“Starlight, please!” Twilight reached out a hoof, helpless across the distance -- “you have to listen to me! You saw, you know what happens if you do this!”
“I only saw the future you showed me, Twilight,” Starlight snarled, testily pulling the parchment apart yet further.
Twilight froze carefully at that, seeming to Starlight, small, when measured against the great pieces of shorn parchment that framed her, pieces which now wafted delicately in the glow of her magic as they fluttered weakly in the strengthening wind, bridged only by the barest thread of abused fiber.
Twilight said something, bargaining. And Starlight noticed that her words, as drifted in the now howling atmosphere toward her, seemed to mean less and less to her as the long forgotten loss of Sunburst played freshly over in her mind, hurting more than she ever expected it could.
‘One day,’ the thought came again as it always did: one day had been all it took to turn her life into what it was now --
“Just...listen to me!” Twilight broke, drawing Starlight’s attention once more.
Twilight, now at the breaking edge of her patience, and having withstood the unbending silence poorly, spoke like a drowning victim, consigned to her fate yet willing to say anything which might avert it.
“Can’t you look past yourself for one instant!” Twilight yelled, chiding, drawing closer, “I know you may hate me and my friends, but this goes beyond your hatred! Beyond us!”
“Stay back,” Starlight whispered, physically bracing herself against the words even as she seemed to lack the strength to do much else.
“There are lives at stake, Starlight!” Twilight persisted in a half pleading, fearful and harsh tone as she drew closer. And the words, sudden as they were, stabbed painfully deeper into the increasingly antsy mare she closed in upon.
“I said, stay back,” Starlight demanded; once more, a tentative hollowness worked itself into her voice. She found it difficult to do much more, burning guilt having broken away whatever remained of her resolve.
Twilight, if she’d heard the request, didn’t listen. She pressed forward, driven, as if, by the haunting reality of the weight she now carried. The cold knowledge of the awaiting future prodding fearfully at her back as a jitter came over every limb and an uncertainty sabotaged her every step.
Before her, the world seemed to close, becoming a narrow smother of tunnel vision: in the center of which stood: Starlight. Intently focused on this center, Twilight dressed forward at what she could now see only as the source of a grievous problem.
Stopping to reach out a demanding hoof, Twilight, at last, spoke: “Give up the spell, Starlight. This just isn’t worth it.”
Starlight, for the longest time, was silent.
“Starlight...” Twilight spoke, a sympathetic brush returning to her trailing voice. Starlight could tell it had to be forced.
“I told you to stay back,” she whispered.
“Starlight, there are more important-”
“More important,” Starlight chuffed.
“Life’s always more important,” she repeated, a mocking cant playing at the words. “When is my happiness ever going to be as important as some admission to Canterlot university, Twilight?” she challenged, stepping forward on her own, now. “When are my goals ever as important as everyone’s special talent,” she emphasised the words with derision, waving the paper in time to her voice. “When are my friendships ever going to be as important as yours!” Starlight was now inches away from Twilight, fully shouting at this point, and she could feel herself shaking in the abrupt silence which followed.
“Starlight-”
“Well, you know what?” Starlight interrupted. “I. Don’t. Care.” She stamped a hoof with every word and, with a subtle intent of motion, tore the parchment fully in half.
“NO-!” Twilight shouted. Before she could do more than speak, space tore violently above their heads and, with an irresistible quality, dragged them both through.
Afterwards, there remained nothing but the crisp air of autumn...and a dragon atop a plot of cloud pavement.
“Hello?” Spike's voice echoed over the cloud tops. “Anybody?”
The sky was awash in a pallet of misty whites and darkling grays; in it, she could see a dark mass of clouds swim quietly through, casting their darkness pointedly across the howling atmosphere of wind and dust which blanketed the earth below.
Before she could dwell on the sight, Starlight found her attention drawn back to the space before her.
There, the endless sandstorm calmed, settling with an unnatural quickness before dissipating altogether.
In its aftermath, Starlight saw that she sat in the center of an open plaza. Grey stone and marble pillars surrounded, standing tall against the darkling shine of the crystal city beyond them.
With every passing second, the stone structures and fashioned sculptures of the plaza came more and more into being, gaining an opacity as if they were, at that moment, fading into reality, a reality which, despite every change, seemed eternally locked under that grey sky which hung over them.
Drawing her eyes further downward, she noticed the crowd shocked passersbys as they looked over at her.
Starlight jumped to motion with a jolt. Leaping over the metal guard rail which stood between herself and the crowd, Starlight landed with a click on the stone tiled plaza. Looking about her, she saw the dark image of the city imposed between the pillars of stone and marble. With a cry, the cluster of ponies startled away from her, and through the parting crowd she saw a sight which chilled the strength from her bones. Before she realized it, she’d fallen to her knees, unfeeling as she looked on, with a numbed expression, at the crystal effigy of King Sombra which stood high above the jagged, broken skyline of the cursed city.
Even more terribly, in the far distance, she could see the crumbling remnants of Canterlot hanging desperately to it’s mountaintop home. She felt a distant sorrow watching it. It was still shining in the dwindling sunbeams which peaked through the cloud-cover to light upon it, seeming, to Starlight, to be the only source of light in the world.
A crash of hooves on stone attracted her attention once more. Twilight stood beside her now, looking with a hollow expression at that distant city as a slow stream of tears trickled down her mask-like expression.
“Twilight...” Starlight paused. Despite her best efforts unable to come up with anything to say.
“Well?” Twilight’s whispered voice cracked as she turned an ironical smile onto her. “You did it!” she exclaimed with a false cheer, huffing her words as if they were on the verge of sobs. For the first time, her expression broke from that measured calm which she’d worn in all those past encounters.
Starlight, who’d always hated, in her deepest heart, the ease and composure Twilight always brought to face her harshest and most fiery attacks, now found herself wishing for that old Twilight to return, to come back and to tell her what had to be done now…
“Twilight, I’m-”
“Don’t say it!” Twilight heeled about, jerking to a stop inches from Starlight's weary expression. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it!?" Twilight asked, "Isn’t it!?”
Twilight jerked back a step when she looked at the violet glow reflecting in Starlight’s eyes. Pointing a nervous, confused glance up at her horn, she wondered when it had begun to shine.
“Well?” Twilight, backed away several more steps, tears now bubbling from her eyes in a blinding stroll.
“I hope you’re happy!” Twilight snarled at last, turning away in a gallop and forcing her way past whichever pony couldn’t dodge her in time.
Starlight looked at the retreating mare with difficulty, feeling painfully the intense emotions of guilt and anger and self loathing which seemed to flood upon her. Emotions which, cruelly, were overshadowed by the object hidden just beyond her periphery.
Turning her eyes askance, Starlight felt her breath hitch and her heart stop as she saw that object. There, beyond the black, iron guard rails she'd just crossed, playing as the centerpiece of the cold, stony plaza, lay the remnants of the crystal map, broken and cracked and dull like ancient marble.
Ever so often, whenever a sudden noise captured her attention or whenever she became aware of the fact that she hadn’t done so for a long time, Starlight peeked nervously over her shoulder.
Too late, she realized that she’d become lost in the shadowy catacombs and unfamiliar terraces of the crystal city, traversing past the familiar alleyways and imposing structures which splintered it into an unnavigable maze of darkness and obscurity.
Even the inhabitants were strange, she realized. Drably colored ponies passed by her on either side, eyes refusing to look at anything except the ground before them. And, at what seemed to be every corner and in the center of every street, a martial appearance was made. Soldiers and chariots rode through with quiet solemnity, putting forward an oddly subdued front despite their numbers as a veritable train of ponies, supplies, weapons, medical gear, and armor marched across every inch of the surrounding city.
Starlight, at first lost in the bustle, merely moved aside with every other pony, noticing the lack of attention paid by anybody to anything.
Soon, however, she found her bearing, reaching a clear enough patch that she could once again see the effigy of Sombra rise above the skyline, and soon after, she realized that there was an order to the madness. The marching ponies and passing chariots, for all their dizzying bustle, were, all of them, heading towards the statue.
Starlight, centering herself with reference to the ghastly landmark, wisely decided to head away from it.
The further she moved from the city center, however, the worse her surroundings became and, paradoxically, the more references to Sombra she saw.
Every park and fountain and mailbox seemed to bear some image of the warlock, and these reminders became more numerous and more haphazardly placed the further she strolled. She started avoiding the manholes after the third block.
The heights of the city were great, however, and they sheltered many secrets. For, after what felt like several hours of monotonous walking, a pace Starlight kept simply for the opportunity it afforded her to halt her darker thoughts, she discovered something.
Turning down a dark and abandoned corner, Starlight saw a light glinting, and headed calmly forward towards it.
Deep in the darkness of the stone walled alley, the space opened neatly into a small, abandoned pocket of wilderness. Starlight almost didn’t notice she’d stepped into it at first, and, looking around, realized with a lifting heart that, at last, she’d found a secluded spot which lacked any reminder of Sombra.
Surrounded by the falling twilight, Starlight took in the cozy seclusion of the place. A tall treeline closed tightly around her, and several large bushes obscured the alley entrance from view. And at the far end of the garden, half hidden in the shadow of the trees, stood a delicate statue of a mare.
Stepping carefully forward, Starlight placed herself at the foot of the statue, entranced by the glinting, shining, uncertain surface of the material which made it up. And, looking beyond at the bashful figure of the mare that sat, posed, hiding behind the strands of her mane, Starlight couldn’t help feeling something profound at the sight, she couldn’t be sure what.
On the pedestal, the words read: Here lies Radiant Hope, if only the world could have returned her kindness.
“A grave?” Starlight murmured, feeling suddenly self conscious.
“No,” a voice behind her answered, startling her around, “not a grave. A reminder”
“A- A reminder of what?” Starlight managed, managing, halfheartedly, to keep the shiver out of her voice, admirable considering it was King Sombra who’d answered the question, and who was approaching her at that very moment.
“A- A reminder of what?” Starlight managed.
“Of a memory,” Sombra answered, “just, a memory,” he repeated, passing genially by her as he moved to sit before the statue, not two paces removed from her own position.
Starlight kept silent, keeping herself occupied with frenetic thoughts of: ‘Oh Celestia, it’s him! Please don’t let me die now, not like this!’
“Few come to these parts,” Sombra spoke with a casual air, continuing in that same absolved air, “I wonder why you are here.”
Starlight shut down at that, feeling the color bleeding from her body as she looked pointedly forward with pin-prick eyes and a locked jaw.
From the start, he was everything the stories had described, and worse. Dark as if trapping whatever light would touch him, a cold sneer where any pony else would have a friendly face.
Sombra chuckled at that as if it were a familiar and funny scene. “Do not worry about my prying, pony. I am under no illusion that any would label me as anything better than a tyrant, but be assured that you are safe as long as you tread lightly along the rules. Besides which, if you were due for punishment, I promise you that I would not waste time in conversation,” Sombra smirked over at her.
Starlight returned a weak smile of her own. Oddly enough, she did not feel assured.
“I- I guess I was just looking for a quiet place. I’m not really comfortable with crowds,” she managed at last.
“Ah, yes,” Sombra began, as if commiserating about a familiar subject, “celebrations can become quite bothersome, and I don’t imagine the reminder of war is any comfort, either,” he rubbed his chin, as if in idle musing. “But, do not worry,” he said at last, waving a hoof in dismissal, “I expect this will be the last such spectacle. It is a miracle that Canterlot has stood this long; I do not expect it to live through the night.” Sombra said this with the confidence of a hardened king, and with the weariness of one as well.
Starlights ears perked up at this, and she just barely failed to hold back her disbelieving cough. The fall of Canterlot? The idea itself seemed inconceivable for that half instant before she felt her spirits became chilled by the sobering reminder that she was no longer in her own reality, and that Canterlot, here, was but a crumbling dream barely clinging to a mountain face.
Sombra, if he noticed the slip, didn’t comment, seeming himself to be in a hazy trance as he looked up at the statue, an unreadable expression coloring his face.
“Well…” Starlight chuckled nervously as she stepped slowly back from her seat, half bowing to Sombra as she did so in a formal attempt to avoid eye contact. “I’ll just, uh, leaveyoualonethen, bye!” she blurted out in a squeak, finding herself galloping to the alleyway by the third step.
Sombra, for his part, didn’t seem to notice her absence, entranced as he was by the solitude of the statue he pondered.
Twilight sat tired in the far corner of a dingy, underground restaurant with windowless, dirt walls and uncomfortable, wooden desks which stuck out from those walls. Slumped across the uneven surface of her table top, Twilight sat nursing a half empty mug of cider and a headache. A headache which, undisturbed as she’d been for the past several hours, sat pristinely ready to be annoyed when Starlight, horn glowing like rail spike, barged into the cellar with a kick of the door, yelling:
“Twilight! Twilight are you here!”
In the encapsulating loudness of the voice as it filled the room, Twilight could sense a panic and sorrowful remorse coloring the voice. Of course, this observation was overshadowed, mostly, by the painful annoyance and annoying pain which seemed to dig itself into her brain as the words rang in her ears and the bobbing horn light waved itself in her squinting vision.
“What!” Twilight managed to blubber over her confusion, rearing back away from the light as she raised a foreleg up to mask her eyes.
“Twilight!” the voice answered in excited recognition, the light switching off as a gallop of hooves came over to Twilight’s corner of the room. “You can’t tell how happy I am to see you! I’ve been running up and down this complex for ages! Do you have any idea how many tracking spells I had to cast- you know, they really should make a directional version of that- mmph.”
Starlight’s voice came to an abrupt halt as Starlight reared back, wide eyes staring down at the purple hoof plugged over her snout.
“What, do you want?” Twilight said with exaggerated patience, managing not to add some choice words at the end.
“I found a way to fix everything!” Starlight beamed, all but throwing herself over the table to look into Twilight’s downcast eyes. Internally, Starlight recognized the announcement turned out far less dramatic than she’d planned in those many hours spent searching, but it served its purpose.
“What?” Twilight said.
“I figured out a way we can undo this future and go back into our own timeline!”
“What?” Twilight repeated.
“Yeah!” Starlight beamed, nodding as if in complete agreement with that statement. “If we just go back in time to the point of divergence, it’d be a simple matter to undo my undoing of the future!”
“Oh,” Twilight mulled, blinking tiredly as she straightened up away from the desk and processing the statement for a moment before, again, replying, “...what?”
“Ugh,” Starlight rushed, “I’m saying, if we go back in time, we can stop this from happening.”
“But, you destroyed the spell!”
“No,” Starlight corrected, “ I destroyed our realities copy of the spell, meaning-”
“Meaning, there should be an intact version in this reality.” Twilight perked up, understanding written in her expression.
“One that I can modify to take us back in time!” Starlight finished, hopping back from the table to pace excitedly in the darkness of the cavern.
“But wait,” Twilight interjected with a frown, “all the archives are in the state library, and we’d need an official permit to gain access, and we’d need proof of residency to get the permits! We don’t reside here, Starlight!” growing more and more panicked as she continued.
“Tschh,” Starlight chuffed, disappointingly, stopping in her pacing with a curious expression. “Wait- How do you know about the library policy here?” she asked.
“It’s the first place I tried to go to!” explained Twilight, matter of factly.
Starlight only replied with an even more bewildered expression.
“Stop judging me!”
“Ok, ok,” Starlight shook her head, breathing calming breaths and resuming her pace. Drawing out a quill and parchment, she then began writing a series of notes. “Here are the modifications I made to Starswirl's spell,” she said, pushing the notes over to Twilight, “I’ve got an idea of how to get into the library, do you think you’ll be able to prepare the table in the meantime?”
“I- I think so?” Twilight pushed herself back from the table, forgetting her anger along with the mug as she looked intently at the dense scribbles of parchment in her grasp.
“Great! You do that! Try not to get captured by the secret police!” Starlight answered, turning to leave before being halted by Twilight.
“Wait! The table’s broken! And how are you even going to get the spell anyway?” Twilight said, skeptical despite the overabundance of hope which enamored her.
“I’ll get the spell, Twilight, just trust me,” Starlight plead.
“And the map?” asked Twilight.
“The map will work,” Starlight said, turning hurriedly to leave before once again being halted, this time by a gentle hoof which found itself on her shoulder.
Starlight followed the hoof to its source, where twilight sat hunched against her chair, and seeming quite small in it.
“...How can you know?” Twilight asked carefully "that the map will work" she clarified, weariness and loss coloring her voice, as if she were afraid of even knowing the answer.
Starlight, uncharacteristically subdued, calmed down from her previous frenzy, taking a quiet moment to sit down and reciprocate Twilights touch, stretching out her own leg she pressed a hoof onto Twilight’s shoulder.
“I just have to believe it will, Twilight,” she said. “There’s nothing else I can do.”
Canterlot had fallen that morning. The city itself was now a ruin, shrouded in darkness, and whatever beams of light made their way through the cloud cover seemed to have a dimmer feature about them.
Starlight felt less at the sight of it’s remains than she’d expected. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d known it was coming, or maybe it was because she knew this was only temporary. Yes, that had to be it. She’d complete the spell before the day’s end, and this would all be over like a bad dream.
But, before that, she’d need a copy of the spell from the library. Sombra’s Library! And, in order to get to that library she’d need to find Sombra. And, the only place Starlight could think to find him when he wasn’t behind a moat, castle walls, and several parades of guards was in the clearing she currently paced in.
Midnight had fallen hours ago by the time the first hints of doubt sprung up inside her. Increasingly, the painful chill penetrated deeper and deeper through her fur coat. In her distracted, shivering pace, she trotted nervously from one side of the clearing onward, reworking her pace in a desperate attempt to keep her mind off the gnawing hours of cold.
She continued her pacing dutifully, however. Despite her doubts, she had no other leads, and she could do no nothing other than continue her wait, along the dark on dark border of the treeline, which, all the time, seemed more and more to take the features of a barred prison.
On one rebound from the side of the clearing, however, Starlight noticed that a light was coming from the bare stone surface of the statue. It was a hazy, indistinct, light, barely enough to show the rough features of the object, and all but unnoticeable; but, in the supreme darkness of the city night, it showed brilliantly.
The statue seemed almost to glow with a ghostly halo surrounding it, and Starlight found herself at its base before she could register having moved there.
A dark colt sat alone at the orphanage, lonely in his clearing as he halfheartedly scratched figures in the ground.
Near him, drawing closer, was a young filly. One Starlight immediately recognized as the mare from the statue, and she was speaking.
“Don’t worry,” the filly said with an ironically upbeat tone, “they think I’m weird, too.” Here, she seemed to get a suddenly exciting idea. “Maybe, we can be weird together!” she said.
“I believe you.” Sombra was earnest, if confused, as he overlooked the pass.
“I know,” the mare said, coat resplendent in the evening light, “they’re invisible to all the world except me. It’s a shame.”
“Isn’t it nice? To have friends all your own?” Sombra asked.
“They’re so beautiful,” she said, tears streaming as her eyes flickered meaningfully over the canyon below. “Oh, Sombra, how I wish you could see them!”
“I now pronounce you, Husband and Wife!” the announcer spoke, and Sombra smiled, happy as Radiant Hope returned it.
“Sombra! Sombra! What’s happening!” Here, reality broke down, and shadowy images stormed into the air, expressive and vague. Emotions came to life and her heart thundered with the storm as it closed the world in on her. The lightning flashed, and rainfall drenched, and she was suffocating!
Starlight came to with a gasp. Pedaling back, she withdrew from the statue as if stung, slamming roughly back against something which hadn’t been there before.
Leaping forward with a yelp of surprise, Starlight turned, flashing her horn and aiming the light onto the darkly silent figure of Sombra.
Here, both parties froze, and took a rapid moment to observe each other.
Starlight, with excited eyes and rapid heart, huffed breathily as she stared intently at the stately figure before her. Sombra, for all the regality and presence he carried, showed clear exhaustion, in his body and in his eyes, as if he were a single wisp away from collapse.
This exhaustion, apparent as it was to Starlight, revealed a presence ten-fold what she could discern from sight alone when he rose to speak.
“I… did not mean to startle you,” he said, polite, as if he’d mustered the greatest effort to say those words.
“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Starlight replied hurriedly, “I, uh, saw you took Canterlot.” She continued, vaguely aware of her mission even as she lacked the words to effect it.
“Yes,” Sombra replied, seeming in that one word to have grown older by several years. “I did.”
“You don’t seem particularly happy about it,” Starlight noted, speaking impulsively in her excitement, with a tongue quicker than her inhibitions.
Sombra paused, and the hanging silence grated, easing finally when he spoke once more.
“I think,” he said, holding a brief silence, “that I will hold off the celebrations, for now. Defeating the royal sisters has cost more than I expected.” This, he said with a great sense of certainty, one which clashed outstandingly with the inherent frailty that had overtaken him.
Here, Starlight was silent, and here, Sombra, after a brief, unreadable look to the statue, turned away, walking high and formally despite the leadened weight which seemed to drive his hooves into the dirt in a depressing plod.
Starlight, seeing her opportunity walk away, panicked. Once again, the words broke without conscious thought, coalescing around a desperate thread of absurd hope which now wound through the crevices of her mind.
“You knew her, didn’t you?” Starlight asked, clarifying, “Radiant hope.”
For a moment, Sombra appeared as if he’d continue walking, uninterrupted and unbothered by her assertion. Quickly, however, the appearance transformed into one of uncertainty and turmoil, which itself became superseded by resignation as he turned back to face her.
Starlight, sitting in the overshadowing silence that followed, reared carefully back from the sight of Sombra as his gaze ran cooly over her. As if becoming aware, suddenly, of who it was she had just spoken to, Starlight fumbled, hurrying to fill the silence.
“You were, I mean, uh-hmm, the legends say, some of them, that you two were...married,” Starlight whispered, bookending her stumbling, disjointed statement with a nervous wince.
“You speak so confidently.” Sombra commented.
“I’m a historian,” Starlight said suddenly, catching a spark of an idea which lit up her eyes in animation as she spoke “I’ve been researching Radiant Hope for years. That was why I was at the statue last night.”
Starlight, who had been expecting some sort of reprieve from the burden of having to explain herself, fell disappointed as a stretching silence filled the space, and Sombra, seeming quite content within it, looked over at her with a warning expression.
“It…” she sweated, “was never my intention to insult you, King Sombra; but, I’ve dedicated my life to uncovering the history of Radiant Hope,” she said, gaining more confidence now, “and I know, well, I’d hoped, that you would be as invested in preserving her history as I was.” Starlight could feel her conviction grow with every word, and as she carried on telling her story, she even felt herself forgetting that it was false.
Sombra, for his part, was unreadable throughout the exchange as he stared down at the mare.
Then, suddenly, he laughed. A basso chuckle which came out more as a growl than anything Starlight could identify as friendly.
“And what is it you really want,” Sombra said, “for this, eminently worthy cause of yours.” A playful lilt played about his voice, as if he were more interested in hearing her answer than in her story.
“I just need an unrestricted pass to the library,” Starlight said quickly, hopping forward to a close trot around him. The positive response fueled her daring, and she circled close enough to nearly touch the king, all the while looking hopefully up at him with a bright expression. “If I could just have one day-”
“No,” Sombra answered, curtly turning away from her shocked expression and walking away.
“But-” Starlight protested.
“There are official channels for these affairs,” Sombra said, adding in a dangerous tone, “I suggest you not waste any more of my time pestering me about it.”
Starlight shrunk back, wanting nothing more than to oblige him and turn away. Still, she found herself planted, a familiar instinct binding her there, not allowing her reprieve until she’d said everything she could think to say on the matter. And it was here she felt the territory of the conversation turn dangerous.
“What about Radiant Hope’s history!” She shouted after him, desperation edging her voice.
No response.
“She’ll be forgotten, you know?” She pressed. “I mean, did you really think some statue in a public park would do anything? I’m the only pony other than you that even knows she ever existed!” she spat, admonishing and furious, realizing in some small part of her that she'd lost control of herself at this point.
Sombra paused in his step, and Starlight felt herself reigned back upon noticing the motion.
A silent shift of hooves and she saw the silhouette of Sombra turn back towards her, and she strained to suppress every instinct which railed at her to run.
Sombra spoke finally, looking back over his broad, though weary, shoulders. “Behind the library building, at the southwest edge of the palace grounds, you can find hidden passageway through the south garden wall. I imagine you should be able to continue your research undisturbed, if you’re quiet about it.” Sombra’s voice trailed into even more of a whisper, falling abruptly silent as he fixed his stare ahead and walked slowly into the engulfing darkness of the alleyway.
“Thank you,” Starlight raised her hoof to say, only holding back at the last moment, resigned to the quiet of the moment.
The world grew darker and colder past midnight.
Contrary to every sense and expectation, Starlight felt the dawn grow more distant with time, as a static chill seemed to freeze the air about her in a crystal clarity, in stark contrast to the roiling, thickening clouds which swirled tumultuously above like a malevolent ceiling.
“...Starlight...Starlight!” Twilight whispered severely, brushing up against the distracted mare.
“Right...sorry!” Starlight chuckled nervously in her own whisper, flashing a friendly smile at Twilight and swiftly turning back to face the imposing wall of stone ahead.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Twilight asked with a stern expression.
“Yeah,” Starlight squinted at the rock formations which made up the wall. “At least, I think so,” she added, less sure of her self.
Twilight didn’t wait, and rose her head, horn flaring.
Starlight, startled by the sudden action, flared her own.
And, with a flash of violet, and a pitch of noise, both mares vanished, leaving only dust swirls in their wake.
Starlight found herself indoors with a wall behind her and with that tizzy feeling that tickled at her hooves whenever she teleported.
Taking a characteristic prance forward to clear the tension from her legs, Starlight was surprised to see her partner several dozen shelves forward of her, casting light and stark shadows though the isles as she passed.
Starlight sprang forward and caught up with Twilight, keeping close as they navigated through the maze of shelves.
“Where do you think the spell will be?” Starlight wanted to ask, but held her silence all the same. It was a pointless question, and it wasn’t worth asking no matter how deeply the silence tore at her.
After a period of nervous searching, Starlight began to notice the completely abandoned condition of the library. Cracked stonework in the ceiling let flow a stream of cool, night air that swam silently through the dark interior, disturbing the phantasmal layer of cobwebs and dust that had settled on what seemed to be every book and in every nook and cranny of the space.
Starlight again, noticed the surprising ease with which the normally bookish pony seemed able to ignore the dilapidated condition of the surrounding library, and was about to bring it up, but held back; it, again, seemed like a pointless line of questioning.
The neglect and age of the building turned out to be to their advantage, however, as, soon, the prized collection of artifacts was found, unguarded behind a dysfunctional warding spell, and from there it was but a simple matter of teleportation to liberate Starswirls Spell and to make the necessary modifications.
As she labored over the parchment, adjusting variables and, on occasion, adding her own innovations to the piece, Starlight noticed that Twilight was looking intently over at her and her work, tilting her head every now and then as she scanned over the working parchment.
Starlight was also keen to notice that this was the first time Twilight had looked at her since…
She purged the thought from her mind, focusing back on her work just as she finished adding the final flourishes and, with a flick of her cap, topped the marker and placed it aside.
“Here,” she whispered, handing the parchment to Twilight and, despite every effort she’d made to ignore it, noticed clearly the hasty and nervous expression Twilight had as she accepted the spell, her eyes glowing in the light as they flickered and flashed about, seeming to look everywhere except Starlight herself.
“Uh...right,” Twilight said, quickly rolling up the parchment and stowing it in her saddle bags, hurrying to leave as she hopped into a steady trot to the far wall.
Starlight, at first, was content to follow. Far too quickly however, the silence bore deeper and deeper into her brain, the still air so quiet it hurt! And, eventually...
“Ok!” Starlight shouted, voice echoing off the distant walls and hallways. Twilight jumped at the noise, whirling around with a panicked expression: one which vindicated Starlight to see.
“Look,” Starlight continued in a gentler voice, allowing Twilight a moment to calm down as she took her own deep breath. “I know this is all my fault, ok!” Starlight said, her voice breaking. “And, I know that you warned be so, I’m just, I-”
“I know,” Twilight interrupted, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the serious mask which still adorned her face. “It’s… alright” she continued, forcing herself to speak past her own misgivings. “You didn’t know-”
“No, Twilight.” Now, it was Starlight’s turn to interrupt. “I… I think I knew what I was doing,” she spoke, choking past sudden sobs at the admission. “I guess, I was just… I was thinking that… I… I’m just a villain, I guess.” Starlight expressed a certain sense of relief at this admission, although this relief did nothing to mask the soul burning hopelessness which seemed to drag her down almost physically.
Twilight sighed with her own sense of resignation. She’d burnt out, she admitted to herself, and, as she was, had nothing she could offer. She was barely holding herself together, and perhaps the mechanical march forward she’d adopted hadn’t helped Starlight’s own issues, Twilight noted.
“You’re not a villain,” Twilight said, confident in her own sense of the truth, or atleast in her own sense that she was too tired to lie. “I mean, at least you’re not anymore. You’ve done things that are wrong, that’s true, but you’re working to fix them now, and I think that tells more about yourself than you realize.”
Starlight didn’t know what else to say beyond that, feeling as if she’d used up all her words in the course of her confession.
Downtrodden as she was, however, as she looked at her hooves and the ground, there, in the corner of her eye, she didn't miss the subtle light which suddenly appeared.
Flicking her ears in curiosity, Starlight found herself looking at a small, leather bound book on a pedestal, hidden out of the way in the cranny of a nearby stone wall.
And, with a flash of the light, she read it. Or, rather, it was read aloud to her.
The flash quickly subsided. Starlight found herself standing in a room, empty except for herself and a tall, friendly mare who sat on the ground nearby.
“Radiant hope!” Starlight announced with a smile, feeling nothing strange about her sudden arrival to this place. On the contrary, she felt as if she’d been planning to come here for as long as she could remember, and she felt as if the mare she was speaking too was a long lost and dear friend she would have traversed the world to speak to.
“Starlight,” the mare acknowledged with a nod of her head.
“What are you doing here?” Starlight asked, amazed and barely able to contain her giddiness as she pranced around the sitting mare with all the energy of an excited foal.
Radiant laughed, “I’m glad to see you too, Starlight. But, as much as I appreciate your company, time is of the essence, and you must remember.”
And, despite the circumstances, Starlight did remember.
Slowly, the cogs turned and the questions arose and Starlight found herself getting woozy at the rush of context and increasingly pressing dread which forced her to sit down.
“Why… did you bring me here? Where’s Twilight?” Starlight asked in a tired voice, bringing a hoof up to massage her temple as she did so.
“I summoned you here because you are facing a great danger, Starlight, and you are the only one who has any hope of stopping it, though you do not know it. ”
“What do you mean?” Starlight asked.
Here Radiant answered, speaking her husband’s name with down turned eyes and that same, profound sadness which highlighted her voice whenever she remembered him. “Sombra,” she said, “what do you know of him?”
“Uh, not much,” Starlight answered, “just that he was the ruler of the crystal empire a thousand years ago, and, uh, ruler of… well, everything, right now.”
“Sombra has many facets to him,” Radiant responded. “However, what you must know is that he is not a pony, not wholly,” she added with another down turned glance.
“What do you mean?”
“Sombra is the result of the experimentations of dark creatures known as the Umbrum. They created him so that he might act as their agent in Equestria and open a portal between our world and theirs, so that they might invade and conquer this land.”
“Uhhh…” Starlight began, not sure where to begin processing that statement.
“I attempted to stop their corruption when I found out about it, but I was too late, and Sombra struck me down in a fit of madness when those… creatures,” she spat, “pried his mind apart to breaking.”
“Right…” Starlight said, not really feeling what she was saying.
“Sombra undoubtedly wishes to attempt summoning the umbrum once again, you must stop him Starlight!” Radiant pled.
“Don’t worry,” Starlight was quick to answer, comfortable now that she was in a position to offer help. “My freind and I, have a plan to make sure none of this even happens in the first plac-”
“Your time machine, yes,” Radiant said with a worried expression.
“Well, it’s more of a spel-”
“Listen to me, Starlight,” Radiant said with an all too serious expression which seemed physically to hold Starlight in place as she spoke. “With Sombra’s magics fluxing in the air, and with the connection of two worlds so near, I am not confident that your spell will work as expected.”
“Wha… what do you mean?” Starlight asked, disbelieving.
“You have noticed the clouds blotting the sky, yes? And you have noticed them growing darker?”
Starlight remembered suddenly the starkly still and electric atmosphere which had greeted her outside of the library.
“Are… you saying that was all from one spell!?” Starlight asked, disbelieving.
Radiant could only nod.
Starlight startled from her place on the ground, paced fervently, all the whle muttering to herself about thaumatical energy content and abundant air densities.
“I take it you understand my point, then,” Radiant said.
“Yeah,” Starlight nodded, “it won’t matter if we cast the spell, the air’s too gummed up with magic for it to work right.
Radiant hummed in confirmation, then, gently prodding the suggestion, “It seems then, that Sombra will be your first priority…” tagging her sentence with a questioning pause.
“But, wait,” Starlight turned, “as long as the magic remains unused, it shouldn’t stop us from casting our spell. With the two of us, it shouldn’t be too much trouble to create a cleanspace-”
“That will only remain the case until he completes the summoning, Starlight.” Radiant interrupted, her voice growing stern. “I would not have brought you here over a trifling matter.”
“Well, how long until he does complete the summoning?” Starlight asked, impatient and eager to get her words out.
And just as she had finished doing so, Starlight reared back, scrunching her snout as if just contacting an unpleasant smell as a sudden, foreboding atmosphere moved her to glance wearily at the space above her head.
Even within the empty sky of the dream-space, she felt a sudden chill rain down which stabbed at her bones, intesifying as she watched the lightness of the space become consumed with a growing darkness.
“Oh, my dear,” Radiant whispered, “I fear he already has.”
Sombra was never once sure what it would be like once he’d summoned the Umbrum.
He imagined, at times, that he would be content, that it would be as if he’d be made whole and all of his desires and frustrations extinguished by that fact.
As he’d drawn nearer to his goal however, and as decades of war took their toll, his grand hopes and dreams slowly collapsed, leaving him hoping, by the end, only for a restful end, a quiet solitude where he might spend the rest of his days with… he couldn’t even say her name, he noticed, wincing in pain at the realization.
So, it took him by great surprise when the moment finally did arrive, and he stood in his chambers with the umbrum crowding the space around him… how completely and utterly terrified he’d become.
And, it wasn’t the hot blooded fear of death or battle which coursed through him, no; what he felt was something altogether more sinister, something he’d hesitate to put a word or label to.
But, suffice it to say, the moment he gazed upon the empty eyed forms and heard the howling language of the umbrum, he was assaulted with the inexorable realization of the foundation of lies which had, for all these years, been the bedrock of his purpose.
And, in one breath of air, that foundation had come crumbling. He saw now, with horrifying clarity the creatures he had worked for: mindless locusts, who had molded him as a disposable tool for their continual spread.
He saw in the following instant the sham of his supposed nobility, and the constructed sense of honor which had been created only as a yoke by these very creatures to drive him to their ends.
He saw the meaningless essence of his very life and every action, and the banality with which he had been driven to every atrocity.
He saw that nothing awaited him in life now beyond this moment, that his world and empire would be consumed and his memory forgotten, and he saw that nothing, no one, waited for him beyond death, for him who had bartered his soul for nothing.
And at the end of that fell of reasoning, Sombra found himself growing rapidly weaker, his body disassociating and washing over the stone floor like watery smoke.
The umbrum chittered rapidly in conversation above. He felt they were laughing at him.
He didn’t care to respond, simply staring at the ceiling for what felt like ages, finding himself facing the bare stone of his empty room as he pooled together at the floor of his abandoned chamber.
Starlight stalked quietly up the stone steps of the palace, leaving behind the dimly lit library corridors in favor of the complete darkness of the labyrinthine castle they were connected to.
Despite the confusing architecture, Sombra’s quarters were easily found, and Starlight found herself surprised when, upon turning a sudden corner, she found herself faced with the floor way entrance to the underground quarters which held the king.
Startled by it’s appearance, Starlight fell a second too slow in shutting off her horn light, catching in the brief light a glimpse of the resplendent smoke particles that framed the entryway…
The door shrieked open in the darkness, worn metal scratching against itself and resounding sharply against the cold, stone walls of Sombra chamber. The stone shone dimly with a flickering dark light that found its origin in the wavering cloud that carpeted the floor, seeming to chill the very air by its presence.
“Sombra,” greeted Starlight, as cold and as tense as she would be defusing a bomb. She wasn’t scared, now, however, in fact feeling a great relief to be in the room now that the Umbrum filled the world.
“Ah, the historian arrives,” Sombra said in a hoarse whisper. “Are you here to record my final words? To observe the novelty of my death, perhaps?”
“No,” Starlight answered.
“What for, then?” Sombra asked, “I’ve fallen, and I have nothing of worth to add to the legends of this world, nothing of worth…”
“There won’t be any legends left after today, I’m afraid,” Starlight said, casually. “The Umbrum, they’ve destroyed the statue, and the library, and everything. If anyone survives this, they won’t remember us, and their descendants won’t remember them. I imagine the Umbrum’s dark skies will be all are left.”
“A monument to my failures,” Sombra croaked, seeming exponentially more tired. “I’ve not only lost my empire, but I’ve crumbled the world’s hopes along with it.”
“No,” contradicted Starlight, “the worlds hopes have never lied with empires. They lied with the connections and support of ponies, gryphons and every living thing under the stars. Even if we’re forgotten, that will still persist.”
Sombra was quiet for a beat, seeming to reflect on the words.
“Have you come all the way here to lecture me on my rulership habits?” Sombra asked, an unreadable quality to his voice.
“There’s nothing else to do at the moment,” Starlight shrugged, maintaining that qualified distance to her tone.
“Ahh…” Sombra said, as if in understanding, “you were a supporter of the princesses. It seems I’ve let my senses dull to give you access so deeply into my castle.”
Starlight maintained silence.
“Although,” Sombra Started up once again, a cruel quality to his voice, “I suppose it made no difference in the end. It seems you were too late to save either your princesses or your precious Canterlot. Perhaps if you had struck sooner, you wouldn’t be here in a pointless gambit for revenge.”
“I’m not here to kill you Sombra,” Starlight denied, still maintaining that calm edge. “I just want to talk.”
“About that insipid ‘Power of friendship’ you Equestrians have scaffolded your crumbling society around? I’d rather you kill me,” he said, gaining a bit of energy in his voice. “There is no hope in this world, and there is no power to friendship, only weakness. I have proven it so.” And, despite the certainty of his words, Starlight didn't fail to notice that effect about them which told of his desire for them to be true.
“You’re wrong,” Starlight answered. “Freindship has a different kind of power, one that force alone can never hope to match! It’s never been about magic, or weapons; it’s trust. Your empire gained you followers when you were strong, and you tried to replace trust with fear, and order, and you raised subordinates and armies and held them close to your side, but where are they now? They left because they saw that you were no longer strong enough to keep them there, a friend would have come to you when you were weak.”
“Oh?” Sombra bit back. “And, what did this trust gain Celestia? It still ended rather poorly for her, as I recall.”
“Well, at least she had somebody there when it came time to end,” Starlight answered.
Sombra gave a soft laugh in response. “Look at me, then,” he chuckled, “pooled here with nobody to even witness my death.”
“You have me,” Starlight spoke on instinct, letting go, for a moment, that guarded face she’d maintained for the conversation thus far.
Sombra exploded. Ballistic energies flashed through the room, and the still puddle of smoke flashed into the air with a malevolent hiss. “Enough!” he roared. “I have had enough of your condescensions! You know nothing about me, and all that you do know, unsavory. Do not insult me with your uninspired proposals! I may be weakened, but I am King Sombra, not some desperate, manipulable little foal desperate to grasp onto any passerby’s well wishes!”
Starlight reared back with a startle, wide eyes examining the snarled expression which formed a steadily sharper and wilder image in the hazy mass of black clouds that had risen before her.
“No!” she rushed to explain herself. “That’s not what I meant! I just… I just understand what you’re going through, hard as that may be to believe.”
“A likely story,” Sombra retorted, “lowering himself for the moment.”
“You blame yourself for what happened.” Starlight stated as if reading from a fact book, continuing on, “It feels like a thousand year’s mistakes are falling like an avalanche onto your shoulders and it’s all you can think of how you didn’t stop it from coming to this sooner. You’re too proud to say that you were wrong, or to ask for help, but you’re afraid about what’s going to happen because of you, and the only thing you fear more than your fate is the idea that you might not even deserve to escape it."
It was Sombra’s turn to be surprised. Quickly, the expression in the clouds morphed into a wide eyed disbelief, and then quickly to growing acceptance.
Starlight continued on, saying: “Well, I’m here to tell you that that’s not true. Almost anyone deserves redemption, and, if you don’t, then who better to offer it to you than someone else who doesn’t!”
Sombra spoke softly this time, seeming more alert if still worn weary, “Swell words from a kind friend,” he said, putting particular emphasis on that last word, “but I’m afraid there isn’t much that can be done about my predicament. The Umbrum have spilled over onto this world, there is nothing which can stop them now.”
Starlight only chuckled, for the first time allowing a confident smile to cross her face as she said, with a conspiratorial tone of voice, “well… that’s not entirely true.”
The world was hazy and dull, marred everywhere by howling spirits and raging dust storms.
In the near distance, brilliant flashes of violet light cut through the world as Twilight stoutly defended the shattered remnants of the crystal table, pushing and shoving away any of the blind umbrum that wandered too close to her location.
“So,” Sombra reiterated, “as long as you have a clean space around that table, the spell should activate?”
“Yes, probably,” Starlight answered, managing to look away from the skeptical look Sombra shot in her direction.
“Your magic is the source that set off the spell, it should be able to repel it’s effects far more effectively than either Twilight or I could manage,” she added, trying herself to sound confident just as they arrived.
Immediately, Starlight set to work setting up the spell matrix, and around them Sombra’s body formed a shadowy ring, warding away the swirling mass of Umbrum as the interior of the circle grew quickly more clear, retaining far less of that overly crisp, electric sense which had prevailed the atmosphere beyond.
Starlight took a deep, clear breath at this change, noticeably impressed with how perfectly Twilight had prepared the table for binding.
Twilight herself, however, was far less relaxed. Pacing nervously around the table and Starlight, ever so often sending dangerous glances at the incorporeal body of Sombra that surrounded them.
Starlight only shook her head at the display, focusing back on her work. In truth, it was work she’d finished long ago, and now all there was to do was to wait until the thaumatical constant had fallen enough inside the circle for the table to react… if it reacted.
No, Starlight shook the thought away, dutifully checking and rechecking every line and swirl of energy she’d put into the spell. It had to work, she would just have to wait for the sign that the thaumatical constant had fallen enough and all that would be left to do then would be to activate the spell.
And so, they waited. And, throughout the time, Starlight kept rechecking her work, attempting all the while to avert her eyes from the shattered and cracked table that lay before her.
Twilight, meanwhile kept her vigorous pacing, repeatedly muttering to herself, “when’s it gonna show?” And even through her nervous energy, she kept a steady and unfaltering look locked onto the flickering form of Sombra around them, a form which expressed it’s own form of increasing agitation as time passed, wildly straining and roiling against it’s incorporeal confines, as if asking itself when the sign would come.
And, then, suddenly, as if in answer to their prayers, the air cleared.
Starlight found herself surprised when the table glimmered, and even more so when her fore-hooves lit up along with it.
Shooting her gaze upward, she quickly found the source. Up above them, miles high in the air, a circular hole had been cut clear through the cloud cover, and from beyond it sunlight beamed through, shining down onto the table, and onto them.
Starlight closed her eyes in the warmth, a smile lighting her features as she lit her horn and, with a flash, activated the spell.
Opening her eyes, she turned her gaze, taking in the last scenes of the dying world. Twilight stopped her own pacing, stumbling down besides her as she looked round, watching the world and the oblivious umbrum with it, become steadily more and more unreal, dissipating.
And Starlight, in a momentary pause of her jubilation, noticed that Sombra was disappearing along with them.
“Sombra…” she began sadly, not certain of what she could say.
“Do not…” Sombra himself began, pausing at the second word and then looking round at the rapidly disappearing environment before forcing himself to continue. “I… admit that I failed,” he said, “I do not want your pity, I knew that this would be the end for me, nor do I want your accolades, because I know in my heart that my only mistake was in releasing the umbrum...but,” he paused, seeming to strain with the effort of his next words, “I… this, is not a future anyone could wish for,” he said, looking round at the blind mass of screeching umbrum.
Sombra stopped his speech abruptly, not willing to speak any further even as his eyes flickered with the force of his unexpressed words; but, as the world went and the final moments came to a close, Starlight swore that, hidden in the flickering cloud of undefinable expressions, there was just the barest hint of a smile drawn across Sombra’s face; and, oddly enough, she felt assured.
"It's f-f-f-f-f-ine!" Spike said, brushing off the worried advice Twilight sent his way.
Despite the inclement weather, Spike was not one to abandon his characteristic jubilance so easily. Even as howling snow drifts ran painfully over his scales, Spike pressed belly first into the ground, repeatedly kissing it and all the while attempting to embrace the earth as if it were an old friend.
Twilight withheld her own sheepish expression at the sight, sending apologetic looks to the abandoned drake even as she hid from the curious looks of passing townsfolk.
"Maybe you should celebrate later, Spike," Twillight suggested, adding, "...and indoors."
"Hey, you didn't spend three hours trapped on a cloud island!" Spike retorted, looking up with a defensive glare, storking his claws over the stone in a familiar manner. "Plus, this rock is sweet," Spike said, quickly regaining his carefree attitude as he noted the sunbaked stonework which covered the road.
Twilight, rolling her eyes and on the verge of responding, found her words dying as another wave of laughter interrupted her.
"Yeah, it is pretty 'sweet'" Starlight agreed at the trailing end of her chuckles. "It's not too fun in the summer, though," - she said, adding, with a thoughtful look - "unless you're a dragon, I suppose."
"Why did you bring us here, anyway?" Spike asked, withholding for once the increasingly suspicious looks he'd been sending to Twilight whenever he thought Starlight wasn't looking.
"Yeah," Twilight agreed, "I've been meaning to ask you that too. Why did you bring us here." Twilight gestured to the polished stonework and marbled alleyways that lined both sides of the street.
"Well, I, uh," here Starlight became quiet, taking a moment to overcame the sudden bashfulness that overtook her before continuing, "I had a vision," her voice barely over a whisper.
"Oh, what kind?" Twilight asked, tilting her head?
"No, I really did... wait, what do you mean 'what kind?'" Starlight asked.
"Oh, was it a vision of the past or did you just have to talk to someone...?" Twilight said, unperturbed.
"Are you saying visions are normal? Are you ok?"
"I really only have them when the world's in danger, really," Twilight clarified, "or when I'm drinking... drinking potions, that is," thinking it strange how gradually her life had gotten to the point where that had become a normal sentence.
"Well, ah, anyway, I had one," Starlight said, "and I made a promise to someone that I'd do something when we got to this timeline. And, I think this is where that journey starts," Starlight said, looking meaningfully over at the aging wooden door that made up the entrance of the curiosity shop embedded deep in the alleyway they stood at the entrance of.
"Ok," Twilight nodded, "what's our first step?"
Starlight paused, expression turning as if struggling with a difficult concept before, finally, she managed to spit out the question, "'our?'" she asked.
"Well, yeah," Twilight said naturally, "we've come this far together, haven't we? And friends should stick together, right?" As she spoke a subtle smile took over her demeanor, one which seemed rapidly to spread to her eyes.
"Starlight?" Twilight asked, opening her smiling eyes after the awkward interlude of silence that followed, doing so just in time to see Starlight choke back a sob, looking askance as she fanned a hoof over her tearing eyes.
"You guys... " Starlight broke with a quivering voice, speaking in broken, chipped sentences that belayed her normally eloquent speech patterns. "After everything..." she managed to say, now running the for of her leg across her tear streaked eyes.
"It's ok, Starlight," Twilight said, holding her familiar smile. "I know you haven't always made the right choices, but I know that you're a good person, and a better friend than you think."
"How can you even know that?" Starlight asked, sounding angry even as she laughed through her tears.
"Because you're my friend," Twilight said, putting a hoof on the other mare's shoulder in a familiar gesture, "I just have to believe you are. Even if you don't."
"Well, thanks," Starlight said after a while, finally putting away her hoof after having cooled down. "And, I accept your friendship," she said, chuckling.
"Pfft, like you had a choice." Spike rolled his eyes in the background, looking all the more comical for not having moved from the sunbathing position he'd taken.
"But," Starlight said, raising her head up, "this is still something I need to do alone. It's my promise, after all."
"Ok, I understand," Twilight nodded, "just don't hesitate to let us know-"
"Wait," Spike interrupted, rising partially from his perch on the streetside. "If you thought we wouldn't help you, why did you bring us all the way out here?" he said, gesturing to the foreign town square they all stood in.
"Oh," Starlight was once again sheepish. "Well, I could really only set the portal to one location, and, since I was going to start of here, it was more... convinient," Starlight trailed, on occasion dipping into shameful mumbling.
"You guys have money for train tickets, though right?" Starlight perked back up, attempting to switch the topic of conversation.
"Yeah we've got some money at our castle, you know, in Ponyville," Spike deadpanned, shooting judgemental looks over at starlight.
"Oh, darn it," Starlight exclaimed in awkward exasperation, "If only I'd dropped us off at a bank."
"Or at our castle, in Ponyville," Spike, again, shooting annoyed glares as another slash of wind burst over the street.
"It's alright, we would have had to go to one of these places anyway," Twilight said, diplomatically. "Do you have any ticket money we could borrow?" She asked, turning her head to Starlight.
Starlight sucked in a breath, "well, I do, but, I really need it to buy something for my mission," she said, gesturing to the alley door. "It's a 'destinies are converging moment'."
"Oh," Twilight nodded, "ok, we'll just call for a carriage transport, I guess."
"Yeah," Starlight agreed, "It'll probably be faster if you do that, anyway," she said, putting on a positive tone.
"Not really," Twilight answered. "It takes them a while to get here. Flying in this weather isn't too fun."
"...well! I guess that's good bye!" Starlight smiled, quickly walking into the alleyway as she waved over at the receding portrait of cold at the edge of the alleyway/
"Good bye." Twilight and Spike responded, less enthusiastically.
"We're still freinds, right?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, we're sure."
"You'd tell me if we weren't freinds, right!"
"Trust me, Starlight, we're still freinds."
"Well... great!" Starlight turned back, walking forward in the alley as she repeatedly whispered "stupid, stupid, stupid, why didn't I just drop them off in ponyville, why am I so terrible at this!"
Soon, however, these thoughts dissipated as she entered the comforting warmth of the oddity shop.
Heated air, blew across the boundary between the warm orange wood of the shop, crowded in every corner with a veritable rainbow of aged antiques and dreary objects, and the cool blue atmosphere of the outside world, one which flickered off and widespread as the aged door slammed shut behind her.
"Welcome," an ancient Gryphon greeted in a hoary voice, looking up from the counter top he stood behind to observe her with dazzlingly golden eyes. "What brings you to my mystical shop of wonders."
And Starlight, in a first for the old crow, actually gave a reason.
"I'm here for that shard of Hope," she said, eyes moving with certainty to an unassuming shard of crystal lined up n the back shelves.
The old gryphons eyes shot up in surprise. "You know of the Shards of Hope?" he asked.
"Yes, yes," Starlight said impatiently, already removing the shard from it's plaque. "They were the shattered remnants of the former queen of the Crystal Empire, Radiant hope. It's said if they were brought back together, she would return to life and bring about miracles, even redeem S-" Starlight paused. "Well, the first one was supposed to be around here, anyway."
"You seem... uncommonly knowledgeable," the gryphon pronounced.
"Well, you see," Starlight said, a funny smile coming over her features, "I'm a historian."
