Spectral

Chapters

Flames
Ghosts
Memories

Flames

Midnight fell over Canterlot in silence, a spark, and flames. Under the tranquility of twinkling stars overhead, the Canterlot Library was burning. The building’s signature aroma of aging paper transformed that night into the pungent odour of raging smoke. Inside eighty decibels of alarms screamed, only drowned out by approaching sirens.

From the sirens, a dozen masked unicorns approached the flames, emitting waterfalls from their horns. Pegasi overhead assembled, swirling clouds of magic, and as they burst open torrents of rain, the unicorns cast a secondary spell, engulfing the building’s reddish-yellows in a purple film, dulling the flame’s oscillation. A shout, and a final search-and-rescue team of earth ponies in fire suits penetrated the building, exhaling fully only once the building was cleared of ponies within.

A few minutes later, the flames subsided. Save for the strobing lights of emergency carriages, the scene resumed to one of a tranquil evening, the atmosphere convinced nothing had changed.

An hour later, in the depths of darkness of the hallways of Canterlot Castle, a nightwing galloped towards the royal chambers. His trot pounded on the evening’s silence as he approached; his hoof rapping on a majestic closed door dispelling the quiet for good.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, your Honour. There is an urgent situation.”

Light creeped into the hall via the crack under the threshold. Hoofsteps muffled from within. The door swung open presenting a bleary-eyed but wide-awake head of state. “I’m listening.”

“Your Highness.” He bowed. “The Starswirl the Bearded Wing was destroyed in a fire.”

Twilight’s eyes bulged. “You aren’t serious.” She shook her front hoof with rapid pulses, tapping out the beat of a quick silent tune, an audience cheering in the form of floorboard creaking.

The guard winced. “I am deeply sorry to have disturbed your sleep hours before sunrise, Princess. The Guard is already at the scene. However, I was tasked to inform you given the sensitivity of the breach.”

“Breach?” Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “It wasn’t an accident from the building’s magilectric piping? Or the heating?” To herself she mumbled, “It wouldn’t be the first time in Equestria.”

The guard hesitated. “No, we don’t believe so. While environmental factors are certainly under consideration given the facility’s age, the Guard is investigating the destruction as a probable arson case.”

“I see.” Her hoof’s tapping accelerated. “Alright. Do you have a record of which scrolls were destroyed?”

The guard flashed a curt nod. “While triage is still in-progress, preliminary heuristic damage assessments are available on-scene.”

She inhaled with closed eyes, steadying her hoof. As she reopened my eyes, she closed the door behind her. “Very well. Thank you.”

A bright flash and the nightwing was left alone to patrol an empty hallway.

Elsewhere in Canterlot, dozens of uniformed ponies milled about the remnants of a library draped in caution tape as the princess popped onto the scene in a burst of light. A nearby royal aid approached her and bowed as she surveyed the scene. “Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“Good morning.” She averted her eyes and continued with a nasal twinge. “Well, good might be pushing it. Early morning, regardless.”

The aid stared with a blank face, coloured by neither joy nor fear. “Have you been briefed, Your Highness?”

“Not in full, no.” Her eyes wandered towards the ashes in the distance. “The damage is worse than I feared.”

“Indeed.” The aid’s expression was still unchanged. Their hoof outstretched towards a nearby off-white, black-maned pegasus, whose golden halo cutie mark poked out beside her saddlebag. “Allow me to introduce you to the lead investigator, then.” At the turn of phrase, the pegasus’s ears tilted, leading her body to face the princess and the aid as she approached. “This is–”

“Guardian Angel, Director of Equestrian Intelligence,” the princess completed with a maternal smile. “My, how you’ve grown.”

Angel did return a smile, though not daughterly as much as smug, with piercing eye contact. “Twilight Sparkle, Headmare Emeritus, Harmony Incarnate, and Unelected Leader of Equestria and its Foreign Territories.” She threw a blank glance at the squirming aid, their composure finally broken by the recited titles. “We’ll take it from here, thanks.”

Twilight’s smile persisted as she dismissed her aid with a quick nod. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Angel. Although you must be aware that my titles abroad are merely honorific. I haven’t held political power outside Equestria since signing the Crystal Act.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Angel shrugged. “Anyway, as much as I’d love to play catch-up and review your dubious political career overseas, there are slightly more pressing matters. Let’s walk.”

“Thank you.” Following Angel’s beckoning hoof and trot, Twilight approached the wreckage. “How extensive is the damage?”

A nod. “Eh, the rest of the library was unaffected. But the Starswirl Wing appears irreparable. And your little angel knows just how much you adored your precious little Starswirl Wing.” She pouted with an eye roll. “Too bad it’s gone, Princess Twi.”

“Yeah.” Twilight trailed off, eyes scanning the burnt ghosts left in lieu of the library, squinting as if to cry but with no tears. “I just can’t believe anypony would burn so many books. Do we know the motive?”

“Not yet. We did discover that all interior surveillance feeds were tampered with before the smoke alarms sounded. Yeah, emergency services looked about as clueless as you do now.” She hesitated. “Alarmingly, the feeds didn’t just cut out. They looped, so the on-site guards never detected an intrusion. If they had, the perpetrator likely would have been thwarted before the first flames went up.” Angel gritted her teeth. “Somepony magically tampered with the security.”

Twilight stopped walking, moving a lock of her mane with an idle hoof. “Curious.”

Angel too stopped, looking back from a few steps away. “Yeah, and there is no indication of forced entry. Besides the raging fire, of course. The building’s authentication charm never trigger. To sabotage the surveillance feed is difficult and limits the suspect pool to trained unicorns, at least as an accomplice. But to bypass royal authorization? Unless this was an inside job, the only pony I know with magic that powerful is…” She gasped. “Why, you, Princess Twilight.” She frowned. “Gosh, it must take some real hubris to come back to the crime scene for a briefing instead of fleeing to Yakyakistan.”

The princess squinted, muffling a snort. “Cute, but I was asleep in my castle. Your own guards can verify that.”

A juvenile grin. “Oh, I know, but come on, if it weren’t you, it’d be Queen Cadance. Then I’d get to kick in the international crew, and ooo, we’d have a diplomatic crisis on our hooves.” She licked her lips with a shrill giggle. “It’ll be October of 1015 all over again. I can already see the headlines.”

“Very funny.” Twilight deadpanned. “Regardless of baseless accusations against the former leader of Equestria’s closest ally – my own sister-in-law, as you know – I don’t understand why anypony would target the building surveillance. A simple invisibility spell would have sufficed. Why waste magic, exhausting yourself and outing yourself as a gifted magic user?”

Angel bit her lip. “The evidence is still tentative, but it is possible the true crime was theft, and the fire was merely a cover-up. Targeting the surveillance obscures which scrolls were stolen before the place was torched, right? Casting an invisibility spell on every book in the facility in addition to yourself is no easier than manipulating surveillance.”

“I see. What about the authentication charm?”

“The building was secured with biometrics, which is state-of-the-art for a library with an overdue book problem, but admittedly lacklustre for one holding classified scrolls.” She frowned. “Not that I’m accusing another one of Equestria’s allies or anything like that, of course – but say, any changeling could have walked through the front door undetected as long as they masked as an authorized pony.”

“Changelings?” A heavy pause. “I doubt even Chrysalis herself could have looped the surveillance feeds. And I know – knew – the Starswirl Wing like the back of my hoof. There’s little here of use to anypony but a powerful unicorn.”

Angel brightened. “Hey, there’s a thought: a changeling and a unicorn, magic duo. I get my international crisis cake and get to eat it too.”

“Right.” Twilight sighed. “Could I see the list of authorized visitors?”

“Sure thing.” Angel opened her bag with her mouth and fished out a copy of the access log, which levitated in a purple aura.

Lavender eyes darted through the document, followed by a frown. “Curious indeed. I need to see the list of scrolls missing or destroyed since the fire.” Angel withdrew another series of pages for inspection. “Interdimensional portals, enhanced transfiguration, time travel, limbo.” She looked down, choking over her words. “Dear Celestia, it’s all gone. All of it.”

Hesitation. “Those, yes. The scrolls by authors other than Starswirl do have copies in libraries across the nation, and we have all archives on high alert in case this was only the first of many fires. But yeah, everything by Starswirl and the originals of his contemporaries are gone.”

“I just…” Twilight tapped her hoof against her head repeatedly, mouth opening and closing in beat. “Thousands of moons of knowledge, gone in a matter of minutes. I refuse to believe any creature would commit a crime so vile.”

The pegasus batted her eyes, radiating innocence. “Gosh, I’m so sorry, Princess Twi-twi. Surely you couldn’t just cast a fancy spell to make all this mess disappear?”

Twilight paused her tapping but left her hoof hanging against the side of her head. “I could scan for magical signatures, which should minimally inform us of the species of the perpetrator, and if the criminal is known, we could cross-reference against the Guard’s signature database. It is worth a shot, I suppose.”

“Oh.” A heavy frown. “That sounds like alicorn search magic, huh? Without a court signing off on a warrant, that’s illegal, Miss Twilight Sparkle. And I thought for so long you were a good, law-abiding citizen just like me.” She shook her head, flipping her mane as she failed to conceal a satisfied grin.

Coldness froze the reply. “Then get me the damn warrant, Angel.” She closed her eyes and breathed. “Um. Please.”

A beat, then letting her smile overtake her, Angel produced the document from her bag for Twilight. “You’re welcome,” she sang.

Twilight let out a relieved smile, taking the document. “Thank you. I’m sorry I snapped at you.” The latter swatted her hoof warmly as Twilight read, years of speed-reading legalese to prepare for Court appearances paying off. “Hey. Are you sure this warrant is legitimate? Line three has a comma splice error, line seven uses intelligence jargon where legal terminology would be universally preferred, and the seal is smudged. Not to mention the official signature is, shall I say, illegible.”

Angel scoffed at the suggestion, bringing her eyes to the paper. “Gee, it sure looks real to me.” Before waiting for a response, she hissed, “I’d cast that spell if I were you, Princess. Wouldn’t want a book burner to get away with such a heinous crime now, would we?”

“Ugh.” Taking in the innocent eyes ahead of her and the damages lost to history, Twilight groaned. “Fine. But you didn’t see anything, okay?”

Angel smiled and closed her eyes. “I was never here.”

Shaking her head, Twilight inhaled and focused her gaze on the tattered form of the remnants of the Starswirl Wing, neon green magic forming a tornado around her horn until crossing a threshold that faded her eyes to blank pupil-free orbs and levitated her body a centimetre above the ground. “No,” she mumbled.

Angel peaked open her eyes with a knowing grin, watching as the magic around Twilight’s horn soon fizzled out into the atmosphere, returning her body gracefully to her hooves, and finally letting her pupils roll back into her head.

“Wowza, Twily. You totally did the thing for which no witnesses whatsoever were present.” She rolled her head around her shoulder and made eye contact with a huddled group of uniformed monochrome stallions, shouting, “Nothing to see here, guys.”

“No.” Twilight repeated. “No, it… it couldn’t be.”

“Couldn’t be what?”

She shook her head and paced in a wide ellipse centred around Angel. “You need to promise me this information will not leak beyond her inner circle until we can be certain she was the culprit. If I’m wrong – and I hope I am, giving the current evidence is nothing more than circumstantial, legitimate warrant or otherwise – the resulting reputation damage and potential for political unrest would be immense. Do you understand?”

Angel motioned across her mouth. “My lips are sealed, T. But you said her. Won’t you need to reference the national records to identify a suspect?”

Twilight sighed, letting her idle eyes roam along the background, locking with anything but the gaze of the mare in front of her. “I recognized two distinct signatures of unicorns with whom I have been dearly acquainted, as friends and colleagues alike. The first was a mare named Moondancer, a polymath researcher with security clearance, and many moons ago, my fillyhood best friend. Well, as much as either of us were friends with anypony back then. We haven’t spoken directly in quite sometime, but as I recall, Moondancer has carte blanche access to all national libraries to facilitate a sensitive research project that would certainly require her presence at the Starswirl Wing. Her name unsurprisingly appears on the access logs from every day in the past two weeks, and I have no reason to doubt the purity of her motives.”

“And the other?”

Twilight drooped, clicking her tongue. “The other belongs to a powerful magic user who had no discernible reason to be here and no records on the access log, a user more than capable of tampering with the surveillance feeds and bypassing the authentication charm. Given her capabilities, I am rather afraid to know what else she did on premises before the flames went up.”

Angel frowned. “Gosh, this girl sounds naughty alright. Remind you of anypony?”

“Unfortunately so,” Twilight stammered. “The signature is a perfect match to my reformed former student: Starlight Glimmer.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Angel clapped her hooves. “I never thought I’d cross her path again.” She flapped her wings, hovering off the ground. “First time a former villain unreformed – things are getting spicy, hmm?”

“No,” Twilight shook her head. “Many moons before Starlight but after his own reformation, Discord betrayed us. Thankfully, he has kept well out of the limelight since the change of power.”

“Your change of power, Princess.”

“Regardless, Starlight more than simply reformed. She grew, far from not being evil like some reformed ponies, to being good.” She narrowed her eyes, in a jumbled mix of pride and shame. “Starlight Glimmer risked her life multiple times over for the good of our nation, Angel.”

“Yeah, friendship is magic, blah blah. Need I remind you she also risked it trying to destroy the nation?” She tapped her hoof against her head, winking.

“Yes, I suppose she did.” She closed her eyes and let her neck droop. “I don’t want to believe she’s behind all this. It makes no sense. Why betray Equestria – why betray me – after years dedicating to improving it?”

Angel clapped her hooves. “Sounds like we’ve got a pony to catch.”

“How so?” Twilight’s frown deepened. “What if this was a totally natural occurrence, and… No, that’s impossible. Maybe there was a glitch in the spell, or I misremembered her magical signature…. Oh, what if somepony is trying to frame her for the crime?” She blushed at Angel’s piercing stare. “Okay, I might be the teensiest bit biased.”

“Biased?” Angel flipped her stare to an off-sympathetic beam. “That’s what I’m here for. No matter how off-the-walls villain empathetic you get, and no matter how many crazy mind-altering spells you cast, I promise to be your objective, unrelenting pain-in-the-flank fist of justice.”

A tilted head bore neutral lips but touched eyes. “Thank you, I think.”

“Sure thing.” She pointed skyward. “Now we just have to find Starlight Shimmer, and you can prove her innocence.” Before Twilight could correct the last name or even express renewed gratitude, Angel continued, “Or I can prove her guilt as the case may be. Either way works for me.”

Twilight exhaled, a bit forcefully for a breath but not as powerful as a laugh. “Are the two of us playing good cop, bad cop then?”

“Nah, I see us more as an Angel-Devil pair.” She smiled a bit too wide, forming dimples. “Guess we’ll find out soon who’s who, but they don’t call me Angel for nothing.” She whispered, “It’s my angelic personality.”

A chuckle. “Regardless, I’m not familiar with contemporary techniques for finding ponies on the run. That’s more your department, isn’t it?”

Angel shrugged. “Usually, yes. But I’m sure somewhere in your crazy catalogue of alicorn magic, you have a princess ex machina for a situation like this.”

“No!” the alicorn princess cried out with pink denial engulfing her cheeks. “Technically yes, in the form of magic signature tracking spells, but you know as well as I do that they are proscribed for good reason. Imagine an Equestria where every individual and every organization from the Royal Guard to Flim Flam Enterprises could track the fine movements of magical creatures in real-time with neither their knowledge nor consent. Privacy as we know it would be dead.”

“Mm,” Angel murmured, her eyes rolling back to their upper left corners. “I do like the sound of that. Just imagine how much easier my job will get once you give me unfettered access to a spell like that.” A beat. “Say, I don’t suppose you can chain that with more alicorn magic to let a lowly little innocent pegasus cast that spell? I’m asking for a friend – you know how important the magic of friendship is.”

“No.” Twilight said coldly. “While I had memorized it for, ah, specialized reasons, this spell is absolutely proscribed and will stay as such, probably forever if it was among those lost in the fire. There is no way I would cast it without a warrant.”

The pegasus licked her lips. “Okay, then. Do you have a quill?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow but lit her horn and produced a refined quill with her cutie mark emblazoned. “Of course, I always have writing instruments handy. Especially this little bad boy, the brainchild of upcoming research from a team in Torontrot building devices that function like quills but with higher fidelity, revolutionizing academia as we–”

Angel stuffed her hoof against the princess’s lips. “You’re rambling, Twiggles. Could you hold this?” She released her hoof and gestured at the original warrant, which Twilight grabbed with a grumble. “Thank you. Now close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“Close your eyes,” she repeated forcefully, met with unquestioning compliance. A beat passed with some scratching noises obscured by an eyelid trap of darkness. “Now open.” The princess did so, and Angel gasped, “Look! The signed search warrant includes explicit blanket approval of princess tracking spells. What a coincidence! I guess we just needed to read the fine print, don’t you think?”

Twilight frowned. “You can’t just–”

“Shh,” Angel batted her eyes. “Nopony can prove anything at this point.”

“Ugh. Remind me how you of all ponies are leading Equestrian Intelligence, again?”

“Because” – Angel brought her muzzle close to Twilight’s, letting her breath be felt and heard with every word – “I’m so effective at my job.”

Twilight huffed. “We’ll discuss the legal and ethical implications of your unorthodox–”

“You might be surprised at how much happens under your nose. They’re actually quite orthodox by Guard standards.”

Cough. “As I was saying, we will discuss this as soon as this situation is resolved, do you understand?” She closed her eyes, locked her knees slightly, and as her horn sparked into a glow, “But for now…”

Her eyes remained close for the better part of a minute, her body shaking as visible streams of magic concentrate flowed bidirectionally across her pooling around her horn. At once, her eyes popped open replaced with solid black, unnoticed by the guards in the distance for the darkness blended in with the stars, mixing intrigue and trepidation in Angel watching across from her. Twilight mumbled incoherently, then at the sixty second mark, the black pits in her eyes drained downstream to the usual white backing of her eyeballs, pupils fading in as the magic flow tapered off from her body. In its place the magic left a frazzled mare with a strained face, teeth sinking down into her lip and ears perched park in shame.

“Did you find her?”

Twilight remained in silence until finally admitting, “No. I scanned the entirety of the world – Equestria and foreign nations alike – but Starlight Glimmer? She is nowhere in this world.”

“Gee, I guess she must have gone toast in the flames.” She donned a dramatic frown. “So sad.”

“Maybe,” Twilight replied distantly, memories of her former student flooding her as she allowed her hoof to vibrate. “And if so, we’ll know once the building’s remnants are fully processed. But the firefighters’ search and rescue team found nopony inside, dead or alive. If she is gone, I think we would have found out, and besides, Starlight was – is – far too clever to be outsmarted by fire of her own design.”

“Hmm, but you can’t just disappear out of the world, can you?”

“You can, unfortunately.” Twilight fidgeted with her mane. “In the castle, we have a portal to–” Twilight stopped herself. “Angel, have you been briefed on Project BIPED?”

“Sure thing, your ex girlfriend’s spooky plan to befriend the crazy hairless apes, right? Ooo, would that–”

“Yes– no– she’s not my ex– we aren’t– she wasn’t– I’m not–”

Angel smirked at the sputtering alicorn. “Consider me briefed then.”

Twilight shut her eyes, inhaling and exhaling for a count of one, two, three. With no further acknowledgements, she continued, “If Starlight breached castle security, she could have crossed the portal, and from the other side, she would not show up in a magic scan of our world. Hopping interdimensional portals would be an unconventional escape strategy for theft and arson, but believe me: stranger things have happened with that mare.”

Angel’s smirk only grew with each sentence, and she placed her hoof below her chin as an angelic gesture. “Sounds like we get the privilege of paying your monkey ex a visit.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, fluffing her wings, face a bit dazed. “Sounds like we do.”

After the duo returned to the castle with a team of guards, they assembled in front of the mirror portal in the castle: three guards in front, three in back, and one on each side of Twilight and Angel, each armed with both magic and physical instruments. Angel announced as the form stabilized, “Enter on my count of three.” A paused allowed Twilight a moment to contemplate the tragic absurdity of requiring armed guards to meet with a long-time friend, who she noted was certainly nothing more or nothing less than a friend, all in service of hunting down her own former student. Her swirling thoughts shattered as Angel’s voice boomed, “Three!”, and a stampede of hooves entered and disappeared to interdimensional limbo.

Greeted by a familiar sensory overload world of swirling colours and contorted forms, Twilight stretched and spun, vaguely aware of the terror painted on the guards’ muzzles, though Angel remained calm throughout the process. In a blink, they swirled out, wobbling around but carrying human analogues of their Equestrian arms, put out in vague formation despite the interspecies vertigo afflicting everyone but the princess. At any rate, they were not defenseless – a good sign for moments after exiting, they were greeted by a familiar feminine human form staring at the assembly.

“Good morning.” The woman darted her eyes around the crowd of guards. “Uh-oh.” She smiled, clutching her waist with her hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time?”

“Sunset Shimmer.” Twilight stared blankly at the woman.

“Twilight Sparkle.” She stared back maintaining her smile. “You mind filling me in about what’s happening, or are we just playing name that pony with a bunch of menacing guards pointing weapons at me? Ooo, Princess Luna. No, no, Rarity.”

Before the princess could respond with something more regal than a stifled giggle, Angel cut in, voice dancing on the edge. “We are not at liberty to disclose details at this time. Nevertheless, though I am unsure how you are here awaiting us so immediately, we do have some questions for you.”

Sunset tilted an eyebrow. “I’m notified whenever anyone crosses the portal from either side. That should be in the BIPED paperwork.” She scratched the hair in front of her forehead. “Trust me, it really helps keep up the signal-to-monster ratio if my team can keep tabs on the border. The prime minister wanted to clamp down on irregular crossings, and this here is as irregular as it gets.” She let her gaze drop, finding its way to a weapon aimed at her chest from the nearest guard. “But seriously, this is getting weird. What’s up?”

Twilight began, “I’m looking–”

“–As stated, we are not able to disclose details at this time.,” Angel finished.

Twilight groaned, mentally running through the political calculus, the analysis of the capital required to tell Angel diplomatically to hush up so she could spill to Sunset. But Twilight respected a good protocol as much as anypony, and merely said, “Do you mind answering a few questions?” She paused and flashed a weak grin. “We can hug and catch-up after, don’t worry.”

Sunset hesitated, her grin falling but at once snapping back into place as the word hug bounced around the air. “Sure thing, Twi.”

Angel said, “Before we – before Twilight begins, do you consent to an integrity spell? I assume you’re familiar with the mechanics, but consenting would temporarily waive the right to privacy within the scope of the questioning.”

Sunset fixed her line-of-sight on the princess. “Twilight may cast it, yes.”

A nod, and a purple aura emanated from the pony princess’s lanky human body, power spreading haphazardly in all directions without a horn to focus the flow. Still, she mustered enough raw magic to cast the spell, enveloping Sunset in an analogous glow accompanied by a lavender tilt to the iris. Drowsy, Sunset spoke, “I swear to tell the truth and only the truth to any of my Twilight’s questions.”

“Your Twilight?” Angel huffed. “You won’t answer my questions?”

Greeted by silence, Twilight asked, “Will you answer Angel’s questions?” As Sunset shook her head in reply, Angel scowled.

“Very well,” Twilight continued. “Guards, you may lower your arms. She is not a threat under the spell’s influence.” As they did so, Twilight repeated with a curious lilt, “Are you a threat otherwise?”

“No.” Abrupt and distant, but evidently honest.

The princess nodded. “Do you know why you are being questioned?”

“No.”

Murmurs set upon Angel’s pouting lips.

“Have you heard from Starlight Glimmer?”

“Yes.”

Another stream of murmurs intensified, including among some of the guards.

“When? Under what circumstances? Was she in distress? Were you?”

“Last December on Hearth’s Warming Eve.” Sunset paused. “I was in attendance at your Princess Friends and Family Winter Celebration at your Ponyville castle. Starlight was also in attendance, hence our meeting.” Another pause. “Not to my knowledge, no, she was not in distress.” Silence. “Yes, I was. I had been menstruating before crossing the portal, and the associated cramps crossed over to Equestria with me. I am unaware of the specific details of the portal’s magic enabling the carry over, but it synchronized with my estrus cycle on this side of the portal.”

A few guards in the back of the formation found themselves looking anywhere but Sunset as she spoke. Even Twilight found herself pink, though Angel was evidently unaffected.

“Honest, I suppose.” Twilight looked up. “Do you know where Starlight presently is?”

“No.”

“Do you know of any way we might find her?”

“Yes.” Sunset responded mechanically as heads tilted her way. “You could make a list of her known prior movements and associates, and ask relevant individuals about her plans and historical whereabouts to gain further information targeting a search. Where exempted by law, you could also use tracking spells. Additionally, you could–”

“Okay,” Twilight interrupted. “That’s enough.” At Sunset’s immediate silence, Twilight hesitated but asked, “What did you mean when you said my Twilight?”

“We were close, and though our communications have tapered as we have each aged in our separate lives, to me we remain close.” Sunset paused and robotically declared, “Whatever happens between us, you will always be my Twilight.”

Twilight allowed silence to fill the atmosphere, finally pronouncing, “That’s enough.” Another purple aura enveloped her, and as it made its way over the guards, it magnetically pulled its counterpart aura from within Sunset, the tint in her eyes fading as it moved out. The auras collided halfway between Sunset and Twilight, neutralizing each other in the process and misting into the aether. “Thank you for your time.”

Sunset shook her head, smiling. “So we can stop being so weird now?”

Angel responded, “While you have answered the questions to my satisfaction, and while your credentials within the Equestrian government are impressive, the Royal Guard’s investigation is confidential. If you were already familiar with the details of the search, okay, but at the moment, I am not at liberty to disclose further information. Thank you for your cooperation in securing the future of Equestria.”

Sunset frowned. “Cooperation in securing the future of Equestria? What, are you Equestria’s new Minister of Propaganda?” She stole Twilight’s eyes with a teasing grin. “C’mon, you never introduced me to your new friend.”

Twilight let slip a giggle. “Guardian Angel.”

“That’s Ms. Angel to you!”

Sunset giggled back. “Pleased to meet you. Minus all the threatening my life bits, of course.”

Cutting her way through the guards and interrupting any opportunity for Angel to retort, Twilight approached Sunset with open arms. “Hug?”

“Hug,” Sunset replied, and they embraced. Sunset’s eyes faded to white in the warmth of the embrace, and Twilight could feel pressed up against her breast the outline of a geode occluded by Sunset’s jacket. An affectionate moment later, Sunset’s eyes returned to normal, and she whispered into Twilight’s ear, “Thanks.”

Twilight rested her head on Sunset’s shoulder and nuzzled their cheeks together, turning Sunset’s a faint crimson. “Anytime,” she whispered back.

Angel cleared her throat. “As endearing as this is to watch, Princess Twilight Sparkle” – Angel narrowed her eyes – “the Guard must be returning to Canterlot to resume the investigation.”

Twilight turned back. “Right, of course.”

“I’m coming.” Sunset blurted.

All eyes turned to Sunset, Angel’s among them. “As I stated, due to security protocols in place due to the case’s confidentiality, we are unable to accommodate extraneous personnel.”

“I said I’m coming,” Sunset repeated, voice steadying with each word. “I’m an Equestrian citizen expatriated under a diplomatic visa. I’m allowed in Canterlot, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“Then I’m coming.” Sunset punctuated her remark with a half-smile, lips curling back to reveal the outlines of human teeth.

“Fine.” Angel sighed. “Let’s go.” She called back group formation in front of the puzzle, and said, “Move on three.”

Though twelve ponies emerged from Equestria, after three seconds, thirteen returned.

The thirteenth returning with a toothy ruddy grin, body pressed up against a certain familiar purple princess.

Across the portal, Twilight and Sunset gracefully returned their hooves to the ground as the guards attempted to rebalance in their equine forms. Catching Angel’s eye, Twilight said, “I have business in the castle to attend to. We will reconvene this afternoon. Angel, in addition to the continued search on site, please dispatch guards to follow up on Moondancer. Castle staff may reach me in case of emergency. Otherwise, you are dismissed. Thank you.”

The guards saluted and exited to the adjacent corridor, filing off in different directions. Angel threw one last glance at Twilight, who shook her head, finally prompting Angel to join the departing Guard.

Sunset headed towards the door. “I, uh, good luck with dealing whatever business you said you had. I guess I’ll be off figuring out where I’m sleeping tonight; I don’t have too many friends on this side of the portal with couches to bum off.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I can find a B&B in Canterlot, if I can figure out what I did with all my Equestrian bits.”

“Wait.” Twilight trotted towards the door and reached her hoof towards her companion. Sunset met her eyes with a strained smile. “You’re the business.”

“Oh?” Sunset blinked. “Oh!” A smile slithered on. “In that case, could I ask you a weird question?”

“Always.”

Sunset darted away her gaze. “Could I hug you? Again? I was too focused on analyzing your emotional state via the geode to really take you in.” She coughed. “Uh, take the hug in.”

“Oh.” Twilight stepped forward to meet Sunset face to face, and wrapped her hooves around the smiling, warm, and did she mention soft? pony in front of her. “I’ve missed you, Sunset.”

Sunset craned her neck around Twilight’s. “Are we allowed to talk about that? Because I’ve missed you more than you know.” As Twilight opened her mouth, Sunset quickly added, “More than you want to know, honestly.”

Twilight tilted her head. “We’re friends. Of course we’ve missed each other, and of course we can talk about our feelings about each other as friends. What’s the issue?”

“I meant giving what happened after the Battle of the B–” Sunset searched for Twilight’s eyes, cheeks warm and eyebrows soft. With a loving smile, she shook her head. “Actually, never mind. I definitely miss you though.”

“Alright.” Twilight passed through the door and waved her hoof. “I still haven’t eaten breakfast. I don’t suppose we could catch up in the castle dining room?”

“Hmm, I’d have to think about it. A meal prepared by the royal chef, in a castle, shared with my dear friend Princess Twilight Sparkle.” She reached out and booped Twilight’s nose with a grin, as Twilight stared back unprotesting. “I think I could squeeze you in my schedule.”

Twilight’s lips curled up as she trotted side-by-side towards the dining hall. “It’s really good to see you. Diplomacy in the capital gets lonely.”

“Oh, is single-handedly governing a nation-state that tricky?” Sunset smirked, lightly punching Twilight’s shoulder. “Kidding, though if you ever get bored with your job, you could always try holding an election. It worked for Cadance, didn’t it?”

Twilight snickered. “If by worked you mean Flurry Heart at age fourteen was a few dozen votes away from becoming the first Prime Minister of the Crystal Empire, then yes, it did.”

“Parents have to get vacation days somehow.” Sunset flashed her tongue.

The princess shook her head and inched herself closer to Sunset’s side. “I don’t know. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and with the Starswirl Wing being burned down last night, politics are on hold since we’re in crisis mode.” The princess hushed her voice and passed her eyes through the room, as if to check if Angel was surveilling her from afar. “You know as well as I that any one of the stolen spells could threaten the security of Equestria if unmitigated. The last time we had a crisis this severe was–” Twilight stopped herself. “Well, last Tuesday?” She laughed emptily. “No rest for the winged.”

Sunset creased her eyebrows, resting her hoof over the gem necklace hanging from on her chest. “But that’s not what’s on your mind, is it?”

Twilight paused, both in speech and in trot, eventually saying, “No.” She bit her lip and resumed her trot in silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hesitation as Twilight frowned. “No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just feeling conflicted about all the evidence pointing to Starlight Glimmer being the culprit. She was my own student. I loved her.” She curled her lip. “I still love her. Ever since she moved to the Crystal Empire, our friendship has grown distant. She did attend a conference during the last Council of Friendship meeting, so it’s been about six weeks since I’ve heard from her at all.”

Sunset mirrored Twilight’s frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Twilight whispered, “Me too.”

“Do you think she’s guilty?”

“Maybe?” Twilight tapped her hoof. “I don’t really believe it for a second. I know she’s physically capable of committing crimes far more delicate than arson or theft, but never in a thousand moons would I suspect she actually would post-reformation.” The tapping intensified, with winces accompanying each hit. “But we have been growing distant, settling into our respective lives hundreds of kilometers away. Part of me wonders if I don’t know her as well as I used to. Part of me is willing to believe she really is guilty. Even entertaining a thought like that makes me feel guilty.”

Sunset nodded as Twilight abruptly stopped in front of massive double doors which opened themselves with a lavender glow. “Madeleine?” she called out.

“Good morning, your Highness. Shall I prepare your usual for breakfast?” A yellow earth pony emerged with a white coat and a short mane folded back in a curl. She turned to face Sunset. “And, oh my, you have a plus-one, hein?”

“Pardon?” The duo stepped through the door and towards the long centre table. Twilight turned to Sunset and said, “What do you want?” Sunset grew a faint shade of pink as she whispered a response, unintelligible to outsiders.

Giggling, Twilight said, “Could you prepare some, ah, pancakes with fruit jam?” She bit the bottom of her lip in a foalish smile. “Make it a double order, please. Thank you.”

Madeleine nodded warmly. “Of course. I will have them ready for you and your Lady in about ten minutes.”

As she retreated into the adjacent kitchen, Sunset let out a laugh. “A plus-one? Your lady?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Aren’t I a special one today?”

Twilight tilted her head quizzically. “You’re always special to me, Sunset.”

“Oh?” Sunset opened and closed her mouth silently. “You’re special to me, too, Twilight.” Under her breath but still audibly, she mumbled, “Really special.”

Twilight stared back at Sunset, gaze blank but warm.

Sunset hung her mouth open for a beat, then closed it breaking off eye contact. “Anyway.” A whistle. “So it’s just Starlight on your mind, then?”

After a moment, Twilight said, “No. There was another name I saw today. One I haven’t seen in years.”

Sunset nodded slowly. “Right. I saw another pony in your mind who I didn’t recognize. Tan coat, bangs like yours?”

“Moondancer.” Twilight exhaled. “My fillyhood best friend. We didn’t have the strongest friendship, but we did have each other. Besides, she was my first.”

Sunset snorted. “I thought I was your first. You know, after the Dazzlings–” Met with an embarrassed glare, Sunset quickly said, “Sorry. Continue.”

“Thanks.” Twilight pushed her tongue against her lip from within her mouth, a bulge protruding. “Moondancer was like me, in ways nopony else I knew back then was, and few ponies I’ve known since then have been. I cherish my friendships with ponies like you or Rarity or Fluttershy, but with Moondancer, there was a deeper connection. Similarities in interests and outlook on life that not many ponies anywhere seem to share with me.”

Sunset nodded.

Twilight turned to white and hastily added, “Though there were ways in which were nothing alike at all, of course.”

“Yeah?”

“Like the fact that Moondancer is–” Twilight looked away. “Never mind. It isn’t right to gossip. It’s her story, not mine.”

“Fair enough.” Sunset raised an eyebrow as a smirk set on her lips. “Hey, not to change the subject or anything, but any chance you want another hug?”

“Hugs are always good with me.”

She looked into Twilight’s eyes with mirth and wrapped her with her hooves, eyes flashing white with the contact. As she released, she muttered, “Ah.” Twilight’s mouth hung open. “Sorry.”

Groan. “Well, now you know.”

Sunset nodded distantly. “I guess I do. But I don’t see why this is such a bad thing.”

“It’s not.” Twilight bit her lip. “Usually. She was always just so different, and I was the only pony who didn’t seem to notice at the time.” Her volume dropped with her gaze. “Sometimes I wonder if the only reason she stuck with me was a lack of options. We had other friends in theory, but in practice if we weren’t together, we were with our families or alone.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true. You’re a wonderful friend.”

“Maybe now, but back then? I’m not embarrassed by my past, but…”

“My past is not today?” Sunset grinned, biting her cheeks. “I get it.”

The pair shared a moment of eye contact, interrupted only by Madeleine walking into the room balancing two dishes on her back. “Good morning once again, Your Highness and company.”

Twilight straightened her posture. “Thank you.”

Sunset eyed the pancakes. “Gah, that looks delicious.”

Madeleine gave a slight nod. “Thank you, Miss.” She set down the plates onto the table, distributing them in front of each pony. “Bon appétit.” She glanced once more at Sunset and winked. “And bonne chance.”

As she trotted back to the kitchen, Sunset stared at her dish, digging in aggressively for a first bite as soon as Madeleine was out of sight. With an over-enunciated swallow, she beamed. “That’s the stuff.”

Twilight levitated a silver knife and cut a small piece of her own pancake, which she levitated into her mouth. “It’s good, huh?”

“Good?” Sunset took in another bite. “I don’t think food this delicious exists on the other side of the mirror. No magic, no magical pancakes – I really got the short-end of the stick with my diplomatic duties, didn’t I?”

Twilight swallowed and giggled. “You’re always welcome here. Do tell me you’re here to see me, though, and not just the food.”

Another bite, less messy now that she bothered to take a utensil. “Of course I’d be coming to see you. You’re my friend.” She let her utensils hover unused for a moment. “Not that I wouldn’t also be coming to see the food.”

“But mostly me?”

Sunset brought her hoof to Twilight’s cheek. “But mostly you.”

A sigh. “That’s all I needed to hear then.”

“What, feeling insecure about our friendship?”

“No,” Twilight said. “Just about my cooking abilities.”

A laugh. “Fair enough. Better than feeling insecure about our history.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean – and I know it was years ago – I’ve thought a lot about you since the night we kissed.”

Blink. “We didn’t kiss. You kissed me.”

Sunset made a downward stroke with her hoof on Twilight’s nose. “Well, you pressed your lips against mine, and then I kissed you. So you’re technically correct.”

A swift nod. “Technically correct is the only kind of correct. Anyway, you were saying?”

Sunset sighed. “It’s nothing. I love you, Twilight.”

A smile, genuine from the eyes to the mouth. “I love you too, Sunset.”

“Promise me whatever happens going forward, you never forget–”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Fwoosh.

All eyes turned to a out-of-breath member of the Royal Guard standing at the threshold of the dining room. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, Director Guardian Angel requires your immediate presence. There has been an urgent escalation in the investigation.”

Sunset mumbled to herself, “I guess I crashed the party on the right day,” eliciting a half-giggle from Twilight quickly buried under the royal mask of leadership.

“Let us see the coordinates for teleportation then.”

The guard moved his eyes from Twilight’s to Sunset and back to Twilight’s. “Only your presence was requested by the Director, your Highness.”

Twilight dropped her eyebrows. “I am aware of what Guardian Angel requested. As the Princess, I counter-request that Equestrian diplomat Sunset Shimmer join me, regardless of Guardian Angel’s original wishes. Thank you.”

A meek nod from the guard and a beat of hesitation. Strained, he said, “Of course, your majesty,” and produced a small scrap of paper containing coordinates identifiable as somewhere within the city.

“Thank you.” Twilight turned to Sunset. “You ready?”

“It’s been a lot of years since I’ve practiced this spell.” Sunset shifted. “But hey, no time like the present.”

With a quick brush of hooves and a flash of light, they were gone, leaving the guard alone with two plates, some crumbs, and a half-eaten pancake.

On the other side of the spark, the duo appeared in a dim windowless room illuminated by the whirring light of magilectric devices lining the tables: a makeshift laboratory. By then the chatter of the Royal Guard hurrying around the scene replaced any dark tranquility the room once possessed. As the girls popped in, several heads turned their way, Angel’s included. “So you decided to show up, and– Oh. I see you brought your ex-girlfriend.”

“What do you want, Angel?”

“Gosh, I just wanted to help you.” A bleak smile. “Because we just found a perpetrator.”

Two pairs of ears tilted towards Angel as Twilight asked, “Who? Where are we?”

Angel waved her hoof in a wide circle. “Welcome to the basement of a Miss Moondancer.”

“Moondancer.” A pair of voices repeated in unison.

Angel brought her hoof to her heart, bending her head slightly with a tense smile. “That’s the pony. Say, Twilight, wasn’t it you who asked me to look into her? That means you must have suspected something,” – Angel grinned – “because you know that no matter how squeaky clean a pony might be, I can find dirt on her. And boy, oh boy, what dirt did I find.”

Twilight shook herself, body vibrating as she huffed out words. “I didn’t mean– I just thought– I didn’t know– I wondered–”

Sunset raised her hoof to Twilight’s pounding chest. “Twilight was just trying to be thorough in the investigation, no ulterior motive.”

A whisper. “Thank you.”

Angel shrugged. “Be that as it may, we discovered your old fillyfriend has ties to King Sombra.”

“She what?”

“Gee, you don’t think I would lie about an Equestrian citizen being connected to the cult worship of a dead foreign demagogue?” Angel frowned. “Actually, I would. But it’s the truth this time.” She clapped her hooves. “Come see for yourself.”

Twilight sunk her teeth into the threshold between her lower lip and her chin, letting the dull pain and shaky hoof contrast against her rapid breathing and stomach knot. Sunset brushed their legs together, a gesture that forced a smile onto Twilight’s lips but producing little effect on her breathing.

The two followed Angel over to a nearby desk, housing a blinking device and a messy stack of scarcely illuminated pieces of paper. All but one contained hornwritten scrawls illegible to the untrained eye. But the lone page, centred on the desk and propped up against a light-emitted device, contained a large flow chart with perfect lettering. At the top was the text “Starswirl the Bearded” with an arrow extending from it and looping immediately back. Below it and connected by an arrow was “Twilight Sparkle”, again with its own looping arrow. A pair of bidirectional arrows to the left connected Twilight’s name to “Starlight Glimmer”.

Twilight’s jaw dropped as she read the final name, in much larger than the rest: “Sombra”, with a dashed arrow extending from her own name to his, and a dashed arrow extending from his name back to Starswirl’s on the top of the page, forming loops nested in loops.

“If that’s not cult symbolism, I don’t know what is.” Angel licked her lips. “Oh, it could be a death threat, of course. Either way, Princess Twiggles.”

“I beg your pardon?” Twilight swung her arm in front of a ruddy, huffing Sunset.

“Gee, I don’t know.” Angel placed her hoof on the diagram. “But Starswirl the Bearded passed away years ago, Sombra several years before that, and Starlight Glimmer went missing in a library fire last night – the very same fire Moondancer was at per your own admission. Gosh, the only living name on Moonie’s cult chart is…” Angel shrugged. “You, Princess T.”

Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “That can’t be right. What about all the arrows?”

“Arrows connecting all her different attacks, maybe?” Angel flipped her mane. “I’d assign you additional bodyguards, unless you have so much counterfactual faith in your old fillyfriend that you’d rather not. But look on the bright side, we found your library arsonist.” She beamed. “Tada.”

Sunset peered around the desk and picked up one of the papers in her hooves. With a burst of magic, the tip of her horn became a source of radial light, and she squinted her eyes moving across the page.

Angel snickered. “Good luck reading her deranged ramblings; it’s all gibberish. We’ve sent in copies to our forensic headquarters for analysis, but you won’t–”

“Time travel.”

“What?”

“The chart reflects time travel.”

Angel’s grin dropped as her eyes turned to slits. “You know this how, pony who conveniently shows up the morning after a crime is committed?”

“Pony who you crossed the dimensional barrier to seek out and accuse of crimes until she proved her own innocence in violation of Section IX of the Equestrian Constitution.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “And this isn’t gibberish – it’s just French. Which, I mean, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I see the mix-up now.”

Twilight brightened, both in demeanor and faintly in colour. “You can read French?”

“My colleagues back home seem to think so. Honestly, it just looks like Old Ponish with terrible grammar if I squint hard enough. Regardless, it doesn’t take a genius to recognize cognates about signal processing and chronological…” Sunset dropped, eyes bulging. “Hold on a second.”

She stared blankly at the page. Finally, she closed her eyes and with a beat of grunting emitted a small glowing spark from the tip of her horn, then a second spark, then a third, until eventually a warm glow circled her horn. With a moan, the magic glow drifted off her horn and into midair, forming a projected rectangle floating in front of her, and with a final exertion as she peaked open her eyes, words and arrows formed in the air.

The same words and arrows found in Moondancer’s notebook.

Twilight gasped. “Is that…?”

“It’s…” Sunset’s words faltered as her eyes opened with new dark circles, the image collapsing back into a stream of amorphous glow returning into her via the tip of her horn. “It’s real.”

She compressed her hind legs and gently placed herself on the floor, wheezing. “See the notebook.”

Twilight grabbed hold of the notebook, eyes flickering aimlessly. Sunset said, “Second paragraph from the bottom,” and Twilight’s eyes locked, mouth drifting open as her hoof tapped against the floor.

“A catalogue of time travelers, sorted chronologically.”

“Chronologically?” Angel asked. “The arrows are pointing in all sorts of crazy directions, and it’s not even a straight line. Hardly chronological if you ask me.”

Sunset wheezed. “Time isn’t… Twilight, if you could…”

Twilight kneeled down and held Sunset in her hooves, keeping her eyes fixated on the top ruffles of Sunset’s mane as she said, “Time isn’t linear in the fashion most ponies intuitively expect. Mathematically, there does not exist a total order of events in the universe, or even a partial order. Indeed, the existence of time travel in itself violates the fantasy of causal ordering.”

Angel grumbled. “English, Big T.”

Twilight rolled her hoof around Sunset’s mane, a small smile forming at the ticklish sensation of her hoof brushing against hair strands. “Other than that required by the second law of thermodynamics – which in and of itself is only valid from a particular temporal perspective – physics does not define an arrow of time.” She blinked. “Sorry, English. Our sense of time and our ideas of past, present, and future are the work of magic, as it relates to consciousness. Time magic, not the work of a unicorn but of the magic of the universe itself. That means time magic, as accessible to skilled unicorns, can stop, traverse, or even reverse the flow of time along a particular timeline.”

“But then the chart…”

“So, if I understand the spell correctly, the chart displays time travelers visible in our timeline regardless of the timeline of their time travel. Starlight Glimmer traveled in time years ago, affecting many other timelines, but ultimately imposing no change on our own timeline, hence why she is branched off. If time were linear and one-dimensional, the chart would be linear, and indeed, empty. That there are names occupying a two-dimensional plane reflects a much more nuanced reality.” Twilight’s ears folded back. “I’m not sure what the arrows mean yet. It’s also peculiar that there was a thousand year gap between my time travel and Starswirl’s.”

Angel shrugged. “That doesn’t seem so peculiar. Starswirl’s spells were highly concealed and proscribed. I read up on your old little time loop, and it didn’t sound like you would have cast the spell if fate had not intervened, right? And who knows, maybe Starlight would never have learned about the time spells if she hadn’t heard about you casting them first.”

Twilight contorted her eyebrows. “Could be. Would that implicate me in all of this then?”

Angel beamed. “Sounds like it.”

“Lovely,” Twilight said, shaking her head.

Sunset moaned. “Sombra.”

Angel gritted her teeth. “Yeah. Does this mean King Sombra was a time traveler?”

Twilight buried her eyes deeper into Sunset’s head. “I couldn’t say. But I have a bad feeling about…”

“Uh, T?”

“Oh dear.” Twilight threw her head around her neck. “No, no, no, no, no. Angel, the warrant, please.”

Angel tipped her eyebrows upward and produced the document from her bag. “Need any amendments? I’m sure there’s a qualified impartial judge that miraculously happens to be roaming around this exact underground laboratory who could sign off on a change.”

“What a miracle,” Twilight said flatly. “But no, I need to cast the tracking spell.”

“Nopony’s stopping you.”

“Right.” Twilight inhaled, closed her eyes, and let magic flow around her body. The bright magic streams contrasted against the dim room, attracting the nervous gazes of on-scene guards, met only with Angel’s fiery stares forcing their eyes to concentrate anywhere but. In muddied privacy, Twilight’s eyes popped up and once again blackened, staying as such for twice as long as before. Sunset inched her neck upward, opening her mouth at the sight but producing no sound, while Guardian Angel lived up to her name.

Soon enough, Twilight’s eyes streamed back to white accompanied by a dull countenance. “I have good news and bad news.”

Sunset mumbled out a hmm while Angel met her eyes expectantly, as Twilight cowered into herself but dared not break eye contact.

“Good news: Sombra is not anywhere in this world. I don’t think we’re at imminent threat from powers of the past seeping into the present.” She pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “Bad news: neither is Moondancer. Given the state of the laboratory, she must have been in Canterlot recently. But now she simply does not exist, same as Starlight, same as Sombra.”

“Ooo, so it’s double good news.” Angel smiled, counting on her hooves. “Three magic villains, two missing ponies, and a partridge in a pear tree. I don’t know about you, T, but Hearth’s Warming Eve sure is coming early.”

Sunset mumbled, inhaled, and attempted to get up, falling over and cuddling back up against Twilight’s embrace. “Moondancer going missing is hardly good news.”

Angel frowned. “It’s a perfectly good solution to her Sombra cult, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t we just establish there is no Sombra cult?”

“You can’t prove a negative,” Angel sung with an uptilt.

“Ugh.”

Twilight sighed. “It doesn’t look like there is an immediate danger at any rate. Perhaps forensics can decipher some meaning out of all this. Naively, I want to think this is an irrelevant artefact of Moondancer’s eccentric research interests, but the coincidences are too great.”

“Coincidences?”

“Time magic.” Twilight swallowed. “The time spells were among those lost in the fire. I hope I’m wrong, but what if this is bigger than we thought?”

Angel sneered, “Bigger than a time traveling, kidnapping Sombra cult?”

“I don’t know.” Twilight buried her head into Sunset’s. “Unfortunately, if there’s no immediate threat, I do need to return to the castle to catch up on court backlog before the nobility eats me alive. If anything turns up, you know where to find me.” She frowned. “Sunset, are you up for teleporting?”

Sunset closed her eyes and tried to muster out a spark. “Sure,” she said. “In a few hours.”

“Figured. Do you mind if I teleport you with me?”

Sunset breathed with a faint smile dancing around a tired muzzle. “You? You can take me anywhere you want, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight blinked and chalked about the choice of words to magic exhaustion. “Alright. On three, then.” Sunset nodded. “One, two, three…”

Pop, and they were alone.

Ghosts

Sunrise beamed through a castle window. Sunset Shimmer groaned, keeping her eyes firmly shut despite the assaults on her eyelids rudely interrupting a pleasant dream of a dear old friend. Yet the sunlight brightened, and as she opened her eyes, she caught a glance at another snoozing face. She cuddled up – some dreams come true.

Twilight stirred, first with a little rumble and then rolling over into Sunset’s arms. At the physical contact she recoiled, eyes bursting open and ears jumping up as little exclamation marks over her head. Time paused as Sunset met her eyes with a weak smile, and as the second passed, Twilight quickly threw her gaze in the opposite direction, letting her ears droop back to their sleeping orientation as she rolled over to hug herself. “You startled me.”

Sunset grinned, bulging her pupils innocently. “I’m sorry?”

Exhale. “It’s fine. There is no shortage of worse ways to be startled.”

“Ah, you’re welcome then.”

Twilight giggled. “Thanks.” She yawned. “I’m sorry, I’m really not me when I’m tired. Years of late-night royal events have taught me how to mask it away after dark, but I’m really not used to guests early morning.”

“Makes sense, yeah.” Sunset tilted her head fondly. “Though some might say you’re the most you when you’re tired.”

“I guess?” Twilight rolled her head gently around her neck. “It’s just weird having ponies around this early.”

“What, are you not used to sleeping with mares?” Sunset stuck her tongue out. “Before you dispute the facts, I woke up in your bed, so yeah, we slept together.”

“We didn’t engage in intercourse.”

Sunset gasped, choking on a giggle. “Oh, of course not. What ever made you think I was suggesting anything of the sort?”

Twilight flopped her ears. “Fair enough. I grant that the idiom was ambiguous, so perhaps the error in interpretation was my own,” she said. “Imprecise language is the root of far too many logical errors and social misunderstandings alike.”

“Uh-huh.” Sunset curled her mane in her hoof. “Although, since you were the one who brought up – not me in any way whatsoever – I must ask in the interest of linguistic precision. Would you like to fool around – ahem, engage in intercourse?” She rolled over in bed, inching herself closer to the princess. “Not that you should read anything into me asking. Clearly just an exercise in precise language.”

Twilight blinked. “I’m the Princess of Equestria. That seems a risky proposition.”

“That didn’t stop us when we were teenagers,” Sunset sung, elongated her vowels. “But consider: perhaps my propositioning you wouldn’t be risky” – she winked – “but just risqué?”

“I guess? Anyways.” Twilight unhooked herself from Sunset’s arms and climbed out of bed, stretching her legs two at a time unfazed by Sunset’s watchful presence, then opening the bedroom door with her magic to reveal a mailbox attached firmly to the other side. She directed a small stream of purple magic at the lock, causing the box to latch open and drop a stack of medium-priority scrolls. The scrolls levitated towards her muzzle and into an archive bin as she skimmed each in sequence. Meanwhile, Sunset rolled herself onto the floor and over to Twilight, who finished and said, “I’m needed in a few hours at the RTSS facility on the outskirts of the city – not that any such facility or organization exists whatsoever, of course.”

“Equestrian ambassador to Ottawa by my own merit, and oh, I woke up in bed with the Princess if they deal in nepotism.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “I’m sure whatever clearance they need isn’t a problem.”

A small smile tug on Twilight’s lips. “If you don’t have diplomatic duties on the other side of the portal, you could come with me.”

“Diplomatic duties on a Saturday morning?”

Twilight grimaced. “Normal in my world.”

Sunset mirrored the grimace. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Meh. So is that a yes?”

A faint blush. “It’s a date.”

Twilight tilted her head with a smile. “Alright. I’ll need about an hour to get ready. Feel free to make yourself at home; any of the Guards can help with directions to the washrooms.”

“Thank you,” Sunset turned a faint pink, unnoticed by Twilight who turned away and descended into a distant hallway.

Once alone, Sunset made her way to her saddlebag resting against the leg of a bedside table and produced an aged book, which emitted a faint magic glow from a magilectric circuit routed along the spine. Connected to the book by a faint string was a faux quill, which she took with her magic as she opened to a bookmarked empty page and began to write.

Amber:

Yesterday’s unexpected activity along the border was by Equestrian officials. All foreign nationals involved returned shortly after we were notified. I am in Equestrian Canterlot now but expect to be back on Monday.

Please extend my sincerest apologies to Rift for missing our one-to-one.

Best regards,

Sunset

She darted her eyes through the text, and with a satisfied nod, signed Sunset Shimmer in sloppy cursive below her printed given name, pushing the message across the fabric of space.

After a tense moment of hesitation, she opened a heading on the next page:

Twilight Sparkle:

I’m so sorry for the late notice, but I won’t be able to make our lunch tomorrow. There was some “interesting” activity at work. Long story short, I’m with the princess.

I may or may not have made some confessions I may or may not regret. (Shocker, right?) Anyway, what’s done is done. Unless the world collapses – which is admittedly an ongoing risk – I’ll see you next Sunday.

Love,

Sunset

Immediately she signed and closed the book. She turned to rest her head against her lap, closed the book, and merely breathed.

Later that morning, Twilight Sparkle entered the ground floor of a laboratory, Sunset forming the shadow of her wing. A middle-aged yellow earth pony greeted them, prostrating himself for the princess. “Your Highness.”

“Good morning,” Twilight said. “I was informed that you had an update on the arson case, Mister…”

“Lemma Neighed.”

“Pleased to meet you. May I introduce you to Sunset Shimmer?” After a brief bout of lip-biting hesitation, she added, “Sunset is the case’s advisor to the Crown on extra-dimensional affairs.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow with an amused warmth, outstretching her hoof to Lemma. “It’s honour to meet you.”

“The honour is mine. Please, follow me. There is an instrument, I believe, of interest to your investigation.” He trotted to an adjacent room, the mares tagging side-by-side behind. “Completed only one moon ago, our one-of-a-kind temporal spectrometer is the latest addition to our catalogue. Despite academic interest to the theoretical physics community, the design is classified due to its potential for abuse.”

“Abuse?” Sunset asked.

“Indeed.” They passed through to the hallway on the other side of the room, cutting across to a door that clicked and sparked unlock with physical touch from Lemma’s hoof. He opened the door with his mouth to bring the trio to a restricted stairwell. “While classical, spatial spectrometers are well-known and commonplace in university laboratories, a series of delicate tweaks can alter the device’s orientation. Classical spectrometers contain a single sensor calibrated to the T axis in fourth-dimensional space, thus measuring transverse waves produced over time forcing perpendicular spatial motion along the X, Y, and Z axes.” Two flights of stairs up, and they continued to climb. “On the other hoof, our instruments’ three sensors are calibrated to the X, Y, and Z axes respectively.”

Twilight’s mouth hung down. “Thus measuring transverse waves produced over space forcing two-dimensional perpendicular spatial motion and one-dimensional temporal changes.”

“Exactly.” Yet another floor ascended. “By rotating the sensors via Starswirl’s Second Method, we can surveil time travel in real-time.”

Finally, the group reached the final floor, the stairs disappearing into a door with a large red stop sign on its exterior with fine lettering underneath. Ignoring the warning, Lemma grabbed the knob and led the group into the interior viewing platform. “Unfortunately. time travelers are not what we’re here to see today.”

Inside, the group found themselves on a small ledge with support bars for safety along the edges, overlooking a ten meter drop composed of multiple rooms stacked together without floor or ceiling to subdivide, the space spanned by an oversize metal contraption. Dozens of indicators lights dotted the device, none illuminated, and a thick cable extended from the base of the device up to a small enclosed box at the side of the ledge.

“Welcome to the pride and joy of the Royal Thaumaturgic Surveillance Service.”

Twilight’s pupils contracted into tiny dots. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.”

Sunset shook her head warmly and winked at Lemma. “She’ll get over it, eventually.”

Twilight shook her head sideways and up. “I can’t believe I’m really seeing this in-pony. I do remember signing off on the proposal, but no quantified measurements can do justice to seeing it here, oh my gosh.”

Rosy-cheeked but grinning, Sunset placed a gentle hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.

“If it isn’t too much to ask…” Twilight smiled. “Could I see it work its magic?”

Lemma kicked his hoof against the floor. “Unfortunately, no. It stopped functioning early Friday morning, contemporaneous to the incident under investigation as I understand.”

Sunset furled her brow. “Why wasn’t the Guard informed about this then?”

Twilight nudged her, whispering, “Equestrian bureaucracy is its own field of magic.”

Unfazed, Lemma replied, “Especially on novel instruments, benign equipment failure is not uncommon. We’ve treated the past month as a glorified beta test before wider deployment. An incident report was filed internally, and a team was dispatched to investigate. Again, purely technical concerns.” He scratched his nose. “At least, they were until the Guard barged in last night.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to like where this is going.”

A snort. “I bet Angel would.”

Lemma sighed. “The project to build the temporal spectrometer was led by the original designer of the device, Canterlot’s leading expert on temporal mechanics.”

“Moondancer.” Twilight facehoofed, leaving her hoof against her head covering her vision. “What are you going to tell me next, there were sightings of a mysterious purple unicorn named Starlight Glimmer destroying the machine?”

He tilted his head. “Pardon? No, nopony was seen at the facility, and we have state-of-the-art intrusion detection. Only the most talented of unicorns could impersonate one of our staff.”

Twilight shook her head. “Starlight is the most talented unicorn I have encountered. There was no material evidence of a security breach at the library either.”

“I see.” Lemma flushed from yellow to off-white. “While the cause of the outage has yet to be identified, there is no evidence suggesting physical damage. Indeed, the machine is still powered on and producing readings, but every sample from every sensor has zero within a ninety-five percent confidence interval.”

Twilight tapped her foot. “What’s the issue? Doesn’t that just mean nobody is time traveling at the moment?”

“No,” Lemma and Sunset replied in unison, exchanging a quick glance as the latter continued, “There is no real meaning to time travel at the moment. If anyone has ever traveled backwards through time, they travel back an infinite number of times. Once backwards, then forwards to the present, then backwards again. It’s a loop.” At Lemma’s stupefied expression, Sunset smiled. “What? I read a lot of science fiction in high school.”

Twilight’s foot tapping quickened as a silly smile planted itself on her face. “So if anyone had ever traveled back in time, we should see that rippling bidirectionally into present, like a wave. Wait, doesn’t that require an infinite amount of energy? Doesn’t that violate every known conservation law?”

“Exactly, and no, it does not. The machine would detect the same energy as used to initiate the time travel, bouncing across the timeline in an infinite sequence of action-reaction pairs,” Lemma said. “But as I said, the focus has been on the machine itself. Our analysis has merely consisted of monitoring the first derivative of a moving average of sample amplitudes. In the beginning, we observed increasing behaviour after filtering out for background noise, so we hypothesized the device could predict the occurrence of time travel in Equestria.”

Sunset raised her hoof. “Wait, now I’m lost. Didn’t we just establish that time travel is symmetrical so the samples should be constant? Seems pretty useless.”

Lemma flashed a shallow smile with tired eyes. “Right. It was not constant, but after a sufficient period of increase, the amplitudes began to decrease instead, and we now know the resulting pattern is a wave. Useless in applications, but theoretically groundbreaking. But now it’s just reading zero, which contradicts both hypotheses about the devices’ behaviour. In the end, we burned through a lot of bits on the project, and on Friday morning, even our revised theories were invalidated by inexplicable equipment failure.”

“Hmm.” Twilight pursed her lips. “Sorry, but did you ever meet Moondancer?”

A nod. “I was assigned as the liaison between the designer and the RTSS. Moondancer was a character alright. I first met her after the project statement of work was signed, and she waltzed in here, bright-eyed and bushy-browed. She never entertained small talk about her personal life, or asked about mine. It was all business with that one, but the passion in her voice talking about the machine was unparalleled. I always thought I loved my job, but she put a new meaning to it. She returned weekly throughout the project’s construction, somehow a bit more excited each time.” He laughed. “Judging by the amount she wiggled her ears, anyway. The day construction completed and we powered on the machine, she couldn’t stop bouncing.”

Twilight smiled. “That’s Moondancer.”

Another nod, slower this time. “But something changed. When I saw her two weeks ago, after two weeks of successful operation, she was a mess. I don’t think she combed her mane in the week between, and the dark circles under her eyes were worse than mine during my university days. She was muttering to herself, ears drooped and twitching for the whole hour, never once even making eye contact. She suggested the differentiated average as an analysis technique but offered none of the brilliant insights she peppered in every other conversation we had. She did visit last week and just a few days ago, but her words each time were ever sparse, like she was under some kind of spell.”

“A spell.” Twilight cursed under her breath. “Lemma, my sincerest apologies in cutting short the story, but do you have access to the raw data from the machine’s first week?”

“Absolutely, yes.” He trotted over to the box to the side of the ledge, which he popped open with a hoof stretched out over the barrier, scrolls folded and compressed inside with dust collecting at the top as new data fed in from the cable at the bottom, forming a first-in first-out data queue. He extracted the top few centimetres of scrolls and paged through with his hoof. “Here. Maybe you’ll have more luck than she did.”

Sunset and Twilight stared at the page together, neither saying anything at first. Eventually Twilight said, “That spell from Moondancer’s laboratory didn’t come out of nowhere. The elements of the coefficient matrix weren’t lucky guesses either. This data, this wave…”

Sunset swallowed. “Yeah. It’s not just one wave though. Look at all the smaller peaks and troughs – this is a sum of multiple waves.”

“Moondancer would have noticed that too, of course.”

“You don’t think…?”

“I do think.”

Sunset summoned a creative human world interjection, earning a confused wince from Lemma. “Okay, so we won’t get any useful insights from the raw time-domain data. Er, space-domain? All but the most coarse components are far too high-frequency to perceive with the naked eye.”

Twilight facehoofed. “Ugh. Taking a moving average of the data will serve as a crude low-pass filter.”

Lemma frowned. “Come again?”

“I don’t think it’s an accident Moondancer gave you that analysis technique on her worst day. This instrument is far too precise for noise reduction to help more than it hurts. She would have known that full well it would have simply obscured the data.”

He drooped. “You think there’s something she didn’t want the Service finding out?”

“It seems so.” Twilight tapped her hoof against the ground. “This is a good lead. But back to the data, we’re inherently interested in the spectrum, and if we look at the frequency-domain instead, we might gain some insights.” A gulp. “Come to think of it, Moondancer’s spell does embed what in hindsight looks suspiciously like a Fourier transform to extract the frequency-domain from raw data. If only someone had experience with such a spell…” She stared innocently at Sunset.

“Absolutely not.” Sunset spat. “I love you, Twilight, but there is no way I’m casting that horror again.”

“I love you, too.” Twilight smiled automatically, manually readjusting to the frown a beat later. “I was just going to ask to cast a Fourier transform, not Moondancer’s entire spell, but I can do it.” She squinted and tilted her hown down to the page as a spell formed, and slowly tilted back up to trace out a path midair, building a projection of a graph: the frequency spectrum.

Sunset stared at the projection. “I’m not sure what to make of this. It has far too much internal structure to be random. Honestly, it almost borders on fractal-like in ordered beauty. But it’s not like there’s a cutie mark in the middle of the graph; this isn’t a magic kindergarten scavenger hunt.”

Twilight opened her eyes fully, maintaining the projection with ease. “There do seem to be clusters of frequencies with far more amplitude and far more structure than the noise between them, repeating up the spectrum like harmonics.”

Lemma piped up. “Perhaps you could focus on one cluster a time?”

Twilight complied, and with a slight change in the colour of the magic aura, the graph zoomed in to a cluster towards the middle, and immediately, Twilight gagged.

“I take it you’ve figured something out?”

Twilight sputtered. “The pattern is amplified here and shifted to a much higher frequency, but undoing the modulation, this is clearly my own magic signature.”

Sunset laughed. “I’m proud. I don’t think many ponies know what their own magic signature looks like in the frequency domain.”

Twilight breathed. “I spent a lot of years alone, Sunset. And signatures to me look just like they feel. They are the same object, just viewed through different isomorphisms.”

“Nerd,” Sunset coughed, as Twilight rolled her eyes. “The other clusters then?”

With silent compliance, the graph zoomed out and in to each cluster left to right. “About a dozen unknown before myself, trailed by Starlight Glimmer, myself again, and finally, unknown. How helpful.”

Sunset shivered. “We both know what that spell meant, though. I’d wager anything one of the first signatures is Starswirl’s…”

“…which means the last is Sombra’s.”

Lemma went wide-eyed. “Sombra? As in, the King Sombra?”

Twilight nodded. “It is a likely possibility, given the circumstances, but given only the raw data, we would need access to the signature database to confirm.”

His eyes drifted, theory and practice no doubt swirling in his head. “Princess, while the canonical archive rests securely with the Guard, we do have an archived copy on-site in the building.” He hesitated. “I’m no detective, but something tells me you’re about to ask if a certain eccentric poked through the archive’s access logs that day.”

“Yes, if you would be so kind. Thank you.” Twilight punctuated her statement with a smile a centimetre too wide, which Lemma quickly returned as he alone exited through the double-doors back into the stairwell. As soon as he was out of sight, Twilight’s smile dropped with force towards the ground, bouncing back up in a rhythmic beat.

Sunset frowned. “Are you okay? It feels like we’re making progress, right?”

Twilight did not respond except in an acceleration of the beat.

“Right. Do you want to talk about it?” A shake of the head. “Okay, want me to use my geode?” An apologetic nod instead. Sunset smirked, closing the physical gap between them and immersing herself in her friend, images flashing through her mind and distant voices drowning out the tapping marking real-time. She held the touch as her eyes misted back into the present, slowly Twilight’s beat to a halt.

“I miss Moondancer more than ever, Sunset.” Her words were whispered, as if the spectrometer could hear if she was too loud. “There’s a growing pile of evidence against her, but somehow I just miss her long-winded tangents, and the fact that she sat through mine. I miss the fact that when nobody else outside my family did, she seemed to understand me, and somehow, despite her diagnosis, I understood her. I’m grateful I met my Ponyville friends, but I can’t help but wonder if abandoning Canterlot without a word so many years ago wasn’t one of the biggest mistakes of my life, second to what I did to…” Twilight sighed. “To Angel.”

“I hear you.” Creasing her eyebrows, Sunset adjusted her hooves into an embrace and squeezed. “But the past is in the past, and believe me, if we’re going back that far, the past should really stay in the past.”

“The past is in the past,” Twilight repeated, emptily, slowly. “The past is in the past,” she said, with a little more force and a bit faster pace. “Sunset? Given she escaped tracking in-universe in this timeline, what if that’s where Moondancer is hiding?”

Sunset pursed her lips. “In the past? I thought Starswirl’s method was limited to a minute at most, if you could even pull off the spell.”

“True.” Twilight raised a hoof. “But somepony generalized Starswirl’s method to extend the duration of travel arbitrarily, provided a sufficiently powerful energy source to initiate travel. An energy source like the Tree of Harmony, in the form of the Elements, or perhaps the Cutie Map?”

“Starlight Glimmer.” Sunset scrunched her eyes with a moan. “I’m peeved. If she’s in on it, they could be anywhere by now. Doing anything.”

“Y– yeah.” Twilight inhaled with far too much force to be subtle. “The leading magic theorist traveling back in time with the most powerful living unicorn, committing crimes rippling into the present?”

“Unsettling when you put it that way.”

She inhaled with a fast zigzag of small exhales slowing the stream. “My first student and my… My first friend.”

Sunset cuddled her cheek against Twilight’s.

“I miss them both.” She choked on her breath. “I miss Moondancer and Starlight, my Ponyville friends, Princess Celestia. I miss the life I left behind when I took the throne. I miss the days I could be myself around ponies who wanted me for more than my title, when I could pace around and recite digits of pi without worrying about my public image.” Twilight rumbled, an empty lull passing through her throat. “Seeing the ponies I used to love disappear? Seeing their ghosts only in the evidence? Seeing Angel ready to arrest just about anypony for the treason on the slightest shred of circumstantial evidence?” Twilight buried her head against Sunset’s shoulder and shrieked, muffled only by a hasty silence bubble cast on instinct. “It’s too much, Sunset.” She sniffled and enabled a free flow of tears. “It’s just too, too much.”

Against the rapid expansion and contractions of her friend’s chest, Sunset merely held still and stroked her mane. “I’m here for you, friend. I’m here.”

A few minutes in, as the wailing wavelength increased and the amplitude decreased, Sunset caught footsteps in the stairwell. She squeezed one last time, holding Twilight a little longer, a little tighter, and finally let go. Twilight sucked in a packet of air, popped the bubble of silence, and creaked upon her eyes as the door creaked open.

“I’m sorry for the delay, Princess.” Lemma shut the door behind him, carrying a manilla folder on his back. “Logs are stored in the basement.”

Sunset flashed a grin, stealing center stage while Twilight rubbed her eyes dry. “Look on the bright side: you got your cardio for the day.”

Lemma chuckled. “That I did. A copy is here if you need it, but to save you the trouble: yes. Moondancer accessed the signature database about six hours after the spectrometer was initially powered on.”

Twilight took a breath. “I see. Please forward a hard copy to Guardian Angel in the Royal Guard to coordinate analysis. If there is nothing further, I believe it is best we return for the interim.”

Lemma nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.” The door opened, and the group descended the stairs single-file in silence, Lemma’s eyes lasered in concentration, Twilight’s swirling off into the distance. and Sunset’s warmly set on Twilight.

Just before exiting the facility, however, Sunset said, “Wait. If we jumped to conclusions based on the log, we would be no better than a certain flying friend. Just to avoid jumping to conclusions, could we take a peak at the signature database ourselves?”

“Certainly,” Lemma said. “Just one floor down from here to the basement.”

Downstairs, they followed Lemma into an enclosed adjacent room with stacks of filing cabinets on each side, the stacks on the left sorted and labeled numerically, and the stacks on the right alphabetically. Sunset turned left and craned her head to read off the letter ranges, stopping at the S drawer which she yanked open with her magic. Within the cabinet, twenty-six cardstock dividers with labeled tabs stuck out, and Sunset grabbed the stack of papers under O, and fishing through, producing the file indexed Sombra.

“Here.” Sunset passed the page over to Twilight. “Do you recognize the data?”

Twilight squinted, eyes rolling back as if calculating, and then nodded slowly. “The last frequency cluster. Moondancer’s spell was correct.”

Lemma swallowed. “Does that mean our spectrometer captured evidence of a threat to Equestria traveling in time?”

“Yes, it would seem so.” The mares exchanged a glance. “And it would seem Moondancer knew that too, three weeks ago.” Twilight bit her lip, first at the tip then curling her mouth in until her teeth sunk in halfway to her chin. She clenched her eyes, and with a sigh, released her mouth and opened her eyes. “Yet neither I nor the Guard was informed.”

Sunset hesitated and met eyes with Lemma. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Certainly.” Lemma flashed a curt nod and retreated to the stairwell. “Come up when you’re ready.”

As the clip-clop of hoofsteps disappeared to silence, Sunset wrapped a hoof around Twilight. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t know.” Twilight buried her head in her hooves. “Maybe Angel was right about Starlight or Moondancer after all.” She coughed. “I realize there’s no guilt or innocence for either mare until all the evidence is collected and analyzed by the Court. But my mind keeps wandering to every what if?, to every way I lose the ponies I loved. Ponies who for all I know might not even be alive.” She choked on the passage of air. “Maybe they are miraculously innocent, but they still could’ve succumbed to the fire. Ponies don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“I’m sorry.” Sunset adjusted her gentle grasp. “But if it’s any consolation, could I promise you something, Twilight?” A shallow nod. “Whatever happens, I’ll be by your side as long as you need me. Even if I need to tell some politicians back home to diplomatically kiss my rear and postpone meetings until I can return. If the Prime Minister can wait, so can the Canterlot nobility. You’re the priority, Twilight.”

She shook her head. “Equestria’s safety is the priority. I don’t matter in the end. Maybe Equestria needs Princess Twilight Sparkle – that’s okay. The princess will be there for her ponies.” She swallowed. “But she and I are not the same. I’m still the little filly that abandoned her only friend in Canterlot to obey her princess, spending years pretending to be a mare fit to lead.” She wiped her eye and inhaled. “Celestia knows it paid off, since I am the princess now, and all that matters is the future of Equestria.”

Sunset stared. “Okay, so Equestria is your priority. That’s fine.” She curled a lock of Twilight’s mane in her magic, as she extended a hoof for a gentle caress on the cheek. “But you’re mine, Twilight Sparkle. You’re mine.”

Moisture formed around Twilight’s eyes. “Thank you. But I can’t be.”

Sunset gently tugged at the curl of mane, draping it down against Twilight’s muzzle. “Watch me.”

Twilight ran her teeth alternately through her upper and lower lips, the slight popping leaving a faint crease on each iteration. Eventually she shook head. “Your diplomatic work is more important than I am, Sunset.”

“I disagree.”

“You’re being reckless.”

“So what if I am?”

“You’re under oath to protect Equestria. I could have you removed for failing to represent the state per your duties.”

“Alright,” Sunset said, with a slight shrug. “As long as Angel’s removed, too, for whatever stack of laws she’s broken.”

“What?” Twilight’s voice shook, the crescendo of authority crashing off guard. “Angel’s served her time.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Twilight asked.

“Yeah,” Sunset said, tone not particularly accusatory but somewhat listless. “You haven’t done anything in your short tenure as Princess that would get you forcibly removed? On the other side, Parliament could issue a vote of no confidence. I realize your bureaucracy doesn’t work that way here, but you know as well as I do there are limits to what you can do. The law applies even to a princess.”

Twilight sighed. “You make it sound so easy to get a political pink slip.”

“Do you ever worry about a coup d’etat?” Sunset’s voice grew serious. “Your friend in the Guard would love to have your job, wouldn’t she?”

“No.” Twilight replied firmly. “No, she would never. I know you don’t trust Angel, but this isn’t about her.”

“Okay.” Sunset drew back. “But it is about you, Twilight. I’m worried about you. You’re living in a game of chess of your own design, where you’re the queen and there is no king.”

“Princess Celestia left me in charge. What are you suggesting?”

“Abdicate, throw an election, elope with an old friend back to Ponyville and live for the present for the first time in your life?” Sunset brought her hoof towards Twilight’s, who instinctively took it. “What the nation thinks you are capable of doing, what you yourself think you are capable of doing, and what you are actually capable of are three different universes.”

Twilight sighed. “Thanks, I think. I won’t.”

“I know.” Sunset contorted her face about illegibly. “C’mon, if you insist on staying in Canterlot, I know just the place to help you clear your head.”

A sheepish smile. “Lead the way then.”

The open sky embraced Princess Twilight Sparkle overhead as she waltzed through the Canterlot Royal Cemetery grounds, wings outstretched and covering Sunset Shimmer in their warmth, a trace of a smile set on the princess’s face and a blush set on her friend’s.

“Thank you for taking me here,” Twilight said, rolling her lip around and adding, “however morbid.”

Sunset smiled. “Not many ponies come here this time of year. Maybe some think it’s dark or sad, but I think there’s something peaceful.”

“Yeah?”

Sunset shrugged. “I’ve flirted with the end too many times to count, between rifts in spacetime, magic-addled monsters, and the time… Never mind.” Twilight blinked, unquestioning as Sunset swung away her words. “Being surrounded with the deceased in such a tranquil location takes away the fear of it, you know? When it’s my time to go, if it’s a bit like this, I think that’s okay.”

Twilight nodded and softly said, “I try not to think about that era, between my wings and my friends’ lack. Maybe in a way that makes the quiet here all the more meaningful.”

A breath. “We can only live for the present. And for me right now, the present is enjoying the outdoors with the coolest pony in my life.”

“Coolest?” Twilight snorted. “I am many things, but I don’t think cool is one.”

“Oh?” Sunset stopped, and Twilight followed, fanning in her wings. Once they were steady, Sunset placed her hoof on Twilight’s forehead. “Oh dear, you’re right, you’re hot. I’m so sorry, my mistake. You’re clearly not cool.”

An eye roll. “Clearly, and that’s one of the most cliched lines in the book.” A beat. “And you know I’ve read the book, for any book in question.”

Sunset flashed her tongue. “If even you can pick up on a pick up line, I guess it really is that trite.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means my lips are waiting.”

On cue, Sunset puckered her lips outward into the air, eyes closed expectantly with a knowing smirk tugging at her cheeks. Twilight giggled. “I guess I’ll have to find out the old-fashioned way.”

Sunset cracked open an eyelid. “Kissing me?”

“Investigative research.”

“Last I checked, ponies having been smooching long before Sherlock Pones or the scientific method. So I’m just saying if we’re really going for old-school here…”

Twilight giggled. “You know, I’m not the observant pony about these sorts of things, but my deduction skills are implying that you might be attracted to me. Or in heat.”

“Or both,” Sunset licked her lips as Twilight bit her own. “Too much? Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She sighed. “I’m sorry if I’m out of line. All my mental reserves are tied up right now worrying.”

“Hey,” Sunset said. “I’m the one flirting with you; you’re not out of line. I’m happy to lend a pair of ears, though.”

Twilight nodded slowly, silently. Sunset strained looking for eyes she could not find as Twilight hung her glance downward.

“Still thinking about Moondancer and Starlight?”

Another nod. “I think Moondancer used to look up to me when we were fillies. I didn’t really realize that at the time, but looking back, the signs were there.”

Sunset smiled. “Who wouldn’t look up to an adorable prodigy?”

“Prodigy,” Twilight echoed, tasting the word on her tongue. “I’ve never liked being called a prodigy. I was proud to be Princess Celestia’s star student, but I didn’t want to be the center of attention.”

“Not really your style, eh?”

“My style?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I guess you liked all the adulation as the filly.”

“Kinda led to my downfall, but yeah. The more the princess praised me, the more I thought of myself as the princess incumbent.” She shrugged. “I’ve grown a lot since. Oh, and you make a better princess than me,” she added, poking Twilght’s wings.

“That’s just it. I never wanted to be a princess, or a prodigy. As a filly, I just wanted to learn, grow academically, explore the richness of a supernatural world.” She smiled weakly, gaze distant. “That’s all Moondancer wanted, too. But fate had other plans.”

Sunset snickered. “By fate do you mean Princess Celestia?”

“No!” Twilight flashed red, breath quickening then quickly retreated. “No. This isn’t Princess Celestia’s fault.”

“Didn’t you just say…?”

“I don’t blame Princess Celestia. She had Equestria’s best interests at heart.”

A frown. “Did she have your best interests in mind?”

“Of course,” Twilight said automatically. “Princess Celestia would never lead one of her students into a path that could harm them.” Sunset stared back deadpan, prompting Twilight’s ears to flop down. “Again? Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it. I was intolerable back then anyway.” Sunset shrugged.

“Anyway, my destiny was princesshood. Moondancer’s was academia.”

Sunset tilted her head. “Was she jealous of you?”

Twilight laughed breathily. “Hardly. She gets to research to her heart’s content while I’m stuck kissing diplomats.”

Sunset crossed her arms and puckered her lips. “What, so kissing diplomats is exhausting? Need I remind you the Equestrian diplomat to Canada is an excellent kisser?”

She giggled. “Point taken.”

Sunset bopped Twilight on the nose.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“For getting off-topic. Also, for being cute. But mostly the topic. You were talking about Moondancer?”

“Moondancer.” Twilight clicked her tongue. “She was my first friend, but she was different than other ponies.”

Sunset smirked. “Gosh, Twilight having friends who aren’t entirely normal. Colour me shocked.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Twilight hesitated. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but she was open about it, and I guess you already caught a glimpse through your geode yesterday.” Another pause. “Moondancer was different in a… spectrum sort of way.”

“Ooo.” Sunset grinned. “Nerdy and queer? If she wasn’t missing and under criminal investigation, I think I’d ask her out.”

“Not the gender spectrum or the sexuality spectrum.” Twilight’s voice grew faint. “The autism spectrum.”

“Sure,” Sunset said without missing a beat. “But if she is into mares, I’d still totally ask her out.”

“Moondancer was diagnosed when we were fillies, and to be honest, it didn’t change anything between us. She was still Moondancer, and I was still Twilight, and we were both socially awkward introverts who sat side-by-side silently reading separate books.”

“Friendship is magic?”

“Something like that,” Twilight said. “I never paid any attention to it as a filly since she was my baseline for normal, but looking back, it should have been obvious. Moondancer had a number of self-stimulatory behaviours and some academic interests with depths unparalleled by anypony I know. Myself excluded. If I asked, she would monologue about any one of them for as long as I would let her, and even if I didn’t, somehow she could connect any conversation topic to chemistry or magic theory – hey, why are you looking at me like that?”

Sunset chuckled. “No reason, no reason at all. Proceed, dear friend.”

“Alright.” Twilight clicked. “It wasn’t all cute, though. Moondancer would have shutdowns, especially in crowds or loud spaces. They weren’t frequent in the classroom, to my knowledge, but when they happened, she would freeze, hyperventilate, not answer any questions that weren’t strictly yes or no.” A frown. “To be perfectly honest, I never really minded as a filly. Those were just Moondancer moments, the good and the bad. But Celestia knows if someone like her were princess, the nobility would riot.”

“Twilight?” Sunset raised her voice with an edge.

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean someone like her?”

Twilight blinked. “Moondancer found a home for herself in her research, in a laboratory where she could shine as an autistic pony, not a pony pretending desperately to be non-autistic. I don’t think she lacked the raw ability to bear the Element of Magic, but leading the nation? I don’t know if she would crumble, even if she could keep up a neurotypical facade for a little while. Out of all the gifted unicorns in Equestria, Celestia chose me for a reason for the thankless job.”

“I don’t buy it.” Sunset frowned. “Sure, Equestria has had few rulers throughout its lifetime and much less time to contemplate who is fit to lead, but so what? Not too long ago, back home, no heads of state were, uh, mares. Certainly none would dare be openly gay. But we’ve learned leaders come from every background, and discriminating only holds a society back.”

Twilight squirmed. “This is different.”

“Different how?”

Twilight raised both of her eyebrows. “My day as a princess involves meeting with hundreds of self-righteous ponies, navigating a delicate, imaginary, and completely arbitrary social hierarchy with undocumented contradictory norms that make no sense to any rational pony, myself included, but which cause scandals to transgress. I sit through obnoxiously loud crowds, I keep myself totally still and proper in the company of proper ponies, and I’m forced to plaster on an artificial smile while I’m at.” She sighed. “Hoof tapping doesn’t cut it in the throne room. Princess Celestia taught me that lesson early.”

Sunset winced but did not reply, allowing Twilight to continue.

“But I put up with the duties of Princesshood because Equestria needs me. I wouldn’t wish anyone to fill my shoes, least of all a pony with sensory sensitivities or the need to move to self-regulate.” Twilight sighed and frowned. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Twilight…”

“I’m sorry.” A triad of slow clicks. “It isn’t that Moondancer would not have been fit to lead.”

A faint smile. “You think in some alternate timeline, Moondancer would have been prepared for Equestria?”

Twilight paused, face frozen, mouth hung down. Finally, she said, “Yes. But I don’t think this Equestria is ready for Moondancer.”

The duo shared a moment of silence.

A whisper. “Twilight?”

A hum with an uptilt.

“Was Equestria ready for you?”

Another click to silence, finally broken by an almost inaudible, “No.”

“Is it ready now?”

A helpless frown replied in lieu of speech.

“Canterlot isn’t so overtly ableist that an autism diagnosis would hold ponies like Moondancer back from the roles you and I have.” Twilight’s frown deepened. “But if I learned one thing in my studies under Princess Celestia, it was that in a world of extraworldly villains, Equestria needs heroes. Every heroic task I faced under her guidance, freeing her sister, facing Sombra and Tirek… I don’t know if it would have been too much for Moondancer.”

“I haven’t met her,” Sunset said. “But she sounds a lot more capable than you’re giving her credit for.”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t doubt her ability. But in the heat of the moment, staring down an eldritch monster? I don’t know how much heroism she could take without a shutdown. Or casting that timeout spell.”

“Timeout?”

“Yeah.” Twilight smiled at the memory. “Moondancer was a problem solver, and when we were fillies, she saw the shutdowns as a problem to be solved in a uniquely Moondancer way: her timeout spell. I’m a bit hazy on the theory, but mechanically, it was a derivative of the Clover method. Still, given her age and the relative complexity of the magic involved, her ingenuity was impressive in retrospect.”

“Only in retrospect?” Sunset laughed.

“I lived in my own bubble as a filly; I didn’t notice everything. Moondancer monologued to me about the spell one time before I moved to Ponyville. She said it really helped her remove herself for a few minutes from a situation to catch her breath. I only cast it once myself, as an academic exercise after she showed me her derivations, but I was happy to listen and learn.” A giggle. “Leave it to Moondancer to piece together a spell to manage autism.”

“It sounds like you two really hit it off.”

“Ish?” Twilight smiled sheepishly. “Neither of us knew anypony else our age who wanted to quibble about magic theory.”

“Sure.” Sunset scratched the side of her head with her hoof. “Besides, I don’t get between a pair of ponies and their special interests.”

“A wise choice.” A giggle, cut short into confusion. “Wait, you know what special interests are?”

“Yeah. I guess you don’t know, but a friend of mine back home is on the autism spectrum herself. Given I’ve had the pleasure of listening to no shortage of infodumps, I think it’d be a little hard not to know what special interests are.”

Twilight rounded her lips into an o. “Are you…?”

“Autistic?” Sunset swatted her hoof. “Nah, I’m just a garden-variety, gay neurotypical. I’m here to support you guys, though.”

“You guys?” Twilight’s eyes bulged.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” A sympathetic frown.

“I’m not on the spectrum.” Twilight declared bluntly.

“I wasn’t saying you were.” Sunset stuck her tongue out. “I’ve just noticed you stimming–”

“Self-stimulatory behaviours are natural and associated with a myriad of physical, psychological, and neurological conditions, indeed including but far from limited to autism spectrum disorders.”

“Alright then.” She threw her hooves up in a shrug. “Your special interests, though?”

“Circular argumentation. Special interests are a euphemism for the passions of autistic ponies, myself not included. Therefore my interests, while truly special to me, are ipso facto not special interests, even if some of them might overlap with special interests of a small subset of autistic ponies.”

Sunset sighed. “Just, be honest: besides the alone together shtick with Moondancer, did you have any friends as a filly?”

“Of course,” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Shining Armor, and my parents for that matter.”

“Family doesn’t count.”

“What about Cadence?”

“Still family.”

“Not at the time. She was my foalsitter.”

“I rest my case.”

“I see your point.” Twilight sighed, and as Sunset glanced at her with heavy eyes, she bit her lip. “I don’t understand why you’re pushing this.”

Sunset glanced away. “I’m worried.”

“Worried I might have autism?”

Sunset shook her head. “No, if you do, that doesn’t change how I think of you.” She paused. “Worried you’re digging your own grave.”

Twilight’s ears tilted towards the floor with her eyes scattering to a corner, her tight regal posture deflating, Sunset’s words thumbtacks to the spirit. “It’s too much. Princesshood, nobility, the case. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She flung her hooves around Sunset, who tilted down her head distantly. “I’m here for you always. I’m sorry for bringing up a sore subject.”

“It’s okay.” Twilight curled her head, increasing the surface area of physical contact between the mares. “I’m sorry for getting defensive. I guess – hypothetically – it would not have to be the end of the world.”

“It would not be at all be a bad thing, no. And hey.” Sunset squeezed. “You’re Twilight Sparkle, and you’re wonderful exactly as you are. It sounds like Moondancer saw that. I certainly see it.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me for speaking the truth.”

Silence.

Relative silence.

In absolute terms, escalating angry voices, the clip-clop of hooves on pavement, and the whirr of infrastructure filled the air dreadfully.

“Sunset?”

“Yes?”

“Has the world always been this loud?”

Sunset simply tightened her grasp, lest she speak one word too many, and the two shared a moment under the moon. “Can I nuzzle you?”

“Yes.” Twilight replied automatically. “You can touch me any way you want, Sunset.” Her voice choked a bit. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been touched by a friend.”

Sunset complied, and for a moment, Twilight relaxed.

A moment interrupted by a piercing scream out of sight, leading Twilight to jump out of the hug with her wings outstretched, hovering a centimeter over the air, while Sunset stared, frozen.

“Literally loud, huh?” Sunset flinched.

“Literally,” Twilight panted breathily, rocking herself back and forth, starting slow but accelerating with each utterance. “Literally indeed. I don’t remember the world being loud like this when I was a filly, back before I became a Princess. But it’s like someone cranked up the volume to max when Princess Celestia stepped down, and not just because of Canterlot’s urban noise pollution. Literally. Literally.” A small distracted grin accompanied a slowing down of her rocking. “It’s kind of a fun word. Literally, literally, literally.”

Sunset nodded, rubbing her snout against Twilight’s head in the process.

“Lit– sorry.” Twilight blinked. “Since yesterday, somehow it is even louder.” By now, she was moving her body at upwards of two or three hertz. “I haven’t said anything, but it feels like everyone is screaming. Let alone–”

Shriek.

A second scream in the distance washing over Twilight’s ramblings, leaving aggressive hyperventilation in its midst. A crescendo of sirens and strobing lights followed from a tiny carriage. Twilight squirmed, clicking her tongue and tapping her hoof against the ground with the beat, belly expanding and contracting in comic proportions as Sunset stood helpless. A moment later, and the tiny carriage became full size on the road behind the grounds, illuminating the sky, and drowning out all other sounds in its roar. Twilight’s squirming halted, as she clasped her ears with her hooves and pushed with nearly enough force to concuss.

As the carriage approached, Sunset’s vision was blinded by a piercing light. She closed her eyes to readjust, and when she opened, she was met only by the silent night, alone with her thoughts in the darkness.

The squirming, the breathing, the panic had disappeared in the flash.

Princess Twilight Sparkle was missing.

Memories

“So this is it?”

A distant hum and a flap of the ears.

“I see.” A pair of eyes in the dark glistened. “But that means now we’re… gone.”

A nod. “Yes, at least temporarily.”

Silence.

“Moondancer?”

Another hum.

“How temporary is temporary exactly?”

“That depends.” A quick humming beat. “Should I adjust for the effects of time dilation?”

A grumble. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“That is entirely your decision.”

Teeth sunk into a lip. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“For us, we’re gone a month.”

“And for them?”

Moondancer sighed.

“Twilight?” Sunset called out, voice echoing in the night. “Twilight Sparkle?” No reply.

She twisted her head around her neck mechanically and mumbled to herself. “Think, Sunset. If I were Twilight, where would I be?” A sly smirk. “In Sunset’s arms, ideally.” The smirk quickly faded to horror. “But ponies don’t just disappear without a trace. Except for this weekend, apparently.”

A deep inhale, a deep exhale.

“Okay. There was a flash when she left, so magic of some kind was likely involved.” She stuck her tongue out of her mouth and up towards her nose, failing to make contact. “Mm. Even a simple teleportation spell would explain the disappearance, but why would she teleport in the middle of a conversation? Unless she wasn’t the one controlling the teleport.”

Pause. “Is forcibly teleporting somepony else even possible? I guess I didn’t need to do anything when Twilight teleported me back to the castle last night, so chalking that up to a firm maybe? I really wish I paid more attention in my magic theory classes.” She ran her hoof through her mane, tugging hard at the ends and ripping out a loose strand. “Twilight can probably defend against something like that, but if Starlight’s involved and defected to disharmony…”

Sunset grimaced. “No, spinning in circles isn’t going to solve anything, even if it seems to help the Twilights.” She rolled her eyes and added on nasally, “Same goes for talking to myself, for that matter.”

Glancing around the environment, Sunset took a breath and galloped out of the cemetery and towards the castle. As she approached, she was greeted by two blank faces of nightwing guards.

“Halt.” The guard on the left commanded, firming their grasp on their weapon.

Sunset obliged. “I’m sorry. I need to deliver a message to Guardian Angel. It’s urgent.”

“State your purpose,” the guard on the right said.

Sunset facehoofed. “Princess Twilight Sparkle is missing.”

The blank expressions flickered for a moment of horror. As the guard to the right retreated immediately into the castle at the news, the other barked, “Please identify yourself, ma’am.”

She opened her saddle bag with her magic and produced an identification card bearing her likeness. “Sunset Shimmer. I am an Equestrian citizen. I have authorization to enter the castle as the lead of the BIPED Project.” Below her voice, she grumbled, “A fact which is probably above your pay grade.” She inhaled sharply and emptied the contents of her saddle bag into the air in her telekinetic grasp, finally picking out a folded paper bearing a royal seal. “Authorization signed by the princess herself.”

The guard took the paper in his hoof and held it up against the light. Never mind that the nation was in a crisis with its leader missing, the guard held the authorization and the fate of the one pony with information on the matter in their hooves.

Guarding the castle sounds like an important job, but in peace time, it’s the realm of simple bureaucrats with threatening glares and big sticks.

After an eternity unaided by time dilation, the guard opened the door. “Proceed.”

Sunset creased her lips and said, “Thank you.” She returned her items into her saddlebag, released her magic, and entered the building.

A building which was always so tiny with the princess by her side.

A building large enough to imprison all of Equestria that night.

Sunset paced around inside nervously, finding herself lost in a building she once knew so well, her thoughts clouding her better judgement. With or without luck on her side, upon turning a corner she found herself surrounded on all sides by guards who seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Front and center was Guardian Angel, looking distraught for the first time since Sunset met her. “Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset clenched her teeth, sped up her breathing and squeaked out, “Guardian Angel. Just the pony I was looking for.”

Unamused, Angel responded, “What a coincidence, because I just dispatched guards to find you. I am told the princess disappeared on your watch?”

Sunset’s ears fell back. “That’s right.”

“And you had nothing to do with this?”

Sunset shuddered. “No.”

Angel glanced at the eyes of one of the guards standing behind Sunset. “Alright. We’ll see about that.”

A bit lip. “You aren’t going to cast that integrity spell on me, are you? I authorized Twilight, not you.”

“Hmm, that depends.” Angel replied coolly. “Are you hiding anything?”

She raised her eyes to meet Angel’s directly. “No.”

“Good.” A curt nod. “Shield, Knight, escort her to the privacy room.”

“Privacy?”

Angel’s lips quivered in the shape of a small smile, immediately replaced by her usual scowl. “You and I are going to have a little chat. And should you so much as imply you hurt the princess” – she narrowed her eyes, forcing Sunset to look away – “there will be consequences.”

Without missing a beat, Sunset followed a pair of guards, departing from Angel’s side and trotting down a castle hallway. As she sped up, they slowed, until their paces synchronized with one guard on either side of Sunset. Not a soul said a word on the journey through the massive castle, down one hallway, turning down a next, until finally the guards stopped in front of a small door in an unassuming corner of the castle. He reached a hoof under his breast plate to produce a small concealed key, which he fit with his mouth into the matching lock on the door handle, turning it and pushing to reveal a small room.

True to its name, the Privacy Room was a quiet, dark space with a single ceiling light overhead, an empty table in the center, and a pair of vacant chairs on either side. Three walls were painted a cool black, blank except for the door. The fourth wall too was black but with a dim mirror in the center.

The guard who opened the door entered first. Sunset followed him in, and the other guard entered third, closing the door behind them. The latter guard gestured Sunset towards the seat opposite the wall with the mirror, and Sunset obeyed, sitting in the chair. As she sat, the two guards stood on either side.

Alone with her thoughts and two silent armour-clad ponies, Sunset allowed herself to sigh, an internal whirlwind manifesting as nothing more than a frown and a grimace obscured by the low-key lighting. A room for privacy, indeed, although Sunset was well-aware of the euphemism’s implication. She had experience on both sides of these rooms.

Her impressions were interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing Guardian Angel, front and center, her characteristic smirk replaced by strained blank lips. She entered and closed it behind her. “Good afternoon, Sunset Shimmer.”

“Afternoon,” Sunset mumbled in reply. She straightened herself out, and in a show of chutzpah, she caught Angel’s eyes, coldly asking, “Am I under arrest? And if so, Equestrian law entitles me to know for what.”

Angel frowned. “I don’t arrest innocent ponies.”

“You don’t now?” Sunset flared her nostrils.

Ignoring the comment, she added, “So that’s a no, unless you give me a reason to, in which case you’ll know exactly for what. But contrary to what you seem to think, this meeting isn’t about you.” She scowled with contempt and mumbled, “Not everything is.”

Sunset pursed her lips. “I see.”

Angel sat down across her. “We’ll be reviewing the facts around Princess Twilight Sparkle’s disappearance. All I ask of you is your complete honesty. Understand?”

Sunset slouched in her chair. “Yes.”

“Good,” Angel said. “Our records indicate that you accompanied Princess Twilight Sparkle as she departed the premises of the Royal Thaumaturgic Surveillance Service this morning. Do you dispute this?”

“No.”

“The records also claim you were there on business as the case’s ‘advisor on extra-dimensional affairs’.” Angel raised an eyebrow.

As the statement lacked a question, Sunset didn’t reply, and Angel didn’t push.

“The princess was expected to return to the castle after concluding the visit to the RTSS facility. Castle records show she never returned that afternoon. Indeed, her whereabouts are unknown until you report her as missing three hours later. Suspicious, isn’t that?” Angel stared. “I’m going to guess they are not unknown to you.”

“Twilight was with me,” Sunset admitted.

“Yes.” Angel nodded, looking a little bored with the conversation, if Sunset’s perceptions were accurate. “I need you to tell me everything that happened after departing the RTSS.”

“Are my statements being recorded on the other side of that mirror?”

Angel did not respond, only intensifying a look that Sunset was now certain to be boredom.

“Right.” Sunset sighed. “While we were at the RTSS, Twilight confided in me – as a friend – that the case has been affecting her emotionally, and I recognized that the levels of stress she has been under this weekend have been unsustainable. I suggested we take a walk outside to help relax. We chatted a bit, but I could tell she was still stressed, and she had a shutd– a very emotional moment. Then there was a flash of light, and she was gone, so I walked to the castle to page you immediately.”

“I see.” Angel blinked. “Where did you walk? You must have been close to the castle, or else it would have been downright irresponsible to walk all the way here before seeking help.”

Sunset grumbled at the leading question. “We were on castle grounds.”

“Really, now?” Angel raised a domineering eyebrow, and Sunset flinched. “Because none of the castle staff have reported seeing the princess. We paged everyone on premises just a few minutes after you reported the disappearance.”

She groaned as her ears flopped back. “We were at the cemetery.”

Angel snorted, covering her mouth with her hoof. “You took the princess to the royal cemetery? My, my, that seems a bit ominous, don’t you think?”

Sunset gritted her teeth. “I’m regretting that decision already.”

A shrug. “Was the groundskeeper present in the cemetery at the time?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

Angel nodded. “That will be verified, Sunset Shimmer.” She smacked her lips. “Do you have any idea why Princess Twilight disappeared?”

Sunset hesitated. Slowly she replied, “I am not certain. I am as worried as you are on the matter.”

“Perhaps.” Angel’s sharp gaze cut though Sunset’s evasion. “What exactly did you discuss in the cemetery?”

“Twilight’s emotional state,” she said, “as well as our friendship.”

“Discussing friendship with the Princess of Friendship. What a creative alibi.” Angel frowned too excessively to be genuine. “Gee, I was under the impression your friendship was a lot friendlier than your post would require of you.” As Sunset opened her mouth, Angel continued. “No need to get defensive. But if you’re playing your relationship down, I’m curious what else you’re playing down, hmm?”

Sunset cursed in her head, though her face was unwavering. “I was trying to respect Twilight’s privacy about her emotions. Respecting your friends’ privacy is the loyal thing to do.”

“I am well aware of the catch phrases the School of Friendship tells our foals in ordinary times,” Angel quipped. “These are not ordinary times.”

“No, they are not,” Sunset conceded, slumping in her chair. “As you should know by now, Twilight has been feeling overwhelmed by her personal connections to the case, given the links with Moondancer and Starlight Glimmer. She is as committed as you to ensuring the law is upheld.”

Angel rubbed her hooves against her temples, and muttered to herself, “This was useless from the start.” She broke eye contact with Sunset to instead gaze at the guards in the corners and barked, “Guards are dismissed. This questioning is over. Thank you for your time.”

The guards nodded curtly, opening the door and filing out. As the latter guard left, Sunset stood up from her seat and turned towards the door when Angel sneered, “I said guards were dismissed, Shimmer.”

Sunset flushed, sitting back down. “Oh, I thought– at least, I assumed– why would you– of course.”

“Gee, someone’s uncomfortable.”

Sunset squinted. “Did you need your investigative skills to deduce that one, o wise Guardian?” She glanced towards the mirror and winced. “Sorry.”

Angel swatted her hoof. “Nopony is observing you anymore. You’re not being recorded.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” Angel shrugged. “But I assure you we are quite alone, so I will ask you again.” She leaned forward, forcing Sunset to lean back in her chair, teeth clenched. “What happened to Twilight?”

“Magic. As I already told you, she disappeared in a flash of light. That indicates a side effect of magic, probably a teleportation spell.”

“Uh-huh.” Angel rolled her head about her neck. “Why might your little crush feel the need to teleport to be anywhere else but at her lover’s side?”

“We’re not lovers.”

“That’s not what it says on the file,” she squeaked.

“You have a file about my love life?”

Angel snorted. “Of course not. Let’s not be arrogant here. As long as you’re off in Apequestria, you are far too insignificant to keep tabs on.” Sunset rolled her eyes at the berating. “We do, however, monitor the princess’s associates in order to prepare for the possibility of internal subterfuge, social engineering, and straight-up betrayal.”

Sunset recoiled. “I can’t imagine Twilight is pleased you’re stalking her.”

“Surveilling her, not stalking.” Angel corrected in a bland monotone. “There’s a difference, Shimmer. She specifically authorized me to lead the effort.”

“Lies.” Sunset spat without separating her teeth.

“Gee, poor little Angel lying to the big bully Sunset Shimmer?” She cast her hoof against her forehead and tilted her head back. “I would never.”

“Fine. Humour me, why would Twilight ask you to do that?”

“I’m not the one being questioned right now, Sunny.” Angel shook her head. “But any friend of the princess is a friend of mine, and honesty is the best policy.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Now look who’s quoting the Code of Friendship?”

“I learned from the best.” Angel smiled sweetly, with only a hint of veiled malice poking through. “She authorized the Guard to monitor her associates after my successful persuasion, in the aftermath of an incident with a foreign dignitary a few years ago.”

“Great.” Sunset groaned. “You admit that you’re behind this.”

“That’s a mighty strong accusation coming from a pony who took the Princess of Equestria to a cemetery for her to disappear before her very eyes.”

Sunset chose not to respond.

“But if you must know the truth, Princess Twilight is far too trusting. She strives for integrity with every creature she knows. She spends sleepless nights ruminating on her own guilt on any day she comes up short of perfect honesty, loyalty, generosity, kindness, and laughter.” Angel tightened her throat, grimacing as she recited the list of virtues. “Blech.”

Sunset shook her head. “You say that like it’s such a bad thing. Aren’t those the qualities we look for in a leader?”

“Ostensibly.” Angel shrugged with her wings. “In practice, honesty is a little inclination to divulge national secrets to those who plead a case to know. Loyalty is overlooking the obvious signs of betrayal from those who once cared for you. Generosity is the tendency to overspend and undertax, in the interest of a more equitable Equestria. Kindness is leniency of punishment, allowing the worst criminals to walk free among the innocent and reoffend. Laughter is being too distracted by the ‘party’ in ‘formal dinner party’ to negotiate with the cunning.”

Sunset bowed her head, solemn but silent.

“Face it.” Angel huffed. “Twilight’s virtues are her vulnerabilities. Her quest for personal perfection served her well when ‘Princess’ was just an honorific under Celestia’s tutelage, but now they’re the five fatal flaws in Equestria’s prime target for manipulation.”

Sunset whispered, “Someone had to protect her from her own love.”

“Yup. And who better than her little angel?”

Sunset shook her head. “This is twisted.”

“Ha!” Angel snorted. “You have no idea what twisted looks like among Twilight Sparkle’s creations. You don’t really think I was appointed because I’m so good at tracking down criminals?” She flipped her mane. “Not that I’m not fantastic, but–”

“You needed Twilight’s own help with the Library, and she needed mine. Whatever you’re pretending to be – a police force? an intelligence agency? a paramilitary? – you’re clearly incompetent at it.” Sunset cut in. “Make your point.”

“Right.” Angel muttered coldly. “Under Twilight’s rule, the Magic of Friendship is Equestria’s primary line of defense, not the Royal Guard.”

Sunset scoffed. “The Guard’s mandate begs to differ, doesn’t it?”

“The Guard’s mandate is to act as an arm of the Crown. True, under Princess Celestia, the Guard was an underqualified hack of an army. Don’t expect that to carry over to her shadow’s rule.”

“Uh-huh,” Sunset said. “What’s your actual job, then?”

Angel’s eyes pierced Sunset’s. “I protect the Crown from internal threats. Threats like her own inner demons. Like the Canterlot nobility. Like you.”

Sunset groaned, eliciting a snicker from Angel as she continued, “It’s what I’m good for. Let’s just say everything you think you know about cutie marks is wrong. Twilight could change my destiny, make me useful to Equestria, but she couldn’t change my talent.”

“Your talent?”

“Manipulation,” Angel replied coolly. “It takes one to know one, Shimmer.”

Sunset recoiled. “The hell are you talking about?”

Angel brushed her hoof under eye, as if wiping away an invisible tear. “Aww, poor little Sunny Buns without her little fillyfriend to kiss it better.”

“What’s your problem, Guardian Angel?” Sunset banged her front hooves against the table.

Angel frowned, a bit too wide and with eyes a bit too dull to be genuine, but with hurt creasing her eyebrows. “I must say, I am surprised. Did your dear little friend Twilight Sparkle never told you the story of the innocent filly she mutilated?”

Sunset’s anger dropped and she swallowed heavily. “The innocent filly?”

“Fair enough.” Angel shrugged. “Innocence in the eyes of the beholder.”

“I still have no idea what you’re on about.”

Angel gaped. “Twilight really didn’t tell you. That works out well enough for me to break the ice to you.” She nodded, satisfied with herself. “Have you heard of Cozy Glow?”

“Sure. One of her former students who attacked Equestria, broke out of Tartarus, and instead of reforming, attacked Equestria again?”

“Gee, that’s not a very kind way to describe somepony.”

“Right.” Sunset replied nasally. “And how would you describe her?”

“A misguided little pegasus filly.”

Sunset leaned in. “Not buying it. I was as misguided as they came, and I didn’t end up destroying Equestria and getting sent to Tartarus.”

“Ugh.” Angel clenched her teeth, allowing a moment of silence before sourly saying, “Your princess went easy on you.”

Angel and Sunset met eyes, Sunset’s astounded and Angel’s those of a mourner reminded of her grief. A heavy understanding set upon Sunset’s shoulders as she whispered, “But yours did not.”

Angel only kept her gaze fixed in reply. No tears were shed, no words were spoken, but something was shared.

It was Sunset who finally asked, “Are you Cozy Glow?”

Guardian Angel did not answer at first. Finally she looked down, breaking their eye contact, and said, “No.” Sunset opened her mouth to respond, but before getting a word out, Angel continued, “I am not Cozy Glow. But I was.”

Sunset wrinkled her brow. “Did Twilight… reform you?”

“She did try.” Angel sighed. “Every so often, she would try and fail. So no, Twilight never reformed Cozy Glow.” Her eyes flashed. “She just created me.” She paused, finally asking, “Do you know what cutie mark Cozy Glow had?”

“Something about chess, I thought.” Sunset bit her lip. “I remember the newspaper speculating she played Equestria like a game of chess.”

Angel shrugged, neither defensive nor remorseful at the characterization of a life prior. “Have you noticed my cutie mark now?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend time staring at the flanks of mares I have just met.” She coughed. “Usually.”

“My cutie mark is a halo. Fitting for an angel, don’t you think?”

Sunset frowned. “Starlight Glimmer’s spell to change cutie marks? Or Starswirl’s last incantation? Cast some powerful spells, dye your mane, and give you a new identity?” She tilted her head in confusion. “That doesn’t solve the reformation issue.”

Angel shook her head. “You’re right about dying my mane. It’s remarkable how little it takes for a pony to forget a face. You’re wrong about the cutie mark, though. That was not Twilight’s goal, though perhaps a welcome side effect for blending in as a new pony.”

Sunset’s mouth hung open. “I don’t understand.”

“Nopony ever does,” Angel huffed. “Not that I bother explaining anymore.” She glanced at the table, and outstretched her hoof towards Sunset. “Then again, why should I waste my breath trying to explain it to you when you can just do your creepy mind reading trick?” Before Sunset could protest, she glanced at the gem hung around Sunset’s neck and added, “Don’t think I don’t know about your geode. Go on, don’t be shy now.”

Sunset hesitated.

“What, you’re uncomfortable touching a mare?” Angel stuck her tongue out in contempt. “That would explain some of the anomalies in your history with Twilight.”

Sunset gagged, stretching out to meet Angel’s hoof with her own, and entered a memory.

The cold, dark monochromes of a world in stone lifted as the outside assaulted Cozy Glow’s senses. She regained control of her eyes first, then the rest of her head, then her hooves, and finally her wings, freeing her into the air.

With her newfound freedom, she made the split second decision to flee, flying off before she could be reprimanded. She served her time, she reasoned.

She accrued less than a meter of flight before she found herself frozen again, this time by a purple bubble surrounding her and freezing her body. Against her will, she was being levitated and brought back down to the ground, where she was surrounded on all the sides by members of the Royal Guard, one of whom affixed restraints to each of her legs and to her wings.

She conjured up the cockiest grin she could and said, “Golly, Princess Twilight, how’ve you been? It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“Cozy Glow.” Twilight’s gaze pierced into the filly, her face stiff but not entirely cold.

“Yes, Princess?”

“I am hopeful you know why I am here.”

Cozy flipped her mane innocently. “To make me a free pony. Thanks, Princess. I knew you always had it in you to forgive and to forget.” She looked pathetically at her restraints. “Though you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I have come to offer you my hoof in friendship, should you be interested in pursuing the ways of Harmony as a reformed pony, bringing your talents to the service of Equestria and the creatures around you. I am hopeful that in the time you have spent alone reflecting on your deeds, you have come to see the error of yours ways.”

“I did, as a matter of fact.” Cozy grinned, and Twilight sucked in her breath, a trace of a smile forming. “I realized I should never had teamed up with Tirek or Chrysalis. Those two spoil sports are the reason I got caught and petrified. If it weren’t for Tirek, I would never have landed in Tartarus to begin, and I’d be ruling Equestria by now.”

Twilight let go of her breath, kicking the ground dejectedly. “I see. I am willing to teach you everything I know about friendship, to offer you clemency, to give you a second or third chance.”

Cozy stuck her tongue out. Possibly she would have made a far grander gesture, if not for the restraints. “I don’t need your teachings about friendship, but that’s a yes, please! on the clemency.”

Twilight shook her head. “To protect our fellow ponies, I am not able to free you until you come to understand Harmony.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cozy attempted to move her hoof as if to swat the air but was caught by the restraint. “And if I don’t want to waste time on your little friendship mission?”

Twilight sighed. “Then the Royal Guard will have no choice but to imprison you once again.”

Cozy stared into Twilight’s eyes nastily. Squinting until her own eyes were slits, she hissed, “I would rather spend years trapped in stone than spend one more minute listening to you talk about friendship.”

Twilight swallowed. “I am giving you this choice, Cozy.”

“Then send me back.” Cozy sneered. “I dare you.”

The princess hesitated, breathing deeply, and for a moment even Cozy began to grin. That grin was soon wiped away, however, as Twilight turned to the Guards surrounding Cozy and nodded slowly. “Transfer her to Tartarus.”

The last thing Cozy saw before her world go dark was a single tear on Twilight’s cheek.

The gates of Tartarus opened for the first time since Cozy was re-imprisoned. In walked Princess Twilight Sparkle, surrounded by an infestation of armoured critters with shields. Cozy stood up a little in her cage, if only to put on a good appearance for her very first visitor.

It isn’t like she had any living family to visit her.

The princess approached, and filling the atmosphere with acute déjà vu, announced her presence. “Cozy Glow.”

“Well, hi there, Princess Twilight!” Cozy flashed her most innocent smile. “Fancy seeing you here. What brings you to my little home? Ooo, did you bring any biscuits for my dog?” At Twilight’s lack of reaction, Cozy clarified, “His name’s Cerberus. Don’t get too close though, he’s not nice to strangers.”

Twilight ignored her welcome and stole the conversation. “The last time we spoke, I offered you freedom and friendship, and you chose to continue a life of disharmony and solitude.”

“Gee, that isn’t how I remember it.” Cozy tapped her hoof against her head. “I seem to remember you arresting me only seconds after I was released from my stone prison. To think I was so well-behaved for all that time, and that didn’t stop you from blackmailing me into accepting your friendship propaganda as a condition of my freedom.” She frowned as wide as she could, sounding out a harumph. “That doesn’t sound very friendly or harmonious now, does it?”

The princess mirrored her frown, and as far as Cozy could see, the reaction was genuine. “No. You’re right. I was wrong.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Cozy Glow. I failed you.”

Cozy gasped and brought her hoof to her chest. “You know, Princess Twilight, I think I could come to learn enough about friendship to accept that apology, if you just did one itsy-bitsy favour for me first.” She gestured her legs around the bars of her cage.

“Indeed.” The princess nodded, and the guard closest to the cell approached and with an enchanted key, released her. Cozy flew up into the air and circled around the Tartarus in a victory lap. “I did it, I beat Twilight Sparkle, I’m free, take that fools. Yeah!”

Twilight Sparkle from a few meters away did not look amused when Cozy glanced back down at her.

Cozy landed gracefully on the ground in front of the princess and coughed. “Sorry. I’ve waited a long time to say that. It isn’t like I spent all that time in solitary confinement brewing a plan to usurp the throne or anything. Just kidding!” She laughed hollowly, averting eye contact.

Twilight closed her eyes, suppressing any sounds that might have come out in other circumstances. “Of course not,” she replied a tad forcefully. She cleared her throat. “I will be personally attending to your reintegration into Equestrian society. I have already arranged a home for you in Ponyville.”

Cozy’s grin warped into a smirk. She had won. The princess was allowing her free rein over Equestria.

Idiot, she thought.

As she was escorted out of Tartarus into freedom, carrying neither physical nor magical restraints, her smirk only grew.

The world would be hers.

A few days later, Cozy Glow found herself in the streets, face to face with the princess and her army of overpaid brutes once again.

“Back so soon?” she shouted out, struggling to make herself heard over the blazing sirens around her. Luckily there was not another soul downtown to talk over, only Cozy Glow, royalty, and the awful sound in the air.

The princess merely blinked, ears twitching quickly with the pulsating noise.

“Oh! I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing all the way out in Vanhoover, when you arranged a home in Ponyville.” Cozy pouted, looking around the deserted street in the city’s downtown core. “I was busy trying to make friends with all these nice ponies, just like you would have wanted. Aren’t I a quick study?”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight tapped her hoof against the ground steadily. “I’m wondering how many friends you could have made in an area where you’re all alone.”

Cozy shot her hooves into the air. “I was asking myself the same question. I wonder where all the ponies – all those potential friends – could have gone.” She gasped. “It would be a real tragedy if anything happened to such a big city. Golly, is it even safe for me to be here? I hope nothing tragic happened to the municipality of Vanhoover that you forgot to warn me about, during all that time when you imprisoned me.”

Twilight raised both of her eyebrows simultaneously. “Ordinarily, I would say no, but this morning, downtown Vanhoover was indeed evacuated due to reports of a gas leak. This ‘leak’ endangers anypony downtown, and though the evacuation has cost the city dearly, it had to be done for safety.”

“Oh no.” Cozy pressed her hoof against her chest. “We should get you away from here, Princess, it isn’t safe for you. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the beloved Princess of Friendship on my watch.”

“Under other circumstances, I would agree,” she nodded. “However, you were noted missing from Ponyville last night, taking yesterday’s evening express train through Canterlot and into Vanhoover. So you arrived here before the leak was reported, and so you must have been here when the neighborhood was evacuated.” She gritted her teeth. “The blaring sirens would be your other indication that something was amiss here.”

Cozy gasped. “You were following me? That isn’t very friendly of you. Must I remind you that respecting your friend’s privacy is the loyal thing to do?”

Twilight breathed. “Vanhoover police have direct evidence that you impersonated a utility worker, falsified information about a leak that never happened, and single-hoofedly orchestrated the most expensive evacuation the city has seen in years, all before eight in the morning.”

“Pretty impressive, right?” Cozy grinned. “You have to admit, it takes talent to mobilize so many ponies in such a short period of time. Not to mention the discrimination against such an innocent little filly just trying to make do in the world.”

Twilight shook her head, distraught. “I wish I could say I was surprised at your subversive abilities–”

“Thank you, Miss Twilight.” She flashed a grin.

Twilight continued, “I am certain somepony of your intellect understands there are consequences for your actions. What I don’t understand is why go to the trouble? This stunt of yours does not achieve any of your goals; mayhem is not part of your plan for world domination.”

For a moment, Cozy Glow wished to bluff, to scream that this was part of the plan all along, that this diversion was a ploy to distract Twilight and lure her away from the Elements of Harmony in time for Cozy’s accomplices to seize them.

Her emotions overtook her, and she instead screamed the truth. “Because it’s funny! All these snooty ponies thought that they would be busy staring at stock tickers all morning, and now they get to stare at each other cramped up in little shelters in suburban Richmane. The suckers had it coming.”

Twilight sighed. “I was afraid it might be something like that. What’s your goal, Cozy? What do you really want out of life?” Before Cozy had a chance to gloat, Twilight preempted her response. “I know it isn’t really world domination, or else you wouldn’t have blown your chance at freedom on something so banal. I want to help you, Cozy.” She clicked her hoof against the ground. “Please, let me help you.”

“Ha.” Cozy sneered, “The fact that you’ve released me and are too spineless and in love with Harmony to follow up on that threat of punishment is helping enough, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight closed her eyes, encumbered by a deep malady, and breathed out troubles of a magnitude fitting only for an alicorn. “I’m afraid that isn’t so.” She waved her hoof slowly, and Cozy was once more surrounded by guards, en route back to Tartarus, running out of her three-day free trial of freedom after voiding her warranty.

Cozy did not dare look at Twilight as she was carried away.

“There’s really no way out, then.” Cozy looked up at the princess from her cell a few weeks later, muzzle tilted downwards in contemplation. “Nothing I say or do will convince you to let me go free.”

Twilight bit her lip. “That isn’t true. As soon as you learn to accept friendship on your own terms–”

“You and I both know that isn’t going to happen, Princess.” Cozy sneered. “Everypony knows that. Face it, I’m irredeemable.”

Twilight creased her brow. Softly she spoke, “That isn’t true, Cozy.” She beat her hoof. “Everypony can be redeemed. Look at Princess Luna. Look at Discord.”

Cozy rolled her eyes with force only a teenage girl could muster. “Luna had every reason to be peeved after what goodie two-shoes Celestia did to her. Discord spent so long displaced in space-time and lonely that he had no context to understand the notion of friendship until his fiancée Professor Perfect waltzed along.” Twilight’s ears flopped back, but she said nothing, allowing Cozy to continue. “You keep trying to teach me friendship, but I assure you, I understand friendship. I know what it means to have another pony wrapped around your hoof.” Twilight flinched. “That’s what make me special, after all.”

Twilight did not respond at first, choosing only to tap her hoof against the ground rhythmically. At last, she asked in earnest, “If you understand friendship, why do you keep going out of your way to harm ponies?”

Cozy snorted. “Because I can. I’m good at it. Don’t you know I’m made to be queen? My special talent is playing ponies like they’re my pawns.” She chuckled at Twilight’s horrified expression. “And like I said, it’s funny.”

Twilight shook her head, back and forth, swaying with a breeze nopony else could feel. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

“I do.” Cozy smirked, and Twilight looked up, eyes heavy. “Don’t you think it’s obvious? You’ll never let me go, since I can’t ever be the well-adjusted good girl you want me to be.” She stuck out her tongue. “You think I’m a devil, and you’re probably right.” She pouted, with a frown too big for sincerity. “You know, you could always make me an angel instead.”

Twilight squinted. “I’m listening.”

“You’re the most magically talented pony in Equestria, right?”

“Among them,” she said, adding through gritted teeth, “Though I don’t like to brag.”

“Aww, don’t be humble.” Cozy swatted her hoof. “All I’m saying is I’m sure you know a spell to make me into a new pony. You know, a pony capable of making friends? A pony who can be released from this awful place?”

Twilight hesitated. “Are you suggesting I cast a reformation spell on you?”

Cozy shrugged. “Are you asking me about magic theory? I only know what Tirek told me. It’s not like there’s much I can do with that information.”

“Right.” Twilight pursed her lips and moved her mouth from side-to-side, eyes glazed over as thoughts streamed out as incomprehensible mutterings. She clicked her tongue with finality. “Unfortunately, I don’t think a reformation spell would help.”

“Oh.” Cozy deflated.

“Reformation spells eliminate the evil dwelling within a pony, but they won’t force a pony into becoming good.”

A snicker. “Are you saying if you got rid of my evil, there just wouldn’t be any Cozy left?”

Twilight spoke delicately, overenunciating each word. “I would not put it that way.” She sighed. “If you are willing to try magic, I do have some ideas, but there’s not much precedent.”

Cozy shrugged. “Will it get me out of here? My body, anyway?”

Twilight’s ears wilted. “I hope so.”

When Cozy next saw the princess, Twilight was carrying a small object in her magic. As she approached, the object grew to take the form of a necklace. An Element of Harmony, perhaps? Cozy knew from her stint at the School of Friendship those might work.

“Good morning, Cozy Glow.” Twilight smiled serenely, and for a second, Cozy shivered, shrinking down in her cell.

“Skip the pleasantries, thank you very much. Did you finally come to free me?” Under her breath Cozy added, “It sure took you long enough.”

Twilight blinked. “Yes. I believe I have figured out a way to help you, Cozy.”

“I’m listening.”

Twilight brought the object closer to Cozy, slowly rotating it to allow Cozy to inspect. “A geode containing empathy magic. A relic from another world, temporarily enchanted so anypony can use it.”

“Empathy magic?” Cozy bit her tongue, stifling the remarks flying through her head about the stupidity of Twilight’s quest for the magic of friendship.

A quick nod. “The geode allows the bearer to see the memories of a pony, to understand them at a deep level, to empathize with their plight.”

Cozy burst out laughing. “That’s your big plan?” She took a moment to regain her composure. “You think I’m a misunderstood little filly, and the moment you go wading through my memories, you’ll figure out what makes me tick. Golly, and here I thought you were the clever one.”

Twilight shook her head. “I want you to use the geode to understand what it’s like to be another pony, and I want to use my magic to make sure you can remember.”

The filly stared. “I’ve never felt empathy, you know. Why should I? There’s no good reason to care about the brats around me if there’s nothing I can get from them.”

“If you’re willing to try, I hope I can help with that.” She levitated the geode right in front of Cozy, who stared at it for a second, and finally grabbed it with her hoof. “Wear it like a necklace,” Twilight instructed, and Cozy obeyed.

Cozy glanced down at the foreign object dangling against her. “I don’t feel any different, you know.”

Twilight held out her hoof, as if introducing herself. “It needs touch to activate.”

Cozy threw her eyes back and forth between the geode and Twilight’s hoof. Inhaling briefly, she closed her eyes and met Twilight’s hoof with her own, and in an instant, her eyes flashed to white.

A filly no more than six years old was stuck sitting in the middle of a Magic Kindergarten classroom, surrounded by jeering foals. Her ally in the classroom had stepped out momentarily, leaving the little filly “in charge” of the classroom. Said “charge” only fed the laughter of her classmates.

Feeling the walls of her world collapsing, she forced shut her eyes, let her ears droop back, and cried.

A purple filly sat drowsy-eyed at a miniature table next to a green unicorn her age and a grey colt. The filly stared at the paper facing the trio from the center of the table. The other foals’ eyes glazed over the problem on the page without recognition evident. Abruptly the filly burst out, “Five!” She blushed, amending her response. “Well, four point seven, but you can’t have seven-tenths of a hayburger.”

The other foals stared at her incredulously. “Hmm?” the colt mumbled. “I still haven’t read the question,” he added with a trace of embarrassment masked by a smirk.

The purple filly hmphed. “It was pretty obvious if you put time into reading the text!”

A frown shadowed the green filly’s mouth. She lamented, “I read the question. I just couldn’t figure out the answer, Twilight.”

Twilight stared. “Did you study?” Receiving silence as an answer, she chided, “You should’ve studied, Lyra.”

Lyra stared back, playing with her mane with an idle hoof. “I studied a bit.” She stuck her tongue out at Twilight, straddling the line of playful and comically rude. “You’re just a genius.”

Twilight held her stare. “No, I’m not,” she said.

The grey foal piped in, “You kinda are. You’re the smartest one in the class and you get the best grades of anyone I know.”

“No, I’m not,” she insisted, a little louder and more dramatic this time. “And like I said, it’s because I study.” She hummed, “You’d get the same grades as me if you bothered to study. Or read the question.”

“Speak for yourself,” he mumbled. “But Lyra’s right. You’re, like, scary smart.”

“It’s just because I study! I don’t understand why you don’t even bother to study!” she exploded. Huffing she rose up from the table and walked to put herself in the Timeout Corner, guilty of breaking the class’s rule “Always be kind to your fellow students”. As soon as she took her seat in the corner, she buried her face in her hooves, tears streaming out in broad daylight.

A few minutes of waterworks elapsing, the “classroom friend” approached. The “friend” was a slender unicorn, retaining youthful energy but carrying a definite aura of maturity. He crouched down next to the sobbing filly to meet her at eye level. “What’s wrong, Twilight?”

She spat out, “Everypony thinks I’m special.” She let a packet of tears unleash, continuing, “I’m not a genius!”

Perplexed, the teacher looked at her, a comforting gaze overlaying an all-too-clear confusion. “How do you feel when ponies say you’re special?”

For a moment, Twilight ignored the question, save for periodic sniffling as the flow of tears slowed. Ultimately, she replied, “It makes me feel like I’m weird. Like I’m–” she dropped to a whisper– “better than everyone else.” She covered her mouth with her hoof, eyes shooting open. “I’m sorry, Mr. Starshine. I didn’t mean to break rule #3.”

Starshine smiled sympathetically. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I know you’re not trying to be mean to any other foal.”

Twilight only drooped further at his response, unprepared to pass blame onto anyone other than herself. “Then why does it keep happening? I’m not smart. I’m not special. I just study.” She resumed wailing with a fresh stream of tears.

He frowned. “Would it be bad if you were? It’s great to be different. Some of the most incredible ponies of history have been geniuses, set apart from the ponies around them.”

Twilight gazed up, her attention peaked but eyes nevertheless skeptical. “Really?” She tilted her head. “Like who?”

He smiled, the filly evidently comforted. “Really. Like… who was it you did your Pony Presentation Project on, again?”

“Starswirl the Bearded?” she asked, puzzled.

He nodded. “Yes, like Starswirl. What if you were a genius like Starswirl?”

She sat silent, a contemplative look set on her eyes. “But I don’t want to be a genius. I want to be like them.”

“I know. But sometimes we don’t get to choose.” He dared to smile. “Sometimes we learn to be happy just as we are.”

She hmphed. Inconsolable, she crossed her hooves with a frown painting her lips and huffed, “Whatever. This is stupid. Magic Kindergarten is stupid!”

In four short words, she resumed crying and voluntarily committed herself to another three hours of punishment in the Timeout Corner.

A few weeks later, her invitation to apply to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns arrived in the mail.

Side by side at Celestia’s School, a young Twilight Sparkle and one miss Moondancer read from separate books. Largely they were content to stay silent, but on occasion, they would break into argument.

“You can’t take the square root of negative four, Twilight.” Moondancer chided. “Square roots aren’t defined for negative numbers.”

“Nuh-uh.” Twilight huffed. “The square root of negative four is two eye.” She pointed at her own pair of eyes to illustrate. “I read it in Complex Mathematics by L. K. Glasses.”

Moondancer flopped her ears, clearly bested by the wisdom of a book she had never read. Rather than argue, she simply complained with a faint smile, taking Twilight’s hoof in hers on instinct. “Why were you reading Complex Mathematics anyway?”

Twilight didn’t react to the sudden pressure on her hoof. “I was bored with simple mathematics.”

“That makes sense.” Moondancer twiddled her ears. “You make sense.”

“Okay.” Twilight tilted her head. “Hmm… I wonder what the square root of two eye is.”

Moondancer withdrew her hoof to poke Twilight on the shoulder. “Give me Complex Mathematics. I bet I can figure it out.”

Twilight opened her saddle bag with her shaky levitation and withdrew the requested book, placing it in front of Moondancer. Hesitantly, Twilight placed her own hoof on Moondancer’s, with an uncertain smile, a gesture pushing Moondancer’s lips up as she lost herself in the new book in front of her.

For years, that day was the closest either filly came to friendship.

A teenage pony sat drowsy-eyed at a table in the vast halls of the Canterlot library, alone with her horn-written notes on the complete works of Haycartes and a dusty pile of sprawled out books. Her eyes glazed over the words, page by page, one stiff hoof pressed up against her temple while the other fixed her book’s grasp on the table.

“No, no, no…” she whispered to nopony in particular. “No, I already know Haycartes’ Fundamental Theorem; I don’t need a history lesson. I’m looking for information on the generalization to higher dimensions.” She let out an exasperated sigh.

While Twilight lost herself in the book, a green-coated mare her age wearing a saddlebag approached her. At first, the mare watched from a distance, undetected by the pony lost in a textual world. Her eyes wandered between the books, the unintelligible notes, and the contorted muzzle of the pony herself. Eventually, she announced her presence. “Twilight?”

Without looking up from the source material, Twilight chided, “Not now, Spike, I’m working. What happened to the book you brought?”

The green pony didn’t respond initially, a layer of confusion painted across her muzzle. Twilight responded for her. “Well?”

Delicately, the pony replied, “I’m not sure who Spike is…?”

At this, Twilight turned around to face the intruder. “And you are…?”

“Lyra Heartstrings.”

Blink.

“We used to be friends?”

Blink.

“Magic Kindergarten?”

Finally, Twilight pursed her lips into an “o”. The faintest lukewarm smile greeted Lyra. “Oh, right. Hi. How have have your studies been?”

Lyra giggled. “Same old, Twilight Sparkle. I – sorry, my studies – have been fantastic. I placed into the advanced mathematics curriculum. We’re studying elementary Haycartes theory!” Her eyes drifted over to the stacked books on Twilight’s desk. “Ooo, what are you reading?”

Twilight recited, “Advanced Calculus Methods: Interactive Derivation and Applications.” She paused. “What did you mean, ‘same old Twilight Sparkle’?”

Lyra smiled. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and you asked what I was studying.” She clicked her tongue. “Classic Twilight!”

Twilight cocked her head. “I pride myself on my academics.”

“There’s no need to be so modest.” She winked. “I know you’re a smart cookie.”

Twilight replied with a slight discontent. “I study a great deal.” She bit her lip. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s all it is.”

Lyra giggled. “I guess I can let you get back to your studying.” She waved her hoof to emphasize the “studying”, quickly adding, “Hey, we should meet up sometime. I could introduce you to my friends here in Canterlot.” She tilted her head. “Well, reintroduce. You met those ponies years ago.”

Twilight’s eyes drifted back to her reading material. “Maybe?”

“Like Minuette”. A blank stare. “And Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts?” Neither name produced even a trace of recognition. “Oh, and Moondancer.”

Twilight’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Moondancer,” she repeated to herself. She paused, and then nodded awkwardly in Lyra’s direction. “Alright.”

Lyra bounced up and down. “Awesome!” She ruffled through her bag, levitating out a scrap of paper and a pencil and dropping them on the surface of the table. She jotted down a line and said, “Here’s my address. I hope we meet up sometime.”

Twilight idly levitated the paper, studied it, and dropped it back on her pile of belongings. “Right. Yeah, okay. Maybe sometime.”

Lyra beamed. “Great! It was a pleasure to catch up with you, Twi. I’ll let you get back to your books.” She shrugged. “See you around?”

Twilight mumbled back, “See you around,” and proceeded scanning through the pages of the textbook.

Back to studying, same as any other day.

Many years later, in a bipedal body, Twilight stared as Sunset Shimmer emerged from the washroom wearing her signature pajamas. Sunset was in her senior year of high school, and Twilight was recently crowned the Princess of Friendship. Together with their friends, they had defeated the Sirens, and Sunset invited Twilight over to her flat to “celebrate”. Of course, Twilight had to recalibrate her expectations as it dawned on her that this was not a Pinkie Pie “celebration”.

Or perhaps Twilight had much to learn about the Pinkie Pie celebrations to which she was not invited.

“Hey,” Sunset said smoothly, her face radiating nascent love for a friend. Or a special friend, Twilight realized.

“Uh, hi.” Twilight curled her hair aimlessly with her finger, hiding one eye behind a lock. “Um, Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I might’ve gotten the wrong idea. I’m really sorry about that.” She blushed. “But I have read enough books, so I’m wondering if this means you’re about to ask me to…?”

Sunset mirrored the blush. “Oh. I just assumed after our talk at Pinkie’s sleepover that you–” She shook her head aggressively, her palm smacked to her forehead, muttering to herself, “Stupid stupid stupid.”

“Hey.” Twilight reached out for Sunset’s hand, who hesitantly took it in her own. “Just because I misunderstood a few minutes ago doesn’t mean I’m saying no now. Not that I know exactly what I’d be saying yes to, but at least on a physiological level I’m familiar with the mechanics of the act, so it shouldn’t be terribly complicated to pattern match to my own body, not that I have experience with…”

“Hey.” Sunset quoted with a cheeky grin, placing one finger on Twilight’s lip and withdrawing it as Twilight trailed off. “I don’t think you misunderstood me. I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear.” She pushed the inside of her lip with her tongue and made an awkward pop. “I do have feelings for you, and if you wanted to mess around, I’d be down. But if you don’t, that’s totally okay.” She smirked. “When I said ‘celebrate’, I meant because we’re friends, and friends have fun together. I think I have a Scrabble board here somewhere.”

“Oh.” Twilight curled her hair back behind her ear as her cheeks reddened. “Scrabble sounds nice. But in that case, I hope it’s okay if, um…” She darted her eyes around, as if checking for onlookers. A cocktail of oxytocin and adrenaline coursing through her veins, she leaned forward and stole her first kiss from Sunset’s lips, sharing the warmth of a fire between them as it radiated onto their cheeks.

Sunset shivered and swallowed quickly. She averted Twilight’s eye contact and quickly said, “I’ll get the tiles.”

Twilight cupped her ruddy cheek in her hand and watched as Sunset retreated, distracted by a novel feeling brewing in her stomach.

A feeling she swore she had never felt for another pony before.

“Moondancer?” Twilight asked with hope, standing outside the broken door of a forgotten filly she once knew better than any.

A hope shattered moments later as her reintroduction was quickly terminated with an “Ugh!” and a slammed door.

Her stomach churned inside, faced with the bittersweet memories of a childhood displaced in time.

If her mere presence elicited such a strong reaction, Twilight reasoned there was more to her forgotten friendship than appeared on the surface.

If only Twilight could figure out what.

Cozy Glow recoiled from the series of intimate memories of the princess, but before she could comment, she was inundated by a purple glow emitted from the alicorn’s own horn. The magic glow felt warm to the touch but left her insides’ frozen, a warm blanket reminding Cozy of just how exposed her soul was. A magic anesthetic, she assumed.

Twilight spoke first, for Cozy was rendered unable. “I want you to remember those feelings. Pain and loneliness. Happiness and love.” She swallowed. “Friendship and romance. True empathy. Hold on to those fragments, Cozy Glow. They will be your passage to becoming a new pony.”

Trapped in a swirling sea of her cold emotions mixed with Twilight’s memories, Cozy was no longer sure she wanted to become a new pony. Even if she changed her mind, it was too late to back out. Moments later, she was struck with a rainbow beam from Twilight’s horn, burning her world to white.

Crystalline walls. Blankets and bedding on a twin bed. A bag of fluid suspended from a pole with tubing connecting to an exposed contraption sinking into the bed. A cart with sterile supplies and assorted devices. In one corner, an empty desk with a small chair parked inside. In the other corner, a closed door.

Alone, a filly awoke from a terrible nightmare of being trapped in Tartarus, and some dream about Princess Twilight Sparkle. In the haze of awakening, she couldn’t quite grasp who she was, where she was, or how she got there. The remains of the dream were near, intangible but swirling around her.

“Hello?” she called.

Beyond the door, the filly heard hooves shuffling and a pair of muffled feminine voices. The voices were quick but quiet. There was pronounced emotion behind their tones, but at the low volume, the filly was unsure if it was excitement or anger. The voices died down moments after they came, and the door creaked open.

An off-white mare with a pink mane and a red badge emerged. “Good morning, dearie. My name is Nurse Redheart, and I’ve been taking care of you. How are you feeling?”

The filly blinked away the sleep and looked down at her hoof. Light pink, like the wicked filly locked in Tartarus in her dream. “Okay, I think. Did something happen? Am I in the hospital?”

The nurse’s sad smile radiated nurturing sympathy. “Oh, we weren’t sure how much you would remember. I’m so sorry. You were struck by some powerful magic, and your body needed plenty of rest to recover. But you’re not in the hospital. Princess Twilight arranged for you to stay in this room here in Ponyville.”

“Princess Twilight?” Recognition wiped across the filly’s muzzle.

Redheart beamed, oblivious to everything that name meant to the filly. “Oh, would you like to meet her?” The filly nodded meekly. “As soon as I check your vitals, I bet she’d like to meet you too.”

Redheart retrieved two devices from the cart beside the bed, one in the shape of a tube, and the other in the shape of a gauge. She placed the gauge on the end of one of the filly’s exposed hooves, and placed the tube on the other hoof. Connected to the tube was a pump and a dial, which she pressed repeatedly until finally releasing the instruments with a smile. “Everything looks normal, dear.”

The filly faked a smile, unsure what not normal would look like. “Is Princess Twilight really coming?”

Putting away the supplies, the nurse glanced at a shadow cast on the door. “I think she’s already here.” With a curt nod, she left the filly, and in walked her replacement, the princess.

“Golly, it really is you,” the filly said, awe glazing over her eyes.

“Hello,” Twilight said. “It sounds like you know who I am. Do you know who you are?”

The filly shook her head weakly. “I had a dream about… you and some other filly. I can remember that dream pretty well. But I don’t remember anything before that.”

Twilight frowned, her eyes darting off in calculation. “Sometimes self-discovery isn’t about finding who we’re meant to be, but choosing who we want to be,” she said. “Who do you want to be when you’re older?”

The filly perked up. “I want to grow up to protect good ponies like you from bad ponies like that filly I saw in that nightmare.”

A hopeful nod. Noticing that the filly’s lower half was covered by blankets, Twilight asked, “What kind of cutie mark would you want?”

“Something that told ponies that I’m here to help them.” The filly trailed off in thought. “Something trustworthy.”

Twilight exhaled and tripped over her words. “I bet when you do earn your cutie mark, it will be just like that.”

The praise cut through any tension of its delivery, elating the filly. “Really, Princess?”

“Of course,” Twilight responded, much more at ease. “Destiny finds a way,” she explained. To herself, she added, “…until it doesn’t.”

“Gee, thank you.” The filly propped herself up against a pillow. “Are you destiny?”

Twilight laughed. “No, I’m just a pony like you.”

The filly gasped at the declaration. “So I could grow up to be an angel like you?”

“An angel?” Darkness flickered across Twilight’s expression, momentarily replacing her genuine smile, and fading away to leave only the fake smile of royalty. “I think you already are one.”

That day, Guardian Angel was born.

Sunset broke off contact from Angel, her jaw relaxed and eyebrows creased. “Wow.”

Angel straightened herself up. “I am pretty great.”

Sunset stared. “I never knew Twilight used the geode offensively. I remember her asking to borrow it for scientific research. Maybe she said it was for an experiment?” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t think she meant this kind of experiment.”

Angel snorted. “Boo-hoo, your girlfriend tricked you.”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend.” Sunset scowled.

“Okay.” Angel blew a puff of air. “Boo-hoo, you were all alone with your fantasies.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Why show me all of this, anyway?”

Angel grew quiet. “Look, I know the two of us got off on the wrong foot.”

“Understatement of the day.”

“And I know you haven’t liked me, and I admit the feeling has been mutual.” Angel bit her lip.

Sunset grew an adversarial grin. “Not pulling any punches? I could like you for that.”

Angel rubbed her temples. “Sunset, I need you to know we’re on the same side. You would never believe me if I told you, but I trust the memories you saw are enough to convince you I’m being honest.” She giggled at Sunset’s deadpan. “Hey, there’s a first for everything.”

Sunset’s eyes pierced Angel’s, expression illegible. “Which side would that be?”

Angel smiled sadly. “Twilight Sparkle’s, of course. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive her for the circumstances of my creation, but make no mistakes about my loyalties. I’m not under a spell; I could hurt her if I wanted.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I could never want that. I was flooded with a single set of memories, Sunset. That means there’s only a single pony in the world I care about.”

Sunset mirrored the sad smile. “Is that why you’ve been so snippy to me?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Angel said. “You love her. I only know what love is because of her. I owe my life to her. You’d give your life in a heartbeat to save hers.”

Sunset opened her mouth, seemingly disputing the facts, but quickly closed it. A moment passed before she spoke. “That’s a hell of a connection.”

“Right.” Angel shrugged. “That’s more than enough sap for the day. I’m not a maple tree like you.”

Sunset let out a breathy laugh.

“With that behind us” – she dropped to a snarl – “where it will stay” – she bounced back – “I’m going to ask you again. What really happened at the cemetery?”

Sunset hesitated, glanced down at the floor, and sighed. “How much do you know about the autism spectrum?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “I’ve ingested years of Twilight Sparkle’s memories. Consider me well-acquainted.”

Sunset choked back a laugh. “I can’t tell if that’s a joke or not, coming from you.”

“Do I look like a psychologist?” Angel stuck her tongue out. “I know if she is on the spectrum, she’s not diagnosed.”

A nod. “Indeed, though I would add, her human counterpart is. The two worlds aren’t perfectly symmetric, but it means the Bayesian prior for Princess Twilight skyrockets.”

“Base Ian what now?” Angel closed her eyes. “Someone’s been spending too much time with Twilight.”

“Both Twilights, actually.” She giggled. “Given the other Twilight’s history, and the independent evidence for this Twilight, the mathematics suggest Twilight herself may be on the spectrum.”

Angel raised her hooves in mock surprise. “What a revelation. Thank you for this earth-shattering statistical insight that I never could have predicted without your interdimensional assistance.”

“Funny,” Sunset replied nasally. “Regardless, Princess Twilight herself refuses to consider the possibility, even as it becomes more… pronounced in her daily life. I was trying to talk to her about it in the cemetery, and I thought she was finally opening up, when there was some loud noise and she disappeared.” She kicked the ground with her hoof. “So much for radical self-acceptance.”

Angel squinted her eyes. “You didn’t mention anything about a loud noise before.”

“Oops?” Sunset bit her lip. “Sirens in downtown Canterlot are hardly noteworthy.” Her eyes widened. “Although for a stressed out autistic mare, they are. Sweet Celestia, what if she decided to teleport herself to escape the situation?”

Angel frowned. “It’s possible, but doesn’t that raise more questions than it answers? Where would she teleport to? Why wouldn’t she come back as soon as the noise died down? Why not tell anyone of her whereabouts instead of requiring a search party? And why can’t anyone find her now?” Angel lounged back in her chair. “Teleportation may be magic, but it isn’t witchcraft.”

Sunset tapped a hoof against the ground, imitating the rhythms that reminded her of Twilight. “If she left Canterlot, we wouldn’t find her this quickly. Maybe she got distracted wherever she went. Got wrapped up in a magic theory problem and needed to write down her insights before they went to waste, or…” Sunset’s ears flopped back in fantasy, returning to the present to find Angel’s stare fixed on her. “Gah. There’s something I’m missing.”

For a moment, the two remained still, Sunset’s look pensive and Angel’s a mix of exasperated and bored. At once Sunset sprung to life.

“Moondancer’s spell!”

Before Angel could ask for clarification, Sunset explained, “Twilight told me in the cemetery about a spell Moondancer created as a foal. A time-out spell, to magically remove her from a stressful situation and give herself a neutral sensory environment to stabilize herself before returning to her point of origin in the near future. Twilight told me she never used the spell except when she first learned it as a filly, but what if she used it in the cemetery? She had plenty of reason to.”

Angel nodded slowly. “Having already brought it up in conversation, it would’ve been top of mind. As a spontaneous spell cast in distress, that makes it a likely choice.”

Sunset clapped her hooves. “Moondancer herself could have used the spell to escape from the library in the first place.”

“Alright.” Angel stood up from her chair. “Can we get them back?”

“Twilight didn’t share details of the spell, and if it’s Moondancer’s creation, it might not be available in writing to reverse-engineer.” Sunset trailed off. “She did say it used the Clover method, so unless Moondancer’s particular implementation has a vulnerability, Twilight is in control of the duration of the spell. Given her magic reserves, we would be fools to try to interfere with it.”

Angel shrugged. “Do we have to, though? You said they’ll return to their points of origin. As long as we keep the grounds of the library and the cemetery under constant surveillance, we can just wait.”

Her eyes rolled back to their corners, flooded by memories of a previous life in stone and in Tartarus. “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s wait.”

An hour later, a bright light flashed from the cemetery in the distance. Sunset gasped, and unwittingly holding her breath, galloped towards the source of the light, chased after the guards already on-scene. As she approached, she met eyes with a spacey but smiling alicorn.

She slowed her trot as the figure grew nearer and hung her mouth open, her vision blurring. “Twilight Sparkle?” Her face grew pale and with a tremble said, “Is that really you?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” the stranger cooed, her wings resting open. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

“Gee, I wonder.” Sunset deadpanned, words sharp but slow. “You cast the timeout spell?”

“I cast–” Twilight giggled dreamily. “Right, maybe you can guess.” She tapped her hoof with a breezy smile. “It happened so fast, but the moment the magic left my horn, I was in this other universe. At least, I wasn’t in this one. Everything was cool, dark, and quiet. There was no stimulation I didn’t create myself. Honestly, it was the most peaceful moment I’ve enjoyed in years. You should come along for the ride sometime.” Twilight bit her lip with a grin. “I certainly understand why Moondancer liked the spell so much. When I learned it as a filly, I was much too focused on the novelty to consider the utility. Somehow I never thought to cast it all this time.” She shook her head sweetly, eyes drifting from tomb to tomb. “It was the greatest thing, to just disappear for a moment– hey!”

Sunset interrupted Twilight’s speech with a gentle punch on her upper arm with a shaking hoof. She choked on her words. “That was leaving me without a trace, Twilight.”

A sniffle, and Sunset wrapped her hooves around the princess, her eyes widening. “And this is for coming back.”

Sunset pressed her muzzle up against Twilight’s, squeezing together their lips as she planted a delicate kiss on her princess, holding her tighter in a plea that she may never let go.

A kiss leaving Sunset’s lips flaming and Twilight’s cheeks burnt in the heat.