Aces High

Chapter 6: Nadir of the Setting Sun

Once upon a time, Sunset Shimmer had been the student of the sun. Her mentor had been the wisest, most beautiful, most powerful pony in all of Equestria, the very pony who literally moved the sun and moon through the sky. Celestia had taught her to hone her magic to perfection, to cast spells with such precision and skill that it had awed her instructors. Under Celestia, Sunset had excelled in every subject.

But Sunset had become arrogant over the years, and deeply anti-social, focusing on her work and her magical prowess over making any meaningful connections beyond her mentor, and even that relationship became increasingly strained.

Then, one day, the princess showed her a mirror. In the glass, Sunset had seen a vision of herself, blessed with the wings of an alicorn. She’d badgered the princess for weeks about what the mirror was, but Celestia had refused to speak. Finally, Sunset took matters into her own hooves.

She’d broken into the restricted section of the palace library, digging into forbidden tomes of secrets and dark magic. She’d learned that the mirror was a portal to another world, one which opened every thirty moons. Before she could read much further, she’d been caught. She and Celestia argued, louder and uglier than they ever had.

Sunset had been dismissed, ordered to leave the palace forever. Only instead of walking out the doors, she’d disabled the guards and escaped across the mirror, ultimately terrorizing a bunch of innocent humans as part of her vendetta.

“This is the biggest mistake you’ll make in your entire life.” Those had been her last words to the princess that had kept her safe.

Oh, the irony.

This had to be a dream…but if so, why could she feel her heart hammering in her chest? A hallucination? She was absolutely exhausted, so hallucinations were on the table. Celestia couldn’t be here. Twilight had told Sunset her visits were to be kept confidential, and she trusted Twilight. This had to be a hallucination.

The lamp beside the bed flicked on with a burst of magic not her own, and Sunset blinked to clear away the spots from her eyes. When she opened them again, she found, much to her disappointment, that Celestia was still there.

The princess was exactly the same as Sunset remembered her, a rather dumb realization when you thought about it. Of course, Princess Celestia was the same. She was an alicorn, an immortal. She probably hadn’t aged a day in centuries. She certainly wouldn’t have aged just because Sunset was gone for ten years in Equestrian time.

Every little feature that had been but a blurring memory in her mind for the past few years was there in front of her. The same white coat that was as warm as a summer day, the same long, wavy mane and tail of soft blues, greens, and pinks that reminded you of the sky at dawn. The same golden regalia. The same enormous wings that were as soft as goose down. The same mighty horn that glowed with a golden magic that had all the look of sunbeams.

Sunset’s throat constricted. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t react, too choked by the unbearable shame from years of her own hate and cruelty. A part of her wanted to teleport from the room, but with the state she was in, she was more likely to land on the stairs and break her neck as much as she was to reach the mirror.

“It is you,” Celestia whispered, almost sounding in awe, no doubt at the audacity of Sunset coming back to Equestria.

Before Sunset could do anything else, she found herself swept off the bed in a hug, wrapped by those massive white wings and pressed so closely to the alicorn’s chest that Sunset could just about hear the the beat of her immortal heart.

“Oh, Sunset, I’m so glad you’re home!”

Those had been the last words she’d expected to hear. She’d predicted anger, disappointment, possibly criminal charges, but…gladness? Never. Sunset tried to force herself to speak, pushing past the emotions that closed down her airways.

“I…” she attempted, only to choke up again, and her vision to blur with unshed tears.

The hug pulled away, just by a few inches. Through the watery film in the unicorn’s eyes, she could make out Celestia’s worried face, even as a gold-clad hoof brushed her own, pressing near her tired eyes, just as Luna had. “You’re sick,” gasped the princess. Now her eyes pricked with tears. “Oh, Sunset, what happened to you? What’s wrong?”

“My…” Sunset gulped. “My memories have been coming back. But something’s gone wrong.” Her throat closed up again. This was too much. Her best friend was dead, there was possibly something wrong in her brain, she had a father, and now here was Princess Celestia. It was all just too much. The water that had built up in her eyes broke past the dam, flowing down her cheeks.

Celestia pressed her close again, wrapping the unicorn in the soft embrace of her wings. “Shh, Sunset, it’s okay. It’ll all be okay. I promise, it’ll all be okay.”

Perhaps it was the stress, or simply old habits, but Sunset fell into the hug faster and easier than she would have expected, letting Celestia’s body heat soothe her screaming heart. It had been so long since she’d been hugged like this, not since those happier years, before things fell apart.

She remembered so many nights where she cried into Celestia’s coat, weeping for the family she didn’t have, comforted by the one pony who’d been there for her. The one pony she’d come to wish was her…

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth!” snarled a mare…woman with long dark hair, and a face so familiar, looking down at her with contempt. “Getting into a fight with Andrew Fisher! His mother is one of my regular clients. She’s probably going to go somewhere else now, thanks to you.”

More words, scattered from a thousand days, played through her ears. “You really think anybody would let you into their bloody space program? Women aren’t astronauts, and they’re not going to bend the rules for some no good troublemaker with your grades.”

Hatred burned in her heart, the sort that she hadn’t felt since the night she’d run through the mirror. But these feelings were older than even those long ago days, older by decades. The shadows of countless arguments shifted across the walls of the little flat that formed the backdrop of her visions.

They coalesced at a small table, where the woman…mare…was slouched. “Did he dump you?” her words carried the slightest of slurs, her cheeks the hint of flush that told her she’d been down to the pub. “Can’t say I’m surprised. He probably only dated you on a lark.”

“You’re nearly fourteen…so grow up, will you!”

Pain lanced through her skull. Her entire brain seemed frozen, every nerve paralyzed. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely hear. Around the edges, her vision blurred. Her entire consciousness was being engulfed.

She felt the heat of Celestia’s body pull away. “Sunset?” Her voice sounded so distant, but the timbre of it was frightened, even panicked. “Sunset, what’s wrong?” Hooves pressed against her cheeks, tilting her head upward toward an increasingly blurry pair of magenta spots.

The unicorn tried to speak. She tried to scream that something was wrong, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate, and whatever she did manage, she couldn’t even hear over the phantom din. The pain in her skull flared red hot, contrasted by a cold, wet sensation that slid down her face. The haze of color was rapidly being replaced by pitch black.

“Sunset? SUNSET!”

It had all been an accident, a twist of fate. Celestia had simply been wanting to talk to her sister. She’d been hoping to persuade Luna into seeing a new production of Hinny of the Hills. With their hectic schedules, it was often hard for the two of them to find time to do things together, and the show had always had such rave reviews.

To her surprise, however, the guard stationed outside Luna’s chambers had informed her Luna had left Canterlot on business. The fact that Luna had been off in the late afternoon by herself was strange enough, especially since Celestia couldn’t recall any social event that might pull her away from the capital. Stranger still, the guard refused to explain the reason for her sister’s departure.

“I…” he hesitated. “I can’t say, Your Majesty.”

She’d been ready to insist, when she’d noticed a crumpled piece of paper on the carpeted floor. The guard had followed her gaze, and desperately tried to hide it behind his foreleg.

Her curiosity thoroughly piqued, Celestia had grabbed the document in question in her magic and unfolded it before her. Her magenta eyes scanned the message, instantly recognizing Twilight’s neat hornwriting.

Dear Princess Luna,

Sunset has agreed to see you. She’ll be at my castle this afternoon. Please arrive at your earliest convenience.

Twilight Sparkle.

The next thing Celestia knew, she was teleporting to Twilight’s castle, heart racing in her chest. So sudden was her trip that Celestia hadn’t even bothered to pinpoint her landing, something the meticulous alicorn almost never did. She could have landed anywhere from the doorstep to the roof to a broom closet. But such concerns were overridden by one overpowering thought: Sunset Shimmer was in Equestria.

And now, here she was, in a darkened room lit only by a single lamp, looking upon her lost student. How many nights had she sat, stewing in her regrets, in losing another pony just as she had lost Luna? How long had she waited, knowing Sunset was safe, but unwilling to contact her, knowing the silence was part of the price for her own failures?

Sunset hadn’t aged a day. It was, undoubtedly, a quirk of the mirror’s magic. She knew that on an intellectual level. But on an emotional level…it was almost as if time had stood still, just for them. In an instant, she drew the unicorn into a hug, wanting to dispel those last lingering doubts that this was all some cruel hallucination.

But Sunset was solid. Real. Celestia’s long-held dream had come true. Her Sunset was home.

It was only when she was inches from Sunset’s face that the sands of her dream fell from her eyes, and she saw the differences, the paleness beneath Sunset’s amber coat, the dark circles formed around her eyes, the languor of her posture. A pang struck Celestia’s chest as if by an arrow.

“You’re sick.” Her hoof traced the path of the darkened skin. “Oh, Sunset, what happened to you? What’s wrong?”

She listened and she soothed as Sunset answered her, holding the unicorn tighter, trying to dry her tears. She whispered in Sunset’s ear how it would be alright. It had to be alright. No matter what the obstacle, no matter what was wrong, Celestia would keep Sunset safe.

She felt Sunset go stiff in her hooves. Celestia pulled away. “Sunset? Sunset, what’s wrong?” Celestia grabbed Sunset’s face in her hooves, forcing them eye to eye. Fear bolted down her spine when her magenta eyes met glassy and distant cyan.

“M….M….” The words, syllables, really, were slurred and sputtering, the sort of sound that drove panic deeper and deeper into the alicorn’s heart. “M…”

Despite more than a millennia of self-control, Celestia couldn’t keep her voice steady. “Sunset, please, what’s wrong?!”

“…Mom?”

That one whispered word struck Celestia dumb so that she could only watch in silent horror as Sunset’s jaw went slack, and her vacant expression contorted in pain. Streams of scarlet traveled down from Sunset’s nose, staining the fur around Celestia’s hooves. And then, the unicorn’s eyes rolled backwards into her skull.

“Sunset? SUNSET!” No, this couldn’t be happening. Oh, Mother, this couldn’t be happening. Please, not this. Not like this.

The doors behind her flew open. Celestia whirled around to meet her fellow diarch.

“…Sister?”

“Lulu,” she answered, her voice small. She could still feel the heat from the blood on her hooves. “Help.”

When Sunset awoke, it was to an aching head, a frustratingly common occurrence these days.

She groaned, her eyelids rising sluggishly, then squeezing shut at the assault of sunlight on her retinas. Somepony had drawn back the curtains to let in the late afternoon sun.

“Yo, she’s coming around!”

“What happened?” Sunset croaked. Her throat felt as dry as the Badlands. After a few more moments, her brain started to come back online, and she managed to connect the dots. “I fainted again, didn’t I?’ That was quite possibly worse than the headaches. Her, of all ponies, giving into such an outdated female stereotype, and twice in one day, no less.

Sunset pressed her hooves into the mattress, trying to force herself into a sitting position, only to stop when something pressed gently on her chest. She cracked open her eyes to see Sparky looking down at her worriedly.

“Save your strength,” she whispered.

Sunset acquiesced, falling back down onto the pillows. As careful as a young foal still getting control of her horn—which Sunset supposed she was—Sparky levitated over a glass of water. The pulsing of a headache made the amber unicorn think twice about using her own magic, so instead she grabbed the glass between her forelegs, savoring the cool, refreshing liquid even as she tried to piece together what had happened before her blackout. She’d been trying to fall asleep, and then…

The unicorn bolted upright in her bed, water sloshing onto the blankets. Her eyes darted around the room, zeroing in on the one pony who stood head and shoulders above them all. “Princess Celestia.”

Before she could say anything else, a layer of golden magic pushed her back down the mattress. “Please, Sunset,” said the princess, her voice strangely fragile. “Don’t…don’t get excited.”

The haunted expression on the alicorn’s face gave her pause. She’d never seen the princess look like that in her life, and it left the unicorn feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She turned back to Sparky. “What happened? Did I hit my head or something when I blacked out?”

“It was a little more than that.”

Sunset turned her attention to find two new ponies in the room. Both were unicorn stallions, probably around their forties. One had an amber coat and a dark brown mane, staring out at her from a pair of glasses with a soft, worried expression.

The other was larger, heftier, with a white coat, a sandy-colored mane, and an expression on his face that Sunset had probably seen on her own face more than once in years past. It was an expression that radiated smugness, and Sunset immediately felt her mouth drop into a frown in response.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Doctor Horse, and—” began the amber unicorn stallion, only to be interrupted by his companion.

“I’m Doctor Threaded Needle,” he answered smoothly. “You’ve probably already heard of me.” The stallion didn’t even wait for her answer, simply continuing to speak. “I have to say, I never thought I’d get the chance to meet you.”

“What?” Sunset cut in harshly, finding herself irritated by the pompous unicorn. “You mean Celestia’s student?”

“No, no,” answered Doctor Needle, shaking his head. “The unsolvable riddle! I read about your case in a medical journal about fifteen years ago. It’s still the worst case of retrograde amnesia ever recorded. Rather fitting that the princess called in the greatest—”

“I’ll take over from here,” interjected Doctor Horse. Clearing his throat, he offered Sunset an apologetic smile. Sunset returned the smile, glad that one of them was tolerable. “I’m from Ponyville General. Starlight Glimmer summoned me here after you collapsed, and once I diagnosed your condition, Princess Celestia brought Doctor Needle.”

Sunset swallowed hard. “By condition, you mean another seizure?”

The other unicorn shook his head. “You had a brain aneurysm, Miss Shimmer. A blood vessel burst inside your head.”

Sunset’s heart smashed against her breastbone. “A…A brai…”

“Brain aneurysm,” Doctor Horse repeated. “A big one. I performed a few diagnostic spells and discovered blood had leaked from the aneurysm into your brain, which was beyond my ability to fix.”

“Which is where I came in,” preened Threaded Needle. “I’m the best brain surgeon in the country. Of course, I’ve never had to do an operation under these conditions, but,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I made do.”

Panic shot through her whole body. “You performed brain surgery on me?!” Her hoof shot up to the top of her head, feeling the heavy bandage. Oh, sweet Celestia, they’d actually opened up her skull, hadn’t they? Horror stories filled her memory about the dangers of unicorn brain surgery, ponies whose magic had been irreversibly damaged, even lost, thanks to a clumsy surgeon disconnecting the very tissues binding the brain to the horn.

What if they messed up? What if they’d done it wrong? What if they’d damaged her magic? What had they done to her magic? Eyes darting to the spilled water glass, Sunset grabbed it in her telekinesis, tossing it high into the air, stopping inches from the ceiling.

“Oh, don’t be such a foal,” chided Threaded Needle. “I’m not some hack. I knew exactly what I was doing. While Horse was performing a diagnostic spell, I pinched off the leak and drew the blood out through the skin and bone. Didn’t even have to open up the skull.” His chest swelled. “Any other surgeon probably would have done it wrong, but my special talent is precision, so it was easy to—”

“Would you stop stroking your ego?!” Doctor Horse snapped. “For Celestia’s sake, you’re even worse than when we were in medical school, if that’s equinely possible.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m more talented than you! After all, which one of us works at the premiere hospital in the capital, and which one of us works out of a podunk nothing of a town?”

“Enough.” Celestia’s voice, level, but somehow harsh, cut through the argument like a sword blade. In her bed, the still panicking Sunset felt herself reflexively freeze up, all too familiar with that tone of voice.

“Doctor Needle,” continued the solar princess, “I am sorry for pulling you away from your place of work so suddenly. But that is not an excuse for you to waste our time by continuing to glorify yourself. This is about my student,” the word brought a flutter to Sunset’s chest,“and you will remember that.”

The unicorn surgeon seemed to deflate at the command, suddenly looking meek and humble. “Uh, yes, Your Majesty…”

Celestia nodded in approval, and then directed her attention back to Doctor Horse. “If you may continue?”

“Yes, Princess Celestia,” he said with a bow. Then he turned back to Sunset. “Threaded was right about one thing. If you’d been in any other surgeon’s care, you likely wouldn’t have made it out. Even one millimeter off in the procedure would have only made your condition worse, to say nothing of damage to your magic. But as far as I can tell, the procedure was a complete success.”

Sunset started to breathe a sigh of relief. She’d survived intact. She’d—

“Unfortunately, there’s still the matter of your…prognosis.”

The breath caught in Sunset’s throat as she observed the stallion’s expression fall. “What do you mean? What prognosis?”

The stallion’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his eyes dull and sad behind his glasses. “Terminal.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“What the hell do you mean, terminal?!” screamed Rainbow. “You said it was a success!”

“And it was,” insisted Doctor Horse. “But it doesn’t change the facts.” He turned his attention back to Sunset. “I’m sorry.”

Sunset, meanwhile, felt like the bottom of the world had fallen out from under her. This didn’t feel real. This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be dying. She was still young! “What’s wrong with me?!” she screamed.

“Structurally…nothing,” answered Doctor Horse with an edge of frustration. “I did several diagnostic scans of your brain. I found nothing wrong with it. There were no malformations, no growths, malignant or otherwise. But what I did find were signs of extreme stress, which was corroborated when I spoke to Princess Luna after the operation.”

Sunset’s gaze snapped to the night alicorn, whose face resembled that of a goldfish, her mouth hanging open in a shocked O.

“She told me,” continued Doctor Horse, “that while she was exploring your memories, she saw a representation of your brain cells. It was only in metaphor, but they were bright red and very hot to the touch, according to her. And since you weren’t suffering from fever, that would seem to me to be a representation of stress.”

“You knew?” Sunset accused.

Princess Luna flinched. “I…did not know what precisely to make of it, and I did not wish to upset you prematurely, especially in light of everything else I found.” She bowed her head. “I am sorry, Sunset Shimmer.”

“There has to be something you can do!” cried Princess Twilight. “Doctor Horse—”

“I don’t know, Princess,” came the stallion’s pained answer. The emotion in his voice might have been a comfort, to know Sunset wasn’t alone in the terror and agony going through her, but somehow, it wasn’t. Not in the face of this.

He turned back to her. “These ‘episodes’ you’re experiencing are putting your brain under tremendous stress in a way I don’t understand. Combined with the lack of sleep, your entire system is extremely worn down, which is probably why the last episode triggered an aneurysm.”

He sighed. To her ears, it was a cold, despairing sound. “If this had been an isolated incident, I’d say that you’d make a full recovery with proper rest. But you’re not getting that, not with how frequently you’ve been having these flashes. Each one that happens runs the risk of triggering another aneurysm, and if it does…it will most likely kill you.”

His face was ashen now. “I’m truly sorry, Miss Shimmer. I am. But I can’t lie to you, and I…I don’t know how to fix this.” He removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes before meeting her gaze. “The only thing I can recommend is that you make arrangements. Were you ever able to find any next of ki—”

“That will not be necessary,” cut in the commanding voice of Princess Celestia.

Doctor Horse turned to the solar diarch in surprise. “Your Majesty, I understand your position, but—”

“I said it will not be necessary,” the princess repeated harshly. “My student will not die.”

Doctor Horse frowned. “Princess…”

“If the problem is that these episodes are preventing her from recovering, then the best course of action is to make them stop,” said the alicorn. Her gaze snapped to her sister. “Luna, you have to go back in.”

The younger diarch just nodded, guilty eyes cast toward the floor. “Of course.”

Celestia turned back to Sunset, and the unicorn’s heart jumped. “I will not let you die, Sunset. Not now,” whispered the princess in the most affectionate tone Sunset had heard in years. “Not when you’ve returned home.”

Sunset’s mind felt numb. All of this was just too much to handle.

“Sunset,” continued Celestia, “will you allow Luna to re-enter your dreams now?”

Go back to sleep now? Sunset didn’t want to sleep. She wanted…well, she wanted to rest. She was so tired. But she also wanted to stay awake. She wanted to talk to her friends. She wanted to process this tidal wave of a day that was smashing her life to pieces. She…she wanted to live.

“I-I…” she began her voice unsteady. “I…can I talk to my friends first?”

Celestia’s magenta eyes moved almost imperceptibly to the other ponies in the room. It was so slight that most ponies might not have noticed. But Sunset had spent a lot more time around the princess than most ponies. “Of course,” she said with a gracious smile. She turned to the two medical stallions. “I will send both of you back to your workplaces.”

“If I may, Your Majesty,” said Doctor Horse, “I’d rather wait here in case I’m needed.”

Celestia nodded. And together, the three of them left the room. Luna followed behind, giving Sunset one last guilty look before closing the door behind her.

The minute they were alone, Rainbow let out a mighty groan of frustration. “Man, can this day get any worse?”

“Don’t jinx it,” replied Spike.

“I’m just saying,” continued Rainbow, “Every time things get better, they get worse!”

Sunset might have been hurt by the blunt, if accurate assessment of the day, but the shock of everything was still hanging on her brain, so instead she just sunk deeper into the mattress.

A hoof wrapped tighter around her own. “Sunset?” asked Sparky, her eyes shiny behind her thick frames.

The unicorn felt a light flush come to her cheeks. In her numb, overloaded brain, her burgeoning crush should probably have felt like another brick on the pile stress. But somehow, it wasn’t. Instead, the warmth rising up inside her just seemed to make Sparky’s touch all the more soothing.

She squeezed back.

Princess Twilight stepped closer to the bed. “Sunset…I’m so sorry.”

Sunset wondered which thing the alicorn was sorry for, Celestia showing up, Sunset’s best friend being dead, or Sunset’s own impending death by her stubborn, broken memories. The last of those things was too much to confront at the moment, like charging into a thorn bush, so Sunset picked a different subject to tackle.

“Twi, what was Princess Celestia doing here?”

The alicorn’s gaze turned to the floor. “I…I didn’t quite get a concise answer in all the panic, but it appears she somehow found out about my letter to Princess Luna.” When Twilight looked up, her eyes glistened with tears. “I’m so sorry, Sunset. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It was an accident,” Sunset replied.

“But you had an aneurysm!” cried the alicorn. “I made you a promise and you had an aneurysm!” She buried her face in her hooves. “I’m a bad friend…”

“No, you’re not,” said Sunset. “It was just an accident.”

“She’s right. It was bad luck, that’s all,” said Spike, placing a comforting claw on Twilight’s barrel. “I’ve never seen Princess Celestia so scared, though.”

Sunset tilted her head. “Scared?”

“After you fainted,” Princess Twilight clarified, brushing away traces of tears from the corners of her eyes. “And while getting Doctor Needle. It was probably the most frightened I’ve ever seen her.”

Celestia had been frightened? Over her? Could it be that the princess really didn’t hate her? Everything seemed to point that way, but the possibility was still so alien to her, the idea that Celestia wasn’t even angry at Sunset for her misdeeds. For a brief moment, hope fluttered in her chest. Maybe they could mend things, maybe…?

Then a little voice at the back of her mind pointed out that she was getting ahead of herself, what with her approaching mortality. “Look,” she said, her throat constricting as her thoughts collided head-on with the thorny agony of her death. “If I…if I don’t…”

“You’re not gonna die,” Rainbow snapped, a fire burning in her magenta eyes, not unlike Princess Celestia minutes before. “And you better not be giving up already. We’re the Rainbooms. We don’t go down without a fight.”

Sparky’s hoof tightened around hers. “I don’t want you to die,” she whispered.

Sunset didn’t want to die, either. All the same, the fear was gnawing at her insides. “I—”

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure you don’t,” said Princess Twilight. “And Princess Luna will, too.”

Their determination lifted the unicorn’s spirits, and despite still feeling an overwhelming amount of fear, she found herself smiling just a little. “Thanks.” Then she added, “Twi, could you…message the other girls? Let them know what’s going on?”

The princess nodded furiously, her eyes widening. “Of course! Oh, my gosh, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind yet!”

Sunset took a deep breath. “And…could you tell Princess Luna…I’m ready?”

As Princess Twilight went off to fetch Luna, Sunset found herself being hugged by both Rainbow and Sparky.

“We’ve got your back,” whispered Rainbow.

Sparky gave her hoof another squeeze. “Always.”

The doors to the room opened, and Sunset took another breath, closing her eyes, preparing herself to fall into dreamland again.

Her friends stayed next to her, even as she went under.

Once again, Luna entered Sunset’s mind. Swiftly, her consciousness traversed the threads of her spellwork, slipping through the cracks of the dream and straight into the depths of the subconscious.

As her body solidified, Luna braced herself for combat, tensing every muscle in preparation for the monsters that had barred her way on her last visit. But no dragon assailed her upon her entrance, nor was her sight greeted by walls of ice.

Instead, she was surrounded by books, shelves stretching high overhead. A wooden globe of the planet Terra sat in one corner. Nearby, a spacious table rested under the shadow of an unlit chandelier. Rays of golden sunlight filled the room from a window set high on the far wall.

“The palace library,” she breathed. It would have been impossible for her not to recognize it, not after all the time she’d spent here during her recovery, furiously trying to catch up to the modern world.

Feeling at ease, Luna trotted slowly down one of the aisles, letting little pools of sunshine warm her dark coat as she studied her environment. She observed the notches in the shelves, breathed in the scent of old wood and parchment. Celestia had remarked on how studious Sunset Shimmer had been, almost obsessively so. Always active and experimenting, always more comfortable in learning by action, but nevertheless was often found studying in the library, absorbing tomes of knowledge that she’d later apply.

Nothing proved that studiousness more than this, for nopony who hadn’t spent ample time here could recreate it so intimately.

Her surroundings brought Luna another kind of relief, too. The subconscious often reflected the content of one’s dreams. For it to take the form of a place so familiar and tranquil, it meant Sunset was likely in the embrace of peaceful slumber, which was all the better for her fragile body.

Given the setting before her, Sunset’s repressed memories were most likely in the form of the restricted section, which meant Luna knew what to look for. In reality, it was located at the back of the library, so Luna went off in that direction. But she kept a vigilant watch on her surroundings all the same, just in case the dream world decided to play tricks.

Winding her way through the shelves, Luna turned a corner, only to come to a sudden stop as she beheld her sister and a very young Sunset Shimmer laying on one of the library’s plush carpets. Curious, Luna drew near, and their voices suddenly burst into existence from the tranquil silence, as if the two existed in a bubble of their own sound.

“Horn,” said Celestia, tapping a hoof against her own, before tapping Sunset’s.

“Ho…” the little filly began, screwing her face in concentration. “Horn.”

“Very good.” Smiling, Celestia flapped a wing. “Wing. Can you say ‘wing’?”

“Wiiiiiiiing…” replied the filly.

Celestia beamed. “Hoof.” She held up one of her legs, tapping her hoof against Sunset’s diminutive ones.

“Hoof!” Sunset answered quickly.

“Very good, my little pony.” Celestia gave the filly an affectionate nuzzle, causing Sunset to giggle.

Smiling at the innocent moment, Luna continued on her way, only to find another scene at the end of an aisle on the opposite side. Like before, the two were laying on one of the carpets, but this time they were pressed closer together, Celestia’s wing encircling the little filly. In front of them, a thick, leather-bound book lay open. Like before, Luna’s curiosity compelled her to approach.

“And so the first pig fled from the wolf,” intoned Celestia, “running all the way to his brother’s…oh, my, I can’t seem to read this part.” With a sly smile, she lowered the book for Sunset to see. “Can you read that for me?”

The tiny unicorn peered at the words, her huge cyan eyes narrowing in concentration. “Stick,” she said slowly. “Stick house.”

“Right again, my little sun. You’re getting quite good at reading.”

The little unicorn beamed.

“And so the first pig reached the stick house, and…”

A series of emotions warred in Luna’s chest, rooting her in place. She knew that her task was a pressing one. The sooner she found Sunset’s memories and released them, the sooner she would be out of mortal danger. At the same time, she knew that peaceful slumber would be just as beneficial, allowing the unicorn to recover herself.

And then…there was the scene before her.

In her mind’s eye, the figures were overlaid by others from days now ancient. Luna saw herself and her sister as fillies, pressed together by a giant white wing in that exact manner as they, too, were read fairy tales, all while a soothing voice called them my little sun and my little moon.

She glanced back at the previous memory, at the way Celestia nuzzled the little filly beside her. Tia was, at her heart, not a cold mare, but she also wasn’t the type to nuzzle another pony who wasn’t very close. And her sister also knew not to do that with a foal not her own, not unless absolutely called for.

Luna remembered her sister’s distress following Sunset’s collapse, the fear, the impulsive panic, the broken sound of her voice as she’d called for help. She remembered the worry that had hung over her sister the night Sunset had crossed the mirror to steal Twilight’s crown.

The night princess looked back at the second memory, where her sister continued to read fairy tales, slipping in reading lessons every so often, and using a nickname that had only been used one way in both of their eternal lives.

“Oh, Tia,” she whispered as realization dawned on her with painful clarity of just what the unicorn meant to her sister.

Suddenly galvanized into action, the alicorn pulled away, quickening her pace toward the back of the library. As she wove her way through the shelves, she passed by more phantom scenes, though she did not take the time to observe them as she had the others. Not that she needed to hear them, for the meaning became clear enough.

Luna saw Sunset’s life slowly unfold, years passing by with each step she took. Those early moments of closeness were soon replaced by an emotional distance, then by anger, and eventually, Sunset was all alone. It was, quite frankly, distressingly reminiscent of Luna’s own turbulent years, and the thought drove a wedge of pain through her chest as her understanding of her sister’s heartbreak deepened.

Finally, in exactly the same place as it was in reality, Luna found the restricted section. Stepping up to the thick double doors, Luna pressed her magic against the handles. Perhaps it was because the restricted section was normally locked, or because of the nature of repressed memories, but a large part of Luna thought the doors would be locked.

To her surprise, that was not the case. Though the locking mechanism was visibly present, it had not been engaged, and the only resistance that met her was the groan of rusty hinges as the doors gave way.

Luna stared into the gloomy darkness of the room beyond with a sense of skepticism. There hadn’t been any sort of reaction to indicate the release of Sunset’s memories. And yet, this seemed the ideal place for her memories to be.

Slowly, the alicorn stepped into the room, disturbing clouds of dream dust. She lit her horn, piercing the cobweb-filled darkness to discover more shelves of books. She scanned a few titles. They were indeed the sort of subjects that would be placed in the restricted section, tomes on dangerous, dark magic. But they were not Sunset’s memories.

Just as she reached the end of a particular shelf, the narrow rows fell away into an open space that she knew wasn’t there in reality. Resting against the far wall was a large cabinet of burnished oak. The glass panes that composed the doors were thick and glazed, but Luna could see that beyond them were books of all shapes and sizes. Their titles were illegible, but each one glowed with a light that alternated between iridescent and blazing white.

Luna breathed a sigh of relief. Now, Sunset Shimmer’s life would be safe. She grabbed the handles in her magic and gave a little jump as a tingle of energy went back down her horn. The cabinet wasn’t simply a mental block. It was spellwork. Sunset’s memories were bound together by the distinct energy lattice of spellwork.

Gently, Luna probed at the threads of magic, trying to get a sense for the spell and its exact function. It was a containment spell, that much was obvious. Though she had to admit, using a containment spell for memories was strange, to say nothing of burying it in the subconscious.

As Luna probed deeper, she found that she couldn’t determine the type of magic at play. It didn’t quite seem like unicorn, or even alicorn. Perhaps unicorn mixed with other magical energies as a booster? Such things had been tried before. It could also go a long way to explaining the designs worked into the cabinet.

They were hard to see at first, subtle carved lines hidden by the shadows, but now that Luna’s nocturnal vision had adjusted, she could make them out. The wood was decorated with strange circular patterns. Luna almost wanted to call them spell circles, but they were so unlike anything she’d ever seen.

The spell itself was, in her opinion, both profoundly sophisticated in its weaving, and a bit mad, containing arrangements of energy complex and beautiful, and other components that were haphazard and sloppy. It was as if it had been made with purpose, but had broken down into insanity halfway through the casting.

Luna grimaced. Could Sunset’s own magic have tangled her memories together in this place? Or, given the delicate arcane weaving that she doubted even a child of Sunset’s genius could have pulled off, had some adult done this to her?

Luna did not like the latter possibility at all.

She pulled the handles, and was only mildly surprised when they remained closed. If this was the work of malice…

Luna employed a few unlocking spells, trying to gently persuade the cabinet to open. Her efforts yielded nothing. She just didn’t know enough about the work in front of her to manipulate it, nevermind the effect the broken elements of the spell were having.

Force, it seemed, would be the proper avenue of attack. Shatter the spell completely. Her eyes slid over the cabinet, searching for the best angle of attack. That’s when she noticed it. There was a crack in the glass. It was thin, hairline at best, but several inches in length. As far as weaknesses went, it wasn’t much. But it was nonetheless a weak point, and the perfect place to apply pressure.

Focusing her power, Luna’s horn became a lance of blue mystic energy. With a long-practiced thrust, she struck the crack dead-on. The glass frame shrieked against the blow, the books rattling on their shelves, their glow becoming harsher and more violent in their pulsations.

The night alicorn inched her magic forward, slowly cutting through the first of the magic threads. It wasn’t easy. Broken or not, the magical weaving that was present was as strong as steel. But Luna persisted, because a pony’s life was literally on the line.

A pony’s life…and her sister’s heart.

Pain ripped through her skull, blinding and burning and terrible, shredded her peaceful dreams in an instant, and left her flailing for comfort. Something was forcing its way in…into where? She didn’t know where, or what was being broken, but she knew the pain of something being shattered.

And then, galloping behind the waves of pain, there came the images.

A horde of silver worms descending on a bar. After her. They were after her. A mad dash into the street as shotgun blasts rang in her ears….

An old, dark church. Fists of corn and flesh smashing through doors, trying to get in even as they scrambled to get out…

A submarine. A pleasant trip turned to danger. Claws tearing through steel. Fish things from the depths of the ocean. Creatures of rage made unstoppable. Blood in the water and a woman’s screams ringing in her ears…

Another church, this one by the ocean. Clawed hands reaching out. The smell of seawater lingering on the air mixed with the stench of death. Different claws. Different monsters. Swollen eyes and sucker mouths and people so pale with ruby red lips and voices in her ears again…no, not in her ears. In her head. Haemovores…

A graveyard in a faraway place. The howling of wolves rising up into the air with a sapphire moon…

Monsters. Monsters everywhere, trying to get in, tearing at her mind. She had to fight back. But she didn’t have a weapon. She could barely think amidst the pain. Had to make it stop. A shield. She needed a shield.

Power of faith. Faith drove them away. But there was no faith, broken over and over again.

She had no shield, no weapon. She couldn’t fight back. Pain tore through her again. She needed to make it stop. She needed to get away, from the pain, from the danger.

Running through the squalid maze of streets and alleys, trying to slip away from her pursuers like a hunted animal. Rain pouring down on her head. Her teeth clamping down on flesh. Eyes golden and unnatural. Nets closing around her body…

She wanted to run, but she could not. Her dream self couldn’t get away from the pain, and the part of her that…that was hurt…couldn’t move. Trapped. Trapped, but still in pain. She needed to put distance between herself and the pain.

She needed to…she needed to…

“You’re not going to try and stop me…are you?”

The pain spiked once again, and from the broken depths, her mind pulled out a defense.

The first time it happened, Luna shrieked.

She’d been making progress against the spell, having just sliced through two of the magical threads. The remaining number were legion, but as the spell dismantled, it would most likely become easier to break down, if not give way on its own.

And that was when the spell, for lack of a better explanation, fought back.

A beam of swirling energy had shot out from the crack, pouring into the floor, and in that moment, the environment around her had changed. The familiar darkness of the restricted section warped and twisted, and a burst of light sent Luna reeling in sudden blindness.

When the spots had cleared from the alicorn’s eyes, she’d found the palace library completely gone, replaced with…some form of modern office space. There had been chairs and desks and piles of illegible papers, as if it hadn’t been used in some time. To her right had been a large window, showing an overhead view of some form of workroom where a large silver sphere rested.

Luna had blinked several times upon seeing it. To say she was shocked was something of an understatement, but on the other hoof, she couldn’t let this…shift…get in the way of her task.

She’d resumed her attack, but the changes kept coming in rapid succession. The office became some type of earthen pit, and then, much to her alarm, the bottom of the ocean. Luna had barely managed to transform her body into a seapony before she’d drown. Less than a minute later, the water beneath her had vanished to become some kind of tunnel or underground space.

That one had been disturbing all on its own. Surrounded by darkness and what appeared to be ancient Horse rune stones, Luna’s heart had leapt into her throat as voices flitted around her. Cold, whispering voices that seemed to echo in her head more than her actual ears.

Fluid of life. The pure fluid of life…

She was almost glad when the room changed again to some kind of decrepit, cobweb-strewn castle. Almost.

The container changed, too, which she supposed wasn’t too surprising. But what it changed into often was. Oh, not the first time. Then, it had simply been a door blocking the path to the workroom below. But then it became an antique silver mirror, followed by a large, dull gray sphere buried in ocean sand, its exterior heavily dented and scarred, as if it had gone through war.

Then it transformed into an ancient, if still half-buried, flask, and then into a stone door marked by what appeared to be a family crest, but unlike any she’d ever seen. It had shown a vampire bat, wings outstretched, blood dripping from its fangs. The ears were long and sharp to the point they looked like horns, and resting beside its head, there was a waning crescent moon so sharp, it almost seemed like a sword’s edge.

With a suppressed shiver and a grunt of effort, Luna had continued her assault on the magical threads that lay beneath the inconstant surface. That attack had then led her to this latest iteration: A circus ground. Or she thought it might be a circus, based on the shape of the container.

It was an animal cage draped in a dirty tarp. Tossing the covering aside, Luna found the contents of the cage completely dark. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was an unnatural darkness, less from shade and more like a deliberate shroud that not even her night vision could pierce.

Even still, at the very back of the cage, sitting on a pile of old straw, there appeared to be a living creature hidden in the dark.

“Hello?” Luna called out. “Can you hear me?” She wasn’t sure if she’d get a response, but if the occupant of the cage was a representation of Sunset’s memories, there was a chance she’d be sapient. “I am trying to get you out.”

The figure in the cage didn’t respond, but Luna could tell they shifted, ever so slightly. Even without seeing them, Luna could still feel them. Perhaps it was an effect of the subconscious itself, radiating Sunset’s old emotions. But there was an air of sadness around the figure in the cage, a melancholy hopelessness, as well as confusion.

She attacked the cage’s lock, bringing more of her power to bear. The metal sang, the bars shook, and two more magical threads broke with a satisfying snap.

A scream rose up all around her, a wail of immense pain and terror. Light slipped from the fractured lock, and the entire world shook as if from an earthquake. Luna was flung into the air, tumbling end over end just as she had when she’d altered Sunset’s dream on her first attempt, finally slamming the back of her head into something solid and metallic.

With a groan, the alicorn got to her hooves. “Truly, Sunset Shimmer, your mind is proving to be the most difficult I have ever faced,” she muttered. Even Discord’s mind had not been this much trouble, or at least not as violent. “I would have almost preferred to face the dragon again.”

She looked around. The container was nowhere in sight, nothing that could reasonably be interpreted as the container, anyway. In fact, there was nothing at all, except for a long, white hallway.

Tapping a hoof against the floor, Luna heard the sound of metal. More than that, there was a low humming in her ears, as if a hive of bees existed all around her. A cursory spell confirmed she was still in the subconscious.

She trotted down the hallway, searching for an end, or at least a path, all while ruminating on the containment spell. To change the structure of the subconscious like this…it was unheard of. To do so was to likely change the structure of the dream above, and to change it so rapidly and so many times…

True, Sunset had experienced two dreams during Luna’s previous visit, but that didn’t mean this was normal. And what even were those places? Where had they come from? Were they built into the spell? Was the container drawing off Sunset’s imagination?

They…they couldn’t be memories, could they? To do so would be to suggest that Sunset Shimmer had been in an animal cage.

Nor would memories explain this place. Luna had been trotting for what felt like half a mile, and taking the turns as they came, and yet she found no sign of the container, a door, or anything really. The walls were a blank white, lacking any kind of art or decoration.

There were turns or divisions in the hallway that suggested it had been built in sections. Corners were sometimes decorated with a column pattern made in what appeared to be stone. Every so often, there were patches of wall covered in large white circles of some kind. Judging by the soft light they emanated, Luna thought perhaps they might be the container, but each and every one tested false.

She’d found a trace of hope at the sight of a crossroads, even if just to break up the monotony. She took the left path, and continued to travel for what she was sure was a full mile, and found nothing else.

“Perhaps I should turn back,” she said.

She turned around…only to find that she couldn’t. A wall had sprung up behind her. With growing alarm, Luna used her magic to mark a nearby wall, before galloping off down the hall. Every fifty feet, she made another mark, a hypothesis forming in her mind, even as she continued to run.

Another turn appeared in the distance. When she reached it and saw an already marked wall staring back at her, Luna knew the truth. This place was a magical maze of some sort, constantly moving and shifting. A deliberate trap.

For a moment, Luna charged her horn, ready to use raw force to blast her way through the maze, but held herself back at the last moment. Excessive violence in the subconscious could cause Sunset to wake prematurely, just as it had before. And yet, without cutting the knot, the maze would have her galloping in circles. She needed a new tactic.

She could try her post-hypnotic suggestion. It was unorthodox—she’d never tried it in the subconscious before—but it just might work. Raising her head, she called out to Sunset’s sleeping mind. “Show me the exit!”

Nothing happened. Perhaps it was too much to hope that things could be that simple. Still, there was one other approach she could try. “Bring me somepony to guide me through this maze!” she commanded, pressing all her will into every single word.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Luna began to give up hope. But then…

“What game will it be this time, I wonder?”

Luna turned sharply. A room had sprung into an existence beside her, opening into a well-furnished study. And there, seated on a wine red armchair, seemingly deep in thought, was a stallion.

Sunset’s father.