Empathy for the Devil

Chapters

2. Somewhere Only He Knows
3. Dinner with the Stars
4. You and Lonely You
5. The New Sunset
7. The Heart-to-Heart of the Matter
8. The Search for Sunset Shimmer
9. Rebel Without a Cause
10. The Eye of the Ice Storm
11. The Devil in Canterlot High
12. Return of the She-Demon
13. The Protégé
14. The Devils You Know
15. The Prodigal Sun
1. With Love, the Royal Family
6. We Give You the Whole Seat but You'll Only Need the Edge

2. Somewhere Only He Knows

Sunset Shimmer felt bad for anyone who had to deal with her emotions. Really, she did. In the exchange, she could barely tell up from down, highs from lows, but all of it happened so fast and so intensely that she really only got a sense of the general trend—and even that was hard to tell with that many people involved.

But Flash accidentally broadcasting how Sunset felt to everyone in school meant they all had to feel every bit of shame, anger, fear, and jealousy that Sunset did, if only briefly.

Sunset had never been more mortified in her entire life.

She didn’t plan on going to school the next day. Or getting out of bed. Just her, some sweats, her most mindless video games, her gecko, her cat, and an extra large pizza (as long as the pizza delivery guy didn’t go to CHS). Easy. The only thing missing from that equation was girlfriend cuddles; Sunset didn't know if it was the magic in her girlfriend's hands, but when they held each other, Twilight had a way about finding the parts of Sunset's body that wouldn't quite admit they were ticklish. But, in theory, Sunset could sustain herself on the little texts Twilight had been sending like Are you okay??? and If you're not okay, I'm here.

So really and truly, she wouldn’t have shown up for school the next day if she didn’t have a serious mystery to beat out of Flash “this is a great time to suddenly have magic” Sentry.

That didn’t mean she had to like all the kids in school understanding her.

Everyone knew by now that she was an absolute mess. Someone who couldn’t even be truly happy when one of her best friends in the multiverse finally achieved what she rightly deserved. That deep down, she was still just as cruel-hearted as she’d always been. Sunset still couldn’t get over how selfish her reaction was, so what must the rest of the school think?

Apparently the answer was pity. She was that pathetic. Bulk Biceps even baked her cookies with his mom last night and gave them to her in first period art class. At that rate, Sunset didn’t expect to make it to lunch without dying of embarrassment, but then, even when she did survive until the bell rang for lunch, she still had to make it to the bandroom.

Every person Sunset passed in the halls looked at her as if she were a sick puppy. Sandalwood stepped into her path with a shivering pout and gave her a big bear hug.

Sunset slouched over and sighed. “You can let go now, Sandalwood.”

She sped up, but not without hearing the pitying whispers of students at their lockers as she passed them by. Trixie looked like she was watching a dead girl walking, trading looks with Wallflower Blush. “Sunset Shimmer, is there anything you want to tell your best friend Trixie?”

“Nope! Definitely not!” she called back, trying not to growl. Sunset hadn’t had this much attention just walking down the hall since she ruled the school, and remembering that really didn’t make her feel any better. Turns out I’m not all that different from then anyway…

The only person Sunset even considered slowing down for scurried after her from the depths of the science lab. For an asthmatic, Twilight could keep pace surprisingly well, which Sunset appreciated, since she couldn't exactly afford to leisurely stroll down the halls hand-in-hand today.

As she came up to the principal’s office, even Principal Celestia softened to see her, as if Sunset had recently lost a loved one. Had Sunset’s thoughts and emotions really been that overdramatic? The Principal stood by her open door, and gestured into it. “Sunset Shimmer, I hope you know you can always come to me for—”

“Oh hard pass,” Sunset told her, not slowing down. She felt a tiny bit rude for stomping by, but dear Celestia, that was the absolute last thing she could take today: Princess Celestia’s doppelganger taking her in for a therapy session, talking about how desperately in need of guidance counselling Sunset was. Her old mentor’s voice saying aloud how self-centered Sunset still was would, in all likelihood, break her.

Twilight, however, slowed down to fidget with her hands. Sunset didn’t need to turn back to know. “She... may need some time. But, um, we’re still on for my next scheduled appointment, right?”

The warmth of Principal Celestia’s smile bled through into her voice. “Of course, Twilight. Every Thursday at noon and any time you need it.”

“Thank you!” she told her, before scurrying to catch up with Sunset.

It really wasn’t that Sunset had a problem with counselling. Anymore, at least. Back in her power-hungry days (or more power-hungry days…), she used to think therapy was a cheap way for hucksters to make a quick bit off the defenseless and sentimental.

But, then, it had seemed to really help Twilight, seeing their Principal once or twice a week to adjust to Canterlot High and just cope better with the towering pressure on her back as a superhero/honor student/friend extraordinaire. Sunset still wasn’t sure if therapy would ever be for her, per se, but anything that helped her girlfriend that much couldn’t be all bad.

Coming up beside her, Twilight slipped her hand into Sunset’s and kissed her on the cheek. That sort of melted the frown off Sunset's face. She finally managed to look someone in the eye and found Twilight offering a gentle smile. She tried to offer one back, but she was afraid it wasn’t all that enthusiastic.

As soon as the two came into the bandroom, the Rainbooms stood up off the concert seating as if rising for the national anthem. Even the girls looked sorry for her. Because they know I’m not half the friend I thought I was. They’re the best friends anyone could ever have, and I still don’t deserve them. Sunset huffed and almost turned the other way. “Not you, too! Can we please just not talk about it?”

That seemed to take the wind out of the friendship experts' sails. Sunset almost felt bad. It kind of seemed like they’d been preparing among themselves all morning to steer her through some harsh emotional waves. Rainbow Dash dropped her arms against her sides, slapping her rainbow-streaked leggings. Pinkie looked to Rarity for a sign that things were okay, but Rarity appeared to be equally as concerned as her. Applejack raised an eyebrow, crossing her strong arms across her chest.

Sunset waited for their regular chatter to fill the bandroom, livening up its pitch-perfect acoustics with talk about their classes, plans for winter break, or fun videos they saw online. After a long enough pause, she’d even take their babbled plans for Twilight’s coronation. Anything.

“...Okay, Sunset.” Fluttershy was the only one with the courage to walk over. She cupped Sunset’s cheek with a soft, well-self-cared hand. “But whenever you’re ready, we’ll be right here.”

Oh come on, that’s not playing fair. Sunset wanted to give in right then and there. She’d let her friends lie to her face about how it was okay that she apparently still wasn’t over the whole Princess thing, how it was somehow okay to just keep backsliding—or never make any progress at all. Maybe she wasn’t as far from the she-demon as she thought.

I am over this, she tried to convince herself. I haven’t even thought about being a princess in over a year. I don’t feel like I’m owed the throne anymore. I have a life here! I’ve got friends! A girlfriend! A whole high school counting on me to fight rogue magic! And after that...

She pushed that thought aside. The important part was that she had a lot going for her right now. She told herself to be grateful for that much.

Sunset crossed her arms, but tried to smile for Fluttershy’s sake. “Yeah. I know. But we’ve kind of got bigger things to deal with right now, anyway. When Flash patted my shoulder yesterday, it was like my magic exploded! I know we’ve had magical surges, but this was unreal! I haven’t had that much power on my own since… uh, well, you know when. She-demon me.” She blushed again, rubbing her neck.

“Except that this magic didn’t feed off of malicious or evil intent,” Twilight corrected. “Whatever Flash did boosted what you already felt to the nth degree. Near demon-level power without the evil, demonic implications!”

“So what you’re saying is,” Timber Spruce’s voice entered the room before he did, with Flash hiding behind him, “my boyfriend’s an angel. I could’ve told you that.”

Twilight’s eyebrows raised and she squeaked like one of Winona’s chew toys as she said, “Timber Spruce! You’re here! Wow! Why are you here?” She spooked herself, waving her hands. “Not that that isn’t great! I’m always glad to see you! We all are! In fact, you should come around more often, and when you do, you won’t really need an explanation to be there because you’ll always be around, you know? Timber! One of the gang! But, you’re not really around a lot yet, especially in the middle of the school day and never were when we were dating, um⁠—” She shook her head and struck out her good hand to shake. “Sorry. Good to see you?”

Timber’s smile held in his awkward chuckle but not very well. The hand-shake between them didn’t exactly look comfortable. “Uh, yeah, good to see you, too. Glad to see you haven’t changed.” He pointed half-hearted finger guns at her.

Silence wormed its way in between them. It went on for longer than either of them expected or wanted.

It also didn’t help that Flash Sentry wouldn’t look Sunset in the eye, and Sunset wasn’t entirely sure she could do the reverse. At least, not without blackening one of them.

The only person still moving about was Rarity as she took the measuring tape from around her neck and scribbled down numbers. Sunset knew for a fact Rarity already had their measurements ten times over, but she was frankly impressed Rarity wasn't triple-checking every inch for the coronation outfits (in Sunset's case, admittedly, she had stress-eaten her feelings last night, so fine, maybe that was a little fair to update). The boys were happy for the slight distraction, even if Flash eluded the measuring tape thanks to his boyfriend stepping in, but Sunset guessed Flash was more so hiding from her than the measuring tape.

Twilight looked to Sunset. Her eyes begged for her girlfriend to do or say something so she wouldn't have to, so Sunset clapped a loose and (mostly) non-threatening fist against her palm and took the first step to Flash. “So… brought the boyfriend along for moral support, huh?”

Coming out from behind said boyfriend as tentatively as a newborn deer, Flash rubbed the back of his head. “Is... that okay? I mean, I also asked him to come because he has some kind of magic, too, so it’s probably important to, like, figure that out while we’re at it, but… it’s not weird for you two, right?”

Twilight nervously twiddled her thumbs. “What? No! Not at all!”

Sunset laughed. As much as she didn’t want her girlfriend to be nervous, Sunset thought she was pretty cute when she was. But then again, she was always cute.

Sunset punched Flash on the shoulder to keep from letting her anger get the better of her. (For now.) She decided on following the instinct that she never liked being mad at Flash (he was just too defenseless; it never felt like a fair fight, especially not given their history). Instead, she resolved to beat him mercilessly in Guitar God at the arcade. Although she’d admit to throwing in a bit more force than usual. “Not weirder than whatever you did yesterday. How cool was that?! You have powers now, too! A little invasive, but hey, I can read people’s thoughts so I guess I can’t be talking there, huh?”

Hearing that, Flash relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah, sorry. Did I mention I had no idea that would happen, and I still don’t really get what I did?”

“If it’s any help, I don’t think it was just you, Flash,” Twilight said, settling back into her comfort zone. “I think it was you two together.”

Rainbow Dash made a face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Twilight wheeled over the extra whiteboard the music teacher sometimes used for lesson plans; and, as if sensing that class was about to be in session, the girls all sort of found their way to taking a seat. She doodled round circles with squiggles on them, the tip of her tongue sticking out with the effort, and labelled the first one Sunset.

Pinkie Pie squinted. “That’s Sunset? Ooo, abstract-y!”

Twilight frowned back at them. “What? It’s not abstract. That’s clearly Sunset!”

The whole group protested in different ways since there was so much to critique.

Rarity looked offended on Sunset’s behalf. “Oh dear, please do not tell me that’s how you see your girlfriend.”

Twilight made a series of aggravated noises below her breath before handing Timber the marker. “Fine. Timber can provide the illustrations.”

Timber quickly sketched out some cartoonish heads of Sunset and her friends and the others made a noise of approval.

Fluttershy brightened. “Yep, that’s us alright!”

“Clear as day,” Applejack agreed.

“Lookin’ real good for doodles!” Rainbow added, very pleased.

Timber nodded, hands wedged under his armpits but the thumbs sticking up, something of a B-boy stance. “Ah! C’est magnifique! Noice.” He gave Twilight back the marker with a flourish. “General, your battle plan?”

“Eh… yes?” She took back the marker, not looking too sure of herself. Sunset made a mental note to encourage her girlfriend more, if not shower her in praise. She already told Twilight she was beautiful, but there was so much more complimentary ground to cover and Twilight deserved to know it all. Humility was fine and good (and, admittedly, not always Sunset’s area of expertise), but Twilight had every right to feel confident leading their friends.

At the very least, Twilight finished her diagram without further complaints and capped the marker. “So this circle of heads represents all of us, labelled with our individual powers, and these lines connecting us are our potential magical connections. So-”

Pinkie raised her hand.

Twilight frowned. “Oh. Um, yes Pinkie?”

“Can Doodle Pinkie have a Doodle Cupcake? She looks hungry.”

“No, Pinkie. This is a chart.”

Pinkie raised her hand again.

Twilight raised an eyebrow in turn. “Are you hungry, Pinkie?”

“Mm-hm. Can I please eat?”

“Nothing’s stopping you, but alright. Sure. You have my permission. Please enjoy your cupcake.” As Pinkie happily dug in, Twilight turned back to the diagram and pointed at the line she drew between her and Sunset. “Sunset and I have been able to share our magic with each other before, and we found out that her empathy and my telekinesis magic blend together and create a new magic of our own—a healing power!”

“Whoa, you have medic powers?!” Rainbow Dash’s eyes lit up like the industrial-grade lights CHS got last year on the football field for home games and late practices. “That’s so boss! When we’re out on the battlefield, popping the bad guys in the face and maybe getting a scratch or two, we can be all, medic! Medic! And then you can come and heal us!”

Flash looked more relieved than anything. “That’s amazing! So we don’t have to worry about you girls when you rush off head first into danger anymore?”

“Well, yes and no? We can only really heal to a certain extent. I wouldn’t say we’re all invincible⁠—but we’re getting off track here.” Twilight tapped the board with the marker. “What I’m saying is I thought Sunset and I could share magic because of how, um, close we are now⁠—”

Timber Spruce whoopedfrom the back of the class, the kind of woo only sitcom audiences made when a kiss happened on screen.

That really didn’t help Twilight from getting flustered. She tugged at her bowtie and cleared her throat. “⁠—but in any case, I don’t think magic-sharing is necessarily a romantic endeavour. Any of us might be able to do it! Although exactly how is still a mystery to me.”

Applejack, hand to her chin, squinted at the whiteboard until something clicked and her eyes went wide. “Well, I’ll be. So, what you’re saying is, Flash and Sunset must’ve shared magic yesterday and made their own new-fangled power?”

“Sounds mostly right, but... I don’t know if it was a new power,” Sunset said. She thought back to how it felt to have all those emotions rushing through her, all mingling together at once in a school-wide party where everyone’s emotional instability was invited. “It was more like my power but cranked up to eleven. Whether he meant to or not, I think Flash just… gave me a boost.”

All eyes drifted over to Flash, sitting on the bleachers next to Timber. He looked shocked but not unhappy about it.

Twilight smiled and drew a line from Flash to Sunset, labeling it Emotional Projection then labeling the Flash head with the power Amplification.

As Twilight stepped back, Sunset wondered if the rest of the girls were thinking the same thing she was. There were a lot of potential lines to draw, combinations left to discover. Her magically-trained mind tingled with the possibilities. But there was also one more wildcard in that deck they hadn’t quite figured out.

“Weird. Hey, Timber, have you noticed anything at all that might be your⁠—” Sunset stopped, looking around. “Wait, where’s Timber?”

Timber wasn’t there anymore. She knew there had to be a reason he’d been so quiet since the woo—that boy could barely go a minute without a sassy comeback—but she didn’t understand how he’d snuck out unless… “Timber? Are you… are you invisible?”

Twilight blanched. “Please don’t let Timber Spruce’s power be invisibility.”

Flash tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Why? What could he use invisibility for that’s so bad?”

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Rainbow promised, patting his head.

“Oh, grow up, he wouldn’t use it for that. Timber isn’t a perv,” Twilight said, crossing her arms. “I... just don’t like the idea of him being around without me realizing it and then saying something I may or may not say if I knew he was there.” Her eyes went wide. “N-not that I have anything to hide from you if you are invisible!”

The others’ gazes roamed around the empty spaces of the band room, and Fluttershy even felt up the air as if expecting to run into Timber, but he was well and truly gone.

Flash Sentry looked just about as lost as the rest of them until a pop song blasted out of his vibrating pocket at full volume. The lyrics of the song were about as mushy-gushy romantic as a Hearts and Hooves Day couples’ sundae at Sugarcube Corner. Before the singer could wax poetic about all the less squeaky clean things he’d like to do to his love, Flash tore his phone from his pocket and answered while hiding his red face, “D’uh, um, hello? Timber? Where’d you go?”

There was a pause while he listened, and then Flash remembered to turn on speaker phone.

“-next thing I know I’m back at camp on the roof of the counsellor’s cabin! I nearly fell off! This totally makes the top ten for Best Times I Almost Broke My Neck.”

Their wide eyes snapped up from the phone, wordlessly, breathlessly coming to the same realization almost all at once. The corners of Sunset’s mouth rocketed skywards. “Timber, you can teleport?!”

“Well, it’s either that or Rainbow Dash has some competition for the world’s fastest teenager.”

Rainbow Dash barked a laugh. “You wish, Spruce!”

Sunset groaned, but at least this time had a smile on her face as she did. “Sweet Celestia! You don’t even know how lucky you are! What I wouldn’t give to be able to teleport again.” Although, if Sunset had the power to teleport nowadays, she’d probably show up to her morning class in her pjs with her bed not far behind her.

That was the kind of magic from her old protégé days that she allowed herself to get nostalgic for. She could still remember Princess Celestia’s face when she read a teensy tiny bit ahead and learned teleportation years before her peers in magic kindergarten. Truthfully, though, at the time Sunset took to summoning spells much easier (mostly because she summoned the Princess every night for a bedtime story). These days, she’d much prefer to teleport. She wondered if she could use it to make visits to Equestria. She also wondered if she really had any home there to teleport to anymore.

If Princess Celestia was retiring, what did that mean for Sunset’s old room, her old stuff? It came as a shock when she checked, but the Princess kept her room not only intact but dusted and maintained. Sunset loved Princess Twilight, but would going home feel the same if Princess Celestia wasn’t still waiting for her with a warm tea and a warmer hearth in Canterlot Castle?

And where would Celestia go? What would she do if she wasn’t the reigning monarch? The Princess Celestia Sunset had been reunited with had had a better sense of humour than the one Sunset remembered, but Sunset still couldn’t picture a Princess Celestia of any kind lounging around on a beach somewhere on the coast of the Dowhinnycan Republic.

But if Sunset could teleport, that’s where she’d go. Visiting her ex-mentor in her twilight years to make sure she had all she could ever need and never felt alone. But then, Sunset had to remind herself that her ex-mentor had her sister back these days. Celestia wouldn’t need Sunset checking up on her. It would be silly to still want to rule by her side if there was no space left to fill.

Sunset hoped her soured mood wasn’t clear on her face, but the others were thankfully more focused on giving Timber some pointers.

“Magic ain’t too hard. For us, it’s all about feelings and music ‘n such,” Applejack said, speaking just a touch too loud as if she didn’t fully understand the concept of a call being on speaker. “Whenever I use my super strength, I focus on the job that needs doing and the magic summons the strength to do it! Focus on how you’d feel if you were somewhere you ain’t. Have ya tried not being where you are?”

“Uh... sure?”

“Oh hang on, hang on, give it here—” Rarity took the phone and elevated her voice to a proper volume. “Timber, dear, don’t listen to Applejack.”

“Okay, step one complete.”

Rarity closed her eyes, shutting out the world entirely which included Applejack and her unimpressed glare. “Now, I want you to picture a calm, blue ocean… there we are, isn’t that soothing? The waves... the beach... and, what’s this? Right next to the ocean is a sea-front spa!”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “There’s always a spa!”

“Mmm, yes,” Rarity agreed, in a trance, “There is always a spa…”

Twilight raised a finger. “I’m not really sure this is helping.”

“Has he tried meditating about being at Canterlot High?” Fluttershy piped up. “Meditation always helps me focus.”

“Ooo! Pretend you’re giving one of us a big ol’ hug until you are!” Pinkie suggested. The magic student in Sunset was sad to think that was probably the closest to a helpful how-to guide for using new magic powers so far. At least, it was the most likely to actually work.

The others gave various pieces of advice that even Sunset couldn’t quite comprehend —and not just because they started speaking on top of each other.

“Magical capability and reciprocity involves an exponential emotional output,” Twilight explained. “If I could send just send you some graphs—”

“Just, you know…” Flash made a pushing motion. “D’uh, you know?”

Dash waved her hands. “No, no, no. Think upwards!”

“Upwards?”

Sunset brought everyone’s stammering to an abrupt halt with a single and decisive: “Girls.”

Even Flash listened. She didn’t love having a sway over the room so easily, given what everyone must’ve been thinking about her wanting the throne again, but she had to admit it was useful.

Sunset took Flash’s phone in her hand. “Timber, listen up, okay? I can only really tell you how teleportation works in Equestria. It might be different on this side of the mirror, and no one’s really going to be able to tell you how to use your power, but it’s probably the closest thing to an instruction manual you’re ever going to get for your magic. Sound good?”

A shivery sigh blustered in the receiver of the phone. “I’ll take whatever you got. I… really don’t know how to get down from here otherwise.”

Sunset nodded. “Perfect.” Years had gone by since Sunset first learned to teleport, but even now, she could hear the patient guidance the Princess provided her frustrated pupil playing behind her ear. The Princess’s voice may as well have underscored her own. “Everyone’s first assumption with teleportation is that it’s about escape. Leaving for somewhere better. You can blame stage magicians for that, escape artists make it look easy. You have to be above the moment.”

“...And that means?” Timber sounded more confused than impatient. Foal Sunset definitely sounded impatient.Over-eager. Rushing headlong to a storybook ending she’d never end up reaching.

Holding back a grimace, Sunset shifted her weight, one hand tucked into the crook of her elbow. “I’ll put it like this: there’s more to being somewhere than wishing you were there, right? If you get too caught up sensing your current surroundings, you’re stuck in the moment. You’re not going anywhere. It’s not about escaping where you currently are because all that’s going to do is make you focus on being there.” Not that Timber or anyone else would know it, but Sunset quoted her mentor word for word: “Be above the moment.”

Cryptic instructions like that drove Sunset mad growing up. Sometimes she wondered if Princess Celestia kept everything wrapped in riddles to slow her down—take time to decode the lesson first before acing another one. It wouldn’t be out of character. When she wasn’t preparing her young protege to fight Nightmare Moon and end a Solar-Lunar war before it could ever begin, the Princess forced Sunset to stop and take in the view. Have a bit of a childhood, where possible.

If Celestia felt guilty for training a young filly to fight a colossal threat to the nation, Sunset always wanted to show her she didn’t have to be. She could exceed expectations. She could cope with a little extra pressure, and she could do it all in time for Nightmare Moon’s return and earn her place at Celestia’s side.

At least, that’s how she thought before the progress to perfection got to her head.

Closing her eyes, Sunset brought her attention back to the boy on the other end of the call, pressing the phone into her forehead and trying not to groan. “I know that sounds like total bull, and it’s too vague to be even remotely helpful, but you’re going to have to trust me on this because you can do this. You can. All you need to know is that someone believes you can, and even if you don’t, I do. I believe in you. Shut the world out and find your way from there.” She winced, head shaking, and could barely ask, “...Does that make any sense to you?”

A clatter came from the speakers and made Fluttershy flinch. Empty quiet reunited with the sound of far-off birds chirping only to themselves.

“Timber?” she asked, eyebrow floating up.

Sunset’s friends leaned in, and she asked again, but no answers came back. Not even one sarcastic remark.

His boyfriend’s total lack of sarcastic things to say had Flash clutching his chest. “Timber? Is he okay?”

Swinging a strong arm around Sunset’s shoulders, Rainbow Dash cackled hard like she had a cold to hack through. “That absolute madman! He did it! He teleported!”

Fluttershy’s eyes roved over the room. “But, um, where did he teleport to?”

The others looked around and held their breath. Searching their surroundings, the instruments by the chalkboard shone under fluorescent lights, undisturbed. The overpolished green tiles and construction-paper music notes on the walls held the room together like normal. Nothing moved. Nothing gave way. Not a single area came down with a case of abrupt teenage boy. The room had about as much teenage boy as it ever did.

Flash gawked at his phone with an expression so dripping with horror he could model for one of those Gooseflesh kids books. “Is he okay? He’s not dead, right? Where would he go if he didn’t come here?”

Sunset shrugged and made a vague sound somewhat resembling, “I’unno.”

“Sunset!” Flash yelped. “Why did you let him try if you didn’t know he’d be alright? Bring him back!” He held out the phone as if he wanted Sunset to conjure up his boyfriend by dialing the right number.

Sunset pushed the phone out of her face. “Relax, he’s not dead. I meant I don’t know where he’d go. I thought the destination part was pretty straightforward! Augh, human world magic is so needlessly complicated,” she grumbled, and then said, “I guess I should’ve taught him how to aim.”

“You guess?”

Twilight placed a hand on Flash’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. We have no reason to believe he’s not alright, wherever he is. He’s just not near his phone. We’ll all keep an eye out for him, okay?”

Flash frowned at the lock-screen picture of his new boyfriend cupped in his hands, then found a small smile to give to her. As mad as Sunset was earlier about the whole amplified empathy thing, she hated to see him so worried—which was why she didn’t dare wonder out loud if Flash somehow amplified Timber’s teleportation and sent him across the country.

Great, Sunset thought as her friends offered to host a lookout for his boyfriend. Two more people who have to deal with magic because of me. At least it’s really no wonder why Princess Celestia chose Twilight over me. Princess Twilight saves lives. I ruin them.

She did everything she could to put those thoughts aside and act like things were normal. Twilight was right. Timber was somewhere, and sending Flash into a panic attack wouldn’t bring Timber back any faster. She decided acting like things were normal was her best bet at being a good friend.

3. Dinner with the Stars

Sunset Shimmer needed a break from magical nonsense and thought her girlfriend deserved one, too. Thank Celestia for date night. If anyone ever wanted to be treated like royalty in Canterlot City, there was Le Grande’s. Once upon a time, a Sunset fresh from the portal found, to her horror and shuddering dismay, that Canterlot City boasted the most mom-and-pop shops per capita. Ew.

So, no, this mid-sized-to-backwater town would never be a stand-in for the grandeur of a mountainside castle-state, but for the refined eye, a precious few gems could be found hidden away. This might work, she thought, pulling up.Looking up at themid-century modern facade, cursive name aglow in lights, Sunset prayed to Celestia this would be swanky enough to make Twilight feel like a queen.

Not that her girlfriend would ever ask for it. Apart from their first date at the senior year Fall Formal, all their dates had been lowkey. Easy. Everything was easy, no matter where they went. Days spent lounging around the Canterlot Cosmopolitan Museum, nights out at the Mustang drive-in, a regular booth at Sugarcube Corner, cuddling on the rooftop of CHS (Sunset's favourite spot to stargaze with her girlfriend)—assuming the two of them left Sunset’s couch or Twilight’s lab.

Okay, Sunset could admit she’d gone an itty bit lax on the proper courting etiquette that her days in the high-culture capitol of Equestria just about infused in her. She was glad she no longer had to think about ballroom dancing (as regrettably good as she was) or climbing the “ladder of matrimony”to woo her girlfriend, but Sunset’s old coltillion teacher would’ve been appalled. She could just hear Kibitz pedantiprattling now, loquacious and huffy as ever. What kind of eligible suitor was she? Where were her manners? How was she to represent the noble House of Celestia like this?

Then, twenty minutes of tut-tutting and browbeating Sunset would never get back. She hoped for his sake that Kibitz was cooler than she remembered.

Regardless, when putting on pants (and keeping them on...) was the noblest card in her deck, fine, it was maybe time to step up her game for the girl in her life. And in the case of Le Grand’s, pay out.

The only inkling of regret nibbling at the back of Sunset’s mind came from handing her motorcycle keys over to the valet. He was none too impressed to see her roll up on it. Even as she strode through the double doors on Twilight’s arm, Sunset craned her neck back in case she could catch the fancy-pants in the act of scratching the glossy paint job. “You think the valet’s ever driven a motorcycle before?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” Twilight murmured, tinkering with her perky bow-tie. The dress code at Le Grand’s all but explicitly required a tailor; lucky for them, they had Rarity. All else being equal, Sunset would’ve thought Twilight would show up in a dress, maybe something similar to the starry number she wore to the Fall Formal.

That was what Rarity had Sunset in: an off-the-shoulder sheath dress featuring a revealing slit at her lower thigh. Part of her Daydream collection. It beat sneakers and ripped jeans.

But Sunset had to admit, that midnight blue tuxedo, sporting a diagram of the big dipper over the lapel and a magenta bow-tie, held Twilight’s every curve dearly.

Every time Sunset looked over at her, she couldn’t stop smiling, and that was an improvement over the giggling disasters she and Twilight were when they first saw each other in their evening wear. Sunset had wolf-whistled. Twilight had slapped a hand over her heart. They’d both probably been as rosy as Twilight’s bow-tie; Sunset only saw the light in her girlfriend’s eyes, like binary stars in purple galaxies swirling around the ether of space. That, and a hot body that gave Sunset ideas.

Damn near enough ideas to make a girl think thoughts.

Had Sunset thought about it before? Every now and all the time. That suit wasn’t helping. Of course Twilight would be the one to get Sunset lost in thought... or spark a heat and curiosity down below. Holy Tartarus, Twilight.

If Rarity hadn’t been there, accessing these outfits and outfitting them with access to the Gala Galleria’s dressing rooms, Sunset couldn’t be trusted not to pull the dressing room curtains closed around the two of them. Down girl.

Twilight readjusted her bow-tie with too much concentration (even though it was already straight). An undeniable smirk popped up on Sunset’s face.

Standing in a queue for the guy at the glossy wooden podium, Sunset leaned in toward her girlfriend’s ear and stopped herself from starting down a trail of kisses. “Hey. You look beautiful tonight. If you don’t know that yet, there’s other ways I can convince you.”

Twilight suppressed a squawk and covered it up with a messy smile, bowling Sunset’s heart over in the process, to address the maître d'. “Hi there!”

“Good evening, miss. Or, rather, misses!” A fine-suited, mustachioed gentleman with but only the fanciest of pants assessed them. His kind eyes and good-natured smile cut any tension like the ribbon at a grand opening ceremony. “How may I serve you tonight?”

Sunset winked at Twilight. She suspected there was a joke in there somewhere about misses and casually calling her girlfriend the missus, but after that wink, Twilight’s complexion was already as purple and red as a bunch of boysenberries. Merciful, Sunset resigned herself to holding back her laugh. “Reservation for two, under Shimmer.”

“Excellent, Miss Shimmer! I’ll have our very best wait staff take you to your table.” The host tapped a silver bell with a white-gloved finger. The pitch-perfect ring summoned Flash Sentry in snugly-fitted button-down.

The smugness in Sunset’s smile collapsed. “Flash?”

“Girls!” He startled, fumbling his silver platter until he got a good grip on it as a shield in front of his torso. “Oh! Wow, you’re here! Together! Uh... table? You want to go to one?”

The host cleared his throat.

Flash’s eyes magnetized to his boss’s as he corrected, “Rather, may I escort you to your table?” He smiled when he received a nod and a smirk from the head wait staff.

Sunset really, truly tried not to snicker, following after him. A delicate perfume of extravagant foods grew more powerful as they ventured deeper into the tablecloth jungle. She whistled. “This is your part-time busboy job? You’ve been holding out on us, Sentry.”

Flash seemed to remember how to hold the platter properly instead of covering himself, but he averted his eyes away from the two of them. “Sorry, I guess I should’ve told you. I would’ve warned you I work here if I knew you, uh—” He flustered himself and had to adjust his collar. Sunset didn't entirely understand what had him so frazzled. He'd been her wing-man in getting Twilight to go out with her in the first place, and he gave her nothing but his blessing and dorkish excitement when Sunset told him they were girlfriends. “Um… anyway. Have either of you heard from Timber yet?”

Twilight bit her lip, and Sunset definitely didn’t notice just because her eyes had wandered over to her lips. “Not yet, but the girls are still out looking. We would have kept going with them, but Rarity said she wouldn’t hear of it. I think she would’ve added us to the list of missing friends if we skipped another date night for magical mishaps, especially when she put so much work into our outfits.”

“Yeah, she’d have your heads. She’s nice like that.” Flash nodded. He himself had spent the better part of the afternoon before his busboy shift searching, only agreeing to leave the search to the superheroes when he realized Rainbow Dash could cover more ground in ten seconds than he could ever hope to in ten hours.

The same was true for Twilight and Sunset. Really, the best help either of them could provide was Sunset attempting to use her empathy power on Flash’s phone itself to see if somehow the device had captured anything they hadn’t heard, but empathizing with inanimate objects proved impossible.

They arrived at an alcove of a booth parked behind a lushly lit fountain. The water feature trickled, a soft percussion to the live cello-piano duo stage-left. From what Sunset could see, they had the best seats in the house, and Sunset kind of wondered if it was because one of her best buds was their server.

The boy in question rubbed his collared neck. “So, uh, I’ll grab your order and let you do, you know, private date stuff. In private. Uh… yeah.” Flush in the face, Flash kept his eyes occupied with a little notepad he took from the smock he'd tied around his waist.

Sunset let Twilight order for both of them; Sunset knew her way around fine dining in Equestria, but human menus could still send her into an existential spiral if she wasn’t careful. It was also cute to hear Twilight’s voice in a different language, perfectly pronouncing Prench menu items (well, for all Sunset knew at least; she knew three different languages and none of them sounded this adorable).

Flash took the menus with an apologetic grin and Sunset made sure to give him a fist-bump. “Thanks, dude.”

He reciprocated before scurrying away to the fluttering double-doors Sunset could only guess led to the kitchen.

The two of them took one look at each other and erupted into a burst of giggles. Sunset held her forehead. “Seriously, the one place in town my ex works…”

“Chalk another one up to the law of trouble magnetism,” Twilight said, giggles overflowing. The classical cover of a pop song underscoring their chuckles made it seem like even more of a cosmic joke (especially considering the raunchy metaphors in the lyrics of that pop song; lucky the duo didn’t have a vocalist). “Well, you know what they say: the universe works in mysterious, scientifically fascinating ways. At this point, I’d be more worried if nothing went wrong around us!”

Sunset groaned, but she hoped the smile on her face distracted from the betrayal of her blushing cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, that’s on me. I’ve got this nasty habit of taking everyone I ever care about down with me. I should really quit that.” She only noticed Twilight wasn’t laughing anymore when she saw the way her eyebrows met over her eyes, but by then it was too late to pass off that self-degradation as a hilarious joke—which would usually be easy since Sunset’s life was a hilarious joke.

In the moments following, Sunset found her girlfriend’s gentle gaze impressing upon her. “I know I've asked already but… are you okay?” Twilight ventured. “Because I know you didn’t get a say in sharing your thoughts and feelings with the whole school, and that’s really invasive, and with Princess Twilight’s coronation—” She reached out to cup Sunset’s cheek. “Sunset, you know feeling a little jealous doesn’t make you a bad person, right?”

Sunset’s sigh shriveled up into nothing. “Yeah… no…” She leaned her cheek into her girlfriend’s hand. Her eyes met the insatiable purple of Twilight’s. “I don’t want to want to be an alicorn princess of Equestria anymore. It’s too much like who I used to be, and it feels so wrong to be anything but happy for my best friend.”

“But you are happy!” Twilight argued, then sank into her shoulders. “Um, sorry, those are your feelings. It’s hard to respect your privacy since I experienced them as my own. How do you empaths do it?”

“With as much permission as I can get. Starting now.” She really meant that. Even in that moment, her geode’s magic collected in the palms of her hands, as if knocking at the door, asking for her to let it in. As long as she held it back, she had full control.

Twilight offered a tender smile that, in the light of the candle between them, illuminated the dark. “My point was going to be that you are happy for her, from what I could feel. From everything you’ve shared with me about the Old You, the Old You wouldn’t be happy at all.”

“Well, that’s true,” Sunset agreed, “the Old Me would go on an all-out rampage: Find an army of teenage slaves and alicorn principals, stage a coup d'état—lie, cheat, steal, barter, maybe a little unholy dark magic to top it all off.” She shrugged. “All in all? Some scheme that would honestly probably earn her a glamorous life-long stay in the castle dungeons. At least she’d finally get time to learn the harmonica.”

“The princess me wouldn’t sentence you to learn the harmonica. Or to a dungeon!” Twilight assured her. “Even the Old You, who you aren’t anymore anyway.”

Sunset made a show of sighing, “And here I wanted to show off the Old Me’s excessive knowledge of silverware and table etiquette.” How much space in Sunset’s brain was wasted on knowing the difference between fancy pieces of cutlery? “Guess I’ll save the steamy stuff for our next date.”

The real gag was that if Twilight, in all her organization-loving dorkishness, actually was impressed by silverware terminology, Sunset would’ve shifted from sadonic to showing off real fast. She left the bait out in case Twilight wanted her to expound.

A pretty pink coloured her girlfriend’s cheeks as she laughed. “Oh wow, I almost forgot you actually do know proper table etiquette, don’t you?”

She shrugged in a guilty as charged manner. “Kind of have to when you’re a diplomat-in-training. High society is full of dumb pretenses, so I guess if you’re ever in a dire situation and you need to know a dessert fork from a salad fork, I’m your girl.” She winked.

Twilight looked at her like she was the most interesting person in the room. “It’s still so surreal to picture you like that.”

“Charming some snobby stiffs?”

“I don’t know, living in a castle? Sword fighting lessons with actual royal guards? Meeting world leaders? All of it,” she admitted. “The magical unicorn part is almost easier.”

“Yeah?” Sunset smirked, playing with one of the candles, watching the melted wax flow. “Why’s that?”

“You’re so down to earth,” Twilight told her, and Sunset tried not to smile too wide or braggadociously that she’d take that compliment back. “Not that you can’t be down to earth and have an appreciation for high culture⁠—I mean, I can’t pretend my family’s not well-off, too, but I don’t know. It’s just. My more recent friends there notwithstanding, any classmates I had back at Crystal Prep who had that many family connections at country clubs or rode show ponies at their summer homes could be... “ Her eyes searched the ceiling. “I’m trying to find a nice way to say snobby stiffs.”

Sunset cackled. “You get it! Oh my Celestia, I love you.”

“Well, prep students and humourless dignitaries are both⁠—o-oh, love you, too—they’re both cut from the same cloth, a-heh.” Twilight twirled her hair tress around her finger. Those three words still had a thrill with them sometimes, even though they’d said it as friends before ever dating. “But your old life sometimes sounds like it’s straight out of the story books I read when I was little. It’s really cute to me that you’d much rather spend your Saturdays playing video games in sweats. That’s so you. I like that.”

“Oh,” Sunset said, fumbling to not look as head-over-heels for this girl as she felt. Too late, screw it, she knows you have feelings. The fact that Sunset had been the one to say I love you for the first time as girlfriends had probably given it away. “Thanks, babe.”

“Even if I didn’t know you at the time, I do know how you feel—and, um, not just because I actually know how you feel since I felt your feelings.” Watching Twilight get hung up on details made Sunset want to lean across the table and kiss her.

She sometimes did that, like when they were studying and Twilight spiraled around and around in theory four years above their current academic level. It was a fun way of pulling her back to earth. Effective, too.

Other times, like now, she waited for Twilight to find her own way through the thicket of the no doubt thousands of thoughts in her head.

Twilight’s hands found their way back to fidgeting with her bow-tie. “I understand how you feel about the princess, I mean. It can be difficult when the point of comparison for everything you do is now a literal god-queen. What’s making the honour roll next to being the savior of a nation?”

Sunset barked a laugh and an odd smile quirked up. She’d just never had it said so plainly before. “Oh-ho-ho. Oh yeah. I get you. If it’s not one princess’s shadow I’m in, it’s another. You’d think I’d be used to it, but the shadows somehow keep growing longer.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly that!” Twilight brought her hands down from her forehead in a motion that seemed to say her thoughts were suddenly right in front of her. “How am I supposed to live up to all that?”

Sunset laid out her hand. “Right? There isn’t even a monarchy here if I wanted to measure up to her, and teenagers can’t run for president! I feel like I’m always behind by default! Not that it’s a competition, or that I even want that much power, because I don’t, but I almost feel like I should. But also shouldn’t ever touch any power ever again?” She groaned into her hand. “Aaand I’m probably not even making sense...”

Reaching to hold her arm, Twilight edged as close as the table between them would allow. “No, no, I understand what you mean completely! A-and she’s older than us, I’m decently sure, so gosh, does that mean I’m supposed to turn into her? Sunset, AP classes give me anxiety, and I’m good at those! Now I’m destined to—gah, I don’t even know! Charter world peace? Solve everyone’s friendship issues? Run for president?”

Sunset chuckled at the mental image of President Sparkle enacting and mandating a nation-wide book-club. “I think it means whatever you do, you’re going to be breathtaking. But I don’t need to compare you to anybody to know that.”

She could see Twilight’s breath still catching as she readjusted her bowtie for air.

“Hey.” Sunset offered her hand across the table and softened her smile like the downy blanket they wrapped themselves in to watch movies on her couch. “The only reason I know you’ll be great is because I think you’re already amazing. You’re my princess, okay?”

Her smile grew as Twilight took her hand and squirmed, giggling, in her seat. “Sunny…”

Sunset laughed too, but told her, “It’s true. Sappy, but I stand by it.” And she repeated, “You’re my princess.”

Something twinkled at the sides of Twilight’s eyes, but she didn’t bother to wipe them. The candlelight turned her tears to stars. “...This is what I mean when I say you’re a sweetheart, but you never listen!”

The laugh between them shattered glass ceilings. It felt like the weight of the world lodged on her shoulders had dissolved. For the first time in recent memory, Sunset felt Celestia-damn limitless, and not a drop of magic was required. But then, she was the magic scholar; she could argue her roaring laugh mixing with Twilight’s teary-eyed giggles was, justifiably, a magic all its own.

“We seriously need a way to get these compliments through our stubborn heads,” Sunset said, still chuckling. “Like when I say you’re brave, it’s because I think you’re brave, and you should know it.”

“Fine, I’m… I’m brave, then.” Twilight conceded. “So, when I say you’re a good friend to the girls, that’s code for you’re a good friend to the girls, including Princess Twilight. And you deserve to feel like you are.” She smiled, proud of herself for covering all bases.

Sunset fought the urge to argue that she’d gotten all of them in more danger than she was worth. She swallowed that shame instead. “Alright. I’m a good friend,” she allowed, and felt empowered to see Twilight’s patient smile telling her she’d done well to say it, even if it was hard to fully believe anymore. “But when I say I believe in you... you know that doesn’t mean you could ever let me down, right? It means I believe in you because I know who you are now.”

“I know,” Twilight promised, cheeks glowing fuchsia in the candle light.

“Good,” Sunset told her in a calming tone. “Because I believe in you. You’ll be a great leader of the Rainbooms next time we go into battle.”

Twilight’s eyes expanded larger than some dessert plates. “What?! Sunset—” She culled her volume, catching the eye of nearby tables and releasing it with a sheepish smile. “No, no, no, no, Sunset, no. I’m ‘brave’, but I’m no friendship expert. I’m a mess!”

“You say that like I’m not a mess,” Sunset mused. She could see the rebuttals bubbling behind Twilight’s scared eyes and put up a hand. “Before you say no, just hear me out: I’m not saying this because I want you to be like how Princess Twilight was with them. You’re already everything they could ever need.”

The blush on Twilight’s cheeks was promising, and Sunset’s smile teased one out of Twilight’s lips. Twilight gifted her a little laugh. “You might be a little biased, sweetie. I’m your princess.”

Sunset grinned. "Yeah, you are, but I’m also right. I think they’re going to need you when all this stuff with King Sombra comes to a head. If I know evil overlords—and I’m speaking as an ex-overlord wannabe here—he’s not going to lie in wait forever. If we have someone to unify us, we might stand a chance. You know the value of friendship better than anyone!”

Twilight sighed, “I was also a lonely social reject until relatively recently and, even if I logically know it won’t happen, that the girls and I wouldn’t let it happen... I’m sometimes still terrified I’ll end up that way again. Who’s to say he won’t prey on that?”

Sunset faltered. She should’ve anticipated her girlfriend’s quick-thinking, but hearing that stuck thorns into her heart. She shook her head. “... Well, if he does, I’m an easy target, too. I know the girls trust me, but…” She shook her head, drawing out the I in: “I don’t always know if they should. I keep leading them into danger.”

She could see the words wash over Twilight until her expression collapsed into a small, nervous smile. “I suppose that’s the thing about having great friends like ours. It’s so much scarier to think about losing them.”

Sunset nodded. “They’re family now. I haven’t had that in years.” Even now, when the word came out of her mouth, her first thought was them. Or Princess Celestia, if she was honest. Anything beyond that was too far back to reach. Could she even call them that after putting them through so much danger?

Regarding her, Twilight’s smile took a turn for the better. “You know? This might sound a little weird, but I think I’m not afraid of losing you. And I’m always afraid I’ll lose everyone! I’ve been alone for so long, I think it’s only logical, but then, even if I’m still worried I’ll end up locked away in a lab again, when I think about you...” Twilight Sparkle could only shrug. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

“I’m not afraid of losing you, too.”

Sunset had a theory then that fate was a feeling. She could work all her life and never understand its magic. But right now? She felt fate. Sure beyond contentment. If the Fates themselves had told her that everything in her life up until this point brought her right here, sitting across from this girl, the only thing she’d ask them was why it had to take so damn long.

She’d never been patient.

Twilight’s bitten lip seemed to say the same thing. Her hand moved over Sunset’s, and combined with the unreadable look to her brilliant eyes, it woke up a warmth in Sunset’s stomach. “Sunset?” she asked, her voice softer than before. “...Do you really think I’m brave?”

“Yeah,” she murmured without hesitation.

A flurry of heat burned in Twilight’s cheeks, brighter and more hypnotizing than any fire Sunset had ever watched burn in her old room’s hearth. “Good… then I’m gonna say something a little brave.” The words built and built behind her eyes until Sunset couldn’t take waiting and would have kissed it right out of her if Twilight hesitated a second longer. A pent up sigh released, and she said, “Ohhh gosh, okay, I’m really saying this. I think I—that is, I know, but it’s okay if you don’t know! I do, and I…” Red shimmered on her cheeks. “Whenever you’re ready, I want you to be my first, Sunset.”

Suddenly hyper-aware of all the other fancy restaurant patrons out of earshot, Sunset could feel the heat spread from her stomach all the way to her face. But her smile was downright weightless. “Yes! Holy mother of Tartarus, Twilight, all this time I didn’t want to rush you!”

“Wait, really?” Twilight asked, delighted to the degree that she didn’t know what to do with herself, as if it wasn’t obvious Sunset had it beyond bad for her. There was a conspiratory way to how low they kept their voices. “Oh my gosh, okay. Yeah! Wait.” Her eyes ballooned with curiosity. “‘All this time’? How long…?”

Sunset brought out a raunchy grin. “For me?” She saw her girlfriend nodding. “Since the Fall Formal.”

“Our first date? You mean you would’ve…?”

Sunset smiled, leaning into her hand. “Oh yeah.”

Groaning, Twilight slapped her forehead, rattling her genius brain. “I can’t believe I missed the signals! Well, actually I can. But still! We could’ve⁠—! All this time!” She hesitated. “On the subject, can I ask a personal question?”

Sunset leaned in. “Go for it.”

“Okay. Okay! I’ll preface this by saying I have no preference either way, a-and no judgement, but, um, out of curiosity, have you ever had sex before?”

Sunset grinned.

“And you have experience!” Twilight slapped her forehead again. “All this time! Since our first date!”

Sunset laughed, wishing there wasn’t this stupid table between them. “It’s okay. Even if I really wanted to back then, I’m glad I waited. The night ended where it did for a reason. We needed time to learn how to be a couple first.” She cupped her hand on Twilight’s cheek, just scraping by the line of public decency. “Looks like we’re pretty fast learners, huh Sparky?”

Twilight took a breath, and Sunset thought she could see her stopping herself from shuddering. Sunset didn’t care if she lost every penny of this fancy reservation and they left right that second, but she didn’t get the chance. Partly because she didn’t know if the gem she’d used to pay was technically hers if it came from Princess Celestia originally.

But mostly because Timber Spruce came crashing down onto the table.

Sunset startled back and Twilight shrieked. The table proved to be surprisingly sturdy for having an entire teenage boy slammed down onto it, but the candle clattered to the floor, rudely displaced. The other restaurant patrons gasped, and a wellspring of scandalized voices sprung up afterwards. Heart pounding for the last reason she would have wanted, Sunset glared at the boy between her and her girlfriend.

When Timber saw their faces, a grin wide enough to span seas graced his face. “Girls! Oh man, okay, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! I went to Northway!”

“Timber?” Twilight sputtered, lowering her hand from her geode. “Where did you—how did you—what!?”

Timber’s hands jumped to his head, which was now outfitted with a Northdic knit hat with ear-flaps rather than his regular beanie. “Oh man, I had a day. So I was trying really hard to use my teleportation power, and I maybe overshot Canterlot High by a few hundred thousand miles to the northeast? I didn’t know I could do that! Drained the ever-loving everything out of me, and it took me a long time to recharge. I thought I’d have to buy a plane ticket home, honestly. That’s when I met a lovely fisherman named Oslo who became my new best friend and gave me this nifty hat!” He flapped the ear-flaps, then snagged a look at Twilight and made a little impressed noise. “Oh hey, new suit! Looks good.”

“Timber,” Sunset warned in much the same way the plumes of ash and smoke rising from a volcano warned of an imminent eruption. She might have exploded already if she wasn’t so impressed with the sheer magical feat he’d pulled off. Even when she had the ability to teleport, Sunset herself had only ever traveled that far two times in her life—both out of pure necessity, and both times she’d been left feeling hungover and damn near empty.

He moved to dethrone himself from their table, but his legs wobbled on contact with the floor, and he had to catch himself on the tablecloth. He whistled. “That… that was a ton of energy for one day…”

Sunset and Twilight both braced an arm. As a naturally gifted magician herself, Sunset remembered almost too well what spell burnout felt like: a heavy ache dragging her down, like she’d been electrocuted. Concern filled Twilight’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I think so?” he asked, mostly directed toward Sunset, who nodded. Aside from oversleeping past his alarm tomorrow morning, he’d probably be fine. Although, Timber also seemed to finally take in their elegant surroundings. “But why are we at Flash’s work? And hey, you’re both all snazzy looking. What’s the occas—” His eyes flared out. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Sunset grumbled.

Timber looked all too similar to the way Spike did when he’d chewed through some critical computer wires in the lab. The difference was Timber also muttered in a tiny voice, “Okay, but... why did you go on a date where Flash works?”

Sunset glowered at him. “Apparently so I could give him back his boyfriend. Come on.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, sounding more grateful than anything.

The two of them would have happily parted ways then if not for the explosive magical force between them. The best point of comparison to Sunset was getting hit with a magic projectile. But even worse than a scorching hot combat spell, the magic disoriented her to the point of vertigo. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been airlifted by a tornado for how turned around she felt. Her own senses played tricks on her.

Even her sense of balance was wonky. She wobbled back, backing into the wall sooner than she expected. She groaned, “What the f—”

She slapped a hand over her mouth. That was far deeper and more nasally than her own voice. But then it didn’t even feel like her own face either. The cheeks were so much more slender, and the hands grabbing it were so much thicker than her own.

As if that wasn’t confusing enough, she didn’t entirely know what she was looking at. A girl who looked like Sunset’s reflection gone rogue rubbed her forehead. Is that… the human me? Did I go through some kind of portal?

Neither of those thoughts made sense to her since she was still in Le Grand’s, but at the moment, her brain struggled to adjust to a dozen different things, each weirder than the last. She was taller than a second ago. Her eyesight was better, and she hadn’t even known there was detail she’d been missing before. Her body felt well and truly exhausted.

A chill trickled into her heart. But she realized it wasn’t really her heart.

She watched Twilight try to help the girl who looked like Sunset, asking, “Are you alright? Sunset, what was that?”

And the girl stared at her, completely baffled, before getting a look at what Sunset currently looked like. “Hey, Twilight? Why am I over there?”

4. You and Lonely You

Sunset Shimmer hated seeing herself next to her girlfriend. Intensely. And, okay, self-loathing she’d done before. She was practically a master of masochism. There’d been days after her hellish transformation at the junior year Fall Formal that she didn’t even want to see her own face in the mirror, and only partially out of a paranoia she’d find soulless demon eyes staring back. Celestia, she’d been a mess.

This was a new headache-inducing level, especially because it wouldn’t even be her head that was aching.

“What do you mean ‘over there’?” Twilight asked, squinting at Timber who shrunk away from her touch. The subtle hurt in Twilight’s eyes made Sunset want to punch Timber, but then she’d only be punching herself.

“Hey!” Timber hollered as he floundered back, again using Sunset’s voice. It reminded Sunset of how she sounded to herself in recordings when the Rainbooms sprung to record some of their songs: a little higher pitched than she would have assumed she sounded to other people, but in this case that also could’ve been the sheer panic.

Twilight drank in the two of them, clearly undecided on who was acting weirder. Sunset resented the fact that Timber twisted around, shrieking at each new facet of his new body—her body. Although in all honesty, she wasn’t making Timber look much more dignified. Sunset ran a hand through her new wild curls and tried (and likely failed) to hide her dismay that Timber’s biceps were leagues stronger than hers based on how easy it was to flex.

Judging by Twilight’s paled expression, she connected the dots like constellations in a star map. Her eyes grew as she looked toward Sunset. “Wait… Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset tore her gaze up from examining her now work-worn hands. She almost didn’t want to open her mouth and hear herself speak in Timber Spruce’s voice again, but something in her expression was enough to confirm it.

“Ooo… oh boy,” Twilight murmured, fresh horror settling over her expression as Timber clapped his hands over his backside, blushing.

“Is everything okay?” Flash bounded over from the kitchen, only sparing a single apologetic glance to the other alarmed restaurant guests before spotting Sunset. A smile lifted up his whole face. He clutched at his own chest, the breath leaving him like a spirit. “Timber! We were looking everywhere for you! Are you okay? Where did you even go? There was a search party and—”

Sunset pushed a hand into his chest before Flash could get any closer. “Dude, dude! I’m not Timber!”

That was enough to knock the enthusiasm from Flash’s face. “I, uh... what?”

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m Sunset,” she affirmed, weirding herselfout. She jacked a thumb to the left. “That’s Timber.”

They turned to find Timber smushing his cheeks at his reflection in the fancy water fountain as if he could put his face back to normal if he tried hard enough. Frankly, it was a better theory than any Sunset had since she had no earthly idea how or why this happened.

Fancy Pants wasn’t far behind Flash when he heard the commotion they had caused in his dining area. He cleared his throat, and the disapproval in that alone told Sunset she wouldn’t be getting her reservation refunded.

If it wasn’t official before, human-world Equestrian magic sucked.

The keys took a little jimmying to unlock the door to Sunset’s apartment. Sunset gave it an extra rough twist. One thing or another perpetually needed repairs around here: leaky faucet, wonky heater, even busted electricity for the whole complex once.

The door finally deemed them worthy enough to enter, deining to let them in. Instantly, Sunset was met with a weird sensation: being able to detect her own smell as if this was another person’s home or like she’d gone on vacation for a long time. It wasn’t a bad smell, at least. Kind of sweet in fact, in a musky sort of way.

At least the smell wasn’t something she had to worry about, but she hadn’t exactly been expecting guests, so her apartment was a bit of a mess, take-out boxes and laundry galore. Fantastic, she thought. Now Timber thinks I live in a dump.

Sunset led the way, followed closely by her lookalike who gaped at the place like he couldn’t believe someone could live here. Timber stood by the two-story window, watching the fat snowflakes settle down over the city through lights closer to lighthouses than streetlights, before he grinned at her. “Whoa, this is your apartment? You live in a sit-com!”

Shoving a leftover Ponyacci’s Pizza box into the trash and turning on the heater that would take too much time to kick in, Sunset furrowed her brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Timber raced from the window to the futon as if doing so would hurtle him forward through time to Hearth’s Warming morning. Sunset didn’t know if she’d ever seen herself so excited. Maybe felt that way, sure, but she doubted she had a mirror handy when it happened. Timber bounced on the futon. “This is the kind of place people live in on TV! You know, downtown vista view, within walking distance of your friends, actually hearing cars from the street driven by real live people?” He turned back with a childlike smile on his face. “You live like this?”

“Uh, yeah,” she sputtered, leaning against the post holding up her second floor, arm overhead. “It’s no palace, but what is in this economy?”

Sunset Shimmer understood little to nothing about the human economy other than the fact that people made jokes about it. She was fine with this.

While Timber made her look like a doofus in her own home, Sunset noticed a familiar face outside on the fire escape. She went over past the couch to open the window for a fat orange tabby cat. Sunset smirked at him. “How do you even get yourself up there, fatso?”

“Mrreow,” said the cat, wriggling out of Sunset’s grasp to plop down on the hardwood.

Timber gasped, watching the stray slink around the couch on silent paws. “And you have a cat!? Seriously, are we on a sit-com sound-stage right now?”

“Yeah, he’s mine, but try telling him that. I found him in an alley on my walk to school, and one day he followed me back here. He does what he wants.” Sunset folded her arms, proud of the little monster. “These days he usually finds a way home at night, but I let him come and go as he pleases. Couldn’t stop him if I wanted to.”

The alley cat crept up to the couch, paused, then jumped up to find a good sitting spot which just so happened to be on Timber’s lap—a fact that delighted Timber to no end. “Holy crap! He likes me!”

Sunset frowned. “Wait, no, he likes me. Stop it, you’re confusing him.”

Timber scratched under the kitty’s fuzzy little chin. “Aww, he’s just a lil’ hobo, huh? Is that his name? Lil’ Hobo?”

“He’s not a hobo,” Sunset said, choosing not to mention the box the cat was living in beforehand. “He just chooses to live his own life and only go home when he wants. What’s wrong with that?”

Her kitty decided now was a good time to start kneading Timber’s thigh as if preparing dough for delectible muffins. Timber giggled like a dork. “Oh my goodness, he’s such a good boy! Okay, really what’s his name? Lucky? Houdini? Chance? Ooo, I know! Warlock, Master of Equestrian Magicks.”

“...his name is Scruffers,” Sunset mumbled, arms crossed. “And sometimes he’s a good boy.”

Rather than snickering at her, Timber was too busy using Sunset’s Pet Owner voice, the not quite baby talk (but yeah, baby talk) that she only ever did in total privacy. “N’awww, lil’ Scruffers Shimmer! Your Mama must love you so much! I would have gone with Macaroni, but that’s even better. That’s a good name for a baby boy, yes it is, yes it is!”

In some weird twist of fate, Sunset suspected Scruffers would have preferred the name Macaroni since the dumbbell ate a whole pot of it once when Sunset left it out on the counter. Made himself sick, too. Sunset stayed up with him that whole night until he was done coughing up noodles. She made sure Scruffers knew where his food bowl was from then on.

Sunset sighed, plopping down next to Timber. “Okay, he likes you a little bit. You can make friends with my cat after we figure this out, alright?”

They’d already tried switching back after they were kicked out of Le Grand’s and again when Twilight and Flash had to head home because it was getting too late, but Sunset wasn’t Equestria’s most naturally gifted magical prodigy for nothing. Even if all her records had likely been broken by Princess Twilight.

With determination steeling her mighty gaze, she held out her hand as if to start an arm-wrestling match or, failing that, declare a thumb-war. “One more time. Concentrate, okay?”

Timber nodded, grabbing her hand and shutting his eyes. He let Scruffers down from his lap, whom waddled off in search of his food bowl, just in case the cat got swept up in their body switching magic. “On it, boss.”

As far as Sunset could tell, touch had been a huge factor in everyone’s magic-sharing so far. Flash and Timber discovered they had magic by holding hands, she and Twilight learned they could heal the same way, and Flash only needed to touch her shoulder to put her emotions on blast across Canterlot High’s entire campus.

She suspected it wasn’t necessarily required for it to happen. Mostly because if Timber’s teleportation power wasn’t somehow amplified by Flash today, Timber had unbelievable reach with that thing.

Maybe touch is a conduit, the mage-in-training inside her thought. It makes the connection stronger, but if you’ve got a strong enough connection already, you could probably do it hands-free.

She gripped Timber’s hand tighter. Technically, she gripped her own hand tighter, which she still hadn’t been able to fully wrap her head around. Sunset grimaced. “Okay. This is new magic, but it’s more than likely bound to work on the same rules as every other magic I’ve encountered in this world. So, that narrows it down. A bit. It’s either we were demonstrating the truest parts of ourselves at the same time, our friendship was really powerful, or we had something important in common.”

Timber pressed his lips together. “So… anything in common?”

“Not anything. Magic is always emotion-based at its core. That’s why true friendship is so powerful,” Sunset reiterated. She could feel her throat constrict as she thought back to what shewas feeling before the switch when her date with Twilight had been interrupted. “Timber?”

He was focusing so hard he made her look constipated, but he opened one teal eye. “Yeah, new best friend?”

“You have to be honest with me, okay? We need to fix this,” she warned, the anger building behind her deeper voice like a storm gathering in the distance over the sea. “What were you feeling right before the switch?”

Timber made Sunset’s face look unreadable. “Happy to be back,” he told her. “I spent most of the day in a foreign country taking fishing lessons from a Northweigian ice-fisher. I didn’t know if I could get back on my own. I felt bad for spoiling your date, but mostly, I just felt relieved I hadn’t teleported into a Haywaiian volcano.”

She studied him for a moment longer but didn’t overdo it. Accusing Timber of wanting to steal her girl wouldn’t solve anything (maybe from his perspective wanting to steal her back?), nor would it make them bond as friends. What was weirder, though, was how they had enough of a bond to share magic at all.

She didn’t want to say it aloud and ruin their chances at swapping back, but she felt like she barely knew Timber. Any of the girls or Flash she could understand sharing a strong, mystical bond with: she’d worked her ass off for those friendships and all of them had done the same in turn. She let Timber close his eyes again to concentrate but kept her gaze trained on him. So why Timber?

After a good hour or so of trying anything and everything Sunset could think of, along with some admittedly inventive suggestions from Timber, the two of them sighed simultaneously—which was about the only thing they could do in tandem, apparently.

Sunset ran a hand through her hair, both messing up the wild green curls and taking off the Northweigian hat in the process. She swore, which she hadn’t heard Timber’s voice do before. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should… try again in the morning?”

Timber nodded, rubbing his neck and chewing his cheek. “Yeah. I dunno know about you, but my body needs its beauty sleep.” He looked at her earnestly. “Wait, do you actually need less sleep than a human?”

She made a face. “I know you think I’m an alien, but I’m not literally from outer space, you know that right?”

“Yeah, it’s just, horses need about two or three hours of sleep on average and you’re a pony so I thought… nevermind.” He wiped the air clean like a chalkboard. “Human body. Probably has human body needs. That’s logic for you.”

“Pfft. Yeah. I’m a pony, but I love sleep too much to only ever get a power-nap.” She stood up, stretching out the extra gangly legs and surprisingly muscle-toned arms she now possessed. It still bugged her to feel how strong Timber’s body was. She crossed those stupidly strong arms over her flat chest.

That was also going to take some getting used to—and she knew from when the mirror turned her into a human that this sort of adjustment could take a while to feel completely natural. Months, at the earliest.

Sunset just hoped she wouldn’t have the time to adjust.

“You can take the couch for tonight. It folds down,” Sunset told him, which made his eyes light up again as if that was the real magic going on here. She watched him play with the couch. “I’ll be upstairs in the bed, if you need anything.”

“You know, technically speaking, since I’m you wouldn’t the bed be…” He saw her expression and managed to live to tell the tale. Timber nodded. “Yours. Yep, that sure is your bed.”

In getting ready to sleep, it wasn’t exactly like Sunset could follow her usual bedtime routine. (Okay, even on a non-magical night, ‘routine’ was an extremely loose term to the point of not having a definition; assuming she didn’t stay up until the sun rose playing video games and/or recording Shimmer Code, Sunset only crashed when she felt like it). Everything was different. In fact, she only got to the point of opening her pajama drawer before a tsunami of blood rushed to her cheeks. “...Tartarus.”

She thumped partway down the staircase from the loft. “So… how do we… do we just stay in our day clothes?”

Timber, who had ditched the heels but was still wearing the Daydream dress from Sunset’s date, stared up at her. “Or new ground rule: we just, you know, close our eyes and don’t touch the delicates. Even if you accidentally peek, you haven’t seen worse in the locker rooms at school, right?”

She eyed him. “Okay,” she allowed, “but you’re not going to peek, right?”

Timber made a motion with his hand Sunset didn’t recognize but followed it up by saying, “Scout’s honour. No peeking.”

After a moment’s doubt, she threw a pair of pajamas at his face. She thought he’d appreciate having Flash’s old shirt she’d forgotten to give back from way back when they were dating.

He let her change first in the bathroom. She managed it alright, keeping her eyes shut and feeling around as little as possible. The shirt with her cutie mark on the front was backwards the first time she tried, and even when fixed, it rode up Timber’s taller body, but it would do.

Then when it was Timber’s turn, all was fine until he came out of the bathroom grinning. Sunset was beginning to not trust her own smile. “You have a tattoo?!”

Bolting up from the couch, Sunset glowered at him. “Dude! What happened to scout’s honour?!”

“Oh, sorry no, that sounds bad. I wasn’t looking around! I saw it in the mirror when I turned away, just out of the corner of my eye. Getting a tattoo between the shoulder blades must’ve been painful, though, it’s right on the spine.” It had been, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Timber held up his hands in the very likely event she would attack but grinned as if they were having a friendly conversation over milkshakes at Sweet Snacks Diner. “It’s a nice design. What’s the sun mean?”

Determined to keep glaring at him, Sunset was quickly getting frustrated that Timber didn’t intimidate easily. Maybe she was a little rusty at thuggish intimidation? That should’ve been a comfort but at the moment was just annoying. She could feel the flush in her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. “...It’s an important symbol in Equestrian culture,” she murmured, because that wasn’t totally a lie. Many ponies would contend that Princess Celestia’s cutie mark held more cultural significance than any other symbol in the nation’s history. Is that going to change to Princess Twilight’s cutie mark now? Will everypony forget about Princess Celestia?

She blanched. If Princess Twilight was taking over for the Princess and her sister, what would happen to Celestia and Luna? Where would they go? What would they do? The idea of Princess Celestia retiring weighed down like a stone sat in her stomach, heavy and indigestible.

Timber bit his cheek, nodding. At the very least, he could read when he’d touched a nerve, but that didn’t stop him from picking up the smart TV remote. “That’s cool, it sounds really meaningful.” And almost without a breath in between he went on, “You wanna see what I mean about sit-coms? I swear there’s at least one show with a studio apartment like this on prime time at any given point. Plus, you can tell me about what kind of shows you like.” He waggled the remote from the couch. “Sharing interests is one of the best ways to bond, new best friend.”

Sunset snorted softly. “That’s… not the worst logic I’ve ever heard. Although I've never ponyed up from watching movies with the girls.”

He pointed the clicker at her as if he could change that attitude of hers. “Sounds like you’re not watching the right movies.”

In all the many times in her life that Sunset had rolled her eyes they’d always been her own, but doing it in Timber’s body wasn’t really a new experience to write home about. She was at least glad to feel the heater starting to kick in. She didn’t have heavy blankets to offer him, just the one Rarity knit for her when Sunset mentioned she didn’t have a lot last winter.

It wasn’t long after the Battle of the Bands, actually, during the first holiday season Sunset spent with anyone since her Hearth’s Warmings alongside Princess Celestia. A smile guided itself up. She remembered how it felt to have that blanket wrapped around her shoulders while Pinkie Pie gave her a mug of hot chocolate just like the rest of her friends. Their friends.

The girls can help us tomorrow, she thought, kicking herself for worrying. They always help me figure things out.

Sparing a glance towards the static of snow out the window, Sunset smiled at Timber, who’d wrapped that cozy blanket around himself in front of the television. “Nah. Think I’ll get that beauty sleep your body needs. You can watch what you want, the TV has a lot of shows,” she informed him. There had been plenty of times back in Equestria that she would’ve loved to change channels on a play Princess Celestia dragged her to (if she knew what changing channels was back then).

The channel he happened to flick onto, the Canterlot Broadcasting Corporation, and their gruff evening news host passed it over to their junior news correspondent, Gabby Griffon. Gabby rambled on with an impressive, if squeaky lung capacity, pointing towards an on-screen graphic: a live feed of the rip in space-time above Canterlot City. After an excessively flashy news intro with its own theme music, the phrase CrackWatch scrolled across the screen on repeat.

Timber snorted like a fourth-grader.

“Thanks, Gruff!” A “feh” could be heard from off-screen but Gabby seemed undisturbed. “This freaky-deaky meteorological event is still super duper loco in the coco! But that’s why we’re keeping you up to date with our ‘round the clock coverage! No need to be afraid!”

Timber hummed. “Well, glad there’s no need. I’m ahead of the game.”

Sunset frowned. ‘Round the clock coverage? Are people that worried?

“Day thirty-seven of CrackWatch! Today at noon, the crack ate a bird and spat it back out on the other side on fire! Our avian experts say that isn’t normal, but that somehow the lil’ guy is in… beak condition!”

Sunset squinted at the footage on the screen. Her eyes bulged and she rounded the couch to get a better look. "Holy shit, is that a phoenix?"

The flames shimmered in familiar patterns, much the same way Sunset's pet phoenix used to back in Equestria. Despite being in the wrong body, muscle memory brought back the sensation of the burns she got from cuddling her little baby. She held her arm. She remembered it all too well to mistake the colouring and intensity for anything but a full-blown phoenix. What the hell's on the other side of that tear?

Timber didn't seem to know what to think. He looked to her to gauge how spooked he should be.

If Twilight's law of trouble magnetism had any truth to it, and Celestia help them if it did, Sunset couldn't help shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with that tear. She hadn't studied omens extensively in her time under the Princess, mostly because she'd been too prideful to admit anything would ever go wrong for her ever, but she didn't need her old text for Intro to Omens and Prophecy to forewarn her that her heart was sinking.

Timber must have sensed her shift in mood and changed the channel to something with a laugh-track. He offered the space on the couch next to him.

Sunset bade him goodnight without much of a second glance, and it really wasn’t to be rude, but she was exhausted. She’d inherited a body that had used an obscene amount of magic that day, teleporting across the globe and back and not even to mention the body swap itself. She could feel it most in Timber’s calves, possibly because of the landings.

But, really, that was only half the reason. Only stopping to fill Ray's food bowl and give him a pet that he slunk away from, she clambered up to bed (on muscles she could already tell would be sore in the morning) partly because watching TV with the guy who barged in on what should’ve been one of the most magical nights of her life left, to put it lightly, a bit of a sour taste.

Even Scruffers, who’d parked himself in his spot on the end of her bed, got up and slunk away when she came to give him his night-time snuggles. She sighed. That cat didn’t play well with others.

Down below, almost too fast for that lazy cat to move, she heard Timber chuckle, “Oh, why hello, Sir Scruffington!”

Grumbling, Sunset flopped over on the bed and frowned down at the feet now hung off the end of her double-sized bed. Even despite that, the bed felt empty and vast for the first time since she’d gotten it, but all she could really do about it was hug the extra pillow next to her with the sounds of a sit-com playing with the volume low down below.

An unshakable chill settled over Canterlot High. Despite what the weather reporter predicted, the snow stayed overnight and the winter storm carried on. At this point, the snow drifted soundlessly, gathering below boots and piling onto the base of the broken Wondercolt statue.

The school itself was tropically warm by comparison, so Sunset could get away with not wearing a winter jacket. She’d tried to put on her leather jacket this morning, but Timber’s arms and torso were so much longer than her that she looked like a dweeb trying too hard to be cool. Plus, even if she was currently residing in it, she didn’t like the look of Timber’s body in one of her jackets. Too weird.

As the morning announcements began over the loudspeaker, the two of them walked through the front entrance side by side. Sunset watched him undo the leather jacket he was wearing to stay in character. “If we can’t switch back ourselves,” she said, grimacing, “maybe the girls and I can pony-up and use that magic to set things right again. We’ve still got time before Princess Twilight’s coronation.”

No one should have to endure that coronation as me. All that pity… Sunset shuddered.She also tried to reason that she shouldn't even be worried about that yet. One problem at a time, for one, and for two, the coronation was still a while off. They’d only just sent off the RSVP. If all went as planned today, Princess Twilight wouldn’t have to be bothered with another one of Sunset’s magical screw-ups.

Timber looked like he had too many questions about the magical undo button she’d just suggested, but Derpy and Bulk Biceps waved good morning as they passed by her locker. “Morning, Sunset! Hope you’re feeling better!”

“Oh, hey!” Timber said brightly, without missing a beat while Sunset had to stop herself from raising her hand.

Passing by, Vinyl Scratch gave him a fist bump followed by another wave from Dizzy and his boyfriend. Juniper Montage even pointed a camera his way. Timber flashed the lens a winning smile, which made Juniper herself light up behind the camera. She stopped recording to review that bit of footage with Wallflower Blush who nodded approvingly.

“Thanks for the great shot!” Juniper gushed, replaying it over and again. “The lighting in the halls is so meh but that showmanship! You could give me a run for my money.” Sunset highly doubted that; she’d seen Juniper’s demo reel (her rendition of Shadow Spade and the fierce pirate Captain Celaeno were downright awards-worthy). Unless she meant being a total ham, in which case, sure, Timber could out-ham a hog on Applejack’s farm. At the very least, it seemed to make Juniper and Wallflower happy. “That’s going to be so perfect for our production, Canterlot High: A Retrospective…”

“Hey, anytime,” Timber told her, and when he and Sunset had gotten far enough down the hall that the other students couldn’t overhear, Timber beamed to her. “You didn’t tell me you were a celebrity. I would’ve bought stupidly overpriced shades! I would’ve called my sister and told her I made it!”

“I’m not,” Sunset muttered, noticing confused looks from the other students when she tried waving at them. She gave up, shoving her hands in her pockets like she’d seen Timber do on habit before. “Welcome to Canterlot High.”

Sandalwood came up to them next, looking pensive and unsure before giving Timber a great big bearhug.

“Whoa!” Timber froze at first, then let himself hug back with a small smile. “...Heh. Uh, hi to you too, big guy...”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You can let go now, Sandalwood.”

Sandalwood noticed Sunset was there, possibly for the first time, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, hey. Do I know you?”

Sunset shook her head.

As they went on their way, Sunset explained to Timber in brief about the magical oversharing she’d done thanks to Flash, but Timber didn’t seem as second-hand embarrassed as Sunset thought he should be. She tried again: “Everybody in school’s been treating me with kid gloves ever since. They pity me.”

Timber giggled as if tickled by the silliest idea he could think of. “Pity you? What are you talking about? You basically own the place!”

She winced at his wording but didn’t make a thing of it. Come to think of it, Sunset didn’t even know how much Twilight had told Timber about her past at this school, but if he didn’t know the details, she thought it might be easier to let sleeping dogs lie.

Grumbling at the coffee-machine, Vice Principal Luna muttered in a strangely archaic, nightmarish voice, "Who would dare use the last creamer?" before offering Timber a warm cocoa in a paper cup. She'd even sprung for marshmallows. "Do let us know if you need to talk, Miss Shimmer."

"I will," Timber replied. "You know me, Sunset "Talks About her Feelings" Shimmer!"

Sunset huffed as they traveled on.

The morning announcements likewise continued overhead, with Principal Celestia’s voice carrying over the sound of students shoving away coats and other wintery gear into their lockers. “I’m pleased to announce Taco Tuesday now has more vegan and vegetarian options….”

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” Sunset said, glaring at the speaker as if it were exhibit A. “She’s doing that for me because she feels sorry for me and knows I don’t eat meat. I’m pretty much the only student who doesn’t⁠.” Which, okay, wasn’t entirely true. Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps were vegetarian, too, and that was just the two she knew about. But still the timing made it stupidly obvious: “It’s a pity vegetarian option.”

Timber’s eyes widened. “Well, I would assume all vegetarian options are offered out of pity. If you can’t eat bacon, what gets you out of bed in the morning?”

Sunset bit back her sass. She didn’t feel like playing herself on top of everything.

The announcements went on. “And finally, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge a very important subject: student health and well-being. Over the past few semesters, Vice Principal Luna and I have watched you all with pride and admiration as you’ve come together in the face of real danger and school pressures alike.”

They walked toward the girls’ lockers, which were grouped together on the third floor (a favour they’d called in after the Friendship Games). Sunset couldn’t tell for sure if Twilight had told the girls about their situation yet because all of them were just as interested as she was in hearing the Principal’s announcement. They barely even acknowledged the two joining them in the hall.

“Due to all this, as well as more recent events,” Celestia continued, (making Sunset sigh through her nose), “I’ve moved forward with the decision to hire a new student guidance counsellor at Canterlot High.”

Twilight gaped as if seeing a second sun in the sky. “New guidance counsellor? Why do we need a new guidance counsellor? Principal Celestia is a great guidance counsellor!”

“Stop saying 'guidance counsellor',” Rainbow Dash told her, grabbing some gym clothes from her messy locker. “And chillax, would ya?”

“I might, if that were a word.”

Fluttershy cut in with a gentle hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “I think this might be a good thing. Everyone needs someone to listen.”

While Sunset’s friends had been talking, the Principal’s announcements contuned, so Sunset only caught the tail end after Applejack tapped a finger over her lips.

“...which is why I’d like you all to give a Wondercolt welcome to Solstice Shiver.”

A deeper voice came on the announcements. Baritone, even classically operatic. “Thank you, Principal Celestia. That’s very kind,” he said, a calm smile hidden in his voice. “Students of Canterlot High. I’d like to start by saying I know this is an exceptional school for more than its impressive grade point average.”

Sunset traded looks with Twilight.

“Your Principal has trusted me with the knowledge of what’s gone on here, and I have to admit I’m in awe of you. For an entire student body to be so brave in the face of otherworldly magic…” he marveled, “we could all hope to learn from you.”

The girls smiled (and shook their heads) as Rainbow Dash laughed. “Ha! I like this guy! Tells it like it is!”

“But most importantly, I’d like you to know you’re not alone in anything, but especially not in this. I’ve dealt with magic like this since I was your age, in fact, and it can be beaten. The trauma and heartache magic causes is difficult, and it’s important to acknowledge that difficulty in order to overcome it. Let’s have hope. So please,” Solstice said. “Come by my office by the cafeteria anytime if you’d like to talk. It takes courage to share which is why I’m always here to listen.”

5. The New Sunset

Sunset Shimmer wondered if the universe enjoyed making things harder for her. Because if it didn’t, its cosmic sense of timing was hideously unfunny. If it did, why her specifically?

…Okay, fine, the universe has a lot of legitimate reasons to punish me, she thought. But I thought we’d be square after the whole time-loop thing. This is starting to classify as cruel and unusual.

Applejack frowned, first to Rarity who thumbed the geode around her neck then to the rest of their friends at large. “Did that last bit seem a mite... anti-magic to y’all?”

“Oh yes, I’m all for mental health advocacy,” Rarity began, her eyes flickering towards Twilight, if only briefly, “and I think it’s absolutely fabulous to have new supports in place, but isn’t it a tad gauche to introduce yourself to a magical high school by condemning all magic?”

“No way, you’ve got it all wrong.” Rainbow Dash grabbed a letterman’s jacket from her locker with her last name stitched into the lapel on one side and a large gold W emblazoned on the other; one of the perks of being the senior-year captain of the soccer and buckball teams. Putting it on in the showiest manner possible, Dash walloped the air as though uppercutting some unseen foe. “We want CHS in fighting spirit! It’s rad to have somebody in our corner who totally gets that. It’s like having a coach for your brain!”

A delighted smile climbed on Fluttershy’s face as she nodded, hugging the Advanced Biology textbook like a fluffy bunny she picked up from her locker. Well, that, and the actual fluffy bunny. “I think Rainbow Dash is right: it sounds like this could really help our friends. Magic can cause some very, um, stressful situations.”

As soon as she said that, all their friends had to make various noises of agreement, now including Timber. The Great and Powerful Trixie breezed by muttering something along the lines of, ‘Oh, tell me about it…’

Encouraged to have so many people agreeing with her, Fluttershy went on, “Besides, there’s no need to be defensive, girls. We shouldn’t assume everything is an attack on us.”

Sunset put a pause on internally cursing the very universe itself. Mostly, it was to start cursing herself (not literally, although she knew some doozies from when Princess Celestia explicitly told her not to touch The Forbidden Tome of Nastiness and Untold Evils Vol. DCLXVI) for being self-centered. A fierce heat erupted in her cheeks. Dammit, Fluttershy. How are you so mature?

Sunset appreciated Fluttershy’s ability to calm her down and make her see some semblance of sense, or at least some reasonable recourse. It was thanks to Fluttershy, after all, that Sunset just barely escaped Anger Management after the junior Fall Formal, as she taught her some breathing exercises to have a “cool down.” It helped chill her out a bit (even if Sunset’s preferred outlet for anger still involved her old sledgehammer and the trash bins in the alleyway behind her apartment)

A distraction came in the form of Pinkie Pie, as per usual, but this time it was because Sunset only just now noticed that Pinkie had been staring at her and Timber since they’d walked up. It was as if they were pieces in a cupcake-themed puzzle. Moments later, she lit up and correctly waved to Sunset. “Hiya Sunset!” and then Timber, “Hiya, Timber! Glad you’re back safe! Did you bring Flash a souvenir?”

Rather than flooding who they thought was Timber with questions about where he’d teleported to, the other girls apart from Twilight didn’t know how to respond to that interaction. Fluttershy blinked. “Uh?”

Timber let out a little impressed hum. “Now that’s a cool party trick. How’d you know?”

Miffed, Pinkie Pie produced an expression dangerously close to a pout. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Isn’t what obvious, Pinkie?” Rainbow Dash asked, frowning to her and the other girls, whose eyes ping-ponged between Pinkie, Timber, and Sunset.

Any hint of concern or confusion dropped from Pinkie Pie’s expression when a bright giggle lit up the morning drudgery of the hall as easily as when Vice Principal Luna put in the coffee maker. “Oh, that’s an easy one, Dashie! It’s so super weird to see Timber so grumpy and especially so superweird for Sunset not to be a grumbly grumpy pants this early in the morning.”

Sunset didn’t know how to take that.

Pinkie jacked a thumb towards them. “Either Sunset stole Timber’s morning coffee, or Timber and Sunset pulled the ol’ Switcheroo by accident because they shared their magic!”

Applejack let out a hoot of a guffaw, slapping her knee in a bumpkin-esque fashion. Sunset respected Applejack enough to know she wasn’t the stereotype Sunset used to think of when she thought of earth pony farmers (which in hindsight: yikes), but she found it endearing that even still, AJ’s laugh was as country as one of her countryisms. She even wiped a tear away. “Ehehe, whoo dang. Sorry, Pinkie, it’s just, how’d we get to the point in our lives where I got no reason not to believe every word you’re saying?”

Fluttershy hummed, smiling in on the joke. “Six or seven demons ago, I’d say.”

“It’s true, though,” Flash finally spoke up, shutting his locker directly adjacent to the block of the girls’ lockers. He buried his hands into the plush depths of his hoodie pockets as he came up next to a nodding Twilight. “Something went weird last night after Timber teleported back from Northway.”

“Northway?!” the girls chorused in an impressive unison. Even more impressively, they’d unintentionally timed it right before the bell for first period.

Rarity held her forehead. “Goodness. It appears we’ve got quite a lot to discuss come lunchtime.”

Among the many new experiences she’d had this week, Sunset was maybe the most baffled that she was now genuinely weirded out by loitering. Normally, she’d laugh in the face of anyone who took that kind of pointless red tape seriously (except her girlfriend; Sunset decided that was mostly just eyerollingly cute), but in Sunset’s defence, she wasn’t entirely herself at present, and that was sort of the issue.

Timber attended Home Ec and Gym in her place (not a tragedy on the latter, she thought), but that left Sunset as Timber, a guy who didn’t go to this school. Dodging the hall monitor was easy enough: she still knew Derpy’s route by heart from back when she skipped class to sneak around and get up to no good properly.

Still, the band room would be in use until lunch, so the best she could do was go to the cafeteria and sketch out some magicmatical formulas. Reaching into her bag, Sunset pulled out the journal to Princess Twilight on instinct. She put it back and took out her own art book instead.

After a while of sitting at their regular table and scribbling away, she twirled a pen between her fingers like a drumstick—a trick she’d learned from Pinkie (only breaking two pens in frustration along the way)—and took a look at the spells she’d written.

Mostly Equestrian, all of them in stunningly perfect form down to the decimal. None of them applied on this side of the mirror that way, but she figured the Master Mage’s level theory tended to have some parallel. Plus, admittedly, it felt good.

It felt good to be such a natural.

Sunset tried not to lean on her old vices too much, generally; obviously, the last thing she ever wanted was to lay even a single tread down the same dark path that led her to the demonic transformation at the junior year Fall Formal. But this was to help her friends, so she thought she was at least a little justified in taking some pride in her natural-born aptitude for Equestrian magic.

If I figure this magic-sharing thing out, we’re all better off for it. She could feel a smirk sliding onto her face and let it stay there, even as she sighed. Too bad all this theory’s not as useful over here. Sweet Celestia, how many times could I have saved us trouble if it just worked the way I’m good at?

She shook her head, biting her lip. But it doesn’t work that way. No use in wishing it did. Besides, Equestrian magic is Princess Twilight’s game now. She won, got the crown, saved the town, earned the throne, and to top it off, she deserves all of it.

Her stomach snagged on that thought, a twisting feeling tugging at her. Okay. Enough with the pity party, Sunset, she thought to herself. It’s done. You’re not even Princess Celestia’s apprentice anymore, so there was never any contest to lose. When you and the girls go to the coronation, you’re going to swallow your stupid ego already, even if you choke on it, and just… be a good friend.

Twilight and the girls seemed to think she could be. And after all she’d done to be their friend, Sunset wanted to agree, but she also didn’t feel quite so pure anymore. Friendship never came natural to her, but she thought she’d mastered it by now. She thought she was good at heart. So why did she still mess up like this?

I’m not a bad friend. Maybe I’ve just been away from Equestria too long, she tried to reason, tapping the page with her ballpoint pen. It wasn’t all a horrible descent into power-lust, was it?

Even as soon as she thought that, it felt like an excuse to her. Sunset would renounce all magic before going back to being the snide little pupil who took the opportunities she was given for granted. But then... she thought. She turned to an older page in her art book, one of the best pieces she’d done for art class: an Equestrian sunrise from her dorm’s balcony on Canterlot Castle, from memory. The silhouetted figure of Princess Celestia stood on the balcony ahead.

She ran her hand over the page, coursing her fingertips over the dried paint. She was a totally different person from who she used to be—right now literally.

Sunset looked over her shoulder to check for anyone who might see then set up the book standing in front of her and laid her chin on her folded arms.

A smile rose. “Nice sunrise today, Princess. You’ve outdone yourself.”

The silhouette didn’t turn back toward her.

Either way, she didn’t let herself indulge much longer. She had friends here and now to help out. Even apart from fixing the body swap, which was her main concern, she needed to have a handle on the magic-sharing before it caused anybody else any more problems. At this rate, with her luck, Pinkie would explode some of Rarity’s diamond-sharp shields in the middle of Princess Twilight’s coronation. Now that would be something to talk about in therapy.

The girls along with the two boys arrived at the lunch table not long after lunch began and that meant they had to pull up two extra chairs. A nine person group took up so much space. Sunset had managed to get something potentially helpful down on paper before they arrived, so when everybody sat down she held up her calculations and tapped the page. “I’ve got some ideas on how to undo whatever happened to me and Timber, so if we can get through your questions fast we might be able to switch us back before the end of lunch.”

Twilight mussed up her mouth from her seat next to her girlfriend. “Sunset? Even I have a lot of questions, and I was there for all of this.”

The others nodded.

Sunset sighed. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. Everybody gets one question right now, so you’re not in the dark, and we can talk all we want later after we fix things. Deal or no deal?”

“Deal!” Twilight embodied the total sum of all the chuckling chatter in the cafeteria in one incandescent smile but then reached for a notebook and pen to start scribbling as if studying for final exams. “Start on someone else please.”

Sunset smirked. The waggling pen reminded her of the various times spent admiring Twilight in chemistry class. Or algebra. Or biology. She submerged the urge to lean over and kiss her cheek. It helped to remind herself that if she powered through and put things back to normal, she could do a whole lot more than kiss her girlfriend again later on. Ignoring the fact that she was technically also Twilight’s ex at the moment. “Alright, down the line, then. Applejack?”

“You’re Sunset, right?”

“Yes,” Sunset confirmed. “Pinkie, you’re next.”

Applejack balked. “Wait, that wasn’t my question.”

“One question,” Sunset told her. “We’ve only got an hour for lunch. Magic takes time. Go ahead, Pinkie.”

“Consarn it,” Applejack muttered along with a string of countrified curse words increasingly too quiet and slurred together in her accent to make out. Seeing this, Twilight wrote faster, as if even more worried about wasting her question.

Pinkie Pie raised her hand even though she’d already been called upon. “Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! How was Northway? And you still didn’t answer my question about Flash’s souvenir, so technically, that’s still just one question.”

“...I’ll allow it,” Sunset said, to which Applejack threw down her hat on the table like a grumpy prospector.

“Bull pie!”

Timber perked up. “Oh, well, it’s got a beautiful countryside, friendly people, and I tried something called kjøttboller: very delicious, I’d totally recommend. Also I was horrified that I might never see my sister again and something something existential dread—but the kjøttboller!” He planted his hands on the table to make his point, then looked over to Flash. “But, no gift. Sorry, hot stuff. Maybe next time?”

“There... doesn’t need to be a next time,” Flash assured, smiling with a bit of fear in his eyes. It was nice to see him smile, at least, although admittedly weird to see Flash’s hand pat what would normally be her own.

Turning away from that, Sunset pointed at Fluttershy. “Do you have any questions, Flutters?”

“Oh, um, I guess I’d like to know how Timber could teleport that far, or maybe even how to switch you and Timber back, but I can wait if we’re really in a rush.”

Sunset was about to elaborate before Rainbow Dash grinned. “My turn! Does this hurt you or Timber?” She punched Timber in the shoulder like it was her job.

“Ow!” Timber said.

Rainbow folded her hands neatly on the table in front of her as Timber rubbed his shoulder. “No further questions.”

Sunset sighed, almost pleadingly. “Rarity?”

Rarity laid her hand back on the topmost knee of her crossed legs. “Thank you, dear. Should we still refer to you as she and Timber, he/him, or would you say it’s the other way around?”

Sunset stared. “Oh. Uh, same as usual, I guess. I’m still me.” It made her swelteringly uncomfortable to have someone think she might be a gender she didn’t identify as just based on her body alone, but Sunset pushed that aside since it was considerate for Rarity to ask. Twilight seemed to cross one off her list. “Next question.”

Instead of skipping over Timber like she thought would be logical, Timber waved at her across the table. “Hi, Timber in Sunset here. Long time listener, first time asker. My question is, do you not even try in gym class? Because I ran a lap and everyone was shocked.”

Dash leaned over. “Oh, I know that one! She doesn’t.”

“I’m strategic. I don’t run, I hit things.” That’s what she told them, at least. Sunset didn’t like to sweat in front of other people, plus there were usually ways to spend the whole class ‘helping’ Coach Spitfire get supplies for the other students that didn’t involve as much work. Really, Sunset would argue it was a mental workout, which in school was clearly more valuable.

…There may have been a reason to start her punching bag-based workout regime up again when she got her body back, and that reason maybe was to picture the bag as Timber’s face. Or, at the moment, her own face.

Whatever, she thought, then flicked her eyes toward the next in line. “Flash, what do you want to know?”

Flash shoved his free hand back into his pocket. A totally ordinary move coming from him, but she knew it meant he was at least a little uncomfortable. “Are you two going to be alright?”

Sunset softened. “We’re not in danger or anything, so yeah. As soon as the girls and I pony up from showing the truest parts of ourselves, I think that should be enough for the magic to put us back where we belong.”

Everyone turned towards Twilight, who took a moment to notice the eyes on her before realizing it was pencils down. Scanning what she’d written, she flipped through a page. Then another. Then five more.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s just impressive.”

Twilight continued to scan and flip until she got to the last page and then clapped her notebook shut. “The most pressing question notwithstanding,” she said, nodding to Flash, “I think the next biggest priority is what exactly you and Timber were thinking and feeling when you switched bodies. What’s the common denominator that let you share magic?”

Timber looked to Sunset as if she would have the answer, but she was admittedly hoping he would fess up first. She knew for a fact what she was thinking. How she wished Twilight’s ex hadn’t ruined their date night, but she realized he hadn’t answered her last night exactly; he’d talked about Northway, barely mentioning anything to do with Sunset.

He was too good at disguising his expression—in her body no less.

“...I don’t think it matters what we were thinking,” Sunset lied, but she didn’t break eye contact with Timber, trying to read her own face. She dropped it along with her hands on the table. “It could be a paradox.”

Twilight’s eyebrows raised, eyes growing owlish as she leaned in. “Paradox?”

“Like I keep saying, magic is usually based on emotion,” she said, parsing through the equations she’d written in her artbook, “but that’s how it works in Equestria. Over here, I don’t know, I’m just going to admit I wouldn’t call myself an expert—maybe it just doesn’t make sense. Timber and Flash shouldn’t have powers without geodes, but they do now.”

Flash’s eyebrows collapsed over his ocean eyes like a drawbridge. “Uh… sorry?”

“No, that’s not—” Sunset shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I mean usually Equestrian magic latches onto an object in this world if people besides us are going to be able to use it, but you two are different for some reason—and that’s not a bad thing. But until we understand it, it’s a paradox. It doesn’t make sense based on our current understanding.”

“Yup,” Timber chuckled, rubbing his neck, “sounds like a paradox to me. It’s okay. I’m used to being the weirdo that doesn’t make sense to other people.”

Applejack planted her freckled cheek on her hand like seeds. “You think Flash and Timber gettin’ powers has something to do with the big rip in the sky? I would’ve thought that would’ve healed up by now…”

“That’s been my assumption as well.” Twilight nodded. “We really don’t know for certain what’s on the other side of that tear, but if a crack in the portal could release more magic into the world, a crack in the atmosphere itself that large…”

“...creates paradoxes,” Flash finished quietly. To his credit, he managed a smile for the girls and didn’t let the mood drop down. “If Timber and I need to give up our powers because it’s causing too much trouble, it’s o—”

“No! I didn’t say that,” Sunset told him, feeling a little bad now that she’d definitely thought about it earlier. “And, look, maybe you and Timber can train or something. Even with geodes, our powers aren’t always easy to control. That doesn’t make them bad, it just means… we learn how to use them, I guess.”

It felt a little hollow to say that while thinking about how much better off all of her friends might be without this magic, but Sunset did her best not to entertain thoughts like that anymore. Mostly. Kind of. In a way.

Or at the very least, she didn’t let them make her friends feel bad about themselves, too, and that included Flash. If he wanted powers, Sunset thought she shouldn’t make him feel ashamed for that. She refused to, anyway.

Timber made eye contact with her, and for a moment she could’ve sworn she saw something recognizable—guilt—but she didn’t get a chance to confirm that she’d seen anything at all.

A magic glow formed around Timber, and it was only moments later when Sunset realized the same glow formed around her. She lit up. “Wait, everybody shut up! I think it’s working! I think—”

Then she noticed Flash’s hand resting on Timber’s, and her eyes widened as if someone had thrown a grenade on their cafeteria table.

“No!” Her shoulders tensed up, and she flinched as the magic exploded out across their lunch table from her and Timber like a tsunami’s powerful tide.

The next thing she knew, Sunset was sitting somewhere new. Right next to where she was a moment ago, in fact. She could see her own body still across the table, looking dazed and fighting with a headache. Startled, Sunset checked her hands only to find slender fingers and light, lavender skin.

Reaching up to her face, the thick-rimmed glasses confirmed her sinking feeling: she was Twilight Sparkle. Her mind leapt to the next most pressing concern, shoving past the disorientation and fighting to keep her eyes open to see the others.

All of her friends looked affected. Rubbing eyes, groaning, or in Flash’s case, hyperventilating as he patted down his arms, face, and chest. Or, Flash’s body. Sunset massaged the forehead beneath her bangs as she realized she didn’t know who that was.

Sunset swore. “Tartarus. Girls?”

Timber shrieked beside her, as high-pitched as his voice would go.

The others weren’t far behind. Whoever was currently Applejack gasped, and Pinkie Pie looked around in a total daze. The person in Fluttershy’s body jumped back from the table. “Whoa! Whoa, whoa whoa whoa! What?”

The person in Sunset’s body held their hands over their mouth. “I didn’t mean to! Was that because of me? I’m sorry!”

The rest of the cafeteria noticed them freaking out, and Sunset could tell the other students didn’t understand what was happening but didn’t like it one bit. Where a few years ago, an outburst from their classmates like this might’ve been a funny topic of conversation. Like, what were those weirdos at lunch doing, anyway?

But the hushed conversation and tense air around the cafeteria spoke volumes. We’re freaking them out, she realized. If the magic experts are scared about something, how’s the rest of the student body supposed to react?

Whoever was currently occupying Rainbow Dash stood up. “Everybody calm down, easy! The first thing to do is figure out who’s who, okay? I’m Timber,” he said, making Rainbow Dash sound like a camp counsellor speaking to junior campers on how to tie a proper knot.

Sunset had never seen Fluttershy look like she wanted to start a fistfight, but the way she stomped towards him made Sunset feel threatened. “Dude! You took my body?! Not cool!”

“So, okay, that’s Rainbow Dash,” Timber confirmed, which itself seemed to diffuse some of Dash’s anger. Timber kept his voice calm (a new sound from Dash’s voice). “Where’s Fluttershy?”

“Here…” A voice came from below the table. Rarity had never looked so timid, hiding behind her hair and hugging her knees, but that was par for the course for Fluttershy. It was beyond jarring for Sunset to see the mannerisms switched like that.

“Goodness, darling,” the person in Timber said, outing themselves as Rarity.

“I’m Applejack,” AJ came out and said from Pinkie’s body, eyeing the stetson-wearing blonde beside her suspiciously. “So who does that make you?”

She beamed. “Pinkie Pie!”

Sunset raised her hand, which she thought must’ve been a familiar motion for Twilight’s body. “Sunset Shimmer.” She eyed the two remaining friends unaccounted for: her own body and Flash Sentry’s. She pointed at Flash, who struggled to get the hyperventilating under control. “Twilight?”

She nodded.

And pointed to her own body. “And Flash?”

He nodded, looking like he’d just destroyed a dance, stole a crown, and learned the value of friendship the hard way all in one go. “I-I didn’t mean to amplify anything, I swear!”

Timber winced. “It’s not your fault. Paradox powers, right?” He looked toward Sunset as if asking for help.

Grimacing, she nodded. “It’s okay, Flash. I can fix this—the girls and I can fix this. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

“Well, if he’s you now, he’d really only be playing the part, dear,” someone muttered, which Sunset remembered was Rarity as Timber. This was getting genuinely difficult for her to keep track of, especially considering her own discombobulation and disorientation.

Sunset grunted, rubbing the space between her eyes under the glasses she now needed. “Okay, this has officially gotten old. Rainbooms? Time to Pony up.”

Setting up their instruments took a lot less time with Flash helping out. He made Sunset look like quite the expert, so all around this was a fine development. Sometimes she forgot just how much he knew about instruments and music—she knew, obviously; he’d taught her how to play in the first place. But she realized Flash usually asked how everyone else was doing first before talking about the stuff he loved, so it was easy to forget he and his band Flash Drive were just as, if not more, popular than the Rainbooms.

He ran the cord from Rainbow Dash’s guitar across the room to the amp and knew exactly what settings to adjust on the dials before giving her a thumbs up. It was beyond odd to see everyone in different positions than normal, which made Twilight frown. “If we’re not in our bodies, do you think we can use our magic?”

Dash exchanged looks with Applejack and Pinkie Pie (although it took a second for Sunset’s brain to work out exactly who was who). In Fluttershy’s soft, timid tones, Rainbow asked, “Wait, yeah, doesn’t our magic come from the heart? ‘Cause my heart’s over there right now.”

Timber waved, sitting on an amp on the side of the room.

“...Oh. Crap.” Sunset, in the middle of tuning the E string of her guitar, laid a hand over the strings to mute the sound to give her a second to think. “I don’t see why our powers would be tied to our bodies. But we should be wearing the right geodes.” She smirked. “That would probably help.”

In the exchange, Sunset took the purple geode off her neck and held it out to Twilight before grabbing her own orange geode from Flash while the rest of the girls got theirs. Admittedly? Even though Sunset used to brag about her top notch intellect, having everyone wear the correct coloured geode was the first time she could keep them all straight.

Sunset tried not to compare herself to a magic kindergartener discovering colour-coding. Tried. (But then again, Magic Kindergarten had been one of the best times of Sunset’s life; naps, oatmeal cookies, picking on nerds, and being the teacher’s favourite for reading spells at a 4th grade level while the others struggled to understand the concept of basic levitation. Who wouldn’t love that?)

Twilight watched the exchanging of geodes with a furrowed brow. She made Flash look very deep in thought, which was especially dramatic given his thick eyebrows. “Hang on. What exactly did we swap, anyway? Minds? Consciousnesses? The archaic concept of a spirit?”

Sunset shrugged and put the guitar strap over her head. “I dunno. I guess the same sort of thing that happens when I go from Equestria to the human world? Does it matter? We’re going to fix it right now, anyway.”

“Yes it matters! Do you know how startlingly little we know about the human consciousness, Sunset? Basically nothing! Our best experimental design to date is to compare it to a computer and study through metaphor!”

Timber stopped kicking his legs childishly off the amp. “Is that true? Whoa. Nifty. The anatomy of the brain and its processes isn’t really my go-to for bedtime reading, but look at that, you learn something new everyday! Or in this case, you learn that you know nothing!”

Pinkie Pie hit the drums in a rim-shot.

Timber Spruce lit up like he’d been given a very special gift just then. “Oh, you and me have some talking to do.”

Sunset laid a hand on Twilight’s shoulder, willfully ignoring the fact that it was technically her ex-boyfriend's and instead focused on the scared look in the eyes she recognized as her girlfriend. “Hey. I promise, we can debate the existence of a soul and what this all means later, okay? After we put everyone back?” She wished she could promise they’d get to do what they’d both really, really, really wanted to do last night, but it was nigh impossible to communicate that without everyone hearing or figuring out what she was implying. Especially with Rainbow Dash’s dirty mind.

All the same, Twilight nodded. It was cold comfort for Sunset to promise herself they’d get to actually talk later, in private.

Applejack noodled on the bass a bit. “So what do we play? Doesn’t have to be some fancy ‘musical counter spell’, does it?” She smirked toward Sunset, winking.

Sunset chuckled. “Yeah, no. Whatever you girls want. From the metaphorical heart.”

“Well, in that case, I’ve always liked Right There in Front of Me.” Twilight smiled, trying to twirl her hair around her finger before realizing Flash’s hair was too short for that. She blushed, grabbing onto the microphone with two hands. “It, um, it was really special to me that you girls let me sing it with you after the Friendship Games, even though I’m not the best singer without magical accompaniment…”

Her eyes reached for Sunset’s, and Sunset knew exactly why. That was their song. Both quite literally, in that they sung the vocal leads in duet, and because when they’d started dating, it became their song.

When the two of them had their first slow dance at the Fall Formal, Sunset could see how nervous Twilight was that she might mess up. And she did. She stumbled off beat, fumbled a dance move or two, and her nerves bungled the rhythm. So Sunset told her not to worry about the music in the gym, as nice as Flash’s acoustic guitar was. She started to sing the lyrics to Right There in Front of Me below her breath.

And after a verse, Twilight joined in.

Their first kiss as a couple cut the second chorus short.

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” Sunset breathed, now willfully ignoring the giggles from her friends who she supposed only wanted to support them anyway.

Pinkie Pie counted them in. It was an easy enough song for the girls to get into, the instrumentals on point. Even if it stung to play guitar with Twilight’s fingers that hadn’t been properly calloused yet, Sunset pushed through and it seemed like the other girls would too.

That is, until the singing started.

Sunset herself mis-started. She should’ve expected she had to adjust her singing to Twilight’s vocal range, but it wasn’t a difficult adjustment (all things considered, their voices were more alike than she thought).

It was Twilight who really had a hard time with it. Flash Sentry was, by all bars and measures, a pitch-perfect singer, but his voice was also much lower than Twilight Sparkle’s. Twilight could still hit the right notes, but it gave the song a whole new sound. A new vibe.

By the time they got to the chorus, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Twilight and Flash’s voices were singing what the Rainbooms now considered their only real love song.

Sunset spared a look towards Flash. He looked like he’d seen the spirits Twilight was so interested in talking about, and he held his arms in such a way that he covered up his stomach. Sunset felt an intense pang of worry that he’d throw up.

Sunset doubted anyone would be able to Pony up after that, but then, the universe loved to prove her wrong. She would later wonder if reverse psychology worked on unseen cosmic forces.

A warm, satisfying magic shimmered around them, like the steam from a hot tub. Before she knew it, all of her friends had adorable pony ears and tails again, prompting their two-man audience to cheer them on.

By the time Rainbow Dash played the final chord, the magic was in full effect, and so, they waited.

Everyone looked around. Eager quiet fell over the band room.

Flash gave them a crisp thumbs up. “Well, uh… good try?”

7. The Heart-to-Heart of the Matter

Sunset Shimmer reminded herself that she was a friendship expert, which meant she had a high probability of making a single friend. Did she love that it had to be Timber Spruce? No comment. But at least she liked to think she wasn’t alone, even if she felt it. Twilight had the task of befriending Flash Sentry, who currently stood in between them.

In and of itself, befriending Flash would normally be as simple as taking the next breath. Even back when Sunset was as despicable and flagrantly evil as they came, Flash gave her a chance. And then after everything she’d done, knowing that darkness in her better than anyone, he told her that she’d deserved a second. It was why she’d defend the kid in everything⁠—except maybe when they were playing one v. one in Street Kombat III.

In that case, he would perish under her pixelated boot.

But even those hang out sessions she’d admittedly kept separate from Twilight. Okay, maybe that also had to do with wanting to spend some one on one time with Twilight even before they were together, but it also also had to do with the awkwardness that came with Twilight being a parallel of the person who never really gave Flash closure.

Sunset heaved a sigh. She knew, as one of the two friendship experts here, she should take charge. Get it over with, Shimmer. You’ve got this. Friendship is magic and whatever. “Twilight’s right. Better to face this head on.”

As if to spite Sunset specifically, the referee’s whistle beckoned the players back toward the field. Timber cast a glance through the slats of the bleachers, likely noticing Rainbow Dash’s stressed dance-in-place, and left to rejoin the game, walking backwards. “Sounds like a plan, Sergeant Major Sparkle.” And then grinned to Sunset. “Catch you after the game, new best friend?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Couldn’t, really. Emerging from beneath the bleachers, they could see him getting chewed out by Dash for not rallying the troops during halftime like she always did. From across the way, they caught her asking, “Dude! No peptalk? What kind of Rainbow Dash are you?”

One hand on a nearby support beam, Twilight turned to Flash. “Well, looks like Timber might be occupied for a while, but you and I can get a headstart on this new friendship, if you’d like.”

Flash brightened, nodding. “Uh, yeah, okay. That sounds great!” He managed to make Sunset’s river teal eyes as wide-eyed and unassuming as the baby fawn’s that Sunset once saw on a diplomatic trip with Princess Celestia to Thicket, the kingdom of the deer. He rubbed the back of his head as they returned to the stands. “How do we… do that?”

Back in their seats for the final half, Twilight twiddled her thumbs in her lap. “Oh! Um. I suppose it’s easiest to begin with an ice breaker, and from what I’ve studied about conversationalism, a common topic of conversation is your current shared situation, such as a party or the weather.” Sunset thought it was foul play to be this adorkable while they were on pause, but she also knew that there wasn’t a switch Twilight could turn off. She’d have to save up her kisses for later. (She hoped they’d come in handy…) “Do you like sports, Flash?”

Flash flinched, eyes flickering from Twilight to the field. “Uh, well, music is kind of more my thing. And baking. Sometimes knitting. Um. I’m not really a sports guy.” He winced, pushing his mouth to the side. “I guess you can sort of tell, huh?”

Twilight brightened as if she’d been given a pop quiz. “Oh, that’s perfect! I know nothing about sports, either! We already have something in common!”

Arms stretching behind her head, Sunset rested her feet on the railing in front of her. “Well, that, and you’re both big gay dorks.” Saying it out loud brought the connection together in her mind, and she frowned. “Wait, does that mean I have a type?”

“Did you hear that, Flash?” Twilight pumped her fists up and down as genuine enthusiasm oozed from her voice. “We’re the same type!”

He smiled awkwardly, confirming Sunset did indeed have a type. Huh. You learn something new everyday.

Down on the grass, Rainbow Dash lost the remainder of her mind to the tune of Lightning Struck blasting over the loudspeakers. She danced from foot to foot and likely not just to keep warm in the gathering snow. “We’re tied?! How can we be tied?!”

Pinkie Pie leaned over the railing of the bleachers—so far, in fact, that Sunset would be worried she’d flip right over if she wasn’t Pinkie. “We have the same score as the other team, so that makes us equal! Yay, we’re all winners!”

Rarity hummed, tapping her chin. “Actually, dear, I think that would result in sudden death today. I believe draws this late in the season require a resolution, especially with the early snow this year. They do tend to like their winners in sports games.”

Rainbow Dash threw up her hands, maybe in lieu of just throwing up. “Somebody score a goal! You’re killing me over here! Wait, no, not the other team—not the other team! I shouldn’t have to say that!”

Applejack clapped her on the shoulder, if for no other reason than to let her know she was right despite what reality seemed to think.

Hollow Shades High trampled across the snow-woven field. Black jerseys flaunting jagged green stripes dominated over Canterlot blue and gold. Their star forward wrestled the ball away from Timber, even when he’d gotten the hang of dribbling between his feet or passing off to his teammates (mostly just passing). In nearly every sense of the word, Canterlot High’s goalie carried the team tonight by defending against the Hollow Shades Bats and their lightning fast shots, but even Fleetfoot couldn’t stop everything.

The forward shot the ball—a direct hit with the net in the upper right corner with a decisive swish.

Rainbow Dash reacted as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, puttering out her breath. An eruption of cheers from the other set of stands seemed to shoot shrapnel directly into Dash’s heart, and a chant began that took Sunset a moment to parse as, LIGHT-NING DUST! LIGHT-NING DUST! LIGHT-NING DUST!

Lightning Dust pounded her fists in the snow-spinning air. “Yeah, baby! Who’s number one?”

Scootaloo, the Wondercolt team’s water-girl, grimaced up at Coach Hothoof, who pounded his large hands together. “Hey, good hustle out there, Dasher, good hustle!”

The actual Rainbow Dash buried her face into her hands. Anyone who didn’t know who that was must’ve thought Fluttershy had money on this game.

Sunset grimaced, watching Dash more than the game. “I don’t know if she can take much more of this. Timber needs to start winning fast.” The song over the loudspeakers paused to allow for a kickoff at centerfield to reset the players. From her properly decent seat, Sunset could see the exhaustion setting into Timber in his laboured steps back to position. But he shouldn’t be tired yet. He’s got Rainbow Dash’s stamina, he should be able to go as hard as she usually does.

It took the empath an embarrassing amount of time to realize exactly what was going wrong. Sunset hadn’t paid it much mind before then, but as she caught Timber’s pink eyes looking back to Rainbow Dash, who by this point was grieving on Applejack’s shoulder, she got it: he knew exactly how much responsibility weighed on his shoulders, and he thought he was blowing it.

It also probably doesn’t help that his boyfriend isn’t exactly his boyfriend right now, she thought and swore to high Mount Olympus.

The referee set the ball centerfield between Lightning Dust and Timber, and even with his team in position around him, the fear in his pink eyes made Lightning smirk. She said something to him Sunset couldn’t hear, but Timber winced. Watching him grimace twisted unpleasantly in her stomach.

“That’s it.” Sunset stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Come on, Rainbow Dash! You can do this!”

Even if the real Rainbow Dash stared up at her like she didn’t understand what Sunset expected her to do about it, Flash caught on. He stood up next to her by the railing and started chanting, “Let’s go, Wondercolts! Let’s go!”

Twilight followed suit, smiling to him as her voice joined in. The rest of their friends joined after that, and the home crowd picked it up fast. Soon, half a hundred voices barked back into the night and Sunset shot Timber two thumbs up.

Out on the field, he grinned.

The ref blew his whistle. The song changed over the speakers: a guitar led the charge. Timber shot the ball away from Lightning Dust behind him, to the midfielder, Soarin. Every tiny win like that had Sunset and their friends cheering, but the game was far from over yet.

And Lightning Dust didn’t give up her lead so easily. It took nearly the rest of the second half to tie it up again, and by then, sweat rolled off every player. Every move was hard fought. Every inch a battleground. Fleetfoot and the Hollow Shades goalie launched themselves for save after save, and it was starting to look like neither would give.

At some point, Applejack had fetched Rainbow a paper bag to hyperventilate in, puffing it in and out like an indecisive balloon.

“Come on, come on...” Flash muttered under his breath as they leaned on the rail. All of them had long forgotten their seats, now collecting snow anyway, but they’d also forgotten the cold. His eyes flared for a moment, and he looked to Twilight. “Huh. How’s this for an icebreaker?”

“I guess cheering for Timber is another thing we have in common,” Twilight mused, and a smile grew on her face.

“Yeah! That’s really cool, by the way,” Flash spoke up, “that you can still cheer for him and be his friend after your breakup. Took me a while to get to that point.”

Sunset wrestled an arm around his neck, but it was more of an aggressive hug than a strangle-hold. “Hey, I was also a raging she-demon at the time, so no one blames you.”

Twilight smiled at the two of them, and there was almost a pride in her expression. “Of course Sunset was the first friend I’ve ever made besides my dog Spike, but Timber was the first friend I made myself, all on my own. He made it easy.”

Flash’s smile melted. “Yeah. He’ll do that.”

“Wow, is soccer always so good friendship-building? Hm. A shared experience to bring people together in support of a common goal... It’s kind of fun, actually. I think I understand sports now!” Twilight whooped. “Woo! Go, Wondercolts! Way to score those touchdowns!”

Flash smiled goodnaturedly to Sunset, and she would’ve laughed with him, but Sunset felt like supporting her girlfriend. The air was alive with support in the stands now. “What she said! Keep up the touchdowns, Rainbow!”

To Flash’s credit, he went along with it, too, swinging his arms. “Touch those downs!”

And touch those downs they did.

Soarin wrestled the ball away from Lightning Dust by passing it to Timber at the penalty line. All the rest of his teammates were guarded. The goal waited ahead. Winding back, Timber took a tumble backwards Sunset thought was an accident until she realized he was effectively pile-driving his entire weight into the ball as he booted it as hard as he could.

Barely scratching past the goalie’s gloved fingers, the ball connected with the net.

An uproarious cheer detonated in the Canterlot High stands, Sunset’s voice possibly the loudest among them as her fists shot up into the air. Flash and Twilight high-fived. Rainbow Dash jumped up and down, saying, “I knew you could do it!”

Back tinged green with grass-stains, Timber ran a victory lap by the stands for high fives.

After the soccer game, Sunset had to drag Timber away from a team lifting him up on their shoulders for “carrying the season,” even if Rainbow Dash did all the real work. Although Dash herself cheered for him the loudest, so Sunset didn’t feel like she could get too mad. He didn’t seem to know how to react to being treated like the school hero, hoisted up, patted on the back, and splashed with the sports drink from the team’s cooler.

“Uh, thanks everybody,” he said, but even his trademark enthusiasm sounded a little dimmed when he noticed Flash on the outskirts of the group.

She couldn’t blame the guy. You haven’t lost anyone, Sunset reminded herself. She fought down the feeling. Twilight’s right. We put our night on pause when Timber interrupted. This is just more of the same. We can’t exactly do anything like this anyway.

If that was the case, she reminded herself of what waited on the other side of that pause, and it was enough to light a fire under her.

But that fire would have to wait. Timber couldn’t possibly get out of the afterparty with the team or the celebration Coach Hothoof promised waited for “Rainbow” at home. Especially after Timber was approached by a figure from the crowd. “Nice playing out there. I’m a recruiter from Nightfall Reach Military Academy and I must say, you’d make a great soldier…”

After that point, Coach Hothoof squeezed his little girl in a crushing hug and there was no escape. Especially not when Rainbow Dash offered to buy Timber all the drinks and pizza he could handle (totally not squealing and running around the field yelling that she was going to college).

Sunset went back to her apartment alone for the first time in a few days that night. She almost missed him. Almost, of course, being the key word, but still. And she would have enjoyed a relaxing night alone had Scruffers not come through looking for Sunset.

That normally wouldn’t be a problem, but for one thing, Sunset didn’t look like Sunset, and for another, the cat quite literally came phasing through the window from the fire escape and hopped down as if nothing extraordinary happened.

Sunset gawked at the cat swerving his tail back and forth in front of her. She picked him up to stare at his little kitty eyes. “What? You can walk through walls? Since when could you do that?!”

“Mrreow,” Scruffers answered and in the next moment refused to be held, so he phased through her hands, plopping back onto the floor.

Sunset decided then that Equestrian magic and that rift in the sky had officially gone too far.

So the next day, the first thing Sunset did was pick Timber Spruce up from Dash’s one-story bungalow on her motorcycle. She tossed him a helmet, which she usually saved for Twilight.

He bounded back as he caught it, smirking. “Whoa. This really isn’t a look I’m used to seeing from Twilight.”

That was a fair point. Last night she’d grabbed her leather jacket from her place and her clothes were a bit loose on Twilight, but not comically so. The look still worked. Almost too well, really; it only stung more to see Twilight wearing her jacket the way she sometimes did over her shoulders when Sunset gave it to her on their dates.

All the more reason to hurry this up, Sunset thought.

She shrugged to Timber. “Rarity made a good point yesterday. It’s easier to tell who's who if we differentiate somehow. Now get on.” Holding out the beanie he’d left at her apartment, she offered a smile along with it. “We’ve got some bonding to do.”

If Timber thought he got the hero’s welcome as Sunset, being Rainbow Dash after scoring the winning goal for the last game of the season may as well have made their walk through the halls a parade route. As it was, as they walked in, Applejack steadied a ladder for Pinkie, so that she could hang a banner over the trophy case by the front entrance reading, Congratulations, Wondercolts!

When Scootaloo saw him walk in, she applauded. “Woohoo! Go, Rainbow Dash!”

The other students in the freshman and sophomore hall clapped along, offering their congrats. Sunset smirked and nudged Timber’s side, and he shrugged as if to say, Well, if you insist.

He waved like the queen, telling passersby, “Thanks! Go Wondercolts! Hey, thanks for coming out! I couldn’t have done it without my fans!” He winked Sunset’s way as he signed a glossy photo of Rainbow Dash that Scootaloo apparently just had in her backpack.

Doing her best not to roll her eyes, Sunset already felt much better about their chances. He had Twilight’s stamp of approval, clearly, and she’d learned her lesson from Wallflower: play nice. She could do nice. And it seemed like it was working: he had crowds of new friends all around now!

The only other crowd, they would come to find, was outside of Counsellor Solstice’s office. A sign-up sheet for hour-long slots in the day had already begun a small collection of names, and a number of students waited around for their chance to add to it. Sunset frowned at how many names she could see on that list. Mostly because she hadn’t expected more than one. Are there really that many students so traumatized by Equestrian magic that they need counselling?

Then again, the students waiting for their turn weren’t exactly a shock to the system. Bulk Biceps cried at the idea of someone else crying, and during every conflict Sunset could think of, Roseluck, Lily, and Daisy fainted in triplicate. Every single time. Sunset would have thought it would’ve gotten less shocking by now. Still, even if all the students here were especially sensitive, Sunset frowned. That was a lot of sensitivity…

Timber pouted his lip out mostly just in surprise, sending a look to Sunset. “Dang. Guess I’m not the only Mr. Popular around here.”

Solstice came out of his office protecting his coffee mug like a lifeline, and when he saw the number of students, his hooded eyes flared wide and round. He first assessed how much coffee he had left. Then, his grip tightened on the handle. “Are... all of you here for me?”

A number of them nodded, but Bulk Biceps looked so nervous he might break something in half (any emotion made him look ready to break things; or maybe that was just conditioning to know that he could, at any moment, break the vast majority of things in his vicinity). Instead he shifted from foot to foot. “What happens if you run out of appointments?! I need to talk about my magic feelings! They’re as strong as my muscles!”

“Run out?” Solstice stammered, as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t think—”

Roseluck and her friends, Daisy and Lily, were looking faint already. “What’s wrong with the sky?! What do we do about the crack?”

“Is a demon going to come out of it?!” Lily asked, a hand already raised just in case she needed to faint onto her friends. “That happens a lot at our school!”

Daisy moaned. “We never had demons at my old school…”

Solstice flinched back to the point that his coffee narrowly avoided a spill, plopping back into his mug. He attempted to steady his hand with the other. “A demon?”

“That’s just what we call it here,” said Wallflower Blush, signing her name onto the list beside him. Sunset felt a bit bad that she hadn’t noticed Wallflower until then, but in her own defence, Wallflower had an almost catlike ability to slink past crowds unnoticed, and in this case the girl managed to get to the sign-up sheet in all the commotion. Impressive, really.

Wallflower finished signing her name, and her eyebrows tightened over her eyes. “Devil, demon, horrible winged-monster. There’s not exactly a technical term for this stuff. It’s what happens whenever magic turns someone into a dark reflection of themselves, but... you don’t really need to transform into a demon for that.”

Sunset’s heart plunged into icy rapids. She thought Wallflower knew she could talk to her friends if she needed help coming to terms with what happened vis-a-vis the Memory Stone. More accurately and importantly, Sunset thought Wallflower already had.

Not long after restoring Sunset’s memory, the two of them went for ice cream together at Sweet Snacks Diner. By that point, it was already starting to become Sunset’s go-to spot for reconciliation with people who used to hate her (pushing aside the fact that most people didn’t need a regular place for that). She thought they’d had a good talk. She thought Wallflower was on her way to getting over it. I told her how her past is not today, right? Should I have sung a song about it?

And, okay, Sunset knew from experience that the guilt after something like what Wallflower did could be a tough demon to shake. But Wallflower knew she wasn’t alone in that fight, didn’t she? She’d met Juniper Montage, Gloriosa and her would probably really hit it off, Sunset definitely sort of remembered telling her about Vignette Valencia, and if those girls weren’t already Post-Crush fans…

“It’s more common than you think. That just means you have more new friends to depend on,” Sunset spoke up, passing along the same gentle smile to Wallflower that she had when she’d extended her hand in friendship. Bonus points for the fact that she currently resided in Twilight, who likely would have said something similar about trouble magnetism, which was starting to bother Sunset now that she thought about it. If they were themselves, would Twilight put her name up on that list instead of talking things out with her friends? “Us demons have to stick together, right?”

“It’s happened so much you have a name for it?” Solstice pushed his hand back into his hair, making his eyes look that much bigger. “How awful! I’m so sorry you’ve all had to deal with that even once, let alone…” He took a breath, stopping himself before he could send Bulk Biceps into tears. He laid a hand on Wallflower’s shoulder. “It sounds like you’ve all been through a lot. That must be hard to deal with.”

Wallflower nodded, and the rest of the gathered students looked ready to agree.

In the chaos, as the others began to speak over each other, Sunset noticed his eyes rise to find the sun on Principal Celestia’s door across the hall and a small smile formed. He drew in a long breath and out, took a sip of coffee, and greeted the students with an awkward but friendly wave. “Alright then. So who’s my 8:30?”

Wallflower smiled and followed him into his office.

The rest of the walk toward their lockers on the third floor dragged on longer than usual. Partly because Timber had so many new friends high-fiving or complimenting him it was easy to get distracted, but Sunset couldn’t stop her mind from stumbling over its own thoughts.

Inspiration manifestation wasn’t a spell Sunset had any measure of mastery over in Equestria, but it seemed like she had a decent grasp of the concept in the human world since the moment they came across Flash Sentry in the athletics hall; he appeared every bit as distressed and overwhelmed as she felt. Now that was a face she’d seen on herself before.

If Timber remembered he and his boyfriend were on pause, he didn’t let that stop him. “Whoa, hey, are you ok—”

Flash rushed over to them, pushing Timber back as a downpour of shushes overflowed from his lips. His eyes bulged. Casting glances backward, he made Sunset look feral and at no point did contracting rabies cross her mind as something to be worried about—until now. He kept his voice just between them, and his eyes instructed them to do the same. “Sunset, help. You said we’d be changed back before my gym class.”

Timber’s eyes plinked onto Sunset’s.

“I said we’d try, but making friends takes time, okay?” Sunset bent her neck to the side. “Why do you need us back by your gym class?”

As she said that, Twilight emerged from the boys’ locker room in the blue and gold gym uniform every CHS student was required to have. Seeing her, Flash made a high-pitched whine that didn’t sound too different from the yelp Spike made whenever someone stepped on his tail. He mouthed the words, FIX THIS barely whispering, and turned back to Twilight. “O-oh! You changed fast…”

Twilight wrinkled up her nose. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone to talk to me or notice that I shut my eyes. Plus, it really stinks in there.”

“Ah, eau de teenage boy.” Timber smirked, nodding. Wafting air towards himself, he took a deep breath as if taking in the icy altitude air of the misty mountains back at Camp Everfree. “Don’t you just love the smell of testosterone and puberty in the morning?”

Twilight stuck out her tongue and made a quiet, “Bleh. I guess I’m going to have to love it for first period.”

Flash’s eyes darted to Sunset since Timber’s powers of distraction weren’t doing the job. She shook her head just slightly, hands upturned, like Dude, what do you expect from me here???

She wanted to help, but if he was asking her to magically conjure up a counter spell for their little swap conundrum, Flash would be shit out of luck. If he wanted boyfriend comfort, that was Timber’s territory these days, but even then, she couldn’t work out what exactly was so frightening about Twilight taking his gym glass for him. He wasn’t exactly a varsity athlete. Even if he was scared she’d trip over her own gym shoes, that… not to be mean to Flash, but that sounded more like him than anyone else.

Whatever the issue was, Timber either understood or was going along with Flash’s panic, as he leaned on one of the double doors to the gym, playfully pushing the push bar in and out behind him. “Orrr we could skip class and have some quality bonding time as new best friends!”

Sunset’s eyes flared when he mentioned the words skip and class so close to one another. She slashed her hand back and forth in front of her throat where Twilight couldn’t see, and Flash shook his head, mouthing the word no over and over.

Twilight gasped. “Timber Brambleton Spruce! Cut class? Cut class?!”

Sunset sighed quietly. Flash bowed his head miserably.

She threw her arms out. “You’re homeschooled! You have to know the importance of education, and we can’t just—just— you can’t be serious!”

Timber blinked. “I can’t?”

Sunset had seen Twilight’s lecture face enough to recognize one was coming on, but to everyone’s surprise, possibly including Twilight, she let out a breath instead. “I didn’t mean to explode, it’s just, um. No. No thank you. I promise we can talk more about magic and bonding later, but we should all be getting to class if we don’t want to be tardy.”

Timber stepped aside as to not make a scene about it, sending an apologetic look to his boyfriend who, right now, trembled next to Sunset. She raised an eyebrow at that but couldn’t say anything. Is something really that wrong?

Twilight walked toward the gym, and her hand reached the push bar.

“Wait!” Flash scrambled over and pawed a hand over hers. His cheeks simmered a startling red hot. “Don’t.”

Wide-eyed, Twilight stared at him. “Why not?”

Groaning like he was in serious physical pain, Flash buried his flushed face into his other hand in one large full-body wince. The concern really set in when she noticed his legs shaking in spasms from the knee as if he’d been locked in the walk-in freezer at Sugarcube Corner. He sighed his eyes shut, then dared to peek them open to mutter, “I... I don’t want you to feel what I feel in gym class.”

His eyes met hers in earnest now. “If you haven’t already noticed, it’s going to be really obvious if you have to run laps or climb the rope.” Flash drunk in air, but it came in staggering. Sunset was worried he might choke. His cheeks smoldered the colour of construction paper cards on Hearts and Hooves Day. “I don’t want you to know I eat when I’m stressed.”

Perplexed, Twilight’s eyes flickered on him as what he said clicked into place. “You…?”

Timber looked ready to throw the pause out the window and Sunset wouldn’t have blamed him. “Flash—”

Twilight glanced down at Flash’s body, which only made him cringe and rush to explain, “I know, I know it’s getting bad. I’m trying to cut back! It’s just, after I broke up with Sunset, things were rough for a while. I didn’t know how to deal! I started in with the comfort foods, and it didn’t bother me as much at first, but then we had all these huge magic disasters on the regular and you all started rushing into danger and it all sort of just caught up with me! It really doesn’t help that I like baking so much. So I started wearing hoodies to hide how chubby I’m getting, and that kind of worked for a while but now you’re me and I can’t hide anything.”

“But... you don’t have anything to hide.” Twilight told Flash in his own voice, “There’s nothing wrong with your body, Flash. I know I haven’t been you for very long at all, but I really don’t think you should be so hard on yourself.”

Timber smiled, albeit gently, and held out a hand. “That’s what I’ve been saying. Total hottie!”

“Aww, dude.” Sunset’s eyebrows held so tightly to her eyes she could feel a headache forming between them. A carousel of memories whirled. Fun-house circus lights coloured all the times she didn’t think twice about Flash turning down milkshakes with the girls at Sugarcube Corner, leaving her the last slice of pizza during game night, or keeping his shirt on at the beach.

She felt sick thinking of all the times she didn’t notice one of her best friends hiding from her—hiding because of her and her stupid magic stressing him out even more. She was supposed to be good at reading people. What kind of friend missed all that? “You’ve been that stressed this whole time, and you never talked to me? I would’ve told you you’re fine.”

Flash’s expression remained pained as if he’d stepped into an animal trap and couldn’t escape. “No, guys, it’s seriously bad. I’ve got love handles, my pants don’t fit right. Arrgh, you can see it!” He covered his eyes.

As the resident pony in a human’s body, Sunset didn’t want to say it out loud, but she didn’t totally understand what the problem was.

Well, she did, humans made a problem out of everything, but at the same time, all ponies had some softness to them in Equestria. Then she came to the human dimension, and everyone looked malnourished to her—Sunset originally assumed there was a famine there before she caught on that no, human bodies were just weird like that.

So even if she had noticed Flash filling out before now (and if she squinted, okay, yeah, now that he’d pointed it out she could see a bit of a pudge around the middle that wasn’t there when they were dating), she wouldn’t have thought anything bad of it. But she knew her standards were a touch different, so she didn’t want to make a comparison Flash would find embarrassing. I’m pretty sure I lose one whole Flash Sentry just by going through the portal from Equestria.

So like she usually did when she wasn’t sure what humans were supposed to think about things, she studied her friends. Timber kept mostly quiet, but there was a kind, patient smile free from judgement. She got the sense they’d had this conversation before.

Meanwhile, Twilight didn’t look nearly as horrified as Flash seemed to think she should be. At worst, she looked concerned, but from the way her eyes were trained on him, Sunset could tell a few pounds wasn’t what had her worried.

“Gym class is always the worst with the uniform since I… I really don’t want to have to ask for a size up.” Flash sunk into himself, as if hoping to disappear, or failing that, make himself as small as possible. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know, but especially not you.”

Twilight dipped her chin slightly to hold his gaze since he was insistent on shrinking away. “...You mean because I look like her?”

He winced and his river green eyes filled to bursting. A slight nod came first, and then he shook his head at himself. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I don’t want to make things weird. You don’t deserve that! But well, yeah, if I’m being honest, I guess it’s always been weird, and I don’t know how to get around that. I know you’re not the Princess. And I’m over her, or as over her as I can be.”

“But I remind you of her?” Twilight finished and smiled through a shrug when he looked ready to apologize again. “It’s not like I don’t see the resemblance. That’s probably been hard for you. I don’t exactly know how to deal with it, either. I’ve kind of just dodged the issue whenever it comes up.”

“No, that’s fair, though! It’s not your baggage to deal with,” he said and pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s mine. She left without looking back. That’s not something I should hold against you. Or her, that much, but especially not you! Maybe I should start to get to know you for you instead of a Princess of Equestria.”

“Well, that’s going to be easy,” Twilight told him, and the giggle hidden in her voice was so slight it was almost imaginary. “There’s no comparison. She’s saved the world countless times against mind-boggling odds and earned a crown twice-over! Apart from helping out my friends with magic, my biggest claim to fame is being Crystal Prep’s top mathlete three years running. Or, well, was.” A haunted look possessed her. “Oh gosh, all my academic records have probably broken by now! Wow, that’s… humbling, I suppose...”

Flash’s smile quirked to the left. “Hey, that’s still pretty impressive if you ask me.”

“Not like her, it’s not.” The air left her in one fell swoop, shrugging. But she then returned his smile and upped the ante with a wink. “That’s the point.”

He chuckled, rubbing his hand through the curls at the back of his head. “I guess so. That’s… honestly maybe a good thing, though. It clearly messed me up when she left without saying goodbye. She has her own life to live in the other dimension, so it’s not her fault, but...”

“Yeah. I don’t blame her either, or try not to anyway, but you’re right, sometimes it feels like she left everyone behind to fulfill her grand magical destiny back home, and then all you had left was... me. I know I have people who care about me now, but I’m no magical pony princess. I’m not eloquent. I’m not graceful. I stumble over myself just trying to get to class. I can’t imagine how someone like me could ever become someone like her,” Twilight said, holding herself. “It hasn’t been easy standing in my own shadow.”

A short-lived snicker interrupted the rebuttal that Sunset was about to jump into. Flash leaned his head to the side. “Sorry, it’s just—I know what you’re doing. You’ve had her up on this pedestal for so long it’s hard to take her off, right?”

“Oh.” The corner of Twilight’s mouth lifted. “You do get it.”

“I think so, yeah,” Flash said nodding. “For what it counts, I know I still have a lot to learn about who you really are, but whoever you are, I promise I don’t expect you to be some amazing demigod princess. Not to mention I’d be pretty hypocritical if I judged people for being kind of klutzy.”

“Or clumsy,” Sunset added, smirking. “Bumbling is a pretty good word, too.”

“Oh don’t forget blundering!” Timber chimed in. “It’s super cute when you blunder.” It only just occurred to Sunset to wonder if Timber had the same type as her, even though they’d both only ever dated the same two people. So yes, she thought, he absolutely does.

Flash raised a hand, grinning quite happily, as if exhibiting evidence for the court.

Twilight giggled in kind. “Well, it would be really nice to have a friend who babbles as much as I do.”

“Yeah! By all means, babble away! If you stammer, all the better! I’m an expert stammerer.” Flash waved his hands as if to wipe the slate clean. “No unrealistic expectations going forward. Does… that sound good?”

“I’d really, really like that,” she told him and took the opportunity to aim an eyebrow his way. “Just as long as that applies to you and your body, too.”

Flash blushed anew. “Oh. I, uh—”

The late bell for first period rang, and, squawking, Twilight jumped to open the gym door, but she hesitated. She looked back toward Flash. “Oh gosh, would you be okay with me taking your gym class? I promise I won’t think any of you any differently either way....”

Taking a breath, Flash’s hands found the pockets of his jeans. “If we’re really going to get to know each other, that’s a pretty good way to do it, I guess.” He half-heartedly swung an arm. “Touch those downs.”

Twilight smiled at him, flashing a thumbs up before disappearing into the gymnasium.

Timber bumped a shoulder into Flash’s. “Hey. Proud a’ you.”

Sunset nodded, offering a fist bump, which Flash reciprocated in kind.

“Also, okay, I know we’re paused right now, but I’m sorry, you have to know now that you’ve got a cute butt—you saw it, I saw it, we all saw it.” Timber jabbed an accusatory finger in Flash’s face. “You can’t deny the facts, Sentry!”

He shoved Timber’s finger away and laughed, but Timber seemed to take the tinge of pink on his cheeks as a declaration of defeat: he did in fact have a cute butt.

A small, if shaky smile rose on Flash's face. "Well, it feels pretty good to get all of that out in the open. You know,” he said leaning toward the two of them, “I'd totally recommend it. Emotional openness. Making friends. Having conversations about things. It’s good stuff.”

“Tcht. Read you loud and clear.” Timber clapped a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “Our turn, new best friend.”

After Twilight’s Physics and Law classes, Sunset could’ve used a mental break. Instead, she met up with Timber by the yearbook office. If she were in anyone else’s body at the moment, she wouldn’t have thought twice about cutting class to hash things out with Timber and get this all over with, but Sunset wasn’t in the business of giving her girlfriend panic attacks.

Twilight had told her once, cuddled up to her in the aftermath of one, that it wasn’t on her or their friends to cure her anxiety, and as much as Sunset wanted to be her hero, she promised she wouldn’t try to “fix” Twilight. What she could do, though, was to understand what led to it. That in all likelihood included finding out Sunset ditched class and ruined her perfect attendance record.

So she told Timber to meet her at lunch instead, and instead of the privacy she’d expected (since she was one of only two students who had keys), she found Juniper Montage locked in a staring contest with a computer monitor. Juniper replayed the same five seconds of footage over and over again and idly gnawed on her finger. She leaned in, squinting at a particularly lovable pixel.

Sunset waved her hand so as not to appear threatening. “Hey Juniper?”

The threat was received, evidently. Juniper jumped, whirling the computer chair around. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you there, and I’m not used to anyone besides Wallflower sneaking up on me. Do friends always do that?”

“Yes,” Timber Spruce reported, and the fact that he was currently Rainbow Dash gave him too much authority. “Friends are excellent startlers. Be very afraid.”

Sunset shoved him aside so that the grown-ups could talk. She wanted to (politely) tell Juniper to vacate the editing bay so they could have the room to themselves, but she thought Wallflower would have a thing or two to say about dismissively shooing people away, so Sunset did her best to be cordial first. “How’s the retrospective coming along?”

“Ha, better than I ever expected!” For a girl who didn’t go to this school, Juniper’s enthusiasm over what was essentially supposed to be a video yearbook would’ve weirded Sunset out. If it was anybody but Juniper. She spun herself back around with a dramatic flair. “I never thought it’d be so rewarding to be behind the camera in the director’s seat, but uh, don’t tell my Uncle Canter I said that.”

Coming up behind Juniper as she clicked around the editing program, a smirk slid into place on Sunset’s face. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Juniper bit her teeth into her untrounceable smile. “There’s so much more emotional depth to this story than I ever would have dreamed! I went in expecting a lighthearted, silly slice-of-life, but oh-ho-ho, there’s so much more to it than that! Battles between good and evil! Emotional heart-to-hearts and stakes so sky high they take place literally floating in the sky! Interviewing students on their perspectives was interesting enough, but I didn’t think I could possibly have any real footage until people started showing me what they’d taken on their phones over the years.”

Juniper grinned in the blue light of the monitor, dragging the cursor back to a certain point in the editing timeline. When she pressed play, it brought Sunset back to the worst day of her life from someone else’s perspective.

The frame shook in the trembling hand of its operator. Students scrambled back inside the safety of the school and shut the double doors to the front of the school, but that only drew the attention of the dark-eyed demon and her crackling, flaming hellfire. She floated far above the courtyard, but her cruel sneer could be seen through the top of the glass.

Presently, Timber Spruce leaned forward over Juniper’s shoulder. “Whoa, what is that?”

Juniper grinned, leaning back in her seat. “The beginning of our story. It all starts with her.”

In the footage, the sounds of panicked students contended with the demonic form descending down on them with bat-like wings.

“I’ve had to jump through so many hoops tonight just to get my hands on this crown, and it really should’ve been mine all along,” the demon Sunset snarled, muted by the glass. The bestial rage on her face collapsed back into a smirk. “But let’s let bygones be bygones. I am your princess now and you will be loyal—” The cameraperson noticed a sickly glow form around the upper interior of the front facade. As soon as the she-demon closed her fist, the brick and concrete above crumpled like paper. “—to me!”

Screaming, the students scattered away from where the entrance the demon made for herself. Flash Sentry, Lyra Heartstrings, Microchips, the Crusaders—the horrified faces rushing past were all people Sunset would later call friends. At the time, her demonic self loomed down on swift wings to the point that she could now be seen in full view even as the camera person staggered back.

Juniper pressed pause on the playback. “And this is just the start. Once we know that Sunset Shimmer’s okay with the demon angle, with a careful selection of video, we can tell the real story of Canterlot High! From nightmarish attacks to redemption to a school united against the forces of evil! Terror in the face of interdimensional danger!”

Sunset’s eyebrows fell like a drawbridge. The air was punched out of her lungs, and she wondered if this was how Twilight felt when her asthma acted up. “Is that… really what it’s been like for the other students?”

Juniper let a few other clips play. A shot of the stage from the Battle of the Bands from the crowd, Midnight Sparkle breaking open the fabric of space-time and obliterating the Wondercolt statue, Gloriosa as Gaia Everfree growing trees and vines from the ground to blot out the camera—Timber winced at that.

Juniper caught on and stopped the footage. “If it’s too much, absolutely let me know. I’ll make the cut. The point is to be true to the students’ real high school experience, not open old wounds. Wallflower thinks it’s healthy. And, well, I’m starting to agree. She doesn’t want to hide from who she became, and if we do this right, maybe it can be cathartic for everyone.”

Sunset did her best to twist her grimace up into a smile. “Yeah… maybe give us a minute to think it over? Alone?”

Juniper stood up, hands up in a say no more position. “Gotcha. I’ll leave you to make any edits you need to! Take your time. I should check on how Wallflower’s doing after her shrink appointment thingie, anyway.”

She left the two of them with the image of Gaia Everfree on screen between them. The door clicked shut. Sunset kept an eye on Timber, who folded his arms over the back of the computer chair. She’d never seen Rainbow Dash this contemplative. Or this able to stay in one place, really. “Been a while since I’ve seen her like that….”

Well, this is as good a place to start as any. Sunset’s arms settled over her chest. “It must’ve been hard to see your sister like that. I reached out to Gloriosa after camp was over, but I guess I never thought to check in on you. I have to imagine the existence of magic and its ability to corrupt the people you care about most was kind of a lot to take in.”

“Nah.” Timber shrugged, pushing off the back of the chair. “Well, okay, was it terrifying? Hundred percent. Did it leave behind mental and emotional scars? Oh you know it! And sure, it kept me and my sister up for a few nights afterwards, buuut—” He made sure to grin, probably noticing the brooding look on Sunset’s face. “—a lot of good came from it, too. You girls saved the camp. Still can’t thank you enough for that, by the way. And, honestly, the heart-eyes I had for Twilight at the time sort of made the whole Magical Pony Girls are Real and a Threat to Everyone thing go down a little easier.” He popped a shrug. “Pretty girls do that.”

Sunset laughed, leaning back against the island where they stowed the camera equipment for the yearbook committee. “I can attest to that.”

Although she didn’t say anything further, because she could attest too much to that. There was no way on this earth or any other that Sunset would have spoiled their well-deserved fun at the time. Still, watching Twilight slow dance with Timber at the crystal cave ball stung more than she expected it to—and she couldn’t even place why until Flash told her he was so happy to be getting over Twilight but... how weird it still felt to see those two together. It took hearing her oldest friend pining after the girl (or, as she found out not much later, the guy) for Sunset to finally recognize a terribly late fact: she had it bad.

If nothing else, it led to her and Flash stuffing their faces with regret together and bonding over their shared devastation. Good times.

Sunset pushed the thought aside. She won the girl in the end anyway. It was the mature thing to move on like adults, wasn’t it? She could be mature. She smirked, thinking it over. “You never did get to ask much about magic, did you?”

Timber shook his head. “At first, it was all Twilight and I could talk about but then, well, we kind of moved onto other topics. Geology, art history, inter-spatial physics and the existentialism of existing in a multiverse. Got to know each other better, you know? I… didn’t really know you well enough yet to demand a guide on Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Equestrian Magic.”

“Huh. That’d be pretty useful.” She pointed a finger his way. “Mind if I steal that? It kind of seems like the least I could do is give people a pamphlet when I reshape their entire worldview with demons and magic fights.”

They both laughed, and Sunset wanted to pump her fist. It actually started to feel like they might be getting somewhere with this. She clapped her hands. “Alright, shoot. Ask me anything.”

Taking a seat in the swivel chair, Timber used it to turn dramatically as he asked, “Anything?”

Leaning back on the counter, Sunset smirked and gestured towards herself as if to say bring it on.

Timber held his chin, and it made him look like Rainbow Dash trying to figure out how to get out of her math test. Not solve the equations, just a distraction. He brightened in a way the actual Rainbow rarely did when solving for that particular variable. “So the universe you come from, the one with ponies and dragons, that’s parallel to this one, right? So everyone has a double over there?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah. There’s another Twilight, another Flash Sentry, another Celestia—”

His eyes enlarged. “So there’s another me? And another Gloriosa and Camp Everfree?” The idea of more than one Timber Spruce existing terrified and exhausted Sunset already, but she knew it logically had to be true.

Sunset opened her mouth to answer, but a thought struck her before she could. “Oh, uh, well, yeah, there’s probably another you and Gloriosa in Equestria somewhere. I haven’t met them, but then, I’ve also been here for a few years now, so I haven’t really had the chance to run into them around Canterlot. But as for camp… probably not?” She saw his crestfallen expression and felt the urge to build a camp there herself. “It’s not anything the other you did. The Everfree Forest is a dangerous, lawless place in Equestria⁠—and by lawless I mean the laws of nature. It doesn’t follow the same rules as everywhere else. Not exactly a vacation spot where most ponies want to pitch a tent.”

“Whoa. No Camp Everfree?” He let the words pass over his tongue, feeling out the taste, and set his hands on his knees. “That Timber’s gotta be, like, a totally different guy.”

Sunset chuckled. “You’d think so, but the multiverse has a funny way of working out like that. Princess Twilight grew up in Canterlot Castle as Princess Celestia’s pupil, and trust me when I say that’s the lap of luxury, but through it all, she turned out to be just as big of a dork as our Twilight.”

Timber laughed in stunned delight. “Talk about nature vs. nurture! Wow. So, wait, I thought you were Princess Celestia’s student? Were you in the same class or something?”

“That… would have taught us about friendship much earlier, but no.” The idea of becoming the Princess’s pupils at the same time lit a ball of warmth in Sunset’s stomach. Growing up together. Learning about friendship early. Not turning into a bratty megalomaniac who destroyed everything she touched for a crown. Then again, Sunset was never good at sharing, so she probably would have shoved filly Twilight’s face in the sandbox at best. “Princess Celestia takes on remarkable foals as her protege for very specific reasons. Twilight and I were both supposed to stop a war.”

“A war?” He jerked his head back. “In fluffy, sing-songy ponyland? With who?”

“Princess Luna. Well, Nightmare Moon which is basically like Gaia Everfree, but instead of protecting a camp, she was prophesied to bring about everlasting night and rule in tyranny.” Sunset waved a hand. “Solar-lunar war. It was a whole thing. I obviously didn’t end up defeating her or taking my place by Celestia’s side like I thought I was destined for, but Twilight figured out how to bring Luna back instead. Worked out way better than any of us ever dreamed. But that’s Princess Twilight for you. She finds a way...”

She winced internally at the tone of her voice. What? Did she think she could have done any better? It worked out for the best without me. And I’m glad it did! Princess Celestia seems so much happier now that she has her sister back—she has a sense of humour now. Who knew she could have one of those?

To her surprise, Timber took all of that in better than she expected. But he did look a little concerned. “Are you okay? That’s… really impressive, but I feel like stopping a war is a lot of pressure to put on a kid. It’s like the responsibility of maintaining a camp with your sister to the power of one hundred.”

Sunset fought the tensing in her shoulders. “It’s what the Princess needed me to do. So I did what I could to do it.” All the times well-meaning teachers, members of the royal staff, or even guardsponies told her it was too much for her got irritating after a while. She used to be able to shut them up by naturally out-performing her upperclassponies. That was an undeniable fact: Sunset Shimmer was a natural born mage.

It eventually got to the point where defeating Nightmare Moon was an unmitigated certainty in her mind, and she just wanted to skip ahead to the part where she and Princess Celestia got to spend their days ruling together. In hindsight, Sunset loathed the arrogance that led her down that path and only got worse as time went on. She decided to avoid the subject, shrugging. “The point is that I didn’t do it, and now I’m here in the human dimension causing magical disasters for me and my friends to save people from. Life’s funny like that, I guess.”

Timber nodded. “I kind of know how you feel. Not the child of a prophesied war part, but well, having this life path set out for you and realizing that might not be your thing after all.” He took a breath, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t know. Gloriosa and I have always had Camp Everfree to take care of, like our parents did, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Over the years Gloriosa always tried to convince me she could do it herself, and I knew that was baloney, so I always helped her out. But now, she’s an adult, the camp’s got financial backers… I’m starting to believe her when she says she’s got this. So where does that leave me?”

Sunset gave the most Twilight response she could think of: “College?”

But neither of them jumped on the idea.

It wasn’t like Sunset hadn’t given any thought to the future. Senior year wouldn’t last forever. She shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t really know what I want to do, either. Nothing really measures up to Destined to Defeat a Great Evil and Rule a Kingdom in a yearbook, but something more lowkey is probably good for me, anyway. You saw the clipshow. Turns out me and power don’t go very well together…”

It was at that point in time that Timber Spruce asked a question that caught Sunset totally off-guard. “Well, what does the other Sunset do?”

Sunset stared at him, working out what he said. “You mean the human Sunset Shimmer?” He nodded. “No clue. I’ve kind of stopped looking for her.”

Timber scoffed and stood up from his spinning seat. “You know there’s another you right here in our very own dimension, and you haven’t been curious to find out what she’s like? She’s the fully human you! If anyone can tell you what more ‘lowkey’ human things you should be getting up to, it’s her!”

Sunset’s eyebrows lifted. He’s… actually not wrong. Sweet Celestia, maybe if I knew what I was meant to do here, I could stop feeling so jealous over Princess Twilight’s coronation. A rejuvenating thrill flew through her. She could actually find out her place in this world! Sunset laughed and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Timber, that’s perfect!”

“What are friends for?” He smirked, far too proud of himself, but this time she allowed it. “And hey, we haven’t exactly switched everyone back yet. I think we’re making some real progress, but looks like we still have some bonding to do if Twilight’s theory’s right. But knowing her? It totally is.” He lent her a smile and extended his hand. “So?”

The winter storm darkened the day outside, but some light broke through the clouds, falling on their hands as Sunset grabbed Timber’s in hers. “You know what? I’m in,” she said. “Let’s find the human Sunset.”

Author's Note

END OF PART I

8. The Search for Sunset Shimmer

Sunset Shimmer would never rule the world, but she felt like she did thinking she’d finally be okay with that. Settling down never used to be her style, but now the idea alone of a cozy little human life she could be satisfied living felt like the first good night’s sleep in weeks. Waking up to a future, instead of a past.

Anything would be lower stakes than her old high fantasy destiny with its ascending to thrones, castle staff serving every word, diplomatic missions, and a nation on her shoulders. At the same time, she also wouldn’t necessarily be relegated to being a very attractive but do-nothing trophy girlfriend while Twilight and their friends changed the world.

(That being said, it tickled at her stomach in a not unpleasant way to think about being able to give Twilight and the girls some amount of normalcy instead of always complicating their lives further; part of her ordinary human purpose definitely had to be eating ramen after a long day and filling each other in on college exploits, and whatever typical human destiny Sunset was after.)

There was a different path out there for her. The human Sunset confirmed its existence—even if that counterpart didn’t have it all figured out herself.

Granted, the main reason Sunset had given up on looking for the other her before now was that she didn’t particularly feel like getting punched in the face for stealing her own identity (which, she reasoned, would probably be her response). Black eyes, notwithstanding, she’d never been so excited to see herself before.

Sunset restrained herself from bouncing on every step toward the faculty parking lot where Timber was parked. She would’ve preferred to take her motorcycle, but given the winter storm, it would’ve been a friskily brisk ride. Too brisk to risk on long distances.

Then again, the sun finally started to peek through the clouds, and even as a winter chill clung to their bodies like wet clothes, the hope of warmth broke through. The staff parking lot smelled like the salt melting the mini-mountains of ice ploughed to the back, the breeze telling tale of voyages yet to be sailed.

While most students left school from the front or side doors, Sunset and her friends snuck out the back, mostly because Sunset thought they wouldn’t get caught. But then, the school’s back entrance decided instead to have fun with them and reveal Principal Celestia talking to a nodding, attentive Solstice Shiver, who had undone the top button of his dress shirt. There was something mischievous in her smile as she was telling him, “—Oh, trust me, it’s the single best karaoke bar you’ll ever find.”

Sunset’s eyes dodged to Timber’s ride—parked undeniably in a staff spot. She and her friends collectively took a step or two to stand (or pose) in front of it, grinning. Good thing there were a lot of them. Sunset waved effortlessly. “Oh, hey, Principal Celestia. You’re done early.”

It wasn’t a lie. Teachers and especially the principals usually stayed much later than the students.

The two of them both looked a little embarrassed to see students here. Near the school. Granted, Principal Celestia recovered well. “I called in a favour with Vice Principal Luna. Paperwork isn’t everything in life,” she said, her eyes reaching Solstice’s quickly before she could stop herself. “I’m sure you students can understand.”

Rainbow Dash, who had her cheek planted on a nonchalant arm propped on the hood, snickered. “Ohhh yeah. Totally speaking our language, PC.”

Sunset wanted to elbow her and remind her to talk more like Fluttershy to avoid arousing unnecessary suspicion. At least add an ‘um’ in there! As much as Sunset didn’t see Counsellor Solstice as a threat, per se, the idea of him pathologizing her friends or worse, correctly diagnosing some magic-related stress, well, it didn’t sit right with her. She didn’t, though, because elbowing Dash would be even more suspect.

Then again, the letterman’s jacket itself was a dead giveaway. Not to mention most of them had dressed themselves in their own wardrobes by this point, and even Sunset herself paired one of Twilight’s ties with one of her leather jackets.

… Okay, they had zero defense against being found out.

“Perfect!” their principal yipped, heading toward her midsize sedan. “I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, then!”

Solstice saw his cue and before entering the car with her, poked a finger in the air. “You heard your principal: Work-life balance! Self-care! Nurture your young lives! Do I make myself clear?” When they nodded, he gave a gently-sloping smile. “Good. That’s a nice car you’re hiding there.” And got into the passenger’s side.

As the sedan indicated and turned out of the parking lot, Fluttershy held a hand over her heart—in true Rarity form. “Hm. Good for them.”

Applejack stared at her. “What is?”

Sunset stuck out her tongue and pointed towards the back of her throat, making Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie snicker, but ultimately, Sunset shrugged. “I guess. It’s gross and I don’t ever wanna see it, but as long as they keep it out of sight, it’s whatever...”

“What’s whatever?” Applejack asked, and for once Twilight looked equally as confused.

The real Rarity let a sigh drift out, cupping Applejack’s cheek from the jawline. “Oh, kitten.”

Rainbow Dash whispered in Flash’s ear whom first looked at her to confirm he’d heard right, then turned to Applejack to repeat, “We’ll... tell you when you’re older?”

He earned himself a high-five.

Applejack’s eyes widened, turning back to where the car had been. “Oh.”

After a solid extra second of working through complex equations, Twilight jumped at the notion that seemed to barge into her brain so suddenly it startled her. “They’re an item?! What?! Principal Celestia dates?! When did that happen?” Sunset couldn’t blame her. The idea that their principal was getting more action than she was at the moment was about the only thing that could legitimately sour her happy buzz. Twilight shut her eyes and waved her hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m just glad they’re gone.”

Twilight swung her backpack around frontwards, unzipping the biggest compartment to let Spike poke his head out. Altogether it resembled one of those baby-slings Sunset had seen Mr. Cake put the twins in, which frankly would have suited Flash if that was really him. He was a kids guy. Spike yipped sweet freedom. “Man, it’s cramped in there! You sure you need all those books?”

Twilight smirked. “Well if it’s getting cramped in there, I could cut back on giving you those puppy treats.”

Fluttershy smiled, an eyebrow raised as she hummed. “We do have new nutra-proactive puppy food at the animal shelter. Very healthy for puppies on a diet!”

Bending his head to one side up at them, Spike made a little confused whine and huffed through his wet little nose. “Wow. I heard about the switch-up from Twilight but… I wasn’t prepared for Rarity to betray me like this…”

The real Rarity scratched under his chin.

“Ahhh, a mystical bonding field trip.” Timber sniffed, stretching. He leaned up against the old Land Grover Jeep sporting Camp Everfree’s logo on the side door under splatters of dried mud. He knocked a fist back on the off-road vehicle. “This baby’s seen a ton of those in its time.”

Sunset’s eyebrow popped up at the same time her smirk did. “Gloriosa let you borrow the car, huh?”

“Yep! A while ago, but yep!” He swung the door open and tossed a bag inside, then leaned against the car like a salesman about to tell her this bad boy got fifty gallons to the mile. While Sunset didn’t consider herself an automobile snob (mostly because she knew motorcycles, but only pretended to know cars), she would’ve wondered if the thing got any gallons to the mile if Timber hadn’t driven here with it a week ago. “I’ve probably gotta get it back in time for her to haul the next herd of campers to the mountains, but that still gives us plenty of time.”

“Sweet,” Sunset managed without laughing, then pounded a fist into her palm. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Hopefully by then, Timber and I will be in sync enough to switch us all back to normal.”

Dash shot her with finger guns. “And while the Away team’s gone, the Home team will search Canterlot City!”

Sunset’s eyebrow perked up. “The who now?”

Slinging her arms around Flash and Applejack’s necks, Rainbow Dash grinned. “Duh. Us! We're obviously helping! We even have a crime dog on the case!"

Spike straightened and performed the closest thing he could muster to a salute with his stubby paws. "My sniffer's the best in the business! Just try and stop me!"

Timber frowned at Flash who was currently in Sunset's body but also not in Sunset's clothes. His hoodie looked especially baggy on her frame, but, Sunset supposed, he must've liked it that way. "But uh, how are you going to catch the scent?"

"Oh I know!" Twilight reached into another compartment of her knapsack and pulled out one of Sunset's old leather jackets, the one with the orange chevrons. Sunset had honestly forgotten that she'd given it to her at the fall fair when Twilight started to look a little chilly. And that she'd never gotten it back. Twilight beamed, holding aloft her treasure. "I can guarantee this still smells like Sunset!" As soon as she said that, she blushed a shade darker, avoiding everyone's and especially Timber's eyes. "A-heh-heh, but, um. We. We don't have to talk about why I carry that around..."

Sunset found herself overwhelmed all of the sudden by how powerfully much she wanted to sweep Twilight up in her arms. Dammit, Sparky, would you stop being adorkable for five minutes? I'm trying to respect this stupid pause over here! Quit making me want to cherish you!

Spike gave the jacket a whiff. "Yup, that's her alright. Shimmer stank. It's gonna be a piece of cake to sniff her out with this! The city-wide search is on!"

Sunset looked at her dork friends. "You don't have to do all that," she said, but the gratitude in her tone betrayed her.

Dash scoffed, punching her shoulder. "Uh yeah we do. You think we’re not dying to know what the other SunShim’s been up to?”

Fluttershy held her own cheek. “I hope she isn’t lonely without us as her friends…”

Rarity, in turn, hid her mouth before uncovering it to speculate, “Oh yes, and not to gossip about Other Sunset behind her back, but you don’t think she’s cruel and seeking out power like our Sunset used to be, do you?”

Pinkie Pie popped a salute. “Don’t worry, Sunset! Even if she’s a total bossy meaniepants we still take our marching orders from Shimmer Prime.”

Despite the uncomfortable lump in her throat at the suggestion, Sunset tittered and brought down the Stetson down over Pinkie’s eyes. “Yeah, that… that’s not necessary.” A thought struck her and she perked up. “You know what? I, for one, think the Home Team should take orders from Twilight.”

She could tell just from the way Twilight’s eyes burned into hers that Twilight knew exactly what she was doing. Before Twi could argue, Sunset slid one hand into her pocket and gestured the other to Twilight in one fluid motion. “Twilight’s the best researcher. Aside from checking around town, all I’ve ever done is a quick DragonFire search on my name and it only came up with my gaming channel. If anyone can find out where the other Sunset Shimmer is—”

“Shimmer Beta? Sunshim the Lesser?” Pinkie thought aloud, rubbing her chin. “Sunset 2: Electric Boogaloo? Mmm nah. Sequels are rarely as good as the first.”

Sunset chuckled. “Thanks, Pinkie—I think.”

Twilight collected her arms, piling them on top of one another in an uncomfortable fashion. “You really think there’s a hierarchy between interdimensional counterparts?”

Flash bumped her shoulder. “I think she’s saying our Sunset’s always going to be our Sunset.”

All of Sunset’s friends made their agreement known and it catapulted her heart forward to the warmth of a midsummer day on the beach. A group hug piled on around her, and even Flash got hooked in thanks to Twilight. Sunset hugged back. “Aw thanks, girls. And Flash.”

As they let go, Flash continued to Twilight, “And our Sunset’s right, you’re our best bet to finding out what happened to the, uh, Sunset that’s not ours.” He blinked. “Am I making sense?”

Twilight smiled at him gratefully. “Yeah. I think you are.” They shared a quick smile before Twilight straightened, blew out a breath, and took Sunset’s hand. They hadn’t so much as brushed past each other since going on pause so even that much touch, something they did routinely at this point without so much as thinking about it, was enough to awaken an electricity from Sunset’s lower regions all the way up to a warmth in her chest. Twilight nodded to her. “If you really think I can, I’ll do my best.”

Twilight realized what she’d done and they separated, smiling eyes dodging each other for a moment. Sweet merciful Celestia, I feel like a school-filly.

With her hands behind her back, Twilight tittered. “Um, good luck on your end.”

As Timber rounded the jeep to the driver’s side and Sunset opened her own door, she let a smile flow onto her face. “Promise not to get too excited when you see the other me? I’m the jealous type.”

The blush on what was usually Flash’s face wasn’t unfamiliar, but it sparked something in Sunset to see the telltale sputtering dorkishness she’d come to expect from her girlfriend.

Rainbow Dash cupped her hands around her mouth and using Fluttershy’s demure voice called out, “Yo! Keep it in your pants, nerds!”

Not to be outdone, Sunset shrugged. “Can’t. I’m not in my pants.” And she shut the door before her comeback could be out-sassed any further.

As she did her seatbelt, a bag of trailmix flopped into her face.

Timber, already munching on some of it, held it out for her. He’d also already chosen the music, but Sunset surprisingly didn’t need to object since his road trip playlist started with classic rock—specifically a band Flash had gotten Sunset into not too long ago and their song called Highway to Hades. He swallowed before asking, “So, where to first, chief? What’s the human Sunset’s MO? How do we track her down?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.” Sunset took the trailmix, picking around the bits of dried fruit. She watched him adjust the seat and mirrors for his new, much shorter height. “But you’re going to need to be open-minded.”

Sticking the Everfree-mobile into first gear, Timber’s eyes glittered like a treasure lost in the bracken of the woods. “Lucky for you, that’s my specialty.”

The interstate traffic brought them to a multi-lane standstill twice, but all things considered, they were making great time. It felt like it, at least. Their first few stops might not have given them any leads, but Sunset thought those were less likely anyway. No dice in her old haunts like the aviary a town over that reminded her of the phoenix aviary she used to hang out with Philomena in, or the tea house a town after that (however they did find a lovely jasmine vanilla tea).

And they also didn’t find Other Sunset in Upper Crust’s Finishing School for the Charmed and Charming but maybe that was for the better. Ex-Principal Cinch was now a secretary there and the less power that woman had over impressionable youths, the better.

The real more likely locales demanded they leave the state.

As they pulled onto the interstate, they passed a scruffy looking man with a hat constructed from tin-foil and a cardboard sign that read The End of Days is Nigh! All Hail the Crack in the Sky!

Sunset pushed that out of her mind as fast as Timber got them up to the speed of traffic.

Every passing mile Timber only seemed to rubberneck more and more to the point that Sunset reminded him to keep his eyes on the road. “Right, right, right, sorry,” he told her, but he sounded so thrilled and caffeinated she might have thought he was about to ride the big coaster at Equestria Land. “It’s just, wow, everything here is so crazy big! I thought Canterlot City was humongous and here I find out there are even bigger cities out there within driving distance?!”

Boots kicked up on the dashboard, Sunset chuckled. “Well, yeah. Canterlot City is podunk compared to where we’re passing through.”

Timber vibrated under his seatbelt.

“Gonna be okay there, dude?”

“Yep, just. Just living out some childhood dreams over here, don’t mind me.”

After a while of driving through the boroughs of Vanhoover, Sunset thought it almost cruel to Timber that he could look but not touch. Every cursing cabbie, every digital billboard, even every cozy, if cracked and bruised cul de sac hidden in the city’s depths made him so excited he teared up. Sunset knew Timber to be an excitable guy, sure, but she laughed when he leaned out the window to get a better look.

Sunset almost didn’t want to break it to him, but she asked, “You know we’re not tourists, right?”

“Right!” he blurted, bringing his wind-swept rainbow hair back in the car. “I’m totally focused on our mission. Just making sure we’re not passing her on a street corner or something. Or that super tall building. Or that one! Or that one!”

Along the way, Timber’s camp road trip games kept them both on the lookout for objects starting with every letter of the alphabet, but they’d eventually gotten stuck on Z. They’d made serious headway through Vanhoover when Sunset spotted an aircraft floating in a glacially upward trajectory far off over the skyline of the city. She blew out a decently sharp whistle. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume that’s not a zeppelin?”

When it was safe to do so, Timber followed her gaze to the sky and the corners of his lips seemed injected with helium. “Whoa-ho-ho, an airplane! Look at it! Flying there like it’s no big deal! I see them all the time on TV but…”

Sunset nodded. Plane. That was the word. She’d heard Rarity talk about taking one to Prance after high school, at the very least on vacation if not more. She smirked at Timber and held open the bag containing what remained of their road trip snacks for him. “Would you ever go up in one of those?”

“I have! Well, not that kind.” Blindly snagging the last trail mix, he focused more on changing lanes than Sunset. “I don’t remember much but my dad used to take me up in his water bomber or the rescue chopper when I was little. Never when there was an actual wildfire in the forest ‘cause y’know, good dad, but he’d let me see the whole valley from up there. Gloriosa says I loved it.”

The GPS’s manly but ultimately computerized voice instructed him to take the next exit, cutting off Sunset’s thought about Timber’s parents, and before she could gather it back together, he interjected, “What about you? Not a fan of airports? No one is.”

She could piece together from the name that an airport must’ve been similar to an airship dock, but she didn’t know what could be so bad about that. “I don’t know. I’ve done luxury airships and I guess this is just the human world equivalent? Eh. Looks pretty weird to me, but hey, if the girls end up in colleges across the country or all over the world, I guess I could give it a shot. Exploring the world outside of Canterlot Highschool might be nice, too.” Her motorcycle buddies had been begging her to join them on a cross-country ride for a while now.

Timber poked up an eyebrow toward his six-hued hair. “Hang on, if you think globetrotting adventure sounds enticing, how do we know the Other Sunset is still in the country?”

Sunset grinned. She liked that his brain was rolling on the subject at least. “Short answer: we don’t, but she’s my age. A teenager can’t get too far when they’re in the system.”

At that, Timber faltered. “The school system?”

“No, like an orphanage or foster care system,” Sunset said, trying to shrug in a casual way. She never liked ponies assuming she had some pitiful orphan sob story. But she had friends like Applejack now who could understand without being sorry for her, and from what she knew Timber might understand, too. Given that he shared a tiny bit about himself, she decided it was only fair.

It would also help with their search. According to Twilight’s texts, the Home Team decided on checking there first before anywhere else to see if they could find any trace of her in Canterlot City’s local group home for teenage orphans. If Other Sunset didn’t go to the school that this world’s Celestia ran, an orphanage was the next most logical place she might be.

No luck so far, from what she could tell from Flash’s very fanboyish Instagraph story (he’d captioned one selfie of him following after the others as “One of the Girls”), but Sunset knew never to underestimate her friends. Maybe that could include Timber Spruce.

“Before I got accepted into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, I lived in an orphanage in Canterlot. Her Majesty’s Home for Foundling Fillies.” Sunset rested her cheek in her hand, watching the city’s blindingly reflective, teal glass towers pass by and become the poplar trees and countryside out the window.

She’d gone back to visit her old home only once, last Hearth’s Warming to donate presents; Applejack gave her the idea and helped her through it. Aside from that, she only had the barest of memories of her first few years there. Scraps. “... I never really knew my biological parents, so uh, I doubt the other me does. I think my mom was in the royal guard, but honestly, I was so young I could’ve made that up.”

Timber’s smile waited, patient and unassuming. “Lore-building. I feel you. I have my sister to fact-check me, at least. I’m not super sure my mom grew eden roses really well specifically or if that was just her name, but I think she liked to garden with my dad. I could swear one of them taught me. And I have this bed of them, eden roses, and every time they bloom I wish I knew who but I keep forgetting to ask Gloriosa who planted them.”

Sunset would have asked him more about himself or what that felt like for him—she thought Eden Rose was a pretty name⁠—had Timber not won the draw. “So did you get adopted, then?”

“No,” she almost laughed, a ghost of a smirk lifting up. “Technically speaking, I’m a ward of the Princess. Legally. That’s the status until you find a parent or guardian. ‘We’re all children under Celestia.’”

Timber’s eyes embiggened. “Hoo dang that's a whole lot of babies.”

Sunset snickered. “Yeah, Celestia’s got a tiny bit of a maternal streak.” She considered him before continuing. “That’s... what my tattoo means, by the way. You asked about it? It’s her cutie mark⁠—which is kind of a symbol that represents your purpose in life where I come from. I never want to forget where I came from again.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, and it was far warmer than the busted car-heater they still only got lukewarm air out of. “So you basically got one of those Mom heart tattoos?”

She shoved him, and that only made him laugh more. It made her laugh more.

Holding her cheek, Sunset could feel the heat building there. She worked up the chutzpah to say, “... Okay, not gonna lie. Becoming her protégé? I felt special. She chose me. I was four; you tell a four-year-old orphan that the princess thinks that they’re gifted, and not only that but invites them to live in the castle, they’re going to feel incredible! I might as well have hung her sister’s moon!”

The part she didn't say out loud was: I thought she wanted to adopt me. She didn't feel like getting emotional over silly filly fantasies. She’d briefly wondered if Other Sunset had been luckier than her, but put it out of her head based on the simple fact that Principal Celestia would have said something or at least reacted as if she knew Sunset when they met. She didn’t. See? Ridiculous...

Nodding, Timber took them down a tree-tunneled road curving through more upstate countryside and finally the GPS said something about their destination coming up. “Well, you were. Like, objectively speaking, incredible. That’s how Twilight tells it."

Sunset smirked. "Does she now?"

"Oh yeah. Total heart eyes. Listen, I'm not saying I know when she started to have a thing for you, but she did explain Midnight Sparkle by raving about the angel who saved her so…"

Her smirk reclined into a comfortable slouch. "Yeah, well, she had it pretty bad for you, too, back then. Your name was all over her lab notes. She doodled a bunch of little hearts without thinking about it, which I gotta say really livened up our magic research records."

A little chuckle met her ears. “Yeah, that sounds like our girl.” Sunset didn’t know if she loved the our part of that sentence, but let it go. Bonding was bonding. They turned down the last bend and it delivered with it a walloping view of their destination. “Oh! Oh whoa,” Timber said, leaning forward over the leather steering wheel. “Is that a castle?”

“Not exactly,” Sunset commented, a smirk flourishing as the campus came into full view around them. “Welcome to Nightfall Reach Military Academy.”

The word castle wasn’t all that far off. The century-old military barracks rising above the trees reminded Sunset of home, from the square battlements of the keeps to the crisp white and lush purple architecture, grand and sprawling. Canterlot Castle overlooked a pond, not unlike the bay Nightfall Reach guarded against. If ever there was a naval attack in those waters, Sunset pitied the combatants.

The main yard, a close shave of spring-showers green grass even in early winter, extended from the road to the main lecture hall and museum. The building stood at an imposing impasse in opposition to the statue of a lone soldier on horseback, rearing high.

It made Sunset nostalgic for the Wondercolts Statue. Well, before it was cruelly and savagely destroyed (by her girlfriend).

Timber whistled as he found them parking. “Military school, huh? Dang. Makes sense for Other You if you you grew up expecting to fight in some big magical war. The name even sounds like the Nightmare pony sister you mentioned!”

Leaving her purse under the seat, Sunset got out of the car and made a small impressed noise while leading Timber up the lawn towards the closest building. “Huh. I hadn’t even thought of that. I picked this place because I always thought that if I wasn’t Princess Celestia’s personal student, I would’ve been interested in being part of her guard.”

Timber smiled, climbing steps in the walkway. “Ohhh. Like your mom maybe was.”

Sunset nodded. “Yeah, but also to protect the Princess. She could always use a powerful mage on her side and pyromagic used to be one of my specialties. I thought I could be a good fighter. I sometimes sparred with the guards if I wanted to procrastinate my studies. And between you and me, it wouldn’t shock me if someone thought the other me needed to straighten up and fly right.” Her eyes ascended to the tallest tower. “If the Other Sunset isn’t studying under Principal Celestia in Canterlot, maybe she wound up somewhere here.”

Mission 1: Get into campus proper. They realized random civilians couldn’t roam the grounds of what was essentially a military base, so before any sleuthing could happen, they found the Visitor’s Control Centre.

Once inside, the centre itself offering a sparkling view of the bay from its wall of windows, Timber saluted the receptionist. “Afternoon! The name’s Rainbow Dash, future Nightfall cadet. Any chance we could get in to see what it’s like for the cadets in there? That’s kind of my thing. Rainbow ‘history buff’ Dash, they call me. You can spread that around.”

Sunset swallowed back a snicker.

The receptionist typed away at her computer, a furious clatter. Sunset almost thought the receptionist hadn’t heard, as in the zone as Twilight became in the middle of a research bender, but then she droned, “The next guided tour is in 20 minutes. Buy your tickets posthaste to discover the wonders of this historic landmark.”

“Don’t suppose you could tell us where to find a specific cadet. My⁠ t—” Sunset stopped herself from saying twin sister who lives in the barracks, which would normally be a fine lie. If she were currently Sunset Shimmer instead of Twilight Sparkle. She straightened. “—girlfriend, Sunset Shimmer, is in the ranks here.”

Sunset held her breath, watching for a reaction, but the receptionist was too involved with her computer to give her one. “The next friends and family visit isn’t until Hearth’s Warming Eve. Your girlfriend should know that.”

Sunset’s heart double-bounced its beats. She wasn’t sure if this receptionist would know cadets by name anyway, so it may have meant nothing, but she also didn’t react as if she’d never heard the name. She might really be here.

Sunset hadn’t ever tried super hard in gym class, but if her future after high school involved a military academy and being part of something greater than herself, she wouldn’t mind hitting the punching bag a little more. Or even running a lap or two.

As it was, once the tour began, their guide, dressed in full, four-star general’s regalia whether he was one or not, led them across expansive grounds that commanded respect. And a whole lot of walking.

That led them to mission 2: Ditch the tour.

Speaking into a mic bending around from his headset, the tour guide performed his every sentence as if he were a professional wrestler in Rainbow Dash and Applejack’s favourite televised league, Worldwide Wrestling Theatrics (they insisted it was just a name). “I hope you’ve all enjoyed the museum portion of our tour, because it’s time to move on! Iron Will believes there’s no greater pleasure than watching the junior cadets perform a sunset salute to end another peaceful day.” He flexed so hard it looked painful.

Timber leaned over to Sunset and whispered, “Is that a yoga pose? I’m pretty sure that’s a yoga pose.”

“Does it matter?” she asked out of the side of her mouth, eyeing displays in the museum. Hand-held cannons or some wild looking crossbows. Humans had such inventive ways of destroying things. “Help me find a way to lose this guy so we can find Other Sunset.”

“Right.” He made a finger-gun in the military history hall. “She might be doing yoga with the others.”

Leaving the museum with the group, Iron Will guided their eyes to the main lawn, now filling with an orderly set of cadets in perfect uniformed unison. Sunset didn’t want to be conspicuous about it, but she craned her neck to search for her own face among the many. The Other Sunset would still be a junior cadet, like the ones tending to the flagpole and lowering the roiling mast of a flag for the night, but no luck there.

Or maybe in the parapets? Far above the main lawn, a cadet blew the spacious sound of a horn of some sort, possibly a trumpet. The notes sunk into her like the lake-buffeted breeze at her back. To her, that would always be the call of Canterlot Castle.

Sunset couldn’t see herself in the crowd. Timber leaned toward her and whispered, "I don't see you. Wanna bail, sneak into the school?"

She nodded and, keeping an eye on their monstrously buff tough guide, edged back toward the school. Exploring the halls led them past lecture halls and dorm rooms⁠—and Timber slipped into one empty dorm with an open door which gave Sunset a proper heart attack. She glanced down the hall then hissed at him. “What are you doing?”

“Seizing an opportunity! Figure we should blend in if our plan is to just go around and ask people if they know any Sunset Shimmers.” Timber emerged with two well-pressed purple camouflage fatigues, wearing a matching flat-topped hat on his head. “So, which do you prefer? Camo? Or camo?”

After changing quickly, the two of them made their way through the more populated halls with ease. In their wandering, they found a gym leagues above the gym back at Canterlot High. Cadets here traversed an obstacle course: down ropes, across tires, over bars, and up onto a second floor, where they ran laps. Sunset wanted to sit down the minute she entered the room.

The only person on the sidelines on the upper level glowered over a clipboard at struggling cadets through one eye. The other eye was so deeply scarred Sunset couldn’t be sure she could see out of it, and following the trajectory of the scar to her left arm, Sunset only then noticed the silvery prosthetic. Any time she spoke, she didn’t need to yell despite the sounds of squeaking gym shoes and grunting cadets. If she ever did raise her voice, Sunset got the impression it wouldn’t end well for the person who made her do it.

“Looks like we’ve got our expert,” Timber commented, his eyes also on the second floor.

Sunset’s eyes roamed the room. “Perfect. Where are the stairs to get up to her? You think there’s like an elevator or⁠—”

Timber pointed to a cadet mid-obstacle course who hauled herself up a series of platforms and over the guardrail walling off the second floor. He grinned toothily as if his inner-4th-grader spotted a jungle-gym. “Found ‘em!” and tagging Sunset on the shoulder, he hustled over towards the start of the obstacle course because, of course, he couldn’t just jump ahead to the end of the obstacle course without getting yelled at or kicked out. That would be silly.

Sunset gaped at the military-grade obstacle course ahead of her. “Oh fuck me.”

And she meant that literally, Sunset thought the other her was making a piss poor first impression by putting her through this. You better be more worth this than I am.

Sunset continued to swear profusely and quite creatively as she followed Timber, wriggling on her belly under a low set of bars. She was almost glad she wasn’t in her own body; she doubted her steady diet of pizza pockets, toaster strudel, and leftover takeout would have served her well here. Sitting around streaming video games really did a number on the body, she guessed. That aside, Sunset Shimmer had exactly enough muscles to pick up a girl in her arms and swing her around. She had the queer amount, and that was about it.

Timber hopped over the first hurdle, saying, “You good? That’s a lot of swearing for the first obstacle.”

Sunset huffed, not sure already being out of breath was a good sign. “You have your coping mechanisms... I have mine.”

Timber managed the rest of the hurdles with almost too much ease, and Sunset thought it was stupidly unfair that he got Rainbow Dash’s agility and natural speed. As soon as she finally got past the hurdles, he threw a rope down to her from the top of a wall and saluted two fingers. “You got this!”

Grunting, Sunset writhed up the rope, her arms and thighs screaming at her the whole way, but especially by the time she got to the top and only just barely managed to painfully hoist her skinny nerd bones over.

Dropping into a sand pit on the other side, Sunset heaved a growl. Timber clapped. “Woo!”

She followed Timber, who’d waited for her by running in place, through a set of tires. Her heavy breathing wheezed out of her, lung-rattling. No doubt red in the face, she looked over at him as they jogged. “You… how… no teenager should have abs…”

Timber took a running leap and clambered up the first raised platform. He raised an eyebrow at her. He watched her stumble up to the platform and take a desperate jump for it, an arm and a leg clamping on as she bear-hugged the side. Timber frowned. “Do I have to have the Flash body-positivity talk with you, too? Man, what is it with you two? Neither of you have to live up to me. I don’t even get what’s so bad about a little chub, that’s just how some bodies be! Mine just happens to build muscle easily. It's genetics! And a lot of chores around camp, but still! You’re not even in bad shape. Uh, mostly.”

"I don't... run… I hit things… I’m a... fighter..." Sunset rolled over ungracefully onto the platform, panting too hard to elaborate. She held her chest. It felt too tight to breathe. It was like when Rarity did up a corset too snug on her and she saw stars in her darkened vision. Her overlight head sweltered, swimming, the sweat stinging.

Timber faltered on the next platform. “Whoa, no, seriously, you okay?”

“Twi’s…” Sunset swallowed hard, she wheezed. “Twi’s got bad…”

“Asthma,” Timber finished, paling, as if seeing a bad memory before him. He dropped down to her and helped her sit upright even though she thought she’d throw up if she did. It helped, moderately.

The commander took notice and called across the gym to them. “Is everyone all right over there?”

“She’s going to be okay! Just taking a breather, ten-hut!” Timber called back, seemingly to make it so. He offered Sunset a hand to grip onto as he sat in front of her cross-legged. “Let’s just hang out, okay? In through the nose, out through the mouth. Nice and slow,” he drew out. “You can do this.”

Sunset nodded, her eyes wide as she heaved hard.

She’d helped Twilight through an asthma attack before in gym class, but she never truly realized how terrifying it was to not be able to draw in a breath. How did Twilight keep up with the rest of them in a fight? If she somehow could admire her girlfriend more, this qualified. She grasped Timber’s arm maybe a little too hard. “My… my purse… I’ve got a back-up⁠—back-up inhaler in…”

“In the car?” he finished. She nodded. Even if he didn’t let it show in his expression, Sunset could hear him realize how far that was from them.

The room spun on the wrong axis. Someone suctioned out the oxygen and she’d pass out if her lungs didn’t take her out permanently. Sunset shivered. “Timber… Timber, I need you to⁠—please teleport...”

Timber grimaced, shaking his head frantically. “But I don’t want to leave you like this if I don’t know that I can come back.”

“You can,” she told him, drill sergeant style. She shut her eyes. “Please… I believe in you. Don’t⁠—don’t panic,” she said, not at all hypocritically. “Just… remem⁠—remember to a-aim… be above⁠—” she coughed, gasping deeper. She tapped her heart and gave him something to aim for.

Even as the fear from her eyes reflected in his, Timber nodded. He ducked behind her where it was harder for the other cadets to see and, with a ton of frenzied muttering, she watched her lifeline vanish before her eyes.

Holding her knees, Sunset sat herself up against the wall, heaving. Every breath became a horrible dragging sound. The waiting made it worse, but she knew he’d come back. She let her head hit the brick behind her, eyes shut. Come on, Timber. Please.

Her breath drew on longer. Rasping down to nothing.

Timber Spruce slammed down onto the platform with wild eyes and a purse around his shoulder. Smiling feebly, Sunset would have cheered if she had any lung-power left. He saw her and the relief was palpable in his laugh, especially as he dug out Twilight’s back-up inhaler and guided it into her hands, helping her take the first puff.

True to his promise, it worked. It took longer than Sunset had any patience for, which scared her more, but in time her breathing lengthened out and she got the oxygen she sorely needed. While she returned to normal, Timber’s smile poked up, looking at her with some amount of admiration. “You keep Twilight’s back-up inhaler on you?”

Sunset nodded. Her throat ached from working overtime, but she wanted to talk to him. “She doesn’t need it much. It’s… it’s like an every few months at most thing. But it, y’know⁠—” She tapped her chest. “—calms her down. That I have it.” She cleared her throat and started to smile. Sunset admired the hell out of Timber Spruce right then. “You’re the hero, though. I knew you had it in you! Thanks for saving my life.”

Timber waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it, Twi⁠—” He blinked, blushing, then cleared his throat, rubbing at the scruff at the back of his head. “Uh, whoa, sorry. Force of habit, hearing Twilight’s voice. It’s nothing, first aid is a camp counsellor’s bread and butter. And I wouldn’t have figured out the teleporting thing if I didn’t have a good leader.” He didn’t notice her surprise, focused more on helping her up. “Let’s finish this course and find the Other Sunset. You never know. Maybe she's got abs."

Sunset snorted. “Tartarus. If she does, I’m punching a wall. And joining a gym.”

Timber helped her climb the last obstacle in their path. Once they’d properly clambered onto the second floor, Sunset could see the commander behind the clipboard looked ready to rip someone’s arm off and take it as her own.

So of course Timber Spruce strutted over and held out his hand to shake as if greeting a new happy camper. Sunset raced to stop him from needing a prosthetic arm, too, but his mouth was a harder problem to solve. “Ten hut there, commando!”

Sunset didn’t know if Timber had just guessed at her rank or noticed the bronze name tag on her lapel: Commander Tempest. The commander tightened her eyes with sniper-like precision. “What did you say to me, cadet?”

Sunset grimaced. “He said⁠—”

“Save your breath, cadet. You clearly need it,” Tempest cut in. She let the moment stand between them, then directed the attention back on Timber, like a hot lamp. “I asked you a question.”

For half a second, a fear slashed through Sunset’s heart. Timber didn’t have a serious bone in his body. But to her surprise, he straightened into a posture a soldier would be proud of, and without any hint of sarcasm or puntastic wit, he uttered, “Nothing, ma’am. My apologies.”

Her thinned out eyes stayed on him for another moment, regarding him. Then she said, “Respect for our friends is a core tenant at Nightfall Reach. You’re a fine soldier for helping a fellow cadet in need. No soldier left behind.”

Timber smiled just so. “It’s a good policy, ma’am.”

It wouldn’t be accurate to say Tempest softened or let any smidgen of guard in a downward direction, but she did look them both in the eye. “You’ve both earned a break, but don’t go soft on me. Ten minutes. Medic tent for the wheezy private.”

“Thank you. We have a bit of an odd request, ma’am,” Sunset said, careful to follow the golden rule. While it was tough to read Tempest’s good eye, her reserved expression didn’t evoke anything bad, either so Sunset decided that was a good sign. “We’re looking for a specific cadet named Sunset Shimmer. Have you ever heard that name at this school?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” she repeated, and for the tiniest heart-drop of a moment, Sunset almost swore Commander Tempest somehow knew, somehow saw through the disguise, the uniform. Sunset knew that was impossible, logically, but Tempest’s voice could balance on a blade’s edge. “There is no Sunset Shimmer at Nightfall Reach. I’ve never heard that name and I command all new cadets as they enter the school. Why do you ask?”

Trying not to wilt beside Timber, who himself looked a little bummed on her behalf, Sunset shook her head. “No real reason, ma’am. Thanks.”

Hitting that dead end made the drive to their next destination drag on longer, and the silences along with it. Timber, to his everlasting credit, tried to keep up a conversation where he could, but Sunset found herself lost in thought too much to keep up her end of it.

“So we didn’t find her at military school,” Timber said, shrugging. His smile was light but encouraging. “We’ve still got one more lead ahead of us, right?”

Sunset sunk into her seat. “Thanks, you’re right but... honestly? I’m kind of hoping this one isn’t it. It’s probably the most likely place she would’ve ended up, but it’s not somewhere I’m looking forward to visiting.” And if she is there, what does that say about my place in the world?

Frowning, Timber tapped the GPS. “What’s at this address, anyway?”

“You’ll see,” she promised, and it wasn’t long before she made good on that.

The tall barbed-wire fences of the Tartarus Juvenile Detention Centre rose ahead and Timber took his hands off the steering wheel. “No. No way. Uh-uh. I’m turning the car around.”

“I don’t like it either,” she muttered, resigned, eyeing the squealing, parting gates as Timber twisted to find a place to turn around, “but it’s our best bet if I’m being honest.”

“Geez.” Timber shook his head and scoffed. “Twilight always said you were hard on yourself but this is dramatic, isn’t it? You really think you belong in juvie? You’re not some kind of criminal delinquent!”

“I used to be,” Sunset told him, electing to not mention the ongoing vandalism of her street art. She didn’t want to get into any specifics, really.

They came up towards the gate, only because there was no way to turn around without driving over a curb and/or giving the Everfree-mobile four flat tires with the one-way spikes on the road. But Timber seemed to be considering it. “Yeah, well, you’re not anymore and this is way too mean to yourself. To both of you! Other Sunset could be in lots of places! A motorcycle shop, leather jacket emporium, an ice cream parlor⁠⁠—I mean everybody likes ice cream, right?”

“Timber,” she said, her voice crisp in the insulated car. It was just the two of them in here, but the guards stationed at the entryway waited out the window. “We need to check. This isn’t one of those Celestia only knows situations. I know myself.” She pressed a hand against her chest, even if it technically wasn’t her chest. “As much as I hate to admit it, this is the kind of place I would’ve wound up if Princess Twilight didn’t give me a second chance.”

After the guard let them through and gave them Visitor’s passes on lanyards, Sunset could tell Timber still wasn’t convinced. She bumped his arm. “You wanted to get to know me better, right?”

The guard escorted them through a hall of white-coated bricks and high-polished floors smelling like shoe scuffs. In all truth, it wasn’t too different from public school. If Sunset felt like deluding herself, she could reasonably pretend this wasn’t the mirror’s equivalent of the dungeons locking her away from ever knowing friendship in her nightmares ever since the Fall Formal. Sometimes they were the castle dungeons under Canterlot Castle, sometimes the pits of Tartarus itself. But the one thing that remained constant was that she could hear Princess Twilight’s grave warning echoing back to her.

“The magic of friendship doesn’t just exist in Equestria. You can seek it out. Or, you can forever be alone.” These days, Sunset couldn’t imagine a worse fate than the exile she would’ve earned.

The guard led them to a full-body metal detector, which meant Sunset had to forfeit her phone and the emergency sextant Twilight had in her pocket, but otherwise, they got through without issue. Timber did so under protest, pouting all the way.

At the next juncture, they’d reached a check-in desk, not unlike that at a hotel. Yes, thank you, Sunset thought. I’m here to check-in for my lifetime stay. Are there mints on the pillows?

Although, unlike most hotel lobbies, behind the desk towered a great metal door keeping them from the rest of the detention centre with locks so complex Sunset would have thought she’d need magic to open them. A sickly sinking feeling tugged at her gag reflex. Who could possibly need that much reinforcement to hold in?

And it could have been the irrational fear that made her legs feel crooked underneath her, but for half a second, Sunset could’ve sworn that the guard dog waiting at the desk’s side had three heads. Of course, it was just a set of triplet bulldogs piling over each other to meet the new friends, but Sunset almost could’ve been fooled. Their coats were all the same coal soot black, as if the three of them had been recently rolling around in a lit fireplace.

Timber went to work giving each of them loves and belly rubs, so at the very least he wasn’t pouting anymore. That gave Sunset a chance to level with the guard on duty. “Hello, sir. We’re looking to visit an inmate. Her name’s Sunset Shimmer.”

The guard appraised her as if looking at fresh meat. “Shimmer…” He took some time to look through his computer system, but splayed out his hands. “Sorry. We don’t have a Sunset Shimmer in this institution.”

Timber perked up along with the puppies, as if they’d grown a fourth head, but Sunset didn’t meet his eye. She shook her head. “She’s here. Are you absolutely sure there’s no one here who goes by anything like that?”

The guard considered it, hemming and hawing. “Well. No Shimmers here, but we have a Glow. Could that be who you’re here to see?”

Timber stood, holding one of the puppies in his arms seeming to offer it to Sunset for comfort. She sighed. “No. Thanks anyway.”

The best Sunset could do was hold out hope that the Home Team had had better luck.

By the time the Away team returned home to Canterlot City, a snow storm stole the stars. The cloud-cover could have been composed of the condensated kind of misty haze that led stranded sailors astray. Snowflakes twirled around their car. The wiper kept the beat.

Sunset checked her phone again. Twilight didn’t format her texts like formal emails anymore so the text only read:

Any luck?

Sunset’s lip tugged down. No, she replied, her fingers exposed to the cold of the heater-free car. Only thing I can think now is she left the country or the dimension, but even if she’s a runaway, there should be some trace of where she started, right? Nothing at the orphanage?

Nothing that we could find, but we’ll keep looking, Twilight assured. She has to be somewhere.

That was it for a long while, maybe an hour or so. Then, out of nowhere, Sunset’s phone decided to blast Right There in Front of Me, the ring-tone she’d set for Twilight’s phone. Sunset’s heart leapt. “Hello?”

“Hi, Sunset, put me on speaker, please.”

Sunset told Timber who it was and complied. As soon as she did, Timber leaned over. “You’re on the Timset Power Hour, go for Timber.”

Twilight’s voice exploded out of the speaker. “You’re on the news!”

Timber looked dopeily at Sunset who did the same back. Sunset’s eyebrows pushed together and she asked, “Babe, are you talking to me? Is it the other Sunset?”

“No! Timber! The Bridle Columbia RCMP is looking for you! You’re a Missing Persons case!” And what she said next put more fear into that boy than Sunset had ever seen in him. “Does your sister not know where you are?”

Timber Spruce dropped the largest of F-bombs and narrowly avoided crashing into the car in front of them.

Sure enough, when Sunset turned on the data on her phone to check the Royal Bugle’s website, one of the top stories on the front page included an article with a live video featuring Gloriosa Daisy.

Gloriosa stood in front of a helicopter with the Camp Everfree logo on the tail being interviewed and she held up a printed out photo of Timber mugging for the camera. She looked like she either hadn’t slept in days or her mascara was running—or both. “—ber Brambleton Spruce, about 6 foot 3, 17 years old but acts 10, and he hasn’t been answering his phone! Have you seen him? Please, we have to find him. He’s the only family I⁠—” She huffed raggedly. “We really, super need to find him!”

The reporter angled the microphone back to ask, “And if your brother’s watching this broadcast right now, what would you say to him?”

The microphone pointed back towards Gloriosa who took the thing in her hands as she said, “Timber, listen to me. If you’re not dead⁠—please, oh, please for the love of Pan don’t be dead⁠—and if you’re not, I’m going to murder you! Please don’t be dead.”

In the driver’s seat, Timber stared ahead, unblinking and whispered, “I’m dead.”

Twilight, who had stayed on the phone during the video, whistled. “Well, um… good luck?”

Sunset wheeled on him. “Dude! Have you seriously not told your sister where you’ve been since the first switch?”

Timber appeared white as a sheet, the sort kids wore on Nightmare Night to signify they were as dead as he was. “I… kind of didn’t tell her I’d be gone to begin with?”

“Timber, what the hell!”

“I wanted boyfriend smooching time! I didn’t know I’d teleport to another continent! Then things got kind of busy, and I wanted to help fix stuff, one thing led to another, you know, so I guess I sort of… forgot?” He slapped his forehead. “Oh. Oh wow, I’m a dingus.”

And so, the next day, Flash took his boyfriend and the Rainbooms to city hall. Rather than a citizen’s arrest, he’d parked next to an old cruiser and met them at the front door. “Hey. Guess you guys didn’t find the Other Sunset, but how was your mystical bonding field trip?”

Sunset pocketed her hands in her leather jacket, glad for the warmth in the well and truly winter day. “We talked,” she said, kicking herself for nearly forgetting that her real responsibility was to her friends. “And, uh, bonding happened?”

“All the best friend bonding happened!” Timber, who insisted on stopping on their way over, came bearing a whole tray of ice cream cones, personalized to each of their friends based on what Sunset knew of what they all liked.

Pinkie Pie gasped, “Best friend bonding ice cream, my favourite! Wow, you two really did get closer, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Timber boasted, slinging an arm around Sunset’s shoulders. “We shared feelings, we unlocked secret origin stories, and digging deep, we learned a lot about each other, but really? We learned about ourselves.” When all the ice cream cones had been taken, he held the cardboard tray at his side. “You could say the real Other Sunset was the friends we made along the way.”

Groaning, Rainbow Dash looked like she was debating throwing down her rocky road onto the pavement. “This whole time she was just a metaphor? Dammit! I ran through five different counties!”

“Yeah, the Away Team didn’t have much luck in that department, either.” Timber directed his ice cream-covered smile, and thus the attention of the group, toward Flash and Twilight. “I take it the Home Team didn’t find her hiding out in the library?”

“I wish.” Twilight shook her head, grimacing over a scoop of mint chocolate chip and offering Timber a napkin as if on instinct. “Nothing at the orphanage, the library, hospital, school board system—not even a trace! Thankfully, no mortuary records, either.”

Feeling her extremities go cold, Sunset gawked at her. “Holy Celestia, Twilight. You… you thought⁠—?”

“Just trying to be thorough!” Twilight promised, waving her hand as if to ward off the omen. “Although, that one was a relief not to find her in...”

Sunset was tempted to make a joke that she would hope her girlfriend wanted her alive, but by the way Twilight was now clutching her chest, Sunset imagined how that must have felt for Twilight yesterday, searching through obituaries and coffin receipts to see if Sunset’s time on earth was meant to be short.

Her friends (thankfully) agreed, and Rarity added, “How frightfully ghoulish! Practical, I suppose, but still, a horrid thing to have to think about. I’m so glad we can safely put that scenario behind us.”

Nodding, Fluttershy broke off a piece from her dwindling waffle cone. “Anything we did find turned out to be linked to our Sunset Shimmer. We thought we had something when we found some records at the courthouse, but I guess Sunset’s been to court and never told us???”

They all turned to her for an explanation. “Oh. Have I never mentioned that?” She rubbed her neck, continuing to not mention it. “I’ll tell you later. Point is, you didn’t find Other Me, but Flash had an idea?”

Flash, in the middle of making quick work of his ice cream, froze when all of his friends’ eyes turned to him. “Oh! Oh yeah, I do! I thought, you know, two birds? I called in a quick favour.”

Leading them up the stone steps to city hall, Flash led the charge into the overly grand, heavy-doored entrance-way. A confusing statue of a horse and its pioneer human rider seeming to shake hand/hoof boasted the peaceful town motto at the statue’s base: Keeping Things Stable. The dream tax-payers built, Sunset supposed. And the one teenagers made fun of.

But then, aside from the community rec centre portion of it, Sunset also had never been crystal clear on what this building was really for, anyway. She’d only relatively recently gotten a handle on the concept of democracy and all its contradictions. In a world without cutie marks⁠—a fact she still refused to accept⁠—she guessed they had to come up with something.

It seemed to work, or at least appear like it worked in a stupendously showy way. The place smelled not unpleasantly of floor wax, almost like almonds. The marble floor gleamed reflecting back the skylights and their streams of sunbeams above. Unfortunately, all the skylights gave onlookers a view of now was the tear in the sky pressing down on the city.

Bursting out of her office, Mayor Mare nearly fell under the weight of an immense amount of paperwork as she fended off the echoic clamour of reporters and concerned citizens. One reporter hollered, “Mayor! Any comments on crack’s origins?”

“Do the rumours of the crack’s divinity have any validity?”

“Does the crack have anything to do with the odd activity at Canterlot Highschool last spring?”

Twilight paled, shrinking into her shoulders. Sunset hadn’t known that anyone but the students of Crystal Prep knew about what happened at the Friendship Games. But then, the nearby neighbourhood had to have seen, and even if everyone among the two schools agreed to keep Midnight Sparkle and Daydream Shimmer offline, who was to say some security footage hadn’t leaked?

“No comment!” the Mayor harrumphed, trying her damnedest just to keep the stack of paperwork from tipping over.

A junior columnist that looked almost too young pushed his way through the legs of the grown-up reporters, using his size to his advantage. A bit of a pipsqueak, really. He held up a recording device. “Mayor! Mayor, over here! How much danger are the people of Canterlot City really in?”

The Mayor hesitated, steadying her stack. She offered an assuaging gaze to the intrepid young reporter. “Any threat to the safety of our community is my utmost concern. That, I can promise.”

She passed by Sunset without a second glance.

As the Mayor entered her office, the reporters clamoured louder as if to reach her through the walls, but a muscular figure with a tie, long jacket, and a private eye badge strapped off to one side of his belt kept them at bay. Sunset instantly recognized him as the local force detective; but more frightening, her ex-boyfriend’s dad.

The resemblance between Flash Magnus and Flash Junior still threw Sunset off. Apart from the brazenly red, cropped hair, Magnus outdid his son from every angle. A sharper jawline, a chiseled physique, and even a stronger but not unpleasant cologne. His features were harsher and scarier, in Sunset’s opinion—but she also wasn’t entirely convinced this man hadn’t been tempted to hunt her down like one of the subjects of his investigations after she broke his son’s heart.

Sunset’s smile strained as she whispered to Flash, “Uh, hey, just checking in here: your dad’s not still mad at me for the whole breaking-your-heart breakup thing, right?”

Flash, currently looking more like Sunset than Sunset did, whispered back, “... You know, I hadn’t thought of it.”

“And now that you have?”

“I’m afraid.”

Sunset Shimmer genuinely hoped Detective Magnus wouldn’t mistakenly murder his son today.

Timber’s eyebrows leapt at the words ‘your dad’ and he took to smoothing down his rainbow hair and straightening his beanie.

Detective Magnus spotted them as they approached and waved them over. Even still, Twilight cleared her throat and put out a sweaty hand for him to shake. “Hi there, sir! It is I, Flash Sentry, your eldest son! Here with local fugitive Timber Spruce!”

She whipped her head back toward her friends and made an expression as if she were silently asking for death in the form of the word ‘eldest???’. Local Fugitive Timber Spruce gave her a thumbs up.

Detective Magnus raised an eyebrow, but he seemed to have bigger priorities at hand. As soon as he noticed Rarity, he walked right past Timber and totally missed the hand Timber was extending for a formal shake.

Detective Magnus only needed one appraising look over Rarity’s current Timber-y appearance to assess: “So. Timber Spruce, huh? You know you’ve put quite a scare into that sister of yours, she’ll be happy to know you’re safe, but first, an important matter: You’re the boyfriend?”

Rarity, making the briefest of eye contact with a panicked Flash, delivered a smile as warm as s’mores over a campfire. “Indeed, sir, I can say that at the moment I am! Your son is quite the young gentleman. And might I add, it’s the finest pleasure to make your acquaintance. Consider me charmed. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken us this long.”

A solid moment stood between them, unblinkingly.

Then Magnus barked a chuckle, slapped his hand into 'Timber’s' and shook. “I’ll be damned! What a good-mannered young man! And so well-groomed, too! Fashionable, even. Any man that knows the value of a respectably ironed shirt is okay by me,” he said, his shirt looking particularly ironed.

Rarity waved a hand as if she’d told this joke a hundred times. “And any man that doesn’t is hardly a man at’all.”

If Timber wasn’t sweating before, Sunset thought she could see it now.

Magnus laughed. “Oh, I like you. Kids today, with their baggy pants and stupid hats. You’re one of a kind! You know, I think you’d even do well on the force. Where’d you find this one, deputy?”

Twilight needed an elbow to the back to know that was Flash’s nickname. “I, uh⁠—”

Rarity continued on, “Oh, you flatter me, really! I, for one, find the acceptance of a significant other’s parents to be of the utmost importance, so it’s quite the relief to hear I have yours.”

Detective Magnus clapped her on the back, one hand still shaking one of hers. “Of course, son. As long as you stay this perfect for my boy, we won’t have any problems.”

Timber swallowed a mewl before it could escape. Sunset patted his back.

Seeing this, Twilight decided to bail them out by getting in between Rarity and the Detective before Magnus could invite him to a meet-the-parents dinner. “Uh, I’m really happy you two are getting along so well! But, we did come on more official business?”

“Of course.” Detective Magnus’s entire countenance changed, and not for the better. He shepherded the lot of them into the mayor’s office, all the while telling the reporters, “The Mayor only has time for very important people. That includes and is limited to very important teenagers. Good day!”

He shut the door behind them and Sunset was glad for the sound-proofing in here. The veranda windows behind the mayor’s desk treated her to an ever-constant view of the rip in space-time above the downtown core (and a lovely little garden of posies). Silhouetted against the daylight, Mayor Mare seemed to have the weight of the nation on her shoulders, rather than a city.

Sunset wondered if the Mayor knew she had more than just Canterlot City to worry about if the tear released more than just paradoxical magic powers.

She was answered when Mayor Mare’s head shot up upon their entry and her sharp eyes pinned on the teenagers before her. “Well. I was wondering when I might hear from all of you. You have quite the presence in this town.”

“Presence?” Fluttershy questioned, a tad nervously. Applejack exchanged a look with Sunset that, to her, said that AJ was ready and willing to defend Sunset’s right to exist in this universe if the mayor had any problems with her.

Mayor Mare gestured to the pile of paperwork in the bin labelled Canterlot High. “Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna have been in contact, filling me in since, oh, well over a year now! I hope you didn’t think your school’s magical mishaps didn’t just disappear from the public eye on their own.”

Sunset’s shoulders clenched in a flinch. Oh Celestia. The words I’m sorry had come out of Sunset’s mouth too many times to count. She was well-rehearsed, if nothing else. But she froze up. Her friends, meanwhile, exchanged looks and Rarity’s eyes bloomed. “Good heavens...”

Twilight fiddled with the drawstrings of her hoodie. “Gosh, I-I’m so sorry Mayor. We didn’t realize…”

Fluttershy stepped forward. “We’re sorry we’ve made so much extra work for you! That can’t be easy when you’re already running the city.”

Kind smile locked and loaded, Mayor Mayor stood and took one of Fluttershy’s hands to pat. “No need to apologize. It’s my duty to protect my citizenry and I take that job very seriously. While I appreciate, well, being appreciated, I promise you we’re up to the task. I have an expert on the case.” She smiled gamely to Detective Magnus over her half moon spectacles. “Or as much of an expert as anyone can be.”

The private eye in the room nodded from the corner, eyeing who he thought was Sunset in particular. “Protecting the normalcy left in your lives is a full-time job.” Sunset felt her gut twist at that. Her friends did deserve normalcy, she just hadn’t realized how much she was jeopardizing that. “You kids don’t deserve to have the world banging down your doors or treating you like demons. Or aliens, as the case may be.”

He made a point of aiming a look at the person most resembling Sunset. Flash spoke up on her behalf, since that person happened to be him. “Thanks. It’s, uh, good to see you again, by the way.”

Chin raised, Detective Magnus leaned back on the Mayor’s desk with almost more authority than her, his arms planted firmly against his chest. He narrowed his eyes. “Hello, Miss Shimmer. I see you haven’t dropped out of Canterlot High or blown it up with your demon magic recently. Good for you.”

Spending her community service days helping rebuild the front of the school under Detective Magnus’s watchful eye had been an ordeal Sunset was pleasantly surprised to survive. Explaining what she’d done and where she came from had been another. The Detective delivered the same devastating look back then as he was giving Flash now. “Although I suggest youput a stop to that vandal business, Flanksy.”

Sunset felt the sweat gathering under her armpits and could do nothing to alleviate it. Nor could she unclench her stomach (or other regions). Applejack frowned beside her. “Vandal business? Sunset isn’t a⁠—”

Twilight blurted out, “So, father! Have you been able to find anything in that search I asked you to do? The, er, the search for the other Sunset Shimmer?”

Detective Magnus didn’t stop glaring at the person he thought was Sunset long enough to notice Twilight’s awkwardness. Instead, he sighed with his shoulders. “I did.”

Sunset leaned in. She could feel her heart hanging in the balance and clung to this last hope of finding herself. “And? Where is she? Can we go find her?”

“It wouldn’t do you any good,” he told them. Detective Magnus set his cap on the desk and sunk a hand through his spiked hair. “I checked through our database and I’ll admit I didn’t believe this parallel duplicates thing, but it’s like you said: we have no record of this Sunset ever existing until a few years ago, like she popped out of nowhere. Problem is, even with a deep search, that’s the only record of any Sunset Shimmer existing.” Trading a look with the mayor of Canterlot City, the Force Detective dropped his hands to the desk. “We don’t know what to tell you kids. There is no other Sunset Shimmer.”

9. Rebel Without a Cause

Sunset Shimmer had no reason to exist and thus no reason to leave the bed. Her alarm prodded her, as if with a pointy stick. She slapped the snooze button, rolled away from the morning light dragging the plush of the blanket with her, and settled back into a drowsy haze.

The only thing she bothered to do was hold Scruffers closer, who seemed to think Twilight was very sick and in need of guarding while Sunset was away. “Mrreow,” he said, and butted his head against her as if to ask, Where’s Sunset?

Last night he’d brought her something impossible. Like, actually impossible. Her cat, somehow, brought home Sunset’s foal blanket that she used to use in Canterlot Castle when she was little and scared of the dark. Apart from the mind-boggling revelation that her cat could phase through space-time, too, she appreciated the layers in this winter storm. All she wanted to do was sleep.

To the point that when the alarm rang again she growled and hurled the damn thing across her apartment. The blaring beep sailed away until she heard a promising crack and quiet returned to her daze.

Long enough later that she almost succumbed to the gravity of sleep, the scratchy tones of what she was starting to recognize more as Timber's voice than Rainbow Dash's ventured to ask, "Hey, Sunset?"

"Mmph."

"I don't wanna alarm you, but you're usually up nine snooze buttons ago," he said. If she strained to think about it, she could place his voice on the steps up to her bedroom platform.

She didn't answer back.

"Sunset?"

"Mmwhat?"

"I'm not an expert on public school, but last week it always started at the same time. So, uh, I think we're going to be late," Timber informed her. "... And Twilight's going to have major anxiety if we spoil her perfect attendance record."

Sunset's eyes flew open and she swore loudly enough to wake any remaining neighbors. She was no stranger to ripping the blanket off in sheer panic, but she wasn't as accustomed to someone holding out tofu bacon and a hot cup of coffee for her.

The heat burned the roof of her mouth as she stumbled through her morning at full tilt on icy roads, but the rush got her to class. Dishevelled and experiencing heart palpitations, but in class.

But as class went on, Sunset continually re-realized she'd stopped paying attention. Problem was, she found herself profoundly apathetic to what should have been at least a fun challenge. Usually after daydreaming in the middle of a lecture, she could reinvest herself easily, almost effortlessly if the topic actually had something interesting to wrap her mind around. Nothing could get a hold on her.

Microchips shot his hand up at every question, sending a smirk at Sunset after every right answer as if to say he'd scored another point on her. Even the joy of spite couldn't get her to compete.

Microchips approached her desk after class and set his jaw askew. "Those were awfully rudimentary questions for you to not even raise your hand, Sparkle.” The nerd brought his hands down on her desk. “Why did you let me win? What are you planning? ...Are you feeling okay? You know there’s this great new magic counsellor⁠—”

Sunset knocked back his hand from her forehead and got up to leave. “I’ll see you next time, Microchips.”

Next time it wouldn’t be her, with any luck, but by then Twilight could win back her honour. With Timber finally back in Gloriosa’s clutches after the mayor's office and getting his ear yanked off, Sunset and Timber hadn’t been able to switch everyone back yesterday. He eventually managed to free himself and Rarity after a very long explanation and some pleading, but even still, he hadn’t got back to Sunset’s apartment until late, and by then both of them needed to collapse.

But even if they’d had the chance, it was a little hard to feel the Power of Friendship flowing through her after being told she didn’t exist. She’d said she was tired from the road trip. Her friends understood, so she promised them all she would come back swinging after a good night’s sleep.

And she had given it the old college try last night. The blowing blizzard cracked and creaked her shivering apartment building around her, but she tried.

Now that she’d had one, Sunset couldn’t tell if she needed more sleep or had too much. She guessed it didn’t matter. Helping her friends was always its own reward.

That, and finally getting her girlfriend back. At this point, the first thing Sunset wanted was to be held. She never would have pegged herself as the type to miss physical affection at all, but now she craved it. Ever since they’d started dating, really⁠—Twilight had admitted the daydreaming about each other was mutual—but especially now. Talking to Twilight for hours on end, hearing her dorky snorty laugh (possibly from those nibbly little kisses that drove her girlfriend a little wild) while they cuddled up on her couch sounded like ascending to cloud-covered peaks of Mount Olympus.

Dear Celestia, this pause is making me soft, she thought, staring out the window to the icicles hanging from the roof above, ready to pierce her heart as if plucked from cupid’s quiver. But, she couldn’t deny the facts: I miss my princess.

Soft or not, the promise of girlfriend snuggles and helping her friends sustained her through her morning classes, counting the period bells to lunch. The last one freed her, but Cheerilee stopped her before she could leave. “Twilight? Could I speak to you for a moment?”

Sunset briefly wondered if Twilight had ever heard those words for anything other than awe and praise. She could just imagine how nervous Twilight would be every time regardless. “Um, sure thing, Miss Cheerilee.”

The other students shoved books into bags and clamoured out into the hall, leaving Sunset to approach Cheerilee’s desk by the frost-fogged second-floor window. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you daydreaming in class,” the English teacher said. “Is there a problem at home?”

“No, Miss Cheerilee,” she reported. She couldn’t imagine the Sparkles having any problems, the few times they were all together under the same roof. Twilight’s mom, racing off to international adventure and bestsellers, her dad, head ever towards the stars and pioneering interstellar advancements, and her brother always shipping off to new ports. Sunset hadn’t ever known a more impressive set of people all in the same family.

“Are you sleeping well?” After Sunset offered up a nod, imagining that the real Twilight was sleeping fine, Cheerilee prodded her perplexed pout, sitting back. “Well, is there anything you’d like to talk about, maybe with the school counsellor?”

She must have seen Sunset’s shoulders tensing on impulse. Miss Cheerilee turned her chair more directly toward her. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’m concerned, Twilight. I know you must be under a lot of pressure with all of your college applications and I wonder if it might be getting to you.”

Sending off application after application had been her girlfriend’s whole life for weeks. Despite how frazzled Twilight herself got, Sunset knew not a single one of those elite and Ivy League applications would come back with a rejection. Oxenford, Hayvard, Princesston⁠—Sunset could barely keep track of them all, but she had a hunch they’d all be begging Twilight to attend.

At a certain point, Sunset suspected the sheer amount of choices would paralyze her girlfriend when the acceptance letters rolled in this spring, but she’d also been excited to celebrate every single one with Twilight. Finally, she’d have irrefutable proof Twilight was as amazing as Sunset kept insisting. Maybe that would get it through that genius head of hers.

Twilight and all the rest of her friends had futures ahead of them. What did Sunset have besides a past she couldn’t seem to keep behind her?

Sunset shook her head, leaving Cheerilee’s talk behind. Twilight thinks I’m a good friend to the girls. The girls probably do, too. I’m going to fix things for them! It’s not always easy, but that’s what I do here. I fix what I broke.

Passing by the counsellor’s office on her way to the band room was a mistake. Sunset knew she should have taken the other hall, even if this was the most direct route. The sign-up sheet for counselling appointments overflowed with names like an overfilled goblet, a stack of papers drilled so desperately to the wall the clipboard looked like it might burst. It was a pale relief to find that some of those names were at least repeats.

Counsellor Solstice emerged from his office waving goodbye to Scootaloo.

“Thanks,” she told him, rubbing the back of her head. “I’ll think about it. I think that helped to talk about it, though.”

Sunset didn't know the kid extremely well, apart from the time when the Crusaders interrogated her in their clubhouse to sleuth out her real intentions for hanging out with their sisters not long after the Fall Formal. Sunset would have respected their spunk more if the rope hadn’t been so tight on her wrists or the lamp-light so bright in her eyes.

But now, watching Scootaloo come out of that office felt like having rope around her chest, bound tight.

If so many people are getting the help they need, I should feel happy for them, shouldn’t I? Sunset grimaced, watching Scootaloo leave before she had to explain herself to Sunset. Celestia, I’m being selfish again. They’re having problems I can’t fix and I’m pouting about it. Some friend.

Solstice waved goodbye to the sophomore student and as soon as she was out of sight, his expression collapsed into exhaustion. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep, steadying breath, ran a hand back through his dark, fluffy hair, and pushed the breath out as forcefully as it came. “Peaceful, calm surrender… peaceful calm surrender…”

When he reached for the sign-up sheet to call the next student to his office, Solstice startled when he noticed icicles forming on his fingertips and even more so when he found Sunset behind him.

“Ahhh! Twilight Sparkle!” Terrified of the teenage figure before him, he grasped an over-productive heart. “I-I’m sorry, do I...? I don’t have you on my list. Did you come to set up an appointment? I’ve been hoping to speak with you and your friends.”

“Oh no, no,” Sunset balked, almost too forcefully. She pointed at the clipboard. “Passing by. Are we not going to talk about the ice on your fingers or… ?”

Internally, she reminded herself to at least pretend to sound like Twilight talking to a figure of authority, but even Twilight would have her suspicions. In fact, if anything, Sunset thought Twilight would have blurted it out faster. She loved her girlfriend very much.

Solstice winced at his colourless, frostbitten hands. “Seasonal magic,” he grunted. “Don’t be scared. It’s a flare-up. I’ve got it under complete control, that much I can promise you.”

The concept of magic being dependent on a season struck Sunset as strange, but then, pegasi controlled the weather back in Equestria. She could imagine how it would be evolutionarily advantageous to have extra magical energy to craft winter storms.

She looked at his hand, the lack of colour almost startling, and cringed. Did I cause this? Is this because of the crack in the sky like Flash and Timber? How many other people are going to get magical powers because of me? She took a step towards him, unsure of what to do but wishing she could fix it somehow. “That looks painful. Are you okay?”

Before Sunset could probe further, a pink sunned the counsellor’s cheeks as his eyes snagged on something behind her. Naturally, Sunset turned, and even her eyebrows shot up when she got a look at Principal Celestia coming out of her office sporting a new bouncy bob cut. “Oh good, I’m glad I caught you.”

“You, that is, er⁠—” Solstice cleared his throat, looking quite a lot warmer now. Minus the beard and fancy accent, Sunset could’ve easily confused him for any other teenage boy around school. He fumbled with his tie with his still frost-bitten fingers. “I quite like the new haircut. A bold change, yes? You look radiant.”

Sunset remained on her best behaviour, as Twilight would, and didn’t roll her eyes at the forty-something-turned-insta-teen. But he was on thin ice.

From her vantage point at the coffee maker located next to VP Luna’s office, Principal Celestia bit her lip (and Sunset wrinkled her nose; even Twilight wouldn’t stand for that). “Thank you. It’s like you said. A bold change can be a good thing.”

Once it had filled just under the brim, Principal Celestia handed Solstice a full mug of steaming hot coffee⁠—quite literally steaming. The sort of temperature lawsuits were made of. The mug, possibly meant for children, sported a snow-themed Whimsy princess character. Solstice held it in both of his hands and took a grateful sip. How he hadn’t burned his tongue off, Sunset didn’t know, but Solstice smiled at the principal. “Thank you, Tia.”

“Of course. I thought you might like a refill, considering how busy you’ve been,” Celestia said, her hands lingering around his and lent him some warmth. “You’ve helped so many students in the school.”

“Helped is a relative term,” he muttered, sounding unnerved.

“Of course you’d say that, but look around,” she said, gesturing towards the chattering cafeteria near their offices. Inside, along with freshmen and seniors alike, Sunset could see Juniper filming Wallflower’s exclusive interview with Bulk Biceps. Judging by the flapping motion he was making with his arms, Sunset didn’t need to read lips to know he was talking about one of the magical she-demons. She found herself oddly proud that he could do so without crying. “I’ve never seen the students so at ease and open to sharing how they feel about how dramatically they’ve been affected by magic. It’s remarkable! I think we’re really making a difference in their lives. You are.”

“Difference is also relative.”

Principal Celestia smiled, amused. “There’s harmony in the halls at Canterlot High and I have you to thank for that.” Noticing Sunset’s gaze, she cleared her throat. “And as your colleague, I believe I should remind you to take your contractually obligated lunch break. For your own mental health, of course.”

“How professional of you,” he quipped, smiling back. “Should I also remind you to do the same?”

Sunset sighed. Another problem that she caused that she couldn’t fix. At least in this case her victim had the help of her principal, and together, they seemed to have it under control. She hesitated, maybe would have lingered if the extremely obvious flirting didn’t make her want to find a new dimension to run away into. She narrowly avoided fake-gagging in order to say, “You know, you can just say lunch date.”

Trying not to hurl at their schoolyard grade blushing, she left the two of them to it, moseying her way to the band room where most of her friends were waiting for her on the orchestral steps. By the looks of it, only Timber was still missing, and by now even Flash had intermingled with the group.

Technically speaking, they weren’t supposed to eat their lunches in the band room near the thousand-dollar equipment, but making friends with the music teacher had its perks. And today, that meant Flash could bring along his vintage Sugar n’ Spice Girls band lunch-box to sit among the girls⁠—in the middle, in fact⁠—and talk like girls do.

Twilight sliced her PB and J sandwich without crusts in two (with utensils she always came prepared with; Sunset would have teased her about it if it wasn’t so frequently useful) and gave one half to Flash. In return, Flash shared some of his mom’s homemade pork dumplings. Sunset did her best not to think about how good the tofu bacon tasted this morning since she refused to stoop to eating the creatures she used to have polite conversation with, but she could say she enjoyed the hearty smell now. Or, at least, it didn’t make her gag.

Sunset trudged up to where her friends sat around eating lunch and noodling on instruments and plopped down. She caught the looks her friends traded amongst themselves but she let them. Taking slightly more sensible, humane bites than the real Pinkie ever would, Applejack wolfed the last of her apple before asking, “You okay there, sugarcube?”

The way her friends rallied around her made Sunset want to give them at least some kind of answer, but the best she could do was shrug. “Me? Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, for a start, you’ve got one hell of a death wish if you’re pushin’ your luck with Rarity,” Applejack warned, but the concern shone through her currently baby blue eyes. “Haven’t seen you dressed like this since after the Fall Formal.”

It was possible Applejack had a point. Post-Fall Formal and post-she-demon, Sunset had honestly been a mess. Let herself go was probably on the charitable side. Between getting next to no sleep and carrying around the weight of her newly acquired guilt, she all but wrote a checklist of red flags:

Wore the same sweatpants for… longer than she cared to admit.
Mismatched socks. And shoes.
Bedhead.
Avoided mirrors (read: afraid of seeing demon eyes).
Avoided sleeping (read: afraid of nightmares).
Got into super video games to avoid reality.
Late to everything by a minimum of 15 minutes.
???
No profit, no stolen income = no heating.
Perpetually in need of a shower.
Rolling up to school in the morning with a Red Minotaur and a full sleeve of Princess Guide cookies as the only part of her complete breakfast.

Her new friends had been a godsend. Like, actual guardian angels. No, really, Sunset seriously doubted she would have survived without them.

Dash barked a laugh then eyed the fashionista beside her. “Hey yeah, how come you haven’t gone nuclear on Sweatpants Shimmer over here?”

Sunset was impressed Rarity managed a casual shrug. “Oh, psh-aw. You all make it sound like I can’t accept a little change of wardrobe,” she said through a stuttering laugh, before waving the notion away like so much hullabaloo. “Sunset will relinquish her drab grey Give Up on Life pants when she’s ready to do so. I can be patient.”

“Thank you,” Sunset said, then frowned. “Wait, what’s wrong with my pants?” She became acutely aware that she hadn’t bothered to do up the drawstrings.

In answer, Rarity had a question for her. “Where would you be without me?”

“Without you? A thrift store. Without all of you? Celestia only knows. In the dungeons of Canterlot Castle, I assume.” Sunset realized how that sounded. “But, seriously, girls, I’m okay.”

“Got it. Totally not okay.” Making Fluttershy look like a proper jock in her letterman’s jacket, Rainbow Dash pounded back a “Thunderbird Power Lightning”-flavoured sports drink chock full of electrolytes and technically nonlethal amounts of sugar. She schmeared her lip dry before asking, “You’re still all hung up on the whole ‘No Other Sunset’ thing?”

“Of course she is.” Fluttershy frowned. Out of everybody, she’d probably stayed the closest to what Rarity would actually dress like if she were, in fact, herself, possibly just to be polite. Even still, hugging her knees in the way Fluttershy usually did made it impossible to deny her true identity. “It only happened yesterday.”

“I’d be hung up too if I found out news that weird,” Flash offered. “Of course, I’d also probably be weirded out if I found out there was another Flash. I mostly try not to think about him.”

Twilight fiddled with a dumpling. “It does tend to confound the mind...”

“Back up, how is this not a good thing?” Rainbow Dash stood herself up as if to address an assembly in the gymnasium, a habit of hers ever since around the time Applejack became co-captain of the football team. Took the two of them time to figure out how co-captaining worked, but these days the two of them moved in astonishing harmony out on the field.

Even now, Applejack moved things out of Dash’s way while she paced. “So there’sno other Sunset Shimmer out there. As far as I’m concerned that means there’s no one else running around in this world cramping your style! You’re a free agent! Total lone wolf! Alpha and omega, baby!”

Sunset made a face at her. “You make being the only me in the multiverse sound like I’m a perpetually single pick-up artist.” Existentially single. While there was nothing wrong with being single, the suggestion had her hand twitching towards Twilight’s.

Dash tossed her hands up in the air in a shrug she couldn’t be bothered to drop. “Pfft, whatever, I’m not a philanthropist.”

“Philosopher,” Applejack said, coming in for the assist.

“Ha! See? I don’t even know the word! Point. Made.” She looked entirely too proud of herself and it made Twilight very sad.

Twilight’s eyebrows pressed together. “Are you not reading the Word a Day calendar I got you? Do you not like it?”

“No, I totally am,” Dash told her, fists to her hips, “today’s is cromulent.”

Twilight squinted. “I don’t think it is.”

While Twilight struggled with that, Rarity took the liberty of straightening Sunset’s bow-tie (even if she wore her own leather jacket, it still looked wrong not to wear some sort of dorky neckwear). “Regardless, you, Sunset Shimmer, are no slouch. You’re hard-working, ambitious, and dangerously clever, which I hope you know is a compliment.”

Applejack nodded. “Eeyup. There’s plenty out there for a girl with your kind of drive. ‘Course, I’m taking over my parents’ farm, so I don’t know a whole lot about career-plannin’, but when I was a lil’un, I used to want to be a guitar player for this girl I met at camp, Rara?” She whistled. “Shoot, she was one hell of a singer. Real beauty queen, too. That girl was the brightest star I’ve ever seen shine.”

Rarity sighed, “Yes, yes, we all know about your first crush, darling. Very sweet, properly gay⁠—but the point?”

Applejack chuckled. “Point is even I thought I’d end up doing something different once upon a time. Ain’t a one of us has it figured it out at the start.”

That might have been comforting if Sunset was a ten year old chasing after girls at camp.

Recovering from the crisis of her own, Twilight took both of Sunset’s hands in her own⁠—a move that, while perfectly platonic and acceptable for ‘Flash’ to do, made Sunset’s heartache. “You get to choose your own path. No more living in a princess’s shadow! I don’t have any doubts that whatever it is you chose to do, it’s going to be breathtaking.” A light tinge broke through on Twilight’s cheeks, like the last light of a long day. “And I, for one, really can’t wait to see it.”

It broke Sunset Shimmer’s heart to hear that Twilight had so much faith in someone who had no discernable future in this world. No more shadows. But maybe that was the problem. All day today, she’d felt like a person without a shadow. Uncanny. Anchorless. Untethered. “Thanks, but… I don’t know…”

Pinkie Pie patted Sunset on the back, using more of Applejack’s strength than she probably meant to. “N’aww, don’t be sad, Flashlight is totally right! You’re a true, true original.”

Sunset sighed, her face sinking into her hands. She didn’t mean to be a miserable sulk about it, but she thought it better than unloading all of what was going on in her head on her friends. They didn’t deserve that. She should have come into the lunch room bopping along to the beat of an upbeat life, lifting them up instead of taking them all down with her. Wow, I’m a failed protégé, a bad friend, and I don’t technically exist. Triple-threat.

Despite her best efforts, however, Rarity voiced some of her thoughts for her. “Oh, we all already knew you were unique and magnifique, darling, but I must admit, I don’t quite understand how this could have happened. How can it be that an entire person simply doesn’t exist when by all accounts they should?”

The lot of them turned their eyes toward Twilight, who startled when she noticed and clutched at her chest. “What are you all looking at me for?”

Applejack shrugged. “Oh uh, force of habit, I guess. You usually have some kind of smarty-pants theory on the go.”

“Oh. My guess is as good as any of yours. We exist in a multiverse. The full extent of which has yet to be determined, but between the two known universes we do have some idea of for certain, they’ve always appeared to operate as parallels.” She held her chin. “The circumstances that lead to, say, Pinkie and her twin sister Marble being born, must have been consistent in both universes.”

Pinkie beamed. “Ma and Pa say we were a fun surprise!”

Twilight didn’t seem to know how to take that. Sunset didn’t need to make eye contact with the rest of them to understand there was now a silent agreement not to tell Pinkie. “O-oh. Um, well, surprise or not, the point is you and your pony counterpart both exist because of similar circumstances. That’s what defines our universes as parallel: the commonalities.

“So, the simple if a bit callous explanation,” Twilight said, glancing down to her girlfriend, “is the circumstances that led to Sunset’s birth in one universe must not have been consistent in the other.”

Rainbow Dash angled her head to one side. “Did her folks do it in a magic hot-air balloon? Wait, we have those here… Did they do it in a magic train? Wait⁠—”

Rarity covered her mouth but the blush on Timber’s tan cheeks showed through. “Rainbow Dash, honestly!”

“Was there a dragon involved?” Flash offered. “We don’t have those.”

Pinkie chewed some bubblegum in one cheek and spoke from the other. “I’m no expert on the subject, but what do we think about between-worlds limbo? Hot or not?”

Rarity huffed despite Applejack’s low-toned chuckling. “I hardly think it matters how it happened. The mechanics are not what’s in question here!” She’d crossed her arms and set them firm on her chest. A moment passed before she added: “... Sunset, dear, was it a dragon?”

Sunset snorted, her smirk pressing up against her hand. “Pretty sure I’d figure it out if I was half-dragon, but I can’t really speculate on the rest. I barely know anything concrete about my parents or where I came from, but that’s not the problem. I think… I think I’m the problem. What am I supposed to do in this world? What’s my life’s purpose here? What would my cutie mark be for?” Passing her hand through her hair, she stared around at her friends and dropped her hands at her knees. “You girls are humans, right? How does a human usually learn about their destiny?”

None of her friends looked eager to answer. At most, she caught weird looks traded and lighthearted chuckling. Sunset frowned, enunciating the word: “What?”

Hesitating, Twilight laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sunset, sweetie, that’s... not really how it works here.”

“Nobody is just told what they’re meant to do with their lives,” Rarity giggled out, holding her own cheek and aiming a smile at Rainbow and Flash. “And quite honestly, dear, even if there were some sort of Fates or oracles divining predetermined paths for us all, I can’t imagine you of all people taking to that well.”

Dash nearly snorted the rest of her Thunderbird sports drink. “Ha! Yeah, you’d probably do the exact opposite just to spite anybody who told you what to do!”

Flash hid a giggle behind his hand like a demure southern belle afraid of the sound. Something about that really tickled him, and Sunset knew from experience Flash Sentry was an extremely ticklish person.

Sunset’s eyebrows pushed together, staring at all of them in an earnest attempt to summon the cognitive power to get the joke. She didn’t feel like she was firing on all cylinders today, for whatever reason. “No, not like someone bossing me around and telling me how to live my life, I mean how do you know what your purpose is? Scrying? Is there, like, a website? How do you know why you exist?”

Pinkie Pie shrugged up her shoulders next to her. “You don’t!”

Sunset recoiled from the slap to her fundamental understanding of everything in existence. Regardless of the fact that her vocal cords weren’t currently her own, the sound that came out, approximating “I’m sorry???”, was much more guttural than any sound she’d recognize as her own. Or, for that matter, Twilight’s.

“Everyone decides that for themselves,” Twilight explained in a doctor-like tone that suggested You’ll only feel a little sting with cleaver in hand. “I think we all cope with it in our own ways, generally speaking. Some write ponderous queries on the nature of the universe, others find meaning in helping their loved ones or through charity work, and still, others are comfortable having no greater ‘purpose’ at all.”

Sunset slapped her forehead to garner feeling somewhere, seeing how it was fleeing. “Sweet Celestia…”

Fluttershy laid a hand against her knee. “Oh, it’s nothing to get too upset about, Sunset. I don’t think a person needs a purpose to be valuable, or at least, I hope you don’t.”

Clutching her head, Sunset stammered a fleet of unintelligent noises. One of her friends asked if she was feeling faint, but she didn’t have the mental power to decipher who that wasn’t already devoted to the thought blaring its sirens and powering through her mind like an ambulance through a thoroughfare, everything in its path pulling to the side: I shouldn’t exist.

Sunset laid back on the top step, staring past at the fiberglass ceiling panels.

Biting her lip, Twilight leaned over her. “... Sunny? Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Sunset moaned another particularly unintelligent noise.

“Oh no, we broke her!” Pinkie’s head hung over her, looking upside down from Sunset’s point of view. “Girls, we can’t break this Sunset, we only have one!”

Laid flat on her back as if the world knocked her there, Sunset stared up. How much of her thoughts should she actually share with her friends? How much should she burden them with this? Their concerns wouldn’t be sated with more non-verbal moaning (except maybe Flash; the boy had a talent in deciphering her veritable noises by then), that much she knew, but how were her friends supposed to comfort her anyway? What could they even say?

Sunset Shimmer knew she had no right to exist in this universe. Maybe at all. No purpose here, none left for her back home. Princess Twilight did everything Sunset was ever told she was destined for, and she did it so well they crowned the mare twice. Whatever flares of jealousy lurked under cover of the night inside her counted for pennies next to the fortune of realizing everything she’d ever thought made her worth something had already been fulfilled. Already covered. The universe offering a collective: We’re good, thanks.

Nothing in Equestria. Nothing for her here, quite literally, nothing here was meant for her, any her. Assuming humans really did have no inherent purpose—and she could hardly call this shaky, sub-zero grasp she’d just developed an assumption—at least the universe deigned to let everyone else exist. They were supposed to be here, even if to design reasons by their own hands.

The circumstances that lead to Sunset’s birth were inconsistent. Her girlfriend’s, really her ex-boyfriend’s voice played back in her head. Is that all I am? An inconsistency? Some cosmic mistake? Sunset’s mind raced to the fact that she didn’t indeed know her parents or where she actually came from. Sweet Celestia.

At some point, and Sunset genuinely wasn’t aware of exactly when, Timber Spruce had entered the fray. He must’ve. Mostly because he joined the others in towering above her, next to Twilight, to stare down at her and ask: “Whoa. You good?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m good,” she said, and sat up in an attempt to play off her moaning on the floor was typical Monday blues. For all Timber knew, it was. She aimed an eyebrow back at him. “So, you ready to change everyone back?”

“Hang on.” Timber limbered up, performing pointless stretches with his arms that gave Sunset time to get up off the floor. Then, he promptly stuck out his hand and along with it, a grin. “Ready when you are, new best friend.”

Sunset smirked, her smile cracking. “Tcht. That’s the spirit, I guess. Flash, how about⁠—”

“Ready! I’m ready!” Flash stumbled up to the both of them like a batter afraid of the ball but still playing for the home team. He gave a thumbs up back to Twilight, who in turn gave one to him, before standing at attention, salute and all. “Just say the word.”

Sunset seriously doubted her body had ever saluted anyone as a genuine sign of respect before, but the weirder image was that Flash wore his lightning-struck shield emblem tee. It looked way too much like the times when they were dating that Sunset stole her boyfriend’s shirts (mostly because she didn’t have a lot of clothes of her own at the time). She made a mental note to change as soon as she got her body back.

At least I can fix what I screwed up. I know I’m good for that much, at least.

“Alright,” she told the boys and offered a hand out to each, receiving one from each in kind, “we can do this. We’re experts at friendship.” Although, as she said that, Sunset had to shove down the thoughts screaming through her mind like, ‘You shouldn’t exist here and they’re all paying for it’ or ‘They’ll all see how awful you are eventually’ or even a reassuring ‘You’re breaking the universe. There’s a crack in the sky to prove it.’

But shove aside, she did, and if that didn’t make her at least a little bit of a selfless friend, Sunset didn’t know what did.

It was possible she didn’t know what did.

Focusing on pushing her magic to Timber, a wave of disorientation blew through her, sending sickening swells surging through her skull. Going from one position in a room to another completely brought with it a vertigo. The guitars sitting on stands spun toward the ceiling. She blinked that sensation away, gripping her forehead.

Feeling a lack of glasses on her face.

Sunset forced her eyes open despite the nauseating pull on her stomach. She looked down at her hands, finding orange skin. The back of her own hands.

She barked a laugh. “I’m me. I’m me!” Sunset sunk her hands through familiar red and gold curls and her own voice cackling in her own ears. She’d never felt so thoroughly relieved to be Sunset Shimmer and no one else. She whipped around to her friends. “We did it!”

Out of the whole lot of them, Timber recovered first, dazed but above all still well-groomed from Rarity’s reign. The grim kindness in their features lowered Sunset’s stomach like a coffin laid to rest before Timber even had the chance to say, “I’m sorry, Sunset. I’m Twilight.”

Sunset shook her head, a small movement, but the disorientation made it feel as if she’d swung her head back and forth like the lurch of a busted carnival ride one bolt from falling to bits. “No… no, no, no...” She blinked hard to dispel the sick feeling heating up her throat. Despite herself, Sunset searched the others. “Where’s Timber?”

“Here,” said the person in Twilight’s body right next to Sunset, but he cradled his head beneath the bangs. Hearing what was now his voice and what would normally be Twilight’s, Timber’s eyes flared open. “Oh. Oh no.”

The person in Rainbow Dash’s body mewled next to her, rubbing her rainbow-coloured head. “Goodness... so many colours to accessorize with!”

“Aw man!” whoever was occupying Flash exclaimed, shooting up from her seat on the steps. She made Flash look like someone had cancelled a concert. “You guys need to stop stealing my hot bod!”

Twilight pointed at her. “So then, that’s Rarity and Rainbow Dash. Should we develop a role-call or some sort of attendance? At the very least, I’m going to need to make a spreadsheet…”

A country drawl squeaked forth from Fluttershy: “Aww butterbisquits… Guess I’m Fluttershy now. It’s Applejack, y’all.” A fact she confirmed by taking the Stetson away off of Pinkie’s head and putting it on her own.

The person currently residing in Rarity gave a riotous giggle-snorting laugh, kicking out their legs. “Whee! I got Rarity this time! Do I get to wear a bunch of funny hats?”

“Glad you’re happy with me, at least,” Rarity said from her place in Rainbow Dash’s body, but she seemed preoccupied with the multi-coloured wardrobe she’d been given.

The same way the person in Applejack’s body made a muscle and couldn’t stop staring at it. Flash, Sunset had to assume. Which meant the quietest Pinkie Pie she’d ever seen had to be Fluttershy.

Sunset shook her head. “Holy Tartarus, all of you are still in the wrong bodies? Why am I the only one who went back to normal!? What kind of bullshit is that!? This doesn’t make any sense!” Sunset groaned so hard she had to sit down. She did so, plopping down hard on the top step of the orchestra stairs, and sinking into herself.

“It’s okay, Sunset,” Fluttershy said through the softest register of Pinkie’s voice. So soft, in fact, that Sunset almost thought it sounded like Fluttershy. She laid a gentle pink hand on her shoulder. “We know you’re going through a lot right now.”

Bad friend bad friend bad friend. Sunset massaged her forehead. “It’s not okay, but thanks.”

“Hey. Do you need your sledgehammer to smash stuff for a while?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Maybe let off some steam so you can, I don’t know, put us back in the right bodies for a change?”

That received her another slug from Applejack, albeit this time from an Applejack with all the walloping power of Fluttershy. Sunset wondered if Dash felt it or was just rubbing her arm to be polite.

“For once, I don’t think that’s going to help,” Sunset grumbled. She frowned. “We have to figure this out. Timber, what were you doing before you showed up to the lunchroom? What took you so long, anyway?”

“Aside from the terror of never living up to the example Rarity set with my boyfriend’s dad?” Grabbing it from Rarity’s pocket which up until just now would have been his, Timber waggled his cell-phone. “Guess who actually teleported to where he wanted to after a few dozen tries.”

Pinkie Pie raised her hand. “Ooo! I know this one! It’s Timbo!”

“Yea—” He stared, his smug smile dislodged. “I have a nickname now?”

While Timber grinned at that, Twilight took his phone in her hands and ogled at it. A fine layer of moss dusted the phone case as if it were a long lost relic straight from the set of a Daring Do serial. “Does it still work?”

“Yup! Gloriosa made sure of it. Getting it off the roof and sending her I’m Not Dead! texts is the only way I could get out of my perma-grounding for now. Turns out not answering her texts or calls, and you know, scaring her half to death kind of sucked for her. But hey, my phone still works, so there’s that. Thankfully I don’t think it rained at all and Camp Everfree isn’t getting the snow Canterlot City is.” He shrugged, but as he got his mossy phone back, Sunset’s brow pulled together.

There wasn’t much snow outside of Canterlot City, she thought, remembering the sunny fields of Nightfall Reach and sparkling stretches of highway. Like an unseen lightning strike, a chill delivered from the northern nowhere lands of Unknown raked its claws down her back.

Sunset took the few remaining steps between her and the frozen window and the tundra of a schoolyard below, the clarity of her realization stinging like the frost-bite on Solstice’s hands. “Girls? I think something much bigger is going on.”

Her friends tensed and swapped cautionary looks until Twilight asked with Timber’s voice, “Bigger how?”

The blustering winds whipping snow past the window outside whistled. Sunset grimaced. “We’re not the only ones with some rogue magic on our hands.”

Arriving at the counsellor’s office like a mob in search of somewhere to sharpen their pitchforks and light their torches, Sunset filled her friends in on her theory. None of them liked the sound of a new power that, well, powerful. They kept their geodes close. Sunset rapped her knuckles on his door, grimacing.

Fluttershy frowned. “Are you sure? Counsellor Solstice seems so nice.”

“I know what I saw,” Sunset told them. “And if more people are suddenly developing Equestrian magic, we need to fix it.”

It appeared for a moment that they wouldn’t have the chance until Vice Principal Luna and Solstice emerged from the ever-mysterious staff lounge down the hall. Flash gasped and Rarity tried to snap a picture before the door shut, but no dice. The students of Canterlot High heard tell of many legends about what went on behind that prohibited extra-wide door. Some said hot tub. Others said it was the hiding spot for the retired (debatably haunted) Wondercolt mascot suit, Horsey the Horseshoe. Pinkie always wanted to believe Horsey was in the hot-tub.

Personally, Sunset had more realistic theories. Like massage chairs for every staff member.

Whatever mysteries lie beyond, Vice Principal Luna seemed more intent on discussing the latest season of a Gladiator Plus show, Crown Jewels. She scoffed, smirking. “—oh, agreed, the set design is absolutely magnificent, but the historical accuracy is all over the map! You can’t expect me to believe Countess Artemis wouldn’t take swift, brutal revenge against her sister. That’s so unrealistic!”

“Oh, come, I’d like to believe not all royals are so blood-thirsty. Despite the bloody daft institution they represent, some might even be quite lovely people,” Solstice hummed, but then returned a harsh laugh and sardonic smile to match hers as they parted ways back toward their offices. “Fine. Those of us here in reality know better. To think, all that trouble over a crown...”

After spending years of her own life lusting after a throne, that pinged Sunset’s radar. Not that a Royal Family couldn’t be good⁠—she wasn’t grinding her teeth, nope⁠—but, well, she was glad to have her friends here to back her up if things went south fast.

For his part, Counsellor Solstice took to hosting a mob of angry magical teenagers crowding his office surprisingly well. He brightened and offered out a plate of what appeared to be home-made cookies. “Oh! Welcome! Would any of you like a cookie or warm beverage?”

Pinkie Pie reached for the platter, sticking Rarity’s tongue out in the process, only to reconsider with narrowed eyes. “Hold on a second, buster. Are these poison cookies? J’accuse!”

Solstice regarded the plate. “Well, they’re nut-free. I’ve never been asked about poison. But I suppose yes, you could say they’re nut- and poison-free. Is that… a frequent source of concern for you?”

Rather than answering, Pinkie snatched one and munched with judgemental eyes until she, too, brightened. “Ooo! White chocolate! Hmm, I don’t detect any nodes of chemically posiony stuff. Unless it’s white chocolate-flavoured poison! … Eh, in that case, well-played, sir, well-played.” She ate the rest of the cookie, accepting her fate.

Solstice took notes in a little notebook. “Interesting…”

Sunset hated how therapists found everything so interesting. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust his whole set-up, really. The soothing sounds of an ocean’s waves crashing and retreating from the shoreline played deceptively soft, as if to mock her with its calm. He’d stocked the office with comfy, overstuffed purple couches which her friends piled on and around, playing right into his therapist trap. Sunset herself leaned against the wall in protest.

Above all, she counted herself lucky that she’d grabbed her leather jacket from Timber because despite the mocha-vanilla-scented candle and coffee pot, the room itself was so chilly she was surprised they couldn’t see their own breath.

The expression on Fluttershy’s face was almost startling given how she currently looked like Pinkie Pie and that much single-minded, serious concern had rarely, if ever crossed Pinkie’s face. “Aren’t you cold in here, Counsellor Solstice?”

“It’s cold in here?” He didn’t seem to like that suggestion. “I’m quite alright, but if you’re chilly, I do have blankets here. Anything to make you more comfortable while we chat.”

“I’m going to be upfront: we’re not here for a counselling session. That ‘seasonal magic’ I saw in the hall today isn’t just freezing clipboards and fingertips, is it?” Sunset nodded up her chin toward the window. “You’re causing the blizzard. Is that what’s under ‘complete control?’”

Solstice slouched, sinking into himself, and his eyes wide enough to show the full whites of his eyes like his face had been pulled tight. “I-I…”

“Dude,” Rainbow Dash uttered, almost hurt, then launched forward, “evil magic? I vouched for you! Have you been planning this all along? Why did you really come to Canterlot High, just to mess with us?”

“Is Solstice Shiver your real name?” Flash stood in front of Timber, as if to shield him. “What else have you been hiding?”

“Do you even really care about the students or is that just a lie, too?” Applejack’s grip tightened at her side, knuckles blanching.

Backed up towards the window, Solstice let out a breath. “I’m sorry I scared you. You don’t deserve to be left in the dark like that.” He turned his attention to the blizzard outside, if only briefly, then grimaced to them. “You may have a point. I was hoping I’d have time to earn your trust first, but I’m not willing to risk your safety for a more comfortable conversation.”

Solstice took a seat in the heather grey armchair opposite the purple couches, and the others followed his lead by sitting back down before activating their geodes on him. Although Rainbow Dash, in particular, thumbed her blue geode, ready if need be.

Solstice leaned forward, arms resting on his knees while he fiddled with his hands, as if to warm them up. “I’ve had this problem since I was about your age. 16? 17? Around then. I attended Canterlot High and I’ve never known exactly why I developed this disorder, but in hindsight, it’s obvious there’s something about this school that invites otherworldly magic.

“But you have to understand, at the time, I had no one. No one else knew what was happening to me was even possible and it horrified me. Subzero temperatures doctors couldn’t explain, the ability to freeze my own hands solid, and on my longest nights when it got worse it turned me into this freakish, horrific thing, this …”

“Demon,” Twilight supplied, her voice siphoning off like a faucet.

There was a flash of pain in Solstice’s eyes, but he nodded. “Yes. That’s what you call it now, isn’t it, but there wasn’t a word for what I was when I was your age.” Solstice rubbed at his neck, trying to hide his mouth on one side of his face. “Truthfully, I… Well, I thought I was a vampire.”

Cracking open a smile like a soda can, Rainbow Dash snorted. “What?”

Cheeks gone to the roses, Solstice turned up his hands. “What other conclusion was I meant to come to? Fangs, nocturnal black-outs, a sudden inexplicable propensity for capes⁠—it’s the only thing that made any bloody sense.”

“Huh. I could see it,” Timber said in the same appraising tone he’d once used to debate whether or not Sunset was an alien invader (which was only a technical truth). He bent his neck to one side as if to see if any of Solstice's skin was steaming in the light. “Total vamp vibes.”

Hands tucked into her armpits, Applejack screwed up her face. “Hang on a tick. Wouldn’t you know if you were a blood-sucker?”

Fluttershy frowned fiercely at her as though making to hit her. “Applejack!”

She leaned away from her. “What?”

“That’s so rude! Solstice just said he thinks he’s a vampire. Blood-sucker must be derogatory to him!” When Solstice looked at her bemused, she blinked. “Well, isn’t it?”

“To him, specifically? When can blood-sucker be complimentary?” Twilight asked, squinting.

“I have an Aunt that would take that as a compliment,” Flash hummed. Then, in explanation: “She’s a lot.”

“I just think you would know,” Applejack argued in an Am I wrong??? tone.

“Whoa,” Pinkie Pie said, eyes popping out. “But what if you didn’t have to know? Then anybody anywhere could be a vampire at any time when they went to bed every night and not even know!”

As Rainbow Dash frantically checked herself for signs of life, Rarity raised a polite hand. “Yes, I do agree with Fluttershy. We should like to be courteous while we’re confronting you about your intentions at our school: Would you say vampire is the preferred term?”

Solstice held his heart, expression softened. “I… don’t think I’ve had anyone ask what’s offensive to my vampiric sensibilities. I suppose I always expected more pitchforks. Although, that was back when being a vampire was the only explanation I had.” His eyes connected the dots back to Sunset. “I take it we all know better now, don’t we?”

Sunset’s mind ran ahead. Starswirl the Bearded exiled the Sirens to this world before the founding of Equestria, like the Memory Stone. In all the moons since then, it's more shocking that more magic hasn't leaked through, I guess, but latching onto a person like that… "Maybe it was something you touched? Like a magical artifact of some sort?"

Solstice shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Whatever started this, the magic comes from inside me now. I took it hard. I couldn’t tell my family⁠—still haven’t, really. I’m not proud of everything I did. I developed some bad coping mechanisms. Like heavy eyeliner.”

Rarity held a hand over her gasp. “Oh, you poor dear!”

Solstice nodded. “So, when it came time to choose what I wanted to do with my life, there was only one thing I wanted to study.”

He gestured toward the degrees on the wall: a psychology Bachelor's degree with a minor in mythology, a Master’s of Psychology, and a Doctorate in the same. All degrees had been awarded to Solstice Shiver.

“I must admit I’ve been keeping an eye on Canterlot High for that reason, but nothing could have prepared me to see you’ve cultivated an entire community around surviving the hardship of magic. I couldn’t believe a whole school of students not only knew about magic, but fought it on a regular basis⁠—together.” He shook his head, taking a silent breath in and out. “You’re remarkable. I only wish you didn’t have to be.”

Sitting on the arm of the couch, Timber nodded. “They’ve got a bad habit of being remarkable, yeah.”

Applejack kept her arms crossed, secured to her chest. “If you’ve been keeping this from us for this long, how do we know you’re telling the truth now?”

Sunset thumbed her geode. “I know one way.” She explained to Solstice what her geode allowed her to do, how she’d see and feel everything, and while he looked hesitant, he also marveled her with the biggest, dumbest smile on his face.

“An empath!” Solstice turned one of her hands over in his, as if looking for the button to activate her or the diagrams that would explain her inner machinations. “Fascinating! A magical power that can almost exclusively be used for good!”

Sunset shrugged. “It’s a little invasive if I don’t ask for permission, but yeah, it’s pretty useful. So?”

Solstice nodded to the teenager in front of him. “Do what you think you have to, but please be careful in there. Stay briefly. There are things I’d really rather you not have to experience.”

A shadow fell over Sunset’s heart, sending a chill through her veins, but she grabbed his arm. A white light flared in her eyes until it was the only thing she could see.

Solstice’s voice climbed each tonal rung of an arpeggio scale. The crackle had long since left his voice after several other warm ups and now, every note rang true. His vibrato trilled, his full baritone boomed. For once, he’d landed the lead role instead of the supporting man or the coveted Tree #3 and he’d be damned if he didn’t steal the show.

His crew family raced around, touching up make-up and running a series of checks on the props and lighting cues. Tech week had been an enormous crunch to get everyone prepared, but every single member of the cast and crew brought their A-game. The scramble to put on the best show they possibly could filled the air with electricity. Electricity and hair spray, a dangerous combination.

Traipsing through the Arts and Languages hallway in full costume, Solstice felt like a superhero. He did have a cape after all. He high-fived one of the supporting cast⁠—“Excellent work!”—waved at a trio of chorus members crouching against the wall, and deftly moved the “caterer” (friend of the female lead who could order pizzas) out of the way of an oncoming prop gondola boat being moved into position. She blushed and called after him, “Thanks!”

He also made sure to look up to see the tech crew maneuvering the lights and gave them a thumbs up. “Good show up there!”

Finding himself back-stage, Solstice at least attempted to acclimate himself to the sounds of the audience rolling in. The chatter before the quiet, a few good-natured chuckles here and there. He usually liked to take the adrenaline and run with it⁠—use it to fuel his performance. He saw no utility in pretending he wasn’t a tad nervous. But that was fine. He could use any fear to his advantage.

Solstice tried his best not to be too loud as he came up beside the show’s make-up artist. He found her peering out the curtains at the audience, hands jittering. He spoke softly, as per backstage etiquette. “You’ve done a marvelous job, Rogue. I hope you’re not too nervous.”

“Th-thanks, well, that’s why some of us are on-stage talent and some aren’t.” Radiant Rogue pushed a rose-coloured curl behind her ear. “Hey, I thought you said none of your family would be here.” When Solstice frowned she pointed out at the crowd. “Isn’t that your dad?”

Hearing that was like a fortissimo smash on the piano keys. Solstice rushed over to the curtains.

Out amongst the audience, sure enough, his father’s snow white-hair drew his eye right to the front row. Gripping his rolled program in tightly clenched fist.

Solstice’s eyes widened behind the curtain.

He left without a word for fear of what else might splurge out of his throat. His cape fluttered after him as he rushed, stiff-legged back to the drama room, past the hallway of his castmates catcalling after him, hoping to lure him into pre-show rituals. Despite their disappointment, he shut the drama room door behind him. He hardly managed to hide his panting. The mish-mash of props and costumes from old plays spun around. He stalked around the empty room, grateful his castmates had already changed.

Solstice found himself practicing breathing exercises to stay calm. Splashing water in his face in the bathroom would just smear the hard work of the poor make-up artist, he couldn’t do that. His heartbeat knocked on his ears, demanding to be heard. “I’ll just have to… why is he here? Why on opening night?”

Solstice trembled, a sudden and terrible cold overtook him, and he rubbed his costumed arms for warmth. He almost swore he could see his own breath⁠—what a marvelous time to be hallucinating! He slammed the window overlooking the school’s front yard shut.

Panting, he twisted around as he paced⁠—but he caught a glimpse of someone entirely different in the mirror. His eyes raced backward, and he screamed. Animal eyes glittered back at him, fangs poking from the sides of his mouth. His hair flowed as if still enchanted by the breeze. The breath clogged in his throat.

Solstice’s heart rammed into his chest. He looked closer, paling as he realized none of it was makeup or a trick of the light. “No… not now, please not now…” His breath pushed past his full set of fangs in awkward ways, like he had a mouth full of cotton.

A rapping on the door startled him away from the mirror.

“Solstice? You’re on in five!”

He rushed toward the door and used his body as a barricade. “No! No, you mustn’t come in, I’m⁠—I’m half-undressed!”

“Half-undressed?!” He winced at the sound of the stage manager’s voice. “We don’t have time for this! Are you coming out or aren’t you?!”

He chanced a look back at the offending mirror, in the hopes it had changed its mind, but he already knew the answer. He could feel the billowing steam trickling from his eyes, the sharp fangs prodding into his lip. His gut twisted painfully. “I… I don’t…”

Solstice grabbed the collar of his cape, sinking into himself. What was he supposed to do⁠—go out on stage like this? Let his father and that crowd of people see him, or black out? Wake up with blood on his clothes?

All the months of practice and his poor co-stars… all their work couldn’t go to nothing just because of him. The photos of famous Bridleway performers lining the walls appeared impossibly far away. He felt so small. “Oh god… I have to quit the show.”

The voice on the other side of the door grew quiet. “... Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t be your Shadow.”

When an hour later he emerged from the drama room he’d rather plunge himself into the depths of the earth than be seen by anyone. But he risked it, to watch his understudy, Canter Zoom, steal the show. Solstice slunk up to watch the performance from the shadows, wishing they would just whisk him away never to return.

Sunset experienced a year’s worth of painful, burning shame in a single spin of a kaleidoscope: Solstice exhausted in class from fitful nights. Checking his eyeliner to find his pupils narrowed to slits, and trying to pass it off as Nightmare Night contact lenses. Shying away from everyone in case he froze them solid or his fingers turned to claws, and what if he lost control?

The memory loss scared him the worst when he’d come to and not have any idea of what he’d done. Who he might have hurt.

Time seemed to speed up. Those long fitful nights turned productive—textbooks open in the only dorm still lit up in the complex. He tended to his psychology classes, learning the mind, but in his spare time, he scoured through world mythologies for someone like him. Places where what he was had a place, a purpose.

And more than that, Sunset saw him exploring medicine and meditation. Years of counselling of his own. Learning how to keep the peace in his own mind.

Calm, peaceful surrender...

Before she could give in to the guilt swirling around, Sunset let go. The counselling office materialized around her again. The smell of the vanilla-mocha candle, the purple couches, and snow fluttering outside the window grounded her back in the present. Sunset looked back at her friends, partially just to confirm they were there. “He’s telling the truth.”

The revelation wasn’t exactly comforting to everyone and Sunset couldn’t blame them. Twilight held a hand over her mouth, as if experiencing an echo of Solstice’s worst memories. Or, in some cases, lack thereof.

Solstice made a calming there, there motion with his hands. “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. Maybe I don’t have it completely under control, but I’m helping your classmates and friends.”

From the very end of the couch, Fluttershy spoke up. “It’s true. His counselling is very helpful.”

Sunset turned along with the others, eyebrows raised. “Fluttershy...?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, but when I heard we had a counsellor who could help with magic, I thought it might be a good idea to try to talk about it.” She played with Pinkie’s wild curls, the colour of her face nearly hiding a blush. She avoided Sunset’s gaze in particular. “We go through a lot. We don’t get breaks that aren’t interrupted by more magical mishaps. Talking about it has been really helpful.”

Sunset outright refused to cry in a counsellor’s office, so she forced herself to stop. Her sigh was harsh against her throat. “It’s okay, Fluttershy. I’m glad you got help that works for you.”

Solstice smiled and it was easy to see there was some measure of pride there⁠—albeit not necessarily for himself. He sat back down in his counsellor’s chair. “Your friend Fluttershy shared with me you’re all experiencing a magical flare-up of your own right now, though she kept your privacy intact and didn’t share what. But I have to admit, I have a guess: you’re not yourselves. You’ve switched bodies, is that it?”

The lot of them stared at each other, stunned. Fluttershy blinked. “But, how did you know that? I didn’t say we had…”

Counsellor Solstice nodded. “You didn’t, but your classmates have. Not in so many words, but they’ve been very worried about your out of character behaviour seeing as you girls are seen as something of a magical epicenter.” He pointed at Sunset. “And you confirmed my suspicion. Earlier in this conversation, you said you saw my flare-up in the hall today, but it wasn’t you who saw it. Unless you’re Twilight Sparkle?”

Sunset blushed and swore internally. “No… but I was this morning…”

Her friends took turns explaining what had happened to them while Sunset pummeled herself internally for blowing their cover so thoughtlessly. Good for nothing, can’t even help your friends or keep a secret to keep them safe. No wonder you shouldn’t exist…

By the end of their explanation, Solstice had written a whole pad’s worth of notes and he looked up from them to say, “That must be hard to deal with. What I’m hearing is that you’ve all been switched now twice and don’t feel like you’ve made very much progress towards a solution. Is that fair to say?”

The girls didn’t seem to want to answer⁠—Applejack rubbing her arm, Rarity coughing and looking away⁠—but Rainbow Dash could be counted on to have no ability to read the room. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“We have made some progress,” Twilight tried, possibly just to make Sunset not feel like such a failure. “Sunset’s returned to her body. Statistically speaking, there’s a chance that happened randomly, but I’d prefer to think it’s a step in the right direction. Our best theory so far is that it has something to do with Timber, Flash, me, and Sunset specifically, since, er, there’s some history there that uh…”

“We used to date and they used to date, and now we’ve pulled Le Switcheroo,” Timber explained, jamming his thumb in their directions.

“Yes, that.”

“I see,” Solstice mumbled, as if rehearsing his 10th grade play again. He stood up and held his hands together. “Consider this a suggestion, but has anyone ever told you that you might benefit from counselling?”

Sunset Shimmer wanted to scream. She did so internally.

“If I could be so bold, I think there are some underlying issues here causing your magical problem and I’d like to see the four of you individually⁠ before trying any group therapy.” Solstice clapped his hands together. “If, of course, that’s agreeable to you?”

At the same time, Sunset and Timber said, “No.” Twilight and Flash said “Yes.” They looked at each other.

Solstice smiled sheepishly. “I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

10. The Eye of the Ice Storm

Sunset Shimmer, if only briefly, considered starting a new life in another dimension, with no plan whatsoever, in order to avoid her feelings. Again. She could make a break for it. Would it be hard to assume a new name? She didn’t mind the sound of Sundown Smolder. If she could guarantee there were other universes besides Equestria that she was capable of travelling to, as she and Twilight had theorized, she would have been seriously tempted.

If, of course, that didn’t mean leaving behind her friends and girlfriend.

As the lot of them let out from Solstice Shiver’s counselling office, Sunset didn’t feel like facing the group of people keeping her in this dimension. On her way out, Solstice snagged Sunset back. “You know, regardless of what you decide,” he said to her, “I’ll admit, I’ve been hoping to find time with you in particular. Everything you’ve done is extraordinary and you don’t even know! When I was your age⁠—” With grunting effort, he managed to stop himself before spinning off into a story from the Day and how it was back when he was in it. “You’re categorically gravitational at this school.”

Whatever category of natural disaster she’d managed to achieve, Sunset had to agree: whether she wanted to or not, she ruled this school. Disaster revolved around her on a cosmic scale. At least now she knew why. Twisting on her heel toward the door, Sunset sighed every bit as moodily as she did when she was Princess Celestia’s snide pupil, “You could say that.”

“You look tired,” he said. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

Sunset caught the thin side of the door in her palm, as if using it as a crutch, and shook her head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

Solstice let a sigh fall through his nose, and nodded, his smile pressed into a thin line. “I’m always tired, too.”

Sunset paused, and turned back towards him.

Independent from her, her heart catapulted into her mouth and she found herself unable to say anything when she saw Solstice’s eyes burning so cold that vapor billowed off the sides like dry ice. The thin strips replacing his pupils reached down and awoke some instinctual urge to run, but she could see the gentle slope of his smile hadn’t changed.

“You’re right. It’s getting worse and that’s scary.” He gestured towards his eyes. “That’s also why I fight so hard. I have to master it, because if I don’t, I’m not the only one who pays for it. But look.” He screwed his eyes shut tight, and with a few mumbled nothings about calm and peaceful surrenders, he opened them green. Himself.

“Impressive,” Sunset mumbled. The idea of controlling her own demon form at the Fall Formal was so out of the realm of possibility for her. If Solstice really could suppress that much magic, she admired the Tartarus out of his willpower. But it also reminded her what a burden she’d placed on the people here like him. She didn’t mention the snow fluttering down in the windowpane behind him.

Solstice collected his hands in front of him. “How you deal with your magic is your decision. I can’t make it for you. I think I can help you help your friends, but that’s up to you. Whenever you’re ready.”

“... I’ll think about it,” Sunset promised, because Celestia be damned, a part of her nearly wanted to say yes⁠—if only to help him deal with what Equestrian magic had put him through. And, have someone to come to for guidance who knew how bad it was. But her eyes fell away. “But, honestly? … I don’t think I will be.”

Much like the portal she ran through all those years ago, Sunset Shimmer walked out the door and couldn’t look back.

Following the careful tck-bm of the door closing shut, she massaged her temples with her palms. Out in the hall, her friends gathered in a speculative circle, which she had to push straight through.

“Out already?” Twilight perked up. “Did you book an appointment?”

Sunset shook her head. “I told him no. I don’t want to go to counselling.”

That’s when she heard Rainbow Dash use Flash Sentry’s voice against her: “Um. What? What do you mean you don’t want to go to counselling? I’d kinda like to be back in my body thanks??? You said you’d fix this!”

“I am⁠—I will!” Despite the air readily available in the hall around them, Sunset somehow felt claustrophobic. There were nine of them with the boys included. A weight ratcheted up the tightness at her chest at the base of her throat and she pulled at the neck of Flash’s T-shirt, still leftover from when he’d been her this morning. She huffed out a breath. “I haven’t stopped trying, I swear, but come on: counselling? You really think that’s going to solve anything?”

Flash set his jaw to the side, rubbing one of his well-defined biceps. “Well... don’t we owe it to everyone to try?”

Timber folded his arms, avoiding his boyfriend’s gaze.

Sunset waved Flash off. “Obviously, but what? Am I going to sit on a couch and cry my way to the solution? Because I don’t cry period and especially not in front of people. It’s, ugh, weird.” The last time Sunset had, one of the only times she had, would have been at the bottom of that crater after her demon transformation. It wasn’t a treasured memory Sunset was eager to recreate. She crossed her arms. “Therapy isn’t going to help here.”

“It can help with more than you think.” Fluttershy laid a pink hand on Sunset’s arm, then, terrifyingly, managed to make the shallow blue waters of Pinkie Pie’s eyes appear chilling as northern ocean depths, like she could see right through her. “Sunset, you’re not afraid of counselling, are you?”

“Wh⁠—?! No!” A sticky swelter blasted through her cheeks the same way the air conditioner in her apartment expelled its hot, stale air before finding the cool stuff. She shoved her hands across her chest. “I don’t want to know what some stranger has to say about every little thing I’ve ever done, alright? It’s pointless!” As much as she meant it, she felt glad Solstice likely couldn’t hear.

“You could talk to your friends,” Fluttershy said in Pinkie’s voice, and the looks around her were more pointed than Sunset anticipated. She said it like she was waggling a doggie treat above Sunset’s nose. “We’re still right here.”

“This isn’t about me,” Sunset declared to make it so, “it’s about friendship—and we’re the experts at that. We’ve taken down every enemy who’s ever come up against us and won with a smile. Any magical problem, we fix, any lost teen in need of a friend, we’re there for. We’re the Rainbooms! We’re Canterlot Wondercolts! We’ve never needed help before!”

“Uh, yeah we have,” Applejack told her, using a tone of voice so sassy it was almost hard to believe Fluttershy’s voice could vocalise it. “That’s kind of what friendship is?”

Deflating her puffed up chest, Sunset grunted. “You know what I mean. I’m pep-talking. We can do this. The point is we can do this.”

“MmmI don’t know...” Pinkie Pie twiddled her manicured fingers and their purple nail polish. She noticed eyes on her and a smile burst back to life. “Not that we’re not super-duper amaze-tacular at friendship, but we’ve tried doing it our way already. Lots of times! Can’t say we didn’t give it the old CHS try! But, maybe that doesn’t work for everything? Maybe there’s some things you can’t fix on your own and maybe that’s okay, too. Maybe this is one of those maybe things.”

Sunset stared at her. “Pinkie, that’s… really depressing.”

Pinkie Pie shrugged, trying to smile it better.

Aside from Timber, who kept quiet in the back as if hoping not to be noticed, all the rest of them gave her those supportive smiles that nearly broke her. The worst part was that they all seemed to think this was what was best for her, and would do anything as her friends to help her get the Help she needed.

They were such great friends. Such great people. They had excellent adventures ahead of them and they all deserved that and more. These dorks deserved the best lives the multiverse had to offer them.

It was universally unfair that she’d injected herself into the middle of a group of people who were this sweet and this supportive when she was such a bad friend.

Fuck... I’m every bit as selfish as I used to be and you’re all too good to see it. And then a sick certainty settled inside her. I’m going to lose you. And I’ll deserve it.

Sunset turned away from their gentle smiles so she wouldn’t have to see them fall, hands gripped so tight in her pockets the nails ate at her palms. “I-I don’t know, girls…”

The moment hung on a little longer.

Then, what would normally be Timber’s voice rose from the quiet. “Okay.”

She heard footsteps coming towards her as well as Rainbow Dash asking, “It is???”

Twilight placed a hand on Sunset’s tensed up shoulder, and she grimaced at how Sunset flinched. Standing between Sunset and their friends, Twilight said, “Okay. If you’re not comfortable going to counselling—” And there was enough eye contact that Twilight didn’t have to ask. “—maybe we can try an alternative. I think outside help is still a good idea.”

“Thank you,” Sunset murmured, placing a hand over her girlfriend’s, if only briefly. Sunset hesitated, but with her friends gathered in earshot, she raised a tentative eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

If ever there was a penthouse that embodied bubblegum pop music, Sunset supposed she’d found it. In addition to being a legitimately upscale place that made Sunset’s wallet ache just thinking about it⁠—enjoying a vista view of the snow-glittering city over a now frozen infinity pool on the balcony from the comfort of a loveseat by the fire⁠—Hearts and Hooves Day was alive and well in each tasteful, love-themed decoration.

The four of them had promised to meet after school at this, the newest and most architecturally sleek and unique apartment buildings in downtown, per Twilight’s instruction. While Sunset wasn’t necessarily crazy about the idea, she liked it a lot better than letting Solstice find ways to blame everyone’s problems on her (she’d made that job exceedingly easy).

What she liked even less was that it gave the others time to properly change and now Twilight had dressed Timber Spruce’s body up in what Sunset could only guess would have been Twilight’s dream for the doofus back when those two were dating: in other words, like that science-fictional time-traveler with a PhD that Twilight often geeked out to Sunset about.

A smart bow-tie and sweater-vest combination matched some sensible shoes and an attempt at combing that wild fluffy hair (not a successful one, maybe, but an attempt). Sunset knew full well Twilight herself dressed that way so Sunset did her best not to read into that, but that didn’t mean she had to like it that the look sort of worked. In a Applewood-version of a nerd way.

Sunset also didn’t much care for Timber putting his beanie and puffy vest on Twilight. The whole affair looked like the mix-up a couple would make in the afterglow by blindly reaching for their clothes in the dark, and if anything Twilight should have been wearing Sunset’s jacket right about now.

At least Flash had the decency not to piss Sunset off without meaning to (and she knew she couldn’t necessarily blame Timber and Twilight and that’s what made her even grumpier about it), but even he seemed pretty intent on flexing his muscles. In his case, quite literally. If there wasn’t a snowstorm outside, Sunset couldn’t be certain that Flash wouldn’t have shown up in a muscle tee. Instead, he settled on a varsity sweater tight to his biceps with CHS in big letters, likely for some sort of sport (though Sunset didn’t know what for and doubted Flash did either).

Enjoy it while it lasts, I guess? Sunset couldn't tell if that would make things worse or better when he got back to his own body. Out of anyone, though, she thought Flash had earned a little body positivity. As a treat.

Together, they’d ascended to the tip-top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the Canterlot City skyline. Timber jittered the entire elevator in excitement and with her gut already roiling, Sunset did not need the jolt in the box holding them up from a twelve storey fall.

“Timber.”

“Yup,” he said, and stopped, but his little kid caliber smile kept up high.

A ding and a walk down a lavish hall later, they arrived at a door emboldened by the golden numbers 2013. Twilight knocked on the door and stepped back to play with her hands. In normal circumstances, Sunset would have grabbed one of those hands to interrupt her brainy girlfriend’s thoughts before they could race too far ahead of herself, rub little circles in the back of her hand to bring her back down to earth or squeeze to let Twilight know she was right there with her. They managed to say a lot with a touch.

Sunset might have cheated on their pause if Timber and Flash weren’t there to keep her accountable.

The door opened and pushed a beautiful rosewater perfume into the hall, revealing its owner and her goddess-like smile upon seeing all of them together. Principal Cadance brightened. “Twilight!”

Weirdly, she’d smiled at and hugged the correct person, but it only took Sunset a moment to work out that Twilight had likely backloaded her texts with the backstory. Cadance smiled to the rest of them almost apologetically. “It’s so good to see you all. Even if I'm not currently seeing you.” She side-hugged Sunset in particular while Twilight continued to hug her. Sunset and Cadance grinned at each other, not unlike how they had across the table over Harvest Moon dinner.

Then she did the same to Timber and it irked Sunset to no end.

“Timber, it’s been so long, I’m glad you’re okay!” Cadance said, inviting them in and getting a good look at him. “Your sister called a few days ago looking for you. She sounded a little, um, frantic? She said something about stealing the camp jeep and disappearing without telling her?”

“Yeah... I put her through a lot. I’ll make it up to her somehow. I gave her the number of a good counsellor, at least,” he said, rubbing his neck. Sunset would have normally assumed that was a joke, but he’d been texting his sister every hour on the hour. Fantastic. Another name on the list of people her magic had sent to psychotherapy. “Warpath Gloriosa is a scary beast. You’re a braver woman than I.”

Cadance giggled. “Glad to see you haven’t changed. Well, on the inside, at least. I’ve got to admit, it’s a little strange to see Twilight so… Timber.”

Sunset Shimmer also hated this very much. She agreed that it went against the laws of nature (and Sunset was a horse from another dimension, so she knew disobeying natural law). She steamed silently, but did her best to be polite about it. Because she had to. He was her new best friend, after all.

Cadance led the way inside her apartment, which was how Sunset found herself overlooking the heavy blanket of snow tucking the entire city in. From all the way up here, it was easier to tell that beyond the city’s limits, the weather wasn’t nearly this… dramatic.

Sunset frowned as scones and tea was served. Under control, my flank. When I get the girls back to normal, we’ll have to do something about him. And she thought that was a shame, but she’d do what she had to if it meant keeping her friends safe.

Then again, Sunset thought she should maybe leave that job to Cadance. A photo rested on the mantle in an elegant heart-shaped-frame: Shining Armour, still young enough to be wearing his Crystal Prep uniform hugging Cadance in a death-grip as she wore what Sunset now recognized as a Nightfall Reach uniform, military caps raining around them like so many tossed graduation caps.

The broad sword engraved with hearts hung over it looked like it could also do some damage, too, if need be. Timber whistled at it before taking a seat.

The loveseat across from the gas, glass-encased fireplace was just big enough for the three of them while Twilight took the chair closest to Cadance. As soon as Cadance set down the snacks, Twilight’s eyes widened as if she’d been starved for three days in solitary confinement—but she wasn’t looking at the pretzels and scones.

“Is that a ring?!” Twilight squawked.

Cadance looked at once confused and interested at her own finger, and then at Twilight. A laugh of a smile came out. “Yes. A promise ring.”

Twilight caught her chest as if concerned something inside might otherwise escape. “O-oh! Oh, wow, that's amazing, that’s—wow. I-I almost thought, um⁠, oh gosh—”

“Awww, congratulations!” Flash gushed, his hands sinking into his heated cheeks. He gently laid his hand under Cadance’s, admiring the sparkle of the ring. Silver twisted into the delicate shape of two hearts intertwined across her finger. “It’s beautiful. Must be quality.”

Timber leaned around Sunset to grin fiendishly at his boyfriend. “Huh. Didn’t take you for a diamond kind of guy. Noted.”

While Flash turned rosie enough for the freckles of Applejack’s checks to stand out, Sunset’s mouth jerked to the side as she popped an elbow into Timber’s ribs.

“Yup,” Timber said, rubbing his side.

“It’s really nice,” Sunset told Cadance. She didn’t want to not say anything, but Twilight had also told her before that Cadance was a reason she knew she also liked girls. Sunset had been the major revelation, but in hindsight, some things made a lot more sense. Even if Twilight was past all that junior high pining (that she’d only recently recognized as pining), having her first crush engaged to be engaged to her brother had to be rough.

For her part, Cadance had so much kindness in her eyes it made Twilight blush. “Shining Armour didn’t tell you he gave this to me.”

Twilight wrung her hands over and over, as if they were tripping over themselves as a laugh spilled out. “Well, I’m sure he would’ve warned me if he had time to see me in person. Or let me know he’d been in town. This is face-to-face news!” She smiled just tight enough that it must have hurt. “Regardless, I’m really happy for you two. Really!”

“That’s good,” Cadance told her. “I’m glad to have your approval. I promise you, when there’s an engagement ring involved, I’m not letting you find out when we send out the wedding invitations. I don't want us to become a Weddings and Funerals kind of family."

Twilight didn't seem to know how to take that. If anything, she appeared actively confused, something Sunset hadn't seen often in her girlfriend but she recognized even in Twilight's now Timbery face as a genius battling down another monumental concept. With a conceptual crossbow. "Oh… is that… bad?"

She looked to the others for some kind of sign either way, but all Timber could do was shrug; Sunset stared blankly since, well, the Sparkles were one of the only families she'd seen operate up close and personal and she’d thought they were pretty great; and Flash chose this exact moment to shove a scone in his mouth.

Cadance softened. “I want you to be involved, anyway. I’m sure Shining Armour does, too.” She refilled Twilight’s teacup for her to mercifully give Twilight something else to focus on. Sunset liked Cadance. And not just because Cadance liked her for Twilight; she’d been so excited for her and Twilight when they became a couple.

If Sunset was being totally honest, she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be introduced to the Sparkle family on Twilight’s arm. She felt a little dim for not even considering it, effectively being blindsided a second time since Flash also happened to have a family. Not that she cared back when they were dating. Just more people to put up a front in front of, as nice as they were. She still didn’t trust Flash’s little brother Scout after the first time the little skunk filled her boots with shaving cream for being mean to Flash⁠—which she probably deserved, but still. Little twerp.

This time, though, Sunset cared almost too much. Twilight somehow got the idea that her family would like Sunset for who she was, and the fact that Twilight was sharing a side of her life with her made Sunset want to step up⁠ to be part of it—but it wasn’t until she met those people that she found herself shocked at how… nice it felt to have them welcome her.

Warm, filling meals around a table with busy people relieved to finally be together⁠—and not only that, but included her in that together. That kind of nice.

So nice she spent the entire Harvest Moon weekend and several days after school afterwards just spending time with them. Nightlight had to race off to an international interstellar conference on his often academically scoffed at, but scientifically compelling multiverse theory (Sunset decided it wasn’t her place to tell him). And soon after, Twilight Velvet had to leave for another globetrotting book tour⁠—the books Twilight treasured reading for the first time more than anything else when her mom was away⁠—and not long after Shining Armour had to leave for his classes at Princesston.

But Cadance stuck around, and even if Sunset didn’t entirely know why these people were so important to her, they kind of were? She really appreciated them, at least. They didn’t assume the worst of her.

She liked to think she may have even charmed them⁠—once upon a time she’d been excessively good at diplomacy with foreign dignitaries (even well after she was just the cute little filly with the big teal doe eyes poking her chin over the table in war rooms), but that usually required putting on a bit of an act. Just being herself and winning people over? Connecting with them genuinely and that being enough? She was only really comfortable calling it nice, but Celestia damn it if it didn’t feel really, really nice.

Cadance lured them in with scones, tea, and toasty fireplace glow before telling them, “So, Twilight tells me you four have a bit of a problem you wanted to talk about? Relationship problems?”

Sunset choked, and not just because she’d been scarfing down a buttery scone. “What? No,” she said, but her voice struggled not to sound strained. She pounded her chest to remind her internal organs to function correctly. “Our relationships are fantastic. Yeah, we’re on a brief pause, but it’s only because we’re literally not the right people for each other—as in physically not the right people.”

Cadance bowed her chin, the way adults did to look kids in the eye. “And how do you four feel about the fact that your ex is dating one of your friends? Is that hard?”

Out of all of them, Flash smiled, chuckling through his words. “I don’t know, I like seeing Twilight and Sunset happy. They’re so good together. Sunset’s worked super hard to be a better person from who she used to be and Twilight never used to have any of the friendships or romantic stuff she has now⁠—it’s hard not to root for them.”

Sunset cracked open a smirk, fist-bumping him then laying out her hand to display Flash as Exhibit A. “Exactly. We’re all different people than we were in the past so everything’s fine. Flash and I are best buds now and Twilight and Timber are becoming friends again, too.” As she said that, she gestured to Twilight as Exhibit B. “Our pasts are not today.”

Twilight stayed quieter than Sunset anticipated.

When Sunset looked over, she found her girlfriend had one arm clutched by the other hard. Fire crackled, logs shifting.

Timber’s eyebrows pressed together, floating up as if levitating. “... Are we friends?”

“O-of course I want to be! You’re great! I don’t want to lose you totally.” They shared each other’s gazes for a longer moment than Sunset had seen in months. Maybe recognizing that, Twilight bit her lip back and gripped her arm. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I ruined things between us. I don’t have any right to be upset with you.”

Cadance’s gentle voice prompted, “But are you?”

Twilight pressed her mouth flat.

Timber stood from the couch to come ask Cadance, “May I?” in order to sit in front of Twilight on the edge of the coffee table, next to the biscuits and tea.

“Hey. You’re contradicting yourself. That’s not like you.” Twirling it first in his hands, Timber took a pale pink heart-shaped pillow from the couch, like a plush valentine. “Either I didn’t do anything wrong or you’re upset about something so much we can’t be friends. Both can’t be true and that means, ipso facto,” he said, and gave her the pillow along with the ghost of a smirk, “you’re holding out on me, Sparkle.”

Sunset watched him do that, simmering.

“What I’m upset about isn’t your fault,” Twilight insisted, and rather than fiddling with it, let her arms fall loose around the pillow in her lap. She took an uncomfortable sigh that seemed to stick in her throat partway through. “I know I worry too much.”

“You worry the perfect amount, baby,” Sunset insisted, then faltered. “That came out wrong. You’re perfect. And it’s okay. You can talk to us.” Flash nodded on the couch beside her.

Pausing only to send Sunset a grateful look that couldn’t last long enough, Twilight pressed her lips together before finding Timber’s eyes again. “In hindsight keeping you from magic was a mistake; but things get dangerous with magic around. You could get hurt. You did. Did those nightmares about Gloriosa ever even go away?”

Timber’s hardened expression didn’t move.

Twilight nodded. “I’d do anything if I could keep you safe from that. After everything at camp and with Gloriosa turning into a demon, I didn’t want to keep putting you through trauma. And, honestly, I liked having some semblance of normalcy in our lives⁠—and I knew you did too! But I think... that’s the main reason we grew apart. We could’ve figured out long distance for college, if it came to that. Keeping you from magic kept you from me, too.”

There was a slight shake to Timber’s head. “Twi… I never asked you to keep me away from magic.”

“Exactly!” She pointed at him. “I knew you never would! You don’t worry about you like I do! You’re courageous, and bold, and terrifically smart and all those things are wonderful but you don’t ever think about yourself and what you need.”

Flash nodded, eyes briefly rising.

Twilight’s now green eyes searched for the ceiling, shaking her head, and they sparkled in the light when she brought them back down. “I mean gosh, Timber, out of everybody I’ve ever known, I don’t think anybody deserves to have a normal life more than you. Fun dates. The mall. Friends to hang out with who don’t desert you, and parties, and weird hobbies we laugh about together: You deserve that.”

Sunset grimaced.

“So once you and I finally had that, I protected it.” Having let go of the pillow, she pressed her balled fists to her chest, but that position must have made it harder to breathe. Noticing this, Twilight unfurled her hands, looking at her fingers. “I guess at my own expense.”

Cadance only stole their attention long enough to say, “From what you’ve told me, the breakup had to do with a number of things, but if you felt like you couldn’t talk about an important part of your life, that’s going to be hard on a relationship.”

“Yeah. Well, for what it counts?” Timber said. “I loved all the freaky magic parts. We could’ve talked about our plans for prom, quiz bowl trivia, and the end of the world in the same conversation and if we were scared about any of those, it made it better just because it was you and me. But you stopped talking. That’s when it got really scary to me.”

“… See, but that’s another reason it’s not your fault that I’m upset. I don’t know if it’s fair to say, but I’m not the only one who stopped talking.” They shared a look that Sunset couldn’t decipher, but it seemed to make Timber concede. Point Sparkle.

“That’s not why we broke up, though,” Timber muttered. “You never had to hide any part of yourself from me. Still don’t.”

Twilight breathed a laugh, “Well, now I can’t. You can teleport halfway across the world.”

Timber’s eyebrows pulled in. “So. So what? That means we can’t be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” she told him, and paused long enough that Sunset noticed her hanging onto the moment before she had to say anything else. “But, I don’t know how we’re supposed to act around each other, either. It took me so long to text you again. I’ve never done this before.

“Now, I don’t know. I’m trying to forget how we were together and how it all felt because I don’t ever want to forget but now I think I have to and I’m so worried about you all the time now, it's—” She rubbed her face. It twisted Sunset’s heart to hear Twilight’s voice choke up, even despite the fact that it was Timber’s voice doing all the emoting. “Gah, I’m sorry. Sorry. Oooh, I’m a mess at being someone’s ex. But that’s what I’m upset about, too. I don’t think being exes is something we can pause.”

“... Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. And, if it helps, I’m not much better.” Timber sunk his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “But, I don’t know… it’s been nice to spend time together again. I like your friends.”

She smiled, tears bending around it. “They like you, too.”

Timber’s eyes widened, froze there for a moment, then dropped to the floor. “... But you and I aren’t friends.”

“... I want to be,” Twilight offered. She hugged the pillow tighter and used the soft part of her palm to dry her eye. “I think we’re still learning how, but I-I-I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you.”

Girlfriend or not, Sunset refused to let her best friend’s heart break a second time over Timber Spruce. Fuck the pause. Sunset was there, that same night after the breakup. She dried Twilight’s tears, ate breakup ice cream with her, but perhaps most importantly, held on for that long broken moment swaying in the doorframe of her apartment.

All Timber gave her in response was a listless, “Yeah. I know.”

“So, you don’t want to lose each other. That’s a place to start,” Cadance told them gently, but Sunset was getting mad that it wasn’t coming from Timber. Out of all the times to drop his indomitable enthusiasm, he had to pick now? A goofy pun, a smarmy line—anything? Nothing to stop Twilight from worrying herself sick?

Flash turned to Sunset then, fiddling with a gingersnap so much he broke it in two. “I know you said we don’t have to give up our magic, but do you think it would be easier? Like, for everybody? I know magic is your thing. If we’re butting in where we don’t belong, it’s okay. You can tell us.”

“I didn’t say that, either!” Twilight argued, the frustration starting to mount in a hoarse way that Timber’s voice rarely if ever approached. “Both of you should get to embrace your magic! It’s yours! You should never have to feel ashamed of it⁠—I want you to be proud! And you two make a great couple. I’m so happy for you! Even if I don’t know how to come to terms with the fact that you have magic now, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t!”

Sunset massaged her forehead as Twilight went on about how their magic was a gift, not a curse. The exact same thing Sunset had to tell Twilight back at Camp Everfree. Or the girls when they got their geodes. Or countless other people whose lives Sunset disrupted like an atom bomb.

If Sunset did run through a new portal, start a new life with a new name. Would she always have that same effect? Was she just a destructive force bringing magic wherever she touched?

When Twilight rambled herself out on the subject of pride in one’s magic, Principal Cadance smiled at the four of them. “Wow. It sounds like you have a lot you’ve been holding back from each other. You haven’t really had this conversation before, have you?”

The four exchanged looks. Flash pawed at the arm of the couch. “Uh, yeah, no.”

“Bits and pieces,” Twilight mumbled.

“Well,” Cadance ventured, pouring them another cup of tea, “what do you want to happen when you switch everyone back?”

The moment refused to die. The sound of the fire crackling on filled the background, sucking oxygen from the room the longer it went on.

Sunset eventually couldn’t take it much more. She folded her arms. “I want my girlfriend back.”

“Uh yeah. Unpausing’s going to be seriously great,” Flash agreed, reaching for Timber’s gaze.

“And I’d like to stay friends with the boys. I love you two. Getting to know you both better has been really nice,” Twilight said, smiling at Flash in particular. But it dropped when she had to address the boy sitting on the table in front of her. She gave him the pillow back. “But, um… maybe... you and I do have to set boundaries for a while? That might be good for us.”

Timber nodded, distantly. However far away he was made his purple eyes dim to a grey, like mist over distant mountains.

Even if it hurt, Flash nodded, too, and much more enthusiastically, with more life in him. “Of course. Anything that makes everybody more comfortable, we’ll do. If it’s hard, we can give you space. That makes sense, right?” He looked to Cadance for confirmation, who nodded.

While his boyfriend was speaking, Timber stood up from the coffee table and moved toward the glass door separating them from the pool deck on the balcony.

“Timber?” Twilight asked.

“Space sounds good,” Timber told them, smiling again but not in a way that looked at all like his smile should. “I’m gonna go get some air to fill it, okay?”

He left out into the cold.

Both Flash and Twilight stood up and tried to go after him, but Cadance stopped the two of them short. “Wait a second. Let’s think about what Timber needs.”

Flash balled his hands into fists like he would use his new musculature if it came down to that. “I’m not letting him be alone out there after all that! He needs us!”

“I know you want to comfort him, but if talking about his relationships upset him, you might not be who he most wants to see at the moment.” Then, she turned to Sunset Shimmer with a smile. “If you ask me, I think he could use a friend right now.”

The infinity pool had summer at a standstill while a glacially roaring wind raged through their bones. An orchestra of biting breezes: whipping whistles and a low, guttural sound ever present beneath it. Sunset pulled her jacket together. If she was cold with frost-bite, she had to imagine Timber must have been eaten alive.

Huddled ahead, Timber Spruce leaned on the glass pool deck railing, overlooking the sprawling arctic cityscape. In order to do that, he’d padded across the frozen pool and stood on the ice, which made him appear as if he was floating above the bright teal patterns sunk below the frozen waves.

Sunset took a cautious step onto the ice, testing her weight. It held, but she didn’t feel like pushing their luck for long. “Timber,” she said, plodding out to him. “It’s freezing out, come inside.”

“I’ve never seen it like this,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, well⁠—” Mid-pool, she let her arms slap down against her sides. “Welcome to winter in the city.”

Timber shook his head. “I’ve never seen it all lit up. Look how warm it looks inside all the little windows. Each one of those warm squares belongs to somebody. Even the snow sparkles in the streetlights. It’s really something.”

The cold twisted her skin as loose snow shot across the balcony from the top of the next building over. Sunset huffed raggedly and shoved her hands beneath her armpits. “Timber, we have warm windows to look through inside. What the hades are you doing out here? You can’t talk to Twilight like that and leave. She has anxiety. Your boyfriend’s worried. Come on. We’ll figure this out, you know that. Friendship finds a way, it’s cold as hell out here, please can we go inside?”

Timber folded his arms on the lip of the railing. “You can go. I still need a minute.”

“Why?” The rhythm in her voice sounded laugh-like, but it was a cheap imitation of the real thing. Sunset came up next to him. “Oh, you’re going to stand here brooding like that’s going to make you feel better? Shut the door on everybody?”

Timber twisted back at her. “I’m not the one shutting people out!”

“Yeah, well, could’ve fooled me.” Sunset gestured around to the balcony they stood on.

Raising his hands as if stopping himself from exploding, Timber breathed, “If I go back inside that apartment right now… look, there’s just—” He raked a hand through his hair. “There’s things I can’t talk about and parts of me I don’t want to be part of me.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to see me angry. I’m that awesome guy who should always be invited to fun things! That’s me. And if Twilight wants to pull away and take all of you with her then at least I don’t have to drag you down with me. I’m not gonna be the guy who stands in your way!”

Timber braced himself against the railing, shaking his head. “... That’s not me.”

Sunset shook her head. “Then be you. We love that dork! Where’s the guy who would fall over himself to crack jokes and make people feel like everything’s going to be okay?”

He didn’t answer. At most, the upsettingly cold wind played with his hair.

Which left Sunset to try to empathize with a brick wall and she was starting to get frustrated. “Alright. I get it, dude. I get it! You lost the girl and it sucks. I know more than anybody anywhere how much it sucks. Who do you think lost her to you?”

Timber turned to look at her, frowning. “You liked her then, too.”

She folded her arms like a child in timeout. “Yeah. But obviously, you were perfect.”

He watched her expression.

Sunset avoided his eyes and tried to scowl, but couldn’t quite get there. “You two made each other so happy. You were a good guy. Twilight lit up around you. She had this, just, seriously beautiful light in her eyes, like until now she couldn’t believe someone could really love her like that but then, here you were doing it! Any idiot could see it at the crystal ball. You were magic together, of course I’d support that. I realized I’d been falling for her too late to tell her anyway, so...”

She shrugged.

She remembered the sting from the last dance better than the breeze eating her skin now. Flash took to the stage to give the Rainbooms a break. He borrowed her guitar. He played a cover of an old song she used to like, Earth Angel. Couples took to the floor, and that left Sunset on the side with the rest of her friends apart from Rarity, who tapped Applejack on the shoulder for a dance.

Watching Twilight giggle and light up in Timber’s arms made Sunset smile, and at first, that’s all she let herself do. But as the song went on, it dawned on her. More and more, until Sunset Shimmer knew she had a crush on her best friend and that she couldn’t do anything about it.

Timber looked down, mouth pressed together, then nearly smiled at her before turning back towards the skyline. “You’re a good friend.”

“No, I’m not,” Sunset muttered.

He raised an eyebrow that drove her insane. “You’re not a good friend? You. You teach the class on friendship.”

Sunset scoffed. “Sure. Only by destroying the lives of every ‘student’ in there⁠—who, by the way, never asked to be dragged into my magical bullshit in the first place and you know why anybody in this world has to deal with that? I don’t think about other people.

“It’s amazing! I go through life, charging ahead like my past doesn’t have consequences, and you know, I’m so shortsighted I thought it didn’t! But that’s because it doesn’t have consequences for me anymore.

“But do I see that? No-ho, Celestia no. Tartarus!” She nearly lost her balance on the ice from how violently she brought down her hands from her forehead. “I’m so Celestia damned selfish I don’t even see it anymore. It’s like I’ve got blinders on! Even now we’re out here freezing to death talking about my hang-ups when I should be comforting you. You think I’ve changed? That I’m somehow a good friend because I can be a little nice?” Sunset spread out her arms to gesture around. “My magic lost you your girlfriend, Timber. Still think I’m a good friend?”

Shutting his eyes mid-eyeroll, Timber shook his head. “No one blames you for that, but I guess I know you well enough by now to know you’re not going to believe me. All I meant is you let me dance with her that night even though it hurt you and that was cool.”

A scoff came out like the pressure release from a soda can. “Tcht. Well… it doesn’t make me a hero not to ruin someone’s night. I’d be a jerk if I didn’t keep encouraging her to go after you.”

Sunset came up beside him to lean on the guard rail, too. The wind bit harder out there, but she could see what he saw. A forest of skyscrapers and hill-like houses sprawling off on all sides. Even in the snow squalls and raining frost, the warmth, the life there, stood up against it all. A whole city together. She had to admit: the view was really something.

“I still felt like a jerk pining after her all that time you were together, but by that point I didn’t do anything because, honestly…” She almost didn’t say it.

Timber nudged her. “What?”

Sunset’s teal eyes touched the purple in his, and gently, she told him, “I wanted to hurt you. I still. I still sometimes do.”

He blinked. “You didn’t. You don’t.”

“But I wanted to, and that’s the scary part.” Arms crossed at the wrists, Sunset let her hands dangle over the 12 storey descent waiting right below. If something were to drop, would the wind freeze it solid on the way down? “You weren’t around when I was at my worst.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t when I was at mine. We’re even,” he said, looking down, too, but Sunset couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke.

She laughed, but mostly at herself. “Yeah, well, I hurt a lot of people and didn’t care until it all came crashing down around me. Blinders.” Sunset shook her head, eyes wide. “You wanna know the messed up part? I would’ve. If Twilight wasn’t such a good person, I think I would've sabotaged your relationship somehow just so you could feel as cheated and hurt as I did, even if I was really just mad at myself for being stupid enough not to see I liked her sooner. And I didn’t do that, but you know... looks like my magic did in the end anyway. I. I’m sorry.”

The fact that Timber currently looked like her best friend in the world only just struck Sunset again, as if for the first time.

Timber laughed, and not exactly the way Twilight really would, but it made Sunset smile. “I wish I had a friend like you.”

Sunset had to laugh, too, now, jabbing an elbow into him. “Oh, what? We’re not friends now, either?”

The wind whistled between them.

“Oh, no, we are. We’re best friends. For now.” Timber’s eyebrows jerked together. He grimaced like he’d gotten himself hurt on a trail in the middle of the woods, miles from anybody who could help. As tears started to creep up into his eyes, he forced himself to look out at the city ahead. “When you live at a camp, people always leave at the end of the season. That’s the deal. No matter how deep you think you know them—or how deep they think they know you—and no matter how long you want it to last, they have to go. What hurts is how they don’t look back like you do.

“I don’t blame people for getting busy or forgetting to text back. I’m not in their lives much, it’s easy not to notice it’s been months. Or years. It’s like my parents: they’re not trying to leave me behind, so it’s not like I can be mad at them.”

Anger tinged his voice and he sighed it out until none was left. “I’m trying so hard not to see a pattern out of it, but, I know how it goes: everybody leaves at the end of the season.” Timber made himself smile. “So, lucky me, right? I’ll always have another new best friend.”

Sunset grimaced. For a long moment there, she searched the snowy treetops and forest of buildings ahead of them for how to convince him that pattern wouldn’t repeat, but like eden roses in a garden, all they were left with was snow fluttering down.

She put an arm around his shoulders, letting it fall solidly to clap him on the back.

“... We should really get you back inside.”

A laugh-track mixed into a wooting applause. The sound of a sit-com rose like smoke from the TV in Sunset’s living room. She woke up multiple times through the night, drifting in and out of one unsatisfying sleep to the next to the wicked blurring together of half-hour mischief and mid-season kisses and theme songs about how everybody knows your name and will be there for you.

The only interruption, she could blearily make out from the dregs of half-sleep, was the emergency weather system: extreme cold. Winter storm warning.

Around 4 a.m., maybe the third time Sunset woke up, Scruffers in her arms, she went to the railing of her bedroom platform. She could see Timber on the couch, shadowed by the blue light hitting his face.

Coming downstairs, she brought the only other blanket in the apartment and sat next to him until they watched sit-coms and the sunrise together.

The fact that Canterlot High reopened during the storm meant a harsh, difficult trudge through the tundra their front yard had become. But it also meant Sunset could be with her friends.

Sunset slammed her locker shut. Having a snow day yesterday to recover after their all-nighter sit-com binge didn’t make coming to school now any easier. Her friends appeared to disagree. She hadn’t seen them so chipper since before they swapped bodies. That much, she loved to see.

For once, Fluttershy looked appropriately sugared up for someone inhabiting Pinkie Pie’s body. “Oh, this is all so exciting! And I’m sure you did a wonderful job, Rarity! You’ve checked and rechecked and re-rechecked our every measurement so many times I’ve lost count,” she was saying, then bit her lip. “Would it be okay if we took just a teeny tiny sneak peek?”

“Ah, ah, ah, darlings,” Rarity said. She didn’t even bother to hide her accent behind a rough and tumble façade for Rainbow’s sake. “Patience is a virtue. And even if I wanted to spoil the simply spectacular surprise, I can’t. I have our coronation couture for tonight back at the Gala Galleria for safe keeping.”

Tonight? Sunset, as usual, cursed internally. She’d almost forgotten.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be much more convenient to have our outfits here? The portal’s right outside, I assumed we’d just go straight there after school. We don’t want to be tardy, right Timber?”

Sunset could read her girlfriend like the quantum physics textbooks she took from her locker (or well, maybe a bit better than that), but she didn’t need to have foresight to see Twilight was less enthusiastic than the others. Judging by the nervous glances she cast towards Timber, who refused to return her looks, for more reasons than one. He mumbled a non-committal, pouty noise.

Rarity tittered. “Yes, well, you know how this school is, dear. Best not to chance these things with magic afoot! All according to plan, all according to plan!” A manic giggle as she rubbed her hands over one and other let on just how likely she thought that would be around here. Around Sunset. “No loose threads in sight! No seams unsteamed!”

“Wow, you… really want a nice, normal night, huh?” Sunset rubbed her arm. In hindsight, she felt bad she hadn’t noticed how much Rarity had been freaking out over this. She turned to the others. “Has she been like this the whole time?”

“If I have to hear the words haute couture one more time, I’m gonna scream,” Applejack grumbled, an odd sound for Fluttershy’s soft, soothing voice.

If Sunset couldn’t find a way to switch them back now…

She watched her friends babbling and laughing about the day to come and her heart twisted in her chest. You dorks deserve to feel this way all the time.

Maybe you could without me. If I left for Equestria and closed the portal behind me...

It weighed heavy in her chest to think this might be the last time she saw all of them. She wished she had more time, just to spend with them like this. Her favourite dorks.

If nothing else, four of them more or less had a get out of class free card. At this point in the semester, there were only so many more classes to wrap up anyway, and besides, all teachers were required to let them out of class for a counselling appointment.

More specifically, Flash decided to go see a counsellor, which left the three of them waiting in chairs outside his office.

“We’re here for support,” Sunset had said to Solstice, to keep his hopes from getting too high. “It’s Flash who wanted the appointment. Nothing to do with us, so you know, no need to mention my name in there.”

Solstice nodded, but he looked so exhausted it was hard to tell if he’d gotten the message or not. He patted Flash on the shoulder. “It’s quite brave of you, then. Come along then, son.”

Flash waved to them before leaving towards the office. “See you after?”

The fogged glass window in the door to the office blurred his figure. Almost enough that Sunset could pretend he was who he was supposed to be with that spiky upturned hair. Not a minute after the two of them left, Twilight, fiddling with her hands, said, “Now are we sure you two don’t want to⁠—”

“Yup,” Timber said, not really looking in her direction. “Just here for my boyfriend at this point.”

“Oh. Okay,” Twilight mumbled, and pushed one of his curls behind her ear in a way that made Sunset’s heartburn straight out of her chest.

Sunset couldn’t sit there next to her like that anymore. “Hey⁠—”

But, quick-thinking as ever, Twilight beat her to the punch. “Sunset, can, um, can you and I… talk?”

The two of them didn’t want to go far—they both did want to be there for Flash when all was said and done. Timber promised he’d wave them down if need be. So the closest room they could go to have space to themselves that wasn’t in use during class was the janitor’s custodial closet.

It worked well enough for two people. Their only company, apart from the rack on the wall of brooms, the dish soap-adjacent smell of industrial cleansers, and plastic shelves stocked with cleaning tools was a garbage bin on a cart, thankfully empty.

Sunset sighed, yanking down the dangling string that turned on the closet’s only light. “Not exactly Le Grand’s…”

Hugging herself, Twilight laughed out a sigh, too, but she smiled. “Maybe not, but I did mostly agree to go there to spend time with the girl on my arm.”

Sunset smirked back at her. “Okay, point taken, but don’t let me get away with planning all our future dates in the janitor’s closet.” Although… this would be a good rendezvous to make out in… She filed that one away for later. “Someday I’ll take you to see the castle I grew up in. I think you’d like it.” She had to stop herself from calling Twilight her princess and spouting some line about giving her the castle she deserved, and instead rubbed her neck.

Twilight bit her lip. She tucked her hands under her arm tighter and Sunset realized she was doing that so she’d keep her hands to herself. “I know I’m the one who suggested the pause in the first place, a-and I know I’m still not me, but gosh, I miss you.”

“Ugggh, same, I miss you too!” Sunset groaned, now restraining her own hands by holding them behind her head, as if via hand-cuff. “I can’t even tell you how bad I’ve been missing you and you’re right freaking here!”

“It’s torture,” Twilight agreed, “Medieval magnitudes of torture.”

“So medieval.”

Nodding, a fuchsia exploded into Twilight’s cheeks. “And I can’t stop thinking about what we didn’t get to do which makes it even worse!”

“Uuugghhh, oh Celestia, babe, seriously, I’m dying here…”

“... You probably shouldn’t call me babe on the pause, though,” Twilight murmured. “I know it’s hard. I’ve slipped up pet-names, too, calling you Sunny or sweetheart—which isn’t fair because you still are a sweetheart—and wow, every time you say it now makes me miss you even more, but, um…”

Sunset sighed, keeping her hands firmly to herself. “Sorry, I know. You’re right.” Their eyes met in this light that seemed to melt the rest of the world away, but unlike the candles on their table at the restaurant, there was nothing between them but the body of Twilight’s ex-boyfriend to keep them apart.

Huffing, Twilight attacked Sunset in a hug.

Eyes wide, Sunset kept her hands hovering around her. “Uh… Twilight?”

“Hugs can be platonic and we hugged when we were only best friends, shush.” The words came out in a big hurry, like they had a train to catch. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Sunset softened, feeling the little drippings of her melted heart fall from her ribcage. She hugged what would normally be Timber Spruce tight to her chest because, after all, this was her best friend. “Sorry to worry you.”

“Wow, you’re not doing well. Do you realize you’ve apologized three separate times since we’ve gotten into this closet?” The soft strokes on Sunset’s back made her eyes well up. She hadn’t realized how much she could need a hug from a friend. Twilight remained there, lingering before pulling back to look her in the eye. “You’ve had a really hard week, huh?”

Sunset giggled with her, because, well. What else could she do?

The answer to that question, she thought, was to direct the conversation elsewhere. “Are you okay?”

Twilight smirked. “I asked you first.”

“Damn,” Sunset said.

“That’s how you’re feeling?” she said, and it was clearly meant as a joke but then, Sunset had to stop.

“I mean basically yeah. It’s why I’d make a lousy therapy patient anyway,” she told her, even if she knew Twilight wouldn’t really let her get away with that answer. “All my feelings can be summed up with expletives. Damn. Ass. Fucked. Fuck. And some Equestrian swears that wouldn’t make sense out of context. Screaming them out always seemed to work until now.”

“Well, I believe you can be more eloquently spoken if you tried,” Twilight offered, then somehow, even despite being in the wrong body, managed to give Sunset the same look that always made Sunset give in when she was being stubborn. “But then, I always believe in you, in whatever you do. I always have.”

Sunset forgot the basic blueprints to breathing. But she managed to figure it out moments later. “I know… but maybe you shouldn’t.” She slid down the wall to sit among the chemicals and the rat traps.

Twilight sat down next to her, shaking her head as if she didn’t understand what language Sunset was speaking. “I’m not letting you do this.”

Sunset looked at her, guarded by the knees she held in front of her chest. “Do what?”

“I know you, Sunset Shimmer,” she said, and Sunset could hear the emotion and urgency boiling, barely lidded. “You’re blaming yourself for everything you possibly can and even more you can’t and you’re about to argue that’s reason enough to exile yourself away from everybody. I’m not letting you sit here and tell me you’re bad for me. Or any of our friends.”

“Twilight, look around,” she said, grappling her knees. “Everything catastrophically bad in our lives always comes back to me. That law of trouble-magnetism stuff? That’s just me. You deserve that normal teenage life you wanted with Timber, too. Flash deserves that. The girls deserve that.”

“We deserve our friend,” Twilight countered, keeping her stare trained on Sunset, tears shimmering. That in and of itself burned behind Sunset’s eyes. “What do you think we’d do without you?”

“If they have you, everything’s going to be okay. I know you can be what they need. You just have to believe in yourself! That’s how it’s supposed to be. Those five girls are supposed to be friends and they’re supposed to have you to guide them. That’s a universal constant.”

“Guide them in doing what? Why do you keep insisting there needs to be a leader at all?”As soon as it clicked, eyes flared wide, Twilight recoiled. “You mean like Princess Twilight?”

Sunset rushed to hold up her hands. “I’m saying I need you to take care of the girls. They keep looking at me like they trust me to know what’s best and I don’t. But I do know you could have that normal life again. There’s not much left for me over there, but if I went back to Equestria and closed the portal behind me, I could give you that. I could give you all a second chance like you gave—”

“Sunset?” Twilight said, locking her watering eyes on her girlfriend’s. “I said I wouldn’t trade you for anything in any world, remember? Please remember that.”

Sunset took a breath.

Twilight kept her company when she calmed down, both of them drying their eyes. Crying in private with Twilight was still hard for Sunset sometimes, but she was still willing to make that exception.

After a little while, Twilight spoke up again. “Where would you even go?”

“In Equestria?”

Twilight nodded. “There’s not an Everton over there, is there?”

Sunset sniffle-laughed, rubbing her eyes. “Hadn’t planned that far, babe. You know me.” She noticed Twilight let her get away with that pet-name. Just once. “I don’t know. The Royal Guard could always use more pyromancers, but I don’t know if I could be a good friend to Princess Twilight feeling like I do. I don’t even know where Princess Celestia plans on going now that she’s… retired, I guess. Or if she’d want me along. How could she? Maybe I could ask Timber’s Northway friend about ice-fishing.”

That didn’t sound too bad, did it? Yeah… yeah, she could find a cozy cabin somewhere north of the Crystal Empire, in the regions most Equestrian maps labelled as the Unknown. Where else in Equestria would have a purpose for her? Exploring the Unknown and charting uncharted paths didn’t sound half bad (even if she dreaded the cold with a fiery passion and ice-fishing was a big fat no).

Twilight must’ve seen something in Sunset that Sunset couldn’t. “You’d really lock yourself away from both worlds?”

Sunset kept quiet.

“... well. Leader or not,” Twilight said, and Sunset didn’t like to hear her girlfriend mocking the idea that Twilight could be one, “you know I wouldn’t push if I didn’t have to, but this is exactly the kind of thing you could go to counselling for. You should absolutely talk to our friends about this, and I’m here to listen whenever—even on a pause. But it just—it helps. That’s what professionals are there to do.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you talk about with Principal Celestia?”

“Exiling myself to another dimension? Not usually, but I do talk about you.” When she saw Sunset tense up, Twilight’s eyes widened. “Oh! No, no, nothing bad! I talk about how glad I am to have you in my life. What a great support system you are, along with the rest of the girls. And you know, she always agrees.”

Sunset hummed. “Huh… nice to hear.” Still doesn’t mean I’m not bad for you all.

Twilight smiled tenderly. “And you know, I did start going to counselling because of you, but it wasn’t because you wrought abject misery and disastrous magic in my life, or even Midnight Sparkle. In fact, it was because you brought so much good I didn’t know how to deal with it all! Friendship, a welcoming new school, multidimensional magic powers, and a girl I really, really liked so much I didn’t know what to do with myself? You changed my life so much in so many incredible ways.”

Trying to deny the burning in her cheeks, Sunset’s eyebrows drew together. “Hang on, you must’ve been to counselling before me. Didn’t you get Spike as an emotional support dog?”

“Well, yes, I tried medication and I did get Spike as a therapy puppy, but even that’s been better since having your magic around!” Twilight grinned rather cheekily, almost convincing as Timber Spruce. “You can ask him yourself.”

Point Sparkle. Sunset got all huffy and grumbled, “Logos, ethos, and pathos. Why do you have to be so smart?”

“Eh. Blessing and a curse,” Twilight told her and shrugged.

They both enjoyed the comfort of smiling together, even when Sunset had technically nearly asked to leave forever and never come back. If she did, Sunset thought she’d want to remember moments like this. That much, she could take with her.

Maybe Twilight could tell she was still considering it. Sunset was still baffled at how hard it was to hide things from her best friend in the multiverse.

Either way, that was when Twilight took a stand, standing up. She had her hand out for Sunset to take, if she wanted. “You don’t have to do it alone. The appointment might be individual, but I’ll take you there and be waiting for you when you get out. Even if it doesn’t solve our body switch problem.”

“I…”

For once, Sunset couldn’t bring herself to take Twilight’s hand.

She could see the worry and fear settle in Twilight’s expression. Then, resolve. “If you’re so determined to think I’m destined to be like her⁠, well... Princess Twilight leads by example, doesn’t she?”

Sunset watched her leave the closet and got up to stand in the doorway, watching her walk down the hall. Good timing, too.

Solstice came out with Flash⁠—who went over to hug his boyfriend and sit next to him⁠—and welcomed Twilight in with open arms. Twilight spared a look back to Sunset, giving her one last smile before entering the office.

Solstice noticed her, too. Any other time, Sunset might have chalked it up to a trick of the light, or her mind playing tricks on her. But she knew him better than that.

Solstice Shiver’s eyes lit supernaturally bright, aflame and instructing her instincts to run before he shut them, and entered the office.

11. The Devil in Canterlot High

Sunset Shimmer shivered from head to toe and couldn’t hide it even if she tried. And she tried. If she could at all avoid her friends seeing her like this, she would.It came in spasmodic spurts, with only seconds of control in between, starting from her legs or arms and rocking up to her core. She took in shallow, longing-to-be-deep breaths to steady herself, but, as if to rebel against her, her body didn’t listen.

Sure, she could blame it on the chill leaking into the school now as if the thermostat system had been set to winter wonderland, but the boys weren’t trembling next to her, and since they were sitting outside the counselling office, it had to be pathetically obvious.

Flash and Timber were talking amongst themselves, hushed but not in a whisper. It seemed like they were including her in the conversation, letting her hear about what exactly Flash had to say in there. It made her love them for trying—seriously, on a level she’d only thought possible recently—but she also was a terrible listener at the moment, drifting in and out of her head only long enough to catch the outskirts of their conversation.

“... so I think I’m going to talk to my dad…” Flash said at some point.

“...some kind of emotional superhero these days,” Timber told his boyfriend, at another. “Like seriously, you blow my mind…”

“... and I guess, I dunno, I just want to help so bad…”

“... hey... Sunset?”

She startled. Wrapping her clammy hands around each other between her hospital-grade gelatin knees must’ve been a dead giveaway, but that didn’t mean she wanted it acknowledged. Somehow, that was even worse than having the whole school hear her thoughts. “What?”

Rather than pouncing on her with kid gloves, Flash waited beside her with a light, relieved smile. “Solstice helped me figure out why my power works the way it does. He’s good. I think we’ll finally have this solved.”

Sunset could feel the cold sweat between her jacket’s collar and her neck, but she nodded. “Okay. That’s great.” She hated how she couldn’t fake a normal tone.

Flash slid his hands into his pockets to shrug. “My dad taught me what soldiers do to calm down when I got really nervous for my fourth grade spelling bee. Combat Tactical Breathing. It’s good for nerves. If you ever had nerves.”

“Yeah?” Sunset asked. “Did you win?”

Flash stared at her for a second, the reels rewinding in his head almost so viscerally she could hear the sputtered squeal, and then he smiled. “Oh. I got third. They stumped me on the word castling because I thought it had an e in there somewhere, but I was super proud I could be so brave. My dad took me out for ice cream afterwards.”

Back when Sunset lived in a castle (with an e), while she technically could get ice cream whenever she wanted—technically meaning the palace private chefs knew her tricks and that she couldn’t have ice cream whenever she wanted by royal decree—but going out for ice cream with the Princess of all Equestria? It didn’t work like that, not when Sunset was little, anyway.

But her mentor did have an insatiable sweet tooth, so every now and then, when Sunset passed a practical pyromancy exam or scribed the right sigils in an alchemical formula, Princess Celestia decided to let the two of them eat cake in the throne room. Sometimes the Princess would even let her sit on the throne.

Sunset’s clammy, cold fingers massaged her forehead. “Your dad’s pretty cool.”

Flash took that as a permission slip to start monologuing aloud about tactical breathing: in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4. Of course, the music nerd in him counted it out like a 2/4 time signature. He even performed a demonstration of what that might look like, breathing to a beat of his own making.

Sunset let him. She thought she’d managed this breathing thing pretty well on her own all these years, she didn’t need a How to Guide. While the shakes didn’t stop entirely, she managed to calm them down to a level she hoped wouldn’t be perceptible.

Then, sooner than Sunset expected but later than she was hoping for, Twilight finally emerged from the office, thanking the counsellor on her way out. Sunset was almost too afraid to look her girlfriend in the eye. The door hung open after her like the toothy maw of a basilisk salivating strands of venom and ready to devour a fresh victim whole.

A new round of trembling burst to life in her legs. This time, she had no hope of hiding it.

“It’s been a pleasure,” the counsellor said. She assumed, to Twilight, but Sunset didn’t look over to so much as check, as if the act of looking would itself draw attention to her, and her shaking, pathetic form. “You’ve said you’re only here to support your friends, but… have either of you changed your minds?”

And Sunset would have been happy to continue staring off into the middle-distance, unreachable, but then, Timber Spruce slapped his hands on his knees, got up from his chair, and said, “You know what? Why not? Let’s get magical. I’ve got a few things to say.”

Sunset looked up then to see Timber send her a tired smirk before disappearing.

The shakes came thundering back up her legs.

What would he say about her in there? What were they talking about? Closing the portal won’t take long. Ray and Scruffles need me to bring them, I’d have to get them first. If I close the portal, is that it? Could anyone open it again? Would the connection be severed? Would the crack in the sky disappear? What happens here when it’s gone?

Sunset knew with a cold certainty from her lectures and studies on the Roots of Magic that there was always a source. An origin, a cause.

Sometimes, it could be tied back to a magically imbued artifact that meant a lot to somepony once, or runes so many moons old that ponies called them moon’s age runes, or significant places of sorcery and love; but most magic came from inside, like a lifeblood. Early scholars, relationship experts, and thaumalogians took that quite literally, in that if too much of a pony’s magic was taken from them, they’d die. Thank Celestia they were wrong on that front.

While Sunset knew magical understanding had come a long way since then, she’d seen the evidence that magic came from somewhere. So a world like this human one, with her friends, and Canterlot High, really all of North Amareica and whatever laid beyond (similar to the human economy, Sunset Shimmer understood little to nothing of human geography—and now she likely never would) ...

All of this beautiful, unpredictable, magicless world would go on without her. Any magic remaining would fade. Life would continue, unremarkably.

Sunset sat with that idea for longer than she was fully aware of.

She didn’t want to think about what that would look like for her friends, but she did.

She didn’t want to think about Twilight moving on, but she did.

In a small, cold place, she almost found herself excited for them. You go, girls. You’re going to be amazing.

The real problem with thinking about things she’d really rather not think about is that it, apparently, was a terribly effective way to pass the time. She didn’t so much as say a word to her girlfriend or Flash before Timber appeared in front of her, hand outstretched.

Sunset flinched and looked to her girlfriend, who sat beside her and, at some point, had taken Sunset’s hand, maybe to steady it. The little circles she revolved with her thumb stopped short.

Solstice emerged from the office and his eyes billowed a ghastly gas-like steam. The crackle of it startled Flash in particular who ripped out of his seat, but neither Twilight nor Timber reacted. Solstice waited for her like the ferryman at the perilous banks of the River Styx, lantern and steady smile at the ready.

Sunset knew she owed her friends this before she left.

So, with her friends at her back, Sunset Shimmer followed Solstice Shiver into his office for her very first counselling appointment.

The door shut the two of them in together. Even though his office was modest at most, Solstice guided Sunset to her seat on the purple couch. He laid a hand on her shoulder. Made sure she didn’t collapse on her way, which at that point, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “I want you to be as comfortable as you can. Let’s start there.”

Heart walloping against the confines of her ribcage, Sunset had to admit comfortable sounded so nice. Trying to stabilize one of her clammy hands with its partner, she nodded, mumbling, “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

That made him smile, teeth pale like a full-moon in the shadow of night. Combined with his still demonically slitted eyes, Sunset fought the thought that Solstice looked almost animalistic and focused instead on the gentleness of his voice. “You can zip up your jacket, my dear, I don’t want you to freeze.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Sunset said, even though the chill likely allied with her nerves to keep her a shambling, shaking wreck.

Solstice waved both of his hands. “Oh, no really, I won’t be offended.”

“Tcht. No, see, I’d be offended. It’s kind of my look, so...”

She gestured down to her open leather jacket in open rebellion.

It was odd to see a man with a doctorate pout. “But... it’s really quite cold. I assume, at least. It must be.” He double-checked a thermometer by the window and then nodded with himself. “Oh! Yes, that has to be frightfully frigid.”

She drank him in in full. It helped her own nerves to see the big bad opponent she was up against wore loafers like he was late for church service, wore his button-down not quite tucked into his belted slacks, and smelled like a coffee shop if it also used a wood stove. “Huh. You actually can’t feel cold?”

Solstice pocketed one of his hands. “Not terribly, no. You don’t feel your own balmy 97° body temperature but that would be a joyless heat wave if you projected it out onto, say, the entire atmosphere of the tri-state area around you.”

He wiggled his fingers in a downward motion, and lo, if Sunset beheld, a fine dust of frost twinkled down from his fingertips. He stopped to frown at his hands. “Heaven knows the central heating could use an upgrade with me around to challenge it, but well. Public school.”

Nodding along, Sunset hid her shaking hands underneath her thighs.

But Solstice caught that. “Really, are you sure about your jacket? I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold in my office, I’d never forgive myself.”

Sunset’s eyes went for a spin. “Think I’ll find a way to survive your office.”

Solstice paused long enough to stare at her jacket’s zipper, as if tempted to zip it up himself. If he had telepathy or the sheer force of will, all bets might have been off. With the steam still billowing off his demonic eyes, he looked much angrier about it than he probably actually was. Or maybe it really did vex him that much, Sunset couldn’t say.

Either way, he moved toward the kettle and basket of cookies. “Alright, it’s your decision. But speaking of dire choices: Can I at least get you anything? A hot beverage to keep warm?”

Sunset doubted the school counsellor would readily give her access to the type of beverage she really wanted to get through this. Fire down the throat always kept her warm, in a manner of speaking (especially if it was Nectar of the Gods, Sunset’s favourite Equestrian liquor; she’d never forget sneaking her first taste from the pools of Mount Olympus while on diplomatic missions with the Princess. Good times). She shifted on the plump couch cushion. “Tea’s good, if you have any. Camelmile?”

Whenever Sunset had an upset stomach⁠—her codeword for nervousness or feeling upset, honestly⁠—as a filly, Princess Celestia brewed her excellent tea. Trottingham chai, Zebrafrican rooibos, even a nice Griffonstonian oolong after a long day. It got to the point the sound of the kettle boiling in the hearth was enough to ease any irritation.

Nodding, Solstice smiled around his own shoulder, back at her, setting up the mugs, not unlike a bartender. The steaming tea trickled into the ceramic. “You know, you’re one of the only tea drinkers I’ve had. I’m a little surprised honestly, I would have assumed students would have the most refined palettes for caffeine. Truly, maybe they would if it wasn’t for StarBucks.”

His little wooden stirring stick whisked the cup in an erratic fashion. “Warping the minds of the youth with their overpriced... cake coffee. Oh, it sounds delicious, but what you’ve really gone and done is ruined a perfectly good pot of coffee and convinced swarms of innocent teenagers they’ve bought themselves a luxury item!”

He grumbled more into his own mug as he sipped to avoid an overflow before realizing; he swallowed his mutterings down with his coffee. “I have… a lot of feelings about beverages. Wine especially. But I suppose the point was that it’s nice to know I’m not the only ex-career student here.”

Sunset faltered. “I haven’t told you anything about myself.”

“That’s true. I apologize. I don’t know. Call it an educated guess, then,” he told her, carrying over her mug. “Maturity is usually hard-won, much like degrees and education. Or forgiveness.” Solstice offered a smile as he gave her the drink. “Your friends speak very highly of you, Sunset. Your story is something of a legend around here. You are.”

Sunset took the mug in her hands, heat seeping through ceramic, and took a sip. The warmth brought a little life back into her. “... Good tea.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Solstice took a grunting seat in the heather grey armchair opposite her, careful not to spill his coffee. “I know you may have never encountered a counselling office before now, so it’s perfectly natural to be a little nervous.”

“Yeah, for dumb babies maybe,” said Sunset Shimmer, proponent of counselling.

His lip quirked up and Solstice sounded like it was very hard for him to keep to a professional tone of voice. “Alright,” he managed, not laughing, “But even assuming someone was afraid and they weren’t a dumb baby. It would still be okay. We’re all prone to fear from time to time. Er, for instance, I’m afraid of the existential horror of losing control of my ‘demon’ half. And heights. I don’t do well with heights, not a fan.”

Would it be dramatic to say I’ve got a fear phobia? Sunset thought. “I’ve got a fear phobia. Only thing I fear is fear itself, you know? So if you’re wondering about your eyes, it’s cool, don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid of you.”

“O-oh, well, thank you. I... appreciate that.” The expression on his face might have been an embarrassed or uncomfortable smile, it was hard to get a read on. Especially because he still hadn’t dropped the demon eyes. “There’s a bit of a run-down before we begin. I always start by acknowledging the courage it takes to share your darkness. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and if everything were just, it wouldn’t ever. It’s something I’ve admired in you students.”

Nodding, Sunset almost smiled. She really could get behind this counselling thing if this was the message her friends would be getting from it.

“That said,” Solstice continued, wearing some reading glasses over his demon eyes now to run through some paperwork on his little clipboard, “the first session is usually for the purposes of intake so we can establish therapy goals to work toward during our time together. Usually being key. I trust it’s a bit different, given your circumstances.”

Sunset set her cup aside. “Yeah. My only ‘therapy goal’ is helping my friends.”

“I’ll do my best to help you achieve that, then.” Solstice handed her a waiver of some sort, complete with clipboard and pen. “Everything you say here is completely confidential. The only exceptions to that are if I’m required to disclose case-relevant details in a court of law, or, and this is important, if you pose an immediate danger to yourself or others. At which point, I would contact the proper authorities for safety reasons.”

Not that she had any plans on re-terrorizing the school or putting everyone’s lives in danger, but Sunset could almost hear the cell-doors clanking shut in front of her.

Whatever he saw in her expression, Solstice seemed to catch on. “Nobody will know what you’ve said here unless necessary,” he promised, taking his reading glasses off. “Do you have any questions about that?”

The authorities? Celestia, Flash’s dad would kill me if he knew I planned to leave Flash behind again. If Chief Magnus murders me, Flash might find out I’m leaving and try to stop me. “No.”

She signed her name.

Solstice took the clipboard back, looked once, and smiled. “Hm. Well, that’s a place to start.” He turned it back around for her to see, index finger tapping the wavy sun dotting the i. “I’ve seen this on your clothes or notebooks, even when you weren’t yourself. I’m old. I don’t recognize new brand logos, but if it’s in your signature, I’d think that’s personal, isn’t it? What does the sun mean to you?”

“Oh-ho, no. Nope. We’re not doing this, no,” Sunset said, arms barred across her chest like a luxurious stay at the Tartarus Juvenile Detention Centre. “I’m not here to talk about me, I’m here to help my friends change back.”

Solstice sat back. “And how far have you gotten by keeping everything to yourself? Aside from your phenomenal empath powers, the only thing you’ve told me is that you haven’t told me anything about yourself. Even if your reputation precedes you, you’re going to have to give me a little more to work with than that. So:” He tapped the clipboard twice.

Arms crossed. Sunset took in air just to sigh it back out like sand dragged back into the sea. “Force of habit, that’s all it is. That symbol doesn’t mean anything anymore.” She raised an eyebrow. “If you think this body switching problem has something to do with my old life, I hate to break it to you, but I would’ve known if I used to have the power to swap bodies.”

Solstice set the clipboard aside and the notion with it. “Of course you would have if it were that obvious, don’t misunderstand me, but the cause of this new power likely has its roots in who you are, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d say magic in this world is emotion-based. Friendships create magical reactions because of the strong emotions involved. Playing music together is pretty similar. Or acting as your true self. The roots are how you feel.”

“Yes, precisely!” He leaned forward to the edge of his seat. “But the exact effect is dependent on you! Anyone can feel love for their friends, or joy, anger, fear—really, I believe you’re right, the intensity of your emotions correlates to the intensity of your magic. But if the power comes from you directly, it’s also my belief that exactly how it manifests is related to your individual psychology. Who you are, what those emotions mean to you personally.”

Sunset stared at him, mind tripping over itself with examples from the past year of her life. “That… wait, I think that makes sense. Did you just make human world magic not suck?” Despite herself, she laughed. “Tartarus, I should have seen it sooner! You figured all of that out by yourself?”

A stupid giggle bubbled to the surface. “I’ve had theories for years,” Solstice near-squealed, his eyes flickering back to their regular green, if only momentarily, and back again. “It wasn’t until I came here to help you students that I had any way of observing other samples besides myself! And the most marvelous part is I may have guided the students towards the answers, but they’re the ones to figure it out! And now they can learn to harness those powers for good! Emotional therapy meets magical theory!”

Sunset sat up straighter. “What the hell??? That’s so cool! That’s what you do in here all day? And you get paid?”

Solstice shrugged, with a blush visible above his sharply well-groomed beard. “It’s not a job that really existed when I was your age, magic counsellor, but you know. See a need, fill a need and all.”

“Huh.” A light smile started on her face like the flickering of kindling by a log.

He smiled back and then dove back into his notes, clicking his pen. “Right, then. Your feelings towards one Twilight Sparkle.”

Sunset’s pupils shrank. “My what.”

“Your girlfriend, I believe?” Solstice flicked his pen to and fro as he spoke with his hands. “She said she believed your dating history and, well, present might be involved. So I’ll ask a very general question: How do you feel towards Twilight?”

Rubbing her neck, Sunset could feel the sweat building back there. The metaphorical logs caught flame and caused a forest fire in her cheeks. She tittered. “We… we really don’t need to get into all that.”

He wrote something down. “Alright, no news is good news. You let me know if that Sparkle girl gives you trouble.” He looked up from his notes. “And how do you feel towards Timber Spruce?”

Sunset held her arm, shoulders tensing. “Don’t need to get into that, either.”

Solstice jotted something else down and the scratching of his pen was starting to eat at Sunset. “Alright, more neutral: how are you feeling today?”

“Seriously don’t need to get into that...”

“How do you feel when you use your empathic ability?”

“Oh, good question: Empathy! I feel empathy for people when I empathize with them.” She sat back, raised her hands behind her head and the only thing that would have made her more comfortable is if she had a table or stool in front of her to kick her feet up onto. “Got all you need? Fantastic, let’s change my friends back.”

The wind whistled outside.

“... Sunset? You know we’re not done.”

She dropped her arms, one lying along the back of the couch and the other hanging from it by the elbow, limb. Sunset glared off to the side. She forced the tremors to stop before they started again.

“I’m a counsellor,” Solstice told her. “Right now, I’m your counsellor. I’m not here to pry for details you’re not ready to share, but if you want to understand how to use this power, how to help your friends like you’ve said, you have to address what’s causing your role in this. Put simply, it would help me help you help your friends if you answered some of my questions.”

Not feeling too helpful, Sunset aimed a sharpened gaze his way like the business end of a fencing sword. “I’ve got questions for you, too, Doc. You don’t have to answer those?”

Solstice stared. The clock above the door clicked. A laugh broke out. “That’s not typically how counselling works.”

“But you’renot a typical counsellor, are you?”

He blinked and shook his head. “I have a unique specialization, you could say, yes.”

“Right, because there’s no university in the world that awards a doctorate in magic, but you did your best. Or demonology. But you did your best to study that, too.” Sunset sat forward, elbows on her knees. “You know what I’m asking.”

He dropped his animal-eyes to the floor, then back up at her, chin lifted.

“How do I know who I’m talking to right now? Solstice?” Sunset asked and tapped her temple beside her eyes, where the steam would billow. “The Lord of Shadows?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “That was a ridiculous stagename I had as a teenager.”

“But you do have a demon form,” she said, voice low and rumbling. “You black out. Do you black out often?”

The wind picked up. “I would warn you if I did.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Can you still control it?”

He made a clawing motion with his upturned palms. “Don’t you think I am?”

“Can you even tell the difference anymore?”

“Do you think I’d risk all your lives that way?”

“Would you?”

Solstice stared at her. The clock above the door counted out, beating thickly, and he shut his eyes. Steam crawled out of them. When he opened them again, a green tinge marred the purple. “No,” he told her nearly soundlessly. “Never.”

Training her gaze on his eyes, Sunset’s grimace softened. “My friends and their safety come first.”

“Your friends are safe with me,” he told her, tapping his chest. The rims of his goat-like eyes glistened. “You’re safe here, Sunset. This is a safe space.”

Arctic winds blustered outside.

She nodded.

Considering the fibers of the plush rug for a moment, Solstice frowned. “You’re right.” Then, he stood up from his chair and made as if to offer it to her. “You are owed some answers.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Thought that’s not how counselling works.”

“Individual counselling works for the individual,” he told her. “I want you to feel comfortable here and if you’d be more comfortable asking me some questions first, I say let’s have at it!” He pumped an arm heartily.

Her rolling eyes came prepackaged with a smirk, getting up off the couch. Taking a seat in the counsellor’s chair felt almost ceremonious, but that was because Solstice half-bowed as she did. She laughed at him.

In the time it took for him to sit down on the purple couch, Sunset had her first question ready to go. “Alright, if we’re doing this, might as well shoot straight: What do you know about your demon half?”

Solstice cupped his coffee cup in between his hands. “Good question. He’s dangerous, but I suppose you’ve surmised that much already.”

Sunset nodded, gripping the arms of her chair.

“My magic is strongest when it’s based in fear,” he said, thumbing his coffee mug. “I’m a coward. Always afraid of this, that, or the other. And whenever I’m most afraid, he appears. He feeds on it. Perhaps not just my own fear, either. I’m not conscious when he is, so I don’t know the full extent of what he can do; but if he feeds on my fear to manifest, I have to imagine he’ll want more. I think… I think that’s why he attacks people in showy, impractical fashions. Snowstorms are just his way of throwing a fit. He considers himself quite the lead. Climactic battlefronts are his stage. Never give him one.”

Out of coffee, Solstice finally raised his gaze back to her. “You should also know he calls himself Sombra, the Latin word for Shadow. He’s a pretentious drama queen and you should never buy into his bullshit.”

“Tcht. Okay, maybe.” Sunset planted her cheek onto her palm. “But you’re way too hard on yourself for someone so cool.”

Solstice Shiver didn’t seem to know how to take that. “Cool?”

“Well, okay, you’re a giant dork, but you’re a good person. It’s amazing. You’ve got this horrific demon side you’re scared to death of, but you don’t let it hurt people. How could I not look up to that?” She blushed, and shrugged, looking away. “I-I dunno, it’s just cool, I could never do what you did.”

“Yes you could,” he said, but his tone said thank you.

Sunset laughed, pointing at him. “But, see? You care about people! You believe in them! You even believe in me.”

“Very much so,” he said immediately, without condition.

Tears welled in Sunset’s eyes. “Even though you seriously shouldn’t. But then, for some reason you do, and that… that feels… nice.” The breeze whistled outside. She chuckled at herself, rubbing her arm. “I haven’t had that kind of nice in a while. Any time I feel it it’s like wow. I’ve been missing so much.”

Even despite his eyes billowing smoke, his warm smile made her feel like they were sitting across from each other around a campfire. “I know precisely how you feel. I bought Bridleway tickets for two for the first time in years. I come to this school, and it’s overflowing with people like me.” He laughed, “It’s almost enough to make me think I’m as good as you say, if I might belong in a place like this.”

“Well, no duh, you belong. Of course you do.” The pressure in her chest released in a sigh, “I’m sorry, but you’re a good guy.” She shrugged, shaking her head at the circular rug. “Everyone I’ve met here is good. The students here are good. Their families are good. My friends are so, so good.”

Solstice nodded as he took an off-white, sealed envelope from the side table by his chair. He smiled at it. “You’ve cultivated quite the community.” He placed the envelope aside on his L-shaped desk to deal with later and returned to his seat.

“Yeah, and I love them. I really do,” she said, hunching in on herself. “And that’s a problem because I know I don’t deserve good people.”

Solstice grappled with the clipboard in his hands. “That must be painful for you,” he acknowledged. A gentle smile found its way back onto his face. “What would you think about exploring the source of that feeling a little deeper?”

“Horrified,” Sunset said without thinking, and crossed her arms. She was about to scold her counsellor for trying to counsel her again, but then, her breath caught and her eyebrows raised. “Wait…”

“It’s only a possibility,” Solstice admitted, hands raised to quell the thought. But he was smiling, and more broadly than Sunset was used to seeing from him. “I have other theories, one in particular I want to test. But I do think if you want to find out the origins of your magic with Timber, you have to find the commonality between you two. It’s not always so plain to see. That’s one of the main reasons I suggest individual appointments before group counselling: I want you to be able to say anything. I can help you decipher the connection from there.”

Sunset nodded, even if the sweat clinging to her neck shot shivers down her spine. “Okay… fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“Take your time if you need to think, but I’d like to start by honing in on what you said, just now: why do you think you don’t deserve the good people in your life?”

Not meeting his eyes, Sunset stared off into the grain of the floorboards as she accused, “Loaded question.”

But she paused. The clock filled in the gap.

Sunset grimaced. “You know, I wouldn’t have thought that before I came here. Not like CHS did it to me, like I used to be so damn conceited, I thought I was above everybody. I’m still honestly way more self-centered than I think my friends even realize.

“It’s hard to know where the line is, though. It’s not even just my past or my transformation into a she-demon anymore. Magic itself is getting dangerous. People get hurt. I can’t keep running away from that anymore, I have to face it head on because I’m not the only one it’s affecting. All the magic and every disaster it causes in this dimension comes from me.”

Solstice Shiver sat across from her, staring for a moment with his devil-eyes. “My… goodness do you ever sound like me. Er, it should also be noted that magical events did occur before you arrived at Canterlot High. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t create the portal between our worlds. I’ve also heard from other students about some rogue sirens that came to this world before you? And artefacts, like⁠—” He checked his notes. “—A Memorial Stone? Sorry, Memory Stone.”

“Okay, maybe not all of it,” she allowed, rubbing her wrist. “But most of it started impacting people’s lives when I came through that mirror in the statue. You’re an exception, not the rule. Uh,” Sunset Shimmer found herself saying, “no offence.”

Solstice took another note. “None taken, my dear. I prefer it that way.” He looked up at her. “So before you came here, this egocentrism you’re concerned about, do you think there’s a reason that might have developed in the first place?”

“Well, that sun symbol in my signature’s a good place to start…” Sunset hesitated, watching him. “Do you know what a cutie mark is?”

The counsellor leaned forward in his seat. “Some sort of Equestrian hieroglyph? A unit of language?”

“Not exactly.” Sunset smirked. “You know, I don’t think I’ve heard you say the word ‘Equestrian’ before.” She could see even through the magic he hadn’t meant to let that slip. “How much do you know about the other world, anyway?”

“Scraps,” he said, tugging at his collar as he sat upright. “Nothing substantial until recently. Really, I’ve learned more in my time at Canterlot Highschool than almost twenty years of research on my own.” He shook his head. “I think by this point I have some grasp on the basics: I know there’s another world, parallel to this one. I know the magic from that world escapes. There’s a strange chaos in what it does to human beings—but I didn’t need anyone here to tell me that. Personally, what I find most fascinating of all is that, in a manner of speaking, you’ve escaped, too.”

“Escaped? Yeah I ran, but I didn’t escape⁠—I didn’t need to escape,” Sunset told him, voice levelling out back to some kind of neutral to say, “Princess Celestia took good care of me.”

A pink flooded to the surface of his cheeks. “... O-oh. Oh that makes sense,” Solstice mumbled and cleared his throat. His eyes returned to their standard green, magic evaporating. “Sorry, I... hadn’t heard exactly what the other Celestia was like. Good for her. Royalty,” he said, sounded winded. “Your friends have mentioned your world’s Celestia, but always in relation to you. As your mentor?”

“Yeah, I was her protégé.”

“Protégé to a princess, goodness. You somehow find ways to be more and more impressive the more I learn about you. What was that like?” he asked, his eyes reigniting. Just as unnerving as last time. She glared at his therapising, so he waved a hand. “Remember: this is purely in the interest of helping your friends. There are methods buried in my madness somewhere.”

Sunset palmed a hand back through her hair, if only to do something with the sweat, then squirmed her way into a shrug. “It was... good.”

Solstice Shiver stared at her, eyes billowing steam. “Sunset.”

“Okay! Okay.” She watched the blizzard from the couch. “The Canterlot I come from is on a mountaintop. It’s gorgeous. I mean the whole city is built on these balconies next to a waterfall overlooking… entire countrysides, hills and valleys in all directions. And at the center of it all⁠—and at the center of all Equestria—there’s a palace. Bigger, and more beautiful, than almost anything you’ve ever seen. And that’s where I grew up. That’s home. Princess Celestia gave me all that.

“And my cutie mark, which is this… representation of what you’re destined to do in life, what your greatest talent is⁠—for me, it was like tattooing the word Special on a kid’s forearm, you know?”

When Solstice didn’t appear to know, she rubbed her neck, muttering, “Oh, right, I guess you’re missing some context here...” before raising her voice back up to say, “What you have to know is that I got mine for being a master of magic itself⁠ and that’s rare. Maybe not so much anymore, but I used to be one of the only ponies who didn’t just have a single skill I was destined to do for the rest of my life. I had potential. I had a kingdom of potential!”

Solstice poked his pen in the air above his clipboard. “So the Equestrians in this other universe, what would happen if they didn’t pursue this destined skill that they were most talented in?”

Sunset faltered, sitting back against the back of the couch. “... You can, but who would want to?”

He considered the ceiling and then laid out a hand. “Effectively what I’m getting at is, what would have happened for you, if you didn’t pursue this great, massive potential? If you had a perfectly happy life not doing what you thought you were destined to do?”

Sunset stared at him and laughed, “Uhhh, no, okay, you need more context here: everypony has a cutie mark because it’s what they’re best at in life. Everypony has something to offer by definition, even if I—” She rubbed her hand. “—didn’t always see the value in other’s talents as much as I saw in my own. But if you’re not an egotistical megalomaniac, you respect ponies for their passion. It’s an important part of who they are! The day every foal gets their cutie mark is celebrated—they’re celebrated.”

“If I’m hearing you correctly, Equestrians get their cutie marks… as children?”

“Uh-huh.”

He leaned his head to one side. “And they’ve then essentially got their lives laid out for them from that point forward?”

“That’s right.”

He covered his mouth for a moment, then finally said, “... And you don’t think that’s a bit prescriptive, rather than descriptive?”

Sunset waved him off. “You’re not getting it. I guess there’s a cultural barrier. I know the human world has this weird lack of destiny so maybe you’re not used to the idea, but in Equestria, where things make sense, the day you get your cutie mark… it changes everything.”

Solstice looked up from taking notes. “So the day you got your cutie mark, that made you who you are?”

“Exactly!” she said, like a teacher proud of their student. “I got mine early, too.” Sunset tried not to puff out her chest so much at that. “Before I got my cutie mark, I was scared of the dark. Stupid, I know. I couldn’t tell you why. I can tell you I lived at an orphanage, but I don’t actually remember living there. Not really. If I knew anything about my parents or my family back then, it’s all gone now. Who remembers preschool? All I have is…” Her eyes latched onto his. “Scraps.”

He nodded.

“What I know is I was little. Maybe I didn’t have anyone there to tell me it was going to be okay. There must’ve been a director or a caretaker during the nights, right? But even if there was, I guess I had to be pretty frightened. One night, I don’t remember why, but that night I panicked. I wasn’t about to go gentle into that good night. My magic must’ve reacted to that, but that night it did it in a big way, and the only way I’ve ever been able to describe what I did was that I kept the sun up with me a little longer.”

Solstice stared at her. “You had the power to move entire celestial bodies. As a child.”

Despite herself, despite everything, Sunset couldn’t force down the smirk on her face. “Okay, I should probably mention that it was one time, for less than a minute, and I felt like I was being crushed. Seriously, I was in infinitely more danger then than I was hiding under the covers from the dark. And for context, most ponies could never dream of raising or lowering the sun the way Princess Celestia does every day. That’s alicorn level magic. Regular old unicorns can’t do that.”

“Fascinating. How did you manage to lift the weight of the sun on your shoulders?”

Sunset stopped. She’d been asked how she managed to do it before, but she’d never been tempted to tell the truth. She’d always explained it away as some kind of hysterical strength or a burst of latent baby magic. But in reality? Nothing should have been able to give her that godlike power.

“I… I don’t know.”

The counsellor sat back in his seat.

Sunset’s hands shook in her lap, itself quaking thanks to her legs, and there was nothing she could do to hide it. “I-I’ve never been able to explain that much power. I used to try to tell myself it was because I was special, but I could never do it again. Maybe I stole magic from Princess Celestia. Maybe I’m that awful. If I did, I didn’t mean to—I mean, it was my fault, I chose to do it, but not like that. I just wanted the sun to stay up longer! I didn’t think I’d almost kill myself! I should’ve known not to, but when the Princess came to visit Her Majesty’s Home for Foundling Fillies, I got the stupid idea in my head that she should stay longer so somehow I just… I made her!”

Sunset brought her shaking hand up to wipe her eyes, to cover them.

Solstice offered her a box of tissues, which she took in both hands, staring down at it. She took a haggard breath rather than a tissue. “I don’t know what got into my head. But what I do know is that if you’re a foal and you stop the sun from setting, even for a short amount of time, you tend to get attention. A lot of attention.” She managed to steady her voice again. “There were reporters, I think. I have to wonder about the headlines, you know? Miracle Filly Stops the Night! or Little Nuisance Keeps All of Canterlot Up; Citizens Cranky! … probably depended on the paper.

“After Princess Celestia took me under her wing, I moved into the castle with her. She took seriously good care of me, I mean I never wanted for anything. Was she busy? Duh. She had a kingdom to rule. She can’t go around chasing after little fillies all day to look after them, but she and I knew where we stood with each other. I think. I mean, maybe that’s my stupid ego talking too, but…”

“You meant a great deal to each other,” Solstice provided, gently. “That much seems clear to me.”

“... Thanks.” She could feel the blush hotboxing her cheeks and couldn’t hide that either. “So, yeah. After I became the protégé to the Princess of all Equestria, everything changed. Everypony always knew who I was and what I was capable of. Power. Potential. Beauty. Tartarus, I needed attention so badly I thought I deserved a whole kingdom’s worth. I wanted everybody to see who I was. And they did.”

Sunset grimaced, speaking from the side of her mouth: “After a while, maybe I wanted that version of me to be who I really am.”

Reading over his notes, Solstice grimaced, as if pained on her behalf. “It’s more than understandable. Which isn’t to excuse or rationalize any of your behaviour that you feel came as a result of this inflated sense of self, but we’re our harshest critics. And you’ve been very adept at that. Listening to what you’ve said, it sounds like a lot of expectation to place on a child’s shoulders.”

Sunset shrugged and tossed the tissue box beside her on the couch. “Well, somepony had to: we had a war to prevent. Nightmare Moon, the demonic form of Princess Luna, was prophesied to return on the longest day of the thousandth year. ‘The stars will aid in her escape,’” Sunset recited, “‘and she will bring about nighttime eternal.’”

“High stakes,” he murmured.

She let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Why did it fall on you to stop that from happening?” he asked, considering her. “Because you theoretically could raise the sun?”

Sunset nodded. “That, and the part about the stars. That’s the most critical stanza in the prophecy, it’s the one that got reprinted in books all over Equestria. Sometimes that kind of prophecy can be metaphorical, it doesn’t have to be a literal star, but my cutie mark was a sun. These days we know the stars referred to Princess Twilight. Her cutie mark is literally a constellation of stars. It makes sense.”

Solstice perked up at that. “Oh, I’ve heard of this Princess Twilight. Among other things, she was involved in helping you overcome transforming into a she-demon, yes?”

“Yup. Stole her crown. Lured her to Canterlot High. Lied. Cheated. Failed. Got saved by my friends, including her.” Not that she’d ever dismiss the importance of what Princess Twilight did for her, but Sunset couldn’t get the words to sound right with the bitterness on her tongue. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “And now she’s about to be crowned Queen of Equestria in Celestia’s place, right where I thought I’d be. The kicker is she deserves it and I never did.”

“I can see how hard that is for you,” her counsellor said, scaring her to her core.

“Y-yeah, well⁠. Her coronation’s tonight.” She shrugged. “All of Canterlot’s going to see what an amazing pony she is, if they somehow missed it already.” Her eyebrows tightened over her eyes. “I’m happy for her. It’s about damn time. And that’s all I’ll tell her because I can’t say the rest and still be the friend she taught me to be.”

“While it’s thoughtful of you to consider her feelings, you also know you have feelings of your own,” Solstice rephrased, listening. “Even still, given how many of your formative years were spent training to do exactly what she has, I’d say it’s only natural to be more than just happy for your friend.”

“The last thing I want is to be an ungrateful student again. And honestly, it was only ever a fifty-fifty chance I’d save the world from Nightmare Moon anyway. The stars aiding in her escape is where it either goes right or wrong. Back when I was studying under the princess, there were legitimate prophetic arguments that either Princess Celestia and I would stop Nightmare Moon together,” she bit her lip, then glared ahead, hollow-eyed. “... Or we’d doom Equestria.”

Solstice’s kind, understanding expression broke her heart.

Sunset rubbed her hands together, looking away before her eyes filled enough to drown her sight. “I tried so hard not to think about what would happen if I let everybody down.”

The counsellor got up and fixed her a glass of water from the cooler. He offered the glass out to her. “Your emotions aren’t something to be ashamed of, Sunset. If you need to cry, or express emotions you’re not comfortable with, you can do that here. That’s the only way to understand what’s hidden underneath them.”

Taking the glass in hand, Sunset looked up at him. “... What do you mean under my emotions?”

The counsellor clasped his hands in front of himself. “Sometimes what we feel is a symptom. Not always: Complicating factors like our genetics, brain chemistry, and circumstances out of our control play important roles and there isn’t any sense in denying that. But there can be other factors we’ve made secret to ourselves. In some cases, as massive and difficult and real as they are to deal with, the emotions we live with day to day are symptoms. Beliefs about who you are and the world around you are the disease.”

Ever the empath, Sunset could sense fear lingering in the air between them. Origins unknown.

“It’s courageous to share what you have so far and that’s no exaggeration. It’s the truth. I know your goal is to help your friends before yourself, and I’ll always respect any therapy goal you have. But as your counsellor, I would like to challenge you to think about that, and what it might mean to you.” He shifted, smiling broadly enough to reveal sharp incisors peaking out. “Because I do believe I have good news: I know how you and Timber Spruce swap bodies.”

Her eyes flashed, alert. She could feel her heart thrashing in her chest, warning her to run and run now. “What? How could any of that possibly be what we have in common?”

“It’s not the contents of your stories. You’ve lived entirely different lives, you’re rather different people, even as you share some loved ones in common, but magic, as you know, is about emotions,” he said, walking the length of the rug which meant dissecting the yin-yang design of it in half, then stopped with a smile that all but screamed, Why, it’s elementary, my dear Sunset! “How have you been dealing with your emotions?”

“Honestly, I… I haven’t.” Sunset’s brow pulled together.

The realization hit like a grenade lodged under the couch cushions she sat on. She shot out of her seat, exploding forth.

“Oh my⁠—oh my Celestia! You’re right! Timber and I don’t deal with our feelings!” Somewhere deep in the depths of school, on the whiteboard with the circle of stylized heads meant to represent herself and her friends magical powers, Sunset could almost see the word labelling the line connecting her to Timber Spruce: Repression.

Or maybe, better yet: Emotional Escape.

Grappling with her forehead, Sunset Shimmer shouted, “Fuck!” She stumbled back, pacing. “This is all my fault. I-I’ve been doing it all along! Neither of us knew how to deal with each other at the restaurant, or Flash and him at our lunch table! I keep running from my problems. I still am, I⁠—”

“I think it’s important to acknowledge that you returned to your body,” he told her. “As for your friends, I would have to have more appointments with each of them to discover if there’s a correlation between feelings they have yet to accept and the bodies they’ve wound up in. That can be left for another time. Let’s bring our focus back to you. The question then becomes rather deceptively simple: What have you been running from?”

Sunset’s legs felt unsteady underneath her. She grabbed her arms as the cold seeped through her jacket. The thermometer on the wall sunk to inverted heights. “I… I-I don’t know, I⁠—”

“Yes, you do. I believe in you. Let me rephrase,” he said, and she found him standing on the other side, now closer to the couch than she was. “Why do you think you don’t deserve your friends?”

“Because I’m not good like them or the princesses,” she said, tone dead and buried low. “I steal magic and crowns that don’t belong to me. I’m a fraud. I’ve hurt my friends and the people around me, even when I’m not trying. I’m out of chances. I took them all and look what I’ve done with them. I’m still like a poison to them. Sooner or later, they’re all going to realize it.”

“Why do you think you think it has to be that way?”

Sunset shook her head, shoving her eyebrows together so hard it hurt. Her breath swirled visible in front of her. “All these disasters⁠—the reason people need to come to you in the first place—that’s because of me! Magic isn’t supposed to exist here⁠—I’m not supposed to exist here. Midnight Sparkle, Gaia Everfree—none of it happens if I don’t exist! No one’s demons have that much power. For fuck’s sake, Sombra never would have attacked them in the park! You attacked them because of me.”

Solstice Shiver froze.

She grabbed the opening of her jacket, pulling it together. “They shouldn’t have to go through that. No one should have to—they deserve so much better. They all deserve better.”

He covered his toothy mouth and stumbled back to sit in the armchair.

Sunset walked behind the armchair, stopping where he wouldn’t see her. Shaking her head, she huffed out a sound that couldn’t hold its anger. “I really wanted to leave before I let them down.”

She muffled herself. Eyes raised toward the stars that couldn’t aid in her escape. She blinked, eyes stinging and her skin with it in the cold. She roughly wiped her eyes before grabbing her arms and letting her eyes drop to the floor. “I’ll change everything back to normal and destroy the portal. And then I’m never coming back. I’m sorry if this is goodbye. It was nice knowing you, while it lasted.”

The clock froze solid on the wall.

“... Who do you think you’re talking to right now?”

Slowly, Sunset turned back toward him. The billowing steam almost obscured the one slitted eye staring back at her over his shoulder.

Her eyes twitched back and forth on him. “... Solstice?”

“How do you know?” he asked. “How would anyone know? I’m everything you fear you are. Is there any difference between us? There’s hardly an us about it, it’s all me. It’s always been me.” He gripped the sides of the armchair. “You need to run. I don’t think he likes your plan to take all the magic with you.”

Of all the times Sunset Shimmer had been given the chance to run, she’d never wanted to more. Her body screamed at her. Instincts like the sirens echoing in city streets before a natural disaster or impending attack.

Sunset stole nerves she didn’t have from somewhere else to stand in front of him. “Like hell I am. I know exactly who I’m talking to.”

The growl building at his throat tore at the nerves in her stomach, but she stayed firm. “Listen to me. This isn’t a suggestion like zipping up your jacket from the cold.”

“I did listen. You told me this was a safe space,” Sunset told him, hating the quiver barely concealed in her voice. “I know you. You’ve got more self-control than anyone I’ve ever met. You believe in people even when it’s hard. You’re dramatic and a good listener and you like coffee way too much for one person.” Startling, Sunset patted the air before rushing towards the coffee station. “Coffee. I can get you coffee!”

She seized a mug from the cabinet and shoved it under the nozzle of the coffee maker. The red light sputtered on, the sound of the internal mechanism working to boil the water. “Dammit, come on…”

Sinking in his chair, the counsellor growled again. “It’s not going to do you any good. You need to leave.”

“You don’t know that. You’re scared,” she said, nearly out of breath, looking for a sweetener, “I get it. You think I’m not terrified, too? You’ll be okay.”

Sunset could hear him muttering and at first, she thought he was talking to her, trying to get her attention, but it sounded low enough to be a conversation carried on purely by his lonesome. “Calm, peaceful surrender… calm, peaceful surrender…”

“That’s right.” Sunset nodded, grabbing his Bee Positive mug. “You’re in a calm field. Or on a beach—a-and there’s a seafront spa. There’s always a spa. And it’s peaceful, and you can hear waves.” She couldn’t find where the sound of ocean waves had come from the last time she was in this office. She suspected he must’ve played it off his phone. “You don’t need to fight anymore. You’ll be okay here. The students need you. This is where you belong. Stay with us. You’ve gotta take your girlfriend to Bridleway.”

Mug in hand, she came over to him and offered a mug of piping hot coffee. He took it in his hands, and drank as if from the River Styx or the River Lethe. While he did, Sunset staggered back, taking a seat on the purple couch.

She watched him. Come on, Solstice.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, chuckling lightly to her. He smiled, steadied. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. It’s never been easy for me, you know, suppressing this side of myself... It takes a lot out of me to even make it through a day. But you kids,” he laughed, “you're remarkable! You're extraordinary. Unimaginable. You even have a word for it now… a whole school…” he said, sounding winded. “And if... and if they'd have me then... perhaps the demons of this world need a king.”

Sunset stared, breath puffing out in front of her. “You don’t want this. I’ve been where you are,” she breathed, shivering, “I’ve made this mistake.”

“Oh, I know you have.” The counsellor rose from his seat and ice crackled across the floorboards from every step. The temperature dropped to the arctic depths of mountainous heights. Outside, the raging storm beat against the fogging, fractalling glass. His hair flourished, dark and waving as if in an arctic breeze. “How many times, god only knows, but I know exactly who you are.”

Sunset went cold. The kind of cold she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. Every muscle in her body felt sapped of energy, urging her to rest, wait here, die here. If Solstice Shiver didn’t kill her, the cold would. She was running out of time.

“I never had a word for what I was when I was your age.” He spoke and stalked around her, graceful and lithe for a man old enough to own a doctorate degree. “But you have a lexicon, don’t you? Disappointment. Deserter. Letdown. She-Demon. Thief. Fraud. Poison. Quite the destiny you lead.”

“I…” The cold crept into her bones, her heart, her lungs, then into her empty, fateless soul. She lost the energy to grit her teeth. “You’re better than this.”

“Pity,” he marveled, teeth glistening, lengthening out of his mouth. “So precarious. A stiff breeze could send you into shambles. And what of your little friends, then, hm? Destined for disaster.” He cackled cartoonishly, delighted. If only he had a cape to flourish. “At least you’re finally self-aware, hm?”

A panting started and Sunset didn’t realize it was her own. Tears streaked. Her vision dappled with darkness and sparks. Maybe she was dying already. Maybe she’d never make it to the mirror at all. Maybe she’d die here. No destiny, no reason she wouldn’t. An empty future. No guarantee.

Sunset Shimmer knew she would die purposelessly at Canterlot High.

I’m dying... I’m dying…

Her chest imploded in slow motion, tightening. Panting.

Smoke rose from her eyes. “The portal… I have to—I have to close the portal…”

“Hushhhh,” he told her. “You’re in no condition. You’ve failed. But it’s alright. I’m always here to listen and I’ve heard everything I need to know.” She could hear the smile rise in his voice. “I’ll make certain everyone sees who you really are.”

Sombra set a hand on her shoulder. In the moments to come, the sickening dizzying moments, Sunset recognized by now exactly what he was willing her to do. Their connection and desire to suppress this moment strong enough, her and Timber Spruce’s magic responded in time.

Finding herself in the body of her counsellor, Sunset slumped.

She heard her own voice cackle in delight. “Well, well. Theory proven. The doctor was right.” He laughed maniacally at his own joke. “Fear does attract fear. A shame it’s consuming you, otherwise, I might invite you to join.”

“Join you where?”

“Where Sunset Shimmer belongs, of course. Ruining everything for those she loves most, causing fear and mass panic wherever she goes.” King Sombra popped the collar of his leather jacket. “It seems I have a coronation to attend.”

Shadows swallowed her vision as a demonic Sunset Shimmer left into the halls of Canterlot High.

12. Return of the She-Demon

Sunset Shimmer was a shadow of her former self. Her own grieving breathing filled her ears. Reedy. Gasping. She couldn’t see ahead of her, only as far as she could reach. Sunset staggered forward. She grabbed blindly. Reaching. Until she found the handle of the door to run, to stop King Sombra, to leave this dimension through the portal for the last time and to never look back.

She opened it.

Sunset tried to run to the portal and tumbled off the edge.

Plummeting, her mind raced to explain the wind whipping around her. Her vision cleared to see the counselling office door frame suspended in isolation above her dress shoes and shrinking up and away. Screaming in someone else’s voice, Sunset anticipated a crushing splatting pain unlike any she’d ever survived.

She twisted and grasped at empty air.

The fall lasted so much longer than she could stand and happened so much faster than she could think.

Her body hit the ground and the sound echoed in the high chambers around her. The closest comparison she could make was the sound of someone slamming the dumpster door in the alley outside her apartment.

Sunset felt... a dreamlike lack of pain. Where was the earth-shattering ka-boom? She wondered if she was too in shock to feel the pain upon impact. Or, if she wouldn’t feel any pain ever again after that fall.

She sat up and examined her body to check for any sign of life or injury. Had she just killed Solstice by accident? Oddly, she saw her own body, unharmed, but a strange unbalanced weight on her back startled her.

Standing, Sunset screamed when she found two large, leathery, batlike wings extending from new holes in her leather jacket. Red, like they’d been badly burned.

Sunset staggered back, noticing the markings carved into the stone at her feet. Candles laid to rest in procession encircling a pattern, and the flickering flames gave off just enough light for her to see what the design really was: her cutie mark.

“What the hell?” she murmured, heart pulling double-shift.

Don’t be scared. You’re playing right into his trap, she thought. King Sombra deals in fear magic. If this is some kind of smoke and mirrors horror-show⁠—it has to be⁠—he’s feeding off you. Get it together.

A sense of doom pressed down on her. Equestria… my friends… they’re all in danger now. I put them in danger. I’m dangerous—No, stop it, that isn’t helping. I have to… I have to create a counter-spell to whatever fear magic he cursed on me. How do I do that from inside the curse?

Looking around, she was met with great rocky chambers. The cool, sealed-in air this far under the earth made her lungs feel snug in her chest, as if they’d gotten stuck in a narrow passageway. The most she could hear was the dripping of water from great hanging stalactites to their stalagmite brethren below: drool off the chops of a snaggle-toothed beast immortalized mid-bite.

Only the occasional far off echo reached her, and by the time it got to her, she couldn’t tell who or what could have made those noises.

All else was lost to darkness.

“Sunset Celestial Shimmer.”

The voice boomed, reverberated through stone and up her spine alike. Ahead of her, twin stars burned into existence and a larger-than-life figure surfaced from shadow: Princess Celestia, cloaked in white robes and her eyes aglow in a supernatural celestial dawn.

Sunset’s eyebrows lifted and she took a step towards her. “Princess?”

Her foot snagged. She looked down to find heavy chains clamped around her ankles. Her hands had likewise been handcuffed by a wooden board. She struggled, claustrophobia setting in. Don’t be scared! Stop! You’re letting him win!

“There is no escape,” a new voice told her. “No solace or new worlds. No refuge. Nowhere left to run.”

Princess Luna emerged in deep blue robes, just as much of a giantess as her sister beside her. Her eyes burned, too: a pale moonbeam glow. Sunset could hear inversions of the younger princess’s laugh bouncing from far-off rock, a nightmarish sound that haunted her dreams as a foal.

My friends are in more danger the longer I’m here. Sunset gripped her hands into fists and assumed a battle-ready stance. “I know you’re not real. You can’t scare me. I’m not weak.”

“Your strength has no bearing here. You have no fights left to win or lose, runaway,” Princess Twilight’s voice apologized. She, too, came out of the darkness with eyes lit by harmonic light, but unlike the others, she stood in mourning by a large hourglass engraved with Sunset’s full name. The sand had long since stopped its fall, still. At rest. “Your destiny ran its course. This is your destination. You’ve reached your Time’s End.”

Shaking her head took more effort than she thought it should. The energy she’d normally have in excess, renewed each night by sleep and each day by the joys of life with her friends, was running low. Rigor mortis stiffened her cold body. “No…”

Would her friends be worried about her? Would they come looking for her? Would they even be able to find her? Sunset realized she couldn’t rely on her friends to save her from this terrible curse. No more burdens on them.

Despite her trembling, Sunset tried to push more strength into her voice. “No, I haven’t. You’re specters, magical projections—you aren’t real. You can’t be, you... You’re not the princesses!”

“We have no true faces. We shift. We take shapes your mind can understand,” Luna told her. A volley of her warped laughter ricocheted around. “Our names change by different tongues: Norns. Parcae. Fates.”

… Fates? Sunset’s eyebrows raised as a ghastly fog crept in, low to the ground, not unlike the mist crawling over the grounds of a graveyard.

The Fate stealing Princess Celestia’s body nodded, as if she could hear into Sunset’s mind. “This is your final Judgement. Your heart will be weighed and your soul sentenced to eternity. The life you knew is gone.”

“N-no, my body’s still up there,” Sunset said, choking, shivering. The heat in her bones drained. “A demon stole my body, he’s using it to⁠—”

“Shhh…” Princess Celestia bent a wing down to cup Sunset’s cheek, almost cooing. “What you want to go back to doesn’t belong to you anymore. Your body is an instrument now, just not yours. The ruined coronation? The lost lives? The prison sentence in the castle dungeons? That, too, is destined.”

As she spoke, Sunset saw flares in the darkness behind her, bright then fading like fireworks: images of King Sombra’s acts of terrorism. Sentencing in the high court. What looked like Sunset in the Canterlot Castle dungeons, cell bars clanking shut in front of her at long last.

Straightening, Princess Celestia smiled down at her. “Oh, little sun, no. Bodies are earthly things. Your soul’s time has ended.”

Shaking her head, Sunset trembled in her refrigerated body. “... take me back. I want to go back.”

“There is no turning back, it’s over now,” the Fate Luna said. “No return.”

“No restart,” Fate Twilight said.

“I want my life back. I’m not done yet,” Sunset said, voice pinching her throat. The air was harder to draw.

“Life’s already gone on without you,” the Fate Twilight told her. “Why wouldn’t it? The universe has no use for you.”

Don’t be scared, she thought, everybody dies eventually.

But then, Sunset Shimmer would never graduate with her friends. She’d never shake the principals’ and the counsellor’s hands at the podium, and dammit, what if she never got that second tattoo? What if she never made love to her girlfriend, or watched her win awards and go to college, and what if they would’ve gotten married?

She’d never get to meet who her friends would become.

She’d never see the world or find her purpose in it. Or make a family. Or go back home, and call it that, and tell Princess Celestia everything that went without saying between them because what if it didn’t go without saying? What if she could’ve had a mom?

What if she had a family?

The Fate Princess Celestia raised her chin. “Sunset Shimmer: Are you righteous or wicked?”

Sunset watched as reflections of her life played in their eyes. They saw everything. At first, slow and in order, then at a terrible speed, the noises blaring all at once in the caverns around her. The sound of it reminded her of every voice she’d heard when Flash projected her feelings onto the school, and in return, she heard everyone’s thoughts. Loud, complex, and incomprehensible.

The only noise she could pick out beneath it all was a steady booming thud. A heartbeat.

Then, a final memory: collapsing onto the floor of the counselling office in the body of Solstice Shiver, the snow and cold avalanching onto her until she shut her eyes and⁠—

Darkness.

Quiet.

Luna’s nightmare laugh echoed around her and Sunset trembled out in the open.

“Interesting...” the Fate Princess Celestia hummed, like a counsellor writing notes. “This was not the End designed for you.”

The Fate masked as Princess Luna angled her head strangely. “Disturbing,” she agreed. “Unseen. Unknown.”

“I see... many unknowns,” the Fate Princess Twilight gasped. “No future! No path! A destiny forsaken!”

“No matter,” Princess Celestia told them, a wing raised. “Judgement has been passed. Sunset Shimmer, for your cruelty, pride, wrath, hunger for power and desire to rule the world, and the burdens wrought on those around you by your hand, your true nature is… wicked. You are sentenced to the Pits of Tartarus.”

Cinders floated up from the ground around Sunset’s demonic wings. Flames ate at her, rising from her cutie mark and Sunset struggled with all the energy she had left. “No! No, you know me! I’m good! I’ve changed!”

Princess Luna bent her neck the other way, summoning more of that laughter. “I sense… an empathetic heart. Kindness, humility, understanding. Relinquished power. Burdens lifted. Intentions good and true. Love for others and self-sacrifice. Hero.” She righted her head. “Your true nature is… righteous. Elysium awaits your arrival.”

Above Sunset, a heavenly light opened up like clouds parting after a storm. She stared up at it in wonder—a peaceful content overcoming her that felt… so, so nice⁠—and found herself floating upwards until she slowed to a stop mid-air, her chains still holding on tight. One of her wings transformed, growing long white plumes.

“So… which is it?” Sunset looked above and below her, at clouds and flames, her mind racing. “What am I?”

All eyes cast towards Princess Twilight.

The Fate stalked the ground, pacing. Her hoofsteps clacked and the caverns’ echoic acoustics spoke legends of their importance. Princess Twilight paced in one direction, then the other. “I see fear and... complexity. I sense a fate escaped, a mark forgotten. I see suffering caused, but also reform and healing. I see a world of undiscovered purpose. Young powder kegs, fuses lit by otherworldly magic. And I see… a world never meant for this. No fates written! No Sunset Shimmer! Invented portals! Invented lives!” Princess Twilight buried her head in her hooves. “I sense… no resolution.”

Sunset stared. “... What?”

Princess Twilight hung her head apologetically. “I sense no⁠—”

“No, what do you mean ‘no resolution’? Aren’t you some… all-knowing weavers of fate??? You’re supposed to know who I really am at my core! You designed my destiny! But none of you know the real me⁠—all of me.” Sunset Shimmer’s eyes widened. “Only I do.”

The Fate Princess Celestia leaned forward. “Sunset Celestial Shimmer⁠—”

“I’m righteous and wicked. I’ve got the potential for both!” Sunset laughed in her chains. She let the sound of it fill the chambers at Time’s End. “I am both. An angel, a demon, a bad girl, a best friend—and I fuck up. A lot. I’m stubborn, I’m scared of the dark inside myself and people knowing it's there, and I don’t know how to deal with my feelings even after helping everyone else with theirs. And I also do a lot of good! I’m a little kinder, more empathetic, and more loving every day.” A smile pushed upon her lips. “But, my friends know all that already.”

The Fate acting as Princess Luna bent her neck to a quizzical angle. “Paradox!”

Sunset smirked. “Yeah, but... that’s the life I chose. I’m not the pony destined to save Equestria and maybe... that’s… maybe that’s okay.” Floating in a chamber at the end of time never felt so wide open. Scarily empty, but also free. One of those maybe things. “I can go my own way. I’m a regular old unicorn not destined for anything anymore. I’m a mess of contradictions and accidents and choices I get to make! That’s what makes me so cool,” she said, letting them in on a secret. Her secret weapon. “I’m human, too.”

Rebelling against the Fates, Sunset broke the chains holding her back. She flipped them off while she was at it. A very human thing to do, she decided.

The Fates did not appreciate that very human gesture.

Flying on her uneven wings, Sunset hovered at their unnatural height. “I’m not done up there. I have friends to help. When I die⁠—”

“Which will be soon,” Luna told her, and Sunset thought that was a petty thing to say.

“When my time’s really up, you can judge my choices and paradoxes then.” Sunset grinned, shaken to the core with fear and… Celestia damned excitement. “Not before.”

Before Sunset found herself in total darkness and left that timeless place, she thought she saw the princesses smile. Maybe that was her imagination.

Then, her vision began to clear, and gasping for air, she could see the counselling office she’d been so afraid of materializing around her. The purple couch, the frozen clock, and tickets and their promise left unfulfilled on the desk. She also found that she’d returned to Solstice Shiver’s body and it took her way too long to realize she’d never left it.

Sunset gasped. “The girls! The guys! Solstice! Oh shit! Why the hell did that take me so long?!”

Hesitating only to handle the door handle through her sleeve, Sunset Shimmer ran toward her friends.

The other side of the door, thankfully, wasn’t a steep drop to the underworld. But it did lead her to a hauntingly empty hall. Her friends' chairs had long been abandoned, Timber’s overturned.

“No, no, no…” she murmured, and Sunset raced through the halls.

Every classroom on the main level froze shut. The cafeteria, the gym⁠—all of it empty during class time and filled with snow. She could see her own breath as she panted. A cold she couldn’t feel the way she normally would, she noticed. Rounding the corner, she slid and skidded on ice but didn’t slow until she saw it: the front entrance.

Sunset blasted her way through the double doors at the school’s front entrance to find Sunset Shimmer about to start a new life in another dimension under a new name to avoid her feelings. Again.

All eight of her friends gathered around the portal. The demon who stole Sunset’s face wasn’t listening to their pleas, steps away from Equestria. Steps away from closing the portal. All he was missing was a sledgehammer and a crown.

Fighting against the biting cold, Sunset barreled through the tundra of a schoolyard, pushed past her crowding friends, bursting through, and latched onto the demon’s popped collar before it could sink through the rippling depths of the portal.

“No, you goddamn don’t!” Sunset wrenched her possessed form back into the human world by force, scowling. “Girls, listen to me, this jackass isn’t Sunset Shimmer!” she said, yanking the glaring demon up by the collar, who hissed at her, then pressed a hand to her chest earnestly: “This jackass is. Long story short, Solstice went full demon and tricked me into swapping with him. Quick, pony up! Maybe we can switch back! Help me hold him down!”

When none of them rushed to her side, Sunset looked up. “Girls?”

Her heart ached, engorged like frost-bitten fingers. Her friends stared back at her, their faces streaked with tears and flushed red, and it only just now occurred to Sunset that her friends hadn’t been racing to stop who they thought was Sunset Shimmer from leaving.

Face drawn and flush, Fluttershy held her heart like the thing attacked her from the inside. “Oh, thank goodness,” she sniffled. “If that’s not you, does that mean you weren’t planning on leaving us forever without saying goodbye?”

Sunset’s stomach plummeted back down to the depths of the underworld.

The air froze the moment, so still it couldn’t be breathed. Applejack waited like an oak, hands on her hips, but the vulnerability in her face destroyed any hope of strength. Pinkie became so small, so quiet, cheeks shining. Flash’s eyebrows seized together over his watery eyes. Timber just wouldn’t look at her.

Sunset glowered back at the grinning demon, who seemed to be savouring every second, wrenching him toward her. Her fist clenched at her side. “What did you tell my friends?”

“I told our friends,” Twilight spoke up, her tone like a storm thundering through a forest.

Sunset looked up, rage slipping.

Flush pink brought out the green in her girlfriend’s eyes. All the colour in her face had pooled around those eyes and across her nose to the tips of her ears. She’d never seen a crying person look so much like Timber Spruce.

Holding herself in the cold, Twilight stepped toward Sunset and her demon. “I’ve been so worried about you. You sound so stressed and fatalistic. All your cute little jokes are just digs at yourself now.”

Sunset’s grimace felt heavy on her face.

“I knew you weren’t doing well, a-and I wanted to be there for you like you’ve been there for me! But then, nothing seemed to work and you started talking about exiling yourself like you deserved to be alone.” Her voice snagged in her throat, but she kept rambling, kept babbling, “And I knew what you were going to do because I’ve isolated myself before too but I didn’t know how to help⁠—I couldn’t know, I couldn’t ask you, you weren’t yourself⁠—”

“Yeah, I know, because I’m me.” Sunset twisted the demon’s hands behind his back and painfully.

Twilight stared. “Sunset, you haven’t been yourself since before your road trip.” She wiped underneath her eye before the cold could freeze the tears to her cheeks. Despite that, Twilight pushed her chest out, her chin up, and stood firm. “Your friends at least deserved a goodbye. And you deserved a chance to change your mind. So I got help. Pinkie and the girls painted a banner, I think it’s still hanging in the band room; you kind of ran into the middle of your own intervention.”

“You… planned an intervention for me?”

Sunset was reminded, then, that she’d thought about potentially marrying this girl on a far off someday. That she’d been worried that she’d never live to see their wedding.

Not right away. Celestia, no, not right away. There was too much Sunset wanted to experience together first to just skip ahead like the everyday moments didn’t matter (they were, in her estimation, the whole point).

Towards the end of their twenties, maybe—if they lived that far, if it made sense⁠, if they both wanted that—she wasn’t in a rush. But she found herself thinking about the ifs. Even now that she wasn’t terrified for the fate of her soul, the ifs held sway. Surrounded by friends and family, vowing hand to whoever would listen to do the hard work of loving each other every day. And then, a messy life of everydays ever after, together.

She’d never taken those daydreams seriously before now. She just assumed that imagining how to propose some years down the road, making jokes about Twilight being her missus to make her girlfriend blush, or dreaming about spending their lives working together as more than just lab partners was the honeymoon stage of their puppy love high school sweethearts relationship, and hell, maybe it was. Maybe she was being ridiculous, and too young to know better, but dammit.

Dammit.

The demon in Sunset’s grasp cackled along to his own mania at her, in her own voice, stealing the hint of a dumb smile on Sunset’s face. “Yes, your little intervention was adorable! Pathetically pointless and pointlessly pathetic, but adorable. Truly, sentimentality at its finest!” Sunset got the sense that he would have literally applauded them if he had his hands, the dick. He also spoke too loud, as though projecting his voice to the back of a theatre.

“Everything’s okay now, girls, I’m here.” Sunset looked to the boys. “Come on, we can still fix this, please. Help me swap everyone back.”

There was a pause, a hesitancy, as the boys exchanged some look Sunset couldn’t decipher, but they came over all the same. The chuckling demon underscored their footsteps in the snow. Sunset offered out her free hand to Timber, who looked at it like he was being offered a deal by the devil. “Ready for things to go back to normal?” Her eyebrows tightened over her eyes. “... please.”

Timber answered by taking her hand. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. Sunset decided she’d kick the demon’s ass into the snow when this was over.

Judging by that laugh, the demon must have had similar intentions for her. The demon leered at her with fangs poking past his lips and black swallowing the whites of his eyes. Sunset got the sense Sunset Shimmer felt delighted for anyone who would have to deal with her emotions. A primal urge to run stoked the fire in Sunset’s stomach, but she held on as tight as she could manage.

Much like before, Sunset could feel the warmth of her magic spreading down the veins of her arm, like blood rushing toward a wound. She kept looking for Timber’s eyes, for that undeniable smirk, something, but all she found was resignation and icy winds playing with his hair.

Thanks to Flash, the magic exploded outwards, blowing back a flurry of snow.

But Sunset didn’t feel vertigo. Nothing spun. The same cold wind hit her back.

A flashbang of fear shot up in her chest. After everything, how could it not work? Her friends needed her to fix what she broke, they needed their normal back. She felt uniquely disgusted with herself thinking about paying them back for all their warmth and sweetness by keeping them prisoner in each other’s bodies. They didn’t deserve prison sentences the way Sunset did—or used to think she did. Positive self-talk, Solstice would want me to have positive self-talk.

Moments later, she saw her friends clutching at their heads, or rubbing their eyes. Checking their hands, feeling their faces. A cold breath froze solid in her chest.

The person in Twilight’s body next to her, holding her hand, finally met her eyes and Sunset knew that wasn’t Timber Spruce anymore. Worry and love waited there. “Sunset…”

Sunset laughed, tearing up but keeping it together as much as possible. “You’re you. Thank Celestia, you’re you!” She so desperately wanted to at least hug her girlfriend that she almost let go of the demon in her arms.

Flash, on the other hand, had no demons holding him back. As soon as he realized he and his boyfriend were themselves again, at long, long last themselves, he couldn’t get there fast enough. And Sunset wasn’t a bashful person in the slightest, but even she got the sense she should turn away when Flash and Timber kissed for the first time in weeks. Deeply and passionately enough that magical sparks lit up around them: fireflies in stage-lights.

Flash even managed to pull a smile from Timber’s lips when he parted to say, “Unpause?”

Not that Sunset was violently jealous that she couldn’t do the same with her girlfriend. Nope. She pushed that aside like so many other emotions before it. Instead, Sunset beamed to the rest of her friends (only partly to avoid snooping on the sweet nothings the boys were whispering to each other). “We did it! Is everyone else back, too?”

Her friends nodded, muttering affirmations. Fluttershy rubbed her arm. Dash re-messed up her own hair after Rarity had brushed it that morning. Applejack kicked at the snowy ground with her cowboy boot.

Sunset frowned, gripping the demon her closer. “C’mon, where’s the party, huh? Nothing?”

The fact that they celebrated more when they heard about Princess Twilight’s second coronation made logical sense⁠—Sunset’s friends were certifiable sweethearts⁠—but she didn’t think they were that selfless that they wouldn’t be happy for themselves. They deserved to be! She tried to elbow Pinkie in a look even though her arms were otherwise occupied. “No party senses?”

Pinkie Pie’s big blue eyes teared up, and after a pause, in a quiet voice she said, “You didn’t even let me throw you a goodbye party.”

The demon laughed in Sunset’s voice. “Oh, this is too perfect. I, your greatest rival, have usurped your precious Shimmer! But my brand of evil is nothing compared to hers! The real Sunset Shimmer planned to break your hearts all along! How deliciously maniacal!”

“I⁠—” Sunset cursed internally. And externally: “You dick.”

Still just barely holding back a wracking sob, Pinkie Pie hugged herself against the cold. “Sunset Shimmer!”

“Present and accounted for,” the demon in her grasp murmured as though it was terribly difficult to hold in a laugh.

“Please, talk to us,” Fluttershy begged.

“What’s gotten into you?” Applejack demanded. “You don’t run out on family!”

“That was your solution?” Rarity unfolded herself from the safety of Applejack’s arms. “To leave us behind without so much as a word of goodbye? Sunset, you must understand how much that hurt us to hear. We love you. Apparently more dearly than you know.” Rarity’s eyes filled again. “But how much could we possibly mean to you if that’s how you planned to exit our lives?”

That started Flash crying again. Timber put an arm around him, glaring at a snowbank by the sidewalk.

“You mean everything to me.” Sunset saw her friends blur, but forced herself to keep composure. “That’s why I thought I had to go.”

Even though the voice she had now was much deeper than her own, it bottomed out and got raspy when things threatened to get emotional like hers. She huffed pathetically. “I wanted to keep you safe from all the magic I brought here and let you have normal teenage lives again.”

The response to that was seething breath. Rainbow Dash’s eyes stung with tears as she glared down one of her best friends. “Fuck. You.”

Sunset blanched. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I—”

“No, shut up! Fuck you for thinking you couldn’t rely on your friends! We love you, shit-for-brains! We’ve been right here the whole damn time! We kept trying to see what your deal was and ask what’s up, and you kept shoving us off, saying you’d figure out this swap junk solo but you were just ditching to beat yourself up! That’s messed up enough but then you think I’d let you leave forever with no goodbye? Fuck that!”

Her voice cracks echoed on the empty streets.

“If you think I’m gonna let you do that to yourself, it’s a damn good thing I know which one of you feels what ‘cause⁠—” She swiped her own eyes in a harsh movement and rose a fist. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Shimmer!”

Rainbow Dash rushed in.

Sunset didn’t have time. Her mind had only just started to grapple with which one of them Dash was going in to punch when the demon’s hands turned to shadow, evaporating from her grasp.

He moved faster than she could scream, faster than Dash’s eyes widened, and when those hands solidified in a blink, they’d turned to red, demonic claws. Rainbow Dash howled as the demon’s claws raked into her.

“Rainbow Dash!”

In quick succession, Sunset’s friends rushed toward Rainbow and the demon, but the demon disappeared into the thin air⁠—the shadow cast from the base of the Wondercolt statue. Sunset realized he’d only ever been letting her hold him back to charge his power. She cursed herself for not realizing it when she saw the change in his eyes.

Sunset shot down to her knees next to Dash on the icy pavement, paling. Feeling sick and holding it back, she couldn’t tell what to be more scared of. The depths of multi-pronged rip through the lightning design on Rainbow’s shirt or the tear across Dash’s left eye that she might never see out of again.

“Twi!” Sunset called. “Twilight!”

She didn’t need to explain. Her girlfriend grabbed Sunset’s hand over their friend’s body and placed it on Rainbow’s eye, who screamed. Applejack and Fluttershy each grabbed one of her hands and Dash mewled appreciatively.

Despite the sound of their friend suffering, despite not knowing where the demon would be next, Sunset heard her girlfriend say, “Sunny, look at me.”

Sunset did. She saw the person who understood her better than anyone. She saw her best friend. I’m going to marry that girl someday. She pressed her forehead to Twilight’s, focusing all she could on her and how they wanted to understand Rainbow’s pain.

In seconds after the warmth of the magic bled through her arm, Sunset heard her girlfriend wince and Sunset bit down on her tongue to avoid whimpering, too. A searing pain over her left eye nearly shattered her concentration. She gripped Twilight’s hand harder. She felt Twilight’s hand tremble in her own.

And then, Sunset felt the burning pain cool off. She hazarded a look. Both of Dash’s bright pink eyes stared up at her as the gash over her left eye sealed itself and formed a scar.

Sunset’s eyes reached Twilight’s. Judging by the look, Twilight had come to the same conclusion she had: there were limits to what their healing could do. If one of their friends was on the edge of death, trying to heal them would only bring both of them there, too.

“There!” Flash shouted to the remaining girls.

The form of the Sunset Shimmer swung back around from the depths of the shadow cast by the school’s left wing, right by the front entrance. Right where Sunset herself transformed over a year ago.

“Sunset,” Twilight said. “One more, we need to stop the bleeding. Don’t look at him, the others can do that. Focus on me.”

“The first step of first aid is to not panic,” Timber instructed, kneeling down in the snow next to them. “I think that still applies when there are demons.”

While her other friends raced toward Sunset Shimmer’s cackling voice, Sunset paled at the job still ahead of her. She felt her stomach already bracing for the impending pain, like she was sucking in to get her jeans on. Twilight bit her lip while eying the gashes, too. Dash’s little seething breath was minimal, likely to move as little as possible, and her wet, dull eyes flashed up at both of them. “Do it.”

The second healing process was so much harder than the first.

Sunset swore⁠—Twilight swore, which Sunset couldn’t remember hearing before⁠—and she nearly passed out from the slicing in her stomach, but they had to close the wound.

By the time they were done, they’d sapped so much of their energy, too much, and scars on Dash’s abdomen looked permanent. Sunset hoped not but she didn’t see those fading any time soon.

Sunset wanted to collapse back against the cold stone statue and rest a little (fainting all the way to Equestria didn’t sound so bad…), but they didn’t have time for that. Instead, she and Twilight brought Rainbow Dash shakily to her feet. Who helped who up was up for debate.

Regardless of how, holding each other up, they watched Sunset Shimmer transform. Ascending, a horribly familiar cackling rippled through the blizzarding air. Powerful wings ripped from his back. Flames flourished bright, and ate away at his flesh until it was red-meat raw. Sunset was horrified to find out that her demon form looked just as undeniably like her as it had in Juniper’s video, as the smirk she’d seen for years in the mirror overflowed with slicing teeth.

Sunset watched Sunset Shimmer rise to power in the courtyard of Canterlot High. Sunset Shimmer would never rule the world, but she could destroy this piece of it.

Her knees trembled as she stumbled backwards, panting. “No… no…”

Dash numbly grasped at the claw marked torn through her shirt to find a healed, but likely still tender torso. “We… we still have to fight that guy…”

“Not fight,” Sunset said, almost too fast, too urgently. She grimaced up at her demon self. It took everything she had just to tear her eyes away from the train wreck she used to be, the sound of her own laugh brutalizing the air, drawing the attention of terrified students from the windows of the classrooms. Sombra made good on his promise: Everyone would see who she really was. “Solstice is in there somewhere. We just have to keep him away from the portal. He can’t get through.”

“Okay, so. Defend Equestria from evil magic…” Rainbow Dash grunted through a pained smile. “Sounds like a good Thursday.”

Sunset smiled back as her friends gathered around her. The winter winds whipped, but they faced the cold, together.

The girls reached for their geodes, and Sunset did the same, expecting a surge of good feelings. The kind of good feelings like when she and the girls stayed up late at Pinkie’s house on a Friday night, three pizzas deep into a binge-watch where nothing mattered more than whatever dumb commentary they made and whatever late night conversations came out of it. That good.

And looking around at her superpowered friends, ready for anything with their little pony ears and powers, Sunset knew she could win if she had them. If they had each other.

That was, of course, assuming they could all power up.

But Sunset didn’t have her geode. Sunset Shimmer did.

Not only that, but Rainbow Dash gawked at the demon in the sky, clutching her geode, but nothing happened. No ears, wings, or tails. No magical flourish and strangely fashionable accessories. She just stared.

Applejack nudged her. “Uh, Rainbow Dash? You still with us, hon?”

“O-oh, yeah, totally!” Rainbow palmed her geode, turning from the demon and shielding her eyes. “Just gimme a minute…”

This unfortunately pleased the demon king greatly. Sombra snarled a chuckle. “I must admit, this has been quaint, but I’ve really got somewhere to be. A King deserves a throne! Unless you’d prefer to be part of my royal procession, your best chance of survival is to run. As the current Sunset Shimmer, I’m an expert on the subject!”

Sunset gritted her teeth, still shaking off the dizziness of using that much magic.

When they didn’t move, the demon king hummed. “Oh, that’s right. You fancy yourselves heroes here, don’t you? Bravery won’t guarantee you shinier tombstones, children.” He powered up his claws with a sickly teal and black magic and held the slowly swelling projectile over his head, a sensation Sunset remembered so well her fingers twitched at her sides. “I’ll kill you where you stand.”

If this demon was anything like she had been at the Fall Formal, Sunset knew it wasn’t a bluff. She could remember the moment she herself decided on killing Princess Twilight and her little friends for getting in her way. Something Sunset had never told anyone before or since.

Twilight held out her arm in front of Timber and Flash while she kept her eyes on the demonic form of her girlfriend. “Don’t worry about us,” she told them, “The magic of friendship always wins in the end! Get yourselves to safety!”

The boys balked at her, not that Twilight saw.

“Flash, get Timber out of here. There isn’t a clear path back into the school, but if you get around to the staff parking lot, you can still take Timber’s jeep and get distance!”

Flash faltered. “But…”

If asked, Sunset could have pinpointed the second when something snapped in Timber like kindling. A huff of air could be seen escaping his mouth in the cold. “... The magic of friendship?”

Twilight chanced a look over her shoulder to them. “Really, I’m serious, you need to go now!Sunset and I can only heal so much and you don’t know how much damage King Sombra can do! It’s okay, you can leave. We’ll be alright. We’ve got magic.”

“So do we.” Timber tried to laugh, but it stuttered to a stop like a dying engine in the dead of winter, stranded in the middle of the backroads. He massaged the migraine building behind his brow. “You don’t think we’re a part of this, too?”

Twilight waved her hands. “I didn’t say you’re not a part of this! You’re a part of this! The safe part! If you want, you can use your magic and teleport your part away!”

The demon roared, a sound so loud the glass vibrated in the windows. The dark magic in his hands ballooned. “Flee now or I will devour your souls, children!”

Twilight blanched and pushed Timber and Flash backwards by the chests. “I need you to go now! Flash, get him out of here!”

Flash looked between Twilight and Timber, as if he couldn’t decide who needed his help more.

Sunset knew the girls didn’t have time. The school didn’t. The sight of the demon’s claws raking the third floor windows knowing those were her hands pressed down on her chest. “Girls, go!”

Her friends raced ahead to fight the body of their best friend. Sunset and Twilight would have joined them if the boys weren’t disobeying direct orders.

Timber stamped his foot into the snow and pushed out his chest. “That doesn’t make sense. I can teleport, Flash can boost all our powers⁠—we have every right to help here! You’re contradicting yourself again and I know what that means!” Tears spiked the sides of his eyes, and he stared, shivering breath hanging in the air, before firing up to shout, “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot!”

Twilight looked at him like she knew she had a bomb to defuse in her lab and had to consider the wires colour-blind. “I… I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be hurtful, but magic is emotional, and I don’t know what our magic is going to do if⁠—”

“Oh magic? You’re going to blame it on magic again? That’s why you’re not going to talk to me like a person?” His eyebrows squeezed together. The forest green of his eyes misted over like a torrential downpour. He swayed there a moment, glaring to the side, then back at her as the tears rained quietly. “Who made you the princess of anything?”

Twilight intook air without a sound, chest rising. Her eyes filled without breaking eye contact as her grimace fought to change into a glare.

Timber swayed, breath on the air.

Flash tugged on Timber’s arm, mumbling, “We should go.”

“Who hasn’t?!” Twilight threw her hands out. Sunset flinched beside her. She couldn’t remember hearing Twilight’s voice break apart that loudly. “Everyone wants me to be her⁠! Everyone’s wanted that since I transferred here from Crystal Prep! You were the only one who didn’t!”

Sunset put a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Twilight⁠—”

“The universe wants me to become Princess Supreme of the Magic in this world so I’m sorry if trying to keep you safe from me is so inconvenient for you, but yes, evidently I am.” Twilight leaned forward, stabbing a hand into her chest. “You want magic? Fine! Good! But maybe I actually do know better and maybe I was doing the best I could to help you and maybe if you just let me and talked to me we wouldn’t have broken up!”

When Sunset looked back she saw smoke billowing out from her girlfriend’s glasses. And up from the sides of Timber’s eyes. Their heaving breath hung in the frigid air between them. Timber and Twilight stopped talking.

“Okay, no, you two have to stop,” Sunset said, her mouth drying out. She could see Flash looking to her for any kind of guidance on how to help them, nodding with her. “Everybody just… take… a breath.”

King Sombra didn’t give them the time. With the ball of growing magical energy in hand, the demon in the school courtyard dive-bombed toward them. Sunset screamed, “Look out!”

The four of them rushed to get out of the way, the others scrambling to stage any kind of defense to save the open, waiting portal.

Quick as ever, shouting, Rarity brandished a shield and Applejack launched her with enough momentum to block him from getting near the portal.

At least, Sunset thought they would block his attack.

Instead, Sombra angled his wings and dove even lower, aiming himself at the pavement, and disappeared into Rarity’s shadow.

Sunset lost the wind in her lungs, whipping around to try to see where the demon would unearth. She’d lost so much visibility in the blizzard. The school stood defenseless against a lost and void-like skyline.

The schoolyard had all but become a tundra around them. Windswept snow swirled in dervishes off of rooftops and mounds on the ground. Weighty tree branches across the street bent and swung in brutal winds. The flag raised on the school’s lone clocktower beat itself in a wild, inconsolable fashion.

Then, emerging from the shadow of the long-broken Wondercolt statue, King Sombra bared his teeth in a beastly smile and struck his two victims with a burst of dark magic.

Sunset never hated seeing Sunset Shimmer next to her girlfriend and best friend so intensely.

The pitch black shadows from depths unknown swallowed her friends, imploding on them. Their bodies could be seen in an uncanny silhouette, shadows brought to the third dimension, screaming. Flash, likely not knowing what else to do, latched onto his boyfriend. “Timber! I’m here!”

The first, a horrible memory, came to light. Bright teal eyes flared with purple pupils, ringed in blue Bunsen burner flames.

Midnight Sparkle flourished her wings, bursting forth from the darkness to fly in a cackling ascent in the snowstorm.

“Twilight!” The word ripped out of Sunset’s throat, joining her friends’ voices who shouted the same.

The demon goddess cracked a crick in her neck, arms over head, and grinned. “Finally! That great mind of hers has been a playground compared to this!”

Around then⁠—which was hard to gauge because Sunset had been focused on Midnight⁠—Timber’s silhouette disappeared entirely, turning to smoke in Flash’s arms. The raw horror settled over Flash’s face.

King Sombra barked a laugh at Midnight Sparkle. “There she is! At last! I’ve heard ever so much about you!” He leapt into the air on his batlike wings to extend a clawed hand and a cloying smile. “Join me, Midnight Sparkle. Together, we can destroy the nation of Equestria and reap the power of its fear for our own! Think of it! A new magic unlike any you’ve ever seen before…”

Midnight dodged the hand skillfully and aimed a cruel smirk back. “Join you? Ha! The failed megalomaniac? The daydream angel? The girlfriend? I know exactly who you are, Sunset Shimmer, and this time, I won’t let you distract me! I’m not here for you.” She lost her smile, glaring ahead with narrowed eyes. “I’m here for him.”

Sunset frowned and followed her gaze to the roof of the school and screamed as the clocktower came crashing through the sky at Midnight. Backing up, she could finally get a look at who Midnight was glaring down: a trickster figure she’d never seen before. Elven ears that stuck out past his curls, a false smile, and an ashen complexion broken by a crack across his chest revealing a wildfire flickering inside like a lightning-struck tree, burning from the inside out.

Cinder Spruce snickered on the roof of the school. “Time’s up,” he said, and somewhere below Rainbow Dash groaned. “Look who has some of your precious magic now.” His smile dropped into a grimace. “I want to hear yousay it.”

He took a running leap from the roof of the school and before he could hit the ground disappeared into a burst of flame. Moments later, another burst propelled him and all his fire and momentum colliding into her. Midnight screamed and shot him away with a burst of projectile magic, but not without singeing her skin. “Magic is mine to understand! You’ll just get hurt!”

Cinder impacted the bricks of the school by the second floor windows. Sunset could see Scootaloo and the other junior students fleeing back from the windows. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Twilight, you have to stop!”

Flash took the chance to agree. “Timber! Listen to me! It’s going to be okay!”

“Stay out of this, hot stuff,” Cinder seethed, the fire in his chest flaring, and let himself fall again. This time he reappeared in a burst of flames above Midnight Sparkle, tackling her into another fiery portal below both of them. Next thing Sunset saw, the two of them reappeared in the sky behind the school.

Sunset looked at Flash, their short hair whipping in the bitter wind. “We have to get through to them! They’re going to tear each other apart!”

“What about King Sombra?” Flash panted, eyeing the girls narrowly dodge his attacks ahead and the whole student body watching in the school’s windows. He looked back at Sunset. “Solstice is in there.”

Sunset grimaced. “We’ll come back for him.” The words tasted bitter as grapefruit on her tongue, but she knew it had to be true. “The girls are going to have to hold down the fort.” She started a run towards the school. “Come on!”

Sunset and Flash rushed in.

Sunset knew the fastest way back to Cinder and Midnight would be over the school, so thinking literally on her feet as she led her best bro towards an active demon battle, Sunset called out, “Dash! I need a lift!”

Still struggling with her geode, Rainbow Dash made eye contact with her. Whatever she saw there made her smirk. In a dash, Rainbow finally managed to power up by speeding alongside them. “On it, boss!”

She raced ahead of them to recruit Fluttershy for the job, grabbing her just before a magical blast from the demon could hit.

Up ahead, King Sombra bellowed a long, over-dramatic laugh, calling more attention to himself than entirely necessary. Because of course. What looked like the twisted vision of Sunset Shimmer who once mind controlled the entire staff and student body of CHS⁠ monologued to them through the windows where, if Sunset looked, she could see so many of her friends had gathered. Her heart picked up speed. Get away from the windows!

“Fools! All of you, fools! I’ve waited so long for this moment and you handed it to me on a silver platter! I, the brilliant tactician, and you, the naïve sheep lining up for the slaughter! My ruse, too clever, my disguise impenetrable!” Sunset suspected he was improvising on the spot just to soak in their applause and adulation. She hated that she’d given this douchebag a stage. “How stupidly trusting can you possibly be?”

A slab of sugary icing whacked into his cheek. The demon turned to glare, growl, and bare his teeth at whoever tossed the cupcake to find Pinkie blowing a raspberry at him. At which point, the sugar on his face exploded. “GAH! Yoouuuu butter-fingered pink thing! Why would you have cake now anyway?!”

While the demon was distracted trying to kill the bouncing girl, Applejack tossed Rarity up towards him and Rarity snatched the geode off Sunset Shimmer’s neck. Applejack rushed forward and caught Rarity bridal-style. “Thank you, darling dearest.” Rarity said, gifting the geode to Applejack who lined up and baseball-pitched it to Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow!”

“On it!” Dash caught the geode out of the air and tossed it to Sunset. “Ready to fly? Hot tip: don’t look down. It helps.”

Sunset placed the geode around her neck. It stung, just a bit, to think Solstice Shiver might have actually been able to use this geode properly. “Get us up to the roof. We’ll take it from there.”

Rainbow and Fluttershy grabbed hold of Sunset and Flash by the arms and air-lifted them up. Leaving the ground, Flash nearly lost his sneaker, transitioning from a run. Dash’s grip was bruisingly firm on Sunset’s arms but Sunset held tighter onto the girl that carried her through the high, frigid winds as her full weight swung over empty air. Sunset had never done many pull-ups in gym class. She chanced a look down at the now three storey drop.

Dash kneed her in the back, puffing. “I said don’t look down!”

The sight ahead of them wasn’t all that rosier. The higher up they got, the more the roof revealed the battle between Midnight and Cinder. Flames roasting the crack in the winter sky.

Pale, Flash grunted what was left of his breath. The seas in his eyes grew wild and turbulent in the weather conditions this high off the ground. He had to call out over the winds. “You don’t think they’d actually kill each other…”

Sunset thankfully didn’t have to answer as they touched down on the left-wing’s roof. In all her life, Sunset hadn’t ever been afraid of heights, but maybe it was Solstice’s influence because her feet were grateful to touch back on some semblance of ground.

Sunset panted to Rainbow and Fluttershy, who were still airborne. “Thanks. Keep King Sombra away from the portal and please for the love of Celestia stay safe while we’re busy with these two.”

Dash saluted. “You got it, chief.”

Despite the chaos of everything around them, Fluttershy smiled and held her hands in front of herself as if she’d just been asked to lend some brown sugar and cinnamon for Solstice’s cookies. “You stay safe, too, okay?”

Flash nodded, offering, “I’ll try to keep her out of trouble.”

“Hold up, I wanna try something to pay that assmonkey back.” As if expecting payment for the valet service, Rainbow Dash held her hand out for a high-five from Flash, who hesitated, looking to Sunset, then offered a walloping smack that sent Rainbow Dash running so fast that Sunset almost thought she’d been given the power to teleport. The only evidence she’d moved at all was a boom that echoed across the courtyard and a fiery rainbow circle.

Not even noticing thanks to his renewed monologue, the demon was in for a world of hurt because, as Sunset had confirmed countless times, the universe had it out for Sunset Shimmer.

Boom. Dash blasted into King Sombra’s back, right on the spine towards the tailbone. Sunset could only imagine the high-octane back pain he’d be feeling tomorrow (or she would be, if she got her body back). It made the demon roar in some hideous rage, but Sunset was decently sure Dash was shouting, “Told you I’d kick your ass!”

Sunset cheered alongside Flash and it felt, if only for a second, like they were back at the soccer game. “Yeah!” Sunset whooped, shaking Flash by the shoulder. “Kick my ass!”

Fluttershy clapped next to Flash on the roof. “Oh yay! Woo! Go, Dashie!”

Sunset grinned, if only for the moment. “Keep it up, Flutters. You girls are gonna need to work together, alright? You got this.”

Fluttershy nodded, lifting Sunset’s spirits as she lifted herself back onto the air in a graceful twirl. “It’s what we do best.”

While the Rainbooms focused their energy on blocking Demon Shimmer’s attempts to run into the portal to Equestria, Cinder teleported himself to the roof of the school’s left wing in front of Flash and Sunset only to jump off, muttering about “getting some air.” In the time it would take King Sombra to cackle broodingly to himself, Cinder had lodged three nonconsecutive sneak attacks on Midnight, each more clever than the last.

But, like Sunset, Midnight Sparkle was no slouch. She’d set up traps for Cinder’s gravity-based attacks: opening up portals to Equestria in his path when it was too late to have any way of redirecting his trajectory. And when he re-emerged, she’d be ready to blast his ass with projectile magic.

When one of her explosive blasts delivered a car-bomb blow to the Camp Everfree Jeep, melting the camp’s logo on the side, Cinder howled.

At that point, he picked up whatever he could to throw at her. Trees, the flaming tires of his late truck—whatever he had on hand. In one instance, Cinder teleported himself elsewhere, but where that else might have been eluded Midnight.

She jerked her head around, searching every possible angle and keeping her magic at the ready. As clever as she was, she was wholly unprepared for when Cinder teleported back, screaming, with an actual bell-covered sleigh complete with deer at the reins to hurl at her.

Midnight barely dodged it, watching the wood smash into the school’s back entrance and the deer scatter free from their shackles into the wilds of the mid-sized city. She gaped at him. “... What⁠?! What was that?!”

Cinder flipped over a sedan as he growled his way up to a furious scream. “Northway has a beautiful countryside!”

“Oh my god! You can’t stop being ridiculous for a single iota of a second?!” Midnight Sparkle shrieked in logical pain and lost it on him.

A particularly brutal blast drove Cinder backwards, his body digging a rut in the neat, freshly painted lines of the staff parking lot, to slam against the base of an oak tree on the far side of the parking lot.

“Timber!” Flash and Sunset ran to the other side of the roof, wading through the snow that had collected there.

The boy who used to be Timber Spruce roared, the flames in his chest and hair flaring. As he did, the tree behind him sparked and caught fire shockingly fast. Cinder stood, aflame, and growled as the tree behind him collapsed in a fiery mass in the snow.

“Say it!” Cinder howled at Midnight Sparkle as he walked toward her through the parking lot, his fists burning brighter. “Tell me with your big girl words, princess! You want to burn bridges?” Molten fire straight from the flaming rivers of hell dripped from his hands. “Just fucking tell me!”

Midnight’s heaven-piercing horn powered up as magic built up in her hands, laughing deliriously. “Oh, you want to talk now? Now!? When you shut me out of every uncomfortable emotion you’ve ever had? What a waste of a great mind! You could never understand magic like I do! Magic isn’t comfortable, you moron of a genius, magic is pure power and everything that creates it: Magic is isolation and decades of loneliness. Magic is anxiety attacks. Magic is every dark impulse you’re terrified will come to light.” She levelled her chin, taking aim for her shot. “And I have to understand it all.”

“Twilight, listen to me!” Sunset shouted up from the rooftop to her Muliet. She held out her hand. “Take my hand!”

Midnight turned toward her. “Silence, Shiver! None of your little counselling sessions can stop me now!”

Flash shook his head, stumbling back. “They’re not even willing to listen! H-how do we get their attention? Music? Like the battle of the bands?”

Sunset shook her head. Her heart ate at her throat, beat after beat, bite after bite. “Getting our instruments would take way too long, they’d kill each other. We need something now, but I can’t just turn into an angel on command.”

Flash looked at her earnestly. “Have you tried?”

Sunset shrugged. “Without the girls? I wouldn’t have that much magic. I don’t even have the right body.” She wondered if Solstice Shiver even had an angel form, but she supposed it wouldn’t do them any good at the moment. She doubted the angelic form of their guidance counsellor would get through to Twilight and Timber, as much as they had seemed to get along with him. Would they even listen to her?

Should they? The fact that Sunset now had to watch two of her best friends tear each other apart with godlike power that she’d allowed into this dimension made her tremblingly sick to her stomach.

She’d caused this to happen.

If they died, if they had to face their own Time’s Ends, it would be because of her. And who knew who else would have to suffer?

“Damn it! We have to do something.” Flash got this look in his eye like he’d be willing to jump off the roof himself to get to them. He held his hands up behind his head and for a heartbeat-less moment, she was genuinely scared he was considering it. A blue glow emanated off him. “They need help!”

Sunset’s eyes widened like he’d stumbled across a power-up in one of the video games they played together. “Dude, your magic. Use it!”

Flash stared down at his glowing hands, the light so pure it lit the falling snow around him, then back up at her. “But who do I boost up?”

Sunset came around behind him and patted him on the shoulders. “Yourself.”

The glow around him cranked up to eleven. Sunset staggered back to give him some room as his sneakers left the rooftop, laces dangling. She could swear she heard a blistering guitar riff as the magic swirled around him before an explosion of light burned so bright she had to shield her eyes. In the aftermath, her eyes readjusted to find feathered wings unfurling from Flash Sentry’s back and another set of arms from his sides.

Sunset thought he must’ve had a really good therapy session that morning.

This heaven-sent version of Flash wore his jacket open, even though it exposed the chub on his stomach. Even as a demigod he wasn’t granted insta-abs. Out of all the people she’d met on this earth or any other, Sunset Shimmer thought Flash Sentry deserved some damn body positivity.

But unlike Sunset’s angel form, Flash hadn’t been given a horn from his head. He held a double necked guitar aloft like a sword he’d ripped from stone. Flash giggled giddily down at the frets. “Oh man, I’ve always wanted to play one of these!”

Like a godly band manager, Sunset grinned and flashed him the devil-horns. “Play it loud.”

Luckily, loud seemed to be the only setting this rock god version of Flash had. His guitar solo boomed out across the staff parking lot as if Flash had a wall of amplifiers behind him. Sunset wouldn’t be surprised if the whole block could hear him. He started by playing the top twelve-string, a sprinkling of almost acoustic sounds, before ripping into a metal guitar solo on the bottom neck.

Out on the tarmac, Cinder’s fire faltered as he gaped up at his boyfriend. “Angel...”

Midnight whipped around to blast him but Sunset could see her struggling to keep control. “Flash,” she seethed, behind the growing bursts of magic in her hands. “It’s not safe here.”

Magic exploded from her hands at him.

Flash dodged, not even missing a note. Even when Cinder joined in. Through the fire and flames, he carried on. Sunset knew Flash wasn’t coordinated enough to manage many more lucky misses like that—she’d seen the guy in gym class (or even just walking down a hallway where he had no logical reason to bump into as many things as he did)⁠—but thankfully, his fingers were fast enough on the frets to make up for his lack of dexterity.

The heads of his guitar built up power the more he played and when he reached the end of his solo with a flourish of his guitar pick, lightning shot forward to the people Flash most wanted to help over to the light.

Unfortunately, pyrotechnics were just that. Pyrotechnics. And now Midnight and Cinder were furious to be interrupted as Midnight hurled an unholy amount of magic at him.

Magic seared into his fleshy torso. The angel hit the rooftop as hard as Sunset feared she’d slammed into the depths of the underworld, and Flash rolled until his head slammed into the brick with all the force of a car crash. And he laid there as the snow drifted down on his body.

“Flash!” Sunset scrambled over to him through snow as high as her kneecaps.

When she got over to him, he held his head. The guitar had taken most of the damage, strings melted onto the fretboards together, but that didn’t mean Flash himself wasn’t badly hurt in the process. “Oh fuck, are you okay?!”

He grimaced, clutching his shoulder and Sunset suspected it would’ve been dislocated in the hit. She knelt next to him. “Well… I got their attention, at least…”

Sunset turned to see both demons on the rooftop in front of them.

Midnight covered her mouth. “Oh nonono, Flash…”

Cinder had teleported himself on the roof behind her. The fire from his entrance was blindingly bright, burning blue. He glowered at Midnight and Sunset guessed if he hadn’t before, he decided then to end her life.

Sunset turned back to Flash, kneeling down to talk at his level. “Flash, you have to boost my powers, please.”

Flash stared at her, wide-eyed and hopefully not just because his head must have been spinning with the pain. “I-I don’t know if I can control it. The whole school could hear whatever you’re projecting out to them, and even if I get it right, you said you felt what they feel too when you do that, right? What if all their anger and hurt just passes off to you and then we have four demons?”

“They’re worth the risk, dude.” She held up a fist for him to bump.

As soon as Flash touched his fist to hers, Sunset’s head exploded with thoughts. Unlike last time when she was assaulted by hundreds of voices, Sunset now had only two battling for supremacy in her mind. However Flash had focused his magic, it worked. She whimpered, holding her forehead.

But the thoughts weren’t what drew tears to her eyes, that made her feel so weak and unable to speak without crying. She held back a sob. The overwhelm that hit her then narrowed the world down to this, down to the certainty that she would always turn out too broken to fix. No matter how good things started out, no matter how many renewed efforts she made, no matter how many new friends she finally managed to make, none of it mattered.

All her new best friends would see the brokenness she was too close to see.

And she’d always feel this alone, because if she could lose someone who she would’ve built her whole life around if they let her, who couldn’t she lose?

Sunset pushed through that feeling, stumbling blindly in the blizzarding night. She heard her own grieving breath in her ears. She had the sense that she could stumble into it for all her life. All she could do, all she knew how to focus on, was how much she loved her two new best friends.

And that got her through.

Through the storm of thoughts and emotions too much for her to handle, Sunset all but screamed one thought above all: I’m not giving up on either of you without a fight.

Sunset felt it before she saw it. Partly because it was hard to focus on anything with her head so out of sorts and all over the place, but still, she could swear she felt them. When she focused her eyes back on them, Sunset held the rapt attention of two crying demons.

Flash laughed through sobs of his own. “We got through.”

Midnight turned back towards Cinder, the two of them exchanging a look that could have been murderous or healing. It was so hard to tell.

Then, Midnight landed on the roof next to them, folding her powerful wings behind her. The fire in Cinder’s chest crackled. The purple of Twilight’s eyes and the green of Timber’s stood out against their supernatural forms.

Flash groaned as he stood up. The magic left his body almost too abruptly, and Sunset had to catch him. She found herself holding the boy she played video games with instead of Slash Sentry, rock god. He thanked her quietly.

He strode towards them on unsteady feet, hands out like he was approaching a lion’s den but with a smile that could light the bowels of the underworld. “We’re right here for you, okay?” Sunset nodded, switching her gaze between the pin-pricks drowning in magic in her girlfriend’s eyes and the rings of fire surrounded by blackened, burnt out death in her best friend’s. “Whatever you need to do or say. We’ll be right here for you.”

Snow fell on the roof of Canterlot High. The top of a world of their own making, the rest lost to the storm.

Sunset watched the two of them frozen there, pausing, pushing off. They kept their eyes ahead like it was a kindness. But she had to wonder how long those two knew this conversation was coming. How long had they gone without breathing?

Cinder shook his head. “Fuck,” he said, and, “I’m sorry.” and “It’s not your fault. I’m just so tired of everyone saying they’ll be there and then disappearing out of my life, but this really isn’t your fault.” His chest flared, but his eyes reached for hers. He shook his head. “I don’t blame you. I still think you’re a great person.”

Tears streaked down Midnight’s cheeks. “I know,” she told him, so quietly she almost didn’t say it at all. She almost didn’t have to. She wrung her hands.

“C’mon, Twi... if you cry, I cry.” Cinder pushed a hand into his eye, smearing the tears away. He tried to smile at her, wiping away the tears off her face. “Taking care of yourself is good.”

“I know, but… I’m sorry,” she said like she’d never meant anything more. Like it would kill her if she didn’t take care of his feelings one last time. “I’m so, so sorry. You deserve everything you have with Flash, and I’m so excited that you’ll both finally get to have that. Please let him take you to the mall.”

“Your girlfriend rocks,” he laughed, empty, too busy drying her tears to care about his own. “You’re lucky to have each other.”

Sunset saw Flash wipe his eyes beside her.

Midnight nodded, finally smiling like Cinder wanted. “Thanks.” She stood with him a moment longer. “It was good while it lasted, right? When we broke up, I tried really hard to focus on that. I wanted so desperately to be at peace with it all, in a wise beyond my years sort of way, I guess. I wanted my friends to be proud of me for moving on so well. I don’t know why I thought grieving properly was some life accomplishment I needed to check off. But I didn’t know how to just move on. I’ve never lost someone before.

“Sunset helped so much⁠—more than I can ever say, honestly. I really don’t want to know where I’d be now without her, so I guess that’s why it was so comforting to see you and Flash together. I need you to be okay without me,” Midnight told him, changing back into the girl he lost before his eyes. The magic swirled around her, fading into the stormy sky above until she was just Twilight. “Please, please promise you’ll try. I think it’s the best chance we have at being okay with each other again.”

Cinder’s eyebrows lifted as snow drifted down to blot the flames.

“We stopped talking in our relationship, and more than anything, I really think that’s what drove us apart. It scared me. I didn’t feel like I could talk to you about anything anymore. So I didn’t.” Twilight wiped fumblingly underneath her glasses and tried to smirk. “But I don’t need us to talk about everything. I think space is healthy, boundaries are good. They don’t mean goodbye. Sometimes they just mean see you later.”

Snowflakes steamed on his shoulders. Cinder’s eyes dropped and his brow pulled together. The tears falling off his face sizzled in the fire in his chest. “Nobody wants to admit it’ll end up meaning goodbye.”

“Timber…”

“Please just say goodbye if that’s what this is. I get it.” He grasped at the gaping scar in his chest. The flames ate at him. “This is me. It’s always going to be me. And anybody who gets close enough is bound to see it. Nobody else should have to deal with that, especially when they can’t. I don’t blame you for needing to go.”

Twilight took his hands in hers. She considered the knuckles, passing a thumb over them before squeezing. And, even as tears stung at her eyes, she smiled. “Timber? I need to let you go. I do. And I will. That’s what space and time are for when you lose a boyfriend or girlfriend, if we communicate honestly.

“But then, eventually, maybe in a few months from now, when I can start to look at you and not see the boy I kissed at the observatory… I’d really like to see who you are as a friend. I’ve heard good things. I’ve gotta admit, you’ve got me curious.” She shrugged, laughing through her sniffles. “Absolutely tell me if it wouldn’t be okay for you, but for me, I think by then it’d be nice to see an old friend.”

Timber’s eyes rose to meet his old best friend.

The dark magic drained from his body in a swirling, skyward whirlwind. As soon as it was safe to do so, and he wouldn’t burn her alive, Timber collapsed into Twilight’s hug. Her hand sunk into his curls. His quiet sobs made her hold on tighter. Sunset never thought she’d be so glad to see Timber Spruce hugging her girlfriend.

Sunset and Flash staggered forward to hug them, too. Sunset laid her head on one of Timber’s shoulders. She narrowly avoided a breakdown when she told him, “Welcome to the family.”

“... Is there a club handshake?” Timber managed to ask, albeit muffled through Twilight’s shoulder.

A laugh attacked Sunset’s chest. “No... around here, we’re more about making new best friends. Like, a lot. It’s kind of our thing.”

The delirious giggling could’ve convinced Sunset they were back in the band room making stupid jokes about nothing at all.

When the four of them parted, panic seeped back in hearing the sounds of the battle still ongoing just on the other side of the school. After using so much magic, Sunset felt seasick-level nauseous at the idea of expending more—and she wasn’t the one who’d turned into an actual demigod.

As it was, Timber, Twilight, and Flash looked demonstrably battered. Cuts and bruises abound. Flash’s shoulder might have reset, but he still clung to it like he needed a splint. Timber’s clothes were all toasted and he’d lost his beanie. Or burnt it to ash. Twilight didn’t even have her bow-tie tied.

Twilight seemed to notice Flash nursing his shoulder, startled. “Oh my goodness! Oh Flash, I really hurt you, I’m so sorry!”

He shrugged his one good shoulder. “S’okay. S’better now, mostly. Angel magic is pretty powerful stuff.”

Sunset bit her lip. “If you’re really okay, Twilight and I might need to save our magic. We don’t know what’s coming and we still have to help our friends end the fight with King Sombra.”

Twilight nodded, looking alarmingly sleepy. “That… that sounds smart.” Sunset put an arm around her to keep her upright.

For his part, Timber didn’t look much more alert. Sunset remembered that feeling. She’d slept for twenty whole hours when she finally hit the pillow after the Fall Formal. Her time as Daydream left her out of commission for a while, too, as energizing as it had been in the moment. She almost wanted to tell them to hit the benches and sit the rest of the fight out, but she couldn’t afford to lose their power.

It hurt Sunset to have to think of her friends that way. It hurt to see them on death’s door and still trying so desperately, so valiantly to come back for round two.

Sunset grimaced to Timber. “Hey... you think you have enough to get us down to our friends?”

“Our friends,” Timber burbled happily, nodding. At the very least, he appeared to be a contented tired, as if he’d eaten a whole plate of Applejack’s cooking for Harvest Moon dinner. “Gonna take a while for that to sink in. Got you covered as long as my angel’s the wind beneath my wings…”

Flash blushed hot enough that he could have melted the snow collecting on their shoulders. “You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” said Timber, and brought them into a group hug that started with them on the roof of the school and ended with them on the front steps of Canterlot High. The world spun the wrong way while Sunset reoriented herself to her sudden new surroundings, but the lot of them prepared to fight.

Then Sunset paled looking at the scene before her.

“Oh my god,” Twilight muttered as Flash covered his own gasp.

The right wing of the school had been blasted clear open. Concrete and brick hung exposed over the wreckage. Since she could count to five out of the remaining fighters battling King Sombra, Sunset held on to the lone hope that they’d managed to get word to the staff to route the students there before that damage had been caused. Dear Celestia, please… please let everyone be okay…

The Demon Sunset chortled above, blocking blows from the others with relative ease. “Well, well, well! Glad you could finally re-join the class! I was just teaching your friends what true darkness looks like!”

Timber cupped his hands around his mouth. “Really? ‘Cause it’s looking pretty bright over here! Maybe you missed a spot?”

“Hey Timber?” Twilight hissed from the side of her mouth, “Why are you calling attention to yourself? You hardly have any magic left.”

Timber leaned over. “Lucky for you, my mouth has a magic of its own.”

Sunset had to admit, it seemed to at least momentarily give the girls a chance to rebound without any more attacks. And they dearly needed it, from the looks of it. Sunset’s pounding heart ached on every beat to see her friends so beat up; battered, dripping with sweat, and injured in more than a few places. Oh god, girls, I’m so sorry…

“Bright? Bright?!” Sunset Shimmer roared in the sky. King Sombra’s face twisted into a snide, prideful sneer, as if the word spat in his soup. Sunset had never hated her own face more. He ascended as he monologued, which only gave the girls a chance to limp over and regroup together with Sunset and the others. “I am the King of Demons, boy! Filler of graveyards! Slaughterer of hope! I am the darkest night you’ll ever know!” He laughed, as though he’d practiced it in the mirror beforehand. “Your brightest fate is to be my slave!”

He ascended toward the tear in space-time in the sky.

Sunset remembered how it felt to hold the weight of the sun on her shoulders. The strain too heavy to scream for fear of snapping her vocal cords. But more than any sickening weight, the certainty of her own death came back to her. How many people here had Sunset doomed to that certainty? As the students of Canterlot High watched on in horror and Sunset’s friends huddled together, Sunset covered her mouth with a shivering hand.

The girls chased after him into the sky. Fluttershy sent eagles through the sky. Pinkie and Applejack launched themselves up with explosive force. Rarity leapt from shield after shield, creating a staircase. Rainbow Dash soared at speeds unknown. All of them barreling upwards.

King Sombra smiled skyward at the tear in the planet’s atmosphere that he’d made before the girls managed to stop him. Distract him, really. Now his eyes shined in the rainbow light peeking through the crack, giggling like a school-girl. “All mine… all that power…”

Sunset Shimmer, after all, had no reason to exist, and thus no reason to resist the call of the void.

The girls latched onto the demon’s legs. But King Sombra had already clawed open the single hair-line fracture of the crack in the sky.

They managed to wrestle the demon back down to earth, but the demon Sunset Shimmer threw them off and landed squarely on the long-broken Wondercolt statue. Inches away from Equestria.

King Sombra raised a claw. The earth quaked with seismic ferocity. Sunset lost her footing. The walkway to the school blistered and cracked as the heavens showered down snow, and the rest of the girls stumbled back towards the entrance. They all huddled together, bracing each other up.

As the ground groaned and shivered, several of those screaming, uncanny silhouettes rose, as if from coffins or off slabs at the mortuary. One after another, filling the front lawn of Canterlot High. To Sunset’s awe, she recognized the faces of the damned: to the left, there was Wallflower. And there behind her, that was Bulk Biceps. Microchips, Trixie, Scootaloo⁠—so many of the students of CHS frozen in silent screams.

The King of Demons stood above them all. “Yes! Rise for me! Rise for me! RISE FOR ME, MY TEENAGE ARMY!”

On the steps of the school, Sunset had no hope in hell of defending, Sunset grappled with the knowledge that she’d let her demon self win. Her friends watched on.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into her trembling hand. Only the friends gathered around her could hear. “I’m so sorry…”

Fluttershy shook her head. “This isn’t your fault, Sunset. It’s okay.”

Sunset backed up, feeling the trembling burst to life in her legs and her lungs shrink in her chest. No, no, no, no, no, no… not again… please, not again… She clutched her head, trying not to pant. “This is why I have to close the portal. I have to go. It’s not safe when I’m here. You think I want to leave the only family I’ve ever known?”

From up above, Sunset could hear the screams of the student body. Much like when Flash projected her feelings onto them, Sunset heard hundreds of voices overlapping, reaching out through open windows. Declarations of love and support for the demon echoed through the courtyard all at once screaming variations on It’s okay and We believe in you to the creature who clearly wanted to kill them all with magic.

Wallflower whooped from the third floor. The crusaders cheered out from the hole in the right wing, held back from rushing to their sides only Cheerilee. Derpy leaned out the window as Bulk Biceps gave her a boost. “We love you!”

The whole school had heard Sunset’s thoughts and felt her feelings not that long ago, and Sunset never realized until now that she’d been figuratively projecting how she thought about those thoughts and feelings onto them, too. She never thought… she never even let herself consider they loved her even with the darkness inside of her. But she was loved so much more than she could ever know.

Sunset cried. She honest-to-Celestia cried in front of her friends and it felt so, so good.

She’d scared the absolute shit out of her friends, though, who hadn’t seen her cry in… maybe ever, depending on the person.

“Sunset, darling,” Rarity said softly at the end of the world. “Are you alright?”

“No,” she told them, laughing as the tears traced down her cheeks. “I’m really, really not.” She latched onto her friends as tightly as she could as the army of teenage shadows advanced.

“I’m so tired of running.” Not even bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes, Sunset turned to Timber and Flash. Her voice gave out. “I need your help.”

The boys understood.

Each of them took one of her hands, grappling with her tear-softened hands, and they stood there for a second letting her take the lead. She stared ahead at the stupid fucking demon cackling over her stupid fucking teenage army, swaying on her feet. But her friends were behind her, and they’d be there for her even knowing she was still every bit as capable of darkness as she once had been.

“... is this even going to work?” Sunset mumbled. “He’s so far away.”

“You’ve got this, SunShim.” Pinkie smiled, sniffling. “Just imagine giving her a big ol’ hug until you are.”

Still crying, Sunset focused everything she could on giving her demon self a big, dumb, stupid, Celestia-damned, existentially confusing hug. She was only a little mad that that was good advice.

The world spun on the wrong axis. One moment Sunset was with her friends, the next she staggered, trying not to fall, as she stood ten feet tall above the portal. Flames from her hands scorched her alive. And, true to the Fate’s word, Sunset Shimmer died.

13. The Protégé

Sunset Shimmer found herself nostalgic for the simple pleasures of being alive. It was the little things, really. Having a pulse, breathing—not standing in the vast expanse of space with nothing underneath her hooves but an invisible walkway born of stars. As the void of space stretched out timelessly into the great beyond, twinkling the answers and many more questions to life’s most peculiar and beautiful quantum quandaries about mankind's place in the universe, Sunset missed having any body at all.

Had her soul been transported to the Equestrian afterlife? The thought came to mind that she would have a death certificate in one dimension and a birth certificate in another. Wow, yeah, no wonder the Fates hate me. I’m a logistical nightmare.

The atmosphere refrigerated her soul like putting a severed limb on ice, but without an actual body to feel the sensation of cold, she could really only guesstimate the depths a thermometer would have to reach.

She could even see the tear in space-time far up ahead or rather the other side of it. A crack spanning across the milky blue night.

My friends. Her eyes widened. This was the other side of the tear in the sky. If she looked hard enough, she could see where King Sombra had attempted to pry it open, light peaking through. Sunset had no idea where she was or what got her here, but if this was some stage of the Equestrian afterlife, the magical potential must have been unlimited. I have to warn them! I have to keep it closed!

But Sunset wasn’t alone in the universe.

The voice that came to her then felt equally as displaced from time as she was, like a home she hadn’t lived in for years. Much like going back to Canterlot Castle for the first time in years—longer than she’d ever meant to go without coming home—where the halls she’d ruled and taken for granted in the most comforting normalcy had at some point, without her permission, lived on. And from that point forward, returning became a host of strange reminders of a life she used to live that she could only visit now.

Sunset Shimmer heard that enigmatically good-humoured smile echoing around her as Princess Celestia said, “Congratulations, Sunset. You always find new ways to surprise me.”

Sure enough, when Sunset turned toward the sound, her old mentor waited ahead.

Sunset bowed and faltered. “Princess? Is it really you?”

The Princess reached down to hold Sunset’s cheek in her hoof. “Yes,” she promised. “I’ve missed you while you’ve been gone. I hope you don’t mind the interruption. Summoning spells have a great many uses, as I’m sure you remember.”

“Yeah,” Sunset chuckled, wondering if her blush was even showing up on her phantasmal cheeks. Even without a physical form, the memory came back to her: how it felt as a little filly to have a cheek pressed to the Princess’s rising and falling chest as the ruler of the free world read aloud wondrous myths and legends to help her sleep. “I remember.”

Princess Celestia smiled just that much wider. She seemed to be studying Sunset then, probably thinking years ahead in the chess game of her life. What battle plans did she have in store for her now? “It’s nothing short of remarkable to see how far you’ve come. I’ve always hoped you would find your way back to the light, but even I never could have anticipated what you’d do once you returned.”

The swell of emotions from hearing the Princess speak was accompanied by a small urgent voice in Sunset’s head. My friends need me. She boggled down at her hooves and the thousands of miles of space below. “Princess, where are we? I have to get back to my friends. What happened to me?”

Princess Celestia’s expression shifted to something distantly sad. Whatever star had been twinkling in her eyes burned out, collapsed in on itself, and in its place, left behind a gaping black hole.

The weight of that star burned in Sunset’s throat, too.

She recognized that look. Over the years she’d seen the Princess hang the moon alone or spare longing looks at the statues of heroes in the garden or spend her precious few free nights pouring over Starswirl’s works for any sign of where he’d gone. The artist's renderings of Celestia’s mother and father hung forevermore in the castle’s dining hall.

Even at her very worst⁠—even when Sunset became so drunk on ego and power-lust and she thought the princess hated her⁠—Sunset suffered stabs of guilt knowing she’d become another name without a gravestone for Princess Celestia to grieve.

Sunset looked down at her translucent hooves. She could see the stars through herself, as if sneaking a peek into the primordial stardust that made her up. But she didn’t have a body anymore. She’d burned alive.

Sunset’s features fell. “I’m so sorry.”

Princess Celestia shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I knew you were mortal,” she said, though grief weighed down the words. “I suppose deep down I knew it would have to happen eventually.” She almost found a smile. “You lead such a bold life.”

“Yeah. I’m a powderkeg. And we always knew I had a short-fuse...” Sunset said to her, but then it occurred to her that she had the chance to say anything. A shot of panic rattled through her nonexistent bones thinking about what she really wanted to say to the princess. Instead, she asked, “How in Equestria did you summon me to talk to you? How is that even possible?”

“You could say I called in a favour,” Princess Celestia said, striding ahead on echoing golden slippers and then left it at that.

Sunset supposed she should be grateful the princess found a way at all⁠—and it wasn’t like Sunset was a stranger to making herself an exception to divine forces beyond her understanding… today⁠. But sometimes, like when her friends were in dire straits and may well join her in the afterlife, Sunset could use a little more exposition.

As it was, she found herself remembering precisely how aggravating it was to be subject to Celestia’s mystic wisdom and cryptic clues. Is it really that hard to use your words?

She elected not to think about how she’d ever begin to say that she’d thought about Princess Celestia as a mother figure last time she was on death’s door. Or the fact that she was undeniably through death’s threshold and barely clinging onto death’s door frame to be able to even have this conversation.

Even if Sunset couldn’t take deep breaths without a body, she reminded herself she really shouldn’t mouth off to the Princess in maybe their last conversation ever.

Sunset eyed the tear in space-time. It killed her all over again to know they might need her, but even a princess couldn’t bring a pony back to life. She’d left them without saying goodbye. The only goodbye she had left was this one with Celestia, a lone chance to spend this last time before she met her Time’s End.

Joining her ex-mentor for a stroll through the stars, Sunset did everything in her power to focus on the present moment. A younger Sunset would have scoffed at heeding her teacher’s spiritual hokum, but in this case, she literally did only have this one moment. Her past was not today. The future ahead, uncertain at best.

All she had was one last stargazing trip with Princess Celestia.

They ambled on at a leisurely pace, the quiet almost too perfect to break. Sunset craned her neck up. Thousands of stars hung in unknowably dark distances and depths struck her thoughtless. Mesmerized by heavens untold, unseen worlds, and immeasurable potential.

When Sunset spoke again, she heard her voice come out much quieter, as if it was after lights out back at the castle. She leaned toward her old mentor. “Hey. Remember those astronomy lessons you used to give me out on the balcony?”

Princess Celestia smiled, raising a royal eyebrow. “I do indeed. I’m only surprised you remember. You were a very young little filly at the time.”

“Give me a little credit. I did learn a few things as your student,” Sunset boasted, then pointed up at the open atmosphere. She could feel her teacher’s smiling eyes staying on her even still. “That cluster there? Gotta be the Sorcerer, Starswirl. I’d bet my last bits on it. Next to him is Draconis Major. And if I remember our lessons, that’s the Phoenix. The brightest stars in the sky.”

A tender smile dawned on Celestia’s face. “Your favourite.”

Sunset blinked. “It was?”

“Oh yes. You wanted to hear its story each and every time we spoke about the stars, even though you must have had it memorized. Such a stubborn little filly. So strong-willed.” Celestia seemed delighted to have a chance to talk about that time again, to indulge a little bit. Sunset didn’t mind hearing it, either. The Princess chuckled, almost to herself. “Of course, it shouldn’t have surprised me when you snuck an orphaned baby phoenix with a broken wing back to the castle. Those tapestries were priceless, you know.”

Sunset laughed. She could imagine talking like this for hours, but then, she suspected they didn’t have hours to spend anymore. Tell her what she means to you. Be a big filly, talk about your feelings. “...Princess?”

Princess Celestia seemed to quite enjoy stargazing, but she, too, seemed to know their time together was limited. She guided her ex-student onwards. “Follow me, little sun.”

Sunset’s heart snagged behind. Little sun? She couldn’t honestly say it had been years, if she counted the Fate echoing Celestia back at her, but Sunset still managed a shaken chuckle. “Wow. Feeling nostalgic, huh?”

The pathway of stars became a hall, and that hall filled with light, walled on either side by memories all throughout Sunset Shimmer’s life, like TV screens late into the night. If Sunset looked, she could see those ever-changing scenes and found herself stunned still to see moments from her time in Equestria and on Earth play out in better detail than she could ever possibly remember them.

Princess Celestia offered a smile. “You could say that.”

Awestruck, Sunset wandered up to a memory of her reaching out for Midnight Sparkle’s hand. As Twilight reached her hand back, Sunset outstretched a hoof to the screen and found it ripple with static at her touch, only settling when she took her hoof away. “Where did you say we are right now…?”

The Princess seemed to be savouring a memory of her giving a tiny filly Sunset a bubble bath in the royal wishing fountain outdoors (to the disgruntlement and humbuggery of Kibitz). The little Sunset even had a rubber phoenix. “A place of great power.”

Sunset’s eyelids fell to half-mast, but she tried to let out a frustrated chuckle instead of exploding. “Sounds about right.”

As they journeyed through Sunset’s lifespan, Sunset noticed a few out of place memories along the line. Most of them were hers, albeit weirdly from a third person perspective, but every once and a while she could spot someone else’s. Gloriosa Daisy’s stress over losing the camp. Wallflower’s lonely years and discovery of the Memory Stone.

And a young Solstice Shiver, holding his breath behind the curtain of a stage and watching the performance go on without him. Her heart burned for them still.

If Celestia noticed these misplaced memories, she didn’t comment on them. She was content to watch a teenage Sunset sneak her first swig of alcohol on Mount Olympus. “Hmm. I knew that ‘headache’ the next day made your eyes too sensitive to my sunrise.”

Sunset grinned sheepishly. “Heh heh, oh wow, was that alcoholic? I didn’t even notice…”

“Mm-hmm,” Celestia hummed, chuckling to herself, “of course you didn’t. You always were the picture of obedience, weren’t you? Just as I’m sure you also were aware that underage drinking could have resulted in night’s sleep with a stone pillow in the castle dungeons.”

Sunset stared at her, but more than anything because she hadn’t heard the Princess laugh that lightly—especially not over disciplinary actions. She could still remember being lectured at in that stern, warlike tone that truly taught her the fear of Celestia. Even as she laughed along with Celestia now, she half-expected the guillotine to come barreling down. “Haha, yup… castle dungeons…”

The Princess let her eyes rest on a memory of a young Sunset too small for her armour (it didn’t help that Sunset had been short for her age) practicing combat magic alongside watchful royal guards against a poorly-sewn Nightmare Moon dummy for hours on end. “I can’t say I approve. Although, I am glad you’re finally old enough that I can say how relieved I am that you never rebelled quite as hard as I did at your age. And a bit older...”

Sunset burst out laughing in full. “What?Running away to another dimension isn’t rebellious enough for you?”

“Well, apart from the rebellions of my younger years I likely shouldn’t divulge unless I wanted to wind up in the castle dungeons, I may have run away to other dimensions multiple times in my time. Love makes foals of us all, as they say.” The Princess shook her head, tsking at herself. “Oh, I gave Starswirl such trouble, his poor old heart…”

Sunset whistled. “Dang, I didn’t know you had an interdimensional love affair. Gross that it’s you, but kind of cool.” Sunset also remembered then that part of the reason she’d wanted to stay in the human world was a love affair of her own. She decided not to think anymore. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing things didn’t work out long space-time?”

Celestia’s smile was tinged with the colour of lost happiness, as a lot of her smiles were. Regal and lonesome. “That world’s King Sombra and I found a surprising rapport.” She seemed to interpret Sunset’s surprise in her own way. “He was a gentle soul, I promise. I’d taken partners before him, in the past, but he was the first love I’d had in a very long time. Not long before you would have been born, I didn't have a student at the time to chase down the castle halls. We did everything in our power to stay together,” the Princess told her, “but even immortal demigods can’t escape themselves forever.”

Sunset nodded, but she was getting a sinking sense of doom and she couldn’t place why. “Sorry to hear that…”

Then, Princess Celestia finally seemed to allow herself to look to the memories Sunset had made in the human dimension. Laughs shared over the lunch table with the girls. Video games and pizza with Flash. Watching fireworks at the Fall Fair with her new girlfriend. Even exploring Vanhoover with Timber, trying to convince the goofus they could visit the seawall on another trip.

Sunset missed them already and desperately hoped they’d take care of each other as they grieved her. The Princess had to lay a hoof on her shoulder to get her to come along and seemed a bit surprised how taken she was with those memories.

“You should feel proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” the princess said through the sunny summer afternoon warmth of her smile. “So many lives touched, such personal growth. You’ve come so far from who you once were, and I can’t think of anypony who deserves a second chance more than you.”

Sunset stopped. If she had lungs—and logically she knew she didn’t⁠—the air would have been walloped out in one swift hit. But that hit felt… nice.

Knowing this might be the last time they spoke, Sunset needed more words for it than nice.

“Thank you,” she started, sounding not quite herself. She wondered how many times she’d actually thanked the Princess. “They… they mean a lot to me. I wish I didn’t make their lives so complicated.”

Princess Celestia raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Their world isn’t meant to have magic,” she said, watching herself see Twilight and Timber dancing at the Crystal Ball benefit dance at Camp Everfree. “I wasn't the first, but since I got there, magic has been causing so many problems. It’s my fault for opening up the floodgates so wide, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Princess Celestia allowed, but her tone suggested otherwise.

Sunset followed her gaze to scenes of the girls coming together in the face of the Sirens, hanging out in the halls of Canterlot High, and a whole school chanting her name before she died. She looked again to see Twilight tell Timber, “I’m really glad I met you.”

Sunset’s eyebrows lifted. They wouldn’t have met without her. Without magic.

As they went onwards, Sunset was stunned to think of how many of her friends would have been worse off without her. Sure, Twilight would have never become Midnight Sparkle, but she'd still be alone and oblivious to what she was missing at Crystal Prep. Wallflower might still be ignored and invisible. Timber and Gloriosa would have lost the camp. Magic gave her friends a chance to be their truest selves, and all of Canterlot High came together to become a community.

She passed them singing in the cafeteria together as if to prove it, the absolute dorks.

The Princess guided Sunset through her life blissfully unaware, pleased to watch a toddler Sunset with her very own Celestia as the two kept making silly faces every time the portraiture painter looked away. “Before we go on, if I could steal a moment with you, I must say how truly excited I am to have more time for the important things.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunset’s eyes drifted back to the time a tweenage Sunset got to kick off the opening ceremonies of the Canterlot Summer Sun Celebration, introducing her mentor to the stage, and got a kick out of the ponies of Canterlot cheering her on but couldn’t show it. But then Sunset frowned. “More time?”

“In retirement, of course,” Princess Celestia said, smiling down to her as if what she said wasn’t a heart attack in six syllables.

Sunset gawked at her and the fact that she’d said those words seriously. “I’m sorry what?”

“My sister and I plan to retreat and enjoy the nation we’ve spent so long nurturing.” The soon-to-be Ex-Princess seemed to see beyond the Great Beyond to the shores and cityscapes of her homeland and all the experiences she’d had yet to have in thousands of years of life. “I, for one, greatly look forward to meeting more of the citizens we’ve aimed to serve. Perhaps I’ll finally even take my own advice; it might be nice to make some friends.”

Thinking back and now quite literally looking back over her shoulder to the times when the princess had been held prisoner in her own towers by bureaucracy and aristocracy, Sunset had to admit she’d known this was long overdue for ages now. Probably hundreds of years longer than Sunset herself had been alive.

Even still, something about the idea of her ex-teacher retiring felt… nightmarish. Twisted in strange, unfamiliar, and frankly nonsensical ways that she wished she could wake up from.

Sunset hated that she felt that way when she’d been striving to take the load off of the Princess’s back since she was small. But she did, and she wasn’t in the business of denying her feelings anymore. “Well, that’s great, Princess, but are you sure that’s what you want? Don’t you think the ponies of Equestria would be upset to lose the leader they’ve had for a millennia?”

Princess Celestia hummed. “I think learning how to say goodbye is a valuable lesson.”

A shock left her especially feeling dead in the knees. She changed tactics, thinking on her hooves. “I know I make a lot of jokes about how ancient you are⁠—”

A brief prickle flashed across Celestia’s face that Sunset usually enjoyed as she muttered, “Must you use the word ancient?”

“—but I’m not going to actually have to put you in a home, right?” It was a joke, sure, but that was the only non-lethal way Sunset knew about asking if she should be worried. Or more worried, as the case may have been.

The princess seemed to get it, even if her tone was a bit snippy. “Thankfully, I am fully capable of taking care of myself. In fact, I’ll have more time to do so.”

Sunset couldn’t argue with the fact that the princess could seriously use some lessons in self-care. She tried again, “Okay, but with international relations as turbulent as they are⁠—”

“Actually, things couldn’t be more different than how you might remember them. Our relationships with other cultures have never been better!” She unfurled a smile like a scroll. “We have Twilight and her friends to thank for that.”

Of course we do. “Okay, but you don’t have to retire just because Princess Twilight’s taking over. You could, I don’t know, stay on and… rule alongside her?” She winced. If she searched through the screens of her memories, she suspected she’d find herself daydreaming about doing just that with the princess. Side by side. Them against the world (or, rather, them for the world). “I bet Princess Twilight would love the time together.”

“Oh, not to worry. There’ll be time enough to spend time with all my loved ones,” she said, as if she thought that was too good to be true. “And I’ve made sure to spend as much time as I could afford preparing Twilight. I have every confidence in her abilities.”

Not unlike when she received the invitation to Twilight’s coronation, Sunset’s heart stung, heavy in her lack-of-a-chest and burning hot like a star had replaced it.

The thing was, Sunset knew how this would have gone if she was as young and stupid as she was in the screen they’d stopped at: a fourteen-year-old foal being ex-communicated as Princess Celestia’s student and running away to another dimension. She didn’t have to look far to see her pride turn to entitlement, and her anger to dangerous spite and impulsiveness.

She could see more fights if she looked for them in her memories. They ran the gamut from temper tantrums to shouting matches to icy silence across the overlong dinner table. But this one would always burn through her memories the brightest.

She could easily imagine herself starting a fight now. Getting upset, working herself up. A defiant anger waited for her to go on the attack.

The Princess followed her gaze to that particular scene, and her expression grew distant, unreadable. She watched as Sunset hid her tears where the guards escorting her out of the throne room couldn’t see and the mad dash to the mirror.

Sunset didn’t have to rewatch their fights to know what led up to that and to guess how the Princess felt about her about then. She sometimes wondered if the Princess only forgave her for the civility of it all, or for Princess Twilight’s sake who’d been in the room at the time⁠—of course Princess Twilight should get to see that, no matter what, no matter how bad things got, Princess Celestia was forgiving, merciful, and kind. She should get to see her love was unconditional.

Sunset Shimmer thought of a better word than nice.

Sunset took in a breath, or performed the motion even if she had no lungs for the air to fill. “Princess?”

The princess struggled to pull her eyes away from the train wreck that Sunset used to be. Out of all the memories here, she seemed transfixed, watching Sunset travel to the human world for the first time and trap herself there for thirty moons.

Sunset came up next to her and fumbled for the words. “It’s great that you’ll have more time now. I saw that Princess Twilight’s coronation invitation had this signoff ‘from the desk of the royal family.’ And it still sounds weird to me. Royal family. But that’s… amazing.”

Sunset saw herself on the screen calling out for Princess Celestia, scared and confused that she’d exiled herself somewhere totally unreachable. She saw Celestia bow her head.

Sunset searched for any conceivable way to make what she had to say next not sound as big as it felt. “I didn’t have those words growing up. I didn’t know you could make family; that’s still pretty new to me, but you can. I’ve seen it. And I’m glad you’ve made a new family while I’ve been gone. But, I don’t know...” Sunset forced herself to stay next to Princess Celestia and say the words she’d been running from for a long, long time. “I always thought... we were a family.”

When she managed to say those words out loud and hold Princess Celestia’s gaze, Sunset Shimmer could feel her own lack of a heartbeat. Her chest was so still. Breath stopped at the gate.

Princess Celestia seemed breathless, too, and for long enough that Sunset’s heart started to sink, and she regretted ever letting the words come out of her mouth until Celestia smiled through eyes shining with tears and starlight. “After everything, you still find new ways to surprise me, little sun.”

The princess and the ghost of her former student embraced in endless space.

Sunset could hardly feel the wings around her or the hoof rubbing her back so she held on tighter, but she could hear the tender warmth in Celestia’s voice. “You’re more right than you know,” she said. “Ever since I invited you to live at the castle, watching you learn and grow into your own pony, I wished I could give you the world. Sometimes, I may have spoiled you a bit, but there was so much more I couldn’t or… didn’t give you.”

Sunset shook her head. “You already gave me a castle.”

“You deserved a family, Sunset,” Princess Celestia told her, and that hit Sunset in a way she couldn’t recover from. Light streaked down her cheeks in place of tears, burning her eyes. Celestia wiped it away just the same, still holding her close. “I could never let myself think of having a family of my own when all of Equestria needed me. I can be sentimental⁠—”

“In your old age?”

“Don’t push it,” she instructed gently, but her expression softened to a degree Sunset never expected to see in the leader of the free world. “I meant I dreamed of having a daughter.”

Sunset’s ghost tried to take in air that wouldn’t come, brows slamming together.

“But what are my dreams next to protecting every dream in Equestria?” There was such sweet gravity to the sadness in her eyes. Caught in a millennia of revolutions. “We had a prophecy to fulfil, a war to prevent, and duties to attend to. Wartime makes us practical, but perhaps, shortsighted.

“Even when it broke my heart to keep you at a distance⁠, I knew it was for the greater good to serve the greatest amount of ponies. Or, I thought it was. And when I saw that you’d built a life in your new home...” Celestia hid that sadness well behind a serene smile. “I stopped letting myself hope you felt the same.”

Sunset scrubbed at her eye and mewled. “Princess…”

“You know you won’t be able to call me that much longer,” Princess Celestia told her. “We could find a new title, if you’re not comfortable using my name.”

But Sunset wasn’t about to bypass what she’d said. “You make it sound like I forgot about you. I spent all that time in exile thinking about how to get back to you. I have a new family, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget about you. You’ll always matter to me. Always. Please remember that.”

The princess looked hurt by how much he needed to hear that. “...Thank you, Sunset.” She wiped her tears away, smiling. “I suppose it’s always hard when a young filly becomes an independent mare, but nopony prepares you for when she becomes so independent she moves away to another universe.”

As the hall of memories faded, a surge of panic rushed to find Sunset’s bones to jolt her into action, but she had none. No bodies left, no time in the hourglass.

The tear in space-time crept upon them in all their wandering and now stood as the backdrop to Sunset’s final moments above the underworld.

Two figures emerged from the unending night, and Sunset recognized them but almost couldn’t trust herself to identify the faces. Unsurprised, Celestia joined them. Princess Luna, Princess Twilight, and Princess Celestia exchanged knowing looks before Celestia chuckled. “Well. This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

Sunset approached with some amount of caution. “What has?”

Sunset found herself relieved to see Twilight dorkishly waving to her⁠—as if Sunset wouldn’t notice one of the only other beings in a wide open ethereal plain⁠—as she beamed through sniffly tears. “Sunset, we’re so proud of you! Congratulations!”

Princess Luna nodded with a sage smile. “From everything I’ve heard, you would have made a truly worthy adversary.” Her brilliant teeth popped against the midnight blue of her coat. “And friend. Congratulations.”

“For what?” If Sunset didn’t get solid answers for once, she swore she’d die from the dread.

Looking eager enough to burst, Twilight looked to Celestia who smiled, nodding. “Go ahead, Twilight. You are her teacher, after all.”

Twilight made a noise Sunset didn’t quite know how to classify, but it sounded dangerous. “Okay,” she said, and took a deep breath to gain any sense of composure. It worked, to Sunset’s shock and awe.

Twilight took a few steps toward her. “Sunset Shimmer, in the time that I’ve known you, you’ve completely transformed yourself. I watched you humble yourself, overcome your demons, and earn a place in the hearts of those you once hurt.”

As the princess spoke, she pointed beyond Sunset’s shoulder, and she turned to see the familiar scenes: herself, crying at the edge of a crater, taking Princess Twilight’s hand. Singing alongside her at the Battle of the Bands.

“You not only did the hard work of becoming a kinder, more compassionate version of yourself, but offered that understanding to others!”

Reaching out her own hand to Midnight Sparkle. Teaching her friends to embrace their magic and individuality. Fighting alongside her superpowered friends, or sacrificing herself to the Memory Stone’s blast.

Princess Twilight giggled at her, eyelids settling halfway down. “You don’t even know how many lives you’ve impacted, do you?”

A galaxy of smaller screens burst to life around them. Little flashes in a lifespan. Microchips bumped fists with Sandalwood. Juniper finally told off her boss at the movie theatre. Trixie assisted Wallflower with the yearbook. Flash jamming with his bandmates, Timber and Twilight surrounded by fireflies, Rarity and AJ enjoying caramel apples in the park, even the Sirens collaborated with PostCrush⁠—and on and on it went, so many she could barely fathom them all.

All of this… was because of me?

Sunset twisted back around to the princess. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re a good friend, Sunset.” Princess Twilight’s hooves echoed out among the stars as she approached Sunset Shimmer. “Your empathy sets you apart as the worthy leader you are. I’m so proud to call myself your friend.” She held her heart, as if feeling Sunset’s place in it. “And I’m forever grateful I got to go on your journey with you.”

Sunset Shimmer watched the Princess of Friendship, soon to be queen of Equestria, raise her horn to the stars above, and in a flash of angelic light, produce a shining, golden crown. Glimmering in the starlight, the ruby and amber embedded in the gold formed the shape of Sunset’s cutie mark.

Princess Twilight bowed to her as the crown lowered to Sunset’s height and smiled as she held it out for Sunset to take.

Sunset raised her disbelieving eyes to the princesses.

The Royal Family waited ahead. Princess Celestia gave her the smile that could warm the farthest reaches of space and reach across dimensions, nodding to her.

Breath stalling, Sunset took the crown in her hooves from Twilight. “...You sure you trust me not to steal this?”

Twilight giggled. “Yes. It would be pretty difficult to steal something that belongs to you.”

…A Princess in Equestria?

How many years had Sunset spent working towards this? How long did she spend dreaming, striving, desperate and hoping beyond all reason to have this crown in her hooves? How long had she dreamed of arriving at this moment, in a place like this with the power to make a pony into an alicorn?

Her eyes tore away to the broken, cracked sky and danced there. Her friends and their world hung in the balance behind that tear, and until now she’d only ever dreaded what was on the other side. But now that she knew what the unthinkable magical power that would be unleashed…

Sunset considered the crown’s gold shimmer in her ghostly hooves. She caught her reflection in the metal under her cutie mark and saw the golden unicorn who thought she was owed a grand, magical destiny, and couldn’t see how it was owning her.

Now in human form, Sunset’s ghost thumbed the crown and smiled at her fondly. Then at the princesses. “Thank you,” she told them. “This was all I ever wanted. It’s such an honour, really, but… you know me.” She tossed the crown back to Princess Twilight. “I play by my own rules.”

As soon as Sunset made her choice, a magical light too brilliant to stare directly at lifted her into the air. She could feel it suspending her by the spine, and as the light swirled around her, she felt a scorching at her back. Two feathered limbs she’d never had before today burned brightly into existence and when Sunset Shimmer touched back down she flexed the phoenix fire wings at her back.

Then she saw Princess Celestia’s sadness.

The fire snuffed itself out to reveal soft feathers and a soft smile on her face when she caught the princesses’ reactions. Princess Twilight shook her head, blinking at the crown and then Sunset, and in a small voice asked, “But… is this because you don’t want to share a coronation? You can have your own.”

“It’s okay, Twilight,” she chuckled and reached out to hold one of Twilight’s hooves in both her hands. “You’re going to have an amazing coronation, and you’ll be the princess Equestria deserves. I believe in you.” She smirked. “Even when it’s hard.” And then smiled more genuinely. “You have my blessing.”

Princess Twilight gave her a small smile and held Sunset’s crown close to her chest. “Thank you.”

Princess Luna mostly seemed amused. “I quite like your style.”

Eyeing the crack in the sky, Sunset fired up her wings, igniting her magic, and took to the air. Before she could lose her courage, she told Princess Celestia, current leader of the free world, “See you later, Mom.”

Sunset soared through the depths of space, charging toward the crack in the sky at full speed with all the power in her body, building behind the idea that she knew exactly who she was: she was Sunset Shimmer, and she made her own families and destinies. And as she plunged, propelling through unspeakable momentum, a fist overhead, she thought she'd seen the princess smile.

Then, Sunset broke the sky.

14. The Devils You Know

Sunset Shimmer hoped she hadn’t doomed all humanity. So, it was a Thursday. In all her years of study, she’d seen (and stolen) all manner of powerful magic. But none like this. Rainbow waves crested across the sky, colouring the clouds, injecting iridescence into atmosphere, and raining down in twinkling, fluttering snowflakes. A tsunami flowing forth from the rift she’d opened wide.

With the world coming up to meet the new her, a sound she realized was her own screaming underscored her rebirth. Then, desperate for a distraction from the terror of falling from fifty thousand feet, her brain produced a thought: I called Princess Celestia mom. Eyes wide, full face flushed, and head grappled as she spun wildly in the air, Sunset shouted, “I called Princess Celestia mom!”

Both the force of the magic and the sheer dorkiness of calling the teacher her mom geysered her back into the human world. An ejection like that out of the portal would have meant a nasty spill down the sidewalk. Out of the tear in the sky? She bombed irrevocably through the stratosphere.

She’d felt the asynchronous sink of her insides falling faster than the rest of her before; when her landlord secretly hadn’t fixed the faulty elevator in her apartment building and the box holding her aloft unexpectedly lurched a full foot downward. That, it turned out, was nothing. Gravity yanked on her stomach now hard enough to break the ripcord off a parachute.

The sky performed a pirouette round and round until she broke into the clouds.

Moaning into her hands, she shouted increasingly incomprehensible strings of obscenities, lost into the censoring wind whisking away very unstandard but well-practiced syllables.

Somehow during all those years of daydreams about becoming an alicorn princess, she hadn’t ever considered the mechanics of how it would feel. She’d blush to admit she’d kind of expected the adapting to new body parts bit would be easy? Instantaneous?

Her shoulder blades had something to say about that. Particularly as she tumbled mid-air and twisted and tugged these new large limbs at unwieldy angles. Articulating movement in her wings felt like shrugging with her entire body.

She struggled to even work her wings in sync against a magical waterfall plunge. “I called her my mom right to her face and now I⁠—” Then, the dumbest, messiest smile came between her clutching hands. “I have a mom.”

Busting through the bottom of the cloudscape, Sunset careened parallel to the falling snow. “WOOHOO HOO HOO! YEAH!”

The city sprawled out ahead, from hills rolling with tall pines to the skyscrapers threatening to scrape her, and angling herself as best she could, she aimed her body toward the place where she hoped she had yet more family waiting for her: Canterlot High.

Sunset Shimmer decided at that moment that if she’d had to die⁠—stovetop grade heat built at her knuckles—release unknowable magic into the world⁠—a hundred necks craned up to see her⁠—and die of embarrassment at the earnestness of it all⁠—her phoenix fire gleamed in King Sombra’s widening demon eyes⁠—she’d make that choice again in a goddamn heartbeat if it meant she got the chance to show her friends how much she loved them.

Her smile slipped. I hope they still feel the same way.

Sunset Shimmer rained down upon them like a teenage meteor.

As the front lawn of her high school came up to meet her, rainbow magic atom-bombed out ahead of her. She flinched her eyes shut right before the plunge.

Once on a failed diplomatic mission up north to a Yakyakistani ice festival, Sunset had tried ice-swimming. She remembered her body’s indecision between shutting down and over-drive. Skin-burning cold. The involuntary gasp of each breath.

All of it came rushing back except instead of sinking down into icy depths, now she plunged through a flood of hot magic that stunk like ozone after a hard rain. The magic lit up damn near every emotion inside her and that just about settled it once and for all: yep. She was alive again.

Landing on her feet scorched the muscles in her legs. The vertigo afterwards stretched reality like taffy. In the aftermath of the magic flood, she worked to open her eyes. Her fist steamed on the spiderwebbed stone sidewalk.

Heavy blinking levelled out the tilting scene ahead. Every soul in the courtyard stared at her, including but not limited to the ten-foot tall, armoured demon lord on the school’s front steps. Heavy, expensive cape fluttering behind him. His bearded jaw was, decidedly, dropped. Her friends stood frozen mid-battle in weird positions in a panting war painting.

Breath puffed out in front of them in the refrigerated air.

Dark reflections of the students of CHS stopped crawling up the walls of the school; all watching—bending their necks at inquisitive angles—staring out at her with their laser-pointer eyes. The rest of the world had fallen far away. Bits of icy atmosphere and magic rained down, twinkling colours in the streetlights.

No one said a single word until Fluttershy had the courage to whisper. “... Sunset Shimmer?”

Unsteadily rising to her full height, phoenix wings aflame, Sunset offered her best friends her bestest lopsided smile. “The one and only.”

Twilight covered her mouth and nose with both hands, muffling a shriek. Applejack removed her hat. Timber smiled so light it was like he hadn’t really believed he’d ever smile again. As tears streamed wordlessly out of Pinkie’s big blue eyes, Rainbow Dash barked the absolute harshest laugh that Sunset had ever heard come out of her.

Staring from the staircase across the way, King Sombra whispered in the underworld of his register, almost too low to hear, “… I killed you.”

Then, a noise simpered out. Giggles sputtered past his hand. Grieving chuckles turned to volleys spiraling from his throat. King Sombra’s voice seesawed back and forth between sobs and side-splitting laughter, his form mutating from man to shadow and back again, but, in the end, the screaming laugh won out.

The Rainbooms took notice, glaring through their tears, and Sunset could feel them tensing up across the courtyard.

Projecting his voice all the way to the nosebleeds, King Sombra’s chortle glinted off the frozen-over windows of the school. “So, then!” He raised his chin to look down his nose at her.“Heaven won’t take in strays?”

Falling from 30,000 feet still had her head spinning like it was on sideways. Sunset held her forehead. It would be so embarrassing to have a concussion right now.

“Hm. Couldn't run from your problems, Shimmer? Who would have thought?” Scowling down his nose at her, he clawed the blizzarding air as the snow rained down magic into his waiting palm. He closed his fist. “Pain demands to be felt.”

The ground shivered below their boots. Shadows beneath the Rainbooms’ feet inclined up like vampiric mirrors as the real Rainbooms stumbled back from their detached doubles.

The poses, postures, and body proportions made them unmistakable, even devoid of all light, with Sunset’s own shadow at the group’s center. As the rest of Canterlot High’s doubles jeered, holding themselves hostage, the Shadowbooms approached.

Out of the real Rainbooms, only Rainbow Dash had it in her to break out of the shock. Screaming, she tore off towards their mirrors to deliver a sucker-punch when her double caught her fist like a fastball. Rainbow’s eyes boomed. “Wh-?”

Rainbow Dark giggled in a girlish rasp poisoned by static. “Little slow, Rain?”

She twisted Dash’s arm, bowling her back into the dirt by the scruff of her neck. “Rainbow!” a number of them called, Twilight’s voice chief among them. Wavering on her feet, Twilight leaned into Flash’s good side to stay stable. Between her, Timber, and Flash, Sunset wasn’t sure who would pass out first. Twilight impressively managed to pale more watching their dark reflections approach. “Oh,” she said distantly. “More…”

“Exponentially more!” Twilight’s counterpart said, as if over an old timey radio. She had her hands collected behind her back. “Good on you for figuring that one out!"

The Shadowbooms approached their counterparts as if ready to put them in the ground for a change.

Up on the front steps to the school, King Sombra roared as he lost his physical body. Morphing into the dark between stars, shadow gathered in his place like a gas and his monstrous form loomed large, taller than even the broken bell tower.

Sunset blew the hair out of her eyes and cracked a knuckle into her palm.

A trick of the lack of light made it seem like King Sombra flinched. But he soon found a better target. The smug fell off her face spotting Flash, Twilight, and Timber hobbling to get out of the fray. King Sombra chortled and used one massive shadow claw to swipe at them.

The word no ripped out of her throat.

Flying forward on flaming wings, she tackled them out of the way and took the hit herself. She’d frankly expected more bone-crushing. Where was the earth shattering ka-boom? Instead, thoughts and familiar feelings dug themselves out of the emotional graves she’d buried them in. Do I belong here? Why her? Whispers layered over one and other. Would everyone be better off without me?

Phoenix flame re-ignited at her back and she shook off the fear magic cooling the sides of her eyes. Her friends’ voices brought her back without losing herself to an intense amount of dark magic. She stared at her hands for a moment, stunned, then looked back longingly at the giant shadow monster behind her who would get why what she just did was a big deal.

But she didn’t have much time to get nostalgic. Maybe when he’s back.

While Twilight, Timber, and Flash were successfully distracting King Sombra, that could not last long. And maybe her other friends were more conscious, but she'd hesitate to say they were doing too hot. Dripping with sweat despite the cold. Running full tilt on shaking legs. Battered and bruised like nobody’s business, but still battling themselves.

The Applejacks threw blows at each other that could knock a large man out cold. Applejack got hit so hard she lost her hat in the snow, and Shadowjack whistled, taking it for her own. She whirled it around a finger. “Still lyin’ to yourself? C'mon now.” Sidestepping a lousy punch, Shadowjack wound back for a killer uppercut. “Aww what’s the matter? Truth hurts?”

Hurtling forward in crackling blaze, Sunset decked Shadowjack in the jaw. “You tell me!” She shook out the smarts in her fist as AJ’s shadow hit the ground. “Don’t listen to yourselves!”

“Oh, because that worked out sooo well for you?” Flash’s other half heckled from across the way. By the sound of his voice, at least he’d finally gotten some radio play.

She glowered over her shoulder. “Don’t make me set you on fire.”

“Like you did to yourself? Huh? Is it like that?” Gloomy Pie dangled baked goods over her own head, toying with herself. She pouted. “Did we annoy you?”

NetherShy turned her head. “Oh, did you hate us?”

“What?” Sunset grabbed Shadow Pie’s hand before she could pie-bomb herself. “Of course not. Why would you even say that?”

A scoff sounded out across the yard as the two Raritys put their fencing experience to good use. Rarity’s Shade couldn’t help but laugh.

Rarity fended off a jab. “As attractive as you are, I’m… wearing it… better!”

“How vain can a girl be?” Sparks simmered off the diamond sabre that had the real Rarity on the ropes. “Sunset Shimmer? Darling,” she laughed, adding syllables to the word. Her sword cut close to her opponent’s jugular vein. “Have you ever loved someone who loved you back?”

This morning’s leftover spicy tempura that Sunset presumed was still in her reconstituted stomach went rancid. Hard not to seethe through her teeth like some kind of animal.

Whirling around, she dove in the middle of a knife fight and held the blade at Rarity’s neck between her palms. “Hey! You want to take someone on?” Letting go, she raised her hands to the open sky and let the point of the blade poke into the skin of her chest. “I’m the bitch you want.”

“Sunset…” Rarity swore behind her.

Catching the attention of Nethershy and a giggling Rainbow Dark, Sunset pushed her chin out. “None of you can take me out, just try! What are you, scared?” The gathering shadows encouraged her every bit as much as they stoked the primal urge in her to run. She probably looked pretty unhinged with that smile but she didn’t care. Sunset gestured towards herself with both hands as her wings burned at her back. “Look at me now. I’mwhat fear’s afraid of.”

Her real friends, meanwhile, had a more important job: Defending the portal from a demon king whose attacks were receiving fewer and fewer cocky monologs to accompany them.

Sliding back in the snow, Sombra huffed, a puff staggered out in the air. Strands of hair hung on his forehead, but he pushed them back into the billowing shadows at his crown. His gaze snagged back on the school. And he coughed a chuckle.

King Sombra moved on the air towards the students of CHS, emboldened by the glare Flash was giving him. “Hey! Leave them out of this!”

Not that it looked like Flash could take another hit, but the others had to agree with him.

All the courtyard was a stage, his audience looking out from their demon drill positions in the classrooms. Some distant part of Sunset hated that they had a drill for that by now, but quieted that fire by punching real good. She punched so good. King Sombra addressed his captive audience. “Perhaps a decision by committee, then: Who would you have me kill first? Your teachers? School bullies?” His ten-foot frame leered at windows, and if Sunset’s eye wasn’t so well trained to see magic, she would have missed the tendrils snaking into the crevices of his armour. “The popular kids?”

“Are wepopular?” Twilight asked the others, exhausted to delirium. She got a shrug from Applejack and an unsure hand waffled out of Flash.

Blocking punches from Shadowjack, Sunset wasn’t feeling very well-loved.

From on high, another voice commanded the stage as a signature snicker sounded out. “Popularity is passe. How about you pick on the Greatest and Powerful-est?”

The demon lord paused, scrunched his nose. “That’s not a word.”

Reaching into her smoke bomb holster, the Great and Powerful Trixie set off a series of fireworks. Colours spiralled into the white-out above the cheering school, above Trixie's cackling, and even more helpfully, into King Sombra’s face. “BAH!” said the shadow-man.

Before the enraged demon could retaliate, the squeal that came out of Trixie was like the tires absolutely ripping pavement on a getaway car. “Smoke bomb, smoke bomb!” Then she whipped one against the ground, and the king of demons swiped at her.

But came up empty-handed.

“She's gone!” Pinkie said, and as the smoke cleared, and shook Fluttershy beside her. “She's really gone!”

Sunset would have whistled and applauded if she had the chance.

Nine on one. While she hadn't put in too many hours hitting the punching bag, maybe the magic in her veins had. She managed to duck under a knockout from Shadowjack as she swung a kick to knock back Nethershy.

Twilight’s Mirror snapped long icicles off the roof of the school.

A flash of colour and cool breeze was her only warning that she'd dodged a high speed attack. Whipping around, she snatched an icicle out of the air and hurled it back towards the Other Twilight’s head.

Watching any version of her friends get the shit kicked out of them; not her idea of a good time, really. But her chest tightened when the shadows reformed after every attack. Pretty sure I can only do that once.

Flash’s other half hummed, hands dug into his hoodie pockets. “After everything between us, how did you miss what was really going on with me? With anybody but yourself?”

Low blow using his real talk voice against her. This wasn’t the first time she’d hated him for it, but she’d come to learn one thing about real talk Flash. The boy had a damn good point.

Rarity’s Shade sliced the air so close a woosh of air cut through the seams on the side of her jeans. “Didn’t so much as notice us? Slipped your mind?”

“I know I can’t defend myself,” she uttered, then approached the shadows as if emerging from the dog house. “I haven’t been right to you. I messed up big. None of you deserved to feel what I made you feel. You all taught me the value of friendship and love!”

She moved past a crow attack from Nethershy, who retreated into the hair curtaining her face. “Do you really believe that’s how the world works? Look at you. If you’re so reformed, why was it such a shock to you that you have to be kind to people?”

Sunset dodged a volley of crystals from Rarity’s Shade. “Yup! You got me there.”

Rainbow Dark sped to her left to lean an elbow on her shoulder. “Pff-Bahaha! Why are you nerds even wasting your breath? What kind of dumbass would you have to be to think Sunset Shimmer gave a damn about anybody else?”

"What?" Sunset winced, and didn’t feel great judo-flipping the image of her friend.

Shadowjack snorted like a bull. “I let you meet my family. Do you even know what that word means? You made a damn fool out of me!” She broke the faux-gold horseshoe statue off its brick base and tossed it like a discus toward Sunset’s head.

Sunset tried not to scream, hopping up and wildly flapping her wings in the barest attempt at flight. Her sneakers scraped it by. Landing back in the snow, she blew out a breath. “I'm sorry I was going to leave without saying goodbye.” She gripped her fists. “You’re all right to be hurt but⁠—"

“Is that why you died? On purpose? Why you wouldn’t talk to anyone?” Twilight’s Mirror warbled through her static-y voice like it was her fault. “You never wanted to see us again?”

Sunset’s fists steamed at her sides as her jaw tremored. A growl tore at her throat. She swung back her arm to point at the rainbow rip in the heavens. “You see that hole in the sky?! I tore open the multiverse and came back from the dead for all of you! I turned down immortality and a crown in Equestria⁠ with the Princesses because I want to spend my life in the world with you in it! I only just learned I have the power to choose anything in life and you know what?” She turned back towards her real friends, tears washing down her cheeks. Her smile shook so she pressed it firm, and nodded. “I choose you.”

Scanning her friends’ faces, the exhaustion brought their emotions into pro photographer focus. Tender but true, expressions like open wounds.

Coming over to them and knocking Rainbow Dark out of the way without looking, Sunset held her chest. “Please. I need you to do this with me.”

“Sunset, we’ve been fighting them.” Applejack’s voice collapsed like a bridge. Her cowlick stuck to her forehead as she shook her head. “Don’t got much more in me to keep going. Look at us! We can’t take no more.”

“Maybe if we were at full power⁠, but now…?” Rarity shook her head, eyes made of glass and anxiety. She tried to make another sound, but it wouldn’t quite come out.

“You were doing amazing with them,” Fluttershy offered with a timidness Sunset couldn’t place at first until she recognized it: she was wary of her.

“I can hold them off, but they’re your shadows. That’s your magic!” She resisted a full lecture on the metaphysical relationship between psychology and magic. Celestia help me if I start sounding like my mom.

Rainbow clapped her on the shoulder. “Dude, I’m with you ‘til the end, but you know not all of us have super mega dead girl magic, right?”

To hell with the demon lord at her back, or the shadows prowling the yard. She focused her whole heart on her friends. “You already know what I’m gonna say. We’ve taken down every enemy who’s ever come up against us and won with a smile. Any magical problem, we fix, any lost demon in need of a friend, we’re there for! We’re the Rainbooms! We’re Canterlot Wondercolts!” Wind blowing her hair, a fire burned too hot for the cold to reach her. “We need each other’s help.”

For not the first time, Sunset Shimmer felt all of her friends’ eyes waiting on her. Heeding her command. Taking that in, her eyebrows raised. She caught Twilight’s eye, asking, and in return she only saw knowing pride.

Turning toward the enemy, Sunset sensed the rest of the Rainbooms behind her, following her lead.

Zooms of faded colour shot past. Sunset calculated the threat, and knew she couldn't chance it. Out of everyone in her arsenal, who would…?

She grinned. “Dash, Pinkie. You're up.”

Despite the exhaustion, Twilight’s eyes widened. Too smart for your own good, huh, Sparky? “Those two? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Sunset said and clapped those two on the shoulders. “Focus on your connection to each other, what you have in common. Your magic will do the rest.”

Dash’s brown drew together before the plan clicked and she drew out an “Ohhhhhh, gootcha! On it, chief.” RD turned to Pinkie, who was already struggling to contain her smile. Dash aimed a game smirk her way. “Heh. I don't know what this'll do, but I'm so stoked to find out. Ready to clown on these jokers?”

Doing a shoulder dance, the suppressed giggle rocketing out of Pinkie hinted at maniacal. “Let’s get this party started!”

As the others watched in awe and horror, Rainbow and Pinkie bumped fists. As soon as their fists made contact, new magic, pink and blue turned violet glow, raced around their bodies and the two of them looked hopped up on something wild. Their pupils dilated, full moon, and the slight tremor to their overexcited stances had Sunset sure she'd made the right call.

That, or doomed them all, but been there, done that.

Listening to delirious giggles, Sunset realized she'd seen this before. Even as those two exploded forward at speeds even Dash hadn't hit, she couldn't shake that familiar feeling until she placed it: the sleepover of the end of Junior Year. The sugar rush incident.

Yeah, okay, King Sombra’s doomed.

The two of them pinballed all over the courtyard, cackling around confused shadow clones until they each tackled their counterparts, accepting them back into bodies.

Holding his own shadow back away from the group, Timber’s smile seemed to flicker and fade, if only for a second. Sunset wasn’t all sure why, but Sombra watched him, starting to smile again.

Timber managed to teleport himself and Shadow Timber away, ditch his shadow, and teleport back. “Put me in, coach!” He sidled up and beamed at Twilight, elbowing her side. “How about some mental math: Levitation + teleportation = …?”

Twilight’s curious eyes shone, but she hesitated, drawing back her hand. “Um. Can we try that another time?” She started fiddling with her hands as she rambled on, “We’re not Cinder and Midnight anymore so maybe it isn’t dangerous, but sharing magic⁠—it’s just, I want to be close again so please don’t take it to mean I don’t ever want to but⁠—”

“Boundaries,” Timber said, and smiled more genuinely.

Twilight took a second to realize she didn’t have to keep babbling, and then finally breathed in relief. Her whole body sighed with her. “Yeah,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “Boundaries. Thanks for understanding.”

He nodded. “Thank you for saying something.”

They both relaxed considerably. Sunset got an idea. She shot a look at Rarity and flicked her head over.

And no sooner had she sent her over, did Rarity tap Timber on the shoulder. “In that case, would you mind terribly if I cut in?” Timber attempted to step aside, but Rarity laughed and grabbed his hand. “Oh darling, no, I was asking Twilight if I could steal you. I have it on good authority that together we would make quite the collaboration!” She winked back to Sunset who gave her a thumbs up after punching a shadow in the face.

Twilight crossed her arms, grinning amusedly next to Flash who had a quiet, knowing pride in his boyfriend. She raised an eyebrow at Timber. “What are you looking at me for? It’s not like I’m the princess of anything.”

Timber smirked with her briefly then performed something of an over-pronounced half-bow as he extended a cordial, gentlemanly hand. “If the lady pleases.”

Rarity accepted his hand with one of her own over her heart. “The pleasure is mine.”

Rarity and Timber together emanated a blinding light for a moment to the point that Sunset had to look away, but when she could look back with sunspots swimming through her vision, she looked back to find they seemed to glow but couldn’t tell what for. She supposed she hadn’t expected an explosion from those two.

Timber examined his glowing hands. “Well, something’s working, so that’s a plus.” He cupped his hands around his mouth to shout up to the demon lord. “Hey, Frosty! Bite my beautiful shiny ass!” And Timber proceeded to wiggle his butt in some obscene dance.

“Indeed! Whatever it is, I say it’s fabulous,” Rarity added, and if Sunset paid close attention she could see the glow grew stronger the more compliments they gave themselves.

Shadow Timber found the brick and rubble heap that used to be the school’s clock tower and teleported it all right above Timber and Rarity’s heads.

Both of them shrieked and Sunset had trouble deciphering whose was higher pitched, and yet all of the bricks… missed. Each and every one. And kept missing, despite all logic to the contrary.

Timber laughed, dodging gracefully. “I’m almost too good at this!”

“Oh!” Rarity perked up as she saw their shared glow increase. She cupped her hands around her mouth to add. “Yes! At least make it a challenge for us, darling!” She managed to blind-side her Shade by spinning her, as if taking the masculine role in a slow-dance. Once she’d reincorporated her shadow into her body, Rarity flipped her purple curls, not a hair out of place. “Nothing like a little confidence.”

Twilight giggle-snorted next to Sunset. “Oh lord. Of course that’s their power.”

Sunset nodded. “Yup. Only thing that makes sense.”

“Oh please! You’re all sick!” The demon king lost interest in the school and rematerialized back down to his ten-foot-tall body. “Don't try to play the heroes now. If you could only see the potential for greatness I see in you! You’ll all be as despicable as you really are inside!”

“Uh, what? Have you even met these girls?” Flash scoffed, throwing up his hands. “They’re amazing! They fight evil magic and save people who wouldn’t save themselves and never give up even when things look grim! Actual heroes!”

Flash could see Applejack struggling against the heavy hitting blows of her double. “You’ve got this, AJ! Remember who you’re fighting for.” And he put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re proud of you!”

The green magic around AJ grew brighter and in an instant, she delivered a punch so powerful it knocked her shadow into the brick siding of the school⁠⁠—making it easy to accept her back into her body.

Applejack whistled and smirked back at Flash, wiping her brow. “Thanks, pardner. You’re pretty dang heroic yourself there.”

“Hey yeah!” Zooming to be part of the conversation, Rainbow Dash appraised Flash up and down. “You know,” she started. “I saw your sweet licks on guitar up there, on the roof? And if you’re this good at amping us up…”

Flash’s eyes widened, and if Sunset didn’t know better she’d swear his pupils dilated like a cat eager to play.

Dash exchanged a knowing smirk with the other girls, including Sunset who almost rolled her eyes at Rainbow’s sense of suspense. “How’d you like to join the Rainbooms?”

The noise that came out of Flash defied his vocal range. “YES! Oh my gosh! I have so many ideas and I’ve really really really wanted to collab with Fluttershy on song-writing and all of you together for forever!” He blushed, but couldn’t hide his beam or the sway in his stance. “Uh, that’s a yes! Yes please.”

“Welcome aboard, dude.” Sunset couldn’t resist giving him a bear hug. The others rallied around him, their magic brighter for having him around. King Sombra hissed at the brightness, flaring his cape dramatically.

With the demon distracted, Sunset had time to notice Nethershy terrorizing herself. She’d all but cornered Fluttershy against the old oak tree and didn’t have to use a single power to have her trembling. Who does she need right now? She ran down the list in her head and then tapped RD on the shoulder, pointing her over to Fluttershy. “Got another one for you.”

In her lucky letterman’s jacket, Dash cracked her knuckles. “Oh-ho, yeah, leave it to me. I hate bullies.”

That’s exactly what I’m counting on.

Dash stomped over. “Oi! Wannabe! You got a problem with Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “Dashie?”

She forced herself in between them, chin raised, but reached out behind herself to hold Fluttershy’s hand like two first graders against the world. “You’ll have to go through me.”

Thunder growled in a snowstorm.

Lightning, natural as anything, shone from both of their eyes. And soon, Fluttershy stepped out from behind Dash, still holding her hand, fury electrifying her features. “Actually, you’ll have to go through both of us.”

Lightning shot from her hand and the shadow readily retreated into Fluttershy, who, once de-powered, blinked as if waking up from a dream. And she clapped, smiling at Rainbow. “Goodness. I like that.”

Over by the portal, Sunset smiled at Flash. “Do I even have to ask?”

“Nope. I know you too well by now.” Flash laughed, then got what she wanted him to do: He offered a little wave to Twilight. “Hey, you wanna give this boost thing a try? I mean, uh, if you want to, you know we could⁠—” He smiled. “Touch those downs?”

Twilight gave him a soft high five and entwined her fingers into his. “Let’s.”

Now, if asked Sunset probably would have guessed advanced levitation would just, like, be a more powerful levitation. She’d seen the difference between Magic Kindergarner’s and Master Mage’s grad students in terms of the sheer weight and density they could propel into the air⁠—there was a sliding scale in terms of strength. And in a manner of speaking, yes, that was what happened. Technically. In a way.

But as Twilight, Flash, and Sunset herself⁠—and everyone and all small objects within about a ten foot radius rose off the ground, floating midair and rotating slowly like astronauts in zero-G, it was as if they had control over gravity itself. Twilight’s eyes glittered dorkishly. “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo! We have liftoff!”

Needless to say, King Sombra did not much appreciate floating out of his control. “RAWRGHGH!” he articulated astutely, or that’s what Sunset could hear through the cape flopping over his face.

Maybe she enjoyed taking the piss out of the big bad demon lord just a smidge.

The shadows couldn’t be disconnected from the earth⁠—but Sunset figured that made sense. Even if beings of pure magical energy had very little mass to manipulate, the magic still had laws to obey. Being fear housed in bodies formed from the literal shadows under their feet (clever, she’d admit if she didn’t hate King Sombra right now), they probably couldn’t possibly exist midair.

Oh damn. Thaumaturgical Theory and Applications 304 actually did have applications, Sunset through, smirking as she hopped from floating debris to debris. Who’d a thunk it?

(Not that she’d admit that to her mom who forced her to take that class)

That meant two things: For one, Twilight could levitate herself above her own shadow, usurping the throne. She adjusted her glasses and went on manipulating the gravity around them.

Thing the second: King Sombra had nowhere to escape.

Sunset skipped over toward King Sombra and unveiled him, as if revealing the true villain at the end of a children’s mystery TV show. Sunset smiled, keeping distances from King Sombra’s swipes but forcing him to face facts. She called out, “Rarity! AJ! You’re up!”

Applejack scooped Rarity up bridal-style. Almost too ready to do so. For her part Rarity’s flushed preoccupation with the muscles holding her up stalled them for a moment until Applejack had to prompt, “Uh, Rarity?”

“Mmm?” She snapped herself out of it. “Ooo, yes! Style, meet substance!”

A glittering beam shot out and encapsulated King Sombra completely. Never being completely sure what anybody’s powers would do always made it a gamble, but Sunset had had a hunch those two would have something flashy.

Diamond armour wasn’t only strong and fashionable, but fabulously reflective. All of the shadows Sombra could hope to escape into were dotted with bouncing light, including his own, and judging by his infuriated roar as he wriggled suspended in the air like a disco ball, he wasn’t a fan.

When Sunset touched back down to earth, her fires went out as she looked around. A calm had come over the courtyard, the last Shadowboom dusted. We… won. A relieved laugh came out of her then, all breath. King Sombra collapsed in shiny defeat as Sunset’s friends rushed toward her. Full-tilt.

All Sunset could think to do was hold out her arms, wings dousing out to fluffy, downy feathers, and brace herself for the dogpile.

Rainbow Dash walloped into her next, which easily must’ve clocked above the school-zone speed limit. Pinkie’s pounce kept her from toppling over, Twilight shambled over with tears streaking from her thick nerd glasses, and then almost all at once all of them barreled into her and overwhelmed Sunset with so much tearful, grateful, babbling love that she had no choice but to let it in.

Not that it mattered anymore, but she let out a “Goddammit!” as she accepted the fact that they’d made her cry her eyes out twice that day and held as many of them as her arms would allow⁠—hard.

Twilight gripped the shirt beneath Sunset’s leather jacket in the space between her wings, pulling her as close as possible. “Sunny,” she gasped. “Oh, sweetie…”

Pinkie sniffled.

“Darling, you⁠ scared us so terribly,” Rarity scolded her, on behalf of an overcome Timber who nodded through his tears and grimace. Flash’s shoulders shook with effort.

“I-I know, Celestia, I know,” Sunset leaned her head to the side, into his cowlick. Her eyes burned at the comfort of her best friend’s smell and the crashing, crushing thought that she may have never smelled that again. “I was so dumb, I⁠-I’m so sorry I'm such a big, dumb idiot."

That earned a round of protests from the group. She may have teared up more and had to bury her face in the crook of Flash’s neck.

“Oh, please don't beat yourself up! You've done enough of that. And don’t you everfeel like you can’t come to us.” Fluttershy stroked her hair, melting something vital. "We’re here."

Applejack chuckled, almost giddily, hugging onto her. “You came back⁠—for us. Stars above, you truly wouldn’t stay dead…”

Their tears collapsed into giggles, then ugly-sobbing. Sunset couldn’t tell if she was laughing or sobbing as her friends gave her shit because they loved her too much not to. She held on in their toasty embrace in the midst of a terrible winter storm. “Aww, don’t act so surprised. Of course I came back for you⁠—I’d come back a thousand times.” She nestled into them to hide her blush. “You don’t run out on family.”

Starting slow, the familiar thrum of powerful magic reverberated through her bones. She could see it through her tears on the others, too. Different coloured auras glowed around each of her friends, refracting off the snow at their feet.

The head-to-toe flow of a magical transformation tingled like stars lighting up across the galaxy of her body. A sparkly, fashionable outfit replaced her street clothes, skirt flowing and pony ears poking through hair. Fully equipped to whoop some ass, Sunset automatically struck a pose as her boots touched back down on the snow.

Her family transformed alongside her⁠—and not just the girls.

Flash and Timber’s eyes went wide as it washed over their bodies. Flash’s hoodie morphed into golden battle armour worthy of an ancient pegasine guardsman. Timber traded out his beanie and puffy vest for garb fit for a spirit of the woods. Timber twisted and examined his new duds as if in someone else’s body. Not that he would know the experience.

“We ponied up.” Flash beamed, giggling manically to his befuddled boyfriend. “We ponied up!”

Grinning, Sunset wiped her eyes, then turned back towards the demon man grieving on the ground. Her footfalls crunched the snow beneath her boots. “Hey. How you holding up?”

With his head down, she couldn’t quite see his face. A dead man’s tone came out. Quiet and atonal. “I know your demons better than you know yourselves. I’ve seen it inside of you. All of you.” She’d never heard a demon talk at a normal volume before, resting on uncanny. “If even you won’t accept the truth of who you are⁠— …”

An odd wind trickled down her spine.

His snarled grimace loosened, even as his pointed teeth could be seen through the small opening of his mouth. “... Then I truly must be the worst demon on earth.”

Sunset’s brows came together.

King Sombra pushed past her towards the portal, and Sunset’s friends rushed to stage a defense against him, Timber at the front of the pack.

Sunset called after him. “We’ve already won! You didn’t kill me, Sombra, you can’t take credit for that,” she said, voice rising, her friends preparing. “If anyone’s to blame, Princess Twilight killed me!”

King Sombra froze.

“She what?!” Flash and Twilight exploded together.

Next to all the other shocked faces of her friends, Applejack whistled, eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Sunset laughed, air escaping out her smile seeing King Sombra falter. “Princess Twilight killed me! A-and Princess Luna, and even Princess Celestia! Who’s kind of my mom now⁠—we had this whole talk in the stars, I cried, we hugged—”

“Aww, Sunset, really?” Twilight said, still clearly trying to reconcile with the heinous crime her counterpart committed but also recognizing an important moment for her girlfriend. “You finally told her?”

Sunset rubbed her neck, blushing hard. “Yeah, I did⁠, but that’s not important.” She approached the demon from behind and let her voice carry on the winter winds. “You haven’t killed anyone. It isn’t too late to define yourself by the choice you make right now.”

Winter winds ravaged the courtyard. The shadows paused, waiting for command.

Offering out her hand, Sunset grimaced. “I promise we’re going to believe you when you tell us who you really are. So… who are you really?”

For a moment, nothing moved.

The shadows had disappeared, but Sunset could hardly see darkness taking a new shape in his hand. The shadows lengthened, as though in twilit hour, and fashioned into a spear solid as any stone that he drove into the middle of Timber Spruce’s chest.

A violent scream lurched out of Sunset’s mouth the same way it did from every Rainboom there. “Timber!”

Timber hung impaled as the spear dug into the earth behind him. Wide-eyed and silent, he fumbled clumsily at his chest to pick it out. The demon looked on.

“I am Sombra, King of Demons,” he said. “Look on my wretched works, ye mighty, and despair.”

The spear itself seemed to dissolve, letting him fall, but the wound stayed. Dark and festering, flesh rot with poison. His fabulous pony-up armour faded back into street clothes.

Flash rushed to cradle Timber before he could collapse, and Twilight grabbed the other side of him, glaring up at King Sombra through burning tears. Flash seethed. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

The demon trembled. He turned over his hands and noticed the trembling himself. He closed those hands. “Get out of my way. I’ll terrorize your homeland. I’ll show everyone how horrendous their king has become! You’ll say, oh! Oh, what has he done?! What have I done?!”

The storm around them flurried so hard and violently⁠—winds sawing trees, tearing down branches and snapping power lines in showering sparks, that the snow erased out the last remaining sightlines. The cold shook Sunset down to the bone and the brightest thing she could see were her friends’ geodes blinking out in the blizzard.

The demon lord rose into the air, swallowed by the squall.

Head down and arm over her eyes, Sunset rushed to her friends huddled there by the portal, all of them surrounding Timber but making way for her when she arrived. “Oh fuck, oh Celestia. Timber, I’m so sorry!”

Timber mumbled too low to be heard. Fading fast.

“Stay with us!” Fluttershy demanded.

“Timbo, please!” Pinkie’s big blue eyes bubbled over with tears. Rainbow Dash’s pink eyes were already red, her rasp breaking up as she smeared her face into her letterman’s jacket sleeve.

Holding her hat to her head, Applejack kept her eyes pointed skyward, maybe to keep the tears internal.

Sunset followed her direction to the epicenter of a tri-city wide storm all converging upon the shadow of a man they could hardly see any detail of. The shadow of a demon lord shouting out in the front yard of Canterlot High.

More than that, the shadows of the rest of the school descended from their posts to fill the yard ahead and get closer to their master. A sea of red eyes and violent tongues. They clamoured under him, rioting, clamouring, moshing to get a taste of him. If the Shadowbooms had chased after Sunset, the Shadow Army was now magnetized to their King.

But Sunset didn’t know how long they’d be distracted from the portal.

“We have to get Timber somewhere safe out of the storm! Now!” Her eyes connected with Twilight and Flash’s. “Twilight and I need to heal him and we might need a boost to do it.”

Flash nodded, but she could see both of them were just as scared shitless as she was, holding Timber up in consciousness.

“But if we’re gone, that means⁠—” Sunset looked to the rest of her friends, her mouth going dry. The cyclone winds blistered.

“Go,” Fluttershy told her, a hand on her shoulder.

Eyes flickering towards the army of shadows, Sunset shook her head. “But⁠—”

“We’re going to be okay now, but you’ve gotta get him outta here,” Pinkie told her, and smiled. “This is one of those maybe things.”

The five of them stood around the portal, winds blustering around them but their hearts shining brightly through their geodes like a lighthouse out in the darkest sea. Rainbow Dash smirked. “Well? What the hell are you waiting for?”

“We’ve got your back,” Applejack promised, nodding to Twilight and Flash too over Sunset’s shoulder. “Now, go on, y’all! Get gone!”

The storm blinded their haggard, shambling run, and Sunset hated that as leader in charge of knowing where they were going. In the bustling wind, she turned back toward Timber, “Stay with us, dude, you’re gonna be okay.”

Twilight puffed, not doing so hot in the cold air. “Please keep your eyes open.”

The paleness in his skin and the deadness in his eyes sent her for a dip in an ice bath. “Too much…" he muttered, along with a string of words Sunset couldn’t catch.

Sunset grimaced facing forward so he couldn’t see. “I know, bud, we’re almost there.”

Where there was, she had no idea. She “led” them forward barreling into the empty open white until she spotted the closest opening in the school: the hole King Sombra had blown open at some point before Sunset died. “There!”

Together, the four of them stumbled forward. The gasping cold ushered her into the safety of the indoors almost by force. Even once inside, Sunset’s inner ear stung from the wind.

Sunset waved them over. “Bring him in through⁠—”

She lost her breath.

What she hadn’t seen while barreling in through the storm was what room of the school this blown-open alcove had once been. Ash and broken ceiling tiles came together in a hollow impression of the school’s band room. A ceiling beam thicker than her stabbed through the steps she’d spent countless lunch hours lounging around.

Strands of light filtered from above fell over the charred, torn Rainbooms drum set.

Stalled for words, Flash and Twilight faltered, but Sunset tugged at them to bring Timber in from the cold. No time.

Flash refused to let Timber’s head touch the ground, propping him up in his lap and holding his clammy, pale hand. “You’re going to be okay now, hon,” he was saying as Sunset scrambled to take off her leather jacket and put it over Timber. “We’re right here with you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Twilight checked his pulse at his jugular with two fingers, but in doing so, Sunset got a real glimpse at just how ashy Timber’s skin had become. Supernaturally so. The wound in his chest flared with each rising inhale, like coals stoked in a fire. Soon to sputter out.

“No no no, please,” Twilight whined and took the hand he pressed to her cheek. Her vocal chords tore themselves apart in between asthmatic gasps. “Please stay with us, Timber. Can you hear me?”

Taking his other hand, Sunset tried not to grimace seeing the cold sweat shining on his brow or the slimming of his pupils. “... yeah,” and continued rambling to call that into doubt. “Too much… it’s too much…”

Flash squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. The girls are going to heal you up, good as new.”

Twilight held out her hand for Sunset over Timber’s wound but Sunset hesitated, fingers curling back. “It’s dark magic.”

“And?” Twilight asked, frazzled and clearly anxious out of her mind. “We knew that, didn’t we?”

Sunset grabbed her hand and pushed through her doubt, but even throwing all that they had behind a healing spell⁠—even if it meant a whole new level of heartburn⁠—nothing changed. Even when Flash joined the fray and willed all his boosting strength into them, nothing. The wound still festered.

“No, no, no… that can't be it,” Twilight said. “That can't be all we can do!”

Sunset cursed. “Dark magic isn't something we can heal away,” she said, apologetic and soft to her new best friend.

Timber’s breathing oxygenated a fire visible through the cracks in his chest. His dark eyes connected with hers, and he nodded. There was a whistle to the wheeze. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey.” Thumbing the curls off a cut on his forehead, Sunset caught a fever blasting off his skin. She hoped it wasn’t baking his brain. The wreckage had them surrounded on all sides, and she didn’t like him breathing all this in when each breath knocked him down for the count. “That’s my line.”

His chest crackled between them. Truth be told, it was the only thing keeping them warm.

The heat must have been burning Flash’s thighs, but he pulled Timber closer.

“I can’t blame them,” Timber muttered low, winds whistling high. He didn’t seem like he was aware of the rest of them. His head lolled to the side to stare at the torn drum set with the band logo. “I wish I could blame them.”

Left out of the conversation, the remaining three of them traded looks that only made Sunset more scared, seeing it reflected back at her. “What do you mean?”

Where green should have been in his eyes had gone ablaze. Timber looking at Sunset with those eyes felt like twin cattle-brands. “When they thought you were never coming back, you did a real number on our friends. I’ve never seen anything like it. You ripped their hearts clean out, you know? Meanwhile, I’ve always been in exile⁠. And our friends don’t know me enough to know I’ve been terrified of going back. So, you’ve gotta tell me your secret.” He couldn’t stop himself smiling at that. “How’d you do it? How do you matter to people?”

Sunset squeezed his hand so hard she hoped it hurt. “You tell me.”

Holding back sit-com laugh-tracks, they held each other’s eyes while they watered.

Pissed to shit, Flash had to wipe his eyes so he wasn’t crying over him. “You matter so much…”

At the same time, Twilight held a hand over her mouth, eyes calculating, until her gaze snapped into place. “This is me,” she said. “This is my fault.”

The other three had a look at her. Flash looked so tired. “Don’t you start.”

“No, it is! I never wanted you to get hurt so I kept you from magic, but that also kept you from spending time with the rest of our friends. That’s why you feel so distant! I was trying to keep you safe.” Her face fell in the firelight of his chest. “God. Princess of Friendship, eat your heart out.”

All the times Sunset tried to push her into being something she wasn’t came back. She hoped an apology came through in her eyes, but getting Twilight’s gaze in return, Twilight somehow got the message.

“Would’ve been like this one way or another,” Timber told her, burning on the floor with his demon eyes. “I’m kind of a lot.”

“Join the club,” Sunset told him. “Think we all need therapy at this point…”

Over the fire, Flash smiled at the rest of them. “We’re the Therapy Squad, huh?”

Despite hanging around her messy ass for weeks, despite everything, Timber still seemed unconvinced that any of them were on his level. “You’re the good kind of a lot. Meanwhile…” he coughed and the fire in his chest oxygenated. “Can’t blame the girls for not getting close to that. Who was I kidding trying to pal around with them these past few weeks? Who wants to deal with all this?”

Protest after protest burned against the back of Sunset’s throat. None of it would be enough, even if she friendship speech’ed him to Celestia’s kingdom come. She hated sitting there saying nothing, but anything she could think of would just be knocked down, and she knew it.

Then, her girlfriend remembered a memory of a laugh. “You know? I see why you and Sunset are best friends now. You two are way too hard on yourselves.” Twilight twirled a finger with a tiny bit of magic, pointing upwards, and as she did something on the ceiling above what used to be the band room steps unfurled.

A banner rolled out with splashes of cupcake-shaped confetti raining down over the steps and the rubble at her feet with seven signatures and the message scrawled in glitter and paint:

HAPPY INTERVENTION, TIMBER AND SUNSET

Smiling up, Sunset breathed it in. You beautiful dorks. She turned back to see the gaping boy on the ground and Timber’s chest wound closing tight. Crying at his name on the banner. He glowed faintly like a firefly. “... they noticed.”

Watching Flash rub his boyfriend’s back, Sunset held back the I told you so that would’ve made her the biggest hypocrite on the planet Earth. But when she could see through the tears, she saw a glow forming around her and unlike the magic she’d been dealing in recently, this she hadn’t felt in a long, long while. She knew what was coming. The mountaintop feeling of looking down on her past and laughing.

Sunset grinned. “Bitchin’,” she said, sounding stuffed up. She rubbed her eyes dry. “Alright. Now I’ve got a bit of a game plan on the go, but I’m going to need you to help me out. Flash, stay with Timber—make damn sure he’s all healed up before you two rush back out there to help anyone else.”

Timber flashed a thumbs up from the floor while Flash nodded dutifully. “Keep my boyfriend out of trouble? It’s the job I was born for.”

She caught Timber’s eye in particular who seemed more than a little glassy-eyed and readied a fist-bump. “Therapy Squad?”

Timber recognized the fist under his nose, and nodded. All four of them bumped fists. “Therapy Squad.”

Leaving the boys to take care of each other, Sunset and Twilight rushed out into the frozen halls of Canterlot High. Lockers iced shut, floors caked with snow, classrooms in lockdown mode, and when they got to the front entranceway in front of the school trophy case, Sunset took her girlfriend’s hand to squeeze. “This is the ‘See you later.’”

Her girlfriend’s inquisitive eyes twinkled, eager to logic out Sunset’s plan. “What do you need me to do?”

Sunset could see her breath ahead of her but that didn’t stop the fire burning bright behind her smile. “C’mon, babe, you know this one. Thursdays at noon.”

Recognition lit up her eyes, but when Sunset tried to leave, Twilight caught her arm. “Wait!”

She looked back, even just for a moment to breathe the same air as her girlfriend, to realize they hadn’t had a moment alone as themselves in weeks. That she’d died already once today, and anything could happen as soon as this moment between them was over.

Sunset Shimmer kissed her girlfriend like all the underworld was calling her name.

The warmth of Twilight’s body pressing against hers set Sunset’s wings on fire at her back. She opened her eyes to see her girlfriend smiling back at her. Sunset felt her still-tingling lips smirk. “Damn,” she muttered, noticing the flames sprouting out of her leather jacket. “Totally worth coming back from the dead for.”

“Oh, good. There’s, um, more where that came from if you keep it that way.” Twilight cupped Sunset’s cheek. “Stay safe.”

“You, too,” Sunset begged softly, stealing just one more quick kiss before parting and booking it toward the staircase.

The leaps she made up the stairs were so long her wings kicked in and sprang her up farther and faster, blazing behind her and taking her boots kicking off the ground as she ascended all the way up to the school’s third floor.

Sunset Shimmer exploded down the hall with her friends’ bank of lockers and as she did the classroom doors opened up around her, cheers and applause exploding left and right from teachers and classmates treading lightly into the melting hall.

Magic more universal than her own moved in her. As if feeling a tug on the tether tying her to every other being in the multiverse, willing her on. Willing her to be herself.

Racing down to the hallway’s end, she could see the large three-paned window giving her a view of the terrible supernatural disaster blizzarding down on the city. But even through it all, she could just make out the outline of the crack in the sky, opened wide and waiting for anyone and everyone to reach a galaxy of potential.

She pushed the bar to the emergency exit, and soared up the final set of steps and door to the school’s roof. As she did, she let her body take its final form without resistance.

Once out in the cold, she could see the back of the demon lord relishing in the storm. In fact, dude was belting his operatic heart out. Like, actually singing.

He was by all bars and measures mid-song in what Sunset could only assume was some dumb, angsty reference to Shadow of the Symphony. She didn’t understand what the hell she was seeing until she saw the shadow army lapping all his edgy, angsty melodrama up like he was the star of the greatest show on earth.

She rolled her eyes, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey!”

Rearing back, King Sombra twisted around only for his eyes to widen in utter shock at the vision before him.

Ready to rain down hell and heaven alike, Daydream Shimmer floated above Canterlot High. “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

King Sombra seethed. “You⁠!” He laughed a trembling laugh from the base of his bassy chest, planting his hands on his hips. “Of course! A hero must rise to fell the worst Evil she knows. Brava!” His claps dripped with sarcasm, echoing across to her. “I'll gladly play my part. What better way to terrorize a nation like Equestria than to kill their beloved princess?”

Daydream’s smirk snagged.

His laugh gargled out of him. “HaHA! Do you understand the depths of my depravity now? I am⁠ your greatest, most fearsome riva—”

A missile punch connected with his jaw. Her classmates roared a cheer from the school’s windows.

“I’m starting to think you pose an immediate danger to yourself or others.” Daydream put up her dukes. “You know the rules.”

Fire igniting, Daydream launched into Sombra with one full-body kick, rolling back to her feet in time to miss a swipe where she’d been and swing a flaming punch to his chest. King Sombra dodged or blocked most of her torch-like punches and walloped her backward with a knockout of his own.

Morphing back into shadow, formless and untouchable, Mr. Lord of Demons made sure she wouldn’t get another easy shot. Fine by me. The King leered at her. “Oh? And you think yourself the proper authority?”

“Nah. Authority and I don’t tend to mix too well,” Daydream said, getting in her feelings about it. Emotions from the last few weeks bubbled and swarmed to the surface, barely below the skin, and a glow formed around her. One way only. She could do one way, that was only fair while Solstice was Backstage. After everything that happened during the fire drill, the idea of invading someone else’s mind without asking… making that kind of choice for them…

One way only.

That’ll have to be enough. Daydream brought her fists, crossed over her chest as the pressure built at her ribs. Her eyes welled up, feeling it all. “I’m not the one you should talk to. But I know a good counsellor.”

She released the hold on her chest and at that moment? Sunset Shimmer felt sorry for anyone who had to deal with her feelings.

So many emotions all at once flooded the area in a hormonal bomb. Moments of victory and joy and hope so good it hurt waged war against the terror of being known. Like a thousand voices talking in her head at once, all Sunset could do to withstand it was ground herself with a breathing exercise. Four in. Hold. Four out. Hold.

“Not… alone… you’re⁠—” Meanwhile King Sombra was crying openly like a teenage girl. His voice twinned, drawing Solstice out like she’d waved coffee under his nose, then came back together in the lower growl of his register. He clutched his head to keep it from splitting in two. “Foul trickery!”

He swiped at her with materializing claws and she dodged out of the way, back and forth, twisting on the wind. “Right! As real as this feels,” she said, her voice crackling between defensive moves, “that’s only the symptom. You have to look under the feelings⁠—right to the heart: Who you think you really are!”

Dark magic raked into her back. King Sombra grinned at her scream from down the length of his lance digging into her. “You already know my name.” His eyes slit and he shoved her and the lance impaling her away. “Soon so will all Equestria. My destiny awaits!”

Landing on the roof, Sunset gouged the lance out of herself, screaming, the dark magic wound healing in the shimmering light of her magic. Throwing down the lance, she launched herself forward and fired a ray of pure, unfiltered sunlight at him, scorching hot out of both hands.

Brightness burned even her eyes, staining the insides of her eyelids with sunspots and refracting off the snow blizzarding around her. She saw the demon edgelord barreling backwards through the clouds, screaming all the while.

Ascending through darker and darker clouds, Daydream Shimmer flew into the storm. Controlling the only light source, all the shadows moved as well—including King Sombra. They stared at each other, and she did it again to make sure. Forcing the light to the left dragged Sombra to the right.

Daydream beamed like a child with a new toy. Oh hell yeah.

Every move he made to flee into the dark, she angled the light and made the lord of shadows into her very own puppet. He had to move with her. King Sombra roared a growl, as the light beam sizzled and seared his shadow.

“You have potential to be everything you’ve ever been afraid of, or worse than you could even imagine,” Daydream promised. The air pressure built around her, fire coning. “So you think this is your destiny. What if you lived a life you were never destined for?”

Before the light could extinguish him, King Sombra roared as he descended on her with his eyes steaming full of dark magic. The two of them wrestled through the air like a set of dueling comets. “You’re King Sombra!” she shouted over the wind, “and you’re Solstice Shiver! You’re afraid of heights! You have a crush on our principal! You have a lot of feelings about beverages!”

She managed to escape his clutches, too high to come down now.

With all of Canterlot High seeing who they really were, a new weapon formed in Daydream’s hands. A gleaming, golden sledgehammer fit for the gods. “You believe in people and for once I need you to believe in all of who you are! That’s what makes us human!” She wound back as if ready to bust up a mirror to another world, then took one large swing. “The power to choose!”

Daydream’s sledgehammer cracked into the demon’s crown.

One swing might have been enough to send him reeling, but the magic inside her turned it into a combo attack, chaining hit after hit in quick succession faster than her muscles could have managed on their own. All of Canterlot High, all of Equestria, all of the love of her Celestia-loving family was behind her. With one final blow, she sent him crashing through the roof. Back into the school he chose to belong in.

Listening to the sounds of her classmates cheering from the windows, she breathed. I hope Principal Celestia doesn’t make me fix that myself.

Shining down a light at him lying there in the counselling office, he hissed up from the purple couch, raising a hand to shield his eyes. Daydream relaxed into a smile, and sledgehammer resting on one shoulder, she held out her free hand. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Everybody wants to rule the world.”

The spotlight she’d put on him gave him a stage. Daydream recognized her mistake.

While almost completely engulfed in light, there was one place left he could escape. Flaring his cape, King Sombra disappeared into it like a two-bit stage magician and Daydream’s heart froze over cold. The cape settled empty on the floor.

A voice behind her cackled. “Quite right. But only some are destined to be King.”

Brutal winds blasted around him. The oldest symphony in concert. Snow and ice reigned the sky, a city dominated by darkness and depression untold, an army of teenage souls battling below, and through it all, Daydream couldn’t unsee how King Sombra’s red, flowing cape matched the violent red of his eyes as he brought the magic from the sky down on her all at once.

King Sombra materialized a prop plastic sword⁠—one so cheap she would’ve easily believed he stole from the Drama department. Imbued with shadows, he may as well have turned it into a stygian blade. His sword clashed with her sledgehammer, more deft a weapon, easier to maneuver. Easier to find chinks in her armour. “Magic is powered by emotion,” he projected to the nosebleeds, grinning as he beat her backward, “but how it manifests, well, that depends on who you really are, doesn’t it?”

Rivalling the speed of light, King Sombra shifted parts of his body into shadow to give himself enough speed to fence her back toward the round skylight above the library. Their reflections at her back, Daydream grit her teeth. King Sombra’s blade ate through her stomach.

Despair and gutting pain rocked through her whole world like she’d lost her pet cat.

Gritting her teeth as she screamed, Daydream hooked her sledgehammer at the hilt of his blade and managed to send both of their weapons clattering to the side. She clutched at her stomach, starting to feel that wrong side of dizzy.

King Sombra must have decided she looked like she could use a hug. He wrestled her down from behind, and took Daydream Shimmer into the shadows with him. All the world went pitch black.

A flood of self-disgust and grief coursed through her as they travelled from shadow to shadow. Love, acceptance, comfort⁠—one by one her positive emotions stripped away. Back to the life she used to live. Just like the one Solstice lived all the time.

When they re-emerged, Daydream’s power was fading fast. In her lifetime, she’d been through some pretty rough scrapes. Not like this. The clawing punches ripped open new dimensions of pain she’d never run to before. Down below, the shadows swarmed the Rainbooms and the power she had to stop it fell away. “No!!! Stay away from them! Leave them alone! Girls!!!"

Sunset Shimmer fell to her knees and collapsed.

Heat washed down from her forehead, trickling down her face. Her breathing scraped in and out. Sunset grunted. A sound like a scream sputtering out. Movement, any movement, brought on pain that drained any last reserves of strength her muscles had to draw on. She gripped shaking fists, hyperventilating to overcome the vertigo enough to raise her head and watch the demon lord stalking away. Towards her friends. Towards Equestria.

And she couldn’t move.

The King of Demons stopped at the edge of the roof. Then he reached down and picked up her golden sledgehammer, tossed it lightly to readjust his grip.

Far away, maybe as much as several universes, the voices of her classmates called to her to get up. Her friends wanted her up. Her body, her bones, her soul wanted her up. The muscles steamed and simmered as the demon cackled a few steps from crushing her skull.

Magic was never meant for the human world. Dangerous forces that left unchecked would turn to disaster. Humanity never stood a chance. Or so she'd thought.

See, this whole time, Sunset realized she’d had it backwards.

No destiny held any of them back. The choices her friends made to be with each other, to fight for and with and to lift up each other⁠—all those choices collided into a tapestry of their own unpredictable design⁠—and it was like that for the whole world. Small, kindnesses collecting over time and insignificant everyday advances built on insignificant everyday advances and people realizing all together, all at once, that they were only human beings by a definition they’d decided on together that no one person could make alone. And continued to decide and always would.

Visions like memories among the stars came back of little vulnerabilities, late night laughs, time spent and stolen with Timber or Flash or Fluttershy. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie, Rarity, and Twilight.

Sunset loved her best friends and this dimension more than she’d ever been destined to love anything. I love… my goddamn friends!!! And as she tore herself apart to prop up on one elbow then the other, and began to rise on swaying feet, the strange Equestrian runaway to this world spat out magic and human blood. Maybe the Fates were right about one thing. Sunset Shimmer would die to protect Equestria.

King Sombra grinned like he would enjoy finishing the job.

A sharp whistle pierced the air.

Both King Sombra and Daydream Shimmer turned their heads in time to see a hose of fire blast forward. Calling it full firefighter gear would’ve been a little generous. Suspenders hanging undone, his six-pack abs and wings were out on shameless display like Oooops! Did I forget to put on a shirt~? How clumsy of me!

In all his steaming glory⁠—literally steaming⁠—Firebreak Spruce posed on the roof as if to warm up all December in a calendar. “One question for you, Frosty,” he said, pushing back his curls. “Is it getting hot out here or is it just me?”

The onlookers watching from the school whooped and cheered, like the audience in one of the sit-coms Sunset watched with him. She could practically see the Applause sign lighting up in-studio. A swell of relief so powerful flooded through her that it brought back her power and then some.

Daydream had the biggest, dumbest grin on her face. Hugs would most definitely be in order, and she could see it in the wild spark behind Firebreak’s eyes that he agreed, but he winked for now and the two of them came to stand together against the stunned, stammering overlord.

With Daydream back and better than ever, the sledgehammer disintegrated into light out of his hands. King Sombra shook his head. “No… no, you couldn’t possibly⁠—I struck you through the heart!”

Firebreak held an axe over both of his shoulders. “... Mm?” His eyes flared. “Oh, that! Yup, you definitely did, hundred percent. Congrats on the cheap shot, I guess, if that’s like your thing. Can confirm: that sucked.” He grinned. “I was devastated!”

King Sombra scowled, rushing forward to claw his smirk off his face. “I demolished your faith in all your little friends! I saw it work! You should be my hellish right hand!”

Firebreak teleported behind him and waggled a finger. “Ah-ah-ah! Sorry to break it to you: You can look, but you can’t touch.” He dodged several swipes by striking several different ridiculously provocative poses.

Daydream followed suit with a flaming punch to Sombra’s weaker defenses while breaking into a snorting laugh, “You’re such a dingus.”

“Why yes, but I’m a beautiful dingus.” He nodded, smiling. She lightly shoved her best friend and he smiled at a growling Sombra, shrugging. “I never said she can’t touch.”

King Sombra charged, a spear forming in his hand from the shadows, but on instinct, Daydream shot out a beam of sunlight that solidified into her solid gold sledgehammer. “Don’t you dare!”

Somewhere behind her, Firebreak clutched his heart as she, admittedly, went a little Mama Bear. “Holy sledgehammer, Daydream!”

As Sombra rebounded back and his spear disintegrated, Daydream pointed the Holy Sledgehammer at him like it was an extension of her arm. “That’s my new best friend, you goddamn edgelord. You can mess with me all you want but you’re never making him feel that way again.”

King Sombra stumbled back so much he fell on his ass on the icy rooftop. “No… no! That’s impossible! He couldn’t possibly be standing!”

“Oh, it worked, alright,” Firebreak muttered, his tone a shade darker than before, considering the glint of his axe. “You really did a number on me. Everything we talked about in that counselling office? All of it came back at once.

“But you know what?” He posed once again. “Now I know I’m a catch. And I’ve got friends who treat me like one.” His eyes met Daydream’s and he smiled. “And… even if, somehow, for some reason, it all ends the same way, and I lose them… at least I know all of them would fight as hard as me to keep that from happening.”

“Damn straight,” Daydream promised, both their flames burning bright together. She punched his shoulder. “We’re on the same team.”

Rising, Sombra charged at them and levelled a series of attacks on the two teenage demigods. “You’re not one of them, you fool! You never will be!”

Firebreak grinned, shrugging. “See, that’s the thing: Anybody can be a Rainboom.”

The next moment, Daydream watched Firebreak live up to his name. Despite his fire-gear, his whole body erupted into wild-fire and the two of them soared around King Sombra like twin suns kicking his ass from all angles. Together, they delivered a hell of a blow that sent all three of them crashing over the roof down a three story drop to the front steps of school.

Daydream braced herself on Firebreak, landing on the school’s front steps. Their magic faded together, cresting down the length of them, leaving two teenagers lost in the wind. Exhaustion set in like they’d pulled another all-nighter sit-com marathon, but they had to smile at the sight in front of them.

In the fall, King Sombra’s cape had twisted and wrapped around him. With Sombra wriggling to be free of his own cape, he looked like a stage magician in a straight jacket. Watch what wonders may unfold as I set myself free! In this case the wonders were murder and untold mayhem.

Up ahead, his shadow army gave their friends a taste of what he'd do to them should he be released from this prison. The crowds surged in tandem with the jerks and growls he made trying to set himself loose, so time was looking very essential right about now. Timber sighed out a lengthy amount of pent-up adrenaline and fear. “We did it. We've got him on lock.” He made a grand gesture towards the crown of King Sombra’s head. And the literal crown above it. “Meistro?”

Sunset walked over, but as she did, the demon looked back at her from his place on the ground. Goat eyes bleating up at her, a man nowhere near his right mind. Familiar feelings of shame, mortification, and violation ran through her as she reached out her hand, and she barely had enough time to register why before she stopped moments before her geode could finish powering up. Sunset's arm stiffened. “He's… not himself.”

Timber blinked at her as if waiting for the rest of the Friendship speech to come along with it. “Uh-huh, yup, this has been well-established.”

“I'm more myself than I've ever been!” the demon piped up, but that only confirmed what Sunset was afraid of.

She shook her head, geode growing hot on her chest. The magic thrummed through her veins. All it would take was a touch. “Tartarus, he can’t make the choice himself and I'm just going to force it on him?”

Timber shook his head. “Sunset, you've done that so many times!”

King Sombra, like Sunset, was no slouch. The slime of his smile set her on edge because no one looked like that who didn’t think they had the upper hand. “So, I can’t choose? Am I not human after all?” The creeping sense of what he was saying crawled over her back, a cold wind. “Read my mind, Shimmer. Go ahead, you have open invitation. Prove to me you know I’m a monster.”

“Don’t let him get in your head,” Timber said, strained. “He can’t make this call for himself⁠—you need to choose for him!”

Sunset Shimmer stood on the steps of the school, feeling like she’d become the Fates. Fate was a feeling, she'd decided, and Sunset was an empath. It filled her up and became her. The shaky, less subzero grasp she had on the lack of destiny in the human world came back to her now. All the taunts she’d launched at the demon king, the promises that he could be better. The power to choose a new path.

If she treated him like less than human now, didn’t that prove everything Solstice believed about himself? Would it really change anything? He’s not here to give me his permission. How am I supposed to know what he’d really want? Why do I get to make the choice for him?

Timber grunted.“Sunset, now!”

King Sombra gargled a laugh. Those damn red eyes, like he was out for her blood. “It’s your choice, Shimmer!”

Sunset eyes rounded out and she knew what she had to do.

Reaching out to King Sombra, Sunset grabbed the crown off his head. The cold of the metal burned in her hands like she’d get frostbite if she held on long enough. As both Timber and Sombra gawked at her, Sunset held out the crown in both hands. “No,” she said. “You choose.”

All of the feeling appeared to have left Timber Spruce’s face. Sombra rose out of his slackened grip to stand a few steps from his crown.

Their friends’ panicked shouts made her stomach clench. The shadow army rioted and overtook their friends by the portal. Sunset fought the urge to shout out and distract from the job at hand. She couldn’t look away. Even as Timber teleported away to rush to save his new best friends and Sunset wanted to scream to keep him out of harm, she had to stay. She needed Sombra to see every bit of faith she had in her soul.

Come on, Solstice. She stared into him, and if only for a moment, she wondered if he was staring back. I know you can do this.

There was a gratitude in his expression for breaking his heart. And something like an apology.

Then Sunset got really scared.

The panicked shouts of the teenagers at the portal hit him as if for the first time. Sombra stared oddly alarmed at the shadows about to take Sunset's friends away. Half-sunken into the earth, pulling Timber down with them, the Rainbooms were running out of time.

He took the crown and sent Sunset’s heart into the underworld.

And the shadow army took notice. Shades of students twisting around, bending their necks inquisitively, and changing course. Charging towards him. Pain demanded, en masse, to be felt.

“I am fear incarnate,” he said, watching his reflection in the gold of the crown as an army ran towards him. He bellowed a generic evil laugh that echoed over the snow. “Fools! You think you can change? You think you can choose? We’re doomed to battle over and over again⁠—that’s my life! Week after week, fight after fight, nothing ever changes, locked in warfare eternal! Welcome to our status quo!”

Hot tears bubbled from the sides of her eyes. Sunset tugged at his cape like a little kid. “Solstice, please don’t do this, stop. We need you to stay,” she said, crackling. She felt too small to do anything else. “...Why do you have to go?”

Dark magic curling up around him, King Sombra smiled. “I’ll get you next time, Shimmer,” he told her kindly, a storm behind his tone. He turned from her and took a few strides into the inevitable. He waited. Facing off against the ambush ahead, ground shaking, a breath shivered out of him. “... calm, peaceful surrender.”

As he crowned himself king, shadows mauled him alive. His evil laugh screamed out of him. Sunset had to see his eyes staring up at her, wide, panicked. Green.

The King of Demons became a sinkhole for dark magic, dragged back into the earth. Back where shadows belonged. From behind her, Sunset almost didn’t register the sound of the school’s front doors opening and two sets of feet rushing out. She turned back to find that Twilight had done her job.

Stricken, Principal Celestia dropped a mug of coffee, splattering into the snow.

Even as Sunset broke down, her friends had survived. The blizzard passed. Sunlight broke through the clouds anew over Canterlot High.

15. The Prodigal Sun

Sunset Shimmer savoured the fact that nobody planned her life to lead to this. Her feet tangled with her girlfriend’s in the strips of sunrise yawning through the window onto the edge of her bed. A leather jacket stretched across the floor. Glasses rested on the bedside table. No matter how the Fates plotted or schemed⁠, some small, smug side of Sunset doubted anything they could ever come up with would compare to being here, now. In a moment she never thought she could choose for herself.

Who could’ve known? Up until a short while ago, Sunset herself probably couldn’t talk. That prodigious strategic mind of hers would have sold herself short. Steered her away from choosing any relationships whatsoever. Planning parts of her now undefined future in parallel with anyone at all would’ve been a little hard to schedule in exile.

She wouldn’t have guessed how soft Twilight’s skin would feel to the touch. How hot their thighs would become laced together. How the weight of Twilight’s head, tucked into the crook of Sunset’s neck, would slow her breathing down to gentle rises, and steady falls. Hands sunk between the still undone buttons on their few items of clothing. She left a kiss on Twilight’s forehead who shifted just so she could hold Sunset’s body closer to hers.

They’d fallen asleep mostly disentangled, or so Sunset could’ve sworn. But either sometime in the seas of night, or at some point in the harbours of early morning, they found each other again. Who cuddled into who first would remain a mystery.

No matter how on earth or Equestria she got here, Sunset allowed herself time to just watch her girlfriend sleep⁠—to take in the galaxy swirls of her bedhead and the tender peace of catching that genius mind at rest⁠—but, eventually, her smile slipped from her face.

Decoupling (despite the heart-tugging little whine from her girlfriend), Sunset swung her legs off the bed’s edge in her Daring Do emblem-patterned boxers. She grabbed her geode off the nightstand and gave Scruffers, who’d slept towards the end of the bed, a quick snuggle. The cool of her slumbering apartment didn’t stop her from shuffling on flannel sleep-pants and a baseball tee⁠—too lazy to bother with the belt and bra mingling with Twilight’s argyle sweater vest on the floor. Tight jeans could wait. For now, she crept in the dusk on careful feet downstairs.

Sliding up the window, Sunset clambered out onto the fire escape.

In the days following everything that happened at CHS, Sunset hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Times like last night gave her a distraction for a bit, but...

Not for long.

Ever since, she found herself searching for shadows in the sunrise.

Canterlot City was enjoying an unseasonable warmth. Pleasantly cool for a heat snap, which no one expected to last long with the real winter right around the corner. For now, icy telephone wires dripped. The ancient asphalt of Blood Moon Crescent bore new cracks. Sunlight seared the downtown skyline as summer clouds, unconcerned by the law of calendars, breezed above.

Not bad for the bad side of town.

The rift in space-time gave the sky a new dimension: a glimpse into the void of space. Distant purple galaxies swirled at the heart of magic itself. Star-gazing while watching the sunrise felt a little like stealing a sneak-peek at the strings in the patchwork of the multiverse. Earth finally looked like how she felt all the time, she’d had her heart in two universes for years. Now the world could empathize.

A flock of birds soared past the rift in v-formation, the phoenix leading blue jays.

Leaning on the fire escape railing, Sunset settled her hands onto the harsh, wrought iron chill. There was still some comfort knowing her mom’s sunrise was happening somewhere at the same time, but right now, it was a cold one. Sunrise and sunset had the deepest shadows so part of her was still waiting for a shadow deep enough to see those green eyes peering out.

She hadn’t realized how long she’d been out there until she heard the window slide open at her back. “Sunset?”

Sunset turned to see her quizzical girlfriend waiting in the window. “Oh. Morning.”

“What are you doing out there? Is it even safe?” She eyed the bolts clinging the structure to the brick suspiciously. All the wirework and mechanical engineering back in her lab probably made this fire escape appear pretty pisspoor.

Sunset’s eyes drifted back toward the shadows as she shrugged.

“Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“Hm?” It took her a second to pull her attention from the cool-tone shadows of the alleyway below. The words helpfully played back in her head, as if catching up to her. As tempting as that was, Sunset shook her head as her eyes made rounds around the city streets. “Oh, no, sorry if I woke you, babe. You can go back to sleep.”

That was that. Or so she assumed.

Instead, a pair of pajamaed arms wrapped around her unarmoured middle. The warmth of a sleepy girlfriend in a thin sleeptop pressed against her back. “Mmph, up so early.”

Sunset leaned back into her, appreciating the heat. “It’s a beautiful sunrise,” she said, which wasn’t a lie. The sky dealt in cherry pinks, oranges, and purples. A hell of an afterglow. “Now this beats Le Grand’s.”

There was a bit of humour in Twilight’s voice. “Better than a janitor’s closet, for sure, but you’re not usually up before you’ve slammed the snooze button six or seven⁠ times. Oh! By the way!” She perked up like she’d caught a whiff of the coffee brewing at the small café next to the dry cleaner’s across the street. “I totally forgot to mention! I fixed your alarm clock for you.”

Maybe Sunset was sleepier than she’d thought. She blinked. “This… this morning?”

“Oh, pfft no. I can’t do science in my sleep. I’m not that good.” Twilight, concerningly, muttered the word yet. “I finished a few days ago. Timber said you hurled it across the room in a fit of sleepy rage?”

Sunset squinted. “Oh yeah…”

In true nerd fashion, Twilight readjusted her glasses. “He snuck it out when I asked if I could tinker with it. Nothing too crazy, I promise.” She crossed her heart and stuck a cupcake in her eye, the way Pinkie Pie intended. “I just replaced the duct-tape with reinforced titanium alloy, rubber exterior, and an automatic, time-sensitive snooze crescendo functionality. I call it Sunset-proof!”

“Tcht, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, but a note of appreciation betrayed her.

“Happy to. Possibly even a little too happy...” Twilight tittered, twirling a curl around her finger. “I was so worried about you, I just needed to do something! And I knew you’d say it’s ‘not your job to fix up my apartment, Twilight, we talked about this’ and it’s not like it would solve what was really going on with you but⁠—”

Sunset kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Sparky.”

Eyes half-lidded, Sunset dearly enjoyed watching her girlfriend get all flustered. Twilight raised a hand, fingers brushing where Sunset’s lips had just been. “Oh, heh. Wow… I missed that,” she burbled. Then she worked to get her wits about her again, and covered Sunset’s hand with her own. “You won’t need an alarm clock if you can’t sleep. Are you okay?”

Sunset’s brows drew together, looking for language. She faced Twilight more directly. The sunrise light halved their faces. “I’m not sure, honestly. We’re safe, nothing woke me up, but...” Sunset sighed, shutting her eyes. Still felt weird to say, but she had to try. “On a scale of yes to no, I guess I’m a little not okay.”

Cracking her eyes open, she found Twilight’s tender smile wasn’t anxious or pitying. “Oh good,” she said, shoulders relaxing. Only for her eyes to flare. “Oh that sounds wrong. Not that I’m happy you’re going through something, I’m so sorry, it’s just… thanks for telling me. I don’t know, it’s really nice to see you in touch with your feelings.”

Sunset’s cheeks heated up like the atmosphere preparing for the day. She rubbed her neck. “New look for me, huh?”

Twilight laughed. Although Sunset got the sense it wasn’t at her. After ensuring it could hold her, she took a careful seat on a rung of the angled ladder leading up to the platform above. “Not to me.”

With her hair done up in a messy bun like that, she looked an awful lot like she did right after the Friendship Games. Back when the Rainbooms all went out for milkshakes with the girls from Crystal Prep, the winners circle. Twilight had nearly collapsed from exhaustion on the spot, but she wouldn’t let Sunset take her home. She said she had to see what more there was.

So, Sunset slung Twilight’s arm around her shoulders to carry her weight. And she promised to show her.

That day felt so long ago now.

There was a faraway fondness on her girlfriend’s face. “I was in awe of you. Charismatic, down to earth, a good listener,” she told Sunset, who’d taken a seat on the window pane to listen attentively. “When I first transferred to CHS, I was so overwhelmed. There was so much to learn about friendship, and so many people I really didn’t want to mess things up with. Most of the time, I was sure I would.

“But then, I had you. You stuck by me and stuck up for me. I don’t know if you could tell, but hearing that you’d been a demon once too meant the world to me.”

All those talks under the bleachers, whispered in the library, over steaming mugs⁠...

Twilight raised her chin. “You gave me hope and I know for a fact I wasn’t alone. One could say I’m biased⁠—you saved me.” Her smile twisted up. “I’ll never forget that beautiful angel reaching out her hand. But I’m not the only one. Those lucky enough to know you feel the same way, and those that aren’t?” She rose from her seat.

Twilight Sparkle gestured toward Canterlot City rising, as it always had and always would do, to meet a strange new dawn. “Everyone’s going to see what I’ve seen in you all along.”

Heartbeat biting her chest, Sunset’s voice came out softer. “What?”

“Confidence,” Twilight promised, and took one of Sunset’s hands in hers, just like Sunset had once done for her. “I love that about you. Most of the time it takes so much for you to share your past with other people, but when someone’s struggling⁠, without even thinking—” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that! You open up your heart to make someone else feel a little less alone. It’s amazing!”

As her girlfriend helped her to her feet, Sunset had to give it to her: that was a compliment she had to take. Feeling all warm inside, she couldn’t come up with a single objection. She squeezed both of Twilight’s hands. “Thank you.”

The way Twilight lit up when Sunset just out and out accepted a damn compliment made her want to sweep her off her feet and climb back up to bed for round 3. “I’ve always admired that about you,” Twilight told her, sunup casting soft pinks across her cheeks. “Quite frankly, I find confidence very sexy.”

Synapses connected via electrical current firing off in a full blown brain blast. Sunset barked a laugh. “That’s what Timber and I have in common? Ohhhhh, I’ve been wondering what drove you wild about both of us!”

Twilight squawked, “You’ve⁠⁠—what?”

“No, it all makes sense now.” Sunset grinned as it all came together. “My bad girl flair doesn’t exactly check the same boxes as his whole woodsy nerdlinger schtick. We’ve got different body types, too, so I knew it couldn’t be my sweet six pack.” She patted the softness pushing into her flannel waistband. Last night had proven Twilight could thoroughly appreciate a woman’s curves, if there was ever any doubt. Flicking up an eyebrow, Sunset smirked while appraising her. “Confidence, huh?”

The sunrise spread across Twilight’s cheeks to pinken the tips of her ears. “O-oh, um, aheh, yeah. I don’t know! I’m not used to having much of it myself⁠—well, outside of a laboratory or a classroom. I liked seeing Timber own what a goofball he is, even when it made me want to sock him one. And I also love how dauntless you are⁠.” As she spoke, Sunset’s eyes dropped to their hands fondly. “You’re so casual about it⁠—you make it look easy. It’s probably why all of that self-loathing took me by surprise.”

Their eyes met. The dawning light had softened their features.

Twilight sighed, “Sunny, I’m so sorry I missed how much you were struggling. My law of trouble magnetism theory didn’t help, did it? I should’ve known you were hurting and done something sooner.”

“You’re not the mind-reader here. I didn’t tell you. Besides, you still caught on and called me on my bullshit.” Fire crackled in her cheeks. I thought about marrying you when you threw me an intervention. She elected not to go there (yet).

Instead, Sunset pushed back her hair. “Point is I seriously like that in a girl. That, and confidence now that you mention it. That’s why I fell so hard for you after the Friendship Games. You had to accept yourself and fight your demons in front of the whole world. That kind of brave? Goddess level hot.”

“Then it’s decided,” Twilight murmured, clearly trying very hard to not stumble over her words or succumb to the Look that Sunset was giving her. “Self-love is sexy.”

“Oh, the sexiest.”

“Total turn on.”

The two of them shared the goofiest, most rebellious giggles.

Last night all their fumbling, stupid, wonderful lack of grace, the clear and loving communication they’d developed together really came in handy. Reading each other, knowing how to speak up about what to try and what to not and, somehow, even discovering these adventurous new sides to each other still felt like them. Their friendship, their love. Nothing changed, in the best way.

And holy hellhounds was Twilight handsy. Also super horny all the time? That had been a nice surprise. Sunset had always thought she’d be the frisky one⁠ (it would be fair to say Sunset was just as incorrigible, with her roaming, rough kisses). Damn, okay, she thought. Good to know...

Sunset would be a hot-faced liar if she tried to pretend flashes of the last night weren’t on her mind (and on her lips, on her skin, on her… elsewhere). She was savouring it, really. Especially in the presence of this brave, intelligent girl she felt lucky to call her girlfriend. Twilight had this twinkle in her eyes, considering her. “Well, let the record show, you were an excellent first. I couldn’t imagine anyone in your place.”

“Likewise, princess,” she said, winking. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you with all that Leader of the Rainbooms noise, but I did, I shouldn’t have. That was so unfair.”

“Apology accepted,” Twilight said. “I like the nickname, it’s still so sweet. The pressure? Not so much. Besides, personally speaking, I’d rather follow the real leader of the Rainbooms.”

Sunset laughed, mostly at herself. “Your funeral.”

She meant it as a joke, but saying it out loud sent her heart plummeting toward the pavement. Sunset grimaced. “You wouldn’t be the first…”

Twilight’s eyebrows settled over her eyes. She held onto her torso tighter.

Fidgeting with her hands over the edge of the railing, Sunset let the early morning quiet reign. “So I’m the leader. Maybe I can be a good one most of the time, but when it counts, I don’t know if I can trust myself. To make choices.” She raised her head to see the human world stretching out before her. The sparkling cityscape. “This no destiny thing is so damn new to me. I like it, but I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

For a little bit, Twilight took that in, just holding onto her. “Do you have to be?”

“What do you mean?”

Twilight rubbed her back where her wings had been three days prior when everything happened at Canterlot High. “No one needs you to be perfect, Sunset. Not even you’re an angel all the time. You turned it down, didn’t you? When you… you know…”

Sunset suppressed the rebuttal bubbling in her throat by accepting her girlfriend’s embrace. The hug they shared felt almost as overdue as their time together last night. There’d been lots of those already, of course. The thank god you’re not dead⁠—anymore kiss. All they’d done the night after the demon battles was be with each other. Be alive. Half the time Sunset couldn’t say what she was crying over, but it felt so good to do it together. This, too.

Foreheads touching, Twilight let out a breath between a laugh and a scoff. “I’m sorry. I guess I can’t say I’m not afraid of losing you anymore…” Before Sunset could comfort her, she parted to hold her girlfriend’s face in both hands, a thumb stroking her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

She was afraid she wouldn’t have a coherent answer for her⁠. How could she?

Then Sunset was saved by the bell: her stomach grumbled loudly. Ah. That one, I know. “Breakfast. I’m feeling breakfast,” Sunset said, gratefully. “I picked up some tofu bacon the other day, I can cook us up some of that with hash browns, fruit salad, waffles—the works. Lucky for you, you’ve stumbled across the best hotplate kitchen in town.”

As she raised up the window for them again, she heard Twilight’s little impressed noise. Sunset liked to think it was just because she was checking out her ass (it apparently wouldn’t be the first time). She gestured inside. “Let me cook us up some grub. Big day and all.” But then, she lost some of her steam, realizing. “Hey, are you going to be okay going to this thing?”

“‘This thing’…?” It seemed to actually take a second for the words to activate her sleepy genius brain, like feeling around in the dark for the On switch on an espresso machine. “Oh right, the coronation! Wow. Would you believe I hadn’t thought about it? Not even one obsessive anxiety spiral? I think that’s a new record for me.” Soft pink light fell over her cheeks. “Although, I should say I’ve been a little distracted, thanks to someone.”

“Happy to be of service,” Sunset said, hands behind her back like a waiter in a little coat, maybe a little too proud of herself which earned herself a light shove. “And, now that you’ve thought about it? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Maybe… maybe not. I guess we’ll see,” she sounded overwhelmed, but ready. “You?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Both of them giggled. Sunset sighed, arms crossed as she leaned back against the brick. “Okay, definitely not, but… in a good way, if that makes sense. Sorry to break it to you, babe.” Sunset Shimmer winked, leading the way back into her apartment in an after you fashion. “Your girlfriend’s gone totally soft on you.”

Ridiculous was a good word, Sunset had come to find. She used to think it could only possibly be an insult. And yet, not terribly long after Twilight had left Sunset’s to do the practical work of getting herself ready for the coronation, who should roll up in a rental Land Rover but Timber Brambleton Spruce with two garment bags hooked over his shoulder, and, of course, two ice creams.

He could’ve gotten himself all Spruced up at the Gala Galleria, or in Rarity’s mcmansion. Could’ve.

Just how he’d convinced Gloriosa to break his Camp Everfree lockdown-grounding for a day of interdimensional partying with no cell reception, Sunset couldn’t fathom. Well, not until Timber explained that the combined power of his and Flash’s doe-eyes was a force unto itself. That, she believed.

“Oh hey, our ride’s on its way!” Timber’s voice came through the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

“On it!” She gave one final spray of the rich perfume she’d gotten from a Canterlot boutique once. The one that reminded her of her mom’s scent, if she was honest with herself, with notes of clove and something like cake frosting.

When Sunset got word three days ago that the coronation would be postponed to today due to what the princess called “National Emergency Recovery Efforts,” was she shocked? Not whatsoever even in the slightest. If she’d been surprised, she wouldn’t have been paying very close attention to… any of Princess Twilight’s life, really.

All the same, there had been a part of her at the time that almost suspected foul play of the most thoughtful degree. Her mom always had an eerie way of just Knowing what Sunset had gotten up to⁠—it was hard to shake that paranoia (especially after her mom plucked her immortal soul from the eternal queue for a little ghostly stargazing session).

Regardless, even if the princesses hadn’t guessed that Sunset and her friends would need a few days to just not be in disaster-mode (and sleep for, on average, a solid fifteen hours apiece⁠), the timing worked out. But if she was honest with herself, which she was now in the business of being, disaster-mode was a hard devil to shake.

Sunset did her damndest to steer her eyes away from the mirror where she kept expecting demon eyes to stare back at her, checking only one last time, before leaving the privacy of the bathroom.

Up on her bedroom platform, she saw her best friend snuggling her purring cat in his arms. Timber beamed upon seeing her before letting Scruffers down and taking on a debutante’s air.

Sunset was left with no choice other than to wolf-whistle.

Suited in a decidedly upward direction, Timber descended the staircase like a prom queen ready for an embarrassingly long parental photo session. And, of course, he posed glamorously with his thumb and index finger in a V-shape at his chin, gesturing to his fancy crooked neck-ware. “Am I straight?”

Sunset snorted and with a little “c’mere, dummy,” fiddled with the bowtie he was referring to which, as it happened, was most definitely anything but. Her smirk fixed him in place.

“Does the hair work? Too much gel?” He pushed a hand over the styled back curls. “I kinda feel like Rarity pulled it off better.”

Re-tying the bowtie for him, Sunset raised an eyebrow. “No one pulls off you better than you. It’s a little much in a good way, if you ask me. You’d blend right in on a Manehattan street corner.” She finished up the bowtie and aimed a pair of finger guns his way. “Hella sophisticated, dude.”

Sunset hadn’t quite expected the crushing hug that walloped an oof out of her. After a second, Timber seemed to realize he’d committed a terrible sin by lifting a short girl off the ground (thereby calling attention to her height deficit) and blushed. “Oh, uh, sorry, I⁠—”

Sunset hugged his tall ass back to shut him up. It worked.

“...You can let go now, Sunset,” he muttered (only after getting his fill).

She obliged. For now.

Getting a good look at her, Timber got this hyper-serious consternation about him. “Uhhhh, excusez-moi? Were you just not gonna tell me you were going for red-carpet gorgeous? Seriously! Now I’ve gotta replan my whole day! You know, so I can walk like ten feet ahead of you at all times just to warn everybody about the bombshell coming their way.”

She would’ve hit him if he wasn’t right.

“Especially Twilight, geez. I’m... probably going to look away when she does, just, you know, for my own sake, but your girlfriend’s gonna go full on Heart Eyes over you. We should bring a napkin. She drools sometimes.”

Rarity deserved most of the credit, even if Sunset was the one rocking the look lethally hard. She made a note to buy the girl a sundae: double-fudge, triple toppings (referred to as the Rarity Special down at Sugarcube Corner). The one-shoulder dress Rarity had Sunset in had an asymmetrical edge to it and gold accents shimmering almost as resplendently as the Holy Sledgehammer. The latest addition to her Daydream collection.

“Maybe,” Sunset said, her tone suggesting definitely. She elbowed Timber’s side. “Watch Flash have a stutter-fest when he catches you in that, though. I’ll be the one videoing him. For non-blackmail purposes.”

The two of them cast bold shadows in the light of the apartment’s bay windows, especially as Timber did his best to look suave. “Yep. Those two don’t stand a chance.”

“Not a one,” Sunset agreed. She collected her keys into a matching clutch Rarity sent over that Sunset seriously hoped would translate to a small saddlebag. The portal hadn’t eaten any of her possessions as of yet. Still, a primal paranoia in the back of her brain whispered that she’d lock herself out of her apartment because her keys either A) disappeared from existence or B) turned into a puddle of rainbows.

The conversation with her landlady would suck. But that’s what the backup key hidden under a rock was for, Sunset supposed.

Collecting things into her purse, Sunset’s hand reached for a travel coffee mug off the side table that she’d been lugging around everywhere with her the last few days. She grimaced.

Timber hesitated by the door. “I think they’ll have plenty of refreshments at this thing. Unless, you know, you didn’t tell me it was BYOC.”

Holding it in both her hands, Sunset felt stupid for stroking a thumb on the side. “No, you’re right. There’s probably no use in bringing it to Equestria.” She’d filled it this morning on instinct during breakfast with Twilight, hadn’t even thought. She dumped the coffee down the drain of her old, stainless steel sink, the dark liquid circling the drain.

She didn’t realize she’d been watching it go down until Timber squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll make more coffee tomorrow, okay?”

“I know. Hell, if he was Solstice right now, he’d want us to have fun.” Then, in her best approximation of his stuffy, cultured baritone, she poked an awkward finger into her air. “‘Self-care! Work-life balance! Nurture your self-love!’”

Both of them broke into dumb giggles and the uneasy air eased off. Timber did an even better impression since he was working with a deeper vocal range. “Nurture it, damn you! Or so help me, I’ll make you a soothing tea!”

Sunset tossed her head back. They quickly had each other crying. Sunset was careful not to smear her makeup as she wiped under her eyes. “Dammit. I miss him so much.”

Careful not to smear his makeup that Sunset had done for him, Timber palmed both his eyes, letting out a strained sigh. “I know. And, just⁠—after all these years being forgotten about after spending just two months with campers⁠—I thought no one could possibly miss me. We didn’t even know Solstice for a full month and I feel like I lost my oddball, Griffish uncle.”

“Let alone your counsellor,” Sunset agreed.

“About that.” Timber rubbed his collared neck. “I’ve got a regular counsellor back in the Everfree region.”

Those words whacked into Sunset like walking full-speed into a street sign. “You what? But dude, all this time you were on my dumbass side not wanting to go to counselling. Why didn’t you tell me I was being a featherhead sooner?”

Timber grinned like he found something about her funny and shrugged. “Hey, there’s other ways to cope with life besides counselling. I wasn’t going to push it on anyone⁠.” She suspected he’d had other reasons at the time, but she didn’t feel like razzing him for avoiding feelings.

Mostly because she’d have absolutely none of her two legs or four hooves to stand on.

Timber reached into his suit jacket for his duct-tape craft-camp wallet. “For real, though. We’re still looking for Solstice, and hopefully, we find him soon, but who knows how long it’ll take?” He didn’t see her wince at that, filing through his cards. “Kind of seems like you could use somebody to talk to in the meanwhile. And, well, if you’re looking, my counsellor’s really great.”

He held out a card for her to take. Sunset froze.

Timber hesitated when she did. “I promise she won’t⁠—uh. You know. Go demon on you…”

Snorting, Sunset took the card in her hand.

Heart’s Brew Psychiatry.

Find your grief’s remedy.

Huh. That rhymes, she thought, turning it over. Along with a phone number and office location, she saw Timber’s counsellor’s name: Zecora, M.D.

Sunset could feel her chest constricting, like her dress had suddenly shrunk down a size. The idea of seeing anyone besides Solstice hit harder than she’d expected. All the same, she gave Timber a halfhearted smile. “Uh, thanks. I’ll think about it.”

Winking, Timber pocketed one of his hands in his pocket and stuck the other beneath one of the suspenders under his suit jacket. “Now, I do believe we have a princess to upstage?”

Sunset snorted, slipping the card into her purse and ripping open a grin. “Let’s not be too cruel. It’s her big day, after all.” She offered out her elbow for Timber to take, who did so happily. She grabbed her leather jacket to wear over her dress and shut the light off in her apartment on their way out. “Even if we will be the best looking best friends in the room.”

Before the door could swing all the way shut, Timber caught it. “Oh! Wait!”

“What?”

“My ear-flappy Northway hat,” he said, taking a few steps in the dark room to go search for it. “I left that by the couch when I was watching sitcoms with you. I should grab that, shouldn’t I?”

Eyes hooded, Sunset smiled. “Leave it. You can get it next time.”

Timber paused. As the light of the hall hit his face, his surprise collapsed into a warm, disbelieving smile. “Okay,” he said, before closing the door on their sit-com soundstage. “Next time.”

Between the go-kart rumble and gas station congestion inside the Rainbooms Tour Bus, Sunset usually didn’t like to read on board. Best not to push her luck. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Zecora’s card. Reading it over and again, she thumbed the thick cardstock.

Her heels sunk into the plush cherry carpet below the seat as the bus crested a speed bump like a speed-boat taking a wave. If Solstice was Solstice, she thought, would he feel like I’m giving up on him?

Sunset couldn’t fathom a Solstice in his right mind wanting anything for her but better coping skills—but he wasn’t in his right mind.

As the non-demon here, I know what’s good for him better than he does. I have to overrule what he would want⁠… don’t I? He still needs me, she thought, finally freeing her eyes from being chained to the card to look out the tinted, tempered window to the marine vision of Canterlot City parallax scrolling by. Assuming he’s out there somewhere...

She shoved that possibility out of her mind. He had to be.

While the bus rumbled at a stoplight, her eyes snagged on a graveyard⁠, Golden Oaks Memorial Cemetery and Mortuary. The various heights of headstones peaked out from half-melted snow. The shadows they cast on someone’s behalf. Tartarus, he would be skulking around a place like that. Her heart’s metronome ticked up, scanning the headstones. Probably reciting sad poetry aloud about how evil he is...

“Glad we didn’t find you there, huh?”

That gave Sunset a start. Sitting in her rainbow-pin-striped tux, Rainbow Dash had rested an elbow on the seat in front of her and a gentle smirk pocketing one side of her face.

In fact, all of her finely dressed friends were either listening or looking over their shoulders.

Sunset grimaced. “Oh, yeah… me too. Sorry about the whole dying on you thing. None of that was planned⁠.”

Rainbow’s dark blue eyebrows soared skyward, even with the still-pink scar slicing through the left eye and brow. “Wha⁠—? Dude, no. I meant that’s one of the places the Home Team checked for the other SunShim.” She jacked a thumb toward the graveyard as the bus pulled away from it.

Then what Sunset said caught up to the speedster. “Whoa... yeah. Seriously, seriously glad we didn’t find you there the… you know, the other way, ‘cause that...” Something darkened, shadows clouded over her expression as the square daylight angled away onto the tear in the seat’s fabric next to her instead. Stuffing poked out. She met Sunset’s eyes. “You good?”

“Oh, it’s okay if you’re not,” Fluttershy piped up, turned back towards them with Pinkie, in her pastel floral dress a seat up and over on the left. “Um, good.”

Rarity reached out from across the aisle where she’d stolen Timber away to give him tips on styling his hair and squeezed Sunset’s hand.

Sunset smiled downward. “I know. Thanks. Same to you, by the way. I know watching me die must’ve been⁠—” Her eyes sized up. “Holy Tartarus, what did you see when I died? Uh, not to bring up bad memories for you or anything.”

The girls and Timber exchanged a series of looks, but it was Applejack up at the driver’s seat who had the guts to say anything. “There was this big bug zapper kinda flash,” AJ said, engine rumbling. “Got too bright to look directly at⁠—you know like when we watched the solar eclipse together last summer?” Sunset caught AJ’s green eyes peering at her through the rearview. “Then, after that… you were gone.”

Timber shivered in his suit. “The worst part was I knew I didn’t teleport you anywhere. It wasn’t like there was a body leftover, either, you were just incinerated.”

Before Sunset’s mouth could fully form the words I’m sorry, Pinkie Pie popped up out of her window seat beside Fluttershy, leaning over the back of the seat. “Doooon’t you do it! Ub-bub-bup! What did we say about apologizing for dying and coming back to life?”

“Not to,” Sunset droned.

“If it makes you feel any better, hon, I wasn’t kiddin’ about the brightness n’all,’' Applejack said, turning a corner with the big, thin steering wheel. “We couldn’t watch you burn even if we tried, so we didn’t see nothin’ gruesome.”

“Thankfully, yes, even if I… must admit to being a tad paranoid now from time to time about your well-being,” Rarity spoke, and some of the others nodded, or gave a little yup.

Sunset snickered. All the love in the r-booms group chat had been her first hint. “Yeah, I kind of caught on. My phone’s been blowing up nonstop. Plus Pinkie’s Insert Excuse-Occasion-to-Come-See-Me Here cupcakes. I have about three dozen now.” She brightened. “I liked the buttercream fires on the chocolate ones, by the way.”

Pinkie gasped. “Aww, the Hooray for New Wings cupcakes! You noticed?”

“I devoured them.” And okay, part of that might’ve been needing to carbo-load and comfort food her way through the day after the demon battles (featuring Scruffles Cuddles), but Sunset had also appreciated opening the door to Pinkie hugs and cupcakes each time.

“Screw the groupchat,” Rainbow rasped, laughing, “We’re getting all the hangout time! Obviously, we’re still totally going to hype up Princess Twilight⁠—like dude, I’ve gotta tell her how awesome she is and catch up! It’s been too long! But also, man, I’m so beyond ready for us to hit up this rager!”

Cheers erupted from her friends, full of scattered phrases like “Party therapy!!! My favourite kind!” from Pinkie. Sunset cheered along and, heart overflowing as she babbled on with her friends, felt well and truly alive. If there were any doubts, her love for her best friends cleared it right up.

She resisted the temptation to keep looking through the windows at any empty, unremarkable shadows in the street.

To the end that she hadn’t noticed they’d pulled up by the Sentry family’s ranch-style house with the flagpole and the ancient oak tree out front. Underneath, Flash and Twilight talked the time away by the curb. While Sunset stretched to see if she could catch a glimpse, Timber bolted up, shuffled past Rarity, and patted the top of Sunset’s seat twice. “You stay.”

Grinning like a doof, Timber picked up speed down the aisle to whistles and cheers. He clambered down and met up with not just Flash, but Detective Magnus, who clearly wanted to take his son’s picture with his date despite Flash’s red face. Sunset snickered, noticing Timber calling out to his boyfriend’s dad in an approximation of Rarity’s accent.

Moments later, Twilight walked onto the bus.

For her part, Twi’s eyes climbed over the seats before she saw Sunset and she stopped, jaw decidedly dropped.

Pulse pounding, Sunset’s eyebrows raised up. Holy shit…

Sparks revived Sunset’s ashes. Head to toe. Like stoking a locomotive engine, steam pluming, the coal and cockles of her heart crackled. Their eyes met somewhere in between. Curiosity found understanding.

Thought and intellect sparkled in the depths of Twilight’s purple eyes. Spirit and heart, typically tempered by worry for everyone else around her, finally lifted her braces-straight smile for herself. As she did her best not to take a tumble in her heels, the incandescent bulbs lining the roof catalyzed the glitter on her dress, a universe of curves.

The woman Sunset loved didn’t need magic to glow.

Somewhere outside, the sounds of Timber making a scene for his boyfriend leaked through the bus windows. He whistled. Sunset snickered as Twilight rolled her eyes.

Sunset rose out of her seat to offer the window seat to the girl she couldn’t keep her smiling eyes off of. “Hey there, Sparks.”

“Um, wow,” Twilight burbled in response as she felt Sunset up with her eyes, her face more magenta than the streak in her hair. “Hey there yourself.”

On principle, the two of them avoided excessive PDA. Not because they were prudes, in fact, the opposite. In Sunset’s estimation, that stance evolved out of the dirty fun of their brief secret love affair that they… maybe hadn’t told their friends about the exact minute it started? (Partially because they hadn’t out and out defined what was going on between them until weeks had gone by). Better to play it coy. Hotter and considerate, a winning combination.

But, well. Exceptions could be made. Right now? Sunset didn’t give a damn who knew she had feelings. Sunset Shimmer kissed her girlfriend in a dip, hearing the bus erupt whoops around them.

Stealing this moment felt too good. Close enough to feel their breath mingle, to catch her girlfriend’s real scent below the sweet power of her lilac perfume. Just long enough to tease each other. A reminder that they both knew full well the depth of kisses they’d had last night. A ghost of their first time. A promise of their second.

Times like this gave her a distraction she sorely, sorely needed.

Parting before grand could spill over into raunchy (despite what some parts of Sunset had to say about it), there was something so endearing about the slant of Twilight’s glasses, but Sunset fixed them just the same. And when Twilight could properly see, she giggled. “Eheheh, I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re happy to see me…”

It took a second for Sunset to notice her wings had not only materialized, but caught on fire. Again. “Oh! Tartarus!”

Last night, that had been far more startling, given the blankets and flammable materials around them at the time, but Sunset really hoped she wouldn’t turn into a fire hazard every time.

“N’aww. Come on you two. Don’t get all hot and bothered!” Pinkie pounded out a rim-shot on the back of her seat and made a cymbal noise with her mouth. Rainbow Dash cracked a grin, Fluttershy hid her smile with a hand, and Applejack sighed deeply at the front of the bus.

Somewhere outside, Timber barked a “Ha!”

“Indeed.” Rarity clacked open a hand-fan that matched her dress with the words Born this Fabulous on it and began blowing air towards herself. “I’m so beyond thrilled you’re happy and you both look simply divine⁠—but I beg of you,” she choked out. “If the weeks of work I’ve done on our ensembles is ruined by running makeup it would be a Drakespearean tragedy!”

“Whaaat? But, Rarity, I thought you said gals like you couldn’t sweat,” Applejack called back from the front. “Whyever might your makeup run?”

For a solid moment, Rarity only glared, fanning harder. “Ladies glow, Applejack.”

Sunset patted down the flames to douse them out. Her own fire only felt like sticking her hand in a hot-tub. Her dress smelled a little smoky afterwards, but otherwise none too worse for the wear.

She couldn’t yet explain why it didn’t seem to burn through her clothes—she expected Twilight would want to experiment in depth to find out⁠—but for now, she was mostly just grateful. Definitely a unique kind of burn. If not phoenix feather flames, or a lumination spell, she would’ve assumed it was hellfire. That theory hadn’t been entirely disproven.

“—and it fits you so well!” Outside, now that Detective Magnus had left them be, she could hear the sound of Timber’s voice echoing down the block. “Seriously, I’ve gotta know: Is heaven missing an angel?”

Scaffolding boxed in the exposed openings and broken windows of Canterlot High. The back-up beeps of a front-end loader telegraphed a steady warning as the operator scooped bricks and mortar like raisin bran. A large orange and black crane lowered a new wall down as a site super waved it into place.

Sunset Shimmer’s lower back was delighted she wouldn’t be handed a trowel this time.

Sneaking into the staff parking lot had been a breeze on a Saturday. Although... not easy on all counts. The city still hadn’t impounded Solstice’s car, despite the tickets starting to pile on the windshield that Sunset knocked off like cobwebs off a tombstone. Her friends pulled her away after she checked to see if he was somehow secretly living somewhere in there.

Wouldn’t be any weirder than any of the other spots they’d looked.

The only folks they found onsite were filming⁠—which actually hadn’t been too unusual in the days afterwards. Their newsfeeds became odd mirrors, static shots of their school and battlefield turned into reporter b-roll. But instead of a professional camera crew, Juniper and Wallflower were hanging around to grab some bonus footage. Sunset told them to keep up the good work. She was sure this whole thing would need a good team behind it to tell the story right.

Coming around to the front of what was now an active construction zone, the lot of them babbling excitedly, Twilight hummed while watching a few of the workers letting their legs dangle off the rafters, taking an early lunch. “Wow, what a head rush,” she muttered, before smirking at the others. “I was about to strategize a plan for how we’re going to get through the portal without anyone noticing. Force of habit, I suppose.”

Flash’s face lit up like a Hearth’s Warming tree as they came up around the sidewalk. “Oh hey, yeah! No more hiding our paradoxes!”

Holding his boyfriend’s hand in his, Timber hummed. “Paradoxi?”

“That’s a load off, but you know, it wasn’t like we did that good of a job of bein’ inconspicuous-like to begin with,” Applejack chuckled, slowing so she wouldn’t outpace Rarity in her heels. “I’d bet ya Granny’s prize hog the mayor’s drowned up to her neck in paperwork and phone calls right about now.”

Fluttershy pursed her lips. “We’ll… have to send her a thank you basket. Or maybe several.”

Rainbow Dash just about bounced on every step. “Who cares about fruit baskets? If we’re giving her a thank you, she can have our buffet leftovers from Equestria!”

Sunset snickered. She enjoyed the simple pleasure of having Twilight on her arm and her friends by her side on a leisurely walk across CHS campus again⁠—without having to fear for their lives. “Not a bad idea. But, just gonna warn you now: she’s probably not going to get her snack on the same way that ponies do. Human digestive systems are more robust, but I don’t think we can handle a good hayburger.”

Not that she would know. Sunset would never binge eat hay once in a bout of intense homesickness. She would also never spend the following day regretting all of her life choices. Nope.

Glad that none of them seemed to notice the heat on her cheeks, Sunset cleared her throat. “We’ll, uh, go with a flower arrangement.”

In between catching snippets of Fluttershy and Flash talking music theory, or Rainbow, Pinkie, and Timber planning their sneaky assault on the chocolate fountain (because of course Princess Twilight would have one; in fact, they resolved to give her one if she didn’t have one, because what kind of no chocolate fountain Princess did she think she was?? It simply wouldn’t do, and the conversation shifted to where and how they’d find a chocolate fountain in Equestria), another sound came to her. The sound of heels clacking down the sidewalk from the front of the school.

Flash turned and his eyes bulged. “Principal Celestia?”

As Applejack whistled, Rainbow Dash picked her jaw off the floor. “Dang, PC!”

Heels leagues fancier than anything Sunset had ever seen their high school principal dare to wear matched the white and gold lounge dress that cascaded down the full length of her body. Principal Celestia smiled cordially. “I hope it’s not too odd to see the Principal outside of school hours.”

“That’s not the weird part,” Twilight promised, chuckling, neglecting to add the unspoken anymore. “You... want to go to the coronation with us? Do you think we need a chaperone?”

Principal Celestia shook her head (and despite how nice it was to see her, Sunset swore she heard a sigh of relief from somewhere among the unchaperoned teens). “Oh no, I should think you can handle yourselves. I just came by to check in on the construction crew, and noticed you all leaving. I hope you all have a lovely time,” she said. “Vice Principal Luna has decided on taking me out on the town. I hear Le Grand’s has an excellent waitstaff. I didn’t feel right using the play tickets Solstice gifted me while he’s… not himself. So my sister insisted we spend some time away from the couch before she’ll let me order more cake.”

Rarity nodded sagely. “A fair deal.”

Sunset was happy for her. She thought their principal deserved time out to relax, be a person. But even still, some anxious part of her wanted to rush past the small talk to get to the important stuff.

Perhaps Principal Celestia could see it in her face, because her countenance shifted the same way Princess Celestia’s did when the two of them used to exchange battle strategy. “Still no sign of him yet.”

Sunset nodded, albeit sinking a bit into her folded arms. “Yeah… same here…” She sighed as Principal Celestia hid her disappointment behind concern. “Should I stay behind to keep looking? Maybe we can expand our search downtown. I don’t want to leave you without backup if he returns—let me protect you.”

Celestia got this look in her eyes that Sunset used to hate. The you’re too young to be talking like that look. She laid a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “Burnout’s a dangerous thing, dear. Have a great night. Solstice would want you to enjoy your time.”

Sunset rubbed her neck. “Yeah… I know he would⁠—and I’m going to counselling again when all this is over,” she said, realizing she meant it. The pride on her friends faces when she said that all but confirmed her decision. It would be really good for me. And I don’t know if I can help Solstice anyway...I failed him. She bit her lip. “But...”

“If he comes back, well, you aren’t the only ones with magical powers anymore. Or other means of defense.” As Sunset’s mind raced to envision tanks rolling down the downtown plaza, Principal Celestia winked. “I have a coffee maker.”

Sunset chuckled along with the group, feeling the tension retreat from her shoulders, for now. “Oh, good. Sounds like you’re well-armed. I guess we’ll be seeing you then.”

“As soon as school reopens, that is,” Fluttershy added, watching the workers wheel out their old, charred band equipment.

“Monday morning always comes too soon,” Principal Celestia agreed, “I hope to see you all for a few afterschool catch-up exam prep sessions next week. Don’t think I’ll let your studies slide.”

Before Rainbow could offer up an excuse to get them out of it, Twilight’s eyes glittered as she raised a hand to her forehead in salute. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Rainbow Dash sighed, slumping. “Yeaaaah, I guess we wouldn’t…”

Sunset got a hug from the school principal. She was vaguely aware high school social rules would dictate that there should be almost nothing weirder or more embarrassing, but at the moment, she’d go out of her way for one if she had to. All of CHS and Crystal Prep could’ve seen for all she cared.

As she and her friends waved goodbye to the rebuilding ruins of CHS and their all too fabulous high school principal, giving and receiving well wishes for the fun nights ahead, it occurred to Sunset. That was probably the first time she hadn’t even thought to compare her to Princess Celestia.

New dawn, new day.

The funhouse space between dimensions smelled like the atmosphere after a lightning strike and, in Sunset’s opinion, tapioca pudding. Hard for a girl to keep her head together through there.

Even still, she angled herself for impact in the last second before exiting the rainbow candy swirl as it finished atomizing and restructuring her physical body. Sunset slid across the waxed crystal floor of Princess Twilight’s library into Equestria on her hooves like a snowboarder shredding powder to slow themselves to a stop. For a second, she blinked, waiting to see how she’d smash her face into the floor this time. When it didn’t happen she exploded up in joy. “YES!”

The rest of her friends weren’t nearly as practiced.

All of them fell victim to the journey through space-time and vertigo, the disorientation of their ex-human bodies being stretched and taffyfied. The rest of the Rainbooms lay in groaning heaps across the library floor. Poor Applejack looked a little green as Rainbow Dash rubbed her back. Rarity just seemed actively relieved to see everyone was still dressed and the portal hadn’t eaten all her hard work. Flash held his head. “Bluugh… wow… does that ever get any easier?”

“Yes and no,” Sunset said, holding back a laugh. She helped him to his hooves. “I’m a lot more experienced and even I still feel a little unsteady at first. It helps to close your eyes until the last second so you can aim.”

Flash blinked. “Wait, you still haven’t taught us how to aim!”

Sunset shrugged, helping her girlfriend straighten her crooked glasses. “I never said I was a good leader.”

“Goodness… I still can’t believe Princess Twilight lives here,” Fluttershy marveled, looking up to the vaulted crystal ceilings, and then over to the multi-floor bookshelves walling the room on nearly all sides. “Well, actually maybe it’s not that unbelievable.”

Surveying the heap, Sunset frowned mildly. “Oh hey, where’s Timber?”

Flash’s ballooning eyes and Twilight’s dropping jaw directed her across the room.

Sunset followed their eyes and boggled. “What.”

A slender-hooved creature stood across the room where he’d slid ragdoll style. Timber Spruce’s dizzied green eyes now peered out of a fluffy, elegant white-tailed deer. Wearing a full suit and tie no less. The gasp currently coming out of him as he twisted and turned in circles examining his new deer body was impressively long.

Sunset noticed the others, all of them ponies and decidedly not deer, goggling at him and as shocked as she was, she tried to comfort him. “Hey, dude, don’t feel weird or any⁠—”

“I’m a friggin’ deer!!!” Timber shrieked in delight. He clopped one of his tiny hooves against the crystalline floor, brightened further at the sound, and jumped on all four in a spread-eagle stance. He then proceeded to prance and bounce about the library in clumsy, four-legged hops. “Look at me! Flash! Look at me! I’m graceful!”

With a nudge from Twilight, Flash managed to blink himself out of his stupor as he and the others watched him loop around the room. “I see you, hon! Uh, way to go!”

He giggled maniacally as Pinkie called out, “Ooo! I wanna try!” and sproinged after him in a way that was a little too bouncy for a pony. But not for a Pinkie.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Sunset let out, as it finally hit her. “So that’s why I’ve never seen the other Timber before!” When she got a raised eyebrow or intrigued look from Applejack, Twilight, and Fluttershy, she went on. “The deer in Equestria are a pretty respected, closed off society in the Everfree Forest! We try to let them do their own thing, they kind of have a city-state called Thicket? They’re very in touch with nature in a way even ponies aren’t and that’s how they maintain their culture, I guess.”

Timber stopped mid-prance with Pinkie to gasp again. “There are other deer like me? I have a people?!”

Rarity caught a glance at the clock over the heavy doors to the library’s entrance. “Good heavens! Timber, dear⁠—” Rainbow Dash barked a HA! Rarity rolled her eyes. “Darlings,” she said, “I’m thrilled you’re having fun but we have a train to catch, do we not?”

All the years that Sunset Shimmer had pictured her own coronation, and all the more that she’d spent plotting revenge against Princess Twilight for hers, she’d never thought about the kingdom of it all.

She’d thought about the crown, the fineries, the ceremony, command of the Royal Guard, even every word of her Oath of Office. The pretense of humility she’d put on in her acceptance speech. The looks of pride or horror on Princess Celestia’s face when she’d either earn the crown rightfully, or take it for her own.

So, so much thought about that.

And, yeah, on some level, she’d thought she thought about the kingdom. The cheers of thousands, or their eternal obedience to her every whim…

She currently thought the old her could go suck a lemon.

What Sunset Shimmer had never considered once before she died, and what she was in total awe of now that she’d come back from the dead, was how excited she was to go be a part of the crowd. Watching it happen to somepony else.

The steam whistle echoed down around the curves of the mountains for miles.

The half hour train ride from Ponyville up to the mountaintop city of Canterlot filled Sunset with cresting waves of nostalgia she hadn’t felt in years. Last time she took this trip, an anxious knot twisted in her stomach thinking about what Princess Celestia might say to her when she saw her again for the first time since she ran away.

Now their train charged up to higher and higher altitudes toward the snow-softened peaks. The little sparkling ponds she’d played in as a foal or the rush of passing by waterfalls the size of her highschool. Sparkles on the water seemed to chase their train as they dodged in and out of mountain tunnels darker than the longest night. She could hardly contain her heart spilling over. Home.

She regaled the friends she called her family with stories from when she was young taking diplomatic trips across the country they could now see rolling out on all sides.

They rolled up to the nation’s capital in style. So, too, had many of the patrons of the Friendship Express who flooded forth on the platform before the train let out a dutiful sigh and chugged away to its next destination.

For her part, Sunset eyed the boxcars. “Huh, they must’ve renamed that line for Princess Twilight. That train used to be called the Celestial Central Railway when I was a filly; I took it all the time when I couldn’t be bothered to long distance teleport.”

“I’m learning so much,” Twilight squealed, in true tourist fashion. “I wish I could take notes!”

Sunset snorted as she watched Rainbow Dash try to glide alongside them to wobbly results. “There’s not going to be a test or anything.” It occurred to her who she was talking to and Sunset lowered her voice. “You... know that, right?”

Rolling her eyes, Sunset’s marefriend shoved her shoulder with her own. “I wish there was! Equestrian culture and history are so interesting, but especially because it’s your culture and history! You don’t talk about it a lot.”

Sunset’s brow lifted.

Twilight shuffled out of the way of a griffon along the cobblestone path bursting with life. She grinned at Sunset. “I love hearing stories from when you lived here! All the little pieces of what made you who you are⁠—big and small, good or bad. It’s all so fascinating! And it’s so rare I get to see you light up like this! I’d take a whole class on that.”

The others babbled their bits of agreement. That surprised her (and not just because she last heard Flash and Rarity gabbing about style tips for different body types, or Fluttershy schooling Timber on all the deer-related factoids she knew). More of her friends had been listening to her stories than she’d even realized, rapt to hear the parts of herself she hadn’t realized she’d stopped sharing.

Needless to say, Sunset’s heart toasted in her chest like the marshmallows they’d skewered on the beach last summer.

Hooves clip-clopping, Pinkie pounced down the cobblestone street with all the same energy she’d bring to bouncing down the halls of their high school way too early in the morning. “And c’mon, why would you ever wanna not be talking about this!?”

She gestured toward the market square ahead.

The streets of the capital on the mountaintop were as brilliant as postcards. Skies as open as a deep intake of mountain air. The proud blue of the Equestrian flag waved on zig-zagging banners strung above the clamour of a country raising their heads to the same sky all at once⁠. Creatures great and small carted their way past the minstrel band singing folk songs of the Heroes Six (RD slipped them a twenty when they got to a verse about Rainbow the Loyal and the bard seemed baffled by the strange paper currency).

Between the spellfire lamp-posts and turret-like shops⁠, the wafts of freshly-baked honey oat bread danced with the rich, fiery smell from the kiln from the freshly made Princess Twilight tchotchkes. Sunset noticed her friends gaping around and smirked. “And you people wonder why I wanted to rule this place.”

While she really wished they could stay longer to take in the scenery of her hometown, they were already running late as it was. They could spend all day getting sidetracked down side streets or backtracking down back alleys, replaying Sunset’s foalhood in real-time, but they had a coronation to catch.

The beauty of living in a castle town: Sunset always knew how to find her way home. Once upon a time, it used to feel like the entire world revolved around Canterlot Castle. The place loomed larger than the mountain peaks it overtook. Finding herself shuffling down its vast drawbridge, shooting a salute to the guards in the gatehouse, was better than any driveway.

Of course, the Royal Guards gave them a thorough pat-down, but the real arbiter of fun stopped every guest at the gate. Sunset swore in human.

Perceptive as ever, Flash frowned. “What’s wrong? You didn’t forget the invite, did you?”

At that suggestion, Rarity’s glare looked ready to push Sunset into the moat. Applejack held her back.

“Nah, got that.” Sunset pulled the half-charred purple envelope out of her saddlebag before she found herself supersoaked. “Just wasn’t expecting to see an old friend.”

Whilst under Princess Celestia’s watch, the only pony Sunset could ever find that had a straighter edged pole stuck up their flank than the princess had been the royal scheduling advisor Kibitz. Even all these years later, Sunset found herself resisting the urge to fix her posture as she sauntered over. “Hey there, teach. Long time no browbeat.”

Standing behind a podium, Canterlot Castle’s majordomo brayed, gobsmacked. “My, my, great merciful Celestia!” His bushy moustache flounced, his monocle nearly popped out. “I saw your name on the guestlist but I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe… young madam Sunset, as I live and breathe! And terribly late as ever!”

There it is. Sunset rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s the first thing you say to me. Hey look, I’ve got a personal invitation from the Princess herself, signed and everything, so you can’t kick us out.”

Kibitz inspected her invitation as if checking for signs of fraud. “Yes, yes. I would hardly believe it were you if you were on time. Slept in ridiculously late, I suspect,” he tutted, but there was almost something warm to the way he shook his head. “Oh, the castle has been so terribly quiet without the pitter patter of little hoodlum hooves sneaking out…”

Sunset faltered when she saw him getting nostalgic for the first time in… ever. “Careful, Kibz, you almost sounded happy to see me.”

The chief chaperone’s moustache masked his mouth but his eyes misted and shimmered. He swelled up straight and eventually said, “Quite. Welcome home.”

The sound of not too distant horns blasting in the court made Kibitz bluster, harrumphing huffily. “It’s starting!” he squawked, alarming the others. “Blast! How many times must I remind you fashionably late is a myth?!”

In the mad dash to their seats, Rarity called back, “When we’re late, I beg to differ!”

Laughing and whooping like idiots, the lot of them hoofed it through the open-air corridor, hooves thundering. Despite their fancy dress wear, the adrenaline had Sunset feeling like normal stupid kids for the first time in far too long. They still had to get through the gardens, but they could see the balcony overlooking the courtyard ahead. Their hollering hushed down the closer they got, to minimize disruption as much as equinely possible.

Thankfully, Princess Twilight had that covered for them.

As Sunset and company snuck into her coronation, Princess Twilight fumbled her new crown as if given a football after never playing a sport in her life, eliciting a gasp from the attendees that easily masked their hoofsteps.

The Twilight from Canterlot High sunk as she trotted after Sunset, muttering, “That… looks about right, actually. All this time I assumed the princess me must be graceful.”

Timber bounced gracefully alongside her. “I told you: bumbling and blundering. A Sentry and Sparkle specialty.”

Twilight stuck her tongue out at him and Flash snickered along with Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash, who all got shushed by Applejack. They were now close enough that they’d be heard if they were too loud, especially with the hush that had fallen over the crowd. Up above on the balcony, Princess Twilight cleared her throat.

“I guess it wouldn’t be my coronation if something didn’t go awry,” she groused with an amplification spell cast on her voice, but it got a laugh from the gathered audience.

Sunset found a shortcut through the topiary and waved her friends over.

“My fellow Equestrians, creatures great and small. I so solemnly vow to live up to the spirit of our loving nation, the sparkle in the eyes of every creature. Just as Princesses Celestia, Luna, and Cadance have done before me.” Sunset didn’t need to look to know Princess Twilight looked back at the princesses behind her⁠—which was good, because she was too busy hopping a fence.

“But even as I stand with you here today⁠—” Sunset’s hooves thwomped the ground in a row of priceless chrysanthemums. “—I’m reminded of the creatures we united together against; those who, once upon a time, I’d hoped might be here to celebrate our victories with us, and perhaps, their own in kind.”

Right up ahead, she could see their open table through the brush. As her friends flopped over the fence, Sunset lingered at the ugliest garden statute she’d ever seen. Three creatures: a small filly, a lanky changeling, and a bulky centaur. Terrified, confused, and enraged.

“For the safety and betterment of us all, they’ve been sealed away in stone; now reduced from the hope of who they could have been, or the reality of who they were, to examples of what never to become.” Sunset’s heart wrung itself in her chest. She reached out a hoof to the marble, but faltered. “Chance after chance, they chose to revel in the dark of their hearts.”

Timber poked his little deer head back in the garden for her and Sunset bit her lip following after him.

“Others, who I love and admire, have made better choices,” she said as Sunset entered the grand courtyard. “Faced with the night in their hearts, they saw the error of their ways. They could finally see the hurt that they’d caused to those who would be their friends, and, the direction of their lonely path.”

At first, Sunset couldn’t help but wonder when the princess was going to namedrop her explicitly. It felt obvious who she was talking about. But, she realized, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

As Sunset took her assigned seat, she could look out among the gathered crowd of misfits lucky enough to get a front row seat to the event of the century. Starlight Glimmer and this world’s Trixie, a unicorn with a broken horn, a grumpy looking griffin, a draconequus with a knowing smile⁠—as far as Sunset knew, the last of his kind. So many of them captivated (or outright attacked) by what the princess had to say.

How many other times has she changed someone’s life? The thought boggled Sunset’s mind, and as in character as it was for the Princess, the sheer amount of friends she’d made out of enemies was staggering. But she supposed Princess Twilight didn’t deserve all the credit.

“And so, instead, they chose to change!” Sunset held her marefriend’s hoof, and winked at Timber. “Day by day, they charted themselves a better course, courses toward the love and friendship they had always deserved.”

Up above, Princess Twilight held her heart. “I count myself lucky to have watched these journeys unfold. Just as my own friends feel about me! Your Princess of Friendship was quite the recluse for most of her life. I didn’t know there was a better way. I’ve been there, too.” Sunset’s eyes dropped. “So now, I’m forever left asking. When can I expect others to know how to choose the goodness in themselves?”

Sunset’s brow drew together, and she raised her eyes to the balcony above.

Queen Twilight offered a smile to her kingdom. “I implore you good creatures to always ask that kind question, as too shall I. I’m honoured to lead that great adventure and I strive to live up to this, the promise of Equestria. Today, we celebrate a new era of Friendship, curiosity, and learning the ways of the heart!”

Applause detonoted all around, but none cheered louder for their new queen than the pony who would never be a Princess of Equestria.

All of Equestria would be celebrating tonight, but only a lucky few were invited to the VIP afterparty. Princess Twilight had so, so, so many friends, allies, and acquaintances. How exactly the guest list was even narrowed down from the population of the whole country, Sunset had no clue. Only by the magic of Pinkie Pie, probably.

But she did know that the private grand ballroom had historically been host to the world’s most influential dinners. Discussions of war, business dealings, alliances between nations. And she knew because she’d been bored out of her skull at most of them.

Unsurprisingly, Princess Twilight had a better way in mind.

The Grand Ballroom was now filled with creatures from all over. Misfits all excited to find their table-clothed seats and enjoy the music courtesy of Vinyl Scratch and Octavia, a truly weird but delightful duet. The intricate gold paneling of the windows encased a gorgeous night full of fireworks as their backdrop. Better yet, the dance floor already had a few takers, even as the guests arrived on the scene.

Sunset even spotted a familiar face or two⁠—Starlight was too distracted with this world’s Trixie, trying to prevent her from setting off fireworks indoors. She hadn’t expected those two to be so close. She’d absolutely have to razz Starlight about that later.

The Rainbooms whistled and giggled at the ballroom ahead of them. Flash looked in total awe. “So much better than streamers in the gym.”

“It’s everything I ever could have dreamed,” Pinkie Pie sniffled, tearing up. “The perfect party. It’s the Shangri-La of shindigs! Looklooklook they’ve got a starry ice sculpture! And a chocolate fountain!”

“And a bar!!!” The word ripped out of Rainbow Dash’s mouth as soon as she spotted the bartender polishing glasses opposite the DJ booth. Of course, the Rainbooms bombarded the bar at once.

While her friends raced over, Applejack moseyed with a raised eyebrow. “Y’all know we don’t have ID here, right?”

“And we’re underage,” Twilight protested, although her eyes were definitely lingering on the shiny bottles stacked on the wall behind the bartender.

“Maybe back home.” Sunset smirked. “The Equestrian drinking age is a little lower than what we’re used to. We’re all over sixteen, right?”

Timber wiped his forehead. “Phew, just made it.”

As what she said dawned on them, their teenage revving at the start line with the possibilities laid before them. Sunset leaned a hoof on the bar. “Hey, barkeep. What’s your name?”

“Berry Punch,” said the boysenberry-coloured mare in a suit and bow-tie, polishing a glass.

“We’re going to be excellent friends, Berry. I’m Sunset. So, what does a mare from another dimension have to do to get a drink around here?”

Berry’s eyes lit up. “You’re Sunset Shimmer! Princess Twilight warned me about you!”

Sunset’s face dropped, eyes widening. “She⁠—she did?”

“Mm-hm!” Berry ducked below the bar and for a second Sunset’s heart ducked down with her. Then, the barkeep brought out a small scroll. “‘Sunset Shimmer most likely does not have an Equestrian ID due to her extensive foreign dignitary work in the faraway land of North Amareica. I, the Queen of Friendship, hereby grant her and her friends temporary license. Have fun!’”

Rainbow Dash chortled, shivering with excitement. “Princess Twilight is so cool.”

“No arguments here,” Sunset said, a touch of relief in her voice, because wow, it would’ve been such a bummer to promise her friends drinks only to be sent to the kiddie table. Still, she noticed Fluttershy lagging behind and softened. “Hey, so, ground rules: Anypony who isn’t comfortable drinking, I can hook you up with a killer fruit punch. Right, Berry?”

“Right, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset hummed. “Ooo, I like the sound of that…”

Fluttershy bit her lip. “Oh, I hope I wouldn’t be spoiling our fun though…”

Applejack clapped Fluttershy on the shoulder with almost too much strength. “Are you kiddin’, girl? The DD is the most fun!”

Meanwhile, Flash’s eyes seemed to glaze over looking at a drinks menu that he perused with the others saddled up next to him. “Oh wow, there’s so much… where, uh, where do we start?”

Sunset threw a look over the menu and nodded to herself. She’d, in truth, only gotten to sneak so much booze under Princess Celestia’s watchful eye over the years, but she remembered where the bad hangovers were on that list. “I’d say… Nectar of the Gods,” she said. “Eight glasses, please.”

“Coming up!”

Twilight’s eyes filled out her glasses. “What percentage of alcohol content are we dealing with here?”

“Dunno. I’ll make sure we don’t drink ourselves stupid, if that’s what you’re asking. Or, too stupid, at least. I have family here.” Sunset put a hoof on her marefriend’s back and winked. “I’ve got you tonight, babe.”

That seemed to relax Twilight’s shoulders a bit.

So, of course, Sunset had to add, “Hey Berry, a little extra for the girlfriend!”

Twilight shoved her, giggle-snorting all the while.

The golden bubbly liquid filled eight glasses in a neat row across the bar. It reminded Dash to say, “Oh my god, dude, we totally have to do shots later! Shots! Shots! Shots!” The group of them chanting shots seemed to get a subtle smile out of Berry. If most of her patrons weren’t bubbling over with excitement, Sunset thought she was serving boring crowds. She served up Fluttershy’s fruit punch, too.

All of them took a glass⁠—some quite delicately in their new hooves⁠—and Sunset raised hers in her magic. Felt good to be flexing that old muscle again. “Finally, I get to drink with you dorks! Now the party can really start! What do you want to toast to on the first drink?”

The others considered it, and Timber raised his glass. “To Solstice.”

Sunset’s heart burned in her chest as she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “To Solstice.”

Their glasses clinked.

After a single sip, Timber beamed to his best friends. “Oh wow! So this is what being drunk feels like!”

“Dude, yes! We’re getting so wasted!” Dash gushed, looking like she’d downed a full energy drink all in one go.

In Sunset’s estimation, they wouldn’t really know what wasted felt like until a number of glasses later (if at all). She tried not to laugh at them. As best she could, at least.

That worked fairly well, all things considered, until Sunset heard Flash behind her saying, “I’ll take a changeling whiskey, on the rocks.”

Sunset snorted. “Whoa, dude, easy there, you wanna finish your first drink⁠ first⁠—”

She nearly spilt her drink when she saw Flash Sentry in reflective golden armour, his short-cropped mane rocking a bit of helmet hair as he rested his golden helm and spear at the foot of the bar. Sunset rubbernecked the other direction to see her Flash Sentry gaping at his interdimensional counterpart with a rosey blush that definitely hadn’t come from the barest sip he’d taken of his drink.

Timber bit his lip, eyes plinking between the two Flashes. “Two angels,” he said, looking down accusingly at his drink. “I must be in heaven, huh?”

Flash ignored him for once, stumbling forward as if in a Siren-sung-stupor. “Uhhhh… you’re… uh…” Flash breathed, “hi.”

The Royal Guard appraised the threat that had approached. He had something of a guarded look. “Do I… know you from somewhere? Are you a soldier?”

“Oh no, nonono, uh, well, my dad is, was. Now he’s a force detective, but...” Flash shook his head, remembering himself. “Sorry, this is weird. It’s gotta be even weirder for you, but I’m⁠—uhhhhhh?” He couldn’t help but notice his other self staring at him intensely.

The Royal Guard got his drink but didn’t seem to notice. “It’s the strangest thing,” he muttered. “You look like my father who I haven’t seen in a millennia.”

Flash’s brow drew together.

“I was a resident of the Crystal Empire before it… disappeared for a thousand years thanks to the tyrant King Sombra.” He spat out the words and Sunset saw Twilight take a long gulp of her drink out of the corner of her eye. This Flash didn’t seem to have a sense of humour, really. Sunset much preferred theirs. The Guard shook his head. “Ponies these days tell legends of the great Flash Magnus.”

“That must be hard to live up to,” Flash said. “At least you’re in pretty good shape.” When he got a raised eyebrow from a confused guards-stallion, Flash looked equally as baffled. “You’re a royal guard for a princess, right?”

The Guard nodded. “That’s nothing compared to my father.”

Flash clapped his interdimensional counterpart on his clinky armoured back. “Hey, man. Don’t sell yourself short. I think you deserve a little body positivity…”

Sunset would’ve liked to hear that conversation. Really, she would. But all of her attention was stolen away the minute she saw the next patrons of the bar stopping dead before them: Princess Twilight’s five best friends in all Equestria stood before the Rainbooms. Their exact mirrors. “Well, well, well…” the Equestrian Rainbow Dash said, flying above her four other friends. “‘Sup, newbies?”

For a stunned second, it seemed like no one could move, their expressions nigh mirrored back at them. To the point that the Pinkies decided to actively try to mirror each other’s crazy movements and faces by dancing in place, waving, making faces at each other, until they each booped the other on the nose and giggle-snorted. “Whee! This is fun!”

“Oh great,” Sunset’s Rainbow said, her snout wrinkling. “Surround-sound.”

“Oh goodness,” Equestrian Fluttershy uttered, finding herself staring back at her. “Twilight said you’d look exactly like us but I didn’t think she meant this exactly like us…”

Fluttershy murmured, looking into her non-alcoholic fruit punch. “You’re telling me…”

The Equestrian Rarity took the opportunity to offer out a hoof to her (for some reason) younger self. “Rarity? I’m er, well, I’m Rarity. Charmed. Might I say, what a fabulous ensemble! Set of ensembles! I presume you designed these all yourself?”

Rarity shook her own hoof, “You presume correctly! And I presume the simply gorgeous formal wear you and your friends are wearing are also a Rarity original?”

“Right again, darling! Quite the clever one!” They both laughed at their own joke.

Sunset’s Applejack stared at them. “Oh lord…”

“You must allow me to pick your brain on that cross-stitching! And is that a satin croup stitch I see?”

“Oh you’re one to talk, darling, I must know how on earth you designed around the proportions of a pony…” The two of them wandered off to gab each other’s ears off.

Equestrian Applejack sighed in unison with the highschool senior AJ. Both of them said at once: “I need a drink.”

“I’m buyin,” AJ told her, her cup somehow already empty.

“Boy howdy. Remember when we were farmers?” Equestrian AJ asked as she took a seat at the bar. “These days I hardly have the time! Between teachin’ classes and savin’ the world, I’m tellin’ ya. Remember when the biggest thing we had to worry about was fertilizing the back forty before dark instead of lassoing in all our friends’ and their feather-headed tomfoolery?”

She and Canterlot High AJ smiled, staring off into the far distance.

“Yeah.” CHS AJ matched her counterpart’s knowing smile. “The good ol’ days sure were boring, huh?”

“Eeyup.” She knocked one frothing, alcoholic cider tankard against the other.

CHS Fluttershy seemed a bit timid in approaching the other, but the older Flutters offered a kind smile. “This must be quite odd for you to see. Are you alright?”

“Oh, um, it’s not your fault I’m a little shaken,” she told herself, resting a hoof over her no doubt pounding heart. “I get shaken very easily...”

Fluttershy nodded, her smile lighting up. “Oh, I do, too. I feel the same way!”

CHS Fluttershy raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Well, it’s the way I am, and I guess it’s the way you are, too!” She held up a matching glass of fruit punch. “Over time I’ve learned that that’s a fine way to be. Maybe there are some ponies who think being easily scared or introverted are bad things, but that doesn’t mean I have to think that way. It works for me and I wouldn’t want to be anypony else.”

CHS Fluttershy looked in awe of her other self. “I suppose you’re right. Being someone else is exhausting. You shouldn’t have to change yourself.” She bit her lip, clearly deciding if she should take a risk here. “Have you ever heard of a band called Skullcruncher?”

Meanwhile, the Rainbow Dashs had other ideas.

Equestrian Rainbow Dash flew around the other in circles, like a general assessing a new recruit; and the recruit, for her part, seemed to look over the other just as skeptically. “So,” Equestrian RD said, a hoof to her chin. “You’re your world’s Rainbow Dash, huh?”

“Yup! The one and only best Rainbow Dash!”

The Wonderbolt’s eyebrows raised. “Whoa, wait, what?” She seemed to stare off into the distance, muttering, “Is that what I sounded like?” before setting her jaw to the side. “So what? You think you’re hot shit?”

“Hard not to think what I know,” she quipped.

The Wonderbolt landed directly in front of her. “Hang on, newbie, there’s no way you’re the best Rainbow Dash. What are you, like, twelve?”

“I’m seventeen and a half. I’m in my prime!” she said, puffing out her chest. “What are you, forty???”

The Wonderbolt snorted. “Twenty seven, and wouldn’t matter if I was! Try experienced. That’s way more awesome than some dumb punk kid! I’m a Wonderbolt!”

RD crossed her hooves. “Yeah? Well, I’m the Wondercolt captain of all the sports teams in school.”

“Yeah?! Well, I’m the youngest ever to make the most elite flight group in Equestria! How well can you even fly over there in monkey land, anyway? How many Rainbooms have you done? What are your stats, huh? What’s your highest divebomb?”

CHS RD paled at that last part. “Uh⁠—what do stats matter next to actual ass-kicking? See this scar?” She gestured to the newly formed scar cutting through her left eye. “Got that defending my friends from an evil demon lord. Beat that.”

“Yeah? Well, I got this one fighting the lord of chaos himself! He’s kind of our friend now or whatever⁠—but that’s beside the point!”

“You wanna go? You wanna go?!” The highschooler seemed intent on goading the one pushing thirty into a fight and it looked like she wouldn’t get it.

Not until the Wonderbolt reared back around on her. “Push-up contest! Go!”

Both of them got down in their dress and tuxedo respectively and started doing pushups on the ballroom floor. They counted out each rep as they went. Sunset was tired just looking at them.

Then again, she was also tired looking at the Pinkies trying to crack each other up and being successful at it. They’d sat themselves at a nearby table that the human Pinkie was pounding a hoof on. Equestrian Pinkie giggle-snorted. “Wow, talk about laughing at your own jokes!”

“Ha! Aww, you’re so funny, Pinkie! We should hang out in your party cave again sometime!”

“Thanks, Pinkie! You too! Or us two, as the case may be! Wheee!” The two of them burst into another round of giggles.

“This is terrifying,” Sunset mumbled below her breath to Twilight, who nodded with fear.

“I’m not certain the multiverse won’t implode from their interactions alone,” Twilight said, watching one Pinkie pull a water-squirting flower on the other, only for that Pinkie to meet it with a hoof-buzzer from apparently nowhere.

Timber hummed, lip poking out. “Not with a bang but with a⁠—”

A whoopie cushion made the sound of a particularly wet fart.

Timber beamed at Twilight’s staple-shaped frown. He ribbed her. “Not a bad way to go! Beats heat death!”

“I’m not too sure it does,” she groused, but then took a breath. She watched Timber taking interest in another deer, comparing the little wiggle of his triangle tail. “Regardless, I’m glad it’s so easy for everyone else to meet their counterpart. It can be a lot.”

“Yeah, and not having a counterpart is no walk in the park either,” Sunset said, staring into the bottom of her glass. When she noticed Twilight and Timber looking at her, she continued, “It’s kinda nice, but in a weird way it’s a lot of pressure. Nopony else is responsible for my choices, or can tell me what to do. All of it’s up to me, you know? What happens when I choose wrong?”

Before either could answer, a voice across the ballroom rang from the double-doors. Spike, here a dragon in a tuxedo instead of a Pomeranian, called out to the gathered guests. “Fillies, gentlecolts, and, uh, well, everybody else! We’re so glad you could make it, thanks for coming out!” He got a cheer from an oddly coloured changeling. “All rise for the new Queen of Equestria: Princess Twilight Sparkle!”

A pair of royal trumpeters played a riff before giving the cheering crowd what they wanted: the dork they all came here to see. Princess Twilight had, at some point in the day, changed out of her fancy coronation dress, because of course she had. Sunset just knew if it was her, she’d be wearing the tiara and dress for weeks on end afterwards just to lord it over everyone. Ponies would’ve had to claw them away from her cold dead hooves.

Her undead hooves applauded with the others, watching Princess Twilight make the rounds to say hi to all her guests.

While the others were occupied with their other selves, Sunset thought to go give her congratulations. She hadn’t planned on Twilight and the boys tagging along with her⁠—she didn’t want to put pressure on her Twilight to talk to Princess Twilight when she wasn’t up for it⁠—but she soon found Twilight, Flash, and Timber outpacing her on a warpath to Princess Twilight, who turned around from grabbing some hayfries at the buffet.

Before Sunset herself had the chance to get a word in edgewise, Twilight stalked up to her counterpart and narrowed her eyes. “You.”

“Oh, Twilight! It’s been so long⁠—”

“You killed Sunset Shimmer?!” Twilight asked, probably a little louder than she meant to, but she didn’t back down. She stood almost protectively in between the princess and her marefriend. “You obliterated her instead of coming to earth to have a conversation like a normal person?!”

Princess Twilight tittered. “O-oh, well, uh, yes technically she may have been deceased for a little bit but⁠—”

“A little deceased?” Flash asked, standing just as protectively in front of Sunset now who knew to let these dorks get this out of their systems. “That’s our best friend!”

“Well, of course, but⁠—”

“You don’t think she’s been through enough?” Timber erupted forth, to the point that Sunset was surprised there weren’t flames shooting out of his chest. “Ugh. Classic Twilight!” The human world’s Twilight nodded angrily beside him.

Princess Twilight made a face. “Er, who are you?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “And it didn’t occur to you to at least give us a little warning?” She folded her arms, looking dead-eyed with how snarky she was at the moment. “Or would communication have been too much trouble for the Princess of Friendship?”

Princess Twilight flailed into her shoulders. “That’s how it happened to me! I thought that’s just how ascending to alicornhood worked.”

“And another thing!” Flash took a long drought of his drink, summoning the courage to politely utter, “Interdimensional princess or not, I would have appreciated a conversation to at least close the loop between us.”

The pink on Princess Twilight’s cheeks blossomed. “Oh, um, gosh. I’m so sorry, you’re right. That was unfair to you.”

Flash nodded and relaxed into a smile. “Thanks. Congrats, by the way. And in the spirit of closing the loop: meet my boyfriend, Timber Spruce.”

Eyes wide from watching his friends lean into her, Timber the coltfriend gave a little wave. “Heya. I’m the new boytoy. Or stagtoy?”

Princess Twilight’s nerves melted into a smile. “Timber Spruce? Sunset’s mentioned you before. Aww, that’s⁠—wow, really? That’s great! I’m so happy for you two.”

Twilight also took the moment to offer out her hoof. “And I’m really happy for you. This is huge. Queen of an entire nation? How did that happen?”

Princess Twilight giggled, gratefully shaking what was technically her own hoof. “My friends somehow kept me sane.” She brightened, a sly smile overcoming her features. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Sunset Shimmer in the past few months. Almost nonstop.”

Before Twilight could stammer out some blushed remark, Princess Twilight’s eyes sparkled. “Not the least of which being magical and human world technological integration?! That sounds incredible! I could never think of something like that in a million years!” She muttered something about not having the chance now that tugged a bit at Sunset’s heart, but she let it slide.

Mostly because it gave Twilight the opportunity to blush furiously. “You… want to know about my research?”

“Absolutely! It sounds remarkable! We should really catch up sometime⁠—er, when I’m not burning your marefriend alive.” She offered a shaky smile, definitely getting the message that she wasn’t completely off the hook for that yet. “The amount of research that goes into a project like that, and all the time you get to spend just observing your friends and their magic… your life sounds like a dream. I almost wish we could trade places! It feels like it’s been moons since I just got to sit down and read a book.” It was at that moment that Princess Twilight most resembled a wartime wife out on the widow’s balcony, wistfully waiting for the day when her lover would return. “I miss books.”

Timber raised an eyebrow, poking his nose in. “Trade places, you say?”

Sunset bapped him.

Twilight hummed. “It is a dream. You should try it sometime. From one Twilight to another, I totally recommend it. But it’s not like you’re not living one yourself. I really hope you enjoy it.”

Princess Twilight thanked her other self who left with the boys to hit up the bartender for a refill, but that left Sunset to catch the little catch in the princess’s breath.

Left to reveal herself from the crowd, Sunset Shimmer gave Princess Twilight a smirk. “Congratulations, princess.”

“Sunset!” The ruler of the free world pounced on her, wrapping her hooves around her back. “You made it! You’re okay! And wow, oh my gosh, I honestly wasn’t expecting you to still have your wings! I didn’t know that was possible.”

Sunset glanced down at them, trying not to flex. She shrugged. “Yeah, me neither. That’s kind of my thing. Kind of seems like it’s your thing too now, Miss First Queen in Equestrian History.” With one hoof still slung around her, Sunset lightly socked her one.

Princess Twilight sunk into her shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll ever live that coronation down. It would’ve been so much easier with you there to talk some sense into me.”

“Hey. You’re going to do great without me.”

Something seemed to swell behind her eyes, but whatever it was, Princess Twilight just nodded gratefully.

Just then Princess Cadence’s voice sounded out across to them. “Twilight! Sunset! We saved your seats!”

Right next to the bar and the multiples of their friends, the head table sat with the most influential mares in the universe, and two open seats. Princess Luna made faces at a young foal Shining Armour seemed to be trying to get to sleep. Princess Celestia took a sip of her sparkling cider. Princess Cadance waved them over.

Princess Twilight brightened and started over as Sunset stopped in her tracks. “I’m… sitting with you?”

Princess Twilight turned back. “Oh, well, technically you have two seats. I figured you’d want to sit with your friends tonight⁠—plus I think Starlight wanted to see you⁠—and we won’t keep you for long! But yes.” She smiled lightly. “We wanted you to know you’ve always got a seat at the table with us.”

Sunset smiled, following after her through the jungle of party patrons migrating towards the dance floor.

Her heart beat harder than the speakers blasting out a dance jam. She took her seat next to Princess Twilight and felt the welcoming swoon of a table of eyes all glued to her and her new wings. Princess Cadence brightened “So the legends were true,” she said, eyebrow angled. “There’s a new alicorn in Equestria after all.”

“Only for a few drinks,” Sunset said, raising her chalice.

Cadence levitated a sippy cup of fresh Sweet Apple Acres apple juice to her daughter. “I heard! I can’t believe you said no.”

“I can’t believe you got to call Princess Celestia mom!” Twilight squawked, definitely not reddening.

“Yes, it was all quite a shock,” Princess Celestia agreed. Sunset found her eyes for the first time since tossing the word out so casually. In front of her sister and her pupil no less. “But a welcome one. Luna thinks motherhood suits me.”

The distant pop of fireworks punctuated the feeling in Sunset’s chest as her mom smiled at her.

Princess Luna seemed to be biting back some retort about Celestia’s age, so she and her new niece shared a snicker across the dinner table. Sunset liked her new aunt already.

“I must admit,” Princess Celestia said, pointedly ignoring her sister and daughter. “It’s been a dream of mine for quite some time. For longer than you’ll ever know.” There was something far away in her eyes, as if looking back into the vast expanses of space as galaxies spun. “I suppose I had ulterior motives in becoming your mentor.”

Princess Twilight absolutely definitely wasn’t as red as an unripe plum.

Since it was her coronation day, Sunset took mercy on her. Leaning a cheek into her hoof, she avoided laughing. “Yeah, you did. Maybe that’s why I learned better under Princess Twilight. No real authority to rebel against.” She winked.

Princess Twilight looked genuinely miffed at the suggestion. “Authority? Why would there be? Just because I’m the Princess of Friendship doesn’t mean I’m not still learning, too. You’ve always been just as capable of being an expert in friendship as I am! You’ve mastered lessons I’m still just grasping now!”

Sunset gestured towards her. “Exhibit A.”

Princess Twilight blinked. “Oh, I see your point. Well, I’m glad my teaching style worked for you, although…”

“Although?”

Princess Twilight’s eyes darted to Princess Celestia’s, who nodded in kind. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far. It’s just bittersweet to see my time as your teacher come to an end. You didn’t even accept my graduation present.”

Sunset faltered. Somehow, despite her graduation ceremony in the stars, she hadn’t really thought about how things would change. No more writing her lessons to Princess Twilight in the journal. No more one-on-one talks when Sunset had struggles, or magic ran amok. While she could (and planned on) keeping in contact with Princess Twilight, for all intents and purposes, she was on her own.

What else was new?

It only occurred to her now that she hadn’t once asked for Princess Twilight’s help this entire time. Their correspondence in the journal had been a bit short, with how busy they both were. But she knew it wasn’t the first time she’d wound up dealing with magic and demons without the princess there to guide her.

She just hadn’t expected the last time to be the last.

Sunset took the hug she could see Princess Twilight wanted to give her. “... Thank you, Twi.”

“I knew you could do it,” Princess Twilight told her in answer, wiping fresh tears away from her eyes. “I always did.”

Sunset smirked sympathetically, completing her sentence for her, “But you didn’t expect the no.”

Princess Twilight shook her head. “No… no, I didn’t. I should’ve, I know your friends mean more to you than a crown, but I was hoping…” She didn’t need to finish. It wasn’t like Sunset hadn’t thought about it since declining; that Twilight wanted a sister in immortality. A Luna to her Celestia, even.

Parting from the hug, Sunset had to be honest with the royalty around the table. “It’s for the best. I’m needed in my world, that’s where my home is, and honestly… I don’t know if I can make choices that have that much impact. The King Sombra of our world needed me, and long story short, I don’t think I made the right call. Or, maybe I did because I saved the most people I could, but... I lost him.”

Every other time Sunset had recounted that story so far, it had been to her friends, or herself. People who had been there. There was a part of her that⁠—that guilty-hearted devil⁠—that expected or even wanted them to turn on her. But she was only met with looks she used to misinterpret as pity: heavy, aching understanding.

And how many of them could say they’d always made the right calls? Even when they claimed to?

She almost expected Princess Celestia to launch into some lecture on the responsibility it takes to be a princess of Equestria, the strength of character. Instead, her mom softened, “I can’t tell you how many choices I wish I could take back. Some of which impacted ponies in this very room.”

Luna seemed taken aback. “Sister…”

“I’ve never been perfect,” Princess Twilight added. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve failed.”

Princess Cadance smiled at her husband and babbling baby daughter. “Life’s always much messier than we anticipated.”

“To messy lives!” All of Sunset’s friends, who were still in earshot apparently, toasted to her as they got another round at the bar with, what appeared to be, themselves. Timber knocked glasses with Twilight.

Princess Celestia still seemed possessed by the spirit of something on her mind. “King Sombra has always been a very… unique case,” she admitted, almost not noticing Sunset’s friends gathering to pull Sunset away to the bar the first chance they got.

There was this intensity to Princess Celestia’s gaze that the poets of this world often compared to the blaze of the summer sun. “The Sombra of this world was always known to be cruel. The Sombra I knew in another world was kinder than he ever knew himself to be, and… I loved him dearly. This was a time before you were born, so I cannot expect anypony here to know what we lost. No Equestrian history book will tell that side of his heart, but his darkness didn’t define him. I’m not surprised you came into conflict. You have a lot in common.”

At exactly that moment, one of the Pinkie Pies gasped so loudly that she almost seemed to float off the ground. “Ohhhhh. My. Gosh!”

Sunset didn’t appreciate it interrupting Celestia in the middle of an important conversation, but she supposed there was no accounting for a sugared-up Pinkie at a party. She’d known what she was getting into. She must have gotten distracted.

Even her Equestrian counterpart seemed a bit confuzzled, scratching her pink swirly mane. “Ooo! Are you thinking what I’m thinking and it’s time to bring out the cake!? I knew I liked you.”

Giggling, the Equestrian Pinkie bounced away with the one from Canterlot High, despite her protests, which, it seemed, would soon be forgotten with cake anyway.

Sunset shook her head, wondering if she’d seen free churros at the buffet or something. Princess Twilight giggled along with her. “Pinkie Pie is a universal constant.”

“Yup, no matter what dimension, she’s still Pinkie,” Sunset chuckled.

Princess Celestia’s eyes were still wide from the interruption, looking a bit shaken. Sunset would’ve thought she’d be used to Pinkie’s Pinkieness by now (but she understood it took time to adjust). Her eyes snapped on her daughter. “Sunset, I won’t keep you from the party for long, but may I steal you away for a mother-daughter talk?”

Exiting the party into the dark of the hall, Sunset followed after Princess Celestia like she had so many times as a foal. The sound of their hoofsteps was crisp compared to the muffled beat and commotion of the party, along with the crackle of fire in wall sconce torches. Her mom used to guide her back to bed when a ball went past her bedtime, much to her protests. But she could tell there was something more troubling on her mother’s mind as she unlocked a room Sunset had never been inside across from the ballroom.

Watching the complex lock spell, Sunset’s brow lifted. “What did you want to talk about? Don’t go all mystic mentor on me.”

The door pushed open, the dim hall light casting a door-shaped ray into the dust. Princess Celestia entered dauntlessly, walking past shelves of baubles and artefacts the world over could only tell legends of. “There’s so much I haven’t told you…”

Sunset’s eyes wandered over the darkened room⁠—a sailing map denoting a secret entrance to the Underworld under the pyramids of Geesa. A star map to the moon. A chest wrapped in chains and runes so ancient even Sunset didn’t recognize them. “What is all this?”

Princess Celestia didn’t answer. She came to the most mundane item in the room, and with her magic, unveiled a white sheet off of an empty, ovular frame on a set of two steps. “You deserve to know the truth.”

Sunset slowed her steps, coming up beside her. “The truth?”

“I wish I could have told you so much sooner. All these years⁠—if only I had known…” The princess shut her eyes, sighing. She brought a hoof to Sunset’s cheek, now treasuring the sight of her. “But we finally have the relationship I always wanted for us. You can’t know how precious that is to me, little sun.”

Sunset’s heart picked up in her chest. “Same here, Mom. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

Princess Celestia’s eyes lingered on her a moment, then something settled in her expression. She nodded. “...Neither would I,” she decided. She left Sunset’s side to touch the empty frame. “I’ve told you of the King Sombra I loved, the remarkable good in the heart of a stallion lost to dark magic. This was once the only gateway I had to his world.”

Her heart dropped in her chest as Sunset whispered the words, “This was a mirror?”

“Once,” she said, caressing the side. “The balance of our worlds sat on a precarious scale. My time with him upset the harmony of the multiverse and the only way to save us all was to shatter our connection. And, any hope that I might see him again.”

The empty space in the frame was violently haunting. All Sunset could think back to was the sledgehammer she’d almost used at the Fall Formal. And Solstice, who just like every other Sombra before him, might now be just as lost.

Out of all the relics in the fortified vault, Princess Celestia’s golden magic picked up a jagged, shiny item from the dust of the shelf. She held it up in front of Sunset, who could see her own reflection staring back. “This is the only piece of his world I have left. The magic may be gone from this mirror forever. If anypony can find a way to reach him,” she said smiling, “I suspect it might be you.”

Sunset took the mirror shard in her own magic, her brow drawn together like curtains. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Keep it anyway.” Princess Celestia guided her out of the vault back into the hall. “You may yet surprise yourself.”

Sunset saw a piece of herself staring back at her. And she smiled at her reflection. The sounds of the party drew her eye, and through the columns, she could see her best friends, her family all laughing together. Human and Equestrian together, laughing, drinking, and Timber Spruce’s terrible, terrible dancing.

The clinks and clamour of the ballroom warmed her heart, where her family gathered all together, for the first time in her life. “Well, you’re right about that.” She tucked the mirror shard into her leather jacket’s inner-pocket, a chill next to her heart, as she stood in the doorway caught half in shadow, half in the warmth of golden light. She smirked at her mom before joining Princess Twilight’s celebration. Sunset Shimmer popped her own collar. “I live to surprise.”

Author's Note

1. With Love, the Royal Family

Sunset Shimmer caught a letter out of the air after it appeared in a swirling burst of green flame. The purple envelope steamed between her fingers, still hot to the touch. She’d grabbed it on instinct, but it took seeing her name written in cursive and a pink wax seal of Princess Twilight’s cutie mark to register what she had in her hands.

Then the fire alarm went off and Sunset swore in Equestrian.

Shoving the letter into the breast-pocket of her leather jacket like it was evidence she’d pulled the fire alarm, Sunset followed the rest of her chemistry class as they flowed out into the hall.

Maybe her chem teacher hadn’t seen? He could be a pretty distracted guy. Dr. Whooves ushered his students out, bellowing after them, “There, you see? The calm and orderly movement of students from a classroom is akin to the diffusion of a substance poured into a beaker! Spread out evenly to fill your new environment, children! You’ll feel like chemicals!”

The one person Sunset could depend on to be appropriately freaked out by weird magical occurrences fell in step with her. Of course, it helped that Twilight was her lab partner for chemistry and, more importantly, her girlfriend. “What on earth was that? You’re getting mail by fire now?”

Sunset didn’t have to keep her voice down with the bell drilling into their ears and the talkative students flooding the halls from every door, but she still didn’t love throwing the word fire around where the evacuating student body could overhear.

Still, her eyes locked onto her girlfriend’s. “I think it’s from Princess Twilight. But, I don’t know why she wouldn’t just message me using the journal or how she would’ve done that in the first place! It looked like... dragon fire⁠—” Smelt like it, too. The few run-ins she and Princess Celestia had with visitors of the scaly kind left the royal draperies stinking of ash and cinders no matter what material burned. “—but I’ve never heard of dragons who can replace the postal system.”

Rainbow Dash caught up with them first as they made their way down the main stairs. She slid down the banister and all but danced down the two remaining steps before pumping her fist. “Haha! Yeah, baby! This is so sweet! No more algebra test! And I didn’t even have to pull the fire alarm this time!”

Twilight gaped at her. “Did you really just say those words? Out loud? And mean them?!”

Pinkie Pie bounded over from the school’s kitchen with a backpack overflowing with rescued baked goods. She hugged Twilight from the side, who was checking her own pulse by her smartwatch to test for cardiac arrest. “N’aww, don’t be too hard on her, Twi. I’ve set off the alarm oodles of times!”

Sunset smirked. “Yep. And that’s how we learned you probably should open a window when you fire a cannon. One of my personal favourite friendship lessons.”

Fluttershy tailed the group, ‘excuse me’ing her way to her friends. She wasn’t making much headway, so Pinkie Pie grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards them. Fluttershy shared a smile with her. “Oh! Thank you! I was really worried when I heard the alarm go off. Is it crazy that I thought it might be a villain with evil magic?”

Sunset felt her friends’ eyes dogpile onto her. She was used to that whenever the subject came up (even if the magic scholar in her still took issue with the phrase ‘evil magic’). Since losing the fight with King Sombra, she could sense more than just looks waiting for marching orders. They needed security. They needed normalcy.

And not that Sunset thought of herself as the leader or had any right to, but they could use one of those, too.

That was one of the countless reasons she was glad to have Twilight around. Okay, sure, maybe Twilight didn’t think of herself as someone ready to step in and be the group’s de facto leader, but Sunset knew she could. Even apart from her princess counterpart!

She was humble, caring, a great listener, and a certifiable genius (as an added bonus, Sunset had recently found out she was a good kisser to boot). When it came down to it, Twilight was stronger than most anyone Sunset had ever met. It made Sunset a little sad to think Twilight couldn’t see the greatness in herself, but that was getting better, and Sunset firmly believed it was only a matter of time before Twilight figured it out. The girl was smart that way.

Sunset held up her hands. “I’ve got it on good authority that whatever magic it was that caused this wasn’t evil.”

They followed the flow of traffic out onto the front steps of Canterlot High and into the chilled courtyard not quite ready for snow. Pinkie Pie shimmied in place. “Ooo-hoo-hoo-hooo! My party senses are tingling big time! And this one is gonna be a doozy!”

"Party senses?" Sunset mumbled. “Pinkie, this is an evacuation.”

Pinkie laughed like Sunset told a great joke, patting her on the shoulder. “Silly Sunset. Anything’s a party if you believe hard enough.”

“Doesn’t seem like everyone else is ready for a party,” Twilight muttered.

Following her girlfriend’s gaze, Sunset saw the other students of CHS gathering outside the school together but looking pretty on edge for a bunch of students who just got out of class.

Seniors and freshmen alike tossed around theories. Walking through the student body, Sunset could swear she heard Octavia ask Vinyl Scratch, “You don’t think this has anything to do with the crack in the sky, do you?”

Sunset cast a look over her shoulder, her eyes snagging on the so-called crack in the daytime sky. In truth: it was a rip in space-time. Leftovers from a fight she and the girls had lost. Badly. More than that, a reminder that the danger that caused all this, a King Sombra with unknown dimensional origins, was still out there somewhere.

Sunset just hoped they’d be ready and tried her best not to think about it.

Up ahead by the base of the broken horse statue, Applejack emerged from the crowd holding Rarity bridal-style. Applejack looked at her, miffed. “I don’t think this is how firemen are supposed to carry out civilians, Rarity. I could sling ya over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you want me to be more accurate.”

“No, no, darling dearest, I’m quite certain this is exactly how it’s done,” Rarity informed her, arms draped around Applejack’s broad shoulders and stealing her stetson for her own. As soon as she noticed their other friends, Rarity brightened. “Oh how marvellous! We’ve all survived the fire unscathed! What a relief. You know, with our luck, I would have expected some—” She twirled her wrist as if wielding a wand. “—utterly ridiculous magic to implicate us in all this.”

“Uh, actually…?” Sunset offered a guilty grin. The letter felt toasty against her chest as the fire alarm rang and unnerved to outright panicked students vacated the school behind her. Bulk Biceps sounded girlishly terrified.

Rarity’s carefully shadowed eyelids fell to a humourless height. “Assorted magical brouhaha?”

“Of sorts, yes.” Twilight shrugged next to Sunset. “But in Sunset’s defense, this time wasn’t her fault: it happened to her. My theory on our increasing trouble-magnetism is proving exceptionally true.” While she thought it was beyond sweet for Twilight to speak up for her, Sunset couldn’t help thinking that if there was any law of ‘trouble-magnetism’ in effect, it had to be attracted to the magical unicorn from another dimension here. Twilight went on, adding, “Although, at least this time we didn’t blow up a significant portion of the school, so… hooray?”

“For you girls, I call that a win.” Flash Sentry shuffled forward through the crowd, holding his phone up like a life-preserver. These days, Sunset hadn’t seen Flash without it—even now he paused to text someone and poorly conceal a big, dumb smile. He seemed to remember he was in the presence of the girls and blushed. “Uh, sorry. Timber woke up with his bed in the lake again and Gloriosa won’t admit she’s doing it. I also told Timber about the fire alarm. He wants to know if you’re all okay.”

Sunset chuckled, crossing her arms. Tempted as she was to tease him, she rooted for that kid too much to damage that smile when he looked this happy. She could always tease him later. “You can tell your boyfriend we’re fine. There wasn’t much fire. Weirdly enough, I think it was a message from the Princess.”

Double-checking the perimeter for principals or teachers, Sunset took the letter from within her jacket. The envelope cooled completely, but a fire of curiosity still burned inside her, trying to work out why Twilight would ever be so... formal. Even their student-teacher correspondence in the journal had only ever been nothing but friendly.

Sunset broke the wax seal with her pocket-knife and found a folded scroll waiting inside. Royal white parchment paper, embossed with a golden T at the letterhead. Sunset’s eyebrows raised further and further the more ornate details she noticed. “‘Dear Sunset Shimmer and friends.’”

She shot a smirk to the girls and read on. “‘I hope this invitation finds you all in good spirits. Because you have made an invaluable difference in my life, by your friendship and love, it is my honour to personally request your company at my upcoming coronation as I prepare to succeed Princess Luna and Princess Celestia.” Sunset’s breath hitched, the words stumbling, rushing from her mouth. “From the desk of the royal family, your friend, Twilight Sparkle.’”

As the word coronation left her mouth, a pregnant pause overcame her friends. Looks exchanged, lights brightened in their eyes. By the time Sunset finished her sentence, her friends all but erupted into cheers around her.

Their laughs and excited babbling drew the attention of the other students, but none of them seemed to care. Or even notice. Applejack spun Rarity around before finally letting her down (and taking her hat back). Chortling, Pinkie Pie pounced on a whooping Rainbow Dash, who was already holding Fluttershy in a rocking, tearful hug.

Twilight laughed more at her overexcited friends than anything, sharing an amused look with a shrugging Flash Sentry. Then she looked toward Sunset and her smile dimmed. “Sunset?”

Sunset Shimmer stared ahead. Her head was so light that the heaviest part of it was the cold sweat at the nape of her neck. She tore her eyes back down and tried to reread the letter, but the calligraphy blurred, danced, and darkened. Sunset didn’t so much feel her eyes rolling towards the back of her head as she did waking back up with Flash and Twilight, bracing her biceps as they caught her before she could fall back into the portal, fainting all the way to Equestria.

Sweet Celestia.

Twilight was at her left. “Sunset? Sunny, are you okay?”

Flash shot a bewildered look over Sunset’s head. “Sunset lets you give her pet-names?”

Twilight didn’t really answer, helping Sunset back to her feet. The rest of their friends had crowded around her at some point; Rarity patted Sunset’s cheek twice, as if to correct the colour. “Good heavens! Are you all right, dear?”

Fluttershy dug around in her backpack. “I have smelling salt here somewhere if she needs it. Sunset Shimmer? Can you speak to us?”

“... yeah,” she said, sounding weak and pathetic even to her own ears. Sunset shook her head and pushed past her crowding friends—mostly just to get air. Celestia love ‘em, sometimes she thought the best friendship lesson her friends could learn was the concept of personal space.

Giving the invitation another glance, conflicting emotions battled for supremacy. That in and of itself deeply disturbed her. Sunset should’ve been happy. She should’ve been irrefutably, indubitably thrilled. She retreaded the words again as if that might jumpstart the joy. And Sunset was happy, wasn’t she?

She thought about how much Princess Twilight deserved this. How long her friend had worked and strived and earned this. How Twilight was the measure of a mare most ponies would be lucky to ever reach and how much Sunset admired her for it.

But I’m not just happy for her, she thought, which was why the emotion that won out over all others was fear. Princess Celestia decided she was worthy...

Sunset blushed a mortifying red at the thought that her friends saw her react that way. Turning back toward them, she put on a smile that she was scared didn’t entirely belong to her. “Sorry. I’m okay, it’s just, well not shocking, I mean, who didn’t see this coming a mile away? But still! It’s big news, right? This is so... cool!”

This is so cool, she repeated. This is cool, and I’m really, really happy for her.

While she could see some of her more perceptive friends picking up on the small shake to her voice—so cool so cool so cool so—Rainbow Dash barked a hack of a laugh. “Ha! Big news? Try biggest news ever!”

“Yeah!” Sunset agreed gratefully, nodding. Cool news! Tamping down every emotion she didn’t like with a drill-press, she took the opportunity to lay an arm around Pinkie Pie’s shoulder. “And where there’s a coronation…?”

“There’s a coronation party!” Pinkie finished, practically trembling at the suggestion. She smushed up her own cheeks. “Oh my gosh! I’ve so wanted to see how you ponies party it up, and now we’re going to the party of the century!? Ahh! So! Amazetacular!”

Sunset found her laugh again thanks to Pinkie Pie, which was far from the first time she could say that. “Who needs high school parties when we’ve got a queen’s coronation, am I right?”

That got Rarity clutching at her collarbone, or rather, the lack of pearls thereby. “Goodness gracious,” she spoke as if seeing her own death before her, “you’re both absolutely right! We… we need gowns! We need accessories! We need haute couture!”

Applejack gave her a strange look. “I still ain’t entirely convinced you didn’t learn those words to sound fancy.”

“It’s Prench,” Twilight offered. “In reference to a style of high end fashion originating in Mareris.”

Applejack nodded. “You know that and I know that, but thereal question is does Rarity know more Prench than just enough to sound like she knows Prench.”

Shrugging, Rarity offered her a smile. “I prefer to keep the mystery alive.”

“Whoa… a queen, huh? Wow. I guess it was only a matter of time.” As Flash Sentry’s shoulders slumped, he rubbed one of them. He turned his gaze to Sunset. “So, when you said the letter was addressed to ‘Sunset and friends,’ do you think maybe…? You know, that you girls get plus-ones? Uh, totally platonic plus-ones?”

Maybe it was bad, but Sunset was glad for the distraction from her own insecurities. Her smile quirked up. “You really think Princess Twilight wouldn’t include you? Dude. Obviously she means all her friends on this side of the mirror. That’s you, too, Sentry. You get a plus-one.”

The delirious laugh that came out of Rarity startled Fluttershy. “Gowns and suits! For a coronation!”

Sunset crossed her arms over her unruly, defiant chest, a smile on her face. She gripped her arms a little too tight, listening to her friends babble on about what they would do to prepare for Twilight’s ascension to the throne. I’m happy, not jealous. I’m happy, not jealous. I love Princess Twilight, she’s one of my best friends! She deserves this so much more than I ever did or ever will.

So why did that feel like a cigarette twisting on her skin?

Stop it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself when you should be happy for her! For the whole ‘royal family!’ Sunset scolded, grinding the teeth in her smile. An unsettling shiver, like a spectre passing through her, came with the thought: Holy Celestia... I thought I was a better friend than this.

Sunset dug her hands into her pockets and leaned against the cold brick at her back. She was surprised her friends let her wander off on her own after nearly fainting, but to their credit, Sunset did everything in her power to look steady. She hoped in all that time learning to be genuine and true she hadn’t lost her skills in the art of deception.

Not that she needed another reason to feel like her old self. The sunny sky above sent swelters through her heart remembering the way Princess Celestia used to let a very young Sunset sit out on the balcony and pretend she’d raised the sun all by herself, like a big filly. Watching clouds slide into the tear in the sky now, still hanging over the school as if to remind of all the damage she could cause (and had caused), Sunset felt like her stomach was crumbling in on itself with the force it took to keep from tearing up.

Instead, she took out her magical journal from her backpack and skimmed through all of the messages there. Lesson after lesson, letter after letter, until she got to what Princess Twilight had written in response to her when Sunset’s friends had all forgotten her thanks to the memory stone: Of course we’re friends!

Exhaling a shaky sigh, Sunset hugged the journal tight to her chest.

When Flash Sentry and Twilight came around the corner, Sunset made an attempt at a laugh. “Not my most convincing performance back there, huh?”

Flash smiled the same way he usually did: warmly, but also like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to or not. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. For someone who just passed out, that was a pretty good impression of someone keeping it together.”

Sunset groaned. Flash seemed genuinely surprised because, of course, he thought that was a genuine compliment.

Regardless, Sunset wasn’t surprised in the least that Twilight picked up on it; Sunset’s girlfriend could read her better than anyone in the multiverse. Occasionally something would get lost or bungled in translation, sure, but for the most part Twilight was getting better and better at noticing details most didn’t. She’d make the perfect leader and didn’t even realize it. Sunset thought it would be adorable if it wasn’t a little tragic.

Twilight crossed her arms, but not impatiently. More so to hold herself up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sunset shook her head. “What’s there to talk about?”

Flash clapped his hand on her shoulder. “Hey. You don’t have to hide anything with us.”

In a better headspace, Sunset might’ve noticed the glow around his hand before the blast. But she didn’t see it coming whatsoever, which made it all the more disorienting when her own geode reacted, as if supercharged.

Quite literally.

A swarm of a thousand thoughts and a hundred different feelings paralyzed her in place. Lyra’s unwavering crush on Bon Bon. Bulk’s deep insecurity. Principal Celestia’s almost maternal love for her students. All of it came crashing into her at once with so many thoughts. The sound in her head was undecipherable, with absolutely everyone talking at once.

Sunset clutched her hands over her ears, like that would help the overstimulation. She opened her eyes to see Flash’s hand still on her shoulder. His eyes were frozen owlishly wide, staring directly at her. She tore herself away from him, reeling back, and without the calamity of a whole school’s thoughts and feelings crashing down on her, the quiet of the empty street at midday settled in.

Twilight clutched at her chest, shaking her head. “Oh, Sunset… is that really how you feel?”

Her stomach dropped through a trap-door. Looking from Twilight to Flash, Sunset could see their concern for her had skyrocketed, nearly high enough to reach the crack in the sky through the clouds. They saw right through her. The sheer aghast horror in their expressions couldn’t just be from seeing her use her magic, and if Sunset felt the entire school’s emotions and thoughts…

Sunset panted, backing away. “What was that?! Flash, what did you just do?”

Waving his hands, Flash backed closer to Twilight, nearly tripping backward over his own sneakers. “I-I only wanted to help! I wanted to understand… I didn’t know I’d… I didn’t know I could…”

Twilight gave Sunset a soft look, as if to forecast a conversation they needed to have ahead, but turned to Flash with a smile. “Well… congratulations, Flash. Your superpower isn’t just holding Timber’s hand.”

6. We Give You the Whole Seat but You'll Only Need the Edge

Sunset Shimmer could confirm the universe had it out for her now. In some genie’s wish sort of twisted logic, she’d ended up inside her girlfriend’s body and not at all in the fun way. In some respects, it was better than being stuck as Timber Spruce. But in another more real way, it was worse because now that she and the girls had already tried using their magic to fix it, she’d lost her lead on what to do and made things difficult for all of her friends. All in one go, to boot!

A very productive Thursday for Sunset indeed.

None of them looked like they knew how to react. Instruments still in hand, maybe waiting to see if there’d be some delayed effects, but Sunset could feel the unsettling certainty settling over the room. We’re stuck like this.

“Should we… try to activate Flash’s power again?” Twilight asked. Her voice picked up over the microphone, and it lent her words too much weight. Cringing, she leaned away from it to say, “He was definitely involved in the switch. Maybe we need him to put everybody back.”

“That’s a thought.” Applejack considered the idea, plucking her bass as if she wished it would turn into her mother’s old acoustic guitar that she only ever broke out for special occasions. Sunset had only seen the thing once, on the anniversary. It was the sweetest song she’d ever heard Applejack play. “But how do we know he ain’t gonna randomize us up all over again?”

Pinkie Pie poked her head up over her Rainbooms’ official drum set. “I wouldn’t mind a turn as Rarity.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for, dear?”

Pinkie leaned into her own hand, smushing the freckles of Applejack’s cheek. “I just think you’re neat.”

A flowery pink overcame Rarity’s cheeks. “Yes, well, I do hope I get the chance to be Rarity again myself, so I’m willing to take the risk. Flash, love, do... whatever the thing is that you do!” In proclaiming that across the band room, it struck Sunset as noticeably trippy to hear Timber’s voice attempt and even pull off that accent.

Applejack made Pinkie Pie sound like a debutant southern belle, but Pinkie was Pinkie, so weird didn’t sound so weird coming from her. But Timber wasn’t allowed to have abs and have the capability of doing a decent Mid-Atlantic accent. He had to pick one.

Flash also didn’t look like he knew what to do with this. He sank into his shoulders in a prolonged shrug. “I don’t know how it works if I’m honest, but I can always try if you want me to.”

He stuck his hand in Timber’s and scrunched up his face as though lifting a barbell over his head.

“Are you okay?” Timber asked, genuinely sounding alarmed.

Flash opened his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Is it working yet? Did I save the day?”

“Not yet, but you look like you’re in pain.”

Flash deflated. “Oh. That’s my concentration face? It’s… not heroic, huh?”

Sunset grimaced. “Well, we’re just going to have to figure it out, then. It’s our best bet.”

She did her best to coach him through it, but Flash didn’t seem to understand what made him Flash. Or at least, not what was at his core that gave him the power to amplify. The best Sunset could do was let him take a spin on her guitar, and while he played marvellously, it had no real effect in terms of who occupied who.

The end of lunch came fast, throwing all of them into each other’s lives. Before leaving, Applejack raised a good point that was unfortunately too logical to work out in their favour. “Hang on a tick. Why don’t we just tell everybody about the swap? It’s not like our teachers and classmates don’t know what magic is. We’re us. At this point, they probably won’t even bat an eye.”

Twilight twiddled with Flash’s hoodie drawstrings in the place of twirling her hair around her finger. “Also, I think it’s an academic offence to take a test or do an assignment as someone else.”

“You’re not wrong that it’s probably cheating, but that can’t possibly be in the rule book,” Timber commented, eyebrow raised.

“Exactly! We’d be breaking a rule before Principal Celestia even had the chance to make it!” She held her cheeks, and between that and the pigeon toed stance it was starting to get really easy to tell that that was Twilight. “That’s a whole new level of rule-breaking! Rule break-making!”

Rainbow Dash grinned a terrible grin entirely too sinister for Fluttershy’s face. Sunset pitied the woodland creatures that ever fell victim to that smile. “I call that making history!”

Sunset was about to agree with Applejack when a thought struck her. “We could tell everyone about all this, but how much you want to bet that would land us all in the new counsellor’s office? Magical mishap and nine panicking teens? From the sounds of it, that’s right up his alley.”

“Right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” Flash said, presumably to her although his wide eyes appeared superglued to Twilight. Granted, Sunset suspected all of them had every right to be freaked out, but Flash in particular wouldn’t stop staring at his body. He looked like he needed the nurse’s office more than a guidance counsellor’s.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to test our luck. Maybe we shouldn’t mess with this new ‘counsellor’—” Sunset emphasized, using air quotes. A counsellor was the last thing she needed right now. “—until we know how deep his anti-magic stance really goes or who he even is. Let me do some recon on him first just to be safe.”

Fluttershy held a hand over her mouth. “Oh gosh. You don’t think he’s really a threat, do you?”

Applejack leaned against the back wall. “Well, one thing’s for sure: I don’t think one of us would be shocked stiff to find out we have a new evil-magic-sportin’ baddie on our hands. That whole anti-magic spiel could be a cover, iffin’ you ask me. Heck, we still don’t know for true who attacked us in the park a few weeks back⁠—that King Sombra guy?⁠—could easily be this new fella showing up in our lives.”

Pinkie gasped as she tip-tapped out a little rhythm on the drums. “And he would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for us meddling teens!”

“‘Xactly,” Applejack said, firing a finger-gun.“I wouldn’t put it past our luck for the next person we end up saving from some stolen Equestrian magic to wind up being the new guy we don’t know nothing about. Introducing yourself to us is gettin’ to be a tell.”

The others, while uncomfortable, murmured in some semblance of agreement, Twilight saying, “Cynical, but not wrong…”

Even Dash kicked the carpet, scuffing her sneaker.

Rarity frowned, placing a hand beneath her chin as she thought. “Yes, you do make a point. But assuming everyone new to us is guilty until proven innocent? I can’t say I enjoy the idea. I should hope we’re better friendship experts than that. Really, I’d rather we not resort to witch hunts⁠—or Equestrian magic/demon hunts, as the case may be.”

Fluttershy nodded, making Rarity look quite peeved. “I really don’t think developing trust issues is going to help anyone, but a new counsellor is. I’m starting to think some of us might benefit from an appointment.”

Eyes flaring, Sunset waved her hands. “Whoa, h-hey, let’s not get too hasty here. I’m not saying he’s evil, but AJ’s right. I didn’t think a girl like Wallflower Blush was capable of erasing all of our memories of high school, but she taught me not to underestimate people. Or take them for granted. If this Solstice guy isn’t against us, then I won’t take him for granted. If he is, I’m not letting him make the first move.”

Sunset hoped she looked convincing with Twilight’s hands planted on her hips, if for no other reason than to demonstrate to her girlfriend that she could look this leaderly if she wanted. She seemed to notice, at least. “Everybody just play your parts for now while I check out the new counsellor in the Principal’s office.”

Twilight harboured a guilty look, sending it toward Sunset. “Funny you should mention that really, because, um, you have to go there either way. I have my regular appointment with Principal Celestia—”

“Thursdays at noon,” Sunset groaned, grappling her forehead beneath the bangs. The last time she sunk her fingers into Twilight’s hair she’d been having far more fun. Her girlfriend gave her a guilty smile as they left the band room for the flooded halls. “Guess I’m going to counselling, then.”

Would it be hypocritical to tell Principal Celestia who I really am to get out of this? Then again, Sunset had historically been an effortless liar, so given enough time and/or enough of a time limit, she figured she could probably come up with something convincing to get “Twilight” out of a counselling session.

The halls emptied out. Everyone else found their classes, and only the seniors with a free study period were left to roam the halls. Frankly, Sunset was astonished Twilight sacrificed an excuse to study for these weekly one-on-ones. What did they even talk about? As far as Sunset was concerned, Twilight was already perfect.

But then, Twilight making friends with their Principal? That checked out.

The sun-shaped design in the fogged glass of the door to the Principal’s office stood diametrically opposed to the crescent moon of the Vice Principal’s office. It was no eternally aflame wall sconces shimmering on the pure golden armour of royal guards, or wooden doors leading to the royal chambers and towering to dizzying heights—but what was in this dimension?

Ponies knew how to do overdramatic right in Sunset’s opinion.

Meanwhile, Sunset still didn’t know how to cope with seeing the name of the leader of the free world printed on a tiny office plaque beside the door. Nothing matched the headtrip that she had when she first realized there was a Celestia here, too, but even after a few years of living in the human world, there were some things that were harder to come to terms with than others. Her high school principal was one of them.

At this point, Sunset was stalling and she knew it. She isn’t my Celestia, she reminded herself and felt properly stupid for needing a reminder in the first place. Be a big filly and go… talk about feelings. They don’t even have to be yours!

Sunset sighed and started on her way to grabbing the doorknob as if the false-gold would transform into a steaming cast iron upon her touch. She hesitated before she could, turning away on stiff legs and mentally swore her heart out for pounding on her chest like a drama queen. She was very glad no one was there to see her embark on this facial journey as she mimed wringing her own neck.

From an outside perspective, it may have appeared Sunset had a very intense shouting match with the empty hall on mute.

Sunset took a breath. Wiped her hands on her skirt. And so with all the wherewithal and love for her friends she could muster, she reignited her heroic charge to the principal’s door. This time only stopping because of the delighted laugh she heard on the other side.

Is that… Celestia?

Sunset listened carefully to the occupants of the office to find Principal Celestia breathing a sigh from a long-winded laugh and a deep chuckle stuttering to a stop alongside her. Sunset didn’t know if she’d ever heard any Celestia sound so carefree.

With an ear to the door, Sunset focused: it was a bit muffled but still easy enough to make out roughly what they were saying.

“I have to give them credit, though, they truly are remarkable,” the deeper voice said, adding, “when I was their age, I could barely function. The drama department was my only safe harbour, and even then,” he paused to conspiratorially whisper, “what a drama queen. No, it’s true! I wore eyeliner and called myself the Lord of Shadows for more time than I’d like to admit when I played the lead in Shadow of the Symphony. Critics raved that I redefined melodrama.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all go through our phases. When I was a teenager,” Principal Celestia was saying, “I was a complete disaster. Punk music, dark clothes and an attitude to match—I’m entirely convinced every embarrassing photo I’ve ever taken comes from that time period. But that’s how teenagers are. Or how I was, at least. Mostly, it was to rage against the machine and all that, but also, well, you know how other school age kids can be. I wasn’t going to let anyone treat my sister as if she were second rate.”

“How noble,” Solstice told her, resting on the sharpened edge of sardonic and genuine. “If only all goth phases were as well-intentioned as yours.”

“I know! I was a nightmare!”

The sound of paper flipping later, and the 20,000 leagues deep voice that Sunset had heard over the P.A. system sounded impressed. Still calm and lowkey but noticeably lighter for such a naturally somber voice. “You say that, but I’m positively certain I out-disastered you.”

“Oh?” Celestia giggled. “That sounds like a challenge, Sol.”

Sol? Sunset wrinkled her nose. Were they... flirting in there?

Sol’s voice dripped with amusement. “But you can’t possibly out teenage angst the Lord of Shadows.” He used a booming voice to convey just how patently ridiculous he was. And it worked, earning another laugh from Celestia which he shared in kind this time.

Before she could gag, Sunset took it upon herself to put a stop to that. At the very least, something got her through the door.

She entered the room and got a look at the self-titled Lord of Shadows. There, in the plain office light, stood a broad-shouldered shadow of a man with vampiric skin that hadn’t seen enough sun and hair so devoid of light, apart from a few grey streaks, that Sunset thought either must’ve been dyed that way or it was definitely dyed that way. Or, okay, at least Sunset suspected as much. In her more rebellious years (keyword: more), she’d briefly debated dying her own hair just to see the Princess’s reaction when she finally returned home to Equestria but thankfully thought against it (since the good dye had been too expensive for her micro-budget at the time).

Principal Celestia was leaning back in her chair, smirking to him over the tea in her sun-themed mug. He stood over some file folders with a mug of black coffee of his own in hand.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. Did she just interrupt a coffee date? She cleared her throat.

Counsellor Solstice and Principal Celestia both turned their eyes to the door as she did as if embarrassed to be interrupted. But even if that was the case, Principal Celestia recovered well with a smile as light as daybreak. “Oh, there you are, Twilight. I didn’t see you come in! I’m sorry if you were kept waiting at all. Solstice Shiver and I were just going over your case file, and I was hoping to introduce you.”

Sunset frowned. “My case file?” She realized she’d spoken with her own inflections, and it sounded a little too sardonic for Twilight speaking to a figure of authority. Sparing a single look towards Solstice, Sunset attempted to play her part: she twirled her hair around her finger and mixed a hint of nervousness into her voice. “I thought our sessions were just between us.”

Good job, Sunset, she thought. You’re just as good at lying and manipulating as you used to be. Congratulations.

She would’ve felt worse if it didn’t have the intended effect. Principal Celestia’s eyes widened and she softened. “Of course they are. I promise I didn’t provide him with any details you wouldn’t tell your friends.” That pinged on Sunset’s radar. There were things Twilight said in here she didn’t tell their friends? What could Twilight possibly have to say to Celestia that she didn’t already tell Sunset? “However, I wanted to ask your permission to share more. For this next session, I’d like you to try seeing Counsellor Solstice.”

Solstice attempted a smile, and it was a little on the awkward side, but Sunset had seen worse. Back in the day, after the She-Demon incident when she was still just getting to know her new best friends, Sunset needed a little guidance on how to smile genuinely. It... It had been a while.

This smile struck her the same way, albeit a little more practiced than Sunset’s used to be.

He offered his hand across the desk with leisure as if the coffee hadn’t yet kicked in. “It’s a pleasure to meet one of Canterlot High’s best and brightest. I’m Solstice Shiver, your school’s new guidance counsellor and coffee disposal.”

Taking the firm grip, Sunset raised a game eyebrow. “Not ‘the Lord of Shadows?’”

A slight pink broke through the stormcloud grey of his skin. “I tend to prefer Solstice these days.”

“Before you say no, I promise this doesn’t have to mean the end of our appointments together,” the Principal assured. Imagining how Twilight would freak out over losing her support made Sunset almost glad she was here to hear the news in Twilight’s place. “But our new counsellor is far more qualified to help than I am, and if anyone could benefit from his mindfulness expertise, I thought it might be you.”

Sunset bit her lip, hoping to evoke a hesitant Twilight. “Does mindfulness help with magic?”

Solstice nodded without missing a beat. “Very much so. I swear by it for myself. That, and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. From what your principal has told me, you’ve dealt with quite a lot on your own from the time you transferred here and that’s very admirable. It must’ve been so hard to go from, well, magically enhanced at the Friendship Games to going to school here. I’d even say it’s brave.”

If she was herself, Sunset would have said so too. She’d watched Twilight deal with the aftermath of Midnight Sparkle: the fear, the shame, fighting back the desire to have all that power again—all on top of math class and sleepovers. Learning what a normal teenage life was like.

Sunset had to fight down a smile. The first sleepover they’d ever had with Twilight, a week or so after the Friendship Games, Twilight didn’t have a clue what the protocol was. How this was supposed to go, what her friends must think of her. Wiping Twilight’s tears away, Sunset admitted to her she’d been in the same boat not too long ago and even shared what happened at the Fall Formal and Battle of the Bands to make her feel better. And it worked. Twilight stuck by Sunset the rest of the night and had a great, normal teenage experience.

The idea that maybe Twilight was still struggling the same way she was at Camp Everfree and hadn’t told Sunset or the girls, or that Sunset and her Equestrian magic somehow contributed to it? It was like plunking ice cubes into her stomach.

Solstice Shiver’s calm exterior lent itself well to gentle smiles. Enthusiastic grins, he didn’t seem to have the energy for, but the understanding in his expression made Sunset want to open up to him. Almost.

Solstice clasped his hands behind his back. “If you’d like, we could talk about how to cope with your magic together, the same way you’ve quite admirably been learning to cope with your anxiety. But it’s up to you, Twilight.”

Sunset hugged her arms. So maybe he’s not outright against magic? It was hard for her to really tell. She expected more anger, more theatrics (especially from Mr. Eyeliner) to be evident in his tone, but she really didn’t get that sense from him. It kind of sounds like Rainbow Dash was right. Weird.

She tried her best to keep in character, even going so far as to make sure her toes were pointed inward to make the unsure stance complete. “Well… thank you for offering. I need some time to think about it—um, if that’s okay with you?”

Sunset mentally high-fived herself for peppering in that uncertainty. Yeah, hooray, her conscious said. You’re a fraud and a liar! Whipee!

“Alright then. My door is always open if you change your mind.” After a polite smile, his tired green eyes took to his coffee as he gave it a little blow, rippling the depths of his mug. He looked like he needed it.

Principal Celestia nodded. “And if Mr. Shiver is busy, you can always come to me, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Sunset lied, like a lying liar. “Thank you, Principal Celestia.”

It didn’t take too many more platitudes to get out of seeing Principal Celestia in Twilight’s place. Sunset made up a line about studying for the SATs, and it was hard to dispute that Twilight would be worried about that. In fact, Sunset made a mental note to ask if Twilight was worried about the SATs (in a way that wouldn’t make her start worrying about them if she wasn’t already).

She scurried out of the Principal’s office and down the hall before she could overhear anymore bits of flirting. As she was sneaking out, though, Trixie was headed straight for the Principal’s office. Not an unusual sight, really. Sunset smirked. “Hey, Trixie. Smoke-bomb accidentally exploded in the girls bathroom again? Just let me know which floor.”

Trixie waved the notion away like so much faulty stagemagic. “Oh no, Trixie has a holster now. Trixie’s here to see if this new ‘coun-sell-or’,” she enunciated as if reading the name from an official Ogres and Oubliettes guidebook, “is up to the standards of her school. Does Trixie need an appointment?”

Sunset could admire the protectiveness but she’d never known Trixie to be self-sacrificing without good reason. She frowned. “Why would you want one?”

“Not because Trixie is ‘damaged goods’ or anything. Don’t go telling the school Trixie has feelings! But... sometimes?” Her lilac eyes roamed the halls for anyone else on their free period, just in case. “It takes a lot out of me to be the magical savior of the school.”

Sunset jerked her head back, blinking. The what? Brain short-circuiting, she elected to go with the much kinder option of saying, “Oh, does it really?”

“Very much so,” Trixie confessed, looking scandalized that she’d so much as admitted it. “Having the weight of the whole school on Trixie’s great and powerful shoulders is exhausting! And now the sky is broken? What’s going to come out of that? Sometimes this magic stuff is all too much—and Trixie is a magician!”

Trixie drank in air like a refreshing taste of stream water on a long mountainside hike and pointed an accusatory finger toward Sunset. “Wow. You’re a good listener. But, you know, don’t tell Sunset Shimmer I have any complaints about magic. That girl’s got enough going on as it is with whatever happened during the fire drill, and she hasn’t even reached out to her best friend Trixie to talk about it! Between you and me, I think your girlfriend could use some counselling, too.”

Sunset’s shoulders bunched up by her neck. “Sunset’s fine! Why does the whole world want her to go to therapy all of the sudden?” She noticed the raised eyebrow on the magician and remembered to Twilight up her voice. “Uh. That is to say, I disagree.”

Trixie shrugged. “If you say so. Oh, and no offence.”

“None taken,” Sunset sighed automatically. At least this is a new way of people dissing me to my face.

Sunset watched Trixie duck into Solstice Shiver’s new office beside the principal’s and decided if Solstice was anti-magic, he didn’t seem malicious about it. That was enough for her not to accuse him, at least, but she thought better of letting her guard down completely. As an ex-demon herself, Sunset couldn’t condone the idea of eternally condemning someone for their past (which, after all, wasn’t today), but she also couldn’t put her friends in any more jeopardy than she already had. She decided they’d have to maintain their low profile as each other until she could be sure.

She also decided to get as far away from these offices as possible before anybody else could tell her she must be dealing with a lot right now because she was dealing with too much to have to hear about it.

The soccer field got an upgrade senior year thanks in large part to Rainbow Dash. Or that’s at least what Dash told everyone in a three mile radius and not that her friends would say it out loud, but she had a point. The soccer team had only made it to nationals once before Rainbow Dash joined in freshman year, and ever since she’d brought out the best in everyone to the point that they at least placed every year. CHS was practically the sports school these days.

As such, the school board or the principals or whoever decided funding saw it fit to give the school almost too much money for this one specific thing. Industrial grade field lights⁠—the kind typically reserved for a big city football stadium—beamed down like the tractor beams from alien spaceships in the sci-fi movies Twilight liked.

They also got a sound system, which Vinyl Scratch was now operating to play pump-up music to get the crowd warmed up.

Even the bleachers got a makeover. The dinky set of seats they used to have went curbside as soon as they got the fifteen-level deep stands stretching the full length of the field for home games like the one going on tonight.

No one could say Canterlot High didn’t take soccer seriously: even as flakes of snow continued to pour down and land on the field, the final game of the fall season against Hollow Shades High ploughed on. Players’ breaths could be seen in the air. The electricity of their competitive spirit (and extra layers of jerseys) kept them warm.

Still operating Fluttershy’s body, Rainbow Dash paced in front of the closest seats to the field with both hands over her head as if they were bound. Clad in winter gear, most of the other girls and Flash hung around in the stands directly behind her, watching her pace. Twilight sat next to Sunset automatically, but those must’ve been weird optics for anyone out of the know. And even for those in the know, apparently. Flash kept staring every chance he could.

Something sunk in Sunset when she realized the obvious. Oh, pony feathers. He used to have a thing for Twilight. Not this Twilight, but I mean, kind of? Twilights in general? This probably isn’t helping him feel over all that.

Watching Rainbow Dash circle a pylon, Fluttershy tapped her pale fingers together. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Rainbow. He can’t be... that bad, right?”

“Oh god,” Rainbow Dash said, pacing faster.

Since Rarity was late to arrive, the person who currently had Timber’s body (still not any easier to parse in Sunset’s mind), Sunset took it upon herself to speak up on Timber’s behalf. “You probably don’t have anything to worry about, Dash. Timber’s in pretty good shape.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Flash squirming in his seat, as if he hadn’t gotten a handle on how to sit with a skirt yet. “Any teenage boy with anything resembling abs knows what a sport is.”

“And he’s in your body, so he’s got all your super cool moves now!” Pinkie Pie chirped, kicking out her legs. It still didn’t look natural to see Applejack with so much (possibly boundless) energy. “That’s how that works, right?”

Or for that matter, to see Pinkie still and sturdy as an oak, arms crossed. “Pretty sure Rainbow’s the one who learned any of those ‘moves’, but I reckon her body’s got the stamina and strength, so he should be fine, sugarcube.”

As soon as she saw Timber hustling out from the gym, Rainbow threw down her hands and barked, “Dude!”

“Present and accounted for?” Timber raised his hand.

“You’re not wearing my varsity jacket!” Rainbow squeezed her temples between her hands. While it wasn’t accurate to say Fluttershy had never looked so stressed, it wasn’t usually over sports. “I always wear my jacket before a game for good luck!”

“You’re also usually yourself for good luck and I’d say that tends to matter more.” He seemed to catch on that it didn’t help. “But I’ve totally got this! I’ve kicked a ball or two in my time.”

She made a face like a fussy toddler. “Were any of them soccer balls?”

“You know, I never asked them. I’d say there’s a high chance of probably.” He angled his hand in a vaguely comme-ci-comme-ca motion. “I’ve seen it played before, if that helps. Is the most important part reacting to injuries? I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’m a master over-reactor. Referees love that, right?”

Rainbow Dash buried her face in her hands. “I’m never going to college. Goodbye degree.”

“Whoa wait, there aren’t actual recruiters here, are there?” He turned to look towards the audience which was when Rainbow Dash twisted him back, blocking her own eyes like the blinders on a racehorse.

“You don’t just know if there are recruiters at a game!” she whisper-shouted, which for Fluttershy’s voice, sounded suspiciously like talking. “I mean, you can. The coach can usually tell. But it’s supposed to be anonymous, so they can see you playing your best at any game they show up at! Plus, it’s the final game of the regular season! Everything is riding on this!”

Timber frowned. “That’s kind of unfair. They really don’t tell you? I guess it takes pressure off of one game, but then that distributes it over the whole season. More pressure per game probably worsens performance overall proportionally. I bet there’s an equation for that…”

Sunset saw why he and Twilight had dated.

It wouldn’t be fair to say she hadn’t seen it before. The two of them made a good couple for a while there, and she wouldn’t just say that to avoid sounding like the jealous girlfriend (even if that was an added benefit). Sunset watched the whole relationship start to finish, and the fact that she could stand to be around Timber at all should have spoken volumes to how well he treated her. Even if Sunset did it better.

A whistle blew and Coach Hothoof sent Timber out onto the field with a whooping cheer. Since Rainbow Dash’s father discovered he could volunteer as the school’s soccer coach, he found ways to cheer for his daughter in somewhat less biased ways. A tiny bit. A smidge.

Telling Dash’s dad about the volunteer position had been the best possible practical joke revenge Sunset could ever think of. Not too mean, but endlessly entertaining.

Rainbow Dash quivered, adopting Fluttershy’s mannerisms quite well. “I didn’t tell him he needs to kick and run. Kick and run! Kick and run!”

“Yeah! Woo! Way to sports!” Twilight added cheerfully, clapping. Other audience members joined in to root for the team. It endeared Sunset to her to no end that Twilight had so far been to all of Rainbow Dash’s various games and hadn’t picked up on a single sport-related concept other than statistics.

Timber lost the ball in the kick off, and it brought Rainbow Dash screaming to her knees.

Flash hummed. “She’s taking this better than I thought.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t even noticed that Rarity’s not here to cheer her on yet,” Applejack commented then looked to the others. “Speakin’ of, anybody know where Rarity is? Ain’t like her to be late for supportin’ her friends.”

Most of the others shrugged, Fluttershy among them. “I hope she didn’t have as much trouble as I did. Rarity was supposed to practice a monologue in drama class today, but when the spotlight shined on me, I may have hid behind the curtains.”

“I wish I could’ve turned tail,” Applejack admitted. “Pinkie must be signed up for every club or activity in the yearbook!”

Shrugging, Pinkie grinned guiltily. “They’re all fun!”

Applejack pushed her jaw to the side. “Oh, I’m sure they are. One at a time. Everybody came gabbin’ at me like I knew when the TableTop Games club games or the Fencing club fences and how all of ‘em go together for the LARP club. I don’t even know what a LARP is!” She aimed an eyebrow toward Pinkie. “Do I wanna know?”

“Hmmm,” Pinkie thought aloud (Sunset wouldn’t be surprised in the least to know Pinkie genuinely thought in thinking noises). “Well, I guess right now I’m you, and I already know, so the answer is nope!”

Applejack’s eyelids fell to half-mast. “Sounds about right.”

Down on the field in front of them, Rainbow Dash shouted, “Follow the ball! Don’t look at me, follow the ball!”

“Yeah, it’s still all pretty freaky,” Flash said, trying to laugh while his magnetized eyes kept darting back to Twilight. “You think maybe we can try switching back again? Soon? Like, just, y’know, an example but—before the boys gym class tomorrow morning?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Why specifically then?”

“Very very random example,” he sputtered out. “Don’t worry about it. I just mean soonish. Any time now. When you’re ready.” Stiff-arming it, he slapped his hands down to grip his knees, and it made a smackingly wet noise.

“We’ll figure it out soon,” Twilight assured, leaning over to pat his highly tense shoulder, but afterwards she wrung her hands. “Although I must admit, it’s been an extremely confounding day being you, because, well, am I you? Or are you you? We’ve sort of just decided to say you’re Flash and I’m Twilight for simplicity, but what constitutes Flash Sentry or Twilight Sparkle, anyway? The other me in the pony world looks exactly like me, but she’s had different experiences, a whole other life, and she’s a princess but we still call her Twilight! So then which is it?! The body or the mind?”

Sunset’s eyebrows pushed together, but she tried to keep a gentle smile. “Babe, I think you’re overthinking things a tiny bit. You want me to steal you some hot chocolate from the soccer team?”

The coach wouldn’t notice a styrofoam cup or two missing from the stack. Coach Hothoof stood down by the benches and hollered like his daughter had won the World Series. “Ha! Way to go, Dasher! Let ‘em take the lead! It’s even more impressive to come back from behind!”

The real Rainbow Dash all but sobbed into the snow.

Sunset took her girlfriend’s hand, going the tried and true route of calming Twilight down, but even Sunset had to admit it felt wrong: what would normally be Twilight’s slender hand in what was usually Flash’s.

Mewling, Twilight raised their hands. “But even this is baffling! Am I holding your hand or my own? And by extension, who here is dating who? Who is who?! Are any of us ever ourselves?!”

Sunset frowned. If they were themselves, she could put an arm around her girlfriend, but anything she did now would probably freak Twilight out more. “I know it’s weird, but it’s not that weird, is it?”

Twilight looked like she wanted to say something to her then, but she didn’t get the chance. A deep, cultured voice stole their attention away, calling out to them, “Hello, darlings!”

Applejack murmured, “What in the ever-lovin’…?”

Sunset’s brain refused on principle to process what she was seeing: Timber Spruce with class. The kind of scotch-swirling, diamond-owning, tailored-suit-wearing class Sunset herself used to have when she lived in the Canterlot palace. It took her a full half a minute to remember that that was Rarity in there, and suddenly, it all made too much sense.

Rarity strut through the snow in shoes so nice it was a shame to walk in them. She’d managed to tame Timber’s wild curls into a coif, dressed his body up in a pine green button-up and hickory slacks, and twirled an overcoat over her shoulder as she sashayed across the field toward them. She first waltzed her way to Rainbow Dash, who remained knelt in the snow as snowflakes continued to pour. “Sorry I’m late, darling. What’s the score?”

“Devastation,” Rainbow Dash murmured, staring ahead, her breath in the air.

“How awful!” She chanced a glance at the scoreboard and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. But it looks like we’re winning.”

“By only one point! Timber’s going to give me a heart attack!” She grasped at her chest, looking distantly confused. “Or, wait, would it be giving Fluttershy a heart attack…?”

Rarity left her to her conundrum to do a model walk for the rest of their friends. “Well? What do we think? Is it Rarity enough for you all? Does it bring out my inner me or what?”

Looking too sour for it to be the real Pinkie Pie, Applejack watched her do a little turn on her imaginary catwalk on the field in front of them. “Rarity, what in got dang tarnation did you go and get all gussied up for?”

“Oh, psshaw, Applejack, really. You know me by now, don’t you? I thought while we’re all stuck as each other, there’s nothing saying we can't show our true selves. That’s what fashion is for! It’s as I always say,” she began, striking a pose. “Accessories make the girl! Or I suppose in this case, the woodsy dreamboat!”

Both Twilight and Flash gawked without a word. Sunset stayed on standby just in case either of them passed out since they’d done the same for her not long ago. Fluttershy, meanwhile, clapped. “Oh, that’s lovely, Rarity! How stylish! And much less confusing.”

“I beg to differ,” Flash muttered, though not loud enough for Rarity to hear. Sunset hadn’t known what it looked like to everyone else when she blushed before; it was a pretty colour, if nothing else.

Sunset sighed to Twilight. “Okay, yeah. It’s that weird now. Resume freakout.”

Twilight bit her lip. “Actually, can we talk? With Flash and Timber?”

Beneath the bleachers, Sunset waited with Twilight as Flash saved Timber from the halftime pep-talk he was getting from Rainbow Dash. A little light on breath, Timber ducked on the way in. “Hey. What’s up? Secret magic meeting?”

Flash brightened. Sunset had never experienced wanting to protect someone who looked so much like herself. “Did you figure out how to switch us all back?”

“Not exactly,” Twilight said, hugging her arms over her chest in the shadows of the snow-covered bleachers hanging over her. “But... I have a theory.”

Grins rocketed up on the boys faces and Timber chuckled. “That sounds like our girl!”

Sunset would’ve joined them, but something in her girlfriend’s tone snagged like a sickle down her throat. Her eyebrows lodged together. “What’s your theory?”

“Well, whatever’s going on with our magic has something to do with the four of us. That much is obvious. But until now, I couldn’t understand the connection. Are we not demonstrating our true selves? Are our geodes malfunctioning because of the rift in the atmosphere? If so, why not the others? I could come up with plausible explanations, but then, when I saw Rarity back there I realized—” She took in a breath, shaking her head. She looked up to them with flushed cheeks. “—it’s us. Our shared histories.”

“Like… fun times at camp?” Timber hoped aloud. The discomfort weighed down his smile.

Twilight shook her head.

“Gotcha. That history,” Timber muttered.

Call it intuition, call it empathy magic, but Sunset sensed the mood pressing down on all four of them, and she didn’t like where this was headed. She gestured toward Flash and even put an arm around him as she told them, “Flash and I are all good. We made amends and we’re total bros now. Back me up, Flash.”

Flash nodded. “It’s true.”

Timber’s eyes widened, and he looked to Twilight. “So, wait, does that mean it’s you and me doing this? I thought we were on good terms.”

“We are! We absolutely are! The best terms!” Twilight waved her hands frantically. “I mean, I think we are. I don’t think it’s necessarily just those of us who used to date, but I don’t know.” She shut her eyes and tried again, calmer. “What I’m trying to say is, I think there’s things we haven’t talked about and that could be manifesting in other ways. So, we should. And, um… I think…” Her eyes reached for Sunset’s in the dark of the bleachers, the sounds of the game starting up again behind them. “I think until we’re back in the bodies we belong in, we should put things on pause.”

Sunset breathed in.

Twilight must’ve seen the look in her eyes, the one she no doubt had when all the world around them and their friends might not last the night. Twilight lurched forward and rushed out, “Only until then! A-and it wouldn’t be a break! No one has to go on break!” She shot a look toward Timber and Flash then looked up at Sunset despite being taller than her in Flash Sentry’s body. “Just... pause.”

Flash and Timber hovered on the edge of this conversation, locked in a look with each other that they didn’t seem to want to end. Timber winced, and his voice came out much quieter than Sunset was used to. “It… probably makes sense. Would kind of be false advertising to start dating Timber and wind up with ‘Rainbow Dash’...”

“Yeah,” Flash said. His voice rumbled. “I guess it would be.”

Dammit. Sunset rubbed her face and managed to stall any welling behind her eyes before it could start. She couldn’t even get a proper kiss first. She breathed out. “You’re right. It sucks, but okay. Pause. What’s our next move?”

That at least got Twilight to smile. “We do what we do best: we make friends.”