An Atrium Implies A Heart
They passed through the mist into Cloudsdale, and the streets of Ponyville lay quiet behind them. Windows shrank into pinpoints of light as the land fell into a patchwork of fields and valleys. A dollhouse of a place. Beautiful and empty. A town that held its breath. Twilight remembered when it sang.
Five years ago, the market square would've bustled with all manner of tribes and species sporting feathers, scales, and fur. Thirty years ago it'd have been the center of an impromptu parade or a bunny stampede. Thirty or... no, the bunny stampede happened a little over fifty years ago, that's right. The years blended together from days to decades before she’d even thought to look up.
“Gallus, is Ponyville still under curfew?” Nymph City certainly was, and Sire’s Hollow and Fillydelphia hadn’t budged their restrictions either, but Representative Tiara had mentioned Ponyville completely lifting curfew last month.
A smear of blue and gray stooped to circle Princess Twilight’s perimeter one last time before they entered Cloudsdale airspace. “Not officially. Most want to play it safe; only go out when necessary, you know?”
The shapeless curls and swells of cloud solidified into buildings and neighborhoods. Bright rainbow fences carved tracts of sky into suburbs, each small patch lorded over by gentle wings and the careful eye of the local homeowners association. Yawning heads poked out of windows and bodies paused mid-flight to watch their princess pass through. A cluster of elderly mares exercising on the roof applauded. A stallion paused his cumulus sculpture to wave. His neighbor yanked her foal under the awning, watching Gallus’s shadow slide across her stratus lawn.
He noticed—he always noticed—but didn’t acknowledge. The griffon’s shadow swerved to cover Twilight’s six-o-clock. “Permission to speak freely, Highness?”
“Please, of course.”
“I don’t like it.”
Princess Twilight allowed herself a smile. “You’ve said that already.”
“Alright, I’ll elaborate: I hate it, this arrangement sucks, and it’s dumb. You should have a squadron up here. Another Element of Harmony, bare minimum.”
Zipping lines of Wonderbolts dipped and swerved in aerial salute as they passed the Academy. One of the griffon reserves banked extra hard and whooped.
“You are an Element of Harmony.” Without looking back, she added, “Yes, a real one.” How somegriff could be blessed by the Tree of Harmony, personally speak with it, manifest Harmony Magic no less than four times, and still manage to deny it, Twilight didn’t know. Perhaps wielding the element of Magic needed a prerequisite in self-doubt.
A short pause. Gallus clacked his beak shut. “…not what I was gonna say.” It was. “Look, the point is if you’re meeting her on her own turf—also a bad idea by the way—then you oughta bring more than one creaky old retiree with you. I mean, I’m coming whether you like it or not—duty doesn’t stop when the armor’s hung up—but you don’t know how many sympathizers she’s got up there.”
“Do you?”
“I know it's more than I’m comfortable with.” In other words, more than five. “Even if she doesn’t sic those Primaries of hers on you, what about all the others?”
“You mean all those scary flight school students?”
“She was just a student once, too.”
“A fair point, but if we stoop the house like an aggressor, aggression is how they’ll respond.” She glanced back at him. “You DO know I’m here to negotiate a body removal, don't you?
“Oh, sure.” His beak twitched in a smirk. “Organize a funeral, stop a civil war or three, tomayto-tomahto, right?”
“Right.” Twilight chuckled, the last hour bitter in her mouth.
“Please get her back, Princess.” Dinky Doo’s circled eyes shone bright and wet, the lines of her face taut. “I never meant this to become all… all THIS. Nopony told me Mom had family in Cloudsdale. If they’d just talk to me maybe we could—I just want to bury my mom like normal.” Dinky flattened her ears and winced. “N-not that Pegasus funerals aren’t normal! I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. Mom just didn’t want one. That’s all. She wanted to be buried with her friends in Ponyville. I know I don’t have it in writing, but Princess Twilight, she asked me. It’s one of the last things she asked me.”
If only Derpy Hooves had asked the same of an attorney. Or written a will. Or gotten another birth certificate after the fire.
Fat cumulus rolled beneath their shadows, the thin grays and whites backlit by the soft pink dawn below them. Clouds splashed in all directions where the suburbs stopped and the city proper began, the curbs of cloudbanks indented where hooves and feathers pushed off them. Pegasi flitted through Cloudsdale’s arterial skyways, too busy to look up and too used to never needing to. Permanent warm fronts from the factory district’s excess energy heaved through the city’s wooly cloud coat. One would never know that the first snowflake shipments had been finalized.
Gallus broke the silence. “It’s a great city. Not as nice as Canterlot, but I’m biased. Can’t help it; good old Canterlot blew me away the first time I saw it. All this white stone that never got dirty with gold trim on everything, and nopony even cared. That’s the part that really got me, you know?”
Twilight nodded and said nothing. If she spoke, he would take that as a cue to stop talking. If he stopped talking, she would start thinking. For once, for just a little while, her brain wanted a break.
“You ponies… you guys had gold everywhere. The street signs, the railings, even the trashcans in some neighborhoods, and nopony noticed because that’s just the way the world is. Gold on trashcans. Gems on dresses.” They dipped lower and banked through the heart of the factory district. Thunder rumbled behind the walls. “You boil it down to basics, and that’s Equestria: a place where nobody’s hungry or broke. Where you sew gems in dresses because you’ll never run out.” His voice drew tight, so quiet that Twilight strained to hear over the rush of wind. “I see this place, so old and stable, I think—the way a lot of ponies think—that… well, it has to keep going, right? Anything that old and beautiful must be strong. Strong enough to last forever.”
Downtown’s factory district bled into solitary airspace scattershot with individual cloudhouses wherever hearts pleased and zoning laws allowed. Traces of rock and trees poked through thinner clouds in the distance. In the east, Zephyr Mountain’s silhouette blocked the sun.
“Anyway, all that made me think…” In the open air, Gallus flapped closer. “I remembered Griffonstone. It was once strong and old and beautiful too.”
“I know,” Twilight finally said. “Thank you again for your company, Gallus. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Hey, no problem. Anything for my old headmare.” He smiled in full.
Princess Twilight smiled back and held the warmth of their friendship tight. “I know you’re less than pleased with my… smaller entourage, but under the circumstances, I value quality over quantity. You’re top quality, Captain Gallus; don’t ever doubt that.”
She wouldn’t say no to at least one other friend up here, but all things considered, this was still the best option. As several advisors and a grudging Luster Dawn admitted, Cloudsdale perched in the eye of a storm that had been building for the better part of a decade. Some Unicorn dignitaries practically needed conscription to sit next to hornless ponies—those who had shown up at all—during the last summit. Rumors whispered of secret meetings between the major cloud cities, of underground organizations of Earth Ponies, and Unicorn cabals writhing between Canterlot’s walls.
The situation hung more delicate than a kerosene bubble over a campfire. Unfortunately, most of Twilight’s go-tos were walking cacti. With a ban on cloudwalk spells on the docket (again), another Unicorn was out of the question. The Primaries—indeed, even many Pegasi who didn’t sympathize with them—would consider two Alicorns a threat. Rainbow Dash had business at Mount Aris and could be too volatile. Pinkie Pie had her hooves full in Ponyville, Applejack had too much bad blood and candor, and Fluttershy…
Mistral needs his space. I’m… I’m not really welcome there right now. Oh, but please do give him my love… even if I don’t love all of his choices.
Fluttershy was complicated.
Gallus shifted closer. “Hey. You doing alright, Twilight? You’re muttering again.”
Again? She really needed to tamp that down. When she returned to Canterlot, she’d see her tea-pony about a calming brew. “Just thinking out loud.”
Thinning gray feathers ruffled with his squint. “Outta curiosity, when’s the last time you slept?”
“Last night.” A full forty-nine minutes. “Alicorns need less sleep,” she added, “and in fact, some historians believe Alicorns from the lost city of Skyros could stay awake for moons with no adverse effects at all!”
Gallus flicked his tail, eyes on the flitting shadows darting through stratocumulus in the distance. The Pegasi had been tailing them since the factory district. None of them came within a mile, and under cloud cover, neither of them knew if these had been the same ponies or a rotating group. Likely a knot of curious travelers, or commuters en route to the mountain. Or the Primaries had sent out scouts to monitor the situation.
“Didn’t know that. How’d those Skyros ponies handle treason in the old days?”
“The records don’t say.” If the Unicorn Kingdom’s glassing policy held precedent, Twilight imagined it wasn’t pretty.
“Something harder than a fifty-year sentence, I’ll bet. Still say that sentence vote was hot dogspit.” Gallus flinched. “Apologies for the language, Princess, but it was. Two counts of grand treason, four attempted assassinations, collusion with enemies of the Crown twice, at least fourteen attempted murders, and that’s not counting damage from the siphon and the Bell.” His head swung about to crow a warning call to a brown Pegasus who’d edged beyond the mile radius. The Pegasus folded their wings and banked east, towards the mountain. “Hmph. Maybe I got a C-plus in Equestrian history, but I know Nightmare Moon did way more time for less damage.”
The nitpicker in Twilight’s brain argued that “murder”—a Griffish loanword—didn’t even exist as a charge during the Battle Of The Bell. “Nightmare Moon wasn’t a minor, either.”
“Agree to disagree, Your Highness. There’s nothing ‘minor’ about Cozy Glow.”
Dead ahead lay a collection of peaks, cliffs, and tableland, their tops stripped smooth from the constant assault of Cloudsdale precipitation. Streaks of grass flowed in curated lawns alongside cloud buildings and free-roaming stratus. Once, the area now known as Zephyr Mountain housed several independent villages, their names lost to time after being annexed by Cloudsdale as a tourism hub for flightless ponies. Prime real estate for retirees, weak-winged Pegasi, and mixed-tribe families. Official records listed it as Northeast Cloudsdale: Land Division Nine. Locals just called it The Heights.
Dull blue feathers flexed through the gray and white of Gallus’s ruff. His claws flexed. “I don’t mean to cough up old bones, but this whole thing’s been kicking around in my crop for ages, and if not for her we wouldn’t be in…” He sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Twilight said, “but I don’t think that’s the only thing bothering you.”
Dawn poured down the rocks to light a solitary villa nestled in a cliff overlooking the clouds. The brand-new white stone walls and blue flagstones shimmered bright. Ahead, a trio of upwind Pegasi broke from the clouds to land outside the villa gates. They circled the gathered crowd twice before they gave up on a ground view and settled in a low stratus.
Gallus clicked his tongue. “‘Private little talk,’ my eye. Coloratura’s farewell concert had less ponies.”
So much for a quiet entrance. Twilight sighed. She’d hoped against hope that basic respect for the dead might encourage some tact for Cozy Glow. Or at least that the early meeting time would discourage a crowd. Twilight squinted. “…Are those sleeping bags?”
“Hey, uh, are you sure you want to do this? Out in the open?” A silly question, really. The crowd had already seen them; Twilight couldn’t go back even if she wanted to. Gallus shook his head. “I’ve heard a couple of those broadcasts of theirs. It… it almost sounds like they hate you.”
“Not me. They hate the situation.” Whatever little difference that made.
“A situation you didn’t cause. This isn’t fair! You’re not even the one who turned her to stone—”
True.
“—but you’re the one holding a mop when you never made this mess.”
Less true.
“It’s almost like you got set up to fail. Why…” The end of the sentence trailed into the sky. His expression said it louder: “Why did Celestia do this to you?”
“Nopony truly knows the future, Gallus.” Chilled winds bit at Twilight’s ears, and in the corner of her eye, cumulus shelves massed above the weather factory. “The day I left Canterlot, all I’d wanted was to arrange a party and read my books.” All things considered, Twilight had it easy. Taking the throne in her mid-twenties had been scary enough. She couldn’t imagine doing so at age fifteen, the land barely thawed from Windigos and harrowed by monsters on all sides. “And once, all Celestia wanted was to help raise the sun.”
In the space of a blink, Twilight saw strings of pastel mane fanned across a sweaty pillow. Fevered pink eyes clouded over with delirium and a thousand years of mistakes, staring past Twilight somewhere far away. An old wooden bed with an old white Alicorn who couldn’t leave it.
“In any case, Equestria’s seen worse messes than this. It’ll get through.” It always did. Twilight swallowed the hot lump in her throat and propped her smile higher. It always did. “We can fix this.” I can fix this. “Like always. We need to believe that.”
In the last few years alone, she’d handled Breezie revolutions, weather strike negotiations, and the economic fallout of the Market Riots. She’d handle this too.
“Alright,” Gallus said. “I’ll sure try, but since she came back everything’s been so…”
“I know. That’s why now, more than ever, you need to trust that friendship will win out.” She smiled at her old guard with the gentle confidence of somepony who’d already read the end of this story. Who knew for certain everything would turn out okay. Who knew that everyone could go home happy. Safe. Alive. “At the end of the day, it’s another friendship problem.”
“Seems kinda big for a friendship problem.”
“They come in all sizes, Gallus.” Twilight’s smile shrank. “I just wish I could understand. I thought she’d been doing so much better. Did she relapse, did she fake the whole thing, or…?” Five years out of stone, and Cozy Glow remained no less the enigma she’d been at the start. “What does she want from all this?”
“Who knows why that mare does anything? Probably a bunch of stuff kicking around in her craw; even she might not know.” Shoulders broad, eyes sharp, and vocabulary rearranging to so-called “Canterlot Mode”, Captain Gallus led them in for landing. “But if you’ll allow me a guess, Highness, I believe she wants what most Pegasi want.”
“Victory?”
His eyes scanned the ponies gathered on rooftops, in clouds, and the great mass in a plaza outside the gated villa. The Pegasopolitan-revival home shadowed them all, sapphire banners snapping in the wind. “Glory.”
The first flashbulb snapped—a quick pop of light and smoke in the distance. Another. Another. And then a galaxy of dazzling light and noise and shouting in a great undulating rainbow of bodies.
In the center of it all, five pegasi hovered in v-formation, a thin island of calm in the chaos. The Primaries. When the Alicorn's shadow fell upon them, they did not move. When the princess landed, they did not kneel. As one, they inclined their heads to her, but no more.
Up close, the Primaries’ muscles trembled beneath their shiny coats, wings twitching at their sides. An orange mare with a fluffy mane breathed with practiced calm. The sea-green mare beside her kept a hard gaze that flicked between Gallus, the sky, and the roof behind her, as if calculating how fast any of them could reach the house. A stormy gray Pegasus stared straight ahead and breathed hard when Twilight looked at her. As expected, the light purple stallion at the front simply frowned. Anyone would have thought they stood before a guillotine—five brave souls staring down oblivion or else their first visit to a police station.
Twilight resisted the urge to sigh and shake her head. Political faction with the ears of the nation or not, they were still five teenagers (six, counting Cozy) in over their heads. For most, this was their first time seeing the Princess up close.
The blazing fervor of Twilight’s arrival simmered to a dull roar of murmurs, whispers, and the frantic dash of reporters’ pens. At a glance, she found two Earth Pony reporters and one Unicorn from Canterlot Chronicle, each standing at opposite ends of the crowd. The Pegasi gave all three a wide berth. Better than Twilight had hoped, really. She withheld her disappointment and tried to understand.
In times of crisis, old grievances oozed through Equestria’s floorboards and ponies fell back to the shadows for safety. They feared what they did not know and trusted what they did. Instinct didn’t care about friendship speeches or treaties or a thousand years of peace. Ponies were built to run. The blueprints threaded through the bones, the blood, the hearts and anxious hooves and twitching wings ready to tear off at the first sign of danger. “You are like me, so you are my friend. If you are not like me, can I really trust you?” Herd instinct, the textbooks called it.
Twilight cleared her throat. “Good morning, my little ponies.” The crowd quieted. “I’m glad we’ve finally managed to arrange a meeting. Thank you for taking time out of your day to meet with me.”
The city of Cloudsdale rested high above the heads of the wingless tribes. Untouchable without machines or spells, thousands of Pegasi had never met a single Unicorn or Earth Pony, and would never have reason to. They knew wings. They trusted wings. So, in spite of the horn, the Pegasi of Mount Zephyr trusted Twilight Sparkle. She was like them. She was their friend. For now.
The light purple stallion flared his wings and rose to meet her, hovering at eye level. “Good morning, Princess Twilight. Cozy Glow will be here in a moment.” His frown ironed into a flat neutral line. “She moves a bit slower these days, you understand.” He extended a wing to the v-formation under him. “These are some of her Primaries. From front to back: Cold Snap, Fluffalove, Echo Burst, and I believe you’ve already met Glitter Dart through Rainbow Dash.”
The orange Primary—Fluffalove, yes?—leaned towards the gray one. “I thought Rainbow was supposed to come today instead.”
“Maybe she’s busy scraping the mud off her withers,” Cold Snap whispered back.
The stallion indicated himself. “And the two of us have already met.”
“Of course, Mistral Drift.”
Goodness, he’d gotten tall. He’d inherited his grandfather’s long spindle legs, and didn’t need to fly far to meet Twilight’s eye. Where he’d gotten that hard stare, she certainly couldn’t say. Not at The School Of Friendship; he’d have had to actually attend class for that.
“I’m sorry I missed you and your grandfather at the Gala.” Twilight nodded toward the house. “I hope Zephyr Breeze is feeling better?” He still had it in him to style manes, judging by Mistral’s fancy green and white pompadour.
Amusement glinted in his eyes. Under different circumstances, he might have laughed. “He’s well enough to spend half the night complaining about fashion trends.” Mistral bobbed his head towards Gallus with a slight smile. “I don’t remember agreeing to guards. What, are you scared of us? The Alicorn who fought Tirek versus us five? That fight’s kinda one-sided, don’t you think?”
“Captain Gallus is here as a friend, nothing more.” She glanced at the elderly griffon, who nodded with the friendliest smile he could manage. “But as I recall, we also agreed to a private meeting with your leader.” Twilight's ear flicked towards the distinctive clicking of a camera motor. “Somehow, I can’t help the feeling that we have very different ideas of what ‘private’ means.”
“We did, but hey, word spreads fast in The Heights. Besides, Cozy’s not even here yet, and it’s not like these guys are coming inside anyway.” Mistral Drift ignored the round of disappointed groans from the audience. “As for us, we’re here for the same reason he’s here. Moral support.”
Gallus and Twilight shared a skeptical blink. Over half of Zephyr Mountain’s population was well past retirement age. Interesting how word had only spread among the thirty-and-under crowd.
“Grandpa actually planned on coming too, until he found out how early you’d be.”
“Fluttershy wanted to come as well, but the sanctuary demanded her attention today. She asked me to send you her love.” Twilight frowned at Mistral’s dismissive tail flick, and stepped closer. “She misses you very much, you know. I’m sure she’d love you to come visit.”
With a snort and sharp snap of wings, Mistral drew back. “I’ll consider it when she stops letting him in the house. After all he’s done! Knowing what he’s still capable of. I won’t do it.”
Gallus rolled his eyes. “Here it comes.”
“Discord is the one who hurt her in the first place—the petrification was HIS idea!” Mistral Drift’s voice soared over the plaza, and all through the crowd ears pricked and cameras focused and voices grumbled.
“He planned it!” cried Echo Burst. Ah. Now Twilight recognized her. The blue-on-blue coat was unremarkable in Cloudsdale, but nopony could forget that radio voice. “He seeded ideas of the Bell. He disguised himself as Grogar and false-flagged the attack. That monster planned it all from the start!”
Mistral nodded. “Everypony knows Discord had a grudge against Tirek and Chrysalis, and he let Cozy Glow—a filly, a Pegasus citizen of Equestria, and YOUR student—get caught in the crossfire. And you stood by while it happened, when Cozy barely did anything!”
Twilight’s left lung disagreed. Some nights, it still burned where Cozy’s magic struck her. A near-perfect shot. A practiced shot.
“Discord has already answered for his part in the Grogar incident.” She ignored the eye-rolls and grumblings. It’s a distraction. Move on. Like many Pegasi, the Primaries understood the value of the high ground and a platform. “In the same way that Cozy Glow has answered for hers, and served her sentence.”
“Two hundred years of community service and an apology.” Cold Snap smirked. “Oh yeah, that’s totally the same as Tartarus or petrification.”
“The way I heard it, nopony turned any of the Unicorn traitors to stone.” Mistral narrowed his eyes. “Fluffalove, what happened to the Unicorn mare who led the Storm King into Canterlot?”
The orange Pegasus flipped rolls of white curls out of her eyes. “First officer of the Night Guard’s foreign division. What about that Unicorn cult leader who tore apart time and space, Glitter Dart?”
“Oh, her? She’s headmare of the School Of Friendship,” said the small green mare in back. Glitter Dart tilted her head. “And what happened to the Pegasus filly from the same school?”
“Tartarus!” cried all five Primaries.
Mistral Drift rounded on the crowd. “And after that?”
“STONE!” Echo Burst’s shout snowballed through the plaza, picking up voice after voice until the crowd matched her volume. “Stone! Stone! Stone!”
Princess Twilight’s wings splayed wide, and she took a decisive step forward.
Feathers puffed, The Primaries drew closer together, a thin veneer of anger drawn over their fear.
“Enough.” Even at a whisper, the Royal Canterlot Voice shivered through the bedrock. The thin trees vibrated like tuning forks. “If you want to open this debate—again—my court is open. You know that.” Her gaze lifted above The Primaries and into the crowd. “You all know that.”
“There’s nothing to ‘debate’. It’s rained and dried.” Mistral Drift’s voice lowered but it didn’t shake. “When the royal Alicorns and their sycophants can jab their horns wherever they please, there is no friendship in that magic. Think about it, Pegasi. If they still threaten our Imperishable Cozy Glow, just a sweet little child of the air—”
Gallus barked a laugh of disbelief. “Child of—? Kid, she’s nineteen!
The gates eased open.
“Eighteen and three-quarters, actually. Or sixty-seven with the statue gap, but hey, who’s counting?” All smiles, Cozy Glow trotted into a fresh surge of camera flashes. Her pinned blue ringlets hit the sweet spot between ingenue and high commander. A silk half-cape draped over her side in the style of the ancient senators though she wore it with the nonchalance of a bathrobe falling off her withers. It shimmered in the morning sun, white with blue trim, the colors of a fresh spring sky. And also of the old Pegasopolis flag.
Tilting her head, Cozy blinked at the cameras, the crowd, and the Princess of all Equestria as if she’d only just noticed them. “Everypony’s sure fired up this morning, huh?” She waved up at the princess. “Good morning, Twilight! Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“Not at all.” Just long enough for her ponies to prep the crowd ahead of time. “Good morning, Cozy Glow.”
The Primaries stood aside to give their leader the floor. Mistral Drift hovered a few feet behind her, trying to drag his frown into something more neutral.
By the light of the paparazzi, they shook hooves. Twilight handled the little pink hoof as if it were glass. Cozy had a death grip.
“I’m glad to find you in such a good mood this morning,” said Twilight.
“It’s easy when you’ve got great ponies to support you.” She waved at Mistral, who smiled as if the stars had fallen into his lap. They must have been dating again. Hopefully that had started after the break up with Flurry. “Sorry if these guys get a little excited. They’re so passionate about the work, and it’s been so crazy out here lately. You don’t mind if they come along for a bit?”
“We did agree on close friends and family.” Twilight flicked an ear toward the cameras. “I had no idea you made friends with so many ponies.”
“With my schedule? Boy, I wish!” Cozy giggled. “You’re their princess; that makes all of them your friends.” Walls of teeth gleamed in her smile. “So whatever you can say to me, you can share with your friends, right?”
Gallus lashed his tail. “Same old Cozy I remember.”
“Thanks, I moisturize.” She didn’t spare a glance. “Should we start now, Twilight?”
“We can.” Twilight bent her head and silently indicated the crowd. “With all these ponies, are you sure you’re still comfortable using—?”
“Positive,” said Cozy. “What do I have to be scared of?”
“Very well.” Twilight lit her horn.
The necklace popped onto the stone between them: an ancient behemoth of gold, rubies, and glowpaz. The jeweled eyes in the center were kind of cute if you ignored the whole staring-into-the-naked-depths-of-your-soul thing. On loan from The Ahuizotl Museum, the Truth Talisman of Tonatiuh still smelled like its display case.
In the pink glow of Twilight’s magic, the talisman split itself into two perfect copies, scuff marks and all. “May I?”
Cozy Glow exchanged nods with her Primaries. “Go ahead.”
Slowly, the truth talismans levitated to both parties and simultaneously clasped themselves around their necks. “Like we agreed: no lies, no tricks. One hour, two talismans.”
As settled by their respective proxies after a week and a half of negotiating terms and conditions. Forget Grogar’s Bell, Cozy’s legal team was the real terror.
Gulping hard, Cozy shifted her withers under the weight of the amulet. “Is it supposed to feel like a lava slug’s trying to strangle me?”
“That’s how you know it’s working.” Thank heavens.
By all her research, magical artifacts still held their arcane properties under a duplication spell. Every artifact had its own unique quirks, however, and after the long transport arrangements from the museum, Starlight Glimmer only had a few hours to test it.
“Besides that, how are you feeling so far, Cozy?”
A dim emerald glow backlit Cozy’s pupils. “I feel…” Her eye twitched. “…a little sleepy, actually. You arrived before I finished my coffee, and I haven’t had the chance to take my morning walk yet.”
The talisman would function, no question of that. Any dilution of the artifact’s potency under duplication, however, remained to be seen. Tests had gone smoothly with Madame Silver Spoon, Big Cheese, and both Flim Flam Brothers. Still, even if some of those ponies had built careers on manipulation, stratagem, and guile, none of them actually had cutie marks for it. Truth spilled easily for ponies used to sharing it and broke fast from those used to burying it. As for ponies who’d spent their entire lives gently bending the truth…
“Say, why don’t we take that walk right now?” Cozy’s wing stretched to feel the wind thread through her feathers. “Mm, that mountain air’s amazing, isn’t it? Does wonders for lung problems.”
Well, Twilight would take what she could get.
“I wouldn’t mind a little exercise. I haven’t had the opportunity to see your new house yet.”
“What a coincidence. I haven’t had the chance to show off my fantastic new house, either.”
The crowd laughed as the media ponies prepped their notebooks, cameras, and microphones for the walk. Pegasus onlookers fanned out to snatch any free airspace above the villa.
Cozy led a brisk trot through the gates and into a garden. Heart-shaped bilberry shrubs walled the soft walking path. Farther out, colorful sprays of coltsfoot, tansy, and purple columbines burst from tasteful brick pallets. “I’m more about baking than gardening, so I decided not to fight the mountain and use what grows here already. I just made it all look nice.” She gestured to an open patch of lawn. “I come out here for weekend yoga and thinking walks. I used to do my best thinking on flights, but a walk’s just as good—” The talisman glowed. “—if you lower your standards by half.”
“It’s doing well for autumn,” Twilight said. “As I recall, your therapist recommended this garden, didn’t he?”
“Sure did! Thanks to Doc Evergreen, I learned how to use my anger constructively. Heads up, Fluff.” Cozy plucked a bilberry and tossed it into the air.
Fluffalove nabbed it in her tail and popped it into her mouth.
“Good catch! Hate to admit it, Twilight, but I’ve got you to thank for all this: the garden, my support system, and… well, my second shot in general. Everypony deserves a second shot, right?” She grinned. “Can’t think of a better way to sharpen your aim.”
The truth talisman warmed Twilight’s chest as a dozen responses flew into her throat: Your aim to do what? Take revenge? Undermine thousands of years of tribal unity? Drive everypony into a brutal civil war they can’t come back from? She bit every one of them back. Truth didn’t mean spit-balling every random thought.
Cozy watched the princess with a neutral smile, eyes bright with interest.
It didn’t mean she had to take the bait, either. Twilight chose the safest option. “Oh? Your aim to do what, exactly?”
“Aw Twilight, it’s just a metaphor; it applies to all sorts of things. But if I had to choose something specific, I’m much better at building relationships with other ponies.” She smiled up at the formation of Pegasi drifting overhead.
“Speaking of relationships,” said Twilight, “Evergreen told me you finally sat down with your father. How did that go?”
The smile stiffened. “If you mean the meeting with Svengallop, it… could’ve gone worse. I learned to forgi—” The word crumbled in her mouth, and Cozy’s eyes went bright green. “We worked it—” Brighter. She winced through gritted teeth. “Golly! This thing really does work. If everypony had one of these, we wouldn’t need an Element of Honesty anymore.” She laughed at her own joke, and half the crowd laughed with her. “Alright, let’s call Svengallop a work in progress. There, you gaudy old necklace, happy now?” The talisman's glow faded. “Okay, then.”
That settled it: the artifact stopped outright lies, but couldn’t force an unfiltered truth. It didn’t mean truth couldn’t be reworded, tailored, or omitted altogether. Well within Cozy Glow’s comfort zone. Great.
They stepped through an ivy-covered trellis into a wide patio. The house’s massive glass doors reflected light across a cliffside infinity pool. A small flock of Pegasi gathered around the edge, surrounded by luxury towels and tall stacks of notes. A brown stallion popped his head out of the water and waved. “Morning, Cozy!” they chorused.
“Good morning, everypony! Let’s all try and do our best today, okay? Every day can be the best day ever if we try!” Cozy waved down Echo Burst. “Go see if Fissile Whistle needs help with those pamphlets, please? Thanks.”
While Echo broke formation, several photographers took time to document the most exclusive pool in Cloudsdale. Around the patio, faces peered over the lip of the walls and rings of onlookers hovered just beyond the property’s airspace. The crowd had whittled to a fifth of its original size. Only the Primaries, reporters, and photographers remained. Nothing said friendship like a press pass.
Twilight watched Gallus’s cautionary swoop around the perimeter. “Even if you didn’t work it out with Svengallop, I’m glad you tried. The effort’s still worth something. Not everypony gets to say their piece before it’s too late.”
“I only did it for the probation list.”
“Friendship lesson.”
Cozy glanced at Gallus coming in to land. “Uh-huh. Like the guard captain is ‘moral support’.” When the winged shadow passed over her, she pulled her silk cape close and shied away. “Anyway, we’re not here to talk about my parents. We're all here for Ditzy Doo. Or Derpy Hooves? I keep getting mixed intel about the name.”
“She used both. Either name works.” They dipped under the awning that framed the house. Twilight lifted her head to admire the branching wings that adorned the columns overhead. Few ponies chose Corvidian style anymore.
“I read an article about her yesterday. Super interesting stuff.” One ear swiveled toward the train of reporters following alongside the patio. “Like, I never knew Derpy took a hit from the Storm King and got turned to stone so you could run off to find the Hippogriffs. Learning’s so much fun, isn’t it?”
“That’s not exactly—”
“I met her a couple of times.” Cozy pushed on as if she hadn’t said a word. The words pattered quick, as if the subject fascinated her ever-so-much and she wished nothing more than to share it with everypony. “I remember she told me it was nice to see fillies still sending letters, and that I was so kind to be penpals with those who never got mail. Pretty thoughtful, that Derpy Hooves. She brought everypony muffins during midterms. Those were raspberry, right Gallus?”
Gallus, forced into a narrow porch with low visibility, glared at her.
“Or blueberry, I dunno.” Cozy shrugged. “She must have had an awful lot of friends if her funeral’s such a big deal.”
“She did,” Twilight sighed. “Ponyville won’t be the same without her. We’ll all miss her.”
Impossible to think her last delivery to Canterlot had been a month ago. Twilight still expected that sweet wrinkly smile to poke through the window, holding Pumpkin Cake’s newest letter. The last time she saw her alive, Derpy had been resting with Luster Dawn in the courtyard, sharing stories of when little Dinky thought the toilet was haunted.
“Derpy was one of the most dedicated ponies I’ve ever met. She was visiting a cousin in West Cloudsdale when she passed away.”
Cozy tilted her head. “I’ll bet my buttons that cousin’s the pony who wants a good old-fashioned feather pyre too, huh?”
Twilight eyed her carefully. “He is.” Indeed, they’d flown over his neighborhood twenty minutes ago. The temptation to teleport the body straight into Ponyville Mortuary had been overwhelming. “He says he won’t back down on his position.”
Above, Cold Snap weaved a casual corkscrew through the columns. “Huh. Sounds like this stuff can get complicated with mixed-tribe families.”
“Sure does,” said Cozy. “But I don’t know what that has to do with—” The talisman flared, and she winced hard. “This whole funeral thing is… beyond my scope. I don’t even know this cousin of hers.”
“Perhaps not, but a good word from you could convince him otherwise. I believe he would respect your opinion a great deal; much of Cloudsdale does. Losing a parent is hard enough without a legal battle.” To say nothing of the media buzz around it. “If nothing else, Dinky deserves to lay her mother to rest the way she wants and—” Mid-sentence, Twilight realized she’d tread on delicate ground. The talisman didn’t care. The rest came out anyway. “—you understand that more than anyone here.”
Her pace slowed, but if Twilight hit a sore spot, Cozy didn’t show it. “What Dinky wants or what Derpy wanted?”
Time for that talisman to earn its keep. Even if the papers twisted it tomorrow, nopony could accuse her of lying. “Both. Dinky Doo doesn’t have a preference; she wants to do what Derpy asked of her—to be buried with her friends in Ponyville.”
In the eaves of the porch, The Primaries murmured darkly among themselves.
“What sort of Pegasus willingly goes underground forever? How awful.”
“It’s gross.”
“Imagine not seeing the sky one last time.”
“I mean, what do you expect? All that time in Ponyville with all those—”
Cozy Glow hushed them with a look. “Alright, but did you hear Derpy say that? Did anypony besides Dinky hear? No offense to the mare, but all we have is her word.”
A word that would have more weight with at least a birth certificate. Legally, it was open and shut, even if everypony in town knew better.
“If it really doesn’t matter to Dinky Doo, why can’t she just come to Cloudsdale for the funeral?”
Twilight gave her a flat stare. “Many Unicorns don’t exactly feel comfortable in Cloudsdale anymore. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you headlined the petition for the cloudwalk ban, did you not?”
Cozy Glow blinked innocently. “What, are Unicorns too good to use balloons like the Earth Ponies?”
Mistral Drift snorted. “They want to walk on our clouds, but I don’t see any breaking their backs at the factory. When the thunder rolls, they all have places to be. It’s not so fun playing Pegasus when the clouds get dark.”
“Right.” Cozy pawed a drifting tuft of cumulus. “The clouds are ours; we make them, we maintain them, we should keep them. Why can’t we have that, Twilight? One thing that belongs to us? Why do the Unicorns think they have a right to everything?”
“You’re generalizing,” Twilight shot back. “The views of Project Northstar don’t represent the feelings of all Unicorns. Just as The Primary Movement doesn't represent the feelings of all Pegasi.”
“Of course not. We feel a certain way, but that doesn’t mean everypony has to.” She put her hoof to her heart, skimming the surface of the talisman. “Unlike certain other organizations, WE don’t think we’re superior to any other tribe. We just focus on our own tribe’s priorities first. It’s important to practice Loyalty.”
“There’s a difference between Loyalty and ostracism, Cozy Glow.”
Slowly, Cozy’s eyes slid between the reporters, Twilight, and the griffon behind her. She said nothing and flicked her ears.
Glitter Dart humphed. “There’s a difference between taking a sky taxi and growing wings for a buckball game, too.”
“I dunno, Glitter, it’s not that bad. Those games happened out of the League, right?” Cozy smiled at Twilight and didn’t wait for confirmation. “Right. Private games fall under house rules, and Unicorns from the magic school want the chance to practice their own special skills. Nothing wrong with prioritizing your own tribe, is there?”
More bait. Twilight steered the conversation back home. “This is not a case of prioritizing tribe, it’s a matter of prioritizing the wishes of the dead.”
“Twilight, don’t twist the subject. Funerals are for the living, and these living ponies come from different tribes. Each tribe would rather have the dead mare buried in a different tradition. It’s not that complicated, but I can understand why you might think so.” In a merry click of hooves, Cozy drew closer to trot beside her and met the Alicorn’s stroll step for step. “You don’t favor any tribe, right?”
“I favor unity.” The only thing the talisman allowed out of Twilight’s mouth.
“Which makes no tribe top priority. Totally understandable. You’re just so busy these days, helping not just Equestrians but all sorts of creatures in all corners of the world. That many problems on one pony’s plate? Golly, no wonder little old us got lost in the shuffle. That’s why The Primaries are here to pick up the slack!” Her grin widened with Twilight’s frown. “But it’s fine if you don’t agree. Opinions are unique to everypony—oh!” Cozy offered Gallus an apologetic nod. “Every creature.”
The lashing tip of Gallus’s tail bristled. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, no, I’ve been rude. I’ve been so caught up with Twilight’s visit I completely forgot about you!” The corners of Cozy’s mouth dipped in remorse, but her round eyes sparkled. “You look great for eighty.”
“I’m seventy-one.”
She looked him over again. “…Really? Wow. Anyway, how are you? I haven’t seen you around since The Crystal Cotillion.” Her free wing stretched to feel the rolling breeze and her pace slowed to a stroll. “Have you gone back to visit the Dragonlands? I hope Smolder’s eggs are okay.”
The sentence hung heavy in the air. News of the dragon hatchling epidemic had broken in Equestria several days ago. Succinct articles outlining the basics. Vague statements in news broadcasts. The minimum of necessary public knowledge. Buried deep beneath the fireworks of domestic affairs, most ponies hadn’t seen it at all.
“Exactly how,” asked Gallus, “do you know about the eggs?”
“Well, kinda hard for eggs to hatch if they’re losing magic.” Cozy ignored the round of murmurs from the press. “The radio mentioned Spike leaving on special assignment last month, and yesterday I heard something’s weird with the hatchings, so I figur—”
“The news didn’t mention anything about a magic drain.”
“Neither did I. You did.” Under the glow of the talisman, Cozy Glow’s concerned frown curled into a tiny smile. “I had a pretty good guess though, huh?” She turned toward the east, gaze sharp and curious. “A drain… that is interesting.”
A raspy growl rolled in the griffon’s chest. “You’d know all about that sort of thing, wouldn’t you, Cozy?”
“Why, you say that as if I’ve got something to do with it.” She patted the golden amulet hung over her heart. “Sorry, I don’t. Like I said, yesterday’s the first I heard of it. What could I do with dragon magic, anyway?” The white cape fluttered at her side. “I can barely use my own. My siphon spell happened forever ago. You’ve got to stop living in the past, Gallus.”
“You first, kid.” Old powerful wings arched over Gallus’s wiry frame and thin coat. “You’ve been gnawing old bones from the second you got out. Our poor little filly who tried to conquer Equestria twice and got a slap on the wrist. One bad thing happens to you and suddenly it’s everyone else’s problem.” He side-eyed the cape, unimpressed. Under his breath, he grumbled, “…did it to yourself, anyway.”
Oh, Sun. Twilight looked from Gallus to the offended—but not outraged—Primaries to the curious line of press ponies gathered a respectful distance away. She waited a moment. Another.
No gasps. No shouts. No stunned silences. None of them had heard. Deep calming breaths. Okay, good. Good, good, good, it’s fine. We’re fine.
After all, Cozy had aced her recovery program. She had graduated anger management classes and still attended sessions with Doctor Evergreen. Most of all, Cozy understood the importance of restraint on the public stage. She valued control in everything, but in herself most of all.
Then, Twilight looked down.
Cozy Glow stood stiff as death. Her eyes burned so bright they washed her blue curls green.
None of that restraint meant a thing under a truth talisman.
“Excuse me?” The whisper stuttered, caught in her throat. A thin wheeze of raw emotion.
The princess scrambled for damage control. “It’s getting heated. Before things get out of hoof, let’s take a moment to—”
“No. It’s fine.” Her barrel heaved hard. “We wanted honesty, and Captain Gallus is honest. He thinks…” She tried to laugh, but only managed a broken cough. Cozy threw back the cape.
Flashbulbs went wild. The Primaries recoiled, and Captain Gallus went pale.
Twilight didn’t blame him. Until today, few here had seen it. Not up close, not in full.
A gnarl of broken stone jutted from Cozy’s withers, ragged like a puzzle piece where the petrified wing bone had snapped. At the wing’s root, stiff dark veins branched through her chest. A gray sickly network of arteries, lung tissue, and muscle. The origin of the name Pegasi whispered in sympathy and Unicorns spat as a curse. Cozy Glow the Stonehearted.
"Hear that, flock?" Cozy's breath scraped in a powdery wheeze. "He thinks I did this to myself."
Once upon a time, Princess Twilight held the promise of a clean recovery. A smooth integration back into society, bolstered by therapy and healing discussions as a troubled filly grew into the pony she was always meant to be.
And then Cozy Glow broke out a year early. Alone.
"Cozy, I know how—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Twilight Sparkle. You fell asleep for fifteen minutes under a cockatrice glare and got to wake up. You do NOT know. You have no idea. It's drowning in reverse. It's hearing your body snap in half and rock crumbling into blood, and it's granite in your chest, and almost bleeding to death in your garden, but you don't know that. You CAN'T know that, because you weren't there.” The remaining wing clapped hard against her side. “You left me to die.”
The talisman burned against Twilight’s coat. She ignored it, and trod lightly. Another emotional outburst got them nowhere. When she spoke, her words fell clear and calm. “What happened to you was an accident.” Sun Above, she hoped so. Anything else meant… she didn’t want to think of the possibilities. “You’re right. Somecreature should have been there in the gardens in case something happened.”
Even in the riots, with all hooves and claws on deck, Twilight should have taken a moment to assign statue duty. She felt so stupid. It was so obvious in retrospect. A third of that petrification spell had been chaos magic. So close to the end of Cozy’s sentence, with the magic at its weakest, of course the riots would trigger a spellbreak.
Twilight should have known. She could have stopped it—stopped ALL of this before it started. “But Cozy, if you hadn’t run away, we could have reversed the spell properly and found a doctor to reattach the wing in time.”
She'd skipped from a staredown by Equestria's finest to waking up scared, alone, and in the worst pain of her short life. All while a riot raged in the background. Of course Cozy had fled. Who wouldn’t?
Twilight should have known. Everypony knew when the sentence ended. She should have increased security and laid precautionary tracking spells around the statue. But she didn’t. “Cozy, I never wanted any of this to happen to you. I’m so—if only you’d have let me help you…”
With a snort, Cozy let her cape fall back into place. “You’ve helped enough.”
Gallus caught Twilight’s eye. He mouthed a tiny apology, and the poor thing looked so ashamed, she wished she could break composure and wrap her wings around him. If the worst happened and the separatist factions made good on their threats, he’d never forgive himself.
Twilight nodded back to him and gently flicked his claw with her tail. He’d made a mistake, but tried to do his best. That’s all she could ask of anyone.
“What’re you so sad about, Sparkle? I’m the one who lost a wing. Sheesh, you act like my whole life collapsed just because you weren’t around. Everything’s not about you and your dumb clique.” The game had ended. No deflections. No parries. The talisman burned through Cozy’s filters and reserves like a tinderbox. “I did have ponies there for me. I had Drift, Echo, Fluff, Cold Snap, Glitter, all of them.” She looked up at the halo of bodies above her. “When I lost my wing, The Primaries—my own kind—offered theirs.”
Mistral Drift bent his head to her, and the others followed suit. The Pegasi held each other’s gaze. Not leader and followers, nor commander and soldiers, but something else. Something Twilight knew well.
“It’s kind of ironic.” Cozy jammed herself back into the rhythm of political rapport the way one might squeeze ice cream through a straw. “I keep making friends, and you keep getting mad about it.”
Princess Twilight’s head jolted up, ears high.
“Yeah, you heard me. It’s almost like ‘reformed’ creatures are only allowed to have the friends you want them to have. Or maybe that’s just the ones who are useful to you.”
“You ‘keep’ making friends, you said.” Twilight stepped closer, ignoring the nervous flutter of ponies around her. “You had friends before?”
Cozy’s smile plummeted. “Uh. That’s not—” The talisman glowed. “I-I mean—” Glowed brighter. “I…” Tears gleamed in the corner of her eyes. She braced on the stone and tried to inhale.
This had gone far enough.
Twilight kneeled to whisper in Cozy’s flattened ear. “Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head. “I’m not a coward.”
“In that case…” Twilight took in her surroundings: media, observers, allies and opposition for both parties, and an endless potential for political fallout. It didn’t matter. This mare needed help. “In that case, would you like to move this discussion indoors? Privately?”
“I… yeah. Yeah, okay.” Cozy shook herself off and cleared her throat. “We decided to take it inside.” She raised her wing as the Primaries moved for the door. “Us two. Alone.”
Mistral Drift dropped to the ground. “What?! But Cozy—”
“I know what I’m doing, Drift. You trust me, right?”
“You know I do.”
Cozy patted his side. “Then keep doing that. If one of us dies, you’ll know who did it.” She opened the sliding glass door and motioned Twilight inside. “You’re the guest.”
“Thank you.” With one last reassuring nod to Gallus, Twilight stepped in.
The patio fed into an atrium that at once felt immense and snug, with the tall ceilings and limited floor space typical of Pegasus homes. Skylights domed the arched marble hollow, a living room centerpiece rooting three stories, five hallways, and a sprawling collection of cloud stairs. Tufts of cloud free-roamed at all levels. Even flightless, a Pegasus could climb bottom to top in minutes.
A circular sofa large enough to seat a dozen ponies dominated the center of the room; the dozing sighthound in the middle still managed to hog all of it. On its back, neck falling off the couch and all four feet in the air, Twilight guessed it stood a head taller than most ponies. It opened one black eye, yawned a long narrow triangle of a mouth, and went back to sleep.
Cozy rubbed his shaggy ear on her way to the bookshelf. “That’s Castle. Like the move, not the building. Don’t open that skylight. It’ll storm soon, and if he gets into those clouds, I’ll never catch him.”
Twilight blinked. “The clouds?” She looked again at the shaggy white fur, long snout, and a rump propped by tufts of cumulus. “How did you find a stratushound? These went extinct moons ago.”
“Not in New Tambelon. Mister Scorpan breeds them, and he let me have this one because he can't hunt rocs. He’s even worse at guarding.” She came away holding a velvet chess case, rubbing the stony veins in her neck. “It’s fine. He’s big enough to scare most ponies away, and I win enough trophies for the both of us.”
Indeed, dozens of chess awards ran along the west wall, ranging from international championships to school district tournaments. Above them, Cozy had hung lines of framed newspapers, magazine covers, and articles about herself. A five decade timeline of public opinion ran from ‘06’s “Equestria’s Greatest Monsters Revealed” to “We Need To Talk About Cozy Glow” in ‘34, to this year’s “One Wing, Still Soaring: The Martyr Of Mount Zephyr Speaks Out”.
Above it all hung the infamous photo of the memorial placed beneath the Terrible Trio statue. A bouquet of flowers lay alongside hundreds of primary feathers staked into the ground. On the statue itself, broken eggs and old fruit rotted in the sun. That photo won the Muleitzer and, arguably, Cozy’s early freedom.
Cozy Glow glanced up from the mouth of a colossal fireplace. Her horseshoe sparked the flint starter, and the hearth roared to life in seconds. Orange light washed across the pale walls and threw the one-winged shadow across the floor. “I didn’t really want to frame that Premier from ‘53, but it felt weird not having a full set.”
“The first interview after your return, right?”
“And all they wanted to talk about was me getting petrified.” The shadow’s wing flexed in a sharp fan of muscle and feathers, and pulled the case closer. “So stupid. As if I’d been conscious for more than five seconds of it.”
“I read that one,” Twilight said. “You said that you thought of your mom when it happened.”
Cozy settled at a coffee table and unfurled a satin cloth, careful to smooth all the wrinkles. Satisfied, she opened the velvet case and pulled out an onyx chessboard. “I did? Huh.” Her hoof skimmed the board’s chipped corner. “I don’t remember saying that. Sounds about right.”
Twilight recalled a similar chess set from Crystal Pathways Rehabilitation Center. It, too, had a chipped corner. “Was that true?”
Shifting under the talisman’s glow, Cozy shook sweat off her nose. “Sort of. I remembered something she told me about how ponies used to celebrate Hearth's Warming Eve. She said if a foal had been naughty that year, they didn’t get any presents. Instead, they got wood.” She set the first pieces in place: two queens on opposite squares. “A block of petrified wood.”
Twilight’s father once told her the same thing. He’d also told her the tradition fell out of favor some years later. Ponies didn’t like it anymore. They called it cruel.
Knights and pawns and rooks and kings found their place upon the board, each piece perfectly centered in their square. The staggered wheeze of Cozy Glow’s lungs quieted, and the light came back to her eyes. That sacred quiet of focus fell upon her softly, a state Twilight rarely had the privilege of seeing, and she hated to interrupt it.
Still, she had to. “Are you feeling any better?”
When the green glow lit Cozy’s eyes, it highlighted but didn’t engulf the way it had on the patio. Good. “You didn’t tell me it was going to hurt. I know it’s supposed to get the truth out, but not… not like that. Not so…”
“Honest?”
“Bare. If you weren’t Twilight Sparkle, I’d think you tricked me.” She stroked a wet stripe on her cape. “ Do sweat stains come out of silk? This is my favorite one.”
“I tried to tell you it was a bad idea.” Not entirely Cozy’s fault, to be fair. Paranoia from both sides’ allies pushed the idea and Cozy, ever the opportunist, ran with it. “The talisman’s like holding your breath. Do it for too long, and you might pass out. You might get around it for a while, but not forever.”
It also meant that nothing she’d said this morning could be disregarded. Even leveraged for clout, even with the edges snipped off, nothing said could be untrue. Besides, not even Cozy could fake a hurt that raw. For perhaps the first time ever, Twilight knew where the two of them stood for certain. With solid ground beneath their hooves, finally, they might walk back to Harmony.
“I’m sorry for the way you came back, Cozy. Truly.”
“I don’t care.” She readjusted a pawn. “It doesn’t change anything, and doesn’t make me feel any better than the last time you apologized. I mean, it’s not like you can do anything about it. Time travel’s a total garbage chute, and you’re still closed to my ‘Serve Discord’s Head On A Silver Platter’ proposition.” Her chin lifted from the board, one ear tilted. “…Unless?”
“Discord says he’s more of a paper plate guy.” Twilight gritted her teeth. “That was inappropriate, I didn’t mean—”
“Twilight. You’re boring me.” Cozy spread her hoof over the chess set. “I thought you’d take the hint, but apparently I have to spell it out: Are you gonna play me or not?”
“Oh. Well, I…” She rubbed the back of her neck and cleared her throat. “I… don’t think you want me to. I’m not very good.” The talisman glowed. “Terrible, actually. I lost to Flurry Heart in fifteen minutes and she went easy on me.”
A small frown crossed the young mare’s face. “Yeah, but Flurry’s pretty good, though.”
“She sure is. I know chess fairly well—well enough to know she gave me every chance to turn the game around—but understanding the game isn’t the same as playing it.”
Scratches and scuffs crisscrossed the board. Not one piece had escaped without battle scars, not even the taped-up hourglass. It may have been the most beloved object in the entire house. Twilight couldn’t insult a board like this with a bad game.
“Thank you for the offer, but trust me, Cozy, you wouldn’t have fun. Chess is more Celestia’s thing.” Twilight watched a small multicolor tumbleweed of feathers and dog hair roll past her hooves to bump into a marble bookcase.
Cozy considered Twilight’s expression, glanced between her and the shelves, and sighed. “Go ahead, but put everything back where you found it. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, though.”
Absolutely untrue. Even if Twilight had read the same text, that did not make them the same book. Different editions, different readers, and the constant ebb and flow of different experiences meant one never quite read the same book twice.
The top shelf bulged with texts of arcane theory, including some Star Swirl essay collections, the complete Ancient Magic & Modern Earth series, and Sky Dancer’s Essential Stormsmith Grimoire. The majority of shelf space had been claimed by magical texts written by other species in every language. The bottom shelf held a mix of novels, chess strategy, foreign dictionaries, political theory, and Yoga For Muscle Recovery Vol. II. As for the middle shelf…
Twilight stepped closer, mouth dry and chest tight. No, Princess Twilight Sparkle was no Princess Celestia. She didn’t plan twenty moves ahead, she just mapped twenty-point spreadsheets. Likewise, she boasted no skill for divination or visions. Still, her gut knew a sign when it saw one.
Only two books sat on the middle shelf: The Guardians Of Harmony’s Journal Of Friendship and Berry Pinch's The Student In Stone. Seminal works that changed the world.
Like the other shelves, this one wasn’t organized by author, title, genre, or Dewdrop’s decimal system. Twilight’s frontal cortex knew it had no system at all. Her heart feared it had been organized by theme: the best and worst of Princess Twilight Sparkle. She could hear the historians now: “Here, class, we must note the irony that Princess Twilight’s brief reign began and ended with a book. Her friends would call such thoughts “Twilighting”: spinning one’s wheels with disaster scenarios that would never come pass. Hopefully.
“Is this a new edition?” Lighting her horn, Twilight drew out Student In Stone to inspect the thirtieth-anniversary sticker pasted on front. Why couldn’t publishers print subtitles instead of ruining a perfectly good cover? The hardback lurched in her magic field, stuttering and jolting like a foal’s first levitation spell.
Cozy perched on the back of the couch. “They sent me an early copy. I wrote one of those introductory things.”
“A foreword.”
“Right, that. The real anniversary’s in two months or something.”
“Three. Dinky Doo helped research this book, you know.” Twilight flipped to the contributors' page as the hardback sank through her magic. It felt like trying to grab a slimy bowling ball. Every time she got a grip, it slipped again.
“Really? Gosh, when she comes to Cloudsdale for the funeral, I’ll need to thank her. Cold Snap says Dinky’s the one who did all that digging at my old academy.” Her gaze followed the book’s wobbly trajectory. “She’s got connections to one of those rich old Earth Pony families. Same family as my old magic tutor, I think.” Cozy propped her chin with a forehoof, back legs casually waving in the air. “Speaking of magic, you uh. Seem to be having some trouble, there.” She grinned.
The book plopped back on the shelf.
“What is this? It feels like a dampener.”
“Pretty great, huh? That’s my new safety feature.” Cozy bounced with a wicked little giggle. “Just let those nosey old Northstars try and sneak in now! I knew it’d be tough, but if it slowed you down, any other Unicorn’ll be fresh out of luck.”
They’d stay out of luck, too. Judging by the resistance, the poor soul who tried magic here would be hollow-horned for an hour, at least. Cozy had put down something far more complex than a simple null barrier, rock solid and stickier than a glue trap.
Twilight squinted through billows of shifting clouds. Nothing glowed, shone, or pulsed that she could see. Could it be behind a wall? “Alright, Cozy, I give up. How are you doing this? Nothing’s been cast, crystals hate growing in marble, and…” She frowned. “Are you using an artifact?”
“That would have been a lot easier, but I’m not allowed around those anymore thanks to somepony. I built this myself—right into the house!” Cozy took a skipping jump into a cumulus drift and rode it to the bookcase. “The real trick’s making it stick to the stone and the clouds, since the clouds are magic too, but once I isolated the arcana phenotype, it fell together. It’s a dense refinement of my old siphon spell. Smaller range and effect, and only attacks—”
“Active magic,” Twilight finished. “It activates when somepony uses their horn.”
Cozy Glow beamed ear to ear. “Yep! All legal, too, since it’s only in my own house. Unicorns can walk on all the other clouds, but not in this house. Not unless I say so. Fluffalove says it’s the safest place in Cloudsdale.”
A fortress against Unicorn magic, in other words. If it had been built into the house, then it had been functional for roughly two years. That likely meant it didn’t require maintenance or boosters because it only activated when somepony lit their horn, minimizing any risk of depletion or burnout. This would run independently until the house was demolished (maybe) or somepony deactivated it.
Between the elegant efficiency of the spell and the implications behind installing it in the first place, Twilight didn’t know if she ought to be impressed or horrified. “This is… fascinating, Cozy.” A good honest adjective that offered credit without pumping up the ego too much. “I’d love to see your notes for this. It’s an intricate locus spell, especially for—”
The cloud lazed past Twilight’s withers. Cozy rolled on her back, staring Twilight in the face. “A Pegasus?”
She met her gaze evenly. “For somepony self-taught. Or I presume so. Silver Chalice taught the basics, but I assume anything more advanced would have been Earth-based.”
Cozy’s little cloud drifted up, over, and around Twilight’s head. Green glowed through the bottom like a will-o’-wisp. “I had some help, but I learned most of it myself. I mean, it’s not hard. I can read, and all the books are right there. A spell is a spell.” The cape pulled tight over her withers. “Even if you cast it different. How else was I supposed to learn it? It’s not like they’d let me into Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns.”
Not without significant backing, anyway. In Cozy’s day, non-Unicorn attendees came few, but not at all unheard of. After taking over the school, Twilight had checked the CSGU records. Professor Chalice actually had sent a letter of recommendation to the E.E.A. for magic scholarship, twice. Twice it had been denied. Whether that had been due to a lack of Unicorn recommendations or the bad blood between Chalice and Neighsay remained to be seen.
Until the day he died, Neighsay maintained that keeping Cozy Glow out of magic school had been the best decision of his career, for “who could imagine how lethal she’d be with a real magical education?” Twilight wished Cozy had been admitted the moment she’d shown talent for it. The first course at every level was Ethics of Spellcraft.
“Things have changed since you’ve been gone,” Twilight told her. “More than Unicorns attend magic schools now.” The cloud drifted beneath Twilight’s chest. She reached to anchor it, her hoof a respectful distance away from Cozy’s, but still close enough to take. “If you reapplied, maybe dialed down the megalomania a little, I’m positive you’d get in.”
Cozy watched the vapor swirl around Twilight’s gilded hoof. “Oh sure, I’ve got your attention now, after I went full supervillain and almost took down Equestria twice.”
The long arc of Twilight Sparkle’s neck bent to meet Cozy’s acrid stare. “I would let in that talented little filly from Baltimare, too.”
“Sorry. You missed her by a few decades.” She dropped through the cloud. The clack of horseshoes on stone echoed high into the ceiling. “If you ask me, she dodged a bolt on that front. You’ve got enough Luster Dawns to pawn off; I’ll stick with being a rook.”
Castle slipped off the couch to pad after Cozy as she prowled across the atrium, threading through pillow piles and soft benches. The distinctive smell of burnt oats wafted from a kitchen down one of the halls. How many ponies lived here? Were they all Primaries, or simply other Pegasus associates who came and went? Cozy collected new allies faster than Applejack harvested an orchard. Combined with such a penchant for magic, her potential was immense. What if that potential had been fostered from the start? Who else had slipped through the cracks?
“There are other schools besides mine, you know. You could get a lot from a focused study at any of the magical colleges outside Equestria. I know Abyssinia, for one, has an amazing program.”
Dark clouds rumbled above the skylight. The storm from the factory district had finally caught up to them. Cozy listened to rain patter against the skylight and leaned against Castle, ruffling her dog’s silky coat. “I did hear something about that when I played internationals in Panthera. I thought about it, but… I dunno.”
“Opportunities are everywhere if you let yourself see them,” Twilight said.
“Hm.” Cozy stared into the fireplace and twitched her ears. “There are no walls, only doors you haven’t made yet.”
It sounded like a quote, though Twilight couldn’t say who. “Where did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That saying about walls and doors. Did you come up with that yourself, or did you read it somewhere? I like it.”
Cozy stiffened against the talisman’s pull. “It’s just… something I heard. From someone else. That I met.” She blinked hard and coughed into her hoof. Castle nosed her mane and whined. “Speaking of magic and spells, Twilight, are those dragon eggs being drained with the embryos inside? Like right about to crack?”
A nerve had been touched. Something too volatile to chase right now, but if it’d made Cozy pivot to the third biggest crisis on Twilight’s plate that hard that fast, it had to be major. The Map didn’t summon her often these days, but this friendship problem screamed louder than a Wonderbolt’s mayday. They’d table it for now.
“Most of the eggs are, yes. The hatchlings come out pale and weak… if at all.” At first, they’d lived for months. Then weeks. Days. Mortality rates ranged in the seventy-percents, and she had the feeling those reports were rounded down. “The Dragonlord’s called for a quarantine. Why? Any theories?”
Cozy huffed. “Not really. The Dragonlands must have predators nobody’s heard of or…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Actually. You ever hear of something called a dragonstone?”
Maud had written a dissertation on it in ‘28. Her colleagues accused the paper of promoting sensationalism over hard science, and Twilight couldn’t fully blame them. The dragonstone was a metaphor. A story to scare baby dragons into bed. The dragonstone was not real. The same way The Mare In The Moon wasn’t real.
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about it, Cozy?”
“Look, dealing with magical artifacts, there’s dangerous-crazy and then there’s crazy-crazy.” She tossed an extra log on the fire, and smiled when the embers flared. “I once mentioned it to… someone I used to know. Someone I respected, and who didn’t scare easy.” Cozy breathed slowly and deliberately against the talisman, eyes on the fireplace. “The way he reacted when I mentioned it? Pretty sure the dragonstone is crazy-crazy. If anyone has it, I’m glad I’m not a dragon right now.”
In other words, Grogar’s Bell levels of danger. With no clue who might be using it. Wonderful. “I admit, I’m surprised you’re so ready to help the dragons, considering what happened outside with Gallus.”
“I don’t care about dragons. I just like a puzzle.” She smirked. “Still hate Gallus’s ugly old guts though, and I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual. The way he looked at me, you’d think he’s still stewing on that stuff I said in the library that one time.” Cozy sat up to look back at her. Her eyes widened as the smirk swelled into a grin. “Wait... does he?”
Twilight glared at her.
“Ohmygosh, he does! Hah! That dork, doesn’t he know I was just messing with his head? Golly, if I knew I’d mess him up that bad without even trying, I would’ve brought my A-game.” Cozy Glow giggled—a sugary sound laced with broken glass. A teenager delighting in petty cruelty. Somepony ready and willing to hurt others for the sheer fun of it.
The laughter faded. Raindrops splattered and hissed on the stone outside as the fires popped and crackled. The dog licked his nose and began to fidget.
Twilight Sparkle blinked slowly. “You think that’s funny, do you?”
“Are you kidding?” The talisman flared as another snicker squeezed between her teeth. “This is the funniest thing since Flurry Heart crashed into that diplomat’s cake.”
Castle’s ears drew back. He retreated behind Cozy, watching Twilight with his belly to the floor.
“Hm. I have to wonder” Her ethereal tail flicked, casting little twinkles across the marble. “Was pushing the Unicorns out of Cloudsdale also funny? Or that rally in Sire’s Hollow? The pamphlets, the radio shows, the fly-only zones, this… this entire movement, this spiteful thing you’ve built around yourself. Is all that a joke to you as well, Cozy Glow?” The great arc of Princess Twilight’s wings curved across the sofa, the fireplace, the Pegasus, and all her trophies. They stood at opposite ends of the room; it didn’t matter. Twilight loomed over all of it. “Do you truly believe in any of this? Or are you playing around as an excuse for revenge?”
“Maybe I like to multitask.” Cozy clicked her tongue and petted the whining dog at her side. “You’re so serious, gosh.”
“Cozy.”
Tiny sparks cracked under her horseshoe as Cozy pawed at the marble. The good wing twitched and stretched over her cutie mark. “Alright. I believe that whenever Unicorns see the other tribes use magic, they’ll use any excuse to not call it magic. It’s always ‘cheating’ or ‘an exception’ or ‘natural talents’ that don’t count because walking on clouds isn’t magic when we do it. Excuse me if maybe I don’t exactly ‘feel comfortable’ around them sometimes. Not everypony appreciates my spell circle ‘novelties’. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s getting tense out there.”
Outside, a miserable collection of reporters and photographers sheltered under umbrellas as rain battered the mountain. The awning provided drier refuge, but they’d need to share the space for that.
Twilight couldn’t help an ironic chuckle. “It’s hard to miss.” In a single wing stroke, she closed the distance and landed beside Cozy at the fireplace. “I’ve also noticed that you and The Primaries have ignored every invitation to Canterlot’s friendship forums to discuss these issues with the other tribes.”
Cozy frowned up at the wing longer than her entire body. “Equestria’s already had twelve centuries to talk it out.”
“Project Northstar and Cornerstone Conglomerate have already agreed to a sit-down.” Thanks to a six-month endeavor with her very best ponies and Spike on the job. Without all three tribes, without an even split that showed all sides’ willingness to try… “At the very least, you could share a table for a few hours.”
“Northstar’s leader sent me death threats!”
“Remind me,” asked Twilight, “was this before or after Fissile Whistle dropped his sister three miles into the sky?”
“Allegedly. Besides, she didn’t get hurt, if indeed such a thing allegedly happened. Besides, Project Northstar started the whole thing and they know it. Right, Castle?”
Castle wagged the plume of his tail and let Twilight pet his haunch.
“It’s like I said outside: we don’t think we’re better than them.” She crossed her hooves over the glowing talisman. “Okay, so maybe I do, but that’s because I’m literally a certified genius. It’s not a tribal thing.”
“You’d do better saying this at the forums than to me. Or the press.” Twilight wondered if the villa’s locus spell had jurisdiction over the patio. Those wet ponies could use a shield for all that rain.
Cozy Glow snorted, though her small size made it more of a sneeze. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You say it’s all about poor Dinky and her dead mommy, but really it’s all about getting me to the forums.”
“You’re not the only one who can multitask. Come on, Cozy, it’s one day out of your schedule at the safest place in Equestria. Why can’t you at least try?”
“They’re just looking for a scapegoat. Ponies act like I invented tribalism overnight.” The cape brushed aside as Cozy rubbed the gnarled gray veins at her collarbone. Firelight turned the silk a glistening sunset orange. “The Primary Movement revived while I still had pigeons pooping on my ears, and it existed for like two decades before that. Where was I when the riots started? Stone. Where was I when old lady Lily Valley got blasted through the jaw by Unicorn magic? Stone. Where was I when Princess Platinum took the sun for two weeks, or when Puddinghead said the other tribes could starve to death? It comes over and over, like ponypox.”
“That’s all true, but you weren’t stone when the Pegasi all evacuated to Cloudsdale, or when the Windigos returned. You’re still part of this.” Twilight examined an overhead mantle, where silver garlands looped around a snowglobe of Mt. Everhoof. “Also, we cured ponypox in ‘38.”
“I know where you’re going with this: Harmony wins in the end, right?”
Not precisely where Twilight had been headed, but it did lean in that direction.
Cozy spread her wing to the collection of chess sets: crystal, wood, onyx, glass, and metal. Some traditional, some ornate, and some made to push Power Ponies merchandise. “No matter who wins, the same pieces go back in the same box. Even if pieces look different for different sets, they don’t change. The board doesn’t change. Players change.” She glanced at the taped hourglass beside the onyx board. “I’m back in the game, and I don’t let any piece go to waste.”
It was way too early in the morning for chess metaphors. “This isn’t a game, Cozy.”
“It’s always a game.”
Twilight Sparkle took a deep breath. Held it tight. Let it out.
“Understand this, right here and now: pieces come back; ponies do not. Lily is still in intensive care, and she’s not going to get better.”
Her heart sank in her chest. Truth had slunk from Twilight’s mouth when she wasn’t looking, and it understood the evidence of medical reports faster than her brain could deny it. Lily Valley, Ponyville's best florist, catalyst of the Market Riots, the charred broken face that sent Equestria running back to the safety of their tribes, the sweet mare who sold marigolds at a librarian discount, and loved Nightmare Night despite getting spooked every other day of the year… was going to die. Soon.
Twilight’s friend was dying. And all she could think of, even now, was what it meant for Equestria. What it meant politically. She felt sick.
“I do not want anything like Lily’s incident to happen again, and on the course you’re flying, Cozy, it will. Ponies get hurt. Ponies die. That’s what happens if these groups can’t come to an understanding—somepony else dies.” Twilight stretched her wing to the skylight, where Mistral Drift and Captain Gallus watched them in a brittle truce. Their fur and feathers hung dripping wet, though neither noticed nor cared. Winged silhouettes framed the skylight’s edges, packed shoulder to shoulder. “Think of what might happen to Cold Snap, or Mistral Drift—or you! You can’t come back from petrification just to die all over again.”
Quietly, Cozy Glow studied the ponies above them. “I never thought of it like that. Talk about a record. First pony to get martyred twice in their lifetime.” Her voice trembled in wonder. Absolutely besotted. “Wow. I’d live forever.”
“And the rest? What about them? What do you think they’ll do without you?”
Cozy put her head on her forelegs and turned away.
Twilight edged closer. “I saw you out there, Cozy. The Primaries—your Primaries—mean something to you, and not just as a political faction or some means to an end. You care about them.” She dared another glance at Mistral Drift, who looked ten minutes from a classic Shy-family anxiety attack. “I should apologize. This whole time I thought—” With a sigh, she ran her hoof over the talisman. “…I wanted to think they were nothing but lackeys or henchponies to you.”
Storm clouds cradled the house on all sides, save for the atrium’s hearth splitting the dark. Embers floated as the flames bent, fluttered, and shrank like a living creature. Cozy Glow pulled her tail close and watched. When she brought her head up, the deep pink of her eyes stared sunken and haunted. “I did, too. Until about an hour ago, I… I did, too.” It was the second time Twilight had ever seen Cozy truly frightened.
“You do realize that’s a good thing, right?” If she didn’t think the Pegasus might try to break her jaw, Twilight would have offered a hug. A gentle smile would suffice.
“It snuck up on me. I didn’t mean to.” Cozy sighed. “Still dunno how it happened last time, either.”
Alright, here we go. “You mean with your old friends? The ones you mentioned before?” Take it slow. Don’t spook her again. This is where it all comes together.
“Doesn’t matter. It…” Her ears pinned flat. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because,” Cozy said, “my friends are in the restricted area of your garden.”
Oh. Twilight’s wings flopped like a wet mop. “Lord Tirek,” she said to the wall. “Your friends were Queen Chrysalis and Lord Tirek. Cozy, you can’t be—”
Lashing her tail, Cozy sniffed hard and hunched her shoulders. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”
“I’m not dismissing you, but I admit I’m a little lost.”
Twilight’s brain ran frenzied recaps of every interaction she’d seen between those three. Insults. Disdain. Arguments. At each other’s throats at the drop of a pin, they’d barely seemed to tolerate each other. The closest thing to friendship she remembered was some shared warmth in victory. Did that count? It felt like it should count. It’d been hard to tell with that blast spell smoldering five inches from her face.
“You know they would have killed you the second you stopped being useful to them, right?”
Cozy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and? It went both ways. Tirek thought I planned to kill him in his sleep, which is insane. I’m obviously more about poisons. Look at me; you really think I can take down a juiced-up Tirek by myself?” A thin smile eased across her muzzle. “It’s sweet that he thought I’d be capable of it. He had a funny way of encouraging me by accident. But yeah, we totally would have murdered each other at the end. Probably when one of us went up a power level, I dunno.” The smile widened. “Or maybe we could’ve stayed allies and crushed Equestria under our hooves for a thousand years. I dunno, I liked it.”
More like they’d have frozen to death in a month at the rate those Windigos were howling. Star Swirl had theorized that the reason they’d sprung up so fast hadn’t only been tribal hostilities, but three sources of powerful magic bearing three wells of hatred. At the time, Twilight believed him. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Regardless of who fed the Windigos the most, those three had put in their share—it had radiated from them. They couldn’t have emptied it all on Canterlot, nor on Twilight’s friends. Hatred ate its own tail and didn’t stop until it had no tail left. They would have killed each other. Maybe they’d have felt bad about it afterward, but if regret raised the dead, the graveyards would be empty.
“I understand that it meant something important to you, but you must understand that what you three had, that wasn’t a—” Twilight bit off the word “real” before it poisoned the conversation. Besides, she had no right to determine this friendship’s authenticity. Not this soon, not with her personal biases, and certainly not when saying so belittled the pony in front of her. “—a healthy friendship.”
“I don’t care!” Cozy snapped. “It was MY friendship. I never said anything about being healthy, I said I liked it. We shared the same cloud.” She sneered at Twilight's expression. “Newsflash: villains don’t hug things out. We couldn’t stand each other sometimes, but we still had respect. They didn’t care about my tribe or about my age, they cared what I could do, and I didn’t—” Cozy stomped the tile hard. “I didn’t know how much it mattered until after I broke out. I can’t forget, even if I wanted to.” Cozy’s hoof brushed the granite veins threading across her soft pink coat. “They’re literally part of me now. Sometimes my whole body hurts and I miss them so much, and it’s stupid because nobody can DO anything about it.” She swallowed hard and rubbed her eyes. “They’re not gonna make me cry in front of Twilight Sparkle either. Stop staring like you feel sorry for me.”
“I do.” Twilight’s wings flopped in a sloppy shrug. “What do you want from me? I care about other ponies; it’s kind of what I do. I don’t like seeing you suffer.”
“So? You’re not going to do anything about it. You won’t let them come back.”
“No”, Twilight sighed. “Not yet, anyway. We only freed you because—”
“Equestria made you do it.” That arrogant smirk came back.
“Because the councils judged you’re not an immediate threat.”
Cozy laughed without laughter. “Right. You’re only a threat if you’ve got a horn. I almost forgot.”
To be a threat, one needed power. Or respect. The venn-diagram of those factors became a circle for some ponies. “You don’t need to be a threat to matter. What I told you all those years ago is still true: friendship’s powerful, but power isn’t why you make friends.” Twilight spread her hoof to the atrium, the house, the mountain it sat upon. “Even if you never went into politics or tried to conquer Equestria or won national championships, you would still matter to somepony somewhere. They’d miss you when you were gone.”
Castle rested his chin on Cozy’s head and licked her ear. She covered her stony wing stub with her cape, leaning into his furry chest. “The city buried my mom like old roadapples when she was gone. Nopony remembered her. Not her ‘friends’ from work, and certainly not Svengallop.”
“You did,” Twilight offered.
“And now everypony thinks of her like some secret puzzle piece to my evil soul or some garbage.” Cozy’s lip curled in a bitter sneer. “As if I did all this ‘cause of the orphan thing. Or worse—because Tirek tricked me.” She groaned and dragged her hooves down her face. “Is it that unbelievable I happen to be smart and capable and taught myself Ancient Tambelonian?”
“Sometimes ponies choose to believe what’s easy, not what’s true.” Twilight shook her head. “And they don’t always know how to handle smart young fillies. May I ask you one thing?”
Cozy waved a go-ahead.
“Why did you do it?”
Cozy Glow laughed, then. Not an ironic chuckle, not a giggle for the cameras, and not a sinister cackle. A simple honest laugh with a rasping undertow. The sound of lungs heaving with dust and granite. It sounded so… old. Like the age Cozy would have been. The age she should have been. “Well, that’s easy, Twilight. I did it because I could. I wanted to.”
“Why did you want to?”
The talisman gleamed brightly. “Sorry. That’s two things.”
She’d walked right into that one. “Very well. I’ll share something with you instead. The stone filly who got all those flower crowns and mouth-written cards on her birthday didn’t have a horn, but that never stopped anyone from loving her. They saw a scared pony. That’s it. That’s all they needed to care about you.”
The memorial photo loomed over the west wall, taller than the trophies, the articles, and the shelf of grimoires. Cozy watched the dwindling fire instead.
“Ponies cared about you even before you went to Tartarus. I wish I could’ve helped you see that, or tried harder to understand, or…” Twilight sighed long and low and sad. “I wish I’d done more for you.”
“You’re really torn up about all this, huh?” Cozy flicked her tail. “Good.”
An inlaid clock struck the hour. Their agreed meeting time ran short. Cozy tossed one last log into the fire. Weak flames kicked up, but they wouldn’t hold long. Her eyes traveled from the fireplace to the skylight and the circle of ponies that hadn’t budged an inch.
“You know what?” Her gaze slid down the wall to settle on the knot of feathers, dust, and dog hair at the foot of her bookcase. “Go ahead.”
Twilight pricked her ears. “Pardon?”
“Take the geezer’s body back to Ponyville. No dust off my wings, but it might help our optics.”
“May I ask what changed your mind?”
“No. Ask again, and I’ll change it back. I’ll tell the press we don’t have an issue with it and send Fluff to talk to the Doo family.” She rose and stretched. “There. You got what you came for; are we done?”
“Our time’s almost up so yes, I suppose we are. Thank you for this, Cozy Glow. You don’t know how much this will mean to Dinky.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Yes, Twilight supposed she would. She nodded toward the hearth. “By the way, I noticed your fire’s getting low. This house is beautiful, but on a mountain next to the weather factory, it must get cold up here.”
Cozy trailed at Twilight's knee. “We get by okay. Why, you selling a furnace?”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about something Pinkie Pie’s sister told me. Did you know that Equestrian petrified wood burns for two months straight?”
“No. What about it?” Cozy removed the truth talisman and tossed it. Midair, the necklace flashed, brilliant and blinding. When the light faded, the two halves had cleaved back into one.
“Two months after Hearth’s Warming covers the rest of winter. A foal with a block of petrified wood could stay warm until spring arrived. It guaranteed they could try and get presents next year.” Twilight dipped her head. “Thank you again for meeting me. I hope you’ll at least consider my offer to meet the other tribes.”
“No promises, but we’ll… think about it.” Cozy Glow opened the door, watching the princess step into the rain and the crowd and the galaxy of flashbulbs. “See you, Twilight.”
A flock of soaking wet Pegasi streaked past Twilight to cram into the room in a pile of feathers and questions. Cozy sighed at her wet floor, shrugged, and shut the door.
“What about the post-interview?” a Primary asked behind the glass.
Cozy Glow rolled the curtains down. “Later. Right now, let’s finish breakfast. I never did get that coffee.”
