Glimmer

When belief died...

Perhaps 'faith' was closer to the true term. Because Twilight had wanted to believe in Trixie. Who understood the unending burden of near-impossible expectations better than the student of the Princess? And with both casters, so much of that pressure ultimately came from within.

She'd... thought there could be a chance to reconcile. Communicate, perhaps even find some level of connection. They were both students of magic, after all. And when the Princess had recommended that Twilight write to Trixie, try to get the performer's input on an experiment -- the other mare had ultimately sent a letter back. Because they could talk, about theories and proofs and trials which didn't always quite work out --

-- it had... felt like a connection. In some ways, it had been considerably more of an initial bond than Twilight had found with any of the other Bearers during her first day in Ponyville. At least she and Trixie had one thing in common.

One thing.

Include an endless half-lifetime of forever-building pressure and it was two. But they never really talked about that part. It had mostly been discussions of magic, and --

-- it had mostly been discussions of magic.

Could you build a friendship on a single open commonality? Twilight had wanted, perhaps even needed to believe it was possible.

And then, shortly before Trotter's Falls had driven a wedge into what she knew of reality, leaving Twilight to helplessly stare as spreading cracks raced forth to fracture definitions forever...

Your friend mostly in spite of herself,

Trixie Lulamoon

She'd thought Trixie was her friend.
She'd needed to believe it.

And when your desire to believe in something seemed to arise from the soul... that was faith.

Trixie was standing upon the stage.

(Her most natural home.)
(Perhaps her only home.)

She had the full attention of everypony in the audience. There wasn't a single pair of eyes which wasn't focused on her. Perhaps even Moon was watching the moment (although the cloud cover produced by the intermittent rain could have been giving it some trouble). The performer hadn't exactly arranged for the scene to come with its own potential musical backup, but undoubtedly stood ready to use the very first off-key note.

Twilight, who'd been placed closest to the stage's apron, temporarily united with the herd in silently, almost helplessly staring up at the light blue unicorn -- had two wishes. The first was for time to somehow rewind itself, take everything back. A much fainter second dimly hoped for the frozen band members to remain perfectly still. There was probably some tiny chance of having the entire thing turn into a musical number, but it couldn't have backup dancers. She'd seen their first attempts. When it came to bad dancing, Twilight felt herself to be a fully qualified judge. Mostly by direct comparison --

-- there were those who said that when faith and belief died, they shattered and for the ones who had spoken the words, it might have even been true. But for Twilight, it felt like dissolution. A slow melting, attempting to dissolve her from within.

The spreading sensation reached her knees. All four tried to buckle. And she wanted to cry out, to find the words which would make it all go away -- but Trixie's ears weren't rotated towards Twilight. The performer's focus had effectively been directed towards an audience of one --

-- and in the strange, somehow frozen silence, Twilight became aware of her heartbeat.

One frantic pounding against the interior of her rib cage. Two --

-- Truedawn's residents began to shift position. Little changes in posture, the twitching of tails and a shuffling of hooves. They were listening, paying full attention, but the herd hadn't decided what it wanted to do and the smallest push in the wrong direction --

"-- everypony, center on me!" The accent was still wrong, but the voice itself was unmistakable. "Close in! We've got to --"

Rainbow, even in her half-exhausted state, was the first to respond: wings flared to their full span, beat a frantic aerial path towards Applejack. Pinkie was getting ready to push, Fluttershy had a certain way of adjusting position which sometimes made Twilight wonder if the caretaker had been in the new location all along, Rarity was ignoring all of it and had squared shoulders and hips, lowering her horn as she prepared to make a charge directly at the stage --

-- something which would have her trying to go through dozens of ponies.

Dozens.

They were out in the open (while still confined by the shield). There was some humidity in the air, but it wasn't necessarily enough for Rainbow to really work with -- and as long as the dome was in play, air itself was in limited supply. Starlight was the only Truedawn resident who'd been seen openly using any form of magic and when it came to combat, that didn't matter. The Bearers were still outnumbered by at least twenty to one. Once any cry of alarm reached the rest of the community, those odds would only get worse.

And Twilight still didn't know what had happened in the community, to create a group of adult ponies without marks. Who, from all abruptly-coalescing indications, apparently preferred it that way.

It could still be a disease.

"DON'T FIGHT!"

Twilight wasn't the leader. (She told herself that fairly often, and was usually sure she was right.) They shifted off leadership duties based on need. She had to take the initiative on unicorn magic --

-- Trixie?
Please, please make this not be happening --

-- but Pinkie had the lead in many social situations, and there had been times when Rainbow had wound up directing them: that last was generally when there was no time to actually think.

She wasn't the leader.

But five Bearers froze.

The followup "Don't fight..." was weaker. Softer, as decibels dissolved away. "We don't know... we can't... we can't launch the first kicks..."

Too many.
If it turns into a fight -- there's too many. Even if they're not using magic, the numbers...
...some of us could get hurt, or...
...we'd have to reach Spike. First priority. Or he might hear the fighting, come out on the attack, and the flames...
They're not striking at us.
They aren't really doing anything.
It's wrong to attack the ill.

They'd all fought against Doctor Gentle's supporters. The nascent, newborn cult.

...no. That had been different. Those ponies had been going after them. And if there had been an illness there, it had been --

-- the same one?

The spreading infection of belief --

-- there were ways in which the next words couldn't really be described as 'calm'. To say that somepony was speaking calmly was to imply there were other options available, and Starlight apparently didn't see anything in the situation as being worthy of upset. In fact, up until that moment, she apparently hadn't seen it as being worthy of anything. She'd just been -- standing there. Watching Trixie. Or looking at the place where the performer happened to be.

"Calzin. Tili." Two residents looked up. "Go to your house. Remove everything which you feel could potentially be used as a weapon. After that, this group --" and it was faster for Starlight to just surround about sixty ponies with a brief trace of corona, one after the other as she continued to speak "-- will take all of our visitors who remained in the audience section to that residence. Place them within, then surround the house, watch for escape attempts, and signal the community if they try anything. Otherwise, wait for my word."

She paused. Thinking. And then she turned her attention to the stage, with regard which was almost -- languid.

"Quinz, Kicha -- bring Casta to your own residence. The following community members --" more momentary turquoise auras flashed through the crowd "-- will guard that house. Instructions are otherwise the same."

"And when we hear from you?" Tili quickly asked.

Evenly, "Bring everypony back here." Her gaze almost languidly moved between frozen Bearers. Watching. Evaluating. "I'll stay with the community until they've all been placed as directed. But after that, I'll be in my workshop for at least an hour. I need to prepare something."

Silence. Rainbow's ribs heaved over and over. Feathers twitched, and a prismatic tail twitched because it was the only action left.

"You're going to test her," Tikr placidly said.

"Yes." Something about the accompanying nod felt uneven. "But those who are tested might pass. Take them away."

It wasn't a very good house. It wasn't much of a prison cell either, and simply having everything above ground put an automatic forfeit on 'dungeon'. But having a few dozen ponies posted around the perimeter added a certain something to the potential for confinement.

Twilight could see a few of them through the uneven glass of the front window. The herd had decided to be resolute about it. Ponies came by with trays balanced on their backs, distributed mugs of wake-up juice. The streetlights reflected oddly off the empties, although not as strangely as the distortions produced by the ground quartz.

Truedawn had effectively surrounded the house. But none of its ponies had stayed inside. The occupants had removed some utensils. Everypony had herded the Bearers within, taken up their perimeter positions, and... that was it.

"Well..." Rarity carefully said, and the seemingly-false lightness made everypony in the cramped living room turn towards her. Fluttershy's comb-bundled tail just barely avoided being caught by a half-extruded couch spring.

"Well what?" Rainbow crossly demanded. Wings flared out to full span, furiously flapped twice before forcing themselves to refold into the rest position. Three rather poor pieces of flimsy woodwork were blown off a shelf, and the hint of fresh ozone lingered.

"Well," the designer restarted, "now we can talk without fear of interruption. For -- at least an hour?"

She forced a smile, allowed the lie of levity to make the rounds as she looked around at all of the others.

Nopony spoke.

"I have my own concerns, obviously," Rarity sighed. "The primary --" she glanced at the window, rotated her ears until she was sure nopony outside could overhear "-- is bipedal. And must be found at the first opportunity. If the -- 'music' was loud enough to reach him, dears, then he would have also heard it stop. And once that happened, he would have effectively been waiting for us to return. Too many hours away, and..."

Spike.
Sun and Moon, Spike.
...please be okay.
Please wait for us.
There's too many...

Five mares watched the sixth, and did so in utter silence.

"If we are very lucky," the unicorn unheedingly continued, "he simply went to sleep. That may give us until morning before he attempts to --"

Almost casually, "-- Rares?"

Blue eyes blinked. "Yes, Applejack?"

The words were far too even. "What did you say to her?"

"You mean our burden, of course." Dress-covered white shoulders expertly managed a sitting shrug. "Nothing particularly unusual."

A sharp, sudden inhale. "Rarity --"

"-- and whatever I may have said," the designer tranquilly offered, "it would appear I was right. Which also includes the many things I did not have the opportunity to voice. Still, as we are being returned to her vicinity in an hour or so --"

Powerful orange legs pushed against the floor, and the earth pony stood up in almost exactly the same manner as Sun being brought over the horizon: the central difference was the immediate proximity of heat. "-- you need to stop. I know you didn't want her here." With a snort, "I can just about guarantee everypony knows. It's not exactly like you've been keeping your feelings to yourself, is it? Generosity's been sharing her opinion the whole bucking time --"

Pinkie winced. Fluttershy's features vanished behind manefall. Rainbow's tail, for lack of other options, started to flick. But the weather coordinator's mouth opened, just for a moment, and perhaps Twilight was the only one who heard the low mutter.

"I was sort of starting to like her..."

Rarity was just -- resting in place. The white body was low on a poorly-padded, barely-raised bench, and she calmly looked up at the standing farmer. Waiting.

"-- including with the mare she's got those opinions about. Pushing her away, kicking --"

"Nothing I said," Rarity serenely decided, "made a tenth-bit of difference regarding her actions tonight." Briefly paused. "I do perceive some irony, of course."

"Irony," represented the first thing Pinkie had said since they'd been removed from the concert area.

"Of a personal nature," Rarity clarified. "I hardly expect anypony else to have spotted it, as it is my occupation: not yours. Being betrayed by our burden? Perfectly natural. We should have been expecting that since the moment we arrived, especially after she found somepony whom she could betray us to. But with the stallion who suffered the injury upon the stage? That was something only I may be able to truly appreciate: betrayal through inferior stitching."

She softly giggled, as the others stared at her.

And then the designer managed a smile.

"Irony," she decided. "Of course, it was aided and abetted by some decidedly poor carpentry, but I am certain that my own stitching would have held up against the assault --- actually, Applejack, you work with wood rather more often than the rest of us. And you are, of course, familiar with my work. When it comes to the battle of Splinter Vs. Stitch, whom do you feel would --"

"-- you don't think you did anything to influence how that all came out," said the too-steady voice of fast-building danger, and orange ears moved to stabilize a hat which wasn't there. "An' -- and how do you figure that, Rares?"

"If she was truly a good mare," Rarity told the room, "or had somehow managed to transmute herself into one since our last encounter -- then nothing I said could have possibly changed that."

"...Spike..." Twilight just barely choked out.

Every other set of eyes in the room immediately focused on her.

"Dearest, I am just as concerned as you are, but we have no current means of reaching --"
"...I'm worried too..."
"We'll get to him! I promise! I... really really wish I could Pinkie Promise right now."
"Nopony's going to stand between us and getting him back! Just give me a plan and get me out there! Or don't give me a plan, because that's faster --"
"-- Twi, I know what it's like to have a sibling out there alone, I'm scared for him too..."

"...Spike," the little mare forced herself to repeat, "said in the very first scroll, after we all got here --"

It's my fault.

"-- that Trixie might have gotten a concussion..."

"Change of heart through head injury?" Rarity pondered -- and then shrugged again. "Well, it's not as if it's possible to knock some sense into her --"

-- orange legs moved. Applejack was now standing directly in front of Rarity, towering over the resting white form. The unicorn didn't react.

"-- so you're saying there's a seventh Element?" emerged from just under the business end of the flaring nostrils. Applejack's hooves were beginning to grind against the floor, and Twilight distantly worried about splinters.

Rarity blinked. "A what?"

"Because you're basically asking for 'stand there and take it' to be its own virtue," Applejack snorted. "And on the level you were kicking out, the only way to really honor it would be a necklace. Maybe even a crown. And don't even start on saying you could do double-duty, because you can't."

The purple tail twitched.

"I have my own means of dealing with pressure," Rarity said. "None of them involve hurting my friends --"

"-- I've seen how you manage stress," Applejack shot back. "Your ideas on how to keep it all calm. I've also seen the results. So as far as I'm concerned?" The blonde tail was lashing now, picking up speed. "Everything you do for keeping yourself under some kind of control doesn't work." Green eyes shifted focus, went to the horn. "But what else would you expect when the ideas come from a pinhead?"

They barely saw Pinkie move.

There was a blur of rose, and then the baker was trying to place herself in the space between farmer and designer. Intervening, attempting to separate --

-- Applejack's left foreleg raised, went out to the side. Pinkie pulled up short just before crashing into it.

"You're trying to provoke me," Rarity evenly declared. "It won't work --"

"-- provoke," Applejack cut in.

"It's rather obvious."

"Stop." There was a plea in the baker's voice, and it was easy to hear because there was almost nothing else left. "You both have to stop --"

"-- your fishing-loving freak of a dad," the farmer offhoofedly decided, "would have said 'bait'."

And then Rarity was standing.

"You of all ponies," the unicorn hissed, "would do well to be careful about invoking parents --"

Subtle scents were building in the air. The reek of rage.

They're going to fight.

It could be argued that Applejack and Rarity had the weakest bond in the group. (On a particularly bad day, they would be tied for last.) They'd certainly started that way, and it had taken years, careful talks, and the occasional slumber party to build a connection. But there had been so many times when the mares had felt as if they were on the verge of battle, and now --

-- how do I stop this?
How can I fix --

Maybe she couldn't.

This is worse than it was after Quiet.
Maybe we can't ever be eight.
We're falling apart --

"...stop..."

And slowly, carefully, with two mares never quite taking their eyes off each other, the group turned towards the most practiced half-whisper in the room.

"...we're all upset," Fluttershy softly told them. "Stressed and scared. You can admit to the stress, but... I'm the one who has to say when there's fear. And we haven't been eating right, you don't think clearly when you're not really eating, and... please, everypony. We have to stay together. All of us, everypony who's still here. There has to be an us..."

Pinkie used the distraction, pushed herself against Applejack's hoof and lowered that leg to the floor before getting an extra hoofstep in. Green and blue eyes were now trying to glare through curls.

Slowly, Rarity lowered herself to the floor. Applejack took two hoofsteps back and held position. Still standing.

"...we... may wind up needing help," the hybrid quietly pointed out. "I don't know what's going to happen with Starlight's -- test. But I think we might need to ask for help. And I was thinking... Twilight, all of the signal devices are out of reach right now. We could try to get one, and set it off when the right hour comes." She glanced at the nearest clock, and a series of minor facial misery adjustments indicated an attempt to adjust for clockwork error. "Maybe that won't be tonight. It's getting so late that it's about to be early. But... even if we get one, I don't know if it'll do anything..."

Which finally gave Twilight a solvable problem.

"They should go off unless they've been tampered with," the little mare said. "I could try to correct for magical alterations. With the chemical ones --"

Trixie loves chemistry.

She fought to refocus. "-- I could try to remix anything which hadn't been corrupted. And if they've all been destroyed --"

They'd have to search the houses. Find where we secured everything.
They could find Spike.
Spike...

"-- I can probably improvise --"

The jungle-green head slowly shook. "...I was thinking... that when you looked down from the tepui, you didn't see Truedawn. Just rain forest, because that's what the shield wants you to see. And we know that there's lights here now." A slight head tilt indicated the direction of the nearest streetlight. "So if we set off a signal in here..."

Twilight softly groaned. "...then the shield might shift the lumen level back to normal on the way out, or completely contain the burst," she sighed. "You may be right, Fluttershy. It has to be tested, but -- we may not be able to signal the palace unless we can bring the shield down or find a way to get outside it."

"We could have just fought our way out," Rainbow huffily insisted. "We could be back together and lighting up the sky right now."

"There were too many of them," Twilight immediately countered. "Rainbow, when there's over a hundred ponies -- no, don't start! Maybe they haven't been using magic, and it's even possible that they can't. But just the sheer numbers... somepony would have gotten hurt --"

"-- I can guarantee that," Rainbow fiercely told the room. "I could have put a hurt on --"

"-- somepony here. And when it comes to hurting them... they haven't kicked out at us, they didn't do anything more than herd us in here, they've been nice, and..." She had to force her lungs into finishing the breath. "...they might be sick. We still don't know, everypony. We... have to be careful."

Applejack sighed: an act which released none of the tension in the powerful muscles. "I was ready to kick my way out for a few seconds there. I'll admit it. But -- Rainbow, that wasn't all of them. Maybe there was a Lunar shift doing the night jobs, or a few just went to bed. But I know I didn't see everypony I've met in that audience."

"I didn't," Pinkie immediately added. "There were at least forty more ponies who could have come in as reinforcements if somepony sounded an alarm. And I'm not sure I've seen everypony here yet."

Twilight nodded. "And even if we won against the first group -- somehow -- that leaves us being chased by the second. All the way to the shield, and I would have had to figure out how to break it on the spot."

"You could have done it," Rainbow quickly stated. "You're better than whoever enchanted that. Better than Starlight, if it's her. We -- look, stop shaking your head, you know you're good at this, there's a crown thingie which says you're great --"

"-- it can take time," Twilight broke in. "Countering the shield, even in a small area... you remember Tish's gallery, Rainbow. We just barely made one tiny hole."

"But you said that was three shields! All of the magic, layered together! This is just the one --"

Just barely audible, even to herself: "-- Rainbow."

Who stopped.

"I don't know how long it would have taken," Twilight said. "I wasn't going to risk any of you in trying to find out. And... I still don't feel like we should have attacked. We all know there's something going on here, something which -- probably shouldn't be happening at all."

His name was Linchpin.
His mark was changed.
And when he died, the original didn't come back.

"If we ran," the little mare finished, "then... by the time we signaled the palace, and could try to return -- maybe they would have run. It could take a long time to find them. If we can, then we need to try and solve this from the inside."

And if we ran, then Trixie might have gotten left behind.

She wasn't going to voice it. Twilight was sure Rarity had a devastating 'So?' on standby.

"You want to play nice," Rainbow's disbelief checked.

Carefully, "For as long as we can."

"And if they try to imprison us?" the pegasus shot back. "More than just the shield, Twilight: a cell. Or they say we're stuck here forever --"

"-- we get out."

"And if they hurt one of us?" Rainbow challenged. "Or worse?"

Then it's my fault.

"Then we fight."

The prismatic mane shifted across the length of the hard nod. "I'll take it." But the tail was still shifting. "Just make a decision fast, Twilight. Because I don't know if I'm gonna wait for very long. Or if they will."

She waited for somepony else to say something. Anypony else. To propose a plan, or even an idea. To come up with the words which would bring them all home.

I need to get them all home.
Everypony.
My brother and all of my friends.
...is she my friend?
Was she ever...?

But there was anger in the air, laced with undercurrents of fear. And so nopony said a word.

There was a degree of illumination within the Truedawn night, even with the clouds having completely closed in. All of it was artificial, and there was now a question as to what it would take before any portion could reach the outside. Light, as with everything else, felt -- trapped.

Most of what was locally available had now been trapped within a fairly small area.

Multiple lighting devices had been set up near the stage: far more than what had been present for the concert itself. There was a little patch of what might have been daylight there, but... no device ever truly replicated the radiance of Sun. As with Truedawn's residents, every hue was at least slightly off, and it made the world feel artificial. Part of Twilight's mind was insisting that they'd all just been herded into an inferior cinema set.

The community had gathered. Truly gathered, with -- it was hard for Twilight to get a true count, but she felt it was something under two hundred ponies present.

Combat forces.
Possible victims.
...somepony's hostages?

Just about all of them had arranged themselves in a near-circle around the stage, starting about fifteen body lengths back from the splintery wood. Watching and waiting, as six mares were herded in.

"Right here," Tili gently told them. "Sit in front."

They sat. Tails splayed across foreign ground.

We don't have very good luck with sitting in front of stages.

A portion of the crowd parted, and Starlight approached. Her saddlebags seemed to be somewhat fuller than usual.

The lilac unicorn stopped when she was ten body lengths away.

"I could restrain all of you," she evenly stated. "The standard methods, or a more advanced confinement. If a single pony here gives me a reason to do so, then I will. The current theory is that you are all intelligent enough to both recognize this and comprehend that you would be starting a battle which you cannot win."

Rainbow's lips pulled back from her teeth.

"You will listen," Starlight continued without visible notice of the pegasus' reaction, "you will let her speak, and then you will answer questions. Is that understood?"

"Fully," Twilight quietly answered.

It got her a single nod. That, at least, almost felt normal. Starlight had probably gotten a lot of practice in on public nods.

Another group approached. Six ponies, surrounding a single light blue unicorn. The center mare's gaze was mostly looking at the ground.

Starlight glanced at the new arrivals. "Stand with the community," she told the transport group. Then, to the unicorn, "Take the stage."

Hooves slowly made their way up the little ramp at the side, and their owner finally turned to face the crowd --

-- no. Facing Starlight, as if the lilac mare was the only pony present.

The performer didn't look at the Bearers, nor did she glance up at the shield to seek out concealed Moon and hidden constellations. A weary, half-lidded gaze was meant for Starlight, and nopony else.

Rarity's tail was lashing: Twilight could feel the little disruptions of the air on her left. Easy to pick up on, when no true breeze ever came through the shield.

Look at me.
I'm looking right at you. I need to see you.
...the real you.
Look at me...

But Trixie didn't.

Starlight's horn ignited. The right saddlebag opened, and two modified metal shoes floated out. Each was designed to completely encircle a hoof, and had triangular, scooping metal projections at the front. They obediently descended to the ground, and Starlight smoothly donned the hoof-mounted tools.

Garden trowels? Why does she need --

A very small cloth bundle levitated out of the open saddlebag. Unwrapped itself. And under the bright false lights of Truedawn, Twilight saw what it contained.

Small, hard ovals. Like somepony was chipping pieces off a bit. The golden color is almost right, except for that lighter segment at the narrow end.

That's where the buds push their way out.

Seeds.

She has Seeds Of Truth.

Methodically, Starlight dug a small hole. Floated the seeds down into the tiny wound, then pushed the soil back into place. Truedawn simply watched.

Turquoise dipped into the open saddlebag again. A small glass vial emerged.

The contents were grey and chartreuse, swirling about each other in thin layers without ever truly mixing. Starlight's field removed the cork, then receded enough to allow the liquid free passage.

It had a scent which felt like a chemist had tried to replicate the pleasant aroma of cherries while working from a base of ammonia. The results fizzed slightly as they soaked into the soil, and Applejack winced.

We talked about it afterwards. Long before the Secret had been broken. She tried. But she couldn't make them grow on her own. All she could do was prime them. They have just one condition where they'll sprout.

Testing.

I tried to find out how they worked. There were theories, but nopony was sure about any of it. The best guess was that a pony who's telling the truth gives off a pheromone, and that's what the seeds respond to. But it would need to be capable of working into the soil.
...I thought about harvesting some of Applejack's sweat. Distilled Honesty. Find out if the seeds could be watered. And when I told her, she just laughed...
What did Zecora do to the seeds, before she brought them out? Were they prepared in her hut? Something only a zebra with a potion mark could manage, to get them ready?
Does it take a zebra?
And if it does, then -- what did Starlight just do, to substitute?

The fizzing stopped, with the earth now visibly discolored in a small, strangely-even patch. Starlight looked at the results, then glanced up at Trixie.

"Do you know what those were?"

"I read."

Tired tones. Slightly weak. They'd all been up for too long, none of them had truly eaten...

"And you understand what they do," Starlight calmly asked.

"Yes."

The turquoise became slightly brighter. Projected forward, briefly surrounded the performer before winking out.

"They will respond to you," the lilac unicorn said. "And only to you. No interference from others is possible. Regardless, I ask that the community remain silent. This is her test. Allow her to speak."

Nearly two hundred ponies nodded, and did so as one.

Starlight didn't bother with a warning glance at the Equestrian travelers. She simply made eye contact with the performer, and Trixie didn't move.

"You have offered your skills to the community," Starlight began. "Why?"

The performer took a slow, deep breath.

"You're trying to get rid of marks," she began. "That's right, isn't it?"

"We are," Starlight calmly said, "investigating the possibilities offered by living without them."

All of Truedawn watched Trixie. Listened. The performer at the center of a perfectly attentive audience.

"However," the lilac mare added, "in my experience, the average pony does not come to recognize the benefits of having but a single internal voice without -- a community." Paused. "And before that, a... friend. Somepony to -- lead the way."

She's hesitating.
The verbal pacing, the tones -- they're turning awkward.

"Why do you wish to help us?" Starlight asked. And waited.

Grey-tinged eyes slowly closed, and it took six endless heartbeats before they opened again.

"You identified my talent," the performer began. "Immediately."

"I study," Starlight stated. "Continue."

"...you..." The next breath went to the limits of lung capacity, threatening to fracture ribs from within. "...weren't quite right."

"You confirmed my deduction during our previous discussion," Starlight said. "If you are now claiming to have misspoken, or that you have a different interpretation of your icon --"

The streaked tail sagged.

"-- I have half a talent."

The herd...
...Twilight didn't know how to classify the sound. Half of a collective inhale, half --
-- sob?

And all Starlight said was "Continue."

Slowly, with every syllable bleeding individual drops, "I dream of new magic. Sometimes I know what has to be done, to bring it into the world. I just... I can't cast most of it. My field strength is -- fairly high. I could have gotten into a lot of schools. But it's not enough. I dream of things which could change the world, and -- they're also spells which might take an alicorn to cast." Bitterness entered the audible wound. "Or maybe they're workings which start where an alicorn has to stop. There's a voice in my head, all right. It talks to me at night, almost every night, to the point where I feel like I picked up insomnia just to not hear it for a while. I'm pushed towards goals I can never reach, constantly, and -- there's no way to make it stop. Not for more than the two weeks I get from shutting my own talent down. The dreams hurt, and not using my talent hurts, and... not being able to use it in the way it was meant to be used..."

She stopped. Her eyes closed again, and the first falling teardrop was absorbed by a vertical distortion of wood.

The discolored patch of soil heaved. Became a tiny mound, as pressure pushed up from below.

Somepony's crying. I can hear --
-- there's so many ponies crying --

Twilight turned her head --

-- Truedawn was weeping.

Something under two hundred ponies were present. The Bearers... all they could do was listen. Rarity's features were twisted by the twin distortions of disbelief and fury. But to look beyond her friends was to see the community, and half of the herd was sobbing. Tears were soaking into fur. Ponies shifted their legs in place because they couldn't rush towards the stage to offer comfort, and just about every face was etched with the pain of deep empathy.

Nearly every face. Starlight simply listened.

"Sometimes I hate my talent," the mare upon the stage softly told the night. "And when that happens, I start to hate myself. And I push too hard, I pushed to do more and it was never enough, so I started looking for..."

She stopped. The left forehoof came up for a second, touched a twisted patch of fur upon her sternum.

"...I made mistakes," she finished. "I did stupid things, and part of that was because I felt so incomplete. I'm supposed to be a channel for magic. I'm not. It's a talent which manifested in a unicorn who can't really use it. I should be my talent, be in -- harmony with it, and I can't --"

The first shoot shoved through granules, and a fresh touch of green entered the night.

"-- you are not your talent," Starlight quietly said, and there was a strange calm in that voice. "You are your own mare. The talent is -- something else." Another pause, followed by a rather awkward "Casta --"

"-- Trixie."

Pinkie winced. Rarity settled for a soft hiss.

"...Trixie," Starlight repeated. "Do you wish for your talent to be removed?"

"There's..." The light blue unicorn's lungs didn't seem to be doing much. "...been so many nights... I've wished for it, there's been whole moons when the dreams wouldn't stop and I couldn't imagine a wish I'd want more. Nopony should have to live like this, nopony. To... be like me..."

Which was when stems erupted from the soil, and the flowers bloomed.

Twilight had seen those flowers before: the pinkish-purple leaves, a white center bloom, and golden stamens. But this plant didn't look exactly like the original. There was a touch of chartreuse to the stamens, and the main bulb was oddly distorted.

Starlight silently nodded. Then the slim legs went into motion, and the lilac mare carefully moved to the stage's ramp. Moved to Trixie's level, as the performer slowly turned towards approaching hooves.

The community's leader stopped less than two hoofwidths away.

There was something almost soft about Starlight's voice, and yet it didn't quite manage to get there. It was the vocal attempt of a mare who had heard such things from others and couldn't manage to cross the final gap.

"A long time ago," the lilac mare quietly said, "I told them I would be the last. But... you know you can't be next. Not if... you're going to have the chance to help so many, Trixie. But you... don't have to be alone any more."

Trixie simply wept. And Starlight leaned forward --

-- Twilight had been expecting a nuzzle. The one which was meant for friends. But the leader simply looked at Trixie's face, and then pulled back again.

"Will you work with me?" Starlight asked. "I need your dreams. And you need somepony who can make them real."

A single, half-miserable nod.

Starlight turned. Faced night and community.

"She is not Free," the lilac mare told Truedawn. "She wishes for that freedom. But like... me..."

Stopped. Took a breath, glanced back at Trixie. The performer raised her head, just a little.

"...like me," Starlight resumed, "she chooses to carry the burden for a while longer. So that others might be Free. Respect her sacrifice."

The herd nodded. Nearly two hundred heads bobbed on the beat.

"And welcome her."

The cheering broke the night. Most of the associated stomping settled for a sincere attempt to collapse eardrums.

Trixie did her best to smile at them. But it was a tired sort of expression. Burdened...

"Enough for now," Starlight stated, and the herd settled down. "There will be time for individual greetings later, of course. And perhaps -- even a name. But..."

She looked down from the stage. Focused on the Bearers, and Twilight felt Pinkie flinch. But Starlight wasn't really regarding the baker. Her attention had been pushed onto Rarity.

"I had the chance to speak with a few members of the community as they dropped off supplies at my workshop," Starlight said. "That one was fighting with you during the concert. Insults. Why?"

"She hates me."

"Because?"

Trixie shivered. It was cold everywhere. "I'm... not part of the group..."

Twilight took a single careful hoofstep forward, kept a concealed horn dark and her wings folded. Nopony tried to stop her.

"Starlight," the little mare urgently said, "I need to tell you why we're here."

The Seeds. If she has more, we can make them work for us --

"I have a theory regarding your presence," Starlight told them as her corona brightened by a single lumen. "In terms of the reason for such. However, when it comes to the how of it --"

-- the left saddlebag lid opened. Turquoise delved within, extracted a small object, and silently floated it forward and down.

It was a section of a thin gold rod, with a diameter no greater than the tip of a pony's tail. There was a piece of broken jewel just barely clinging to the sundered end, and threads of silver wire protruded past it like pulled taffy.

Six mares stopped breathing.

"-- for that," Starlight finished, "I can speak with certainty."

Her legs shifted. Coming up to the very front of the stage's apron, as the device fragment steadily floated in front of Twilight's snout.

"It didn't quite reach my workshop," the community leader stated. "But it did pass through the shield, and there was enough left to signal an arrival. I theorize that the last fractions of thaums were able to gain slightly more distance after it lost the drag weight."

She smiled. There was no process involved, no slow shifting of facial muscles. The expression simply arrived on her face all at once, as a single unit.

"I had to reference an origin point," the mare told them, and the top edge of the saddlebag-stored notebook briefly bobbed into sight. "But once I had that... I visited the recruitment site. I read the newspapers personally. And so I can finally say this: hello, Twilight Sparkle."

oh no

"I do wish to have a true conversation with you," Starlight added. "Regarding your published articles, and any conjecture which you have yet to submit to the journals. Some of your work is exemplary, and even your theories are well beyond what most could render." Paused. "However, I would suggest that you seek out a new editor. Your writing is far too emotional. But at this time, I will begin with a single query."

The smile vanished and with the mare's next words, most of Twilight's heart longed to go with it.

"Where is the dragon?"