise to abuse the patience of the sun.

At one point, she found Sunny Flare trembling before her by the sidewalk. Celestia halted and made a mellow smile, one that would surely melt any idea of dread from the student’s mind. “You don’t have to do that, Sunny—“

“Spare me!” she yelled, covering her head with both forehooves on her mulberry mane.

Celestia took a step back, surprised at the jittery mare. “Spare you from what?”

“Your anger!”

That got the principal out of her element. Celestia, angry? “But I’m not angry,” she assured, sounding as calm as she could ever be.

“Please have mercy!” Sunny shouted, regarding the diarch’s calm as a thin mask. “I know we’re from rival schools, but please have mercy on me!”

Celestia placed a hoof to her chin, a fear of her own materializing in her head. She had known that absolute control over the sun meant absolute control over the world as she saw fit—or at least the temptation of it. Seeing a myriad of ponies and other creatures kneeling before her to do the bidding of her and Luna—that silenced her, made her heart pace.

Utter power. Everything she ever wanted. No more obstructions.

Celestia swallowed a lump and looked back upon Sunny Flare, re-wearing that smile. “What made you think I was a tyrant? I’m getting used to this whole world-ruler thing myself. Being angry at everypony won’t help me out.”

Sunny Flare didn’t believe that, if her trembling said anything about it.

That led the principal to her last resort: “But if you really want me to say it: Mercy given.”

“Thank you!”

Felt a strong grip on her hoof as it shook up and down thanks to Sunny, and the Shadowbolt galloped off, not out of joy but out of barely avoiding death.

A death which Celestia wasn’t willing to give, anyhow.

When she arrived at the school, she found the swirling portal still there in the statue’s place, patrolled by a squadron of royal guards. She also found two familiar faces, namely Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer by the front doors.

She did a double take when she saw Twilight wasn’t wearing her glasses. Turned out she was Princess Twilight from Equestria.

Sparkle and Sunset noticed Celestia and waved at her.

Celestia waved back with a nervous smile, her moving mane twinkling under the shining day. “Um...hello?”

Sparkle flew over and landed right in front of her. “Don’t you worry, Principal Celestia!” and swung a hoof across the air.

“The Princess is just as nice so you don’t need to be afraid!”

Sunset chuckled, catching up to the go-getter part-pegasus. “Says ‘I don’t wanna fail the test!’ Twilight Sparkle.”

“That was a hiccup!” Sparkle lashed out in good fun. Then, putting on a grin for the principal, she asked, “So, how’re you doing? You know, with the whole sun business?”

Not wanting to talk about the whole sun business, she lowered her head as a painful sign. “Not so great. Everyone is looking up to me and my sister. Being in charge over a nation and the entire world isn’t doing wonders for me.”

Sparkle’s smile disappeared, trying to be sympathetic. “Well, if you ever need help, you always have our Celestia and our support.” Floating a little overhead and flying close to her ear, “I wish you good luck.”

The principal hung her head lower and aired a mournful sigh. “Can you wish me enough luck for a thousand years?”

Sparkle and Sunset gasped together both screaming, “Oh, no!”

Celestia raised her head, though out of resignation than of bravery. “It’s true.”

Then, the sorrowful royal trotted up the stairs and disappeared into the school’s main hall.

With panic on her face, Sparkle faced Sunset to yell, “How could I forget?! Of course, the principals would get everything their alicorn versions have including their lifespans!”

Sunset shuddered, thinking of being outlived by two principals a couple decades older than her. “That...that’s not going to end well.”

The school library had remained unscathed except for the glass dome. Some if its panes had been broken during the lead-up to the magic mishap. They had been replaced with some back-ups.

Principal Celestia trotted through the hallways, turned to the right, and entered the library.

There, she found Princess Celestia, her mane and her tail also flowing about in their sky-bright colors. The hair twinkled, gleaming under the sun’s light through the dome.

Her face lighted up. "Principal Celestia!” the Princess said, trotting to her and ushering her other self inside with cordial greetings.

The principal nodded, feeling strange having to trot beside somepony who looked, sounded, moved, and acted just like her. “Yes, it’s me.”

The princess chuckled. “It will be awkward to talk to ‘me’ but not ‘me’, if you know what I mean, me.”

“...what?”

“Exactly,” she replied with another playful chuckle. “So, I’ve decided to split our names in two: Celie and Tia. You choose which one.”

The principal gulped, challenged by the decision to choose which part of her name to use. The fact that it was her thousand-year old princess self from a land where magic and talking ponies were never questions only made it more challenging.

After half a minute of serious thought, she resolved the nomenclature issue. “I’ll take ‘Tia’.”

“So I’ll take ‘Celie’,” said the princess.

Now Celie and Tia trotted to the center of the library, passing by the grand array of books still in their shelves. They approached the computer stations, then Celie levitated a chair out of its place. She offered it to Tia. “Do you want to sit down?”

Tia shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“So we’ll have it standing up?” Celie asked, putting the chair away.

Tia froze, still in unbelief over how she was talking to another self of hers. “Y-Yes.”

Celie fixed her stance on the floor. “Well,” looking up at the dome, “it seems you’ve already mastered the art of raising and maintaining the sun.”

Subjecting herself to further unbelief on how she’d done it, Tia nodded. “Y-Yes, Princess.”

Celie made a little chuckle again. “You do realize I’m not your boss, don’t you? I’m only here to guide you, to offer some tips. I’m not going to remove points or whatever—besides, you’ve been doing a great job so far.”

Being told by someone more than twenty times older that she was only there as a guide didn’t sit well in Tia. However, she took it at face value and breathed out, trying to relax. “Certainly. I’m quite alright, really.”

Then, Celie squinted her eyes at her. “No, you are not.”

Struck by the princess’s straight-forwardness, Tia let her hoof slip and she stumbled. “Wh-What?! How do you know?”

Celie’s horn glowed, levitating a cup of tea before her. “A millennium of diplomacy has opened my eyes to a lot of things. One of them is detecting someone’s numerous ticks and tells.”

There’s that word hanging from the beginning. Millennium. A thousand years. A period of time threatening to disturb Tia for eons to come.

Which will surpass a millennium.

“What is it, Tia?” Celie asked, slowly walking up to her other self gripped by fear. She put one hoof on Tia’s shoulder.

Crumpling under the weight of Celie’s compassion, Tia choked.

Burst into tears, flailed on Celie’s shoulders, wrapped her in forehooves, desperate for someone to latch on to.

“How can I live thousands of years alone?!” she screamed, tears splattering the floor, loneliness prevailing. “I’ll leave my loved ones behind! They’ll be jealous of me, that I was able to live one more year—no, hundreds of years after they’re gone! I’ll see their foals die, their grandfoals die, their grandfoals and—” with words failing her, mere words failing to impart her grief in whole, she caved to the ground, a limp and sobbing mass of tear-soddened agony.

A deafening scream broke out, millennia rushing to her head in droves. Today became a long time ago in her eye, seeing none but her sister in a future where magic and technology had fused, but that didn’t matter. Spaceships, planetary colonization, laser guns, hyperlanes—all used by faces she didn’t recognize, by creatures unidentifiable from her first century. Luna remained as the constant that tethered her to sanity, but deranged histories of Nightmare Moon emerged. What if she was banished farther than the moon? Then the once-upon-a-time principal would truly be alone, a relic of an ended epoch, yellow remembrances of home the only way ba—

“Tia.”

And Tia looked up, her eyes reddened as she looked upon Celie’s face.

A face she recognized. A face that cared.

She felt a hoof wrapping hers, pulling her up from that horrible condition.

Celie let out a long-drawn sigh, avoiding Tia’s fatal gaze that asked questions without a word. Gears were turning in that principal’s mind—she was sure of it.

There was silence as the princess thought about what to say. Here was Tia who, less than a week ago, was just a high school principal in her forties. Probably never expected to go any farther than that. Probably wanted to live out the rest of her life as a helpful counselor, settled down in Canterlot as a wise old woman enjoying her final years on Earth.

Of course, plans rarely went according to, well, plan. A forty-something year old suddenly gaining thousands of years to look forward to, if not more—that was a change no one would be prepared for in this world.

Two facts then came to Celie’s mind.

One: Humans lived shorter lives than ponies. There was Granny Smith who’s pretty much guaranteed to enter her second century in less than two decades, and she’s one of the younger seniors in Equestria—and that’s not counting species like the dragons who can easily make it to their one thousandth birthdays by sheer patience. However, last time the princess checked the stats, the average human lifespan was somewhere at seventy.

Two: Mortality was talked about more openly here than in Equestria. It only made sense; when you’ve got over a hundred years to live out, why worry? During her short stay here, the princess noticed an abundance of insurance advertisements—oh, and wasn’t there some story about a thirty-year old man already writing out his last will and testament?

Such led her mind back to Tia’s plight, to her long life.

Celie sighed, pulling Tia in a little bit by the shoulder. “Living for such a long time is hard to grasp.”

Silence, Tia yielding her ears to her much older self.

“When I was young, I was often told that I’ll outlive my friends, that the colts and fillies I’ve played with will see me grow up but never grow old. I didn’t pay much attention to it as I reached my fifties, my seventies, my nineties...yet even then, I noticed the ravages of time. The elders I’ve looked up to slowly died off. I was beginning to attend more funerals than I wanted to. I was hearing too much news about my friends’ plenty great-grandfoals.”

A pause. A hollow, thunderous pause. Their manes waved under the sparkling sun, thoughts turning towards ever-toiling time.

“Then, my first friend died.” She looked up to the sky. “Oh, I remember her appearance, her sweet personality, an undying soul to the end—yes, Good Doer she was. A cutie mark of pumpkin pie...always made the most delicious of pumpkin pies—even her death was sweet and peaceful, and I missed it….”

Tia noticed Celie’s eyes growing wet, noticed vulnerabilities showing in the noble mask.

“After that, I made a vow to myself that I’d never leave any of my old friends behind until they’re truly dead. I trotted with them outside, I stayed with them bedside. When they died, I arranged the funerals myself. It’s to give them a final send-off in loving memories.”

Tia was on the verge of crying, too, seeing the suffering within her princess self. Tia wasn’t looking forward to a thousand years of life, Celie already experienced them with all its lows.

“The last one standing was Crystal Analog. He was an hourglass maker. In fact, for most of his life, he was the town’s go-to pony for anything related to hourglasses—even helped me with my appointments for a few years.

“I was a hundred and thirty, sinking deeper into isolation. Equestria needed me more than it ever did before—Luna was still on the moon, and those thousand years would prove to be quite lonely at times.” She looked to the side, tears for her sister welling up. She wiped them away, though her nose was already running. “Anyway—” sniffled “—Analog had to come down sooner or later, and he came down by the flu. It was so bad, he couldn’t maintain his role as my assistant and not even as an hourglass maker. He died rather quickly—went from healthy to dead in four days.”

Silence, Tia looking to the floor.

“What made me uncomfortable was the peace he always carried even on his deathbed. He never cried, he never complained, and he spoke with the dignity he’s always had. When the doctors told him that he’s incurable, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. I thought the flu was cracking his mind. Turns out it wasn’t.

“Hours before he died, he saw me sobbing. I was crying for him, but also for myself. With him gone, I’d be the only one left of us old friends. I’d be left with their children who were already beginning to wear down—and, besides, they had their own lives, their own families, their own friends….”

She coughed, a little sore from remembering what happened next.

“Analog heard me crying. He stared at me with nothing to say, but I was willing to wait—I knew he wanted to say something; he just didn’t know how to say it yet. He then asked: ‘Why are you crying?’”

Stopped and raised a hoof.

“‘Why wouldn’t I cry? I’d be left alone, seeing ponies come and go! All the friendships I’ve made would end up cut short, with them dead and me alive!’”

After mimicking the outburst in a much milder manner, Celie tilted her head to the side. “Do you know what he said?”

Tia leaned closer, hoping for anything that would heal her sadness, that would remedy her misery.

“‘Celestia...'"

Putting her hoof on Tia's shoulder.

"...you are lucky.’”

Let the words linger, let the words stir and churn in Tia’s mind.

“‘I’ve only lived a meager hundred or so years, but there’s so much more to explore after I’m gone. Progress is coming, history is being made, but many disregard that because, in the present, it’s all done day-by-day, not page-by-page. I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I know it holds great things in store. It’s a shame I won’t see what they are, but you will.

“‘There are so many things to do long after they bury me. So many stories to be written and so many adventures to be had. I don’t know the half of it, and I guess you don’t, too—but, in due time, you will. You’ll see how much more exciting this world can be if you give it time.

“‘I know most dearly that I’m the last vestige of your old life still going, and not for long. Yet, I will live on in your memories, in all those cherished times we’ve spent together—and so will the many others who were fortunate to be friends with a kind pony like you. I know you won’t forget us, the first friends you’ve made in your life.’”

Tia then looked up. Friends. There was the word that made her twitch, made her shudder within the thought of thousands of years.

Celie smiled. “‘...but we’re only the first.’”

Tia opened her mouth, confounded by the turn of words.

“‘In the years to come, there will be many more amazing personalities of unique characters, occupations, interests, histories, desires...with that much time on your hooves, you’ll certainly find many ponies better than some old timekeeper stuck in his own house.

“‘And, well, you’re a good pony. You’re a force of harmony in this world. Under your rule, Equestria has only prospered and grown. You are willing to do what’s right no matter the cost, and, honestly, I’m not sure if there’ll be somepony like you if you ever have to kick the bucket.’

“Then, he picked up his most prized possession: The first hourglass he ever made. It was cracked, half-full with aged cider.

“‘Funny, isn’t it? Some things you only understand when death’s near. I’ve made time for time, but not enough time for...others. With that, I became like this useless thing,’” Celie holding the would-be hourglass with her hoof. “‘A wasted being.

“‘But, you...you have time left. So much time left. I’d rather you spend your years looking forward to the sunrise tomorrow instead of moping over graves forever. Give us a minute of your mind’s day and no more. I’ll be happy knowing you’ve made a better use of your time than I did. I know you will.’”

Celie closed her mouth.

It was over.

Tia’s lips trembling, thoughts in frantic recollecting.

Nothing left to do but to hug Celie.

Both Celestias hugged each other.

Silence. Loving silence.

“Thank you,” Tia whispered, choked by tears. “Thank you.”

Heartfelt, Celie smiled, feeling the tears on her forelegs. “You’ll always have someone else, Tia...and if you need help, you can always ask me and my sister.”

It took several seconds for her to nod at that, for her to take it in.

The hug ended, each releasing their grip.

“That reminds me!” Tia said, half-turning towards the library doors. “I have to tell Luna about this! Thank you, thank you!”

And Celie kept smiling, having set her other self up for an exciting journey to last a lifetime.

Nine months later came two interesting celebrations that happened on the same day.

The first celebration was the birth of the Cakes’ twins. While Celestia did visit a few foals in their birth days before, seeing two humble baker Earth ponies caress their foals made her remember how amiable their friendships had been before the catastrophe—and after the catastrophe, too....though it had been strange to see the couple throw away all their old how-to-raise-a-baby resources in exchange for those from Equestria.

As the principal saw the two foals sleeping in their cribs, a thought crossed her mind. She would see them enter school, become teenagers, graduate from college, get a job, have families, retire from said jobs, and die, all without aging herself. They’d have their own foals and the cycle would repeat, seeing those foals enter school—and she knew the rest.

While the thought of losing these future friends terrified her for a bit, she loosened up, remembering that Pound and Pumpkin would be like no other before or after them. Might as well enjoy their friendship when they come of age.

The second celebration was Sandbar’s birthday. Celestia had heard of how the pony was able to return to Canterlot with his friends now turned griffon, yak, and hippogriff—plus his dog-turned-dragon. It had involved a pick-up truck, a ream of paper, and the first ever phone argument between a pony and a changeling. Nevertheless, here they were, partying in his house with his family and more of his friends along with a surprise guest in the form of not one but two Pinkie Pies.

And another Sandbar.

While the party went on in the living room, Celestia helped herself to a cup of tea at the hall, reflecting upon the nice grassy landscape through the window. She looked up and saw the beautiful sun in the sky.

Her sun in the sky.

She heard steps and turned around.

Saw Smolder the Dragon, the Used-to-be-a-dog. With a wave, she made a sheepish smile. “Hey!”

Celestia smiled back. “Hey.”

Smolder jerked a thumb towards the living room. “They’re gonna play the ‘pin the tail on the pony’ thing. Thought you might wanna join in, ‘cause you know...cutesy pony stuff.”

With no hesitation, she placed a hoof on the dragon’s scaly head. “A round or two wouldn’t hurt.”

Smolder rolled her eyes. “Even the princess who raises the sun can’t resist party games, huh?”

That princess chuckled. “Well, why shouldn’t I enjoy them?”

Then, she trotted back to the living room, already garnering stomps and claps of applause from inside.

Eat Your Pizza Crust; the World Just Ended

In the dining room, Ocellus looked at herself in the mirror.

It wasn’t an illusion, nor a dream. She had tried pinching herself, but that didn’t work because she no longer had any fingers to pinch with. She had then asked Gallus to pinch her, though having sharp talons do the job resulted in a shriek.

The burning pain, though, had been more than enough to say that it’s real.

The mirror did not lie.

She saw her face, the face of a changeling. Gone were her old eyes, replaced with a pair quite compound though she could still see normally. Fragile wings like that of an insect were on her back; she flapped them and they buzzed. There was also a horn on her head, and she knew it had something to do with magic.

The pamphlet on her free hoof had given her a head start on what a changeling’s like and how a typical changeling day would go. However, it had contributed more questions than answers: Would she starve if she didn’t eat love for a long time? What if there was no one to share love with? Should she tell her friends about her literal hunger for love?

But they knew. They’d read others’ pamphlets, too. They must had known something about her weird emotion-dependent biology. If that’s so, why didn’t they say anything about it? They couldn’t possibly accept having their love taken and digested somehow to keep her alive and strong.

Maybe they were being polite.

Question upon question. How would their friendships go now that one of them would have health problems if no one shared love with her, if she didn’t have anyone to share love with? What if they rejected her for their safety?—despite the pamphlet’s own words: Sharing love is a give-and-take process! When you share love, all benefit including you! Don’t go thinking that your loved ones will run from you now that you’re a changeling, and even if they do, show them this helpful leaflet!

Yet the rational changeling was letting something else overwhelm her.

Complicating her condition was that strange craving for insects. Beetles, ants, caterpillars—she wasn’t a good cook, but now she’d been thinking of recipes on fried wasps with a side of roasted termites and crunchy crickets. The sheer ugliness of it all was the only thing separating these bugs from her mouth, but the craving remained.

Of course, since she’s a changeling, she could also change. The instructions were there on the tiny piece of paper. Step 1: Imagine who or what you want to be. Step 2: Focus your magic energy into your horn. Step 3: Change!

The last step might have been very vague, but she thought she could feel her way through.

So, she imagined someone.

She closed her eyes.

Felt a weird glow surrounding her.

She opened her eyes.

In the mirror, her normal self. Her former self. A human wearing some casual clothes.

This was her.

She stared at her self.

Like boats falling down a waterfall, recalls and disjointed flashbacks sped by until they reached her new friends. They had traveled everywhere together, living out life’s ups and downs, the highs and lows. Squabbles and arguments had cropped up from time to time, but they’d be solved within days. Smiles and laughter would reign in the end.

Then, she sighed.

She stared at her self.

This wasn’t her. Not anymore, that was.

Ocellus closed her eyes.

Felt the weird glow surrounding her.

Opened her eyes to see a blue changeling. A half-horse, half-bug creature that fed on love and could shapeshift.

She crawled up on the floor and cried.

Alone.

One week after the mishap and six days after she had confined herself in the bedroom, Ocellus felt the thing she’d most feared since the change. It was a rumbling in her stomach, a dwindling down.

Hunger. Love hunger.

She knew her family had become changelings, too. She’d seen a photo of them on her MyStable feed, captioned with a message from her father saying Dearie, we’re coming home straight away.

Problem was, they were in Dallaps. The additional load of homework had come upon Ocellus at the most inconvenient time, making her the only one to stay behind. Coupled with her sharpened insecurity out of being a love-feeding horsebug, staying inside wasn’t doing her any good.

The homework no longer needed to be passed, though. Her school had announced that there’d be no more classes in the foreseeable future. Perhaps having hooves instead of hands while coping with tons of magic factored into that.

In the meantime, Ocellus was sitting on her bed, all four hooves on the mattress as she reflected upon her future. Dreams of enjoying the rest of her twenties with a wonderful group of friends weren’t exactly dashed—more like entangled into Gordian knots. She was now friends with a griffon, a yak, a hippogriff, a pony and his dog who’d become a fire-breathing dragon because why not? Her family—what would become of them? They’d have the same problems as her, experiencing the same love hunger, having the same shapeshifting abilities, craving for the same strange branch of cuisine.

Then, of course, there was the world. There was….

But, nevermind. She looked down at her hooves, mind reeling as possibilities accumulated. Maybe they’d be afraid of her, especially by the ponies of Equestria. It was the changelings who attacked their Canterlot during the royal wedding. Maybe she’d be ostracized by the love-brimming ponies of Earth’s Canterlot. They were already saddled with new bodies, new magic, new everything. Maybe—

Knock! Knock!

Ocellus looked up, wiping her dry eyes. “Wh-Who’s there?”

“It’s us,” came Sandbar’s voice.

The changeling let out a loud sigh, though she smiled, wanted to smile and wanted them to see her smile. Choked with more tears, these the tears of joy, of seeing these friends.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Ocellus’s friends entered one by one. First was Sandbar himself, an Earth pony the color of spring buds with some sea turtles as his cutie mark. Next flew in Gallus, a blue griffon who flapped his wings slowly to make sure Ocellus wouldn’t be more surprised. After him came in Silverstream and Yona together, pink hippogriff and brown yak walking side-by-side as they wore gloom on their faces. Last but not the least was Smolder who jumped her way into the room, neglecting her scaly wings.

The dragon closed the door.

All were together in Ocellus’s bedroom, looking at their changeling friend as she slowly got out of bed, trotted to them, looked to the side.

Grabbed Sandbar, held his neck tight, hugged him.

No words. No words as everyone else joined in the group hug.

In their welcome embrace, she closed her eyes and wept. Nothing but tears turning her cheeks into a sea marked with loss, an ocean branded with woe, yet all of that was to be forgotten in the company of these friends.

“I l-love you guys!” Ocellus yelled amidst her tears and sniffles. “B-But I u-understand if you won’t love me! Even if I wanted to, I’ll j-just suck your love, and, a-a-and—”

“We don’t care,” Gallus said, tapping her on the head with his talon. “I mean, look at us! We’re a lot different now, but we’re still together...right?”

“B-But—”

“You feed on love!” Silverstream added with a hint of happiness, holding her own foretalons together. “You must be such a lovable creature!”

“But I—”

“Yona stick by you thick and thin!” Yona declared, putting a hoof on the ground although she was careful not to smash the floor with it.

Smolder got out of the hug and flew over her. “I’m still getting used to this whole thinking-for-yourself thing, so...yeah, I love you, too.”

“And we’ll be here just like old times!” Sandbar said, now the one pulling Ocellus in. “Even though they’re not really that old, but...whatever, guys! Group hug for Ocellus!”

They hugged tighter, their changeling friend feeling a bit of pain. That didn’t matter since she felt the warmest hug in her life. Because of them, she no longer felt weak, she no longer felt drained. She no longer felt hungry.

She was hungry no longer.

After that loving hug, solidifying Ocellus’s acceptance in spite of her new forms (or everyone’s new forms, for that matter), they decided to celebrate by going to Pepperoni Box. Though it was mostly back in business, there were considerably less customers here than usual. Then again, having to learn how to walk with four hooves and a wing would make constant back-and-forth travel a hard thing to keep up without stubbing their limbs.

The six secured a table by the counter where they got front row seats to the magic of pizza-making while inhaling the scrumptious scent of good food. Dough rolled flat, doused with tomato sauce and packed with cheese, topped with vegetables and fruits, inserted into a brick fire oven—all done by ponies which made everything slower as they tried to not drop anything. It was unbelievable how nothing was spilled to the floor.

“Hello!” greeted an Earth pony waiter, menu on one hoof and eye on the exotic set of customers. “I didn’t expect to see different kinds of creatures at the same table!” Pointed the menu at them. “You’re best friends, aren’t you?”

“Who else could we be, anyway?” asked Silverstream, lifting her foreclaws into the air like she was throwing confetti. “We’re not potatoes!”

The waiter glanced around, hoping that there’d be somepony to explain it for her. “Uh...potatoes?”

And Silverstream yanked Yona the yak into a hug like a yummy yarn. Yona moaned under those tender claws, but she put up a smile anyway.

Gallus chuckled. “Yeah, she’s wacky but she’s...sunbeamy. Got a problem with that?”

All it took was a look at the griffon’s sharp talons and his fiercesome lion tail—all it took was that for the waiter to hide half of her face with the menu. “Um, n-no! I was just...surprised to h-have six different species at one table, ‘cause most of Canterlot’s ponies now.” Then, raising a brow at Gallus, “Does that mean you’re from Griffonstone?”

“The one and only,” he replied, pointing at himself with a wide smirk.

“I’m from Aris!” Silverstream proclaimed.

“And I’m from Cambling!” Ocellus added.

“Yakyakistan!” Yona yelled with pride.

“And I’m Sandbar’s dog,” Smolder finished off, raising her claw. “I feel weird being equals with Master and—”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” Sandbar cut in, ruffling the dragon’s non-existent fur on her head.

Smolder sighed, the good feeling out of a headrub having vanished. Trying to not dwell on it, she turned to the waiter. “What kind of pizza’s here?”

The waiter grinned, finally able to hype up her wares. “Oh, I’d usually start off with our Meat Attack...but, well, we ponies can’t eat meat, so there’s that. Heh-heh,” though that laugh weakened to a doleful murmur.

“But we can!” Silverstream shrieked, gathering up everyone at the table in a huge hug while hovering over the table.

The waiter gestured towards Sandbar. “He’s a pony.”

Sandbar slipped away from Silverstream’s hug, his frown growing. “I’m gonna miss out on this one, amn’t I?”

“Well, wasn’t Fluttershy a vegetarian this whole time?” replied the waiter. “I’d say you go talk to her one of these days. She must be taking this pretty well.”

Meanwhile, in her house, Fluttershy was dining at the family table with Zephyr sulking on his chair.

“Come on, Zephyr,” Fluttershy said, holding up a hoof over her plate of salad and beans. “Can’t you let it go?”

“There’s a reason why I bought like half the meat section!” Zephyr yelled, rubbing his ears. “Rainbow Dash may be oblivious to my never-ending pleas to be with her, but she’s gotta notice when I’m weightlifting barbells of canned beef!” Took a pause to gulp in breath. “She loves beef!”

“Loved beef,” Fluttershy corrected. “She’s now accepted that she can’t eat meat anymore.”

About to give up, Zephyr looked down on his paltry fare of leaves, hay, and chocolate milk. “It’s just….”

Then, his eyes widened. A smile crept up on his face as he clasped his forehooves.

“Another one of those brilliant ideas of yours?” Fluttershy asked deadpan, her kind voice gone for a moment.

Zephyr spread his wings, making his salad drift into the air. “Sorry, sis’, but the breeze is gonna get his guarantees!” and flew out of the house.

Fluttershy sped to the open door, seeing the vast darkness of the night compared to her bright home. “Zephyr! Where’re you—”

“The only place Dash would be right now!” Zephyr shouted as he zoomed to the sky.

Before his wings froze up. He screamed falling down.

Ten minutes later, the pizzas were done and served. Ocellus and company inhaled the wafting steam of cheesy deliciousness as fresh piping hot pizzas floated to their table.

On the left was a massive fifty-inch pizza divided up to stacks of triangular slices to fit the surface. It was of the Meat Attack variety, so all kinds of meat made their home here: beef, pork, chicken, tuna, mutton, duck, shrimp, and scallops—all inhabiting their expanse of cheese.

On the right was a normal-sized vegetarian pizza reserved for Sandbar. It had tomato slices, bell peppers, black olives, and mushrooms.

“Bone capitate!” squawked Silverstream before stuffing her mouth with a juicy slice.

Gallus, Ocellus, and Silverstream, hastily catching their own slices as they feasted on their scrumptious order. Yona, on account of still being full, contented herself with drinking half a dozen cups of coffee tea.

That left Smolder and Sandbar beside each other, looking down on the healthier pizza.

The pony sighed. “I haven’t thought much about this, huh? I thought it’ll go away, but it’s like my body will hate it forever.”

Smolder fidgeted with her thumbs, seeing her former master riled up. “Don’t they have vegetarian meat out there? That’s a thing, isn’t it?”

“Except whoever’s researching that are...well, ponies,” and Sandbar twirled his hoof about. “They’d wanna get the whole pony thing down before moving on to their projects.”

“Ouch.” Smolder scratched the back of her scaly head. “I can see why that’s bad.”

Bells rang and the front door opened to reveal Dash and a yellow changeling trotting in together.

Silverstream swallowed her second slice to squish her cheeks. “Rainbow Dash!”

Dash nodded. “Who else but me? Hah! Isn’t it nice to still be famous while being a pony?”

While everyone else fawned over the heroine from afar, Ocellus raised her hoof and caught her attention. “Who’s that?” as she pointed at the other changeling.

The yellow changeling took out a pizza box. He spun it around with his hoof and laughed at himself.

“He’s a changeling from the hive,” Dash said, resting a hoof on his back. “When he realized there were new changelings here like you here, he wanted to help in his own way.”

“...by serving up the local grub!” Humerus ended as he flew over to the table and opened his pizza box.

The stinky blue cheese was rotten with larvae squirming all over it. Grubs and pupae were the main staple toppings, garnished with sprinklings of deep-fried ants.

“Bleh!

“Eww!”

“Is that real?!”

Everyone save for Ocellus had pinched their noses and stuck their tongues out. However, the changeling herself licked her lips at the delicacy.

“There’s more where that came from!” Humerus said, putting the box down before her. “But I gotta make some more deliveries! Whole communities will see how tasty and nutritious good bugs are!”

Ocellus’s eyes watered. “Why, thank you!”

“Pleasure but squares!” quipped Humerus and flew ou—

Bumped into a glass window and fell to the floor.

Dash propped him back up, hearing the changeling groan in pain. “Now, watch where you’re going!”

“I’ll watch it like those weird TV screens!” Humerus said with a wink and a salute. Hovering towards the front door, “So, let’s—”

Bumped into the closed front door.

All was silent as they looked upon the helpless changeling.

“Yak should help,” Yona said as she moved out of the way and trotted towards Humerus.

“N-No!” he said, holding out a hoof to stop the yak. “I’m really going now!” before opening the do—

Bumped by an exasperated Zephyr who was bruised and scarred, bunned mane undone as he held up a pizza of his own. “There! This is a pizza I made for you, my beautiful Rainbow Dash!”

With one last breath, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious before a knocked out Humerus and a fallen pizza box.

It opened, revealing a message made with pepperonis. They spelled out: I love you, Dash!

Now, everyone was looking down at the mysterious pizza.

Dash giggled and closed the pizza box with her tail. “Too bad I can’t eat meat, right?”

And everyone laughed before those six friends continued their banquet. Dash then dragged both unconscious creatures out of the place, though she took the token of cheesy love with her.

Ocellus held the box of changeling-made pizza before her. She didn’t recoil from it. There was no disgust in her mind. Not even a gag reflex. Rather, she felt pulled into it, caught her hoof about to get a slice without her thinking.

Then, she looked up, saw her friends laughing over some joke she didn’t get.

She didn’t care. This night together was turning out to be like their other nights, perhaps even better than them. Being friends with such a diverse set of magic creatures while being one of them herself?

Why worry about getting love hungry? She was already getting tons of love from her best friends alone.

To celebrate that, she picked up a slice of her bug pizza and ate it.

A Confidence Trick Worth Two of That

In her band’s apartment, Trixie placed her forehooves on the window frame. She looked outside.

There, unprecedented chaos. Cars and trees overturned by stampeding Earth ponies, windows and walls smashed by uncareful pegasi, light posts and mailboxes uprooted by unicorns unwary of their power—all accompanied with snaps and pow!’s. Rainbow Dash and...OK, another Rainbow Dash were there to round up these nerve-lost ponies, but panic reigned, and destruction followed in its wake.

Trixie had a horrified face under her snout, eyes shaky as they witnesses helpless former humans just like her. She watched civilization fragment before her, with these rainbow-maned ponies and their friends its last resort.

She saw the mess.

And smiled.

“The moment the Great and Powerful Trixie has waited for...it has arrived!” She raised a hoof to the air. She laughed, her roar reaching the sky. “Was it not enough to be the world’s only unicorn? Yet, now, Trixie can feel the magic everywhere! Limitless magic everywhere! Yes, the rule of Trixie as the Greatest and Most Powerful begins now!”

She hopped up to the window and stood on it, raising her forehooves and laughing at her triumph.

Due to safety reasons, however, no one noticed her showboating. They were quite busy with losing it.

“Have you lost your mind, Trixie?!” Fuchsia yelled at her the next morning, having found the magician proudly levitating seven stacks of cards all at once. The front door was still open.

“Quite the opposite!” Trixie proclaimed, putting on her hat and cape while still floating so many cards flawlessly. “Trixie has gained enlightenment! She sees life in a completely different way thanks to her new physiology and her, ahem, real magic!”

Fuchsia looked horrified, stepping back and hitting the wall. “Tr-Trixie, something’s off with you. Are you OK?”

Trixie raised a skeptical brow, lifting her hat with her glowing horn. “What makes you think otherwise?”

Her bandmate gulped. “I don’t know...like, how you’re taking this all too well?”

“Why wouldn’t I be taking it too well?” the happy magician asked back, smirking as she levitated the cards neatly to the dining table. That only left her wizard’s hat floating above her head. “Trixie has turned into a unicorn, a being infinitely more capable of magic than my mere human shell!”

Fuchsia’s mouth dropped. Mere human shell? Did she just hear those words come straight from Trixie’s mouth? “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way you were just waiting to become a pony!”

“Trixie wasn’t waiting for it,” she admitted, inspecting her hooves like she was checking her fingern—no, her hoofnails. “But, after it came upon her, she wishes that she could’ve waited for it! To anticipate such a great destiny bestowed upon the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Fuchsia was getting overwhelmed by Trixie’s uneasy joy. She looked at everything in the room, trying to find some answer to counter it, but not even the vase said anything to her. Turning to the merry magician: “You have n-no regrets over losing your old self? D-Did you even like being human?”

“She did.” Trixie then put down her hat, re-completing the wizard’s look on her. “Until she felt the pure magic of the unicorn!”

Like Wallflower, Fuchsia blushed, though out of anger this time. “You’re taking this too far!” Hit her own chest. “You know what I and Lavender suffered? We had to restart everything! We had to learn how to walk again, how to hold things again, how to do...everything again!” She screamed, kicked the table and breaking the fragile vase with a crack! “Are you telling me you just flew through it?!”

“Trixie did have a head start,” she said, then bobbed both her brows.

Fuchsia slammed herself on the face, understanding the brow signal. “Right. When you jumped through the portal to magic pony land to get some lessons from your pony self, wasn’t it?”

Trixie bowed down, hat lowered. “Trixie is always prepared!”

Fuchsia rolled her eyes then grabbed her proud friend by the neck. “Nevermind. It looks like I can’t convince you, so let’s just get to music magic with these…” held up her hooves, “things.”

She gulped.

“Twi said that music has some inherent magic or something. We can sing to defend ourselves…?” and sighed, smacking herself on the face again. “I sound ridiculous! Everything’s magic now, even music! What’s next? Magic books?”

As if on cue, Trixie levitated several books and made them float around her.

Fuchsia yanked her friend on the head, causing her to drop the books with a few thud!’s. “We’re going!”

Trixie smiled, half-closing her eyes. “Going to impress the world with my magic, my faithful assistant?”

“In the band!”

Early in the evening, standing outside school, Sunset and Sci-Twi were helping a bunch of new unicorns come to terms with their magic. Having gotten past basic levitation and telekinesis—as could be evidenced by all of their pupils levitating whatever they got, from flowers to boxes—the two divided the workload and went through each pony in quick succession, asking them about their talent.

“Sunny Flare,” Twi said when she came up to her, the former Shadowbolt a little nervous at her old classmate. “Your cutie mark’s the sun, so—”

“I still have no idea!” Sunny yelled, stomping the grass with her hoof. “What am I? A light bulb?”

Twi grinned, annoyed at confronting an abstract cutie mark. “Maybe your magic is related to light?”

“What do you think I am?!” yelled Sunny as she pushed her snout to Twi’s. “A night guard? I didn’t go to Crystal Prep to be a night guard!”

Boom!

Everypony looked up.

Fireworks the shape of Trixie’s face, glittering in the sky until they fizzled into nothing.

“So that’s what’s she been up to,” Sunset quipped with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

At someone’s front yard, Trixie bowed on the grass, receiving tons of applause from a modest pile of ponies. A few bouquets of flowers tumbled to the grass, Trixie picking them up with her magic as she made them glow magenta.

“Thank you! Thank you!” She faced the audience and blew a flying kiss to them, these new ponies clamoring with shouts and screams. Basking in the praise, she flipped her mane. “Was there any doubt?”

It seemed that the cheering would never end that night.

“Trixie.”

Nothing.

“Hey, Trixie.”

Nothing.

“Trixie!”

“Wuh!”

And the Great and Powerful Trixie fell down in a great and powerful way, cracking the living room's floor with her horn and getting stuck in it.

The sunken magician glared at Fuchsia, vision upside-down. “What is the meaning of this? Is this a mutiny you are staging?!”

“You’re daydreaming again,” Fuchsia said, placid despite the unfounded threats against her and the damage to their apartment's property. “Ever since that first performance of yours, your head’s been stuck in the clouds!”

“At least the Great and Powerful Trixie can manipulate objects with her mind!” Trixie said, pointing at her head and her stuck horn.

Fuchsia grunted. “I’m not your babysitter!”

“No, you are my assistant!”

Desiring peace instead of war, Fuchsia kept quiet and tried to pull Trixie out of the hole.

Only to fall over and get her horn stuck in the floor, too.

Trixie made a sarcastic smile. “Great. Now we’ve got to wait for my other, more charades-addicted assistant to come home.”

It was an eventful week for Trixie and her bandmates/assistants. On Wednesday, they’ve been asked to be the opening act for the new look Sirens. It was...jarring, to say the least, seeing a band worthy of tomato splats followed up by one of the best singing sensations known to ponykind. After an argument, the band decided to go hang their instruments for a while and resort to being assistants in Trixie’s rejuvenated magic show for the meantime. These attracted modest crowds, though not quite like that first outing at night.

Monday found Trixie pacing on paved paths, waiting at the park. She tapped her hoof around whenever she stood still, looking here and there, seeing not many ponies.

She was the only one. That should count as “not many”.

Then, a rustle from a tree.

Trixie gasped, spun her head to see the tree rock and roil. “Who’s there?!”

Smoke popped up, shrouding the tree in its ethereal grip. The smoke then cleared, revealing another Trixie leaning on the tree’s trunk.

Trixie yelped. “Tr-Trixie?!”

“You did ask Princess Twilight to bring the Great and Powerful Trixie over,” Trixie replied. She rolled her eyes, then, speaking fast, “She also told me to give you a nickname, so the ‘Great and Powerful Trix’ it is for you.”

Surprised by being appropriated with a clearly inferior name, Trix groaned and trotted up to her counterpart. “I am the Great and Powerful Trixie and you are just Trix!”

Trixie crossed her forehooves together and laughed. “Which one of us came first? You or me?”

“Well, I’m—”

And Trix’s mouth hung open.

“That’s the thing about your world,” Trixie said, smiling. “The Great and Powerful Trixie may not be the most competent expert in multi-dimensions and what not—that’s Starlight’s realm—but you...you are younger than Trixie.” Her smile widened. “You are the one who is new to this magic business. I’ve been perfecting the art form longer than you’ve been in high school! If there should be any basis for me calling you ‘Trix’, then that is it, and you should accept it, for I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!” and bowed.

Trix, however, did not want to give up without a fight. “Yeah? What can you do?”

Trixie answered with a haughty scoff. “What can the Great and Powerful Trixie do?” She began counting on her hoof. “I can do all the little tricks you can do and more. I can throw myself into a manticore’s mouth and survive, I can turn an apple into a teacup right before your very eyes, I can teleport a whole box of plates into your house if you give me a map and a ton of photos, and I can levitate—wait for it….”

Her horn glowed. Her whole body glowed. She floated above the grass and spread her forehooves in arrogance.

“Myself!”

Floated down to the ground, leaving Trix’s eyes twitching and blinking.

“That’s not even the half of it!” Trixie said with a turn of her head. “Of course, since you asked kindly for me—and because I’m feeling particularly nice—I’ve decided to accept your offer for...well, being a substitute assistant back in Equestria.”

Trix then pumped her chest, overjoyed at having that offer accepted. “Whatever it takes to master the various fields of magic. Trixie’s all in!”

Trixie clapped her hooves. “Perfect! Pack your stuff, because we’ll be on tour!”

Trix then smiled and shook hooves with her other self, which was an awkward idea in and of itself, but she didn’t mind. Two Trixies shaking hooves was a little ambition to her.

What she didn’t show, what she didn’t say back then, was how terrified she was at touring in an unfamiliar land.

Trix’s long time in Equestria ironically left no time for her to sightsee. She was there to learn about magic, after all. Meeting the eerily familiar inhabitants of Ponyville made her hair stand up. It made their hair stand up, too, though it's more out of having two Trixies in the same town. The magic show had usually been enough to offset one insufferable ego, but it might not be enough to offset two insufferable egos.

The Trixies then journeyed around in Trixie’s wagon. When Trixie was the one outside pulling the vehicle, Trix was left to examine the nigh-infinite amount of trinkets, devices, and knick-knacks inside. There were the typical wands, hankerchiefs, cards, smoke bombs, and so on. However, she also found books on magic with long titles and authors she’s never heard of. She opened them up, saw strange words and complex illustrations, noticing concepts, principles, properties—

This wasn’t the kind of magic she signed up for.

When she wasn’t poring over every single item in the caravan, she looked out the window to discover Equestrian landscapes. They were picturesque: rolling greens punctuated by fresh, crisp rivers and lush, bountiful trees. Sure, it looked an awful lot like the countryside back home, but that illusion was broken whenever she saw another party of ponies and their wagon traveling on the same road as her. A lone pegasus would sometimes move a cloud or two in the sky, and Trix would be fast enough to catch that. That’s not to mention the creatures that she didn’t recognize: cute parasprites, tiny breezies, even a chimera which she promptly screamed at.

As expected, the Trixies had to take turns in pulling the wagon, so Trix sometimes pulled the wagon herself. It didn’t feel exactly heavy thanks to sturdy wheels, but she could still sense the weight she was hauling. What appalled her, though, was being up-front about living as a pony. Being harnessed to a wagon like that brought down humiliation and shame upon her. She’s the Great and Powerful Trixie—she shouldn’t be treated like a workhorse! Yet, she was a horse going to work, no, already working by pulling the wagon, letting her other self lounge on her hammock or practice her lines for the next stop.

Speaking of stops, there were plenty of them and, therefore, plenty of shows. At first, they were solo acts with Trix merely the unlucky volunteer that just so happened to be traveling alongside her. “Sawn” into half, nearly hit by knives on a spinning wheel, her head and her hooves “separated”—that kind of magic. In between shows and during travel, when they were pulling the wagon together, Trixie would explain to Trix her, well, tricks. Over time, she was allowed to do more things like handling the actual volunteers from the crowd and then casting a minute spell into this or that act. Trix got better, becoming more prominent in the shows.

Then, she got to the good stuff. Not only was she a true assistant, performing two-pony acts with her counterpart, but she was doing tricks of her own. Sure, they weren’t headliners; otherwise, Trixie would’ve stopped the show since she wouldn’t be hogging much of the attention. However, they were cool card tricks, fooling the whole audience that this card wasn’t really this card, that a ten of diamonds wasn’t a ten of diamonds. It also helped that having two of the same pony perform magic tricks was a nice way to distinguish themselves from the competition.

Applause, flowers, and bits rained upon the Trixies.

The final stop was Canterlot, finishing the tour’s home run. The schedule after that was a day’s rest in the capital, and then a victorious return to Ponyville.

A month and a half had passed since Trix entered Equestria yet, in the night before showtime, inside the caravan—not a fancy hotel because Trixie had remained stubbornly loyal to her wagon—Trix lied down on her hammock, looking up at the cluttered ceiling, lost in thought.

Only a candle lit up her surroundings, casting everything in its orange glow.

A sigh escaped her lips as crickets chirped in the night.

Trix turned her head and her forehooves to the floor, grabbed her bag. Fumbled her hoof around the foodstuff, papers, and precious flowers with letters of thanks.

Then, she felt a hard, rectangular object.

Her blood pressure rose, eyes dilating. “Good!” she whispered to herself, beads of sweat running down her face. “She hasn’t taken it yet.”

She took the object out.

It was her cellphone.

Trixie reeled her head back, turned the screen on.

First thing she saw was her photos app. There were tons of pictures, the most recent ones being hidden shots of Equestrian crowds and audiences. With a hoof struggle, she scrolled up and saw older and older photos.

Then, she came across familiar creatures in them.

Humans. What she used to be.

There, she saw a video with a preview on it. The preview image was one of herself removing the tomatoes from her face, still wearing her magician’s costume.

She played the video.

Back at the backstage of Canterlot High, the human Trixie was ridding herself of the tomatoes from her face, wiping them off with two clean towels. The phone on the table rested on a trunk, recording her all this time.

“Trixie!” she heard someone shout. “We should just stick with the Illusions!”

“Never!” yelled a defiant Trixie, shaking her fist at an off-screen Fuchsia. “Get out of my sight! The Great and Powerful Trixie is unwilling to entertain naysayers!”

And Fuchsia was out, furious footsteps echoing across the gym.

Then, Trixie sighed, face still blotched in red.

She stared at her phone.

The only one standing by her side, the only one left.

“A-Am I a failure?” she whispered.

Leaned to the phone to hold it.

“All this practice, all this time...all for nothing? I-Is this what I-I’m w-working for? More than a hundred shows and this is what I get?”

Left with a whimpering Trixie, moaning as she finished cleaning herself from those tomatoes, those signs of disgust and disapproval.

Those tomatoes of emptiness….

“Trix?”

“Agh!”

And Trix the unicorn hid the phone under her pillow and waved the candle at the Trixie by the door, trying to distract her.

“What’s going on?” Trixie asked, face frowning not at the sorry face but at the candle about to burn the hammock. She remained polite, though, and kept a straight face. “You don’t sound so good.”

“There is nothing to be afraid of!” Trix lied, making it obvious by her phoned-in accent. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has—”

Phone levitated out from under the pillow under Trixie’s glow.

Trix yelped. “Tr-Trixie c-can explain!”

“Trixie needs no explanation,” Trixie replied, phone still floating by her. “She heard everything.”

Trix shuddered in place, holding the pillow like it was her armor. “Wh-Wha—”

“What is it?” Trixie asked, closing the door and locking it with her magic. She placed the phone down on the night table, trotted straight to her side. “You can be honest with Trixie. You can be honest with me.”

To stave off incoming disgrace, Trix laughed. “G-Getting help from myself? What more can I ask for?”

“I know, right?” Then, Trixie dropped the smug attitude. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong?”

Trix sighed. “Trix...no, I had tomatoes.”

A groan from Trixie. “Are you complaining about Canterlot—”

“You know what I mean,” Trix said in a deeper tone. “You know what tomatoes mean in the magic business.”

Trixie caught the meaning of it. Her ears retreated. “Oh. Y-You...you weren’t so lucky? B-But I h-had my time of failure, too!”

“At least you started out right,” Trix continued, turning away from her more successful self. “And you bounced back, to boot.”

She pointed at herself, wearing and showing an aggravated, unstable frown. “Fr-From the moment I began pursuing my dream as the Great and Powerful Trixie...it was all downs and barely any ups. Almost no one came to see my tricks. Only the bored bothered to make time for me.

“Then, people started talking behind my back. I was gathering a following so I was supposed to be feeling better, but the voices of dissent were noisier even when I wasn’t listening. It was all, ‘Ooh, magical Trixie! Magician Trixie!’ Which, yes, gave me publicity, but...negative publicity didn’t feel right.”

“You and me both,” Trixie said, looking down.

Trix looked out the window, seeing the rushing waterfall just outside Canterlot, the constant crashing of water coming back to her senses. “I...I was getting lonely. I had to be more pompous, more grand, yet they seemed to be coming just for the show a-and not for me.” Pointed at herself again. “It got easier when Sunset was reformed and when our Twilight arrived, but, really, we’re not the best of friends. Besides, being friends with them is taking the easy way out. They’re friends with everyone. It’s like they’re not even trying.”

She drifted off, wanting to throw away the tangent. “When I got the hang of things during the tour...I-I finally realized what it meant to have true fans, to have ponies look up to me as a role model, to not just have friends but to realize that there are ponies out there who appreciate your work, your talent, your love.”

Trixie snickered at being a role model.

Trix ignored that, still a fickle pony. “I-I was pl-planning to tell you after the tour...that I’m staying in Equestria for g-good.”

Trixie’s eyes widened. She stepped back, only to bump into a box of bowties and be surrounded in them. She fixed it all up with her magic, then continued with, “What?! Y-You can’t stay here for the rest of your life! Don’t you have other ponies in your world?”

“Exactly,” Trix said, swaying around on her hammock. “Thinking of them...how they would miss me. They’d start asking questions, start asking for me. I’d be r-robbing them of...myself and....”

Trixie lifted Trix’s chin up and lifted a wand. “Don’t you worry! You’ve improved, right? All under my guidance? Now, one last lesson is to follow the Great and Powerful Example of Trixie!”

“What would that be?”

Trixie raised her forehooves, holding two wands in the air. “Rubbing on other ponies’ faces ‘till they give up!”

Trix grinned then shook her hoof. They hugged each other, each enjoying the company of a Trixie.

“Let’s give Canterlot the best night of our lives?!” Trixie screamed.

“Let’s go!” Trix shouted.

And the two Trixies burst out of the caravan.

A week after the tour ended and after Trix returned to her home world, Trixie was in the Castle of Friendship’s kitchen, reading the local newspaper as Starlight whipped up a batch of cookies heating in the oven.

Then, the door blasted open, revealing Sparkle levitating a poster. “Trixie, you gotta see this!”

Trixie clapped her hooves in delight. “I knew she’d succeed!”

Starlight looked confused, removing her focus from the oven. “Who’d succeed?”

Twilight tapped the poster with her hoof. “The other Trixie!”

The art deco poster showed a stylized Trix in her magician’s garb, framed with wands, hats, scarves, coins, and smoke. There was a sticky note on it with the words: Theater’s sold out! Treat you out tonight?

“Ha-ha!” Trixie reared and whinnied. “Hooray for me and me!”

Sparkle rolled her eyes, still getting used to Trixie’s arrogance after such a long time.

Starlight sniffed the air. “Wait...the cookies are burning!”

Trixie grabbed the poster from Sparkle’s magic, hugging it while leaving Starlight to save the cookies from being overcooked charcoal.

The Provocation of Creatures

For decades, Manehattan was dubbed The City That’s Always Awake, and with good reason. It had been the heart of the country’s nightlife for generations, offering food, shops, entertainment, and public transportation day in and day out, night in and night out. Even past midnight, the streets and sidewalks would still be filled to the brim with people. Of course, there were other reasons, too, like the never-ending supply of caffeine in so many coffee bars that stayed open 24/7.

Not to mention being on fire would also keep the city awake.

Staggering from the catastrophe, Manehattan was still under the smelly fire of chaos and unrest—in some cases, it was actual fire, since a few of those enormous skyscrapers were on fire as dogs-turned-dragons breathed out fire on accident. Most of the buildings remained sound, though glass shards were aplenty and crashed cars turned up often. Notwithstanding the lack of panicking creatures running or flying around in confusion, there were some who trudged around, trying to help others by giving them a shoulder to lean on or by traveling with them to the local hospital.

At the edge of the island metropolis lay a tall glassy high-rise. It looked like a book whose cover was made of glass rectangles. Flapping on its grassy facade were dozens of flags representing and symbolizing many nations from around the world.

This was the Headquarters of the Convocation of Countries. Protected by several pony guards borrowed from Equestria, the building had upped its defense. Cameras were everywhere, both of the security and of the journalistic type as reporters of all different species tried to hold their equipment in their own way. Abyssinians and griffons had better luck than Earth ponies who dropped their equipment too often, sometimes putting them out of commission.

Looks like some news channels would fall back on texts and audio bites for this one.

Everyone rubbernecked towards the front doors of this grand complex. Instead of fancy cars, there were carriages parked by the entrance—over there were two carriages that looked quite identical, bearing the symbol of the sun.

“Sorry, I’m late!” shouted a hippogriff who flew into view, grabbing the attention of the citizens crowded outside. “D-Did we start yet? What about the Celestias?”

“They went out,” a pegasus answered. “She’s giving a pep talk to herself, I think.”

The hippogriff raised his brow. “Which Celestia? They both got schools, right?”

Inside, a few floors up, was the parlor where delegates would gather around to talk casually among themselves. Today, however, there was no discussion on stable geopolitics, veiled threats, and acts misconstrued as those of aggression. Instead, the Griffonstone delegate, President Gestal, was perched on a chair, taking in the familiar room with new eyes.

It was a carpeted, cozy room with tones of yellow and white, presumably to foster creativity and open forums. It did its job, for it didn’t make the furniture and the shelves look drab. Even with half the lights on, the room already looked bright. That was topped off by the citrus scent wafting through the air, refreshing to anyone’s senses.

Then, the double doors gently opened with a creak, showing two guards wearing full armor and escorting a tiny floating creature that looked like a pony with dragonfly-like wings.

Gestal got up from his chair. “Ah, President Seabreeze, I presume?”

“Are you demeaning me?!” Seabreeze shouted, pointing his tiny hoof at him. “Just because I’m the smallest head of state in the world, huh?!”

Gestal couldn’t help but chuckle. Being threatened by an insect called for a chuckle.

Even the guards couldn’t help it, betraying some snickers.

“And you, sirs!” Seabreeze yelled, turning his mad glare to his entourage. “You may be a million times bigger than me, but I am the leader of Gaothlub! One more laugh from you, and you’ll be persona non grata in my turf!”

The guards then folded their ears back, trotted outside.

Out of respect, they closed the door gently.

“I must apologize for my teasing attitude,” Gestal said right after, looking down on the floor in remorse. He adjusted his glasses. “I tried not to laugh at your appearance, but truly seeing you in real life...I just—”

Seabreeze raised a hoof, then glided his way to the top of another chair, standing on its back. “I get it. You’re a griffon, Thunderhooves is a buffalo, Celestia and Luna control everything, and here I am, the laughingstock of the news with my puny self! ‘Seabreeze turned into a pathetic breezie!’ ‘Seabreeze can’t even lift his own weight!’ ‘Seabreeze can be squashed by your old shoes!’”

Gestal placed a claw on his glasses. “I see what you’re getting at.”

“Oh, you see now?” Seabreeze said, ready to drip with sarcasm. “You’re a smart fellow! You should know I’ve lost whatever respect I’ve had here! Everyone teases me except my own constituents—and they’re mad that I can’t even literally stand up to anyone else!”

The griffon placed a claw on his sighing head. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Seabreeze crossed his forehooves. “You wish!”

Then, the doors opened again, revealing a nervous Thorax with shaky hooves in the hallway.

“Ah, and you, too, Thorax!” Gestal said, beckoning him inside with a claw. “Why don’t you come in?”

Thorax gulped, trotting inside and closing the doors behind him. “W-Wow. You look...different in person,” staring at the griffon.

“Surely, you’ve read the profiles Celestia’s sent via e-mail, haven’t you?”

The changeling trembled. “...yes?”

“What about me?!” Seabreeze yelled, pointing at himself and making Thorax look. “I exist!”

“Oh, s-s-sorry!” Thorax stepped forward, trying to be a buddy to him. “I mean, uh, yeah...sorry!”

Seabreeze huffed, sitting on the back of the chair, swaying his hindhoof about.

“So, how is your changeling form?” Gestal asked.

Thorax quickly shook his head. “Not so good. When everyone’s these weird shapeshifting bugs, it makes everything a hundred times harder. Crime’s gotten up because no one can be sure! They can turn into anyone and no one would know!” This left Thorax biting his hoofnails.

“I’ve heard your brother and his ‘brother’ have swooped in to police everyone,” Gestal noted, claw on his chin.

“That’s just two changelings against all of Cambling!” Thorax countered, stretching a forehoof to emphasize that. “I don’t know how—”

The doors opened, letting two deer stride in. “Does anyone have a manual on forests?” asked the bigger one, white and brown with long antlers. “Pamphlets aren’t enough.”

Thorax looked at him in shock. “Prime Minister A-Aspen?”

“King Aspen,” the deer corrected, “or so they tell me. I, too, am afraid of suddenly being a king over the entire nation, so it is merely a title.”

“And I agree with him,” said Blackthorn, the shorter but armored deer beside him. “It’s hard enough as it is to keep nature from going rampant. We have our people...well, our deer running around and making potions!”

Gestal raised his claw, running late on Aspen’s manual quip. “Hold on! They brought the imported books here already, yes?” and flapped his wings and flew, creating a gust of wind.

Which threw Seabreeze screaming out of his chair.

Thorax yelped and caught the helpless head of state with his hoof. Then, he gently put him down on a nearby table.

“What did I tell you?!” Seabreeze shouted, pointing at the disappearing griffon. “Have you learned anything?!”

Aspen trotted up to him, pitying the breezie. “You poor creature!”

“I am not poor!” Seabreeze shrieked, throwing an air punch at him. “I have the wealth and power of an entire country behind my back!”

Blackthorn giggled, trotting up to him as well. “A country of tiny—”

“Say one more word!” dared Seabreeze. “Say one more word, or else!”

Before Blackthorn could reply with “Or else what?”, the doors opened again, presenting a huge buffalo almost taking up the room’s height.

“Fitting through the hallways was difficult,” Thunderhooves said in booming baritone, getting inside with the doors pulled at maximum.

Aspen placed Seabreeze on a nearby table as the buffalo closed the doors. The deer turned around and said, “I guess we should gather at the meeting table,” pointing at it in the center of the room with its projector.

Everyone else nodded, even Seabreeze though with a sour face.

Swiftly becoming an old joke, the doors opened once more, featuring two hippogriffs in the hallway: Novo and Skystar, the latter barely containing her excitement if her claws over her grin said anything about it.

“We flew all the way here from down South,” Novo said with a bit of irritation in her delivery. “However, these are extreme times. We may have to loosen up from our limited isolation, as cherished as it is now.”

They then flew inside.

Causing Seabreeze to tumble out of the table, screaming again with his life in peril.

Caught by Thorax again.

“Are you trying to play a trick on me?!” Seabreeze yelled at the hippogriffs as he was gently put down a second time on the table.

Skystar waved her foreclaws about. “N-No! It was an accident! Sorry, Mr. Seabreeze!”

Thunderhooves looked at them awkwardly, having just stood there and watched the conversation unfold the whole time. “I’ll just take my seat.” That short statement said, the buffalo went to his seat at the table.

Except it was too small for him. With a groan, he made use of the wall and leaned on it.

“I’ll take one, too,” Blackthorn said, trotting his way to the table and sitting down.

Thorax put Seabreeze back on top of the chair. “You stay there, OK?”

“You’re not my Mom!” Seabreeze shouted in teenage-like rebellion.

Aspen frowned. Nudging Thorax to the side, he confided, “Being turned into a breezie isn’t doing well on him.”

“At least you don’t have wings to worry about,” Novo said, having overheard the not-so-confidential whisper. “Or the fact that we’re technically two species.”

“Like this!” and, smiling, Skystar pressed her pearl necklace, glowing into a seapony before their very eyes, fins and tail and all.

Both deer and changeling dropped their mouths at the transformation, now knowing what the term dual-species truly meant.

Then, Thorax tilted his head, confused. “But there’s no water here.”

“Yup! Pretty crazy that seaponies don’t need that much water to breathe!” Skystar pressed her pearl again and turned back into a hippogriff. “But it works!”

Aspen smiled, inspecting the hippogriffs’ necklaces from afar. “Fascinating! Now if only magic was always helpful in running a country….” and rubbed his eyes.

Tiring their welcome, the doors opened once more an—

“This is meeting room, yes?!” bellowed Prince Rutherford, the yak charging into the room with giant steps that weren’t for mankind but for yaks.

Thorax placed hooves around Seabreeze, shielding him from the wind of the yak’s shout.

Skystar smiled, extending a claw. “A talking yak?!”

Rutherford laughed, accepting the hoofsh—no, clawsh—no...limbshake. “Good to see recognizable names here! Has meeting started yet?”

“Uh, no!” Thorax said, trembling in waves of nervousness, hoping to not get the prince mad enough to smash him. “B-But you can hang out with everyone else at the t-table!”

The yak scratched his scruffy hair, then looked at Seabreeze who had escaped Thorax’s hoof cage. “Yak apologize for upset! Promise to be quiet when breezie’s around!” Satisfied with the formal apology, he trotted to the table to take a seat.

Except it was too small for him, too. Taking up Thunderhooves’s example, he leaned beside the buffalo on the wall.

Aspen turned his head towards everyone else not at their seats.

Seabreeze was sitting on the table, pouting at his rather small reputation and thinking of the endless indignities against him because he’s a flimsy and insignificant breezie up against creatures a lot larger than him.

The hippogriff mother-and-daughter duo were talking to each other in tender volumes, Novo telling Skystar that she loves her and will do her best to protect her and help her during these times.

Thorax was mumbling to himself, trying to remember every topic to bring up at the meeting as news of Cambling in rapid descent trickled into a river of worry and anxiety, pushing him closer to a panic attack.

Aspen then turned towards those at the table.

Thunderhooves and Rutherford discussed about their own plights, being big beings ruling over other big beings like them. The buffalo, with rising distress, shared his concerns over his nation turning into one of nomad stampeders if their Equestrian counterparts were of any indication—scared of abandoning the many scientific breakthroughs they themselves have made over the past years. The yak, taking part in said distress, expressed his fears of Yakyakistan being ridiculed as a land of dummies and don’t-know-it-all’s that speak in broken English and smash everything.

Blackthorn, Aspen’s second-in-command, sat at the table, not doing anything much but fiddling around on the table with his hooves. Yet, the king-in-name remembered his assistant’s deeds right after they changed into deer: how Blackthorn rallied most of the terrified rioters outside the vine-infested House of the Prime Minister to calm down, how he disseminated proclamations from Princess Celestia and that other King Aspen on the subject of deer magic, and how he made sure all of Skogur’s political parties would not implode out of anarchy.

Thinking about that reminded Aspen of the manual he had requested for. “By the way, where’s Gestal?”

Only for the doors to open, breaking the monotony and turning everyone’s attention to the newcomers.

Or, rather, returnees in the form of two Celestias.

Everyone else froze, gawking at them with wide eyes and puckered lips and beaks. Silence had to be maintained; no one would possibly dare rend courtesy apart in front of these—

“Here you go, Aspen!” Gestal said, coming back from his foray into the book aisles, handing—no, clawing over a book entitled Deer, Forests, and You!

Aspen nudged him on the shoulder, whispering with a stiff smile, “This is not the time to talk!”

“What do you—” and looked at the Celestias by the doors. “Oh. Your Highnesses.”

Everyone bowed down before the two alicorns.

Celie took a step forward, trying to be dear to them. “You don’t have to do that, really. We’re here to help.”

Tia pursed her lips, temporarily forgetting what to say to these foreign leaders. Probably thought they were nervous, too, unsure of everything now in a world of magic.

“As you know,” Celie continued, gesturing towards her other self, “this is Principal Celestia of Canterlot. I have given her as much political training as I could in the space of a few days. Even then, I will advise her on what to do in the immediate future.“

Then, she nodded to Tia, prompting her on what to say next.

Tia took a deep breath, closed her eyes.

“I may be new to the political stage,” she began, hoof on her chest, “but, having gained absolute power over the sun, I must step up to help our world during this crisis. I will be no warmonger, nor will I subvert your countries with threats of burning your citizens, so don’t be afraid of me.”

What she got was silence. Frightened silence as all these powerful leaders—including Seabreeze—quivered on their legs, kneeling before a school principal.

A school principal that controlled the sun, yes, but a school principal nonetheless.

“Really, don’t,” Tia said, noticing that fear still lingered. “I’m just as scared as you are, maybe even more so. The lives of an entire planet rest on me and my sister, after all.”

Even so, the thought of her power didn’t go away from their heads. Being executed via the sun was not on their mental list of wishes.

Taking the floor, Tia tapped on the floor, her golden horseshoes making knocks that all could hear. In an earnest voice: “Everyone, to the meeting table. Time is of the essence; we must act now to ensure everycreature’s safety. I notice that we are not yet complete, but we must bring latecomers if they do come. We need to save everyone.”

With that, everyone nodded and got up from their knees or their equivalents thereof.

Celie nodded, then whispered to her ear, “I see you’re doing quite well, considering the circumstances.”

Tia chuckled. “Thank you, me.”

Suppressing a chuckle of her own, Celie nodded once more.

And everyone went to the meeting table.

Stand Out a Country Mile a Minute

The first Tuesday morning after the change found Applejack one introspective pony. Not only did was it started by her principal raising the sun for the first time, it was the first full day where the rest of the world had to survive being whatever creature they’d become—though some of the changelings got a bargain on that one.

For Applejack, that meant her and the rest of the Apple family taking their first step as ponies, with whatever it entailed.

What she hadn’t expected, even among the unexpected she somehow expected, was three new members to the Apple family.

Cookie, Oakley, and Cinnamon had given her a pretty surprising greeting when she arrived home the day before, squeezing her with a hug. Her mind almost broke at not only hearing them speak to her but also listening to them speak in a very intelligent manner.

As that Monday drew on, she’d grown conflicted feelings. On one hoof, she’d loved them very much. Days gone by, days of riding on them as a stubborn kid growing up, days of feeding them and taking care of them in the vast green backyard, days of sitting by the campfire and sharing stories to the family with those horses by her side—these should never be forgotten, she’d vowed. On the other hoof, they weren’t “family family”. They had been bought off of someone else’s farm, and if she simply brought them into her family, then what really was family?

As if on cue, Pinkie Pie had appeared right beside her, making her scream in shock.

After the greetings were over in the backyard under an orange sunset sky, Pinkie made a grin, hoping that the farmpony would grin with her. “What’s wrong, Applejack?”

AJ raised her hat, letting Pinkie see her full face. “I don’t know. I-I thought you’d be with yer’ family.”

Pinkie giggled and snorted. “Aww, you got me confused with your Pinkie!”

That made AJ scoot back. “Wait, yer’ that other Pinkie?”

“Yuppity-yup!” She combed her mane with a licked hoof. “My Pinkie Sense told me to go across the portal and visit you because you have a problem!”

“A friendship problem?” AJ asked, still baffled by the concept of being sent across the land to solve someone’s personal problems.

Pinkie kept brushing her mane, this time with a toothbrush. “More like a family problem, but yeah, let’s roll with that!”

The farmpony winced. “You think ya’ can handle this...uh, delicate subject?”

Pinkie slapped her on the back, oblivious to AJ biting her tongue at the pain. “‘Course I can! I mean, I think I can!” She poured some toothpaste on her toothbrush and kept brushing her mane with it. “You know, I’m qualified for this! Remember when we went on a road trip to check if I’m part-Apple?”

AJ scratched her head. “We never had that.”

Pinkie looked confused, then laughed at herself. “Silly me! That’s the other Applejack!” Wiped the sweat off of her forehead. “Phew! Now, what is it that’s bothering your brother? Or what’s seizing your sister? Or what’s grounding your granny?”

“It’s not any one of them,” AJ said before sighing. A long pause as she thought about them. Then, she lifted her head. “It’s about our horses.”

“Ponies!” Pinkie corrected with a raised hoof holding her toothbrush. “Then again, all of us are horses, so it kind of sort of does not maybe matter.”

That gag done, she put the toothbrush on the ground.

She dropped the smile.

“It’s about those three horses, isn’t it?” Pinkie asked, much more somber now. “The Cinnamon Cookie Oak trio, right?”

AJ sighed. “Eeyup.”

Anticipating a heart-to-heart coming on, Pinkie sat beside her on the grass.

They were sitting together on the grass, beholding the sunset sky with its armies of colossal clouds. These were being pushed and pulled around by some gallant volunteers from the Ponyville weather team. Over them all shone the sleepy sun with its piercing rays.

A minute later, the sun slowly dipped into the horizon, plunging this part of the world into darkness. Breezes flew by, stars twinkled into view, and the moon rose up with its soft silvery glow.

AJ stared at the sky, having seen the sudden transition from day to night. Then, turning to Pinkie. “Anything...?”

“About your now-sapient horses?” Pinkie asked.

The farmpony placed her hat on the ground, letting loose her yellow mane. “They’re...they’re good ponies. I kn-know they are. But, I just don’t know what to do with them!”

“Why don’t you just let them in?” said Pinkie with a hoof on her puffy mane. “No harm done!”

AJ scratched her freckled cheeks. “That’d be great, but—”

“They’re practically a part of your family, right?” Pinkie prodded. “You and Apple Bloom basically grew up with them!”

AJ made a glimmer of a smile, those ended years surviving in another time, another world. “There’s no denyin’ that.”

“Then what’s holding you back, Applejack?” Pinkie asked, inching closer. She brushed off the fact that she made a rhyme, keeping up the sympathetic frown. “You got an infectious disease? A bad hiccup? A case of the stomach butterflies you need to burp out?”

“Actually, that last one’s not so far from the truth.”

Pinkie then drew out a stethoscope. “Then open your mouth and say ‘Blech!’ for Doctor Pinkie!”

AJ yanked the stethoscope away. “I don’t mean that!”

“Then what do you mean?” Pinkie’s ears folded back as the mare herself was coming up short. “Was it because they used to not be sapient? Is that it?”

A grumble from AJ. She stood up, got her hat. “Nevermind, Pinkie.”

She trotted away.

Pinkie sighed, finding herself alone in the Apple family fields. “Don’t make yourself bothersome,” she said to herself. “Stay cool and let her be.”

She hopped away in the other direction, brushing her teeth with her toothpaste-stained hair.

Before the Tuesday sun appeared to grace millions of inhabitants, Applejack had already gotten out of bed and opened the window.

A pink sky about to break into a dawn. Faint light was cast upon her bedroom, tinting all in a filter of periwinkle.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be sudden this time. Maybe it was all just a dream. One of the craziest and longest dreams, to be sure, but a dream she desperately hoped it was, so she raised her hand into view.

No, it was a hoof.

Applejack bit her lip, dawning on her that this was reality.

She turned her head to the door.

Out of curiosity, she pursed her lips and then snorted like a horse.

No, as a horse.

AJ closed her eyes and bent her head down. “Just like them.” She sighed. “This’ll take so much time to get used to.”

The dining table didn’t have much other than a huge bushel of apples. There were a couple more chairs crammed at the table, just enough to fit the Apple family plus their three horses which weren’t really theirs anymore. The only ones not present were Applejack and Granny Smith.

“Hey!” Cookie yelled, throwing her brown mane about. “Apple Bloom!”

The bow-wearing filly looked up, trying to hold back something. “What is it?”

“Remember when we took you and Applejack up the river?” Cookie said, grinning at cheerful memories. “Those were fun times we should have again! Except, you know, let’s trot beside each other this time!”

Cinnamon tapped her on the shoulder. “You should be more sensitive. Her whole life’s been turned upside-down,” then pointed at Apple Bloom’s eyes which were tearing up.

Big Mac noticed and pulled her into a hug.

Oakley leaned in to Cinnamon’s ear. “Did we just lose?”

“Lose what?” Cinnamon mouthed, perplexed by the cryptic request.

Then, two ponies trotted into the dining area: Applejack supporting Granny on her four frail legs. “There, there. You keep ‘em steady now.”

The elderly mare kept ‘em steady. Kept herself silent, too.

“Oh, hi, there!” Cookie yelled, galloping out of her chair with a buck that shot it at Oakley’s face—”Ow!”—and hugged Applejack, squishing her cheeks and making her hat fall off. “It’s so good to see you wide awake to watch the first ever magic sunrise! By your principal, no less! We’re going to sit on a hill, build white picket fences, and sing songs until we pass out! We got glasses, telescopes, even smores!”

With a groan that implied having practiced it before, Cinnamon levitated some pre-packed smores from under the table.

“You likey?” Cookie asked with a rapidly nodding head.

Applejack bit both her lip and her tongue. It all felt ridiculous. She couldn’t change back to a human, her whole family had turned into ponies, and her horses had gained wills so free, they could sprout wings any moment and take off to the sky...and all she got was a glorified sunrise show.

Which all made her say in disappointment, “Really?”

Everyone else gasped, surprised at such impoliteness.

Cookie frowned, her own eyes watering up and her lips shaking. “Wh-What’s wrong, Applejack?”

Now the spotlight was on the hatted suspect, biting her lip even more. “I...I-I-I—”

And before the farmpony knew it, it was nighttime. Having had bucking lessons from her other self was a tad weird, but if that’s how it’s done as a pony, then she should get with it.

At least Equestrian Applejack didn’t catch wind of anything out of the ordinary.

By the end of the day, half of the trees in Applejack’s farm had been de-appled, so to speak. Her hind legs were sore, but she had been assured that it was only normal for those just learning the move.

But now, she was just sitting inside their barn-like garage, helping herself to a mug of cider, feeling the fizz and that little oomph.

Tables of bucket flowers. Haystacks and stables draped with apple-design cloth. Burnt candles past their prime. Remnants of a couple hoedowns before, sticking around in a changed world.

Alone in the dark garage, she was whiling the night away.

Then, hoofsteps.

She looked up, putting down the mug and wiping her mouth.

Saw those three horses.

“What’re you doin’ here?” AJ asked, a bit shocked.

Cinnamon glowed her horn and flicked the light switch from far away, turning on the lights.

They trotted inside and closed the huge doors with a slam!

Cookie turned her head to Applejack sitting at a table, wearing a sorry frown. “We were getting very worried about you! You were working all day not talking to anyone at all except that clone of yours!”

“She’s not a clone,” Cinnamon corrected.

For the first time in her life, Cookie blushed. “Whoops! She’s that twin of yours!”

The unicorn smacked herself on the head, astonished by such ignorance.

“Just kidding!” Cookie said, backtracking from her blunder. Then, her frown returned, focusing on the miserable farmpony. “We’re just wondering...what happened? Was it something we said?”

“‘Cause if you’re not happy,” Oakley continued, putting a hoof to his chest and flapping his wings, “then we’re not happy, too. It makes us sad to see you sad.”

“And know that we’re concerned for you,” Cinnamon finished. “Apple Bloom did say you were such a workaholic, especially when you’re stressed.”

“Wh-What did she say?!” Applejack blurted out, almost knocking over her mug of cider.

Drops spilled to the table.

“We didn’t need her to tell us anyway,” Oakley said, hovering to her side and causing Applejack to look at him fearful. “We were there when you tended to the apple stand past midnight.”

“And when you tasked yourself with delivering apple pies to everyone during the parade last year,” Cinnamon added.

“And when you sharpened a hundred pencils for the kids!” Cookie yelled. “I was there! Like, really there! Brought me along—”

“We don’t need your life story,” Cinnamon cut in, holding her hyper friend off with a hoof to the cheek. Then, trotting with her to Applejack’s table, “What’s going on? In your head?”

The floodgates were being pried open in Applejack’s mind. There was the need, the want to let these horses into the family. They meant no harm, and they were lifelong friends of every single one of them. Laughter by the river, letting those horses drink and just having a good time as a family. Now, they were sapient, able to be on their level of thought and interaction. They’d be more than horses now. If that didn’t get them in, then what did?

But Applejack turned her head, avoiding their painful stares. Her heart trembled. She was right, stubbornly right even...but what if she was wrong? What if, somehow, letting them in was the wrong choice? One doesn’t just waltz into Apple family membership. Would it be too crowded? Would there be too little food to bring around? Nah, there’d be enough food, she thought; all she needed was a bigger table.

It could be that letting them would prove awkward for all. Even though they were friendly horses, they had been just horses up to now. Words echoed by, about how they can work an’ eat an’ love and that’s all there is to it for ‘em. A twist of destiny, then, for her to come back to Earth and find that her horses had transcended that description. They were now equals, Applejack and these three. She met them on four hooves, they met her with uplifted minds, complex desires, and all other kinds of quirks she’d never thought of before.

“Uh, are you OK?” Cookie asked, crashing her train of thought.

Applejack raised her forehooves to the air. “Who am I kiddin’? Ya’ know it! I’m scared!”

“Scared?!” the trio shouted together, looking at each other with startled expressions.

Applejack nodded and took off her hat again. “I know it sounds foolish, but hear me out. You’ve been with us Apples all this time. We fed you, took care o’ you, and in return, ya’ gave us lots of good times, forging friendships unlike any other. But, to be honest—” and winced at that, ears wilting “—it just doesn’t feel right to hear you talkin’ back, to listen to you want to go to this or that place because you’d wanna see how it’s gonna work out. To see you with real personalities...and I mean really real...I, uh, I—”

Oakley hugged her.

She was caught by surprise.

As Cookie and Cinnamon hugged her, too.

Didn’t question it but closed her eyes.

“It still feels weird for us, too,” Cookie said, snuggling her. “But why let it hold us back? Now that we can talk to each other like this, we can be even closer!”

“For the rest of our lives!” Oakley yelled, raising a hoof to the air and spreading his wings again.

Cinnamon merely giggled. “Better than being an ordinary horse!”

Taking in their words, Applejack hugged them tighter, letting the tears fl—

Barn doors opened.

“So, uh, I was told that I’d find you here!” the other Applejack said, picking up her lasso and putting it on her back. “Howdy again! I hope yer’ ready for your rodeo...lessons?” with ears standing up.

As she looked upon an Applejack she could not see beyond the three ponies hugging her.

Then, they gasped. “Rodeo lessons?!”

And let go of their Applejack, their AJ.

“Yes siree!” Applejack swung her hoof. “After I taught her bucking earlier, she was mighty interested in how to lasso, how to stack hay bales, how to steeplechase, how to hurdle jump—”

As she listed off the things to do in a rodeo, the three horses looked at AJ with snickering faces. The farmpony herself was now embarrassed, putting on a wide open smile that only showed off how anxious she was at being exposed.

“Looks like we got a guilty pleasure on our hooves!” Cinnamon announced, rubbing her forehooves in half-hearted evil. “Thinking being a pony’s all weird...look at you! You’re going to do rodeo stuff as a pony!” She then laughed, imagining her former owner weaving around barrels or lassoing dogs.

“Come on!” AJ yelled with a hint of shame, partially hiding her face from scrutiny. “I was tryin’ to get it out of my head!”

Applejack cocked her head to the side, skeptical about her self. “That’s nice, but we better get goin’, sugarcube. I’m wakin’ up bright and early tomorrow so time to make this quick in a lickety-split!”

AJ got up from her chair and adjusted her hat, putting it straight. “Then I’m all set!”

And one farmpony trotted to another farmpony’s side, the both of them headed outside.

“C-Can we watch you?” Cookie asked, galloping up to her.

“We promise we won’t bother you!” Oakley added, swooping in to AJ’s side as well.

Cinnamon brisked her way to the Applejacks. “And I’ll make sure these two will stay calm.”

AJ slapped the unicorn on the back. “Sure! Why not? I guess I got much of the shame out o’ my system now.”

All cheered as they ventured outside.

A month later, Sunset and Applejack were trotting down a sidewalk in downtown, the latter holding a lasso.

It hadn’t been a memorable day for her. In the morning, it was chores as usual—which she enjoyed, yes, but she still hadn’t quite mastered the art of holding a broom with hooves. Only after dusting and cleaning was done did she deem herself worthy for a champion’s breakfast which meant a hefty bowl of salad, a plateful of eggs and bread, and a tall glass of apple juice.

Not orange juice. Even though she was orange.

The rest of the day dragged on, although it was lightened up by her family. Big Mac had helped Apple Bloom kick trees until they gave up all their apples, Granny Smith had written down a new recipe for apple pie, and the Cinnamon Cookie Oak trio had taken their fortieth trip to the city to see the sights and meet the peo—ponies. Winona had been sent to Fluttershy since the dog was sick and the ordinary family remedies weren’t doing their magic, not that Applejack cared much for fantastical magic in the first place.

That left Applejack on a grocery trip, buying a couple of vegetables to add to their salad supply. She remembered meeting a rather generous Filthy Rich hoofing out equine versions of kitchen tools and appliances, fit for hooves and wings and horns and mouths. Not sure if it was the Filthy Rich she knew or the Filthy Rich from Equestria, though.

To present matters on the sidewalk:

“...so it’s a thing you’re really serious about?” Sunset asked. “This rodeo thing?”

Applejack nodded, tipping her hat. “It sure was a blast doin’ all those tricks an’ turns! Got me excited like a rat on a cheesecake-birthday!” She paused to hold in that excitement. “I’ve been meanin’ to join rodeo competitions, but I always had work at the farm...but now? Since I got these good friends o’ mine,” stretching out her hindlegs, “I’ve been finishin’ off these apples in half the time! That means we could have more apple trees and still have days to hang out wit’ all of ya’!”

Narrowed her eyebrows.

“And the rodeo, too.”

Sunset’s ears flayed as a car honked in the distance. “But how did I not know? I’ve seen the other Applejack visit a lot before, but she’s never told me about these rodeo lessons.”

“That’s because I wanted to keep it a secret,” the farmpony replied.

“You? Keeping secrets from us?” It was Sunset’s turn to narrow her eyebrows. “That’s not the Element of Honesty I know!”

Applejack tipped her hat again, this time a bit mischievous. “It’s for a surprise.”

“What surprise?”

Applejack inched closer to Sunset’s ear. “Ya’ see, I’m gonna invite everypony to the park this Friday night. It’ll be an Apple family-hosted event. ‘sposed to have ev’ryone soften up with bein’ a magic pony...but then, when everyone’s havin’ a good time, I’ll go to the pond’s edge and start my lasso tricks. Heh-heh!” She rolled her head back. “Whaddya’ think?”

Sunset didn’t notice that her mouth hung open. “Wow. To think that you weren’t all in on being a pony a while ago! You’ve turned a one-eighty!”

“Oh, I sure have!” Applejack said, stopping to cross her forehooves. “My time with the family—including our newest siblings—showed me that, when push comes to shove, we’re still us. I told my other self about it, and she told me, ‘Sugarcube, why don’t you give it a shot?’ so I gave it a shot an’ here I am!”

“Aww!” was what Sunset could say at that. Then, the secret came back to her. “Does anyone else know about the party’s, um, real purpose?”

“Jus’ you and the family,” Applejack said, overlooking some noisy but familiar rambling not so far out. Pushing her on the shoulder, “Though it’s your time to not share a secret.”

They laughed together as they trotted into the jewelry store to find two Rarities arguing over the last diamond in the collection.

Sure enough, come Friday night, the park was abuzz with bright and shining lanterns, food-laden-and-scented tables, and an open spot for mild west dances where, to the tune of fiddle-full country music, ponies showed off their horrible dancing skills.

Save, of course, for the ponies with cutie marks in dancing. They did fine, as they should be.

A good number of ponies had attended, contributing to noise pollution, but no one was sleeping nearby anyway. Twilight and Fluttershy danced, to floundering effect and a few mum mouths. Dash and Rarity drank a couple mugs of cider and ate some apple fritters, talking nothing about the weird world they were living in but about good ol’ casual topics—how Dash had spoiled the rest of the Daring Do series to herself via their Equestrian volumes, and how Rarity had a nice time learning how to sew pony clothes by her self. As for this dimension’s Pinkie, she was happily greeting newcomers despite not being an Apple, plopping party hats on each visitor.

Sunset, meanwhile, was sitting at an outlying table all to herself, enjoying the cider and the apple pie.

The questions she’d waited for came up:

“Where’s Applejack?”

“Hey guys, have you seen Applejack?”

“Is AJ missing?”

The party’s mood went downhill as the farmpony was nowhere to be seen no matter how loudly ponies talked. Amateur detectives rose to the call, but they soon rejected it when every nook and cranny had been inspected and not a trace of her was found.

“Yee-haw!”

Everypony turned to the pond.

And saw Applejack spinning two lassos with one set of teeth, spinning them in blurring circles while making swish sounds every millisecond.

Their mouths dropped.

Only Sunset kept calm, rubbing her forehooves at that sweet knowledge of secrets.

Applejack threw an apple into the air, caught it with one lasso, tossed it towards the pond, saved both rope and apple with the second lasso at the last second, deftly let the second one slip from the apple as the fruit flew straight into the audience—

Into Pinkie, knocking her down to the grass.

All gasped.

They looked at Pinkie.

Who had caught the apple by the mouth and was now munching on it. “Mm-mmm! Delicious!”

They looked at Applejack who had crossed her forehooves. “That’s how it’s done ‘ere, folks.”

Silence.

Then, everypony cheered at their new rodeopony. Confetti was thrown, friends trotted to her asking her how she did it, and, to further make Wallflower jealous, Applejack herself blushed.

“That’s the Applejack we know and love!” Cookie yelled, leading Oakley and Cinnamon to their former owner.

Their friend.

Sunset clapped with her hooves, happy to see the farmpony fully come to terms with her equinity.

Was tapped on the shoulder.

She turned around and saw the other Applejack with lassos on her back.

“She’s good,” said this Applejack, looking at her with an envious eye.

She balled up one of her hooves.

“Uh, Applejack?” Sunset blathered, sensing some hostility.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s gonna be in good fun.”

She took out a lasso and galloped into the party.

Sunset groaned, putting her head on the table. “Let the inter-dimensional rivalries begin, I guess.”

A Little Bit of Bread? Cheesy Love

There was something sensible in being the Princess of the Day or the Princess of the Night. They oversaw something tangible, something that could be seen and manipulated physically—OK, magically, but the magic was physical in a sort of way; it interacted with the sun and the moon plus the stars, things that were definitely tangible. As for the magic itself, one could see its glow, one could hear its twinkling, one could sense its warmth. It didn’t have a taste nor a smell—then again, some spells emanated such, whether for good or bad.

But being the Alicorn of Love? That was an enigma Principal Cadance had to wrap her mind around. It sounded so cheesy, it’s a title only to be heard in cheap fairy tales and lullabies.

Then again, her whole world had turned into a cheap fairy tale. She herself was a pink alicorn with a heart as her cutie mark—that reeked of cheesiness.

However, it didn’t matter if it was cheesy. This was reality and she had to deal with it, cheesiness and all.

In the days following the disaster, Cadance made few appearances outside, spending most of her time with the Canterlot High principals and their princess counterparts—including her own. It was weird talking to herself and hearing her own voice directed at her, not able to predict what that all-too familiar accent was going to say next, but it had been a rather profitable affair. Celestia and Luna had gotten some bearing over their magic and their new responsibilities—she was reminded of Luna’s first trip into the dream world. As for the one and not-so-only Cadance, she was thankful she didn’t have to rule over an empire of Crystal ponies.

Until she realized she did have to rule over an empire of Crystal ponies.

Reports had come from outside of Canterlot of a considerable number of ponies from the country’s northern regions, that they were translucent and looked like they were made of diamonds.

In the meeting, Cadance gulped and held on to her throat. “I’ve got to rule over an empire?” she blurted out with a groan.

The pink princess’s reply was a nod. “Your cutie mark refers to the Crystal Heart, which is central to the survival of the Crystal Empire and their ponies. I do not know if you have a Crystal Heart here, but….”

The one-to-one meeting turned sour from there on, Cadance phasing out the information flooded into her head. All of a sudden, the lives of tens of thousands of Crystal ponies she’d never known before were under her rule, a rule she’d never thought would be hers nor had she wanted it to be hers.

The princess then accompanied her in flight to those northern regions, surprised at her other self’s early knowledge about flight. Once there, Principal Cadance first noticed that it was a lot colder than she’d thought it would be. Item number two on the list was the population of Crystal ponies, seeing them right there and talking to her. They weren’t bowing down to her like how many others had bowed down to Celestia and Luna, but they changed their tone whenever the principal and the princess were within earshot.

What irked her the most, though, were the clean streets. Too clean, in fact, to be made of asphalt. A harder tap on the street made her doubts go away; these streets were made of crystal, too. A smoother, more malleable crystal to handle so many walking ponies and rolling carriages all the same.

“This really is Earth’s Crystal Empire,” the princess declared with a solemn note.

But the principal refused, closing her eyes and trotting backwards. “N-No! I don’t even know these ponies! I-I—”

History lessons came rushing back, making her silent before their testimony. She remembered that some villain named King Sombra had taken over Equestria’s Crystal Empire a long time ago. On this planet? A dictator with the same name had taken up the mantle of “King” and had tried to separate it from the country in a play for power. He’d lasted only one week, but that one week had been brutal to all who’d suffered under his reign.

This place? This was the Crystal Empire on Earth, bright and thriving with so many confused but learning Crystal ponies.

It didn’t help that a Crystal Heart appeared out of nowhere in front of the two Cadances while they were trotting down the street.

“Really?!” the principal asked, incredulous.

“Really, Cady.” Cadance then levitated the heart towards the Cady to let her inspect it. “The magic inside this heart is connected to you.”

Cady nodded, not wanting to make the connection between her cutie mark and the very similar-looking Crystal Heart.

“It needs you,” Cadance said. “Without you, the Crystal Empire will lose its magic and...well, I don’t know exactly what’ll happen, but it won’t be good.”

Cady took a step back, looking at her counterpart from top to bottom in skeptical scrutiny. “Is that a threat?”

“I...no. It’s not.” Cadance tugged at her long, curled mane. “But, that’s how it is. Without you, untold suffering will come upon these ponies.” Held her close, seeing Cady’s distressed face. “I know that you didn’t ask for it. Well, I’ll let you know that I didn’t, too.”

Cadance didn’t look her way. Instead, she looked down and saw her picture perfect reflection as an alicorn, as the Alicorn of Love.

No matter how cheesy that sounded.

Back in Crystal Prep, Cadance sat in her office. It was a luxurious place, spruced up in pink and blue since Cinch’s unceremonious departure. Musty bookshelves lined up the walls; at the back rested countless trophies and medals, telling the prestigious records of the academy.

They didn’t help her sleep at night, not now with a sigh at the table and a look upon the huge door.

In that empty room of floral scents and smells.

She’d seen no one in the hallways save for that one faithful janitor who mopped the floor despite being a pegasus. At least he could now mop the ceiling as well, though that did lead to some leakage problems and some wet heads.

Anyway: Cadance glanced at the papers and photos on her desk, these documents about the Crystal Empire in both worlds. Among them were letters written by her princess self concerning the peculiar nature of Crystal ponies. Their coats reflected light like crystals, their eyes shone in sides and not in ovals, and their appearances depended on their state of mind: if they were joyous, they would shine and probably blind someone; if they were gloomy, they looked just like any ordinary pony, possibly worse since they adopted duller shades.

Of course, one thing that kept bothering the principal was her title: The Alicorn of Love. The inexplicable make-ups by couples, finishing heated arguments in seconds—now it made sense to her. It was her magic at work...maybe too much work since she wasn’t thinking about it, not even conscious about it. Sure, she was somewhat prepared for it—her job as principal made her read a couple of relationship books. However, she hadn’t expected to read up on and practice love as a field of magic.
Magical love, huh? The thought of it made her want to shake her head and smile at how silly it sounded. Yet again, reality prevailed, and she reminded herself that she was this world’s Alicorn of Love.

“What am I gonna do?” Cadance said to herself, hooves rubbing her temples. “Not only do I have to help Crystal Prep and the Crystal Empire, I also have to keep my love magic in check! Not that maintaining marriages and engagements is bad, but—”

Knock! Knock!

Cadance lifted her head. “Strange. Isn’t it a Sunday today?” Then, she rolled her eyes, remembering that there’d be no classes this week. Or next week. Or the week after that.

Knock! “It’s me, Cady!”

Cadance galloped from her chair. Not taking the trouble to use her horn, she used her hooves to open the door.

Letting a white unicorn come in.

“Hiya’!” Shining said, grinning with a hoofwave and a hug. “Decided to drop by and see how you’re doing!”

He got his answer, alright, when he saw the forlorn face on his fiancé, blemished with downward lips and reflective eyes.

Shining let go of her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen during your trip to the Crystal Empire?”

Cadance nodded, rubbing her foreleg. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Tilting his head, Shining wasn’t stumped. “Let me guess. Principal and princess duties on your mind?”

Cadance nodded a second time, this time with heaviness in her movements.

Shining scratched his blue mane. “Being a love princess or something like that, too.”

The alicorn rocked her head back, moaning at the mountain of responsibilities on her desk. “She talked to me about it. Renewing relationships, counseling the married and the unmarried, checking up on certain ponies once in a while to see how they’re doing—that’s what it is. Plus the cool actiony stuff like magic force fields powered by love...” and laughed, imagining the two of them fighting monsters by kissing each other on the cheeks.

Shining chimed in with his laughter. “We live in a wacky world these days!”

Cadance looked down on the floor, half-expecting to see her reflection again. “Too wacky for my taste.”

That’s when he trotted up to her.

Cadance knew.

She hugged him first.

Shining’s ears folded, looking surprised. “Oh.”

Cadance snuggled him. “Thank you for dropping by, Shining.”

The unicorn flashed a smile, satisfied to hear those words. “I mean, if you need me, just give me a ca—” and backtracked, remembering that he couldn’t even turn on his phone with his big hooves.

Remembering her failures with her phone, too, Cadance rubbed her forehead, careful to not hurt her horn. “Yeah. About that....”

Then, Shining perked up, a sudden thought attacking him. “Are we supposed to be married yet?”

Cadance’s eyes went wide and she snatched herself away. “What?”

Shining’s cheeks flared red. “Their version of us...they have a baby already.”

The princess did her best to not react negatively—not with a punch and a kick, that is. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Just because their Cadance and Shining got married and have a baby doesn’t mean that we’re getting married and having a baby.”

“But it implies that we’re getting married and having a baby!” Shining retorted, trying to make his case airtight.

Embarrassed by her desperate paramour, she snorted, busying herself by ruffling some of the papers. “Come on, Shiny!”

But this cavalier would not budge. “Well, it raises the possibility of marriage, knowing that we get together in another world, right?”

The sweetheart teased him by batting her eyelashes, then turned her head away. “Eh, let me think about it.”

“You should totally think about it!” shouted Twilight.

“What?!” Cadance yelled, seeing Twilight enter the room with a happy smile on her face.

Twilight bounced around in joy, about to have hearts in her eyes while somehow balancing those glasses on her snout. “You two are the perfect match-up! Shining: my big brother best friend forever and a Crystal Prep alumnus and a nerd like me! Cadance: my babysitter and a principal and a love alicorn!”

Shining gulped, keeping his mane combed with his hoof. “Why’re you here?!”

“Oh, um, nothing!” The little sister scratched the back of her head with a hoof, now smiling out of her own embarrassment.

Cadance giggled, looking at a shiny smiling Shining as she trotted to him. “Ha-ha! This escalated quickly. The unusual visit, the talk about our other selves’ marriage and foal. Next thing I know, you’re going to give me an engagement ring right here.”

Shining’s eyes shrunk. His face sunk in sweat. His teeth and jaw clenched. His hoof reached for his mane.

Twilight opened her mouth agape, shocked.

Cadance gasped. “Wait! You’re really going to engage to me? Now?!”

Shining had a dumb grin on his face. He then took a ring out of his mane, this one a ring made out of crystals.

On a rollercoaster of emotions, Cadance covered her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.

Twilight, meanwhile, was hopping around in the room, laughing to herself at how her dreams were coming true.

Thus, Shining bended knees, ring on lifted hoof. His voice stood out and alone in this chamber as he began: “Cadance....”

News of the proposal spread like wildfire. While some questioned such a move in disaster’s immediate aftermath, many viewed it as a ray of hope, that life would indeed go on as normal with its proposals, its engagements, and its weddings.

Speaking of weddings, many mares talked up the couple’s upcoming marriage. They imagined standard wedding stuff: flowers, gowns, suits, ballrooms, carpets, food, and kisses. “I now pronounce you husband and wife” couldn’t come sooner for these folks, never mind the lack of any announcements.

Or the fact that a changeling queen had tried to take over the other Cadance’s wedding.

In the meantime, this world’s Cadance decided to put her rising popularity to good use. She did that by establishing herself as Canterlot’s premier love counselor, stationed at Crystal Prep while classes were out of session.

Most of the sessions ended well thanks to the princess’s tips and writings of her own experience as a counselor. It was awkward to have Night Light and Twilight Velvet over, considering that they were the parents of her spouse-to-be, but their honest admission that their love’s gone dry over the past year spurned Cadance to help them.

Her office wasn’t open to only married couples, though.

One day, Big Mac and Sugar Belle entered the principal’s—no, the love counselor’s office.

A dozen heart balloons, a hundred perfumed flowers decorated the chamber, and one red carpet greeted the two inside

Cadance was seated at the table, horseshoed-forehooves clasped on the desk which had some flower vases on it.

The couple gulped as a couple, nervous together in harmony.

Breaking the ice, Cadance gestured to the two seats in front of her desk. “You’re free to sit down!”

So the couple sat down, slowly.

They looked at each other, blushing at the other’s sight handsome or beautiful visage, symbols of the perfect pony surely right before their eyes—so they thought.

Cadance stuck her tongue out as she rubbed her hooves together, preparing herself for half an hour’s worth of counseling. “OK, where do we start? Is there a problem or do you want some tips?”

Big Mac raised his—

“Actually,” Sugar Belle started, levitating a picture, “I’d like to know if gifting each other drawers is a bad sign.”

Sure enough, the picture showed two drawers side-by-side.

Cadance blushed despite her cheeks already being pink. “Aww! It’s not a bad sign at all! Just the opposite!” She paused, leaning her head to the side in cute thought. “Did you gift them at the same time?”

“With the same gift wrapping!” Sugar said, nodding her head and shaking her curly mane.

Cadance felt a fuzzy feeling in her heart. “If that’s so—”

The doors opened.

Showing a couple mover ponies bringing in a heavy full-length mirror into the room.

Cadance held up a hoof towards the couple. “Sorry, but hold on. This will take a minute.”

She hovered to the mirror, lifted it up with her magic as it glowed blue, then placed it beside a bookshelf, neatly tucked away from plain sight.

“Here’s your book,” said one of the movers, hoofing her a book which had her cutie mark etched on it. “The Crystal Empire side is ready.”

“Thank you,” and Cadance placed the book by the retractable platform protruding from the mirror, then blasted it with a blue beam of magic.

Blinding light enveloping all sight.

When it subsided, she was faced with a swirling mirror, hearing the fermenting whirl of the twirl.

The mover ponies wiped their foreheads collectively, glad they didn’t disappoint a princess this time.

“You’ve done a good job today,” Cadance said, closing her eyes in a cheery smile. “Have a nice lunch break!”

After the movers left, Cadance closed the doors, cast a spell upon it, and listened to the knobs lock with a crack!

The couple, having seen this principal perform unheard of magic feats, placed a hoof on each other’s shoulders, bracing whatever was next.

Cadance waved a hoof about. “Oh, don’t be afraid! I’m only locking this up because this portal’s very important. If it lands in the wrong hooves, we’re doomed.”

Both her recipients were unwilling to ask at first. Then, Sugar Belle taking center stage once again, “Where does the portal lead to?”

“Our Crystal Empire,” Cadance replied. “I can’t abandon my responsibility over it, but I also can’t leave my post as principal, at least not without a trained successor. For now, I can use this portal to go back and forth between these two places.”

Big Mac just smiled, approving of the idea in his head.

Cadance sighed, went into relax mood with a rotating stretch of her neck, then settled down on her seat. “So, back to your love li—”

A flash from the mirror and a Crystal pony appeared, panting and gasping for air. “Princess! The Crystal Heart has a blemish on it and we’re getting snow for no reason!”

Cadance jumped out of her chair. “We need to bring Sunburst—no, both Sunbursts!”

Big Mac and Sugar Belle stood up from their chairs, yearning for the door.

The alicorn noticed that. “Well, if you want, you can, uh, come over…? When we’re done with this problem, you can spend a date there and we’ll continue from where we left of.”

The Crystal pony half-closed his eyes, wondering why Cadance was so calm.

Sugar hemmed and haw—

“Eeyup!” Big Mac said.

Cadance smiled. “And you, Sugar Belle?”

“We don’t have much time!” yelled the Crystal pony. “You made it sound like it’s no good!”

“Then enjoy your honeymoon!” Cadance blurted out, becoming confused.

Then, she giggled to herself, knowing how cheesy that line sounded—and how cheesy she would end up sounding as she looked forward to the many budding relationships in the future.

All four ponies rushed into the portal.

Leaving the love counselor’s office empty with a magically swirling mirror.

Outside the office, sitting on the benches beside the door, were two yellow pegasi in armor, watchful over such a royal and crystally hallway.

“Tell me why again?” one Flash Sentry asked.

The other shrugged his shoulders. “Extra job.”

Where There's Smolder, There's Fire

“Wait, my dog’s glowing? Why?!”

“Everyone, stand back!”

And the glow disappeared.

As an orange dragon stood up on her two legs, head throbbing at the pain as she scratched it with her claws. “Ugh. Did I m-miss anything?”

She rubbed her eyes then opened them, re-seeing the motel room they were in. She saw, in that room, the friends of her master all turned into a variety of creatures: Silverstream the hippogriff, staring at her with a mouth as wide as a couple apples; Yona the yak, shivering at being before a real life dragon; Gallus the griffon, keeping his distance by backing away.

Sandbar, the pony closest to her, put up his defenses by laughing nervously before shouting, “D-Did you just talk?!”

Smolder the dragon furrowed her brows. “What?”

Silverstream gasped, putting a claw to her beak. “She did it again!”

“Did what?” Smolder asked.

Then, she gasped, too, realizing what she just did.

“What?! What’s happened to me?” She looked around, frenzied in swinging her head around. “What’s going on?!”

“You became a talking dragon,” Gallus said matter-of-factly though now backing up to the wall.

“T-Talking?! Dr-Dragon?!” Smolder put her claws on her face and then rushed over on four le—no, two legs and two claws to Sandbar. “Don’t you worry, Master! I’ll still keep you safe until we all turn back to normal!”

Sandbar bared his teeth, puzzled by such an obedient dragon. “Uh...OK?”

Then, Smolder yelped, feeling the pain in her head. “Agh?! Wh-What’s—”

And Sandbar wrapped a hoof around her, not knowing what to do. “Are you alright, Smolder?! Are you OK?!”

As the rest inched towards her, taking quiet steps to not disturb the dragon nor to break the vases and the lamp.

Smolder then nodded, a cool and minty sensation coming down on her head. “Y-Yeah…?”

Gallus sighed, glancing at the clock on the desk. “OK, we have to drive to Canterlot now. Staying out in the open’s no good.”

“But what if Canterlot is burning?!” Silverstream yelled, thinking about an entire city up in flames.

“Canterlot is n-not burning,” Yona spoke up, voice shaky against her broken grammar. “Canterlot has m-magic ponies. Ponies keep c-c-city safe.”

Sandbar then proceeded to bite his hoofnails.

Gallus raised a brow. “Alright, but do we still have to pay for room service?”

“I’ll pay!” Sandbar yelled, rushing to the door and yanking it open, almost breaking the knob. “Smolder, everyone! Let’s go!”

So everyone rushed out of the room, leaving it unkempt and messy.

The trip back home was a long one, lasting the rest of the afternoon and running well into the evening—it was during this trip that they’ve received the news about their world staying the strange way it is, with no way to turn back to their old human selves (and dog self for Smolder). When they reached Canterlot at night, they found Yona to be right for the most part. A few fires raged on, but a couple of pony firefighters from Equestria had come to the rescue, spraying the blazes with their hoses from their fire wagon.

After agreeing to spend the night at their respective houses to take care and be taken care of, they parted ways, all wondering about Ocellus’s whereabouts. Perhaps she was staying at her house, too.

Sandbar and Smolder said nothing on the last stretch home. They saw a couple of their friends in new forms, mostly pony ones, struggling to walk, fly, use magic….

Spitfire almost crashed into them, veering back up with her wings. She screamed an echoing “Sorry!” at her would-be victims.

A doorbell later, Sandbar was back in the embrace of his family, all of them having turned into Earth ponies. He was overwhelmed with an unending string of questions—”Are you alright?”, “Are your friends safe and sound?”, “Is that thing Smolder?!”

“Yes, Mom,” Sandbar said, pointing at the dragon who waved at them.

All Smolder could muster was, “Uh, hi?”

That was enough to make the mare faint.

The father could not help but chuckle at his wife’s predicament. “She gets turned into a pony, figures out her magic tricks, but it’s a talking dragon that does her in. Like she doesn’t even remember when we watched The End of Dragons II!”

Sandbar made his nervous laugh once again, wondering how his Dad was taking this all so easily.

He looked at his baby sister, now a foal trotting around and looking at him with those cute eyes.

The father looked her way, too, as he pondered on what she might be thinking now. After that bout of thought, he looked back at Sandbar and placed a firm hoof on his shoulder. “Well! It looks like you’ve gotten over the pony blues hours ago. In case you’re hungry, there’s some canned carrots and corn in the fridge.” He then noticed his son’s hooves. “You know how to open fridges with those, right?”

Sandbar took a step to the side. “Practice makes perfect!”

“Good, good,” as the father smiled. “Always looking at the bright side.” Then, turning to Smolder. “As for you...I really don’t know!” His smile turned into one of desperately looking for advice to share. “We now have a pet dragon, and it doesn’t feel right to have you as a pet since, uh, we’re now animals and other creatures.”

The tone of that statement made Smolder shudder. “A-Are you...are y-you’re releasing me?”

Sandbar gulped, too, staying by her side and giving her half a hug.

“It’s your choice,” said the father, putting a firm hoof on Smolder, too—weirded out by having to give a pep talk to a former dog. “You can go out on your own, or you can stay with us as part of the family. Either way, you can talk, and it turns out you’re quite smart. In fact, all the dragons we’ve met were quite smart.” The father laughed nervously, proving that the nervously laughing apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. “You can live your own life, th-that’s what I mean.”

And those words stuck in Smolder’s mind as Sandbar led her to the dining table, mindlessly walking her way there and sitting down on the wooden chair.

As for dinner, it ended with Smolder eating canned salad sprinkled with Mom’s earrings, much to the pony’s surprise after she woke up later that night.

Past five A.M. Tuesday. The day after the disaster.

Sandbar groaned, tired despite having a full night’s rest. He untangled himself from his blanket and got out of bed, trying to use his legs to reach the floor.

Reminded he was a pony when his hindlegs were too short, making him fall with a thud!

“Agh!” and rubbed his hurting hoof. “Ouch! That’s not good!”

“Let me help you!”

Sandbar arched and gripped the claw. “Thank y—Smolder? What’re you doing up so early?”

In the darkness, Smolder was holding up a lit matchstick, casting a glow around her. This light revealed her pensive frown. “I’ve been thinking.”

Sandbar still rubbed his sore hoof, easing the twinge. “Thinking about what?”

Smolder sat down on the floor, keeping the match aflame with a little fire wheeze—making Sandbar muffle a scream with his pillow. “That’s the thing. I’m thinking.”

Knowing where this line of thought was headed, Sandbar sat down—or, well, tried to, bending his four hooves but hurting a joint or just looking awkward. Smolder watched him try to sit down, until, finally, he got into a comfortable enough position, his hindlegs scrunched and his forelegs rested.

Only then did he simply ask, “What’s bad about it?”

Smolder tipped the match to the side with her thumb, trouble clouding her judgment. “Everything’s bad about it.”

“Why?” asked a bewildered Sandbar, raising both forehooves to his cheek. “Don’t you like thinking? I mean, you and me, doing stuff together like true pals! If you can think like me, you can imagine all sorts of cool stuff!”

“Yeah,” Smolder said with a listless tone, rubbing her scaly orange elbow. “I can do that and it’s pretty cool, but,” throwing her claws down and opening her wings, “it’s a lot to think about. I-I can’t just run around like the dog I used to be, obeying your every order.”

She stood up, looking him down with that faint match in her claw. She noticed the flame flickering, so she kept it alive by blowing another breath of fire onto it.

Looked into his eyes with hers, her razor dragon eyes mirroring the burning brightness before her fanged mouth.

“I need your orders, Sandbar,” her voice rising. “Doing my master’s bidding is what I’ve been raised up for, and if you just let me go—” threw her claws limp in the air “—what’s the use?”

Having finished her short speech, she sat back down, holding on to her match.

Sandbar looked down at the wooden floor, ignoring the little fire. He wasn’t worried about his former pet burning his house down. Instead: “But don’t you like being free? Being able to do whatever you want?”

“Yeah...that freedom scares me!” Smolder trembled, hugging herself in fear. “So many questions, so many choices, so many responsibilities—it’s like a sand box but made of quicksand! Wh-What if I make a choice that makes you angry or upsets you?”

Sandbar raised his hoof to pat her on the head, but he refrained. That wouldn’t help his point. “You don’t have to think about me all the time, Smolder. You can think for yourself and that’s fine by me!”

“But what if thinking for myself isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?” Smolder proposed, passing her match from left to right. “Like I said, what if I anger you or upset you? I don’t want to see my master disappointed in me...I-I don’t know if my heart will survive seeing you sad because of me.”

That’s when it hit Sandbar.

The time when he bought her from the pet shop over half a year ago. When he introduced the fiercesome canine to the family. When he took her out for her first walk in the city. When she did everything he told her—to sit, to roll over, to play dead, whether to see her loyalty or just for fun.

He remembered her as his best friend, just as any dog should live up to the title of man’s best friend.

Then again, the best could be made better….

“Actually?” Sandbar began, standing up, “I’m so happy to see you grow like this!”

He hugged her.

Caught by surprise, Smolder gasped, then cut the gasp short to avoid singing his mane. She slowly pat him on the back in that awkward embrace.

“You were great as a dog,” Sandbar continued in his laid-back accent, yet sounding bolder than before. “But there was always something missing. You didn’t understand me a lot, I certainly didn’t understand your barks and ruffs. I couldn’t bring you to no-pet zones, you couldn’t really enjoy parties because it was just me and my friends, and there’s tons of other stuff we couldn’t really do when you were a dog.

“But now?” He pulled himself a little away, just enough to see Smolder’s quivering face, trying to form a semblance of a smile. “Only time will tell how awesome we’re gonna be together!”

Smolder choked, gripped her throat, trying to stop the tears.

She pinched the match, snuffing the flame.

In the darkness they hugged as she cried.

Sandbar the master, no more. In his place left Sandbar the friend.

As the light slowly turned on, the curtains no match for the rising sun.

The days after were fun ones. The family of ponies was spiced up with the new yet not-so-new dragon, their former dog now able to participate in dinner chat. She even chimed in with her own albeit naive opinions on whatever was the headline at the moment.

Where did they get their headlines? The television, though most channels were decommissioned for the time being; also, the ponies had to practice using a remote with no fingers—they were a little envious of Smolder who could use, flip, and spin the remote with ease. When that pony difficulty was gotten over with, they could watch what was left of the networks which were the news and the emergency messages channels, the latter being automated instructions via robotic-sounding voices. As for the former, they proved to be a comedy show as reporters, cameracreatures, whoever’s on the street—all these fumbled and bumbled on screen. In particular, the whole family laughed at a couple of arguing changelings completely ignoring their jobs as reporters. The debacle ended when their boss, a deer, trotted in and told them all to be quiet.

Outside, as Canterlot was recovering from the catastrophe, Sandbar and Smolder often walked side-by-side. They met many of his other friends, most of whom had turned into ponies like him. Among them was Twi who was busy instructing new unicorns in the art of casting spells—oh, and there was Sunset, too. The prospect of meeting this pony as her old pony self was intriguing since it led to an enlightening discussion on how ponies lived.

They also met Equestrian natives who had arrived on Earth through the portal. One of them was Princess Twilight Sparkle who was on break, cooling off at a coffeehouse. The encounter was an amiable one even if short.

“Hey there!” Twilight greeted as Sandbar and Smolder entered the establishment, a steaming cup of coffee at hoof.

The place was, first and foremost, a cozy and homely coffeehouse. Courteous baristas despite their new pony bodies, paintings and tumblers despite many of them being out of hoof’s reach, comfy furniture despite the chairs not suited for quadrupeds—all this were surrounded by the strong pervading aroma of freshly brewed coffee. An energizing scent she’s rediscovered, Smolder’s eyes dilated at the smell of it. She rushed over to the open bags of coffee beans by the counter, cupping the seeds in her claws and inhaling their enticing scent.

Sparkle giggled, seeing the tag-along pony go to her side. “You’re Sandbar and Smolder, huh?”

Both pony and dragon gulped at hearing their names. “How’d you know?” they asked together.

The alicorn rolled her eyes in a smile, nudging her coffee away as she spun around on her swivel chair. “You know how there’s two of me? You have your Twilight, student at Canterlot High, and then you have me, Princess of Friendship.” She glanced to the side. “Wow, that sounded arrogant!” Then, turning back to them, “Our world has a Sandbar and a Smolder, too!”

Sandbar stepped forward, eager to hear more about his other self. “Do you know them?”

“Know them? Pfft!” and Sparkle twirled a hoof around. “I teach them!”

“...teach?!” pony and dragon yelled in unison.

Garnering suspicious looks from the other customers there.

Twilight rolled her eyes again, now at the casual disturbance. “I’m here to help your world out, not to self-advertise. However, I also run the School of Friendship and your Equestrian selves study there.”

Smolder raised a finger to get her attention. “I was born a dragon there, right?”

Twilight nodded. “That’s right!”

Smolder made a fist out of her claw, inspired. “That would be so cool! Meeting a real real dragon! C-Can we go?”

Sandbar let out a long “Ugh...” in order to prompt her away from that idea.

To give herself time to think, Sparkle took a sip of her coffee. She put the cup down, wiped her mouth with her wing, then said, “I’d love to, but every country here’s already having a hard time with, um, change.” Sweetening the mood like the sugar in her beverage, “But I promise you, I’ll do my best to ensure convenient portal travel within the year...or something like it. That a deal?”

Sandbar and Smolder nodded, silently agreeing.

Then, the entrance opened, ushering in a familiar cast of characters for the Earth pony.

Sandbar turned his head and stopped breathing for a second. “Guys!”

Gallus, Yona, Silverstream, and Ocellus waved their forelimbs at him, Yona being more than polite enough to close the door.

“There you are!” Silverstream screamed, swooping in to attack Sandbar with a hug.

Gallus flew over to the enthusiastic hippogriff. “Slow down! We wouldn’t want you to hospitalize him, too.”

“It was an accident!” Silverstream argued, smiling with confidence in her version of events. “Besides, he wasn’t hospitalized! He was put inside an ambulance!

“...to be hospitalized,” Gallus cut in.

Ocellus flew over to Sandbar and yanked him out of the hug, leaving Gallus and Silverstream to quarrel for a while. “After this, you want to go and volunteer with Sunset? I’m gonna go assist the changelings here and the others will help out their own species!”

“Sure! Why not?” Sandbar moved past Ocellus, towards the counter. “Just let me bring Smolder.”

The dragon, meanwhile, had watched everything from afar. Seeing Sandbar suddenly hugged somehow didn’t stir up the passion to defend him. In fact, she felt...happy?

“Eh-heh, uh, Sandbar?” asked Sparkle from her chair. “Is it OK if I talk with Smolder for a while? You know, dragon things?”

“Yeah!”was Sandbar’s quick reply before being carried by his friends, swinging onto a table in noisy chatter. “But come back when you’re done, Smolder! You’ll be missing a lot!”

With the alicorn and the dragon to themselves, Sparkle tapped the empty swivel chair to her right. “Sit here.”

Smolder did so with a flap of her wings.

Twilight blinked at the former dog’s flight ability. “Righty! Looks like you’ve gotten used to your new appendages.”

Smolder spread them out again, showing those scaly wings off. “Cool, no? They’re kinda’ neat. Flying around...it’s much better than staying on the ground!”

“Good!” Twilight looked up wishfully, flapping her wings at that. Maintaining that cordial face, “Anything else you’ve noticed about dragons?”

“Like what?” Smolder asked, tapping her fingers around on the table. Boredom was settling in already. “I already know they can breathe fire.”

Twilight had the discipline to not look irritated. “That’s very obvious. I mean,” gazing upon a chatty Sandbar at the table, mingling with his diverse friends, “anything else?”

Smolder caught that glance and looked Sandbar’s way. “That we can still eat meat but ponies can’t? That’s why he didn’t eat any meat pizza last night.”

“Um...correct?” Twilight mumbled to herself something unintelligible, then: “But it’s not the answer I’m looking for.”

Smolder scratched her chin, frustrated at being quizzed so soon. If only she had homework to eat—but she didn’t need it anyway because she then said, “Dragons live longer than dogs!”

Sparkle’s ears folded, heart pounding. “A-Almost there.”

“Why live for just ten years when you can live a hundred with Sandbar?” Smolder even brought Sparkle into a hug of her own, excited at being with her best friend for a lifetime. “That’s an extra ninety years of aliveness! We’ll be friends ‘till the day we die!”

Sparkle then nudged the cup away from sight before escaping the dragon’s tightening grip. “OK, uh, let’s put it this way.”

She cleared her throat and coughed, took a sip from her coffee a dozen times, wiped her mouth with both wing and tissue paper, combed her mane with a brush, and scribbled something on a notepad.

Trying to stall for time.

But an impatient Smolder was what she got, seeing the dragon with crossed arms and bobbing legs, aching to get out of the chair.

Thus, the alicorn gave in. “The truth is: You’ll be friends with Sandbar ‘till the day he dies.”

Smolder raised a limp finger. “What?”

Sparkle pursed her lips, tempted to stay quiet by drinking more coffee. “Dragons live longer than dogs...and ponies. He will live longer than the average human, but he’ll peter out before three hundred—if he stays ridiculously healthy. Dragons themselves?” She rubbed her forehead, pained in thought. “They have lifespans reaching to the thousands of years.”

She pointed a wing at the group of friends, sitting by the table with their own coffee and their own food.

“Out of them? Your best bet is Ocellus. With a consistent source of love, changelings are projected to last just as long as dragons. The rest of them have about the same odds as Sandbar.”

Smolder bit her claw, submerged in mental agony. “So...h-he’ll go first?”

The princess found nothing else to say. She thought of reasons and explanations, of sweet and sugary words to soothe her, but she settled for four words: “That’s how it is.”

Saw Smolder droop down, her back bending to a hump. The dragon looked down at the counter with aimless eyes.

“I have to tell you now,” Twilight said, trying to sound in control—she knew she was losing it. “You seem so close to Sandbar that I thought you either didn’t know it or you’ve accepted it. I know you’d figure out in the next few weeks, but...the earlier, the better.” Looking off towards Sandbar. “The better, the readier.”

Smolder looked off his way, too.

“I know you’re quite loyal to Sandbar, but you’ll have to learn how to move on.” She rubbed the counter with her hoof, flustered that there was nothing else to do in this clumsy conversation. “You wouldn’t spend millennia crying over your master, would you?”

Smolder rubbed her arm, seeing some reason. “Yeah, I guess so, but it’s just so...deep, you know? I don’t wanna think about things like death.”

Sparkle smiled at the dragon’s innocence. “You can talk about it with Sandbar when the time’s right. You got a whole different kind of friendship now,” and, once more, pointed at Sandbar and his laughing friends—all caffeinated.

Thunk!

“Here’s some coffee,” Sparkle announced, levitating an extra cup to her.

Smolder held the hot beverage with her claws. “Aww, thanks! A gift from a princess! Woo-hoo!”

“Be careful! You may not like the taste of—”

“Hey guys!” Smolder declared, flying towards Sandbar and pointing at the cup. “Look what Princess Twilight gave me! Free coffee!”

And the whole coffeehouse was abuzz at this act of generosity. Surely, the Princess of Friendship would do such a thing, being a paragon of harmony.

This paragon, however, gulped and turned away, hiding her face from the crowd and contenting herself with her cup of coffee. She was last heard muttering, “I just want my coffee!”

Put Your Best Hoof Forward in One Camp

Camp Everfree had been saved thanks to the magic feats of a couple high school teenagers. The sibling-team of Timber Spruce and Gloriosa Daisy had been pretty thankful, even hosting a party to celebrate the save. On those days, the future seemed bright, so bright that both brother and sister constantly took selfies of themselves wearing sunglasses. Their posts on social media exuded gratitude, sometimes that of the plucky kind. Then again, when a family heritage was given a new lease on life, what else could they do but look cool and be thankful?

As time went on, though, they’d realized that fundraising activities might not be enough to secure their place long-term. It didn’t help that being distant and secluded meant being off the radar of trade, missing out wads of much-needed cash.

However, with the help of both Canterlot High and Cadance-led Crystal Prep, the camp had received a consistent flow of money. Coupled with the occasional trips given to out-of-town schools and tourists, it seemed as if nothing could go wrong.

Well, no one expected being turned into ponies so, technically, nothing went wrong.

The dense forest was lush and beautiful under a chirping of symphony of birds perched on pine trees galore. Clouds drifted above, a few adventurous pegasi pulling them about to perfect the sunny weather. The lake, with its clear and crisp fresh water, rippled by the rolling wind. Far-away mountains vied for attention, completing the vivid landscape of peace, tranquility, and serenity.

Three months after the disaster led to Timber, a brown Earth pony, watching her sister, another Earth pony, manipulate vines and stems merely by touching them. They bent and curved at her will, grooming a newly-painted Welcome to Camp Everfree! sign by the road.

“You’re sure you got the poison joke under control?” Timber asked, bushy eyebrows furrowed and narrowed. “I saw some blue flowers floating by the pond.”

“Don’t you worry!” said Gloriosa, turning her head to his. She fixed the daisy garland on her head. “I got this, remember?”

“Uh...maybe?” Timber didn’t want to remember the other times she said that catchphrase of hers. Those other times were memorable for her trapping a class inside the forest.

Gloriosa hummed a gentle tune, magically grafting a few tulips and some roses onto the vines and the sign itself. No saws, no parafilm, no knives. All she needed was her hoof and her magic. The result was the plant connecting itself to whatever plant or surface she directed it to.

Then, whirring up yonder.

The siblings looked at the road, seeing a bus come along in the distance.

It was a vibrantly colored bus. Sky blue color, rainbows painted on, a variety of familiar symbols like diamonds and sparkles and butterflies, some purple window tint and four golden rims….

It screeched to a halt right beside the two.

Gloriosa screamed and jumped into Timber’s forehooves, the brother carrying her sister with ease.

The door opened, revealing Sunset Shimmer at the wheel.

Gloriosa smiled anxiously. She jumped off her brother and landed on the grass, not noticing the grass slightly bending towards her. “Oh, it’s you! I didn’t know we had a concert today!”

Sunset hopped off the driver’s seat, trotted down the little stairs, and met them on the ground. “Nah. We won’t be able to play for at least one more week. Rainbow and I still need to get our guitar skills back.” She spun her hoof around in circles. “It’s hard to strum chords with no fingers.”

Gloriosa wiped the sweat off of her forehead, also wiping the garland off of her ears. “Goodie!” as Timber put them back on her. “I thought we had you booked a day earlier. I was about to tell you we weren’t prepared at all!”

Timber placed a hoof on his tense sister. In an attempt to get her mind off of bigger matters, he asked Sunset, “What brings you here? Camp doesn’t start until tomorrow.” He craned his neck to see the bus’s empty inside. “Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“They’re still busy with getting everypony up to speed,” Sunset began, closing the door. “Twi’s in Equestria, borrowing some magic literature for the new unicorns. Pinkie and her Equestrian self are doing a baking drive for the ponies who still can’t cook. Fluttershy is talking with the dragons who used to be dogs. Rarity is helping Starlight Glimmer distribute hoof-friendly items to make everyone’s lives easier. That leaves Dash with sustaining good weather.”

“Wow!” Gloriosa exclaimed, eyes wide open in a happiness that looked fake. “So productive!”

Timber laughed that off. Then, half-whispering to Sunset, “She’s in the middle of decorating the camp, if that explains anything.”

Sunset then looked at the welcome sign with its vines, its stems, and its pretty flowers. “Woah. I knew you had some nature powers but not like that!”

“It’s like Gaea Everfree!” Gloriosa said so innocently.

Timber and Sunset stared at her with confused heads.

“Come on, guys!” she said before breaking into a long bout of laughter.

They still stared at her, now bearing her troublesome howling.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Hah? Hey, can’t you take a joke?”

Sunset then broke a smile for her, trying to lighten up the mood. “At least you can talk about that...incident so casually.”

Timber rolled with Sunset’s plan. “Yeah! That’s, uh, very good! Nice to see you...improve!”

“Don’t pretend!” and Gloriosa nudged him on the shoulder. “I know I’m doing my best not to stress out. It’s still a problem, but I’m trying!”

Sunset nodded, pleased to hear about the improvement from Daisy’s mouth. “That’s good, considering you probably turned into a pony with no context.”

“It turned out very well!” Gloriosa said with a nonchalant hurl of a hoof. “Timber was the first who screamed like a girl.”

The stallion in question turned his face away, hiding the blush on his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s had some experience with magic, not me!”

Gloriosa giggled. “That’s no excuse, Spruce.” Leaving Timber be, she continued with Sunset: “In his defense, he can make lots of cool stuff if you give him an axe, a saw, and a knife. Plus enough logs. He’s even made a wooden sculpture of himself back at camp!”

Sunset shot a knowing glance at Timber who planted his forehooves on the ground, making his stand there with the grass. “Real subtle.”

“She’s the older one!” Timber said, playing the blame game now. “Therefore, I compensated!”

Always-been-a-pony Sunset relaxed her shoulders, taking in such good news from them (aside from Timber’s sculpture). “I’m glad you two didn’t have a hard time. I’m surprised you’re still excited about the whole magic thing.”

Gloriosa took off her garland for a moment, now a couple trees’ branches swaying her way. “I hope I still stay excited over it, Sunset. Some students might be scared that I’m using Gaea-like magic, but it’s just me, your friendly camp and nature guide! This time, I can guide both camp and nature!”

The three laughed at the pun.

When the humor faded, Timber rubbed his chin, peering at Sunset. “You didn’t answer why you’re here, though.”

Sunset briefly glanced back at the colorful bus. “Just checking up on you. Maybe chill for an hour, chill away from Canterlot and all the stress of handling two dimensions.”

Gloriosa then put her garland of daisies on Sunset’s head. “We’re not so different today.”

Wanting to see how she looked, Sunset trotted to the bus’s side view mirror. She saw those little daisies adorning her head, making her face gleam with a brighter shade of yellow.

“Thanks, Gloriosa!”

“My pleasure!”

With that, the three of them entered the bus and drove off to the camp.

The camp itself looked much like it was since the Gaea incident. The dock had been fixed for the fourth time and it stayed that way. The lodges and the watchtower remained, the nature walks were still nature walks—it was tough to ruin those anyway—and the rock climbing wall was still in tip-top shape.

Sunset took in the fresh forest air, breathing in with a loud snort. “Just as good as ever! How’d you do it?”

Timber ruffled up Gloriosa’s mane, only to have his face poked by her hooves. “Alright, alright!” Turning to Sunset now as they stopped at the main clearing, “She’s done much of the work after we both found ourselves ponies. Took us a while, but—” clicked at Sunset and pointing a hoof at her, striking a snazzy pose with a shiny grin “—your videos helped a ton!”

Sunset wanted to tell him how incompetent he was looking. However, in an ambitious effort to be polite under such trying circumstances, she just said, “I only did what I had to do. Princess Twilight would’ve done it if I didn’t.”

Gloriosa nodded, agreeing that her ambitious effort had ousted Timber from the sphere of relevance for the time being...but back to the conversation: “After we got the basics down, I slowly realized that I had a connection to plants...a magical connection.” She paused for dramatic effect, looking down to see the grass slightly bending towards her. “Plants were gravitating to somepony, and that somepony was me! Timber just screamed more when he saw me grow some onions in just ten minutes.”

Desperate to save face, Timber did save it for later. As in, he turned it away again to hide his embarrassment.

“It went up from there on,” she said while using her hoof to turn him back to the talk. “I could make plants grow fast if I concentrate hard enough, make vines and roots appear in an instant, and tell you almost every detail about any flower just by sight and touch. Not that I needed the last one, but who knows?”

Sunset laughed at that one, thinking of Gloriosa the Walking Botany Encyclopedia. She then turned to Timber. “And you?”

Timber scratched his head, unaware that he was rubbing his beanie. “It has to do with trees.”

Sunset crossed her forehooves, lowering her eyebrows. “So, it isn’t that impressive?”

“Hey!” Timber halted, pawing the ground with his hoof. “My sister has flamboyant magic. I have deep magic!”

Sunset made a toothy grin. “Because trees have deep roots?”

“OK, fine!” Timber said, throwing his hooves up in surrender. “They’re not the best, but I can use trees to my advantage. I can make all kinds of stuff out of timber. Heh.” He took off his beanie. “You might as well just stamp my name on ‘em all! They don’t call me ‘Timber the Dreamer” for nothing!”

“That’s because they don’t call you that at all,” replied Gloriosa.

And the two mares laughed at his expense.

“Can you give me a break, girls?” he moaned as they trotted to the lakeside lodge.

After a good hour or so, Sunset left the camp with high spirits and a smile on her face. They saw her drive off into the, well, sunset.

A sunset that was obscured by the tall pine trees, the overcast sky, and the mountains far away, but it was still a sunset nonetheless. At least the world had taken on a dull orange tint.

When evening came, the siblings were helping each other array the camp in yet more beauty. Timber had his knife, his axe, his saw, and his Earth pony magic to fashion logs of wood into many objects: fences, chairs, tables, boats, miniature houses, and another sculpture of himself to satisfy his ego. Gloriosa decorated these with plentiful additions—or, as she said it, “plantiful additions”—of vines and flowers to give it a more mature and aged feel. They shared loud laughs, corny jokes, and dear memories from when the world still had humans.

When the work was done, they trotted to the dock. There, they could hear the swishing of the lake, the breeze of the water’s wind as the ripples sailed with no sail. At the end lay an idle fishing rod and a bucket of bait, a note written on it saying, Thanks for the fish! - Your friendly siren, Sonata Dusk

They turned around, seeing the lush and wonderful camp of warm lodges, wooden tables, dedicated gifts, wooden sculptures, simple tents, open grass, and beautiful woodlands stretched out for miles and miles; there seemed to be no end for these glades of fresh air permeating the camp.

Their camp.

They sat down on the docks, their hindlegs hanging off above the calm water.

“So...tomorrow’s the big day,” Timber began, breaking into the symphony of hundreds of crickets nearby. “How do you feel?”

Gloriosa took off her garland a second time, putting it on the dock’s planks. “Nervous. Very nervous.”

Timber looked off to the mountains across the lake, their peaks reaching high. “Me, too. First day of operations as ponies. At least they’re those nice CHS students.”

“But you know it’s optional,” Gloriosa said. “No one’s obliged to come.” She looked down at the water, seeing her reflection—that freckled pink pony face. “At best, we’ll have the Rainbooms and the principals, and I-I’m not even sure if those two will come over. They have their diplomacy, their meetings, their…” pointed at the moon, “this!”

“At least we have someone coming,” Timber said, trying to reassure his distraught sister. “I don’t think camping trips are high on anyone’s priority list right now.”

Getting the unsaid reason why, Gloriosa kept her head low. “Yeah.”

Silence, listening to the rise and fall of tiny rippling waves.

“Whoever’s coming,” Timber said, putting a hoof on her sister’s shoulder, “let’s make it the best day of their lives.”

She lifted her head up, looked at the caring eyes of her brother, still so familiar despite the change.

Timber pointed a hoof at her, still trying to look so cool. “You got this, right?”

Gloriosa wanted to laugh at her goofy brother. Instead, she copied the pose and pointed a hoof at him. “Yeah. I’ve got this.”

And they looked up, seeing the twinkling little stars.

The next day was a Saturday, the perfect time to go on a camping trip.

Against all odds, Gloriosa and Timber waited at the camp’s entrance, standing by the dirt road. They waited, staying alert for any sound that an automobile could possibly make. Timber debated about just watching out for hoofsteps since it’d be hard to drive with hooves. However, Gloriosa pointed out that Sunset was able to drive a bus with no problem, not to mention that Sunset wasn’t born a human anyway.

They waited some more.

Gloriosa was bored so she caused a few roots to form and create a bush. She snapped off an outlying branch and hoofed it to Timber. “You do something with that.”

Timber received it, now holding his namesake once again. “You’re quite thoughtful today, sis’.”

“Are you saying I wasn’t thoughtful yesterday?” Gloriosa asked in a menacing tone, darkening her features as roots came out of the ground.

“Uh, n-n-no!” Timber shouted, yielding to her older sister.

Gloriosa bit her lip, holding off an incoming burst of laughter as the roots went back underground. “Loosen up! I was just joking!”

Timber said, “Yeah! Gr-Great way to let o-off some steam!” though, inside, he feared the day when Gloriosa would snap and rage.

They waited some more, the brother making a muffin out of wood and the sister inspecting the flowers she’d picked off the path.

Finally, they heard noise.

Humming, whirring noise.

They looked up from their work.

Two buses were approaching. Canterlot High’s school bus rolled in its typical yellow paint. Trailing behind was the Rainbooms’ flashy vehicle.

Timber raised a brow, taking a step back and being a little scared. “OK, I wasn’t expecting a full house!”

Gloriosa clapped her forehooves, not noticing a daisy sprouting out of the ground beside her in joy.

The buses screeched and stopped.

Doors flung open.

Passengers streamed out of the buses, bringing with them a dozen saddle bags and a lot of chatter, gathering on the road.

The siblings bumped each others’ hooves, speaking silent “Yes!”’s at a mission accomplished.

Then, two ponies galloped to them.

It was Sunset and Twilight.

“Surprise!” yelled the both of them, raising their forehooves together.

Gloriosa and Timber just stood there, the latter blushing and the former about to shed a tear with a choke.

“We wanted to bring all of Canterlot High here,” Sunset said, “so we did!” Scratching her hear,“I guess we need a redo of camp since, you know, we weren’t ponies the last time...anyway, you’ll be surprised at what ponies can do to a forest!” and pushed Twilight forward.

After swallowing a gulp, Twi continued: “But it’s not just CHS!” She jerked a hoof behind her, hinting at five ponies unfamiliar to the siblings. “I convinced some of my old classmates from Crystal Prep to come along!”

“You’re still gonna regret this!” shouted Indigo in the distance.

Only for her to be shushed by her classmates.

Gloriosa gave up and allowed a tear to fall to her cheek. “Thank you, all of you!” Pulling Timber in for a hug, she squished his face in it, showing her love for him even though he was getting crushed that way.

Twilight then looked down at Gloriosa’s hooves and saw two daisies sprouting up. “Agh! Gloriosa! There’s—”

“Chill, Twilight,” Sunset said. “Didn’t I tell you about her talent?”

Twilight pursed her lips. “Oh.”

Then, Sunset remembered her brilliant idea. Talking to Gloriosa now, “Hey! Have you heard of Wallflower Blush?”

“...who?” Gloriosa asked, releasing Timber from her grip and dropping him to the ground.

Crushing those daisies, but that’s alright since another pair grew beside them.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Sunset said, mentally berating herself for forgetting to mention Wallflower yesterday. “She’s an Earth pony like you. What’s cool is her knack for the more, hm, exotic specimens of nature.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, growing excited at meeting a like-minded pony. “Does she cultivate heliconias and calatheas?”

Twilight turned around and saw Wallflower approaching with her saddle bags. “Not exactly.”

Wallflower Blush trotted her way to Gloriosa. As is tradition, she blushed. “Uh, hi! You must be Gloriosa Daisy, right?” while looking awkwardly at the bending grass and the swaying tree branches.

“Right-o!” Looking at the saddle bags and trying to hide hidden jealousy in her smile, “I guess you have a sample of those exotic plants Sunset’s talked about.”

Wallflower smiled, too, though unnerved by the moving plant life around Gloriosa. “Uh-huh!” and she opened one of the bags and took out a line of potted plants and jarred produce.

And so, with bubbling enthusiasm, Wallflower went on a rambling speech about each of them: This fiery red rose was a Phoenix Rose; once burned, it will spark back to life. This rainbow-colored apple was a Zap Apple, a very rare and a very delicious variety of the popular fruit (though she’d never tried one yet). This yellow and glowing ten-leaf clover not only lights up dark places, it also makes anything it touches glow for ten days. This one, too….

Gloriosa frowned. Seeing these exotic magic plants dimmed her mind. Sure, this forest wasn’t anything like those found in the tropics, but it was still hers. What if Wallflower was going to start owning it at least metaphorically, if not literally? Her plants would be the talk of the town, and then—

“Agh!”

And Gloriosa snapped out of it, noticing roots taking hold of Wallflower’s mane.

All the chatter stopped.

Wallflower screamed, flailing her hooves about.

Knocking a pot of lavender flowers to the ground.

“I’m sorry!” Gloriosa yelled, retracting the roots and putting them back into the ground. “I’m—”

And the flower popped open with a poof!

Purple smoke and powder wafted out and spread to their noses.

Gloriosa and Wallflower fell to the ground and slept, snoring.

Everyone stared at the sleeping mares awkwardly, silence reigning over them.

“What a good morning it is, everypony!” Timber shouted as he jumped in front of them, hiding the dozing ponies from sight. “Welcome back to Camp Everfree and, please, let me escort you inside...inside the outdoors! Follow me and keep your eyes on your cool and awesome substitute camp guide!”

With that, mutters rose as everyone else did follow and kept their eyes on their guide.

Leaving the Rainbooms to deal with two knocked out Earth ponies.

Fluttershy was the first to reach them. She then asked, “So, uh, what do we say to them when they wake up?”

Twilight clattered her teeth. “That i-it was a big misunderstanding?”

Sunset sighed. “We’ll see. We have to get them to the cabin.”

“Without getting seen by tons of ponies?” Applejack asked.

“It’s doable.”

Settled on the matter, they tip-hoofed their way into camp, carrying sleeping Gloriosa and Wallflower with them.

A.K. Yearling and the Derring-Do

If someone’s careless enough, they’re bound to leave something behind: a wallet at a restaurant, a phone at a school, an airplane ticket under the mattress.

What about when humanity leaves something behind all at once?

Two weeks after the magical disaster, Princess Twilight Sparkle had brought Starlight Glimmer along to meet a changed Professor Fossil, all visiting a museum.

The Canterlot National History Museum was heralded in silence for the most part, letting the artifacts and the sculptures and the trinkets speak for themselves. Dinosaur fossils, miniature reconstructions, millennia-old pots and vases, black-and-white photos, aging acrylic paintings—the list went on. These were accompanied with the usual warning plates: Don’t touch and Don’t take pictures. Tending to these precious relics were pony guards in armor standing at strategic locations in the museum; several pegasi were flying their patrol routes.

The visitors sat at the only table in the section as a pair of pegasus guards flew by. It all smelled a mixture of fragrances, jazzing up the luxurious silence observed here under dim lights.

“...and you and your team’s tasked with preserving human history here?” Sparkle said. She had eyed the Renaissance-era paintings on the wall, seeing realistic vistas of rivers, mountains, and oceans under a blue sky. “I’m impressed! You must be honored to have such a distinction.”

Fossil, a gray Earth pony growing lean out of age, adjusted her glasses. In a posh voice that sounded like it belonged to a museum, she replied, “It’s not much work. We already have places like this and the libraries, too.” Putting a hoof to her hollow cheekbone, “I would like to take pride in it, but we are only continuing our job as we should be." Her ears folding back, "It’s overrated now. ”

“I don’t think it’s overrated,” Starlight countered, as if she had a bold conviction, making a rousing speech. “You’re safeguarding the human era. Without ponies like you, everyone would just forget their past," gesturing towards the preserved instruments section filled with violins and guitars saved from extinction. "It’ll be like they’ve been ponies all along!”

Fossil nodded, taking in that devoted sentiment. “Yes, yes.” Scratching her green mane, “Still, archaeology has grown passive since all our fine equipment has been rendered unusable for at least a month.” A pause, sharpening her eyebrows in jealousy, glancing a little to the side. “I envy the unicorns and the pegasi among us. They aren’t limited by these fingerless dead ends,” as she whirled her forehoof around.

“Did you watch Sunset’s video on it?” asked Sparkle, levitating one of her backup phones from her bag on the table.

“A million times.” Then, the professor signaled her to stop taking the phone and put it back inside. “I can hold items like cups and boxes, but it’s not enough to perform delicate operations. It'd be hard to use measuring tape or brush off dust without breaking the object.”

Starlight aimed her eyes up, thinking through what the professor had said. “Good point."

Sparkle cleared her throat, bringing both pairs of eyes back on her. “Have you tried asking our Professor Fossil for an extra archaeological kit?" the princess offered. "She’s pretty kind!”

Fossil groaned. “I have to talk to myself in order to get by, hm?”

“Eh!" Sparkle raised one shoulder with no stress. "It won’t hurt!”

Then, wingflaps as Derpy hovered inside, a bag of mail slung around her torso as she approached the table.

Everyone watched her as Derpy reached them, took out a letter from her bag, and whispered to the princess's ear, “For you, Your Highness!”

“Why, thanks!” Sparkle said with a smile, taking the letter with her hoof and ripping the envelope open.

Derpy waved as she flew out. “See ya’ soon!”

And she was out of sight.

Fossil and Starlight were quiet as the princess read the letter.

Sparkle mumbled the words, eyes straining a bit under the museum’s dark lights. In her mind, she was locked a bitter fight against doctors, choosing to block out their advice to read under good lighting.

The fight didn't last long before she forced the letter back into the envelope, and chanted “It’s her! It’s her!” while yanking Starlight along as she zoomed away with the paper.

“Wait!” Fossil cried out, galloping out of her chair. “What about—”

It was too late. She was alone in the museum.

Not really since there were some guards, but she felt alone.

She smacked herself on the head. “You silly ponies!”

Fossil even shook a balled up hoof at her absent enemies.

At the Castle of Friendship, Twilight was pacing around on the floor, Starlight sitting on a chair.

The interrogation room was austere in its appearance and atmosphere. One table, a couple of chairs, and a fridge full of bottled water and snacks, all under one light glowing from inside a translucent crystal—hese gave off a drab feeling, though a small portrait of the Princess Sisters softened the mood.

Or made it worse, if the interrogated was a criminal.

“What about you spill the beans, Twilight?” Starlight asked, ears flaying at those constant shuffling hoofsteps. “Who’s coming?”

Sparkle spun around to face her with a, ahem, sparkly smile. “You know how excited I am!”

Starlight tilted her head a bit, both surprised and confused. “I…don’t?”

The eager princess bit her lip, froze her hooves on the ground, and dropped herself on another chair, sipping in some water to gargle before swallowing. “I know I’m not supposed to be so excited because she's a victim of the change, and it’s not exactly the same pony, but...eee! It’s—”

The door eee’d open in a creak.

Sparkle and Starlight turned to see their much-anticipated guest.

A cowled, shrouded figure. Head lowered to hide her face in shadow.

Sparkle clapped her hooves in rapid succession, jumping like a giddy filly. “Eee!”

Had her ear pulled by Starlight who shouted in a whisper, “Keep it together!”

So Twilight giggled, cleared her throat, turned to the figure and closed her eyes so as to effect a regal air. “You have come to the right place, A.K. Yearling!”

The stranger heaved a sigh of relief and closed the door with her hindleg. She then lifted the cowl from her head, revealing her coat of light gold and her mane of grayscale rainbow. She had some glasses on along with her pith helmet and thin scavenger's shirt.

“I have to admit,” Starlight began, placing a hoof on her chin and examining her looks, “you’re a dead ringer for our A.K. Yearling.”

The visitor shook her head, taking off her hat. “That’s because I am A.K. Yearling!”

Sparkle then moved to the side, doing damage control already. “Well, why don’t you take a seat?”

“Thanks, but I’ve already slept,” Yearling said, rubbing her eyes behind her glasses.

The princess looked at her odd. "But I didn't ask if you wanted to use a bed."

"I've been sleeping on things worse than chairs lately," Yearling said. "I consider them a second-rate bed nowadays."

“OK..." and Sparkle kept looking at her.

Awkwardness settling in, each pony looking at another.

It was Sparkle who broke the silence: "So, what’s the reason for this super-duper important and super-duper secret meeting?”

“It’s not supposed to be ‘super-duper’ secret,” Yearling said, her voice getting gruffer. “The truth will come out no matter what I do,” and, despite her words seconds ago, she slumped down on a chair, resting a forehoof on the table. “Can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m…” suffering, struggling to push the words out of her throat.

And changed course, showing a smile. "But first, what if I told you that I'd just returned to civilization?"

Both Equestrians yelped, “What?!” almost falling off their chairs.

The writer's smile turned crooked, clasping her forehooves like an evil mastermind. “Exactly. Now I got you hooked.” She placed a hoof behind the back of her chair, straightening up her posture. “Always start with an arresting first sentence.”

Yearling was right. The princess and her former student took up chairs and gathered around her, ignoring the poor table left alone.

“Let me confess something upfront," and Yearling pulled her chair up, closer and closer to them.

They were now huddled up in a tight circle. The door was locked, there were no windows, and the crystal walls were thick, but her parnoia didn't abate.

"I’m not just an author...and before you two say anything about it” eyeing the both of them with a glare, forehoof arched on a knee, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably thinking I actually do unexplainable exploits, avoiding death traps and stealing treasure from magical temples.”

"Because you have Ogres & Oubliettes for that?" Starlight asked, smirking.

Yearling chuckled. She pointed at that smug unicorn. “I like your attitude! What’s your name again?”

“Starlight Glimmer,” she disclosed, narrowing her eyes down. “You can come visit anytime and we can hold a game night of O&O. Oh, and we can invite both Twilights just to make your mind spin!”

Sparkle merely giggled, checking herself from gushing out in joy. Instead, she maintained that regal air and said, "If our schedules make it easy, that is!"

"Yeah," Yearling sitting up on her seat. "A game night some time, yes...now, where was I?"

Getting back to where she left off: Oh, right. My secret.” She put her hat back on, indifferent towards the heat she’d brought upon herself. “It isn’t much. I’m....”

Both ponies leaned in, unwilling to let any word slip away from their ears.

"...an archaeologist."

Yearling spread her forehooves, the secret now out. “There. That’s it.”

Both listeners blinked, astonished by how mundane the mystery was.

“Uh, why is that a bad thing?” Starlight then asked, shaking off the above astonishment.

“I could say the same thing myself,” Yearling said, briefly scolding herself. “There’s a part of me that’s embarrassed to admit it. Maybe I liked seeing ponies think of me as some writer with a couple archaeologists as fact-checkers. I was also teased back in middle school for liking ‘dead stuff’,” and snorted like a horse, “so you have that.”

“Which means your stories are based off your archaeological digs?” Sparkle asked right after, leaning her head ever mroe forward to listen better.

“Yes,” was the blunt reply. “They're embellished to become gripping adventures. Take away the traps and the villains, change the names of the characters, tweak the treasures—viola! You have a barebones narration of my latest archaeological finding.” Took a pause to breathe, not minding curious Sparkle as the princess rubbed her forehooves in waiting. “The real ‘stories’ get published to an historical institute for the record books. The artifacts go to different museums under their real names. I publish the novels, people gobble them up for its complexity and relatability. Everyone's happy—the end.”

Yearling sat there self-satisfied, taking her hat off again.

“That still doesn’t explain returning to civilization and what not,” Starlight pointed out.

Yearling shook her head, her smile only growing. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Then again, look who’s talking.” She pointed hooves at the both of them. “You better believe me.”

Sparkle and Starlight gulped and fixed their posture on their chairs to have the most efficient story-listening experience.

Yearling tapped her pony ears. “It was a Monday, right? That afternoon, I was riding an airplane over the Samhach Ocean, headed to Puerto Caballo for my next dig and my next book. Then, all of us glowed white. Next thing I knew, I was a pony with wings and everyone else were all sorts of different fairy tale creatures!” She shuddered. “I thought it was some nightmare until someone accidentally opened the emergency exit. My wings got caught in the wind and out I flew, spiraling away until I fainted.”

Sparkle gasped. She was biting her hoofnails until Starlight tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Keep it together, Twi. She's still alive.”

After making sure that Sparkle was assured of her being alive—turned out it was just how she'd narrated it—Yearling continued: “When I first awoke, I was in pain but, surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad. No serious scars, no immediate need for medical attention. Took me a good minute to get my eyesight clear.

"First thing I saw was a sign telling me I was back on the continent, but...it was all different to me. Flowers moving on their own, crocodiles made of rocks, bats colored and shaped like fruits." She blinked fast. "I-I believed I’d been transported to some magical dimension!”

“You’re not wrong, though,” Starlight said with crossed forehooves.

When Yearling caught what the unicorn was really saying, she smirked back. “I should have the O&O session with you sometime.”

Starlight shot a smile at Sparkle. "Pretty much guaranteed. You have me to thank for."

Sparkle blushed, tilting her head and making a cute smiling face. "You don't have to do that!"

“May I?" Yearling snapped, glaring at both giddy Equestrians. "I've already had more than enough time here."

Once given her peace, Yearling coughed. She rotated her helmet around, trying to get back to the swing of things: "How long did I stay in the jungle? Ten days."

A pause.

"They were the worst ten days of my life. Not only was I a talking flying pony, I had to survive some sort of sentient jungle with weird plants and freakish wildlife. The only thing I had was a knife...didn’t even risk holding it with my teeth." Glanced at the side. "No cellphone, no flares, no flashlight—those were in my emergency kit that fell into the ocean.”

As she recollected her thoughts, she remembered her adventure more. The close calls on rickety bridges, high cliffs, and falling trees caused by timberwolves...“What if I stayed this way? What if I’m stuck like this forever? And that’s if I got out of this jungle alive. No one would know about my fate if I died right there.” Then, whirling her hoof around in a circle, her voice rose: “But despite all that, I held on to hope. Maybe—just maybe—if I got out, there’d be someone who’d turn me back to normal.

“So I pushed on. Fought beasts and monsters best described as fantastic. Three-headed chimeras, spiders that could fly, manticores exactly like the ones my Aunt used to tell me at night. It was crazy stuff. Can’t believe I really fought them,” and gave herself a complementing chuckle.

She unfurled her wings, spreading them out for the Equestrians to see. “I also kept telling myself that I had these. Might as well use them just in case, right? So I practiced." Pointed at a spot where a few feathers were missing. "Got some minor wounds from crashing all over the place, but I got better when I started to really fly.” She winked at the princess. “You could tell that Sunset mare that I was self-taught."

Sparkle nodded. "I'm sure she'd like to hear it straight from you! Pegasi like you learning on their own is kinda' rare."

Yearling folded her wings. "Well, I'm just glad I came through in one piece."

Raising her head to command some attention, the writer continued: “Uh, let’s see...right, right: After ten days, I encountered a clearing. Then, a road.” Her smile widened, the sheer joy of being one step closer to safety coming back. “All I had to do was follow that road and I’d bump into someone or, better yet, a town! But, then...."

She groaned, taking off her glasses to let her hooves cover her face in shame.

Bruised and wearied after a long time in the jungle, A.K. Yearling kept following the road all the way to the closest sign of permanent, settled civilization:

Mareami. The City of Charms, home to the baseball-playing Mareami Unicorns.

Fitting, wasn’t it? Considering that, now, the market’s charms were actually magical and the entire baseball team being made up of unicorns....

But Yearling didn’t care for Mareami’s lush plants nor its crisp waters nor its warm climate nor its sandy beaches. The first thing she did was fly around in the neighborhoods, asking what was going on and why there were no humans in sight.

All it took was one shout and a thrown newspaper for her to catch up on everything. As it turned out, it wasn’t just her and the people in the airplane and the residents of Mareami. It was everyone in the world who’d transformed into these magic creatures. The worst part? There was no way to fix it.

Yearling responded to the news by sitting on the grass of someone’s front yard, putting on a stare that looked off to a thousand miles, and left her mouth hanging open in utter dismay. She clutched the paper, gripped it as hard as she could, holding on to it as if for dear life. Haunted by the thought of being a flying horse for the rest of—

“Daring Do?!”

Yearling swung her head to the left, seeing a galloping brown stallion wearing the same shirt as hers. Even got the mane’s colors right.

“Wait...A.K. Yearling?!” shouted this mysterious pony as he came up to her, crossing the street. “I-Is that you?!”

The writer’s ears perked up, recognizing the not-so-ratty voice. “Wh-Who are you again?”

"Qui-Quibble. Quibble Pants!" He raised both of his forehooves up. "You know...your self-proclaimed Number One Fan?"

Yearling blinked and her surprise was gone. "Oh. You."

Quibble took a step back, still in awe of seeing his idol as a pony just like him. “But, no...it’s n-not possible, but it is you! You even got wings!” and looked at his torso, lacking such appendages.

“What do you mean it is me?” Yearling said, perplexed by such a happy attitude. Then, pointing at him and barely calming down, she raised the newspaper and yelled, “OK, c-can you tell me anything else about this magic, this change—whatever?!”

Yet Quibble wasn’t paying much attention to her words. Instead, he was inspecting her up and down. “B-But...those clothes, and the bruises, and—”

“Yeah, I went to a jungle and fought monsters, thank you very much!” Yearling lashed out without a second thought, kicking up some dirt with her hindleg.

It was Quibble’s mouth that hung open now. “Did you just…?

Yearling flicked her tail, annoyed. “What?”

“A-Are you telling me…” gulped, “you’re Yearling and Daring Do?!”

“What’re you tal—”

“Are those stories real?!” Quibble said, stepping back farther, now on the road. “I mean, minus the soft fantasy stuff...but still?!”

Yearling threw her pith helmet. “Look, I c-can explain!”

“You didn’t deny it!” Quibble shouted, jumping to certainly the only plausible conclusion. “I went to ponyland to get acquainted with myself, saw who their A.K. Yearling was, read a bit of their Daring Do books, so I know what she looks like as a pony!" Mouth agape, now opening and closing like a goldfish, "A-Are you also...Daring Do?!”

“Not exactly, but—”

“...and here I am,” Yearling said, hooves on her head. “To be mobbed by those who recognize me, and that’s without thinking of my other fans in this world.” She slouched on her chair. “No peace. Wish I hadn’t kept it a secret.”

With the whole story told, Twilight and Starlight looked at each other, speaking to each other by just raising and lowering their brows.

Starlight then nodded.

Giving Sparkle the green light to say, “I’ll see what I can do, Miss Yearling. I can use my authority to clear the air once and for all, even if it means having to use their online video services.”

Yearling sighed and smiled. “Thank you.”

She stood up to leave, heading for the door.

And then she was gone, too.

"She's...less reclusive than our Yearling," Sparkle observed with a hesitant tone. "I mean, before we got to her and helped save the day that one time."

Starlight then levitated a game box of Ogres & Oubliettes. "Let's do a practice one-on-one session. I want to experience what makes it so great for Discord."

Sparkle gave in, albeit wondering why Starlight mentioned DIscord of all creatures.

A.K. Yearling would go on to attend press conferences, no matter how disorganized they were with all the not-so-usable equipment for these new ponies. Their old reliance on hands became apparent when an argument broke out right before the writer’s eyes: a hippogriff finally got tired of being patronized “just because I got fingers and you don’t!” and lunged at the first pony she saw.

Barring that, Yearling maintained a stiff upper lip, letting slip not a single flaw on her features as confused reporters asked about her “secret identity” as Daring Do. To that, she replied along the lines of, “No. It’s just my archaeologist nickname. That’s all.”

When the buzz over her was done, her free-flowing mind rolled to potential outlines for the next novel. None of them weren’t fleshed out yet, so she thought of going to the next available dig site which was scheduled to be in the town of Somnambula.

It was currently infested with a case of parasprites.

While she was assured that Sunset and her friends were gathering instruments to combat this enemy swarm, Yearling didn’t feel so easy about the rest of the world. What if they had faced similar problems or worse?

And then her secretary came over to her house. Some movie deal was in the works.

“...I get that you’re a creative guy, Canter Zoom,” Yearling said over the table, “but don’t you think you’re going overboard?”

She sat in Sweet Snacks Café, seated near the corner so as not to be heard. A look around saw most of the pony customers eating hay burgers, their delectable scent drifting to her nose.

Canter Zoom, a light brown Earth pony, sat on the other side. Gesticulating a lot with his forehooves, “It may sound way out there, but these changelings would like to be involved in our next movie!”

Yearling’s reply was a stressful rub of her forehead, doo-wop music blaring from the old-time jukebox.

Rule the New School of Thought (and Magic)

The pitter-patter of hard rain smacked against the windows of the Twilight manor. Waterdrops splattered on the panes, only to be washed away by their successors that’d only last for a few seconds. The wind was howling, the plants were bending, yet several spunky pegasi stayed outside, directing the currents elsewhere.

Twilight herself sat on a comfy chair inside, levitating a glass of water. Open before her was today’s issue of The Canterlot Daily. The big headline news, printed in big bold letters, was SCHOOL BOARD: EQUESTRIAN SCHOOLS AS TEMP SOLUTION. Under it was a composite picture of two schools, the first being Canterlot High with its recognizable walls and its glaring lack of a statue. The other was less familiar to her, taking on a medieval-esque architecture; this one was Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

She looked up from the newspaper and turned to the calendar on the wall.

Instead of days crossed out, it was one continuous line cutting through the weeks. While there were notes about get-togethers and trips with friends every so often, there was one big phrase at the bottom of the entire thing:

No classes until…?

With a waste of breath, she returned to the article.

….”I’m amazed by Earth’s speedy recovery,” Princess Celestia said. “However, we’re willing to open our hooves to those willing to continue their education as soon as possible.

“There are many schools in Equestria, some of them woefully under-attended. I’ve spoken with several teachers on the subject and they’re more than happy to help Earth during this crisis.”

The Equestrian Exchange Program, so called by the princess, was—

Interrupted by a Knock! Knock! at the front door.

“Huh?” and then Twilight got up from her chair, gently putting the glass down. “Who’s that?”

“It’s me! Sunset!”

“Wait, what?!”

She galloped to the front doors, almost slipping thanks to her briefly forgetting how to gallop. Veering back up, she glowed her horn and opened the door without a hoof touching the handle.

The storm blaring with its crashing showers, Sunset stood under her floating umbrella which was glowing red. She did not have a jacket on her; it wouldn’t be long enough to keep her tail dry anyway.

“Come inside!” Twilight coaxed, stepping aside and giving way to the not-that-wet pony.

Sunset closed the door behind her with her magic. She closed her umbrella put it inside a cover, and hung it on a rack. Before Twilight could get the towel, Sunset levitated it to her, drying her tail and cleaning the slippery floor.

“Decided to come over here,” she said, snapping her tail to draw out the last vestiges of water in her hair. “Was in Equestria for a while, talking with the princess about the program.”

That prompted Twilight’s ears to stand up. “What program?”

“The Equestrian Exchange Program,” Sunset replied, taking a few steps forward to be by her side. “It’s a working title.”

Twilight gasped. “I was just reading about that!”

“You were, huh?” with Sunset cocking her head to the side, intrigued by the coincidence.

The pleasantries over, the two unicorns trotted to the living room where Twilight had left her newspaper and water. It was a cozy place, housing a couple bookshelves for brain food, a piano and a television for entertainment (though all the DVDs were documentaries about astronomy), and dozens of framed pictures showing Twilight and her friends having good times together.

As humans.

“Where’s everypony else?” Sunset asked, noting the manor’s eerie silence against the backdrop of pouring rain.

“Mom and Dad are visiting their cousins in Neighbraska.”

“Isn’t traveling still a little dangerous?” Sunset asked, irises shrinking at the thought of their parents confronting whatever magical beast came their way.

A chuckle escaped Twilight’s mouth. “You see, they know it isn’t exactly safe, so—get this—they invited my other self’s Mom to accompany them!” She ended up laughing and slapping Sunset on the back which made her spit out the water she was drinking from her water bottle.

After Sunset wiped her mouth and made sure Twilight wasn’t going insane, she shrugged. “Does she think Earth is a death world?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “If ‘death world’ means bungee jumping, canyoning, and paragliding, then she’s right at home here!”

Prompting the both of them to laugh.

Sunset put her water bottle down by the DVDs. “I’m wondering why you didn’t go with your parents.”

“Simple.” Without seeing the newspaper at all, she folded it up nicely via magic. “They wanted us to join, but I opted to stay so they’ll spend less money during the trip. They invited Shining, too, but he’s still sleeping upstairs,” pointing at the ceiling.

Sunset made a mischievous smile with pursed lips. “Reading all about the Power Ponies, huh?”

“All thanks to the other Spike,” Twilight said, turning her head towards the window with its distorted view of the outside. Then, just to be sure, she shouted, “Spike, where are you?”

“Over here!” came his voice as he ran to the room with a bowl of Equestrian gems drenched in chocolate sauce. Under his shoulder was a folded comic book. “What is it, Twi?”

“Oh, nothing!” Twilight said with a shake of her hoof. “Just wanted to see if you’ve gotten sick or not.”

“Nah!” Spike yelled, shaking his head and putting his claws on his hips, confident in his health. “I’m gonna be fine, but thanks for asking!” and ran back to the kitchen, holding bowl and comic in both claws.

Once the footfalls vanished, Sunset looked out the window, too, not able to see much.

“I still can’t believe those gems are quite cheap,” said Twilight, trotting to her side. “To think they’re imported from Ponyville’s caves! I’ll be getting a sweet bargain with the gems right here!”

A funny scenario came to Sunset’s mind. “I can see it now.” She raised both forehooves to the sky. In a loud and exaggerated accent, “The fall of the diamond industry! Replaced by feeding dragons!”

And both ponies laughed at that absurd picture, seeing rich ponies throwing their necklaces and brooches to hungry dragons in some arid wasteland.

When mulling over that sketch was done, Sunset and Twilight sat on the floor, resting their four hooves and sitting like horses as the weather intensified. It threatened to trap them indoors, but then more pegasi appeared. Above the squall of rain came shouts and orders.

“So,” Twilight began, looking worried at the growing gust, “any insider knowledge about the student exchange program? You did say you talked to a princess,” smiling at her connection-riddled friend.

“Princess Celestia,” Sunset clarified, a twinge of a grin twinkling at the thought of her former mentor. “She told me she’s willing to have her first batch of exchange students from Canterlot High.”

“As to be expected,” Twilight said right after, nodding her head. “It only makes sense. We have the first portal, among other factors.”

Sunset nodded, too. Then, focusing on Twilight only, she said, “So, are you willing to go?”

And Twilight blushed, putting a shy hoof on her chest. “Wh-What? Me, go there?”

“You’ve voiced your interest in magic before.” She pointed at her horn, then glanced outside. “It doesn’t look like Canterlot High’s going to be in operation anytime soon thanks to our bureaucratic board.”

“Bureaucratic?” Twilight repeated.

Sunset made a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I got that from a couple of Celestia’s lessons.” She looked away, embarrassed at remembering such a memory. Then, banishing her past’s darkness, she looked back at Twilight. “What I’m saying is, why go to a disorganized CHS when there are plenty of Equestrian schools in tip-top shape? All you have to do is sign the paperwork, pass the entrance exam—which I’m sure you will”, and winked at her, so certain of it “—and...who knows? You may land yourself in the best unicorn school ever.”

“For unicorns only?” Sparkle rubbed her temples, doing her best to recall whatever that—“Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?!” she yelled.

Sunset’s mane was now all windy and unkempt from the yell. “That’s the one!” floating a comb and brushing her hair straight. “The very same school the other Twilight graduated from. Prestigious.”

Twilight scrunched up her snout. “Wouldn’t it be awkward to have another Twilight Sparkle in school, especially when the first one’s finished with a degree?” So she imagined it, seeing the announcer yell, “Twilight Sparkle!” as ponies in the audience turned their heads and wondered if it’s deja vu.

Sunset took another sip from her water bottle, twisting the cap with her magic. “If the ponies of Equestria are fine with our own Celestia, I’m sure they’ll be fine with another Twilight.”

After hearing those words of empathy, Twilight’s mind turned to other things to worry about. “Even so, I wouldn’t be a CHS alumnus, most of my other friends aren’t allowed because they’re not unicorns, I’m not sure if Rarity or you are going—”

“I don’t think so,” Sunset said, backing away a few inches. “I and Celestia are more than fine, but I don’t have the courage to go back there. Besides,” Sunset lightening up from her fearful pout, “I’m OK with being a year late if CHS can’t start up by fall.”

Twilight’s eyes were on the way to watering. “A-Are you sure?”

The reply was a slow nod from the mare.

Instead of being consoled, Twi looked out the window, deeply steeped in a flood of doubt and second thoughts.

“Why not give it a go?” Sunset asked, floating a brochure for Celestia’s school by that window. “If you pass, you pass. If you fail, no harm done—at least you tried. Plus, whether you’re in or not, studying for it gives you the best magic workout in your life!” and gave her another wink.

With no choice but to consider it, Twilight levitated the brochure to her glasses.

It was a splashy advertisement. Photos of smiling students and teachers filled much of the space—unicorns levitating several apples, experimenting with potions, reading scrolls of spells, attending a lecture held by none other than Princess Celestia herself. The blurbs highlighted the numerous pros of this esteemed institution, citing the highest of standards as one of its distinguishing traits. However, encircled, emboldened, and underlined were the words Forge lifelong friendships here! You won’t regret it!

The brochure was levitated away, going back to Sunset. The glow surrounding it switched from pink to blue.

“I’ll think about it,” Twilight said in a hushed voice. “I’ll get back to you on that soon.”

Sunset’s excited smile gave way to an anxious frown, her ears drooping. “Something’s up?”

The unicorn put down her glasses. Without them, she looked an awful lot like her princess self.

“It’s our friends, isn’t it, Twilight?”

The mare pleaded guilty with a sigh and a forlorn, mindless look at the floor she was sitting on with all her four hooves. “Yes, it is. Princess Celestia might give me some leeway, but she doesn’t have the time to be my personal tutor.”

Sunset almost mentioned Celestia’s former tutorship of the other Twilight Sparkle, but she thought it wasn’t prudent.

“If I have to go to class like everyone else, I’m gonna go back and forth between dimensions. I won’t have enough time for them, they won’t have enough time for me, and I—”

Stopped right there, scorning to speak further.

Sunset shifted her eyes. “Well, Celestia is extremely kind and accommodating. Maybe you can go there once a month for special lessons or something.”

But Twilight remained despondent, staring at the floor through those transparent glasses.

“I don’t want you to go there Monday to Friday every week,” Sunset said, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “For all that, you have a great mind, a beautiful mind, Twilight. I’m not asking you to put your studies above your friends—I’m the last pony to tell you that,” and Sunset softened her stern features. “I’m just asking you to sleep on it. If you can push through with that once-a-month deal, it’ll be just like a vacation’s trip.” Paused. “OK?”

Twilight looked to the side, avoiding the golden, caring face of her friend.

A few seconds turned into ten. Twenty.

The storm continued to come down in buckets.

“I’ll give it some thought,” conceded Twilight.

Sunset didn’t smile. That neutral face remained. “Alrighty, then. I guess I’ll be—”

Krzow!

“Yah!”

They clung to each other, shivering as lightning flashed through the sky with its sharp edges, with its jagged strokes.

The pitter-patter of rain returned to their ears.

And the two realized they were holding on to each other, scared and terrified.

Twilight and Sunset laughed at their mutual fear before standing to clean up after themselves.

Twilight did give some thought to the School for Gifted Unicorns. So much thought that she rolled around on her bed at night. It wasn’t a question of qualifying. It was a question of whether she’d actually go there.

She griped over not asking Sunset for more details. If she enrolled, would that mean her CHS days were over? Could she live on Earth and just travel back and forth?

Maybe a compromise could be made. Princess Celestia stood over the school; she must be a sympathetic pony. Visiting twice a month for classes wasn’t a far-fetched idea.

Days passed. As Twilight attended her informal teaching sessions over a hoofful of unicorns, telling them how to better use their magic—as she kept them up, she mulled over Sunset’s proposal. Her “students” were learning something, that’s for sure. She even got reluctant Sunny Flare to overcome her avoidance of magic; the Shadowbolt was now happily strumming a guitar with nothing but magic.

The music wasn’t great, but it was something for a creature with no fingers.

If Twilight could teach unicorns who’ve never been one for much of their lives, then surely she could find some ground in that school.

Of course, she couldn’t forget her friends. They were always in her head. Even if Rarity and Sunset would somehow join her, that meant leaving out the other four unless they all moved to Equestria together. Maybe Pinkie Pie could make the move because of her unpredictability, but Fluttershy still had her animal shelter, Dash still had her weather duties, and Applejack still had her apple farm.

A month later, she was back on her bed, rolling around. Books of magic were stacked neatly on her desk alongside a couple of ballpoint pens and paper pads.

Final sign-ups for the special Equestrian Exchange entrance exam was tomorrow.

Another month later had those magnificent seven (minus Twilight) roaming around in Canterlot.

Canterlot, Equestria.

The buildings looked as if they’re ripped out of a kingdom from a fable; adorned in white and purple and gold, they towered over these impressed newcomers. The city’s stone roads gave off that medieval feeling as dozens of decorated ponies in suits and dresses trotted about on the sidewalks. Royal guards patrolled here and there, watching everypony’s step as carriages rolled by, ponies carrying other ponies in their carriages.

“Ooh!” Rarity said, whirling her head around in splendor. “A-And, i-is that one of her boutiques?!” squishing her cheeks at the sight of a fancy, quaint fashion store.

They all looked that way, seeing the window displays. The dresses there enticed them to come inside, take a look, and spend some bits on a garment sewn and designed from a selfless heart.

If that wasn’t enough, there were no price tags at all. No placards proclaiming For Sale! either.

“I think it is,” Sunset said, seeing Rarity excited on all four hooves tapping the sidewalk in mirth.

“Then I shall see what I have wrought!” Rarity declared as she soared up the stairs to the do—

Smack!

Fell back down to the sidewalk’s hard pavement.

“Ugh...” and shook her head, trying to shake off the ache while some kind of flowery perfume drifted to her snout. Then, seeing the figure before her, she cried out, “You better watch where you’re going!”

The figure made a fanciful, familiar laugh. “I think we should both watch where we’re going!”

Rarity opened her eyes to see who she’d bumped into. “Rarity?!”

Equestrian Rarity nodded, dusting herself off and helping her other self back up on her hooves. “Yes, darling, it’s me! Finally visiting fair Canterlot, I see.”

Everypony else nodded, coming closer to get a better ear on what she had to say.

“I presume you’re waiting for Twilight to be done with her entrance exam,” Rarity said, turning her head to the right. “Let me assure you that—”

“Rarity!” came in Sassy Saddle’s voice from inside. “We’re running out of gold sequins!”

“Ooh!” She frowned at her CHS self, held her on the shoulder. “I’d like to stay and chat, darling, but we’re in business hours.” Smiling anyway, “Perhaps you’d like to tour the place? That way, we could still chat...and, well,” muffled a giggle, “have you try out one of my dresses!”

The other Rarity furrowed her brows, rolling her tongue in her cheeks. “Since we both have something to do with generosity, what about you give me a discount of...I don’t know, one hundred percent?”

Sunset rolled her eyes as everyone else went in with a laugh, trying to pass the time for Twilight.

Waiting for Rarity to be done with dressing up Rarity was cut short by the arrival of a guard and the letter under his wing.

It was from Princess Celestia.

“You’re requested to be at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns this instant,” the guard said, not even bothering to wait for anyone to read the letter. “I shall escort you there.”

After the sudden goodbyes and farewells, they followed the guard as he passed buildings, fountains, statues, parks—he himself was giving these ponies a tour of his own, although with everyone galloping or flying, it was difficult to drink in what Equestria’s capital had to offer.

Minutes later, they reached the school which was taller than they’d expected. The roof was painted with depictions of stars and sparkles, the golden circle logo above the huge columned front doors shone under the sun, and the windows were tall and stately as they emanated a dignified ambience.

It was a castle outfitted for educational purposes.

They stepped inside, sped through the halls under the guidance of the guard. They lightened their hooffalls, quieting their gallop so as to not disturb the students in those halls of le—

“Shh!”

And they all stopped as they turned a corner, seeing Princess Celestia standing by one of the double doors. Her unexpected appearance made them shiver a bit except for the guard who’d preserved his stoic face throughout the whole trip.

“Class is in session,” Celestia said in such a friendly voice, putting a hoof on her mouth.

Confronted with her former teacher but not plagued by past misdeeds, Sunset looked up to her. “What do you mean?”

The princess first looked at the guard. “Fence Lock, do you want to see what’s happening inside?”

Fence Lock turned around to see those close friends. Then, turning back to face his superior: “I’ll ruin the moment just by being there. I’ll return to my station.”

Celestia nodded. “So you may.”

And so the guard flew away.

The hallway left to themselves, Celestia noted the carpet she was standing on. It spanned the corridor with its heartwarming heart designs stitched on it. That bit of introspection over, she lifted her head. “I’d like to say congratulations.”

Everypon—

“But let’s save the partying until after Twilight’s done,” Celestia said.

That threw the mares off on a curveball, their surprised looks exemplifying it.

“She’s not done?” Dash asked, stretching her forelegs out in protest.

“Oh, she’s done with the exam,” Celestia answered, closing her eyes in another wide smile.

Her horn glowed yellow as the knobs glowed, too. They squeaked, speaking of their antiquity, before the doors would open.

Celestia trotted a few meters backwards. “I’ll let you see for yourselves what she’s doing now.”

That statement wasn’t meant to be ominous. However, they peeked inside with a hint of dread in their hearts...hopefully, it was happy dread.

Inside was a small classroom that could hold up to ten students. Conventional classroom stuff were accounted for: bookshelves, maps, chairs, teacher’s desk, and chalkboard.

In lieu of studying with books and quills, however, the pupils in attendance were all teleporting apples and oranges around, those things popping up here and there across the room in pow!’s and spow!’s.

Observing this successful teleportation session was the teacher standing by the chalkboard, looking pleased at the progress of her pupils.

She was a purple unicorn wearing a pair of glasses.

“Twilight?!” all her friends yelled in shock, enough shock for Pinkie to fall over and faint. This made Rarity panic and faint, too, secretly jealous that her title as drama queen was put into question.

And the students stopped teleporting, partly at seeing the friends of her teacher, partly at the unconsciousness of two ponies there.

Celestia went over to Pinkie and Rarity, lowered her head, and whispered to their ears, “I know you’re faking it, girls!”

Which made Pinkie jump up, yanking Rarity along by the mane.

Only for the both of them to crash land.

When the chaos there was over, with the students asking if they were alright, Twilight trotted over to her friends, nodding to her students that they should rest for a while.

Sunset’s mouth twitched at her approach. “D-D-D-Did you just what?!”

Twilight scratched the back of her head, avoiding her glance. “Uh-huh!”

“You got these unicorns to teleport stuff?!” Applejack shouted, taking in each of their faces.

“Uh-huh!”

“Did you pass the exam?” Fluttershy asked, worried.

“With flying colors, surprisingly!”

“Then you better teach me!” Rarity demanded in half a jest, stomping the checkerboard floor.

“...what?”

Dash hovered down to the ground. Tipping her head to the side in mild appreciation, she eked out, “Uh...good job?” Regaining confidence, she nodded her head, flapped her wings, took Twilight’s hoof and made a hoofshake on the spot. “Yeah, good job! Awesome job! Passing the exam and helping native Equestrians how to teleport? That’s our Twilight Sparkle!”

Sunset stepped forward, passing by Dash and taking up Twilight’s focus. “So, have you ever considered teaching magic in an official capacity?”

Twilight rubbed her foreleg, nervous about that possibility. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind teaching on a part-time basis, but, if my time here has shown me anything...it’s fun!” and whinnied. “It’s very fun to not just teach magic but to learn it all together!”

In support of their first-time teacher, her students clapped their hooves, one shouting, “Yeah! Go second Twilight!”

Taking that as an encouragement to hug her friends, Twilight did just that, embracing and being embraced by those faithful companions.

Celestia watched them hug, watched the students trotting to them as they prepared to formally meet the rest of the visitors from Earth.

She levitated a note and re-read it:
Dear Princess Celestia, while I do accept your generous offer to accept me into the school, I politely decline. I believe I simply don’t have the time to do anything meaningful as a student here; I’m already one in another school. However, that’s not stopping me from visiting once in a while, to borrow a book or to sit in at the occasional lecture. I hope that you understand.

From,

Twilight Sparkle
“Because you already have your friends,” Celestia whispered out of earshot, the hug still ongoing.

Appreciating a Gift Horse or a Herd of Them

Milkshakes.

That’s what Cinnamon, Cookie, and Oakley were drinking at the Sweet Snacks Café. On their table were plates of crispy hayburgers and crunchy horseshoe-shaped fries coupled with bottles of cold, refreshing soda.

Outside their table, the diner was full of diverse customers. Now, it wasn’t just ponies though they were the slim majority. Griffons and hippogriffs were munching on their so-called “Classic Burgers” with the return of beef to the menu. However, they had to be discreet about it when in front of other ponies; those horses slightly recoiled at the smell of cooked, delicious meat.

Aside from the griffons and hippogriffs, a couple dragons and changelings were present. The dragons had their helping of anything from the menu since they were quite omnivorous: vegetables, meat, grain, gems, and bugs, though all of them shied away from that last one. This made the changelings quite delighted, having enough food ready to satisfy their unusual palate.

All of this was held together by the pony waitresses and chefs, two of which were Pinkie Pie and Pinkie Pie. The latter Pinkie had come over from Equestria to try out being a waitress, and, now, they were laughing at high speeds, gliding across the floor on roller skates. The Pinkie pair served customers in record time as trays landed on to tables, as food and drink almost tipped over but never did. This kind of high stakes dining caught more than a few patrons off guard, though, as the adage went, they didn’t question Pinkie.

Back to the table: Cookie plopped her half-full milkshake down with a clonk! She licked her lips clean of any milk mustaches. Seeing both of her pony friends, “So, what do you want to do tonight?”

Oakley shrugged and flapped his wings in indifference. “Uh, anything.” He turned to Cinnamon who was nibbling on her floating, glowing fries. “Cinnamon, what do you want to do?”

Cinnamon sighed, turning off her magic and letting the fries fall to the plate. “What? You think you’ve run out of options?” She tapped the window, directing their attention to the budding nightlife outside as ponies trotted about on the darkening sidewalks, passing by the parking lot of unused cars and burgeoning wagons. “I know Canterlot isn’t the biggest city in the world, but it’s still big! We’ve only covered ten percent of it!”

Cookie rubbed her cheeks in pure, concentrated joy. “It’s been a dozen million weeks and we’ve only covered ten percent?”

“We’d be very old if it was a dozen million,” Cinnamon replied deadpan.

Cookie raised her hoof. “I have an idea!”

“The mall?” Oakley guessed, resting his head on his hoof.

She hit him on the snout, turning his nose red. “Stop reading my mind! You’re scaring me!”

Despite Oakley being more scared, tending to his pained nose by holding it as he moaned with eyes closed.

“You wanted to go to the mall yesterday,” Cinnamon said. “And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that.” She ended it with a groan and a glance away from the Earth pony, busying herself with a levitating burger.

“But I’m serious this time!” Cookie whined. “I’m not a scaredy-cat anymore!”

Oakley mumbled something to himself before drinking some milkshake, holding his snout with one hoof while downing the beverage with his wing.

Cookie’s ears perked up at the mumble and the slurping. She got up on the table, stared Oakley down with an innocent smile, and said, “Uh, what was that?”

The unicorn among them winced at her. Putting away her hayburger, Cinnamon said, “Get down, Cookie!” She then saw the other customers gawking at the pony on a food-only-on-this-surface table.

This unruly pony, even stomping once on the table, making the milkshakes tremble. “Nah! I’d like to know what our lovely Oakley had to say!”

“OK, I give up!” Oakley yelled, bringing more attention on himself. He raised his forehoovs and spread his wings. Then, he stared back at her, knowing this merry mare.

The next thing he said was:

“Boo.”

“Aaaahhh!” and Cookie jumped up, hit herself on the ceiling now cracked, fell down to the table and crashed it, spoiling all the food and spilling all the drinks.

Now everyone was standing up, all dinners halted to see if Cookie was alright past the dust. The Pinkies sped their way to the scene as well as the rest of the waitresses.

When the dust settled, Cookie’s eyes were in a daze, spinning around. She shook her head, steadied herself, and looked at her two pony friends looking down at her stained face. “Y-Yeah! I-I meant to do that!”

Cinnamon eyed Oakley with a dirty look.

The pegasus opened his wings again. “Eh-heh...whoops?”

Cinnamon wasn’t amused. “You’re not pranking her like that again.”

These three ponies had gotten their freedom and no one was going to stop them from enjoying it. Uplifted from that dumb state of being simple animal, they’d gained intelligence, consciousness, and sapience in a matter of moments. Life had risen from the monotonous cycle of eat, sleep, and serve. It had opened up to endless possibilities. They could become whoever they wanted to be with all the little complex details that came with it.

So, of course, the first thing they did that night was go to a comic store and buy a couple comics. The owner had gotten some series from Equestria, stuff like the Power Ponies or Flashfire. Cookie bought a dozen issues, draining the collective wallet to three quarters of its original size. This bothered Cinnamon who wanted her to be thrifty and it bothered Oakley who wanted to spend those bits to buy enough ice cream to make his ice cream cloud.

Since they could also appreciate music now, they then went to a music store. Contrary to the rumors that’d floated about, Vinyl Scratch stayed there—if that wasn’t enough, she’d proven her loyalty to the store by remaining at her post despite being a unicorn. Like before, she was blasting beats through her headphones, although that didn’t hinder her from accommodating these beginners in life.

After ten minutes of drowning out the conversations, the arguments, and the hoof-fight that almost happened and that could’ve broken a few discs—after that, she let them buy a couple of her namesakes.

“Good thing we have a vinyl recorder!” Cookie proclaimed as she lifted the basket of records onto her back.

“It’s ‘vinyl player’,” Cinnamon corrected, mentally rebuking her for such naivete.

What came next was the local florist which was Lily Valley with her signature blossom on her pony ear. Now, the peculiar thing about selling pretty flowers to horses is that these flowers were both pretty and elegantly sumptuous, tasting like flavorful tea to the equine tongue.

So, Cinnamon, being a mare of taste, bought bouquets teeming with lavenders. She shared them with her friends to munch on these purple plants together.

As for the flavor, lavender tasted like a minty pinecone.

As they wandered about aimlessly, taking in the lamp posts and the other trotting ponies just like them, Cookie bounced around, breathing in the fresh air that never felt so fresh before, even going as far as hugging the occasional sidewalk tree and feeling something fuzzy in her heart. Oakley hovered over the sidewalk, enjoying the weightlessness of being a winged creature, free from gravity’s shackles. Cinnamon had her horn glowing magenta while she levitated the lavender bouquets, those fragrant bunches floating before her magically.

“OK, now can we go to the mall?!” Cookie pleaded in a sing-song voice, pointing at the huge shopping complex just across the street. “Can we, can we?!”

“Slow down!” Oakley replied, flying in front of her to have a closer look. “Wow, you gotta eat less candy and chocolate!”

“She hasn’t had any of that for the past thirty minutes,” Cinnamon noted.

The pegasus now had a dilemma before him. Solving the problem of a hyperactive pony by reducing her non-existent sugar intake. “What would be the opposite of eating sugar?” he then proposed.

Cinnamon flicked her tail, giving him a glare. “Licking salt.”

As she turned to the left and crossed the street.

“Wait!” Oakley yelled, going after her. “Where’re you going?”

“I know where she’s going!” Cookie shouted, pushing the pegasus to the side as she leaped over to the other side.

Approaching the mall.

The Canterlot Mall was, like many other malls, a hub for shopping and entertainment. It was the ideal venue for buying groceries, purchasing luxuries, eating meals, meeting up, watching movies, playing games, parking cars….

Although they’d long known what a mall was and what it contained, that knowledge didn’t prepare them for the experience. For one, its bright colors and brighter lights wowed the ponies, even no-nonsense Cinnamon. For another, they went up and down the escalators, amazed at being moved without moving themselves; Cookie and Oakley waved at the creatures hanging around, making them weirded out by these over-enthusiastic horses. For a third, they tried pulling Cookie away from the TV shop, saving her from a horrible future of staring at a dozen screens to watch endless rolling greens.

After half an hour of strolling around, they ended up in the cafeteria. A couple stalls were still closed; the many that were up had creatures from both worlds working together, taking orders, and cooking up all kinds of food.

Five minutes later, they’d settled on a table with a strange an assortment of dinners. Daisy sandwiches with grilled hay on the side, deep dish pineapple pizza garnished with parsley, and ten milkshakes—yes, that perennial drink for dessert, that favorite of Cookie since she kept smearing her mouth with its whipped cream. Meanwhile, Cinnamon helped herself to that mighty big and tall pizza, and Oakley got the simplest option with his sandwiches and hay, making the pegasus the winner of the health race.

Except there wasn’t any. As far as he knew, there was no guilt or shame on the two mares.

It was after Cookie downed her third milkshake that she started speaking: “Hey, you know there’s more than the three of us, right?”

Cinnamon put down her knife and fork, unwilling to stain her hooves with such an oily crust. “If you’re talking about horses like us, yes.”

“Then how come we haven’t met any of them yet?” Cookie asked, grabbing her fourth glass. “Where are the horses from the huge ranches?”

“We’re not exactly in the countryside, Miss Chocolate Chip,” Oakley said, joking a little there with the nickname.

“What about Cotton?” Cookie went on, losing her liveliness. “Or Domino and Dale? Or Barkley, Marquis, and everypony else from ol’ Rough Stock’s place?”

“I doubt anypony from the old farm would travel this far,” Oakley answered with a sigh, folding his wings. He was poking the hay with his hoof.

“But there must be some city-hoppers somewhere!” Cookie complained, pouting and putting her head on the table. “It’s great talking to ex-humans, but I want to talk my kind! I wanna talk to the horses that were always horses!”

Cinnamon halted her piece of pizza from entering her mouth. “Are you saying we should go on a road trip?”

Cookie jerked her head up and giggled, snorting at that. “Driving cars shouldn’t be that hard!”

Oakley scoffed at the idea of pressing pedals and steering wheels. “Why drive when we can pull wagons?”

Cinnamon quickly gulped her sweet and savory bite to join this devolving talk. “That’s not how it—”

“You want wagons?!” a haughty voice came from the table behind them.

They looked that way.

Saw a suave and lanky unicorn standing by the table. He wore a striped shirt, a bowtie, a boater hat, and a cool smile.

“‘Cause I got a couple wagons by the parking lot!” he said, trotting up to them and extending a hoof for a shake. “The name’s Flim! My brother, Flam, can’t go because he his hooves are tied with maintaining the vehicles in question!” Flim rubbed his forehooves and produced an eleventh milkshake from his hat. “But, I’m sure we can all come out of this very satisfied!”

Cookie gasped at this new milkshake. Without even saying “Thank you”, she yanked the glass and chugged the beverage down.

Cinnamon shot a suspicious glare at him. “Aren’t you the guy who tried to scam Applejack out of a thousand dollars?”

“A thousand dollars, huh?” He rubbed his chin and thought that term over. “Well...I bet you that we’ve clearly moved on from that unprofitable business!” he shouted. “We’ve expanded to other more lucrative, more legal ventures!”

“...like?” Cinnamon grilled, Oakley and Cookie looking to her for something to say.

Not really an answer.

“Like selling wagons!” Flim replied with a tip of his hat.
Buying into it, Oakley nodded and smiled at this kind fellow. “OK, we’ll give you another shot!”

“I don’t think we ever met him before,” Cookie whispered to his ear.

Oakley’s eyes went wide. “Wait, we haven’t?”

Flim snuck up to them, wrapping forehooves around those two while secretly stealing some hay. “That’s quite understandable! There are only two of us brothers—” then glared to the side “—OK, four with that whole multiple dimensions debacle—but, adding two more to the pot won’t be much trouble for your comprehending minds, hm?”

Cracking her neck, Cinnamon rolled up her imaginary sleeves, got out of the chair, and placed a hoof on his snout. “Listen up, Flimmy! We may be new to this life business, but Applejack’s told me a lot of bad things between you and your brother!”

“And what did this Applejack say about it?” he said, keeping up that smug smile in the face of an angry unicorn.

“That you’re cons!” Cinnamon yelled, her horn glowing purple.

Flim smirked, noticing the magic she was about to unleash and willing to defuse it. “What about I show you the magical artifacts inside the wagon?”

And Cinnamon’s glow wavered. “Wait, huh?”

“That’s the spirit!” Flim said, wrapping a hoof around her neck and already leading her away from the table in a fast trot. Looking back, “Come on, mare and gentlestallion! I and my brother Flam shall show you rare magic items straight from the land of Equestria!”

Cookie’s eyes glowed and sparkled under the cafeteria’s dazzling lights. “Ooh! I wanna go!”

Oakley, the only one left unfazed, stuck out his tongue. “How can we be su—”

“We are absolutely-tootely sure!” Flim cut in, hoofing out a little ball and throwing it to the ground.

Smoke surrounded them.

And all he heard was coughs as he dragged them out of the cafeteria with both hooves and magic.

Outside, they reached the parking lot, seeing Sweet Snacks Café to their left. Parked there under the post lights was a yellow and red wagon, big enough to fit about five ponies with all their belonging.

“No time to waste!” Flim said at the hurrying ponies. Then, turning to the wagon, he shouted with a cupped mouth, “Flam! Is everything ready for the presentation?”

The door was yanked open. Flam, with his bushy red mustache, appeared and dropped a full box onto the pavement. “There you go, dear brother!” and, waving at the three ponies there, “Why, hello! Ready for a song?”

“...song?” said Cinnamon, Cookie, and Oakley all at the same time.

Flim and Flam jumped straight to the wagon’s front, inhaled a lot of breath, and—

“You!”

The dear brothers looked at the sidewalk and saw Starlight Glimmer and Trixie who was fully equipped with hat and cape.

“It was you two who stole Trixie’s smoke bombs and hid them on Earth!” Trixie yelled, pointing at them. “Give them to her and return to Equestria with us...or else!”

And Starlight’s horn glowed, staring daggers at them as if her eyes alone could petrify them like a cockatrice.

Flim and Flam dearly gulped together, their own eyes shrinking at the sight of these vengeful unicorns. “Shall we leave, brother?” Flim asked.

“Most certainly so!” Flam replied.

Thus commenced a chase, Starlight and Trixie galloping after Flim and Flam.

“You forgot your wagon!” Cookie cried out after them although they were already gone, their hoofsteps fading away.

A few seconds of silence as they processed what had just happened before them: Two conponies tried to swindle them out of their money but were then saved by the timely arrival of two other ponies—and all four of them were from Equestria.

“Let’s get back,” Oakley then said, derailing their trains of thought. “The food’s getting cold.”

“I agree,” Cinnamon said, turning her body towards the doors. With drooping ears, “Sorry for getting swayed by that Flim pony. I...I didn’t know he was a little persuasive.”

“Good thing I ordered cold milkshakes!” Cookie said before jumping.

Cinnamon flicked her tail and clucked her tongue at this milkshake-passionate pony. “Were you even lis—”

“Howdy!” greeted a familiar country voice.

“What is it now?!” Cinnamon yelled at the intruder.

Which turned out to be Applejack harnessed to a wagon.

“A-AJ?!” they all yelled together.

“Oh, no!” she replied rather modestly. “It ain’t just me!”

They heard a door creak open and saw several ponies come out of the wagon and approach the three of them.

Cookie gasped, faintly recognizing these ponies. She placed her hooves on her head, jumped again, and shouted,“We were just talking about you like ten minutes ago!”

Both Apple horses and Rough Stock horses went in for a group hug, exchanging greetings in words and in mumbling tears at this impromptu reunion.

Cookie wiggled out of a unicorn’s nuzzling forehooves. “I thought we’d never see each other again!”

Dale turned his face away and sneezed, parting the bangs from his face. Hoping Cookie wasn’t infected with whatever germs he had leaked, he said, “I don’t know about that. You could just walk, you know!”

“You serious joker you!” as the group hug dispersed and everypony else talked with Cinnamon and Oakley. “So, what brings you here?”

Dale rocked his head back, mentally rehearsing the story. “Applejack texted us with one of those cellphone thingies, said something about meeting you again. We had a GPS-ajig and a map. We got here, met up with AJ and ta-da!” and spread his forehooves.

Once she politely nodded at the short story, she gazed upon the mass of ponies around her under the lights against the dark night. They continued talking to each other in upbeat tones with some glancing at her. “Dale, where’s Rough Stock?”

“Oh, he changed into a unicorn just like me and Cotton!” he replied. “After he re-met all of us as a pony, he retired and let us be free to go wherever and do whatever. We stayed, of course,” pausing to look up and smile, thinking of the warm hug they themselves had given to their former owner, “but he’s not here because he thought he’d ruin the moment.”

“Aww, he should’ve come!” Cookie stretched her lips into a ridiculous frown. Then, licking them clean, she got back to being cheerful and bubbly. “But, hey, you’re here! You’re all here!”

“Yeah, we are!”

They hugged again as everyone else kept talking.

Applejack gave herself a tip of the hat, staying by the wagon and seeing those horses as a whole once more, bonding together at the mall’s parking lot. “Family’s worth the trouble, ain’t it?”

A Duet with Yourself

Vignette Valencia had a problem.

She was a pony now. At least she didn’t have pesky wings or magic horns to deal with, but she was still a pony.

Vignette Valencia then had another problem.

Equestria Land was in chaos. Everyone was running or flying in panic at their new forms. No one knew any better as they ripped and crashed here and there. A rollercoaster almost broke into two thanks to a pegasus flying way too fast, and she worried it might fall on unsuspecting people.

Or creatures. For a second, she debated about whether the word people applied to her and them anymore.

She paid a passing thought to her account on SnapGab, then realized social media as a whole would slow down for a while. Using phones without fingers would be quite the challenge. At least computers were marginally easier: they relied a lot on buttons, not those admittedly fancy swipe-and-touch screens. It almost felt like magic, now that she thought about it.

Heh. Magic.

But, she had no time to think about those things. A griffon was plummeting her way, and she was surprised she managed to gallop from the threat.

One obstacle down, a hundred more to go. Getting used to four legs, falling debris, and unanticipated magic beams and strange creatures.

She got out with a scratch.

When all was said and done, though, no one knew what to do. Equestria Land was partially in ruins, and half the attractions just weren’t the same without people—or, rather, humans, because she’d thought people might apply to them in some senses.

In the aftermath, she got word from her buffalo boss that Equestria Land would be closed for the mean time and that she had the responsibility to announce it.

So, she announced via SnapGab that Equestria Land would be temporarily out of commission thanks to the global magic disaster. It was a painstaking experience for her, not only because she’d invested much of herself into the place, but also because she had a very difficult time typing it out with her flat hooves...but, of course, it also made her sad that Equestria Land would close.

Not that anyone cared that much. They had bigger problems than not going to the local amusement park.

It was a welcome change of pace, not being asked a dozen times over by random strangers to take a selfie with her. That whole fiasco with the Rainbooms and the light parade had proven more than enough on that front.

She sat at Sweet Snacks Café, contemplating on what to do next. In this strange new world where magic was the norm and humanity just disappeared out of thin air, Vignette appreciated drinking her milkshake in peace. While she was sometimes acknowledged by the occasional passer-by, they’d leave her alone, as they had to get used to their new body and their new abilities first.

She checked her phone sitting beside the milkshake and her bowl of stress salad. The SnapGab notifications were piling up, but she deemed it a straining task to tend to all of them with her phone-unready hooves.

The phone had her note app open. It had some notes, but not because of the virtual keyboard. She managed to use her voice-to-text feature on the app. Ironic she’d relegated it to her useless things on my phone category before.

She’d recorded some notes and items for Equestria Land’s re-opening. It had to be a soft one, and everything had to be done on the fly. Things like market research would be nigh impossible to do when no one’s of the same species anymore.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Vignette looked that way, heard a few gasps and whispers but nothing more.

It was Countess Coloratura, smiling sheepishly as she trotted about. She kept her eyes straight ahead, unwilling to entertain anyone else’s shocked expressions.

She’d seen pictures of the singer before, but seeing Coloratura as a pony up close and personal gave off that same feeling of familiar awkwardness or awkward familiarity: This pony was definitely Coloratura, with matching coat and mane, but her pony form made her appearance very uncanny.

Everyone looked uncanny, really, but then again, she didn’t grow up in a world of magical talking ponies.

Then, Coloratura strode to Vignette’s table, expectant eyes now on that other celebrity.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to be this early!” Vignette blurted out, lifting her head up.

“Well, it’s these,” and Coloratura raised a hoof for her to see more clearly. “Still getting used to them. Almost tripped up a couple times thanks to sidewalk cracks.”

“It’s been weeks!” exclaimed Vignette, putting a hoof to her mouth in confusion. “You should’ve gotten used to it by now, F-Y-I!”

Coloratura laughed it off. “Really? Get used to this? I’m trying, but that’s a tall order for me. I’m surprised you adapted so quickly.”

In response, Vignette also laughed it off, or she tried to. She knew it was a good way of relieving pent-up stress alongside eating healthy. That’s what the salad was for, after all.

Then, when the giggling was done, Vignette asked her, “So, what exactly do you want to talk about? I-M-H-O, I assume it must be about that concert you were supposed to have in the park.”

Coloratura nodded, looking outside through the window. She saw everyone walking down the streets, but saw no humans there. It’s just confirmation, repetition of reality to her. “Yeah. Well, I’ve had a lot of changes since the disaster...other than being a pony, of course,” to which she added another sheepish smile. Almost blushed, too.

Vignette rubbed her hooves; no stranger to gossip she was.“What would they be, exactly?”

Coloratura gulped. “I met myself—” eyes still looking further outside “—m-my other self.”

Valencia kicked back her head in thought. “Oh. That’s been a thing I’ve been hearing a lot lately, I-I-R-C.” Twirling her hoof about in exaggerated gesture, “Having versions of ourselves in the other world, the other universe...whatevs you call the other place. Haven’t seen me there, though.” Frowned at that. “I even T-M-T over there, and she wasn’t even there in the time I took! I’m worried about myself and...myself.”

Coloratura chuckled at how narcissistic that sounded. “Maybe she’s not as popular as you.”

Vignette stared down at her salad in reflection.

“I-I’m sorry if I sounded bad,” continued Coloratura, going to apology mode… “it’s just...you know how, say, Rari—I mean, Twilight here is a high school student but Twilight there is some big royal princess everyone knows about.”

Vignette leaned in, listening with a bent pony ear, yet her mind had already wandered off. Maybe she was the opposite of Twilight in that sense: that she was this famous personality in this world but some average nobody in the other. Probably farming oranges with a bit of flair.

“So...we talked,” Coloratura went on, perking Vignette’s ears back to full listening levels. “It was a weird talk, hearing ourselves speak to...ourselves.” here, her blush fully bloomed. “But, I found out she fired her old boss who turned out to be her Svengallop. He’d been using her as his meal ticket, his way to get everything he wants just by being her manager.”

She was scratching her mane now. “I...I began having suspicions, a-and, after we parted ways, I decided to find out on my own about my Svengallop.”

Vignette lowered a brow, inching her head closer at this juicy tale. “So, was it true?”

“It was true to some extent,” the singer answered, more solemn this time. “Turns out, he was using me as a meal ticket, too.”

That’s when the sniffling began.

It hit Vignette to see this renowned performer show the cracks, the chinks, in her armor. The facade hadn’t been thick at all: a sheen of sincerity had emanated from Coloratura ever since her rise to fame. Even then, Vignette herself was a celebrity; she knew a thing or two about keeping up faces here and there. Still, it was both haunting and comforting to see her open up.

Not fully, though. She swallowed and gulped, closing her eyes tight to wash the tears back into her system.

Then took a swig of Vignette’s milkshake.

The pony who bought the milkshake felt annoyed at this rudeness, but she just placed a hoof on her own cheek. She didn’t want to think about her wasted bits. So, moving back to the subject: “That sounds like you’re jumping to conclusions.”

Coloratura hid a wry smirk, also assuming that Vignette, too, had jumped to many conclusions before. How else would it explain Vignette’s excess of confidence in her awful singing? Then again—she wiped her mouth, taking away her milk mustache with it. “Yeah, I...I admit I did. I had him forced out of the troupe, and it was the right thing to do...but, it doesn’t feel right,” shaking her head, “to just tell him that and let everything come apart for him l-like that.”

Vignette sighed, turning her glass around. “Yeah. How do you feel about that?”
The singer put more of her head’s weight on her hoof. “It feels like cheating, except you’re not sure it’s the right answer because it’s another world’s version of you and your boss.”

“So, that complicates things,” Vignette quickly replied. “You at least have a temporary boss? Or are you your own mare?”

“Not yet,” she said, silently noting the usage of mare over woman. Coloratura didn’t want to bring that up in front of her; not now. “No one here wants to take the job because the changes messed up everything. No one there wants to either because they’re still assessing Earth.”

Vignette bit her hoof. “Ow. I can’t believe we’ve gone this deep. Our P.O.V.’s have gotten so deep!”

“Everyone’s gone deep,” Coloratura said, tapping her hoof on the table. “I think it’s the only way we can cope with this, though.” Her eyes took on wistful appearances as they glittered under both sunlight and dinerlights. “Humanity’s done, and we have to survive as whoever we are now.”

“True, true,” Vignette absently blathered in her posh valley girl accent before she sipped on her milkshake, careful not to give herself a milk mustache.

Then, Pinkie Pie, in full pony waiter uniform, rolled her way to them and dropped glasses of orange juice onto the table. “On the house, my little ponies!” she yelled cheerfully before rolling away to the adjacent table.

Coloratura let out a long sigh as she wrapped her hoof around the chilly drink. “Well, at least some of us are taking it better than me.”

Vignette nodded, silently agreeing with her there. She then took a difficult bite of her salad, holding her fork with both hooves to accomplish this feat. She didn’t mind Coloratura watching her like that; she rationalized to herself that Coloratura was an Earth pony just like her, so she had no wings or horn to help her.

The next thing Vignette said was, “So...B-T-T: What do you want to do with the concert? Any updates?”

Coloratura lowered a brow, ready to tell. “I-I managed to talk to my other self again. Turns out she crosses the barrier once in a while to help everyone out, volunteering to assist us ponies.” Putting a hoof on her cheek, “It’s unusual to receive your own kindness...know what I mean?”

Tapping her chin, Vignette said, “And, what did she offer you? A duet or what?”

The singer gulped, eyes shrinking at that last part. “Um...yeah. She offered to duet with me.”

That finally got Miss Valencia to burst out laughing, causing heads to turn at her elegant yet out-of-place cackling. It’s warming to see such an elevated figure laugh like the rest of them.

Coloratura blushed even more, embarrassed about the concept of singing a duet with herself except that self wasn’t exactly herself.

“Really?!” Vignette huffed as her bout of laughter died down. “That’s...that’s gold! M-M-W, that petit somme of yours...no, the both of yours—”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Coloratura said, raising both of her hooves to catch her attention.

So, she calmed down by flapping her hooves in front of the face to fan her into a more tranquil, more humble train of thought.

With that, everyone went back to their meals and their own conversations. The noise of utensils and plates clanging returned, too.

Vignette sighed, rubbing her eyes clear of joyful tears. “So...sorry, but...that sounds like a desperate move on your part! S-C-N-R...really couldn’t resist!”

“It’s OK,” Coloratura said, doing her best to not hold any ill will against her. “What we’re all doing is strange, anyway.”

Vignette nodded. “Yes, yes—that ‘neighsayers gonna neigh’ saying is going to be a lot more literal.” Now her turn to put her hoof on her cheek, “So, what do you want? You want me to relate this self-duet to my manager? I mean, if you can, we can make that concert the opening act of our re-opening!”

“Uh….”

“Go and T-Y-T, Coli-turi!” Vignette said. Then, smiling that photogenic smile she’s always had, “Getting what I want is what I do best, and when I want you to have a smooth time performing with your other self, you will have it.”

Coloratura matched Valencia with a smile of her own. “Well, let’s see....”

One sunset months later, Equestria Land found itself with its gates about to re-open.

The lines were long, but not for the park itself. Truth be told, an amusement park looked less fun when magic’s real. Why go on a rollercoaster when one could fly? Why observe a rodeo when everyone could participate themselves? Why square up against fake wizards when real ones could do despite how bad of an idea that was?

Posters were everywhere touting this marquee performance of two Coloraturas singing together. It’s advertised as A duet that’s out of this world! That was no exaggeration; that was a fact.

Among those packed in line were Sunset, Twilight, and Juniper, the latter two wearing Daring Do hats and holding copies of Daring Do books. Since the books’ labels on the back conveyed that they’d been printed in Canterlot, Equestria, one thing could be concluded from these two fans:

They were very impatient fans. Why wait for one’s Yearling to write the next book when the other Yearling was at least five books ahead of her?

Among other creatures were the Canterlot Movie Club super excited to see Coloratura: they were craning their heads around to see if there was a break in the line, if the gates were still open, if one of the Coloraturas was in sight.

Octavia and Vinyl Scratch were in front of them, the cellist wearing a hopeful smile for the night; indeed, inspiration was one way of getting her cello-playing confidence back on track. If Coloratura could play the piano with those hooves, then anypony could use any instrument. It also helped her that she’d heard of her Equestrian self being part of the concert’s ensemble.

The Shadowbolts, too, were waiting in full force. Lemon Zest appeared quite joyful to attend this performance if her mouthing the lyrics to Coloratura songs through her headphones wasn’t any indication, much to the irritation of the other four.

Twilight Velvet had also joined in the fray, all jumpy and jittery to ride the Neighagara Falls Barrel Flume. The only ones keeping her sane and not whining over the incredibly long line were Night Light and Shining Armor who were holding this wife and mother on the ground.

It took a few more minutes of waiting and patience as the ticket booth ponies did their final checks and setup.

Then, the gates opened.

The crowd of ponies and more swarmed in unorderly fashion into the park, entering into the loud array of rings and bells and other noises and bright lights and colorful fast things everywhere—for such was the nature of a typical amusement park.

A loud voice blared through the speakers. It was Vignette, who was greeting all visitors: “Welcome to the grand re-opening of Equestria Land! We hope you enjoy your stay here in this literally magique place, and don’t forget tonight’s main event: The Coloratura-Coloratura concert! Or, as I’d like to call it, The Col-Col Duo! #Coloratura, everypony—and don’t you forget that hashtag!”

So, with the concert in mind, most everyone went up to the big stage at the end of the road, that save pavement where the Rainbooms’ light parade had taken place. Instead of a band playing songs on a moving float, though, there’d be something more manageable. Now, no one expected the stage to wheel around; it’d be grating to the neck to turn here and there just to get a proper angle on the stars.

Beside the stage, however, was a peculiar sight: colts, fillies, and other young creatures were lined up, the queue leading to the back of the stage.

There, behind the stage and away from the spotlight of hundreds if not thousands, were two Coloraturas meeting with the schoolponies, schoolgriffons, schoolchangelings, and other schoolcreatures. The pop stars entertained the children in various ways, from asking them simple questions to accepting short singing requests. It did confuse the schoolcreatures at first, seeing two ponies with the same voice and the same name, but that’s why Equestria’s Coloratura, Rara, wore her simple long curls on her mane while this world’s Coloratura, just Coloratura, had short pigtails hanging from behind and then below her ears.

In the hubbub of star-studded excitement, a smaller Apple Bloom came over, stringing along Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. “Hi, agi’n!”

Rara smiled, trotting closer to the fillies. “Aww! The Cutie Mark Crusaders! So good to see you!” She ruffled Apple Bloom’s hair, careful not to undo the Apple pony’s big bow. “How’ve you been?”

Meanwhile, Coloratura witnessed this exchange, confusingly amused at how she saw herself (but not exactly herself) talk to her own fans (which weren’t really hers, and it still made her feel strange).

“We’re doin’ fine!” Apple Bloom yelled. “This is our firs’ time crossin’ the portal, and wowee!” She raised a hoof over her head like she was putting up a rainbow. “It’s a different kind o’ world out here!”

“It’s not really that different now,” Sweetie Belle remarked, her smile having given way to a smug expression.

“It’s still different!” Apple Bloom countered. She then nudged Scootaloo on the shoulder. “Right, Scootaloo?”

She was getting no response.

“Uh...right, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo wasn’t paying attention to her or Sweetie Belle. Instead, she was paying attention to herself.

Her other, older, taller teenager self along with her other, older, taller teenager friends in Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, all three of them having just trotted into the area.

The Canterlot Movie Club and the Cutie Mark Crusaders looked at each other in bewilderment.

Everyone stopped talking. A sense of foreboding came over all these observers, all these spectators of an inter-dimensional meeting no one was quite sure about.

The two CMC’s had their mouths hanging open, staring at each other in awe. Three looked down at their younger grade school Equestrian selves, three looked up at their older high school CHS selves.

“A-Are you…?” stammered all six in unison, pointing at their counterparts on the other side of this standoff.

The two Coloraturas were worried about the outcome. They whispered to each other’s ears, and Rara related how rambunctious the Cutie Mark Crusaders were as troublemakers even after getting their cutie marks.

Coloratura only hoped they wouldn’t start a contest or something like that.
. Since the CMC’s fell to the ground laughing at and with each other, Coloratura breathed a sigh of relief. Confused relief, but relief nonetheless.

Everyone else ended up laughing, too. Laughter was the best medicine, and it’s good to share it around.

“Out of the way!” came the disgruntled voice of Applejack as she rushed to the stage’s back, Rarity and Dash galloping behind her. “I need to know where our sisters went to and—”

Everyone stopped again, now with this sudden arrival of those three mares.

They looked at their sisters (or pseudo-sister in Dash’s case), and then their Equestrian counterparts.

Silent blinks were swapped in this short while.

“Okie-dokie, then,” said Applejack, scratching her baffled head. “This is gonna be mighty awkward.”

“I don’t think it’ll be so awkward, AJ,” Rara said with that hint of familiarity, only to realize this wasn’t the Applejack she’d spent at camp all those years ago. Clearing her throat: “I think they should get to know each other and enjoy the concert together. Now, isn’t that a good idea, Coloratura?”

Coloratura nodded, receiving her other self’s glance. “It certainly is, Rara.”

Applejack smiled a sheepish smile, unnerved by this somewhat same-sided interaction. “O...K?”

And everyone laughed at that, too.

Arrive on the Mise-En-Scené

“I know you must’ve been busy with your uncle-niece bonding time today,” Twilight said as she, Dash, and Juniper Montage trotted by the Canterlot roads at night, “but have you heard what they just did an hour ago?”

“About opening up the portals for public use?” Juniper asked, smiling at such a momentous occasion being done.

The city of Canterlot was awash in lights this evening, showing that many had slowly recovered from the magic disaster. In a way, lights did mean some sort of the usual city activity: office lights showed ponies hard at work at their cubicles and desks, store lights displayed winged creatures easily perusing the products on the top shelves, and park lights cast long shadows over changelings performing a stage play.

There was a pool of overly-competent actors available for hiring and signing, that’s for sure.

Under the whooshes of pegasi like her flying above the sky, Dash smiled, too. “Yeah. I’m not so used to the idea of portals being so normal like cars, but...eh, I’ve read enough Daring Do to get used to it anyway.”

Twilight chuckled at that. “You mean being able to fly, experiencing magic, going to Equestria, and becoming a pony didn’t help you get used to portals?”

The three mares shared a laugh at that, even Dash with her participating in a sip of self-depreciation.

Honk!

And their laughter turned to screaming at the car’s noise.

They turned to the source of the nuisance and saw a pink car. Inside was Pinkie at the driver’s seat, waving at them while she somehow operated the steering wheel with her hooves before accelerating out of sight at the next turn.

That left them silent for a while.

Then, they continued trotting through the city as if that didn’t happen, Dash shrugging off Pinkie’s inexplicable weirdness.

“So, are you planning any trips to Equestria?” Twilight asked the movie buff. “I mean, we’ve been there, but that’s a complicated thing to talk about, really, and—”

“Of course!” Juniper yelled, surprising the studious pony and almost causing her to drop her glasses.

Twilight saved them with a glow of her horn, though, and floated them back to her face.

Dash nudged Juniper on the back of her head. “Huh! It’s like you’ve been waiting for that to happen all along!.”

Juniper grinned in half embarrassment, half anxiety. “Not really, but...I’ve heard Equestria has lots of sprawling landscapes, all kinds of new people, um, creatures...who’re also people—and it’d be nice to do a short film there and hang out with everypony there!”

“Earth has sprawling landscapes,” Twilight countered, miffed about how Juniper was brushing off miles and miles of local landscapes just like that.

“Yeah,” Juniper conceded, but she leaned her head in closer and said, “though they’re not magical landscapes!”

“Ugh.”

They laughed at that, too, as they continued their little journey through Canterlot. It finally ended in a bookstore in which the owner had gotten clearance to sell books from Equestria.

So, they got the whole collection of Daring Do books from both A.K. Yearlings. It was a fun sleepover for the three rabid fans at Twilight’s.

Getting clearance to go through the portal wasn’t too easy, though. It might’ve not been as nerve-wracking as going through airport security with all its well-meaning hurdles and barriers, but Juniper still had to sign a waiver and be at the portal on time lest she forfeit her opportunity to cross dimensions.

By that time, the vortex in front of CHS had been contained and concentrated into a manageable framed portal the size of the old horse statue, housed inside a small but tall two-floor station. There’d been talks to relocate the portal elsewhere because it then looked like the school had a random huge building out of nowhere.

So, they did.

Now, the portal stood by the bridge entrance to Canterlot, decorating the landscape with its lavish presence and the sign by it that simply said, Portal to Equestria Right Here. Soothed by the rush of the river nearby, several pony guards were posted at the station, all wearing thick armor and armed with spears that had their tips constantly glowing with magic.

In the small crowd before the station (but not too large to spill over to the road), Juniper gulped and tightened her grip on her saddle bag. There, inside that tiny building and across the portal, would be a whole other dimension where all the magic happened and had happened from time immemorial. It gave her the feeling of visiting ancestral lands: magic was everywhere here, but Equestria was where it came from, after all.

Other creatures waited around in the crowd, causing cacophonous stirring as excited talk and chatter filled the air.

It didn’t help that, on the side, a little tunnel labeled Arrival ushered, well, arrivals from the other side to this world. Most of them were through-and-through Equestrians, amazed at how utterly different and at how utterly similar Earth was to their home dimension. Curious eyes looked their way, with some yearning to ask what’d they think of the experience here.

Although the experience was not even ten seconds long, so no answer would be sufficient for that request just yet.

“Juniper Montage?” a deep and booming voice called out.

The pony in question stretched the limits of her face by smiling really big as she trotted right in front of the station. There, she met the guard standing in front of the door, the one who’d called her out.

He scrutinized the mare’s face, squinting his eyes to see if this Juniper was really who she claimed to be. The guard then silently gestured at his unicorn buddy in arms to levitate the mare’s saddle bags, rummaging through the items there to see if there was anything suspicious.

“We got your waiver,” said the first guard. “All we need to know is if you don’t have any dangerous objects in your possession.”

That made Juniper all the more nervous, making her bite her lips as she watched her bag being inspected and investigated by a serious-looking unicorn clad in no-nonsense armor. She didn’t read the list of forbidden items twice or thrice even though it wasn’t that long. No weapons, no explosives, no radioactive material, and that was it.

Then, a camera was lifted out, coupled with some microphones. The unicorn raised his brow at her. “Explain yourself, ma’am.”

“Ah!” and Juniper bit her lip again, stopping her teeth from nervously clattering. “I-I’m gonna record footage in Equestria! I film stuff, and I like to act, too, and—”

That second guard rolled her eyes, returning the camera to the bag and closing all zippers and pockets there. “OK, we get it. Just make sure you don’t record any sensitive information with that, especially if it’s imbued with magical properties. Who knows if it might unleash some monster trapped in a can for a thousand years?”

Juniper nodded, unfazed by the concern that her camera might deliver destruction to both worlds. It sounded like a funny thing to think of. Nothing could possibly go wrong with a camera and some microphones, right?

Could, but it wouldn’t.

The guards mellowed to a smile as they opened the door to the station. “Move fast so you won’t slow anyone behind you down...and have a wonderful time in Equestria, ma’am.”

This final obstacle struck down, Juniper gave them a good farewell and entered the portal station.

Door was closed shut behind her.

She didn’t notice that, though.

What she noticed, with her full attention given to it, was a big glowing portal. All the room’s light came from it, creating a bleak atmosphere of contrast in this place: the bright white light against the fleeing darkness. It certainly turned the portal into something much more mystical, mysterious, and magical than before.

The threshold to another world, to another dimension, lay before her hooves. Just twenty steps and she’d be in that other dimension, that other world, that other land full of that magic wonder that’d existed long before it spilled over to Earth. Having seven magical amulets and some sparks of stray magic drift around was nothing compared to this.

She felt her heart pumping.

No backing out now.

Juniper trotted through.

Kept trotting with her eyes closed and—

“Yah!”

Fell to the ground with a resounding thud! Felt the rough patch of grass and dirt on her snout, and so she spat it out, hating the taste of dirt but still surprised at the savoriness of fresh and crisp grass.

“Oh, howdy there!”

Still didn’t see anything, but she heard that all-too-familiar twangy voice. “Wha—”

Felt something grasp her hoof, felt it trying to pull her up.

“Argh! Come on, missy! Ya’ gotta get up, now.”

Heeding such a call, Juniper got on her four hooves, relying just as much on the other pony’s strength as she did on her own. Then, rubbing her eyes, vision clearing up though not fully: “Wha...who...A-Applejack?”

She’d turned to her right and had seen Applejack there, complete with her trusty hat along with her ponytailed mane and ponytailed pony tail.

“Not the Applejack you know of!” the farmpony exclaimed as she picked up Juniper’s glasses.

She put her spectacles on her face, having gotten over using them with her hooves some time ago already. What she did next was beam at Applejack. “Wow! Th-thank you...I—”

And was distracted by the world around her.

She looked away from Applejack to take in the view.

Away from the scrambling haste of city life back in the Canterlot she knew, Juniper beheld the rolling rural hills adorned with lush green, the breathtaking clear skies expertly controlled by cloud-moving pegasi, the faraway mountain city of Canterlot looming in the distance, the railroad winding down to the quaint and dainty village of Ponyville with its old-style thatched cottages, the towering Castle of Friendship and the School of Friendship straddling by the town’s limits, that pristine river that flowed across town from the waterfall over there….

That was just her surroundings. She observed the ponies trotting around in town. Excepting those who’d stopped to glance at her—their new arrival in this dimension—they’d moved around at a peaceful, slower paced than did the inhabitants of the city. It could be pinned down to how everything felt dated here: the old-style cottages, the old-style roads, the old-style architecture and appearance in general; not an electric pole in sight nor a cell tower—not even a phone or a computer or an airplane, too.

To her, ponies here were just slower. Taking their time or just being sluggish with the times, though?

Juniper turned around to see the portal station on this side of things. Set somewhere close to the center of town, it was exactly the same as the one on Earth, with the sign saying Portal to Earth Right Here instead. Guards were posted there, too, as a little crowd of tourists looked at this Montage pony, wondering who this might be and what her purpose was in visiting their world.

She looked away from them to save herself from a dose of humiliation and beheld the view in front of her once again. Banishing the potentiality of stumbling her way to teasing in her first steps here, she found some solace, some peace and quiet in that view. All she could say was: “W-Wow! And...a-and—”

“Oh, you forgot this, too,” Applejack said before picking up her saddle bag by the mouth.

“Ah! Right. Sorry!” and Juniper took it with her mouth before slinging it around her torso, feeling the weight of her camera and other filming equipment inside.

“That’s just mighty fine!” Applejack blurted out, shaking her hoof. Then, cracking her own neck and then tipping her hat, “I was supposed to tell ya’ earlier that I’m your guide.”

Juniper shook her head. Now she was getting a freebie, too? “Wha…? But, I didn’t ask—”

“No need to ask,” Applejack interrupted, holding up a hoof and cutting her off. “Your Twilight told us how excited you were about comin’ here.” Let out a laugh that sounded a bit like a scoff to the side. “I mean, sure, it’s nice, but since both our worlds are magic ones with talkin’ horses an’ what not...I personally don’t get why some ponies visit us—” then, back-tracking with a snap back to a smile before she could shame Juniper for her actions, “—but, that’s OK, Miss Montage! I’ll be as hospitable as I could be...show you the sights an’ stuff!”

Juniper’s hooves rattled about on the ground, expressing pure joy that way. Although anything could happen to mess this trip up, she decided not to worry about it. In worry’s place was a breath of fresh air, and a hoof shooting across the air. “Alright! Let’s get to it!”

Applejack nodded, already trotting off on the path.

Juniper followed, giddy over with her camera there. Here was a picturesque world to explore, its beauty ripe for recording—then, a thought crossed her mind: Why not make a fantasy movie here? With the prevalence of magic, supposedly unusual creatures, and deep locations of lore, Equestria was the perfect setting for such a movie.

She then laughed at herself for that bit of absurdity. Why film a fantasy movie when both worlds were pretty much fantasy movies—no, beyond fantasy movies?

Baby steps. A short and reticent five-minute documentary first, she thought.

Did the film pony ever think lugging a camera and its equipment around Ponyville was a cumbersome ordeal? She probably didn’t since she wasn’t exhausted with angling her camera with a hoof or setting it down on a tripod. With the camera’s red light on, it recorded a variety of serene scenes: trees bending in the wind, open blue skies untouched by clouds, and butterflies flitting over bushes.

Since Applejack was her tour guide, the first stop made a lot of sense: Sweet Apple Acres.

Applejack introduced her to the Apple family, which all looked familiar to Juniper although she had to remind herself they weren’t the same family from Earth. That didn’t make the resemblances any less uncanny.

Aside from the Apple ponies themselves, the vast farmscapes caught Juniper’s attention. More serene scenes to record with swaying apple trees and livestock running around without paying much mind to this strange pony with her strange contraptions. Her tour guide tried to let her in on some farm history and more information—definitely not opinion—about how apples were the best fruit ever, but Juniper was too busy with her mini-movie.

After a trot by the technical borders of Ponyville, the two reached their next stop: the Castle of Friendship. Juniper took a couple snapshots of that glittery jagged structure, amazed by its image: a castle resting on the laurels of a crystal tree, topped with a banner and a spire that displayed the cutie mark of the Princess of Friendship herself.

The stark disparity between the Twilight Sparkle she knew and Equestria’s Twilight Sparkle came to mind once again. This royal of the land lived here in this splendid castle, doing whatever Princess of Friendship stuff she was doing in there. Juniper kept telling herself that she wasn’t that formal, but the pompous castle kept telling her otherwise; besides, she didn’t particularly like the idea of knocking those humongous doors just to strike up a chat with this Twilight.

To the right was the School of Friendship, boasting to the castle that, what it lacked in size, it made up for in style. “I teach there some o’ the time,” Applejack added with a nudge on Juniper’s shoulder, hoping to get this pony out of her camera funk.

Over there, hanging out by one of the school’s ponds, was a large group of twelve creatures that looked like clones of each other. Enjoying the sound of a rushing waterfall were the Student Six, as they’d become known around these parts, along with their other selves back on Earth. They were busy playing an expanded edition of the board game One Pony Business, and the excitement of having twelve players on this large board was getting to their heads. It didn’t matter if they had their counterparts right across the irregular circle or even beside themselves; there was no awkwardness to it today:

Earth’s Sandbar was learning about Griffonstone culture from Equestria’s Gallus, Earth’s Gallus was arguing with Equestria’s Ocellus about how unfair the game’s rules were, and Earth’s Ocellus was busy making a trade of properties with Equestria’s Yona who then asked Earth’s Smolder if’s actually a good move...and, to that, she deferred the question to the other Smolder who just shook her head and said, “Don’t know, don’t care.”

Silverstream did scream when she got those extravagant dark blue properties, but Juniper couldn’t tell which Silverstream was which.

An eyeroll from Applejack later, Juniper was guided back into Ponyville proper again.

The tour went on as expected, with Applejack talking up a blurb about each landmark while Juniper engaged herself in the art of cinema.

They visited town hall with the mayor too occupied to entertain their presence, going overtime with her stacks of papers for inter-world relations in Ponyville.

Sugarcube Corner had Pinkie Pie working up a batch of fragrant cakepies for a “special delivery for this special pony who’s especially coming here with an especial purpose!” Applejack couldn’t argue with that since Pinkie was Pinkie, so their time there was short-lived.

The marketplace was brimming with stalls and tons of ponies trotting by, carrying all sorts of bags to do their daily groceries. Juniper saw Rose—a different Rose, to be sure—hawking flowers with Lily Valley and Daisy, though they were a bit appalled at seeing Juniper herself, as if they just knew she wasn’t from this world. The latter did her best to ignore that thought, but it still lingered in her head.

So, they went on: Rich’s Barnyard Bargains, Carousel Boutique, Ponyville Day Spa, Ponyville Hospital, even the local party store.

There were times when Juniper wasn’t listening to Applejack ramble on about the history of Ponyville and how her family helped build it up, and it wasn’t because she believed the apple pony had too much braggadocio. In fact, Juniper was quite busy with recording this and that, even taking videos of seemingly random items like balloons and checkerboard floors.

So far, Applejack didn’t seem to mind, at least on the face of things. At the party store, she mumbled to herself, “If you’re enjoyin’ yourself here, I ain’t complainin’.”

Applejack did her best to not complain, too. It was hard not to complain, however, when her guest didn’t so much as even pretend to know she was there.

Thus went the rest of the tour.

Juniper had grander ambitions than Ponyville, though.

Once the tour had run its course and Juniper had gotten used to this new world, she told Applejack that she wanted to go to Canterlot and pay that a visit.

“Ya’ sure about that?” she asked, putting on an uneasy frown. “Canterlot’s full of sophisticated ponies. Sure, they’re accommodatin’ and they’ll be kind to you, but they ain’t used yet to...um,” gulped, “new ponies like you.”

“I’ll be OK,” Juniper replied, brushing her mane off with her hoof. “I can handle myself from here on out.”

With Applejack’s rather hesitant approval, they walked to the train station. There, the two ponies parted ways and exchanged farewells, Applejack saying that she would go and bake some apple pies for the weekend dinner.

As for Juniper: she observed her surroundings.

She had gone to a few countryside villages before in her life, but, from what she saw so far, Equestria was a world still wide open for exploration and numerous possibilities. It was true that there were wide open spaces and fields back on Earth, but one glance at a map of this world, and everything seemed a whole lot more enormous. They hadn’t even mapped the entire world yet! Juniper had been unsettled by enormous swathes of territory left undiscovered, but she brushed it off as the cost of having a magic world—maybe not enough research on satellites.

Her mind then strayed back to why she was here. She wanted to go to Canterlot, the capital of the pony nation. Filming there would be fun, and she’d heard there were plenty of luscious parks out in Canterlot, and who would decline the chance to video the breathtaking views of a city hanging on a mountain?

Then, she heard the whistle of an incoming train.

Looked to the left, and there it was: that approaching steam train with its puffs of smoke coming out of its chimney. She’d never seen one save for the fake ones they had on set for that one movie where a wizard boy went to a wizard school...or was it the one where four teenagers had gone through a cabinet to save a kingdom?

Anyway, here it came, slowing down to a halt, giving Juniper time to appreciate this vintage beauty of bygone transportation.

It stopped.

The doors opened, and various ponies and other creatures came out, exiting in droves.

Juniper trotted in, trying not to bump into anyone, trying to blend in with the environment, trying to act as normal as she could, trying not to give off the feeling that she’d only been a pony for a few months.

She failed since too many eyes were on her. She overheard whispers of “the other one”, all with mysterious or scared glances at her.

Juniper’s ears flayed as the doors closed, the pony herself rushing to a seat. Without looking, she sat beside a random pony and wiped the sweat off of her face.

“Next stop, Canterlot!” yelled the conductor.

The whistle blew, and the train slowly chugged its way back to speed, the jangling of rails diminishing into an imperceptible hum.

“Phew!” and Juniper wiped her face again. Then, in order so that she’d not come off as any more weird, she tried to be friendly by offering a hoofshake to the stranger on her left. In a cheery tone: “Um, hi! I’m Juniper Montage!”

The other pony, however, looked just like her. Had the same coat color, the same glasses, the same cutie mark of a juniper leaf, and when she turned to look at Juniper—

“Aaaahhh!” screamed the both of them as they pointed at each other, proving that they also had the same voice.

With these unpleasant pleasantries done and said, the two ponies stared at each other in shock as, meanwhile, the scenery and the sky slowly turned orange, signaling the imminent sunset.

All Juniper could stammer out was, “I-I-I-I—”

“Um,” and the other pony, with a shaky hoof, said, “a-Are you...wh-who I think you are?”

Juniper nodded, dread forcing her to giggle nervously to let out the rising panic. “Y-Yes...the n-name’s J-Juniper Montage...a-at your service? Wait, no!” and smacked her forehead, berating herself that way. “Wh-What was I supposed to say to myself, and—” began hyperventilating, inhaling and exhaling at full tilt.

The other Juniper placed a hoof to her own chest, slightly less nervous than her and somewhat irked by her other self’s behavior. “Y-Yeah, I’m a-also terrified at yourself—ah, myself…?” Now offering her a hoofshake, “I-I’m also Juniper Montage.”

Closed her eyes, fixed her glasses, not minding the train bumping a rocky bit along the way.

“Let me guess. Are you the—”

“—niece to famous movie director Canter Zoom?” yelled Juniper in sudden fascination with herself...or her?

Montage nodded, glad to cool down from that supremely awkward moment. “Well, my uncle is kind of a movie director, but he isn’t exactly famous. He operates way over West in Applewood.”

She scratched her head, bringing to Juniper’s attention that their manestyles were different. This one had her mane all curled and tied up in a bun against Juniper’s twin bunches.

“You know,” Montage went on, “movies aren’t exactly hot here in Equestria, at least not the high-definition ones I’m sure you’re used to. You only see them in the western metros and Manehattan on the opposite side of the kingdom.” Paused to organize her thoughts. “The average city in Equestria is stuck with reels and stocks, while I heard you have digital cameras...like, you can store those videos in tiny cards. ”

Juniper nodded, giving her Equestrian self first-hoof confirmation of the technology. Still, that got Juniper wondering: In a world where film was still a budding innovation, what exactly was Montage’s passion? How different was it from her own?

So, Juniper decided to break the ice on that front: “Um, about videos and cameras and movies...is your life story about all that?”, ending with a very big and very strained grin that tested her cheek muscles.

Montage giggled, raising a hoof to her face like a prim and proper mare. “I’ve never had me ask myself about my own background.” Her smile gave way to a frown of absolute confusion, looking down at the floor and the aisle. “Wow. That’s beyond weird.”

Juniper leaned closer to her, wearing a smug smile just to rub the weirdness in her face. “I know, right?”

The once-confused pony shrugged her off in jest, preferring to look out the window over baffling herself in two-universe contemplation.

Out there rested a sunset-tinted vista, with the hills and mountains and plains and rivers all under that light filter of orange. A pegasus or two could be espied in the sky, traveling to Canterlot and perhaps deeming the train too slow for their liking.

“Grew up in Applewood, actually,” Montage blabbed out of the blue, bringing the conversation back on the life story strack, and making Juniper look back at her. “Even before I got my cutie mark,” pointing at the juniper leaf cutie mark there, “I’ve always had the desire to make timeless movies and plays set in forests, jungles—as long as it was a green and tranquil place to be.” Pulled her head back, letting it recline on the seat’s soft headrest. “You know, because juniper’s an evergreen, right?”

Juniper chuckled at that thought, now thinking about her own name. “Yeah. Partially named after a tree.”

“You and I both,” Montage said, rubbing her hooves as the train got a tad colder. “And, since I like evergreen stuff, I’ve never liked dead trees, autumn plants, things like that. Actually,” rubbed her hooves again for some warmth, “I never liked winter...like, at all. We rarely got snow in hot Applewood anyway.” She then stuck out a tongue with a bleh! “Snow’s too cold for my taste!”

Juniper arched a brow, intrigued by yet another similarity across dimensions. “Me, too, really. I don’t like winter, too. When it does snow in Canterlot, I just stay indoors and turn the heater all the way up to eleven.”

The both of them shared some laughter on that one, imagining the ludicrous picture of Juniper holed up in her home, covered in a dozen sweaters by both the heater and the fireplace, surrounded by a myriad of green juniper trees indoors.

Then, Juniper and Montage looked out the window once again, settling their minds in reality and away from ridiculous hypothetical exaggerations like that.

Not much changed outside. The sun was a bit lower, a bit more orange or a bit more red. The lone pegasi were gone now. A few clouds had inched in while they werne’t looking, but that was all in this slow-moving view.

“What about you?” Montage then said, turning to face Juniper. “How did you grow up and, um, like movies?”

The pronouns were starting to stand out like a sore thumb—no, a sore hoof to Juniper. You, me, myself, yourself. She knew she and Montage were completely different personalities, completely individual individuals, but the fact that they were, in too many ways, the same pony was freaking her out internally.

Still, she acquiesced and satisfied Montage’s fancy after a cough: “So...I grew up in Knacker City, some no-name town so it doesn’t matter where it was. By then, Uncle was a rising star in the industry. Also,” taking care to raise her hoof in the air, “my mother did some acting on the side while my Dad did costume design for sci-fis back in the day. I...I guess it was destiny I’d be so into movies.”

She scratched her head, unsure if she’d done it before. She mentally blamed it on seeing her other self do it. Then, Juniper continued: “We decided to move to Canterlot when I was seven, so we could keep in touch with Uncle.” Smiling wide, “I did lots of things around in the sets—perks of being a gofer!” and closed her eyes in that smile, remembering the times she ran around to deliver snacks, coffee, papers, and other things actors and staff needed...and then, that’s when the memory of a peculiar incident involving a Daring Do film and missing props cropped up.

Montage cocked her head, seeing the growing glumness on her counterpart’s face. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”, despite having not said anything for the past forty seconds or so.

Resigning herself to relate that fateful day, Juniper slumped her shoulders. The undetectable jittering of the train, she could sense in that thick silence between her and herself.

Then, with one long sigh, she asked:

“Have you sabotaged a movie, framed a famous actress, gotten shown up by some guests, forced to work as a popcorn girl at the cinema, had your mirror get cursed by magic, and gotten crazy with so much magic power that you rampaged through the mall and thought everyone cheered you for the movie star you thought you were?”

Montage simply blinked, her face blank at first. “That’s...a lot to take in. And...n-no, I d-don’t think so.” Slowly nodding, “I do want to be a movie star someday, though...but, ow, what happened there?”

Juniper sighed, rubbing her seat as her lips trembled to retell the tale. “Well, that happened.” It was hard to continue, but she’d already broached the subject. “I grew so envious of that Chestnut Magnifico...and then Sunset and her friends saved the movie from me...and, during the premiere at the mall—th-that’s when I...I turned into a monster,” and looked at her hooves in self-contemplation. She didn’t want to give this thought a moment, but the deed had been done.

The train rolled on, now busy climbing up the steep slope to Canterlot. What’d come ahead was a few bridges, some tunnels, and the home stretch to that famed and fashionable city.

Painful silence rolled on, too. While Juniper tried to engross her mind with the good that had come after that terrible event at the mall, Montage rubbed her cheeks uncertainly.

She hadn’t particularly been a bad pony per se. She’d been a rebellious teenager with attitude, sure, but she’d never gone power mad and endangered the lives of dozen. That’s why it rubbed her the wrong way, this turning into a monster and all the business that came with such a predicament.

Montage, however, found it disturbing that Juniper wasn’t too bothered by it. What should’ve been a tearful grimace was instead a plaintive smile, one that was forged out of that past suffering and reparation.

Juniper made another sigh and cast her eyes upon the passing outside once more, seeing that they were getting higher, farther away from flat ground level down below.

“I wasn’t really mad at them all...OK, I was, but there was a why. The magic apparently corrupted my mind, so I went overboard some of the time...but,” closed and squeezed her eyes shut before speaking out, “I wanted to be a movie star, and I thought they just took the dream away from me!”

She loosened her forelegs and let her hooves truly rest on the seat. Laid her head back on the seat, gazing at the ceiling with the lights surely about to turn on. The day was nearing its end, and everything was gradually becoming darker. The sunset’s orange tint intensified, reaching into their carriage.

“And to think I trapped them in that mirror forever...all because they did what was right and exposed me.” Rested a hoof on her head, as calming plans to hang out with her ex-hostages vaguely formed in that resting head. “Maybe...maybe I’ll try that club Rainbow Dash has on Fridays.”

Montage smiled at the idea, but then wore a pensive look. A bead of sweat pouring down her forehead, “Well, I...um...uh—”

Juniper arched a brow. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”, though hearing the same words come from her own mouth made for an outlandish episode.

Scratching her neck, Montage gulped. “So...they forgave you, right?”

Juniper nodded, not sure where this was going. “Uh-huh.”

“And you’re friends with them, right?”, pointing at her other self.

“Uh-huh...well, some more than others.” Counting them off on her hoof despite the lack of digits, “Twilight and Rainbow Dash are huge Daring Do fans, so I fan with them a lot, and Rarity has some surprising insight on what looks good for certain movie characters...but, Applejack’s—”

“Uh, I mean—” and she whimpered, glancing away to recollect what to say next. Turning back: “You wanna know why I brought that up? I mean, your friends?”

Juniper blinked, becoming apprehensive about where this conversational thread might end up. “Why?”

Montage’s teeth clattered, tempted to bite her hoofnails. With one more gulp: “I-I’m shy. Very shy with other ponies unless it’s another film buff like me.”

Juniper was merely surprised at this revelation. “Oh? You don’t sound shy to me. Then again, I’m not exactly an extrovert, either.”

“Yeah—” quietly laughing nervously “—but, that’s because you’re...me but not me.”

Although that was fun to know, this was getting too odd to not call out. “Alright, you don’t have to mince words with me...uh, me. What do you want to say?”

Montage’s smile wobbled. Here was her opportunity, and she took it to say: “I…I was wondering if we could...oh, wow, this will be weird….”

“What?”

Cleared her throat, coughed whatever imaginary obstructions were stuck in that throat. Finally, she said, “If...I-I was wondering if we could be...friends?”

If they could be friends.

Juniper’s eye twitched at the possibility.

As the train rolled on, having finished its climb.

Back on Earth, Dash’s Official Daring Do Fan Club, so it was called, usually held meetings in the namesake’s house.

No, not Daring Do’s house since she’s certainly, definitely, and undeniably not a real pony.

Situated near the border of the city of Canterlot was Dash’s house.

Her parents had been very supportive of her ever in this adventurous endeavor ever since she was introduced to the series by Twilight. Their support persisted through bad hair days, extreme enthusiasm expressed through screaming, and the fact that their daughter was now a magic pegasus—and that they, too, were magic pegasi.

This Friday, Bow Hothoof and Windy Whistle whipped up quite a feast for what was supposedly a hoofful of snacks: biscuits and crackers topped with mushroom lasagna and stuffed potatoes, all steaming hot with the tangy smell of tomato sauce wafting through the house.

Dash and Twilight waited at the dining table, giddy with not just books but also the DVDs of the Daring Do movie, the merch in the form of plushies and hats and shirts and flags, and notebooks—especially for Twilight. Where could she store all her ideas and outlines for her Daring Do fan fiction, after all?

“Any moment now,” Rainbow said, tapping the table with her hooves and making an impromptu beat with it. Using a wing to hold her fork, “But...how are we going to tell the difference between the two?”

“We call ours Juniper, and the other Montage,” Twilight replied in a perky voice, unable to hold her excess enthusiasm. “Got it?”

“Uh...what else again?” Dash said, giving up with a twirl of her hoof and a close of her wings. Almost dropped the fork, but picked it up with her mouth.

“The mane,” Twilight said, pointing at her own bunned mane and bringing to mind the other Twilight’s straight one. “It’s always the mane, Rainbow.”

Vbrt! Vbrt!, as the alarming door bell rang through the whole house.

“It’s open!” Dash yelled, barely holding her own excess enthusiasm, too, as her tapping hooves became a rapid drumroll so fierce, only Twilight’s magic kept the food from falling into pieces.

The door opened, and, over there against the night, were Juniper and Montage, grinning widely and carrying bags of Daring Do books and wearing the merch.

“We’re ready!” Juniper yelled, holding up her first edition copy of Daring Do and the Sapphire Stone.

“And is that mushroom I smell?” Montage remarked, sniffing the delicious permeating scent.

Twilight clasped her forehooves and hoped her look would convince them to come in immediately.

“OK!” Rainbow shouted, beckoning them in with her hoof. “The first native Equestrian in our club! Come on in!”

So, both visitors came inside.

Before the door even closed, all four fans couldn’t help but jump around at having such a full club for this session. They were surely going to have a great time geeking out over Daring Do together.

Magic

Eight years later.

On a day close to wrapping up eight years later: as the sunset streaked across the sky with its rays of orange, Sunset Shimmer trotted through a cool and breezy Canterlot on the way home. She still lived in that somewhat dingy apartment despite having had a couple offers made to her regarding “proper houses”. The pony had turned all of them down, unwilling to part with her first dwelling on Earth.

Although her abode hadn’t changed, Canterlot had and it’d changed in strides. Most of the buildings had retained their old modern appearances, but what—or who—they had was something else entirely: various creatures of all kinds mingling in the lobbies, in the aisles, in the lounges...everywhere, and outside, too, on the sidewalk. Not even the sky itself was devoid of these creatures as a pegasus and a griffon bumped each other’s hoof and claw in mid-flight.

The stores and supermarkets still sold the usual stuff, although that stuff had been modified to fit Equestrian needs. Keyboards for ponies, to take an example, had been reduced to two keys and a space bar, with the keys acting more like pressable spinning tops than just buttons. Medicine, too, had taken on a more fantastical route, with homemade brews having gained traction with bottles and pills sporting weird-sounding ingredients on the labels like Zap apple, foal’s breath, lazililies, Phoenix Flora. Cameras had been given the adaptation treatment as well, getting neck pads that could bring the camera up to the pony’s eyes for easy picture-taking.

That’s without mentioning the outright magical like potions, spells, and one-use rainclouds which, if the sticker by the racks were to be believed, were great if you want to have control over your weather!

On the road, the majority had moved on to carts and carriages, with more than a few ponies willing to pull and haul other ponies and creatures around for money—it was like a taxi anyway. However, ex-humanity still had the technology they’d developed, so a couple early bird innovators created cars specifically tailored for hooves and paws, with the accelerator angled higher so their hindlimbs could reach it, for instance.

What gave Sunset a bite of peace, though, was how it wasn’t all burning down in flames, or that it hadn’t been reduced to rubble or even just abandoned. Instead, Canterlot—and, really, all the world over—continued on their merry way. Everything had been rocky during the first year or so, but now, it was quite alright.

The house lay only a few dozen steps away.

Sunset was now, of course, eight years older. But, not much about her appearance changed. Her wavy mane became slightly wavier, but that was all.

As she approached her home, Sunset noticed Lemon Zest was putting up a poster on her wall, taping the notice on her wall.

“Uh, Zest?” she asked, pointing a hoof at the poster. “What’s that for?”

The Earth pony took off her bluetooth earphones, her head still bobbing to the rhythm. “I’m participating in the Crystal Prep Cornhole Tournament! Wanna watch?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. Despite having moved on from Crystal Prep and education in general, Lemon Zest had stayed faithful and loyal to her alma mater, and it showed. She was wearing a baseball cap with the Shadowbolts’ insignia on it.

Onto the poster: there was depicted various silhouettes throwing bean bags into the board. It screamed, Crystal Prep Academy, one of the finest educational institutions in the world, is hosting its 50th Cornhole Tournament this month!

Sunset chuckled, thinking kindly of Lemon Zest winning the championship. “Have fun, then!”

“You, too, Sunset!” Lemon said back.

Both waved hooves at each other as Sunset glowed her horn, turned the knob around with her magic, and entered.

Not much had changed in Sunset’s house either. Her computer and her video game console did, although it was mostly to get horse editions and they had big components and parts suited for hooves, wings, and plain magic.

Still, she slept in the same bed, ate at the same table, looked out the same window, and heated food at the same microwave. The floor was the same, the wall was the same, the ceiling was the same.

A lot of things were the same here.

Sunset looked at the clock hanging and ticking above her front door.

Five o’ clock sharp.

“One more hour,” she mumbled, agitated. “What am I gonna do for one more hour?”

So, out of boredom, she decided to do a sneak peek of spring cleaning even though it was already autumn. Sunset trotted to a nearby drawer, and found a couple of trinkets. Inside hid a couple of broken phones, many horseshoes, a few late and unusable coupons, her old journal, some salt shakers—

“Huh?”

That red glow came over the journal. She floated it out of the rubble and blew the thin sheet of dust out of it.

When it’d settled with a rather pungent smell, the pony beheld the book: the journal, that magic journal with its abstract interpretation of the sun on the cover.

She placed a hoof on it. Still felt smooth like it’d always been, although she could feel its aging wrinkles.

Levitating the book in the air, she opened it and slowly flipped through the pages, careful not to accidentally rip or tear a leaf or two.

She saw the cherished correspondence between her and Princess Twilight. It hadn’t gone all the way back to their first letters about the Sirens and the Battle of the Bands—this wasn’t that other journal. Despite that, going through the pages gave made her nostalgic: telling Twilight how the Daring Do movie premiere went with Juniper, Twilight gushing over how cute it was to have a gecko as a pet, the princess congratulating her for passing the driving test, Sunset relating the story of how the fall play went….

This warmed her heart. This also warmed her eyes, as a tear ran down her cheek, although she moved the book forward so that the tear would not stain this precious thing.

Then, she flipped to the last page with words on them.

Written in a hurried scrawl, these last words:

...I think I’m close to becoming a pony. Write what thou may, but know that we may not respond any further.

Please help.

The nostalgia gave way to those doom-filled days. Memories of that whole magical incident flooded her mind: the direful rush to find the solution in the library, the confrontation with Midnight Sparkle back on Earth, and then those moments after the portal had been overloaded—those moments when she realized, to her horror, that the world had gone magical. That no humans were left, that these strange and weird creatures she’d been familiar with had taken their place.

All of their places.

Sunset closed her eyes, thoughtful over this string of events, over how her world was now. Yesterday, she hadn’t given a single span of attention to the world of before, to humanity of old and how magic used to be this wild novel element being introduced and opened to Earth. Actually, the other day, she hadn’t done given a span of attention to that, too. And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that….

She noticed something else in the drawer’s messy pile.

It was another notebook.

Sunset levitated it up, hanging it in the air for her to see clearly.

It was an ordinary notebook. The cover was made of plastic, and there weren’t too many pages nor too few. It was an ordinary, average notebook.

She turned around and set it against the sun’s setting light. The unicorn flipped it around and saw a sticky note on it. It simply read:

Notebook for notebooking.

It wasn’t the words that mattered, though. She recognized her hoofwriting there. Or, well, her handwriting from back then when she still had hands.

Sunset then noticed that she’d been absent-mindedly levitating a ballpen from the desk.

She decided to take her own hint.

Put the journal back into the drawer, dragged the notebook through the air as it glowed red, and sat at dining table, dropping it there and levitated her ballpen to the page.

Her lighting? The rays of the setting sun.

Sunset was in her element today.

So, with the notebook open on the first and blank page, she began:

Dear Princess Twillight Sparkle.

“...wait a minute.”

Sunset dropped the ballpen to the page and re-read what she’d just written.

She chuckled at herself, scratching her head in self-embarrassment. “Silly me! This isn’t a magic journal!”

So, she crossed that out.

Then, she began again:

It’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything like this. Where does the time fly these days?

I noticed my last words on my journal was almost a decade ago. Since I last touched the journal, I graduated from Canterlot High, finished college, served as Principal Celestia’s sometime assistant, and racked up a serious tenure at the local sushi bar.

Heh. That doesn’t sound much, but I’ve really come a long way. (I also can’t believe I still work there, but it’s a fun job!)

Earth has come a long way, too. Ever since that Monday afternoon, the world’s changed. Not all for the better, not all for the worse. Sometimes, I wonder what we missed because of that, if we’d all lived out normal lives. As normal as magic geode-wearing friends could be, but that still counts as normal compared to being in Equestria 2.0.

Anyway, I told you what I’ve done, which, frankly, isn’t that much. Yeah, I also helped around town, did some odd jobs here and there to satisfy my fancy like that one time I helped Applejack stomp apples.

Speaking of Applejack: Not much had changed with her and her family. After all she’s been through, she still helps out at home with farm work. She did get some new family members thanks to their old horses suddenly getting minds just like ours, but, let’s face it. They’ve been with her for so long, so does it really matter?

If you ask me about her whole situation, though, she’s fine. Applejack is right where she wants to be.

Earlier in the day, in the early morning, Sunset was treated to a traditional Apple family breakfast. Their hospitality was a mainstay, after all, and one of the more delectable forms that hospitality came in is food. Lots of delicious, mouth-watering, savory-and-sweet-to-the-nose-and-mouth food: apple pie, apple cake, apple cobbler, apple turnover...and all of that and more, topped with apple juice, apple shake, and apple ice cream.

“It’s mighty nice you came over to chow down with us!” Applejack said from the seat beside her, rubbing her own forehooves in anticipation. “We’ve had a great harvest this season, but before we get in’o all the Thanksgiving festivities, we’re doin’ a test run, so they say!” Then, she patted Apple Bloom’s mane. “And this couldn’t have been possible without my dear sis’!”

Sunset looked there and saw Apple Bloom gulping down her apple juice from her seat, which wasn’t a polite way of introducing herself but that was OK. She’d grown up to be a talented baker, what with the apron around her neck. After all this time, however, she still wore that bow on her hair, now accompanied by another like it.

Big McIntosh was happily chowing down on his three slices of pie, slurping this and that as Cinnamon shot a glare at him, implying that he should have some manners on the table. Oakley ribbed on Cinnamon by lightly nudging her chest, only for the pegasus to be attacked by another glare, and so he shuddered. The unicorn distracted thus, Big Mac resumed his sloppy yet passionate dining.

Granny Smith rolled her eyes, looking at Sunset and Applejack in particular. “Just get on wit’ it!” she murmured under her breath before opening her mouth wide to eat some pure apples.

At the dining table, therefore, was a simple family having a nice breakfast. The sunlight through the window cast a happy warm glow upon their table, upon their happy faces.

As for Fluttershy, she’s done well for herself. Staying a pony helped her relate to her animals even more now that they see her as an equal (or first among equals, but I shouldn’t tell her that). Like Applejack, she’s right where she wants to be: Helping out animals at the animal shelter and, somewhere down the line, helping out everypony, too.

Although, in a world with magic, she has learned of new animals to take care of.

The animal shelter had not seen any renovations at all.

OK, it had its walls proofed with steel and anti-magic material, but that was merely for protection, the manager had posited. Even then, he’d gone on, pets needed to roam around on the grass once in a while; should the grass be renovated, too, with the world’s changes? That’d seemed like paranoia to him.

Today, it was merely another Tuesday for the shelter as a jackalope fair was held just outside, and, really, what was so mesmerizing or amazing about rabbits with antlers on their heads?

Yet, that’s what the non-pet lover would think.

Several ponies and other creatures had traveled from far and wide to this shelter to see these jackalopes hop, skip, and jump freely. To them, they were adorable critters, and some were already voicing their desires to take one home.

Sunset levitated a couple carrots to a bunch of jackalopes, which they nibbled on with gusto. Several joyful squeaks could be heard from between their whiskers.

“Thank you for the carrot delivery, Sunset!” Fluttershy said, announcing her presence by landing on the ground as she carried a bottle of carrot juice on her back. She closed her wings and looked back, checking if there were any scratches or anything stuck on her feathers and on her mane which’d lengthened over time.

Sunset smiled and wrapped a hoof around her friend’s neck. “My pleasure! Besides,” looking off to the husk of jackalopes gobbling up their food, “they’re kind of cute. Never had the chance to see these things back in my day.”

Fluttershy smiled, closing her eyes cutely and tilting her head to the side. “Well, they’re quite nice—”

“Run!”

And ponies came screaming out of the shelter, scrambling away from the two-headed orthos barking twice as loud and twice as fast, causing the ground to shake and tremble.

The visitors panicked, yelped, ran, jumped—anywhere. The jackalopes hopped away to the back of the shelter, away from the raging dog/s as it rabidly bared its two sets of teeth to whoever was the nearest which, now, was a poor mare hiding in the bushes, hoping the adage of “You don’t see me, I don’t see you” would come true that moment.

Sunset gulped, backing away and biting her lip in fear. “F-Flutters? Since when did you get—”

“Oh!” and Fluttershy flew over to the dog and immediately rubbed its head. Both of their heads.

As quickly as it’d burst out in senseless anger, it’d calmed down, now sagging its tongue and wagging its tail. Those vengeful eyes had become delightful puppy eyes, and those barks had softened into mewling bleats.

Then, as fast as they’d dispersed, everyone came slinking back, relieved that the threat had been neutralized, that the orthos was now just like any ordinary pet dog.

An ordinary pet dog with two heads, sure, but those are trifling details.

“Aww, don’t you worry!” Fluttershy said in a dainty whisper to it...or them. “I know needles are scary, but you have to be brave for your sake because they will help you against sickness. Be brave not for me but for yourself, you little doggies!”

The doggy/ies then rolled on the floor, rolling in bliss at Fluttershy’s call and beck.

Sunset, meanwhile, had her jaw hanging open at this feat of pet mastery.

Rainbow Dash was pretty sad when the Rainbooms had to break up at the end of high school. It’s great everyone’s stayed in Canterlot all this time, but with everyone having to go their separate ways career-wise, it was inevitable.

So, it surprised me when I found out she was going on a solo act, help set up the country’s buckball league complete with TV networks and sponsors, and get viral on the internet by hanging out with A.K. Yearling twice a year. I’m still not sure if she knows Yearling’s secret, though.

(Note to self: Rip the last sentence out if Rainbow comes knocking.)

She managed to do all three and much more. Rainbow’s a sports hero, a part-time one-mare-band, and one of the most famous Daring Do fans in all of history, all while leading Canterlot’s weather team and staying good with her co-workers at the Rodeo Sports branch.

She may’ve grown a bit cranky and out of focus, but I gotta say: she’s such an accomplished mare.

“You think?!” Dash said, yelling at Sunset with a snicker as she held the microphone close to her mouth and her shades-covered eyes.

Both ponies were standing inside the studio room that’d been installed in her house some years back. Furnished with soundproof walls, expensive recording equipment, a many-buttoned-slidered mixer, and a personal fridge and television set to keep her company—all these lay in the room as it smelled of fresh buttered popcorn.

Unlike Applejack and Fluttershy who’d gone through minimal changes, Rainbow went radical ever since she started wearing shades and sunglasses all the time, even indoors. Part of it had been due to her singer personality, part of it had been due to the simple hunger for being cool no matter what.

“You think I can’t sing a song about fried chicken?!” Dash yelled once again, only to end in hearty laughter as she slapped the wall with her hoof.

“Not really,” Sunset replied, then, turning her head to the side, “but, why? Why fried chicken of all things?”

“Easy.” Dash knocked her forehooves together with a slam! “Everypony sings about love. Everypony.”

“That’s a stereotype and you know it,” Sunset said in deadpan.

“Bah!” and the pegasus flared her wings open in disgust. “Whatever. Point is, everypony thinks fried chicken’s too funny to talk about. Well, guess what, world?” and stomped a hoof on the floor with a determined stance in her voice. “I will sing about fried chicken and nopony’s going to stop me!”

“You can’t even digest fried chi—”

“That’s why I order veggie fried chicken,” and, as if waiting for that moment, Rainbow grabbed a leg of veggie fried chicken from her bowl of popcorn and chewed on it. She made a point to eat as loudly as possible, opening her mouth wide so that Sunset could see her teeth get dirtied by the food all while listening to her aggravating om-nom-nom-nom’s.

She then got distracted by the game going on via TV. Dash lowered her shades and exclaimed, “Oh! Really?”

“Really what?” Sunset said, glancing over there and looking at the screen. Then, she gasped and smacked a hoof on her cheek. “What?! Canterlot Cavalries tie it up at seven?!”

Rainbow quickly grabbed a Daring Do plushie and held it close to her chest, staring at the screen as the final minute of the game began.

“My ponies better make it in!” Rainbow shouted. Shaking her balled up hoof at the screen, “You hear me, Stratusburg? You’re going down! Call yourself the Halters, eh? More like the Falters, am I right?!” and budged Sunset out of the way, causing her to almost trip.

All the while, Sunset made a mellow smile through it all. Rainbow was indeed enjoying life...except when her home team’s on the cusp of missing the playoffs she herself had designed.

Rarity consulted with her Equestrian self even before she left high school. It’s rather unfortunate the old owner of Carousel Boutique just left off because Prim Hemline wanted to move out, and Rarity’s done her best to bring her back. But, when she wholeheartedly gave her full control and trust over the shop, Rarity got ecstatic. I’ve never seen a pony so happy over owning a fashion store before.

With the help of the other Rarity, Rarity started fashioning her fashion empire (hah!). She made sure it was always the clients who came to her, not the other way around. She made sure that she was the one setting the trends, not the trends setting her. As she’d told me before, “If they’re in fashion right now, then they’re practically already out.” Or was it the other Rarity? I guess I’m still not used to this other-selves thing after so long.

Rarity also has a side job of playing the piano—a “proper” one this time—for special occasions like weddings and formal parties. She hangs out with Octavia that way, who’s also gotten over her funk. (Actually, she’s a better cellist as a pony than when she was a human. Don’t believe me? Ask her yourself, book.)

Now, Rarity’s the fun fashion magnate who you can always talk to. She’s never forgotten her roots here; even insisted on staying here most of the time and letting her entourage do the rest. It’s great, really, that she still spends lots of time with us.

“No,” said Rarity, inspecting Sunset who she’d donned up in jacket and hat, not unlike a certain detective. “That makes you look mysterious, to be sure, but you need to be both mysterious and beautiful. And a touch of the present.”

In the Carousel Boutique, ponies trotted around, checking the dress and suit displays and then checking themselves in front of the mirror. Assistants adorned in dazzling clothes of ties and hats complimented their clientele’s looks, approving of their choice or suggesting a better alternative based on their mane, eye color, coat, and a host of other details.

As for the grand fashionista herself, Rarity’s looks hadn’t changed one bit. Or at least on the surface they hadn’t. Sunset had suspected that she’d been using more make-up than usual today, but she decided to not talk about it, especially after hearing the pony whine about how magic make-up from Zecora was doing her wonders.

Sunset did her best to stay still on the platform as Rarity removed the jacket and replaced it with a dark cyan one, one that complemented her eye color.

Rarity smiled and lightly clapped her forehooves before turning Sunset to the mirror. “There! Or, almost there, as it were.”

“Uh—”

Rarity swapped the hat for a cyan one, too, matching the shade and hue of the jacket.

“That’s better!” she shouted, eyes fluttering. “Would you like some eyeglasses to add to that look of mystery?”

“Uh, no—”

“Or, how about a monocle,” Rarity added, tapping her chin. Then, with a shake of her head, “No, not that. That’d make you anachronistically tacky!”

Sunset sighed, hoping to take this as a sign to get out. “Thank you for that, anyway, Rarity.”

“Well,” Rarity began, “we need you prepared for the Hearth’s Warming party coming up next month, and I’m trying to form a theme for it. Mystery detectives is what I’m going for, and we’re sticking with it!”

Sunset rolled her eyes at this posh stubbornness. “Sure, Rarity,” she said casually. “Whatever floats your boat.”

The truth of it, though? Sunset just wanted to get out now. There’d always be time for costumes down the line, right?

Pinkie Pie was the only one among us who didn’t go to college. She wanted to be a drummer and a party planner, and while there are music degrees out there, I don’t think one could get a Ph. D in parties.

So, she gets paid to plan parties and play the drums there. It’s a weird combination, but it’s Pinkie being Pinkie. We expected that kind of thing to happen.

What we never expected was that she’d be the first to fall in love.

Not long after she got out of high school, Pinkie met a dreamy stallion from Manehattan: Cheese Sandwich. Turns out he’s a party planner, too! Just like that, it was love at first sight. They go along like pie and cheese...cheese pie. (That sounds delicious. I can’t believe I’ve never tried it before.) Now, she’s married to him and has foals of her own. They’re a happy, bubbly family.

Though don’t visit their house if I were you, unless you can handle four explosive fireworks of puns and laughter going off non-stop. Trust me on this.

Overall, Pinkie Pie is still the Pinkie Pie we all know and love.

It was Derpy’s birthday, and she was celebrating it at one of the parks there. Balloons hung from the trees’ branches as long tables of sweets and nothing but sweets extended far into the park’s borders. All kinds of creatures enjoyed the festivities: griffons and pegasi and other winged beings used the trees as beds on which to socialize and much on their food; unicorns did their best playing pin the tail on the pony while blindfolded and dizzy; and a couple deer showed some interested kirin their decorated plants.

As expected, the one having the most fun on her birthday is Derpy herself, wearing a party hat and dancing to the beat of some old-time song about magic.

Sitting on a bench not far away from the esteemed celebrant, Sunset levitated a brownie to herself, enjoying her time here as she partook in that sugary crumble only well-baked brownies could give. The chatter of the crowd blended in her ears, and all she focused on was Derpy dancing on the grass, oblivious to the world around her except that it was her birthday and that she should have fun.

Then, a tap on her shoulder, something covering her eyes, and then no vision.

“Guess who?!” yelled an all-too-familiar voice.

“Pinkie!” said Sunset in a merry tone, turning around and removing the pink hooves from her eyes. “I know it’s you!”

Pinkie rubbed her chin with a nail file, all on her upside-down face. “Really, now? I find that very suspicious. Don’t tell me you’re a spy of a secret organization only you know of!”

Sunset smiled and crossed her forehooves, unfazed by the baseless accusation. “Come on, Pinkie.”

Pinkie let go of the branch her tail was hanging from and landed on Sunset’s bench without damaging it...somehow. She then grabbed a whole cake from the table and chomped it down in one bite, her gulp as big as a dozen golf balls.

Sunset raised her hooves up to her face to shield herself from the cakey mess.

When it was over, she found Pinkie bobbing her head to the song’s beat, looking at Sunset with those blue eyes.

“So, what’s up, Shimmering Sunset?” Pinkie said, wrapping a hoof around her neck and making her bob to the beat.

Sunset smiled, now becoming a little dizzy herself. “I’m f-fine. I just forgot it’s Derpy’s birthday today.”

Pinkie gasped and retracted her bobbing grip from Sunset. She wiped her whole face with a tissue, a napkin, and a piece of bread for good measure. “You didn’t receive my invitation!”

“Wait, you sent out invitations?”

“Silly Sunset, of course!” Pinkie said in sing-song fashion. “Yours must’ve gotten stuck somewhere...but, hey, it’s not like you couldn’t ask Derpy when her birthday is and schedule that on your calendar app, right?”

Sunset blinked, guilt overcoming her for a few seconds before common sense told her that she couldn’t have possibly thought of that...if she could, she would’ve.

The unicorn coughed, more than happy to change the topic so the spotlight wouldn’t be on her. With an anxious smile—for one never knew what Pinkie’s next move would be—she asked, “So, how’s Cheese and the kids? Are they here, too?”

Pinkie then pushed Sunset’s head down, pointing over there and saying, “Look! They’re with Derpy!”

Considering the circumstances against her head, Sunset should be commended for turning her head around and looking over there.

There, beside Derpy, were Cheese Sandwich and two foals who were dancing with the birthday pony in harmony, enjoying their time with her and making her enjoy her time with them. The smile on Derpy’s face grew wide as it dawned on her: that these ponies could match her moves so well on her special day.

“So,” Sunset began, turning to Pinkie, “does that—”

Saw Pinkie was gone. Suddenly the weight on her head was gone, too.

Turned back to Derpy.

There, Pinkie was dancing with her family, now wearing a chicken suit and doing the chicken dance.

Sunset chuckled at that one. At the very least, Pinkie was fulfilling her job as this world’s Element of Laughter.

Finally, there’s Twilight Sparkle.

If you’d asked her back when she was in Crystal Prep and still a human that she’d become one of the world’s leading wizards with real magic (complete with wearing the whole wizard get-up), she would’ve thought you’re crazy. She’d be the first one to tell you that magic couldn’t possibly exist and that it only exists in fairytales and fantasy novels.

Oh, Twilight, how naive you were.

She’s gone from that to...well, one of the world’s leading wizards if not the world’s greatest wizard. Twilight’s made many strides in the field of magic, and she’s showing her magic prowess by authoring books and papers on magic, inventing new spells no one’s ever heard of, and making tons of experiments at her lab back home. She’s famous for inventing the first magic-run computer, which can, for example, use the law of contagion to facilitate instant communication between opposite sides of the globe without electricity or bluetooth technology.

It’s gotten to point that she received a letter from Everton to make her the President of their Magic Department and—get this— help them open up to a more friendship-based learning system. She turned the former down but helped them with the latter. How the tables have turned (in a good way!)

Now, Twilight’s a part-time magic researcher of all kinds of magic, part-time teacher in both Canterlot High and the School for Gifted Unicorns, and full-time mage on an unprecedented level.

Of course, friendship is magic, so she always invites us to go with her on her trips, and she always makes time for us when we go out for our trips.

Sunset trotted through the familiar halls of Canterlot High. Being an alumnus of the school provided her with some privileges like prestige, recognition, and unlimited access to the library even past school hours.

She passed by several ponies, most of them students talking about this and that subject, holding or levitating books and laptops and phones and such. Here, a zebra and a pegasus were showing off cool trinkets to each other from their lockets.

A few Sunset passed by were teachers, mostly because they had formal clothes, wore glasses, or had their mane or hair all bunched up. In fact, she recognized Cheerilee ordering from the vending machine over there, getting for herself carbonated coffee for the last stretch of classes this afternoon.

Sunset then turned a corner.

By the nearest door, there was Twilight Sparkle busy talking to a couple students just outside the classroom. She was wearing her glasses along with a pointed witch’s hat and a long flowing robe, making her look like a nerdy witch.

Sunset decided to wait it out by the corner, taking care not to be noticed by any of the parties involved.

“...alright, that’s OK?” Twilight said, rounding off the discussion with a smile. After receiving a collective nod from her pupils, “OK, I’m glad we got that resolved quickly. Now, have a good day and don’t cause any trouble!”

The students trotted away, chatting among themselves as they headed for the cafeteria for their afterlunch break.

“Twilight?” Sunset said.

Twilight’s ears perked up, then turned to the unicorn by the hallway’s corner. “Oh, Sunset!”

Sunset nodded. “I told everyone about dinner at the café tonight. You’re going?”

Twilight tapped her hooves in anxiety, levitating a planner to her lenses as she used her magic to skim through the pages. “Let me see...ah! Yes!” Showing Sunset her schedule for the day on the book, “I’m completely free for the rest of the night except eight to nine P.M. which is reserved for my third session of weekly long-distance teleportation experiments!”

Sunset chuckled, leaning on the wall for that intimidation factor.“Still not over your brief visit to Prance?”

A moaning Twilight was the question’s result. “We’re not talking about my airplane ride back here.”

Sunset dialed her evil smile down a notch. Then, looking over her shoulder at where the students had been last seen, “So, what was that about, Twi? Troublemaker in your hooves?”

Twilight looked behind her, then caught wind of Sunset’s meaning. “Oh, you mean Bronc Stock? He got lost halfway through the lesson on magical energy in magic-light plants. I managed to clear it up with some of his friends who also wanted some clarification on the subject.”

Sunset nodded, letting some seconds pass by before saying, “So, you’re doing OK?”

“Doing pretty well today,” Twilight replied, rubbing her forehoof in slight concern. “Woke up to Spike burping fire into my face for the hundredth time. You never know when he’ll strike!”

Then, she checked the clock on the wall.

Five minutes to four.

“Uh, sorry about it, Sunset,” Twilight said, already trotting away and taking on a nervous accent, “but I have to go! One last class!”

And so, they shared their farewells there and then before Twilight disappeared from sight.

That visit done, Sunset journeyed through the hallways again and then exited the school.

Outside, it was a pretty normal day. Some pegasi tended to the clouds above, some Earth ponies were busy gardening on school grounds, and some unicorns were busking on the sidewalk with all guitars.

Two more hours until six, until that dinner with friends at Sweet Snacks Café.

We’ve been pretty good so far, and we’re still pretty good today. We may be more busy with other things than before, but we still find the time for each other. We still have each other to lean on.

Yes, it’s been a hectic ride over the past eight years. It wasn’t a walk in the park to get Earth back up and running, especially when everyone’s suddenly imbued with magic in a new body, but I think we did a good job considering how Earth isn’t destroyed yet.

Well, I’ve spent too long writing this thing. It’s about half an hour until dinnertime, and I don’t want to be late, not even fashionably late as Rarity would have it.

I wish I could write to you now about what everyone else experienced. I could tell you about how Sunny Flare’s Shadowbolts are still together, how our principals are slowly easing in to their lifespans and their roles as sun-and-moon movers, how Timber’s in a losing fight to get Twilight’s attention for the past five months, how Sandalwood’s revitalizing the green industry, how the Canterlot Movie Club’s joined forces with Juniper and are making their first professional movie together—oh, and how Abacus Cinch made appeared out of nowhere as a unicorn just to make a public apology for her actions.

And I still have stories about Cadance and Shining Armor’s family, how the Filthy Riches of both worlds made a partnership, Micro Chips making magic microchips….

Wish I could tell you all, but I gotta move. Don’t wanna be late.

But, hey. This is just the first entry. I’ll tell you something tomorrow night, OK?

- Sunset Shimmer

Sweet Snacks Café was abuzz with activity tonight, the sun having just set.

Inside, customers ate and talked in that cool conditioned air. The appetizing scents of hayburgers, garlic, and onions wafted from the kitchen as the jukebox continued playing doo-wop on the side. Black-and-white pictures of more than half a century ago had new friends now, those with color and magic creatures: over there, for example, was a photo of Princess Luna standing beside the diner’s Earth pony owner.

The customers themselves were quite diverse in species: ponies, griffons, zebras, hippogriffs, dragons, changelings, yaks, deer, kirin...all eating the same food and drinking the same drink, all saying something and sometimes laughing at a joke or two.

By the windowside sat six Canterlot High graduates munching over plates of fries, onion rings, hayburgers, hash, pancakes, waffles, and carrot dogs.

This included Fluttershy who could eat just about anything on the menu now that it had to accommodate pony and other non-meat tastes. Then again, technology had marched on; anything could be made with vegetables these days, and Fluttershy helped herself to a veggie burger anyway.

It was an interesting sight to see all these different ponies hanging out like they were old buddies, but that’s because they were old buddies. Rainbow Dash and Applejack still showed some rivalry, struggling in a round of hoof-wrestling on the table. Rarity had put aside her phone so she could chat with Pinkie Pie about her costume for the Hearth’s Warming party, which the latter had chosen to be that of a clown because “detectives need cheering up, silly!” Fluttershy was busy with her food, although she was hoping to talk to Pinkie about that birthday party she missed. Finally, Twilight Sparkle checked her pocket watch from her witch’s robe pockets.

“It’s almost six,” Twilight muttered, looking out the window and then glancing at the unattended plate of food at the end of the table. “Sunset should be here right about—”

Ring!

The door opened, ringing the bell, to reveal a frazzled and wet Sunset quickly drying her hooves on the welcome mat. She discreetly galloped past rollerskating waiters and traveling clients, murmuring Sorry!’s whenever she almost bumped into someone.

Then, she took a seat at her friends’ tabl—

“Wait!” Twilight shouted, before glowing her horn and then shooting a beam at Sunset.

In an instant, Sunset was dry. No drop of water on her. Her mane was back to its curly self again, and Sunset herself felt fresh as well.

“There!” remarked Twilight, rubbing her forehooves at a job well done. “Much better.”

Sunset smiled. “Thanks, Twi.”

“Finally,” Rainbow said tiredly, putting her shades up on her mane to get a brighter view on everything. “Ready to celebrate the Cavalries’ win?”

“I thought this was a simple meal between friends,” Rarity said, somewhat annoyed at this sudden turn of events.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Pinkie replied before smacking a box of cakepie on the table.

“Pinkie!” yelled Sunny Sugarsocks, that old waiter friend of hers as she stopped by on her shoewheels. “No outside food, remember?”

Pinkie grinned and nicely hid the cakepie in her mane. “My sincerest apologies, Socks!”

Sugarsocks rolled her eyes and groaned before moving on to the next table, already carrying a tray on her back.

Sunset cleared her throat, grabbing her friends’ attention. “So...I see I have my food ready. Should I start already?”

“By all means!” Applejack answered, raising a hoof to resemble a thumbs up.

Fluttershy simply smiled at that, as if her eating of her burger would inspire Sunset to just eat already.

Then, Twilight spoke up: “Hey, uh, girls? I just realized something.”

That way, everypony else had their eyes on her.

“What is it?” Pinkie asked, almost her whole body precariously hanging over the not-so-organized collection of food on the table.

It was Twilight’s turn to clear her throat, adjusting her pointy hat along the way. Raising her head: “Did you know how this all started? This whole magic Earth thing?”

Then, Sunset smiled, crossing her forehooves on the table. “Right here, when we were all having some innocent snacks together.”

At first, the memories came up slow. Then, they surfaced: Sunset telling them about her trip to Equestria for some kite-flying competition, Rarity daydreaming about Equestrian royalty, and Twilight inquiring about how non-unicorn ponies held kites.

Everyone else nodded, saying their slow and quiet Yeah!’s and Oh, I remember that!’s.

Then, Twilight spread her forehooves. “Well, I admit I’ve made some very terrible mistakes along the way. I shouldn’t have nagged Sunset about it, shouldn’t have obsessed over it all that time...but, when you think about what’s happened, things didn’t go too bad.

“Yeah, there’s all the panic from week one of the catastrophe. That was really bad...but, after those first few days, I suddenly found myself crying on the bed for the umpteenth time, and I asked myself, ‘Why are you hard on yourself? It wasn’t your fault the world went haywire.’

A pause to catch her breath. “I’ve probably done some dumb things in the past that helped boost the disaster, but, when all’s said and done, what can I do? Go back in time and do it the right way? That’ll just make things worse.” A sigh, and then: “This is the world we live in, and while I’m sure none of us had asked for it back then, it’s crystal clear we’ve not only survived, but thrived in it—and most everyone’s doing that, too.”

Then, she removed her hat, putting it down and letting down her striped mane.

She rubbed her forehooves again and licked her lips. “So, let’s remember the world of before, and feast to the world of today! Let’s dig in!”

And so, everypony digged in, enjoying the big and bold taste and texture of fast comfort food at this enduring café. Everypony ate, everypony talked, and everypony laughed on that night.

It would be a good night for them on this Earth, on this strange yet familiar Earth.

Salad Days, Now with Sour Cream!

It was one of those days where the average cold went around, making everyone’s life a tad bit inconvenient. It was a season of tissue boxes, loud sneezes, and runny noses. The result was lowered productivity, less concentration, and, overall, a slower pace of life in an average city.

For some ponies, however, the cold was no mere annoyance. It was a hindrance, a barrier, an impediment determined to destroy their way of life.

Applejack was one of those ponies.

During the first few days of her sickness, she was able to work through the cold. Sure, it took more effort to buck each tree—a lot more, actually, since bucking was a rather new skill to her—but it was manageable. Apples still fell to the baskets, food was still cooked on the frying pan, and work was still done in the farm.

Then, the cold worsened. A throbbing fever overcame her head, her strength was drained out of nowhere, and the once tolerable sneezes happened every five minutes.

Needless to say, it took a lot of convincing to get the stubborn pony some bed rest.

On a Saturday morning, Applejack still felt awful, hot pain searing her nerves. She was lying on her bed, yearning to work on the farm and be a helpful member in the family today.

Except she couldn’t.

Getting out of bed wasn’t an option. It was too tiring and the blanket beckoned her to sleep some more, to return to the abyss of unconsciousness.

Despite these obstacles, she was stubborn, so Applejack decided to open the curtains by the bed window.

Bad idea.

Blinding sunlight attacked her.

She closed the curtains, but it was too late. Her eyes were washed with a second serving of strain. Her brain was aching in agony. Even just lifting her head a few inches felt like lifting barbells too heavy.

Hooves on her pillow, she turned it up and covered her face with it, hiding in the darkness to heal her eyes.

Knock! Knock!

The thought of getting up made her wince. She cried out in a battered voice, “Ugh! Who is it?!”

“It’s me, Applejack,” was the regal-sounding answer.

Applejack gasped. “Principal Celestia?!”

A pause. “Yes. May I come in? The door’s not locked.”

She groaned for not protecting herself, then lifted the pillow from her head. “Come in.”

The dining room was rustic. A round table and a few chairs, all made of wood. The counters and the fridge were yellow and white, giving off a bright feeling of inspiration.

Principal Celestia and Applejack sat at the table, helping themselves to a big bowl of fragrant salad with dressing and butter. Through the window came a little ray of sunshine, lighting up their food and the farmpony’s glass of water.

Celestia’s flowing mane and her brilliant crown glittered under the sun’s light while she levitated a fork to a lettuce leaf. She stabbed and ate it, her horn and fork still glowing yellow.

Applejack looked at her funny. In a loud enough mumble, “Why’re you here?”

The principal floated the fork back down. “Just checking on you, that’s all. I’ve decided to spend the the morning and the afternoon with various other sick ponies.”

“Don’t you have yer’ governin’ to do?” she asked.

The royal pony chuckled, then gave way to a forlorn sigh. “I’m taking a little break since it’s not that easy. Before, I’ve known next to nothing about world politics. I only knew a little more than the average person did. Now, everyone wants to please the so-called Princess of the Sun and her lunar sister because they think they’ll get burned if they don’t.”

Applejack gave her a squint.

Celestia raised a hoof, on the defensive. “N-No! I don’t want to burn anyone! It’s just...” sighed, “controlling outer space is quite the big stick in diplomacy.”

Applejack was able to let out a chuckle of her own. “Kinda’ easy to get what ya’ want when you can wave the sun around.”

Celestia frowned. “Don’t forget that there are sinister temptations when you wield so much power and influence.”

Then, the principal looked out the window and pushed the curtains aside with her magic.

She saw Big McIntosh collecting several bushels of apples while the family’s three horses-turned-ponies were counting them—namely Cookie the Earth pony, Oakley the pegasus, and Cinnamon the unicorn. They threw the good ones into a basket labeled “Good” while they threw the bad ones into a trash can.

“Do you know Nightmare Moon, Applejack?”

The pony in question raised a brow, the inquiry taking her by surprise. “Name’s familiar, but I don’t know what it is.”

Celestia sighed, her mind turning to other-worldly history. “Over a thousand years ago in Equestria, Princess Luna grew jealous of my other self since ponies frolicked in the day but slept in the night.” She paused to get her mental bearings. “Luna became so jealous, she became an evil monster named ‘Nightmare Moon’ who wanted to bring about eternal night.”

Applejack glanced at her plate then at the principal. “But she was saved, right?”

“Only after a thousand years,” Celestia said, looking down at her salad and away from her beautiful day outside. She floated a fork, stabbed another leaf, but let it drop back to the plate with a clink! “When I talked with Princess Celestia about my duties, she confided that it was one thousand lonely years without her sister.”

Applejack leaned closer, ears bending a bit to hear better.

“Early on, she did have friends and many others who were quite nice to be with, but then they died off. She had the children of her friends to hang out with, but then they died off. Then, she had the children of the children of her friends, but they died off, too.”

Applejack tilted her head, seeing Celestia hang hers. “Celestia, are you alright?”

The principal closed her eyes, hiding a would-be tear. “Not completely, now that I think about it.”

Out of modesty, the farmpony looked away from her. “Because you’ll be outlivin’ all o’ us except for Luna?”

She made a little chuckle, one marred with self-scorn. “Harrowing, isn’t it?—the thought of living forever or at least for thousands of years.” Raised her head to see Big Mac and the other ponies still working with the apples. “And what if Luna doesn’t make it with me?”

Applejack turned her head towards Celestia, though still focused on her salad. “Isn’t she an immortal princess like you?”

Celestia nodded. “But, if their Luna could turn into Nightmare Moon, our Luna certainly can.”

Applejack gasped, her hat almost falling off her mane. “She’s a nice pony! She’s strict and may be speakin’ old fancy languages, but why would she ever get jealous o’ you?”

A sigh drifted from Celestia’s mouth, sorrowful. “You’ve seen how magic corrupted too many of your friends. Sunset, Twilight, Gloriosa...the list goes on.”

After adjusting her hat, Applejack finally looked at Celestia again. “So, yer’ sayin’ that Luna’s vuln’rable, too?”

“All of us are vulnerable.”

Celestia pushed her plate away with her hoof adorned with a majestic golden horseshoe.

“Maybe not so much since being a pony means that we can handle magic properly,” she went on, “but I’ve heard stories of good individuals warped due to dark magic.”

Applejack looked down on her food, thinking about what would happen if she got warped and corrupted. A creature who’d make apple trees out of nowhere? A monster who’d tear down all the factories in the country to give way to an agriculture revolution? A tyrant who’d rule the world under the nepotism of the Apple family while banning every fruit that was not her namesake?

A better farmpony?

Applejack noticed Celestia drifting off, her mane’s flow decreasing. Wanting to change the topic to something more light-hearted, she asked, “So, what do ya’ have planned tonight?”

Celestia smiled, having hoped for such a change. “A few negotiations with King Thorax of the Cambling Nation. His official reasons are to see what other trade agreements we could land on, though I have a feeling he’s still scared of me.”

Applejack giggled, putting aside the gravity of being burned by the sun as punishment.

Then, she looked out at the window, the ponies outside still working with apples, her brother now laughing with his former horses as they took a ten-second break.

Closed her eyes then—

Ah-choo!

Celestia levitated her plate out of germs’ way.

Applejack was rubbing her snout with her hoof. “Why, I almost forgot I was sick for a while!”

Celestia maintained her small smile, then opened her mouth at a swift thought. “Actually, Wallflower and Rose are having the grand opening of their herbs and potions shop this evening. However, I could accompany you there right now. Perhaps you could try a remedy or two before the debut.”

“Woah, there!” Applejack raised both forehooves. “I know you wan’ me to get better an’ such, but I’m not tryin’ those potion thingies!”

“Why not?” asked the principal in a curious tone.

“They’re not natural!” Pointing a hoof at her, “An’ before you say they got it from plants, I just don’t like the idea of puttin’ magic stuff inside yer’ stomach.”

Celestia nodded. “Understandable. However, you’ll end up trying a magic potion sooner or later, what with...well, who we are now.”

Applejack looked at Celestia again, wrapping her mind around talking to her principal who was now an alicorn that determined when the day would begin.

She grinned at the whimsical situation she was in. “Huh-huh!”

Celestia floated a glass of water to herself, then drank some until it was half-full. She put it down, then turned to the farmpony. “I respect your decision, so I won’t force you to come…but I’ll send you a sample—“ winked at her, smiling “—in case you change your mind.”

With that, she pulled the plate back to herself with her hoof.

Both of them ate in peaceful quiet as the work outside continued. Big Mac hauled in yet another batch of ap—

Crash!

And a pegasus landed on a platoon of bushels in front of the garage, causing all of them to fall over and spill tons of apples to the grass and concrete.

Cookie cried out, “No! All my hard work!” She went to her hind knees and wept over the destruction of her hooficraft.

Cinnamon groaned as she levitated the dirty apples away, leaving Oakley to help the fallen pegasus up as he hovered over to pull her up.

“Oh, hey!” Oakley retracted his hoof a bit, happily shocked at who the pegasus was. “Fleetfoot? Didn’t expect you to come down here!”

Cinnamon and Cookie looked her way. “Fleetfoot?!”

When Big Mac recognized who the suspect was, he blushed.

Celestia glowed the curtains yellow and closed them. “Well, it was fun having some light breakfast you, but I’m afraid I must be going now.”

The farmpony and the principal waved each other goodbye before the latter left the house.

Back in the principal’s office, Celestia waded through the stacks of paper on her desk. These contained reams of information sent from the country’s president—or, well, ex-president, since he had stepped down within days of realizing that two high school administrators had more power than he did.

He had been kind enough to order his staff to help the principals out with keeping the world afloat, so there’s that.

As Celestia pored through papers on Cambling with its changeling king over its largely changeling population, she sighed. Making sure the globe didn’t implode was no easy task, after all.

Then, her eyes caught sight of the calendar hanging on the wall.

With its days, its months, its years.

Could she buy a thousand calendars ahead of time?

She continued reading up on the changeling king, though not without a tear staining the words.

When Clouds Broaden Horizons

Was it bragging if it’s true?

Rainbow Dash had a lot going for her. Being the leader of every sports team in Canterlot High, playing as the lead guitarist in a band whose name was inspired by hers, on friendly terms with a unicorn-turned-human, having traveled to the dimension where magic originated from, considered one of this world’s protectors against Equestrian evils, having a superfan in Scootaloo, able to run around at the speed of sound, capable of boundless flight with her new wings in her new pony form, and had rainbow-colored hair.

Her credentials? Numerous. Her feats? Abundant. Her coolness? Undeniable. No one could possibly be like her.

Except, of course, for that Rainbow Dash back in Equestria.

As the weeks progressed and as the initial shock of the catastrophe tapered off, former human Dash had a growing problem with always-a-pony Rainbow. Rainbow may not have been part of a band nor was she the leader of any sports team, but she could sing as well as her counterpart, was part of an elite aerial stunts organization called the Wonderbolts, and had helped save Equestria from half a dozen world-ending disasters.

Whenever Rainbow stopped by Earth once in a while to help out the local pegasi with their flying abilities, Dash did her best to not let it get into her head. In most cases, she succeeded. They got to know each other over small sandwich breaks, with the former giving her “super secret” flying tips to the latter over munches and mugs of cider. Dash would then follow through, giving Rainbow a bit of excitement over teaching her counterpart how to fly better. She even saw Dash arrange some clouds in the sky, taking the first step in weather control.

However, in the back of her mind, Dash envied Rainbow. Here this pony was, strutting her stuff. Off-hoof quips about herself slipped through for Dash’s ear to catch. Was she just like that, or was she telling Dash something? I’m better than you, perhaps? You think you’re cool ‘cause you’re part of a band and you know every sport? I was born an awesome pegasus! Don’t forget—you call your band the Rainbooms? I make the rainbooms!

Another thing to add to Rainbow’s list of credentials: Sonic rainbooms. It only made Dash seethe with jealousy.

But, maybe, there was a way out of this dilemma, a way so that Dash could come out on top and beat her other self to it. Sure, it’s another Rainbow Dash so that might cause a few complications—and she was her friend, so it wasn’t like there’s actual vengeance involved—but, in Dash’s mind, there’s only one pegasus above them all.

She wanted to be that pegasus, seriously or not.

Two and a half months after the catastrophe, Rainbow crossed the portal to help new pegasi once more. She carried a few first aid kits on her back, flying slow enough so that they wouldn’t fling into oblivion if she suddenly stopped.

She hovered above the sidewalks, above the front yards. Looking down from the morning sky, she saw the slow reconstruction of daily life—a group of Earth ponies wondering what to do with their seeds, a pegasus and a unicorn talking about how to deliver hay from the farm to the café in less than one minute—

She came across Derpy, holding a box with her hooves.

“I see you’re easing in!” Dash said, pointing at her. “I mean, you’re the Derpy from this world, right? Didn’t check my papers.”

“Mm-hmm!” as Derpy nodded, blushing at the compliment. “Thank you!”

She flew away, carrying the box to whoever the recipient was.

Ten minutes later in downtown, Dash reached the mall’s parking lot, the Sweet Snacks Café just across the pavement.

There was a notable lack of cars even at an early hour, doubtless because driving automobiles with four hooves was not a particularly simple undertaking. Despite whatever obstacles lay there, a truck made it to the lot, though that was mostly for the restaurant’s supplies.

“So, this is the café thing, huh?” she said to herself, drinking in the café’s exterior. Figures inside could be discerned, a dozen or so shifting about behind the windows. “I can see why this is a pretty chill place.”

Rainbow then flew inside.

The café had much of its style intact. The floor was still a checkerboard, conditioned air still permeated the place, and good food was still being served. Because many customers were now unable to digest beef or pork, though, the food now had meat off the menu save for the griffons and changelings who were visiting the diner. They gathered short glances of envy from a few ponies, green-eyed against those who could still savor tempting, delectable, luscious, exquisite, melt-in-your-mouth flavorful—

“Eh,” and Rainbow shrugged her shoulders while hovering farther inside.

Her simple Eh made the whole diner look her way. Food stayed in the air via hooves, wings, or levitation. Even the waiters, two Earth ponies who had fitting dresses and fitting rollerskates, looked her way, slowing diner operations to a freeze. All attention was directed at the one and only Rainbow Dash.

Flash Sentry, a fellow peagsus seated in front of some hayburgers, raised his hoof. “Uh, which Rainbow Dash are you again?”

Rainbow rolled her eyes and groaned. “Equestria’s.” Then, relaxing a bit and hovering towards the rest of the pegasi huddled by the corner, “Alright, ponies! Who’s ready to make it rain? Literally?!”

This elicited some “Ooh!”’s and “‘Aah!”’s from this batch of pupils.

The winged celebrity approached them, then hyped up how awesome it is to control the weather on her own, how Canterlot would just be the start of some sort of weather movement in the world….

What she didn’t know was that Dash had quietly entered the diner, wearing a big-brimmed hat that shadowed her face from recognition plus a jacket to cover her rainbow tail and her cutie mark. She made an order of hayburgers in a gruff and gravely voice, completing the disguise.

From her spot, Dash observed the enemy from across the café.

Unnoticed.

“Attention!”

Everypony stood still, hooves planted on nothing but air as they floated in the sky, steadily flapping to do so. Following sound advice, they did not look at the ground that often no matter how welcoming a pillow would be right now; it was mostly out of focus and not out of fear. Besides that, they felt the full warmth of the sun, though Flash was still irked out about how the expression “Celestia’s sun” fully applied here.

Because having the sun owned and moved around by your principal wasn’t ordinary.

Rainbow hovered before the line, inspecting Canterlot weather team prospects as the wind flapped her mane. “You think you have what it takes to control the weather in your hometown? And before you say it, watching the videos won’t help you!”

Zephyr Breeze and Sour Sweet clung to each other in fear...before shrieking at the sight of the obnoxious ponies they’d clung to.

Rainbow crossed her forehooves. “If you don’t know, I’m the leader of the Ponyville weather team. What I’m about to tell you is tried, tested, true. No exceptions.”

Flash raised his hoof nervously, getting some looks from his weather mates. “Does that mean—”

Rainbow zoomed up, brought a cloud over, and put it back down for all of them to see. “See this cloud?”

All the pegasi were seeing that cloud, though they nodded just to be absolutely extra sure.

It was a white and fluffy cloud. Quite nondescript. Not much else to say.

“We’re going to have a rainy day today,” Rainbow declared. “This time, however, it’ll be the first rainy day exclusively made by you,” and pointed at them all, hearing a few gulps of suspense from the audience. “Not a single one of us will help you out. I want this to be done all by you to show how far you’ve grown...and also because—ahem!—it’d be great to see how good of a teacher am I—ahem! Ha-ha-ha—ahem!”

Silence from the line. A cough.

A frown took over Rainbow’s face. “Seriously?” Then, rolling her eyes again, “OK, first off: let’s see if this cloud still has some zap.”

She turned around and bucked the cloud.

Kraw!

“Agh!”

Zapped by it, her mane and tail now fried and smoking.

The new pegasi screamed, gathering together in a tight circle of wings and hooves banding them together under their safety.

Then, they peeked.

Saw Rainbow’s electrocuted self.

Rainbow rubbed her hair and brushed it back to normal with her hooves, grumbling through it. She punched her forehooves together, gawking at them with fuming eyes and ears. “Alright, who told you I was a prankster?!”

“Me!” the cloud shouted.

Everypony gasped at the shouting cloud.

Then, Dash floated out of the cloud, wearing a smug smile on her face as the shocked gasps resurfaced. She touched Rainbow’s nose with a playful hoof, tried to hold back a giggle, and then: “Gotcha’!”

With a shake of her head to knock the confusion out of herself, Rainbow shouted back, “What is the meaning of this?! You’re n-not supposed to be here!”

“Well, I am here!” Dash yelled, then pointing at her other self, “And I challenge you to a contest!”

And everypony else gasped again.

Dash nodded, holding the cloud high above her head. “Yeah! A contest! You heard me right!”

Rainbow pursed her lips, trying to think of what to do next. “Cut to the chase here. What’s the contest about? Speed? Agility? Aerobatics? Daring Do speed reading?”

“Oh, it’s much better than all of them!” Dash said with a crazed laugh. “Even better than speed reading!”

For the fourth time in a row, everypony else gasped, though Flash was now sneezing instead. As expected, a few beside him moved away from the possibly-sick stallion.

Meanwhile, Rainbow was glancing to the left and to the right. “Did you say...pranking?”

“Don’t act dumb!” Dash blew her long colorful bangs away from her face. “I know you’re just trying to buy time...but I also know you’re good. Maybe you thought this up. Maybe you already knew I was trying to prank you.” Pointing to the batch of pegasi, “Maybe they’re in on it and they’re not telling me! They promised to keep it hidden from me, didn’t they?!”

“That’s not true!” Soarin testified.
Betrayal perched on Dash’s head as her ears retracted. “You’re not helping!”

Soarin then slapped a grin on his face, resorted to happy thoughts, and made sure his smiling facade didn’t falter. Another slip, and then….

Anyway—Dash rubbed her forehooves, ready to meet her match as she flew closer to her opponent. “Let me tell you something! You know I know you know, but I know you know I know you know...you know.”

Rainbow raised her brow and leaned an ear forward. “Come again?”

“I knew you were going to prank me before I even arrived!” Dash flicked her tail, hoping to get a reaction from Rainbow but didn’t. Pressing further, “I knew it because I was there!”

“You were where?” Rainbow asked, looking puzzled.

“Trying to play the long con with playing dumb, huh?” Dash smiled, dismissing the strategy as worthless. “That won’t work on me! You know where! Sweet Snacks Café!” Hovering around her, “I was watching you, taking note of your every move, analyzing them so I could create the perfect prank for you!” and lunged at her, stopping mere inches from her face.

Rainbow crossed her forehooves again. “You’re really bad at keeping pranks a secret, aren’t you?”

Dash flipped her mane about, letting her hair whip in the air. “How do you know I’m not just stalling for time?”

“Aren’t we supposed to make it rain?” Soarin asked with a raised hoof of his own, trying to curb the escalating prank tension.

“Pfft!” and Dash stuck her tongue out. “You can have your rain later, Soar!” then glared at Rainbow... “right after I show her who’s boss!”

Rainbow made a deep, bold laugh. “Yeah?”

Then, knowing that the time had come, Dash took out her secret weapon.

A plate of pie.

Soarin’s eyes widened at that, his stomach rumbling in spite of a hearty meal less than an hour ago. “I-Is that…?”

Rainbow gulped, lifting a shaky hoof to weakly point at the harmless pastry. “Wh-What is that?”

“OK, now I know you’re playing dumb.” Dash held the pie up in the air. She threw it high, only to catch it with the plate. No crumbs. “I mean, didn’t you see the mysterious pony ordering huge stacks of pie from the café?”

“...isn’t that what the bakery’s for?” Rainbow asked, cocking her head to the side.

“It’s not the only place to buy pie here, you know.”

Sweat poured down Rainbow’s face, eyeing the pie at hoof.

“This is cream pie,” Dash explained. “One whole cream pie. One delicious, mouth-watering, breath-taking heapful serving of cream pie.”

She licked her lips.

Rainbow shuddered, slowly backing away from the pie—surely a nefarious device of evil. “B-But, a-aren’t you m-me? Y-You’re not supposed to like pie! I’m n-not supposed to like pie!”

“Good thing we’re different!” Dash said.

She sharpened her brows, narrowed her eyes, gazed upon that frightened expression with shrunken eyes and sweaty forehead.

“‘Cause you know what?”

Lurched her pie-holding forehoof back, ready to deliver.

“I love pies.”

Threw it—splat! on Rainbow’s face.

Covered in crust and white cream.

“Gotcha’!” Dash howled before performing a loop-de-loop in the air. She landed right before a dumbfound Rainbow whose face was buried in tasty cream. “Hah! How’re ya’ gonna top that?!”

“Hi, Dash!”

“Agh!” she screamed as she saw Pinkie floating beside her, a dozen balloons tied around the Earth pony’s torso.

Everypony at the line gasped for the fifth time, wondering how Pinkie was able to drop in unnoticed at a hundred meters from the ground.

“Pinkie?!” Dash shouted, eyeing the balloons, astonished at the pink pony’s silly way of flight. “What’re you doing here?!”

“Just telling you Rainbow can’t attend today,” Pinkie said so matter-of-factly, undaunted by heights. “There’s an emergency meeting at Wonderbolts HQ, and she needs to be there.”

The weather team prospects were confused, scratching their heads as they looked at the pied Rainbow. Flash even yelled, “But she’s here!”

Pinkie looked at Rainbow, breathed a sigh of relief. She cracked her wrists, stretched her forehooves out, and rested her head on them like a pillow. “Now I know why those two changelings were having a fight.”

“Changelings?” everyone else asked.

Everyone else but Rainbow herself who grinned and giggled nervously before glowing.
When the glow faded, a soft-spoken changeling in green chitin had taken the pegasus’s place. “Whoops?”

There was now buzzing behind the line of prospects.

They looked back, seeing two more changelings approaching—or, rather, a blue hat-wearing changeling dragging a yellow one by the ear.

“...and, really, Humerus?! You used pie to lure Alarm’s wife away?”

“How else c-could I get her out?!” Humerus complained, raising his forehoo—”Ow! Nastic, you’re pulling too hard!”

“It’s bad enough that she’s trying out this diet craze,” he shouted gruffly, “but to prank Alarm like that? He’s going to think she’s been kidnapped!—yeah, Symphyla!” waving at her, making her look. “We’re going back to Equestria!”

Symphyla nodded. “Yeah. Sorry!”

“Nah, it’s not your fault,” Nastic said, lightening up for her. “We all need sugar. Can’t blame you—just remember that not everything in those health brochures are true.” Inspecting her face, “You aren’t hurt or anything?”

Symphyla shook her head, some of the cream and the crust falling from her face to the green grass below.

“Well, you’re alive,” Nastic said, finishing off with a tip of the hat to her. Turning to Humerus, however, he darkened his features, showing off his fangs. “As for you, no sweets until the day’s done!”

“We’re not even part of the same—”

“No sweets!”

“I’m a grown—”

“No sweets!”

And Humerus was towed away by a surly Nastic, Symphyla floating with them as she wiped her face clean from pie.

Leaving the pegasi and the only Earth pony there in the sky, their mouths open in shock.

Dash’s lips were trembling, the envious mare seeing her chance at beating Rainbow slipping away. “B-B-B-But...my pr-pranking c-contest….” She grabbed a large nearby cloud and held it close. “I-I was...I was this close to showing her who’s the boss and—” squeezed it in anger.

“Hey!” shouted the cloud

“Agh!” screamed Dash as she jumped away from the talking cloud.

Then, Rainbow floated out of the cloud, smiling a smug smile and crossing her forehooves.

And Dash and everyone else gasped.

Everyone except Pinkie. “Hah! Knew it’d work, RD!”

Rainbow flew over to Pinkie and bumped her hoof. “Yeah! Had to wing it when I saw two of myself, but I’m not complaining. Everyone’s here, we enjoyed a crazy prank, and,” ears folding back in awe, “actually, that Symphyla took the words out of my mouth.”

She turned to the line of eager weather team wannabes who weren’t sure if they wanna stay here any longer.

With a spread of her forehooves, “You’re having your first Canterlot-made rainy day today, with the help of yours truly!” and bowed.

Dash looked on in shock as they clapped their hooves. Some laughed at how ridiculous the prank had gone but most applauded because the whole ordeal felt like the perfect prelude for a bombastic mare like Rainbow.

Felt a pat on her back, saw it was Pinkie who did it.

“Hey, don’t take it seriously,” Pinkie said, her upbeat going down a little, her gorgeous grin waning into a subtle smile. “I guess it’s a bother to have another you doing all these awesome things. Yeah, she makes sunny days and neat moves for a living.”

Then, Pinkie untied one of her balloons and hoofed it to Dash who was puzzled at the sudden gift.

“But, you can do awesome things that she doesn’t do! I heard you can still ride those motorcycle thingies, be the leader of a band that can sing literally magic songs, and a professional in all those sports teams!”

Leaned in to whisper,

“And you saved the world a few times already!”

She floated away from the hovering pegasus still listening.

“Learning from each other, sharing talents and hobbies, and—what’s most important of ‘em all—having fun!” Poking her on the shoulder and smirking, “Anyway, I admire you taking the high road and going for a prank-off.”

Dash smiled. “Yeah. I guess that’s better.” Turning to Rainbow who was ordering her weather novices instructions and positions, she looked on.

Flew to her and tapped the mare on the shoulder.

Rainbow jolted at the tap, then smiled when she saw who it was. “Oh, uh, sorry for what happened. We’re good?”

“We’re always good!” shouted Dash. “Even if it meant some bumps on the road.”

Making Pinkie smile, Rainbow and Dash laughed together, their identical voices blending in. “So, what is it? You want a real prank contest tonight? I got nothing better to do.”

“I have a better idea,” Dash replied, gesturing towards all the pegasi in line. “What about I help out with your rainy day?”

Rainbow slapped her on the back and tugged her in a half-embrace. “Why not? And, hey, since you got my ‘super secret’ tips, I’ll have you lead the pack and I’ll supervise from afar. Deal?”

“Count me in!”

And everyone cheered as both Rainbow Dashes soared to the sky. They left behind parallel rainbow trails as they began gathering scattered clouds for the rain later on.