Princess Celestia sat in a small, sparsely furnished office, its cool gloom nearly oppressive. The room was lit only by a single desk lamp, its dim glow pooling in warm, murky circles across the table and casting long shadows. The faint, stale scent of old stacks of paper and files hung in the air, lending the room a heavy silence. It was unusual for Celestia to be the visitor—typically, others waited for her, seated in her office, patient and reverent, while she took her place at the head of her majestic desk. But these circumstances were different; the roles were reversed.

Across from her sat Dr. Pinkamina Diane Pie, or just Pinkie Pie to her friends. She wore a white lab coat and looked unusually serious. Her usually curly mane was pulled into a somewhat tidy braid, and instead of her customary smile, her face held a firm, grave expression. She was focused intently on a file, her snout close to the pages, humming softly in a low, unhurried tone as she read.

Hardly anyone knew that Pinkie Pie held a degree in psychology, specializing in trauma and mental disorders. She had chosen the field to better understand the minds of her fellow ponies and to bring them a smile, especially in dark times. After the terrible events in Ponyville, she had immediately volunteered and formally requested to be Twilight’s treating psychologist—a request that Celestia had gladly accepted. No other psychologist would have committed to Twilight’s case so intensively as Pinkie.

After a few more minutes, with Pinkie fully engrossed in the report, Celestia cleared her throat audibly. The noise startled Pinkie, who raised her head quickly.

“Oh, Princess, sorry!” she apologized with an embarrassed smile. “I got a little too absorbed in the report.”

“No worries, Dr. Pie,” replied the princess with a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I was informed that you wanted to see me, but…” She paused, searching for the right words. “But I still don’t quite know why.”

Pinkie Pie sighed deeply. “It’s about Twilight,” she finally said.

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “New findings?”

Pinkie hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before grabbing a crumpled piece of paper from her desk and squeezing it like a stress ball. “Something like that,” she murmured. “Twilight broke out of the Canterlot Secure Asylum at an unknown time last night.”

“I know,” Celestia replied with a somber tone. “The Royal Guard’s reports were on my desk this morning.” She paused, as if weighed down by her words. “Shining Armor, captain of the Royal Guard and Twilight’s brother, was informed last night. He immediately dispatched a search party. But so far… the search has yielded nothing. It’s as if she vanished. No hoofprints, no magical residue, no witnesses. Nothing.”

Pinkie Pie nodded thoughtfully. “It’s troubling that she managed to break out so easily. The Canterlot Secure Asylum is a high-security facility—under round-the-clock patrol, magically sealed, with heavy steel doors. I can’t explain how she could have escaped.”

Celestia frowned. “I assume she teleported. It’s hard to imagine her breaking through the cell door without leaving traces. A teleport without magical residue is rare, but theoretically possible.”

“But the cells are magically warded,” Pinkie countered, “and she was wearing a top-tier inhibitor ring.”

Celestia let out a short, bitter laugh. “Twilight was always… something special,” she said, her voice tinged with resignation. “It seems she broke the inhibitor ring and found a way to bypass the cell’s magical barriers. I like it as little as you do, Pinkie. Twilight is… dangerous. She has already shown in Ponyville what she’s capable of.” She sighed deeply, running a hoof over her forehead. “The thought of her now roaming free has given me a headache since this morning.”

At the mention of Ponyville, Pinkie looked down sadly, her expression darkening. Celestia noticed the change immediately and decided to inquire. “How are the other Element Bearers faring?” she asked quietly.

Pinkie allowed a moment of silence before she took a deep breath and began to speak. “Not well,” she finally said in a soft voice. “Since the incident, we’ve hardly spoken to one another. Rainbow Dash is tirelessly helping with the reconstruction of Ponyville. I think she’s trying to distract herself, trying to feel useful. She blames herself for everything that happened… believes she could have done more for Twilight, that she could have prevented it.” Pinkie sighed, her voice trembling as she continued. “Applejack isn’t doing much better. Twilight… decapitated her brother. And Apple Bloom witnessed it.” Pinkie’s voice broke for a moment before she continued. “Since then, Applejack has been distant, hardly speaking a word. But one thing is certain: she’s angry. Very angry.”

Pinkie began pressing the crumpled piece of paper in her hooves even harder. “Rarity…” She sighed heavily. “She tries to act as though it doesn’t affect her. She puts on a brave face, handing out blankets and tents to the ponies who lost their homes. I think she’s trying to look hopefully to the future, but… I fear she isn’t handling this as lightly as she lets on.” Pinkie’s voice grew quieter, and she looked down. “And then there’s Fluttershy. Since the incident, she’s barely dared to leave her house. She’s always been skittish, but now…”

Pinkie’s brief explanation ended in a heavy silence that hung over the room like a thick veil. Celestia watched her for a moment before gently asking, “And how are you holding up, Pinkie?”

“I don’t really know,” Pinkie Pie replied softly. “I had hoped to help Twilight. To find out why all of this happened. But now… now she’s gone, my friends are avoiding each other, and nopony in Ponyville feels like laughing anymore.” Her voice shook, and her eyes grew shiny with tears. “Twenty-seven ponies died that day, Princess. Twenty-seven… and I knew each one of them by name. And there are still eighty-three ponies who were badly injured, spread across hospitals all over Equestria. So many are grieving, so many are angry… and I can’t help any of them.”

Celestia observed the disheartened mare in silence for a moment before gently asking, “You say you wanted to find out what happened to Twilight. Do you have… any idea how it all came to this? How everything could go so horribly wrong?”

Pinkie took a deep breath and leafed through her notes. “I’ve had little time so far, and my treatment sessions with Twilight were hardly insightful. She hardly responded to questions or other external stimuli. During her time here, she barely ate or drank. When she spoke, it was mostly incoherent, jumbled nonsense about ponies who weren’t even there.” She sighed heavily. “So far, I’ve barely been able to derive anything useful from my notes. But she left a farewell letter—a kind of poem directed at you. Then there are the entries from her journal and information from conversations with other ponies, especially Spike.”

Pinkie turned another page and sighed softly. “In her journal, she describes a kind of homesickness. She missed Canterlot, but above all, she missed you—or rather, the time she got to spend with you. She wrote about how hard she tried to take the study of friendship seriously, just as you had instructed her, but… she was unhappy.” Pinkie’s voice softened as she continued. “She felt like you were pushing her away, and she blamed herself for it. A few days before the incident, the journal entries just stopped.”

Pinkie licked her hoof briefly and turned another page. “Spike mentioned that, in the days leading up to the incident, Twilight was prone to severe mood swings. At times, she seemed sad; other times, she’d become anxious or angry out of nowhere. He even caught her awake a few times at night, staring out the window toward Canterlot.” She shuddered slightly. “He also believes she began to hurt herself. He found bloodstains on the floor and a carelessly discarded kitchen knife nearby.”

“I can only speculate,” Pinkie began cautiously, “but up to this point, it sounds like she developed a kind of self-loathing. When I look at her journal entries, she seemed to have felt deeply that she had disappointed you—as if you no longer wanted her around because of it. This thought… tore her apart until she couldn’t cope with these feelings any longer.”

“So she buried these feelings deep inside,” Pinkie continued quietly. “Spike told me about a very strange incident,” she added. “One night, she stared intensely into a mirror, almost as if she didn’t recognize herself anymore. Then she grew angry, started arguing with her reflection, and eventually broke down in tears. In the end… she shattered the mirror.”

Celestia’s eyes widened. “She… talked to her reflection?”

Pinkie nodded slowly. “Yes. According to Spike, it was as if she saw someone there, someone only she could perceive—someone who tormented and provoked her. The next morning, Spike asked her about it, but she couldn’t remember a thing, as if the event had been completely erased from her mind.”

Celestia stared at Pinkie Pie in shock, holding a hoof to her mouth.

“I can only speculate here as well,” Pinkie began cautiously, “but to me, it sounds like a projection of her mind—a hallucination that painfully brought her suppressed feelings and emotions to the surface.”

Celestia shook her head, her brow deeply furrowed. “Twilight was always strong and composed. I can hardly imagine her breaking down like that.”

Pinkie paused briefly and sighed. “After that day, she was… different. Spike reported severe paranoia.” She swallowed, her eyes flashing with guilt. “I experienced that paranoia myself when I organized a surprise party for her. I thought that since she was isolating herself, it would help her to break that isolation… but now, I believe it may have been the final blow to her already fragile psyche.”

“She projected her self-hatred and the betrayal she felt from you onto others,” Pinkie stated, her voice soft and reflective. “When we entered her private space, her only safe retreat, it probably felt like a complete loss of control for her. A confirmation that she wasn’t the problem—that it was others who were doing this to her.”

Celestia closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “I wanted to make her stronger. I wanted her to be more independent. If I had only known she felt this way…” She trailed off and shook her head. “No, that doesn’t help us now.”

Pinkie looked at Celestia with sympathetic eyes. “The next time Spike saw her, she was holding a knife to her chest. She wanted to end her life. He had to stop her.”

Celestia’s eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. “Spike… he stopped her?” Her voice trembled, as if the thought alone broke her heart.

“Spike didn’t want to discuss the details,” Pinkie said softly, “but it was clear that she no longer saw any way out. The self-doubt, the feeling that you had abandoned her… it was simply too much for her.”

Pinkie shuddered. “The next time anyone saw her… was when she began her rampage through Ponyville.” She swallowed heavily, then continued. “When Twilight encountered us, she was covered in blood and grinning… manically. She spoke about how we had manipulated her like a toy and then abandoned her, how we had sent her away.” Pinkie paused, her voice quivering. “At first, I didn’t understand what she meant, but… now I think she was really talking about you, Princess. She believed you never truly loved her, that your relationship was a lie—a trick to make her do exactly what you wanted. And that once you no longer needed her, you simply… cast her aside.”

Tears glistened in Celestia’s eyes as memories of her last encounter with Twilight in Ponyville flashed before her mind. She remembered Twilight’s wounded voice, broken and full of despair: “I just wanted to… to still be your student. Your star pupil.” Her voice was barely a whisper, echoing in the darkness. “I wanted you to look at me the way you used to… to… to sing me to sleep.”

Then came the final accusation, like a dagger to Celestia’s heart. “You threw me away like an old toy that had outlived its purpose!”

She recalled Twilight’s last visit to Canterlot before everything fell apart. Twilight had been quieter than usual, almost hesitant as they talked. Celestia had encouraged her to “stand strong,” to “trust herself” in Ponyville. At the time, Twilight had simply nodded, her eyes downcast. Celestia now realized that Twilight might have wanted to say something—maybe to confide her struggles, her fears—but Celestia’s well-meaning words had closed the door on any vulnerability.

The tears flowed freely, and Celestia began to weep—quietly at first, then her sobs grew heavier. She had failed her student… and now Twilight had become a monster. After a while, she lifted her gaze and looked at Pinkie, who regarded her with a sympathetic, sorrowful smile.

Celestia broke her silence, her voice low, almost as if confessing a sin. “I thought… I thought I was preparing her. Making her stronger. But now… I wonder if I simply left her alone, without the guidance she needed.”

Pinkie looked at her, sympathy in her eyes. “You couldn’t have known, Princess. None of us did. Twilight was… good at hiding things. From us, from herself.”

But Celestia shook her head, pain clear in her gaze. “I was her teacher. I should have seen it. She was reaching out to me in her own way, and I was too blind to understand.” She paused, the memory of Twilight’s last, desperate letter burning in her mind. “Tell me, Pinkie,” Celestia whispered, her voice barely a breath, “do you think there’s still hope for my beloved student?”

Pinkie looked away, sighing. “I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “I’ve never encountered a case like this, but… when we were in the alley, she just couldn’t bring herself to really hurt us. Something deep within her knew it was wrong, and that stopped her.” She paused, her voice soft, almost pleading. “I can only hope that spark still remains in her.”

Slowly, Celestia collected herself, straightening up and assuming the royal posture that was expected of her. But the image of the perfect monarch was broken—smeared makeup traced dark trails down her cheeks. “I hope… I hope it’s not too late,” she whispered. Then she looked at Pinkie. “And what about Spike? You seem to have spoken with him a lot.”

Pinkie Pie nodded. “Yes… he often comes here. I’ve seen him several times at the outer walls of Twilight’s cell.” She paused briefly, her voice gentle and sad. “He frequently asks about her, wants to know how she’s doing, and if he can see her. I think he’s trying to be close to her. He blames himself—thinks he didn’t care enough for her and is now trying to make it right.” Pinkie lowered her gaze, her voice breaking. “It really weighs on him. He misses his big sister.”

Celestia sighed. “Does he know?” she asked.

“No. As far as I know, he still believes that Twilight is here in her cell,” Pinkie said softly. “I’m worried about what he’ll do when he finds out she’s gone.”

Meanwhile, in Ashforge, an industrial city on the southern edge of Equestria, best known not only for its smoking mines and endless forges but also for its role as the largest recruitment and training ground for the Royal Guard in the country’s south, a white-coated mare with a black mane sat on a bench, nervously tapping her hooves, a grin playing on her face. Those looking closely might notice dark blue or magenta roots peeking through her otherwise jet-black mane.

Around the mare sat countless other ponies on similar benches, all waiting for their names to be called. The booming voice of a stern military stallion echoed through the hall. “Starflare, step forward!”

The mare jumped up from the bench and approached the stallion. He scrutinized the small mare closely, his eyes narrowing with scrutiny. “Tell me, missy,” he began in a harsh tone, “why does a dainty thing like you want to join the Royal Guard?”

Starflare grinned, her eyes flashing with an unspoken intention. “Reclaiming my purpose... I’ve always wanted to be close to the Princess.” A low, eerie laugh escaped her, causing the stallion to hesitate, momentarily unsettled. The stallion stared at the mare in front of him and couldn't shake off the thought that there was something off with her.

Author's Note

And here is the epilogue. So this story is officially over. If there is demand, there may be a sequel at some point. That is no guarantee. I hope the people who didn't like the ending will at least find something to like here.

Otherwise have a nice time, don't forget to rate the story and leave me feedback. I'm looking forward to it.