The world rolled underneath them like a sheet of paper, patches of brown and green surrounded by the empty yellow and orange of the sunset sky. Twilight could make out little of the countryside below from her height, save for the occasional copse of trees or solitary cabin by a river. She could not see the airship’s shadow in the darkening fields.

When Ponyville was only a small scattering of lights behind them, coals in the bottom of a pit, she stopped crying. Her eyes hurt; she felt sleepless and drained, and as she raised her hooves to rub her them, she noticed Rarity standing next to her. She hastily tried to compose herself as she turned to her.

“I was wondering when you’d notice me,” Rarity said.

“How—”

“A few minutes now, darling.”

Twilight returned to looking over the gunwale. “He’s right, Rarity. We were all so insensitive to him, especially me. I should have taken the time to properly explain things, to spend time with him before we had to leave.”

“We all should have, Twilight. But he’s a big dragon. He’ll bounce back, I’m sure. He said it himself: he still loves you. At least there’s that.”

“I still feel awful, Rarity.”

“I know, Twilight. So do I.” She took a deep, bracing breath. “But, we’ll be back. It might be difficult, and dangerous, but we are going to come back home. When all this is over.”

“I know you’re right.” Twilight was silent for a few seconds. “Do you really think it’ll be that easy?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“This task. Do you really think it’ll be as easy as we’ve been saying it’ll be? Find the Elements, defeat Discord, put the world back together. It’s so much.”

“We’ve done the first two things before, though,” Rarity said optimistically.

“That’s true.”

“We’ll be fine, darling. All we’re doing for now is seeing the princesses, and they’ll surely help us more.”

Twilight smiled at this, and Rarity leaned next to her, observing the ground below. The dull, silver river ran in its weird, incomplete corners and slivers toward the broken plate of Canterlot, the graying suburbs arranged, ringlike, around a cracked mountain, dark and spiny in the dying light. The palace was a white fleck of snow on its side, hanging over the mutilated ring of houses and buildings, all broken-down and sagging in the sunset. Distant shadows.

For an hour, they coasted, and when the sun had vanished entirely, they swam through a sea of stars until they were over the great flickering eye of Lower Canterlot. Only the ship’s engine and propellers could be heard, rumbling and whirring through the darkness like something unreal. At Twilight’s instruction, Pinkie turned down the engines and turned up the torch, bringing them up along the mountain’s slopes and to the palace.

The mountain, though broken at the bottom, had retained its form otherwise—a solid claw bursting through the flakes of earth. Deep grooves marred its surface in some places, either by Pinkie’s spell or in the absence of the waterfall that had formerly cut its way downwards. They could see the blackened plains before the palace entryway, where they had fought. It had been cleared of debris, but the grass was all but gone, the ground an unhealthy dark gray that Twilight suspected, but didn’t like to think, was blood.

The palace, suffused in the starlight and the light of its many torches, stood as gloriously as ever, its white walls throwing dull yellow and orange into the air like solid fire; its turrets, those that remained standing, rising delicately into the sagging sky. The observatory telescope glimmered in the distance.

As they drew nearer, Pinkie cut the engine and torch, and they drifted down toward a small section of ground just outside the palace stairs, still whole and clear of debris. They passed under the huge archway and into the great hall, where Princess Celestia stood, attentive and glowing in the pale torchlight, flanked by no one and watching patiently.

She smiled, tired and patient, but still warm. They bowed, and she laughed. “After all this, you still bow to me. Rise, my little ponies.”

They did, and looked upon her flawless form; standing before the pristine white and living, flowing mane of the princess and goddess of Equestria, they felt, for the first time, that everything would be all right. All their worries, vanished. All their fears, disappeared. For a time, it was all they could do to stare at her, feeling their insides melt at her comforting, powerful presence.

“I know it has been a trying few days, friends, but looking at me will not help you on your quest,” she said, again smiling. “I know you come with questions; I hope I can provide the answers.”

Twilight spoke first, shaking her head a little to clear it. “Your highness, Ponyville is on its way to recovery. We brought the land back together with no problems, and helped some of our friends and neighbors rebuild.”

Celestia nodded. “It was good of you to stay, especially for Lyra’s funeral.”

“You know about that?”

“I do. I regret that I could not have been in attendance myself, but my sister and I have been very busy these past days, with scarcely time enough for ourselves. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Absolutely, your highness. So, what is going on in Canterlot?”

“Much, and much more now that you’re here. Luna and I have managed to reconstruct some of the town ourselves, though we, again, do not have time enough to do the job properly. The ponies have been… adjusting. Being so close to me, there was little violence or crime, though there was plenty of uproar. Most of that, I have managed to quell.”

“Where is Princess Luna, anyway?” Applejack asked.

“She is currently searching the Everfree Forest for signs of Discord. So far as I know, she has found nothing.”

“Does Canterlot know we’re coming?” Twilight asked.

“They know that the Elements of Harmony are on their way, yes. But I did not identify you specifically. As I’m sure you found in Ponyville, having an entire town knowing your business does not help with expediency.”

“Not like most ponies won’t recognize us anyway,” Rainbow said.

“How has the town been doing?” Rarity asked.

“Quite well, actually. For the time. We have enough water for a few weeks, if we’re careful; hopefully, by that time, we will have a more sustainable system in place.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked.

“The water has stayed in our country; that is good. However, it has also stopped flowing. The river that we have around our town has been reduced to a very strangely-shaped lake, which, if it is not replenished, will soon be empty.”

“Uh, I’ve got a solution for that,” Rainbow said. “Rain clouds. Duh.”

“It is not that simple. Yes, we could use rain for a time, but Cloudsdale gets its water from the very same rivers and reservoirs we would be refilling. We would only be draining our sources faster to refill them.”

“So what are you going to do?” Twilight asked.

“I have commissioned a convoy of cloud factories and water filtering plants from Cloudsdale to the ocean. We will get our water there.”

“You have a convoy going all the way down to the planet?” Rainbow said.

“I have nothing at all, yet. The first step in the chain is still a ways from completion. But no, it will not go all the way down. As it turns out, along with our rivers, a part of the sea came up too.”

They all looked at Pinkie, who only smiled warily.

“Oh, because the Equestrian borders extend out into the ocean a little,” Twilight said.

“Precisely.”

“But isn’t that just prolonging the problem?” Rainbow asked. “What are you gonna do when the ocean runs out?”

Celestia paused. “By my… estimates, that should not happen for several years. The country will be restored by that time.”

“Do you think so?” Twilight asked.

“I do.”

“But we’re probably looking at a drought until that convoy’s up and running,” Rainbow said.

“Unfortunately, yes. For the time being, cities will need to rely on their own resources for survival. I am working on setting up temporary water recycling plants for those that don’t already have them.”

“Wait, I just thought of something,” Twilight said. “If the rivers aren’t flowing, won’t the water collect in the lowest point of every section?”

“Yes, and it will overflow in those places. I have already alerted the necessary ponies, and ordered the erection of levees.”

“You really did think of everythin’,” Applejack said.

Celestia smiled. “That’s my job.”

“Um, you said Canterlot is okay, though, right?” Fluttershy asked.

“Yes, for now.”

“How are the ponies getting along otherwise?” Rarity asked.

“For the most part, they are doing okay. Some of the more industrious citizens have established systems of bridges across the smaller gaps, and many of our pegasi have graciously volunteered to act as temporary carriers or messengers. My own royal guard is among them.”

“What about Discord?” Twilight asked, her voice dropping a little.

“Neither Luna nor I have seen or heard anything, I’m afraid. We suspect he’s regrouping his army, though at this point we have nothing concrete. Did you read at all about him, Twilight?”

“I did.”

“Then you know that this is no joke.”

“I do.”

“What about the Elements?” Rarity asked.

“Still lost.”

“So the plan remains the same for us,” Twilight said. “We go from town to town, repairing as we go, and look for the Elements of Harmony.”

“That is correct.”

“Yeah, on that topic, where are we supposed to go after this?” Rainbow asked.

“That is up to you. You’re the adventurers, after all.”

“We have a map, Rainbow. We’ll be fine,” Twilight said.

Celestia nodded. “I see my sister gave you one of our airships. I trust it has served you well?”

Twilight was momentarily taken aback by the abrupt question. “Yes, it’s been working fine for us. It is okay that we use it, right?”

“Absolutely. How else would you travel?”

Twilight grinned sheepishly; even after all her time with the princess, she still expected Celestia to be more of a disciplinarian than a friend.

“You may use it until it no longer serves you. I will even give you fuel for it—a royal gift, if you like.”

“Th-thank you, your highness,” Twilight said, bending her knees to bow and catching herself just in time. She stood up straight with a blush.

“It is my pleasure. Don’t let me forget.”

“Sure thing, yer highness. Um, actually, Ah have a question for you,” Applejack said.

Celestia nodded to her.

“Um, you see, we don’t have a whole lot of money, an’,”

Celestia cut her off with a musical, graceful laugh. “Of course, Applejack. I understand your need. Here.” Her horn flashed for a second, and a small scroll appeared before them, tightly rolled and shut with a wax seal emblazoned with the royal crest. “This grants you full access to the Canterlot treasury. It has my signature, and Luna’s.”

They each gasped, some more loudly than others. Pinkie’s lasted a full minute. “Your highness! Um, are you sure you’re okay with us having access to all this money?” Twilight asked, when they had calmed down.

“That is why I gave you the scroll, is it not? We have far more money than we’ll ever need, and besides, what harm could you six possibly do? I don’t suspect you’ll be buying the Elements,” she said, giving another small chuckle.

“I don’t mean to complain, but couldn’t you be using this money to help rebuild things?” Rarity asked.

“Oh, I am.” She smiled wide, and for a moment, her eyes glinted playfully. “It’s quite a large treasury, you know.”

“Thank you, your highness, from the bottom of my heart,” Twilight said, this time not stopping herself from bowing; the others followed her example.

Celestia sighed. “Please,” she said, and they all righted themselves hastily. Celestia looked at Twilight for a moment. “I sense fear in you, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight hesitated. She had been looking forward to the meeting, to getting answers, but Celestia was right; she had been afraid too. Afraid of what she might learn, and afraid of the question she was about to ask. She nodded, and the others looked at her, puzzled.

“What does it concern?”

“A certain place,” Twilight said. “And dreams. They’re kind of intertwined.”

“Ah, right. This,” Rarity said.

“What is your question?” Celestia asked.

“Do you know anything about a town called Snowdrift? I think it’s in the southwest somewhere,” Twilight said.

“I do know the town, yes,” Celestia said, her voice suddenly grave.

“Pinkie dreamed of it a few nights ago. At least, I think it was Snowdrift.”

“‘Many a nightmare has come flying from Snowdrift’,” Celestia said. “That’s an old phrase they use in the south.”

Twilight only looked at her unhappily.

“It is a small town; no more than a thousand ponies live there. And yes, it is in the southwest, built at the foot of Equestria Glacier. Twilight, are you familiar with Tartarus?”

Twilight hesitated. “Yes.” She had read about it before, but never paid it much attention. Tartarus, the underworld, the other side, hell—different names, but all the same thing: the seldom-explored, but very real parallel world to the Gaia. An entire world of impossible creatures, irrational magic, and absurdities that seemed straight out of the most feverish mind in existence. Thousands of volumes had been dedicated to its study, and yet ponies knew less about Tartarus than the bottom of the ocean. The very word made Twilight’s body tense and her fur stand on end.

“And you are aware that there are passages between it and the Gaia. Holes in our own reality,” Celestia continued.

Twilight thought again. Though little was known of the actual world itself, there was much information on the gateways between the Gaia and Tartarus, naturally-occurring punctures in the barrier that kept them separate, allowing easy travel between them. She had never seen one. “Yes,” she said.

“Snowdrift is built next to one such gateway.”

“Uh… huh.” She didn’t know how to respond.

“Why?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, that sounds crazy,” Rainbow said.

“The town is old, older than Canterlot. It developed out of a research station around the gateway.”

“Why would anyone want to live there, though? Isn’t Tartarus supposed to be, well, deadly?” Rarity asked.

“That, I cannot say, though I must confess, I am unsettled to hear that you are dreaming of it. What was your dream, Pinkie?”

Pinkie recounted her dream, and Celestia’s face grew thoughtful, then, at the end, concerned.

“I have heard… chillingly similar descriptions of that dream, from various sources, and across many years.” She sighed. “I do not wish to cause undue alarm, but you should be very concerned, and very careful when you are in Snowdrift. For you will be there, eventually. Twilight, you look upset.”

“A friend of ours said the same thing you did. That she had heard of the dream before.”

“I believe she said she had had it herself,” Rarity said.

Celestia nodded. “It is a common dream, especially to those more sensitive to the forces of magic.”

“Why are multiple ponies having it?” Twilight asked.

“A question better asked to my sister. I can only guess that the subject of the dream has the ability to somehow impose itself on the collective equine subconscious.”

“What is the subject?” Rainbow asked.

“I’m afraid I do not know off the top of my head.”

“Have you ever had it? The dream, I mean,” Rarity said.

“I have not, though Luna has, shortly after her return from imprisonment. She was very upset about it.”

“Well, it is a really, really scary dream,” Pinkie said, and Celestia nodded.

“I appreciate that you told me, and am sorry that I can offer no advice except to be careful.”

“It’s okay, your highness. We understand,” Twilight said.

“We do have the warning, after all. I’m sure we’ll be okay,” Rarity said with an uncertain, forced smile.

“I have faith in you,” Celestia said.

“It can’t be that bad, if ponies live there,” Rainbow said.

“We’ll just have to figure it out when we get there,” Twilight said. “But we can’t afford to worry about it now.”

“Exactly. Now, there is one more thing I must tell you about your job here,” Celestia said. “Based on your work in Ponyville, I believe Canterlot is too big for you to fix in one spell. You’ll have to split your efforts.”

“No problem!” Pinkie said.

“So we’ll just cast from both sides of the city, instead of the middle,” Applejack said.

“Do you have anything else you would like to address?” Celestia asked.

“What about that weird pirate ship?” Rainbow asked.

“The last I saw of it, it was floating around in the south, in the wastelands. Nowhere near any cities.”

“So what was it doing?” Rarity asked.

“Near as I can tell, nothing.”

“Do you at least know what it is?” Applejack asked.

“I have a theory. I think—though I haven’t verified it—that Discord found an old, wrecked ship and resurrected it.”

“But why?” Twilight asked.

Celestia sighed tiredly. “It really could be anything. Maybe it’s a display of power. Maybe it’s a show of style. Maybe it’s a decoy.”

“It certainly seems out-of-place,” Rarity said.

“Yes. Out-of-place, but, at this point, non-threatening. A curiosity.” Seeing their incredulous faces, she went on hastily. “I’ll still keep an eye on it, of course. When I find it again.”

“You’ll keep us informed, won’t you?” Fluttershy asked.

“Whenever I can spare the time. And when I cannot, Luna will.” She glanced at the window. “I cannot stay here and talk much longer. I delayed an important meeting to speak with you, and am needed elsewhere. Do you have any further questions?”

“I can’t think of anything,” Twilight said.

“Very well. Hold on.” Her horn flashed again, and several large, cylindrical, metal canisters appeared before them, clunking to the floor ungracefully. “This should be sufficient fuel for your ship.” She levitated them out the palace doors and onto the deck, an elegant line of dull gray lozenges tumbling out over the gunwales. “I will be back here tomorrow. If you can, come by before leaving.” She smiled, her eyes creasing up in the friendly gesture that again, and only momentarily, soothed their anxiety. “Best of luck.”

With a sharp crack and a flash of light, she was gone, a glistening skein of air left in her wake. The room was suddenly quiet, and they backed out uncomfortably, climbing back onto the ship and taking off without a word.

While they left the palace, Twilight took a moment to inspect the canisters that Celestia had summoned: smooth, unmarked cylinders of metal that smelled powerfully of some unidentifiable fuel—so powerfully that she couldn’t get close enough to get a good look at them. She walked away from the canisters and over to Fluttershy, who leaned on the rail, staring down.

“Hey, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy jumped. “Oh, Twilight. I didn’t see you there.”

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, really.” They swung slowly out over the dark slopes, and Twilight looked with her. Canterlot Mountain was a huge, dark horn, and as they flew away from the palace, it seemed to drop out beneath them, ending several thousand feet below at the scattered dusting of embers of Lower Canterlot. Even at their late hour, the city was awake and active, much unlike slumbering Ponyville; it was weird for her to think that, only just that morning, they had stood in the quiet, tiny Ponyville cemetery, weeping among the flowers and the graves. Two different worlds, only forty miles apart.

“I never really appreciated how big Canterlot is,” Fluttershy said.

“It’s easy for ponies to forget everything at the mountain’s foot. When anyone thinks of Canterlot, they think of the palace, and all the big, elegant buildings surrounding it—never the suburbs. Down here is where the majority of the citizens live.” Twilight leaned out a little. “I was born down there, you know. I think my parents still live in the old house.”

“Your parents, Twilight?” Rarity asked, approaching from behind. “Oh, we simply must pay them a visit.”

“I intend to, but tomorrow. We need to do our job here first.” She paused, surprised at herself. Since the beginning, her parents had been a constant pearl of worry in the back of her mind, but here, at the first mention of them, she dismissed it in favor of their assignment. “Besides, they’re probably asleep by now anyway.”

“But it’s only nine.”

“They’re early risers,” Twilight said. “Always have been.”

They slowly drifted out and down toward the city, and Twilight could begin to distinguish individual buildings. She looked for a large, flat spot for her to draw the sigil, but saw little. Everything was either too narrow, or congested with buildings or wreckage. She saw no empty lots, no large spaces between buildings, nothing.

“You know, darling, I’ve been doing some thinking, about the, um… the battle,” Rarity said.

Twilight didn’t look at her, but closed her eyes. Memories flashed through her mind: the flight to and above the palace, the drop, the training, the fighting, hazy in some places and crystal sharp in others. Entire sequences of conversation and motion rendered down to a single, unclear thought, peppered in with precise images and sensations: the gleam in Pinkie’s eyes at a spell, the wind in her mane at the beginning of the fall. Fear in the face of a falling attacker. “What about it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I’ve just been… thinking. It seems distant. So unreal, so far away. Like it didn’t really happen.”

“I know what you mean,” Twilight said, remembering more: the confusion, the exhaustion, the horror she felt when she looked into the sky for the first time.

“Are you okay, darling?”

After a time, Twilight answered. “I think so.”

“Are you remembering… on the balcony?”

Twilight nodded.

“We did what we had to do, dear. Everypony would agree.”

“That doesn’t change the facts.”

“Well, no, but…” Rarity struggled for a response.

“We killed,” Twilight thought. She closed her eyes again. It was the first time the thought had come to her so clearly. “We killed someone. I did. Rarity did. I think Pinkie did too.” She tried to push the words past her lips, but they wouldn’t come, and she only shuddered. Rarity placed a hoof on her back, but her mind churned on, replaying images of the shocked pegasus, battered and bruised, thrown from the height of the palace balcony. The dark stain on the floor.

When she looked back up, Rarity was still there, and they were coasting silently over Lower Canterlot, the slopes behind them. Fluttershy was gone, standing at Applejack’s side, and the Rainbow was looking at them from across the deck.

Twilight walked over to Applejack, and Pinkie came up behind. “See anything for the spell?” Pinkie asked innocently.

“There’s a big, flat roof down there,” Fluttershy said, pointing to a large, square building. It stood among a small collection of lower buildings, all glass fronts and upturned deli counters facing the empty, dirt-and-drywall mounded street. The section of ground was only two hundred feet across, Twilight estimated, just enough room for a couple buildings and the tattered ends of a street intersection at its edge.

“Twilight, do you think that roof’ll be big enough fer yer spell?” Applejack asked.

Twilight scrutinized it, running some rough calculations in her head. “I think so. But only just. We can’t land the ship on it, or it’ll get in the way.”

“Then we’ll just land next to it. Ah’m sure we can get to the roof from inside.”

“Why not hover outside it?” Pinkie asked.

“We should really tell the pony inside what we’re doing,” Twilight said.

Pinkie looked at her, perplexed, and Applejack gave her a nudge. “Get us down there, Pinkie.”

Pinkie raced back and cut the torch, then the engines a few seconds later, and they began their descent. They were already close, and Applejack had to turn a tight circle to keep them from overshooting and landing outside the small island of earth. They came to rest on the street, empty in the middle but flanked on both sides, all the way along, by leaning carriages, carts, and a single automobile. As they walked toward the building, Twilight stopped to admire the car; she had seen several in her youth, but in Ponyville, they were unheard-of, and it was good to lay eyes on one again, even if it was abandoned.

They approached the building, a large, plaster box with huge, dark windows and a small crisscross of concrete stairs before a pair of stately, wooden doors. In the darkness, and overshadowed by the buildings on both sides, they could barely make out any details on the building’s interior. No sounds came from within, and when they tried the doors, both were locked.

“Well, that’s just great. What do we do now?” Rainbow complained.

“Go ‘round to the front,” Applejack said, looking at her with a bemused expression. “This thing has more’n two doors, RD.”

“Oh yeah, huh.”

They walked slowly around, passing through a narrow alley behind the building; a small trickle of water ran through its middle, and the whole area smelled faintly of sewage. Rarity mumbled and moaned, but they ignored her as they rounded a corner onto the moonlit sidewalk.

They stopped suddenly.

Where they had been expecting a continuation of the ground into a street, and then the next block, there was only emptiness. The sidewalk was a fractured band that closed the area in, its concrete surface scraped away in places to reveal the dark, flat, hard ground beneath, jagged at the edges with loose stone and exposed pipes. Twilight carefully walked out onto a square of concrete to look at the building’s front. She let out a sigh, and the others crowded around her to see.

The sidewalk ended several feet away, sheered in a dangerous curve that precluded approach to the front door, exposed to the empty air; the stone doorstep hung off perilously.

“Okay, now what?” Rainbow asked.

“Try flyin’ out there, Rainbow. See if it even opens,” Applejack said.

Rainbow hopped out over the edge and flew down, then up in a wide arc to the front door, where she stopped and hovered. She tugged at it, but it only shuddered in its frame. She banged on it and rattled it, and shouted for someone to answer, but, after five minutes, gave up and returned to them.

“Ah think this place may be abandoned,” Applejack said.

“It doesn’t look abandoned,” Twilight said.

“Well, no one’s answering the door, that’s for sure,” Rainbow said.

“Maybe they went home,” Fluttershy said.

“I’d say it’s more likely they’re asleep inside,” Twilight said.

“Are there any windows we can go through?” Pinkie asked.

“No, the windows are all unbroken,” Rainbow said. “I looked.”

“Well, how about going in from beneath?”

They all stopped and looked at her. “Pinkie, that makes no sense. Like, at all,” Applejack said.

“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie trotted down the sidewalk and out to a small parapet that hung over the chasm. It groaned under her hooves, but she seemed unfazed as she crouched on the edge and pointed down at the building’s foundation. “Look! Things!”

They cautiously went out to where she was, and she moved to give them room. From the new angle, they could see the building’s bottom trailing down like the root of a giant tooth, pipes and jagged hunks of rock and earth melded together to form a colossal, conical base. Where the ground tapered off, it gave way to a large group of black, brittle-looking wire cages, suspended from an unseen point and hanging in the air like legs. Twilight could see the glimmer of water in the bottom of one, but the rest were open to the empty sky underneath.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Twilight asked.

“I told you, Twilight. Things!” Pinkie said.

“Well, yes, but…”

“We can fly down there and climb up through ‘em!”

“That sounds terrible,” Rarity said evenly.

“We’ve got a ship,” Applejack said. “Remember? Let’s just go back an’ hover over the roof. If someone comes out, we’ll explain it to ‘em.”

“No, I don’t like that either,” Twilight said.

“Oh, come on, Twilight.”

“I actually like Pinkie’s idea,” Rainbow said. “It’ll be an adventure.”

“We don’t need more adventuring, Dash,” Rarity said.

“If we go up through the building, we’ll probably run into the pony anyway,” Pinkie said. “We can ask permission then.”

“Oh, um, she has a point,” Fluttershy said.

“Twilight, I’m gonna lay it on the line,” Rainbow said. “I really want to do this. Today’s been nothing but sad, depressing, boring stuff. Pinkie’s party was cool, but I was too mad to enjoy it.”

“You really wan to climb up through, huh?” Applejack said.

“It sounds like fun.”

“Fun!” Pinkie echoed.

Twilight put a hoof to her forehead, thinking for a moment. “Okay, okay, we can go up through. We will probably run into someone, at least. Rainbow, go down there and get a better look at those cages.”

“You got it!” she said, saluting and jumping off the edge. Twilight watched her do a couple excited loops, then flit up into the nearest cage, her blue body segmented by the wire mesh. She hovered for a moment and landed on something, then swooped down and out, and back up to them.

“There’s a walkway inside,” she said, landing back on the sidewalk. “Nice and sturdy, and a door up at the top.” She looked at them. “Right, let’s do this. Who’s getting carried first?”

“I’ll go,” Twilight said, and Rainbow approached her. She climbed onto Rainbow’s back awkwardly. She had ridden the pegasus before—they all had, at various times—but it always felt weird to her, to have her legs draped over Rainbow’s downy, muscular body. She was hot with exertion, and Twilight adjusted her position uncomfortably.

“You good?”

“Fine,” Twilight said.

They plummeted off the sidewalk, and Twilight repressed a squeal of fright as they swung low under the ground’s edge. She knew that Rainbow enjoyed the freedom of flight, but she was too tense to do the same; her eyes were fixed to the dark pit of empty sky. They soared down and curved up under the lower lip of the nearest cage, and Rainbow landed them on a narrow, wooden plank that spiraled up around the cage’s inside. She climbed off, and Rainbow adjusted her plumage.

“Thanks a lot for this, Rainbow. It really means a lot to me.”

Rainbow looked at her with a curious expression. “Uh, yeah, no problem.” She jumped off the edge and flew back upwards.

Twilight walked a bit up the path to give Rainbow room for her next delivery, simultaneously admiring and fearing the construction of the cage. It was tremendous, and totally hollow, its black bars thinner than her legs and pressed together with large, round bolts, some burst or bent away in fraying tangles of hard, black capillaries. The wooden walkway was wide enough to admit two ponies standing side by side, and held onto the sides of the cage with small clusters of nails and screws. She could feel it bending slightly under her, and wondered how much weight it could hold; she pushed the thought out of her mind.

Above, the cage was attached to a large, dark metal axle, like a bauble on a mobile, and she could see a large crack running up through the stone adjunct to the plunging metal support post. Below, the black bars twisted away, where the bottom had been rent off. They looked dangerous in the starlight, like fingertips groping empty air.

“If there were stars down there, we’d have a hard time figuring out which way the real sky was, huh, Twilight?” Pinkie said from next to her; she jumped, and the walkway shifted beneath her.

“Oh, Pinkie, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry, Twilight. I thought you saw me.”

She breathed out. “It’s okay.”

“I mean, I guess you would know which way is up because of the direction you fall, but honestly, who trusts gravity that much?” She laughed uproariously. “I remember this one party I threw and I have no idea how it happened but I ended up spending the whole party on the ceiling, Twilight! I tried to dance but ceilings aren’t as stable as floors, I guess, and I kept shaking the lights!”

“Pinkie, that can’t have actually happened,” Twilight said, grinning.

“Applejack! You remember the party where I was upside-down, right?”

“Pinkie, you know Ah remember,” Applejack said, walking up to them while Rainbow dived back down. She bounced a little where she stood, and the wood groaned. “This thing sure doesn’t feel sturdy.”

“Oh! Are we bouncing now?” Pinkie asked. She began hopping in place, and the planks protested more loudly.

“Pinkie, you wanna cut that out before we all fall outta this thing?” Applejack said, and Pinkie stopped with a meek smile.

Rainbow came up and deposited Rarity, who regarded the walkway distastefully. “Ugh, this is simply ghastly. Are you quite sure it’s safe?”

“It’s fine,” Rainbow said, panting.

“Rainbow, you look beat,” Applejack said.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Let’s go, then,” Rarity said. “I don’t feel safe down here.”

Twilight was at the front, and began walking, making her way up the incline and around the perimeter of the cage. She stepped carefully, Rarity’s concern for the walkway’s stability adding to her own.

“What are these things?” Rainbow asked.

“I have no idea,” Twilight said.

“That one over there still has a bottom,” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah, so?” Applejack asked.

“I think they might be pools.”

“Why would you have a pool in a cage? That seems pointless,” Rainbow said.

“Dashie’s right! Who wants to swim in a cage?” Pinkie said.

“I think the point is to dive from the top,” Fluttershy said quietly. “See? There’s a platform up there.” She pointed upwards, where a wooden lip hung out over the emptiness.

“That’s awfully high,” Applejack said.

“Twilight, you know Canterlot the best. Is that a common thing here?” Rarity asked.

“I have no idea, Rarity. If it is, I’ve never done it.” She looked again at the platform, then down at the cage’s bottom; it was at least a thirty-foot drop. “And I don’t intend to.”

“What? Are you kidding, Twilight? It would be so much fun! Why, if there was a bottom for me to fall into, I’d jump right now!” Pinkie said.

“Yeah, um, don’t,” Applejack deadpanned.

Pinkie laughed. “I wouldn’t do it here, silly!”

“Yeah, Pinks. I don’t think I could catch you if you jumped,” Rainbow said.

At the cage’s top, there was a smooth door carved into the surrounding stone, and they passed through into a warm, concrete corridor. Twilight activated her horn in a small light spell as they moved through, heads ducked warily under dead lights. They went up a flight of stairs to a wooden door; a soft line of light fanned out from below, and its bottom scraped across the floor in protest, rough on skewed hinges, when Twilight opened it. The sudden light, mixed with the sharp smell of mold, made them lean back.

“Oh, heavens, we’re not going in there, are we?” Rarity asked, bringing a hoof to her nose.

“Sorry, Rarity. But hey, there’s light. Maybe we can find somepony to help us out,” Twilight said, stepping in.

They emerged into a vast, stone room with a large, empty grid of square holes running from wall to wall, covering the floor like hoofprints. The walls were of dully bricks and smooth mortar, and there was neither rubble nor cracks to be seen, and the floor was a uniform stone that clattered on their hooves loudly. Torches along each wall lit the room with a dancing, orange lambency, flickering the shadows inside the holes from long to short, deep to thin. Intermingled with the smell of mold and decay was the slight, bitter tang of chemicals.

“What is this place?” Pinkie asked. “Hello? Hellooooooo?”

“Wh-what? Who goes there?” a small, mousy voice called from somewhere near the center. “Hello? Who’s there?” A head poked out one of the holes and looked at them, followed by the body of a little pegasus, who flew out and landed on one of the partitions in front of them. She was pale blue, with a marbled mane of blue and white, and her eyes were suspicious. She had a rough, tomboyish look to her, and as she watched them, she tilted her head to the side; the move struck Twilight as strangely aggressive. “Who are you?” she demanded. “And for that matter, how the hay did you get in here?”

“We’re, um,” Twilight began. What were they, actually?

“We’re emissaries from Princess Celestia,” Rarity said, and the small pegasus’ expression softened somewhat.

“What are you doing here?” she asked warily.

“We’re…” Twilight started again.

“We’re here to save Canterlot!” Pinkie chimed.

The pegasus released a single, derisive laugh. “Oh, of course you are. Yes, that explains everything.”

“What she means is we’re here to put the city back together,” Rarity said.

The pegasus looked at her blankly. “What does that mean? Like, physically put it back together? Reconnect the pieces of ground?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Twilight said.

The pegasus eyed them again. “You realize of course that this sounds quite fishy to me.”

“Nope!” Pinkie chirped.

She glared at Pinkie, then took a single step forward. “Why are you here, then? Why, of all the places in the city, are you here?”

“We need a large, flat surface to cast our spell on,” Twilight said. “We saw your roof from a distance, and figured we would do it there.”

“And I suppose the notion of knocking eluded you.”

“We knocked for five minutes, and you didn’t answer!” Rainbow cried.

The pegasus regarded her dismissively. “Ah, yes. I must not have heard you.”

Rainbow only glowered speechlessly.

“We came from below,” Twilight said.

“From the waterfall cages?” the pegasus asked, frowning.

“The what cages?”

“Big cages that are supposed to hold water. For diving.” Seeing their blank expressions, she rolled her eyes. “Never mind.” She ruffled her wings once, shaking some droplets of water off, and backed up to regard them all in a more relaxed manner. “I am Peppermint—the proprietor of this establishment. The one on which you’re trespassing.”

“Um, if ya don’t mind my askin’, what is this establishment?” Applejack asked.

“It’s a spa.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s also more. It’s also a sauna, a pool, a system of baths,” she gestured around the room, “and those aforementioned diving cages for the adventurous ponies.”

“Oh, darling, that sounds simply divine,” Rarity said.

“I’m sure it does. Unfortunately, as you might be able to tell, I’m a little out of business at the moment.”

“Well, I bet you’ll be able to get back in business once we’re done!” Pinkie said.

“We’ll see about that.” She turned away and went back for the middle of the room. “Look, I have work to do here; I’m cleaning these baths before they start to rot, and I really don’t have time to help you guys out with your, um, spell. Sorry.” She shrugged and hopped back down into the bath.

“Can you at least point us towards the roof?” Rainbow asked.

“Yeah, sure. Go through the door on the other side of this room and take every staircase you find after that. That’s where the roof is. Everything should be unlocked.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, choosing not to acknowledge Peppermint’s sarcasm.

She stepped onto the partition between baths and made her way to the opposite wall. She could see the baths clearly as she passed them—great, square holes with smoothly-rounded, stone bottoms and vents in the walls. The corners of some were stained dark gray with mold, while others were pristine; she had to wonder how long the tiny pegasus had been working. The partitions were dry, but freckled with stale water spots. She looked down at Peppermint as they passed, but she was busy, working a small trowl in a foaming, white corner; the smell of acerbity was powerful, even from the rim.

They went through a door at the far end of the room and into a wide, stone stairwell. Torches were spaced roughly and far apart, leaving large intervals of frayed shadow to slither at their hooves and wiggle on the walls. Fluttershy drew back, following reluctantly, and only when everyone else had gone.

“This place certainly is creepy,” Rarity said.

“It’s underground. What can you say?” Twilight said.

“You’d think that Peppermint could have placed a few more torches,” Rainbow said.

“One would think.” Twilight pushed open the door at the top, recessed in an alcove of shadow that seemed to swallow the front half of her body as she went to place her hoof on the handle. The door creaked open into a long room of dark stone, an oblong pool spanning its length in the center, glassy in the unaccustomed light only a few torches. The rough teeth of a circular grate hung over the pool, dark and crusted over.

“Oooh! Swimming!” Pinkie shouted, running from where she stood into the pool and splashing about frantically. The sounds of her play echoed through the entire cavern, which appeared to extend several meters out of sight.

“Pinkie, this is hardly the time,” Rarity said, backing away a little so as not to get splashed.

“Not the time for fun? But it’s never not the time for fun!”

“This is not the time for fun!” she insisted, and Pinkie only laughed and dunked her head.

“Pinkie, please,” Twilight said. “I haven’t slept since we were in Ponyville, and I’ve had a long day. Can we please just get to the roof and do our spell?” She felt bad for the tone she was taking, and hoped Pinkie would understand.

“Oh, Twilight, you just need to loosen up a little!” Pinkie cried, splashing energetically and wetting the stone floors.

“What I need is to finish my job for the day and get some sleep.”

“Oh, come on, just one lap?”

“Pinkie, I can’t even swim. Not that well, anyway.”

“I’ll do a lap with you, Pinkie,” Rainbow said, swooping up over their heads and into the water with a small splash.

“Whoo! Race ya!” Pinkie took off, flailing her legs around formlessly while Rainbow sliced through the water, using her powerful wings to give her boosts of speed. Despite her awkward style, Pinkie kept pace with her, and they reached the opposite end at about the same time.

“I won!” Rainbow exclaimed, climbing out and shaking off.

“Way to go, Dashie! But I almost gotcha there at the end!”

“Of all the times for Pinkie to get distracted,” Twilight thought unhappily, looking around the room. There was an empty space set into the nearby wall, its shadow deeper than the other crevasses and impressions in the grotto, and she went to it curiously.

“Twilight, the water is perfectomundo!” Pinkie called.

“I’m sure it is,” Twilight said, lighting her horn for a moment to reveal another door. “Come on, we need to go.”

Pinkie and Rainbow climbed out of the water with mutual complaints while Twilight opened the door; light spilled out onto the stone floor in a bright circle, thrown out of another staircase, much better lit. The walls a dark slate gray, and the torchlight reflected off the slick, stone steps wildly. They followed her up, dripping noisily on the steps.

They bent tightly upwards and walked out into a tremendous, rough stone cavern, dry with loose grit and smelling of stale minerals. There was a large, deep gouge in the floor, a dimple of stone sticking out near its middle; at one end of the gouge was a small, but deep repository, and at the other was a wide opening out into the night.

“I think this used to be a river,” Fluttershy said. “It looks like it emptied out into that pool below us.”

“Simply fascinating,” Rarity said, taking a few steps toward the open end and craning her neck. “Fluttershy, darling, we absolutely must revisit this place, when everything is done.”

“Come on, come on,” Twilight mentally urged; her patience for diversions was running out. She led them along the riverbank, worn smooth, to the next door and up another flight of stairs.

“How many of these are there going to be?” Rainbow complained.

“Not many more, I’m sure,” Twilight said dully. The stairwell was narrower than those before it, lit by lanterns that swayed from the ceiling, and Twilight had to bend awkwardly to look back at her friends. They wound upwards at a steep angle, and Twilight estimated that they had done a full circuit around the river before reaching the next floor, a wooden corridor lined with doors, all lit in the soft light of fragrant lanterns. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath; climbing up all the stairs was harder for her than she would have liked to admit.

“What is this place?” Applejack asked.

“Haven’t you been in a sauna before, darling?” Rarity quipped.

“Ah thought saunas were s’posed to be big ol’ steam rooms.”

“Why, that’s what all these doors are for, dear.” Rarity opened one for Applejack to see.

Applejack shook her head. “An’ they have how many of these rooms? Sheesh, they’re makin’ more money in a week than we make in a year.”

“That’s Canterlot for ya!” Pinkie cried.

They ascended one more stairway at the sauna corridor’s end and found themselves in a pristine, white tile room, similar to the spa in Ponyville. A single counter filled the corner, its surface colored with papers, a small table in the room’s center festooned similarly with magazines. A large bay window let in the starlight from outside, and only a single lantern lit the room. Potted plants watched from the corners, dying and dark.

“What is it with that pegasus and not lighting things properly?” Rainbow asked.

“She must like the darkness,” Fluttershy said.

“Creeper.”

Twilight had to look around a little to see their next path. The lantern was insufficient to light the room’s sides and corners, and she could only eventually see a door by the dull band of light on its cracked frame. Unlike the other doors in the spa, no light emanated from beneath. Twilight walked straight to it, and her friends hung back to let her enter at a slight distance. No torchlight danced from within, not even at a distance, and as she looked up its length, she saw nothing at all. Even with her horn alight, the stairs were so narrow, and their wood so dark, that the light afforded comfort for her only. Her head would be in the way for most of the others’ illumination.

She looked around as she walked. The walls were bare boards, the ceiling a large pale pink matte of fiberglass held by thin, metal wires. She could hear Fluttershy mewling behind her, and, even in her impatience, didn’t blame her. Without her horn, she knew, she would be just as afraid as the rest of them.

The stairs sounded hollow underneath, and their hoofsteps were heavy and loud. Twilight sent her light forward a bit to see where the stairs ended, but saw only a sharp corner, some twenty feet ahead. She looked back at her friends, who shielded their eyes from the sudden glare of her horn.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning back. She turned the corner as quickly as she could, and realized, in that moment, that she was nervous. Finally accustomed to the surreal loneliness of the spa, and its darkness, her mind could begin forming threats in the shadows. Discord, perhaps, to stop their adventure prematurely, or one of his acolytes, hiding patiently. In the deep shadows, anything was possible.

To her relief, the stairs ended only ten feet later at a short, splintery, wooden ladder, extending up into a trapdoor. Twilight magically pushed it open, taking care to ease it down onto the roof and not make a noise.

“Um, Twilight,” Applejack said, “Ah hate to say this, but Ah can’t climb ladders.”

Twilight looked back at her. “Don’t you climb around inside the barn a lot?”

“Eh, Ah always go up the hay bales.”

“Hm. Rainbow, can you help her out?”

Rainbow pressed forward to study the opening above them. “I don’t think I can fit us both through there. Not the way I’d have to carry her, anyway.”

“Well…”

“Is it really necessary fer me to go out there with ya?” Applejack asked.

“Is it?” Fluttershy repeated.

“I guess not,” Twilight said, “but where will you go?”

“Ah can go back down an’ meet up with you by the front door,” Applejack said.

“All right. Anyone else here going with her? Pinkie, I hope you know how to get up ladders.” She looked over the others, but didn’t see her. “Pinkie?”

“Up here, silly!” Pinkie called from above.

Twilight looked, and Pinkie beamed down at her through the trapdoor. “Oh, okay.” She was too tired to even comment on the surprise, mild as it was. “Rarity?”

“I think I can make it,” Rarity said confidently.

Twilight nodded absentmindedly and looked at the ladder. She couldn’t see the roof, and, with a suppressed groan of annoyance, placed her forehooves on the beginning rungs. She had only climbed ladders a few times in the past, when Spike was absent or indisposed, and she needed to organize the top shelves of the library. She cautiously raised herself up, hooking her hoof around the rung and hoping she wouldn’t have to rely on her pastern to hold her, should she slip. She could feel the cool night air on her face, and it was refreshing after so much time spent walking past torches and under lanterns.

While Twilight moved up the ladder, Applejack turned around to face the dark decline. She was in the back of the group, and there was no one to get in her way, but she still hesitated in descending. Without Twilight’s magic, she could only see the first few stairs in the dim starlight, and without the others to walk near her, she was hesitant. She started down, moving slowly so as not to misstep, and a flutter of pegasus wings behind her told her that the next pony had made it through the trapdoor.

The light from behind quickly faded, and she was forced to move by touch only. The stairs creaked and groaned, and she could feel flakes of ancient paint flecking off as she moved. Her sides brushed the walls, and her coat occasionally caught on a splinter, each time making her stop and re-center herself on the steps. Even when her eyes had adjusted, she could see only just enough to keep herself from losing all touch with her surroundings. In the darkness, and the silence, there seemed nothing behind her, and nothing before her; just steps down into something, quiet and alone.

She slowed her pace again, not wanting to bump into the turn, and looked back to see how the others were doing. The beam of meager light from outside looked solid and powerful to her atrophied vision, and when she turned back, her eyes, already useless in the darkness, felt shrouded. Even the suggestion of stair outlines was gone, and she blundered forward, raising a hoof at each step to feel for the wall. Her vision did not adjust, and she felt exposed and disarmed as she hobbled down.

“Ah’m not scared,” she thought to herself. “Just bein’ careful. No problem with that.” Her outstretched hoof bumped something flat and dry, and she drew back quickly with a sharp gasp. She laughed a little to herself and stepped forward again, turning into the first half of the stairwell. “Guess Ah am a little scared. Fluttershy would understand.” She smiled at the thought, and hastened her progress down the stairs. She could see the dim line of light under the door, illuminating nothing, but indicating an end to the creaking stairs; she breathed out, realizing that she had been clenching her jaw and holding her breath through the descent.

As she drew closer, there were soft hoofsteps on the other side, and the door clicked open. Her heart leaped, and her breath caught in her throat; the tingle of adrenaline spread over her body, and she backed up a step.

“Is somepony up there?” a voice called.

“Y-yeah, Ah am,” Applejack responded, hating how nervous she sounded.

“It’s Peppermint. You one of the ones who came in from below?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay. Are you with the others?”

“They’re on the roof already.”

“Why are you down here?”

“Ah can’t climb the ladder.”

“Ah. Here, let me get out of your way,” she said, holding the door open and letting Applejack through; with the light from the open door, she was able to descend fearlessly.

“Thanks,” Applejack said as she passed the impatient-looking pony.

Peppermint grunted in response and resolutely walked into the dark stairwell, closing the door behind her firmly.

“Ah bet she ain’t afraid of them stairs,” Applejack thought as she took one of the seats by the counter. She could hear Peppermint walking over her head.

Peppermint gave no thought to the orange pony she had passed as she trudged up the same, familiar stairs to the roof. Ordinarily, she would not have been worried about ponies going up to her roof, especially when she was busy with something as important as cleaning the baths, but she didn’t entirely trust the group of strangers—all of whom had managed to simply appear inside her building. The circumstances were too suspicious for her to let them go unobserved.

While she worked below, she could only think about the intruders, and it soured her mood; now, in her favorite set of stairs in the building, she was able to relax and order her thoughts. She paused a moment to savor the dull, musty atmosphere that she loved, and everyone else despised. Even before the lights had gone out, it was the darkest, quietest stairwell in her building, a perfect spot for peace. She often took her breaks in the tight corner, relishing the coolness and faint mildewy smell that surrounded her; her friends didn’t understand, and thought her strange. She rounded the bend and noted, with slight indignation, that the intruders had left the trapdoor open. She stopped at the ladder’s bottom and listened. The banter from above was soft and conversational—nothing threatening, and nothing suspicious.

She flew silently out and hovered above and behind them. The white unicorn and the two pegasi sat off to the side, watching as the purple unicorn drew something around the pink pony. The whole scene made Peppermint pause; it was so ritualistic, for a moment, she felt like she was intruding. She shook her head angrily. “Damn it, this is my roof, not theirs!”

She swooped over to the purple unicorn and shouted at her, hoping to make her jump and spoil her graffito. “Hey! What the hay do you think you’re doing?”

The unicorn blinked her eyes shut for a second, but did not break stride.

Peppermint moved closer to try to prod her into response, but the rainbow pegasus had flown over to her, and pushed her back before she could get close enough.

“Don’t mess with Twilight,” she said warningly, and Peppermint frowned.

“Vandals! She is vandalizing my roof! How dare you all do this?”

“We’re not vandalizing anything. Now step off!”

“It’s called a sigil, darling,” the white unicorn said from across the roof. “It’s a magical symbol that ponies use to cast spells they can’t cast on their own. She’s going to use it to fix the, um, problem in Canterlot.”

Peppermint was indignant at being stopped, and looked the white unicorn in the eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“If you mess her up, she’s going to have to start all over again,” the rainbow pegasus said. “And you don’t want her to have to do that. She’s been at this for twenty minutes now.”

Peppermint looked back down at the project. As unwelcome as it was, she had to admit that it was interesting; the circle was big, but the lines inside were tiny, some of them as short as her coat furs, and packed in tight spirals that seemed almost to suck her in. “It is kind of pretty, I guess.”

“Come watch with us; you’ll see what we mean,” the white unicorn said.

Peppermint flew over to the others with an audible sigh of displeasure. “I’ve never heard of ponies using magical symbols to do spells.”

“They don’t, usually,” the unicorn said. “This is a particularly difficult spell, one Twilight can’t do on her own.”

“Twilight’s the one drawing,” the rainbow pegasus said.

“I can’t believe I’m just letting this happen,” Peppermint complained.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry,” the other pegasus said quietly. “The paint goes away once the spell is done.”

“You all should hope so. If I have to look at that eyesore every time I come up here, I’m going to the authorities.”

“Yeah, like that would do any good,” the rainbow pegasus spoke up.

“Oh?”

“Do you know who we are?”

Peppermint looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Please, tell me all about it.”

The pegasus gave her a smug look. “Uh, just the Elements of Harmony. You know, the saviors of Equestria. No biggie.”

“I thought you looked familiar.” Peppermint savored the pegasus’ momentary look of confusion at her deadpan response.

“Yeah. Well, we’re being backed by Princess Celestia herself. You know her, I’m sure. The highest authority in all of Equestria. Yeah, she’s behind us all the way.” She grinned arrogantly. “You can’t touch us.”

“Rainbow, don’t be so boastful,” the unicorn said.

“Yeah, Rainbow,” Peppermint said with a wide, false smile.

The pegasus stuck her tongue out at her pejoratively, and Peppermint ignored it.

“Dumb nag,” she thought, resuming watching Twilight work. It looked like she was making good progress; the circle was almost entirely filled in, and the ponies watching were shifting restlessly. “You said this is supposed to bring the city back together?”

“Yes, darling. You’ll see in just a few minutes,” the white unicorn said.

“I find it hard to believe that all our problems can be solved by a single spell.”

“Oh, it will hardly solve all of your problems, dear.”

“But you said it would put the town back as it was.”

“First of all, it’ll only do half of it,” Rainbow said. “Canterlot’s too big for one spell.”

“And while it will move the pieces of earth around, and repair the, um, gaps, it won’t help with any damage that’s come to the buildings themselves,” the unicorn continued.

“So the earth comes together, but we still get to deal with all the cleanup,” Peppermint said unhappily.

“I’m afraid so.”

“What about water?”

“The rivers didn’t spill out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Peppermint hesitated. “That’s… good.” A plethora of questions came to her mind, but she didn’t voice them. She was in no mood to talk about the disaster’s logistics with the small group. Instead, she settled on more banal conversation. “Where are you all from?”

“Ponyville,” Rainbow said proudly.

“All of you?”

“Every one of us,” the unicorn said.

“Ah. Well, that explains a few things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rainbow asked, fixing her with an annoyed look.

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake, Rainbow,” the unicorn said. “Leave her alone.”

“She’s ins, um, insiniu… implying that she’s better than us!”

Peppermint rolled her eyes. “I am not. I just said that it explains a few questions I had. No accusations there.”

“Oh! Twilight’s almost done!” the other pegasus said, and they all stopped to look at her.

Only a small piece of empty rooftop remained, and Peppermint found herself leaning forward with the others as Twilight finished it. As soon as she had, the entire design began to glisten, beetle black and watery. She gasped; she had never seen anything like it. The pink pony in the center began to glow dimly, but slowly brighter and brighter until Peppermint had to look away. Her eyes averted, she was not ready for the jolt, and she stumbled.

As soon as she righted herself, the noise began. Days ago, she had woken up in her apartment a few miles away to what sounded and felt like a hurricane beneath her house, and it had terrified her so much that she had flown out of her room, not even bothering to close the door. The sound, as it did now, filled the air, and she clamped her ears down.

With the sound, she could feel the ground grinding and sliding, and there was another jolt as it banged into an adjoining piece. What, just a couple seconds ago, had been the grumble of protesting stone and swaying buildings, now became a clastic chewing that made her shiver and cringe, certain that something had gone wrong, and too terrified to get up. She could hear metal scratching at stone, gravel crushing against dirt with an intense, low-frequency pressure that she could feel running up her legs, shaking her body and her spa all in one trembling mass. She crouched and closed her eyes, trying to take deep breaths. The sound disoriented her, and her eyes hurt from the pony’s brightness.

The ordeal lasted only half a minute, the longest thirty seconds in Peppermint’s life, and when it was done, she stayed on the ground for what felt like half an hour. Someone tapped her gently, and she got up and looked around. The graffito was gone, and the ponies were crowded around Twilight and the pink pony. Peppermint looked out at the city; it looked immediately different, and she realized with a happy, unbelieving shock that it was back to normal. She had gotten used to everything looking farther away, used to the isolation, and almost used to flying over the tremendous gaps. But now, all that was gone.

From her height, she could see torches coming to life all across the town, and ponies were tentatively looking out their doors and windows. Some were in the streets, looking around as if uncertain what to do, while others took to the air in silent, mass confusion. She heard a whoop in the distance, and then another closer to her. As if taking a cue, a hundred voices all around began shouting, happy and confused at the same time.

She shook her wings, and smiled as a realization hit her. When everyone had calmed down and started talking about it, she could say that she had been there. She and she alone had seen the Elements of Harmony cast the spell, on her roof. She had talked with them, watched them, and even tried to get them to stop; how foolish she had been to resist them, and she smiled at this too.

Shocked from the enormity of things and dazed from the sensory overload, she walked to the edge of her roof and looked down dumbly. She had to stare for a moment before she believed it. The streets had been pressed back together, and the houses were now separated by only a few feet, instead of hundreds.

Peppermint could think only one thing in her excitement and wonder: “It actually worked.” She looked up, and a swarm of pegasi was above her, risen from the buildings that had suddenly congregated around her own. “It actually worked.” Laughter bubbled up in her chest, and she smiled wide, letting it go unhindered as she jumped off the roof and took flight.

It was almost midnight, and the skies had never been more alive. Pegasi crowded the air around her, and she flew into the group; she didn’t know any of them, hadn’t even seen them before, but it didn’t matter. They hugged, squealed, laughed, did loops around each other. In that moment, they were all friends. In that moment, the knowledge that her spa was still nonfunctional was forgotten. In that moment, nothing else mattered, only that Canterlot—her half of it, at least—was once again whole. And she had been there to see it all done.