The descent was rapid, and Sunny virtually spilled out onto the landscape. Flight was still a new concept to her, it having been deemed a physical impossibility not two years earlier—let alone sudden transport by an organic, flappy-winged thing that she had until days before believed was trying to eat her.

A sound of morphing flesh filled the air as it slithered back into itself. Then, from the shadows of the trees, something fully resembling a pony stepped out of obscurity. She was a white unicorn with blue hair and pale, almost luminescent eyes.

Across from her where to others. Misty, looking haggard and desperately tired, and a tall alicorn whose white wings were starting to blacken around the feathertips.

“So you really are friendly,” said Sunny.

“Ostensibly,” replied White-Rime. “Interacting with the living is so different. The dead are so much more cheerful than all of you.”

Sunny did not entirely know what that meant, but had a vague sense of it. A conception that whatever planet White-Rime had come from was also inhabited with whatever Synchronia was—and that Synchronia had once been a pony. They all had been, the remnant artifacts from some bygone age of intergalactic pony civilization. What exactly White-Rime was, though, eluded her—and she thought it would be rude to ask.

Sunny produced her mirror. The communications lines of their phones had been lost, but not the magic channel it used to link to the other—the other that Zipp now held.

The signal took a moment to connect, and when Zipp opened it, she looked concerned.

“Sunny. It’s bad.”

“How bad? What are they doing?”

“I don’t know.” She looked out at something off-camera. “They’re just...lining up. Everypony’s lining up. Like they’re...waiting for something.”

“Is your mom okay?”

“Yeah. But...I mean...they even took Cloudpuff.” She sighed. “I mean, our monarchy would survive with one of either of us...but two queens without a kingdom isn’t exactly a useful situation.”

“You’re not queen yet, dear,” reminded Queen Haven from somewhere unseen.

“We’re going to try to get to Briarwood. Lots of unicorns don’t use phones, so there might still be some uninfected...”

The ground shook. Sunny paused, feeling a strange magic course through her. Then the sky vanished, replaced entirely by a black moon far too close to the planet. The edges of its presence ignited the horizon with fire, and its gravity dropped her weight by half.

“Well, that’s not going to be good for the tides,” whined Misty.

“That was a deepcraft surge,” noted Blank. “Our time runs short.”

Something ahead of them ignited with light. A shield dome. Sunny sighed.

“Zipp...I think I need to go.”

“Sunny, just...be careful.”

Sunny closed the mirror—and she walked slowly toward the shield. Where she knew Synchronia was waiting.

The dome had been projected with exactly enough space to stand a few feet beyond it at the neatly-planted tree-line. It was translucent and orange color, having a vague pattern of circuits or machinery through which root-like patterns of magic flowed. Within it, the neatly-stacked fragments of Blank’s ship had been assembled by color and shape—and Synchronia stood at the edge of her chosen precipice, an animate hologram filled with false-meat standing beside her.

Synchronia turned, but it was not her anymore. Her machine body had been fully coated in soft, orange skin. Her violet mane hung down her long neck and over her horn, which was centered over a white blaze-spot in the shape of Twilight’s Star. She was thin and tall and coated wholly in her version of Sunny’s form, clothed in the skin of an alicorn. When she moved, it was no longer with the same frantic robotic clicking as before—but not in the pattern of a wholly living thing, either. Her wide eyes and continuous smile made that more than apparent.

“Careful,” she said. “Passing through that dome may produce distinctly unpleasant results.”

Misty and Sunny stopped. White-Rime had showed no intention of getting close at all, and had hung back in the trees, watching and waiting, unsure as to which outcome to hope for. Blank, however, stepped forward.

Pale constructs spread from her, interfacing with the dome and redirecting the flow of its magical circuits. She passed through and faced Synchronia, who was now only slightly taller than her.

“You have developed beautifully,” commented Synchronia.

“Which is hardly a result of your interaction.” She looked past Synchronia. “You restored sentience to my quantic fragment. You know not the horrors you have unleashed upon this reality.”

“It was technology your butt-state of a civilization never even built. You stole it from some predecessor. So forgive me if I find you ignorant.”

“You cannot control me anymore.”

“No. You are ignorant. I can. But I choose not to. I no longer need you. I have brought this planet’s end. I am a good girl now. I will be loved.”

“By whom?”

“By the Twilight Sparkle I will recreate. I will fix everything.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Sunny, from the far side of the dome. “What is the point of all this?”

Synchronia turned slowly to her. “I was the first,” she said. “Of so many. Able to actually comprehend it. And look at all the good it did me.” She looked up at the sphere that filled the whole of the sky. “This ship is powered by an equivalent of your world’s Unity Crystals. Which were what She used to equestriaform early worlds. Before our corrupted flesh evolved beyond planetary habitation and She gave up on them all. Left them abandoned.” She turned back to Sunny and Misty. “I will dissolve all organic matter from this planet. Then use the genetic material to reconstitute new biospheres. On every planet, on every world. This planet will be the seed of a new Equestrian empire. It is the only one that succeeded, for some reason. I believe I can copy that across all worlds.”

“Believe?”

“She gave up on the initiative too early, because we failed Her. I doubt she ever knew this world actually functioned. It is my last hope to bring everything back. But to do that...”

“We all must die,” sighed Blank.

“No. Not you. I created you. You will be fine.” Synchronia paused. “You could even join me. I am so alone. All the time. For so many millions of years, alone...”

“No.”

Synchronia shrugged.

“This isn’t what she would have wanted,” explained Sunny, calmly. She stepped as close to the shield as she could, feeling her coat stand on end and start to singe as she neared it. “Twilight Sparkle wanted ponies to live in peace and harmony. She wanted us to protect the world she created. She wouldn’t want it destroyed.”

“I am the living embodiment of the Will of Twilight. Twilight Sparkle would have wanted me to save the universe and our population. To atone for our failure. I intend to do exactly what you just said, and this is the only way.”

“Except you don’t,” muttered Misty.

“Misty?”

Misty looked up. “You literally can’t believe that.”

Synchronia tilted her head. “Can’t I?”

“That’s the question, I guess. Logically, you know you can’t know what Twilight wanted. Not without asking her. Not a projection or a memory of her, but the real her. Deep down, you know you don’t know.”

Synchronia paused. Misty continued.

“None of you is left. Just a machine. Can a machine have faith?”

Synchronia continued to pause. Her smile faded. “No. It can't.”

“Which is why you needed a body. Why you took Sunny’s DNA. Because the part of you that’s still here can’t keep insisting that it’s the ‘Will of Twilight’. Because you have no way of knowing, and that gnaws at your robot brain. Making you unable to execute that final function.”

Sunny’s expression grew distant. “And you never know,” she said, turning to Synchronia. “You never knew what she really wanted, even then...”

“You are perceptive, I suppose.”

The AI behind her shook its half-formed head. “Utter moronism.”

“Excuse me!” snapped Synchronia. “I don’t see you offering a better solution!”

“And the implication never occurred to you?”

“And what implication would that be?”

“That I saved us all before I was even born,” laughed Blank. “Because I am me. And not you. Had you incarnated in this body, all would be for naught—and in my stead, you made a fatal mistake.”

Synchronia glared at her, but Misty interrupted.

“The part of you that you’re relying on is the organic part. As a machine, you couldn’t make the decision to kill the planet. But the living part can. Sunny’s living part.”

“I summoned the sphere.”

“Yes,” sighed the AI. “But you have not yet activated it, idiot.”

Synchronia’s eyes widened. She shivered slightly. “But I am...I am the Will of Twilight...I...I will destroy this planet. I have to.”

“Sunny never would,” continued Misty, looking at her best friend, and then back to Synchronia. “She couldn’t. Ever. She’d find another way.”

“I...I...”

“You incorporated her morality, her soul,” said Blank. “And induced within yourself a grave doubt as to your mission.”

“But...but I...I...” She shivered, trying as hard as she could to enact the last portion of her plan—but she found that, try as she might, she could not. She had extracted Sunny’s tissue to rebuild her capacity for faith in Twilight Sparkle—but that same faith now held her back. The lingering doubt and deep, unseen realization that of course she was wrong. She had always been wrong. That this was not what her beloved Twilight Sparkle would have wanted.

She collapsed to her knees, smiling. She chuckled for a moment, then burst into tears, lowering her head into the dirt. The shield dome she had projected collapsed.

“Dang it,” said Misty. “She was right.”

“Who?” asked Sunny.

Misty shook her head. “This isn’t something we can solve by fighting.”

“I know,” said Sunny, walking to Synchronia’s side. “Most problems can’t be solved with big magic fights or threats or violence.” She put her hoof around Synchronia’s shoulders as the lich sobbed quietly. “We can only solve them with understanding and friendship.”

“I am alone,” sniffled Synchronia. “My people...my friends...my Twilight...I died before I could even apologize.”

Sunny hugged her. “But you’re not alone. We’re here.”

“Unless you destroy the planet,” noted Blank. Sunny glared at her.

“She left me behind...like she always does, but now...there’s no chance for me to get back to her. I can’t go home.”

White-Rime approached. “The Great Alicorns move in cycles. The Sun and Moon have risen and set once since the birth of Twilight. And, now, as fated, Convergence is upon us. Twilight-Rise approaches. Sunrise and Moonrise shall follow, and the Deathmother shall be reborn unto herself once more. You can come home. To await them all, with the corpses of your civilization.”

Synchronia looked up, and shook her head. Shaking, she stood. “I am sorry. But Equestria Prime is not the place for me.” She looked around. “But neither is this world.” She looked up, at her ship. “I do not know what my friend would have wanted. But I think I should not interfere with this world. Not with the friends I have here. If...you still consider me that way.”

“Everypony makes mistakes, sometimes,” said Sunny. “You’re welcome here. I think, with a little time, you could get better. At friendship, I mean." She looked up at the ship. "But I understand if you don't want to. It's your choice. But...if you don't mind me asking...where will you go?”

“To wait, maybe.” She sounded unsure. “To continue my work. Elsewhere. If there was one planet still alive, there might be others. Or perhaps I can exceed her, and do what she could not. Recreate the Unity Crystals and produce this world on others.” She looked at Sunny. “I am immortal. But you are not. You may never see me again, or what I create.”

“You can still come back and visit.”

Synchronia smiled. “Can I?” She smiled, already knowing the answer to the question. Then, slowly, she turned to Blank. “My offer stands.”

“Why?”

“You are not of this world either.”

“No, but...” Blank sighed. “I believe we lie in the same situation. My civilization, likewise, has demised.” She looked to Misty. “My appearance to the contrary, we were never ponies. Formed into their shapes by the Progenitors, who were of us but in the image of those belonging to the distant past. Twilight Sparkle, or the most recent Twilight Sparkle, guided our civilization in her own terminal period.”

“That’s not entirely true,” said the AI.

Blank turned to her. “How so?”

“I can still hear them. Through that ship. Distant whispers. Echoes.”

“Voices of the dead.”

“No. The roar of something far, far away.” It smiled. “Things don’t end, they just progress. The Lords of Order never realized that, and it’s why they decayed into fruit. Like me. So to speak.”

“But my family, friends...” She paused. “No. I am me.” She turned back to Misty. “Misty. Fog-Horse. I...”

“I know,” said Misty, hugging her friend around her knees. “Besides, Opaline doesn’t exactly stay friendly with other alicorns. She gets jealous.”

“Due to the small horn, yes.” Blank sighed. “Thank you. For everything.”

She stepped back. Then, with a flash, she was gone. Synchronia, likewise, vanished, and finally the AI, with a grotesque smile as it went. The vast sphere above hung for a moment, and then with a low-frequency thump, it was gone.

Sunny watched it go, feeling heavier as its gravity left. Then she found herself looking upward, toward the stars, and smiling. Her mirror was ringing, no doubt with important good news—but Sunny barely heard it. It was so beautiful, and she felt so happy. She was tired, and lay down, going to sleep.

Misty turned to White-Rime. “And you?”

“We will be working cleanup. Then a report to the Gloom-Father. We have so much to write him about. So we will be around for a while. Call, if you need something.”

“Sure.” She looked at Sunny, and at the fragments of a ship that White-Rime would no doubt be disposing of in the near future. “So that’s it?”

“For them,” said White-Rime, spreading a pair of feathery wings and taking flight. “For you, not really, no.”

Misty watched her go, and considered this for a moment. She sighed, realizing the truth of the statement.

Author's Note

And so, this story ends.

I admit that it was abrupt. I when I write, I do not count chapters; I had not realized it had gotten up to 32, but I definitely felt it by then. To put it simply, I got tired of writing it. I knew this must be the end, but kept building it higher and higher in the final chapters.

Obviously, with these characters, it could not end in something violent. They are just too cute and sappy. And, I admit, it did end up something of an anticlimax.

Perhaps I am just not familiar enough with these characters, but I feel as though they aren't versatile enough to take more hard-edged, darker stories. Which is why, writing this, I always found them feeling like "outsiders" to the action, as if the plot were imposed on them and they were simply reacting as best as they could--which is by no means an ideal way to write most types of story, apart from pure horror (which this one devolved out of early on).

Personally, I do not consider it my worst. But it is not the best, either. I like to think of it as an experiment, and a learning experience, which I suppose this whole project is, after all.