Lethe

Chapters

One
Two
Three
Four
Interlude
Five
Six

One

Harken, sister, to my words, for they shall be the last you hear from me.

Chapter One

JUST over the hills of Canterlot, nestled among the crags and spires of the mountain, flowed a river. Nopony could tell its source; water seemed to seep from the very rocks of the peak, cascading down, and gathering into rivulets. Streams snaked down the hillside, slipping quietly past the illustrious city to gather together, following the nearby train tracks. Moving silently through the countryside, the river made its way to the town of Ponyville, gently caressing the outer bounds of the bordering farmland before it slipped into the Everfree Forest.

The river had gone largely unnoticed in Ponyville. It was forgotten, discarded in favour of closer, larger supplies of water. The river did not so much as notice their lack of attention. It simply followed, like the sun or the moon, in its own endless cycle.

***

She floated to awareness slowly, as if drifting her way upwards through a twilit sea, buoyed only by the breath in her lungs. Her eyes remained closed, preferring the comfort of the darkness. She trembled, perhaps from cold, or from some other insight that awaited her.

She became aware of her foreleg, draped out from under her torso. It tingled, in the uncomfortable manner of a limb that hadn’t yet realised it was awake. She shifted her body, but the throbbing continued, capturing her focus, and drawing her to it until she opened her eyes, seeking the object of her annoyance.

Her mind traced its outline, trying to place the contours and colours she saw in it. She could not recall its name. It played with her, danced before her. It hid in the shadows, slipped between the dappled patterns of the sunlight splayed across her.

Blue. The word drifted up after her from some deep fibre of her being. The form was blue, and that was right. She lay on her blue leg. Next to it, beside her foreleg, she could see tufts of green. Grass, yes, grass and dirt and rock and water.

Abruptly, she realised she was indeed seeing. That, then, must mean she was awake and alive, here beneath the trees and the sun.

She rolled over with a small groan. The sound broke the stillness of the air, and she could hear again; the dull roar of the river dwarfing her. She stayed still, feeling the throbbing in her foreleg—Blood, pumping through me, around me. There was a rhythm to this, to the world around her. It filled her with contentment.

But the sun’s rays were hot. Forcing herself to her hooves, she stepped towards the forest, wavering on her legs for just a moment. The shade was thicker here, denser, and the air cooled around her as she moved.

Her relief was short-lived. The trees loomed above her, silent, statuary monuments. Following their trunks up, she craned her neck, causing it to twinge. They were high, far higher than she was.

She felt small, caught between the river and the forest, between the hot day and the cool shade. Shying away from the trees, she watched the shadows slide over her. The cross-linked pattern left her uneasy, and projected an air of menace.

With a grimace, she flapped her wings, trying to generate a breeze around her. Wings. Of course she had wings. She was a pegasus, after all.

She flapped experimentally, but all she managed to do was propel herself upwards, rising a few feet into the air.

Mud rose around her hooves as she landed. The ground was wet—probably because of the storm last night. Wait, what? She looked around. Yes, there had been a storm, a severe one. She could see evidence of it everywhere she looked. Broken branches lay near her, leaves and twigs scattered around, the muddy ground holding clouded puddles of water. Bits and pieces of debris were floating down the river.

More than that, though, it was in the air. A fresh scent, heavy with humidity, it rejuvenated and refreshed. She breathed deeply, savouring it. It was as familiar as her own body. It surrounded her, enveloped her, and comforted her.

Who am I?

The thought came suddenly, with force enough to floor her. Her eyes widened, ears laid themselves flat against her skull, drawing her skin back and causing her fur to stand on end. She staggered, legs nearly betraying her as her full weight crashed down upon them.

She could recall nothing. She reached inwards, towards that nothingness, that part of the mind that stored knowledge, experience, and scrabbled at it. Like a desperate beggar, scrambling for a last crumb of food, she searched, and came away filled only with despair.

She sank down, first sitting, and then laying herself flat against the ground. The mud seeped into her coat, layering itself against the filth that had already dried on her. She struggled and found nothing.

Finally, giving up and consigning herself to this emptiness, she crawled towards the river. The sun had not relented, drying her throat as it dried out the nearby puddles of water. She was parched.

But before she could lower her head to drink her fill, she caught sight of something on the water’s surface. A round face, blue underneath the grime and muck she’d been lying in. Wide eyes, relief and apprehension warring against a deep red—magenta—stared back at her, at the multihued mane that crested her head.

But she found within herself no name for this image. She took away no understanding, no realisation or epiphany. She shut her eyes, unable to look any longer, and pulled away from the river.

She heard a different noise. It contrasted against the background of the forest, the wind, and the water. Hoof-steps, running—galloping—towards her; it was the sound of somepony approaching. She lifted her gaze. Above her, coming down from the ridge of a small hill, she saw a purple pony. She studied the pony, scrutinised her as she came closer. A mare, she realised, words coming to her mind. A unicorn.

“Rainbow!” the mystery pony shouted, her voice resounding. Reaching her, the pony threw herself forward, hooves clasping themselves around her back.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded. “What happened?!”

She opened her mouth to speak, wincing as her lips cracked. She coughed, once, twice, forcing moisture down her throat. “I . . . I don’t know,” she whispered, falling into the hug.

“You look like hell,” the unicorn whispered.

She felt herself pushed back, studied at arm’s length by lavender eyes. She stared at the newcomer drunkenly, finding comfort in her concern. She had been known. She had been known.

“Who are you,” she said, voice cracking on the words as they left her. She took a deep breath, and tried again, louder, with confidence. “Who are you?”

The unicorn just stared at her, concern turning to worry. “It’s me. It’s Twilight.”

She just shook her head, her own uncomprehending gaze meeting Twilight’s. The unicorn took a step backwards, separating the two. She felt a brief pang, and she raised her hoof after Twilight.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Twilight asked. She shook her head again in mute response, mane drifting around her head. She could see red and green entwined, framing her vision of the unicorn.

“Hold still,” Twilight said. Her horn began to glow. Her eyes were closed, face calm and relaxed.

“Twilight?” she asked nervously. The glow began to expand. She scrambled backwards, away from it, falling onto her side just two steps back. She crawled, hooves splashing through water, throwing mud up into the air as she moved. “Twilight?!”

There was a flash of light from behind her. With a cry, she regained her hooves, throwing herself away from the light. Forward, up, and out over the river.

But she didn’t hit the water. Her jump turned into a glide, and she turned her head, disbelieving, to stare at the outstretched wings over her shoulder. She was flying. She was flying!

She rolled her shoulders, testing the muscles, and then flapped downwards, hard. The glide turned into a leap, and she rose several feet.

She let out a whoop of excitement, rolling onto her side to turn. Back on the bank, watching her, the unicorn waved a hoof, beckoning. The light was gone.

She landed next to Twilight, mouth spread wide in a fierce grin. She felt . . . alive, in a way she hadn’t since she’d awoken. There was a thrill, running through her, a line of energy spreading down her spine and through her limbs. The air wasn’t heavy, but sweet. The breeze wasn’t cold, but bracing.

“Rainbow!”

She shook herself, throwing loose clumps of dirt and mud into the air. “Sorry,” she said. “You startled me.”

She didn’t understand what was happening. She had no basis for understanding, after all, didn’t know what that light had been, or what Twilight’s intentions were. But she felt safe, here. As if Twilight’s appearance had filled something the absence of which she was only beginning to grasp.

“It’s just a teleportation spell. We’re going home,” Twilight said. That same light began to spread out from Twilight’s horn. This time, she didn’t back away.

“Twilight . . .” she said.

“Yes?”

“Who am I?”

The light spread over her, pierced her with a tingle that ran all over her skin. It poured into her eyes in a thick stream, blinding her. Just for an instant, it became her.

And before she faded completely, she heard Twilight speak.

“Rainbow Dash. Your name is Rainbow Dash.”

***

‘Home’ was, for Twilight, a library. As the after-effects of the teleportation—vague nausea, slight dizziness and an after-image superimposed on her vision—faded away, Rainbow glanced around at her surroundings.

She was standing in the centre of a large, circular room, Twilight beside her. Along the walls, bookcases lined every nook and cranny, only grudgingly making way for the few doors, and the stairs. Their shelves were replete with books of every kind, from great tomes to thin novels, even a few scrolls.

A soft carpet covered the floor, threads rendered in a simple cross-linked pattern. Several chairs and couches were arranged on it, positioned to allow visiting ponies isolation or company, should they be seeking either.

“You live here?” Rainbow asked, taking a step forward and sniffing the air. Beyond her own earthiness, she could smell a sweet tang, floating through the room from behind a nearby door.

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed, nodding. “Though it is a public library.”

“What’s the smell?” Rainbow asked, her stomach grumbling. When had she last eaten?

“Lunch,” Twilight said simply, coming around to look Rainbow in the face, and laying a hoof on her shoulder. “We were just about to eat when Fluttershy reported you missing. Why don’t you go upstairs and have a shower? I’ll get some food ready.”

We? Fluttershy?

Rainbow smiled, nodding, and sprang up the stairs. Her earlier apprehension seemed to have disappeared, though she didn’t know where. She mentally shrugged, quickly scanning the rooms before her. More books, more books, study with more books, bedroom with more books . . . the shower’s probably through there. Sure enough, she found a small bathroom adjacent the bedroom.

The shower was in a corner. Rainbow stepped in, awkwardly twisting the knob with her mouth, and taking the time to think over her situation. She felt . . . comfortable around Twilight, almost safe. They’d obviously known each other for some time. As the hot water rained down on her, washing the grime from her coat and down the drain, she remembered how lost she’d felt. How alone. Twilight had filled that void. Her appearance had given Rainbow something to hold onto—something to grasp. A reason to hope.

But she still didn’t know who she was. Rainbow Dash . . . it was a name, but nothing more. Who had she been? What had she liked, or hated? Where had she lived? Questions piled up in her mind, each demanding attention, demanding answers. She had nothing to offer them.

Resolutely, she pushed them from her mind. Twilight had been able to teleport the two of them Celestia-knows how far. Surely she’d be able to do something, to magic up some solution. She had to. It was all Rainbow had; a hope, kindled by the unicorn’s words.

The water ran through her fur, turning black against the porcelain white of the floor.

But what if she couldn’t? Rainbow had no idea what the unicorn was capable of. She could well be unable to help her. Rainbow had no reply to that thought. It sat at the forefront of her mind, refusing to be budged, a gentle fear that would undermine everything around her.

She refused to be worried. The water cleared, the last of the grime melting away. Rainbow raised her head, painstakingly screwing the tap to turn the water off. She shook herself, leaving her fur matted. After all, there was no point worrying. Either Twilight could help, or she couldn’t. Rainbow would just have to wait and see. Already, she knew she hated waiting.

She grabbed a brush, instinctively knowing how to use it. In a few minutes, she was satisfied. Twilight’s voice drifted up the stairs to her, calling her down. She must have been able to hear the shower’s noise.

Turning, Rainbow caught sight of herself in the mirror. No longer covered in mud, she saw herself, a vibrant blue under a rainbow mane. Rainbow Dash, she thought. Just a name, but . . . there was a strength to it; a strength that held her, defined her.

She headed back downstairs, jumping the railing to fall slowly, supported by slow, steady wing-beats. Twilight smiled at the display, gesturing to bowls of salad and oats, laid out on the table.

Rainbow didn’t wait, rushing over to fill her mouth. Twilight, however, didn’t join her. Instead, studying her with those scrutinising eyes, she sat down opposite her and crossed her hooves against her chest.

“You’re sure you aren’t hurt, Rainbow?”

“No,” Rainbow replied, her voice muffled by the food. “I’m fine.”

“What can you remember?” Twilight leaned forward, placing her hooves on the table. Rainbow glanced up at her, catching her gaze. Something there held her, stopped her from looking away.

“Nothing,” she murmured. Twilight pulled back, and Rainbow blinked a few times, rapidly, dropping Twilight’s gaze.

“Nothing at all?”

“Not a thing,” she agreed, hiding her face in her food.

“Hmm . . .” Twilight trotted off, heading to a shelf on the wall. Rainbow couldn’t help but stop her eyes from following as Twilight began to nose her way through the books, though she didn’t stop eating.

“Hey, uh, Twilight,” she began. Twilight glanced back at her. “Uhh, well, thanks. For all of this,” she said, gesturing with a hoof.

“Not at all,” Twilight replied. “You’d do the same for me.”

Rainbow smiled at that. It spoke to the Rainbow she’d been, the pony she no longer knew.

“This is really great food, by the way,” she commented, just as the kitchen door opened. Rainbow turned, half-standing as a lizard-like creature walked through. A . . . a dragon, she thought in disbelief.

It stood a touch over Twilight’s shoulder, purple scales covering his body though they gave way to a leathery hide down his front. He had green spines protruding from his back, running down his spine, and a crest that would have just tickled Rainbow’s nose, had he stood before her. Standing on two feet, he had arms and hands with wickedly-sharp claws, and a thick tail ending in an arrowhead.

“Yeah,” the dragon grunted. “Don’t worry about it.” It approached the table with its own bowl—full of what appeared to be gemstones. Sitting down, it lifted a claw clutching a handful of the stones and threw them into its mouth, closing its jaws with a loud crunch.

Rainbow nearly fell out of her chair, her mouth working without noise. Twilight giggled, observing from the side of the room.

“Rainbow, this is Spike, my number one assistant. He made the food.”

“Oh. Oh! Uhh, thanks, Spike.”

“What’s going on?” Spike asked, glancing between the two ponies and narrowing his eyes.

“She’s lost her memory, Spike,” Twilight said softly. The dragon shared a glance with the unicorn, and then looked over at Rainbow. She could feel a growl growing in her chest, bubbling and foaming as it rose. She was getting sick of that worried look.

But Spike remained quiet, crunching through his gems. Rainbow sat in the silence, finishing her food while watching Twilight search through the shelves. When she’d licked the last oat from the side of the bowl, she slid it over to Spike, who stacked it on his and carried them back into the kitchen.

“A dragon, huh,” Rainbow said. Twilight stood back from the shelves, purple light—her magic, Rainbow supposed—wrapping around a small book.

“Spike’s been with me since I was just a filly,” Twilight said distractedly, perusing the book while she walked back to the table.

“That’s . . . cool, I guess,” Rainbow said, earning herself a smile from Twilight. Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You just reminded me of . . . well, of you.” Reaching the table, Twilight placed the book under Rainbow’s nose. “Here,” she said, tapping the book. “I think this’ll help.”

Rainbow glanced down, quickly scanning the title: Practical Mental Magic.

“There are a few things I want to try, but we can start with a simple Restoration,” Twilight said, squaring her shoulders. “If you’re ready?”

That fear leaped back into her mind. She needed to be okay, to recover from this. She’d kept it under control so far, but there was a hollow sensation growing in her chest. What terrified her wasn’t this, wasn’t a shower and a meal, safe in another’s company. It was the outside world, the future, spanning away before her.

She dreaded it. She didn’t know her job, her friends, or her home. She had lost her dreams and fears, triumphs and failures. An entire history, lost. How could she just return to that, empty?

Rainbow swallowed, and then nodded her acquiescence. “Please. I just want to remember.”

Twilight’s horn burst to life, sending sparks of magic flying from its end to disappear in the air. Beckoning, she reached forward to press her horn against Rainbow’s forehead. Once again, the light enveloped her, filled her. But when it faded, Twilight sat still, with wide, intense eyes fixed on Rainbow’s face. Her ears were pressed back against her skull, and a hoof, slightly trembling, was covering her mouth.

“Well?’

“There’s . . . there’s nothing there,” Twilight whispered. Rainbow could barely hear her, so quiet was her voice. “It’s all gone.”

“Of course it’s gone!”

“No, listen to me, Rainbow.” Twilight swallowed. “That spell awakens suppressed memories. In the vast majority of amnesia incidents, trauma causes the mind to suppress those memories, and the spell can bring them back. You . . . I’ve never heard of anything like this. It’s as if something took them.”

Rainbow quailed. Twilight couldn’t help her. They sat here, in this tiny room, without a clue what was going on, and for all her magic, she couldn’t help. She felt bile rising in the back of her throat, and for the first time since she’d awoken, felt anger, building to a crescendo.

“What ‘something’?” she demanded.

“I don’t know.” Twilight’s voice was still quiet.

Rainbow surged upwards, out of her chair to hover in the air. She didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know why she felt as she did, but that was immaterial. She needed to fly, needed to move, to burn off this useless energy that was pouring into her, protesting her helplessness. She needed to fight.

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, though her every fibre screamed at her to go. “Did I live around here?”

Twilight stared up at her for a long moment. “You live in a cloud house with a rainbow. You can’t miss it,” she confirmed.

That was enough. With a cry, she tore through a nearby window. The glass shattered around her, breaking into tiny fragments that split the sunlight into a kaleidoscope of colour around her. Then she was gone, blasting into the sky.

***

From overhead, Rainbow could see the entire town. She glanced backwards, at the library she’d sprung from. It was a large tree, windows, doors, and a balcony set around its trunk.

She could see the streets and open squares, the parks and fountains, all spread out beneath her. They sprawled, a rough shape describing the town, linking themselves together at odd angles, lined with houses. Here and there, there were larger buildings—a town hall, a bakery, a school. All the tiny parts of a town came together in an incredible pattern.

The place was still in somewhat of a mess. Puddles slowly drying out in cracks and potholes, broken branches littering the parks and streets, even piles of debris, gathered together in the gutters, and choking the entrances to the storm drains; all of it indicated that the storm had been here, too. Rainbow took a deep breath, savouring the fresh air.

The streets were full of ponies. Chatter lazily drifted up to Rainbow, idle noise, the sound of a crowd. It was just another day to them, walking the streets and parks, spending time with others, or working on projects. They sold produce and goods, bought necessities and luxuries. Some looked up, staring at her, pointing or waving their hooves. She turned away.

Rainbow fixed her eyes on the sky. There were no clouds anywhere around her, just pegasi going about their daily business. Rainbow ignored them, ignored their shouted greetings and queries. The sky seemed to open to her, so empty. She could go anywhere, and anywhere she went became where she was.

She focused on the beat of her wings, the chanting pulse of blood in her neck. That rhythm stabilised her.

But the further she flew, the more the sky contracted around her. Her vision shrunk, closing from the entire horizon to those few clouds still drifting on the slight breeze.

There, over there. She could see a house made of clouds, a rainbow pouring down its front. That had to be it.

She landed on its porch, and just like that, her reckless energy abandoned her along with her anger, leaving her drained and, if she was honest, scared. Tentatively, she pushed the door open, finding it unlocked, and stepped inside.

The house was simple. A small kitchen, with dirty dishes in the sink, lay against a far wall. Rainbow could see several empty tubs of protein, lying on their sides on the counter. Closer to the door, a couch, and a uniform draped over its back, a simple lightning bolt design embroidered on its back.

Rainbow glanced around the walls, looking for pictures. She found just one, hanging by itself over a mantle; it depicted herself with five other ponies. One of them was Twilight.

The room seemed lonely, devoid of life. It was as if she’d just picked up and left, giving no warning, and taking nothing with her. In her absence, it became a mausoleum. Rainbow found herself paralysed, stuck between two impossibilities. She’d had a life here; friends, dreams, and challenges. Was that what she wanted?

But if she feared who she’d been . . . what did that make her? She was a blank slate, with endless possibilities stretching out before her. She could be anything. To return here, to take another step into this life, would throw all that away.

I was more than a choice, once.

Rainbow stared at the picture on the mantle, unconsciously walking towards it. They all seemed so happy there, herself, Twilight, and the other four. She picked it up, if only to hold it. Concentrating, Rainbow tried to name them, tried to let their names well up out of her, but nothing surfaced.

With a sigh, she replaced the picture on the mantle and turned away. The spell had been broken, and she stood in the middle of the room. Moving to the fridge, she found a dirty glass and poured herself some water. The cold liquid slipped down her throat, and she found herself pouring more. It took three full glasses before she stopped.

With a weary step, Rainbow explored the rest of her house. She didn’t know why she was holding out that tiny spark of hope, nor what she was looking for, but she couldn’t stop herself from opening every drawer, every cupboard. She went through what few clothes she had, found posters of other pegasi in uniform. There were even a few books, beside her bed.

Picking one up, Rainbow read the title out loud: Daring Do and the Trek to the Terrifying Tower.

She slumped onto her bed. There was so much she didn’t know about herself. The prospect of taking up that life again seemed as monumental as the prospect of starting anew.

Was that all that scared her?

Twilight had mentioned several things she’d wanted to try. Somewhere, Rainbow had known that the whole time. She’d left before she could move to the next attempt. Rainbow turned that idea over in her mind, dissecting it. Why had she fled her best chance at recovering?

Was it because she did not want to recover? Could she be happier now, content to simply allow Rainbow Dash to slip away? No, that idea felt wrong, felt alien to her. She couldn’t leave this place so simply, no more than a thief in the night.

Was it because she had had such high hopes? She’d trusted Twilight, trusted that the unicorn could make everything better. That she’d failed at the first hurdle meant nothing. Her faith in her friend—Rainbow’s eyes widened at the thought, a small smile spreading over her mouth—was unshaken.

But despite that faith, her hope had been shaken. She’d entertained the concept that she’d never recover, and it had left her nothing behind which to hide.

So yes, she was scared; scared that Twilight would fail, scared that she’d be left like this, a broken pegasus in an empty house.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, thinking, but there was still daylight, filtering in through her windows. Rainbow rose, trotting through her house, out onto the porch and taking off with a gust of wind, leaving a multihued trail behind her.

***

Rainbow knocked on the door of the library, hearing a scramble from inside as hoof-steps rapidly approached. Twilight opened the door, relief breaking out on her face as she saw Rainbow standing there.

“Rainbow,” she murmured in greeting.

“Twilight,” Rainbow replied.

“Come in.” Twilight turned away, trotting back to the centre of the room with Rainbow following. Spaced around the table were four other ponies. Rainbow instantly recognised them from the picture on her mantle.

The pink one was the first to speak, rushing forward to embrace Rainbow in a tight hug. Spluttering as her mouth was rudely invaded by masses of curly pink hair; she could only gasp in the earth pony’s grip.

“Dashie!” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Right behind her was the yellow pegasus, who threw her own forelegs around the pair, though she kept her mouth shut.

Thankfully, the others—a white unicorn with styled purple mane and an orange farmer, complete with hat—remained seated, though they did offer their own greetings.

“Wherever have you been, darling? We were worried sick!”

“Twilight’s been tellin’ us about your memory an’ all. Ah wouldn’t worry, Rainbow. Twi’ll fix everything lickety-split.”

Rainbow disentangled herself, taking a step back from the group and throwing a helpless glance over at Twilight.

“Rainbow, this is Pinkie Pie,” Twilight began. The pink pony began to bounce. “Fluttershy,” she said, indicating the yellow pegasus. She had a pink mane, long and curling, and still said nothing. “Rarity,” Twilight continued, nodding at the unicorn, “and Applejack.” The farmer tipped her hat.

Rainbow looked over them all, the five faces that had come here just for her. They were her friends, without a doubt. A warmth spread through her. So easily, so quickly, they made her feel welcome; a part of the group. Beyond that, Twilight’s smile from the center drew her in. It was an assurance; fuel to the spark of hope that lived still in her breast. Hope that she would recover from this nightmare, this amnesia.

It was enough to convince her, and to earn them her trust. She felt herself go limp, and she steeled her limbs, fighting not to betray her weakness as she made her way to the table.

“Rainbow . . .” Twilight began. “I know this is hard for you, but I want to keep trying.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“We’re going to give you our memories,” Twilight said, looking over at the group. Each of them nodded, serious expressions turned to Rainbow. “I’m hoping that will be enough to remind you. If there’s anything in there—anything I missed, or was buried so deep I could not see it—I hope this will help to bring it all back. And at the least, at the very least, you will know something of yourself.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said tonelessly. In truth, it didn’t much matter what they were planning on doing. Right then, at that instant, she would have agreed to anything. She blinked hard, biting her lip in an attempt to clear the tiny bead of liquid that was forming at the corner of her eye.

Twilight swallowed, giving her head a little shake and igniting her horn. Closing her eyes, she sent a brilliant beam of light out, catching each of the ponies on their foreheads. Rainbow could see dust swirling in that light, brilliant specks of light dancing in random, perfect rhythm.

Then that light arced towards her. Lacking even the time to blink, Rainbow felt it strike her, sink into her, and she slumped back in her chair, eyes closed.

Images played out before her from five different viewpoints, all superimposed, running over each other in a mess of colour and light. Somehow, she understood it perfectly, felt each fact slide into place in her mind. Each experience, and each associated emotion fit within them and created a portrait of a pony.

Rainbow Dash.

She was a protector and defender, regarded as hero by many in the town—and across Equestria. She’d saved multiple lives by herself, countless with the aid of her friends. She was one of the fastest pegasi ever to live, the only one to ever achieve the Sonic Rainboom. She was fierce, possessed with a single-minded drive that pushed her onwards to ever greater heights.

She was stubborn and prideful. More than once, her daredevil attitude had placed herself and those around her in danger. Her thoughts first went to herself, and then to others. At her worst, she was selfish, arrogant, and reckless.

The scenes continued. Each built on what she knew; each added something to the picture. But through it all, the good and the bad, her strengths and weaknesses, her glories and failures, all the many moments that had made up her life, she found a trait leaping out at her, leaping like she had, arriving with a flourish through the mists, the castle rising above her and the chasm dropping away below. Loyalty. She watched from five pairs of eyes as she returned with a rope in her mouth, returning to her friends from the temptation of her own glory.

Rainbow weakly opened her eyes, finding those five faces leaning towards her. Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but Rainbow held up a hoof in a silent plea for quiet.

She knew who she’d been, could feel that pony burning in her mind like an avatar of life. But it wasn’t her. She hadn’t lived those moments, or that life; she had only been shown them. The aspect she saw in her mind was perfect, through all its flaws. She saw herself as they knew her; as her five friends had seen her, and she despaired. How could she hope to live up to that pedestal, so far elevated in their esteem?

“I’m sorry,” she said, watching the expressions drop around the room. “It’s not me.”

She winced as the table seemed to explode with noise, Applejack and Pinkie vehemently disagreeing, Rarity demanding to know what had happened, Twilight muttering to herself, and Fluttershy, simply staring at her.

“It wasn’t me,” she said. Slowly, the noise receded. “I can see her—the one you call Rainbow Dash. I can see her as you do, and I know—I know!—what she’s been through. But I don’t feel it. I- How can I explain? What it is to feel like a stranger in your own body?”

Nopony had an answer for her. Rainbow cast her gaze around the room, until finally, she turned to Twilight.

“Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Can I talk to you, please? Alone?”

She led the unicorn outside. The sun was just setting on the horizon, the yellow orb sinking into a haze of orange and red. Rainbow braced herself against the chilly air. Twilight shivered, the tiny sounds making their way to Rainbow’s ears.

“We need to go after it,” she said. “Whatever it is, the thing you say stole my mind.”

“I agree,” Twilight replied simply, before she could continue.

“Just us,” Rainbow said. Twilight’s eyebrows rose, posing a silent question. “I- I don’t know why. With you, I feel . . . safe, as if nothing could ever go wrong, so long as you’re with me, as if you have all the answers. I can’t face it alone, Twilight.”

“And the others?” Twilight asked.

“They aren’t a part of this,” Rainbow said fiercely. “They didn’t find me. You did.”

Rainbow pressed herself against the unicorn’s side. “Only you,” she whispered.

“Alright,” Twilight said. They stood together for a beat. Rainbow’s heart soared, a serenity descending over her. Twilight would come, and that was enough.

“I sent a letter, you know,” Twilight said, “to the Princesses.” She glanced at Rainbow. “Nopony in Equestria knows more than them.”

Rainbow nodded. She could see Celestia and Luna, standing tall through her newfound memories. They seemed wise—benevolent, and powerful.

“They didn’t know anything.”

“We’ll find it, Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Together.”

“Together—but in the morning,” Twilight said.

“I almost remember, you know,” Rainbow whispered drunkenly. “It hovers on the edge of my mind. As if . . . as if I could just reach out and grasp it, and everything would come flooding back.

“It was me,” Twilight said, her head turning to Rainbow. In the growing dark, she could see a gleam in those eyes, reflecting the nearby fire of the lamp hanging from a branch.

“What?”

“That spell, Rainbow. I’m so sorry.”

“Twilight . . .”

“It was my mind, holding that spell, and shaping it. I know what you saw, and what it meant.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s why you want to be alone, with me. Why you don’t want the others with us. There isn’t anything there to grasp, Rainbow, it’s just me, holding your hoof in the dark.”

Two

You have transgressed o’er too many boundaries. I cannot allow you to perpetuate such crimes any longer.

Chapter Two

THE land surrounding the river was untamed. Despite the life-giving water flowing beside it. the countryside had been deemed unfit for farmland, and left behind by the industrious earth ponies settling the land. It had become a nature reserve, a segment of the world cut off from pony society. The river saw only a few Wardens, now and then, patrolling their domain.

The choice to sequester the river was not influenced by a desire to preserve it. Rather, the river had inspired a fear in Sun itself. It was a fear of change, of the inevitable death of the present age. The river was locked away, a problem delayed and ignored. But Harmony would not remain forgotten forever.

***

“Welcome, Twilight, and friend Rainbow,” Zecora said, holding the door open to allow Twilight and Rainbow inside. “Please, come in, do not go.”

“Zecora,” Twilight began, as the zebra closed and locked the door behind them. “How are you?”

“I’ve had better days, and worse. But if I’m not mistaken, I’m to be your nurse?”

Twilight smiled. “How . . .?”

“Rainbow here seems not quite right. Her stance, her stride . . . it speaks of fright.”

“Hey!” Rainbow said.

Zecora winked at Twilight, turning back to her cauldron, which was beginning to bubble. Approaching, Twilight peered inside, catching sight of a few vegetables—potatoes, carrots, even broccoli. It was a thick green stew, and though it looked strange, it smelled absolutely delicious.

“Rainbow had an incident, yesterday. Do you know anything about mental magic? Specifically memory loss?”

“I’ve knowledge of plants and herbs, but of the mind, just a blurb.” Zecora grimaced. “If poor Rainbow is so afflicted, I’m afraid my aid will be restricted.”

“But you do know the beasts of the Forest?”

Zecora just nodded. Rainbow, walking around the hut and inspecting the décor, made a face as she stepped past the cauldron.

“From what I can tell, Rainbow didn’t just lose her memory—something has taken it from her. We’re hoping that if we can find it, we can get her memory back,” Twilight said. Zecora paused for a moment, a frown creasing her brow, before speaking.

“Though I know not of such a creature, there is another—of knowledge, a keeper,” Zecora said. Twilight lifted her eyebrow.

“That one was a stretch,” Rainbow muttered, poking one of the tribal masks on the wall.

“Rainbow! I’m sorry, Zecora. She’s a little . . . tense.”

“Not at all, Twilight, I quite understand. And, dear Rainbow, if my aid you demand . . .”

“Right, sorry. Uhh . . . please, continue.”

Zecora nodded, continuing to stir her soup. The liquid rose upward as a great bubble escaped, filling the hut with its scent—that of a rather pleasant stew. Twilight’s stomach rumbled. Rainbow had gotten her up early, and in her haste pulled Twilight out of the library before she could eat.

Zecora smiled. “Come, Twilight, take a seat. The food is ready, and quite a treat.”

Twilight lit her horn, grabbing bowls from the cupboards to the side, eagerly trotting forward to fill them at the cauldron. Taking a seat next to Zecora, she passed a bowl to the zebra, and then beckoned to Rainbow.

The pegasus approached hesitantly, reluctantly taking a seat beside Twilight. Her expression of distaste quickly cleared away when she sniffed, and for a time the hut was filled only by a warm silence, broken by the occasional slurp.

The stew was thick, a hearty soup full of root vegetables and leafy greens. Twilight didn’t recognise even half the spices, and though she made a mental note to ask Zecora about them later, for the moment she was too absorbed too consider moving, or lifting her head from her bowl.

Eventually, though, Zecora stood, her own bowl set aside. Twilight glanced up from her second helping, realising the zebra had been waiting for them. Rainbow had already finished three—but then, she’d always eaten quickly.

“Tell me, Twilight, where exactly did this occur?” Zecora intoned. Twilight saw Rainbow’s ears flick from the corner of her eye. Apparently, she’d also caught the absence of rhyme in Zecora’s question.

“On the Everfree border, in the northeast,” Twilight replied.

Zecora’s eyes widened. “Truly? Luck follows you, Twilight, dear, for the one I speak of—he is near. The north-eastern river, home to the Cetus and the mighty Drac—have it for your guide, and truth you will not lack.”

“You speak of . . . the Drac?” Twilight guessed. She’d never heard of such a beast, though she knew of the Cetus—a river serpent, akin to the one that had helped her and her friends reach the castle on the night of Moon’s Rise; the night Nightmare Moon had returned.

“Yes, Twilight, of him beware. True intent is hidden behind words fair. On this and this alone you may rely—a Seer’s word is his bond, and he may never lie. Naught else in our realm has cause to know his heart.”

A Seer? Oh, Celestia, yes!

“Huh,” Rainbow said. “Wow.”

“A Seer . . .” Twilight said, mind still spinning through the possibilities. “I’ve never . . . I mean, Princess Celestia implied they were . . . but still, a Seer!”

“So this . . . Drac creature,” Rainbow said, staring intently at Zecora. “He’ll know about my condition. He’ll know how to fix me.”

Zecora frowned. “I would not name you broken, Rainbow. But what you seek, the Drac will know.”

Rainbow paused, and then shook her head. “Okay, great. Twilight?”

“We really should be going, Zecora. Thanks for the stew,” Twilight said, rising. Rainbow began to make her way to the door, but Twilight hesitated. Glancing up at Zecora, she furrowed her brow.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

Zecora shook her head mutely, moving to the door and holding it open. Rainbow stepped outside, with Twilight following her out into the Forest.

“I’ll visit soon, Zecora. If nothing else, I need that recipe!” Twilight said. She almost shivered, the cold air of the Forest catching her off-guard after the warmth of Zecora’s hut. She could still feel the stew, sitting in her belly. It exuded heat, fought back the Forest’s quiet chill.

“Of course, my friend, this is no end. Rainbow, though . . . may not be easy to mend,” Zecora replied.

Rainbow snorted from a good ten paces down the path. Twilight, with a final farewell wave, hurried to catch up.

“Slow down,” she called. “I’ll just be teleporting us there.”

“Oh,” Rainbow said, coming to a halt. “Of course.”

“We should think about this first, anyway,” Twilight continued.

“What’s to think about? We’re just asking questions.”

“He’s a Seer. That means he can see the future—so he already knows we’re coming. He already knows what we’re going to ask.”

“Twilight, we need his help. None of this matters before that.”

“I . . . you’re right. I just want you to slow down, Rainbow, and be careful. This could be dangerous.”

Rainbow stood still, waiting. She didn’t open her mouth again. With a small sigh, and a shake of her head, Twilight charged the teleportation, taking them both to the river bank next to where she’d found Rainbow standing, just yesterday.

***

Twilight stepped forward nervously, moving slowly under the canopy. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting a checkered pattern of dim light over their environment. Ahead of her, Rainbow was unusually quiet herself, flying just over the ground to avoid the rustle Twilight couldn’t help but make. The only other noise was the roar of the river, turbulent beside them.

They were searching for this Drac. Zecora’s answers had been vague at best, and Twilight certainly felt some strange apprehension at the idea of shattering the stillness calling out for him.

Something as simple as that suddenly became so much harder in the Everfree Forest. No matter how many times she ventured through its dark, tangled web, Twilight could never quite suppress the shiver down her spine. Despite her confidence, her history and abilities, there was something about the unknown that gave her pause. Twilight wasn’t as attuned to the slight shifts in nature as Applejack, and Fluttershy, but even she felt the Forest’s presence.

It was malevolent in a way that made the rest of Equestria feel sheltered. She couldn’t pin down the source of her unease, but she felt it all around her. It was in the shrill cries of birds, moving through the treetops, and silent steps of the animals lurking at their base. It was in the oppressive gloom, diluting and trapping the sunlight.

Besides, the Drac was a Seer. He already knew when, and where, they’d find him. It was only a matter of time before he appeared—unless he’d decided to avoid them entirely.

Get a grip, Twilight! Rainbow needs this—you need this. A Seer, oh, Celestia, think of what he could know. What I could learn . . .

Rainbow first, she silently rebuked herself. No use getting swept away before we find her help.

Of course, of course, but afterwards . . . afterwards, we could return. The magic of clairvoyance alone, Twilight!

“Hey there, you okay?” Rainbow asked. Twilight blinked, shaking her head. The pegasus had flown down, coming to a rest in front of her.

“Yes, of course,” she snapped. “I’m fine.”

“Whoa, Twilight, there’s no need to bite my head off.”

Twilight turned away with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m . . . a little strung out, I guess.”

“What’s going on?” Rainbow asked. Twilight resumed her slow walk, with Rainbow falling into step beside her. She didn’t say anything for a long while.

“I don’t know,” Twilight eventually sighed. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said, though she continued to walk next to Twilight instead of taking back to the air. Twilight shivered, pressing herself close against Rainbow’s body, and though the pegasus started at the touch, she didn’t back away.

For a time, there was only the noise they made, stepping on the bed of leaves and twigs that covered the forest floor, and a stillness that held around them. Slowly, beyond the edges of her awareness, the forest receded—the ambient background static of life fading to be replaced by a torrential roar.

Twilight didn’t think about it, didn’t even notice the change. She was caught up in her thoughts, lost in her worry and the warmth of Rainbow at her side. But as the roar grew, it slowly penetrated that bubble, the silence that had wrapped around her.

They had been following the river for some time now, walking along a ridge several feet back from the bank, and the further they moved into the forest, the angrier the currents grew. On the outskirts, it had been calm; a tranquil blanket over its domain. Here, though, the water boiled, frothing and foaming as it whipped around corners and danced through eddies. The torrent was ceaseless, and unending.

“Rainbow,” Twilight said abruptly. The name hung in the air between them, disturbed the precious balance. Rainbow sprang back from it, startled. Twilight’s side suddenly felt cold. But then the pegasus grinned, hanging her head, and the moment passed.

“Sorry,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to stop for a second.”

“More thinking?” Rainbow asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, actually, I was just thirsty,” Twilight said. Rainbow nodded, glancing away.

Twilight approached the water’s edge. From what she could see, the shallows of the river extended for several metres before giving way to deeper waters. Pausing, she glanced back at Rainbow. The pegasus had remained further up on the bank.

The second she stepped into the water, though, something struck her. The water itself locked around her hoof, holding her down against her instinctive attempt to retreat. Twilight let out a soft cry, stumbling, as water leapt up her foreleg, twirling and twisting around like a vine.

“Twilight!” Rainbow cried, leaping into the air above her. Reaching down, she grabbed Twilight under the shoulders, straining to lift her from the water’s grasp. But even as it held her down, thin whips of liquid lashed themselves around her waist.

Rainbow let out a gasp of effort, her wing-beats falling faster and faster. With a herculean effort, Twilight felt herself rise an inch, then two. Some bands of water stretched until, finally, they burst, shining droplets falling back to the river.

Then a small wave formed beside her, rushing up and over Twilight, and encasing her in its hard liquid shell. She squirmed, but the water flexed, moving with her. Rainbow pulled free just as it rushed over Twilight’s shoulders, returning to a hover in front of her.

“Twilight! What’s going on?” she screamed in desperation, frantically staring at Twilight. The water lapped at her neck now, a full body suit that locked her in place. Twilight was unable to glance away from Rainbow’s contorted face. She was red with effort, hooves held helpless out in front of her.

Her shock finally receding, Twilight lit her horn, telekinesis wrapping around the watery armour covering her and holding back its advance. Twilight forced herself to take several deep breaths, calming herself down. Panic wouldn’t help her here.

Concentrating, she closed her eyes, charging her familiar teleportation spell. With a flash, Twilight reappeared on the bank of the river, out of the water’s reach. She wavered, there, nearly collapsing, until Rainbow crashed into her side, throwing her unequivocally to the ground.

“C-calm down, Rainbow!” Twilight said, trying to clamber out from under the pegasus. Rainbow had buried her face in Twilight’s coat, shoulders trembling. Twilight’s eyes widened “Hey . . . hey now, come on, Rainbow. I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s all fine,” she said, tone softening.

“I thought . . . I thought,” Rainbow choked out, raising her face to look at Twilight. Her coat was soaked with spray, sweat, and tears, her mane slicked back flat against her neck and red rims bordering her wide eyes

“I know,” Twilight said, throwing her hooves around Rainbow and clutching her in a fierce hug.

Rainbow just held her, clung to her as if Twilight was her last link to the world.

“Ah, now, isn’t this touching?” a low voice rumbled from behind them. Twilight and Rainbow sprang apart, each spinning to bring their focus on the owner of that voice.

He rose from the river languidly, with an ease and economy of movement that suggested a great, stretching yawn, rising from deep within his chest. Water ran down his body, refracting the light that rose from his shimmering blue scales to create an aura of light around his torso, quickly fading as the water fell back into the river.

He towered over them, easily ten feet high, at first reminding Twilight of the Cetus, with a long, sinuous body. But this was no serpent, confined to lakes and rivers; this was a dragon, with leathery wings spread over his narrow back and thin arms at his side. Long, webbed talons extended from each paw, glittering wickedly in the light, and vivid yellow eyes, each as big as a full-grown pony, and carved into fanged slits, focused intently on Twilight, and Rainbow beside her.

“You’re the Drac,” Twilight murmured. Beside her, Rainbow stepped forward, in front of Twilight, glaring at him.

He . . . what, staged that? No, no, more of a demonstration. Such control over the water—it wasn’t supposed to put me in danger, just to wake me up.

Oh, Celestia, what ishe?

“What was that?! You could have killed her,” Rainbow cried, pointing a hoof at the Drac. “What were you thinking?!”

“Sparkle was never in any danger,” the Drac said, singularly unimpressed by Rainbow’s defiance. “I trust that I have your attention?”

“Quite,” Twilight snapped, stepping forward, beside Rainbow.

“Excellent,” the Drac said, showing his teeth. Twilight judged it not quite a grin; carrying on those long, sharp teeth an implicit threat. “But before pleasure, business. I believe you have questions to ask of me, Rainbow.”

Twilight reached forward, placing a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder and giving her an encouraging nod when she looked around. Rainbow gulped, and then looked up at the Drac, squaring herself against its profile.

“Yes . . . yes, I . . . I need to know what happened. Yesterday, by the river,” Rainbow said, her voice trailing off. The Drac snorted.

“You mean my river, little pony,” he stated flatly. “You’ll have to do better than that. Or was all the bravado simply that—empty?”

Rainbow ground her teeth, lines of tension rising through her body. Twilight winced, feeling her friends’ distress at the mention of who she’d been.

“That’s the problem, you fiend” she hissed. “I don’t know!”

“There is a price for everything, little pony.”

Rainbow’s eyes blazed. “Name it.”

“Three questions, in exchange for that of a single answer.”

“How storybook of you,” Twilight said. The Drac regarded them haughtily.

Rainbow stepped forward almost instantly. “I accept.”

“No, Rainbow, don’t,” Twilight said, reaching out to hold her back. “Slow down. You haven’t thought it through.”

“What’s to think about?” Rainbow hissed, turning to Twilight. “Three questions to find out what’s wrong with me. All it wants is an answer.”

“It’s too easy,” Twilight said, speaking in the same hushed whisper.

“That doesn’t matter, Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Trust me on this, okay?”

Twilight pressed her eyes closed. Rainbow’s face, so eager, upturned as if in plaintive cry, tore at her. When had it become so important, to make her disregard those instincts, screaming at her.

Or was it simply the promise of knowledge in the Drac’s answers, and in his question?

“Okay,” Twilight said. “Okay, Rainbow. I trust you.”

Rainbow nodded, a small smile quirking the corners of her lips up. Turning away, she fixed her gaze on the dragon awaiting her.

“Well?”

“I accept.”

“I know. Ask your questions, little pony.”

Rainbow took a deep breath. “What took my memory from me?”

The Drac smiled that threatening smile, tongue just showing between the glistening white. “Lethe stole your memory away, little pony.”

“Where is Lethe?” Rainbow demanded her voice cracking.

“Lethe lies below the old castle, in the ruins of the Old World, and at the culmination of my river. Follow it to your destination.”

Lethe . . . The Old World . . . I’ve never heard of them before.

Rainbow trembled, though from excitement or fear or simple nervous energy Twilight could not tell. When she spoke, her voice came out in a croak, a whisper that Twilight had difficulty hearing.

“C-can I recover myself?”

“Nopony ever has, Rainbow,” the Drac said, and though his deep voice rumbled with the strength of mountains, Twilight thought she could hear the faintest note of softening in his response. “But should you succeed, you will do so by letting go.”

Then he grinned, splitting his maw open to reveal innumerable teeth, and a cold, blue fire, burning deep within his throat.

“Who woke you, yesterday morning, Rainbow Dash?” the Drac asked, his voice rolling across the glade.

“T-“ Rainbow shook her head, rainbow mane tracing a graceless arc in the air. She cleared her throat, and lifted her gaze, to stare at the beast head on. “Twilight Sparkle,” she said, defiantly.

“Thank you,” the Drac said. “Sparkle, might I request your presence? I fear your friend has dismissed you, for the time being.”

“What?!” Rainbow said.

“She is your answer, little pony, given fairly and honestly, as were mine.”

“You can’t expect me to . . . No, that’s not fair. I won’t.” She raised her chin, spreading her legs wide and extending her wings into the air beside her, falling into a defiant pose.

“Do you renege on our deal? I must warn you, I do not suffer such treachery lightly.”

Twilight stepped forward, glaring at the creature. How dare it think her some pawn? How dare it make deals over her life?! “Rainbow can’t give me away. I am no thing, to be bartered over,” she spat. The Drac rolled his eyes.

“She has only relinquished her hold on you, Sparkle. You, of course, retain free will.”

“I’m not giving Twilight up!”

“How long?” Twilight asked. Rainbow glanced at her, parted lips and wide eyes conveying a sudden horror.

“The night, only. You may rejoin her in the morning.”

“And if I refuse?”

A gust of wind sent a shiver of cold racing through Twilight, striking the icy water that still clung to her coat and pressing it against her skin.

“Then we will part ways, and poor Rainbow will never again recall the freedom she once felt, nor the import of her days past.”

Twilight nodded. She didn’t have a choice—not if what the Drac had said was true. But there was something more, there, something pulling at her, though she could not pin it down. Like a need, to know the mysteries that this creature held, to share in his knowledge and power. She had always been curious, but this . . . this was something stronger.

“Rainbow . . .“ Twilight said. The pegasus locked her gaze with Twilight’s.

“I am not losing you,” she said fiercely. Twilight felt a ripple of shock at the sight.

Rainbow stood before her, soaked from her tussle with the water, dwarfed by the creature behind her, defying its will. Trading her entire life away, to spare Twilight from . . . what, exactly? Just the one night?

It stole her breath away.

Twilight smiled. “You won’t,” she said, simply.

“Twi’ . . . Are you sure?” Rainbow said, slumping. Her wings retreated, folding themselves against her back as her head dropped. She’d been willing to forego everything. “I can’t . . . I can’t lose you.”

“I trusted you, Dash. Trust me,” Twilight said. She stepped forward, past Rainbow, to face the Drac. She had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. They glittered, betraying no hint of his thoughts. But in those depths she saw the whole world, laid out before her. It stretched through time immemorial, across lands beyond Equestria, beyond even the few legends remaining of the what came before. She nodded, once, without breaking his gaze.

“Come, Sparkle,” the Drac said, turning away. And despite Rainbow clutching at her, despite the apprehension hovering in her gut; fear not for herself, but for Rainbow, so suddenly stranded out here, she was . . . excited. She’d rejoin Rainbow in the morning, and sink all her effort into helping her recover herself from this Lethe. Until then, though, she could focus on the Drac.

Why had he wanted to speak with her? This was a creature that could know anything, everything in the entire world, at a whim. What could she possibly offer?

Twilight began to move forward. Rainbow let out a soft cry, springing from where she stood to reach out and grab her.

“Twi’,” Rainbow whispered in disbelief. “I can’t . . . I can’t do this without you!”

“Yes, you can, Rainbow” Twilight said, turning and wrapping Rainbow in a tight hug.

“Sparkle!” the Drac called. He had sunk halfway into the river, turning his back on the two ponies. “It’s time to go.”

“I’ll meet you back here, in the morning,” Twilight said, pulling away.

Twilight stepped away, entering the water. It did not attack her, instead, the water parted at her touch, exposing the muddy silt underneath for her to walk on. Trying to follow, Rainbow lifted her hoof, but stopped mid-step, encountering some kind of barrier. It rose from the edge of the river, preventing Rainbow from following Twilight out over the water.

Rainbow backed away from the barrier, rising into the air, then hurtled towards it, ducking her head and striking it with a shoulder. She hit nothing but air, and yet she came to a halt all the same, sliding down some invisible wall. Twilight winced, hearing the impact as a loud thud.

“Not yet, Chaser,” the Drac whispered, beckoning to Twilight. “Your word binds you still.”

Rainbow lay slumped on the edge of the river, unmoving apart from slight shudders running through her shoulders. She seemed to be crying, with one hoof futilely pressed against the air.

But Twilight was drawn away. The Drac waited impatiently behind her, waited for her to wrench herself away from her prostrate friend. He would not tolerate any further delay, and even if she reneged on her unspoken promise, she had no faith in her ability to escape him. Not when he knew what she would do before she did it.

Shouldn’t she be comforting Rainbow? Some vague part of her seemed torn, screaming at her with the imperative to go to her friend. It seemed to be at a vast distance, though, shrouded, and locked away.

She still had a choice . . . but it was no choice at all. Twilight turned away, following the Drac upriver. And while her heart seemed to ache for her friend, she couldn’t quite suppress the bounce in her step, nor prevent the edges of her mouth from twisting upwards in a maddening grin. The Drac beckoned to her, baited her with the promise of knowledge, and she followed.

The Drac sank further below the surface as he moved, until just his head was visible above the water. He looked almost like a crocodile, moving silently, effortlessly, despite the current. Twilight stuck close to the bank, where the water was shallow.

Twilight’s enthusiasm didn’t last long, however. As the Drac continued without sign of change, no indication that their destination was approaching, Twilight’s stride began to falter. She was accustomed to spending her days in the library, reading. First searching for hours through the forest, and now this lonely trek—it was slowly tiring her.

By the time the Drac halted, the sun was beginning to set. Rising from the water, he turned to face Twilight, who came to a stumbling stop beside him.

She couldn’t begin to imagine the wealth of knowledge a Seer would possess. It was beyond her wildest dreams, a desire so unreachable she’d long ago learnt to ignore its pull. Curiosity, the drive to learn that she had nurtured through her years in Celestia’s school, drew her thoughts to all the niggling questions unanswered in her life; about magic, Harmony and the underlying structures of the world.

A Seer couldn’t give her the answers she sought any more than her tutors could. Even Celestia had proven to be largely ignorant of the strictures Twilight perceived around her. What was magic, that intangible force channelled through a horn to achieve incredible effects? How did a pegasus’ small wingspan manage to move such an incredible volume of air? What was the source of the earth pony’s communion with Nature? They were not biologically different to the other races, and yet they possessed endurance beyond their peers. Small inconsistencies, passed over by the average pony, the observant unicorn noticed, compiled and investigated, until they had turned into a physical itch.

The Drac was another step towards those answers. Twilight’s time with Starswirl’s work had taught her the basics of time manipulation, but it was still an incredibly complex art. A true master, a Seer, could expand her understanding beyond Starswirl’s spells, and through inference reveal a great deal more. Just the thought sent shivers down her spine, anticipation and excitement running through her body. The thought was marred, however, by that singular image, of Rainbow, defeated, on the bank.

Dash . . . She looked so lost, lying there on the bank. She must be worried sick about me, and I just left her. What kind of friend does that, Twilight?

“You really aren’t scared, are you?” the Drac asked.

“No, not really,” Twilight replied. “I’ve seen more than my share of exotic things.”

“Yes, I suppose you have.”

The Drac had led Twilight to a bend in the river. Water had begun to erode the bank as it was channelled around the corner, eating into the ground to create an islet. Twilight clambered onto it at the Drac’s gesture, lying down on her stomach to face him.

“How much do you know, Sparkle?” the Drac asked.

“Very little. That is, after all, why we sought you.”

“Why did you assume that I would help?” The Drac asked. Something in his manner seemed off. He was speaking slowly, carefully, holding eye contact with her. He was . . . troubled.

Twilight shook her head. “What other choice did we have? You’re a Seer. You know virtually everything, or could should you need to. There certainly wasn’t anywhere else we could go for help.”

“I cannot See the future, Sparkle, not as you understand it. Foresight is more limited than your classical definition. I’d have thought a fellow Sage better informed.” The Drac watched her closely, gauging her reaction.

“I’m no Sage,” Twilight snorted. “I’m not even a full Magus yet.”

“You are a Sage, whether you admit to it or not. Perhaps you truly don’t know.” The Drac settled back, relaxing.

“Why did you bring me here?” Twilight asked.

“I’ve been watching you, Sparkle, for some time now,” the Drac said. “I watched you look over my brethren, and raise him as a pony. I can understand this, but I cannot accept it.”

Spike! He is talking about Spike?!

“When you leave the forest, you will bring him here. We will talk, after which he will return with you,” The Drac stated flatly. “This will happen once a week until he reaches maturity.”

“You want Spike. You took me from Rainbow for Spike!”

“Yes, Sparkle. I have been waiting for one such as him. He is a tabula rasa, a blank slate. He must learn what it means to be a dragon.”

“We tried that, once. He didn’t like it.”

“Pah. Those were not dragons, not in truth. They know nothing of blood and fire.”

“And why would I agree to this?”

“In return, I will render you what aid I can with the pegasus’ amnesia—without which you will fail.” The Drac grinned. “And I will teach you what it means to be a Sage.”

Zecora said he cannot lie. I have to—whatever it takes. If I can help Rainbow . . . could that justify what I did to her?

But it is Spike’s choice, and I cannot make it for him. I have no right to force this on him . . . just as I have no right to deny him the opportunity.

As she thought, mind racing through the arguments, the wind picked up again. It sped along the river, throwing spray across both her and the Drac. She gasped slightly as the water hit her, sinking cold into her side. Her mind settled, decided. Rainbow needed the help, and she would not turn down its offer.

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “ Very well, Drac, I have heard your terms. These are mine. Contingent on my ward’s acquiescence, I retain guardianship, and all associated powers. I sit in on these lessons, to ascertain their content and my ward’s safety, and I retain final right of veto, although its use, at any time, leaves me in debt equal to what aid you provide now.”

“Acceptable terms, Sparkle. We have a deal.” The Drac's eyes gleamed as he regarded her. “Now, then. Have you ever attempted the impossible? Something so utterly, unthinkably stupid any rational mind would never have considered it—and done it anyway?”

“I turned my parents into pot plants, and grew Spike from a toddler into a forty-foot giant,” Twilight said quietly. “I was eight years old.”

The Drac nodded. “The ability to exceed yourself, to transcend what should be your limits. You see it all the time—the weather-pony breaking the sound barrier to save a life, the librarian saving her town from an Ursa Minor, even in love so great as to triumph over the sun.

“I cannot tell you how to reclaim Rainbow’s memories, no more than I can tell you what you are. But I can show you.”

Twilight smiled eagerly. “Then show me.”

The Drac nodded, once, then lunged at her, suddenly, shockingly, his mouth wide open. Twilight briefly caught sight of the innumerable teeth, glinting in the remnants of sunlight, before she reflexively hurled herself backwards, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Three

We were happy, once? Or had I mistaken that impassioned flame for an easy contentment, at peace with the world we saved?

Chapter Three

THE EVERFREE FOREST HAD ALWAYS BEEN AN AWE-INSPIRING PLACE. Those living on its edge feared the dangers it held, while those who heard of it from far away marvelled at the tales it spawned. The respect was well earned; the Forest harboured many secrets, most still hidden from ponykind.

The river had been born in violence. Years ago, just before the dawn after the longest day of the thousandth year, it had burst into motion, a suddenly powerful current washing away all restraint. It had passed through the Forest in an unstoppable torrent, asserting its authority. It loosely followed a path through the Forest; a shallow gully mostly overgrown with a thousand years of vegetation. The river tore through, boring a new bed into the ground for it to lie in. It felt no guilt for its actions, for it brought with it Harmony; the endless cycle of creation and destruction.

***

Rainbow stared at the river, at the spot where Twilight had disappeared from view, vanishing around the corner. Her mind was blank, numb—still recoiling in shock. Twilight had left, just like that. Somehow, it didn’t seem real to Rainbow. She found herself waiting for the jolt, waiting for the unicorn to nudge her awake with a warm smile and a gentle tap.

Instead, she lay where she had fallen. The water in front of her lapped at her hooves, the spray reaching up over the bank to further soak her. Rainbow didn’t feel the water hitting her, didn’t feel the cold seeping into her body. In the back of her mind, she was aware that she needed to dry off and warm up, but it just didn’t seem very important right now.

The sun gave her no heat. With an hour left to live, its rays were laid throughout the glade, covering everything with ethereal light, but little warmth. Rainbow lay still, paying no heed to the coming night. It was only when an absent realisation—she could no longer see the waters in front of her; the sharply curving bank and the gently curving flank of Twilight’s disappearing form—strayed through her mind that she snapped back to reality.

Rainbow rose, scrambling back from the river. Stumbling, she fell back onto her rump, sinking a few inches into the soft ground. Clammy mud clung to her fur as she clambered to her hooves, sticking it into clumps. She creased her brows momentarily, annoyed at herself.

Twilight had gone, and she wasn’t coming back. Not, at least, until the morning. How could she have done that? To leave her so easily, as if she’d meant nothing at all—it spoke of a callousness that seemed completely at odds with her impressions of the unicorn. Everything she knew, from the last two days, and from the memories given her by her friends, showed her a caring, trustworthy pony.

But . . . without Twilight to guide her, what was she going to do? She couldn’t wait here for the night. She was too exposed, both to the elements and the wildlife. Who knew what could be lurking out there, in the Forest?

Shelter, she needed shelter. Wasn’t there a castle, somewhere around here? Where she’d, along with Twilight and the rest of their friends, faced down Nightmare Moon? It was the place the Drac had told her to find Lethe, Rainbow realised—the old castle at the end of the river. She could follow the river there, even in the darkness. It would do for the night, keep her safe until morning.

“Slow down!”

Rainbow hesitated. Twilight had warned her. She’d urged her to think of the consequence, instead of just dashing forward heedlessly. But she’d been too caught up in herself to listen; too absorbed in her own thoughts of triumph and recovery to see what was right in front of her.

She’d asked Twilight to trust her, and in doing so, forfeited any right she had to offer Twilight protection. It didn’t matter that the Drac had been stronger than her, bigger, and more capable. It didn’t matter than Twilight was more equipped to handle him than she was. At least with magic, she might have a chance.

None of that mattered. The simple truth was that Rainbow had abandoned her, however unintentionally. If she left, she’d be making that same mistake again. Didn’t she owe Twilight more than that?

A thought struck her. If she left, how was she to find this place again? Rainbow might be able to cover a great deal of ground from the air, but every part of the Forest looked the same. She could very well never be able to tell the glade from any other section of the river.

And still, the Drac’s answers tugged at her. She was so tired of acting without knowing what spurred her hoof, of feeling without understanding why; of being lost, both inside and out.

The Drac had offered her answers, but it had given her more than just knowledge. It had given her a goal—something she could pursue, instead of this useless moping; a chance, finally, to take matters into her own hooves. It was a temptation she could barely resist.

Rainbow growled. The darkness was beginning to press in around her, shadows moving, rippling, at the edges of the clearing. Surely it was folly, to remain here. She couldn’t last through the night, not without fire, or magic, or even just the knowledge of what she faced.

A low rumble answered her, just barely rising over the gurgling river. Rainbow’s hackles rose as she spun in a tight circle, scanning the environment.

Relax, Rainbow! It’s just your imagination. There isn’t anything there.

Rainbow fluttered her wings, loosening her shoulders. She couldn’t fight, not without light to see by. She’d have to hope that the safety of the air would be enough.

Was she so loyal, as to lay down her life for the sake of a broken promise? She didn’t want to leave Twilight, but she wasn’t going to achieve anything sitting here. Couldn’t she be loyal to herself? Didn’t that sword cut both ways, urging her to stay, and to go?

Rainbow had only fractured memories of the time before—images, of herself, acting, speaking, and living. Each felt foreign, stirred no recollection, as if she’d never been the pony they depicted. Could she have changed so much, so quickly? She didn’t know if she could be that pony anymore?

Wait, and be defined by need, or leave, and take responsibility for herself. She’d been nothing but a burden to Twilight, ever since awakening at the river yesterday. It was about time she did something for herself.

Rainbow nodded, lifting her wings as a chill wind ran through her feathers. She shivered, still soaked with water, and then sprung into the air, droplets spraying all around. From below, she heard a snarl, and a sudden scuffle.

Taking a deep breath, she shot forward, a rainbow contrail arising over the surface of the river as she followed it to Lethe, fleeing her failure, and her guilt.

She raced the sun. Without knowing neither how far she had to go, nor what she’d find when she got there, she kept an eye on the horizon, watching as the pale orb slowly sank beneath the horizon. If she didn’t reach her goal soon, she’d be hard-pressed to find it at all.

She raced the wind. It roared in her ears, a sullen rush of air that did its all to hold her back. It stripped the water from her wings and torso, flinging it back to join its brethren in the river. It flattened her feathers and her fur against her skin, and streaked through her mane, twisting the colours into a single, blurred hue.

She raced her own beating heart. It throbbed, in her chest, in mute protest or violent affirmation. She couldn’t tell which it had settled on. Instead, she flew, blew past warning and consideration in a flurry of wings and speed.

The river meandered around the Forest, forcing Rainbow to fly a wandering path, often circling back on herself. She didn’t dare leave the surface of the river for fear of losing it entirely in the growing dark. Still, in minutes she could see a clearing, through the trees, and a large structure rising above them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the river’s destination.

It towered above her like an obsidian mountain, glinting black. Rainbow glanced upwards as she flew out of the tree-line, trying to discern the chasm they had crossed six years ago, in search of the Elements of Harmony. She thought she caught sight of the rope-bridge—of her rope-bridge—against the wall. The simple knot she’d tied must have weakened, over the years, eventually allowing the bridge to fall back down. Rainbow turned her back on it, following the river as it circled around the castle to plunge into the depths below.

“Lethe!” she called, staring down into that darkness. “Lethé! Léthe? No, no, how did he say it . . . Letheé?”

Behind her, the sun finally sank below the horizon, a last gasp of tranquil red flaring over the land. In its wake rose the moon, slowly, a pale orb of argence that seemed to catch at Rainbow’s torso, anchoring her against the fall.

Maybe I should have waited, Rainbow thought, suddenly uncertain. She wouldn’t be able to see, down there. What was she even going to do, if she did find Lethe? Ask him to let her go nicely?

Twilight was the one with magic. Twilight was the one with the plan, the one who took the lead, and assured her that everything would be alright. Rainbow had clung to that comfort, at first. Now, she felt the stirrings of anger within her chest, sparking her to motion.

With a small cry, she leapt forward, into the open space above the abyss. She hung there, suspended in the moonlight, for just a moment. Then she plunged downwards, wings unfurling and a fierce grin spreading over her face.

“No,” Rainbow called, to anything that might be listening. “No, I’m going. Lethe! Where are you?!”

She shot downwards, her cry echoing after her with the roar of the waterfall the only thing to answer.

Rainbow didn’t know how long she’d been wandering. The castle ruins seemed to go deeper and deeper into the earth, plunging downwards without end. The river—quieter, now that the descent had sloped off, and shallower—gurgled at her side. She was loathe to leave it. It would be so easy to become lost, completely, in the dark.

There was no light down here. She couldn’t see even her own hoof, held inches from her face. More than once she’d stumbled, falling to the hard stone, walked straight into outcroppings of rock, and leaving bloody furrows in her side. After that, she’d slowed down, taking each step cautiously. It made for aggravating, agonising progress.

Still, she was making progress. At first, the river had taken her through narrow openings and sharp turns—the sort of shattered entranceways and scattered debris one might expect to find in a ruined castle. It had been standing out here, without repair or restoration, for at least a thousand years.

That section, however, seemed to have passed. From the chill air, drier now, and the low echo of the river’s voice resounding back to Rainbow’s ears, she guessed she was in a series of caves. Some kind of empty space, buried under the Forest and preserved by the river’s caressing touch.

She felt like an invader, stealing into a memory, or relic, from times gone by. Rainbow chuckled, a small smile quirking her lips. It was ironic, really, that the pony with no memory would be the one to dive headfirst into perhaps the most historically significant place in Equestria. It could be well-known, she supposed, but somehow that didn’t feel right.

Rainbow struggled to put a word on it. The ruins weren’t just dead, weren’t just silent, or still, or empty. It wasn’t enough to think of them lying here, slowly degrading and fading away, as the Forest grew up around them. It was more . . . an air of anticipation, that lay in the air. As if they were waiting for something—for somepony, to come find them.

Her mind flashed back to the books in her room, and the memory of handing herself volume after volume of the Daring Do series. Her smile widened; the analogy fit.

I wonder if she ever had to deal with the loneliness.

Invariably, her thoughts would turn to Twilight, to the beautiful mare she’d left behind. The scene continued to play through her mind, taunting her with its details. She couldn’t have fought the Drac. She’d felt the wall her word became, tried to break through it. But its magic had bested even Twilight. There was nothing more she could have done.

She’d stayed true to her word, however much it pained her. There was a loyalty in that, wasn’t there, in the strength to stick to her promise, to relinquish all rights to fight for Twilight, and to press on regardless? But her failure there wasn’t what plagued her. It wasn’t what stripped the smile from her lips and robbed the hint of colour from her cheeks.

She had given up. All her bequeathed memories, given to her by dear friends, showed that one, consistent trait throughout her life. Rainbow Dash did not give up. She didn’t, ever, leave anypony hanging.

So when she turned away, when she left the clearing and abandoned Twilight, she’d turned her back on that past. She’d turned away from that exemplar that stood proudly in her mind, condemning her, reviling her.

You poor, pathetic thing, she said.You’ve traded yourself for a chance to rediscover what you had all along. You were just too scared to see it.

Too scared to pick up the pieces, too scared to make a decision; ever since she woke you, you’ve been clinging to something. First it was Twilight. You let her worry about ‘treatment’; you got angry when she failed to fix you. It was her fault, wasn’t it, Rainbow.

Then you went after it, whatever it was that stripped you bare. You dragged her with you—for what chance of her refusing to come?—only to abandon her once you had a new focus, when you didn’t need her anymore.

Rainbow shook herself, trying to shut the voice out. There wasn’t anything she could do about it here, no way to take back the decision she’d made. Better to focus on what was around her. Better to make it mean something.

Stepping forward once again, Rainbow paused as her hoof struck stone. Carefully, she stepped to the side, then reached forward, again meeting rock. She pressed herself closer, feeling the wall that had appeared in her way, and then turned back to the river—now just a sheet of water, covering the ground.

It was enough to follow, though, and it lead her just a few feet to the side. Her wing, scraping lightly along the wall as she walked, slipped into a crevice; some kind of fissure, separating this cave from the next. There was a trickle of water flowing through it.

Rainbow eased into it, slipping in with her left shoulder leading her right. Slowly, carefully, she inched forwards, pressing herself firmly against the stone. Loose dirt showered her, rubbing into her coat, and her mane caught on the rock, tugging painfully. Nonetheless, with care she was able to push through without incident.

Emerging on the other side, she paused. There was something in the air, here, something different to the caves she’d left behind. Rainbow let loose a sharp cry, calling out into the darkness. Despite herself, it came out hoarse, a weak, halting, and choked-off thing. She was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was.

The cry vanished into the void. Rainbow waited a full minute, but the echo never came. Instead, as she cast her gaze around, she began to see motes of light arising from the darkness.

Light meant life. Rainbow rushed forwards, her wings rising and stretching outwards to stabilise herself. She tore down a hill, heading towards the nearest flicker—an eerie red, glowing subtly amid nothing. As she approached, she slowed her gait to a trot, and then a walk. She’d learned that much, at least.

The light, however, was no threat. Instead, it came from a small crystal; a gem, set into a stone wall. Rainbow halted an inch away, staring at the thing. Around it, dirty, cracked, and pitted stone was illuminated by its gentle glow, but the gem itself seemed unmarked.

Where in Equestria am I?

Rainbow turned, following the wall to another speck of light. This gem shone yellow, a dull flame sparking in its center. She tapped it with a hoof, causing a tiny chime that quickly faded. It seemed to still have power, at least, though what could power something this ancient was beyond her.

Rainbow left the two gems behind, continuing forward. She hadn’t been walking long when her front hoof caught a stone, sending her sprawling to the ground. She cursed, under her breath, as she lay there—scrapes and scratched burning, her side aching and shoulder on fire—and then stood, snorting. She should have felt it earlier, no matter how distracting those lights were.

It was cobblestone. She was walking on a long-deserted street; presumably near the edge of a town, or even a city. Rainbow wasn’t sure what to think. Still, that made the wall beside her a building of some kind. The gems were . . . streetlights? Maybe they had been affected, after all. Maybe they were supposed to be brighter—supposed to illuminate the whole area.

Could Lethe be here? Certainly, the river had lead her here. Even if it was just a long-forgotten relic, the city meant something. It hid something.

And what do you plan to do if you find it, Rainbow? Talk it down?

I . . . I can’t do nothing. I can find it. I can . . . I can . . .

Face it. You haven’t got the slightest clue what you’re doing.

Rainbow ground her teeth, resuming her journey forward. The voice seemed to be quieter when she moved. It was harder to doubt, to listen to the creeping guilt, while preoccupied with the now.

She was more careful where she placed her hooves, now, and the lights kept her on the street. Even so, it was pure luck that had kept the street clear so far, luck she couldn’t expect to hold. She stuck to the side, with her wing pressed up against the stone wall, moving steadily from gem to gem. They seemed to grow brighter as she approached them, somehow sensing and reacting to her presence. Around her, everything was still—and as quiet as the grave.

She didn’t quite know how she kept the fear at bay. It should have been her worst nightmare—every pegasi feared the underground. The deep dark, the quiet dark, arising in narrow, cramped tunnels and fragile ceilings. Claustrophobia, of a kind; despite the huge expanse of air around her, the air seemed to weigh on her, press her inward. It reduced her step to a slink, sent tremors through her limbs and electricity through her fur.

But still she pressed on. And every time the void came for her, came rushing in with all the imagined horror her addled mind could provide, an image appeared, crystal-clear and full of light. The image of Twilight, the concern carved into her face sublimating into relief as she approached. The gentle smile, reassuring and warm, as she promised to aid her. The receding tail, leaving Rainbow behind.

She couldn’t allow that sacrifice to be in vain. She had a chance, here, and now, and she owed it to Twilight—to herself—to take it. So she walked, ever-forward, into the dark. She didn’t quite dare call out again.

Abruptly, the street ceased, running to a halt against a fallen building. There was no easy way around, so she flapped her wings, rising into the air and darting over the obstacle. Staying low, she landed softly on the other side. Rainbow coughed, as the dust from her motion caught her, filling the air with tiny storms of particles. Rubbing her face with a wing, she blinked the grit from her eyes and continued, quickly losing track of how many obstacles she passed in a similar manner; some traversed, and others avoided through side-streets or ruined buildings. There was little else to do but walk, and what seemed an infinity to walk in.

Rainbow yawned, the slight sound splitting the silence that had grown around her. She couldn’t continue forever. She could feel herself growing tired, growing weaker. It must be well into the night, by now, and the adrenaline of her situation was wearing thin. Perhaps she should find somewhere to rest. Somewhere safe—or as safe as she could be, in a place like this.

Rainbow halted, ears flicking up. She couldn’t . . . no, it was still there, if only just barely. Her own heartbeat, suddenly thundering, pounding her chest and her ears, threatened to drown it out, but she could still hear the river, behind her in the distance. Reassured, she turned to the neighbouring buildings.

She settled for the first one she found. A squat building, dirt was heaped in a giant mound, rising up one wall all the way to the second story. The whole thing was tilted, and most of the floor caved in, so that the corner she curled up in was a vertex, hanging in space. But it was small, and tight, and as she pressed herself against the old, hard wood, she felt almost secure. She was asleep within seconds.

***

Rainbow came to with a start—a stab of cold fear jolting her from slumber. In seconds she was on her hooves, nostrils flared and wings raised, facing outwards. There was, of course, nothing there.

Nonetheless, she was awake, now, and alert. Little sense in trying to find sleep again. She didn’t know what time it was; the place was still shrouded, though those motes of light had disappeared. Perhaps they only came on at night? Rainbow bit her lip. She’d have to follow the sound of the river out.

Fortunately, she could still hear it, despite the great distance between them. It wouldn’t be too hard to fly out, if she was careful. From there, she could make her way up to the surface, and then back along the river to Twilight.

It would be morning, now, right? Probably well past it, all things considered. Last night was still blurred in her mind; a flurry of events that left her little time to process, until weariness had hit her like a brick wall. Now, though, she was thinking more clearly.

Rainbow felt the air before her carefully, slowly moving forward. To her left, she found a wooden shelf, built against the wall. She grabbed it for support, beating her wings to help her move up the incline. Her body protested the movements, joints cracking and all the little aches, built up over the night’s rest, speaking up at once. She gritted her teeth, stretched her back, and did her best to ignore them.

Her hoof fell on something different. A square object, standing on the shelf. She grabbed it, brought it close to her, and opened it, leafing through the pages. A book. Rainbow sneezed as dust billowed from its pages, dropping it to the ground. A bookshelf, then. Could this be a library? Or just somepony’s home.

A thought struck her. Twilight loved books. And whatever was here would be of immeasurable worth—after all, what was contained in those pages was perhaps all that was left of this civilisation.

Bringing a wing around to her mouth, Rainbow plucked a feather free with a wince. Gently, she laid it on the book, lifting it to place it back on the shelf. Hopefully, she’d be able to find it again. She spat, pawing at her tongue, trying to get rid of the grit. She hadn’t realised how filthy she’d become; even her wings were coated in grime.

That done, she flapped her wings harder, rising from the room and out the hole in the wall, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake. Outside, the air was clean, if not fresh. Rainbow hovered, for a moment. It feels . . . sterile, I guess, she thought. As if the world just left it to die.

She shook herself, and then took off, darting towards the source of the faint tinkle of water. As she approached, she found she could even smell it—the water lending a refreshing scent to the air. She focused on that smell, and that sound, and quickly found herself back at the fissure in the wall.

Hurriedly, she jammed herself forward, pressing her body into the crack. As she did, a craggy outcropping of rock snagged on her coat, drawing a long, thin gash along her side. Rainbow let out a whimper, falling back and nosing at the wound. It was bleeding, but it wasn’t too deep. She took several deep breaths, trying to still her racing heart. Pain had sent a flare of energy through her, bringing life to her limbs and heat to her face, but she needed to do this slowly.

She tried again, this time careful to avoid the snare. The rough rock scraped her back further, and showered her in dirt, but she made it through unscathed, and paused on the other side to catch her breath.

Twilight. It was morning, right? She had to get back to the glade, to where she’d left Twilight. She owed her that much. Rainbow rose into the air, hovering just above the sheet of water that covered the ground. As she began to follow it back, up through the series of caves towards the surface, she did her best not to think of Lethe, or the Drac, or everything that could have happened in her absence.

And yet, you did abandon her, didn’t you, Rainbow? All for nothing—for a dead and buried city, long forgotten by the world. There was no life there. The Drac lied to you, to get you out of the way. You have no idea what he’s done with Twilight. And if anything has happened to her, it’s on your hooves.

She couldn’t block the voice out completely, but she did try, filling her mind with what she was beginning to see around her. As she ascended, light began to spill into the catacombs, filtering from room to room in a meandering path down. And the more she saw, the more she wondered.

The ancient castle had been impressive. The lower caves she recognised as dungeons, the dim light; a shadow of the sun, filtering through cracks in the ceiling, and spilling through the hallways in front, revealed hard stone and sharp edges marking off sparse rooms. Further up, however, she found hallways, furnished with long-ruined tapestries, elaborate stone carvings and masterful paintings. Even to her, with no frame of reference, the skill was obvious.

Rainbow had some small recollection of Canterlot, but even the royal palace paled in comparison to the ruined splendour she glimpsed passing through hallways, buried under fallen walls and ceilings or tarnished with ash and scorch marks. There was no longer any doubt. This represented an entire city, sunk into the ground around the castle, now the foundation of the Everfree Forest.

What could have happened to cause such destruction?

Rainbow halted in mid-air. Before her, water rushed downwards, accompanied by beams of sunlight, coruscating through the air and refracting from the water. It was shockingly beautiful—a serenity that defied the coldness she’d felt down below.

It seemed that, in the dark last night; she’d taken the wrong turn. She glanced behind herself at the river, so much smaller next to the torrential waterfall. It was just spray, she realised. Lethe was never in the city at all.

That meant it was still waiting for her, back down in the dark. Rainbow shuddered. Above her, the open sky stretched, a vibrant light spilling into the caverns like a river of golden warmth. Rainbow slowly moved forward, crossing that intangible boundary to feel the sunlight on her wings, and the water rush across her body, cleaning off the muck and grime. She felt . . . good. Invigorated, and refreshed, in a way her night’s sleep had been unable to achieve. She drank deeply, quenching the thirst that had been building in her throat, dry, and coated with dust.

She glanced down. It seemed so easy, suddenly, to fall down there, find Lethe, and recover herself. All it would cost was her last promise; and what was one more next to the string of mistakes that had lead her here?

Twilight is also waiting for you, the voice whispered, and for once, Rainbow didn’t want to block it out. Beating her wings faster, she ascended from the castle ruins into the morning sunshine like an angel, wings outstretched and glorying in her rise. And as she shot back down the river, the sun caught her multihued trail, and danced with it in the wind.

She feared she would not recognise the glade. She feared what the Drac might have done with Twilight in her absence. She feared what Twilight might think of her, for leaving her behind. But beneath all her fears lurked a glimmer of hope—a spark that drove her onwards. It was the thought of Twilight finding her there, or of her finding Twilight there. It was the thought of seeing her smile, and the way her eyes would sparkle with merriment or sympathy, of hearing her laugh, or lecture excitedly on something utterly irrelevant.

So she flew, ignoring the wind and the spray and even the sounds of the Forest, a near cacophonous flood of noise against the deathly silence of the city. And when she arrived, when she found the bend in the river behind which Twilight had disappeared, the churned mud and broken bank that marked her stand and her fall, she saw Twilight.

Rainbow hit the unicorn at speed, driving both of them into the ground as she hugged her, nearly sobbing, stammering apologies. She felt Twilight drag herself out from under her, saw her return Rainbow’s pleading gaze with a perplexed frown.

“Ah, do I know you?” Twilight asked, half-lifting a hoof in apology, and just like that, the spark died.

Four

What you doth propose belies belief. It is a transgression o’er nature in a most heinous way. It is a robbery and a mockery of everything we hath built.

Chapter Four

THE RIVER, on entering the Everfree, took a different tone, swiftly gaining speed and girth. It became home to a myriad of creatures, ignoring the sea serpents, the Cetus and the Drac that chose to inhabit it in turn. Most notorious of these was the Ursa Major, from the families of Constellations, its appearance in Ponyville had brought it to the public’s attention, inviting speculation as to its brothers and sisters in the stars. It swept past them all.

The ancient Castle, ringed by the river, eventually stood before its assault. Rapidly encircling the moat, the river poured down into the depths of the Castle. It cascaded off fallen pillars, through ruined halls and rooms, sweeping moss-covered debris in its wake as it descended below dungeons, below structures, below even Celestia’s vaunted memory. There, it found an end, and a beginning. There, the river changed, and returned to its beginnings.

***

Twilight fell backwards, splashing into the water. Floundering, she managed to get her hooves under her just in time to jump out of the way of the Drac’s next lunge, again falling into the river. The current carried her downstream several metres before she could halt herself, rising with waters streaming from her coat and mane.

She was too slow. His gaping maw flashed past her face as Twilight crashed back into the water. She didn’t know why he had suddenly attacked her—not that that really mattered. Rapidly analysing the situation, Twilight rose to her hooves for a third time, and, no longer shocked, effortlessly teleporting onto the far bank of the river, out of the Drac’s reach.

“What are you doing?” she shouted. The Drac, lying stretched-out in the river, rose, straightening his back and neck to glare down at Twilight. At nearly twenty feet tall, he towered over her, even across the width of the river.

Twilight gulped. This was no adolescent dragon, or Ursa Minor. This was a creature that looked like it ate hydras for breakfast. She hadn’t much chance of stopping him herself. Better to focus her efforts on staying alive, then, and try to defuse the situation.

“What did I do?” she called. She got only a growl in response, and then he came at her again.

Twilight waited as he approached, thundering across the river with the kind of grace only a water-dweller could achieve. As he neared her, she teleported to where he had been standing. She cast another spell, the magic surrounding her throat, and turned confidently to face him, again from across the river.

“Answer me,” Twilight thundered, voice magically magnified to carry. The words ripped through the air, carving a sheet of water from the river in their wake, and struck him with a physical force.

The Drac didn’t flinch. Instead, again straightening, he regarded her with cold eyes. “You are thinking too much, Sparkle,” he said, in a deep voice, rumbling back to Twilight, even managing to create rippled in the stream, though it lacked the visceral power of her spell.

Thinking too much? Is that even possible?

The words sparked something familiar in Twilight. A memory, of Celestia telling her to get out more, telling her that she was reading too much, bubbled to the forefront of her mind. Those words had proven accurate, in their own way.

But . . . how could she stop him without thinking? Twilight hadn’t been taught much theory about magical duels—actual fights, anyway—but she knew the basic principles. One was supposed to act carefully and rationally, plan each move in advance all the while scrutinising one’s opponent. Rarely would a unicorn be powerful enough to be able to crush through the other’s magic with brute force—and even then, victory was never guaranteed.

A feral roar exploded from the Drac, tearing through the space between them and slamming into Twilight. It threw her back, sending her tumbling along the ground until she collided with a tree. Twilight let out a gasp of pain, taking a moment to collect herself while lying sprawled on the ground. Nothing was broken, she thought, though undoubtedly she’d have massive bruising down her back.

“You’re still thinking, Sparkle!” The Drac cried, rushing through the water at her, terrifyingly fast. Twilight struggled to gather her thoughts, bringing her mind to bear on the situation before her, and, just as the Drac reached her, she did the only thing she could think of.

She reached out and grabbed his jaws in a telekinetic field, holding them at bay as best she could. The impact of his charge was transmitted through her body—she hadn’t the time to set an external anchor—to the tree behind her. With a ponderous crack, it split, toppling to fall towards her.

The Drac stood directly beneath its path, still held firm in her grip. He eyed the slowly falling tree trunk; face betraying nothing, then lowered his gaze to hers, ignoring the telekinesis wrapped around his mouth.

“If you think, here, and now, you will not find what you need to save Rainbow from Lethe’s trap,” he hissed, as the trunk slammed down on his head, splitting in two where his spines had torn through it. Unbelievably, he did not fall.

With a smile, he reached up and grasped the trunk in his claws, and tore it asunder. Huge shards of wood the size of doors rained down as Twilight stared up, at the dragon eviscerating the tree. Her grasp around his jaws seemed puny in comparison, a feeble thing, beneath his notice.

Are you just going to lie there? Hmm, Twilight? Or are you going to get up and kick his flank?

You’re Twilight Sparkle, for Celestia’s sake, prized pupil of the sun itself. You’ve defeated gods, and cast kings into exile. What are you waiting for?

Twilight stared up at the spectacle, feeling a peculiar calm settle over her. It wasn’t the fear she expected, finding herself face-to-face with her match. It wasn’t even anger at the unprovoked attack. Instead, adrenaline rushing through her veins, blood pounding in her ears, and the world itself rendered in sharp relief, Twilight grinned.

Surging upwards, she struck the Drac with a telekinetic blast. Nothing fancy, no clever tricks or subtle effects, it was straightforward magic, with as much might poured into as she could muster. Her horn exploded, her violet aura tripling in size, coruscating outwards in a radiant display. It seemed, almost, that that aura was a spear, contacting the Drac in the centre of his chest, and hurling him away from her.

He landed on his back, in the river, sending a colossal wave of water rushing up at her. Twilight let it hit her, holding her magic ready if he tried anything else. As she blinked the water free from her eyes, she heard something strange.

Far from the rage she expected to face, the Drac emerged from the water chuckling—if that were how best to describe it. His tongue, long, thin, and forked, lolled from his mouth, the corners of which bent upwards, exposing razor-sharp incisors. His eyes glittered, focusing on Twilight, on the tiny unicorn that had just thrown him over ten feet.

“Well done, Twilight,” he said. “Again.”

And again he rushed at her. Twilight, more confident now, stood her ground, meeting his charge with her own thrust of magic. A lavender blaze shot from her horn, meeting the Drac halfway across the river, and wrapping around him, bonds of pale violet light intended to lash his arms to his torso, hold his legs together, and halt him in his tracks.

The Drac barely slowed, effortlessly tearing through her magic like a freight train through a wooden barricade. Twilight gasped as the recoil of her fragmented spell hit her, sending a sharp pain shooting back down her horn. Strangely, it felt . . . amused—the magic carrying a flavour of sorts. By the time she recovered, he was on her, catching her in a claw and pinning her to the ground. Twilight cried out as her back spasmed, protesting the treatment.

“Come, Sparkle. You’re better than that,” the Drac said, releasing his hold. Twilight unsteadily regained her hooves, face ashen as she tried to ignore the pain. She’d almost definitely broken something that time. “Again.”

I’m being . . . trained? How is a fight supposed to teach me anything?

“All right, then,” Twilight said. Slowly, she shuffled her hooves outwards, lowering herself into a battle stance. Her horn relit, its glow fiercely covering the area in violet, replacing the sun’s last rays. “You want a fight? Let’s fight.”

The Drac lowered his head to look directly at Twilight, his expressionless eyes reflecting her power back at her. “Not a fight, Sparkle. This is not a duel, or a contest, or a sport. This is a test, and a lesson. Do not think; react!”

Opening his mouth, the Drac plunged downwards at her. That gaping maw, row upon row of glittering, bone-white fangs set against a blood-red gullet, filled her vision. She could even see a hint of blue, dancing in the back of his throat. Frantically, she seized him in her grip, again straining to hold him back from her. This time, though, she was under no illusions as to how easily he could break through.

And yet, somehow, there was no fear. She should have been terrified, staring at death so close to her. Instead, she felt the stirrings of anger, and a hopeless, morose loneliness, welling up inside.

The blue light at the back of the Drac’s throat expanded, pouring forth to fill his mouth with flame. Twilight’s eyes widened. He was going to spit that fire at her—cover her in it. She couldn’t stop him, not while holding his mouth back from body. She couldn’t get out of the way in time. She couldn’t even catch the fire itself; if she diverted any power from what she was sinking into the telekinesis, he’d break it.

That loneliness surged forward, engulfing her. She was going to die, out here, all alone, lost in the Forest with none of her friends beside her. Back in Ponyville, they’d wonder where she’d gone. Wonder what had happened to her. They’d never know, never find her body. Spike would grow up without her.

Rainbow would never recover herself. The pegasus had determination—had the drive to find Lethe, but without magic, she stood no chance of reversing what had happened. She’d live the rest of her life knowing she’d failed. Twilight knew her, no matter how much she’d changed. She’d blame herself for Twilight’s death, for all that it was Twilight’s choice to leave. That beautiful mare, so willing to stand up for others, finally crushed by the one thing beyond her control; it was enough to break Twilight’s heart.

That emotion tore through her like a hurricane, finally released from where it had lain hidden, wiping away all thought. Twilight’s face contorted, tears appearing in her eyes. Her throat convulsed, choking on her own words, her own scream. The denial rose in her, bubbling to the forefront; a single desire, synthesised from the storm.

“No!” she screamed, forcing the word past the lump in her throat. It exploded out of her; a hurricane in and of itself. Her magic flared, the purple aura expanding until it grew painful to look at, a veritable sun, pouring forth light. It forced the Drac’s mouth shut, hurled him clear across the river.

Twilight stumbled, fresh tears falling from her face. She was so tired. The wake of those emotions—gone, now, passed out of her in that single burst—left her with nothing but weariness, and a fiery rage.

All she could see was that of a blue pegasus, slumped against an invisible wall in utter despair, broken by haste and by Twilight’s choice.

Control, Twilight, over yourself and your magic, a voice whispered, in her mind. Celestia had always taught her that, beyond all else. Her lessons in magic had begun with control.

Your potential is beyond anything I’ve seen before, but you can’t use it unless you can control it. When you let your emotions run away from you, you lose that control.

If you get angry, Twilight, or hurt, or frustrated, you could hurt somepony.

“Why?” Twilight screamed, stepping up to the edge of the bank and hurling the words across at the Drac. “Why did you do this to us? All she wanted was help!”

The Drac slowly rolled over, groaning. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet, then moved forward to submerge himself once again in the river.

“Excellent, Twilight,” he said. “Do you understand?”

“No! No, I don’t understand! What did you do?”

The Drac grinned. “I broke your control, Twilight. It was only holding you back.”

“Holding me back from what?!”

“Yourself,” the Drac said simply. And it all became too much. The cryptic answers and riddles, the bargains and twisted truths, all of it culminating in that broken mare, it was too much to bear.

Twilight screamed, shaking her head, as flames erupted from her mane and horn, coat flashing to white and eyes to a brilliant red. She rose into the air, hovering there as she turned all the rage, all the pain and regret and sorrow she held at the creature that had caused them.

The river flashed to steam in an instant, a huge explosion of superheated water expanding from the river and rocketing into the sky. The ground underneath cracked, dirt and silt crystallising and shattering at the same time. The magic caught the Drac, crushing him down into the ground, breaking a crater a full foot deep with his body. Twilight flashed forward, the air cracking around her, thrust her face into his, and opened her mouth to utter her mind.

He laughed. Twilight faltered, confused, falling back to the ground as her mane and coat returned to their normal colours. She’d been . . . angry, right? She stumbled, falling to the ground. She was so tired . . .

“Yes, exactly,” the Drac murmured. “But, it is not my place to teach you further. Our bargain is complete, Twilight. You will be able to help your lover. I will expect you, with your charge, in a week.” The Drac lifted Twilight gingerly, placing her on the bank just as the river rushed past them, filling in the gap Twilight had created. He looked at her for a moment before turning away, sinking below the surface of the river and vanishing.

Lover?

But Twilight was too tired to think. She was utterly spent, in a way that she’d never felt before. She felt hollow, as if something had ripped all feeling from her breast, stolen them away for some mysterious purpose. She couldn’t bring herself to care that they were gone.

She caught the scent of water, and became painfully aware of the dryness of her throat. Lowering her head into the river, Twilight drank deeply, and then sank into slumber, sprawled next to the river, chest rising with every soft breath.

***

Celestia’s sun rose over the Everfree Forest in an explosion of colour, hiding from sight the pale moon now sinking below the horizon. Warmth filtered through the canopy, waking animals as it passed. The Forest slowly came to life, various sounds cascading into each other to create a hum of background noise; chatter quickly filling the calm void of silence that preceded the dawn. It spread over her like a blanket as she floated, coming to awareness slowly, as if afraid of what lay there, on the other side of the deep cerulean sea.

She trembled, though not from cold, and as she felt herself trembling she opened her eyes to stare at a lattice of green and brown and blue. Leaves, branches, trees, trunks, clouds, the sky!

Idly, she traced the blurred network, trying to place the contours and colours she saw in it. High, high above, the sky arched over her, like a magnificent tent, sheltering them from the ravage of the world beyond. She lay under it, numbly marvelling, as the Forest moved around her.

A chill wind passing over her, and she cast her gaze around, taking stock of the situation. She lay on rough dirt, amidst small plants below mighty trunks. The foliage formed a shell around her, driving the world away.

Movement rustled to her left, the voice of the Forest calling her name. She did not answer; content where she lay. She knew it would not find her, not yet, not here. She listened to the Forest with glee. For a moment, a perfect moment, she did not focus. She did not think, simply existing in the web created around her.

Slowly, the voice changed. No longer inviting, it demanded. It whispered in her ear, calling out. Coming to, She regretfully shook her head, clearing her drowsiness. She clambered to her hooves, made a light breakfast out of her impromptu bedding, and then washed the damp grass down with water.

Looking up, she saw with wonder the dew dripping off nearby leaves, fronds sparkling in the sunlight. A bird had perched on one of the branches, shaking drops loose to fall into the current. She sighed in contentment.

Something slammed into her, knocking her from her hooves and driving her into the ground. Shocked, she lay still under the other’s embrace, the sobbing pony holding her in her arms.

“Twilight! I’m so s-sorry,” it mumbled, pressing its face into her coat. “I-I . . . oh, Twilight!”

She began squirming, working her way out from under the other. Abruptly, it seemed to realise what she was doing, and clambered off her, a sheepish smile appearing amid its sorrow.

A pegasus, that’s what she is. A winged pony. Blue fur, chromatic mane.

“Ah, do I know you?” Twilight asked, one hoof extended in greeting, a small smile falling off her face as she spoke.

The pegasus’ jaw dropped, shoulders slumping, face morphing. She somehow put

words to its contortions, the reaction resonating within her. Tears of joy, that distilled hope tiding it over till now became disbelief became guilt became anger.

Oh no. Oh, no no no. Not you too,” it denied, falling to the ground, holding its head in its hooves.

It’s a she, she realised, listening to its voice. The shape of the muzzle, and the upper body structure. Why do I know that?

“Not you, Twi’. I can’t … It was him! That … And it’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Twilight.”

Why can’t I remember anything?

It was clear that the pegasus knew her—knew Twilight—but she had no recollection of her. Casting her mind back, she realised, with growing horror, that she couldn’t remember anything at all.

It felt . . . wrong. Frantically Twilight searched, pushing at the veil shrouding her mind But there was nothing to find; the black void that formed her memory resisted her attempts, extending endlessly into a vast nothingness no matter how far, or how fiercely she delved. Finally, Twilight shrank from that pit, from her pit; for it was all that summed up her existence.

She found no comfort in her body, in the little twinges and aches, the sense of balance, of direction, the steady thud of her heart and whistle of the breath in her lungs. All the trappings of life, all the signals that connected the mind to the world outside, and it meant nothing more to her than an empty vessel, bereft of that which it was meant to hold.

There was no escaping the hollow of her mind. She could not turn away from it, could not choose to ignore it. It followed her thoughts, forced its way into every facet of her perception. A great rage began to rise within her, a wordless protest against the cruelty of having everything, and nothing, snatched away.

Worse, she didn’t understand why she reacted so viscerally. She had no frame of reference to understand what part of her so objected to the violation. All she felt was a vast emptiness, a sense of violation that struck at the very core of her being.

The rage built until it burnt, hurt her nearly as badly as what fed it. Twilight gasped, pushing it away, power erupting from her horn in a great wave of violet light. It crackled with energy, hissing against the water, and rent gaping holes in the earth where it struck. It expanded in all directions, passing through grass and earth and water and stone without pause. It left only ruin in its wake.

The pegasus sprang away, taking to the sky to avoid the blast. Even so, she was only barely able to evade it, the remnants of Twilight’s anger singing the end of her tail as she shot through the air, circling around in a wide circle to plunge back towards her.

“Twilight!” she screamed, hurtling downwards. Twilight herself was oblivious, glancing at the destruction around her in disbelief.

I . . . I . . . I did this?

The pegasus slammed into the ground in front of her, and immediately strode forward, poking a hoof into Twilight’s chest.

“What was that, ‘Twi?” she demanded, glancing around herself with wide eyes. “You could have really hurt something!”

“I . . . I don’t know,” Twilight said, dropping her gaze from the pegasus’ glare. “I don’t know!” she screamed, turning away. In under a second, there was a cyan leg wrapped around her, pulling her back into the pegasus’ embrace.

“Relax, relax, Twi’. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Hush, now, come on, we’re fine. We’re fine.”

“Who am I,” Twilight whispered, and hated herself for the weakness in her voice.

“You’re Twilight Sparkle,” the pegasus said, tightening her hold. “You’re the greatest, strongest pony I know. If anypony can handle this, it’s you, Twi’. It’s always you.”

Twilight broke, her face contorting, tears falling from her eyes. She collapsed into the pegasus’ hug, returning it with equal fervour. It made such a difference, having somepony with her. Somepony who’d known her. She felt less alone, less empty.

“I’m so sorry,” the pegasus said again, and though Twilight was still caught up in the welter of emotion, she heard a note of trepidation in that wavering voice. “I’m so sorry, Twi’.”

“Who are you?” Twilight asked.

“I’m Rainbow Dash,” the pegasus said. “I’m the one who brought you here. I’m the one who abandoned you to this.”

“What?” Twilight said, pulling back. Rainbow couldn’t be responsible for this. That didn’t make sense, didn’t fit with the world she’d found.

“Two days ago, I woke up beside a river—this river. You found me there, with no memory of my own. We came here looking for whatever caused it.” Rainbow was sobbing herself, now, clutching at Twilight as she choked the rest of the story out. “We found a creature. He called himself the Drac. He said he would help, in exchange for an answer.

“That was you, Twi’. I couldn’t do anything, and you were so strong, and I just . . . I just couldn’t. He took you upriver. That was the last time I saw you.”

Twilight didn’t know how to respond. But instead of anger, she felt a strange joy settle over her; a tranquil calm that overrode passion. She hadn’t the energy for anger anymore.

“Then it was him,” Twilight said, adding that fact to her world. “Where is he, Rainbow?”

Rainbow dropped the embrace, stepped back from Twilight. “I don’t know,” she said, quietly. “After you left, I flew to the old castle. I spent the night in the ruins there.”

“Then we need to find him,” Twilight said, rising and beginning to move. Rainbow’s eyes gleamed agreement, and she turned to follow as Twilight took her bearings from the river, moving south along its bank.

They walked in silence. Despite all the questions, bubbling inside her, clamouring for release, Twilight was loathe to break it. There was an easy camaraderie to it, a sense of shared experience that made the journey tolerable. Somehow, words would only disrupt that, would only serve to heighten the emptiness. As if acknowledging it gave it power.

Rainbow appeared to have no further need of speech either. The pegasus walked alongside Twilight, close to her, as if afraid to lose her. But then, if Rainbow had also gone through what Twilight had, had lost her memory to this beast—this ‘Drac’, then Twilight couldn’t blame her. She had no intention of losing Rainbow, either.

Time passed. The sun rose, nearly reaching its zenith, sending glaring heat through the Forest. Twilight found herself sweating, and more than once they stopped for respite, each drinking from the water they followed. But there was no sign of the Drac, no sign of anything beyond the Forest itself, omnipresent and omniscient, surrounding them with life.

“What’s that,” Rainbow said, suddenly. Twilight glanced up, casting her gaze where Rainbow indicated, and recoiled, a hoof rising to her mouth.

In front of them, near the edge of another clearing beside the river, lay a deer. Its eyes were closed, neck stretched at an angle, limbs splayed out ungainly. It was clearly dead, but worse were the long gashes on its side, deep wounds near the base of its hind legs, and massive rent in its belly. Standing over it, buried muzzle deep in its flesh, was a monster . . . something horrible, something Twilight couldn’t understand. The smell of blood quickly reached them, causing Rainbow to gag. Twilight nearly threw up herself.

“It’s . . . a wolf,” Rainbow said, recovering. Her eyes were hard, like agates, fixated on the scene before them. “A Constellation wolf, I guess. Like the Ursa.”

Translucent, coarse fur covered its thick body. Powerful legs boasted paws larger than Twilight’s head, with wickedly sharp claws protruding from each digit. It’s nose, then ears twitched, eyes flickering upwards to stare at the two of them as the wind shifted, carrying their scent to it. In that gaze, Twilight saw a feral intelligence, coldly regarding them with hungry caution. And down its entire body, stars, embedded in its flesh and fur, formed a swirling mosaic of argent light.

“Come on, Twi’,” Rainbow said, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Steady, Rainbow,” Twilight said, not breaking her gaze. The wolf continued to stare at her, its body held unnaturally still.

“We need to go, Twilight!”

“Steady . . .”

Twilight didn’t know quite what she was doing. Somehow, with less than a day’s worth of life informing her, she could feel the tension rolling off the wolf’s body. If they turned tail now, attempting to flee, it would be on them in less than a second. She doubted even Rainbow would be fast enough to escape its lunge.

That left only one course of action. And, regarding the scene with a clinical detachment, the whole experience seeming both shockingly surreal and intensely intimate, that wasn’t a hard decision to make.

Involuntarily, following her train of thought, her eyes dropped to regard the deer’s pained expression. It hadn’t deserved this. And the indifference in the air, in the whole sound of the Forest itself, teeming with life, struck a chord in Twilight. How could such purity stand by so silently, as it was tainted by evil?

She felt hate, pure and simple, rising inside her, boiling, bubbling, erupting. It was the summation of everything she knew, condensed and refined. Her despair at her loss of self, her fear at the expanse around her, and her lonely island in it. Her anger at the one who took herself from her, and at all those who would take without asking, take without giving. Hatred rose, and she grabbed it, felt it sing through her blood. It gave her strength.

The wolf charged the instant her eyes dropped, but Twilight was ready. Seizing her foe in telekinesis—a spell so instinctive she spared no thought to where it had come from—she wrapped her foe in might and lifted him from the ground.

“Twilight . . .”

“I’m not going anywhere, Rainbow,” Twilight said, her voice hard and flat. “Help me, or get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Twi’. That, that’s a promise.”

Twilight felt a smile begin to crack across her face. Of course Rainbow wouldn’t leave her. They were each other’s only connection to the world. For good or ill, they stood together. They fought together.

Abruptly, the power pouring into her spell ceased. Twilight fumbled, dropping the unfamiliar threads of magic, leaving the wolf to fall to the ground in a heap of fur and flesh as Twilight reeled, clutching at her head.

“Twi’!”

She didn’t have time to spare for Rainbow. The wolf had regained its footing, again dashing forward to meet her. Twilight frantically tried to summon back the power that had so suddenly deserted her, reaching out with whatever little she had to hold the wolf back. It was close now, close enough for her to see into its star-studded maw, gaping wide and split with fangs, as it leaped at her, a snarl bubbling at the back of its throat.

Fear flooded her, and she caught the wolf mid-jump, just inches from her face. It roared, struggling against the bonds of terror she’d wrapped around it, drenching her in hot saliva. Twilight stumbled backwards, panting, her heart thundering in her chest.

Rainbow took off, spiralling into the sky, then returning, pumping her wings, the air rippling around her. She slammed into the side of the wolf with the force of a hurricane, hurling it from Twilight’s grip, and sending it crashing against a tree.

Twilight screamed, a cry fuelled by adrenaline and wonder, the sheer hedonistic pleasure of their struggle. She was sure she’d never felt so alive, so connected to everything. Stepping forward, she wrapped the wolf in that pleasure, and squeezed.

Bones broke. cracking like firewood. The wolf cried out, whining, and clutching at its chest as Twilight abruptly released her hold. Stunned, she sank to her knees, mouth ajar. She hadn’t meant to do that. She hadn’t meant to hurt the thing, not really. What was she doing?!

The wolf saw its chance. It lurched towards Twilight, a visible hatred gleaming in its eyes. The defenceless unicorn could only stare at it as it advanced. After all, what more right did she have to life than it? Who was she, to shatter bone and sunder flesh?

But the wolf had forgotten Rainbow. Seeing the danger, she shot forwards, colliding with Twilight and throwing her out of the wolf’s path just as it’s jaws closed around her.

But she was too slow to save them both. It her tail, ripped her out of the sky, and threw her to the ground. Twilight watched in muted horror as the wolf lowered its head, enclosing Rainbow behind bars of sharp ivory.

Time seemed to stretch. The wolf slowed, its movements becoming sluggish. The river slackened, its current nearly halting. Even Twilight herself could only watch, her limbs barely responding to her thoughts. The wolf’s jaws closed, descending towards the sliver of cyan fur she could see, wrapped up inside that horrid beast.

And then time resumed. There was a tremendous boom, shaking the very ground under Twilight. The teeth shattered, each exploding into tiny fragments of bone, creating a shimmering ring of mist as they reflected the coruscating rainbow light emanating from the wolf’s broken mouth. It danced around, illuminating the beast’s throat as it reared back, its mouth blown open, trails of blood, and bloody flesh spraying through the air. Through it all, Rainbow shot upwards, blurring against the air as she rocketed into the sky, trailed by a wordless scream, scattered in the wake of her passing, and the ring of light that accompanied her ascension.

“Oh, Dash,” Twilight whispered, watching the pegasi fly, trailing gore, screaming the sheer joy of life and the exuberance of freedom, staring until she was but a dot, disappearing against the blue sky.

Interlude

Interlude

THE CITIZENS OF PONYVILLE had grown accustomed to surprising, even bizarre events occurring around town. While Pinkie’s hyperactive behaviour had led to awkward situations, it had taken the tolerant folk time to get used to Twilight’s more destructive flair for disruption, not to mention the apparent magnetism their town had inherited for trouble. Even so, it was a great surprise to see the Princess of the Night, Luna, arrive in town unannounced. Usually Twilight would have planned a grand ceremony for the occasion, thereby letting everypony know about it beforehoof.

So when Luna set her silver-plated hoof down in the market-square just after noon, she caused quite a stir. Unsure of how to react, the ponies going about their daily business all bowed low to cover their indecision. Luna simply stared out over the crowd regally, waiting.

A full third of the assembled ponies vanished, the sound of their hasty departure covered by others approaching their rulers.

“Your Majesty . . .”

“What brings you here this morning, Your Majesty?”

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Care to try a carrot?”

Luna looked amongst her subjects, searching for a familiar face. While she strived to treat each of them personally, there were far too many for her to be on a first-name basis with everypony, and she needed some information. Seeing nopony, she began to move toward the library. Luna briefly stopped to address the crowd.

“Do not be alarmed, Ponyville. We merely have some . . . matters to discuss with Miss Sparkle.”

As she left, the square burst into a frenzy of gossip, discussing what Twilight could have done to warrant the presence of the princess. Fairly quickly the market had dissolved into chaos, with many fleeing the scene before yet another disaster befell the town. Where Twilight was concerned, as Ponyville had learned, it was best to play safe.

Luna, meanwhile, continued on, unaware of the disturbance she’d caused. Eventually arriving at the library, she knocked gently on the door, eliciting a vague cry from the dragon currently beginning his daily chores.

“Coming!”

Luna glanced around. She was very much impressed with the progress made in the town. Ponyville had come a long way since her return, and the changes showed themselves in small ways; coffee shops, full of tourists, scattered around the town, a much larger post office, and an obviously busy marketplace were only some of the details she picked out.

It was inevitable, really, given the fame the town had generated over recent years. Nonetheless, the change had been surprisingly rapid, even in this day and age.

“You know, you can just come in,” Spike said, opening the door. “It’s a public library, after all . . .” He paused at the sight of Luna standing in his doorway, before changing his tone, and sweeping into a small bow.

“Your Majesty! Why didn’t you say you were coming! I haven’t tidied, or dusted, or made tea, or-”

“Please, calm yourself, Spike. We do not wish to disturb your day, but it is imperative that we see Rainbow Dash immediately. Twilight Sparkle, too,” Lune said, cutting him off.

“Oh! Uhm . . . no. Not since they went into the Forest, anyway.”

Luna cursed. She’d been hoping to speak with the two of them before they went charging off in search of whatever had robbed Rainbow of her memory. Still, it was done now, and no amount of anger would undo that.

Spike looked worried, she realised. The little dragon was still young, and most of what was happening went over his head. He knew enough, though, to worry, and Luna’s reaction had caused him to re-evaluate. Maybe that jaunt to the Forest was more serious than he’d assumed. Maybe Twilight was in real danger.

“Please don’t worry, Spike,” Luna said, forestalling his questions. “Twilight is more than capable of handling herself. It is merely that what ‘Tia and I have concluded regarding the cause of Rainbow’s memory loss to be is complicated. We’d have preferred Twilight to allow us to handle it.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, then. You know Twilight.”

“Indeed,” Luna replied, mouth quirking to match Spike’s grin.

“And when Rainbow asked her to go looking for it in the Everfree, she couldn’t resist—even after that letter.”

“Its is quite alright, Spike, I’m not angry. I’m just . . . worried,” Luna said distantly. “Please, do not mention this to the others. There is no need to worry them without cause. I will find Twilight, and Rainbow.”

She’d have to move quickly. Twilight was an exceptionally capable unicorn, and Rainbow Dash was no pushover either. They could have already discovered Lethe, and if they lost themselves in there, she’d be helpless to draw them out.

Bidding a hasty farewell to Spike, Luna stretched her wings, casting her gaze around the sky. It was a clear day, though there were still several clouds floating on the outskirts of town. Luna didn’t bother jumping into the air, instead simply slamming her wings down in a huge sweep, sending herself shooting upwards, quickly orienting herself towards the Forest, barely visible as a smudge on the horizon. With another mighty beat, she was gone.

Luna soared over the Forest, shivering as a piercing wind cut through her coat.. Her eyes, as sharp as any pegasus, picked out the river, following its bends through the canopy. She found no trace of either pony, however, despite passing over its entire length. The Forest obstructed it too much from the air. Instead, she returned to where it entered the Forest, and landed. Hopefully she’d have more luck on the ground.

If Twilight finds Lethe, ignorant … Nopony has ever recovered from Lethe’s influence. Perhaps we should have made it public. Ever since those two were rushed into Ponyville, blissfully ignorant with a wailing foal, it has been a danger.

But they couldn’t have. That magic had been forgotten for a reason.

The threat Lethe represents, isolated, is less than the risk it represents, propagated.

‘Tia’s words, those. Luna had found little fault with them, despite disagreeing with their principle. There was an implication, there, of mistrust in their subjects, and in their own superiority; a benevolent dictatorship, of sorts, focused on guiding and protecting those she felt capable of choosing for themselves.

But ‘Tia’s arguments were sound. The Everfree Forest kept Lethe in isolation. Nopony in the region had cause to venture that far into the wilderness, especially not since that young couple had decided they needed a better view of the dawn.

Luna kept walking, keeping a watchful eye for a tell-tale flash of chromatic mane, or lavender fur. It was hard not to become wrapped up in thought, here, where the background blurred together into a single grey-brown palette. The Forest hummed in constant monotone, lulling her into drowsy reflection.

Lost in thought, she was caught by surprise when a serpent, clad in fine, blue scales, rose from the water; shaking itself and sending shimmering water scattering around it, soaking Luna’s coat. Its head snaked forward to regard her coldly; no, not a serpent. A dragon, standing tall in the river it called its home.

“Hello, Luna. You look well,” the dragon said, teeth glittering, and spines sparkling under the midday sun.

“Do I know you?” Luna said stiffly, trying to hold her composure. The dragon’s eyes widened slightly, leaning its head back.

“Oh, this is rich. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten as well. How many of you is it going to take?”

“Do not toy with me now, snake. My friends are at stake here.” Luna stepped forward, holding it’s gaze. “You’ve seen them, have you not? Where are they? Has Twilight fallen to Lethe?”

“Tread carefully, little pony, there is no rush. I am the Drac, or Agyrt, if you prefer. Tell me, Luna, what has happened to you?” the Drac asked, his head inching closer to Luna, gaze unwavering.

“How do you know me?” Luna countered.

“We’ve fought each other, fought for each other. We’ve given valuable insight or wisdom, and offered a compassionate shoulder through hard times. We were … not friends, not quite. You’ve fallen so very far from those days . . .”

“You will take that back.”

“I am not your enemy here, pony. “

“Then why have you interrupted me?” Luna shook her head, pawing at the ground aggressively. She didn’t have the time to banter with this enigma. Part of her was intrigued—

the dragon’s insinuations were far from subtle—but there was more at stake than her curiosity. Questions could wait.

“To talk.”

“Either help me find Twilight Sparkle or Rainbow Dash, or get out of my way.”

“Oh, I know where they are. I can take you to them … after we’ve had a little chat.” His voice carried a note of triumph.

“Fine. Talk.” Luna was on the verge of losing it. As aggravating as this creature was being, though, she couldn’t give in to those emotions again. She wouldn’t.

“My dear, try to relax. We’ve all the time in the world.”

“They could be in danger.”

“No, they’re quite safe. I’ve directed them towards Lethe, but they cannot find him themselves.”

Luna snorted.

“Neither can you, apparently. You’re swimming in it.”

“What?!”

“This river is Lethe, Lethe is the river. Did Twilight drink from it?”

“I . . . I imagine so. Well, that changes . . . surprisingly little, actually. The Chaser will lead them to its conclusion, and there they will find themselves again.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’m a Seer, Luna, like you. So please, calm yourself and talk. They won’t encounter Lethe, properly, until twilight tonight. We’ve all the time we need..”

“I’m going to them, right now. They’re following the river?” The Drac nodded assent. “Then they’ll be heading towards the castle. Come with me, and speak your mind. I will listen.”

“How much can you feel, reaching forward?” he asked, following her lead as she resumed walking. Luna grimaced, her thoughts turning inward.

“Very little. I fear myself too much for proper Sight, and I’m afraid my abilities in the area have grown . . . stunted.”

“You fear strength,” the Drac said. Luna didn’t reply. “Did you know a colt was born here, by this very river? On the day it was spawned, no less.”

“So?”

“He is powerful, in a way I haven’t seen before. He is not stronger physically, nor does he possess greater mental fortitude. But Luna . . . this child scared me.”

“Agyrt, eldest dragon, mighty Drac; scared of a foal?” Luna smirked.

“Yes,” he replied gravely. “There was . . . something about him. So I kept track of him, observed his life. Allow me to show you.” The Drac moved closer to the bank, rising out of the river as the ground curved upwards. He tilted his head towards Luna, meeting her gaze, and for the first time in years, Luna Saw.

***

The sky darkened over two ponies as they walked calmly along the trail. Both had wanted to get away from the others, do something special with each other this year. It was the Summer Sun Celebration, after all. Still, with the foal coming so soon, they could only get the one night to themselves, on doctor’s orders.

Coming to a stop near a shallow gully, the stallion turned to his wife. Framed against the skyline, profiled by the rising moon, he took a second to catch his breath, indicated a nearby patch of grass

“This looks nice, dear.”

Spreading a blanket on the ground, he lay down, supporting her as she carefully rolled onto her side. Both took the time to gaze at the overarching sky above them. Countless stars, swirling nebulae and gas clouds populated their dark patch of night, encapsulating all within their warmth embrace. Small sounds of wonder escaped their lips as they took it in, slowly falling asleep under the gaze of the moon’s shadow.

She woke first, roused by murmurs within her body. She noticed gentle contractions begin moving through her stomach. As she rolled onto her back, worried, the sky again captured her attention.

“Honey, the moon!” she exclaimed in fright, twisting her head to look at her husband, startling him awake. A few seconds later, he grasped her meaning and glanced skyward.

“What in the world? It’s . . . gone,” he exclaimed, sharing a concerned glance with her. They turned their gaze back to the sky, suddenly cold in the absence of the presence that had followed them all their lives.

She shuddered, turning away. “It’s so . . . large.”

He saw it too, the subtle shift. No longer warm, no longer sheltering, guiding, the sky took on a different tone. Not malicious, or evil, just indifferent, and inconceivably vast. It arched over them, a landscape unto itself, wrapping their world in its grasp.

“What happened?” he said, turning his mind away from that terrible expanse.

“I don’t know!” his wife replied, shuddering as tremors ran through her.

“Dear? The foal!”

“It’s . . . coming . . .” Her body was quickly becoming lathered in sweat. He sent up a pulse of magic into the air, filling it with a red shower of sparks; a universal cry for help. Turning back to his wife, he lifted a hoof, uncertain of what to do.

She cried out in pain as the contractions continued.

“Breathe. Calm down, dear, we’re fine. It’s fine. It’s going to be all fine. Just breathe. Focus on my voice,” he said frantically, trying his best to reassure her. Slowly, confidence seeped into his voice as the instructions returned to the forefront of his mind. But there were no doctors here, no medical equipment. He tried to hide his worry as he comforted her, supplying her with what little water they’d brought..

She began taking short panting breaths. Visible contractions were wracking her body, disappearing quickly only to return with a vengeance in intervals of several minutes. Gradually, continuing his constant stream of comfort, he helped as best he could, trying to use his magic to assist the birth..

For three long hours the ordeal continued, an extended wail of suffering and fear, punctuated by desperate sparks of joy. Eventually, though, and as dawn drew near, their son was born. He struggled to stand; an ashen unicorn colt, not even a minute alive.

“Look at him, dear. You did it!” the new father gushed, caught up in wonder. A pull on his foreleg directed his attention to his struggling wife.

“Please, honey. Water . . . I need . . . water,” she said, gasping.

He looked around frantically. The last of the water they had brought had gone half an hour ago. As he reached out with his mind and senses, straining, he began to hear a roar. A sudden smile split his face as he turned to face Canterlot, barely visible under the just-dawning sun. A wave of water crashed past them, filling the gully and exploding out of it, tearing through rock and soil to carve itself a new bed. Moving quickly, he refilled their stores, racing back to the blanket on which his wife lay.

“What . . . just happened?” She asked him.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

Neither of them spent much time thinking. They shared the water, gazing on their son. Adoration spread across their faces as the reality filled their mind.

Despite everything, the tired couple quickly succumbed to their weariness. Virtually passing out, they didn’t see the foal clamber out of his mother’s hooves, standing upright to face the east, and the rising light as the sun exploded from the horizon.

Around them, though, the night sky lingered. It fought against the rays of light spreading out from the east. all the while ignoring the unconscious couple, the medical team rushing to their location, and their crying foal, shivering in the cold dawn air.

***

Dr. Cross led his team, powering over the rough terrain lying between him and the couple. He had seen the signal; a red shower of sparks, while filling out the last of the paperwork before the ceremony. They’d have to miss it this year. The patients came first.

They reached the two . . . no, make that three ponies just after dawn. The run had been tiring, but they managed to get the wife on a stretcher, checking her vitals. Thankfully, the birthing had gone smoothly; any complication this far out would have been catastrophic.

Cross saw to the child. Unwilling to be led away from where he stood, the foal continually shrugged any blanket placed on him onto the ground. The doctor gave him a quick check before declaring him healthy, yet still the foal wouldn’t acknowledge him. He just stared, as if shell-shock at the very prospect of his own existence.

“Doctor! They’re not waking up!” A nurse called, leaning over the stallion.

“Make sure they’re breathing. Try to get a little water into them. Take a blood sample,” he rattled off orders naturally, already seeing them being carried out. His staff knew what to do.

“Now, what are we going to do with you, hmm?” He asked the foal, walking around and meeting his gaze. The foal flinched away, looking anywhere but at the doctor facing him.

“We have a male unicorn. Make the time of birth around 5am. We’ll know better when his parents wake,” Cross said, looking up and addressing a nearby nurse. She nodded, writing on a clipboard. Cross turned his attention back to the foal.

“You’re going to need a name, little one.” He smiled warmly at the child, then looked around, chuckling. “How’s ‘Boundless’ sound? Just for now.”

The child didn’t understand him, couldn’t understand. But the look of disgust he gave Dr. Cross transfixed the poor stallion.

No, it said; an absolute denial of self, profound and complete. .

A flash of light drew his attention to the child’s flank. Disbelieving, he cried out in alarm, watching the silvery light fade from the foal’s flank.

The colt had just gotten his cutie mark.

“I don’t know him. I don’t want him, can’t deal with him right now,” she said.

“I don’t know you! I don’t know me!” he replied, incensed.

“Please, everypony, if you’ll all calm down. This is an extremely delicate matter, and what we need to do is talk it through, not get angry and fight,” Cross said. He’d been trying to raise the issue of their son. The son neither of them remembered. Of course, they said they didn’t remember anything.

“I don’t want to sit here and talk!” the father said, raging. “I need to get out there! Explore! Discover who I am!”

“Your child’s life is at stake here. I demand you give this matter proper thought,” he said. The two ponies in front of him were beginning to make him mad, behaving like foals too small to understand the gravity of the situation.

“I’m not listening to this. He’s not my child.” The stallion stormed out, leaving an air of finality behind him. The doctor doubted he’d ever see him again.

Turning to the mother, he made one last attempt. Ignoring his pleading look, the mare sniffed once, before leaving the hospital in turn.

Cross sighed. Neither would take Boundless. Neither would take anything of their old life, despite the weeks of therapy, trying to get them to remember. It no longer mattered who they were.

He walked to the colt, lying in the maternity ward. The child, exhausted from constant attempts to clamber out of the cot, was asleep. He leaned close, whispering in his ear.

“Looks like you’re headed out east, son. You’re going to be a ward of the State of Manehattan. Good luck, and, for what it’s worth . . . I’m sorry.”

***

Boundless ran down the alley as fast as he could, little legs straining to outpace the much longer ones following him. Storekeepers, however, were not known for their fitness, and the foal, fuelled by the energy of youth, was able to gradually increase the distance between them, eventually losing them. There were not many who could catch him here, in the backstreets and alleyways of Manehattan.

He’d spent his life running these streets, and knew them better than he knew himself. Spinning around a corner, he jumped a pile of refuse and pressed himself up against it, breathing heavily. He doubted the shot keeper would want to pursue him this far, if he was even still on Boundless’ trail. Doubtless the authorities would sweep through the area—he’d been gaining something of a reputation, of late—but he’d be long gone by then, feasting on his stolen lunch and seeking new targets. The trick was to keep moving, and to never steal from the same spot twice.

He had food waiting for him, of course, back at the orphanage. As a ward of Manehattan, he was entitled to shelter, provisions, tuition, even a small allowance. His life was paid for by the good citizens of the city, doing what they could to extend a helping hoof to those in need. He hated it, hated the indulgent, demeaning, patronising manner of the entire affair. He hated their blindness, that they would feed him and so presume themselves good.

So he stole. He did everything he could to provide for himself. He took food from street vendors, clothes, drying on a life. He slept in gutters, under bridges. Each time he was caught, he was brought before the board, administrators sentencing him to various forms of community service, house arrest. They even gave him a probation officer, and, once, a twenty-four-hour guard, to watch him through each day. None of it stopped him. They had no real power, no jurisdiction over his life.

Every now and then, though, it would prove too much for the child to handle. He’d return, not saying a word, to sleep in his room, and to eat his food. He accepted their charity, and despised them for it. He didn’t quite know why.

***

Luna swam out of the darkness of her mind with the grace of a practiced swimmer, returning to waters she’d been absent from for far too long. She opened her eyes, regarding the Drac opposite her calmly, and resumed her journey without a word. They had been simply standing there, absorbed in the memories of the foal, for nearly an hour.

Luna eyed her companion as she walked. The Drac was swimming next to her, lazily keeping pace. The noon sun glimmered off his scales, colouring the water around him shades of turquoise. The creature seemed sincere; his vignettes about the foal struck true. She hadn’t been completely honest with him. Her Sight was as strong as ever; although she had elected to abstain from fear. That much, at least, was true.

But now, reaching forward through time, she could feel the same currents. The intricacies building around the child, ‘Boundless’, as he’d been dubbed. Luna doubted he appreciated the name, despite all the ways it seemed to fit him. It had the stink of prophecy about it.

She hadn’t been sure how much the Drac knew, couldn’t tell if he was merely worried and passing the problem to her, or genuinely trying to convey something. The child felt powerful, as the Drac had described, as if his existence had been a twist of fate, a pebble in the tracks of time; he created chaos where he went, tore asunder the barriers of the world and left ruin in his wake.

“And now?” Luna asked, breaking the silence. “Where does the child reside now? What does he do?”

“He remains in Manehattan, I believe, surviving. I cannot See what he will do. The future is unclear.”

Luna could. The art of Sight was her domain, and a pony magic besides. The Drac’s use could never compete with that of the Princess of the Night.

She took a deep breath, splitting her mind and setting part of it to continue moving alongside the river. She left her eyes open, guiding her way, and then dove back into the magic, casting her gaze through time, forward, until she saw the currents swirling around him, mists congregating and clearing.

She blinked, and she could see him. Years from now, he was speaking with an azure mare. He gathered others, speaking forcefully, dominating them with his presence and his history. He was very much the leader, the insane visionary set to break all he touched.

She could see his flank, the blank spot that held his cutie mark, unchanged from the night of his birth.

***

Boundless kicked at a stone as he paced along the sidewalk. Carts trundled past him, clattering down the cobblestone on some urgent errand. There was always an urgent errand.

It seemed the rule of the city. Everypony was always busy, always had something to do. There was growing or making goods, moving goods, selling goods, building, destroying, an endless cycle of civilisation that chafed at him.

So he did the only thing he could; nothing, in petty revolt against the motion around him.

He didn’t know where he was going, nor what he was going to do when he got there. He had moved past the crimes of his youth; crimes not of necessity, but of passion. He was more mature now, recognised the need for order even as his entire being chafed at it. He couldn’t work out why he was so different.

He looked ahead. In the distance, he could see the Manehattan Observatory. It used to lie on the outskirts of town, but the recent expansions had brought it well within the city limits. It had also involved the construction of another, larger one, further away from the city, leaving this building unoccupied.

He quickened his step. Now that he had a goal, he wanted to get there as soon as he could. It was, after all, difficult to wander aimlessly with a destination in mine.

Arriving, Boundless broke the lock open with a sharp burst of magic, quickly slipping inside and shutting the doors tight behind him, barricading them with a nearby chair. The Manehattan Council were surely going to demolish the building eventually. If they thought it was hosting squatters, they might hold off on that for a while. Equally, they might make it a priority. He didn’t want to take that chance; it was better to avoid detection at all.

He was not sure what called to him to the building. Glancing around, he saw old posters, maps of constellations and astronomy charts. In one corner, a small model of the solar system lay, gathering dust.

Approaching it, he blew sharply, creating a small storm as the particles scattered, to be corralled in his magic and deposited to the side. He wiped his hoof over the dirty orbs, revealing a simple setup; the Sun and Moon, orbiting the planet, or the planet orbiting them. It made little difference.

His eyes were drawn to the brochures beside it. Obviously left behind after a school tour, the pictures, designed for foals, were designed to elaborate on the mechanics of the celestial bodies. Day was the Sun, shining on Equestria in all her glory. Night was her sister, the Moon, reflecting the Sun’s light.

Boundless tore the brochure up, ripping it into smaller and smaller pieces with his magic. Blindly, he grabbed the model, hurling it against the far wall, where it shattered. He didn’t know why that one detail had infuriated him so. He didn’t particularly care.

But the noise attracted attention. Within the hour, there were police at the door, getting ready to break it down. Somepony must have seen him break in, and reported it. He was still on file at the station, and the orphanage wasn’t going to be able to protect him for much longer.

So he bolted. Out the back, over the fence, and away. They’d see him, of course. They might even catch him.

For the first time that day, he smiled.

Boundless rounded the corner, galloping as fast as he could. He was getting sick of running, for all the exhilarating joy there was in the freedom and economy of movement. He could stand to learn a deal of finesse, he decided, especially before trying anything larger. He’d never get anything done at this rate.

Boundless saw the mare too late. She had appeared almost out of nowhere, reaching the corner at the same time he had. He struck her like a freight train, ploughing both of them into the ground. He lay there for a moment, before scrambling to his feet, glancing at the azure mare, still lying where she had fallen.

A silvery mane elegantly graced her head, curling around her soft face. A matching tail directed his gaze to her cutie mark, a magician’s wand with sparkles, and though her eyes were fixed on him, hard, and full of anger, he grinned.

Turning to face his pursuers, that grin morphed into a snarl. There would be no running now; they’d be too close to lose them in the streets. Better to fight here, where the corner gave him some small advantage of surprise.

Just as they hurtled around the corner, however, an azure wall flashed into existence, blocking their advance. They crashed into it, piling atop one another, and sliding to the ground in a mess of groans and broken bones.

A proper mage, it seemed. This mare was beginning to intrigue him. He spared a smile for his pursuers, and then turned back to face his saviour, favouring her with a slight bow.

“Good evening, miss. My thanks for your assistance, and sincerest apologies for running into you. I simply was not watching where I was going.”

“And them?” she asked, glancing at the ponies trying to break through her barrier. It was obvious they were police.

“Business associates. I’m afraid we did not see eye-to-eye.”

“Indeed,” she said dryly, beginning to walk away. She left the barrier intact.

“Pray tell, miss, your name? I simply cannot allow you to leave without proper gratitude.”

She stopped, turning her head to catch his eye.

“I am called Trixie. Who are you?”

***

The Drac followed Luna as she walked downstream, slowly coming out of her trance. Boundless was a potential problem, to be sure, but for now, she needed to find Twilight and Rainbow, somehow restrain their physical vessels and extract their essence from the stream. Nopony had ever been recovered from Lethe before. Luna once again felt the tendrils of despair reach up to claim her.

“How did you lose your memory, by the way?” the Drac asked, jolting her out of thought.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Well, whatever happened to you, I can tell you that you will recover. That it was necessary.”

“What in Equestria are you talking about?”

“The last thousand years; time spent stalling. Events have been set in motion, now. You cannot hold it back anymore.” The Drac’s voice steadily dropped to a near whisper, forcing Luna to lean close to hear him.

“Stalling?”

“Cannot you feel the portent in the air, the whispers on the wind and water? Harmony calls to me, Luna.”

“Stalling against what?”

“Only you and your sister know that. No one else remembers past the Veil.”

The Veil?

“What happened to you?” he whispered. “What happened to the Dreamer, the Guiding Light? You once stood against the heavens themselves in the name of Justice, and now you are content to rest in failure?”

Luna’s hackles began to rise as he continued. Those names dragged out painful memories.

“I gave in. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Harmony will not allow you to fail again, Luna. They will need the Guiding Light. So, friend, here is my guidance to you: seek yourself; not in memory, but in time. Go beyond the Veil.”

“This Veil you speak of. I have never heard of such a thing, “ Luna said, glaring at the Drac.

“Then you have truly fallen, and we are lost without you.”

Luna kept walking. There was nothing left to say.

“Fare thee well, Luna. I pray you recover what you have lost.” The Drac wheeled around, facing upstream. Ploughing through the current, he disappeared in seconds.

Five

You would take from them pain? Steal away their suffering, their pride, their strength and will? You would hoard all that makes this world beautiful.

Chapter Five

THE RIVER RARELY FELT THE PANG OF REMORSE. Taking the pegasus in, it experienced a depth of rage no identity had ever offered before. Yet the Harmony the river brought could not be denied. It was inevitable, and as the river swept on, it slowly doused the fires lit in it.

The river collected experience, knowledge, identity. It scrambled them, scattering them on rocks and rubble, before condensing them into One. It was a group consciousness; it existed, and believed in the purity of its existence. Why should it feel remorse for bringing that Harmony to others?

***

Twilight awoke in the dark, to a chorus of music; a million voices crying out to her in perfect harmony.

She was unaware of movement, could not see, smell, or taste. In some vague, clouded area of her mind, she knew what happened around her, but she could only just barely distinguish it from the noise; that wonderful cacophony, throbbing and humming in pulse with the tides of the world. It soothed her, reassured her, and gave her a place to call her own. She was a part of it, her own notes falling into place without rhythm or reason. She belonged here.

Thought rushed through her. Twilight had always been a pony of science—a believer in her own ability to understand and influence the world. That contradiction; the key paradox between the physical and the mental, lay at the heart of her character. Here, it came to the forefront.

Was she the summation of her life; memory and conscious thought deriving together to form a consciousness? Could she be the creation of her environment; a biological creature with no true free will, but merely a chemical reaction with the illusion of thought? Did she fall outside the physical; existing only as a magical or mental construct of another? Was her mind and body separate, or did they exist as a union, the hormones in her brain and her mental state reflections of a singular entity.

Was she thinking? Thoughts swirled around her in a haze, indiscriminate and endless. She could reach out and hold one, take it as her own. She turned it over, living its short life, experiencing its pain and its joy; truths that felt right, no matter how awful. She drew conclusions, ordered logical arguments, discovered new answers. But each time, they dissolved back into the tempest, rapidly dissolving away their coherence, and their assertions. Twilight could perceive only chaos, a veritable storm of indifference.

“Does it matter?” they whispered to her. “We are.”

Twilight struggled to hold onto herself. They challenged her individuality, unravelled her mind, joining her thoughts with their own. She felt herself begin to lose herself in their flow, strands of her being torn free from her grasp to join the indomitable chorus.

She struggled feebly, until she felt another. Joining her, the other caught her, held her, and drew her back from the completeness offered. Twilight slowed her own frantic motions, sighing in relief as the chorus receded. It was not life they held there, but a blissful celebration of nihilism.

“Don’t go there, Twi’. I was lucky to get out of it at all.”

“Dash,” Twilight said. She had no voice, here, her words seeming to form out of the void, forged from nothingness. Rainbow’s answers came to her swiftly; appearing in her mind as if her friend had been there for all her life.

“Yeah, it’s me. About time somepony found me”

“You were in here the whole time. Wait, where are we?”

“We’re in Lethe,” Rainbow said, and Twilight stilled, thinking, putting the pieces together.

”How do you know that name? You were here before we even knew of his existence!” Twilight said, curiosity driving her more than indignance. It mattered little how Rainbow knew. It was obvious that this was the trap the Drac had warned them about.

“You told me. You’re bleeding all over the place, Twilight. Aren’t you supposed to be the controlled one?”

Twilight couldn’t really distinguish her voice from her friend’s, the two blurring together without sight or sound to distinguish them. Yet somehow, as she struggled to keep her scrambled mind together and whole, she could feel Rainbow’s presence. She sensed Rainbow’s essence, a stream of memory, trailing her as she flowed endlessly forward. Tentatively, Twilight reached out to it, felt it.

It was coiled, memory packed together as tightly as the pegasus could manage. Twilight was dimly aware of her own coil, more of a tangled ball of string, really, half unravelled and fraying at the ends. She began struggling again, reaching blindly for the strength to hold herself in.

“How did you end up here, Dash?”

Rainbow reached out to Twilight, a strand of her being held before her. It was a specific memory, though Twilight did not know where that conclusion had come from, or how she felt Rainbow offer it at all. Grasping it in her mind, Twilight felt its contours, its texture and flavour. She knew it completely, as if she’d lived it alongside her friend. She thought she felt Rainbow quiver slightly at her touch.

Then Twilight plunged forward, dipping her awareness down into the murky depths of memory.

I hovered above the clouds, eyes alert, ready to dive forward at the slightest sign of a problem. We’d scheduled a much-needed rainstorm over Ponyville late tonight—some festival or other had bumped it from the schedule I received at the start of the month, and the ground was actually beginning to crack in a few places. That meant a long day, spent corralling stray clouds for later use, and helping to clear and prepare everything on the ground. One of these days, I’d like to just throw up a thunderstorm without telling anypony in advance. It’d probably be hilarious, and totally worth the inevitable scolding.

Not tonight, though. I sighed, not looking forward to the long hours I had ahead of me. It wasn’t just the preparation that made thunderstorms so much work. While everypony else hid inside, I had to stay out here, in the wings, in case anything went wrong. Somepony needed to maintain the storm, and keep it where we wanted it, or all that work would go to waste.

Every pegasi learns the dangers of lightning before they can even walk. Most of us actually have some small phobia toward the stuff; not only does getting hit hurt like nothing else in Equestria, it can put a pegasus on the ground, permanently. I shivered. That was not cool.

Still, somepony needs to be able to control the storm, and as Captain of the Weather Team, I have the most experience. I’ve never been hit, myself, unlike others I could name, and I’m one of the few fast enough to avoid them mid-flight. It’s challenging, and dangerous, but I wouldn’t want anypony else up there. They’re my responsibility, and I’d take the hit before I let them take my place up there.

We only really need the one pegasi up there. Maintenance isn’t nearly as difficult as creation, and when it comes to these things, I’m a master.

So when evening finally rolled around, I was alone in the sky. Fortunately, from up here, the storm seemed relatively tame for all the fury it was unleashing below. I could hear the thunder, rolling through the clouds with huge cracks and booms. I could see the lightning flashing around; specks and trails of blindingly pure white against the dark. The storm had a peculiar smell, of fresh air, sodden and new, of sudden ozone and sullen anger. For all that, I was happy with its progression. From the tone of the clouds, I judged it to be perhaps half-empty, the deluge dropping the water we’d spent two weeks gathering—from the nearby clouds, and from Cloudsdale itself—in just a few hours.

Everything was awesome. I’d be home soon enough, to warm myself up under searing water and then thick blankets, and tomorrow, full of clearing the skies of the leftover clouds, and repairing any damage we’d caused on the ground, would be far, far away. I grinned hugely, taking a moment to appreciate the colossal creation beneath me. It was totally awesome.

That was when the wind came. It wasn’t anything I’d expected—there wasn’t any wind forecast in the area, apart from those the storm was generating. But those were beneath me, beneath the clouds, and this wind was up here, joining me under the stars, and beginning to press apart the storm, splitting chunks of cloud apart, and scattering them through the sky. I frowned, turning to see where the wind was coming from.

From the stars above, I was facing east. I swallowed. East was never good when it came to these things. East meant the wind was coming from the Everfree Forest. That explained its appearance—the weather over there was unregulated. If another weather team nearby had created windy conditions, they’d have informed me.

Still, the wind was breaking apart my storm, and that was totally not cool. I dived down, coming alongside the western side of my storm-wall and facing the wind head-on. I beat my wings, trying to generate enough of an air-tunnel to drive the wind away, redirect its effects elsewhere. It wouldn’t matter much if it was just a couple dozen metres higher or lower. It wouldn’t be able to affect the clouds from there.

But the wind didn’t budge, instead pressing against me. The unexpected resistance meant that my own wing-beats drove me backwards, right into the rain and thunder. I let out a short, panicked gasp, heart suddenly racing in my chest. With a swift movement, I plunged downwards and to the side, frantically racing towards the edge of the storm.

I broke through in under a second. Behind me, lightning flashed, reaching the ground before its strike registered. I took a deep breath. That had been close.

But the wind was still pressing against my storm. There weren’t many options a pegasi had when it came to redirecting wind-flow; after all, the air had to go somewhere. I flew east, directly into its path. The wind was strong, nearly gale-force, and easily twenty feet wide.

I grinned. This was something new, something different. It would make a great story, tomorrow—how Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Weather Team, had single-hoofedly saved the storm. Even better than that, though, it was a challenge. Many thought me lazy, and though I did nothing to disabuse the notion, I had found it to be something else: boredom. There wasn’t anything difficult in weather control, really—it was dangerous, certainly, but not often difficult. It just couldn’t compare with something like the Wonderbolts.

I tore along, heading up the wind-stream. It only took ten minutes to reach the edge of the Forest. It wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be for long; not only because my storm was without attention while I was all the way out here. There was something about the Forest that sent shivers down my spine.

But the wind was definitely coming from here. Hanging over the Forest, blanketing it in darkness and water, was another storm. Grey-black clouds, woven into a patchwork quilt, poured torrential rain down from the sky, lightning flickered, and thunder boomed. I flew around, getting a feel for it. The wind was definitely coming from here; somehow generated in the middle of that chaotic tempest. It flowed out, towards Ponyville; towards my storm.

I circled around, gathering speed, air streaming from my wings. Around, and around, I wrapped the air into a funnel, a column. The tornado rose around me, and, carefully, I moved it into that mass of cloud. If I could disrupt it, I might be able to alter where it was dumping all that air, even if I couldn’t halt it completely.

In seconds, the tornado had sunk into the clouds, beginning to stir them up. I held onto it for as long as I could, helping shape it, helping force it up, until it took on a life of its own, spinning out of control, supported by the inertia provided by the thick clouds surrounding it.

I flew back and up a few paces, panting but proud. A tornado like that wasn’t easy to pull off, and to maintain it for as long as I had inside that bubble—cloud so heavy, it was like flying through custard—was a feat in and of itself. Unfortunately, though it seemed to be having the desired effect, it was nowhere near enough to disrupt the storm entire. The clouds near me, near my cyclone, were wrapped up and dispersed, creating a pocket of clear air within the cloud-mass, but the wind continued uninterrupted.

The tornado collapsed, the last of its inertia used up. I hovered where I was, watching. Slowly, the clouds began to drift back together, repairing whatever damage I had been able to cause.

I shook my head. If a tornado wasn’t going to cut it, I’d have to take this thing out the hard way. I rose a few feet in the air before diving straight down, holding my wings out to the side. At the last second, just as I reached the cloud-mass, I pulled up, executing a near ninety-degree turn, and blasting through the clouds with sudden speed.

They shattered, puffs of water exploding outwards. I continued, pumping my wings through the heavy air. I was quickly out of breath, panting, with my heart racing in my chest. Sweat rose, lathering my coat, and insulating it from the icy water surrounding me. But I cut through the clouds, tore them apart, and sent them drifting away from each other. There would be no recovering from this.

I completed several laps of the storm, flying back and forth, before I pulled out. Just as I made to dart upwards, though, judging my work sufficient, lightning flickered around me, accompanied by a tremendous crash. The air itself seemed to vibrate.

I reacted instantly, throwing my wings down and shooting upwards. The lightning danced over my body, coursing through me with a flash of intense heart. My heart stopped, and then resumed its frantic motion. I was thrown up, propelled by my own knee-jerk reaction, and as the world spun around me, began to fall back towards the dissipating storm.

I plunged through the clouds. Below, the rain continued, though it seemed sporadic; only appearing here and there. The wind was nearly entirely gone. I gathered my bearings as I fell, and stretched my wings out, ignoring the deep ache. I caught the air under them, and glided out, back towards Ponyville. Thank Celestia; the lightning didn’t seem to have done any permanent damage, though I’d be sore for a few hours.

My storm was just a dark patch on the horizon. I sighed, beginning to move back towards it, but I’d only made it to the edge of the Forest when I realised how thirsty I was. I cast my gaze around. As luck would have it, there was a river right below me. Happily, I dived down towards the ground, landing softly on its bank, and lowered my head, taking a deep drink.

Refreshed, I prepared to take back to the skies, but was struck with a strange weariness—as if something was sucking the life out of me. I decided I must have been more tired than I thought. After all, it had been a long day, and that brief stint had been intense. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to take a nap, just for a few minutes . . .

“And then, I woke here.” Rainbow withdrew back into that tight ball.

Twilight put it together. Rainbow hadn’t met the Drac at any point; the only common link between their stories was the river they’d drunk from. Twilight could barely believe it; it seemed too fantastical to be true. Still, there was that old maxim; eliminate the impossible. There was simply no other explanation.

“Here: in Lethe. In the river. Oh, Celestia, what a marvel.”

“I know. I know everything you do, everything you think . . . or thought.” Rainbow’s voice was unmistakably bitter.

“What?”

“Weren’t exactly looking out for me back there, were you, Twilight?”

“I—Rainbow . . .”

“Save it. How do we get out?”

“I ... don’t know. I only just got here. Give me some time to explore.”

“Oh? Explore, meaning figure out how to get out of here? Or are you just buying time so you can have a look around first?”

“Dash! Of course I want to get you out!”

“Do you, Twilight? Because when I first got here, I sure didn’t.“

Twilight recoiled from Rainbow’s voice, so accusing in its fear. Shrinking from further contact, and seeking comfort and shelter in the choir behind her, Twilight lost herself amidst the voices. There, she felt safe, included and protected in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.

They called to her, joined with her and flowed through her, piecing her apart and allowing the unicorn to forget, to become one with the world around her and simply exist. It was euphoric, a peace she hadn’t felt before. It was the peace of not caring.

“Oh, no. You aren’t falling for that, Twilight. I won’t let you.”

Rainbow pulled her back. Twilight didn’t know how, but the choir faded to the very edges of her hearing, Rainbow’s essence filling Twilight’s consciousness.

“I’m not really mad, you know. It’s okay to be curious, Twilight.”

“But I could’ve fought harder. I didn’t have to abandon you.”

“You couldn’t have beaten him anyway, Twi’. Besides, we’d be no closer to getting out of here. Don’t sweat it.”

Twilight couldn’t quite bring herself to believe her.

“Try and figure out some way to get us out. Just stay out my mind while you do it.”

***

“It’s a stream of consciousness, Dash. As if every memory Lethe ever absorbed is contained within the one group identity; the river. That’s those voices, a choir of a million, in perfect harmony because it’s really just one,” Twilight said, excitedly. She’d spent some time examining the currents around her, trying to find something she knew, something that could be their ticket out of here.

“Mmm.”

“It reminds me of the Elements. The stream feels like their power. Did you ever hear the voices?”

“What, from the Elements?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Oh. I did, when we channelled their power. A voice from each fragment, crying out, all at the same time.”

“The Elements are a part of this?”

Yes. I think this might be related to their magic. From my studies, it uses the internal harmony of us; the Bearers, to fuel it. It’s some kind of fundamental magic in the structure of the world; like the links between atoms, almost.”

“And how does what that monster showed you help?”

“The Drac is not a monster, Dash! He is my friend, and he knows Spike.”

“What he did was seriously not cool.”

“Ugh. In any case, he acknowledged me when I threw emotion at him. I could never have matched him within the context of Celestia’s lessons—he was trying to force me to lose control. When I felt anger, I hurled it at him, and . . . well, you know.”

“Anger isn’t harmony.”

“No, but it operated along the same lines. A physical manifestation of an emotional response, almost like, say, your Sonic Rainboom. I’ll bet you were pretty worked up the first few times you did it.”

“Of course I was. Rarity, Spitfire, Soarin’ … they were all going to die; as if I’d let that happen.”

“I would think that this Is that Coromancy he mentioned “

A sudden spike of alarm from Rainbow washed over Twilight, interrupting her musings.

“Are you ready?” Rainbow asked. She’d mentioned it earlier, but Twilight had become so wrapped up in her theories and explanations, the novelty of the experience absorbing her wholly, that she’d nearly forgotten it was coming.

The problem was, at the moment, they were floating within a relatively calm river. But Rainbow had been in here for far longer than Twilight, and apparently, that was about to end.

“I think so.”

“As fun as it would have been to prank you, I think you’d better be ready. It was extremely difficult to find myself afterward.”

“You didn’t have an anchor before, Dash. If we hold together, to each other, maybe we won’t lose ourselves,” Twilight said. She could only hope that that was true.

Twilight could feel the river picking up speed, its currents beginning to tear at her, pulling threads out of her control. With Rainbow’s help, she took back each strand, entwining it into her consciousness, trying to hold every moment of her life all at once, rendered in exquisite detail in the forefront of her mind. It wouldn’t be long now.

They continued to flow, faster and faster, as if drawn forward by something.Gravity. We’re not flowing, we’re falling. Endlessly falling forward, Twilight realised. The river was growing steeper, water ahead dropping away, and pulling them behind it.

It doesn’t matter, Rainbow said. Focus, Twi’.

Twilight shook the thought from her mind, hastily returning to the defences she’d erected. she could feel herself beginning to unwind, streaming away into the current like grains of sand, slipping through tiny cracks. And then the river reached the castle proper, and with a warning cry from Rainbow, they plunged over the edge and out into open space.

Twilight exploded. Bits and pieces, fragments of her being, shot out in every direction. She struggled to hold on, drawing in the threads of memory and grasping them firmly. She could feel Rainbow doing the same. The rocks and the air tore at them, ripping them apart and throwing them together, trying to scatter them to the wind through every split drop sent flying. Twilight felt herself shredded, felt precious experiences abruptly stolen from her with every passing moment. In the gale, she held tight to herself and despaired at what she lost.

Yet through all the torment, the merciless flow of water through air, over rock and rubble, Rainbow held fast. Catching not only herself but also those parts of her friend that slipped Twilight’s grasp, she wrapped herself into a single, encompassing desire to survive and waited for the eye of the storm.

Twilight knew what such protection cost her friend. Each time Rainbow reached out, Twilight saw another piece of her, lived it as Rainbow had. The intrusion, unintentional, unavoidable, frightened the pegasus, as much as she tried to hide it.

It came suddenly, a peace enveloping them as the current slowed, their being expelled from the chaos, yet still wrapped around each other. In the silence, the chorus sang an unending requiem, united.

Thank you.

Don’t mention it.

Twilight could no longer tell who spoke, so tightly was she bound to Rainbow. Thoughts passed between them soundlessly. A foreboding warned her, yet Twilight already knew, knew completely all Rainbow had experienced in this hell. As they approached oneness, a unity in nothingness, she knew, with a wonder that surpassed all experience.

Twilight’s moment had come during a Summer Sun Celebration in her foal-hood. Abruptly, she was there again, gazing up at the sun goddess spread before her. She beheld radiance, warm and completing. It enthralled her, enticed her. She had spent her life looking up to it, wondering. Her fascination had spread, encompassing the entire world, yet for her, it was an intellectual admiration. The spark had awakened in her curiosity, burning with all the fire of Celestia’s sun.

One day, yesterday, a birthday years ago, Rainbow’s parents had taken her to a Wonderbolts show. The images swam forward in Twilight’s mind, merging with her own to become part of her life. It had been a wondrous event for the filly, awed with their precision, power and speed. Rainbow had been star-struck immediately. She became obsessed with replicating that performance, each stunt, each trick leading her towards an ever-growing summit. She sank herself into training, focusing on developing wing-power, agility and endurance. As a result, she eventually dropped out of school; having no interest in education beyond flight mechanics.

The Wonderbolts became her life. Twilight followed as every moment not spent working was devoted to her idols, and, as she grew better and better, they became faster, moving ever more out of reach. They represented the pinnacle of achievement, a height she could never quite reach. She wouldn’t know what to do if she did.

Rainbow had never worshipped her mind as Twilight had. Her body was her temple, an organism built and honed for one purpose, speed. Her talent, her Cutie Mark, her special trick; the Sonic Rainboom, it all revolved around speed. If she were to ever reach that pedestal, it would be by being the fastest flier in Equestria. Others were strong, or agile, or graceful, or smart. Rainbow was fast.

Yet here, she moved at the same pace as Twilight, carried by the current. Denied not speed, but her freedom to move, to fly, to set her own pace, Rainbow was trapped. A cage far worse than Twilight had found it to be, a mental realm. Taken from her body, she was taken from her life. From that pain came rage, an unspeakable anger that Twilight felt alongside her. It seeped into her, informed her, inspired her.

Rage had kept her together, thrown into the chaotic storm unprepared and alone. Rage had lent her the strength to deny the comfort of oblivion. Rage had wrapped Twilight into her to hold her safe, believing her to be Rainbow’s only way out, even if it cost her her privacy.

Emotional magic. Subconsciously holding herself together with the emotional magic the river is founded in. That’s the key, Twilight thought. She was here, in the stream, and she was there, in the stands, and in the sky with Rainbow, experiencing again all the time spent learning in the libraries, all the time spent training.

Somewhere in the midst of Rainbow’s mind, she recognised the necessity before them. There was no avoiding this joining, not any more. Rainbow slowly, tentatively, relaxed, no longer holding herself apart. The bits and pieces Twilight had gathered through their experience suddenly seemed inadequate; memories no longer sufficient. She felt Rainbow, all that the pegasus was, and felt Rainbow experience her life as if it was her own.

You do forgive me.

They inexorably drew together, the water picking up pace as it carried them down towards unity. They could no longer separate mental dialogue from communication. They no longer remembered two beings.

Then all was One. Time halted, the universe stopping in its tracks to watch the glorious burst of light pass underground, streaking through the fabric of space. The world barely noticed its passage, a faint rumbling heard by the Forest alone to herald their death, and a tremor in Canterlot their rebirth.

They emerged from the mountain over Canterlot, erupting into millions of particles. Droplets of their being, sparkling in the sunlight, were scattered in the mountain winds as they rained down onto the rocks. For a short time, there was no thought, only a frantic gasp before they returned to that Unity. Droplets, raining down, rejoining the stream and each other; they flowed together, thought together. Each knew the other as completely as they knew themselves, and existed, blissfully secure.

They followed the voices, a siren song in the dark. It seemed natural, succumbing to the call of the choir, chasing after its elusive notes. They no longer felt the need to hold back. They poured their self into the communal spirit as easily as water, rejoining the stream with simple satisfaction. It was simpler to follow, simpler to exist. They were.

There was no truth anymore. They felt no pain, no loss or even joy. Existence inspired in them nothing but warmth, a contentedness that stemmed not from emotion but from life. It was enough for them, for now. They slept. They were.

Yet they were also restless. The stream was endlessly fascinating to them, it held their attention completely. They studied the flow, grasped new aspects of their imprisonment. They managed a small shock at that realization. Their perception of their environment did not bother them. They were.

They couldn’t wait to break free. Imprisonment was their worst nightmare. It tugged at their heart, demanding retribution. It confined them, restricted them, and forced itself on their every moment. They could not rest so contained. They could not exist. They were.

There had never been a difference, really. They had wanted to stay and study, learn from experience, and they had wanted to escape, to reclaim their life and form and dreams. They had struggled to distinguish, to remember. There was no longer any need. The voices experienced for them. They watched, listened as they sang, and they knew all that had passed between them.

They sang to the voices, and the voices sang back. There was no discord between them, no animosity. They existed in tandem with the choir and it with them. They tolerated each other.

Something slipped through their grasp. They snatched it back, trembling with sudden fear; a shock that brought their thoughts to the forefront of their mind. It was a memory, a scene from some past life; two ponies, bickering over a trivial matter. They agreed with both sides, identified with both individuals. They were the same. They moved through time, absorbing consciously what they’d already known. They found two lives, two identities. They were the same.

Except that they were different. They felt conflicted, suddenly desiring to run and to stay, to escape, hidden beneath a mask, and to stand upright, face their fears in an acknowledgment of self. They thought to hide, burying themselves in the other. The choir sang to them, more urgent now, demanding. They did not listen, preoccupied with their self; with the self that they recognised as foreign.

They both hated being alone. In that, they were the same. They’d spent their lives building reputations, relationships; methods and channels for social interaction, discovering how to relate with others. They both came from neglectful backgrounds.

One of them had been left, very young. She had learned to fend for herself, to be better, stronger and faster than those around her. She was above them, didn’t need them. She was herself, and she was replete, and yet horribly alone. The sky was too large for a single pony to rule.

One of them had left, of her own volition. She had been nurtured, cared for and loved. Yet somehow she had created isolation for herself, hiding away from those around her. She had neglected them from fear of neglecting one, and in doing so had centred her world on the one thing she could never attain.

They were different, and they were the same. Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash recognised that contradiction, and, fighting the siren song that danced around them all the while, slowly pulled away from each other.

Six

There cannot exist transcendence without limits. Sister, I can only have but one response; you hath forced my hoof. Repeal or the night shall last forever.

Chapter Six

THE RIVER HAD NOT ENCOUNTERED RESISTANCE BEFORE. The struggles of the pegasus and unicorn in its grasp were foreign, an act incomprehensible by the river. It did not react. It didn’t know how. Yet as it flowed, it began to see its influence on them regardless.

Harmony had irrevocably bound them together. Everything they did, they did in concert, helping each other to achieve what one couldn’t individually. They supported each other. In them, the river saw itself, and as it lost what it stole, for the first time it felt hope.

***

Rainbow woke slowly, the stench surrounding her becoming more and more abrasive. The late-afternoon sun shone overhead, warming her and the pony she held. She glanced down, at where her muzzle rested against a lavender back. In the wake of their fight, as she’d returned to the ground to find an exhausted Twilight sobbing beside what remained of the wolf’s carcass, she felt nothing but exhilaration, and a deep-seated loneliness. She’d wrapped herself around Twilight, and with her safely held inside the circle of her arms, slept.

Gradually, Twilight came to awareness. She made little sounds of protest as she began moving, restlessly responding to the shift’s in Rainbow’s position. Twilight opened her eyes, catching sight of the cyan hooves around her, and sighed, stretching her own limbs as she shook the last of sleep from her.

Abruptly, she tore herself from Rainbow’s embrace. Sprinting to the river, jumped in with a splash, sending water up onto the crimson bank. Even there, there were splatters of gore. Rainbow tried to keep her gaze away from the corpse, lying with them in the glade, but she was always aware of its presence, lurking, waiting to catch her off-guard. Resolutely, she turned her attention to Twilight; heedless of the cold, scrubbing at her coat furiously, with magic and hooves, in the water. Semi-dried blood began to wash away, percolating into the stream as it bore it away.

Rainbow stood, moving down the river herself. She plunged in, gasping as the icy water struck against her sun-baked coat. Coming to Twilight, she reached out, catching her hoof in her own. She moved in front of Twilight, clasping her around her shuddering face. Tears, hot against the coldness of the river, ran over Rainbow’s hooves.

Twilight pushed her away. Unprepared, Rainbow fell backwards, landing in the water with a great splash.

“I … I’m sorry, Dash. I just . . . I need to get away from here.”

“You and me both, Twi’.” Rainbow replied, getting to her hooves.

“I . . . I need something different. Somewhere without all the green, and brown, and . . .” Twilight cringed, wincing as she spoke, “ . . . and red.”

“Of course,” Rainbow said softly, snaking her forelegs around Twilight’s midriff. She stretched her wings, pumping them up and down a few times, before taking off with a single, powerful beat. Blood flaked off, making horrid cracking noises as she broke the crust of dried gore that had covered her.

They rose quickly, above the stench of the carcass and the buzzing of the flies surrounding it. Soon, it was nothing but a speck amongst the green and brown of the Forest.

Rainbow felt the wind rushing through her fur, savouring its chill. It wasn’t the same as the water’s icy tendrils. It felt better than that, bracing instead of cutting. Invigorating, where the river was crippling. The sky was so large, so empty, wrapping around them with a vastness that dwarfed them.

The sky remained expressionless. The air moved, heedless of their passage through it. Occasional birds greeted them in passing, enjoying the afternoon sun. Twilight began to shiver in Rainbow’s arms.

“I won’t drop you, Twilight. Not ever,” Rainbow said, muzzle held low, beside Twilight’s ear. Her wings held them aloft, high above the Forest, and the despair they’d left behind.

Rainbow could feel Twilight’s heartbeat, pressed up against her hooves. The pegasus took comfort in her warmth, each pulse pressing Twilight a little closer to her. Twilight had become precious to her. It was a symbol; a flame in the dark. It was something worth fighting for.

It made up for her mistakes. She’d failed Twilight, leaving her to the Drac. She still didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know the extent of her crime. She’d left her, and then abandoned her; rejected her to seek herself. She’d failed again, not understanding the intricacies of the magic compelling them.

It galled her, that her enterprise could so thoroughly depend on somepony else. Yet Twilight had become everything. Rainbow wouldn’t fail her again.

So she hadn’t. Fighting the wolf had lent her mind a focus. Each thought was crystalline, as sharp as the fangs that had nearly ended her life. She had acted, and reacted, in balance with herself and her purpose. Its death had shaken her, certainly. But it was not a trembling, weakening blight. Rainbow had watched Twilight scrub herself raw, trying to clean herself of death, and the guilt that accompanied it. Instead, it had given Rainbow life.

The sky was clear, vibrant blues contrasting the golden orb floating above them. The wind bit into her fur as she accelerated. Rainbow didn’t just want to escape what had befallen them. She wanted to fly; wanted to show Twilight this world—her world.

She picked up more speed, wings beating with a rising fury, an intensity that matched her quickening heartbeat. It thudded against Twilight’s back, resonating between them. And Rainbow flew.

She arced high, tracing a giant circle through the air and spun in a tight roll at its peak, falling down backwards, wings outspread, and Twilight exposed to the heights above them. She dove until she could nearly brush the treetops with her hooves. She cried out, in joy, and heard Twilight’s cry of exaltation complete hers.

She twisted and turned, spun and rolled, moved in an elaborate dance through the sky. It was wide, and open, and entirely unique; hers, down to each sharp flap.

She would cry later, she knew. She would feel the emptiness, the soul-crushing horror that followed in the wake of her deed. She would feel the guilt, the shame and the pathos. It was not so easy, to forget, but she would move on.

For now, she was alive, and it felt wonderful. It felt freeing. She found herself turning towards the old castle; a distant patch of stone, against the green quilt below. She didn’t trust the Drac. She didn’t know what to believe, or where to turn for aid. But she knew, in that simple, intrinsic way of knowing, that there was nothing left to do.

She flew towards it steadily, breathing hard. Twilight didn’t question her, gave no comment on their sudden destination. They grew closer, and Rainbow began her descent, Twilight still clutched fiercely against her breast. She felt the beat of Twilight’s life under her, steady now, returned to normal after the exhilaration of their flight.

Approaching the ground, Rainbow marvelled at the greens and the greys; stones and rubble amidst the undergrowth. She listened to the roar of the river, pouring itself into the bowels of the castle, and the soft hum of life around them. It came as a rush, flooding through her in stark contrast to the tranquillity of the sky.

Rainbow halted their fall, coming to a hover above the threshold of the river’s entrance to the castle. Below, the water dived down the ingress, spraying across the rock and disappearing into the dark. It wasn’t a true waterfall; more of a slope than a vertical fall, it was apparent that a pony could clamber down there by hoof.

“Down there, Twi’,” Rainbow said, slowly lowering them into the hole. It was brighter, this time, and she was able to see the tunnel she’d taken before. It curved off, to the side, taking some of the water with it. She’d just had the misfortune of finding the wrong path in the darkness.

Twilight summoned a ball of light. It rested on the end of her horn for a moment, before she, staring cross-eyed at it, forced it off. Rainbow felt a strange urge to laugh. The light floated for a second, trembling in the air, before it began to move with them, erratically zipping through the air. However good she was with magic, Twilight could only feel out so much. Some things, as Rainbow knew, could only come through practice.

Below that path, the water continued to run, moving through great halls, under crumbling arch-ways and passages. The purple light illuminated the hallways, the stone art, carved on the walls. Spray caught the light, sending slivers sparkling around them.

Eventually, they came to a stop. Somewhere, deep below the castle, below even the old city Rainbow had found, the river reached its end. The stream, from thousands of tiny rivulets, split apart within the myriad of paths through the ruins, came together in a vast pool of water, resting silently.

“A ruined castle,” Twilight said, her voice breaking apart the reverent quiet, “broken into a million pieces by time and the Forest itself. The river must have been filling it all this time, pouring down here to pool in the depths . . .”

Rainbow just nodded. There was little point talking, anymore. It didn’t feel right, to disturb the lake’s rest.

She didn’t know what to do next. This had been her last vestige of hope, her last gambit at finally finding the cure for her affliction. She had no hope of finding the Drac, again, nor did she think herself capable of surviving in the Forest for much longer. Twilight was effectively incapacitated, and even if—even if!—that pool was Lethe, somehow finding themselves at the heart of the river, and the city, they had no way of drawing their selves from it.

She lay down. She was tired, so tired; everything seemingly catching up with her at once. Twilight noticed, and took a few moments to look out of the lake—vast, unending, despite the purple light hovering over it—and then lay down next to her, breathing softly. Rainbow sighed, and closed her eyes, but she did not sleep. Twilight’s radiance dimmed, the aura surrounding her horn flickering to nothing.

Outside, the sun began to burn the sky not orange, or yellow, but purple. Twilight descended, bringing night across the world. Inside, the two ponies, now resting beside the vast lake that lay, somehow, at the centre of their world, took comfort in each other’s warmth, presence, and permanence, lying together and awaiting nothing in particular.

Rainbow rose some time later. Twilight had already stirred, her motions leaving a faint cloud of dust, again standing at the edge of the lake, as if holding a silent vigil over their plight. She gazed at the unicorn, purple aura the only source of light in the dark. Twilight turned; hearing Rainbow’s movements behind her, or sensing Rainbow’s concerned gaze, resting on her. Lavender eyes stared back, transfixed Rainbow. They were another source of light in the dark, shining alongside her horn. Those pools reflected only compassion, only worry. Rainbow sank into them, basking what they represented.

“So, uhh, what do we do now? I mean, this is where the Drac told me I’d find Lethe. I’ve no doubt of that. But I don’t think he’s just going to show up,” Rainbow said, breaking the silence. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hoof, and coughed, trying to clear her throat.

“Don’t worry. We’ll work it out.” Twilight offered, smiling.

She didn’t care, at that moment, if they did. Content not to think, or act, but simply feel, there was, for once, no impetus to provoke her into motion. So she stood, quietly contemplating the wholeness of her spirit. She was sure she’d never felt so safe.

It seemed callous. Yesterday, they’d killed a beast. Despite everything, it was a living creature, and they’d robbed it of that gift, that right. She felt bile rising in her throat at the thought, her limbs quavering. She struggled to push the images out of her mind—the silvery-red mist of its shattered teeth and sundered mouth surrounding her in the instant of her escape, the soaked earth, and carcass already buzzing with flies as they’d awoken next to it, covered in gore.

It was easier to ignore it, simpler to move on. She could do that, with Twilight. The unicorn was her focus, her entire world, brought into being and solidified around this single point. She had no need of anything else, not anymore. Perhaps this was what Loyalty meant.

Rainbow’s throat was dry, still, covered in the dust surrounding them. She moved to the river, slowly, cautiously, Twilight’s light hanging over her. The stone floor that had offered them succour could easily betray her, crumble away from the constant wear of the river against it. So she held her wings aloft, ready to spring into the air at the first hint of collapse.

She dipped her muzzle in the current, preparing to draw in water, precious moisture to slake her thirst. There, with her mouth open, and the river flowing down her throat, she heard voices.

Rainbow paused, drawing herself back. It had been a quiet chorus, gentle, as if greeting her home. She shook herself, unsure, then plunged her head back into the water, sinking down to the base of her neck. They sang, and as she pressed herself further and further into the water, she began to understand it.

Join us, they sang, in a glorious harmony. Come away with us. Come back to yourself. Forget.

No, she replied, fierce. She didn’t want to forget; not the memory of her failure, nor the memory of her crime. Those moments had brought her here, to this tranquil place of Harmony. They had brought her to Twilight, and she didn’t want to let go.

This is where you were meant to be. This is we are all meant to be, the choir continued, coaxing, enticing her to listen, to give in.

No. I belong here, with Twilight. As she thought it, replying fervently, it became true.

Rainbow burst up from the river, gasping for air. She’d buried her entire head in, to better hear the choir. Glancing back at the unicorn watching her, she excitedly raised her voice.

“Twi’! Here, listen! Stick your head in and listen!”

Twilight did as bidden, confusion written plainly across her features. After a minute, Rainbow pulled her back, reining in her ever-so-slow fall towards the water.

“Dashie . . . what was that? I could swear I heard us in there,” Twilight said, giving a sheepish smile, disbelieving herself.

Rainbow didn’t reply, immediately diving back for another listen. The choir began its preaching once again, seeking to draw her in. Yet, very faintly, as if from a distance, she perceived Rainbow’s voice, raised as if in argument her own. There was a sudden lull in their conversation, then, stronger, now, approaching or more heated, she heard their cries.

“They . . . they asked us to wait for them. They’re coming here.” Rainbow said woodenly. Shock washed through her body, still tired, sore and aching. “They’re coming to us.”

“Twi’ . . . you don’t think . . . the river?”

“Could it be that easy? I . . . I almost don’t dare to hope,” Twilight said, meeting Rainbow’s eyes.

“It is,” Rainbow whispered, her voice growing in strength as she spoke. “It is!” She began pacing. “The river, the river took my mind . . . You woke me next to it, just as I found you, Twi’ . . . We’re in the river. We’re in the river, and we’re coming here!”

It made sense. The Drac had directed them here; had told her, obliquely, where she’d find answers. The river—the Lethe—had been with them for their entire sojourn. It had been their guide, and their goal.

She leaped forward, grabbing Twilight in a rough hug. Twilight felt a dampness spreading over her shoulder.

“Oh, Twi’! We’re going to be alright. You can get us out, and we’ll go home, and this will all be over.” The relief in her voice was unmistakable. Rainbow had tried so hard to be strong, through everything that had happened. She’d tried to face it head-on, as she imagined she was supposed to. But now that the end was in sight, the will holding her together collapsed.

Twilight hugged her back fiercely. Oh, how she’d come to depend on her. She almost didn’t want this to be all over. She was already home.

Rainbow plunged her head into the Lethe. She could hear herself, deafeningly loud, screaming as she approached. She could hear Twilight, more subdued. They’d arrive any second.

“Twi’! Get ready!” she said, calling over her shoulder. Twilight was lying on the ground where they’d slept not long ago. At Rainbow’s voice she looked up, eyes wide. Something glimmered in those depths, something that both frightened and exhilarated Rainbow.

“Come on!” she said, diving back into Lethe. She was so close now, she could feel it. As if she could almost reach out and grab it with a hoof. She gathered herself together, all the fear and confusion and longing; emotions long held at bay through sheer determination, and she raked them through the water in front of her. She didn’t know how she did it; searching for herself amongst the multitude of identities Lethe had absorbed. It felt as natural of flying, an instinctive response to the current she was immersed in. She could almost feel herself reaching back.

Beside her, Twilight appeared. Her eyes were red, mane unkempt. She glanced at Rainbow, and then looked away, staring intently upstream. Rainbow felt her also reaching, tearing the water apart with despair, and hope.

A thread grabbed her attention. She reached out, took hold of it and caressed it, knew it by the same signature she bore; the same emotions she sent through the water. She followed it to its source, a mass of images, thoughts and feelings streaming off it, just barely maintaining cohesion. She claimed it, drew it back, and it poured into her, slammed into her mind with all the force of a caged beast finally free. It threw her back, out of the river, onto the cold stone where she lay, gasping for air.

She had returned to herself, and she remembered. She remembered the pain of separation, the loneliness and despair of her imprisonment. She remembered her trials in the Forest, the bond she’d forged with Twilight. She remembered the unicorn’s arrival, shaking her world, bringing hope. She’d entered Lethe, bringing understanding, and acceptance.

Twilight knew her, as completely as she understood herself. Knew the mask she wore to cover her fear. She had taken that mask, Rainbow’s identity, and, however unintentionally, seen through it, lifted it, shattered it. Rainbow knew she’d never need it again.

She opened her eyes, and gazed up at the unicorn she loved.

***

“Luna?” Twilight said in shock, as they flew out of the ruins. “What are you doing here?!”

Rainbow came to an abrupt halt in the air, moving quickly to the bank and carefully putting Twilight down before landing. Luna stood next to them, dark blue coat, and translucent mane nearly invisible in the twilight covering the Forest. She seemed to have been waiting for them, somehow aware of where they’d been.

“Twilight, Rainbow. I am most pleased to have found you well.” Luna began, stepping forward to embrace them as soon as Rainbow landed. “Are you alright? I heard about your . . . condition, Rainbow. What happened in the Source, down there?”

“We . . . well, we found Lethe,” Twilight said, her cheery voice coming out forced. She did not miss Luna’s wince.

“Did you drink from it?” The intensity in Luna’s voice gave Twilight pause.

“Yes, but everything is fine. We’re fine.”

“Really? You found yourselves again? At the Source . . . it seems I owe our friend an apology. It is most fortuitous he was able to teach you enough, Twilight.” Luna relaxed, rolling her shoulders, and curved her lips upwards in a gentle smile.

At this Twilight took a step forward. Rainbow shook her head, smiling briefly before replacing it with a frown. The Drac had taught her just enough, and in a manner designed to obscure his intent. She was hesitant to call him a friend, despite all the aid he’d given them.

“Luna,” Twilight said, “What exactly did he teach me? He called me a Sage, and Dashie a Chaser. I . . . I think we used it, down there, but . . . what is it? Dashie wouldn’t be able to use any magic I know of.”

‘“Everypony can use magic, Twilight. You should know that. I suspect Rainbow was able to use Coromancy more instinctively than you, not being hindered by the years of lessons in control,” Luna said. She glanced at the sky before continuing, horn lighting up.

“Coromancy can be considered just that, the art of losing control. Both of you having been under the Lethe’s influence would have greatly assisted a spontaneous manifestation of those abilities. Nevertheless, what he taught you would have remained with you in the Lethe.”

“Emotional magic; Coromancy, literally the study of the heart. Having no memory left us with no restraint; allowed instinctive use . . . while within the Lethe, our emotions held us together, away from Harmony,” Twilight said, mumbling under her breath. Rainbow just nodded, eyes closing briefly in weariness. She wasn’t interested in this, not right now.

The moon began to rise over the trees. Luna’s horn dimmed slowly, then went out. Soft light streamed onto her, making the princess appear shrouded in argent darkness; a beacon in the night. She seemed taller, stronger, now.

“I am sorry that I cannot escort you home myself. Know that your friends are waiting to receive you,” Luna said, the moon’s light encasing her. “Everything has changed, my little ponies. Look to the future.”

With that, she vanished, her body—her essence, dissolving into the wind.

“Look for what?” Twilight said, stepping forward. But the princess was gone, had darted away on a streak of silvery light.

“Well, that was helpful.” Rainbow said sarcastically. “Gonna give us any more tips, Luna?”

“Dash,” Twilight chastised, “don’t get worked up. She’d probably just really busy with something . . .” Even to her ears that sounded weak. Twilight couldn’t bring herself to care. “Can we just go home, please? I’m so tired . . .”

Rainbow said nothing, once again gathering Twilight in her hooves. In minutes, the unicorn was asleep, warm against Rainbow’s chest as they flew over the forest, soaring towards a distant light.

“Twi’,” Rainbow said, whispering to her, nearly half an hour later. “We’re nearly there. Come on, just a little longer.”

Gliding down to the ground, Rainbow let go of Twilight with relief, leaving the half-conscious unicorn to fall the last half-metre to the ground. She was exhausted. She could feel it, deep in her bones, screaming for rest. The last few days had taken their toll; long periods of tension, and longer periods of waiting taking more of a toll, even, then the bursts of activity that had punctuated the ordeal.

Rainbow landed softly, turning to Twilight. The unicorn had managed the landing, an expression not of anger, but of concern spread over her face. Rainbow didn’t have to say anything. Together, they began moving to the front door of the library.

Rainbow trembled. The last two days stretched in her memory, seemingly lasting weeks. She ached for home, the familiar scents of rosewood and lavender, and the warm glow of candles illuminating rows upon rows of books, a soft mattress and blanket.

That would have to wait, it seemed. Lights were on, despite the hour, and she could hear voices conversing inside. It seemed their friends were indeed awaiting their return.

Twilight pushed the door open to a burst of noise; chatter interrupted, morphing instantly into a barrage of questions, and exclamations of relief. Twilight stepped forward to allow Rainbow in the door, and on the faces of their friends, Rainbow saw hope, shadowed with a tinge of fear.

Her appearance behind Twilight only intensified the noise. Twilight just stared at them, wordless, as they rushed forward to embrace them, piling in and enclosing them within their arms.

“Uh, gals? A little room, if you don’t mind.” Rainbow said, pulling away. And just like that, silence reigned, Applejack and Pinkie in particular looking abashed.

“What happened, you two?” Rarity said gently, as if fearing the answer.

“We found the Lethe,” Twilight said, simply. “We found it, and we recovered Dashie’s memories. Mine too.”

“Is that . . . blood,” Applejack said, leaning forward with growing horror.

“Yes,” Rainbow said. “S’not ours, though.” That caused another round of murmurs to spread around the room. Rarity wrinkled her nose, backing away slightly, as if just realising how badly they smelt. Rainbow didn’t care. There’d be time enough for grooming in the morning.

“Is Princess Luna with you?” Fluttershy asked. Twilight frowned.

“She left. I don’t know where, but . . . she said to wait, to be ready.” Rainbow’s answer triggered another round of questions, each pony speaking up in confusion.

“Something about looking to the future.” Twilight said, yawning. As if on cue, Rainbow nudged her towards the stairs, following her up. She paused briefly, looking at everypony watching them.

“We’re okay, really. We’re just really tired right now. We’ll catch you up in the morning.”

Nopony said anything as Rainbow followed Twilight into her bedroom. They moved straight to the bed, ignoring the grime still covering their bodies; leaves and dirt tangled through their manes and dried blood still crusted onto their skin. They must have looked a fright, coming through that door.

Rainbow snuggled into the blankets, nestled alongside Twilight. It felt right, as if they’d always been meant to be together. She had been afraid of losing Twilight, after all was said and done. She shouldn’t have worried. She was only beginning to understand the changes her ordeal had wrought in her, yet she knew they would never truly part. There was something of Twilight in her, as Twilight held a part of Rainbow

She kissed her briefly, on the lips, and quickly fell asleep.

Rainbow woke slowly, sunlight streaming through Twilight’s window. As she stretched, limbs creaking in protest, she heard Twilight mutter something incomprehensible in her sleep. Grinning to herself, she pecked her on the cheek, and made her way to the bathroom.

The hot shower did more to restore her than any number of hours sleep; water cleansing, and steam invigorating. She stayed in there for at least ten minutes, savouring the warmth through her coat, and the soft patter of the water against the tiled floor. At first, the water running off her had been brown, nearly black, but by the end it ran clear.

Drying herself, Rainbow wandered downstairs, where she could already smell the hot breakfast Spike was making. Twilight was awake now, sitting up and regarding the mess they’d made of her bed. She murmured a greeting to Rainbow, and, clambering to her hooves, stepped into the bathroom in turn.

Reaching the main floor, Rainbow stopped, looking at all her friends. Gathered around a table, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie were smiling, laughing. Rainbow rushed to join them, slipping into a seat. Every pony there abruptly stared at her, forgetting the joke. There was another flood of questions.

“What happened in that darn Forest?!” Applejack’s concern bled across into anger.

“It’s a long story,” Rainbow said, too familiar with Applejack’s emotions to respond in kind. “I’d rather wait for Twilight—she’ll be down in a little bit.”

“How are you feeling?” Fluttershy, as always, was the first to look to her well-being. Rainbow smiled at her, nodding.

“I’m alright now, I think. I have a lot of catching up to do, though,” she said.

“Quite,” Rarity said. “The weather squad has been lost without you, dear.”

Rainbow chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not talking about my job.” She looked around the table as Spike jogged forward, bearing a tray, plates of steaming food heaped high arrayed around it. She eagerly dug in, filling her mouth with warmth and flavour. Grass had been an acceptable substitute, for a time, but it couldn’t compare to wilting flowers and hay mixed into a strong broth.

“What did happen to you two in there?”

“I think I’ll let Twilight tell that one. She’d be better at it than me anyway,” Rainbow said, smile widening.

Four jaws dropped, staring at Rainbow in disbelief.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?” Rarity asked.

“She might have a temperature,” Fluttershy commented, reaching forward to hold a hoof against Rainbow’s forehead.

“No, thank you, I’m fine. I’m fine!” Rainbow retorted, pushing Fluttershy away gently. The pegasus shrank back into her seat, worried.

“You ain’t acting yourself, RD,” Applejack said, frowning.

“Ponies change.” Rainbow looked away from them, staring out the window. She could see ponies walking, to the market, or the park. Across the street, Sofas and Quills was just opening for business. “It’s a fact of life.”

She glanced at each of them in turn. “I’ve changed. Twilight’s changed. You have no idea how glad I am, to find you all here. Not for us. For yourselves, just sitting around, conversing. It feels . . . right.” At this, everypony smiled. Rainbow’s appearance had cast a subtle cloud over the meeting, a gloom stemming from the fear of change. Her words had struck a hole in that cloud.

“Don’t get all mushy on us, Rainbow,” Applejack said jokingly, her frown dissipating.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, AJ,” Rainbow said.

Behind them, Twilight made some small noise on the stairs, alerting the gathering to her appearance. Rainbow grinned, gesturing towards the empty seat next to her, and the bowl of broth awaiting her. Twilight took the seat quickly, wrapping her magic around a spoon. If she was anywhere near as hungry as Rainbow had been, the broth wouldn’t last long.

Spike reappeared, this time bearing coffee. Twilight’s eyes widened, and she reached out, seizing a mug before he could bring it to her. Nearly spilling it in her haste, she brought the mug to her lips, drinking deeply before relaxing back into her chair with a sigh. Rainbow had no idea how Twilight had managed to last in the Forest without coffee.

“What, no party?” Twilight said, looking around. Pinkie stood abruptly, then turned, dashing out the door as the others giggled.

“You’ve done it now, sugarcube,” Applejack said, to nods from around the table.

“I’m surprised there wasn’t one last night, to be honest,” Rainbow said, around a mouthful of flower.

“There almost was one,” Rarity said, dryly. “You walked straight through us telling Pinkie why it was a bad idea.”

“To be honest, a lot of last night is hazy,” Twilight said.

“I think a party is a good idea, actually,” Rainbow said. “I could really use one, right about now.”

“Umm, Twilight,” Fluttershy said, breaking into the conversation. “I don’t want to rush you, or anything, but . . . “

“Yes, enough chit-chat!” Rarity said. ““Why don’t you start with leaving for the Forest, dear?”

“Well, then,” Twilight said, smiling weakly, calling for Spike as she glanced at her empty mug. “I think I’m going to need more coffee.”